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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/24432-8.txt b/24432-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..55538ed --- /dev/null +++ b/24432-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8069 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wit and Humor of America, Volume VIII +(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 VIII (of X) + +Author: Various + +Editor: Marshall P. Wilder + +Release Date: January 26, 2008 [EBook #24432] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WIT AND HUMOR *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Annie McGuire, 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. VIII + + + + +[Illustration: ROBERT J. BURDETTE] + + + + +THE WIT AND HUMOR OF AMERICA + +EDITED BY MARSHALL P. WILDER + +_Volume VIII_ + + +Funk & Wagnalls Company New York and London + +Copyright MDCCCCVII, BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY +Copyright MDCCCCXI, THE THWING COMPANY + + + + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + + Boston Ballad, A. Walt Whitman 1479 + Branch Library, A. James Montgomery Flagg 1446 + Chief Mate, The James Russell Lowell 1482 + Columbia and the Cowboy Alice MacGowan 1582 + Daniel Come to Judgment, A Edmund Vance Cooke 1399 + Darius Green and His Flying Machine J. T. Trowbridge 1539 + "Day is Done, The" Phoebe Cary 1628 + Dictum Sapienti John Paul 1624 + Duluth Speech, The J. Proctor Knott 1606 + Enchanted Hat, The Harold MacGrath 1510 + Eve's Daughter Edward Rowland Sill 1605 + Fate R. K. Munkittrick 1554 + Final Choice, The Edmund Vance Cooke 1427 + Forbearance of the Admiral, The Wallace Irwin 1553 + Gentle Art of Boosting, The John Kendrick Bangs 1575 + Girl and the Julep, The Emerson Hough 1401 + Grandfather Squeers James Whitcomb Riley 1571 + Guest at the Ludlow Bill Nye 1503 + Hard Tom Masson 1625 + Hon. Ranson Peabody George Ade 1429 + Icarus John G. Saxe 1493 + Is it I? Warwick S. Price 1447 + Johnny's Lessons Carroll Watson Rankin 1570 + Kaiser's Farewell to Prince Henry Bert Leston Taylor 1568 + Life Elixir of Marthy, The Elizabeth Hyer Neff 1555 + Litigation Bill Arp 1533 + Mr. Carteret and His Fellow + Americans Abroad David Gray 1462 + Mr. Dooley on Golf Finley Peter Dunne 1630 + Niagara be Dammed Wallace Irwin 1551 + Not According to Schedule Mary Stewart Cutting 1448 + Nothing to Wear William Allen Butler 1435 + One of the Palls Doane Robinson 1601 + Paper: A Poem Benjamin Franklin 1548 + Road to a Woman's Heart, The Sam Slick 1487 + Sceptics, The Bliss Carman 1626 + Staccato to O Le Lupe, A Bliss Carman 1499 + Table Manners James Montgomery Flagg 1400 + V-A-S-E, The James Jeffrey Roche 1603 + Vive la Bagatelle Clinton Scollard 1497 + When the Sirup's on the Flapjack Bert Leston Taylor 1634 + + COMPLETE INDEX AT THE END OF VOLUME X. + + + + +A DANIEL COME TO JUDGMENT[1] + +BY EDMUND VANCE COOKE + + + Now, everything that Russell did, he did his best to hasten, + And one day he decided that he'd like to be a Mason; + But nothing else would suit him, and nothing less would please, + But he must take, and all at once, the thirty-three degrees. + + So he rode the--ah, that is, he crossed the--I can't tell; + You either must not know at all, or else know very well. + He dived in--well, well, never mind! It only need be said + That somewhere in the last degree poor Russell dropped down dead. + + They arrested all the Masons, and they stayed in durance vile + Till the jury found them guilty, when the Judge said, with a smile, + "I'm forced to let the prisoners go, for I can find," said he, + "No penalty for murder in the thirty-third degree!" + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] Lippincott's Magazine. + + + + +TABLE MANNERS[2] + +BY JAMES MONTGOMERY FLAGG + + + When you turn down your glass, it's a sign + That you're not going to take any wign. + So turn down your plate + When they serve things you hate, + And you'll often be asked out to dign. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[2] By permission of Life Publishing Company. + + + + +THE GIRL AND THE JULEP + +BY EMERSON HOUGH + + +In the warm sun of the southern morning the great plantation lay as +though half-asleep, dozing and blinking at the advancing day. The +plantation house, known in all the country side as the Big House, rested +calm and self-confident in the middle of a wide sweep of cleared lands, +surrounded immediately by dark evergreens and the occasional primeval +oaks spared in the original felling of the forest. Wide and rambling +galleries of one height or another crawled partially about the expanses +of the building, and again paused, as though weary of the attempt to +circumvent it. The strong white pillars, rising from the ground floor +straight to the third story, shone white and stately, after the old +Southern fashion, that Grecian style, simplified and made suitable to +provincial purses by those Adams brothers of old England who first set +the fashion in early American architecture. White-coated, with wide, +cool, green blinds, with ample and wide-doored halls, and deep, low +windows, the Big House, here in the heart of the warm southland, was +above all things suited to its environment. It was all so safe and sure +that there was no need for anxiety. Life here was as it had been for +generations, even for the generation following the upheaval of the Civil +War. + +But if this were a kingdom apart and self-sufficient, what meant this +thing which crossed the head of the plantation--this double line, +tenacious and continuous, which shone upon the one hand dark, and upon +the other, where the sun touched it, a cold gray in color? What meant +this squat little building at the side of these rails which reached on +out straight as the flight of a bird across the clearing and vanished +keenly in the forest wall? This was the road of the iron rails. It clung +close to the ground, at times almost sinking into the embankment now +grown scarcely discernible among the concealing grass and weeds, +although the track itself had been built but recently. This railroad +sought to efface itself, even as the land sought to aid in its +effacement, as though neither believed that this was lawful spot for it. +One might say it made a blot upon this picture of the morning. + +Perhaps it seemed thus to the tall young girl who now stood upon its +long gallery, her tangle of high-rolled, red-brown hair held back by the +hand which half shaded her eyes as she looked out discontentedly over +the familiar scene. Miss Lady--for thus she was christened by the Big +House servants; and she bore well the title--frowned now as she tapped a +little foot upon the gallery floor. Perhaps it was not so much what she +saw as what she did not see that made Miss Lady discontented, for this +white rim of the forest bounded the world for her; yet after all, youth +and the morning do not conspire with discontent. A moment more, light, +fleet of foot, Miss Lady fled down the gallery steps, through the gate +and out along the garden walk. Beyond the yard fence she was greeted +riotously by a score of dogs and puppies, long since her friends and +devoted admirers; as, indeed, were all dwellers, dumb or human, +thereabout. + +Had Miss Lady, or any observer, looked from the gallery off to the +southward and down the railway track, there might thus have been +discovered two figures just emerging from the rim of the forest +something like a mile away; and these might have been seen growing +slowly more distinct, as they plodded up the railway track toward the +Big House. Presently they might have been discovered to be a man and a +woman; the former tall, thin, dark and stooped; his companion, tall as +himself, quite as thin, and almost as bent. The garb of the man was +nondescript, neutral, loose; his hat dark and flapping. The woman wore a +shapeless calico gown, and on her head was a long, telescopic sunbonnet +of faded pink, from which she must perforce peer forward, looking +neither to the right nor to the left. + +The travelers, indeed, needed not to look to the right or the left, for +the path of the iron rails led them directly on. They did not step to +the gallery, did not knock at the door, or, indeed, give any evidences +of their intentions, but seated themselves deliberately upon a pile of +boards that lay near in the broad expanse of the front yard. Here they +remained, silent and at rest, fitting well enough into the sleepy scene. +No one in the house noticed them for a time, and they, tired by the +walk, seemed willing to rest under the shade of the evergreens before +making known their errand. They sat speechless and content for several +moments, until finally a mulatto house-servant, passing from one +building to another, cast a look in their direction, and paused +uncertainly in curiosity. The man on the board-pile saw her. + +"Here, Jinny! Jinny!" he called, just loud enough to be heard, and not +turning toward her more than half-way. "Come here." + +"Yessah," said the girl, and slowly approached. + +"Get us a little melk, Jinny," said the speaker. "We're plumb out o' +melk down home." + +"Yessah," said Jinny, and disappeared leisurely, to be gone perhaps half +an hour. + +There remained little sign of life on the board-pile, the bonnet tube +pointing fixedly toward the railway station, the man now and then slowly +shifting one leg across the other, but staring out at nothing, his lower +lip drooping laxly. When the servant finally brought back the milk-pail +and placed it beside him, he gave no word of thanks. To all appearances, +he was willing to wait here indefinitely, forgetful of the pail of milk, +toward which the sun was creeping ominously close. The way back home +seemed long and weary at that moment. His lip drooped still more laxly, +as he sat looking out vaguely. + +Not so calm seemed his consort, she of the sunbonnet. Restored to some +extent by her tarrying in the shade, she began to shift and hitch about +uneasily upon the board-pile. At length she leaned a bit to one side, +reached into a pocket and taking out a snuff-stick and a parcel of its +attendant compound, began to take a "dip" of snuff, after the habit of +certain of the population of that region. This done, she turned with a +swift jerk of the head, bringing to bear the tube of her bonnet in full +force upon her lord and master. + +"Jim Bowles," she said, "this here is a shame! Hit's a plumb shame!" + +There was no answer, save an uneasy hitch on the part of the person so +addressed. He seemed to feel the focus of the sunbonnet boring into his +system. The voice in the bonnet went on, shot straight toward him, so +that he might not escape. + +"It's a plumb shame," said Mrs. Bowles again. + +"I know it, I know it," said her husband at length, uneasily. "But, now, +Sar' Ann, how kin I help it? The cow's daid and I kain't help it, and +that's all about it. My God, woman!"--this with sudden energy,--"do you +think I kin bring a cow to life that's been killed by the old railroad +kyahs? I ain't no 'vangelist. It ain't my fault old Muley got killed." + +"Ain't yore fault!" + +"No, it ain't my fault. Whut am I going to do? I kaint get no otheh cow +right now, and I done tol' you so. You reckon cows grows on bushes?" + +"Grows on bushes!" + +"Yes, or that they comes for nuthin'?" + +"Comes for nuthin'!" + +"Yes, Sar' Ann, that's whut I said. I tell you, it ain't so fur to come, +ain't so fur up here, if you take it easy; only three mile. And Cunnel +Blount'll give us melk as long as we want. I reckon he would give us a +cow, too, if I ast him. I s'pose I could pay him out o' the next crop, +if they wasn't so many things that has to be paid out'n the crop. It's +too blame bad 'bout Muley." He scratched his head thoughtfully. + +"Yes," responded his spouse, "Muley was a heap better cow then you'll +ever git agin. Why, she gave two quo'ts o' melk the very mornin' she was +done killed, two quo'ts. I reckon we didn't have to walk no three mile +that mornin', did we? And she that kin' and gentle like--oh, we ain't +goin' to git no new cow like Muley, no time right soon, I want to tell +you that, Jim Bowles." + +"Well, well, I know all that," said her husband, conciliatingly, a +trifle easier now that the sunbonnet was for the moment turned aside. +"That's all true, mighty true. But what kin you _do_?" + +"Do? Why, do _somethin'_! Somebody sho' ought to suffer for this here. +This new-fangled railroad a-comin' through here, a-killing things an' +a-killing _folks_! Why, Bud Sowers said just the other week he heard of +three darkies gittin' killed in one bunch down to Allenville. They +standin' on the track, jes' talkin' and visitin' like. Didn't notice +nuthin'. Didn't notice the train a-comin'. 'Biff!' says Bud; an' thah +was them darkies." + +"Yes," said Mr. Bowles, "that's the way it was with Muley. She just walk +up out'n the cane, and stan' thah in the sun on ther track, to sort o' +look aroun' whah she could see free for a little ways. Then, 'long comes +the railroad train, an' biff! Thah's Muley!" + +"Plumb daid." + +"Plumb daid." + +"And she a good cow fer us fer fo'teen yeahs. It don't look exactly +right, now, does it? It sho' don't." + +"It's a outrage, that's whut it is," said Sar' Ann Bowles. + +"Well, we got the railroad," said her husband, tentatively. + +"Yes, we got the railroad," said Sar' Ann Bowles, savagely, "and what +yearthly good is hit? Who wants any railroad? Why, all the way here this +mornin', I was skeered every foot of the way, afearin' that there ingine +was goin' to come along an' kill us both!" + +"Sho! Sar' Ann," said her husband, with superiority. "It ain't time for +the train yit--leastwise I don't think it is." He looked about uneasily. + +"That's all right, Jim Bowles. One of them ingines might come 'long most +any time. It might creep up behine you, then, biff! Thah's Jim Bowles! +Whut use is the railroad, I'd like to know? I wouldn't be caught a +climbin' in one o' them thar kyars, not for big money. Supposin' it run +off the track?" + +"Oh, well, now," said her husband, "maybe it don't, always." + +"But supposin' it _did_?" The front of the telescope turned toward him +suddenly, and so burning was the focus this time that Mr. Bowles shifted +his seat, and took refuge upon another board at the other end of the +board-pile, out of range. + +"Whut made you vote for this yere railroad?" said Sarah Ann, following +him mercilessly with the bonnet tube. "We didn't want no railroad. We +never did have one, and we never ought to a-had one. You listen to me; +that railroad is goin' to ruin this country. Th' ain't a woman in these +yeah bottoms but would be skeered to have a baby grow up in her house. +Supposin' you got a baby; nice little baby, never did harm no one. You +a-cookin' or somethin'--out to the smoke-house, like enough; baby alone +for about two minutes. Baby crawls out on to the railroad track. Along +comes the ingine, an' biff! Thah's baby!" Mrs. Bowles shed tears at this +picture which she had conjured up, and even her less imaginative consort +became visibly affected, so that for a moment he half-straightened up. + +"Well, I dunno," said he, vaguely, and sighed softly; all of which +irritated Mrs. Bowles to such an extent that she flounced suddenly +around to get a better gaze upon her master. In this movement, her foot +struck the pail of milk which had been sitting near, and overturned it. + +"Jinny," she called out, "you, Jinny!" + +"Yassam," replied Jinny, from some place on the gallery. + +"Come here," said Mrs. Bowles. "Git me another pail o' melk. I done +spilled this one." + +"Yassam," replied Jinny, and presently returned with the refilled +vessel. + +"Well, anyway," said Jim Bowles at length, rising and standing with +hands in pockets, inside the edge of the shade line of the evergreens, +"I heard that there was a man came down through yere a few days ago. He +was sort of taking count of the critters that done got killed by the +railroad kyahs." + +"That so?" said Sarah Ann, somewhat mollified. + +"I reckon so," said Jim Bowles. "I 'lowed I'd ast Cunnel Blount here at +the Big House, about that some time. O' course it don't bring Muley +back, but then--" + +"No, hit don't," said Sarah Ann, resuming her original position. "And +our little Sim, he just loved that Muley cow, little Sim, he did. Say, +Jim Bowles, do you heah me!"--this with a sudden flirt of the sunbonnet +in an agony of actual fear. "Why, Jim Bowles, do you know that our +little Sim might be a playin', out thah in front of ouah house, on to +that railroad track, at this very minute? S'pose, s'posen--'long comes +that there railroad train? Say, man, whut you standin' there in that +there shade fer? We got to go! We got to git home! Come right along this +minute, er we may be too late." + +And so, smitten by this sudden thought, they gathered themselves +together as best they might and started toward the railroad for their +return. Even as they did so there appeared upon the northern horizon a +wreath of smoke rising above the forest. There was the far-off sound of +a whistle, deadened by the heavy intervening vegetation; presently there +puffed into view one of the railroad trains, still new upon this region. +Iconoclastic, modern, strenuous, it wabbled unevenly over the new-laid +rails up to the station house, where it paused for a few moments ere it +resumed its wheezing way to the southward. The two visitors at the Big +House gazed at it open-mouthed for a time, until all at once her former +thought crossed the woman's mind. She turned upon her husband. + +"Thar hit goes! Thar hit goes!" she cried. "Right on straight to our +house! Hit kaint miss hit! And little Sim, he's sure to be playin' out +thah on the track. Oh, he's daid right this minute, he shorely is!" + +Her speech exercised a certain force upon Jim Bowles. He stepped on the +faster, tripped upon a clod and stumbled, spilling half the milk from +the pail. + +"Thah, now," said he. "Thah hit goes agin. Done spilled the melk. Well, +hit's too far back to the house now fer mo'. But, now, mabbe Sim wasn't +playin' on the track." + +"Mabbe he wasn't!" said Sarah Ann scornfully. "Why, _o' course_ he was." + +"Well, if he was," said Jim Bowles, philosophically, "why, Sar' Ann, +from whut I done notice about this here railroad train, why--it's too +_late_ now." + +He might perhaps have pursued this logical line of thought further, had +not there occurred an incident which brought the conversation to a +close. Looking up, the two saw approaching them across the lawn, +evidently coming from the little railway station, and doubtless +descended from this very train, the alert, quick-stepping figure of a +man evidently a stranger to the place. Jim and Sarah Ann Bowles stepped +to one side as he approached and lifted his hat with a pleasant smile. + +"Good morning," said the stranger. "It's a fine day, isn't it? Can you +tell me whether or not Colonel Blount is at home this morning?" + +"Well, suh," said Jim Bowles, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "he is, an' +he ain't. He's home, o' course; that is, he hain't gone away no whah, to +co'te er nothin'. But then ag'in he's out huntin', gone after b'ah. I +reckon he's likely to be in 'most any day now." + +"'Most any day?" + +"Yessah. You better go on up to the house." + +"Thank you," said the stranger. "I am very much obliged to you, indeed. +I believe I'll wait here for just a little while. Good morning, sir. +Good morning, madam." + +He turned and walked slowly up the path toward the house, as the others +pursued their way to the railroad track, down which they presently were +plodding on their homeward journey. There was at least a little milk +left in the pail when finally they reached their small log cabin, with +its yard full of pigs and chickens. Eagerly they scanned the sides of +the railway embankment as they drew near, looking for signs of what they +feared to see. One need not describe the fierce joy with which Sarah Ann +Bowles fell upon little Sim, who was presently discovered, safe and +dirty, knocking about on the kitchen floor in abundant company of +puppies, cats and chickens. + +"I knowed he would be killed," said Sarah Ann. + +"But he _hain't_," said her husband, triumphantly. And for one time in +their married life there seemed to be no possible way in which she might +contradict him, which fact for her constituted a situation somewhat +difficult. + +"Well, it hain't yore fault ef he hain't," said she at length. + +The new-comer at the Big House was a well-looking figure enough as he +advanced up the path toward the white-pillared galleries. In height just +above middle stature, and of rather spare habit of body, alert, compact +and vigorous, he carried himself with a self-respect redeemed from +aggressiveness by an open candor of face and the pleasant forthright +gaze of a kindly blue-gray eye. In spite of a certain gravity of mien, +his eyes seemed wont to smile upon occasions, as witnessed divers little +wrinkles at the corners. A hurried observer might have guessed his age +within ten years, but might have been wrong upon either side, and might +have had an equal difficulty in classifying his residence or occupation. +It was evident that he was not ill at ease in this environment; for as +he met coming around the corner an old colored man, who, with a rag in +one hand and a bottle in the other, seemed intent upon some errand at +the dog kennel beyond, he paused not in query or salutation, but tossed +his umbrella to the servant and at the same time handed him his +traveling-bag. "Take care of these, Bill," said he. + +Bill, for that was indeed his name, placed the bag and umbrella upon a +gallery floor, and with the air of owning the place himself, invited the +visitor to enter. + +"The Cunnel's not to home, suh," said Bill. "But you better come in and +sed-down. I'll go call the folks." + +"Never mind," said the visitor. "I reckon I'll just walk around a little +outside. I hear Colonel Blount is off on a bear hunt." + +"Yassah," said Bill. "An' when he goes he mostly gets b'ah. I'm right +'spondent dis time, though, 'deed I is, suh." + +"What's the matter?" + +"Why, you see, suh," replied Bill, leaning comfortably back against a +gallery post. "It's dis-a-way. I'm just gwine out to fix up Old Hec's +foot. He's ouah bestest b'ah dog, but he got so blame biggoty, las' time +he was out, stuck his foot right intoe a ba'h's mouth. Now, Hec's lef' +home, an' me lef' home to 'ten' to Hec. How kin Cunnel Blount git any +b'ah widout me an' Hec along? I'se right 'spondent, dat's whut I is." + +"Well, now, that's too bad," said the stranger, with a smile. + +"Too bad? I reckon it sho' is. Fer, if Cunnel Blount don't get no +b'ah--look out den, _I_ kin tell you." + +"Gets his dander up, eh?" + +"Dandah--dandah! You know him? Th' ain't no better boss, but ef he goes +out huntin' b'ah and don't get no _b'ah_--why, den dey ain't no reason +gwine _do_ foh him. + +"Now, when you see Cunnel Blount come home, he'll come up along dat +lane, him an' de dogs, an' dem no 'count niggers he done took 'long with +him; an' when he gits up to whah de lane crosses de railroad track, ef +he come' ridin' 'long easy like, now an' den tootin' his hawn to sort o' +let us know he's a-comin'--ef he do dat-a-way, dat's all right,--dat's +all right." Here the garrulous old servant shook his head. "But ef he +don't--well den--" + +"That's bad, if he doesn't, eh?" + +"Yessah. Ef he don' come a-blowin' an' ef he _do_ come _a-singin_', den +look out! I allus did notice dat ef Cunnel Blount 'gins to sing 'ligious +hymns, somethin's wrong, and somethin' gwine ter drap. He hain't right +easy ter git 'long wif when he's a-singin'. But if you'll 'scuse me, +suh, I got ter take care o' Hec. Jest make yourself to home, +suh,--anyways you like." + +The visitor contented himself with wandering about the yard, until at +length he seated himself on the board-pile beneath the evergreen trees, +and so sank into an idle reverie, his chin in his hand, and his eyes +staring out across the wide field. He sat thus for some time, and the +sun was beginning to encroach upon his refuge, when suddenly he was +aroused by the faint and far-off sound of a hunting-horn. That the +listener distinguished it at such a distance might have argued that he +himself had known hound and saddle in his day; yet he readily caught the +note of the short hunting-horn universally used by the Southern hunters, +and recognized the assembly call for the hunting-pack. As it came near, +all the dogs in the kennel yards heard it and raged to escape from their +confinement. Old Bill came hobbling around the corner. Steps were heard +on the gallery. The visitor's face showed a slight uneasiness as he +caught a glance of a certain spot now suddenly made alive by the flutter +of a soft gown and the flash of a bunch of scarlet ribbons. Thither he +gazed as directly as he might under these circumstances, but the girl +was gone before he had opportunity even to rise and remove his hat. + +"That's her. That's Miss Lady," said Bill to his new friend, in a low +voice. "Han'somest gal in the hull Delta. They'll all be right glad ter +see the Cunnel back. He's got a b'ah shore, fer he's comin' a-blowin'." + +Bill's joy was not long-lived, for even as the little cavalcade came in +view, a tall figure on a chestnut hunting horse riding well in advance, +certain colored stragglers coming behind, and the party-colored pack +trotting or limping along on all sides, the music of the summoning horn +suddenly ceased. Looking neither to the right nor to the left, the +leader of the hunt rode on up the lane, sitting loose and careless in +the saddle, his right hand steadying a short rifle across the saddle +front. He rode thus until presently those at the Big House heard, softly +rising on the morning air, the chant of an old church hymn: "On Jordan's +strand I'll take my stand, An-n-n--" + +"Oh, Lawd," exclaimed Bill. "Dat's his very wustest chune!"--saying +which he dodged around the corner of the house. + +Turning in from the lane at the yard gate, Colonel Calvin Blount and his +retinue rode close up to the side door of the plantation house; but even +here the master vouchsafed no salutation to those who awaited his +coming. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, lean and muscular; yet so +far from being thin and dark, he was spare rather from physical exercise +than through gaunt habit of body; his complexion was ruddy and +sun-colored, and the long mustache hanging across his jaws showed a deep +mahogany-red. Western ranchman one might have called him, rather than +Southern planter. Scotch-Irish, generations back, perhaps, yet Southern +always, and by birthright American, he might have been a war-lord of +another land and day. No feudal baron ever dismounted with more +assuredness at his own hall, to toss careless rein to a retainer. He +stood now, tall and straight, a trifle rough-looking in his careless +planter's dress, but every inch the master. A slight frown puckered up +his forehead, giving to his face an added hint of sternness. + +Colonel Blount busied himself with directions as to the horses and dogs. +The latter came straggling along in groups or pairs or singly, some of +them hobbling on three legs, many showing bitter wounds. The chase of +the great bear had proved stern pastime for them. Of half a hundred +hounds which had started, not two-thirds were back again, and many of +these would be unfit for days for the resumption of their savage trade. +None the less, as the master sounded again, loud and clear, the call for +the assembly, all the dogs about the place, young and old, homekeepers +and warriors, came pouring in with heads uplifted, each pealing out his +sweet and mournful music. Blount spoke to dozens of them, calling each +by its proper name. + +In the confusion of the disbandment of the hunt, the master of the Big +House had as yet hardly had time to look about him, but now, as the +conclave scattered he found himself alone, and turning discovered the +occupant of the board-pile, who arose and advanced, offering his hand. + +"This is Colonel Blount, I presume," said he. + +"Yes, sir, that's my name. I beg your pardon, I'm sure, but I didn't +know you were there. Come right on into the house and sit down, sir. +Now, your name was--?" + +"Eddring," said the new-comer. "John Eddring. I am just down on the +morning's train from the city." + +"I'm right glad to see you, Mr. Eddring," said Colonel Blount, extending +his hand. The two, without plan, wandered over toward the shade of the +evergreen, and presently seated themselves at the board-pile. + +"Well, Colonel Blount," said the visitor, "I reckon you must have had a +good hunt." + +"Yes, sir, there ain't a ba'h in the Delta can get away from those dogs. +We run this fellow straight on end for ten miles; put him across the +river twice, and all around the Black Bayou, but the dogs kept him hot +all the time, I'm telling you, for more than five miles through the cane +beyond the bayou." + +"Who got the shot, Colonel?" asked Eddring--a question apparently most +unwelcome. + +"Well, I ought to have had it," said Blount, with a frown of +displeasure. "The fact is, I did take a flying chance from horseback, +when the ba'h ran by in the cane half a mile back of where they killed +him. Somehow I must have missed. But man! you ought to have heard that +pack for two hours through the woods. It certainly would have raised +your hair straight up. You ever hunt ba'h, sir?" + +"A little, once in a while, when I have had the time. You see, a +railroad man can't always choose." + +"Railroad man?" said Colonel Blount. A sudden gloom fell upon his ruddy +face. "Railroad man, eh? Well, I wish you was something else. Now, I +helped get that railroad through this country--if it hadn't been for me, +they never could have laid a mile of track through here. But now, do you +know what they done did to me the other day, with their damned old +railroad?" + +"No, sir, I haven't heard." + +"Well, I'll tell you--Bill! Oh, _Bill_! Go into the house and get me +some ice; and go pick some mint and bring it here to this gentleman and +me--Say, do you know what that railroad did? Why, it just killed the +best filly on my plantation, my best running stock, too. Now, I was the +man to help get that railroad through the Delta, and I--" + +"Well, now, Colonel Blount," said the other, "the road isn't a bad sort +of thing for you all down here, after all. It relieves you of the river +market, and it gives you a double chance to get out your cotton. You +don't have to haul your cotton twelve miles back to the boat any more. +Here is your station right at your door, and you can load on the cars +any day you want to." + +"Oh, that's all right, that's all right. But how about this killing of +my stock?" + +"Well, that's so," said the other, facing the point and ruminatingly +biting a splinter between his teeth. "It does look as if we had killed +about everything loose in the whole Delta during the last month or so." + +"Are you on this railroad?" asked Blount suddenly. + +"I reckon I'll have to admit that I am," said the other, smiling. + +"Passenger agent, or something of that sort, I reckon? Well, let me tell +you, you change your road. Say, there was a man down below here last +week settling up claims--Bill! Ah-h, _Bill_! Where've you gone?" + +"Yes," said Eddring, "it certainly did seem that when we built this road +every cow and every nigger, not to mention a lot of white folks, made a +bee-line straight for our right of way. Why, sir, it was a solid line of +cows and niggers from Memphis to New Orleans. How could you blame an +engineer if he run into something once in a while? He couldn't _help_ +it." + +"Yes. Now, do you know what this claim-settler, or this claim-agent man +did? Why, he paid a man down below here two stations--what do you think +he paid him for as fine a heifer as ever eat cane? Why, fifteen +dollars!" + +"Fifteen dollars!" + +"Yes, fifteen dollars." + +"That looks like a heap of money for a heifer, doesn't it, Colonel +Blount?" + +"A heap of money? Why, no. Heap of _money_? Why, what do you mean?" + +"Heifers didn't bring that before the road came through. Why, you would +have had to drive that heifer twenty-five miles before you could get a +market, and then she wouldn't have brought over twelve dollars. Now, +fifteen dollars, seems to me, is about right." + +"Well, let the heifer go. But there was a cow killed three miles below +here the other day. Neighbors of mine. I reckon that claim agent +wouldn't want to allow any more than fifteen dollars for Jim Bowles' +cow, neither." + +"Maybe not." + +"Well, never mind about the cow, either; but look here. A nigger lost +his wife down there, killed by these steam kyars--looks like the niggers +get _fascinated_ by them kyars. But here's Bill coming at last. Now, Mr. +Eddring, we'll just make a little julep. Tell me, how do you make a +julep, sir?" + +Eddring hitched a little nearer on the board-pile. "Well, Colonel +Blount," said he, "in our family we used to have an old silver mug--sort +of plain mug, you know, few flowers around the edge of it--been in the +family for years. Now, you take a mug like that and let it lie in the +ice box all the time, and when you take it out, it's sort of got a white +frost all over it. Now, my old daddy, he would take this mug and put +some fine ice into it,--not too fine. Then he'd take a little cut loaf +sugar, in another glass, and he'd mash it up in a little water--not too +much water--then he'd pour that in over the ice. Then he would pour in +some good corn whisky, till all the interstices of that ice were filled +plumb up; then he'd put some mint--" + +"Didn't smash the mint? Say, he didn't smash the mint, did he?" said +Colonel Blount, eagerly, hitching over toward the speaker. + +"Smash it? I should say not, sir! Sometimes, at certain seasons of the +mint, he might just sort of take a twist at the leaf, to sort of release +a little of the flavor, you know. You don't want to be rough with mint. +Just twist it gently between the thumb and finger. Then you set it in +nicely around the edge of the glass. Sometimes just a little powder of +fine sugar around on top of the mint leaves, and then a straw--" + +"Sir," said Colonel Blount, gravely rising and taking off his hat, "you +are welcome to my home!" + +Eddring, with equal courtesy, arose and removed his own hat. + +"For my part," resumed Blount, judicially, "I rather lean to a piece of +cut glass, for the green and the crystal look mighty fine together. I +don't always make them with any sugar on top of the mint. But, you know, +just a circle of mint--not crushed--not crushed, mind you--just a green +ring of fragrance, so that you can bury your nose in it and forget your +troubles. Sir, allow me once more to shake your hand. I think I know a +gentleman when I see one." + +"A gentleman," said the other, smiling slightly. "Well, don't shake +hands with me yet, sir. I don't know. You see I'm a railroad man, and +I'm here on business." + +"Damn it, sir, if it was only your description of a julep, if it was +only your mention of that old family silver mug, devoted to that sacred +purpose, sir--that would be your certificate of character here. Forget +your business. Come down here and live with me. We'll go huntin' ba'h +together. Why, man, I'm mighty glad to make your acquaintance." + +"But wait," said Eddring, "there may be two ways of looking at this." + +"Well, there's only one way of looking at a julep," said Blount, "and +that's down a straw. Now, I'll show you how we make them down here in +the Sunflower country. + +"But, as I as a-sayin'"--and here Blount set down the glasses midway in +his compounding, and went on with his interrupted proposition,--"now +here was that nigger that lost his wife. Of course he had a whole flock +of children. Now, what do you think that claim agent said he would pay +that nigger for his wife?" + +"Well, I--" + +"Well, but what do you _reckon_?" + +"Why, I reckon about fifteen dollars." + +"That's it, that's it!" said Blount, slapping his hand upon the board +until the glasses jingled. "That's just what he did offer; fifteen +dollars! Not a cent more." + +"Well, now, Colonel Blount," said Eddring, "you know there's a heap of +mighty trifling niggers loose in this part of the world. You see, that +fellow would marry again in a little while, and he might get a heap +better woman next time. There's a lot of swapping wives among the +niggers at best. Now, here's a man lost his wife decent and respectable, +and there's nothing on earth a nigger likes better than a good funeral, +even if it has to be his own wife. Now, how many nigger funerals are +there that cost fifteen dollars? I'll bet you if that nigger had it to +do over again he'd a heap rather be rid of her and have the fifteen +dollars. Look at it! Fine funeral for one wife and something left over +to get a bonnet for his new wife. I'll bet there isn't a nigger on your +place that wouldn't jump at a chance like that." + +Colonel Blount scratched his head. "You understand niggers all right, +I'll admit," said he. "But, now, supposin' it had been a white man?" + +"Well, supposing it was?" + +"We don't need to suppose. There was the same thing happened to a white +family. Wife got killed--left three children." + +"Oh, you mean that accident down at Shelby?" + +"Yes, Mrs. Something-or-other, she was. Well, sir, damn me, if that +infernal claim agent didn't have the face to offer fifteen dollars for +her, too." + +"Looks almost like he played a fifteen-dollar limit all the time, +doesn't it?" said the visitor. + +"It certainly does. It ain't right." + +"Well, now, I heard about that woman. She was a tall, thin creature, +with no liver left at all, and her chills came three times a week. She +wouldn't work; she was red-headed and had only one straight eye; and as +for a tongue--well, I only hope, Colonel Blount, that you and I will +never have a chance to meet anything like that. Of course, I know she +was killed. Her husband just hated her before she died, but blame _me_, +just as soon as she was _dead_, he loved her more than if she was his +sweetheart all over again. Now, that's how it goes. Say, I want to tell +you, Colonel Blount, this road is plumb beneficent, if only for the fact +that it develops human affection the way it does. Fifteen dollars! Why, +I tell you, sir, fifteen dollars was _more_ than enough for that woman." +He turned indignantly on the board-pile. + +"I reckon," said Colonel Blount, "that you would say that about my +neighbor Jim Bowles' cow?" + +"Certainly. I know about that cow, too. She was twenty years old and on +her last legs. Road kills her, and all at once she becomes a dream of +heifer loveliness. _I_ know." + +"I reckon," said Colonel Blount, still more grimly; "I reckon if that +damned claim agent was to come here, he would just about say that +fifteen dollars was enough for my filly." + +"I shouldn't wonder. Now, look here, Colonel Blount. You see, I'm a +railroad man, and I'm able to see the other side of these things." + +"Oh, well, all right," said Blount, "but that don't bring my filly back. +You can't get Himyah blood every day in the week. That filly would have +seen Churchill Downs in her day, if she had lived." + +"Yes; and if she had, you would have had to back her, wouldn't you? You +would have trained that filly and paid a couple of hundred for it. You +would have fitted her at the track and paid several hundred more. You +would have bet a couple of thousand, anyway, as a matter of principle, +and, like enough, you'd have lost it. Now, if this road paid you fifteen +dollars for that filly and saved you twenty-five hundred or three +thousand into the bargain, how ought you to feel about it? Are you +twenty-five hundred behind or fifteen ahead?" + +Colonel Calvin Blount had now feverishly finished his julep, and as the +other stopped, he placed his glass beside him on the board-pile and +swung a long leg across, so that he sat directly facing his enigmatical +guest. The latter, in the enthusiasm of his argument, swung into a +similar position, and so they sat, both hammering on the board between +them. + +"Well, I would like to see that damned claim agent offer me fifteen +dollars for that filly," said Blount. "I might take fifty, for the sake +of the road; but fifteen--" + +"Well, what would you do?" + +"Well, by God, sir, if I saw that claim agent--" + +"Well, by God, sir, _I'm_ that claim agent; and I _do_ offer you fifteen +dollars for that filly, right now!" + +"What! You--" + +"Yes, me!" + +"Fifteen dollars!" + +"Yes, sir, fifteen dollars." + +Colonel Blount burst into a sudden song--"On _Jor_dan's strand I'll +_take_ my stand!" he began. + +"It's all she's worth," interrupted the claim agent. + +Blount fairly gasped. "Do you mean to tell me," said he, in forced calm, +"that you are this claim agent?" + +"I have told you. That's the way I make my living. That's my duty." + +"Your duty to give me fifteen dollars for a Himyah filly?" + +"I said fifteen." + +"And I said fifty." + +"You don't get it." + +"I don't, eh? Say, my friend"--Blount pushed the glasses away, his +choler rising at the temerity of this, the only man who in many a year +had dared to confront him. "You look here. Write me a check for fifty; +an' write it now." With a sudden whip of his hand he reached behind him. +Like a flash he pulled a long revolver from its holster. Eddring gazed +into the round aperture of the muzzle and certain surrounding apertures +of the cylinder. "Write me a check," said Blount, slowly, "and write it +for fifty. I may tear it up when I get it--I don't care fifty cents for +it--but you write it!" + +The eyes of the two met, and which were the braver man it had been hard +to tell. Neither flinched. Eddring returned a gaze as direct as that +which he received. The florid face back of the barrel held a gleam of +half-admiration at witnessing his deliberation. The claim agent's eye +did not falter. + +"You said fifty dollars, Colonel Blount," said he, just a suggestion of +a smile at the corner of his mouth. "Don't you think there has been a +slight misunderstanding between us two? If you are so blamed particular +and really _want_ a check for fifty, why, here it is." He busied himself +a moment, and passed over a strip of paper. Even as he did so, the ire +of Colonel Blount cooled as suddenly as it had gained warmth. A sudden +contrition sat on his face, and he crowded the paper into his pocket +with an air half shamed-faced. + +"Sir--Mr. Eddring--" he began, falteringly. + +"Well, what do you want? You've got your check, and you've got the +railroad. We've paid our little debt to you." + +"Sir," said Blount. "My friend--why, sir, here is your julep." + +"To hell with your julep, sir." + +"My friend," said Blount, flushing. "You serve me right. I am forgetting +my duties as a gentleman. I asked you into my house." + +"I'll see you damned first," said Eddring, hotly. + +"Right!" cried Blount, exultingly. "You're right. You are one of the +fighting Eddrings, sure as you're born. Why, sir, come on in. You +wouldn't punish the son of your uncle's friend, your own daddy's friend, +would you? Why, man, I know your folks--" + +But the ire of Eddring was now aroused. A certain smoldering fire, long +with difficulty suppressed, began to flame in spite of him. + +"Bring me out a plate," said he, bitterly, "and let me eat on the +gallery. As you say, I am only a claim agent. Good God, man!" And then +of a sudden his wrath arose still higher. His own hand made a swift +motion. "Give me back that check," he said, and his extended hand +presented a weapon held steady as though supported by the limb of a +tree. "You didn't give me a fair show." + +"Well, by the eternal," half-whispered Colonel Calvin Blount to himself. +"Ain't he a fightin' chicken?" + +"Give it to me," demanded Eddring; and the other, astounded, humbled, +reached into his pocket and produced the paper. + +"I will give it to you, boy," said he, soberly, "and twenty like it, if +you'll forget all this and come into my house." + +"I will not, sir," said Eddring. "This was business, and you made it +personal." + +"Oh, business!" said Blount. + +"Sir," said John Eddring, "the world never understands when a fellow has +to choose between being a business man and a gentleman. I can't afford +to be a gentleman--" + +"And you are so much one, my son," said Calvin Blount, grimly, "that you +won't do anything but what you know is right. My friend, I won't ask you +in again, not any more, right now. But when you can, come again, sir, +some day. When you come right easy and pleasant, my son, why, you know I +want you." + +John Eddring's hard-set jaw relaxed, trembled, and he dared not commit +himself to speech. With a straight look into Colonel Blount's eyes, he +half turned away, and passed on down the path, Blount looking after him +more than half-yearningly. + +So intent, indeed, was the latter in his gaze upon the receding figure +that he did not hear the swift rush of light feet on the gallery, nor +turn until Miss Lady stood before him. The girl swept him a deep +curtsey, spreading out the skirt of her biscuit-colored gown in mocking +deference of posture. + +"Please, Mr. Colonel," said she, "since he can't hear the dinner-bell, +would he be good enough to tell whether or not he will come in and eat? +Everything is growing cold; and I made the biscuits." + +Calvin Blount put out his hand, and a softer shade came upon his face. +"Oh, it is you, Miss Lady, is it?" said he. "Yes, I'm back home again. +And you made the biscuits, eh?" + +"I called to you several times," said Miss Lady. "Who is that gentleman +you are staring at? Why doesn't he come in and eat with us?" + +Colonel Blount turned slowly as Miss Lady tugged at his arm. "Who is +he?" he replied, half-musingly. "Who is he? You tell me. He refused to +eat in Calvin Blount's house; that's why he didn't come in, Miss Lady. +He says he's the cow coroner on the railroad; but I want to tell you, +he's the finest fellow and the nearest to a gentleman that ever struck +this country. That's what he is. I'm mighty troubled over his going +away." + +"Why, he didn't drink his julep!" said Miss Lady, severely. + +"No," said Blount, miserably. + +"And he hasn't any other place to eat," said Miss Lady, argumentatively. + +"No." + +"And he--he hasn't been introduced to me," said Miss Lady, conclusively. + +"No." + +"Colonel Cal, call him!" said Miss Lady, decisively. + +Her words roused the old planter. + +"You--I say, Eddring; you, there! Come on back here! Forgot something!" + +In spite of himself--or was it in union with himself?--John Eddring +turned back, and at last stood hat in hand near to the others. A smile +softened the stern features of Colonel Blount as he pointed, +half-quizzically to the untasted julep on the board-pile. + +"Besides, Mr. Eddring," said he; "besides, you have not yet heard that +this young lady of ours, Miss Lady, here, helped make the dinner this +evenin'. Now, sir, I ask, will you come?" + +The same odd tremble caught the claim agent's lip, and he frowned to +pull himself out of his own weakness before he made reply. Miss Lady, +tall, well-rounded, dark-eyed, her ruff of red-brown hair thrown back, +stood looking at him, her hand clasped upon Blount's arm. + +Eddring bowed deeply. "Sir," he said, "it wasn't fair of you; but I +yield to your superior weapons!" + + + + +THE FINAL CHOICE[3] + +BY EDMUND VANCE COOKE + +"_Dark doubts between the promise and event._"--_Young._ + + + I rather thought that Alexander + Would sound well at the font, + While mother much preferred Leander + For him who swam the Hellespont. + Grandfather clamored for Uriah, + While grandma mentioned Obadiah. + + Then mother spoke of Clarence, Cyril, + And Reginald and Claude, + But I thought none of them were virile + Like some such name as Ichabod. + Grandfather spoke for Jeremiah. + And grandma favored Azariah. + + Then Harold, Gerald, Donald, Luke, + And lordly Roderick + Waged wordy war with Marmaduke + And Bernard and Theodoric, + While grandpa hinted Zachariah + And grandma thought of Hezekiah. + + We spoke of Gottlieb from the German, + Of Gaius, Caius, Saul, + Of Andrew, François, Ivan, Herman, + Of Caspar, Jasper, Peter, Paul. + Still grandpa stuck for Nehemiah, + And grandma ventured Jedediah. + + From Aaron down to Zeph we went, + But Fate is so contrary! + For after the august event + The name we really chose was Mary! + Though grandma much preferred Maria, + And grandpa rooted for Sophia. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[3] Lippincott's Magazine. + + + + +HON. RANSOM PEABODY + +BY GEORGE ADE + +The Fable of the Hoosier Bill of Fare and How the Women Folks Cooked Up +Things for the Well-known Citizen. + + +Once upon a Time there was a Hired Hand who felt that he was cut out to +be Somebody. Among the Agriculturists he was said to be too dosh-burned +Toney because he wore gloves when he Toiled and on Sundays put on a slew +of Agony, with sheet-iron Shoes pointed at the End and a neat Derby +purchased in Terry Hut. + +Now this Freckled Swain, whose name was Ransom, wanted to hop on the +Inter-Reuben and go zipping away to see the Great World. He wanted to +live in a Big Town where he would not have to walk on the Ploughed +Ground and where he could get something Good to Eat. He was tired of the +plain Vittles out on the Farm. They very seldom had anything on the +Table except Chicken with Gravy, Salt-Rising Bread, Milk, seven or eight +Vegetables, Crulls, Cookies, Apple Butter, Whortleberry Pie, Light +Biscuit, Spare Ribs, Pig's Feet, Hickory Nut Cake and such like. This +thing of drawing up every A. M. to the same old Lay Out of home-made +Sausage, Buckwheat Cakes, Recent Eggs, Fried Mush and Mother's Coffee +was beginning to wear on him. Often he dreamt of being in the +Metropolis, where he could get an Oyster Stew, Sardines, and Ice Cream +in the Winter Time. + +At last his Dream came out of the Box. He went up to the City to attend +a Law School and found himself domiciled in a Refined Joint that was a +Cross between a Salon and a Beanery. It was one of those Regular Places +kept by a thin Lady who had once ridden in her Own Carriage. Her Long +Suit was Home Atmosphere. She had the Hall-Ways filled with it. What is +more, she came from an Old Family. Lord Cornwallis once stopped at their +House to get a Drink of Water and George Washington came very near +sleeping in one of the Bed-Rooms. So that made the Board about 50 cents +more on the Week. + +Like all high class Boarding Houses, it was infested by some Lovely +People. There was the girl who spelled it Edythe and was having her +voice done over. She had a Mother to keep Cases on her and do the Press +Work. Also there was the Grass Widow who remembered her Husband's name +but had mislaid the Address. Also the Old Boarder who was always under +the influence of Pepsin. He would come down to Breakfast wearing the +Hoof-Marks of a Nightmare Seventeen Hands high and holler about the Food +and tell the Young Lawyer how you can't believe anything you see in the +Papers. Also there was a young man employed in a Furniture Store who +knew that he could put Eddie Sothern on the Fritz if he ever got a Whack +at the Drama. Unless some one got out an Injunction he would recite +Poe's "Raven" while Edythe played Chills and Fever music on the +Once-Piano. So the Astute Reader will understand that this was a sure +enough Boarding House. + +Ranse could have stood for the Intellectual Environment if there had +been a little more doing in the Food Line. Instead of stacking it up on +the Table and giving the word to Pitch In, the Refined Landlady had it +brought on in stingy little Dabs by several Beautiful Heiresses who +hated to hold Converse with Ordinary Boarders. About the time that +Ranse, with the Farm Appetite, began to settle down to Business he would +notice all the other People rolling up the Red Napkins and trying to get +them into the Rings. If he kept on eating after that, they would give +him the Eye. + +Cereals were strongly featured at the polite Prunery. Ransom, while +employed on the Farm, had often mixed up Chop Feed and Bran for the +Shoats and Yearlings, but he never thought he would come down to eating +it himself. Another Strong Card was a Soup that was quite Pale and had a +couple of Vermicelli swimming around in it. And every Tuesday they +served Dried Currants with Clinkers in them. + +Before Ranse had been against the Health Food Proposition many moons he +began to hanker for the yellow-legged Plymouth Rocks, the golden Butter +and the kind of milk that comes from the Cow--take a Tin Cup and go +right out to the Spring House and dip it up for yourself. Poor, eh? + +Still, he figured that as soon as he got into Practice and began to +connect with the Currency he could shake the Oatmeal Circuit and put up +at an A1 Hotel. + +Like all the other Country Boys of the Story Books, Ransom made a +Ten-Strike in the City. He worked 18 hours per and in Due Time he was +taken into the Firm and stopped shaving his Neck and wore Pajamas +instead of a home-made Nightie. + +Then he moved into a Hotel that had $40,000 worth of Paintings on the +First Floor, so that no one had a right to kick even if the Push Button +failed to work. All the Furniture was Louie Something. You take an +ex-Farm-Hand and let him sit in a Gold Chair with Satin Monogram that is +too Nice to lean against, and you can see at a Glance that he is sure +enjoying himself. Ranse now began to go against the à la Carte Gag. The +Menu was prepared by a Near-French Chef. For Fear that People might find +Fault with the Food he always smothered it and covered it over with Goo. + +Ranse began to find out that Goulasch meant Boiled Dinner with Perfumery +in it, and also that there were seven different names for Hash. The only +Thing that saved it from being Hash was the Piece of Lemon Peel tucked +on the Side. + +Ranse was not very strong for the French Cooking. Sometimes he would +find himself Chicken-Hungry and he would order what he thought was +Chicken and he would get a half section of cold storage Poulet covered +with Armor Plate, a neat Ruffle around the Ankle and an Olive reposing +on the Bosom. If he ordered Ice Cream he got something resembling a +sample Paper Weight from the Quarries at Bedford, Indiana. And the +Buckwheat Cakes! They looked like Doilies and tasted like Blotters. And +the Demi-Tasse is an Awful Joke to spring on the Man who wants a Cup of +Coffee. + +Here was the Hon. Ransom, rich and prosperous and apparently happy, but +in reality he was Dead Sore. Things appeared to be coming very Soft for +him and yet that which he wanted most of all he could not get. He wanted +the real old simon-pure Home Cooking: He recalled the Happy Days of Bean +Soup and Punkin Pie and Cottage Cheese. Time and again he would see one +of those old Friends on a Score-Card in a Restaurant and he would order +it and get some Fake Imitation with Smilax all around the edges. So, +after a while, he became discouraged and ate all the Junk that was set +before him--Dope, Lemon Peel, Floral Decoration and all. + +Often he would go to Banquets that cost as much as Ten a Throw. He +would dally with Fish that had Glue Dressing on top of it and Golf Balls +lying alongside. He would tackle Siberian Slush that had Hair Tonic +floating on top of it. Then the Petrified Quail and the Cheese that +should have been served in 1884. Often, sitting at these Magnificent +Spreads, he thought to himself that he would willingly trade all the +Tiffany Water on the Table for one Goblet of real Buttermilk. + +After Ransom had insulted his Digestive Apparatus for many years with +the horrible Concoctions of the Gents' Café he resolved to go back to +his native Town and visit some of his Blood Relations so that he could +get at least one more Crack at real American Grub. + +He wrote that he was coming and his Kin became greatly Agitated. + +"Our celebrated Cousin, the Hon. Ransom Peabody, is coming to visit us," +they said. "We must make unusual Preparations to receive the big +Battleship. He is Rich and High-Toned and has been living at one of +those $6-a-Day Palaces and we must cut a big Melon when he shows up. He +is accustomed to City Food and we must not insult him with ordinary +Provender." + +So they began framing up Dishes out of a Subscription Cook Book +purchased the year before from a Lady with Gold Glasses and a grand flow +of Language. + +The Hon. Ransom arrived late one Evening and all Night he lay awake in +the Spare Bed-Room, gloating over the prospect of a Home Breakfast. + +"Me for the Sausage Cakes with the good old Sage rubbed into them," said +Ranse. "I will certainly show the Buckwheats how to take a Joke and the +way I'll dip into that Coffee will be a Caution. And mebbe I won't go to +those Eggs direct from the Hen!" + +He arose early, but had to wait two Hours. As he was from the City, the +Family had postponed Breakfast until 9 o'clock. When he faced up to the +Table he was Wolfish. First they gave him Grape Fruit au Kirsch. Then +the Finger Bowl with the cute Rose Leaves floating idly on the dimpled +Surface. Then a dainty Lamb Chop with an ornamental Fence around it and +a sweet little cup of Cocoa in the China that Uncle Henry bought at the +World's Fair. Then French Toast and Eggs à la Gazaza, with Christmas +Trees stuck into them. + +The Hon. Ransom arose and howled like a Siberian Wolf, which was +Impolite of him. Before he went Home he did manage to get a little real +Eating, but every one said he was very Eccentric to prefer such a simple +dish as Fried Chicken. + +Moral--Hurry up and get it before the Chef and the Cook-Book have us +entirely Civilized. + + + + +NOTHING TO WEAR + +BY WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER + + + Miss Flora M'Flimsey, of Madison Square, + Has made three separate journeys to Paris, + And her father assures me, each time she was there, + That she and her friend, Mrs. Harris + (Not the lady whose name is so famous in history, + But plain Mrs. H., without romance or mystery), + Spent six consecutive weeks, without stopping, + In one continuous round of shopping-- + Shopping alone, and shopping together, + At all hours of the day, and in all sorts of weather, + For all manner of things that a woman can put + On the crown of her head, or the sole of her foot, + Or wrap round her shoulders, or fit round her waist, + Or that can be sewed on, or pinned on, or laced, + Or tied on with a string, or stitched on with a bow + In front or behind, above or below; + For bonnets, mantillas, capes, collars and shawls; + Dresses for breakfast, and dinners, and balls; + Dresses to sit in, and stand in, and walk in; + Dresses to dance in, and flirt in, and talk in; + Dresses in which to do nothing at all; + Dresses for winter, spring, summer and fall; + All of them different in color and shape, + Silk, muslin and lace, velvet, satin and crape, + Brocade and broadcloth, and other material, + Quite as expensive and much more ethereal; + In short, for all things that could ever be thought of, + Or milliner, _modiste_ or tradesman be bought of, + From ten-thousand-franc robes to twenty-sous frills; + In all quarters of Paris, and to every store, + While M'Flimsey in vain stormed, scolded and swore, + They footed the streets, and he footed the bills! + The last trip, their goods shipped by the steamer _Arago_, + Formed, M'Flimsey declares, the bulk of her cargo, + Not to mention a quantity kept from the rest, + Sufficient to fill the largest-sized chest, + Which did not appear on the ship's manifest, + But for which the ladies themselves manifested + Such particular interest, that they invested + Their own proper persons in layers and rows + Of muslin, embroideries, worked underclothes, + Gloves, handkerchiefs, scarfs, and such trifles as those; + Then, wrapped in great shawls, like Circassian beauties, + Gave _good-by_ to the ship, and _go by_ to the duties. + Her relations at home all marveled, no doubt, + Miss Flora had grown so enormously stout + For an actual belle and a possible bride; + But the miracle ceased when she turned inside out, + And the truth came to light, and the dry-goods besides, + Which, in spite of Collector and Custom-House sentry, + Had entered the port without any entry. + And yet, though scarce three months have passed since the day + This merchandise went, on twelve carts, up Broadway, + This same Miss M'Flimsey of Madison Square, + The last time we met was in utter despair, + Because she had nothing whatever to wear! + + Nothing to wear! Now, as this is a true ditty, + I do not assert--this, you know, is between us + That she's in a state of absolute nudity, + Like Powers's Greek Slave or the Medici Venus; + But I do mean to say, I have heard her declare, + When at the same moment she had on a dress + Which cost five hundred dollars, and not a cent less, + And jewelry worth ten times more, I should guess, + That she had not a thing in the wide world to wear! + I should mention just here, that out of Miss Flora's + Two hundred and fifty or sixty adorers, + I had just been selected as he who should throw all + The rest in the shade, by the gracious bestowal + On myself, after twenty or thirty rejections, + Of those fossil remains which she called her "affections," + And that rather decayed but well-known work of art + Which Miss Flora persisted in styling her "heart." + So we were engaged. Our troth had been plighted, + Not by moonbeam or starbeam, by fountain or grove, + But in a front parlor, most brilliantly lighted, + Beneath the gas-fixtures, we whispered our love. + Without any romance, or raptures, or sighs, + Without any tears in Miss Flora's blue eyes, + Or blushes, or transports, or such silly actions, + It was one of the quietest business transactions, + With a very small sprinkling of sentiment, if any, + And a very large diamond imported by Tiffany. + On her virginal lips, while I printed a kiss, + She exclaims, as a sort of parenthesis, + And by way of putting me quite at my ease, + "You know I'm to polka as much as I please, + And flirt when I like--now, stop, don't you speak-- + And you must not come here more than twice in the week, + Or talk to me either at party or ball, + But always be ready to come when I call; + So don't prose to me about duty and stuff, + If we don't break this off, there will be time enough + For that sort of thing; but the bargain must be + That, as long as I choose, I am perfectly free-- + For this is a kind of engagement, you see, + Which is binding on you, but not binding on me." + + Well, having thus wooed Miss M'Flimsey and gained her, + With the silks, crinolines, and hoops that contained her, + I had, as I thought, a contingent remainder + At least in the property, and the best right + To appear as its escort by day and by night; + And it being the week of the Stuckups' grand ball-- + Their cards had been out a fortnight or so, + And set all the Avenue on the tiptoe-- + I considered it only my duty to call, + And see if Miss Flora intended to go. + I found her--as ladies are apt to be found, + When the time intervening between the first sound + Of the bell and the visitor's entry is shorter + Than usual--I found; I won't say--I caught her, + Intent on the pier-glass, undoubtedly meaning + To see if perhaps it didn't need cleaning. + She turned as I entered--"Why, Harry, you sinner, + I thought that you went to the Flashers' to dinner!" + "So I did," I replied; "the dinner is swallowed, + And digested, I trust, for 'tis now nine and more, + So, being relieved from that duty, I followed + Inclination, which led me, you see, to your door; + And now will your ladyship so condescend + As just to inform me if you intend + Your beauty, and graces, and presence to lend + (All of which, when I own, I hope no one will borrow) + To the Stuckups' whose party, you know, is to-morrow?" + The fair Flora looked up, with a pitiful air, + And answered quite promptly, "Why, Harry, _mon cher_, + I should like above all things to go with you there, + But really and truly--I've nothing to wear." + "Nothing to wear! Go just as you are; + Wear the dress you have on, and you'll be by far, + I engage, the most bright and particular star + On the Stuckup horizon--" I stopped, for her eye, + Notwithstanding this delicate onset of flattery, + Opened on me at once a most terrible battery + Of scorn and amazement. She made no reply, + But gave a slight turn to the end of her nose + (That pure Grecian feature), as much as to say, + "How absurd that any sane man should suppose + That a lady would go to a ball in the clothes, + No matter how fine, that she wears every day!" + So I ventured again: "Wear your crimson brocade;" + (Second turn up of nose)--"That's too dark by a shade." + "Your blue silk"--"That's too heavy." "Your pink"--"That's too light." + "Wear tulle over satin"--"I can't endure white." + "Your rose-colored, then, the best of the batch"-- + "I haven't a thread of point-lace to match." + "Your brown _moire antique_"--"Yes, and look like a Quaker." + "The pearl-colored"--"I would, but that plaguy dressmaker + Has had it a week." "Then that exquisite lilac, + In which you would melt the heart of a Shylock;" + (Here the nose took again the same elevation)-- + "I wouldn't wear that for the whole of creation." + "Why not? It's my fancy, there's nothing could strike it + As more _comme il faut_"--"Yes, but, dear me, that lean + Sophronia Stuckup has got one just like it, + And I won't appear dressed like a chit of sixteen." + "Then that splendid purple, the sweet Mazarine; + That superb _point d'aiguille_, that imperial green, + That zephyr-like tarletan, that rich _grenadine_"-- + "Not one of all which is fit to be seen," + Said the lady, becoming excited and flushed. + "Then wear," I exclaimed, in a tone which quite crushed + Opposition, "that gorgeous _toilette_ which you sported + In Paris last spring, at the grand presentation, + When you quite turned the head of the head of the nation, + And by all the grand court were so very much courted." + The end of the nose was portentously tipped up + And both the bright eyes shot forth indignation, + As she burst upon me with the fierce exclamation, + "I have worn it three times, at the least calculation, + And that and most of my dresses are ripped up!" + Here I _ripped out_ something, perhaps rather rash, + Quite innocent, though; but to use an expression + More striking than classic, it "settled my hash," + And proved very soon the last act of our session. + "Fiddlesticks, is it, sir? I wonder the ceiling + Doesn't fall down and crush you--you men have no feeling; + You selfish, unnatural, illiberal creatures, + Who set yourselves up as patterns and preachers, + Your silly pretense--why, what a mere guess it is! + Pray, what do you know of a woman's necessities? + I have told you and shown you I've nothing to wear, + And it's perfectly plain you not only don't care, + But you do not believe me" (here the nose went still higher). + "I suppose, if you dared, you would call me a liar. + Our engagement is ended, sir--yes, on the spot; + You're a brute, and a monster, and--I don't know what." + I mildly suggested the words Hottentot, + Pickpocket, and cannibal, Tartar, and thief, + As gentle expletives which might give relief; + But this only proved as a spark to the powder, + And the storm I had raised came faster and louder; + It blew and it rained, thundered, lightened and hailed + Interjections, verbs, pronouns, till language quite failed + To express the abusive, and then its arrears + Were brought up all at once by a torrent of tears, + And my last faint, despairing attempt at an obs- + Ervation was lost in a tempest of sobs. + + Well, I felt for the lady, and felt for my hat, too, + Improvised on the crown of the latter a tattoo, + In lieu of expressing the feelings which lay + Quite too deep for words, as Wordsworth would say; + Then, without going through the form of a bow, + Found myself in the entry--I hardly know how, + On doorstep and sidewalk, past lamp-post and square, + At home and upstairs, in my own easy-chair; + Poked my feet into slippers, my fire into blaze, + And said to myself, as I lit my cigar, + "Supposing a man had the wealth of the Czar + Of the Russias to boot, for the rest of his days, + On the whole, do you think he would have much to spare, + If he married a woman with nothing to wear?" + Since that night, taking pains that it should not be bruited + Abroad in society, I've instituted + A course of inquiry, extensive and thorough, + On this vital subject, and find, to my horror, + That the fair Flora's case is by no means surprising, + But that there exists the greatest distress + In our female community, solely arising + From this unsupplied destitution of dress, + Whose unfortunate victims are filling the air + With the pitiful wail of "Nothing to wear." + + Researches in some of the "Upper Ten" districts + Reveal the most painful and startling statistics, + Of which let me mention only a few: + In one single house on the Fifth Avenue, + Three young ladies were found, all below twenty-two, + Who have been three whole weeks without anything new + In the way of flounced silks, and thus left in the lurch, + Are unable to go to ball, concert or church. + In another large mansion near the same place + Was found a deplorable, heartrending case + Of entire destitution of Brussels point-lace. + In a neighboring block there was found, in three calls, + Total want, long continued, of camel's-hair shawls; + And a suffering family, whose case exhibits + The most pressing need of real ermine tippets; + One deserving young lady almost unable + To survive for the want of a new Russian sable; + Still another, whose tortures have been most terrific + Ever since the sad loss of the steamer _Pacific_, + In which were engulfed, not friend or relation + (For whose fate she, perhaps, might have found consolation, + Or borne it, at least, with serene resignation), + But the choicest assortment of French sleeves and collars + Ever sent out from Paris, worth thousands of dollars, + And all as to style most _recherché_ and rare, + The want of which leaves her with nothing to wear, + And renders her life so drear and dyspeptic + That she's quite a recluse, and almost a skeptic, + For she touchingly says that this sort of grief + Can not find in Religion the slightest relief, + And Philosophy has not a maxim to spare + For the victims of such overwhelming despair. + But the saddest, by far, of all these sad features, + Is the cruelty practised upon the poor creatures + By husbands and fathers, real Bluebeards and Timons, + Who resist the most touching appeals made for diamonds + By their wives and their daughters, and leave them for days + Unsupplied with new jewelry, fans or bouquets, + Even laugh at their miseries whenever they have a chance, + And deride their demands as useless extravagance. + One case of a bride was brought to my view, + Too sad for belief, but alas! 'twas too true, + Whose husband refused, as savage as Charon, + To permit her to take more than ten trunks to Sharon. + The consequence was, that when she got there, + At the end of three weeks she had nothing to wear; + And when she proposed to finish the season + At Newport, the monster refused, out and out, + For his infamous conduct alleging no reason, + Except that the waters were good for his gout; + Such treatment as this was too shocking, of course, + And proceedings are now going on for divorce. + + But why harrow the feelings by lifting the curtain + From these scenes of woe? Enough, it is certain, + Has here been disclosed to stir up the pity + Of every benevolent heart in the city, + And spur up humanity into a canter + To rush and relieve these sad cases instanter. + Won't somebody, moved by this touching description, + Come forward to-morrow and head a subscription? + Won't some kind philanthropist, seeing that aid is + So needed at once by these indigent ladies, + Take charge of the matter? Or won't Peter Cooper + The corner-stone lay of some new splendid super- + Structure, like that which to-day links his name + In the Union unending of Honor and Fame, + And found a new charity just for the care + Of these unhappy women with nothing to wear, + Which, in view of the cash which would daily be claimed, + The _Laying-out_ Hospital well might be named? + Won't Stewart, or some of our dry-goods importers, + Take a contract for clothing our wives and our daughters? + Or, to furnish the cash to supply these distresses, + And life's pathway strew with shawls, collars and dresses, + Ere the want of them makes it much rougher and thornier, + Won't some one discover a new California? + + O! ladies, dear ladies, the next sunny day, + Please trundle your hoops just out of Broadway, + From its swirl and its bustle, its fashion and pride + And the temples of Trade which tower on each side, + To the alleys and lanes, where Misfortune and Guilt + Their children have gathered, their city have built; + Where Hunger and Vice, like twin beasts of prey, + Have hunted their victims to gloom and despair; + Raise the rich, dainty dress, and the fine broidered skirt, + Pick your delicate way through the dampness and dirt. + Grope through the dark dens, climb the rickety stair + To the garret, where wretches, the young and the old, + Half starved and half naked, lie crouched from the cold; + See those skeleton limbs, those frost-bitten feet, + All bleeding and bruised by the stones of the street; + Hear the sharp cry of childhood, the deep groans that + swell + From the poor dying creature who writhes on the floor; + Hear the curses that sound like the echoes of Hell, + As you sicken and shudder and fly from the door; + Then home to your wardrobes, and say, if you dare-- + Spoiled children of fashion--you've nothing to wear! + + And O! if perchance there should be a sphere + Where all is made right which so puzzles us here, + Where the glare and the glitter and tinsel of Time + Fade and die in the light of that region sublime, + Where the soul, disenchanted of flesh and of sense, + Unscreened by its trappings and shows and pretense, + Must be clothed for the life and the service above, + With purity, truth, faith, meekness and love, + O! daughters of Earth! foolish virgins, beware! + Lest in that upper realm you have nothing to wear! + + + + +A BRANCH LIBRARY[4] + +BY JAMES MONTGOMERY FLAGG + + + There is an old fellow named Mark, + Who lives in a tree in the Park. + You can see him each night, + By his library light, + Turning over the leaves after dark. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[4] By permission of Life Publishing Company. + + + + +IS IT I?[5] + +BY WARWICK S. PRICE + + + Where is the man who has not said + At evening, when he went to bed, + "I'll waken with the crowing cock, + And get to work by six o'clock?" + + Where is the man who, rather late, + Crawls out of bed at half-past eight, + That has not thought, with fond regard, + "It's better not to work too hard?" + +FOOTNOTES: + +[5] Lippincott's Magazine. + + + + +NOT ACCORDING TO SCHEDULE + +BY MARY STEWART CUTTING + + +"Haven't you any coffee spoons, Kitty? I thought you had a couple of +dozen when you went to housekeeping." + +Marcia, with her sleeves rolled up from her round white arms, was +rummaging in the sideboard, as she knelt beside it on the floor, her +brown eyes peering into the corners. + +"Yes, of course I have coffee spoons. Aren't they there? I'm sure I +don't know _what_ becomes of things." + +Young Mrs. Fosdyke, stout and matronly, held a fat and placid year-old +baby on her lap with one arm, while with the other hand she lunged out +intermittently to pick up a much-chewed rubber dog cast upon the floor +by the infant. "Oh, now I remember; they're at the bank, with the rest +of the silver--we sent them there the summer we went to the seashore, +and forgot to take them out again. I know it's dreadful to get in the +habit of living in this picnic fashion; I'm ashamed sometimes to have +any one come here. Not that I mind your having asked Mrs. Devereaux for +Thanksgiving, Marcia; I don't want you to feel that way for a minute. I +think it was nice of you to want to. If _you_ don't mind having her +here, I'm sure I don't. You know I've had such a time changing servants; +and when you have three babies--" + +Mrs. Fosdyke was accustomed to anticipate possible astonishment at the +size of her young family by stating tersely to begin with that the three +were all of the same age; if this were not literally true, it was true +enough to account for the disposal of most of her time. In a small +house, on a small income, with one maid, all departments can not receive +attention; under such circumstances something has to go. Mrs. Fosdyke's +attention went, rightly enough, to the children; there were no graces of +management left for the household--there couldn't be; that was one +reason why she never invited company any more. She felt apologetic even +before her sister. + +"I wish things were a little nicer here--but I know just how you +feel about Mrs. Devereaux. No matter how rich a person is, it seems +sort of desolate to be alone at a hotel in a small town on a +holiday--Thanksgiving Day especially. And she was so good to you in +Paris. I shall never forget it." + +"I'm sure I never shall," said Marcia. + +She saw with retrospective vision the scene of two years ago, when she, +a terrified girl of twenty, just recovering from an illness, had missed +connections with her party at a railway station, and had been blessedly +taken in charge by a stranger whose spoken name carried recognition with +it to any American abroad. Marcia had been taken to Mrs. Devereaux's +luxurious house for the day, put to bed, comforted, telegrams and +messages sent hither and thither to her friends; truly it was the kind +of a thing one does not forget, that must claim gratitude forever. + +She went on now: "I can't get over our meeting in the street here in +this place, just the day we both came--the strangest coincidence! I +could hardly believe my eyes. And then to drive back to her rooms with +her and find myself telling her all I've been doing, just as if I had +known her always--I'm sure, though, I feel as if I had. I do want to do +something for her so much--it doesn't make any real difference, her +being so rich and grand. And then I thought of our Thanksgiving dinner, +and she seemed so pleased, and accepted at once. Of course she +stipulated that we were to promise not to make any difference on her +account, but I do want to have everything as pretty and characteristic +as possible. And you needn't bother a bit about anything, Kitty. I'll do +all the work, and there's a whole week to get ready in. We'll have Frank +bring your wedding silver from the bank; you had so many lovely large +pieces." + +"I had ten cut glass and silver loving cups," annotated Kitty, in the +tone of injury the recollection always produced in the light of her +present needs. "It will take you hours and days to clean all those +things, Marcia; that's why I never use them. When you have three babies +all the same age--" + +"Kersley will help me," said Marcia, deftly introducing another subject. + +"Kersley!" There was deep surprise in Kitty's voice; she turned to fix +her eyes on her sister. Marcia flushed independently of her will. + +"Yes--didn't I tell you? He's coming out to his brother's over +Thanksgiving." + +"Oh!" said Kitty, with significance; she made a precipitate lunge for +the rubber dog. There was an alert tone in her voice when she spoke +again: + +"Marcia." + +"Well?" + +"How long is this thing to go on? Are you engaged to Kersley Battersby, +or are you not? For if you're not, I don't think it's decent to keep him +dangling on in this way any longer." + +"Oh, Kitty, do stop!" Marcia ceased her investigations to relapse into a +jumbled heap on the rug, her chin resting on her hand, her dark, +vivacious little face tense. "I suppose I _do_ consider that I'm +engaged, if you _will_ have me say it; he's the only man I could ever +care for, but I'm not going to let _him_ know it, not until he gets on +his feet--not while he's only making fifteen dollars here and twenty +dollars there, and some weeks not even that, painting labels for tomato +cans and patent medicines. It does seem a pity that, after all the +studying in Paris and winning the prize for his portraits in the Salon, +it should take him so long to get a start here. I suppose you have to +have a 'pull,' as in everything else. If he once knew that I really +cared for him he'd lose his head and want to be married out of hand. I +couldn't do a thing with him. He'd insist that it would help him to work +if I were near all the time." + +"Perhaps it would," suggested Kitty. + +"Yes, and have all his family say that I've ruined his prospects--you +can imagine how pleasant _that_ would be! Everyone says that if a poor +artist is hampered at the beginning he has no career at all. _I_ enjoy +things as they are, anyway, and if Kersley doesn't it's his own lookout. +He's a perfect baby, great, big, blue-eyed, ridiculous, unpractical +thing! What do you suppose he did when he was in Chester last month, +just after I'd left there? Walked all the way into town and back, twenty +miles--he hadn't enough money for his car fare--to buy me a little +trumpery pin I wanted, when they had the identical thing on sale at the +little shop by the station! Wasn't that like him? And with all his +artistic talent, I have to tell him what kind of a necktie to get. +Imagine him, with _his_ hair, in a scarlet one, when he looks so +adorable in dull blue. Let's change the subject. Is this your best +centerpiece, with the color all washed out?" + +"Yes." + +"Then I'll finish that lace one I'm making and put yellow under it. +Yellow is to be the color scheme, Kitty. I'm going to present you with +some of those lovely glasses I saw at Ketterer's, with gilt flowers on +them. I want you to let me pay for the chrysanthemums and all the +extras--a few palms can be hired; they add so much to the effect. You +know I got the money for those illustrations yesterday, and I don't care +whether I have any clothes or not. I just want to do my prettiest for a +Thanksgiving for Mrs. Devereaux." + +"Very well, dear," said Kitty. + +"I should think that woman wouldn't want such a time made over her," +said Mr. Fosdyke to his wife, disgustedly, in private. There are married +men who may on occasion be mistaken for bachelors, but Mr. Fosdyke was +not of that ilk; the respectable bondage of one wedded to family claims +was stamped upon him as with a die, in spite of a humorous tendency that +was sometimes trying to his wife. "What's the sense? With all her +millions she must be used to everything. I should think she'd like +something plain and homelike for a change, instead of all this fuss and +feathers. I'm worn out with it already. There seems to be a perfect +upheaval downstairs, with all Marcia's decorations and color schemes and +'artistic effects.' My arm's broken lugging loving cups home from the +bank--they weigh a ton. Why can't Mrs. Devereaux take us as we are?" + +"Now, Frank, I've told you how Marcia feels about it," said his wife, +reprovingly. "You know how intense she is--it gives her positive +satisfaction to show her gratitude by working her fingers off and +spending all the money she's got. She wants to make it a special +occasion." + +"Well, she's doing it," said Frank Fosdyke, with, however, a relenting +smile; he was fond of whole-souled little Marcia. "I say, though, Kitty, +what's Kersley doing here all the time? I thought he was living in New +York. I can't go anywhere that I don't see that big smile of his and the +gray suit. I'm always running across him with Marcia. It makes me feel +like a fool. Am I to treat them as if they were engaged, or not?" + +Mrs. Fosdyke shook her head. "Not yet." + +"Can't he stop her shillyshallying?" + +"Frank, I said 'Not yet.'" + +"All right," said Frank, resignedly, moving around the darkened room, as +he disrobed, with the catlike step of one whose ever haunting fear is +that he may wake the baby. + +Marcia had decreed against the old-fashioned, middle-of-the-day +Thanksgiving dinner; half-past seven was early enough. "And it ought to +be eight," she added, ruefully. "At any rate, the babies will be asleep, +and Mrs. Fogarty is going to let her Maggie come and sit upstairs with +them. Thank goodness, Ellen can cook the dinner, with my help, and wait +on the table afterward. She's as nice and interested as she can be, and +I'll keep her in good humor. I've promised to buy her a lovely new cap +and apron. We've just decided what to have for the nine courses." + +"_Nine courses!_" + +"Now, Kitty, it's no more trouble to have nine courses than two, if you +manage properly. I'll make a number of the dishes the day before, and +Ellen can see to the turkey herself; I'll show you my bill of fare +afterward. I'm going to have the loveliest little menu cards, with +golden pumpkins in wheat sheaves painted on them--so nice and +Thanksgivingy! You've seen the yellow paper cases I've made for the ice +pudding, and the candle shades--the color scheme, you know, is yellow. +I'm going to ornament the dishes for the almonds and raisins and olives +and the candied ginger and other things in the same way. Now, please +don't worry about anything, Kitty! If people only make the arrangements +beforehand, it's no trouble at all. It's all in the way one plans, and +having a system about things." + +"I hope so," said Mrs. Fosdyke; for she had her misgivings. In +housekeeping it is only too often that two and two fail to make four. + + * * * * * + +Kersley Battersby, tall and handsome, coming in gayly at four o'clock on +Thanksgiving afternoon, during a brief interval of the festivities at +his brother's house, stopped short at the sight of Marcia's face. + +"What's up?" he asked, reaching out his arms with the unconsciousness of +habit, while Marcia, in her blue gingham gown, as mechanically +retreated. Her tone was tragic. + +"Ellen says she won't wait on the table; she says there's work for ten +in the kitchen, and no lady would ask it of her. And I had it all +arranged so beautifully. I don't know what we're to do. Kitty and I have +been busy every minute, and Frank has had to take care of the babies all +day. I didn't mean to make everyone so uncomfortable. He's gone out now, +and she's upstairs with a headache." + +"Well, you know you've always got me to fall back on," said Kersley, +firmly. "My word, but the dining-room looks fine, though! I wouldn't +know it for the same place." His gaze rested on the pretty scene with +genuine admiration. + +Loving cups in the corner of the room held the tall, yellow +chrysanthemums against the florist's palms; yellow chrysanthemums waved +from the vine-draped mantel and drooped from the prettiest loving cup +of all over the yellow-lined lace centerpiece set on the satin-smooth +"best" tablecloth. The silver was polished to perfection. The new +goblets with their gilt flowers shone like bubbles, and on the sideboard +a golden pumpkin hollowed into a dish among trailing vines was heaped +high with yellow oranges and crimson apples and pearly hothouse grapes. + +"Oh, yes, this is all right," sighed Marcia, "and the cooking is, and +Frank has had his dress suit pressed and Kitty's gown is dear. But, +Kersley, the _dinner_!" Her swimming eyes looked at him helplessly as +she pushed back her disheveled hair. "You can't have nine courses with +no one to serve them. Ellen even refuses to bring anything in. _We_ +can't get up and keep running around the table! It makes the whole thing +a failure--worse than that, ridiculous. I didn't mind how hard I worked +for dear Mrs. Devereaux, but I did want it all to be right." + +"Poor girl!" said Kersley, tenderly, moving sympathetically very, very +near her, with a repetition of the arm movement. "You're tired." + +"Now, Kersley, please don't." Marcia again retreated with glowing +cheeks. She tried to keep an unexpected tremulousness out of her voice. +"I have enough on my mind without having you, too. If I were to spoil +all your prospects now, I'd never forgive myself." + +"You get so in the habit of saying that absurd thing," began Kersley, +doggedly, "that--Never mind, never mind, Marcia dear. I won't bother you +now. But you'll have to let me have my way in one thing, anyway--I'm +going to help you out; I'm going to stay and wait on the table myself." + +"Kersley!" + +"I'll make a bang-up waiter; do it in style." + +"Kersley!" + +"Just pretend I'm the butler. It's been done lots of times before, you +know; it's not a bit original. And I'd like to do something for Mrs. +Devereaux, too, good old multi-millionairess. I owe her one for being +such a trump to you. I'll make her one of my omelets, too, if Ellen will +let me." + +"But Mrs. Devereaux will recognize you!" Marcia felt wildly that she was +half assenting, in spite of the absurdity of it. + +"Recognize the butler? She won't know that he exists except to pass her +things. Besides, she's only seen me a couple of times." + +"But the family party at your brother's?" + +"They'll have to get along without me. I'll cut back now and tell them, +and get my dress suit, and then I'll turn myself loose in your kitchen. +It's all decided, Marcia." He smiled brilliantly down at her from the +height of his six feet, as Kersley could smile sometimes, when he wanted +to get his own way. His finger tips touched her curling locks on his way +past the ottoman upon which she had dropped. + +She sat there after he had gone, her chin supported by her hand, her +dark eyes looking intently before her into the yellow chrysanthemum. In +spite of her boast to Kitty that she was satisfied with "things as they +were," there were moments when a long-drawn-out future of joy withheld +pressed upon little Marcia with strange heaviness--moments when it was +hard to be always wise for two; there were, indeed, sudden, inexplicable +moments when she longed weakly to give herself up to the alluring +blissfulness of Kersley's kisses on her soft lips, no matter how +unpractical he was. But she was too stanchly eager to do what was best +for him to give way in the conduct of life; it was even a giddy sort of +thing that she had given way to him in anything. + + * * * * * + +If a nervous and uncertain hilarity characterized the atmosphere of the +dinner table that night, Mrs. Devereaux, in her black lace and diamonds, +was happily unaware of its cause in the antics of the obsequious butler, +who in the intervals of his calling threw kisses from behind the guest +to the yellow-gowned Marcia, attempted to poise in the attitude of +flight or that of benediction, or indulged in other pantomimes as +extraordinary. + +It was almost a relief when the intervals between the courses were +unduly prolonged and conversation could proceed without spasmodic jerks +on the part of the entertainers. Mrs. Devereaux herself, a rather +slight, elderly woman with soft white hair elaborately arranged, and +kind, brown eyes, responded with evident pleasure to Marcia's pretty, +childlike warmth, and was politely cordial to Frank and Kitty. Her +manner was at once quietly assured and quietly unassuming, although on +her entrance her eyes had seemed furtively observant, as one who found +herself among strange, if interesting, surroundings. + +"I feel as if we might be Eskimos, by Jove!" Frank Fosdyke whispered +with a secret gurgle to his wife, who responded only with an agonized +"Hush!" + +"This omelet is really delicious," said Mrs. Devereaux, kindly, in one +of the pauses of the dinner. "I don't know that I have eaten one as good +since I left Paris. May I ask if you have a woman or a man cook?" + +"We have a man in the kitchen," said Marcia, unblushingly, Kersley being +out there at the moment. "He has lived in Paris." + +"Oh, the touch was unmistakable!" said Mrs. Devereaux. She turned +graciously to Kitty. "I take a great interest in small establishments; +my niece, Angela Homestead, is about to marry in moderate circumstances. +Unlike many women in society, I have always looked after my own +household. When I am at home the servants report to me for half an hour +every morning to receive their orders for the day. So when Angela +naturally came to me for advice, I said to her: 'Above all things, +Angela, remember that a good cook is always worth what you pay for him.' +The health of the family is so largely dependent on the food. With a +French cook, a butler, a laundress and three maids, a simple +establishment for two people can be kept up decently and in order; a +retinue of servants is not necessary when you do not entertain. Of +course, with less than three maids it is impossible to be clean." + +"No, indeed," said Kitty. + +"I should think not," assented Mr. Fosdyke, with unnecessary ardor. + +"It is pleasant to have you agree with me," said Mrs. Devereaux, +politely. "But, speaking of Paris, oddly enough, since we've been +sitting here I have been reminded forcibly, though I can't imagine why, +of a young man whom I met there a couple of times over a year ago--a +tall, blond young artist who won a prize at the Salon. I haven't heard +of him since, though he seemed to have rather unusual talent. I believe +he left for New York. I can't recall his name, but perhaps you can help +me to it. He painted children very fetchingly." + +"Was it Kersley Battersby?" asked Marcia, with a swift frown at the +owner of the name, who had doubled over suddenly. + +"Kersley Battersby. The very man!" exclaimed Mrs. Devereaux, with +animation. "How clever you are, my dear, to guess it! My sister, the +Countess of Crayford, who has just come over this autumn, wants some one +to paint her twin girls. It strikes me that he would be the very person +to do it, if possibly you have his address. There was a sentiment, a +bloom, one might call it, that seemed to characterize his children's +heads particularly. They made a real impression on me." + +"Yes, Battersby has a great deal of bloom," said Mr. Fosdyke, solemnly. +"Bloom is what he excels in. Alphonse, fill Mrs. Devereaux's glass. I +will look up his address in my notebook, Mrs. Devereaux. I have an +impression that he is within reach." + +He turned to Marcia provocatively, but she did not respond. Her brain +was suddenly in a whirl that carried her past the wild incongruities of +the situation. If Kersley had "prospects" like that--She did not dare to +meet his eyes. + +The dinner was excellent, the waiting perfect. Marcia was in a glow of +happiness. She felt repaid for her work, her struggles, and the +expenditure which would make a new gown this winter impossible. This was +as she had wanted it to be--a little Thanksgiving feast for this woman +who was her friend. Through all Mrs. Devereaux's interest in the others, +the little inner bond was between her and Marcia. It did not matter that +Ellen had stumped upstairs after the last cup of coffee, leaving Kersley +to clear the table, or that the babies might wake up and cry. Nothing +mattered when she knew that dear Mrs. Devereaux was pleased. She said to +herself that this was what gave her such a strangely exhilarated +feeling; and yet--When it was time for the guest to depart, and Marcia +came from upstairs bringing Mrs. Devereaux's fur cloak, that lady and +Kitty both looked smilingly at the girl from the midst of a +conversation. + +"Must you go so soon?" pleaded Marcia. + +"Yes, the carriage is waiting," said Mrs. Devereaux. "I am under the +doctor's orders, you remember, my dear. I've had a charming +Thanksgiving; you don't know how much I appreciate Mrs. Fosdyke's +letting me spend it here. And one thing has appealed to me particularly, +if you won't mind my saying it: I am more complimented, more touched, by +being made one of your little family circle, without any alteration in +your usual mode of living, than by any amount of the ceremony which is +often so foolishly considered necessary--a man behind each chair, masses +of orchids, and expensive menus." She smiled warmly at Marcia, and +added: "It is to you that I really owe my introduction into this +charmingly domestic household. Your sister, however, has made me partner +to a little secret, in response to my inquiries; she says that you are +about to be engaged to the very Mr. Battersby of whom we were speaking, +and whose address she has given me, so that I may make arrangements at +once for my nieces' portraits. She tells me that he has excellent +prospects." + +"Oh!" murmured Marcia, in sudden crimson embarrassment. She could +actually feel Kersley's triumphant smile behind the dining-room +portières. + +"And as I am about to start on the Egyptian tour that will take me away +for a year, I want to know if I may take advantage of having been made +one of the family and ask you to make use of my cottage at Ardsley for +the honeymoon--which I hope may last until my return, if Mr. Battersby's +commissions don't call him away before. I will have my people put it at +your disposal." + +"Dear, dear Mrs. Devereaux!" cried Marcia. If something odd in the +beating of her heart made her feel her further speech to be foolishly +incoherent, it was, perhaps, not unattractively so to her smiling +elders. + +She did not hear Mr. Fosdyke's exclamation as the lights of Mrs. +Devereaux's carriage disappeared from view: "Of all the Arabian Nights' +entertainments! Who am I, anyway?" + +She had been drawn into the dining-room with Kersley's outstretched arms +closing around her firmly as she mechanically but ineffectually strove +to retreat, his blue eyes beaming down on her as he whispered: + +"Oh, Marcia, Marcia! This comes of trying to show gratitude to +strangers. '_About to be engaged!_' Accepting a honeymoon cottage before +you'd accepted the man!" + + + + +MR. CARTERET AND HIS FELLOW AMERICANS ABROAD[6] + +BY DAVID GRAY + + +"It must have been highly interesting," observed Mrs. Archie Brawle; "so +much pleasanter than a concert." + +"Rather!" replied Lord Frederic. "It was ripping!" + +Mrs. Ascott-Smith turned to Mr. Carteret. She had been listening to Lord +Frederic Westcote, who had just come down from town where he had seen +the Wild West show. "Is it so?" she asked. "Have you ever seen them?" By +"them" she meant the Indians. + +Mr. Carteret nodded. + +"It seems so odd," continued Mrs. Archie Brawle, "that they should ride +without saddles. Is it a pose?" + +"No, I fancy not," replied Lord Frederic. + +"They must get very tired without stirrups," insisted Mrs. Archie. "But +perhaps they never ride very long at a time." + +"That is possible," said Lord Frederic doubtfully. "They are only on +about twenty minutes in the show." + +Mr. Pringle, the curate, who had happened in to pay his monthly call +upon Mrs. Ascott-Smith, took advantage of the pause. "Of course, I am no +horseman," he began apprehensively, "and I have never seen the red +Indians, either in their native wilds or in a show, but I have read not +a little about them, and I have gathered that they almost live on +horseback." + +Major Hammerslea reached toward the tea table for another muffin and +hemmed. "It is a very different thing," he said with heavy +impressiveness. "It is a very different thing." + +The curate looked expectant, as if believing that his remarks were going +to be noticed. But nothing was further from the Major's mind. + +"What is so very different?" inquired Mrs. Ascott-Smith, after a pause +had made it clear that the Major had ignored Pringle. + +"It is one thing, my dear Madame, to ride a stunted, half-starved pony, +as you say 'bareback,' and another thing to ride a conditioned British +Hunter (he pronounced it huntaw) without a saddle. I must say that the +latter is an impossibility." The oracle came to an end and the material +Major began on the muffin. + +There was an approving murmur of assent. The Major was the author of +"Schooling and Riding British Hunters;" however, it was not only his +authority which swayed the company, but individual conviction. Of the +dozen people in the room, excepting Pringle, all rode to hounds with +more or less enthusiasm, and no one had ever seen any one hunting +without a saddle and no one had ever experienced any desire to try the +experiment. Obviously it was an absurdity. + +"Nevertheless," observed Lord Frederic, "I must say their riding was +very creditable--quite as good as one sees on any polo field in +England." + +Major Hammerslea looked at him severely, as if his youth were not wholly +an excuse. "It is, as I said," he observed. "It is one thing to ride an +American pony and another to ride a British Hunter. One requires +horsemanship, the other does not. And horsemanship," he continued, +"which properly is the guiding of a horse across country, requires years +of study and experience." + +Lord Frederic looked somewhat unconvinced but he said nothing. + +"Of course the dear Major (she called it deah Majaw) is unquestionably +right," said Mrs. Ascott-Smith. + +"Undoubtedly," said Mr. Carteret. "I suppose that he has often seen +Indians ride?" + +"Have you often seen these Indians ride?" inquired Mrs. Ascott-Smith of +the Major. + +"Do you mean Indians or the Red Men of North America?" replied the +Major. "And do you mean upon ponies in a show or upon British Hunters?" + +"Which do you mean?" asked Mrs. Ascott-Smith. + +"I suppose that I mean American Indians," said Mr. Carteret, "and either +upon ponies or upon British Hunters." + +"No," said the Major, "I have not. Have you?" + +"Not upon British Hunters," said Mr. Carteret. + +"But do you think that they could?" inquired Lord Frederic. + +"It would be foolish of me to express an opinion," replied Mr. Carteret, +"because, in the first place, I have never seen them ride British +Hunters over jumps--" + +"They would come off at the first obstacle," observed the Major, more in +sorrow than in anger. + +"And in the second place," continued Mr. Carteret, "I am perhaps +naturally prejudiced in behalf of my fellow countrymen." + +Mrs. Ascott-Smith looked at him anxiously. His sister had married a +British peer. "But you Americans are quite distinct from the red +Indians," she said. "We quite understand that nowadays. To be sure, my +dear Aunt--" She stopped. + +"Rather!" said Mrs. Archie Brawle. "You don't even intermarry with them, +do you?" + +"That is a matter of personal taste," said Mr. Carteret. "There is no +law against it." + +"But nobody that one knows--" began Mrs. Ascott-Smith. + +"There was John Rohlfs," said Mr. Carteret; "he was a very well known +chap." + +"Do you know him?" asked Mrs. Brawle. + +The Curate sniggered. His hour of triumph had come. "Rohlfs is dead," he +said. + +"Really!" said Mrs. Brawle, coldly. "It had quite slipped my mind. You +see I never read the papers during the hunting. But is his wife +received?" + +"I believe that she was," said Mr. Carteret. + +The Curate was still sniggering and Mrs. Brawle put her glass in her eye +and looked at him. Then she turned to Mr. Carteret. "But all this," she +said, "of course, has nothing to do with the question. Do you think that +these red Indians could ride bareback across our country?" + +"As I said before," replied Mr. Carteret, "it would be silly of me to +express an opinion, but I should be interested in seeing them try it." + +"I have a topping idea!" cried Lord Frederic. He was a simple-minded +fellow. + +"You must tell us," exclaimed Mrs. Ascott-Smith. + +"Let us have them down, and take them hunting!" + +"How exciting!" exclaimed Mrs. Ascott-Smith. "What sport!" + +The Major looked at her reprovingly. "It would be as I said," he +observed. + +"But it would be rather interesting," said Mrs. Brawle. + +"It might," said the Major, "it might be interesting." + +"It would be ripping!" said Lord Frederic. "But how can we manage it?" + +"I'll mount them," said the Major with a grim smile. "My word! They +shall have the pick of my stable though I have to spend a month +rebreaking horses that have run away." + +"But it isn't the mounts," said Lord Frederic. "You see I've never met +any of these chaps." He turned to Mr. Carteret with a sudden +inspiration. "Are any of them friends of yours?" he asked. + +Mrs. Ascott-Smith looked anxiously at Mr. Carteret, as if she feared +that it would develop that some of the people in the show were his +cousins. + +"No," he replied, "I don't think so, although I may have met some of +them in crossing the reservations. But I once went shooting with Grady, +one of the managers of the show." + +"Better yet!" said Lord Frederic. "Do you think that he would come and +bring some of them down?" he asked. + +"I think he would," said Mr. Carteret. He knew that the showman was +strong in Grady--if not the sportsman. + +The Major rose to go to the billiard room. "I have one piece of advice +to give you," he said. "This prank is harmless enough, but establish a +definite understanding with this fellow that you are not to be liable in +damages for personal injuries which his Indians may receive. Explain to +him that it is not child's play and have him put it in writing." + +"You mean to have him execute a kind of release?" said Mr. Carteret. + +"Precisely that," said the Major. "I was once sued for twenty pounds by +a groom that fell off my best hunter and let him run away, and damme, +the fellow recovered." He bowed to the ladies and left the room. + +"Of course we can fix all that up," said Lord Frederic. "The old chap is +a bit over cautious nowadays, but how can we get hold of this fellow +Grady?" + +"I'll wire him at once, if you wish," said Mr. Carteret, and he went to +the writing table. + +"When do you want him to come down?" he asked, as he wrote the address. + +"We might take them out with the Pytchley on Saturday," said Lord +Frederic, "but the meet is rather far from our station. Perhaps it would +be better to have them on Thursday with Charley Ploversdale's hounds." + +Mr. Carteret hesitated a moment. "Wouldn't Ploversdale be apt to be +fussy about experiments? He's rather conservative, you know, about the +way people are turned out. I saw him send a man home one day who was out +without a hat. It was an American who was afraid that his hair was +coming out." + +"Pish," said Lord Frederic, "Charley Ploversdale is mild as a dove." + +"Suit yourself," said Mr. Carteret. "I'll make it Thursday. One more +question," he added. "How many shall I ask him to bring down?" At this +moment the Major came into the room again. He had mislaid his +eyeglasses. + +"I should think that a dozen would be about the right number," said Lord +Frederic, replying to Mr. Carteret. "It would be very imposing." + +"Too many!" said the Major. "We must mount them on good horses and I +don't want my entire stable ruined by men who have never lepped a +fence." + +"I think the Major is right about the matter of numbers," said Mr. +Carteret. "How would three do?" + +"Make it three," said the Major. + +Before dinner was over a reply came from Grady saying that he and three +bucks would be pleased to arrive Thursday morning prepared for a hunting +party. + +This took place on Monday, and at various times during Tuesday and +Wednesday, Mr. Carteret gave the subject thought. By Thursday morning +his views had ripened. He ordered his tea and eggs to be served in his +room and came down a little past ten dressed in morning clothes. He +wandered into the dining-room and found Mrs. Ascott-Smith sitting by the +fire entertaining Lord Frederic, as he went to and from the sideboard in +search of things to eat. + +"Good morning," said Mr. Carteret, hoarsely. + +Lord Frederic looked around and as he noticed Mr. Carteret's morning +clothes his face showed surprise. + +"Hello!" he said, "you had better hurry and change, or you will be late. +We have to start in half an hour to meet Grady." + +Mr. Carteret coughed. "I don't think that I can go out to-day. It is a +great disappointment." + +"Not going hunting?" exclaimed Mrs. Ascott-Smith. "What is the matter?" + +"I have a bad cold," said Mr. Carteret miserably. + +"But, my dear fellow," exclaimed Lord Frederic, "it will do your cold a +world of good!" + +"Not a cold like mine," said Mr. Carteret. + +"But this is the day, don't you know?" said Lord Frederic. "How am I +going to manage things without you?" + +"All that you have to do is to meet them at the station and take them to +the meet," said Mr. Carteret. "Everything else has been arranged." + +"But I'm awfully disappointed," said Lord Frederic. "I had counted on +you to help, don't you see, and introduce them to Ploversdale. It would +be more graceful for an American to do it than for me. You understand?" + +"Yes," said Mr. Carteret, "I understand. It's a great disappointment, +but I must bear it philosophically." + +Mrs. Ascott-Smith looked at him sympathetically, and he coughed twice. +"You are suffering," she said. "Lord Frederic, you really must not urge +him to expose himself. Have you a pain here?" she inquired, touching +herself in the region of the pleura. + +"Yes," said Mr. Carteret, "it is rather bad, but I daresay that it will +soon be better." + +"I am afraid that it may be pneumonia," said his hostess. "You must take +a medicine that I have. They say that it is quite wonderful for +inflammatory colds. I'll send Hodgson for it," and she touched the bell. + +"Please, please don't take that trouble," entreated Mr. Carteret. + +"But you must take it," said Mrs. Ascott-Smith. "They call it +Broncholine. You pour it in a tin and inhale it or swallow it, I forget +which, but it's very efficacious. They used it on Teddy's pony when it +was sick. The little creature died but that was because they gave it too +much, or not enough, I forget which." + +Hodgson appeared and Mrs. Ascott-Smith gave directions about the +Broncholine. + +"I thank you very much," said Mr. Carteret humbly. "I'll go to my room +and try it at once." + +"That's a good chap!" said Lord Frederic, "perhaps you will feel so much +better that you can join us. + +"Perhaps," said Mr. Carteret gloomily, "or it may work as it did on the +pony." And he left the room. + +After Hodgson had departed from his chamber leaving explicit directions +as to how and how not to use the excellent Broncholine, Mr. Carteret +poured a quantity of it from the bottle and threw it out of the window +resolving to be on the safe side. Then he looked at his boots and his +pink coat and white leathers which were laid out upon a chair. "I don't +think there can be any danger," he thought, "if I turn up after they +have started. I loathe stopping in all day." He dressed leisurely, +ordered his horse, and some time after the rest of the household had +sallied forth, he followed. As he knew the country and the coverts which +Lord Ploversdale would draw, he counted on joining the tail of the hunt, +thus keeping out of sight. He inquired of a rustic if he had seen hounds +pass and receiving "no," for an answer he jogged on at a faster trot, +fearing that the hounds might have gone away in some other direction. As +he came around a bend in the road, he saw four women riding toward him, +and as they drew near, he saw that it was Lady Violet Weatherbone and +her three daughters. These young ladies were known as the Three +Guardsmen, a sobriquet not wholly inappropriate; for, as Lord Frederic +described them, they were "uncommon big boned, upstanding fillies," +between twenty-five and thirty and very hard goers across any country, +and always together. + +"Good morning," said Mr. Carteret, bowing. "I suppose the hounds are +close by?" It was a natural assumption, as Lady Violet on hunting days +was never very far from the hounds. + +"I do not know," she responded, and her tone further implied that she +did not care. + +Mr. Carteret hesitated a moment. "Has anything happened?" he asked. + +"Yes," said Lady Violet frankly, "something has happened." Here the +daughters modestly turned their horses away. + +"Some one," continued Lady Violet, "brought savages to the meet." She +paused impressively. + +"Not really!" said Mr. Carteret with hypocritical surprise. + +"Yes," said Lady Violet, "and while it would have mattered little to me, +it was impossible--" She motioned with her head toward the three +maidens, and paused. + +"Forgive me," said Mr. Carteret, "but I hardly understand." + +"At the first I thought," said Lady Violet, "that they were attired in +painted fleshings, but upon using my glass, it was clear that I was +mistaken. Otherwise, I should have brought them away at the first +moment." + +"I see," said Mr. Carteret. "It is outrageous." + +"It is indeed!" said Lady Violet; "but the matter will not be allowed to +drop. They were brought to the meet by that young profligate, Lord +Frederic Westcote." + +"You surprise me," said Mr. Carteret, wholly without shame. He bowed, +started his horse, and jogged along for five minutes, then he turned to +the right upon a crossroad and suddenly found himself upon the hounds. +They were feathering excitedly about the mouth of a tile drain into +which the fox had evidently gone. No master, huntsmen nor whips were in +sight, but sitting, wet and mud daubed, upon horses dripping with muddy +water were Grady dressed in cowboy costume and three naked Indians. Mr. +Carteret glanced about over the country and understood. They had swum +the brook at the place where it ran between steep clay banks and the +rest of the field had gone around to the bridge. As he looked toward the +south, he saw Lord Ploversdale riding furiously toward him followed by +Smith, the first whip. Grady had not recognized him turned out in pink +as he was, and for the moment he decided to remain incognito. + +Before Lord Ploversdale, Master of Fox-hounds, reached the road, he +began waving his crop. He appeared excited. "What do you mean by riding +upon my hounds?" he shouted. He said this in several ways with various +accompanying phrases, but neither the Indians nor Grady seemed to notice +him. It occurred to Mr. Carteret that although Lord Ploversdale's power +of expression was wonderful for England, it, nevertheless, fell short of +Arizona standards. Then, however, he noticed that Grady was absorbed in +adjusting a kodak camera, with which he was evidently about to take a +picture of the Indians alone with the hounds. He drew back in order both +to avoid being in the field of the picture and to avoid too close +proximity with Lord Ploversdale as he came over the fence into the road. + +"What do you mean, sir!" shouted the enraged Master of Fox-hounds, as he +pulled up his horse. + +"A little more in the middle," replied Grady, still absorbed in taking +the picture. + +Lord Ploversdale hesitated. He was speechless with surprise for the +moment. + +Grady pressed the button and began putting up the machine. + +"What do you mean by riding on my hounds, you and these persons?" +demanded Lord Ploversdale. + +"We didn't," said Grady amiably, "but if your bunch of dogs don't know +enough to keep out of the way of a horse, they ought to learn." + +Lord Ploversdale looked aghast, and Smith, the whip, pinched himself to +make sure that he was not dreaming. + +"Many thanks for your advice," said Lord Ploversdale. "May I inquire who +you and your friends may be?" + +"I'm James Grady," said that gentleman. "This," he said, pointing to the +Indian nearest, "is Chief Hole-in-the-Ground of the Olgallala Sioux. Him +in the middle is Mr. Jim Snake, and the one beyond is Chief Skytail, +being a Pawnee." + +"Thank you, that is very interesting," said Lord Ploversdale, with +polite irony. "Now will you kindly take them home?" + +"See here," said Grady, strapping the camera to his saddle, "I was +invited to this round-up regular, and if you hand me out any more +hostile talk--" He paused. + +"Who invited you?" inquired Lord Ploversdale. + +"One of your own bunch," said Grady, "Lord Frederic Westcote. I'm no +butter-in." + +"Your language is unintelligible," said Lord Ploversdale. "Where is Lord +Westcote?" + +Mr. Carteret had watched the field approaching as fast as whip and spur +could drive them, and in the first flight he noticed Lord Frederic and +the Major. For this reason he still hesitated about thrusting himself +into the discussion. It seemed that the interference of a third party +could only complicate matters, inasmuch as Lord Frederic would so soon +be upon the spot. + +Lord Ploversdale looked across the field impatiently. "I've no doubt, my +good fellow, that Lord Westcote brought you here, and I'll see him about +it, but kindly take these fellows home. They'll kill all my hounds." + +"Now you're beginning to talk reasonable," said Grady. "I'll discuss +with you." + +The words were hardly out of his mouth before the hounds gave tongue +riotously and went off. The fox had slipped out of the other end of the +drain and old Archer had found the line. + +As if shot out of a gun the three Indians dashed at the stake and bound +fence on the farther side of the road, joyously using their heavy quirts +on the Major's thoroughbreds. Skytail's horse being hurried top much, +blundered his take-off, hit above the knees and rolled over on the +Chief, who was sitting tight. There was a stifled grunt and then the +Pawnee word "Go-dam!" + +Hole-in-the-Ground looked back and laughed one of the few laughs of his +life. It was a joke which he could understand. Then he used the quirt +again to make the most of his advantage. + +"That one is finished," said Lord Ploversdale gratefully. But as the +words were in his mouth, Skytail rose with his horse, vaulted up and was +away. + +The M. F. H. followed over the hedge shouting at Smith to whip off the +hounds. But the hounds were going too fast. They had got a view of the +fox and three whooping horsemen were behind them driving them on. + +The first flight of the field followed the M. F. H. out of the road, and +so did Mr. Carteret, and presently he found himself riding between Lord +Frederic and the Major. They were both a bit winded and had evidently +come fast. + +"I say," exclaimed Lord Frederic, "where did you come from?" + +"I was cured by the Broncholine," said Mr. Carteret. + +"Is your horse fresh?" asked Lord Frederic. + +"Yes," replied Mr. Carteret, "I happened upon them at the road." + +"Then go after that man Grady," said Lord Frederic, "and implore him to +take those beggars home. They have been riding on the hounds for twenty +minutes." + +"Were they able," asked Mr. Carteret, "to stay with their horses at the +fences?" + +"Stay with their horses!" puffed the Major. + +"Go on, like a good chap," said Lord Frederic, "stop that fellow or I +shall be expelled from the hunt. Was Lord Ploversdale vexed?" he added. + +"I should judge by his language," said Mr. Carteret, "that he was +vexed." + +"Hurry on," said Lord Frederic. "Put your spurs in." + +Mr. Carteret gave his horse its head and he shot to the front, but Grady +was nearly a field in the lead, and it promised to be a long chase, as +he was on the Major's black thoroughbred. The cowboy rode along with a +loose rein and an easy balance seat. At his fences he swung his hat and +cheered. He seemed to be enjoying himself, and Mr. Carteret was anxious +lest he might begin to shoot for pure delight. Such a demonstration +would have been misconstrued. Nearly two hundred yards ahead at the +heels of the pack galloped the Indians, and in the middle distance +between them and Grady rode Lord Ploversdale and Smith vainly trying to +overtake the hounds and whip them off. Behind and trailing over a mile +or more came the field and the rest of the hunt servants in little +groups, all awestruck at what had happened. It was unspeakable that Lord +Ploversdale's hounds, which had been hunted by his father and his +grandfather, should be so scandalized. + +Mr. Carteret finally got within a length of Grady and hailed him. + +"Hello, Carty," said Grady, "glad to see you. I thought you was sick. +What can I do? They've stampeded. But it's a great ad. for the show, +isn't it? There's four reporters that I brought along." + +"Forget about the show," said Mr. Carteret. "This isn't any laughing +matter. It's one of the smartest packs in England. You don't +understand." + +"It will make all the better story in the papers," said Grady. + +"No it won't," said Mr. Carteret. "They won't print it. It's like a +blasphemy upon the Church." + +"Whoop!" yelled Grady, as they tore through a bullfinch. + +"Call them off," said Mr. Carteret, straightening his hat. + +"But I can't catch 'em," said Grady, and that was the truth. + +Lord Ploversdale, however, had been gaining on the Indians, and by the +way in which he clubbed his heavy crop, loaded at the butt, it was +apparent that he meant to put an end to the proceedings if he could. + +Just then the hounds swept over the crest of a green hill, and as they +went down the other side they viewed the fox in the field beyond. He was +in distress, and it looked as if the pack would kill in the open. They +were running wonderfully together, a blanket would have covered them, +and in the natural glow of pride which came over the M. F. H., he +loosened his grip upon the crop. But as the hounds viewed the fox, so +did the three sons of the wilderness who were following close behind. +From the hill-top fifty of the hardest going men in England saw +Hole-in-the-Ground flogging his horse with the heavy quirt which hung +from his wrist. The outraged British hunter shot forward scattering +hounds to right and left, flew a ditch and hedge and was close on the +fox, who had stopped to make a last stand. Without drawing rein, the +astonished onlookers saw the lean Indian suddenly disappear under the +neck of his horse and almost instantly swing back into his seat waving a +brown thing above his head. Hole-in-the-Ground had caught the fox. + +"Most unprecedented!" Mr. Carteret heard the Major exclaim. He pulled up +his horse, as the field did with theirs, and waited apprehensively. He +saw Hole-in-the-Ground circle around, jerk the Major's five hundred +guinea hunter to a standstill close to Lord Ploversdale and address him. +He was speaking in his own language. + +As the Chief went on, he saw Grady smile. + +"He says," says Grady, translating, "that the white chief can eat the +fox if he wants him. He's proud himself, bein' packed with store grub." + +The English onlookers heard and beheld with blank faces. It was beyond +them. + +The M. F. H. bowed stiffly as Hole-in-the-Ground's offer was made known +to him. He regarded them a moment in thought. A vague light was breaking +in upon him. "Aw, thank you," he said. "Smith, take the fox. Good +afternoon!" + +Then he wheeled his horse, called the hounds in with his horn and +trotted out to the road that led to the kennels. Lord Ploversdale, +though he had never been out of England, was cast in a large mold. + +The three Indians sat on their panting horses, motionless, stolidly +facing the curious gaze of the crowd; or rather they looked through the +crowd, as the lion, with the high breeding of the desert, looks through +and beyond the faces that stare and gape before the bars of his cage. + +"Most amazing! Most amazing!" muttered the Major. + +"It is," said Mr. Carteret, "if you have never been away from this." He +made a sweeping gesture over the restricted English scenery, pampered +and brought up by hand. + +"Been away from this?" repeated the Major. "I don't understand." + +Mr. Carteret turned to him. How could he explain it? + +"With us," he began, laying an emphasis on the "us." Then he stopped. +"Look into their eyes," he said hopelessly. + +The Major looked at him blankly. How could he, Major Hammerslea, know +what those inexplicable dark eyes saw beyond the fenced tillage--the +brown, bare, illimitable range under the noonday sun, the evening light +on far, silent mountains, the starlit desert! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[6] Copyright, 1905, by the Metropolitan Magazine Company. + + + + +A BOSTON BALLAD + +BY WALT WHITMAN + + + To get betimes in Boston town, I rose this morning early; + Here's a good place at the corner--I must stand and see the show. + + Clear the way there, Jonathan! + Way for the President's marshal! Way for the government cannon! + Way for the Federal foot and dragoons--and the apparitions copiously + tumbling. + + I love to look on the stars and stripes--I hope the fifes will play + Yankee Doodle. + + How bright shine the cutlasses of the foremost troops! + Every man holds his revolver, marching stiff through Boston town. + + A fog follows--antiques of the same come limping, + Some appear wooden-legged, and some appear bandaged and bloodless. + + Why this is indeed a show! It has called the dead out of the earth! + The old grave-yards of the hills have hurried to see! + Phantoms! phantoms countless by flank and rear! + Cocked hats of mothy mould! crutches made of mist! + Arms in slings! old men leaning on young men's shoulders! + + What troubles you, Yankee phantoms? What is all this chattering of + bare gums? + Does the ague convulse your limbs? Do you mistake your crutches for + fire-locks, and level them? + If you blind your eyes with tears, you will not see the President's + marshal; + If you groan such groans, you might balk the government cannon. + + For shame, old maniacs! Bring down those tossed arms, and let your + white hair be; + Here gape your great grand-sons--their wives gaze at them from the + windows, + See how well dressed--see how orderly they conduct themselves. + + Worse and worse! Can't you stand it? Are you retreating? + Is this hour with the living too dead for you? + + Retreat then! Pell-mell! + To your graves! Back! back to the hills, old limpers! + I do not think you belong here, anyhow. + + But there is one thing that belongs here--shall I tell you what it is, + gentlemen of Boston? + + I will whisper it to the Mayor--he shall send a committee to England; + They shall get a grant from the Parliament, go with a cart to the + royal vault--haste! + Dig out King George's coffin, unwrap him quick from the grave-clothes, + box up his bones for a journey; + + Find a swift Yankee clipper--here is freight for you, black-bellied + clipper, + Up with your anchor! shake out your sails! steer straight toward + Boston bay. + + Now call for the President's marshal again, bring put the government + cannon, + Fetch home the roarers from Congress, make another procession, guard + it with foot and dragoons. + + This centre-piece for them: + Look! all orderly citizens--look from the windows, women! + + The committee open the box, set up the regal ribs, glue those that + will not stay, + Clap the skull on top of the ribs, and clap a crown on top of the + skull. + You have got your revenge, old buster! The crown is come to its own, + and more than its own. + + Stick your hands in your pockets, Jonathan--you are a made man from + this day; + You are mighty cute--and here is one of your bargains. + + + + +THE CHIEF MATE + +BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL + + +My first glimpse of Europe was the shore of Spain. Since we got into the +Mediterranean, we have been becalmed for some days within easy view of +it. All along are fine mountains, brown all day, and with a bloom on +them at sunset like that of a ripe plum. Here and there at their feet +little white towns are sprinkled along the edge of the water, like the +grains of rice dropped by the princess in the story. Sometimes we see +larger buildings on the mountain slopes, probably convents. I sit and +wonder whether the farther peaks may not be the Sierra Morena (the rusty +saw) of Don Quixote. I resolve that they shall be, and am content. +Surely latitude and longitude never showed me any particular respect, +that I should be over-scrupulous with them. + +But after all, Nature, though she may be more beautiful, is nowhere so +entertaining as in man, and the best thing I have seen and learned at +sea is our Chief Mate. My first acquaintance with him was made over my +knife, which he asked to look at, and, after a critical examination, +handed back to me, saying, "I shouldn't wonder if that 'ere was a good +piece o' stuff." Since then he has transferred a part of his regard for +my knife to its owner. I like folks who like an honest bit of steel, and +take no interest whatever in "your Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff." +There is always more than the average human nature in the man who has a +hearty sympathy with iron. It is a manly metal, with no sordid +associations like gold and silver. My sailor fully came up to my +expectation on further acquaintance. He might well be called an old salt +who had been wrecked on Spitzbergen before I was born. He was not an +American, but I should never have guessed it by his speech, which was +the purest Cape Cod, and I reckon myself a good taster of dialects. Nor +was he less Americanized in all his thoughts and feelings, a singular +proof of the ease with which our omnivorous country assimilates foreign +matter, provided it be Protestant, for he was a man ere he became an +American citizen. He used to walk the deck with his hands in his +pockets, in seeming abstraction, but nothing escaped his eyes. _How_ he +saw I could never make out, though I had a theory that it was with his +elbows. After he had taken me (or my knife) into his confidence, he took +care that I should see whatever he deemed of interest to a landsman. +Without looking up, he would say, suddenly, "There's a whale blowin' +clearn up to win'ard," or, "Them's porpises to leeward: that means +change o' wind." He is as impervious to cold as a polar bear, and paces +the deck during his watch much as one of those yellow hummocks goes +slumping up and down his cage. On the Atlantic, if the wind blew a gale +from the northeast, and it was cold as an English summer, he was sure to +turn out in a calico shirt and trousers, his furzy brown chest half +bare, and slippers, without stockings. But lest you might fancy this to +have chanced by defect of wardrobe, he comes out in a monstrous +pea-jacket here in the Mediterranean, when the evening is so hot that +Adam would have been glad to leave off his fig-leaves. "It's a kind o' +damp and unwholesome in these ere waters," he says, evidently regarding +the Midland Sea as a vile standing pool, in comparison with the bluff +ocean. At meals he is superb, not only for his strengths, but his +weaknesses. He has somehow or other come to think me a wag, and if I ask +him to pass the butter, detects an occult joke, and laughs as much as is +proper for a mate. For you must know that our social hierarchy on +shipboard is precise, and the second mate, were he present, would only +laugh half as much as the first. Mr. X. always combs his hair, and works +himself into a black frock-coat (on Sundays he adds a waist-coat) before +he comes to meals, sacrificing himself nobly and painfully to the social +proprieties. The second mate, on the other hand, who eats after us, +enjoys the privilege of shirt-sleeves, and is, I think, the happier man +of the two. We do not have seats above and below the salt, as in old +time, but above and below the white sugar. Mr. X. always takes brown +sugar, and it is delightful to see how he ignores the existence of +certain delicates which he considers above his grade, tipping his head +on one side with an air of abstraction so that he may seem not to deny +himself, but to omit helping himself from inadvertence, or absence of +mind. At such times he wrinkles his forehead in a peculiar manner, +inscrutable at first as a cuneiform inscription, but as easily read +after you once get the key. The sense of it is something like this: "I, +X., know my place, a height of wisdom attained by few. Whatever you may +think, I do _not_ see that currant jelly, nor that preserved grape. +Especially a kind Providence has made me blind to bowls of white sugar, +and deaf to the pop of champagne corks. It is much that a merciful +compensation gives me a sense of the dingier hue of Havana, and the +muddier gurgle of beer. Are there potted meats? My physician has ordered +me three pounds of minced salt-junk at every meal." There is such a +thing, you know, as a ship's husband: X. is the ship's poor relation. + +As I have said, he takes also a below-the-white-sugar interest in the +jokes, laughing by precise point of compass, just as he would lay the +ship's course, all _yawing_ being out of the question with his +scrupulous decorum at the helm. Once or twice I have got the better of +him, and touched him off into a kind of compromised explosion, like that +of damp fireworks, that splutter and simmer a little, and then go out +with painful slowness and occasional relapses. But his fuse is always of +the unwillingest, and you must blow your match, and touch him off again +and again with the same joke. Or rather, you must magnetize him many +times to get him _en rapport_ with a jest. This once accomplished, you +have him, and one bit of fun will last the whole voyage. He prefers +those of one syllable, the _a-b abs_ of humor. The gradual fattening of +the steward, a benevolent mulatto with whiskers and ear-rings, who looks +as if he had been meant for a woman, and had become a man by accident, +as in some of those stories by the elder physiologists, is an abiding +topic of humorous comment with Mr. X. "That 'ere stooard," he says, with +a brown grin like what you might fancy on the face of a serious and aged +seal, "'s agittin' as fat's a porpis. He was as thin's a shingle when he +come aboord last v'yge. Them trousis'll bust yit. He don't darst take +'em off nights, for the whole ship's company couldn't git him into 'em +agin." And then he turns aside to enjoy the intensity of his emotion by +himself, and you hear at intervals low rumblings, an indigestion of +laughter. He tells me of St. Elmo's fires, Marvell's _corposants_, +though with him the original _corpos santos_ has suffered a sea change, +and turned to _comepleasants_, pledges of fine weather. I shall not soon +find a pleasanter companion. It is so delightful to meet a man who knows +just what you do _not_. Nay, I think the tired mind finds something in +plump ignorance like what the body feels in cushiony moss. Talk of the +sympathy of kindred pursuits! It is the sympathy of the upper and nether +mill-stones, both forever grinding the same grist, and wearing each +other smooth. One has not far to seek for book-nature, artist-nature, +every variety of superinduced nature, in short, but genuine human-nature +is hard to find. And how good it is! Wholesome as a potato, fit company +for any dish. The free masonry of cultivated men is agreeable, but +artificial, and I like better the natural grip with which manhood +recognizes manhood. + +X. has one good story, and with that I leave him, wishing him with all +my heart that little inland farm at last which is his calenture as he +paces the windy deck. One evening, when the clouds looked wild and +whirling, I asked X. if it was coming on to blow. "No, I guess not," +said he; "bumby the moon'll be up, and scoff away that 'ere loose +stuff." His intonation set the phrase "scoff away" in quotation-marks as +plain as print. So I put a query in each eye, and he went on. "Ther' was +a Dutch cappen onct, an' his mate come to him in the cabin, where he sot +takin' his schnapps, an' says, 'Cappen, it's agittin' thick, an' looks +kin' o' squally, hedn't we's good's shorten sail?' 'Gimmy my alminick,' +says the cappen. So he looks at it a spell, an' says he, 'The moon's due +in less'n half an hour, an' she'll scoff away ev'ythin' clare agin.' So +the mate he goes, an' bumby down he comes agin, an' says, 'Cappen, this +'ere's the allfiredest, powerfullest moon 't ever you _did_ see. She's +scoffed away the main-togallants'l, an' she's to work on the foretops'l +now. Guess you'd better look in the alminick agin, and fin' out when +_this_ moon sets.' So the cappen thought 'twas 'bout time to go on deck. +Dreadful slow them Dutch cappens be." And X. walked away, rumbling +inwardly, like the rote of the sea heard afar. + + + + +THE ROAD TO A WOMAN'S HEART + +BY SAM SLICK + + +As we approached the inn at Amherst, the Clockmaker grew uneasy. "It's +pretty well on in the evening, I guess," said he, "and Marm Pugwash is +as onsartin in her temper as a mornin' in April; it's all sunshine or +all clouds with her, and if she's in one of her tantrums she'll stretch +out her neck and hiss like a goose with a flock of goslin's. I wonder +what on airth Pugwash was a-thinkin' on when he signed articles of +partnership with that are woman; she's not a bad-lookin' piece of +furniture, neither, and it's a proper pity sich a clever woman should +carry sich a stiff upper lip. She reminds me of our old minister Joshua +Hopewell's apple-trees. + +"The old minister had an orchard of most particular good fruit, for he +was a great hand at buddin', graftin', and what not, and the orchard (it +was on the south side of the house) stretched right up to the road. +Well, there were some trees hung over the fence, I never seed such +bearers: the apples hung in ropes, for all the world like strings of +onions, and the fruit was beautiful. Nobody touched the minister's +apples, and when other folks lost their'n from the boys, his'n always +hung there like bait t' a hook, but there never was so much as a nibble +at 'em. So I said to him one day, 'Minister,' said I, 'how on airth do +you manage to keep your fruit that's so exposed, when no one else can't +do it nohow?' 'Why,' says he, 'they are dreadfully pretty fruit, ain't +they?' 'I guess,' said I, 'there ain't the like on 'em in all +Connecticut.' 'Well,' says he, 'I'll tell you the secret, but you +needn't let on to no one about it. That are row next the fence, I +grafted it myself: I took great pains to get the right kind. I sent +clean up to Roxberry and away down to Squawneck Creek.' I was afeard he +was a-goin' to give me day and date for every graft, bein' a terrible +long-winded man in his stories; so says I, 'I know that, minister, but +how do you preserve them?' 'Why, I was a-goin' to tell you,' said he, +'when you stopped me. That are outward row I grafted myself with the +choicest kind I could find, and I succeeded. They are beautiful, but so +etarnal sour, no human soul can eat them. Well, the boys think the old +minister's graftin' has all succeeded about as well as that row, and +they sarch no further. They snicker at my graftin', and I laugh in my +sleeve, I guess, at their penetration.' + +"Now, Marm Pugwash is like the minister's apples, very temptin' fruit to +look at, but desperate sour. If Pugwash had a watery mouth when he +married, I guess it's pretty puckery by this time. However, if she goes +to act ugly, I'll give her a dose of 'soft sawder' that will take the +frown out of her frontispiece and make her dial-plate as smooth as a +lick of copal varnish. It's a pity she's such a kickin' devil, too, for +she has good points,--good eye, good foot, neat pastern, fine chest, a +clean set of limbs, and carries a good--But here we are. Now you'll see +what 'soft sawder' will do." + +When we entered the house, the travelers' room was all in darkness, and +on opening the opposite door into the sitting-room we found the female +part of the family extinguishing the fire for the night. Mrs. Pugwash +had a broom in her hand, and was in the act (the last act of female +housewifery) of sweeping the hearth. The strong flickering light of the +fire, as it fell upon her tall, fine figure and beautiful face, +revealed a creature worthy of the Clockmaker's comments. + +"Good evening, marm," said Mr. Slick. "How do you do? and how's Mr. +Pugwash?" "He!" said she: "why, he's been abed this hour. You don't +expect to disturb him this time of night, I hope?" "Oh, no," said Mr. +Slick, "certainly not, and I am sorry to have disturbed you, but we got +detained longer than we expected; I am sorry that--" "So am I," said +she, "but if Mr. Pugwash will keep an inn when he has no occasion to, +his family can't expect no rest." + +Here the Clockmaker, seeing the storm gathering, stooped down suddenly, +and, staring intently, held out his hand and exclaimed: "Well, if that +ain't a beautiful child! Come here, my little man, and shake hands along +with me. Well, I declare, if that are little feller ain't the finest +child I ever seed. What, not abed yet? Ah, you rogue, where did you get +them are pretty rosy cheeks? Stole them from mama, eh? Well, I wish my +old mother could see that child, it is such a treat. In our country," +said he, turning to me, "the children are all as pale as chalk or as +yaller as an orange. Lord! that are little feller would be a show in our +country. Come to me, my man." Here the "soft sawder" began to operate. +Mrs. Pugwash said, in a milder tone than we had yet heard, "Go, my dear, +to the gentleman; go, dear." Mr. Slick kissed him, asked him if he would +go to the States along with him, told him all the little girls would +fall in love with him, for they didn't see such a beautiful face once in +a month of Sundays. "Black eyes,--let me see,--ah, mama's eyes, too, and +black hair also; as I am alive, you are mama's own boy, the very image +of mama." "Do be seated, gentlemen," said Mrs. Pugwash. "Sally, make a +fire in the next room." "She ought to be proud of you," he continued. +"Well, if I live to return here, I must paint your face, and have it put +on my clocks, and our folks will buy the clocks for the sake of the +face. Did you ever see," said he, again addressing me, "such a likeness +between one human and another, as between this beautiful little boy and +his mother?" "I am sure you have had no supper," said Mrs. Pugwash to +me; "you must be hungry, and weary, too. I will get you a cup of tea." +"I am sorry to give you so much trouble," said I. "Not the least trouble +in the world," she replied; "on the contrary, a pleasure." + +We were then shown into the next room, where the fire was now blazing +up, but Mr. Slick protested he could not proceed without the little boy, +and lingered behind to ascertain his age, and concluded by asking the +child if he had any aunts that looked like mama. + +As the door closed Mr. Slick said, "It's a pity she don't go well in +gear. The difficulty with those critters is to git them to start: arter +that there is no trouble with them, if you don't check 'em too short. If +you do they'll stop again, run back and kick like mad, and then Old Nick +himself wouldn't start 'em. Pugwash, I guess, don't understand the +natur' of the crittur; she'll never go kind in harness for him. _When I +see a child_," said the Clockmaker, "_I always feel safe with these +women-folk; for I have always found that the road to a woman's heart +lies through her child_." + +"You seem," said I, "to understand the female heart so well, I make no +doubt you are a general favorite among the fair sex." "Any man," he +replied, "that understands horses has a pretty considerable fair +knowledge of women, for they are jist alike in temper, and require the +very identical same treatment. _Encourage the timid ones, be gentle and +steady with the fractious, but lather the sulky ones like blazes._ + +"People talk an everlastin' sight of nonsense about wine, women and +horses. I've bought and sold 'em all, I've traded in all of them, and I +tell you there ain't one in a thousand that knows a grain about either +on 'em. You hear folks say, Oh, such a man is an ugly-grained critter, +he'll break his wife's heart; jist as if a woman's heart was as brittle +as a pipe-stalk. The female heart, as far as my experience goes, is jist +like a new india-rubber shoe: you may pull and pull at it till it +stretches out a yard long, and then let go, and it will fly right back +to its old shape. Their hearts are made of stout leather, I tell you; +there's a plaguy sight of wear in 'em. + +"I never knowed but one case of a broken heart, and that was in t'other +sex, one Washington Banks. He was a sneezer. He was tall enough to spit +down on the heads of your grenadiers, and near about high enough to wade +across Charlestown River, and as strong as a tow-boat. I guess he was +somewhat less than a foot longer than the moral law and catechism, too. +He was a perfect pictur' of a man; you couldn't fault him in no +particular, he was so just a made critter; folks used to run to the +winder when he passed, and say, 'There goes Washington Banks; beant he +lovely!' I do believe there wasn't a gal in the Lowell factories that +warn't in love with him. Sometimes, at intermission, on Sabbath-days, +when they all came out together (an amazin' handsom' sight, too, near +about a whole congregation of young gals), Banks used to say, 'I vow, +young ladies, I wish I had five hundred arms to reciprocate one with +each of you; but I reckon I have a heart big enough for you all; it's a +whopper, you may depend, and every mite and morsel of it at your +service.' 'Well, how you do act, Mr. Banks!' half a thousand little +clipper-clapper tongues would say, all at the same time, and their dear +little eyes sparklin' like so many stars twinklin' of a frosty night. + +"Well, when I last seed him he was all skin and bone, like a horse +turned out to die. He was teetotally defleshed, a mere walkin' skeleton. +'I am dreadful sorry,' says I, 'to see you, Banks, lookin' so peaked. +Why, you look like a sick turkey-hen, all legs! What on airth ails you?' +'I'm dyin', says he, '_of a broken heart_.' 'What!' I says I, 'have the +gals been jiltin' you?' 'No, no,' says he; 'I beant such a fool as that, +neither.' 'Well,' says I, 'have you made a bad speculation?' 'No,' says +he, shakin' his head, 'I hope I have too much clear grit in me to take +on so bad for that.' 'What under the sun is it, then?' said I. 'Why,' +says he, 'I made a bet the fore part of the summer with Leftenant Oby +Knowles that I could shoulder the best bower of the Constitution +frigate. I won my bet, _but the anchor was so etarnal heavy that it +broke my heart_.' Sure enough, he did die that very fall; and he was the +only instance I ever heard tell of a _broken heart_." + + + + +ICARUS + +BY JOHN G. SAXE + +I + + + All modern themes of poesy are spun so very fine, + That now the most amusing muse, _e gratia_, such as mine, + Is often forced to cut the thread that strings our recent rhymes, + And try the stronger staple of the good old classic times. + + +II + + There lived and flourished long ago, in famous Athens town, + One _Dædalus_, a carpenter of genius and renown; + ('Twas he who with an _auger_ taught mechanics how to _bore_,-- + An art which the philosophers monopolized before.) + + +III + + His only son was _Icarus_, a most precocious lad, + The pride of Mrs. Dædalus, the image of his dad; + And while he yet was in his teens such progress he had made, + He'd got above his father's size, and much above his trade. + + +IV + + Now _Dædalus_, the carpenter, had made a pair of wings, + Contrived of wood and feathers and a cunning set of springs, + By means of which the wearer could ascend to any height, + And sail about among the clouds as easy as a kite! + + +V + + "O father," said young _Icarus_, "how I should like to fly! + And go like you where all is blue along the upper sky; + How very charming it would be above the moon to climb, + And scamper through the Zodiac, and have a high old time! + + +VI + + "Oh wouldn't it be jolly, though,--to stop at all the inns; + To take a luncheon at 'The Crab,' and tipple at 'The Twins'; + And, just for fun and fancy, while careering through the air, + To kiss the _Virgin_, tease the _Ram_, and bait the biggest _Bear_? + + +VII + + "O father, please to let me go!" was still the urchin's cry; + "I'll be extremely careful, sir, and won't go _very_ high; + Oh if this little pleasure-trip you only will allow, + I promise to be back again in time to fetch the cow!" + + +VIII + + "You're rather young," said Dædalus, "to tempt the upper air; + But take the wings, and mind your eye with very special care; + And keep at least a thousand miles below the nearest star; + Young lads, when out upon a lark, are apt to go too far!" + + +IX + + He took the wings--that foolish boy--without the least dismay; + His father stuck 'em on with wax, and so he soared away; + Up, up he rises, like a bird, and not a moment stops + Until he's fairly out of sight beyond the mountain-tops! + + +X + + And still he flies--away--away; it seems the merest fun; + No marvel he is getting bold, and aiming at the sun; + No marvel he forgets his sire; it isn't very odd + That one so far above the earth should think himself a god! + + +XI + + Already, in his silly pride, he's gone too far aloft; + The heat begins to scorch his wings; the wax is waxing soft; + Down--down he goes!--Alas!--next day poor Icarus was found + Afloat upon the Ægean Sea, extremely damp and drowned! + + +L'ENVOI + + The moral of this mournful tale is plain enough to all:-- + Don't get above your proper sphere, or you may chance to fall; + Remember, too, that borrowed plumes are most uncertain things; + And never try to scale the sky with other people's wings! + + + + +VIVE LA BAGATELLE + +("_Swift's Cheerful Creed_") + +BY CLINTON SCOLLARD + + + A bumper to the jolly Dean + Who, in "Augustan" times, + Made merriment for fat and lean + In jocund prose and rhymes! + Ah, but he drove a pranksome quill! + With quips he wove a spell; + His creed--he cried it with a will-- + Was "_Vive la bagatelle!_" + + Oh, there were reckless jesters then! + And when a man was hit, + He quick returned the stroke again + With trenchant blade of wit. + 'Twas parry, thrust, and counter-thrust + That round the board befell; + They quaffed the wine and crunched the crust + With "_Vive la bagatelle!_" + + How rang the genial laugh of Gay + At Pope's defiant ire! + How Parnell's sallies brought in play + The rapier wit of Prior! + And how o'er all the banter's shift-- + The laughter's fall and swell-- + Upleaped the great guffaw of Swift, + With "_Vive la bagatelle!_" + + O moralist, frown not so dark, + Purse not thy lip severe; + 'T will warm the heart if ye but hark + The mirth of "yester year." + To-day we wear too grave a face; + We slave,--we buy and sell; + Forget a while mad Mammon's race + In "_Vive la bagatelle!_" + + + + +A STACCATO TO O LE LUPE + +BY BLISS CARMAN + + + O Le Lupe, Gelett Burgess, this is very sad to find: + In _The Bookman_ for September, in a manner most unkind, + There appears a half-page picture, makes me think I've lost my mind. + + They have reproduced a window,--Doxey's window,--(I dare say + In your rambles you have seen it, passed it twenty times a day,) + As "A Novel Exhibition of Examples of Decay." + + There is Nordau we all sneer at, and Verlaine we all adore, + And a little book of verses with its betters by the score, + With three faces on the cover I believe I've seen before. + + Well, here's matter for reflection, makes me wonder where I am. + Here is Ibsen the gray lion, linked to Beardsley the black lamb. + I was never out of Boston: all that I can say is, "Damn!" + + Who could think, in two short summers we should cause so much remark, + With no purpose but our pastime, and to make the public hark, + When I soloed on _The Chap-Book_, and you answered with _The Lark_! + + Do young people take much pleasure when they read that sort of thing? + "Well, they buy it," answered Doxey, "and I take what it will bring. + Publishers may dread extinction--not with such fads on the string. + + "There is always sale for something, and demand for what is new. + These young men who are so restless, and have nothing else to do, + Like to think there is 'a movement,' just to keep themselves in view. + + "There is nothing in Decadence but the magic of a name. + People talk and papers drivel, scent a vice, and hint a shame; + And all that is good for business, helps to boom my little game." + + But when I sit down to reason, think to stand upon my nerve, + Meditate on portly leisure with a balance in reserve, + In he comes with his "Decadence!" like a fly in my preserve. + + I can see myself, O Burgess, half a century from now, + Laid to rest among the ghostly, like a broken toy somehow, + All my lovely songs and ballads vanished with your "Purple Cow." + + But I will return some morning, though I know it will be hard, + To Cornhill among the bookstalls, and surprise some minor bard, + Turning over their old rubbish for the treasures we discard. + + I shall warn him like a critic, creeping when his back is turned, + "Ink and paper, dead and done with; Doxey spent what Doxey earned; + Poems doubtless are immortal, where a poem can be discerned!" + + How his face will go to ashes, when he feels his empty purse! + How he'll wish his vogue were greater; plume himself it is no worse; + Then go bother the dear public with his puny little verse! + + Don't I know how he will pose it; patronize our larger time; + "Poor old Browning; little Kipling; what attempts they made to rhyme!" + Just let me have half an hour with the nincompoop sublime! + + I will haunt him like a purpose, I will ghost him like a fear; + When he least expects my presence, I'll be mumbling in his ear, + "O Le Lupe lived in Frisco, and I lived in Boston here. + + "Never heard of us? Good heavens, can you never have been told + Of the _Larks_ we used to publish, and the _Chap-Books_ that we sold? + Where are all our first edition?" I feel damp and full of mould. + + + + +A GUEST AT THE LUDLOW + +BY BILL NYE + + +We are stopping quietly here, taking our meals in our rooms mostly, and +going out very little indeed. When I say we, I use the term editorially. + +We notice first of all the great contrast between this and other hotels, +and in several instances this one is superior. In the first place, there +is a sense of absolute security when one goes to sleep here that can not +be felt at a popular hotel, where burglars secrete themselves in the +wardrobe during the day and steal one's pantaloons and contents at +night. This is one of the compensations of life in prison. + +Here the burglars go to bed at the hour that the rest of us do. We all +retire at the same time, and a murderer can not sit up any later at +night than the smaller or unknown criminal can. + +You can get to Ludlow Street Jail by taking the Second avenue Elevated +train to Grand street, and then going east two blocks, or you can fire a +shotgun into a Sabbath-school. + +You can pay five cents to the Elevated Railroad and get here, or you can +put some other man's nickel in your own slot and come here with an +attendant. + +William Marcy Tweed was the contractor of Ludlow Street Jail, and here +also he died. He was the son of a poor chair-maker, and was born April +3, 1823. From the chair business in 1853 to congress was the first false +step. Exhilarated by the delirium of official life, and the false joys +of franking his linen home every week, and having cake and preserves +franked back to him at Washington, he resolved to still further taste +the delights of office, and in 1857 we find him as a school +commissioner. + +In 1860 he became Grand Sachem of the Tammany Society, an association at +that time more purely political than politically pure. As president of +the board of supervisors, head of the department of public works, state +senator, and Grand Sachem of Tammany, Tweed had a large and seductive +influence over the city and state. The story of how he earned a scanty +livelihood by stealing a million of dollars at a pop, and thus, with the +most rigid economy, scraped together $20,000,000 in a few years by +patient industry and smoking plug tobacco, has been frequently told. + +Tweed was once placed here in Ludlow Street Jail in default of +$3,000,000 bail. How few there are of us who could slap up that amount +of bail if rudely gobbled on the street by the hand of the law. While +riding out with the sheriff, in 1875, Tweed asked to see his wife, and +said he would be back in a minute. + +He came back by way of Spain, in the fall of '76, looking much improved. +But the malaria and dissipation of Blackwell's Island afterward impaired +his health, and having done time there, and having been arrested +afterward and placed in Ludlow Street Jail, he died here April 12, 1878, +leaving behind him a large, vain world, and an equally vain judgment for +$6,537,117.38, to which he said he would give his attention as soon as +he could get a paving contract in the sweet ultimately. + +From the exterior Ludlow Street Jail looks somewhat like a conservatory +of music, but as soon as one enters he readily discovers his mistake. +The structure has 100 feet frontage, and a court, which is sometimes +called the court of last resort. The guest can climb out of this court +by ascending a polished brick wall about 100 feet high, and then letting +himself down in a similar way on the Ludlow street side. + +That one thing is doing a great deal toward keeping quite a number of +people here who would otherwise, I think, go away. + +James D. Fish and Ferdinand Ward both remained here prior to their +escape to Sing Sing. Red Leary, also, made his escape from this point, +but did not succeed in reaching the penitentiary. Forty thousand +prisoners have been confined in Ludlow Street Jail, mostly for civil +offenses. A man in New York runs a very short career if he tries to be +offensively civil. + +As you enter Ludlow Street Jail the door is carefully closed after you, +and locked by means of an iron lock about the size of a pictorial family +Bible. You then remain on the inside for quite a spell. You do not hear +the prattle of soiled children any more. All the glad sunlight, and +stench-condensing pavements, and the dark-haired inhabitants of +Rivington street, are seen no longer, and the heavy iron storm-door +shuts out the wail of the combat from the alley near by. Ludlow Street +Jail may be surrounded by a very miserable and dirty quarter of the +city, but when you get inside all is changed. + +You register first. There is a good pen there that you can write with, +and the clerk does not chew tolu and read a sporting paper while you +wait for a room. He is there to attend to business, and he attends to +it. He does not seem to care whether you have any baggage or not. You +can stay here for days, even if you don't have any baggage. All you need +is a kind word and a mittimus from the court. + +One enters this sanitarium either as a boarder or a felon. If you decide +to come in as a boarder, you pay the warden $15 a week for the privilege +of sitting at his table and eating the luxuries of the market. You also +get a better room than at many hotels, and you have a good strong door, +with a padlock on it, which enables you to prevent the sudden and +unlooked-for entrance of the chambermaid. It is a good-sized room, with +a wonderful amount of seclusion, a plain bed, table, chairs, carpet and +so forth. After a few weeks at the seaside, at $19 per day, I think the +room in which I am writing is not unreasonable at $2. + +Still, of course, we miss the sea breeze. + +You can pay $50 to $100 per week here if you wish, and get your money's +worth, too. For the latter sum one may live in the bridal chamber, so to +speak, and eat the very best food all the time. + +Heavy iron bars keep the mosquitoes out, and at night the house is +brilliantly lighted by incandescent lights of one-candle power each. +Neat snuffers, consisting of the thumb and forefinger polished on the +hair, are to be found in each occupied room. + +Bread is served to the Freshmen and Juniors in rectangular wads. It is +such bread as convicts' tears have moistened many thousand years. In +that way it gets quite moist. + +The most painful feature about life in Ludlow Street Jail is the +confinement. One can not avoid a feeling of being constantly hampered +and hemmed in. + +One more disagreeable thing is the great social distinction here. The +poor man who sleeps in a stone niche near the roof, and who is +constantly elbowed and hustled out of his bed by earnest and restless +vermin with a tendency toward insomnia, is harassed by meeting in the +court-yard and corridors the paying boarders who wear good clothes, live +well, have their cigars, brandy and Kentucky Sec all the time. + +The McAllister crowd here is just as exclusive as it is on the outside. + +But, great Scott! what a comfort it is to a man like me, who has been +nearly killed by a cyclone, to feel the firm, secure walls and solid +time lock when he goes to bed at night! Even if I can not belong to the +400, I am almost happy. + +We retire at 7:30 o'clock at night and arise at 6:30 in the morning, so +as to get an early start. A man who has five or ten years to stay in a +place like this naturally likes to get at it as soon as possible each +day, and so he gets up at 6:30. + +We dress by the gaudy light of the candle, and while we do so, we +remember far away at home our wife and the little boy asleep in her +arms. They do not get up at 6:30. It is at this hour we remember the +fragrant drawer in the dresser at home where our clean shirts, and +collars and cuffs, and socks and handkerchiefs, are put every week by +our wife. We also recall as we go about our stone den, with its odor of +former corned beef, and the ghost of some bloody-handed predecessor's +snore still moaning in the walls, the picture of green grass by our own +doorway, and the apples that were just ripening, when the bench warrant +came. + +The time from 6:30 to breakfast is occupied by the average, or +non-paying inmate, in doing the chamberwork and tidying up his +state-room. I do not know how others feel about it, but I dislike +chamberwork most heartily, especially when I am in jail. Nothing has +done more to keep me out of jail, I guess, than the fact that while +there I have to make up my bed and dust the piano. + +Breakfast is generally table d'hôte and consists of bread. A tin-cup of +coffee takes the taste of the bread out of your mouth, and then if you +have some Limburger cheese in your pocket you can with that remove the +taste of the coffee. + +Dinner is served at 12 o'clock, and consists of more bread with soup. +This soup has everything in it except nourishment. The bead on this soup +is noticeable for quite a distance. It is disagreeable. Several days ago +I heard that the Mayor was in the soup, but I didn't realize it before. +I thought it was a newspaper yarn. There is everything in this soup, +from shop-worn rice up to neat's-foot oil. Once I thought I detected +cuisine in it. + +The dinner menu is changed on Fridays, Sundays and Thursdays, on which +days you get the soup first and the bread afterward. In this way the +bread is saved. + +Three days in a week each man gets at dinner a potato containing a +thousand-legged worm. At 6 o'clock comes supper with toast and +responses. Bread is served at supper time, together with a cup of tea. +To those who dislike bread and never eat soup, or do not drink tea or +coffee, life at Ludlow Street Jail is indeed irksome. + +I asked for kumiss and a pony of Benedictine, as my stone boudoir made +me feel rocky, but it has not yet been sent up. + +Somehow, while here, I can not forget poor old man Dorrit, the Master of +the Marshalsea, and how the Debtors' Prison preyed upon his mind till he +didn't enjoy anything except to stand off and admire himself. Ludlow +Street Jail is a good deal like it in many ways, and I can see how in +time the canker of unrest and the bitter memories of those who did us +wrong but who are basking in the bright and bracing air, while we, to +meet their obligations, sacrifice our money, our health and at last our +minds, would kill hope and ambition. + +In a few weeks I believe I should also get a preying on my mind. That is +about the last thing I would think of preying on, but a man must eat +something. + +Before closing this brief and incomplete account as a guest at Ludlow +Street Jail I ought, in justice to my family, to say, perhaps, that I +came down this morning to see a friend of mine who is here because he +refuses to pay alimony to his recreant and morbidly sociable wife. He +says he is quite content to stay here, so long as his wife is on the +outside. He is writing a small ready-reference book on his side of the +great problem, "Is Marriage a Failure?" + +With this I shake him by the hand and in a moment the big iron +storm-door clangs behind me, the big lock clicks in its hoarse, black +throat and I welcome even the air of Ludlow street so long as the blue +sky is above it. + + + + +THE ENCHANTED HAT + +_The Adventure of My Lady's Letter_ + +BY HAROLD MACGRATH + + +It was half-after six when I entered Martin's from the Broadway side. I +chose a table by the north wall and sat down on the cushioned seat. I +ordered dinner, and the ample proportions of it completely hoodwinked +the waiter as to the condition of my cardiac affliction: being, as I +was, desperately and hopelessly and miserably in love. Old owls say that +a man can not eat when he is in love. He can if he is mad at the way the +object of his affections has treated him; and I was mad. To be sure, I +can not recall what my order was, but the amount of the waiter's check +is still vivid to my recollection. + +I glanced about. The café was crowded, as it usually is at this hour. +Here and there I caught glimpses of celebrities and familiar faces: +journalists, musicians, authors, artists and actors. This is the time +they drop in to be pointed out to strangers from out of town. It's a +capital advertisement. To-night, however, none of these interested me in +the slightest degree; rather, their animated countenances angered me. +How _could_ they laugh and look happy! + +At my left sat a young man about my own age. He was also in evening +dress. At my right a benevolent old gentleman, whose eye-glasses +balanced neatly upon the end of his nose, was deeply interested in _The +Law Journal_ and a pint pf mineral water. A little beyond my table was +an exiled Frenchman, and the irritating odor of absinthe drifted at +times across my nostrils. + +With my coffee I ordered a glass of Dantzic, and watched the flakes of +beaten gold waver and settle; and presently I devoted myself entirely to +my own particularly miserable thoughts.... To be in love and in debt! To +be with the gods one moment and hunted by a bill-collector the next! To +have the girl you love snub and dismiss you for no more lucid reason +than that you did not attend the dance at the Country Club when you +promised you would! It did not matter that you had a case on that night +from which depended a large slice of your bread and butter; no, that did +not matter. Neither did the fact that you had mixed the dates. You had +promised to go, and you hadn't gone or notified the girl that you +wouldn't go. Your apologetic telegram she had torn into halves and +returned the following morning, together with a curt note to the effect +that she could not value the friendship of a man who made and broke a +promise so easily. It was all over. It was a dashed hard world. How the +deuce do you win a girl, anyhow? + +Supposing, besides, that you possessed a rich uncle who said that on the +day of your wedding he would make over to you fifty thousand in +Government three per cents? Hard, wasn't it? Suppose that you were +earning about two thousand a year, and that the struggle to keep up +smart appearances was a keen one. Wouldn't you have been eager to marry, +especially the girl you loved? A man can not buy flowers twice a week, +dine before and take supper after the theater twice a week, belong (and +pay dues and house-accounts) to a country club, a town club and keep +respectable bachelor apartments on two thousand ... and save anything. +And suppose the girl was independently rich? Heigh-ho! + +I find that a man needs more money in love than he does in debt. This is +not to say that I was ever very hard pressed; but I hated to pay ten +dollars "on account" when the total was only twenty. You understand me, +don't you? If you don't, somebody who reads this will. Of course, the +girl knew nothing about these things. A young man always falls into the +fault of magnifying his earning capacity to the girl he loves. You see, +I hadn't told her yet that I loved her, though I was studying up +somebody on Moral and Physical Courage for that purpose. + +And now it was all over! + +I did not care so much about my uncle's gold-bonds, but I did think a +powerful lot of the girl. Why, when I recall the annoyances I've put up +with from that kid brother of hers!... Pshaw, what's the use? + +His mother called him "Toddy-One-Boy," in memory of a book she had read +long years ago. He was six years old, and I never think of him without +that jingle coming to mind: + + "Little Willie choked his sister, + She was dead before they missed her. + Willie's always up to tricks. + Ain't he cute, he's only six!" + +He had the face of a Bouguereau cherub, and mild blue eyes such as we +are told inhabit the countenances of angels. He was the most +innocent-looking chap you ever set eyes on. His mother called him an +angel; I should hate to tell you what the neighbors called him. He +lacked none of that subtle humor so familiar in child-life. Heavens! the +deeds I could (if I dared) enumerate. They turned him loose among the +comic supplements one Sunday, and after that it was all over. + +Hadn't he emptied his grandma's medicine capsules and substituted +cotton? And hadn't dear old grandma come down stairs three days later, +saying that she felt much improved? Hadn't he beaten out the brains of +his toy bank and bought up the peanut man on the corner? Yes, indeed! +And hadn't he taken my few letters from his sister's desk and played +postman up and down the street? His papa thought it all a huge joke till +one of the neighbors brought back a dunning dressmaker's bill that had +lain on the said neighbor's porch. It was altogether a different matter +then. Toddy-One-Boy crawled under the bed that night, and only his +mother's tears saved him from a hiding. + +All these I thought over as I sat at my table. She knew that I would +have gone had it been possible. Women and logic are only cousins german. +Six months ago I hadn't been in love with any one but myself, and now +the Virgil of love's dream was leading me like a new Dante through _his_ +Inferno, and was pointing out the foster-brother of Sisyphus (if he had +a foster-brother), pushing the stone of my lady's favor up the steeps of +Forlorn Hope. Well, I would go up to the club, and if I didn't get home +till mor-r-ning, who was there to care? + +The Frenchman had gone, and the benevolent old gentleman. The crowd was +thinning out. The young man at my left rose, and I rose also. We both +stared thoughtfully at the hat-rack. There hung two hats: an opera-hat +and a dilapidated old stovepipe. The young fellow reached up and, quite +naturally, selected the opera-hat. He glanced into it, and immediately a +wrinkle of annoyance darkened his brow. He held the hat toward me. + +"Is this yours?" he asked. + +I looked at the label. + +"No." The wrinkle of annoyance sprang from his brow to mine. My +opera-hat had cost me eight dollars. + +The young fellow laughed rather lamely. "Do you live in New York?" he +asked. + +I nodded. + +"So do I," he continued; "and yet it is evident that both of us have +been neatly caught." He thought for a moment, then brightened. "I'll +tell you what; let's match for the good one." + +I gazed indignantly at the rusty stovepipe. "Done!" said I. + +I lost; I knew that I should; and the young fellow walked off with the +good hat. Then, with the relic in my hand, a waiter and myself began a +systematic search. My hat was nowhere to be found. How the deuce was I +to get up town to the club? I couldn't wear the old plug; I wasn't rich +enough for such an eccentricity. I had nothing but a silk hat at the +apartment, and I hated it because it was always in the way when I +entered carriages and elevators. + +Angrily, I strode up to the cashier's desk and explained the situation, +leaving my address and the number of my apartment; my name wasn't +necessary. + +Troubles never come singly. Here I had lost my girl and my hat, to say +nothing of my temper--of the three the most certain to be found again. I +passed out of the café, bareheaded and hotheaded. I hailed a cab and +climbed in. I had finally determined to return to my rooms and study. I +simply could not afford to be seen with that stovepipe hat either on my +head or under my arm. Had I been green from college it is probable that +I should have worn it proudly and defiantly. But I had left college +behind these six years. + +Hang these old duffers who are so absent-minded! For I was confident +that the benevolent old gentleman was the cause of all this confusion. +Inside the cab I tried on the thing, just to get a picture in my mind of +the old gentleman going it up Broadway with my opera-hat on his head. +The hat sagged over my ears; and I laughed. The picture I had conjured +up was too much for my anger, which vanished suddenly. And once I had +laughed I felt a trifle more agreeable toward the world. So long as a +man can see the funny side of things he has no active desire to leave +life behind; and laughter does more to lighten his sorrows than +sympathy, which only aggravates them. + +After all, the old gentleman would feel the change more sharply than I. +This was, in all probability, the only hat he had. I turned it over and +scrutinized it. It was a genteel old beaver, with an air of +respectability that was quite convincing. There was nothing smug about +it, either. It suggested amiability in the man who had recently +possessed it. It suggested also a mild contempt for public opinion, +which is always a sign of superior mentality and advanced years. I began +to draw a mental portrait of the old man. He was a family lawyer, +doubtless, who lived in the past and hugged his retrospections. When we +are young there is never any vanishing point to our day-dreams. Well, +well! On the morrow he would have a new hat, of approved shape and +pattern; unless, indeed, he possessed others like this which had fallen +into my keeping. Perhaps he would soon discover his mistake, return to +the café and untangle the snarl. I sincerely hoped he would. As I +remarked, my hat had cost me eight dollars. + +I soon arrived at my apartments, and got into a smoking-jacket. I rather +delight in lolling around in a dress-shirt; it looks so like the +pictures we see in the fashionable novels. I picked up Blackstone and +turned to his "promissory notes." I had two or three out myself. It was +nine o'clock when the hall-boy's bell rang, and I placed my ear to the +tube. A gentleman wished to see me in regard to a lost hat. + +"Send him up, James; send him up!" I bawled down the tube. Visions of +the club returned, and I tossed Blackstone into a corner. + +Presently there came a tap on the door, and I flung it wide. But my +visitor was not the benevolent old gentleman. He was the Frenchman whose +absinthe had offended me. He glanced at the slip of paper in his hand. + +"I have zee honaire to address zee--ah--gentleman in numbaire six?" + +"I live here." + +"Delight'! We have meexed zee hats, I have zee r-r-regret. Ees thees +your hat?" He held out, for my inspection, an opera-hat. "I am _so_ +absent-mind'--what you call deestrait?"--affably. + +I took the hat, which at first glance I thought to be mine, and went +over to the rack, taking down the old stovepipe. + +"This is yours, then?" I said, smiling. + +"Thousand thanks, m'sieu! Eet ees certain mine. I have zee honaire to +beg pardon for zee confusion. My compliments! Good night!" + +Without giving the hat a single glance, he clapped it on his head, bowed +and disappeared, leaving me his card. He hadn't been gone two minutes +when I discovered that the hat he had exchanged for the stovepipe was +_not_ mine. It came from the same firm, but the initials proved it +without doubt to belong to the young fellow I had met at the table. I +said some uncomplimentary things. Where the deuce _was_ my hat? +Evidently the benevolent old gentleman hadn't waked up yet. + +Ting-a-ling! It was the boy's bell again. + +"Well?" + +"Another man after a hat. What's goin' on?" + +"Send him up!" I yelled. It came over me that the Frenchman had made a +second mistake. + +I was not disappointed this time in my visitor. It was the benevolent +old gentleman. Evidently he had not located _his_ hat either, and might +not for some time to come. I began to believe that I had given it to the +Frenchman. He seemed terribly excited. + +"You are the gentleman who occupies number six?" + +"Yes, sir. This is my apartment. You have come in regard to a hat?" + +"Yes, sir. My name is Chittenden. Our hats got mixed up at Martin's this +evening; my fault, as usual. I am always doing something absurd, my +memory is so bad. When I discovered my mistake I was calling on the +family of a client with whom I had spent most of the afternoon. I missed +some valuable papers, legal documents. I believed as usual that I had +forgotten to take them with me. They were nowhere to be found at the +house. My client has a very mischievous son, and it seems that he +stuffed the papers behind the inside band of my hat. With them there was +a letter. I have had two very great scares. A great deal of trouble +would ensue if the papers were lost. I just telephoned that I had +located the hat." He laughed pleasantly. + +Good heavens! here was a howdy-do. + +"My dear Mr. Chittenden, there has been a great confusion," I faltered. +"I had your hat, but--but you have come too late." + +"Too late?" he roared, or I should say, to be exact, shouted. + +"Yes, sir." + +"What have you done with it?" + +"Not five minutes ago I gave it to a Frenchman, who seemed to recognize +it as his. It was the Frenchman, if you will remember, who sat near your +table in the café." + +"And this hat isn't yours, then?"--helplessly. + +"This" was a flat-brimmed hat of the Paris boulevards, the father of all +stovepipe hats, dear to the Frenchman's heart. + +"Candidly, now," said I with a bit of excusable impatience, "do I look +like a man who would wear a hat like that?" + +He surveyed me miserably through his eye-glasses. + +"No, I can't say that you do. But what in the world am I to do?" He +mopped his brow in the ecstasy of anguish. "The hat must be found. The +legal papers could be replaced, but.... You see, sir, that boy put a +private letter of his sister's in the band of that hat, and it must be +recovered at all hazards." + +"I am very sorry, sir." + +"But what shall I do?" + +"I do not see what can be done save for you to leave word at the café. +The Frenchman is doubtless a frequenter, and may easily be found. If you +had come a few moments sooner...." + +With a gurgle of dismay he fled, leaving me with a half-finished +sentence hanging on my lips and the Frenchman's chapeau hanging on my +fingers. And _my_ hat; where was _my_ hat? (I may as well add here, in +parenthesis, that the disappearance of my eight-dollar hat still remains +a mystery. I have had to buy a new one.) + +So the boy had put a letter of his sister's in the band of the hat, I +mused. How like _her_ kid brother! It seemed that more or less families +had Toddy-One-Boys to look after. Pshaw! what a muddle because a man +couldn't keep his thoughts from wool-gathering! + +Well, here I had two hats, neither of which was mine. I could, at a +pinch, wear the opera-hat, as it was the exact size of the one I had +lost. But what was to be done with the Frenchman's?... Fool that I was! +I rushed over to the table. The Frenchman had left his card, and I had +forgotten all about it. And I hadn't asked the benevolent old gentleman +where he lived. The Frenchman's card read: "M. de Beausire, No. ---- +Washington Place." I decided to go myself to the address, state the +matter to Monsieur de Beausire, and rescue the letter. I knew all about +these Toddy-One-Boys, and I might be doing some girl a signal service. + +I looked at my watch. It was closing on to ten. So I reluctantly got +into my coat again, drew on a topcoat, and put on the hat that fitted +me. Probably the girl had been writing some fortunate fellow a +love-letter. No gentleman will ever overlook a chance to do a favor for +a young girl in distress. I had scarcely drawn my stick from the +umbrella-jar when the bell rang once again. + +"Hello!" I called down the tube. Why couldn't they let me be? + +"Lady wants to see you, sir." + +"A lady!" + +"Yes, sir. A real lady; l-a-d-y. She says she's come to see the +gentleman in number six about a plug hat. What's the graft, anyway?" + +"A plug hat!" + +"Yes, sir; a plug hat. She seems a bit anxious. Shall I send her up? +She's a peach." + +"Yes, send her up," I answered feebly enough. + +And now there was a woman in the case! I wiped the perspiration from my +brow and wondered what I should say to her. A woman.... By Jove! the +sister of the mischievous boy! Old Chittenden must have told her where +he had gone, and as he hasn't shown up, she's worried. It must be a +tremendously important letter to cause all this hubbub. So I laid aside +my hat and waited, tugging and gnawing at my mustache.... Had the Girl +acted reasonably I shouldn't have gone to Martin's that night. + +How easy it is for a woman to hurt the man she knows I is in love with +her! And the Girl had hurt me more than I was willing to confess even to +myself. She had implied that I had carelessly broken an engagement. + +Soon there came a gentle tapping. Certainly the young woman had abundant +pluck. I approached the door quickly, and flung it open. + +The Girl herself stood on the threshold, and we stared at each other +with bewildered eyes! + + +II + +She was the most exquisite creature in all the wide world; and here she +was, within reach of my hungry arms! + +"You?" she cried, stepping back, one hand at her throat and the other +against the jamb of the door. + +Dumb as ever was Lot's wife (after the turning-point in her career), I +stood and stared and admired. A woman would instantly have noticed the +beauty of her sables, but I was a man to whom such details were +inconsequent. + +"I did not expect ... that is, only the number of the apartment was +given," she stammered. "I ..." Then her slender figure straightened, and +with an effort she subdued the fright and dismay which had evidently +seized her. "Have you Mr. Chittenden's hat?" + +"Mr. Chittenden's hat?" I repeated, with a tingling in my throat similar +to that when you hit your elbow smartly on a corner. "Mr. Chittenden's +hat?" + +"Yes; he is so thoughtless that I dared not trust him to search for it +alone. Have _you_ got it?" + +Heavens! how my heart beat at the sight of this beautiful being, as she +stood there, palpitating between shame and anxiety! She _was_ beautiful; +and I knew instantly that I loved her better than anything else on +earth. + +"Mr. Chittenden's hat," I continued, as lucid as a trained parrot and in +tones not wholly dissimilar. + +"Can't you say anything more than that?"--impatiently. + +How much more easily a woman recovers her poise than a man, especially +when that man gives himself over as tamely as I did! + +"Was it _your_ letter he was seeking?" I cried, all eagerness and +excitement as this one sane thought entered my head. + +"Did he tell you that there was a letter in it?"--scornfully. + +"Yes,"--guiltily. Heaven only knows why I should have had any sense of +guilt. + +"Give it to me at once,"--imperatively. + +"The hat or the letter?" Truly, I did not know what I was about. Only +one thing was plain to my confused mind, and that was the knowledge that +I wanted to put my arms around her and carry her far, far away from +Toddy-One-Boy. + +"Are you mad, to anger me in this fashion?" she said, balling her little +gloved hands wrathfully. Had there been real lightning in her eyes I'd +have been dead this long while. "Do you dare believe that I knew you +lived in this apartment?" + +"I ... haven't the hat." + +"You dared to search it?"--drawing herself up to a supreme height, which +was something less than five-feet-two. + +I became angry, and somehow found myself. + +"I never pry into other people's affairs. You are the last person I +expected to see this night." + +"Will you answer a single question? I promise not to intrude further +upon your time, which, doubtless, is very valuable. Have you either the +hat or the letter?" + +"Neither. I knew nothing about any letter till Mr. Chittenden came. But +he came too late." + +"Too late?"--in an agonized whisper. + +"Yes, too late. I had, unfortunately, given his hat to another gentleman +who made a trifling mistake in thinking it to be his own." Suddenly my +manners returned to me. "Will you come in?" + +"Come in? No! You have given the hat to another man? A trifling mistake! +He calls it a trifling mistake!"--addressing the heavens, obscured +though they were by the thickness of several ceilings. "Oh, what _shall_ +I do?" She began to wring her hands, and when a woman does that what +earthly hope is there for the man who looks on? + +"Don't do that!" I implored. "I'll find the hat." At a word from her, +for all she had trampled on me, I would gladly have gone to Honolulu in +search of a hat-pin. "The gentleman left me his card. With your +permission I will go at once in search of him." + +"I have a cab outside. Give me the address." + +"I refuse to permit you to go alone." + +"You have absolutely nothing to say in regard to where I shall or shall +not go." + +"In this one instance. I shall withhold the address." + +How her eyes blazed! + +"Oh, it is easily to be seen that you do not trust me." I was utterly +discouraged. + +"I did not imply that," with the least bit of softening. "Certainly I +would trust you. But ..." + +"Well?"--as laughingly as I could. + +"I must be the one to take out that letter,"--decidedly. + +"I offer to bring you the hat untouched," I replied. + +"I insist on going." + +"Very well; we shall go together; under no other circumstances. This is +a common courtesy that I would show to a perfect stranger." + +I put on my hat, took up the Frenchman's card and tile, and bowed her +gravely into the main hallway. We did not speak on the way down to the +street. We entered the cab in silence, and went rumbling off southwest. +When the monotony became positively unbearable I spoke. + +"I regret to force myself upon you." + +No reply. + +"It must be a very important letter." + +"To no one but myself,"--with extreme frigidity. + +"His father ought to wring his neck,"--thinking of Toddy-One-Boy. + +"Sir, he is my brother!" + +"I beg your pardon." It seemed that I wasn't getting on very well. + +We bumped across the Broadway tracks. Once or twice our shoulders +touched, and the thrill I experienced was as painful as it was +rapturous. What was in a letter that she should go to this extreme to +recall it? A heat-flash of jealousy went over me. She had written to +some other fellow; for there always is some other fellow, hang him!... +And then a grand idea came into my erstwhile stupid head. Here she was, +alone with me in a cab. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. I could +force her to listen to my explanation. + +"I received your note," I began. "It was cruel and without justice." + +Her chin went up a degree. + +"The worst criminal is not condemned without a hearing, and I have had +none." + +No perceptible movement. + +"We are none of us infallible in keeping appointments. We are liable to +make mistakes occasionally. Had I known that Tuesday night was the night +of the dance I'd have crossed to Jersey in a rowboat." + +The chin remained precipitously inclined. + +"I am poor, and the case involved some of my bread and butter. The work +was done at ten, and even then I did not discover that I had in any way +affronted you. I had it down in my note-book as Wednesday night." + +The lips above the chin curled slightly. + +"You see," I went on, striving to keep my voice even-toned, "my uncle is +rich, but I ask no odds of him. I live entirely upon what I earn at law. +It's the only way I can maintain my individuality, my self-respect and +independence. My uncle has often expressed his desire to make me a +handsome allowance, but what would be the use ... now?"--bitterly. + +The chin moved a little. It was too dark to see what this movement +expressed. + +"It seems that I am only a very unfortunate fellow." + +"You had given me your promise." + +"I know it." + +"Not that I cared,"--with cat-like cruelty; "but I lost the last train +out while waiting for you. Not even a note to warn me! Not the slightest +chance to find an escort! When a man gives his promise to a lady it does +not seem possible that he could forget it ... if he cared to keep it." + +"I tell you honestly that I mixed the dates." How weak my excuses +seemed, now that they had passed my lips! + +"You are sure that you mixed nothing else?"--ironically. (She afterward +apologized for this.) "It appears that it would have been better to come +alone." + +"I regret I did not give you the address." + +"It is not too late." + +"I never retreat from any position I have taken." + +"Indeed?" + +Then both our chins assumed an acute angle and remained thus. When a +woman is angry she is about as reasonable as a frightened horse; when a +man is angry he longs to hit something or smoke a cigar. Imagine my +predicament! + +When the cab reached Washington Place and came to a stand I spoke again. + +"Shall I take the hat in, or will you?" + +"We shall go together." + +Ah, if only I had had the courage to say: "I would it were for ever!" +But I feared that it wouldn't take. + +I rang the bell, and presently a maid opened the door. + +"Is Monsieur de Beausire in?" I asked. + +"No, sir, he is not," the maid answered civilly. + +"Do you know where he may be found?" + +"If you have a bill you may leave it,"--frostily and with sudden +suspicion. + +There was a smothered sound from behind me, and I flushed angrily. + +"I am not a bill-collector." + +"Oh; it's the second day of the month, you know. I thought perhaps you +were." + +"He has in his possession a hat which does not belong to him." + +"Good gracious, he hasn't been _stealing_? I don't believe"--making as +though to shut the door. + +This was too much, and I laughed. "No, my girl; he hasn't been stealing. +But, being absent-minded, he has taken another man's hat, and I am +bringing his home in hopes of getting the one he took by mistake." + +"Oh!" And the maid laughed shrilly. + +I held out the hat. + +"My land! that's his hat, sure enough. I was wondering what made him +look so funny when he went out." + +"Where has he gone?" came sharply over my shoulder. + +"If you will wait," said the maid good-naturedly, "I will inquire." + +We waited. So far as I was concerned, I hoped he was miles away, and +that we might go on riding for hours and hours. The maid returned soon. + +"He has gone to meet the French consul at Mouquin's." + +"Which one?" I asked. "There are two, one down and one up town." + +"I'm sure I don't know. You can leave the hat and your card." + +"Thank you; we shall retain the hat. If we find monsieur he will need +it." + +"I'm sorry," said the maid sympathetically. "He's the worst man you ever +saw for forgetting things. Sometimes he goes right by the house and has +to walk back." + +"I'm sorry to have bothered you," said I; and the only girl in the world +and myself reëntered the cab. + +"This is terrible!" she murmured as we drove off. + +"It might be worse," I replied, thinking of the probable long ride with +her: perhaps the last I should ever take! + +"How could it be!" + +I had nothing to offer, and subsided for a space. + +"If we should not find him!" + +"I'll sit on his front stoop all night.... Forgive me if I sound +flippant; but I mean it." Snow was in the air, and I considered it a +great sacrifice on my part to sit on a cold stone in the small morning +hours. It looks flippant in print, too, but I honestly meant it. "I am +sorry. You are in great trouble of some sort, I know; and there's +nothing in the world I would not do to save you from this trouble. Let +me take you home and continue the search alone. I'll find him if I have +to search the whole town." + +"We shall continue the search together,"--wearily. + +What had she written to this other fellow? _Did_ she love some one else +and was she afraid that I might learn who it was? My heart became as +lead in my bosom. I simply could not lose this charming creature. And +now, how was I ever to win her? + +It was not far up town to the restaurant, and we made good time. + +"Would you know him if you saw him?" she asked as we left the cab. + +"Not the least doubt of it,"--confidently. + +She sighed, and together we entered the restaurant. It was full of +theater-going people, music and the hum of voices. We must have created +a small sensation, wandering from table to table, from room to room, the +girl with a look of dread and weariness on her face, and I with the +Frenchman's hat grasped firmly in my hand and my brows scowling. If I +hadn't been in love it would have been a fine comedy. Once I surprised +her looking toward the corner table near the orchestra. How many joyous +Sunday dinners we had had there! Heigh-ho! + +"Is that he?" she whispered, clutching my arm of a sudden, her gaze +directed to a near-by table. + +I looked and shook my head. + +"No; my Frenchman had a mustache and a goatee." + +Her hand dropped listlessly. I confess to the thought that it must have +been very trying for her. What a plucky girl she was! She held me in +contempt, and yet she clung to me, patiently and unmurmuring. And I had +lost her! + +"We may have to go down town.... No! as I live, there he is now!" + +"Where?" There was half a sob in her throat. + +"The table by the short flight of stairs ... the man just lighting the +cigarette. I'll go alone." + +"But I can not stand here alone in the middle of the floor...." + +I called a waiter. "Give this lady a chair for a moment;" and I dropped +a coin in his palm. He bowed, and beckoned for her to follow.... Women +are always writing fool things, and then moving Heaven and earth to +recall them. + +"Monsieur de Beausire?" I said. + +Beausire glanced up. + +"Oh, eet ees ... I forget zee name?" + +I told him. + +"I am delight'!" he cried joyfully, as if he had known me all my life. +"Zee chair; be seat'...." + +"Thank you, but it's about the hats." + +"Hats?" + +"Yes. It seems that the hat I gave you belongs to another man. In your +haste you did not notice the mistake. _This_ is your hat,"--producing +the shining tile. + +"_Mon Dieu!_" he gasped, seizing the hat; "eet _ees_ mine! See! I bring +heem from France; zee _nom_ ees mine. _V'là!_ And I nevaire look in zee +uzzer hat! I am _pair_fickly dumfound'!" And his astonishment was +genuine. + +"Where is the other hat: the one I gave you?" I was in a great hurry. + +"I have heem here," reaching to the vacant chair at his side, while the +French consul eyed us both with some suspicion. We _might_ be lunatics. +Beausire handed me the benevolent old gentleman's hat, and the burden +dropped from my shoulders. "Eet ees _such_ a meestake! I laugh; eh?" He +shook with merriment. "I wear _two_ hats and not know zee meestake!" + +I thanked him and made off as gracefully as I could. The girl rose as +she saw me returning. When I reached her side she was standing with her +slender body inclined toward me. She stretched forth a hand and solemnly +I gave her Mr. Chittenden's hat. I wondered vaguely if anybody was +looking at us, and, if so, what he thought of us. + +The girl pulled the hat literally inside out in her eagerness; but her +gloved fingers trembled so that the precious letter fluttered to the +floor. We both stooped, but I was quicker. It was no attempt on my part +to see the address; my act was one of common politeness. But I could not +help seeing the name. It was my own! + +"Give it to me!" she cried breathlessly. + +I did so. I was not, at that particular moment, capable of doing +anything else. I was too bewildered. My own name! She turned, hugging +the hat, the legal documents and the letter, and hurried down the main +stairs, I at her heels. + +"Tell the driver my address; I can return alone." + +"I can not permit that," I objected decidedly. "The driver is a stranger +to us both. I insist on seeing you to the door; after that you may rest +assured that I shall no longer inflict upon you my presence, odious as +it doubtless is to you." + +As she was already in the cab and could not get out without aid, I +climbed in beside her and called the street and number to the driver. + +"Legally the letter is mine; it is addressed to me, and had passed out +of your keeping." + +"You shall never, never have it!"--vehemently. + +"It is not necessary that I should," I replied; "for I vaguely +understand." + +I saw that it was all over. There was now no reason why I should not +speak my mind fully. + +"I can understand without reading. You realized that your note was cruel +and unlike anything you had done, and your good heart compelled you to +write an apology; but your pride got the better of you, and upon second +thought you concluded to let the unmerited hurt go on." + +"Will you kindly stop, the driver, or shall I?" + +"Does truth annoy you?" + +"I decline to discuss truth with you. Will you stop the driver?" + +"Not until we reach Seventy-first Street West." + +"By what right--" + +"The right of a man who loves you. There, it is out, and my pride has +gone down the wind. After to-night I shall trouble you no further. But +every man has the right to tell one woman that he loves her; and I love +you. I loved you the moment I first laid eyes on you. I couldn't help +it. I say this to you now because I perceive how futile it is. What +dreams I have conjured up about you! Poor fool! When I was at work your +face was always crossing the page or peering up from the margins. I +never saw a fine painting that I did not think of you, or heard a fine +piece of music that I did not think of your voice." + +There was a long interval of silence; block after block went by. I never +once looked at her. + +"If I had been rich I should have put it to the touch some time ago; but +my poverty seems to have been fortunate; it has saved me a refusal. In +some way I have mortally offended you; how, I can not imagine. It can +not be simply because I innocently broke an engagement." + +Then she spoke. + +"You dined after the theater that night with a comic-opera singer. You +were quite at liberty to do so, only you might have done me the honor to +notify me that you had made your choice of entertainment." + +So it was out! Decidedly it was all over now. I never could explain away +the mistake. + +"I have already explained to you my unfortunate mistake. There was and +is no harm that I can see in dining with a woman of her attainments. But +I shall put up no defense. You have convicted me. I retract nothing I +have said. I _do_ love you." + +I was very sorry for myself. + +Cabby drew up. I alighted, and she silently permitted me to assist her +down. I expected her immediately to mount the steps. Instead, she +hesitated, the knuckle of a forefinger against her lips, and assumed the +thoughtful pose of one who contemplates two courses. + +"Have you a stamp?" she asked finally. + +"A stamp?"--blankly. + +"Yes; a postage-stamp." + +I fumbled in my pocket and found, luckily, a single pink square, which I +gave to her. She moistened it with the tip of her tongue and ... stuck +it on the letter! + +"Now, please, drop this in the corner box for me, and take this hat over +to Mr. Chittenden's--Sixty-ninth." + +"What--" + +"Do as I say, or I shall ask you to return the letter to me." + +I rushed off toward the letter-box, drew down the lid, and deposited the +letter--my letter. When I turned she was running up the steps, and a +second later she had disappeared. + +I hadn't been so happy in all my life! + +Cabby waited at the curb. + +Suddenly I became conscious that I was holding something in my hand. It +was the benevolent old gentleman's stovepipe hat! + + * * * * * + +I pushed the button: pushed it good and hard. Presently I heard a window +open cautiously. + +"What is it?" asked a querulous voice. + +"Mr. Chittenden?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, here's your hat!" I cried. + + + + +LITIGATION + +BY BILL ARP + + +The fust case I ever had in a Justice Court I emploid old Bob Leggins, +who was a sorter of a self-eddicated fool. I giv him two dollars in +advanse, and he argud the case as I thot, on two sides, and was more +luminus agin me than for me. I lost the case, and found out atterwards +that the defendant had employed Leggins atter I did, and gin him five +dollars to lose my case. I look upon this as a warnin' to all klients to +pay big fees and keep your lawyer out of temtashun. + +My xperience in litigashun hav not been satisfaktory. I sued Sugar Black +onst for the price of a lode of shuks. He sed he wanted to buy sum +ruffness, and I agreed to bring him a lode of shuks for two dollers. My +waggin got broke and he got tired a waitin', and sent out atter the +shuks himself. When I called on him for the pay, he seemed surprised, +and sed it had cost him two dollars and a half to hav the shuks hauld, +and that I justly owd him a half a dollar. He were more bigger than I +was, so I swallered my bile and sued him. His lawyer pled a set-off for +haulin'. He pled that the shuks was unsound; that they was barred by +limitashuns; that they didn't agree with his cow; and that he never got +any shuks from me. He spoak about a hour, and allooded to me as a +swindler about forty-five times. The bedevild jewry went out, and brot +in a verdik agin me for fifty cents, and four dollars for costs. I +hain't saved many shuks on my plantashun sence, and I don't intend to +til it gits less xpensiv! I look upon this as a warnin' to all foaks +_never to go to law about shuks_, or any other small sirkumstanse. + +The next trubble I had was with a feller I hired to dig me a well. He +was to dig it for twenty dollers, and I was to pay him in meat and meal, +and sich like. The vagabon kep gittin' along til he got all the pay, but +hadn't dug nary a foot in the ground. So I made out my akkount, and sued +him as follers, to wit: + + Old John Hanks, to Bill Arp Dr. + To 1 well you didn't dig $20 + +Well, Hanks, he hired a cheep lawyer, who rared round xtensively, and +sed a heep of funny things at my xpense, and finally dismissd my case +for what he calld its "ridikulum abserdum." I paid those costs, and went +home a sadder and a wiser man. I pulld down my little kabbin and mooved +it sum three hundred yards nigher the spring, and I hav drunk mity +little well water sence. I look upon this case as a warnin' to all foaks +_never to pay for enything till you git it, espeshally if it has to be +dug_. + +The next law case I had I ganed it all by myself, by the forse of +sirkumstanses. I bot a man's note that was giv for the hire of a nigger +boy, Dik. Findin' he wouldn't pay me, I sued him before old Squire +Maginnis, beleevin' that it was sich a ded thing that the devil couldn't +keep me out of a verdik. The feller pled failur of konsiderashun, and +_non est faktum_, and _ignis fatuis_, and infansy, and that the nigger's +name wasn't Dik, but _Richard_. The old Squire was a powerful sesesh, +and hated the Yankees amazin'. So atter the lawyer had got thru his +speech and finished up his readin' from a book called "Greenleaf," I +rose forward to a attitood. Stretchin' forth my arms, ses I: "Squire +Maginnis, I would ax, sur, if this is a time in the histry of our +afflikted kountry when Yankee law books should be admitted in a Southern +patriot's Court? Hain't we got a State of our own and a code of Georgy +laws that's printed on Georgy sile? On the very fust page of the +gentleman's book I seed the name of the sitty of Bosting. Yes, sur, it +was ritten in Bosting, where they don't know no more about the hire of a +nigger than an ox knows the man who will tan his hide." I sed sum more +things that was pinted and patriotik, and closd my argyment by handin' +the book to the Squire. He put on his speks, and atter lookin' at the +book about a minit, ses he: + +"Mr. Arp, you can have a judgment, and I hope that from hensefourth no +lawyer will presoom to cum before this honerabul court with pisen +dokyments to proove his case. If he do, this court will take it as an +insult, and send him to jail." + +I look upon this case as a warnin' to all foaks who gambel in law to +hold a good hand and play it well. High jestice and patriotism are +winning trumps. + +My next case was about steelin' a hog. Larseny from the woods, I think +they call it. I didn't hav but one hog, and we had to let him run out to +keep him alive, for akorns was cheeper than corn at my house. Old +Romulus Ramsour sorter wanted sum fresh meat, and so he shot my shote in +the woods, and was catched carrying him home. He had cut off his ears +and throwed 'em away; but we found 'em, with the under bit in the right +and swaller fork in the left, and so Romulus was brot up square before +the jewry, and his defense was that it was a wild hog. The jewry was out +about two hours and brot in a verdik: "We, the jewry, know that shortly +atter the war the kountry was scarce of provishuns, and in considerashun +of the hard time our poor peepul had in maintainin' their families, and +the temtashuns that surrounded 'em, we find the defendant not guilty, +but we rekommend him not to do so any more." The motto of this case is +that a man ortent to keep hogs in a poor naberhood. + +After this I had a diffikulty with a man by the name of Kohen, and I +thot I wouldn't go to law, but would arbytrate. I had bot Tom Swillins' +wheat at a dollar a bushel, _if he couldn't do any better_, and if he +could do better he was to cum back and _giv me the prefferense_. The +skamp went off and sold the wheat to Kohen for a dollar and five cents, +and Kohen knowd all about his kontrak with me. Me and him lik to hav +fit, and perhaps would, if I hadn't been puny; but we finally left it to +Josh Billins to arbytrate. Old Josh deliberated on the thing three days +and nites, and finally brot in an award that Kohen should hav the wheat +an' _I should hav the prefferense_. I hain't submitted no more cases to +arbytration sinse, and my advise to all peepul is to arbytrate nuthin' +if your case is honest, for there ain't no judge there to keep one man +from trikkin' the other. An honest man don't stan no chance nowhere +xceptin' in a court house with a good lawyer to back him. The motto of +this case is, never to arbytrate nuthin' but a bad case, and take a good +lawyer to advise, and pay him fur it before you do that. + +But I got Fretman. _I_ didn't, but my lawyer, Marks, did. Fretman was a +nutmeg skhool teacher who had gone round my naborhood with his skool +artikles, and I put down of Troup and Calhoun to go, and intended to +send seven or eight more if he proved himself right. I soon found that +the little nullifiers warn't lernin' enything, and on inquiry I found +that nutmeg was a givin' powerful long recessess, and employin' his time +cheefly in carryin' on with a tolerbul sized female gal that was a goin' +to him. Troup sed he heerd the gal squeel one day, and he knowed Fretman +was a squeezin' of her. I don't mind our boys a squeezin' of the Yankee +gals, but I'll be blamed if the Yankees shall be a squeezin' ourn. So I +got mad and took the children away. At the end of the term Fretman sued +me for eighteen dollars, and hired a cheep lawyer to kollekt it. Before +this time I had lerned sum sense about a lawyer, so I hired a good one, +and spred my pokit book down before him, and told him to take what would +satisfi him. And he took. Old Phil Davis was the jestice. Marks made the +openin' speech to the effek that every profeshunal man ort to be able to +illustrate his trade, and he therefore proposed to put Mr. Fretman on +the stan' and _spell him_. This moshun was fout hard, but it agreed with +old Phil's noshuns of "high jestice," and ses he: "Mr. Fretman, you will +hav to spell, sur." Marks then swore him that he would giv true evidense +in this case, and that he would spell evry word in Dan'l Webster's +spellin' book correkly to the best of his knowledge and beleef, so help +him, etc. I saw that he were a tremblin' all over like a cold wet dog. +Ses Marks, "Mr. Fretman, spell 'tisik.'" Well, he spelt it, puttin' in a +_ph_ and a _th_ and a _gh_ and a _zh_, and I don't know what all, and I +thot he were gone up the fust pop, but Marks sed it were right. He then +spelt him right strate along on all sorts of big words, and little +words, and long words, and short words, and he knowd 'em all, til +finally Marks ses, "Now, sur, spell 'Ompompynusuk.'" Fretman drawd a +long breth and sed it warn't in the book. Marks proved it was by a old +preecher who was a settin' by, and old Phil spoke up with power, ses he, +"Mr. Fretman, you must spell it, sur." Fretman was a swettin' like a run +down filly. He took one pass at it, and _missd_. + +"You can cum down, sur," ses Marks, "you've lost your case;" and shore +enuf, old Phil giv a verdik agin him like a darn. + +Marks was a whale in his way. At the same court he was about to nonsoot +a Doktor bekaus he didn't hav his diplomy, and the Doktor begged the +court for time to go home after it. He rode seven miles and back as hard +as he could lick it, and when he handed it over, Marks, ses he, "Now, +sur, you will just take the stand and translate this lattin' into +English, so that the court may onderstand it." Well, he jest caved, for +he couldn't do it. + +He lost his case in two minits, for the old squire sed that a dokter who +couldn't read his diplomy had no more right to praktise than a +magistrate what couldn't read the license had to jine two cuple +together. + + + + +DARIUS GREEN AND HIS FLYING-MACHINE + +BY J. T. TROWBRIDGE + + If ever there lived a Yankee lad, + Wise or otherwise, good or bad, + Who, seeing the birds fly, didn't jump + With flapping arms from stake or stump, + Or, spreading the tail + Of his coat for a sail, + Take a soaring leap from post or rail, + And wonder why + _He_ couldn't fly, + And flap, and flutter, and wish, and try,-- + If ever you knew a country dunce + Who didn't try that as often as once, + All I can say is, that's a sign + He never would do for a hero of mine. + + An aspiring genius was D. Green: + The son of a farmer, age fourteen; + His body was long and lank and lean,-- + Just right for flying, as will be seen; + He had two eyes as bright as a bean, + And a freckled nose that grew between, + A little awry,--for I must mention + That he had riveted his attention + Upon his wonderful invention, + Twisting his tongue as he twisted the strings, + And working his face as he worked the wings, + And with every turn of gimlet and screw + Turning and screwing his mouth round, too, + Till his nose seemed bent + To catch the scent, + Around some corner, of new-baked pies, + And his wrinkled cheeks and his squinting eyes + Grew puckered into a queer grimace, + That made him look very droll in the face, + And also very wise. + And wise he must have been, to do more + Than ever a genius did before, + Excepting Dædalus, of yore, + And his son Icarus, who wore + Upon their backs + Those wings of wax + He had read of in the old almanacs. + Darius was clearly of the opinion + That the air is also man's dominion, + And that, with paddle or fin or pinion, + We soon or late shall navigate + The azure, as now we sail the sea. + The thing looks simple enough to me; + And, if you doubt it, + Hear how Darius reasoned about it. + "The birds can fly, an' why can't I? + Must we give in," says he, with a grin, + "That the bluebird an' phoebe + Are smarter'n we be? + Jest fold our hands an' see the swaller + An' blackbird an' catbird beat us holler? + Does the little, chatterin', sassy wren, + No bigger'n my thumb, know more than men? + Jest show me that! + Ur prove't the bat + Hez got more brains than's in my hat, + An' I'll back down, an' not till then!" + He argued further, "Nur I can't see + What's the use o' wings to a bumble-bee, + Fur to git a livin' with, more'n to me; + Ain't my business + Important's his'n is? + That Icarus + Made a perty muss: + Him an' his daddy Dædalus + They might 'a' knowed wings made o' wax + Wouldn't stand sun-heat an' hard whacks. + I'll make mine o' luther, + Ur suthin' ur other." + + And he said to himself, as he tinkered and planned, + "But I ain't goin' to show my hand + To nummies that never can understand + The fust idee that's big an' grand." + So he kept his secret from all the rest, + Safely buttoned within his vest; + And in the loft above the shed + Himself he locks, with thimble and thread + And wax and hammer and buckles and screws, + And all such things as geniuses use; + Two bats for patterns, curious fellows! + A charcoal-pot and a pair of bellows; + Some wire, and several old umbrellas; + A carriage-cover, for tail and wings; + A piece of harness; and straps and strings; + And a big strong box, + In which he locks + These and a hundred other things. + His grinning brothers, Reuben and Burke + And Nathan and Jotham and Solomon, lurk + Around the corner to see him work,-- + Sitting cross-legged, like a Turk, + Drawing the wax-end through with a jerk, + And boring the holes with a comical quirk + Of his wise old head, and a knowing smirk. + But vainly they mounted each other's backs, + And poked through knot-holes and pried through cracks; + With wood from the pile and straw from the stacks + He plugged the knot-holes and calked the cracks; + And a bucket of water, which one would think + He had brought up into the loft to drink + When he chanced to be dry, + Stood always nigh, + For Darius was sly! + And whenever at work he happened to spy + At chink or crevice a blinking eye, + He let a dipper of water fly. + "Take that! an' ef ever ye git a peep, + Guess ye'll ketch a weasel asleep! + And he sings as he locks + His big strong box:-- + + + SONG + + "The weasel's head is small an' trim, + An' he is leetle an' long an' slim, + An' quick of motion an' nimble of limb, + An' ef yeou'll be + Advised by me, + Keep wide awake when ye're ketchin' him!" + + So day after day + He stitched and tinkered and hammered away, + Till at last 'twas done,-- + The greatest invention under the sun! + "An' now," says Darius, "hooray fer some fun!" + + 'T was the Fourth of July, + And the weather was dry, + And not a cloud was on all the sky, + Save a few light fleeces, which here and there, + Half mist, half air, + Like foam on the ocean went floating by: + Just as lovely a morning as ever was seen + For a nice little trip in a flying-machine. + + Thought cunning Darius: "Now I shan't go + Along 'ith the fellers to see the show. + I'll say I've got sich a terrible cough! + An' then, when the folks 'ave all gone off, + I'll hev full swing + Fer to try the thing, + An' practyse a leetle on the wing." + "Ain't goin' to see the celebration?" + Says Brother Nate. "No; botheration! + I've got sich a cold--a toothache--I-- + My gracious!--feel's though I should fly!" + + Said Jotham, "'Sho! + Guess ye better go." + But Darius said, "No! + Shouldn't wonder 'f yeou might see me, though, + 'Long 'bout noon, ef I git red + O' this jumpin', thumpin' pain 'n my head." + For all the while to himself he said:-- + + "I tell ye what! + I'll fly a few times around the lot, + To see how 't seems, then soon 's I've got + The hang o' the thing, ez likely 's not, + I'll astonish the nation, + An' all creation, + By flyin' over the celebration! + I'll balance myself on my wings like a sea-gull; + I'll dance on the chimbleys; I'll stan' on the steeple; + I'll flop up to winders an' scare the people! + I'll light on the libbe'ty-pole, an' crow; + An' I'll say to the gawpin' fools below, + 'What world 's this 'ere + That I've come near?' + Fer I'll make 'em b'lieve I'm a chap f'm the moon! + An' I'll try a race 'ith their ol' bulloon." + He crept from his bed; + And, seeing the others were gone, he said, + "I'm gittin' over the cold'n my head." + And away he sped, + To open the wonderful box in the shed. + + His brothers had walked but a little way, + When Jotham to Nathan chanced to say, + "What is the feller up to, hey?" + "Do'no': the's suthin' ur other to pay, + Ur he wouldn't 'a' stayed to hum to-day." + Says Burke, "His toothache's all'n his eye! + _He_ never'd miss a Fo'th-o'-July, + Ef he hedn't got some machine to try." + Then Sol, the little one, spoke: "By darn! + Le's hurry back an' hide'n the barn, + An' pay him fur tellin' us that yarn!" + "Agreed!" Through the orchard they crept back, + Along by the fences, behind the stack, + And one by one, through a hole in the wall, + In under the dusty barn they crawl, + Dressed in their Sunday garments all; + And a very astonishing sight was that, + When each in his cobwebbed coat and hat + Came up through the floor like an ancient rat. + And there they hid; + And Reuben slid + The fastenings back, and the door undid. + "Keep dark!" said he, + "While I squint an' see what the' is to see." + + As knights of old put on their mail,-- + From head to foot an iron suit, + Iron jacket and iron boot, + Iron breeches, and on the head + No hat, but an iron pot instead, + And under the chin the bail + (I believe they call the thing a helm), + Then sallied forth to overwhelm + The dragons and pagans that plagued the realm,-- + So this _modern_ knight + Prepared for flight, + Put on his wings and strapped them tight, + Jointed and jaunty, strong and light,-- + Buckled them fast to shoulder and hip; + Ten feet they measured from tip to tip! + And a helm had he, but that he wore, + Not on his head, like those of yore, + But more like the helm of a ship. + "Hush!" Reuben said, + "He's up in the shed! + He's opened the winder,--I see his head! + He stretches it out, an' pokes it about, + Lookin' to see 'f the coast is clear + An' nobody near: + Guess he do'no' who's hid in here! + He's riggin' a spring-board over the sill! + Stop laffin', Solomon! Burke, keep still! + He's a climbin' out now--Of all the things! + What's he got on? I van, it's wings! + An' that t'other thing? I vum, it's a tail! + An' there he sets, like a hawk on a rail! + Steppin' careful, he travels the length + Of his spring-board, and teeters to try its strength. + Now he stretches his wings, like a monstrous bat, + Peeps over his shoulder, this way an' that, + Fur to see 'f the 's any one passin' by; + But the' 's on'y a ca'f an' a goslin' nigh. + _They_ turn up at him a wonderin' eye, + To see--The dragon! he's goin' to fly! + Away he goes! Jimminy! what a jump! + Flop--flop--an' plump + To the ground with a thump! + Flutt'rin an' flound'rin', all 'n a lump!" + + As a demon is hurled by an angel's spear, + Heels over head, to his proper sphere,-- + Heels over head and head over heels, + Dizzily down the abyss he wheels,-- + So fell Darius. Upon his crown, + In the midst of the barn-yard, he came down, + In a wonderful whirl of tangled strings, + Broken braces and broken springs, + Broken tail and broken wings, + Shooting-stars, and various things, + Barn-yard litter of straw and chaff, + And much that wasn't so sweet by half. + Away with a bellow fled the calf; + And what was that? Did the gosling laugh? + 'Tis a merry roar from the old barn door, + And he hears the voice of Jotham crying, + "Say, D'rius! how do you like flyin'?" + Slowly, ruefully, where he lay, + Darius just turned and looked that way, + As he stanched his sorrowful nose with his cuff. + "Wal, I like flyin' well enough," + He said; "but the' ain't sich a thunderin' sight + O' fun in't when ye come to light." + + I just have room for the MORAL here: + And this is the moral: Stick to your sphere. + Or, if you insist, as you have the right, + On spreading your wings for a loftier flight, + The moral is, Take care how you light. + + + + +PAPER: A POEM + +BY BENJAMIN FRANKLIN + + + Some wit of old,--such wits of old there were,-- + Whose hints showed meaning, whose allusions care, + By one brave stroke to mark all human kind, + Called clear blank paper every infant mind! + Then still, as opening sense her dictates wrote, + Fair virtue put a seal, or vice a blot. + + The thought was happy, pertinent, and true; + Methinks a genius might the plan pursue. + I (can you pardon my presumption), I-- + No wit, no genius--yet for once will try. + + Various the papers various wants produce, + The wants of fashion, elegance and use. + Men are as various; and, if right I scan, + Each sort of _paper_ represents some _man_. + + Pray not the fop,--half powder and half lace,-- + Nice as a bandbox were his dwelling-place; + He's the _gilt paper_, which apart you store, + And lock from vulgar hands in the escritoire. + + Mechanics, servants, farmers, and so forth, + Are _copy-paper_, of inferior worth,-- + Less prized, more useful, for your desk decreed. + Free to all pens, and prompt at every need. + + The wretch whom avarice bids to pinch and spare, + Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir, + Is coarse _brown paper_, such as peddlers choose + To wrap up wares which better men will use. + + Take next the miser's contrast, who destroys + Health, fame and fortune in a round of joys. + Will any paper match him? Yes, throughout. + He's a true _sinking paper_, past all doubt. + + The retail politician's anxious thought + Deems _this_ side always right, and _that_ stark naught; + He foams with censure, with applause he raves,-- + A dupe to rumors, and a tool of knaves: + He'll want no type his weakness to proclaim + While such a thing as _foolscap_ has a name. + + The hasty gentleman, whose blood runs high, + Who picks a quarrel if you step awry, + Who can't a jest, or hint, or look endure,-- + What's he? What? _Touch-paper_, to be sure. + + What are our poets, take them as they fall, + Good, bad, rich, poor, much read, not read at all? + Them and their works in the same class you'll find: + They are the mere _waste paper_ of mankind. + + Observe the maiden, innocently sweet; + She's fair _white paper_, an unsullied sheet, + On which the happy man, whom fate ordains, + May write his _name_, and take her for his pains. + + One instance more, and only one, I'll bring; + 'Tis the _great man_ who scorns a little thing, + Whose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims, are his own, + Formed on the feelings of his heart alone; + True genuine _royal paper_ is his breast,-- + Of all the kinds most precious, purest, best. + + + + +NIAGARA BE DAMMED[7] + +BY WALLACE IRWIN + + + "Them beauties o' Nature," said Senator Grabb, + As he spat on the floor of Justitia's halls, + "Is pretty enough and artistic enough-- + Referrin', of course, to Niagara Falls, + Whose waters go rumblin' and mumblin' and grumblin' + And tearin' and stumblin' and bumblin' and tumblin' + And foamin' and roarin' + And plungin' and pourin' + And wastin' the waters God gave to us creechers + To wash down our liquor and wash up our feechers-- + Then what in the deuce + Is the swish-bingled use + O' keepin' them noisy old cataracts busy + To give folks a headache and make people dizzy? + + "Some poets and children and cripples and fools + They say that them Falls is eternal. That so? + Say, what is Eternity, Nature, and God + Compared to the Inter-Graft Gaslighting Co.? + Could all the durn waterfalls born in creation + Compete with a sugar or soap corporation? + But Nature, you feel, + Has a voice in the deal? + She ain't. For I'm deaf both in that ear and this un-- + If Nature talks Money I'm willin' to listen! + So bring on your dredges, + And shovels and sledges, + Yer bricklayers, masons, yer hammers and mauls-- + The public be dammed while we dam up the Falls. + + "Just look at the plans o' me beautiful dream! + A sewer-pipe conduit to carry the Falls + Past eight hundred mill-wheels (great savin' of steam): + The cliffs to be covered with dump heaps and walls, + With many a smokestack and fly-wheel and pulley, + Bridge, engine, and derrick--say, won't it look bully! + With, furnaces smokin', + And stokers a-stokin' + With factory children a-workin' like Scotches + A-turnin' out chewing-gum, shoe-laces, watches, + And kitchen utensils, + And patent lead-pencils, + And mission-oak furniture, pie-crust, and flannels-- + Thus turnin' Niag' to legitimate channels. + + "The province o' Beauty," said Senator Grabb, + "Is bossed by us fellers that know what to do. + When Senator Copper hogs half of a State + He builds an Art Palace on Fift' Avenoo. + What people believed in the dark Middle Ages + Don't go in this chapter o' history's pages, + And the worship of mountains + And rivers and fountains + Is sinful, idolatrous, dark superstition-- + And likely to lose in a cash proposition. + Ere the good time is past + Let's get busy and cast + Our bread on the waterfall--it'll come back. + We'll first pass the Grabb Bill, and then pass the sack." + +FOOTNOTES: + +[7] From "At the Sign of the Dollar," by Wallace Irwin. Copyright, 1905, +by Fox, Duffield & Co. + + + + +THE FORBEARANCE OF THE ADMIRAL[8] + +BY WALLACE IRWIN + + + I ain't afeard o' the Admiral, + Though a common old tar I be, + And I've oftentimes spoke to the Admiral + Expressin' a bright idee; + For he's very nice at takin' advice + And a tractable man is he. + + For once I says to the Admiral, + Unterrified, though polite, + "Don't think me critical, Admiral, + But yer vessel ain't sailin' right; + For our engine should be burnin' wood + And our rattlelines should be tight." + + But when I spoke to the Admiral + He wasn't inclined to scold, + Though me words, addressed to the Admiral, + Was intimate-like and bold, + (But he was up on deck at the time + And I was down in the hold). + +FOOTNOTES: + +[8] From "Nautical Lays of a Landsman," by Wallace Irwin. Copyright, +1904, by Dodd, Mead & Co. + + + + +FATE + +BY R. K. MUNKITTRICK + + + Once I planted some potatoes + In my garden fair and bright; + Unelated + Long I waited, + And no sprout appeared in sight. + + But my "peachblows" in the cellar, + On the cold and grimy flag, + All serenely + Sprouted greenly + In an ancient paper bag. + + + + +THE LIFE ELIXIR OF MARTHY + +BY ELIZABETH HYER NEFF + + +"An-ndrew! An-ndrew!" + +"Yes, Marthy." + +"Andrew, what be you doin' out there? You've ben sayin' 'Yes, Marthy,' +for the last ten minutes." + +The patient, middle-aged face of Andrew appeared in the doorway, its +high, white forehead in sharp contrast with the deeply tanned features +below it. + +"I've jest ben takin' your buryin' clothes off the line an' foldin' 'em +up. It is such a good day to air 'em for fall--and, then,--I jest hate +to tell you!--the moths has got into the skirt of your shroud. I sunned +it good, but the holes is there yet." + +"Moths!" screamed the thin voice, sharpened by much calling to people in +distant rooms. "Then they've got all over the house, I presume to say, +if they've got into that. Why don't you keep it in the cedar chist?" + +"Because it's full of your laid-by clothes now, and I keep my black suit +that you had me git for the funeral in there, too. There ain't room. You +told me allus to keep your buryin' clothes in a box in the spare room +closet, so's they'd be handy to git if they was wanted in the night. You +told me that four or five years ago, Marthy." + +"So I did. And I presume to say that my good three-ply carpet that +mother gave me when we was married is jest reddled with moths--if +they're in that closet. If it wasn't for keepin' that spare room ready +for the cousins in Maine when they come to the buryin', I'd have you +take up that carpet and beat it good and store it in the garret. My, oh, +my, what worries a body has when they can't git around to do for +themselves! Now it's moths, right on top of Mr. Oldshaw's death after +he'd got my discourse all prepared on the text I picked out for him. He +had as good as preached it to me, and it was a powerful one, a warnin' +to the ungodly not to be took unawares. I advised him to p'int it that +way. Then, Jim Woodworth's Mary is leavin' the choir to marry and go +west, and I jest won't have Palmyra Stockly sing 'Cool Siloam' over me. +I can settle that right now, for I couldn't abide the way she acted +about that church fair--and she sings through her nose anyway. +An-ndrew!" + +"Yes, Marthy." + +"You oughtn't to go walkin' off when a body is talkin' to you. You allus +do that." + +"I c'n hear you, Marthy. I'm jest in the kitchen. I thought the dinner +had b'iled dry." + +"Are you gittin' a b'iled dinner? It smells wonderful good. What you got +in it?" + +"Corned beef and cabbage and onions and potatoes and turnips. I've het +up a squash pie and put out some of the cider apple sauce that will +spile if it isn't et pretty soon. I'll put the tea a-drawin' soon's the +kittle b'iles." + +Andrew's voice came into the sick room in a mechanical recitative, as if +accustomed to recount every particular of the day's doings. + +"Well, I guess you can bring me some of it. You bring me a piece of the +corned beef and consid'able of the cabbage and potaters and an onion or +two. And if that cider apple sauce is likely to spile, I might eat a +little of it; bring me a cooky to eat with it. And a piece of the squash +pie. What else did you say you had?" + +"That's all." + +"Don't forgit to put on consid'able of bread. It's a good while till +supper, and I don't dast to eat between meals." + +Andrew brought the tray to the bedside and propped up the invalid before +he ate his own dinner. He had finished it and cleared up the table +before the high voice called again: "An-ndrew!" + +"Yes, Marthy." + +"Is there any more of the corned beef? You brought me such a little +mite of a piece." + +"Yes, there's plenty more, but I knew you'd object if I brought it +first. Like it, did you?" + +"Yes, it was tol'able. Them vegetables was a little rich, but maybe they +won't hurt me. You might bring me another cooky when you come.--Now, you +set down a minute while you're waitin' for my dishes. I've ben worryin' +'bout them moths every minute since you told me, and somethin' has got +to be done." + +"I know it. I hated to tell you, but I thought you ought to know. I +guess I c'n clean 'em out the next rainy spell when I have to stay in." + +"No, you can't wait for that. And you can't do it anyway. There's things +a man can do, and then again there's things he can't. You're uncommon +handy, Andrew, but you're a man." + +Andrew's deprecatory gesture implied that he couldn't help it. + +"I've thought of that ever so much in the years that I've ben layin' +here, and I've worried about what you're goin' to do when I ain't here +to plan and direct for you. Those moths are jest an instance. Now, what +you goin' to do when you have to think for yourself?" + +"I do' know, but you ain't goin' to git up a new worry 'bout that, I +hope?" + +"No, it is not a new worry. It's an old one, but it's such a delicate +subject, even between man and wife, that I've hesitated to speak of it. +Andrew, I don't want you to stay single but jest six months--jest six +months to the very day after I'm laid away. I've spoken to Hannah +Brewster to come in and do for you twice a week, same as she does now, +and to mend your socks and underclothes for six months, and then I want +you to--git married." + +"Why, Marthy!" + +"You needn't gasp like you was struck. I presume to say you'd do it +anyway without thinkin' it over well beforehand. I've allus planned and +thought things over for you till I don't know whether you'd be capable +of attendin' to that or not. And I'd go off a sight easier if I knew +'twas all settled satisfactory. I'd like to know who's goin' to keep my +house and wear my clothes and sun my bed quilts, and I could have her +come and learn my ways beforehand." + +"Good gracious, Marthy! There's a limit to plannin'--and directin'--even +for as smart a woman as you be. You're not goin' to know whether +she'll--consent or not, not while--while you're here, yet. And you're +gittin' no worse; it does seem like you're gittin' better all the time. +Last time Aunt Lyddy was here she said you was lookin' better'n she ever +see you before. I told her you'd picked up in your appetite consid'able. +You'll git up yet and be my second wife yourself." + +"Yes, Aunt Lyddy allus thinks great things 'bout me; she never would +believe how low I've ben, but I guess I know how I be. No, you can't +head me off that way, with the moths in my best things and one of my +grandmother's silver spoons missin'. If there's one thing a +forethoughtful woman ought to plan beforehand, it's to pick out the +woman who's to have her house and her things and her husband." + +Andrew wriggled uncomfortably. "I shouldn't wonder if the dish water was +a-b'ilin', Marthy." + +"No, it isn't. You haven't got fire enough. And we'd better settle this +matter while we're at it." + +"Settle it! Why, Marthy, you talk 's if you wanted me to go 'n' git +married on the spot and bring my second wife home to you before--while +you're still here. I'm no Mormon. Like's not you've got her selected; +you're such a wonderful hand to settle things." + +"I can't say 's I've got her selected--not the exact one--but I've ben +runnin' over several in my mind. We'd better have several to pick from, +and then if some refused you, we'd still have a chance." + +"But how would you git any of 'em to consent?" asked Andrew with a show +of interest. + +"How else but ask 'em? They would understand how I feel about you. The +hull town knows how I've laid here expectin' every day to be to-morrow, +and if I want that thing settled before I go, I don't see how it could +make talk." + +"Now, who had you sorted out to pick from?" and Andrew leaned back +comfortably in his chair. His wife punched up her pillow to lift her +head higher. + +"Well, there's the widows first. I've sorted them over and over till +I've got 'em down to four that ain't wasteful cooks nor got too many +relations. There's Widow Jackson--" + +"She's weakly," promptly decided Andrew. + +"And Mary Josephine Wilson--" + +"She don't go to our church. What about the old maids?" + +"I don't take much stock in old maids. The likeliest person I know, and +I wouldn't call her an old maid, either, is Abilonia Supe. Her mother +was counted the best breadmaker in North Sudbury, and Abby was the +neatest darner in her class at sewing school." + +"But, why, Marthy, isn't Abby promised to Willy Parks?" + +"No; I asked Mis' Parks about that yisterday. She said Willy had been +waitin' on Abby for four or five years, but they'd had a +misunderstandin' this summer, and it was broke off for good." + +"He ought to be horsewhipped!" said Andrew warmly. "Abilonia Supe is the +finest girl in North Sudbury." + +"Ye-es," admitted Marthy reluctantly. "You're sure she wouldn't be too +young for you, are you?" + +"Too young? For me? I don't want to marry my grandmother, I guess. And +I'm not Methusalem myself," and he shook the stoop out of his back and +spread the thin hair across his bald spot. His wife looked at him in +wondering surprise. + +"Abby has had rather a hard time since her mother died," she said +weakly. + +"Indeed she has, and she deserves to have it easy now. She needs +somebody to take care of her if that scamp--and she isn't bad lookin', +either--Abby isn't. I tell you, Marthy, there isn't your beat in the +hull town for managin' forethoughtedness. Sick or well, you've allus ben +a captain at managin'. Now, come to think it over, this isn't a bad +idee. But, how'll we git her consent? Maybe I'd better step over +and--well--ruther lead up to the subject. I might--" + +"That dish water's a-b'ilin', Andrew. It's a-b'ilin' hard. I c'n hear +it." + +Andrew started briskly for the kitchen, and the dishes clattered +merrily. An hour later he framed himself in the doorway in his Sunday +clothes. + +"I have to go down to the store this afternoon to git that baggin' for +the hops, and I can jest as well 's not go round by Supes' and--sort +of--talk that over with Abby--and tell her your wishes. I never deny you +nothin', Marthy; you know that. If it'll be any comfort to you, I'll +jest brace up and do it, no matter how hard it is." + +"Well--say, Andrew, wait a minute. Maybe you'd better wait till we talk +it over a little more. I might consult with Abby, myself, on the +subject--An-ndrew! An-ndrew! That man is gittin' a good deal deafer'n +he'll own to." + +It was quite supper time when Andrew returned; it was too late to cook +anything, so he brought Marthy some of the Sunday baked beans and brown +bread, with the cider apple sauce. + +"Well, you must 'a' had a time of it with her," suggested his wife as he +placed the tray. "I hope you didn't do more'n make a suppositious case +and find out what her sentiments was." + +"That was what I set out to do, but she was so surprised an' asked so +many questions that I jest had to up and tell her what I was drivin' at. +I told her that it was your last wish, and that you'd set your heart on +it till you felt like you couldn't die easy unless you knew who was +goin' to have your house and your beddin' and--me, and after I'd +reasoned with her quite a spell and she'd ruther got used to the idee, +she saw how 'twas. I thought you'd like to have it settled, because you +allus do, and, as you say, there's no tellin' what day'll be to-morrow. +Then, that Willy Parks is likely to come back and spile the hull plan." + +"Settle it all? Why, what did she say to it?" + +"I guess you may call it settled. I asked her if she'd consider herself +engaged to me--" + +"What? What's that? Engaged to you?" + +"Yes; isn't that what you wanted?" + +"What did she say to that?" + +"She said yes, she guessed that she would, though she would like to +think it over a little." + +"I didn't presume to think you'd go and get it all settled without +talkin' it over with me, and I calc'lated to--to do the arrangin' +myself. What did she say when she consented to it, Andrew?" + +Andrew squirmed on the edge of his chair. "I guess my tea is coolin' out +there. I'd better go and eat, now." + +"A minute more won't make no difference. What did she say?" + +"She said--why, she said--a whole lot of things. She said she never +expected to marry; that she wanted to give her life to makin' folks +happy and doin' for them, folks that had a sorrow--but the Lord hadn't +given her any sorrowful folks to do for. It's my opinion that she +thought consid'able of that fickle Willy Parks. Then I reasoned with her +some, and she come to see that maybe this was the app'inted work for her +to do--considerin' you'd set your heart on it so. She said she didn't +know but I needed lookin' after and doin' for as much as any one she +knew, and it would be a pleasure to--now, Marthy, let me go and have my +tea." + +"What else did she say?" + +"Well, she said I certainly had--that I had--a hard trial this trip, and +I'd served my time so faithfully it would be a comfort and a pleasure +to--now, Marthy, I know my tea's cold." + +It took him so long to have his tea and wash the dishes and bring in the +squashes for fear of frost that Marthy had no further opportunity to +consider the new position of her husband as an engaged man that night. +She resumed the subject early the next morning. + +"Andrew, I want you should go and bring Abilonia over here as soon as +you git the work done up. There's so much I want to arrange with her, +and you never know what day'll be to-morrow. And them moths ought to be +seen to right off-- + +"What be you goin' up stairs for? You needn't put on your Sunday clothes +jest for that. She'll have to see you in your old clothes many a year +after you're--ah--when she comes to live here." + +"Yes, but that's not now. I'm only engaged to her; I'm only sort of +courtin' now, as you might say." + +He came back in a little while, bringing a gentle, brown-eyed young +woman, who laid away her things and took an apron from her bag with the +air of one accustomed to do for others. + +"Did you want to see me particularly, Mis' Dobson? I hope you're not +feelin' worse?" + +"I do' know's I slep' much las' night, and I have an awful funny feelin' +round my heart this mornin'. I'm preparin' for the worst. You know 'Two +men shall be grindin' at the mill and'--" + +"Oh, now, you aren't so bad as all that. You look as smart as a spring +robin--you do look wonderful well, Mis' Dobson. Now, what can I do for +you?" + +"There's a lot of things to look after, Abilonia, now that you--that +you--that--" + +"Yes, I know there are, and I'll just delight to take hold and do them. +I told Mr. Dobson that I wanted to begin to do for you both right away. +I'm real glad you thought--of it, Mis' Dobson, for I've nobody else, +now, to care for, and I should love to take care of poor Mr. Dobson and +try to make him happy--just real happy--the best of anybody in the +world. He looked so pleased when I told him so." + +"Did he? He did!" + +"Yes, his face just lighted up when I told him that we all knew how +faithful he'd been to his trust through such a long, hard siege, how +kind and patient, and that it would be a privilege to try to make it up +to him a little." + +"Oh--ah--well, what did he say to that?" + +"He just said the hand of the Lord had fallen rather heavy on him, but +he'd tried to bear the burden the best he could, and if he held out to +the end the Lord would reward him. And he said it was the Lord's mercy +to give him such a good, clever wife to take care of--since she was +sickly. Now, would you like me to bake you some cookies this morning, or +do the mending?" + +"I don't know. Did Andrew say that? Well, he has been faithful. You're +goin' to git an awful good man, Abilonia. Say, don't you tell him, or +it'll scare him, but I'm goin' to do a terrible resky thing. I'm goin' +to set up here in the bed a little spell. Go you up to the top bureau +drawer in the spare room and git my black shawl. I know I might fall +over dead, but I'm goin' to take the resk." + +"Why, Mis' Dobson, it isn't safe!" + +"Safe or not, I'm goin' to do it. I'm goin' to set up a spell. I never +stop for consequences to myself when I set out to do a thing." + +The perilous feat was accomplished without tragedy. After she had had a +nap, propped up in the bed, Mrs. Dobson's soul rose to greater heights +of daring, when Abilonia remarked that Mrs. Dobson's plum-colored silk +was the very thing for a lining to her own silk quilt, and as it would +not be worn again she might as well take it over and make it up. She was +adding that she would like to have a crayon portrait made of Mr. Dobson +to hang beside that of his wife which adorned the parlor in ante-mortem +state, when Marthy interrupted: "Abilonia, go you and git me a dress. +There ought to be a brown poplin hangin' in the little room closet, +unless somebody moved it last spring in housecleanin' time. You bring +that down. I want to git my feet onto the floor." + +When Andrew came home to get dinner he stopped in the kitchen door, dumb +with amazement. Marthy sat by the table in the big wooden chair peeling +apples, while Abilonia rolled out the pie crust and told about the +church quilting bee. + +The next Sunday Andrew did not change his best suit, as usual, after +church, and his wife remarked the fact as she sat in a blanketed chair +by the living room fire in the evening, with her "Christian Register" in +her hand. + +"Well, you know--I've ben thinkin'--Abby's settin' over there by +herself, and it must be lonesome for the girl. And--if I'm--sort +of--engaged to her--don't you see, Marthy? I don't want to leave +you--but it's my duty to keep company with her. I want to carry out your +wishes exact--every one. You can't ask a thing too hard for me to do." + +"Yes, I know that, Andrew. If ever a man done his duty, it's you. And +you've had little reward for it, too. I'm tryin' to git you a second +wife that'll have her health and--and--yes, I presume to say that +Abilonia'll ruther look for you to set a while, now that she is bespoke +to you." + +"Yes, that's what I guess I ought to do," and he rose briskly. + +"Say, Andrew! Don't be in such a hurry. Come back a minute. You gear up +ole Jule to the buggy and git down a comforter for me. I c'n walk some, +to-day, and if you help me I c'n git into the buggy. I feel like the +air would do me good.--Yes, I presume to say it'll be the death of me, +but you never knew me to stop for that, did you? Git my circular cloak +and the white cloud for my head. Yes, I'm goin', Andrew. When I git my +mind made up, you know what it means." + +There was a light in Abilonia's parlor when they drove up, and a man's +figure showed through the glass panel of the door as he opened it. + +"Willy Parks!" cried Mrs. Dobson in a queer voice. + +"Yes, walk right in, Mr. Dobson. That isn't Mrs. Dobson with you--is it +possible!--after so many years. Let me help you steady her. Well, this +is a surprise! Just walk into the parlor and sit down. Abby's down +cellar putting away the milk, but she'll be up in a minute." + +"It's consid'able of a surprise to see you here, Willy; it's consid'able +of a disapp'intment--to Mis' Dobson. She had set her mind on--on--" +ventured Andrew mildly. + +"Yes, so I heard--and I thought I'd come home. Abby tells me that she is +engaged to you--that she has given her solemn promise." + +"That's what she has," said Andrew firmly. "That's what she has, and +Mis' Dobson has set her mind on it--and I never refuse her nothin'. I +don't want nothin' to reproach myself for. You went off and left that +girl--the finest girl in town--and near about broke her heart. You ought +to be ashamed to show yourself now." + +"I am, Mr. Dobson," said the young man gravely, "and I deserve to lose +her. But when I heard that she was engaged to you--as it were--it +brought me to my senses, and, since you are my rival, I am going to ask +you to be magnanimous. She is so good and true that I believe she will +forgive me and take me back if you will release her--you and Mrs. +Dobson. You wouldn't hold her while Mrs. Dobson looks so smart as she +does to-night--" + +"No, Andrew, we won't hold her. It wouldn't be right. She's +young--and--and real good lookin', and it would be a pity to spile a +good match for her. We oughtn't to hold her--here she is. We will +release you from your engagement to--to us, Abilonia--and may you be +happy! I'm feelin' a sight better lately; that last bitters you got for +me is a wonderful medicine, Andrew. I presume to say I'll be round on my +feet yet, before long, and be able to take as good care of you as you +have took of me all these years. It's a powerful medicine, that root +bitters. We better be goin', Andrew. They've got things to talk about. +Good night, Abilonia. Good night, Willy." + + + + +THE KAISER'S FAREWELL TO PRINCE HENRY + +BY BERT LESTON TAYLOR + + + Auf wiedersehen, brother mine! + Farewells will soon be kissed; + And, ere you leave to breast the brine, + Give me once more your fist; + + That mailed fist, clenched high in air + On many a foreign shore, + Enforcing coaling stations where + No stations were before; + + That fist, which weaker nations view + As if 'twere Michael's own. + And which appals the heathen who + Bow down to wood and stone. + + But this trip no brass knuckles. Glove + That heavy mailed hand; + Your mission now is one of Love + And Peace--you understand. + + All that's American you'll praise; + The Yank can do no wrong. + To use his own expressive phrase, + Just "jolly him along." + + Express surprise to find, the more + Of Roosevelt you see, + How much I am like Theodore, + And Theodore like me. + + I am, in fact, (this might not be + A bad thing to suggest,) + The Theodore of the East, and he + The William of the West. + + And, should you get a chance, find out-- + If anybody knows-- + Exactly what it's all about, + That Doctrine of Monroe's. + + That's _entre nous_. My present plan + You know as well as I; + Be just as Yankee as you can; + If needs be, eat some pie. + + Cut out the kraut, cut out Rhine wine, + Cut out the Schützenfest, + The Sängerbund, the Turnverein, + The Kommers, and the rest. + + And if some fool society + "Die Wacht am Rhein" should sing, + You sing "My Country 'tis of Thee"-- + The tune's "God Save the King." + + To our own kindred in that land + There's not much you need tell. + Just tell them that you saw me, and + That I was looking well. + + + + +JOHNNY'S LESSONS[9] + +BY CARROLL WATSON RANKIN + + + 'Tis very, very late; poor mamma and Cousin Kate, + Papa and Aunty Jane, all know it to their sorrow. + Struggling with the mystery of Latin, Greek, and history, + They're learning Johnny's lessons for the morrow. + + His relatives are bright; still, it takes them half the night + With only four of them--ofttimes a friend they borrow-- + To grapple with hard sums, and to fill young John with crumbs + Of wisdom 'gainst the coming of the morrow. + + They bitterly complain; still, with only _one_ small brain, + The boy needs all his kin can give him, for oh! + These lessons, if they slight 'em, how _can_ poor John recite 'em + To a dozen wiser teachers on the morrow. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[9] Lippincott's Magazine. + + + + +GRANDFATHER SQUEERS + +BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY + + "My grandfather Squeers," said the Raggedy Man, + As he solemnly lighted his pipe and began-- + + "The most indestructible man, for his years, + And the grandest on earth, was my grandfather Squeers! + + "He said, when he rounded his three-score-and-ten, + 'I've the hang of it now and can do it again!' + + "He had frozen his heels so repeatedly, he + Could tell by them just what the weather would be; + + "And would laugh and declare, 'while _the Almanac_ would + Most falsely prognosticate, _he_ never could!' + + "Such a hale constitution had grandfather Squeers + That, though he'd used '_navy_' for sixty odd years, + + "He still chewed a dime's-worth six days of the week, + While the seventh he passed with a chew in each cheek: + + "Then my grandfather Squeers had a singular knack + Of sitting around on the small of his back, + + "With his legs like a letter Y stretched o'er the grate + Wherein 'twas his custom to ex-pec-tor-ate. + + "He was fond of tobacco in _manifold_ ways, + And would sit on the door-step, of sunshiny days, + + "And smoke leaf-tobacco he'd raised strictly for + The pipe he'd used all through The Mexican War." + + And The Raggedy Man said, refilling the bowl + Of his _own_ pipe and leisurely picking a coal + + From the stove with his finger and thumb, "You can see + What a tee-nacious habit he's fastened on me! + + "And my grandfather Squeers took a special delight + In pruning his corns every Saturday night + + "With a horn-handled razor, whose edge he excused + By saying 'twas one that his grandfather used; + + "And, though deeply etched in the haft of the same + Was the ever-euphonious Wostenholm's name, + + "'Twas my grandfather's custom to boast of the blade + As 'A Seth Thomas razor--the best ever made!' + + "No Old Settlers' Meeting, or Pioneers' Fair, + Was complete without grandfather Squeers in the chair, + + "To lead off the programme by telling folks how + 'He used to shoot deer where the Court-House stands now'-- + + "How 'he felt, of a truth, to live over the past, + When the country was wild and unbroken and vast, + + "'That the little log cabin was just plenty fine + For himself, his companion, and fambly of nine!-- + + "'When they didn't have even a pump, or a tin, + But drunk surface-water, year out and year in, + + "'From the old-fashioned gourd that was sweeter, by odds, + Than the goblets of gold at the lips of the gods!'" + + Then The Raggedy Man paused to plaintively say + It was clockin' along to'rds the close of the day-- + + And he'd _ought_ to get back to his work on the lawn,-- + Then dreamily blubbered his pipe and went on: + + "His teeth were imperfect--my grandfather owned + That he couldn't eat oysters unless they were 'boned'; + + "And his eyes were so weak, and so feeble of sight, + He couldn't sleep with them unless, every night, + + "He put on his spectacles--all he possessed,-- + Three pairs--with his goggles on top of the rest. + + "And my grandfather always, retiring at night, + Blew down the lamp-chimney to put out the light; + + "Then he'd curl up on edge like a shaving, in bed, + And puff and smoke pipes in his sleep, it is said: + + "And would snore oftentimes, as the legends relate, + Till his folks were wrought up to a terrible state,-- + + "Then he'd snort, and rear up, and roll over; and there + In the subsequent hush they could hear him chew air. + + "And so glaringly bald was the top of his head + That many's the time he has musingly said, + + "As his eyes journeyed o'er its reflex in the glass,-- + 'I must set out a few signs of _Keep Off the Grass!_' + + "So remarkably deaf was my grandfather Squeers + That he had to wear lightning-rods over his ears + + "To even hear thunder--and oftentimes then + He was forced to request it to thunder again." + + + + +THE GENTLE ART OF BOOSTING + +BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS + + +The Idiot was very late at breakfast, so extremely late in fact that +some apprehension was expressed by his fellow boarders as to the state +of his health. + +"I hope he isn't ill," said Mr. Whitechoker. "He is usually so prompt at +his meals that I fear something is the matter with him." + +"He's all right," said the Doctor, whose room adjoins that of the Idiot +in Mrs. Smithers-Pedagog's Select Home for Gentlemen. "He'll be down in +a minute. He's suffering from an overdose of vacation--rested too hard." + +Just then the subject of the conversation appeared in the doorway, pale +and haggard, but with an eye that boded ill for the larder. + +"Quick!" he cried, as he entered. "Lead me to a square meal. Mary, +please give me four bowls of mush, ten medium soft-boiled eggs, a barrel +of sautée potatoes and eighteen dollars' worth of corned beef hash. I'll +have two pots of coffee, Mrs. Pedagog, please, four pounds of sugar and +a can of condensed milk. If there is any extra charge you may put it on +the bill, and some day when Hot Air Common goes up thirty or forty +points I'll pay." + +"What's the matter with you, Mr. Idiot?" asked Mr. Brief. "Been fasting +for a week?" + +"No," replied the Idiot. "I've just taken my first week's vacation, and +between you and me I've come back to business so as to get rested up for +the second." + +"Doesn't look as though vacation agreed with you," said the +Bibliomaniac. + +"It doesn't," said the Idiot. "Hereafter I am an advocate of the Russell +Sage system. Never take a day off if you can help it. There's nothing so +restful as paying attention to business, and no greater promoter of +weariness of spirit and vexation of your digestion than the modern style +of vacating. No more for mine, if you please." + +"Humph!" sneered the Bibliomaniac. "I suppose you went to Coney Island +to get rested up Bumping the Bump and Looping the Loop and doing a lot +of other crazy things." + +"Not I," quoth the Idiot. "I didn't have sense enough to go to some +quiet place like Coney Island, where you can get seven square meals a +day, and then climb into a Ferris Wheel and be twirled around in the air +until they have been properly shaken down. I took one of the 400 +Vacations. Know what that is?" + +"No," said Mr. Brief. "I didn't know there were 400 Vacations with only +365 days in the year. What do you mean?" + +"I mean the kind of Vacation the people in the 400 take," explained the +Idiot. "I've been to a house-party up in Newport with some friends of +mine who're in the swim, and I tell you it's hard swimming. You'll never +hear me talking about a leisure class in this country again. Those +people don't know what leisure is. I don't wonder they're always such a +tired-looking lot." + +"I was not aware that you were in with the smart set," said the +Bibliomaniac. + +"Oh yes," said the Idiot. "I'm in with several of 'em--way in. So far in +that I'm sometimes afraid I'll never get out. We're carrying a whole lot +of wild-cats on margin for Billie Van Gelder, the cotillion leader; +Tommy de Cahoots, the famous yachtsman, owes us about $8,000 more than +he can spare from his living expenses on one of his plunges into Copper, +and altogether we are pretty long on swells in our office." + +"And do you mean to say those people invite you out?" asked the +Bibliomaniac. + +"All the time," said the Idiot. "Just as soon as one of our swell +customers finds he can't pay his margins he comes down to the office and +gets very chummy with all of us. The deeper he is in it the more affable +he becomes. The result is there are house-parties and yacht cruises and +all that sort of thing galore on tap for us every summer." + +"And you accept them, eh?" said the Bibliomaniac scornfully. + +"As a matter of business, of course," replied the Idiot. "We've got to +get something out of it. If one of our customers can't pay cash, why we +get what we can. In this particular case Mr. Reginald Squandercash had +me down at Newport for five full days, and I know now why he can't pay +up his little shortage of $800. He's got the money, but he needs it for +other things, and now that I know it I shall recommend the firm to give +him an extension of thirty days. By that time he will have collected +from the De Boodles, whom he is launching in society--C. O. D.--and will +be able to square matters with us." + +"Your conversation is Greek to me," said the Bibliomaniac. "Who are the +De Boodles, and for what do they owe your friend Reginald Squandercash +money?" + +"The De Boodles," explained the Idiot, "are what is known as Climbers, +and Reginald Squandercash is a Booster." + +"A what?" cried the Bibliomaniac. + +"A Booster," said the Idiot. "There are several Boosters in the 400. For +a consideration they will boost wealthy Climbers into Society. The +Climbers are people like the De Boodles, who have suddenly come into +great wealth, and who wish to be in it with others of great wealth who +are also of high social position. They don't know how to do the trick, +so they seek out some Booster like Reggie, strike a bargain with him, +and he steers 'em up against the 'Among Those Present' Game until +finally you find the De Boodles have a social cinch." + +"Do you mean to say that Society tolerates such a business as that?" +demanded the Bibliomaniac. + +"Tolerates?" laughed the Idiot. "What a word to use! Tolerates? Why, +Society encourages, because Society shares the benefits. Take this +especial vacation of mine. Society had two five-o'clock teas, four of +the swellest dinners you ever sat down to, a cotillion where the favors +were of solid silver and real ostrich feathers, a whole day's clam-bake +on Reggie's steam yacht, with automobile runs and coaching trips galore. +Nobody ever declines one of Reggie's invitations, because what he has +from a Society point of view is the best the market affords. Why, the +floral decorations alone at the _Fête Champêtre_ he gave in honor of the +De Boodles at his villa last Thursday night must have cost $5,000, and +everything was on the same scale. I don't believe a cent less than +$7,500 was burned up in the fire-works, and every lady present received +a souvenir of the occasion that cost at least $100." + +"Your story doesn't quite hold together," said Mr. Brief. "If your +friend Reggie has a villa and a steam yacht, and automobiles and +coaches, and gives _fêtes champêtres_ that cost fifteen or twenty +thousand dollars, I don't see why he has to make himself a Booster of +inferior people who want to get into Society. What does he gain by it? +It surely isn't sport to do a thing like that, and I should think he'd +find it a dreadful bore." + +"The man must live," said the Idiot. "He boosts for a living." + +"When he has the wealth of Monte Cristo at his command?" demanded Mr. +Brief. + +"Reggie hasn't a cent to his name," said the Idiot. "I've already told +you he owes us $800 he can't pay." + +"Then who in thunder pays for the villa and the lot and all those +hundred-dollar souvenirs?" asked the Doctor. + +"Why--this year, the De Boodles," said the Idiot. "Last year it was +Colonel and Mrs. Moneybags, whose daughter, Miss Fayette Moneybags, is +now clinching the position Reggie sold her at Newport over in London, +whither Reggie has consigned her to his sister, an impecunious American +Duchess--the Duchess of Nocash--who is also in the boosting business. +The chances are Miss Moneybags will land one of England's most deeply +indebted peers, and if she does, Reggie will receive a handsome cheque +for steering the family up against so attractive a proposition." + +"And you mean to tell us that a plain man like old John De Boodle, of +Nevada, is putting out his hard-earned wealth in that way?" demanded Mr. +Brief. + +"I didn't mean to mention any names," said the Idiot. "But you've +spotted the victim. Old John De Boodle, who made his $60,000,000 in six +months after having kept a saloon on the frontier for forty years, is +the man. His family wants to get in the swim, and Reggie is turning the +trick for them--and after all, what better way is there for De Boodle to +get in? He might take sixty villas at Newport and not get a peep at the +Divorce Colony there, much less a glimpse of the monogamous set acting +independently. Not a monkey in the Zoo would dine with the De Boodles, +and in his most eccentric moment I doubt if Tommy Dare would take them +up unless there was somebody to stand sponsor for them. A cool million +might easily be expended without results, by the De Boodles themselves, +but hand that money over to Reggie Squandercash, whose blood is as blue +as his creditors sometimes get, and you can look for results. What the +Frohmans are to the stage, Reggie Squandercash is to Society. He's right +in it; popular as all spenders are; lavish as all people spending other +people's money are apt to be. Old De Boodle, egged on by Mrs. De Boodle +and Miss Mary Ann De Boodle, now known as Miss Marianne De Boodle, goes +to Reggie and says, 'The old lady and my girl are nutty on Society. Can +you land 'em?' 'Certainly,' says Reggie, 'if your pocket is long +enough.' 'How long is that?' asks De Boodle, wincing a bit. 'A hundred +thousand a month, and no extras, until you're in,' says Reggie. 'No +reduction for families?' asks De Boodle, anxiously. 'No,' says Reggie. +'Harder job.' 'All right,' says De Boodle, 'here's my cheque for the +first month.' That's how Reggie gets his Newport villa, his servants, +his horses, yacht, automobiles and coaches. Then he invites the De +Boodles up to visit him. They accept, and the fun begins. First it's a +little dinner to meet my friends Mr. and Mrs. De Boodle, of Nevada. +Everybody there, hungry, dinner from Sherrys, best wines in the market. +De Boodles covered with diamonds, a great success, especially old John +De Boodle, who tells racy stories over the _demi-tasse_ when the ladies +have gone into the drawing-room. De Boodle voted a character. Next +thing, Bridge Whist party. Everybody there. Society a good winner. The +De Boodles magnificent losers. Popularity cinched. Next, yachting +party. Everybody on board. De Boodle on deck in fine shape. Champagne +flows like Niagara. Poker game in main cabin. Food everywhere. De +Boodles much easier. Stiffness wearing off, and so on and so on until +finally Miss De Boodle's portrait is printed in nineteen Sunday +newspapers all over the country. They're launched, and Reggie comes into +his own with a profit for the season in a cash balance of $50,000. He's +had a bully time all summer, entertained like a Prince, and comes to the +rainy season with a tidy little umbrella to keep him out of the wet." + +"And can he count on that as a permanent business?" asked Mr. +Whitechoker. + +"My dear sir, the Rock of Gibraltar is no solider and no more +permanent," said the Idiot. "For as long as there is a 400 in existence +human nature is such that there will also be a million who will want to +get into it." + +"At such a cost?" demanded the Bibliomaniac. + +"At any cost," replied the Idiot. "Even people who know they can not +swim want to get in it." + + + + +COLUMBIA AND THE COWBOY + +BY ALICE MACGOWAN + + + "When the circus come to town, + Mighty me! Mighty me! + Jest one wink from that ol' clown, + When he's struttin' up an' down + To the music Bim--bam--bee! + Oh, sich sights, sich sights to see, + When the circus come to town!" + +Blowout was on a boom. + +The railroad from above was coming through, and Blowout was to be a city +with that mysterious and rather disconcerting abruptness with which tiny +Western villages do become cities in these circumstances. + +It had been hoped that the railroad would be through by the Fourth of +July, when the less important celebration of the nation's birthday might +be combined with the proper marking of that event. But though tales came +down to Blowout of how the contractors were working night and day +shifts, and shipping men from the East in order to have the road through +in time, though the Wagon-Tire House had entertained many squads of +engineers and even occasional parties of the contractors' men, the +railroad was not through on the Fourth. + +Something much more important was arranged by Providence, however--at +least, more important in the eyes of the children of the Wagon-Tire +House. Frosty La Rue's grand aggregation of talent was to be in Blowout +for a week, and the human performers were stopping at Huldah Sarvice's +hotel. + +If one can go far enough back to remember the awe and mystery +surrounding a circus, and then imagine a circus coming bodily to lodge +in one's own dwelling, to eat with the knives and forks at one's +table--a circus which could swallow fire and swords, and things of that +sort, just eating off plates in the ordinary manner, with Sissy waiting +on the table behind its chairs--if one can get back to this happy time, +it will be possible to comprehend some of the rapture the twins, Gess +and Tell, experienced while Frosty La Rue's show abode at the Wagon-Tire +House. + +They lorded it over every other child in Blowout, shining with reflected +splendor. They were the most sought after of any of the boys in school, +for Romey was too young to afford information. La Rue himself looked +upon them and said that they were "likely little fellers," and that he +"wouldn't mind having them to train." Think of that! To train! + +Aunt Huldah, with bat-like blindness to their best advantages, had +stated to Mr. La Rue that their father was in--well--in Kansas, and had +only left them with her, as it were, "on demand." + +For one dreadful moment the twins envied Aunt Huldah's real orphans. +Then, realizing that Aunt Huldah would no more give up Sissy or Ally +than she would give up them, they reflected that the ambition of boys is +apt, in this cold, unsympathetic world, to be thwarted by their elders, +and settled down to the more active and thorough enjoyment of what they +might have. + +The company consisted of old La Rue; his second wife, who figured upon +the bill as Signorina Ippolita di Castelli, an ex-circus rider of very +mature years; Frosty's factotum, a Mexican by the name of José Romero; +little Roy, the Aerial Wonder, son of Frosty and the Signorina; and last +and most important of all, Minnie La Rue. + +The show was well known in the Texas cattle country, and well loved. +Frosty's daughter--she was only sixteen when he was last at Blowout, +more than a year ago--was a pretty little thing, and her father had +trained her to be a graceful tight-rope performer. He himself did some +shooting from horseback, which most of the cowboys who applauded it +could have beaten. + +Frosty La Rue drank hard, and he was very surly when he was drinking. +Even Aunt Huldah's boundless charity found it difficult to speak well of +his treatment of Minnie. The Signorina could take care of herself--and +of the Aerial Wonder as well. But the heft of her father's temper, and +sometimes the weight of his hand also, fell on the young girl when +things went amiss. + +And things had gone amiss, more particularly in regard to her, during +the last six months. Up to that time she had looked like a child, small +for her age, silent, with big, wistful eyes, deft, clever fingers, and a +voice and manner that charmed every audience--in short, the most +valuable piece of property in La Rue's outfit. + +The girl had bloomed into sudden and lovely girlhood when Kid Barringer +saw her at Abilene, in April, patiently performing the tricks that had +been taught her, obediently risking her young life that there might be +plenty of money for her father to lose at the monte table, and that they +might all be clothed and fed. + +Kid had known the La Rue family and the girl for years, and when he +promptly lost his heart to this surprising development of its daughter, +he went frankly to the head of the clan and asked for her like a man. + +There was no fault to find with Kid Barringer. He was good-looking, +more intelligent than most of his mates, an honest, industrious and +kind-hearted fellow, of whom his employers spoke well. If the girl cared +for him--and Kid asserted that he had asked her and found out that she +did care--she could not hope to do better. + +But, of course, for La Rue to give up this most valuable chattel was out +of the question. What he did, therefore, was to fly into a rage, refuse +the Kid's offer in language which would have precipitated a brawl had +the young man been less earnest in his wooing, and consign Minnie to the +watchful vigilance of her stepmother. + +And the cowboy had been vainly following the show during the whole two +months that had passed since this episode, anxiously watching his poor +little hard-worked sweetheart, hoping to get a word from her, meaning in +any case to reassure her, and show her that he had not given up. + +Matters were in this state when the "aggregation" settled down at the +Wagon-Tire House for the week during which the Fourth of July was to +occur. For this occasion La Rue promised a display of fireworks +"superior to anything ever shown in West Texas." + +The fame of this spectacle had preceded the show. It had been given in +Emerald the year before, and all the cowboys who had seen it there +brought back word that it was "the finest ever." The particular feature +was in the closing act which La Rue had christened "Columbia +Enlightening the World." + +For this performance a wire was stretched across the street from the top +of one building to another. La Rue intended this year to have it +stretched from the Roundup to the Wagon-Tire House. Across this wire +Minnie was to walk, dressed as Columbia, with a high-spiked diadem upon +her head, her whole form outlined with colored fires, and bearing +certain rockets which were set off when she reached the center of the +street. + +Everybody in the Wagon-Tire House liked the girl; Frosty was offensively +polite or aggressively insulting; Mrs. La Rue was, as Troy Gilbert said, +"a pretty tough specimen"; or, if one would rather follow Aunt Huldah's +cheerful and charitable lead, "She looked a heap nicer, and appeared a +heap better, in the show than out of it"; the Aerial Wonder was +something of a terrestrial terror; but there was no question that Minnie +La Rue was one of the sweetest and best little girls ever brought up in +an inappropriate circus. + +Therefore, when Kid Barringer appeared, a day after the La Rue family, +and told the boys freely what the situation of his affairs was, he +received unlimited sympathy and offers of assistance. + +"I wish I could help you, Kid," Troy Gilbert said. "There isn't a soul +in town that doesn't feel as though that little girl ought to be taken +out of that man's keeping. But you see he's her own father, I +reckon--says he is--and the law can't go behind that." + +"If you boys would fix up a scheme to get me a chance to speak to +Minnie--" Kid began. "At first I thought I could steal her just as easy +as anything. She'd be glad to go; I had a little note from her--Say, +Gib," he broke off suddenly, with a catch in his voice, "he's liable to +strike her--to hurt her--when he's drinking." + +"Well, if it went as far as that, here in Blowout, I would arrest him, +you know," Gilbert suggested. + +"It won't," Kid returned, dejectedly; "not at the Wagon-Tire House. Aunt +Huldy has a good effect on him--or rather, bad effect, for that purpose. +He's jest behavin' himself so straight, that Aunt Huldy won't hear a +word about him bein' the meanest that ever was." + +Troy was thinking intently. + +"Say, Kid, I've got an idea. Do you reckon Aunt Huldy thinks too well of +Frosty to help us out a little? If she doesn't, I believe the thing's as +good as done. I saw that there 'Columbia Enlightening the World' at +Emerald last year, and I know exactly how I could fix it so as to let +you--well, you wait a minute, and I'll give you all the details. It's +the only thing on the program that separates your girl from the +Signorina for five minutes." + +It must have been that Aunt Huldah saw more harm in Frosty La Rue than +she was willing to mention; for an hour later Gilbert had made his +arrangements. + +"Now, Kid," he counseled, "I want you to make yourself scarce around +here from now on. Don't let Frosty know you're in the diggin's at all. +We boys are going to give it out that you've gone to Fort Worth, so that +he and Mrs. La Rue won't watch Miss Minnie quite so close." + +The Kid obediently withdrew from public life, spending most of his days +in the back room of the big store, where a few sympathizing friends were +always ready to bear him company; and the word went out that he had, in +despair, given up camping on Miss Minnie's trail and gone off to Fort +Worth. + +This intelligence reaching old man La Rue--Gilbert wondered a little if +it were possible any of it came to him through Aunt Huldah--had the +desired effect of relaxing the watch upon the girl. + +The first move in Gilbert's game was to waylay Frosty's Mexican, and +bribe him to feign sickness. To this José promptly consented; and he +counterfeited with such vigor, and so to the life, that the proprietor +of the show was beside himself; for it was too late to teach a new man +the management of the fireworks. + +And now came Gilbert's second move. He approached the old man with the +inquiry, "Why, what's the racket, Frosty? Something the matter with some +of your outfit?" + +La Rue sweepingly condemned the whole republic of Mexico in general, and +José Romero in particular, winding up with the statement that the +no-account greaser had gone and got sick, here at the last +minute--Frosty would seem to imply, out of sheer perversity--and when it +was too late to teach another his duties. + +Upon this, Gilbert unfolded his scheme with a careful carelessness. + +"Fireworks? Why, do you know, Frosty, I believe I could do your +fireworks for you all right. I know fireworks pretty well, and I saw +your 'Columbia' at Emerald last year." + +"And would you do it, Gilbert?" asked La Rue. "It wouldn't _pay_," added +the tight-fisted old fellow. "It wouldn't pay _you_--a man like _you_; +but--" + +"Oh, I just don't want to see the boys disappointed and the show +spoiled," rejoined Gilbert. "I don't want any money." + +La Rue was almost ready to embrace the sheriff of Wild Horse County. His +burdens had not been light, even before the despised José's defection. +There was a multitude of things, big and little, which could not well be +carried with a show of the sort, but had always to be picked up locally, +at the last moment; and a crude little cow-town like Blowout not only +failed to supply many of these, but stood, as one might say, with +dropped jaw at the very suggestion of them--at the mere mention of their +unfamiliar names. + +And so the company--otherwise the La Rue family--had to produce much of +the paraphernalia out of its inner consciousness, which meant that the +old man's temper was continually rasped, that the Signorina's nerves +and her ingenuity were on a strain, and that Minnie was hard at work +from dawn till dark, practising between whiles. + +Troy Gilbert had put it most hopefully when he said that he knew +fireworks pretty well--or one might say that the statement was +susceptible of two different interpretations. As a matter of fact, Troy +knew fireworks only from the spectator's side of the question. + +He now had José Romero moved over into the back room of his place, where +he might mitigate the rigors of that alien's confinement, and at the +same time receive from the Mexican very necessary instruction. + +Mercifully, there was an ample supply of fireworks, for the show was to +be repeated at Antelope, over in Lone Jack County, and again at Cinche. + +Moreover, drawing heavily, as he had been instructed, upon Kid +Barringer's bank account, Gilbert wrote to Fort Worth and ordered a +duplicate set of these fireworks sent on to Cinche. And in the darkness +of night, when Blowout was wrapped in slumber, Gilbert and Romero rode +silently out, down the flank of the divide, across the plain and into a +little cañon six or seven miles distant in the breaks of Wild Horse +Creek. + +All day, in the intervals of his business duties, Gilbert had been +receiving theoretical instructions; now with the set of fireworks which +was to have dazzled and delighted the residents of Antelope, he made +practical experiment of the knowledge so gained. The little show, +witnessed only by the naked walls of the cañon and such prairie-dogs and +jack-rabbits as had been untimely aroused from their slumbers, went off +fairly well--which is to say that most of Gilbert's fingers and nearly +all of his features went back to Blowout sound and entire. + +"Oh, I got the hang of the business," he declared again and again, as +they rode along through the soft Texas night; "I got the hang of it. I +can make the whole first part go all right. The thing now is to get that +Columbia act fixed so as to give the boys a run for their money, and +leave a chance for Minnie and Kid." + +The two rode home, and later José went to bed in Gilbert's back room, +where work was going forward upon a mysterious-looking structure. + + +II + + "In our village hall a Justice stands: + A neater form was never made of board." + +Frosty La Rue's grand aggregation of talent had given two shows in a +tent on the third of July. + +On the Fourth there would again be two tent-shows, one in the afternoon +and one at night; and at the close of the night performance, when the +"concert" of an ordinary circus takes place, there was to be "a grand +open-air spectacle," as Frosty himself put it. + +For this purpose a platform had been erected, upon which Frosty and the +Signorina could do a knife-throwing turn; and where the Aerial Wonder +could give an infantile exhibition with a small bicycle. + +A wire had been stretched across Comanche Street from the top of the +Roundup to the top of the Wagon-Tire House, and upon this was to be +given the most ambitious performance of the evening, "Columbia +Enlightening the World." + +All day long on the Fourth, the town was full of rejoicing young Texas +masculinity, mounted upon Texas ponies, careering about the streets in +conspicuously full enjoyment of life, liberty, and the pursuit of +happiness. And all day long Frosty La Rue's tent-show did a land-office +business. + +Poor old Frosty! Many of the cowboys could shoot better than he; but +they didn't shoot at colored glass balls. The bareback riding also came +under some contempt; but the spangles and pink fleshings carried much +weight, the Signorina painted most artistically, and, as Aunt Huldah +said, "When she was a-goin' right fast on that fat white hoss, with the +little platform on his back, an' a-smilin' an' kissin' her hand, she did +really look right nice." + +Minnie's trapeze acts were truly fine, and were appreciated at their +full value; and the beautiful little figure walking the wire twenty feet +above the ground was greeted with unlimited enthusiasm. + +When the evening came, old Frosty, inclined to be as nervous and +irritable with Gilbert as he dared, came running into the latter's place +worrying about the fireworks. + +"Now you chase yourself along," advised the sheriff, good-naturedly. +"Just get right along, an' 'tend to your little old illuminated +knife-throwin' trick. 'Tain't ten minutes till that's due, an' you've +got a crowd that's good for five hundred dollars if it's good for a +cent, when you pass the hat. And," he added, delight in the scheme he +was working getting the better of his natural instinct for literal +truth, "and luck--just fool luck--has sent you the finest fireworks +operator in West Texas. Shoo out of here now, an' 'tend to your own job, +an' let me 'tend to mine!" + +As for the children of the Wagon-Tire House, they were perhaps more +glorious on that warm, dark July night than anything in their after +lives could make them. This is not to say that the six were not destined +for happy or distinguished careers; but, after all, the magnificence of +an occasion depends greatly upon the point of view; and the small hill +is a high mountain to the little child. + +They had been permitted to extend invitations to the more favored of +their young friends. Bunt Tarver and Roach Porterman's two small girls, +with Eddie Beach, who lived on a ranch outside of Blowout and stayed all +night at the Wagon-Tire House (in a state of bliss that was almost +cataleptic), were among the little bunch that presented themselves to go +upon the roof of the kitchen, from which a magnificent view of the +fireworks was to be had. + +"I can't have it," Troy announced. "I can't have you children up here." + +"Oh, yes, Gib--oh, yes, you can. They won't--" Aunt Huldah's voice sank +to a murmur, which Troy Gilbert answered with a shake of the head. + +"Well, ef they do see anything, they'll keep still--my chil'en are +trained to mind; and these others are all good people;" and Aunt Huldah +beamed upon the palpitating, expectant, alarmed little band. + +"Keep still!"--what an awful phrase for such a connection! Gilbert +turned and asked them kindly, "Will you, kids? Will you keep right +still, whatever you see?" + +Only Gess and Tell were bold enough to put the horror into words. + +"'Tain't no use fer us to promise," Gess said huskily. "We're jest bound +to holler when the fireworks begins to go off, even if we had promised +cross-yer-heart." + +And Tell piped in, after him, as usual: + +"W'y, a circus is jest hollerin'--or some hollerin' is the best part of +a circus." And he added, with a suspicious tremble in his voice, "I'd +rather go downstairs an' set in the kitchen, if we can't holler." + +Troy burst out laughing at sight of the dejected faces. + +"Oh, holler all you want to--holler as much as you can--I don't mean +hollerin'. I expect to do some pretty considerable hollerin' myself, +and I've got a lot of the boys promised to holler at the right time. +But there's to be a little--a little extra performance up here on the +roof, and if you see anything queer about it, you mustn't let on--you +mustn't tell." + +"That's all right," assured Aunt Huldah, turning to descend the narrow +little stairway. "They'll do jest as you tell 'em, Gib. Mind you don't +tip them soap boxes over an' fall off'n the roof, chil'en. Sissy, you +keep tight hold of Ally's hand--she's apt to fly when the big +performance comes;" and Aunt Huldah's rich, mellow, chuckling laugh came +back to them up the stairs. + +One would have said that nothing on earth could make matters more +glorious to the children of the Wagon-Tire House on this Fourth of July +evening; but after Troy Gilbert's words, they trod not upon the earthen +roof of the hotel, but on air; they sat not upon soap boxes, but on +thrones. + +Nay, kings were small people compared to them. There was to be a +mysterious extra performance, in which the sheriff was implicated; it +would take place under their very noses, and they were asked to assist, +to keep still about it! + +Gilbert had said truly: the crowd was a big one, and most enthusiastic. +As a matter of fact, there were nearly a hundred cowboys on hand who had +been let into Gilbert's scheme. The fireworks were equally successful +whether they blazed splendidly or fizzled ingloriously. It was enough +for the boys that Troy Gilbert was doing the act; they whooped at every +figure, and whooped again at Troy's unaccustomed drollery. + +There was a strain of intense expectancy in the audience, communicated, +though without their knowledge, to those not in the secret from those +who were; so that the crowd was wildly eager, without altogether knowing +why. + +After the display of pin-wheels, fiery serpents, bouquets, Roman candles +and rockets, old Frosty and Mrs. Frosty (otherwise the Signorina +Ippolita di Castelli) came on the small platform to do their +knife-throwing-act, the knives trailing fiery tails. This kept the +audience entertained during the time necessary to prepare the Columbia +act. + +"Bet you'd be scared to do that," whispered Eddie Beach. + +"Bet I wouldn't," Gess made answer. "I'd jest as soon sling them old +knives--Mr. La Rue said me an' Tell was likely boys to train. I bet +Ally'd hold as still as the Signorina 'f I was to throw them knives at +her." + +For the Columbia performance Gilbert had, during the day, stretched +another wire about five feet and three inches above the big wire on +which Minnie was to walk. Indeed, it was this secondary wire which had +caused the eruption of old Frosty demanding to "know." + +When the knife-throwing act was finished, there was a short pause +followed by a little murmur of applause; and this grew louder and +louder, until it was a medley of whoops, yells, stamping, and calls in +every tone and key for the next act--the grand stroke of the +performance. Frosty and the Signorina forbore to go upon the roof of the +Roundup to receive Minnie, until they should see her start from the roof +of the hotel. + +Figures were seen upon the top of the Wagon-Tire House (both roofs were +flat) and Frosty strained his eyes eagerly toward that end of the big +wire. The wondering children drew back and refrained even from +whispering among themselves--Troy's caution was not needed. Strange +doings, indeed, were going forward about the end of the wire. Troy +Gilbert was apparently pushing a reluctant figure toward it--it looked +as though the person were tied, and he laughed and struck her when she +seemed unwilling. + +Finally, Columbia began to move out slowly along the wire. She was +everything that audience or proprietor could desire. The spiked tiara +was on her head, blazing with violet light. Down her back hung her fair +curling hair; in her hands was the long balancing pole--Columbia's +scepter of power; and her white draperies were illuminated with fires of +blue and crimson and violet. + +The children stared, silent, motionless, expectant. They were nearer +than those in the street and had had opportunity to observe the +irregularity of Columbia's launching. + +There was a little outburst of applause when she first appeared. But as +she moved out over the wire, the silence was so complete that the +coughing of one of the patient ponies on the outskirts of the crowd was +plainly audible. + +Those in the secret were silent, in ecstasies of admiration. The +children kept still because they had been told to--whatever they saw. +Those not instructed were mute with amazement--a sort of creeping awe. + +Most of the audience had seen Minnie that afternoon in the tent-show, +her slender girlish form clad in spangled gauze, her delicate blonde +prettiness enhanced by the attire, doing her trapeze act. She had then +moved with the lithe grace of a young deer; her face had been all eager +animation. What sort of thing was this, that seemed to advance along the +wire as though it were on casters--that was never seen to take a step? +What face was this, strange, staring, immobile as a face carved in wood? + +"Gee!" murmured one of the X Q K boys, who had come in late and was +uninformed. "Gee, I ain't been a-drinkin' a thing--what in the name o' +pity ails that gal!" + +"Great Scott; she gives me the mauley-grubs! Ugh!" and his companion +shivered. But save for these murmured comments, the crowd was intensely +still. + +Suddenly, about the middle of the street, Columbia's forward movement +slackened, checked altogether. This was not unexpected, for midway the +rockets fastened about her waist, and upon her crown were to be +discharged. The manner in which these latter went off brought shrieks +and groans from the crowd below. They fizzed up into Columbia's face, +they burned against her bodice, they struck her arms. "Oh! oh! Poor +soul! she'll have her eyes put out! She'll be killed!" cried a woman's +voice from the street. + +"I might 'a' known better than to trust that fool Gilbert with them +fireworks," groaned old Frosty. "That there girl is worth more'n a +hundred dollars a month to me. If I was to take her East I could hire +her out for two hundred, easy, an' here she's likely to get all crippled +up, so's't she won't never be no account." + +Columbia was the only personage unmoved by all the fiery demonstrations; +she stood rigid, looking strangely massive and tall, till the last +rocket had spent itself. Then her progress began again with a sort of +jerk. A shudder went over her frame, the pole wavered in her +hands--those hands that seemed so limp and lifeless--she tottered, made +a violent movement with her head, then swayed out sidewise and +fell--holding the pole tight in her hands! + +And the strangest sound went up from that big assembly, a mingled sound +of groans and smothered outcries, and also what one might have +sworn--had it not seemed impossible--was wild hysteric laughter. + +Gess and Tell and Eddie Beach, luxuriating in Troy's permission to +"holler as much as they pleased," emitted shrieks that would have +chilled the blood of any whom this strange spectacle had not already +terrified. + +For, instead of falling to the ground twenty feet below, as would have +been natural, and lying there, a mangled body, Columbia hung to the +wire, a mad, fantastic, incredible spectacle, head downward, in a blaze +of inverted patriotic splendor! + +The wildest confusion ensued. Frosty was beside himself. He simply +danced and yelled where he stood. Those who were in the secret shouted +themselves hoarse with rapture, capering like dervishes, embracing one +another; those who were not, screamed with horror and dismay. + +As all gazed fascinated, something drifted down from the hanging figure. +A cowboy plunged forward, caught it up, and there broke upon the sudden +stillness which had followed this incident, a roar of hearty laughter, +as he held high in the blaze of light that came from the pendent figure, +Columbia's wooden-seeming countenance--a false face! + +Instantly, the shouting and confusion broke out again. The figure began +to sway; and the light draperies were ignited by some bit of fire which +had been brought into contact with them, by the inversion of Columbia's +proper position. + +The figure showed that, beyond the streaming golden hair--the beautiful +fair hair which Aunt Huldah had cut from Daisy's head, and which Daisy +had given with loving generosity--and the stuffed-out waist of +Columbia's classic robe, the only anatomy Columbia possessed was an +upright post with a wheel at the bottom--a caster indeed!--which had run +upon the big wire. + +At the top of Columbia's head there had been another wheel, which ran, +trolley-like, upon the upper wire; and a slender wire traveling along +the lower, or footway wire, had drawn the figure forward. + +Some obstacle had been met in the overhead wire; and when the figure +was jerked forward, harder and harder, to overcome this, the upper +attachment finally gave way entirely and allowed the figure to fall. +Only Gilbert's precaution of looping a heavy wire from axle to axle of +the lower wheel around the footway wire, had prevented Columbia from +falling to the ground. + +As the explanation began to spread over the crowd--not in whispers, but +in shouts, mingled with roars of laughter--those who had been instructed +beforehand pressed round old Frosty and the Signorina in a dense mass. + +Threats, complaints, demands, all sorts of outcries filled the air. + +"You old fakir!" + +"What do you mean by it, Frosty?" + +"Do you think you're a-goin' to run a blazer like this on us, and we'll +swaller hit like hit was catnip tea?" + +"What fer did ye want to fool us thataway?" + +"We ain't a-goin' to stand it--we'll----" + +"Gentlemen, jest be quiet. Let me out--let me git across the street to +the Wagon-Tire--where my daughter is--and I can explain things." + +"Explain nothin'!" was the cry; "you'll explain right here! Do you think +Blowout is a-goin' to stand this kind o' thing?" + +"Who put you up to run this blazer on us? Them fellers at Plain View? Er +them scrubs at Cinche? This town ain't a-goin' to stand it!" + +"Gentlemen," came Frosty's pipe again, "gentlemen, let me out--jest let +me git to my daughter--let me git out o' here before it's too late! This +is some o' that scoundrel Kid Barringer's doin's. Let me out, +gentlemen!" + +But the old man had gone the wrong way about it. Kid was one of them, a +good fellow, and much liked. Even those who knew nothing now scented a +romance. The big crowd hemmed old Frosty in and held him there with +pretended wrath and resentment. + + * * * * * + +At the back door of the Wagon-Tire House, just before the wooden +Columbia appeared to the eyes of Blowout, a meeting had taken place. +From that door Aunt Huldah had stepped with Minnie clinging to her arm. +In the dense shadow Kid Barringer was waiting with two of the best +ponies in Wild Horse County. He came eagerly forward. + +"Kid," said Aunt Huldah's heartsome voice, "here's Minnie--I've brung +her to you. I b'lieve we're doin' right. You're a good boy, Kid. An' I +know you love her an' will take keer o' her. Ef you wasn't to, you'd +shore have me to fight!" and she chuckled genially. + +"Good-by, honey. Ye needn't to look skeered. We-all have got ye now, an' +we'll take keer of ye--the hull kit an' bilin' o' us. Good-by, bless +your sweet little heart!" + +With the word Minnie was in her saddle, swung there by her lover's +strong arms, and away across the levels beside him. + +And while, back in Blowout, the Signorina fairly clawed, cat-like, to +get through that wall of cowboys and across the street to where +(believing Kid Barringer to be as far away as Fort Worth) she had left +Minnie scarce half an hour before--while the old man shouted and swore +and protested and fairly wept with rage and apprehension; Kid Barringer +reached his left hand out to his companion, saying: + +"Slack him down a little, honey; we're safe now. Mr. Ferguson, the +Presbyterian preacher--he's promised me--I told him--an' he's a-goin' to +marry us. His place ain't half a mile further on, an' he's lookin' fer +us. We're safe now, my poor little girl." + +The cowboys, with roars of delight, fished down the remains of the +dangling Columbia, while the original performer, to whom Columbia's +figure was understudy, stood in Mr. Ferguson's little parlor, waiting +for that gentleman to bring in a second witness. Her little fair head +was resting on Kid's broad shoulder; Kid's arm was around her slender +figure; and she was saying, between laughter and tears: + +"Kid, how do you reckon that old machine Columbia is getting along with +my turn, back there at Blowout?" + +And the happy bridegroom made blissful answer: "I don't know--or +keer--honey. She can go it on her head for all of us, can't she? She +give us our chance to get away, and that was all we wanted. Aunt Huldy +is the Lord's own people. I'll never forget her. You wouldn't hardly 'a' +thought I was good enough, if Aunt Huldy hadn't a-recommended me, I +don't believe. My little girl ain't never a-goin' to get to walk no more +wires." + + + + +ONE OF THE PALLS + +BY DOANE ROBINSON + + + I were a pall to the burrying, + Joe's finally out of the way, + Nothing 'special ailing of him, + Just old age and gen'ral decay. + Hope to the Lord that I'll never be + Old and decrepit and useless as he. + Cuss to his family the last five year-- + Monstrous expensive with keep so dear-- + 'Sides all the fuss and worrying. + Terrible trial to get so old; + Cur'us a man will continue to hold + So on to life, when it's easy to see + His chances for living, tho' dreadfully slim, + Are better than his family are lotting for him. + Joe was that kind of a hanger on; + Hadn't no sense of the time to quit; + Stunted discretion and stall-fed grit + Helped him unbuckle many a cinch, + Where a sensible man would have died in the pinch. + Kind of tickled to have him gone; + Bested for once and laid away, + Got him down where he's bound to stay; + I were a pall to his burrying. + + Knowed him for more than sixty year back-- + Used to be somewhat older than him + Fought him one night to a husking bee; + Licked him in manner uncommon complete; + Every one said 'twas a beautiful fight; + Joe he wa'n't satisfied with it that way, + Kept dinging along, and when he got through + The worst looking critter that you ever see + Were stretched on a bed rigged up in the hay-- + They carted me home the following day. + Got me a sweetheart purty and trim, + Told me that I was a heap likelier than Joe; + Mittened him twict; he kept on the track, + Followed her round every place she would go; + Offered to lick him; says she, "It's a treat, + Let's watch and find out what the poor critter will do." + Watched him, believing the thing was all right-- + That identical girl is Joe's widow to-night. + Run to be justice, then Joe he run, too; + Knowed I was pop'lar and he hadn't a friend, + So there wa'n't no use of my hurrying. + The 'lection came off, we counted the votes; + I hadn't enough; Joe had them to lend. + Now all the way through I had been taking notes + Of his disagreeable way, + And it tickles me now to be able to say + He's bested for good in the end; + Got him down where he's bound to stay; + I were a pall to his burrying. + + + + +THE V-A-S-E + +BY JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE + + + From the madding crowd they stand apart, + The maidens four and the Work of Art; + + And none might tell from sight alone + In which had Culture ripest grown-- + + The Gotham Million fair to see, + The Philadelphia Pedigree, + + The Boston Mind of azure hue, + Or the soulful Soul from Kalamazoo-- + + For all loved Art in a seemly way, + With an earnest soul and a capital A. + + * * * * * + + Long they worshipped; but no one broke + The sacred stillness, until upspoke + + The Western one from the nameless place, + Who, blushing, said: "What a lovely vase!" + + Over three faces a sad smile flew, + And they edged away from Kalamazoo. + + But Gotham's haughty soul was stirred + To crush the stranger with one small word. + + Deftly hiding reproof in praise, + She cries: "'T is, indeed, a lovely vaze!" + + But brief her unworthy triumph when + The lofty one from the house of Penn, + + With the consciousness of two grandpapas, + Exclaims: "It is quite a lovely vahs!" + + And glances round with an anxious thrill, + Awaiting the word of Beacon Hill. + + But the Boston maid smiles courteouslee + And gently murmurs: "Oh, pardon me! + + "I did not catch your remark, because + I was so entranced with that charming vaws!" + + _Dies erit proegelida + Sinistra quum Bostonia._ + + + + +EVE'S DAUGHTER + +BY EDWARD ROWLAND SILL + + + I waited in the little sunny room: + The cool breeze waved the window-lace, at play, + The white rose on the porch was all in bloom, + And out upon the bay + I watched the wheeling sea-birds go and come. + "Such an old friend,--she would not make me stay + While she bound up her hair." I turned, and lo, + Danaë in her shower! and fit to slay + All a man's hoarded prudence at a blow: + Gold hair that streamed away + As round some nymph a sunlit fountain's flow. + "She would not make me wait!"--but well I know + She took a good half-hour to loose and lay + Those locks in dazzling disarrangement so! + + + + +THE DULUTH SPEECH + +BY J. PROCTOR KNOTT + + +The House having under consideration the joint resolution (S. R. No. +11), extending the time to construct a railroad from the St. Croix river +or lake to the west end of Lake Superior and to Bayfield-- + +Mr. Knott said:-- + +MR. SPEAKER: If I could be actuated by any conceivable inducement to +betray the sacred trust reposed in me by those to whose generous +confidence I am indebted for the honor of a seat on this floor; if I +could be influenced by any possible consideration to become instrumental +in giving away, in violation of their known wishes, any portion of their +interest in the public domain for the mere promotion of any railroad +enterprise whatever, I should certainly feel a strong inclination to +give this measure my most earnest and hearty support; for I am assured +that its success would materially enhance the pecuniary prosperity of +some of the most valued friends I have on earth,--friends for whose +accommodation I would be willing to make almost any sacrifice not +involving my personal honor or my fidelity as the trustee of an express +trust. And that fact of itself would be sufficient to countervail almost +any objection I might entertain to the passage of this bill not inspired +by an imperative and inexorable sense of public duty. + +But, independent of the seductive influences of private friendship, to +which I admit I am, perhaps, as susceptible as any of the gentlemen I +see around me, the intrinsic merits of the measure itself are of such an +extraordinary character as to commend it most strongly to the favorable +consideration of every member of this House, myself not excepted, +notwithstanding my constituents, in whose behalf alone I am acting here, +would not be benefited by its passage one particle more than they would +be by a project to cultivate an orange grove on the bleakest summit of +Greenland's icy mountains. (Laughter.) + +Now, sir, as to those great trunk lines of railway, spanning the +continent from ocean to ocean, I confess my mind has never been fully +made up. It is true they may afford some trifling advantages to local +traffic, and they may even in time become the channels of a more +extended commerce. Yet I have never been thoroughly satisfied either of +the necessity or expediency of projects promising such meagre results to +the great body of our people. But with regard to the transcendent merits +of the gigantic enterprise contemplated in this bill I never entertained +the shadow of a doubt. (Laughter.) + +Years ago, when I first heard that there was somewhere in the vast +_terra incognita_, somewhere in the bleak regions of the great +Northwest, a stream of water known to the nomadic inhabitants of the +neighborhood as the river St. Croix, I became satisfied that the +construction of a railroad from that raging torrent to some point in the +civilized world was essential to the happiness and prosperity of the +American people, if not absolutely indispensable to the perpetuity of +republican institutions on this continent. (Great laughter.) I felt +instinctively that the boundless resources of that prolific region of +sand and pine shrubbery would never be fully developed without a +railroad constructed and equipped at the expense of the Government, and +perhaps not then. (Laughter.) I had an abiding presentiment that, some +day or other, the people of this whole country, irrespective of party +affiliations, regardless of sectional prejudices, and "without +distinction of race, color, or previous condition of servitude," would +rise in their majesty, and demand an outlet for the enormous +agricultural productions of those vast and fertile pine barrens, drained +in the rainy season by the surging waters of the turbid St. Croix. +(Great laughter.) + +These impressions, derived simply and solely from the "eternal fitness +of things," were not only strengthened by the interesting and eloquent +debate on this bill, to which I listened with so much pleasure the other +day, but intensified, if possible, as I read over this morning the +lively colloquy which took place on that occasion, as I find it reported +in last Friday's "Globe." I will ask the indulgence of the House while I +read a few short passages, which are sufficient, in my judgment, to +place the merits of the great enterprise contemplated in the measure now +under discussion beyond all possible controversy. + +The honorable gentleman from Minnesota (Mr. Wilson), who, I believe, is +managing this bill, in speaking of the character of the country through +which this railroad is to pass, says this:-- + +"We want to have the timber brought to us as cheaply as possible. Now, +if you tie up the lands in this way, so that no title can be obtained to +them,--for no settler will go on these lands, for he can not make a +living,--you deprive us of the benefit of that timber." + +Now, sir, I would not have it by any means inferred from this that the +gentleman from Minnesota would insinuate that the people out in his +section desire this timber merely for the purpose of fencing up their +farms, so that their stock may not wander off and die of starvation +among the bleak hills of the St. Croix. (Laughter.) I read it for no +such purpose, sir, and make no such comment on it myself. In +corroboration of this statement of the gentleman from Minnesota, I find +this testimony given by the honorable gentleman from Wisconsin (Mr. +Washburn). Speaking of these same lands, he says: + +"Under the bill, as amended by my friend from Minnesota, nine tenths of +the land is open to actual settlers at $2.50 per acre; the remaining one +tenth is pine-timbered land, that is not fit for settlement, and never +will be settled upon; but the timber will be cut off. I admit that it is +the most valuable portion of the grant, for most of the grant is not +valuable. It is quite valueless; and if you put in this amendment of the +gentleman from Indiana, you may as well just kill the bill, for no man +and no company will take the grant and build the road." + +I simply pause here to ask some gentleman better versed in the science +of mathematics than I am to tell me, if the timbered lands are in fact +the most valuable portion of that section of country, and they would be +entirely valueless without the timber that is on them, what the +remainder of the land is worth which has no timber on it at all. +(Laughter.) + +But further on I find a most entertaining and instructive interchange of +views between the gentleman from Arkansas (Mr. Rogers), the gentleman +from Wisconsin (Mr. Washburn), and the gentleman from Maine (Mr. Peters) +upon the subject of pine lands generally, which I will tax the patience +of the House to read:-- + +"Mr. Rogers. Will the gentleman allow me to ask him a question? + +"Mr. Washburn, of Wisconsin. Certainly. + +"Mr. Rogers. Are these pine lands entirely worthless except for timber? + +"Mr. Washburn, of Wisconsin. They are generally! worthless for any other +purpose. I am perfectly familiar with that subject. These lands are not +valuable for purposes of settlement. + +"Mr. Farnsworth. They will be after the timber is taken off? + +"Mr. Washburn, of Wisconsin. No, sir. + +"Mr. Rogers. I want to know the character of these pine lands. + +"Mr. Washburn, of Wisconsin. They are generally sandy, barren lands. My +friend from the Green Bay district (Mr. Sawyer) is himself perfectly +familiar with this question, and he will bear me out in what I say, that +these pine-timber lands are not adapted to settlement. + +"Mr. Rogers. The pine lands to which I am accustomed are generally very +good. What I want to know is, what is the difference between our pine +lands and your pine lands? + +"Mr. Washburn, of Wisconsin. The pine timber of Wisconsin generally +grows upon barren, sandy land. The gentleman from Maine (Mr. Peters), +who is familiar with pine lands, will, I have no doubt, say that pine +timber grows generally upon the most barren lands. + +"Mr. Peters. As a general thing pine lands are not worth much for +cultivation." + +And further on I find this pregnant question, the joint production of +the two gentlemen from Wisconsin:-- + +"Mr. Paine. Does my friend from Indiana suppose that in any event +settlers will occupy and cultivate these pine lands? + +"Mr. Washburn, of Wisconsin. Particularly without a railroad?" + +Yes, sir, "particularly without a railroad." It will be asked after a +while, I am afraid, if settlers will go anywhere unless the Government +builds a railroad for them to go on. (Laughter.) + +I desire to call attention to only one more statement, which I think +sufficient to settle the question. It is one made by the gentleman from +Wisconsin (Mr. Paine), who says:-- + +"These lands will be abandoned for the present. It may be that at some +remote period there will spring up in that region a new kind of +agriculture, which will cause a demand for these particular lands; and +they may then come into use and be valuable for agricultural purposes. +But I know, and I can not help thinking that my friend from Indiana +understands, that for the present, and for many years to come, these +pine lands can have no possible value other than that arising from the +pine timber which stands on them." + +Now, sir, who, after listening to this emphatic and unequivocal +testimony of these intelligent, competent and able-bodied witnesses +(laughter), who that is not as incredulous as St. Thomas himself, will +doubt for a moment that the Goshen of America is to be found in the +sandy valleys and upon the pine-clad hills of St. Croix? (Laughter.) Who +will have the hardihood to rise in his seat on this floor and assert +that, excepting the pine bushes, the entire region would not produce +vegetation enough in ten years to fatten a grasshopper? (Great +laughter.) Where is the patriot who is willing that his country shall +incur the peril of remaining another day without the amplest railroad +connection with such an inexhaustible mine of agricultural wealth? +(Laughter.) Who will answer for the consequences of abandoning a great +and warlike people, in possession of a country like that, to brood over +the indifference and neglect of their Government? (Laughter.) How long +would it be before they would take to studying the Declaration of +Independence, and hatching out the damnable heresy of secession? How +long before the grim demon of civil discord would rear again his horrid +head in our midst, "gnash loud his iron fangs, and shake his crest of +bristling bayonets"? (Laughter.) + +Then, sir, think of the long and painful process of reconstruction that +must follow, with its concomitant amendments to the Constitution; the +seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth articles. The sixteenth, it is of +course understood, is to be appropriated to those blushing damsels who +are, day after day, beseeching us to let them vote, hold office, drink +cock-tails, ride astraddle, and do everything else the men do. (Roars of +laughter.) But above all, sir, let me implore you to reflect for a +single moment on the deplorable condition of our country in case of a +foreign war, with all our ports blockaded, all our cities in a state of +siege; the gaunt spectre of famine brooding like a hungry vulture over +our starving land; our commissary stores all exhausted, and our +famishing armies withering away in the field, a helpless prey to the +insatiate demon of hunger; our navy rotting in the docks for want of +provisions for our gallant seamen, and we without any railroad +communication whatever with the prolific pine thickets of the St. Croix. +(Great laughter.) + +Ah, sir, I could very well understand why my amiable friends from +Pennsylvania (Mr. Myers, Mr. Kelley and Mr. O'Neill) should be so +earnest in their support of this bill the other day, and if their +honorable colleague, my friend, Mr. Randall, will pardon the remark, I +will say I considered his criticism of their action on that occasion as +not only unjust, but ungenerous. I knew they were looking forward with +the far-reaching ken of enlightened statesmanship to the pitiable +condition in which Philadelphia will be left, unless speedily supplied +with railroad connection in some way or other with this garden spot of +the universe. (Laughter.) And besides, sir, this discussion has relieved +my mind of a mystery that has weighed upon it like an incubus for years. +I could never understand before why there was so much excitement during +the last Congress over the acquisition of Alta Vela. I could never +understand why it was that some of our ablest statesmen and most +disinterested patriots should entertain such dark forebodings of the +untold calamities that were to befall our beloved country unless we +should take immediate possession of that desirable island. But I see now +that they were laboring under the mistaken impression that the +Government would need the guano to manure the public lands on the St. +Croix. (Great laughter.) + +Now, sir, I repeat I have been satisfied for years that if there was any +portion of the inhabited globe absolutely in a suffering condition for +want of a railroad it was these teeming pine barrens of the St. Croix. +(Laughter.) At what particular point on that noble stream such a road +should be commenced I knew was immaterial, and so it seems to have been +considered by the draughtsman of this bill. It might be up at the spring +or down at the foot-log, or the Watergate, or the fish-dam, or anywhere +along the bank, no matter where. (Laughter.) But in what direction +should it run, or where should it terminate, were always to my mind +questions of the most painful perplexity. I could conceive of no place +on "God's green earth" in such straitened circumstances for railroad +facilities as to be likely to desire or willing to accept such a +connection. (Laughter.) I knew that neither Bayfield nor Superior City +would have it, for they both indignantly spurned the munificence of the +Government when coupled with such ignominious conditions, and let this +very same land grant die on their hands years and years ago, rather than +submit to the degradation of a direct communication by railroad with the +piny woods of the St. Croix; and I knew that what the enterprising +inhabitants of those giant young cities would refuse to take would have +few charms for others, whatever their necessities or cupidity might be. +(Laughter.) + +Hence, as I have said, sir, I was utterly at a loss to determine where +the terminus of this great and indispensable road should be, until I +accidentally overheard some gentleman the other day mention the name of +"Duluth." (Great laughter.) Duluth! The word fell upon my ear with +peculiar and indescribable charm, like the gentle murmur of a low +fountain stealing forth in the midst of roses, or the soft, sweet +accents of an angel's whisper in the bright, joyous dream of sleeping +innocence. Duluth! 'Twas the name for which my soul had panted for +years, as the hart panteth for the water-brooks. (Renewed laughter.) But +where was Duluth? Never, in all my limited reading, had my vision been +gladdened by seeing the celestial word in print. (Laughter.) And I felt +a profounder humiliation in my ignorance that its dulcet syllables had +never before ravished my delighted ear. (Roars of laughter.) I was +certain the draughtsman of this bill had never heard of it, or it would +have been designated as one of the termini of this road. I asked my +friends about it, but they knew nothing of it. I rushed to the library, +and examined all the maps I could find. (Laughter.) I discovered in one +of them a delicate, hair-like line, diverging from the Mississippi near +a place marked Prescott, which I supposed was intended to represent the +river St. Croix, but I could nowhere find Duluth. + +Nevertheless, I was confident it existed somewhere, and that its +discovery would constitute the crowning-glory of the present century, if +not of all modern times. (Laughter.) I knew it was bound to exist in the +very nature of things; that the symmetry and perfection of our planetary +system would be incomplete without it (renewed laughter); that the +elements of material nature would long since have resolved themselves +back into original chaos, if there had been such a hiatus in creation as +would have resulted from leaving out Duluth. (Roars of laughter.) In +fact, sir, I was overwhelmed with the conviction that Duluth not only +existed somewhere, but that, wherever it was, it was a great and +glorious place. I was convinced that the greatest calamity that ever +befell the benighted nations of the ancient world was in their having +passed away without a knowledge of the actual existence of Duluth; that +their fabled Atlantis, never seen save by the hallowed vision of +inspired poesy, was, in fact, but another name for Duluth; that the +golden orchard of the Hesperides was but a poetical synonym for the beer +gardens in the vicinity of Duluth. (Great laughter.) I was certain that +Herodotus had died a miserable death because in all his travels and with +all his geographical research he had never heard pf Duluth. (Laughter,) +I knew that if the immortal spirit of Homer could look down from another +heaven than that created by his own celestial genius upon the long lines +of pilgrims from every nation of the earth to the gushing fountain of +poesy opened by the touch of his magic wand; if he could be permitted to +behold the vast assemblage of grand and glorious productions of the +lyric art called into being by his own inspired strains, he would weep +tears of bitter anguish that, instead of lavishing all the stores of his +mighty genius upon the fall of Ilion, it had not been his more blessed +lot to crystallize in deathless song the rising glories of Duluth. +(Great and continued laughter.) Yet, sir, had it not been for this map, +kindly furnished me by the Legislature of Minnesota, I might have gone +down to my obscure and humble grave in an agony of despair, because I +could nowhere find Duluth. (Renewed laughter.) Had such been my +melancholy fate, I have no doubt that, with the last feeble pulsation of +my breaking heart, with the last faint exhalation of my fleeting breath, +I should have whispered, "Where is Duluth?" (Roars of laughter.) + +But, thanks to the beneficence of that band of ministering angels who +have their bright abodes in the far-off capital of Minnesota, just as +the agony of my anxiety was about to culminate in the frenzy of despair, +this blessed map was placed in my hands; and as I unfolded it a +resplendent scene of ineffable glory opened before me, such as I imagine +burst upon the enraptured vision of the wandering peri through the +opening gates of paradise. (Renewed laughter.) There, there for the +first time, my enchanted eye rested upon the ravishing word "Duluth." + +This map, sir, is intended, as it appears from its title, to illustrate +the position of Duluth in the United States; but if gentlemen will +examine it, I think they will concur with me in the opinion that it is +far too modest in its pretensions. It not only illustrates the position +of Duluth in the United States, but exhibits its relations with all +created things. It even goes farther than this. It lifts the shadowy +veil of futurity, and affords us a view of the golden prospects of +Duluth far along the dim vista of ages yet to come. + +If gentlemen will examine it, they will find Duluth not only in the +centre of the map, but represented in the centre of a series of +concentric circles, one hundred miles apart, and some of them as much as +four thousand miles in diameter, embracing alike in their tremendous +sweep the fragrant savannas of the sun-lit South and the eternal +solitudes of snow that mantle the ice-bound North. (Laughter.) How these +circles were produced is perhaps one of those primordial mysteries that +the most skillful paleologist will never be able to explain. (Renewed +laughter.) But the fact is, sir, Duluth is preeminently a central place, +for I am told by gentlemen who have been so reckless of their own +personal safety as to venture away into those awful regions where Duluth +is supposed to be that it is so exactly in the centre of the visible +universe that the sky comes down at precisely the same distance all +around it. (Roars of laughter.) + +I find by reference to this map that Duluth is situated somewhere near +the western end of Lake Superior; but as there is no dot or other mark +indicating its exact location, I am unable to say whether it is actually +confined to any particular spot, or whether "it is just lying around +there loose." (Renewed laughter.) I really can not tell whether it is +one of those ethereal creations of intellectual frostwork, more +intangible than the rose-tinted clouds of a summer sunset,--one of those +airy exhalations of the speculator's brain, which I am told are ever +flitting in the form of towns and cities along those lines of railroad, +built with Government subsidies, luring the unwary settlers as the +mirage of the desert lures the famishing traveler on, and ever on, until +it fades away in the darkening horizon,--or whether it is a real _bona +fide_, substantial city, all "staked off," with the lots marked with +their owners' names, like that proud commercial metropolis recently +discovered on the desirable shores of San Domingo. (Laughter.) But, +however that may be, I am satisfied Duluth is there, or thereabout, for +I see it stated here on this map that it is exactly thirty-nine hundred +and ninety miles from Liverpool (laughter), though I have no doubt, for +the sake of convenience, it will be moved back ten miles, so as to make +the distance an even four thousand. (Renewed laughter.) + +Then, sir, there is the climate of Duluth, unquestionably the most +salubrious and delightful to be found anywhere on the Lord's earth. Now, +I have always been under the impression, as I presume other gentlemen +have, that in the region around Lake Superior it was cold enough for at +least nine months in the year to freeze the smokestack off a locomotive. +(Great laughter.) But I see it represented on this map that Duluth is +situated exactly halfway between the latitudes of Paris and Venice, so +that gentlemen who have inhaled the exhilarating airs of the one or +basked in the golden sunlight of the other may see at a glance that +Duluth must be a place of untold delights (laughter), a terrestrial +paradise, fanned by the balmy zephyrs of an eternal spring, clothed in +the gorgeous sheen of ever-blooming flowers, and vocal with the silvery +melody of nature's choicest songsters. (Laughter.) In fact, sir, since I +have seen this map I have no doubt that Byron was vainly endeavoring to +convey some faint conception of the delicious charms of Duluth when his +poetic soul gushed forth in the rippling strains of that beautiful +rhapsody: + + "Know ye the land of the cedar and vine, + Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine; + Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppressed with perfume, + Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gul in her bloom; + Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, + And the voice of the nightingale never is mute; + Where the tints of the earth and the hues of the sky, + In color though varied, in beauty may vie?" + +(Laughter.) + +As to the commercial resources of Duluth, sir, they are simply +illimitable and inexhaustible, as is shown by this map. I see it stated +here that there is a vast scope of territory, embracing an area of over +two million square miles, rich in every element of material wealth and +commercial prosperity, all tributary to Duluth. Look at it, sir +(pointing to the map). Here are inexhaustible mines of gold, +immeasurable veins of silver, impenetrable depths of boundless forest, +vast coal-measures, wide, extended plains of richest pasturage, all, all +embraced in this vast territory, which must, in the very nature of +things, empty the untold treasures of its commerce into the lap of +Duluth. (Laughter.) + +Look at it, sir! (Pointing to the map.) Do not you see from these broad, +brown lines drawn around this immense territory that the enterprising +inhabitants of Duluth intend some day to inclose it all in one vast +corral, so that its commerce will be bound to go there, whether it would +or not? (Great laughter.) And here, sir (still pointing to the map), I +find within a convenient distance the Piegan Indians, which, of all the +many accessories to the glory of Duluth, I consider by far the most +inestimable. For, sir, I have been told that when the small-pox breaks +out among the women and children of that famous tribe, as it sometimes +does, they afford the finest subjects in the world for the strategical +experiments of any enterprising military hero who desires to improve +himself in the noble art of war (laughter); especially for any valiant +lieutenant general, whose + + "Trenchant blade, Toledo trusty, + For want of fighting has grown rusty, + And eats into itself for lack + Of somebody to hew and hack." + +(Great laughter.) + +Sir, the great conflict now raging in the Old World has presented a +phenomenon in military science unprecedented in the annals of mankind--a +phenomenon that has reversed all the traditions of the past as it has +disappointed all the expectations of the present. A great and warlike +people, renowned alike for their skill and valor, have been swept away +before the triumphant advance of an inferior foe, like autumn stubble +before a hurricane of fire. For aught I know, the next flash of electric +fire that shimmers along the ocean cable may tell us that Paris, with +every fibre quivering with the agony of impotent despair, writhes +beneath the conquering heel of her loathed invader. Ere another moon +shall wax and wane the brightest star in the galaxy of nations may fall +from the zenith of her glory never to rise again. Ere the modest violets +of early spring shall ope their beauteous eyes, the genius of +civilization may chant the wailing requiem of the proudest nationality +the world has ever seen, as she scatters her withered and tear-moistened +lilies o'er the bloody tomb of butchered France. But, sir, I wish to ask +if you honestly and candidly believe that the Dutch would have ever +overrun the French in that kind of style if General Sheridan had not +gone over there and told King William and Von Moltke how he had managed +to whip the Piegan Indians. (Great laughter.) + +And here, sir, recurring to this map, I find in the immediate vicinity +of the Piegans "vast herds of buffalo" and "immense fields of rich wheat +lands." + +(Here the hammer fell.) + +(Many cries: "Go on!" "Go on!") + +The Speaker. Is there objection to the gentleman from Kentucky +continuing his remarks? The Chair hears none. The gentleman will +proceed. + +Mr. Knott. I was remarking, sir, upon these vast "wheat fields" +represented on this map as in the immediate neighborhood of the +buffaloes and the Piegans, and was about to say that the idea of there +being these immense wheat fields in the very heart of a wilderness, +hundreds and hundreds of miles beyond the utmost verge of civilization, +may appear to some gentlemen as rather incongruous, as rather too great +a strain on the "blankets" of veracity. But to my mind there is no +difficulty in the matter whatever. The phenomenon is very easily +accounted for. It is evident, sir, that the Piegans sowed that wheat +there and plowed it with buffalo bulls. (Great laughter.) Now, sir, this +fortunate combination of buffaloes and Piegans, considering their +relative positions to each other and to Duluth, as they are arranged on +this map, satisfies me that Duluth is destined to be the beef market of +the world. + +Here, you will observe (pointing to the map), are the buffaloes, +directly between the Piegans and Duluth; and here, right on the road to +Duluth, are the Creeks. Now, sir, when the buffaloes are sufficiently +fat from grazing on these immense wheat fields, you see it will be the +easiest thing in the world for the Piegans to drive them on down, stay +all night with their friends, the Creeks, and go into Duluth in the +morning. (Great laughter.) I think I see them now, sir, a vast herd of +buffaloes, with their heads down, their eyes glaring, their nostrils +dilated, their tongues out, and their tails curled over their backs, +tearing along toward Duluth, with about a thousand Piegans on their +grass-bellied ponies yelling at their heels! (Great laughter.) On they +come! And as they sweep past the Creeks, they join in the chase, and +away they all go, yelling, bellowing, ripping, and tearing along, amid +clouds of dust, until the last buffalo is safely penned in the +stockyards of Duluth! (Shouts of laughter.) + +Sir, I might stand here for hours and hours, and expatiate with rapture +upon the gorgeous prospects of Duluth, as depicted upon this map. But +human life is too short and the time of this House far too valuable to +allow me to linger longer upon the delightful theme, (Laughter.) I think +every gentleman on this floor is as well satisfied as I am that Duluth +is destined to become the commercial metropolis of the universe, and +that this road should be built at once. I am fully persuaded that no +patriotic representative of the American people, who has a proper +appreciation of the associated glories of Duluth and the St. Croix, will +hesitate a moment to say that every able-bodied female in the land, +between the ages of eighteen and forty-five, who is in favor of "women's +rights" should be drafted and set to work upon this great work without +delay. (Roars of laughter.) Nevertheless, sir, it grieves my very soul +to be compelled to say that I can not vote for the grant of lands +provided for in this bill. + +Ah, sir, you can have no conception of the poignancy of my anguish that +I am deprived of that blessed privilege! (Laughter.) There are two +insuperable obstacles in the way. In the first place, my constituents, +for whom I am acting here, have no more interest in this road than they +have in the great question of culinary taste now perhaps agitating the +public mind of Dominica, as to whether the illustrious commissioners who +recently left this capital for that free and enlightened republic would +be better fricasseed, boiled, or roasted (great laughter); and, in the +second place, these lands which I am asked to give away, alas, are not +mine to bestow! My relation to them is simply that of trustee to an +express trust. And shall I ever betray that trust? Never, sir! Rather +perish Duluth! (Shouts of laughter.) Perish the paragon of cities! +Rather let the freezing cyclones of the bleak Northwest bury it forever +beneath the eddying sands of the raging St. Croix! (Great laughter.) + + + + +DICTUM SAPIENTI + +BY JOHN PAUL + + + That 'tis well to be off with the old love + Before one is on with the new + Has somehow passed into a proverb,-- + But I never have found it true. + + No love can be quite like the old love, + Whate'er may be said for the new-- + And if you dismiss me, my darling, + You may come to this thinking, too. + + Were the proverb not wiser if mended, + And the fickle and wavering told + To be sure they're on with the new love + Before they are off with the old? + + + + +HARD[10] + +BY TOM MASSON + + + I wrote some foolish verses once + On love. Unhappy churl! + The metre makes me shudder still, + I sent them to a girl. + + I know that girl, and if I should, + Like Byron, wake some day + To find Fame written on my brow, + She'd give those lines away. + + So now I have to watch myself + Each hour. Oh, hapless plight! + For if I should be great, of course, + Those lines would come to light. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[10] By permission of Life Publishing Company. + + + + +THE SCEPTICS + +BY BLISS CARMAN + + + It was the little leaves beside the road. + + Said Grass, "What is that sound + So dismally profound, + That detonates and desolates the air?" + "That is St. Peter's bell," + Said rain-wise Pimpernel; + "He is music to the godly, + Though to us he sounds so oddly, + And he terrifies the faithful unto prayer." + + Then something very like a groan + Escaped the naughty little leaves. + + Said Grass, "And whither track + These creatures all in black, + So woebegone and penitent and meek?" + "They're mortals bound for church," + Said the little Silver Birch; + "They hope to get to heaven + And have their sins forgiven, + If they talk to God about it once a week." + + And something very like a smile + Ran through the naughty little leaves. + + Said Grass, "What is that noise + That startles and destroys + Our blessed summer brooding when we're tired?" + "That's folk a-praising God," + Said the tough old cynic Clod; + "They do it every Sunday, + They'll be all right on Monday; + It's just a little habit they've acquired." + + And laughter spread among the little leaves. + + + + +"THE DAY IS DONE" + +BY PHOEBE CARY + + + The day is done, and darkness + From the wing of night is loosed, + As a feather is wafted downward, + From a chicken going to roost. + + I see the lights of the baker, + Gleam through the rain and mist, + And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me + That I can not well resist. + + A feeling of sadness and longing + That is not like being sick, + And resembles sorrow only + As a brickbat resembles a brick. + + Come, get for me some supper,-- + A good and regular meal-- + That shall soothe this restless feeling, + And banish the pain I feel. + + Not from the pastry bakers, + Not from the shops for cake; + I wouldn't give a farthing + For all that they can make. + + For, like the soup at dinner, + Such things would but suggest + Some dishes more substantial, + And to-night I want the best. + + Go to some honest butcher, + Whose beef is fresh and nice, + As any they have in the city, + And get a liberal slice. + + Such things through days of labor, + And nights devoid of ease, + For sad and desperate feelings, + Are wonderful remedies. + + They have an astonishing power + To aid and reinforce, + And come like the "finally, brethren," + That follows a long discourse. + + Then get me a tender sirloin + From off the bench or hook. + And lend to its sterling goodness + The science of the cook. + + And the night shall be filled with comfort, + And the cares with which it begun + Shall fold up their blankets like Indians, + And silently cut and run. + + + + +MR. DOOLEY ON GOLF + +BY FINLEY PETER DUNNE + + +"An' what's this game iv goluf like, I dinnaw?" said Mr. Hennessy, +lighting his pipe with much unnecessary noise. "Ye're a good deal iv a +spoort, Jawnny: did ye iver thry it?" + +"No," said Mr. McKenna. "I used to roll a hoop onct upon a time, but I'm +out of condition now." + +"It ain't like base-ball," said Mr. Hennessy, "an' it ain't like shinny, +an' it ain't like lawn-teenis, an' it ain't like forty-fives, an' it +ain't"-- + +"Like canvas-back duck or anny other game ye know," said Mr. Dooley. + +"Thin what is it like?" said Mr. Hennessy. "I see be th' pa-aper that +Hobart What-d'ye-call-him is wan iv th' best at it. Th' other day he +made a scoor iv wan hundherd an' sixty-eight, but whether 'twas miles or +stitches I cudden't make out fr'm th' raypoorts." + +"'Tis little ye know," said Mr. Dooley. "Th' game iv goluf is as old as +th' hills. Me father had goluf links all over his place, an', whin I was +a kid, 'twas wan iv th' principal spoorts iv me life, afther I'd dug the +turf f'r th' avenin', to go out and putt"-- + +"Poot, ye mean," said Mr. Hennessy. "They'se no such wurrud in th' +English language as putt. Belinda called me down ha-ard on it no more +thin las' night." + +"There ye go!" said Mr. Dooley, angrily. "There ye go! D'ye think this +here game iv goluf is a spellin' match? 'Tis like ye, Hinnissy, to be +refereein' a twinty-round glove contest be th' rule iv three. I tell ye +I used to go out in th' avenin' an' putt me mashie like hell-an'-all, +till I was knowed fr'm wan end iv th' county to th' other as th' +champeen putter. I putted two men fr'm Roscommon in wan day, an' they +had to be took home on a dure. + +"In America th' ga-ame is played more ginteel, an' is more like +cigareet-smokin', though less onhealthy f'r th' lungs. 'Tis a good game +to play in a hammick whin ye're all tired out fr'm social duties or +shovellin' coke. Out-iv-dure golf is played be th' followin' rules. If +ye bring ye'er wife f'r to see th' game, an' she has her name in th' +paper, that counts ye wan. So th' first thing ye do is to find th' +raypoorter, an' tell him ye're there. Thin ye ordher a bottle iv brown +pop, an' have ye'er second fan ye with a towel. Afther this ye'd dhress, +an' here ye've got to be dam particklar or ye'll be stuck f'r th' +dhrinks. If ye'er necktie is not on sthraight, that counts ye'er +opponent wan. If both ye an' ye'er opponent have ye'er neckties on +crooked, th' first man that sees it gets th' stakes. Thin ye ordher a +carredge"-- + +"Order what?" demanded Mr. McKenna. + +"A carredge." + +"What for?" + +"F'r to take ye 'round th' links. Ye have a little boy followin' ye, +carryin' ye'er clubs. Th' man that has th' smallest little boy it counts +him two. If th' little boy has th' rickets, it counts th' man in th' +carredge three. The little boys is called caddies; but Clarence Heaney +that tol' me all this--he belongs to th' Foorth Wa-ard Goluf an' +McKinley Club--said what th' little boys calls th' players'd not be fit +f'r to repeat. + +"Well, whin ye dhrive up to th' tea grounds"-- + +"Th' what?" demanded Mr. Hennessy. + +"Th' tea grounds, that's like th' home-plate in base-ball or ordherin' a +piece iv chalk in a game iv spoil five. It's th' be-ginnin' iv +ivrything. Whin ye get to th' tea grounds, ye step out, an' have ye'er +hat irned be th' caddie. Thin ye'er man that ye're goin' aginst comes +up, an' he asks ye, 'Do you know Potther Pammer?' Well, if ye don't know +Potther Pammer, it's all up with ye: ye lose two points. But ye come +right back at him with an upper cut: 'Do ye live on th' Lake Shore +dhrive?' If he doesn't, ye have him in th' nine hole. Ye needn't play +with him anny more. But, if ye do play with him, he has to spot three +balls. If he's a good man an' shifty on his feet, he'll counter be +askin' ye where ye spend th' summer. Now ye can't tell him that ye spent +th' summer with wan hook on th' free lunch an' another on th' ticker +tape, an' so ye go back three. That needn't discourage ye at all, at +all. Here's yer chance to mix up, an' ye ask him if he was iver in +Scotland. If he wasn't, it counts ye five. Thin ye tell him that ye had +an aunt wanst that heerd th' Jook iv Argyle talk in a phonograph; an', +onless he comes back an' shoots it into ye that he was wanst run over be +th' Prince iv Wales, ye have him groggy. I don't know whether th' Jook +iv Argyle or th' Prince iv Wales counts f'r most. They're like th' right +an' left bower iv thrumps. Th' best players is called scratch-men." + +"What's that f'r?" Mr. Hennessy asked. + +"It's a Scotch game," said Mr. Dooley, with a wave of his hand. "I +wonder how it come out to-day. Here's th' pa-aper. Let me see. McKinley +at Canton. Still there. He niver cared to wandher fr'm his own fireside. +Collar-button men f'r th' goold standard. Statues iv Heidelback, +Ickleheimer an' Company to be erected in Washington. Another Vanderbilt +weddin'. That sounds like goluf, but it ain't. Newport society livin' +in Mrs. Potther Pammer's cellar. Green-goods men declare f'r honest +money. Anson in foorth place some more. Pianny tuners f'r McKinley. Li +Hung Chang smells a rat. Abner McKinley supports th' goold standard. +Wait a minyit. Here it is: 'Goluf in gay attire.' Let me see. H'm. +'Foozled his aproach,'--nasty thing. 'Topped th' ball.' 'Three up an' +two to play.' Ah, here's the scoor. 'Among those prisint were Messrs. +an' Mesdames'"-- + +"Hol' on!" cried Mr. Hennessy, grabbing the paper out of his friend's +hands. "That's thim that was there." + +"Well," said Mr. Dooley, decisively, "that's th' goluf scoor." + + + + +WHEN THE SIRUP'S ON THE FLAPJACK + +BY BERT LESTON TAYLOR + + + When the sirup's on the flapjack and the coffee's in the pot; + When the fly is in the butter--where he'd rather be than not; + When the cloth is on the table, and the plates are on the cloth; + When the salt is in the shaker and the chicken's in the broth; + When the cream is in the pitcher and the pitcher's on the tray, + And the tray is on the sideboard when it isn't on the way; + When the rind is on the bacon, and likewise upon the cheese, + Then I somehow feel inspired to do a lot of rhymes like these. + + + + +_A NEW and Entirely Up-to-Date DICTIONARY_ + +The Funk & Wagnalls + +DESK STANDARD DICTIONARY + +This entirely new work, which is the most recent of the abridgments from +the New Standard Dictionary, _describes_ and _explains 80,000 words_, +_phrases_, and _topics of interest_. + +It is a special handy-sized dictionary designed particularly for desk +use in the office, the college, the study, and for handy reference on +the library table. + +Its vocabulary is sufficiently inclusive to cover all words that may be +met with in study or in reading. + +Every term has its _own alphabetical place_ in the main vocabulary--no +confusing appendix. + +It contains more than 6,000 discriminating articles and groups of +Synonyms, occupying 11,700 lines--2,000 more than any other dictionary +of the same size. There are 1,200 Pictorial Illustrations. + +"Of uncommon usefulness and convenience." + --_St. Louis Republic._ + +_Price Cloth, $1.50, net. With Thumb-Notch Index, 30 +Cents Extra. Half Leather, Indexed, $2.25, net_ + +FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers +NEW YORK and LONDON + + + + +_A New Creation From Cover To Cover_ + +THE FUNK & WAGNALLS + +NEW + +Standard Dictionary + +Completed after nearly four years of time and almost a million and a +half of dollars had been spent in its production. The work of over 380 +Editors and Specialists. Has about 3,000 pages; more than 7,000 +illustrations; contains over 450,000 living vocabulary terms--more than +125,000 of these being new; has dozens of important features not found +in any other work; and is as far ahead of the old Standard as that was +ahead of every other dictionary twenty years ago. + +_The Superlative Achievement in Lexicography_ + +UNITED STATES DEPT. 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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 VIII (of X) + +Author: Various + +Editor: Marshall P. Wilder + +Release Date: January 26, 2008 [EBook #24432] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WIT AND HUMOR *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Annie McGuire, Brian Janes +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h4>Library Edition</h4> + +<h2>THE WIT AND HUMOR OF AMERICA</h2> + +<h4>In Ten Volumes</h4> + +<h4>VOL. VIII</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 349px;"> +<img src="images/gs004.jpg" width="349" height="500" alt="ROBERT J. BURDETTE" title="" /> +<span class="caption">ROBERT J. BURDETTE</span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>THE WIT AND HUMOR OF AMERICA</h1> + +<h2>EDITED BY MARSHALL P. WILDER</h2> + +<h2><i>Volume VIII</i></h2> + +<h4>Funk & Wagnalls Company<br />New York and London<br /></h4> + +<h4>Copyright MDCCCCVII, BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY</h4> +<h4>Copyright MDCCCCXI, THE THWING COMPANY</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<table summary="Contents" border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0"> +<tbody><tr><td colspan="3" align="right">PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Boston Ballad, A.</td><td align='left'>Walt Whitman</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1479">1479</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Branch Library, A.</td><td align='left'>James Montgomery Flagg</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1446">1446</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Chief Mate, The</td><td align='left'>James Russell Lowell</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1482">1482</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Columbia and the Cowboy</td><td align='left'>Alice MacGowan</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1582">1582</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Daniel Come to Judgment, A</td><td align='left'>Edmund Vance Cooke</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1399">1399</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Darius Green and His Flying Machine</td><td align='left'>J. T. Trowbridge</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1539">1539</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"Day is Done, The"</td><td align='left'>Phœbe Cary</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1628">1628</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Dictum Sapienti</td><td align='left'>John Paul</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1624">1624</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Duluth Speech, The</td><td align='left'>J. Proctor Knott</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1606">1606</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Enchanted Hat, The</td><td align='left'>Harold MacGrath</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1510">1510</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Eve's Daughter</td><td align='left'>Edward Rowland Sill</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1605">1605</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Fate</td><td align='left'>R. K. Munkittrick</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1554">1554</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Final Choice, The</td><td align='left'>Edmund Vance Cooke</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1427">1427</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Forbearance of the Admiral, The</td><td align='left'>Wallace Irwin</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1553">1553</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Gentle Art of Boosting, The</td><td align='left'>John Kendrick Bangs</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1575">1575</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Girl and the Julep, The</td><td align='left'>Emerson Hough</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1401">1401</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Grandfather Squeers</td><td align='left'>James Whitcomb Riley</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1571">1571</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Guest at the Ludlow</td><td align='left'>Bill Nye</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1503">1503</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Hard</td><td align='left'>Tom Masson</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1625">1625</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Hon. Ranson Peabody</td><td align='left'>George Ade</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1429">1429</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Icarus</td><td align='left'>John G. Saxe</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1493">1493</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Is it I?</td><td align='left'>Warwick S. Price</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1447">1447</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Johnny's Lessons</td><td align='left'>Carroll Watson Rankin</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1570">1570</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Kaiser's Farewell to Prince Henry</td><td align='left'>Bert Leston Taylor</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1568">1568</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Life Elixir of Marthy, The</td><td align='left'>Elizabeth Hyer Neff</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1555">1555</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Litigation</td><td align='left'>Bill Arp</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1533">1533</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mr. Carteret and His Fellow</td><td align='left'></td><td align='left'></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> Americans Abroad</td><td align='left'>David Gray</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1462">1462</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Mr. Dooley on Golf</td><td align='left'>Finley Peter Dunne</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1630">1630</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Niagara be Dammed</td><td align='left'>Wallace Irwin</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1551">1551</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Not According to Schedule</td><td align='left'>Mary Stewart Cutting</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1448">1448</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Nothing to Wear</td><td align='left'>William Allen Butler</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1435">1435</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>One of the Palls</td><td align='left'>Doane Robinson</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1601">1601</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Paper: A Poem</td><td align='left'>Benjamin Franklin</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1548">1548</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Road to a Woman's Heart, The</td><td align='left'>Sam Slick</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1487">1487</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sceptics, The</td><td align='left'>Bliss Carman</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1626">1626</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Staccato to O Le Lupe, A</td><td align='left'>Bliss Carman</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1499">1499</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Table Manners</td><td align='left'>James Montgomery Flagg</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1400">1400</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>V-A-S-E, The</td><td align='left'>James Jeffrey Roche</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1603">1603</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Vive la Bagatelle</td><td align='left'>Clinton Scollard</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1497">1497</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>When the Sirup's on the Flapjack</td><td align='left'>Bert Leston Taylor</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1634">1634</a></td></tr> +</tbody></table></div> + +<h3>COMPLETE INDEX AT THE END OF VOLUME X.</h3> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1399" id="Page_1399">[Pg 1399]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_DANIEL_COME_TO_JUDGMENT1" id="A_DANIEL_COME_TO_JUDGMENT1"></a>A DANIEL COME TO JUDGMENT<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY EDMUND VANCE COOKE</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now, everything that Russell did, he did his best to hasten,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And one day he decided that he'd like to be a Mason;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But nothing else would suit him, and nothing less would please,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But he must take, and all at once, the thirty-three degrees.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So he rode the—ah, that is, he crossed the—I can't tell;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You either must not know at all, or else know very well.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He dived in—well, well, never mind! It only need be said</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That somewhere in the last degree poor Russell dropped down dead.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They arrested all the Masons, and they stayed in durance vile</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till the jury found them guilty, when the Judge said, with a smile,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I'm forced to let the prisoners go, for I can find," said he,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"No penalty for murder in the thirty-third degree!"</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1400" id="Page_1400">[Pg 1400]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TABLE_MANNERS2" id="TABLE_MANNERS2"></a>TABLE MANNERS<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY JAMES MONTGOMERY FLAGG</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When you turn down your glass, it's a sign</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That you're not going to take any wign.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">So turn down your plate</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When they serve things you hate,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And you'll often be asked out to dign.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1401" id="Page_1401">[Pg 1401]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_GIRL_AND_THE_JULEP" id="THE_GIRL_AND_THE_JULEP"></a>THE GIRL AND THE JULEP</h2> + +<h3>BY EMERSON HOUGH</h3> + +<p>In the warm sun of the southern morning the great plantation lay as +though half-asleep, dozing and blinking at the advancing day. The +plantation house, known in all the country side as the Big House, rested +calm and self-confident in the middle of a wide sweep of cleared lands, +surrounded immediately by dark evergreens and the occasional primeval +oaks spared in the original felling of the forest. Wide and rambling +galleries of one height or another crawled partially about the expanses +of the building, and again paused, as though weary of the attempt to +circumvent it. The strong white pillars, rising from the ground floor +straight to the third story, shone white and stately, after the old +Southern fashion, that Grecian style, simplified and made suitable to +provincial purses by those Adams brothers of old England who first set +the fashion in early American architecture. White-coated, with wide, +cool, green blinds, with ample and wide-doored halls, and deep, low +windows, the Big House, here in the heart of the warm southland, was +above all things suited to its environment. It was all so safe and sure +that there was no need for anxiety. Life here was as it had been for +generations, even for the generation following the upheaval of the Civil +War.</p> + +<p>But if this were a kingdom apart and self-sufficient, what meant this +thing which crossed the head of the plantation—this double line, +tenacious and continuous, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1402" id="Page_1402">[Pg 1402]</a></span> shone upon the one hand dark, and upon +the other, where the sun touched it, a cold gray in color? What meant +this squat little building at the side of these rails which reached on +out straight as the flight of a bird across the clearing and vanished +keenly in the forest wall? This was the road of the iron rails. It clung +close to the ground, at times almost sinking into the embankment now +grown scarcely discernible among the concealing grass and weeds, +although the track itself had been built but recently. This railroad +sought to efface itself, even as the land sought to aid in its +effacement, as though neither believed that this was lawful spot for it. +One might say it made a blot upon this picture of the morning.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it seemed thus to the tall young girl who now stood upon its +long gallery, her tangle of high-rolled, red-brown hair held back by the +hand which half shaded her eyes as she looked out discontentedly over +the familiar scene. Miss Lady—for thus she was christened by the Big +House servants; and she bore well the title—frowned now as she tapped a +little foot upon the gallery floor. Perhaps it was not so much what she +saw as what she did not see that made Miss Lady discontented, for this +white rim of the forest bounded the world for her; yet after all, youth +and the morning do not conspire with discontent. A moment more, light, +fleet of foot, Miss Lady fled down the gallery steps, through the gate +and out along the garden walk. Beyond the yard fence she was greeted +riotously by a score of dogs and puppies, long since her friends and +devoted admirers; as, indeed, were all dwellers, dumb or human, +thereabout.</p> + +<p>Had Miss Lady, or any observer, looked from the gallery off to the +southward and down the railway track, there might thus have been +discovered two figures just emerging from the rim of the forest +something like a mile<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1403" id="Page_1403">[Pg 1403]</a></span> away; and these might have been seen growing +slowly more distinct, as they plodded up the railway track toward the +Big House. Presently they might have been discovered to be a man and a +woman; the former tall, thin, dark and stooped; his companion, tall as +himself, quite as thin, and almost as bent. The garb of the man was +nondescript, neutral, loose; his hat dark and flapping. The woman wore a +shapeless calico gown, and on her head was a long, telescopic sunbonnet +of faded pink, from which she must perforce peer forward, looking +neither to the right nor to the left.</p> + +<p>The travelers, indeed, needed not to look to the right or the left, for +the path of the iron rails led them directly on. They did not step to +the gallery, did not knock at the door, or, indeed, give any evidences +of their intentions, but seated themselves deliberately upon a pile of +boards that lay near in the broad expanse of the front yard. Here they +remained, silent and at rest, fitting well enough into the sleepy scene. +No one in the house noticed them for a time, and they, tired by the +walk, seemed willing to rest under the shade of the evergreens before +making known their errand. They sat speechless and content for several +moments, until finally a mulatto house-servant, passing from one +building to another, cast a look in their direction, and paused +uncertainly in curiosity. The man on the board-pile saw her.</p> + +<p>"Here, Jinny! Jinny!" he called, just loud enough to be heard, and not +turning toward her more than half-way. "Come here."</p> + +<p>"Yessah," said the girl, and slowly approached.</p> + +<p>"Get us a little melk, Jinny," said the speaker. "We're plumb out o' +melk down home."</p> + +<p>"Yessah," said Jinny, and disappeared leisurely, to be gone perhaps half +an hour.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1404" id="Page_1404">[Pg 1404]</a></span></p> + +<p>There remained little sign of life on the board-pile, the bonnet tube +pointing fixedly toward the railway station, the man now and then slowly +shifting one leg across the other, but staring out at nothing, his lower +lip drooping laxly. When the servant finally brought back the milk-pail +and placed it beside him, he gave no word of thanks. To all appearances, +he was willing to wait here indefinitely, forgetful of the pail of milk, +toward which the sun was creeping ominously close. The way back home +seemed long and weary at that moment. His lip drooped still more laxly, +as he sat looking out vaguely.</p> + +<p>Not so calm seemed his consort, she of the sunbonnet. Restored to some +extent by her tarrying in the shade, she began to shift and hitch about +uneasily upon the board-pile. At length she leaned a bit to one side, +reached into a pocket and taking out a snuff-stick and a parcel of its +attendant compound, began to take a "dip" of snuff, after the habit of +certain of the population of that region. This done, she turned with a +swift jerk of the head, bringing to bear the tube of her bonnet in full +force upon her lord and master.</p> + +<p>"Jim Bowles," she said, "this here is a shame! Hit's a plumb shame!"</p> + +<p>There was no answer, save an uneasy hitch on the part of the person so +addressed. He seemed to feel the focus of the sunbonnet boring into his +system. The voice in the bonnet went on, shot straight toward him, so +that he might not escape.</p> + +<p>"It's a plumb shame," said Mrs. Bowles again.</p> + +<p>"I know it, I know it," said her husband at length, uneasily. "But, now, +Sar' Ann, how kin I help it? The cow's daid and I kain't help it, and +that's all about it. My God, woman!"—this with sudden energy,—"do you +think I kin bring a cow to life that's been killed by the old rail<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1405" id="Page_1405">[Pg 1405]</a></span>road +kyahs? I ain't no 'vangelist. It ain't my fault old Muley got killed."</p> + +<p>"Ain't yore fault!"</p> + +<p>"No, it ain't my fault. Whut am I going to do? I kaint get no otheh cow +right now, and I done tol' you so. You reckon cows grows on bushes?"</p> + +<p>"Grows on bushes!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, or that they comes for nuthin'?"</p> + +<p>"Comes for nuthin'!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Sar' Ann, that's whut I said. I tell you, it ain't so fur to come, +ain't so fur up here, if you take it easy; only three mile. And Cunnel +Blount'll give us melk as long as we want. I reckon he would give us a +cow, too, if I ast him. I s'pose I could pay him out o' the next crop, +if they wasn't so many things that has to be paid out'n the crop. It's +too blame bad 'bout Muley." He scratched his head thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes," responded his spouse, "Muley was a heap better cow then you'll +ever git agin. Why, she gave two quo'ts o' melk the very mornin' she was +done killed, two quo'ts. I reckon we didn't have to walk no three mile +that mornin', did we? And she that kin' and gentle like—oh, we ain't +goin' to git no new cow like Muley, no time right soon, I want to tell +you that, Jim Bowles."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, I know all that," said her husband, conciliatingly, a +trifle easier now that the sunbonnet was for the moment turned aside. +"That's all true, mighty true. But what kin you <i>do</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Do? Why, do <i>somethin'</i>! Somebody sho' ought to suffer for this here. +This new-fangled railroad a-comin' through here, a-killing things an' +a-killing <i>folks</i>! Why, Bud Sowers said just the other week he heard of +three darkies gittin' killed in one bunch down to Allenville. They +standin' on the track, jes' talkin' and visitin' like.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1406" id="Page_1406">[Pg 1406]</a></span> Didn't notice +nuthin'. Didn't notice the train a-comin'. 'Biff!' says Bud; an' thah +was them darkies."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Bowles, "that's the way it was with Muley. She just walk +up out'n the cane, and stan' thah in the sun on ther track, to sort o' +look aroun' whah she could see free for a little ways. Then, 'long comes +the railroad train, an' biff! Thah's Muley!"</p> + +<p>"Plumb daid."</p> + +<p>"Plumb daid."</p> + +<p>"And she a good cow fer us fer fo'teen yeahs. It don't look exactly +right, now, does it? It sho' don't."</p> + +<p>"It's a outrage, that's whut it is," said Sar' Ann Bowles.</p> + +<p>"Well, we got the railroad," said her husband, tentatively.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we got the railroad," said Sar' Ann Bowles, savagely, "and what +yearthly good is hit? Who wants any railroad? Why, all the way here this +mornin', I was skeered every foot of the way, afearin' that there ingine +was goin' to come along an' kill us both!"</p> + +<p>"Sho! Sar' Ann," said her husband, with superiority. "It ain't time for +the train yit—leastwise I don't think it is." He looked about uneasily.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, Jim Bowles. One of them ingines might come 'long most +any time. It might creep up behine you, then, biff! Thah's Jim Bowles! +Whut use is the railroad, I'd like to know? I wouldn't be caught a +climbin' in one o' them thar kyars, not for big money. Supposin' it run +off the track?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, now," said her husband, "maybe it don't, always."</p> + +<p>"But supposin' it <i>did</i>?" The front of the telescope turned toward him +suddenly, and so burning was the focus this time that Mr. Bowles shifted +his seat, and took refuge upon another board at the other end of the +board-pile, out of range.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1407" id="Page_1407">[Pg 1407]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Whut made you vote for this yere railroad?" said Sarah Ann, following +him mercilessly with the bonnet tube. "We didn't want no railroad. We +never did have one, and we never ought to a-had one. You listen to me; +that railroad is goin' to ruin this country. Th' ain't a woman in these +yeah bottoms but would be skeered to have a baby grow up in her house. +Supposin' you got a baby; nice little baby, never did harm no one. You +a-cookin' or somethin'—out to the smoke-house, like enough; baby alone +for about two minutes. Baby crawls out on to the railroad track. Along +comes the ingine, an' biff! Thah's baby!" Mrs. Bowles shed tears at this +picture which she had conjured up, and even her less imaginative consort +became visibly affected, so that for a moment he half-straightened up.</p> + +<p>"Well, I dunno," said he, vaguely, and sighed softly; all of which +irritated Mrs. Bowles to such an extent that she flounced suddenly +around to get a better gaze upon her master. In this movement, her foot +struck the pail of milk which had been sitting near, and overturned it.</p> + +<p>"Jinny," she called out, "you, Jinny!"</p> + +<p>"Yassam," replied Jinny, from some place on the gallery.</p> + +<p>"Come here," said Mrs. Bowles. "Git me another pail o' melk. I done +spilled this one."</p> + +<p>"Yassam," replied Jinny, and presently returned with the refilled +vessel.</p> + +<p>"Well, anyway," said Jim Bowles at length, rising and standing with +hands in pockets, inside the edge of the shade line of the evergreens, +"I heard that there was a man came down through yere a few days ago. He +was sort of taking count of the critters that done got killed by the +railroad kyahs."</p> + +<p>"That so?" said Sarah Ann, somewhat mollified.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1408" id="Page_1408">[Pg 1408]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I reckon so," said Jim Bowles. "I 'lowed I'd ast Cunnel Blount here at +the Big House, about that some time. O' course it don't bring Muley +back, but then—"</p> + +<p>"No, hit don't," said Sarah Ann, resuming her original position. "And +our little Sim, he just loved that Muley cow, little Sim, he did. Say, +Jim Bowles, do you heah me!"—this with a sudden flirt of the sunbonnet +in an agony of actual fear. "Why, Jim Bowles, do you know that our +little Sim might be a playin', out thah in front of ouah house, on to +that railroad track, at this very minute? S'pose, s'posen—'long comes +that there railroad train? Say, man, whut you standin' there in that +there shade fer? We got to go! We got to git home! Come right along this +minute, er we may be too late."</p> + +<p>And so, smitten by this sudden thought, they gathered themselves +together as best they might and started toward the railroad for their +return. Even as they did so there appeared upon the northern horizon a +wreath of smoke rising above the forest. There was the far-off sound of +a whistle, deadened by the heavy intervening vegetation; presently there +puffed into view one of the railroad trains, still new upon this region. +Iconoclastic, modern, strenuous, it wabbled unevenly over the new-laid +rails up to the station house, where it paused for a few moments ere it +resumed its wheezing way to the southward. The two visitors at the Big +House gazed at it open-mouthed for a time, until all at once her former +thought crossed the woman's mind. She turned upon her husband.</p> + +<p>"Thar hit goes! Thar hit goes!" she cried. "Right on straight to our +house! Hit kaint miss hit! And little Sim, he's sure to be playin' out +thah on the track. Oh, he's daid right this minute, he shorely is!"</p> + +<p>Her speech exercised a certain force upon Jim Bowles.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1409" id="Page_1409">[Pg 1409]</a></span> He stepped on the +faster, tripped upon a clod and stumbled, spilling half the milk from +the pail.</p> + +<p>"Thah, now," said he. "Thah hit goes agin. Done spilled the melk. Well, +hit's too far back to the house now fer mo'. But, now, mabbe Sim wasn't +playin' on the track."</p> + +<p>"Mabbe he wasn't!" said Sarah Ann scornfully. "Why, <i>o' course</i> he was."</p> + +<p>"Well, if he was," said Jim Bowles, philosophically, "why, Sar' Ann, +from whut I done notice about this here railroad train, why—it's too +<i>late</i> now."</p> + +<p>He might perhaps have pursued this logical line of thought further, had +not there occurred an incident which brought the conversation to a +close. Looking up, the two saw approaching them across the lawn, +evidently coming from the little railway station, and doubtless +descended from this very train, the alert, quick-stepping figure of a +man evidently a stranger to the place. Jim and Sarah Ann Bowles stepped +to one side as he approached and lifted his hat with a pleasant smile.</p> + +<p>"Good morning," said the stranger. "It's a fine day, isn't it? Can you +tell me whether or not Colonel Blount is at home this morning?"</p> + +<p>"Well, suh," said Jim Bowles, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "he is, an' +he ain't. He's home, o' course; that is, he hain't gone away no whah, to +co'te er nothin'. But then ag'in he's out huntin', gone after b'ah. I +reckon he's likely to be in 'most any day now."</p> + +<p>"'Most any day?"</p> + +<p>"Yessah. You better go on up to the house."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said the stranger. "I am very much obliged to you, indeed. +I believe I'll wait here for just a little while. Good morning, sir. +Good morning, madam."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1410" id="Page_1410">[Pg 1410]</a></span></p> + +<p>He turned and walked slowly up the path toward the house, as the others +pursued their way to the railroad track, down which they presently were +plodding on their homeward journey. There was at least a little milk +left in the pail when finally they reached their small log cabin, with +its yard full of pigs and chickens. Eagerly they scanned the sides of +the railway embankment as they drew near, looking for signs of what they +feared to see. One need not describe the fierce joy with which Sarah Ann +Bowles fell upon little Sim, who was presently discovered, safe and +dirty, knocking about on the kitchen floor in abundant company of +puppies, cats and chickens.</p> + +<p>"I knowed he would be killed," said Sarah Ann.</p> + +<p>"But he <i>hain't</i>," said her husband, triumphantly. And for one time in +their married life there seemed to be no possible way in which she might +contradict him, which fact for her constituted a situation somewhat +difficult.</p> + +<p>"Well, it hain't yore fault ef he hain't," said she at length.</p> + +<p>The new-comer at the Big House was a well-looking figure enough as he +advanced up the path toward the white-pillared galleries. In height just +above middle stature, and of rather spare habit of body, alert, compact +and vigorous, he carried himself with a self-respect redeemed from +aggressiveness by an open candor of face and the pleasant forthright +gaze of a kindly blue-gray eye. In spite of a certain gravity of mien, +his eyes seemed wont to smile upon occasions, as witnessed divers little +wrinkles at the corners. A hurried observer might have guessed his age +within ten years, but might have been wrong upon either side, and might +have had an equal difficulty in classifying his residence or occupation. +It was evident that he was not ill at ease in this environment; for as +he met coming around the corner an old colored<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1411" id="Page_1411">[Pg 1411]</a></span> man, who, with a rag in +one hand and a bottle in the other, seemed intent upon some errand at +the dog kennel beyond, he paused not in query or salutation, but tossed +his umbrella to the servant and at the same time handed him his +traveling-bag. "Take care of these, Bill," said he.</p> + +<p>Bill, for that was indeed his name, placed the bag and umbrella upon a +gallery floor, and with the air of owning the place himself, invited the +visitor to enter.</p> + +<p>"The Cunnel's not to home, suh," said Bill. "But you better come in and +sed-down. I'll go call the folks."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said the visitor. "I reckon I'll just walk around a little +outside. I hear Colonel Blount is off on a bear hunt."</p> + +<p>"Yassah," said Bill. "An' when he goes he mostly gets b'ah. I'm right +'spondent dis time, though, 'deed I is, suh."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Why, you see, suh," replied Bill, leaning comfortably back against a +gallery post. "It's dis-a-way. I'm just gwine out to fix up Old Hec's +foot. He's ouah bestest b'ah dog, but he got so blame biggoty, las' time +he was out, stuck his foot right intoe a ba'h's mouth. Now, Hec's lef' +home, an' me lef' home to 'ten' to Hec. How kin Cunnel Blount git any +b'ah widout me an' Hec along? I'se right 'spondent, dat's whut I is."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, that's too bad," said the stranger, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Too bad? I reckon it sho' is. Fer, if Cunnel Blount don't get no +b'ah—look out den, <i>I</i> kin tell you."</p> + +<p>"Gets his dander up, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Dandah—dandah! You know him? Th' ain't no better boss, but ef he goes +out huntin' b'ah and don't get no <i>b'ah</i>—why, den dey ain't no reason +gwine <i>do</i> foh him.</p> + +<p>"Now, when you see Cunnel Blount come home, he'll<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1412" id="Page_1412">[Pg 1412]</a></span> come up along dat +lane, him an' de dogs, an' dem no 'count niggers he done took 'long with +him; an' when he gits up to whah de lane crosses de railroad track, ef +he come' ridin' 'long easy like, now an' den tootin' his hawn to sort o' +let us know he's a-comin'—ef he do dat-a-way, dat's all right,—dat's +all right." Here the garrulous old servant shook his head. "But ef he +don't—well den—"</p> + +<p>"That's bad, if he doesn't, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yessah. Ef he don' come a-blowin' an' ef he <i>do</i> come <i>a-singin</i>', den +look out! I allus did notice dat ef Cunnel Blount 'gins to sing 'ligious +hymns, somethin's wrong, and somethin' gwine ter drap. He hain't right +easy ter git 'long wif when he's a-singin'. But if you'll 'scuse me, +suh, I got ter take care o' Hec. Jest make yourself to home, +suh,—anyways you like."</p> + +<p>The visitor contented himself with wandering about the yard, until at +length he seated himself on the board-pile beneath the evergreen trees, +and so sank into an idle reverie, his chin in his hand, and his eyes +staring out across the wide field. He sat thus for some time, and the +sun was beginning to encroach upon his refuge, when suddenly he was +aroused by the faint and far-off sound of a hunting-horn. That the +listener distinguished it at such a distance might have argued that he +himself had known hound and saddle in his day; yet he readily caught the +note of the short hunting-horn universally used by the Southern hunters, +and recognized the assembly call for the hunting-pack. As it came near, +all the dogs in the kennel yards heard it and raged to escape from their +confinement. Old Bill came hobbling around the corner. Steps were heard +on the gallery. The visitor's face showed a slight uneasiness as he +caught a glance of a certain spot now suddenly made alive by the flutter +of a soft gown and the flash of a bunch of scarlet ribbons. Thither<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1413" id="Page_1413">[Pg 1413]</a></span> he +gazed as directly as he might under these circumstances, but the girl +was gone before he had opportunity even to rise and remove his hat.</p> + +<p>"That's her. That's Miss Lady," said Bill to his new friend, in a low +voice. "Han'somest gal in the hull Delta. They'll all be right glad ter +see the Cunnel back. He's got a b'ah shore, fer he's comin' a-blowin'."</p> + +<p>Bill's joy was not long-lived, for even as the little cavalcade came in +view, a tall figure on a chestnut hunting horse riding well in advance, +certain colored stragglers coming behind, and the party-colored pack +trotting or limping along on all sides, the music of the summoning horn +suddenly ceased. Looking neither to the right nor to the left, the +leader of the hunt rode on up the lane, sitting loose and careless in +the saddle, his right hand steadying a short rifle across the saddle +front. He rode thus until presently those at the Big House heard, softly +rising on the morning air, the chant of an old church hymn: "On Jordan's +strand I'll take my stand, An-n-n—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lawd," exclaimed Bill. "Dat's his very wustest chune!"—saying +which he dodged around the corner of the house.</p> + +<p>Turning in from the lane at the yard gate, Colonel Calvin Blount and his +retinue rode close up to the side door of the plantation house; but even +here the master vouchsafed no salutation to those who awaited his +coming. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, lean and muscular; yet so +far from being thin and dark, he was spare rather from physical exercise +than through gaunt habit of body; his complexion was ruddy and +sun-colored, and the long mustache hanging across his jaws showed a deep +mahogany-red. Western ranchman one might have called him, rather than +Southern planter. Scotch-Irish, generations back, perhaps, yet Southern +always, and by birth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1414" id="Page_1414">[Pg 1414]</a></span>right American, he might have been a war-lord of +another land and day. No feudal baron ever dismounted with more +assuredness at his own hall, to toss careless rein to a retainer. He +stood now, tall and straight, a trifle rough-looking in his careless +planter's dress, but every inch the master. A slight frown puckered up +his forehead, giving to his face an added hint of sternness.</p> + +<p>Colonel Blount busied himself with directions as to the horses and dogs. +The latter came straggling along in groups or pairs or singly, some of +them hobbling on three legs, many showing bitter wounds. The chase of +the great bear had proved stern pastime for them. Of half a hundred +hounds which had started, not two-thirds were back again, and many of +these would be unfit for days for the resumption of their savage trade. +None the less, as the master sounded again, loud and clear, the call for +the assembly, all the dogs about the place, young and old, homekeepers +and warriors, came pouring in with heads uplifted, each pealing out his +sweet and mournful music. Blount spoke to dozens of them, calling each +by its proper name.</p> + +<p>In the confusion of the disbandment of the hunt, the master of the Big +House had as yet hardly had time to look about him, but now, as the +conclave scattered he found himself alone, and turning discovered the +occupant of the board-pile, who arose and advanced, offering his hand.</p> + +<p>"This is Colonel Blount, I presume," said he.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, that's my name. I beg your pardon, I'm sure, but I didn't +know you were there. Come right on into the house and sit down, sir. +Now, your name was—?"</p> + +<p>"Eddring," said the new-comer. "John Eddring. I am just down on the +morning's train from the city."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1415" id="Page_1415">[Pg 1415]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm right glad to see you, Mr. Eddring," said Colonel Blount, extending +his hand. The two, without plan, wandered over toward the shade of the +evergreen, and presently seated themselves at the board-pile.</p> + +<p>"Well, Colonel Blount," said the visitor, "I reckon you must have had a +good hunt."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, there ain't a ba'h in the Delta can get away from those dogs. +We run this fellow straight on end for ten miles; put him across the +river twice, and all around the Black Bayou, but the dogs kept him hot +all the time, I'm telling you, for more than five miles through the cane +beyond the bayou."</p> + +<p>"Who got the shot, Colonel?" asked Eddring—a question apparently most +unwelcome.</p> + +<p>"Well, I ought to have had it," said Blount, with a frown of +displeasure. "The fact is, I did take a flying chance from horseback, +when the ba'h ran by in the cane half a mile back of where they killed +him. Somehow I must have missed. But man! you ought to have heard that +pack for two hours through the woods. It certainly would have raised +your hair straight up. You ever hunt ba'h, sir?"</p> + +<p>"A little, once in a while, when I have had the time. You see, a +railroad man can't always choose."</p> + +<p>"Railroad man?" said Colonel Blount. A sudden gloom fell upon his ruddy +face. "Railroad man, eh? Well, I wish you was something else. Now, I +helped get that railroad through this country—if it hadn't been for me, +they never could have laid a mile of track through here. But now, do you +know what they done did to me the other day, with their damned old +railroad?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, I haven't heard."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll tell you—Bill! Oh, <i>Bill</i>! Go into the house and get me +some ice; and go pick some mint and bring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1416" id="Page_1416">[Pg 1416]</a></span> it here to this gentleman and +me—Say, do you know what that railroad did? Why, it just killed the +best filly on my plantation, my best running stock, too. Now, I was the +man to help get that railroad through the Delta, and I—"</p> + +<p>"Well, now, Colonel Blount," said the other, "the road isn't a bad sort +of thing for you all down here, after all. It relieves you of the river +market, and it gives you a double chance to get out your cotton. You +don't have to haul your cotton twelve miles back to the boat any more. +Here is your station right at your door, and you can load on the cars +any day you want to."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right, that's all right. But how about this killing of +my stock?"</p> + +<p>"Well, that's so," said the other, facing the point and ruminatingly +biting a splinter between his teeth. "It does look as if we had killed +about everything loose in the whole Delta during the last month or so."</p> + +<p>"Are you on this railroad?" asked Blount suddenly.</p> + +<p>"I reckon I'll have to admit that I am," said the other, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Passenger agent, or something of that sort, I reckon? Well, let me tell +you, you change your road. Say, there was a man down below here last +week settling up claims—Bill! Ah-h, <i>Bill</i>! Where've you gone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Eddring, "it certainly did seem that when we built this road +every cow and every nigger, not to mention a lot of white folks, made a +bee-line straight for our right of way. Why, sir, it was a solid line of +cows and niggers from Memphis to New Orleans. How could you blame an +engineer if he run into something once in a while? He couldn't <i>help</i> +it."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Now, do you know what this claim-settler, or this claim-agent man +did? Why, he paid a man down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1417" id="Page_1417">[Pg 1417]</a></span> below here two stations—what do you think +he paid him for as fine a heifer as ever eat cane? Why, fifteen +dollars!"</p> + +<p>"Fifteen dollars!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, fifteen dollars."</p> + +<p>"That looks like a heap of money for a heifer, doesn't it, Colonel +Blount?"</p> + +<p>"A heap of money? Why, no. Heap of <i>money</i>? Why, what do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Heifers didn't bring that before the road came through. Why, you would +have had to drive that heifer twenty-five miles before you could get a +market, and then she wouldn't have brought over twelve dollars. Now, +fifteen dollars, seems to me, is about right."</p> + +<p>"Well, let the heifer go. But there was a cow killed three miles below +here the other day. Neighbors of mine. I reckon that claim agent +wouldn't want to allow any more than fifteen dollars for Jim Bowles' +cow, neither."</p> + +<p>"Maybe not."</p> + +<p>"Well, never mind about the cow, either; but look here. A nigger lost +his wife down there, killed by these steam kyars—looks like the niggers +get <i>fascinated</i> by them kyars. But here's Bill coming at last. Now, Mr. +Eddring, we'll just make a little julep. Tell me, how do you make a +julep, sir?"</p> + +<p>Eddring hitched a little nearer on the board-pile. "Well, Colonel +Blount," said he, "in our family we used to have an old silver mug—sort +of plain mug, you know, few flowers around the edge of it—been in the +family for years. Now, you take a mug like that and let it lie in the +ice box all the time, and when you take it out, it's sort of got a white +frost all over it. Now, my old daddy, he would take this mug and put +some fine ice into it,—not too fine. Then he'd take a little cut loaf +sugar, in another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1418" id="Page_1418">[Pg 1418]</a></span> glass, and he'd mash it up in a little water—not too +much water—then he'd pour that in over the ice. Then he would pour in +some good corn whisky, till all the interstices of that ice were filled +plumb up; then he'd put some mint—"</p> + +<p>"Didn't smash the mint? Say, he didn't smash the mint, did he?" said +Colonel Blount, eagerly, hitching over toward the speaker.</p> + +<p>"Smash it? I should say not, sir! Sometimes, at certain seasons of the +mint, he might just sort of take a twist at the leaf, to sort of release +a little of the flavor, you know. You don't want to be rough with mint. +Just twist it gently between the thumb and finger. Then you set it in +nicely around the edge of the glass. Sometimes just a little powder of +fine sugar around on top of the mint leaves, and then a straw—"</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Colonel Blount, gravely rising and taking off his hat, "you +are welcome to my home!"</p> + +<p>Eddring, with equal courtesy, arose and removed his own hat.</p> + +<p>"For my part," resumed Blount, judicially, "I rather lean to a piece of +cut glass, for the green and the crystal look mighty fine together. I +don't always make them with any sugar on top of the mint. But, you know, +just a circle of mint—not crushed—not crushed, mind you—just a green +ring of fragrance, so that you can bury your nose in it and forget your +troubles. Sir, allow me once more to shake your hand. I think I know a +gentleman when I see one."</p> + +<p>"A gentleman," said the other, smiling slightly. "Well, don't shake +hands with me yet, sir. I don't know. You see I'm a railroad man, and +I'm here on business."</p> + +<p>"Damn it, sir, if it was only your description of a julep, if it was +only your mention of that old family silver<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1419" id="Page_1419">[Pg 1419]</a></span> mug, devoted to that sacred +purpose, sir—that would be your certificate of character here. Forget +your business. Come down here and live with me. We'll go huntin' ba'h +together. Why, man, I'm mighty glad to make your acquaintance."</p> + +<p>"But wait," said Eddring, "there may be two ways of looking at this."</p> + +<p>"Well, there's only one way of looking at a julep," said Blount, "and +that's down a straw. Now, I'll show you how we make them down here in +the Sunflower country.</p> + +<p>"But, as I as a-sayin'"—and here Blount set down the glasses midway in +his compounding, and went on with his interrupted proposition,—"now +here was that nigger that lost his wife. Of course he had a whole flock +of children. Now, what do you think that claim agent said he would pay +that nigger for his wife?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I—"</p> + +<p>"Well, but what do you <i>reckon</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I reckon about fifteen dollars."</p> + +<p>"That's it, that's it!" said Blount, slapping his hand upon the board +until the glasses jingled. "That's just what he did offer; fifteen +dollars! Not a cent more."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, Colonel Blount," said Eddring, "you know there's a heap of +mighty trifling niggers loose in this part of the world. You see, that +fellow would marry again in a little while, and he might get a heap +better woman next time. There's a lot of swapping wives among the +niggers at best. Now, here's a man lost his wife decent and respectable, +and there's nothing on earth a nigger likes better than a good funeral, +even if it has to be his own wife. Now, how many nigger funerals are +there that cost fifteen dollars? I'll bet you if that nigger had it to +do over again he'd a heap rather be rid of her and have the fifteen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1420" id="Page_1420">[Pg 1420]</a></span> +dollars. Look at it! Fine funeral for one wife and something left over +to get a bonnet for his new wife. I'll bet there isn't a nigger on your +place that wouldn't jump at a chance like that."</p> + +<p>Colonel Blount scratched his head. "You understand niggers all right, +I'll admit," said he. "But, now, supposin' it had been a white man?"</p> + +<p>"Well, supposing it was?"</p> + +<p>"We don't need to suppose. There was the same thing happened to a white +family. Wife got killed—left three children."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you mean that accident down at Shelby?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs. Something-or-other, she was. Well, sir, damn me, if that +infernal claim agent didn't have the face to offer fifteen dollars for +her, too."</p> + +<p>"Looks almost like he played a fifteen-dollar limit all the time, +doesn't it?" said the visitor.</p> + +<p>"It certainly does. It ain't right."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, I heard about that woman. She was a tall, thin creature, +with no liver left at all, and her chills came three times a week. She +wouldn't work; she was red-headed and had only one straight eye; and as +for a tongue—well, I only hope, Colonel Blount, that you and I will +never have a chance to meet anything like that. Of course, I know she +was killed. Her husband just hated her before she died, but blame <i>me</i>, +just as soon as she was <i>dead</i>, he loved her more than if she was his +sweetheart all over again. Now, that's how it goes. Say, I want to tell +you, Colonel Blount, this road is plumb beneficent, if only for the fact +that it develops human affection the way it does. Fifteen dollars! Why, +I tell you, sir, fifteen dollars was <i>more</i> than enough for that woman." +He turned indignantly on the board-pile.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1421" id="Page_1421">[Pg 1421]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I reckon," said Colonel Blount, "that you would say that about my +neighbor Jim Bowles' cow?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. I know about that cow, too. She was twenty years old and on +her last legs. Road kills her, and all at once she becomes a dream of +heifer loveliness. <i>I</i> know."</p> + +<p>"I reckon," said Colonel Blount, still more grimly; "I reckon if that +damned claim agent was to come here, he would just about say that +fifteen dollars was enough for my filly."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder. Now, look here, Colonel Blount. You see, I'm a +railroad man, and I'm able to see the other side of these things."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, all right," said Blount, "but that don't bring my filly back. +You can't get Himyah blood every day in the week. That filly would have +seen Churchill Downs in her day, if she had lived."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and if she had, you would have had to back her, wouldn't you? You +would have trained that filly and paid a couple of hundred for it. You +would have fitted her at the track and paid several hundred more. You +would have bet a couple of thousand, anyway, as a matter of principle, +and, like enough, you'd have lost it. Now, if this road paid you fifteen +dollars for that filly and saved you twenty-five hundred or three +thousand into the bargain, how ought you to feel about it? Are you +twenty-five hundred behind or fifteen ahead?"</p> + +<p>Colonel Calvin Blount had now feverishly finished his julep, and as the +other stopped, he placed his glass beside him on the board-pile and +swung a long leg across, so that he sat directly facing his enigmatical +guest. The latter, in the enthusiasm of his argument, swung into a +similar position, and so they sat, both hammering on the board between +them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1422" id="Page_1422">[Pg 1422]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I would like to see that damned claim agent offer me fifteen +dollars for that filly," said Blount. "I might take fifty, for the sake +of the road; but fifteen—"</p> + +<p>"Well, what would you do?"</p> + +<p>"Well, by God, sir, if I saw that claim agent—"</p> + +<p>"Well, by God, sir, <i>I'm</i> that claim agent; and I <i>do</i> offer you fifteen +dollars for that filly, right now!"</p> + +<p>"What! You—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, me!"</p> + +<p>"Fifteen dollars!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, fifteen dollars."</p> + +<p>Colonel Blount burst into a sudden song—"On <i>Jor</i>dan's strand I'll +<i>take</i> my stand!" he began.</p> + +<p>"It's all she's worth," interrupted the claim agent.</p> + +<p>Blount fairly gasped. "Do you mean to tell me," said he, in forced calm, +"that you are this claim agent?"</p> + +<p>"I have told you. That's the way I make my living. That's my duty."</p> + +<p>"Your duty to give me fifteen dollars for a Himyah filly?"</p> + +<p>"I said fifteen."</p> + +<p>"And I said fifty."</p> + +<p>"You don't get it."</p> + +<p>"I don't, eh? Say, my friend"—Blount pushed the glasses away, his +choler rising at the temerity of this, the only man who in many a year +had dared to confront him. "You look here. Write me a check for fifty; +an' write it now." With a sudden whip of his hand he reached behind him. +Like a flash he pulled a long revolver from its holster. Eddring gazed +into the round aperture of the muzzle and certain surrounding apertures +of the cylinder. "Write me a check," said Blount, slowly, "and write it +for fifty. I may tear it up when I get it—I don't care fifty cents for +it—but you write it!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1423" id="Page_1423">[Pg 1423]</a></span></p> + +<p>The eyes of the two met, and which were the braver man it had been hard +to tell. Neither flinched. Eddring returned a gaze as direct as that +which he received. The florid face back of the barrel held a gleam of +half-admiration at witnessing his deliberation. The claim agent's eye +did not falter.</p> + +<p>"You said fifty dollars, Colonel Blount," said he, just a suggestion of +a smile at the corner of his mouth. "Don't you think there has been a +slight misunderstanding between us two? If you are so blamed particular +and really <i>want</i> a check for fifty, why, here it is." He busied himself +a moment, and passed over a strip of paper. Even as he did so, the ire +of Colonel Blount cooled as suddenly as it had gained warmth. A sudden +contrition sat on his face, and he crowded the paper into his pocket +with an air half shamed-faced.</p> + +<p>"Sir—Mr. Eddring—" he began, falteringly.</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you want? You've got your check, and you've got the +railroad. We've paid our little debt to you."</p> + +<p>"Sir," said Blount. "My friend—why, sir, here is your julep."</p> + +<p>"To hell with your julep, sir."</p> + +<p>"My friend," said Blount, flushing. "You serve me right. I am forgetting +my duties as a gentleman. I asked you into my house."</p> + +<p>"I'll see you damned first," said Eddring, hotly.</p> + +<p>"Right!" cried Blount, exultingly. "You're right. You are one of the +fighting Eddrings, sure as you're born. Why, sir, come on in. You +wouldn't punish the son of your uncle's friend, your own daddy's friend, +would you? Why, man, I know your folks—"</p> + +<p>But the ire of Eddring was now aroused. A certain smoldering fire, long +with difficulty suppressed, began to flame in spite of him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1424" id="Page_1424">[Pg 1424]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Bring me out a plate," said he, bitterly, "and let me eat on the +gallery. As you say, I am only a claim agent. Good God, man!" And then +of a sudden his wrath arose still higher. His own hand made a swift +motion. "Give me back that check," he said, and his extended hand +presented a weapon held steady as though supported by the limb of a +tree. "You didn't give me a fair show."</p> + +<p>"Well, by the eternal," half-whispered Colonel Calvin Blount to himself. +"Ain't he a fightin' chicken?"</p> + +<p>"Give it to me," demanded Eddring; and the other, astounded, humbled, +reached into his pocket and produced the paper.</p> + +<p>"I will give it to you, boy," said he, soberly, "and twenty like it, if +you'll forget all this and come into my house."</p> + +<p>"I will not, sir," said Eddring. "This was business, and you made it +personal."</p> + +<p>"Oh, business!" said Blount.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said John Eddring, "the world never understands when a fellow has +to choose between being a business man and a gentleman. I can't afford +to be a gentleman—"</p> + +<p>"And you are so much one, my son," said Calvin Blount, grimly, "that you +won't do anything but what you know is right. My friend, I won't ask you +in again, not any more, right now. But when you can, come again, sir, +some day. When you come right easy and pleasant, my son, why, you know I +want you."</p> + +<p>John Eddring's hard-set jaw relaxed, trembled, and he dared not commit +himself to speech. With a straight look into Colonel Blount's eyes, he +half turned away, and passed on down the path, Blount looking after him +more than half-yearningly.</p> + +<p>So intent, indeed, was the latter in his gaze upon the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1425" id="Page_1425">[Pg 1425]</a></span> receding figure +that he did not hear the swift rush of light feet on the gallery, nor +turn until Miss Lady stood before him. The girl swept him a deep +curtsey, spreading out the skirt of her biscuit-colored gown in mocking +deference of posture.</p> + +<p>"Please, Mr. Colonel," said she, "since he can't hear the dinner-bell, +would he be good enough to tell whether or not he will come in and eat? +Everything is growing cold; and I made the biscuits."</p> + +<p>Calvin Blount put out his hand, and a softer shade came upon his face. +"Oh, it is you, Miss Lady, is it?" said he. "Yes, I'm back home again. +And you made the biscuits, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I called to you several times," said Miss Lady. "Who is that gentleman +you are staring at? Why doesn't he come in and eat with us?"</p> + +<p>Colonel Blount turned slowly as Miss Lady tugged at his arm. "Who is +he?" he replied, half-musingly. "Who is he? You tell me. He refused to +eat in Calvin Blount's house; that's why he didn't come in, Miss Lady. +He says he's the cow coroner on the railroad; but I want to tell you, +he's the finest fellow and the nearest to a gentleman that ever struck +this country. That's what he is. I'm mighty troubled over his going +away."</p> + +<p>"Why, he didn't drink his julep!" said Miss Lady, severely.</p> + +<p>"No," said Blount, miserably.</p> + +<p>"And he hasn't any other place to eat," said Miss Lady, argumentatively.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"And he—he hasn't been introduced to me," said Miss Lady, conclusively.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Colonel Cal, call him!" said Miss Lady, decisively.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1426" id="Page_1426">[Pg 1426]</a></span></p> + +<p>Her words roused the old planter.</p> + +<p>"You—I say, Eddring; you, there! Come on back here! Forgot something!"</p> + +<p>In spite of himself—or was it in union with himself?—John Eddring +turned back, and at last stood hat in hand near to the others. A smile +softened the stern features of Colonel Blount as he pointed, +half-quizzically to the untasted julep on the board-pile.</p> + +<p>"Besides, Mr. Eddring," said he; "besides, you have not yet heard that +this young lady of ours, Miss Lady, here, helped make the dinner this +evenin'. Now, sir, I ask, will you come?"</p> + +<p>The same odd tremble caught the claim agent's lip, and he frowned to +pull himself out of his own weakness before he made reply. Miss Lady, +tall, well-rounded, dark-eyed, her ruff of red-brown hair thrown back, +stood looking at him, her hand clasped upon Blount's arm.</p> + +<p>Eddring bowed deeply. "Sir," he said, "it wasn't fair of you; but I +yield to your superior weapons!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1427" id="Page_1427">[Pg 1427]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_FINAL_CHOICE3" id="THE_FINAL_CHOICE3"></a>THE FINAL CHOICE<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY EDMUND VANCE COOKE</h3> + +<p class="center">"<i>Dark doubts between the promise and event.</i>"—<i>Young.</i></p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I rather thought that Alexander</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Would sound well at the font,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While mother much preferred Leander</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">For him who swam the Hellespont.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grandfather clamored for Uriah,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While grandma mentioned Obadiah.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then mother spoke of Clarence, Cyril,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And Reginald and Claude,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I thought none of them were virile</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Like some such name as Ichabod.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grandfather spoke for Jeremiah.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And grandma favored Azariah.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then Harold, Gerald, Donald, Luke,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And lordly Roderick</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Waged wordy war with Marmaduke</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And Bernard and Theodoric,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While grandpa hinted Zachariah</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And grandma thought of Hezekiah.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1428" id="Page_1428">[Pg 1428]</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We spoke of Gottlieb from the German,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of Gaius, Caius, Saul,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Andrew, François, Ivan, Herman,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of Caspar, Jasper, Peter, Paul.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still grandpa stuck for Nehemiah,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And grandma ventured Jedediah.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From Aaron down to Zeph we went,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But Fate is so contrary!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For after the august event</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The name we really chose was Mary!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though grandma much preferred Maria,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And grandpa rooted for Sophia.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1429" id="Page_1429">[Pg 1429]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HON_RANSOM_PEABODY" id="HON_RANSOM_PEABODY"></a>HON. RANSOM PEABODY</h2> + +<h3>BY GEORGE ADE</h3> + +<p class="center">The Fable of the Hoosier Bill of Fare and How the<br />Women Folks Cooked Up +Things for<br />the Well-known Citizen.</p> + +<p>Once upon a Time there was a Hired Hand who felt that he was cut out to +be Somebody. Among the Agriculturists he was said to be too dosh-burned +Toney because he wore gloves when he Toiled and on Sundays put on a slew +of Agony, with sheet-iron Shoes pointed at the End and a neat Derby +purchased in Terry Hut.</p> + +<p>Now this Freckled Swain, whose name was Ransom, wanted to hop on the +Inter-Reuben and go zipping away to see the Great World. He wanted to +live in a Big Town where he would not have to walk on the Ploughed +Ground and where he could get something Good to Eat. He was tired of the +plain Vittles out on the Farm. They very seldom had anything on the +Table except Chicken with Gravy, Salt-Rising Bread, Milk, seven or eight +Vegetables, Crulls, Cookies, Apple Butter, Whortleberry Pie, Light +Biscuit, Spare Ribs, Pig's Feet, Hickory Nut Cake and such like. This +thing of drawing up every A. M. to the same old Lay Out of home-made +Sausage, Buckwheat Cakes, Recent Eggs, Fried Mush and Mother's Coffee +was beginning to wear on him. Often he dreamt of being in the +Metropolis, where he could get an Oyster Stew, Sardines, and Ice Cream +in the Winter Time.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1430" id="Page_1430">[Pg 1430]</a></span></p> + +<p>At last his Dream came out of the Box. He went up to the City to attend +a Law School and found himself domiciled in a Refined Joint that was a +Cross between a Salon and a Beanery. It was one of those Regular Places +kept by a thin Lady who had once ridden in her Own Carriage. Her Long +Suit was Home Atmosphere. She had the Hall-Ways filled with it. What is +more, she came from an Old Family. Lord Cornwallis once stopped at their +House to get a Drink of Water and George Washington came very near +sleeping in one of the Bed-Rooms. So that made the Board about 50 cents +more on the Week.</p> + +<p>Like all high class Boarding Houses, it was infested by some Lovely +People. There was the girl who spelled it Edythe and was having her +voice done over. She had a Mother to keep Cases on her and do the Press +Work. Also there was the Grass Widow who remembered her Husband's name +but had mislaid the Address. Also the Old Boarder who was always under +the influence of Pepsin. He would come down to Breakfast wearing the +Hoof-Marks of a Nightmare Seventeen Hands high and holler about the Food +and tell the Young Lawyer how you can't believe anything you see in the +Papers. Also there was a young man employed in a Furniture Store who +knew that he could put Eddie Sothern on the Fritz if he ever got a Whack +at the Drama. Unless some one got out an Injunction he would recite +Poe's "Raven" while Edythe played Chills and Fever music on the +Once-Piano. So the Astute Reader will understand that this was a sure +enough Boarding House.</p> + +<p>Ranse could have stood for the Intellectual Environment if there had +been a little more doing in the Food Line. Instead of stacking it up on +the Table and giving the word to Pitch In, the Refined Landlady had it +brought on in stingy little Dabs by several Beautiful Heiresses<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1431" id="Page_1431">[Pg 1431]</a></span> who +hated to hold Converse with Ordinary Boarders. About the time that +Ranse, with the Farm Appetite, began to settle down to Business he would +notice all the other People rolling up the Red Napkins and trying to get +them into the Rings. If he kept on eating after that, they would give +him the Eye.</p> + +<p>Cereals were strongly featured at the polite Prunery. Ransom, while +employed on the Farm, had often mixed up Chop Feed and Bran for the +Shoats and Yearlings, but he never thought he would come down to eating +it himself. Another Strong Card was a Soup that was quite Pale and had a +couple of Vermicelli swimming around in it. And every Tuesday they +served Dried Currants with Clinkers in them.</p> + +<p>Before Ranse had been against the Health Food Proposition many moons he +began to hanker for the yellow-legged Plymouth Rocks, the golden Butter +and the kind of milk that comes from the Cow—take a Tin Cup and go +right out to the Spring House and dip it up for yourself. Poor, eh?</p> + +<p>Still, he figured that as soon as he got into Practice and began to +connect with the Currency he could shake the Oatmeal Circuit and put up +at an A1 Hotel.</p> + +<p>Like all the other Country Boys of the Story Books, Ransom made a +Ten-Strike in the City. He worked 18 hours per and in Due Time he was +taken into the Firm and stopped shaving his Neck and wore Pajamas +instead of a home-made Nightie.</p> + +<p>Then he moved into a Hotel that had $40,000 worth of Paintings on the +First Floor, so that no one had a right to kick even if the Push Button +failed to work. All the Furniture was Louie Something. You take an +ex-Farm-Hand and let him sit in a Gold Chair with Satin Monogram that is +too Nice to lean against, and you can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1432" id="Page_1432">[Pg 1432]</a></span> see at a Glance that he is sure +enjoying himself. Ranse now began to go against the à la Carte Gag. The +Menu was prepared by a Near-French Chef. For Fear that People might find +Fault with the Food he always smothered it and covered it over with Goo.</p> + +<p>Ranse began to find out that Goulasch meant Boiled Dinner with Perfumery +in it, and also that there were seven different names for Hash. The only +Thing that saved it from being Hash was the Piece of Lemon Peel tucked +on the Side.</p> + +<p>Ranse was not very strong for the French Cooking. Sometimes he would +find himself Chicken-Hungry and he would order what he thought was +Chicken and he would get a half section of cold storage Poulet covered +with Armor Plate, a neat Ruffle around the Ankle and an Olive reposing +on the Bosom. If he ordered Ice Cream he got something resembling a +sample Paper Weight from the Quarries at Bedford, Indiana. And the +Buckwheat Cakes! They looked like Doilies and tasted like Blotters. And +the Demi-Tasse is an Awful Joke to spring on the Man who wants a Cup of +Coffee.</p> + +<p>Here was the Hon. Ransom, rich and prosperous and apparently happy, but +in reality he was Dead Sore. Things appeared to be coming very Soft for +him and yet that which he wanted most of all he could not get. He wanted +the real old simon-pure Home Cooking: He recalled the Happy Days of Bean +Soup and Punkin Pie and Cottage Cheese. Time and again he would see one +of those old Friends on a Score-Card in a Restaurant and he would order +it and get some Fake Imitation with Smilax all around the edges. So, +after a while, he became discouraged and ate all the Junk that was set +before him—Dope, Lemon Peel, Floral Decoration and all.</p> + +<p>Often he would go to Banquets that cost as much as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1433" id="Page_1433">[Pg 1433]</a></span> Ten a Throw. He +would dally with Fish that had Glue Dressing on top of it and Golf Balls +lying alongside. He would tackle Siberian Slush that had Hair Tonic +floating on top of it. Then the Petrified Quail and the Cheese that +should have been served in 1884. Often, sitting at these Magnificent +Spreads, he thought to himself that he would willingly trade all the +Tiffany Water on the Table for one Goblet of real Buttermilk.</p> + +<p>After Ransom had insulted his Digestive Apparatus for many years with +the horrible Concoctions of the Gents' Café he resolved to go back to +his native Town and visit some of his Blood Relations so that he could +get at least one more Crack at real American Grub.</p> + +<p>He wrote that he was coming and his Kin became greatly Agitated.</p> + +<p>"Our celebrated Cousin, the Hon. Ransom Peabody, is coming to visit us," +they said. "We must make unusual Preparations to receive the big +Battleship. He is Rich and High-Toned and has been living at one of +those $6-a-Day Palaces and we must cut a big Melon when he shows up. He +is accustomed to City Food and we must not insult him with ordinary +Provender."</p> + +<p>So they began framing up Dishes out of a Subscription Cook Book +purchased the year before from a Lady with Gold Glasses and a grand flow +of Language.</p> + +<p>The Hon. Ransom arrived late one Evening and all Night he lay awake in +the Spare Bed-Room, gloating over the prospect of a Home Breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Me for the Sausage Cakes with the good old Sage rubbed into them," said +Ranse. "I will certainly show the Buckwheats how to take a Joke and the +way I'll dip into that Coffee will be a Caution. And mebbe I won't go to +those Eggs direct from the Hen!"</p> + +<p>He arose early, but had to wait two Hours. As he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1434" id="Page_1434">[Pg 1434]</a></span> was from the City, the +Family had postponed Breakfast until 9 o'clock. When he faced up to the +Table he was Wolfish. First they gave him Grape Fruit au Kirsch. Then +the Finger Bowl with the cute Rose Leaves floating idly on the dimpled +Surface. Then a dainty Lamb Chop with an ornamental Fence around it and +a sweet little cup of Cocoa in the China that Uncle Henry bought at the +World's Fair. Then French Toast and Eggs à la Gazaza, with Christmas +Trees stuck into them.</p> + +<p>The Hon. Ransom arose and howled like a Siberian Wolf, which was +Impolite of him. Before he went Home he did manage to get a little real +Eating, but every one said he was very Eccentric to prefer such a simple +dish as Fried Chicken.</p> + +<p>Moral—Hurry up and get it before the Chef and the Cook-Book have us +entirely Civilized.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1435" id="Page_1435">[Pg 1435]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="NOTHING_TO_WEAR" id="NOTHING_TO_WEAR"></a>NOTHING TO WEAR</h2> + +<h3>BY WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Miss Flora M'Flimsey, of Madison Square,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has made three separate journeys to Paris,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And her father assures me, each time she was there,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That she and her friend, Mrs. Harris</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(Not the lady whose name is so famous in history,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But plain Mrs. H., without romance or mystery),</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Spent six consecutive weeks, without stopping,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In one continuous round of shopping—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shopping alone, and shopping together,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At all hours of the day, and in all sorts of weather,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For all manner of things that a woman can put</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the crown of her head, or the sole of her foot,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or wrap round her shoulders, or fit round her waist,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or that can be sewed on, or pinned on, or laced,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or tied on with a string, or stitched on with a bow</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In front or behind, above or below;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For bonnets, mantillas, capes, collars and shawls;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dresses for breakfast, and dinners, and balls;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dresses to sit in, and stand in, and walk in;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dresses to dance in, and flirt in, and talk in;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dresses in which to do nothing at all;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dresses for winter, spring, summer and fall;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All of them different in color and shape,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Silk, muslin and lace, velvet, satin and crape,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brocade and broadcloth, and other material,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1436" id="Page_1436">[Pg 1436]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Quite as expensive and much more ethereal;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In short, for all things that could ever be thought of,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or milliner, <i>modiste</i> or tradesman be bought of,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From ten-thousand-franc robes to twenty-sous frills;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In all quarters of Paris, and to every store,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While M'Flimsey in vain stormed, scolded and swore,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They footed the streets, and he footed the bills!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The last trip, their goods shipped by the steamer <i>Arago</i>,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Formed, M'Flimsey declares, the bulk of her cargo,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not to mention a quantity kept from the rest,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sufficient to fill the largest-sized chest,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which did not appear on the ship's manifest,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But for which the ladies themselves manifested</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Such particular interest, that they invested</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their own proper persons in layers and rows</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of muslin, embroideries, worked underclothes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gloves, handkerchiefs, scarfs, and such trifles as those;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then, wrapped in great shawls, like Circassian beauties,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gave <i>good-by</i> to the ship, and <i>go by</i> to the duties.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Her relations at home all marveled, no doubt,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Miss Flora had grown so enormously stout</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For an actual belle and a possible bride;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But the miracle ceased when she turned inside out,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the truth came to light, and the dry-goods besides,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which, in spite of Collector and Custom-House sentry,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Had entered the port without any entry.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And yet, though scarce three months have passed since the day</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This merchandise went, on twelve carts, up Broadway,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This same Miss M'Flimsey of Madison Square,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The last time we met was in utter despair,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Because she had nothing whatever to wear!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nothing to wear! Now, as this is a true ditty,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1437" id="Page_1437">[Pg 1437]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">I do not assert—this, you know, is between us</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That she's in a state of absolute nudity,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like Powers's Greek Slave or the Medici Venus;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I do mean to say, I have heard her declare,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When at the same moment she had on a dress</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which cost five hundred dollars, and not a cent less,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And jewelry worth ten times more, I should guess,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That she had not a thing in the wide world to wear!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I should mention just here, that out of Miss Flora's</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Two hundred and fifty or sixty adorers,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I had just been selected as he who should throw all</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The rest in the shade, by the gracious bestowal</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On myself, after twenty or thirty rejections,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of those fossil remains which she called her "affections,"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And that rather decayed but well-known work of art</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which Miss Flora persisted in styling her "heart."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So we were engaged. Our troth had been plighted,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not by moonbeam or starbeam, by fountain or grove,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But in a front parlor, most brilliantly lighted,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beneath the gas-fixtures, we whispered our love.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Without any romance, or raptures, or sighs,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Without any tears in Miss Flora's blue eyes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or blushes, or transports, or such silly actions,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It was one of the quietest business transactions,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a very small sprinkling of sentiment, if any,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a very large diamond imported by Tiffany.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On her virginal lips, while I printed a kiss,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She exclaims, as a sort of parenthesis,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by way of putting me quite at my ease,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"You know I'm to polka as much as I please,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And flirt when I like—now, stop, don't you speak—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And you must not come here more than twice in the week,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or talk to me either at party or ball,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But always be ready to come when I call;</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1438" id="Page_1438">[Pg 1438]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">So don't prose to me about duty and stuff,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If we don't break this off, there will be time enough</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For that sort of thing; but the bargain must be</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That, as long as I choose, I am perfectly free—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For this is a kind of engagement, you see,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which is binding on you, but not binding on me."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Well, having thus wooed Miss M'Flimsey and gained her,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the silks, crinolines, and hoops that contained her,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I had, as I thought, a contingent remainder</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At least in the property, and the best right</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To appear as its escort by day and by night;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And it being the week of the Stuckups' grand ball—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their cards had been out a fortnight or so,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And set all the Avenue on the tiptoe—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I considered it only my duty to call,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And see if Miss Flora intended to go.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I found her—as ladies are apt to be found,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the time intervening between the first sound</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the bell and the visitor's entry is shorter</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than usual—I found; I won't say—I caught her,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Intent on the pier-glass, undoubtedly meaning</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see if perhaps it didn't need cleaning.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She turned as I entered—"Why, Harry, you sinner,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I thought that you went to the Flashers' to dinner!"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"So I did," I replied; "the dinner is swallowed,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And digested, I trust, for 'tis now nine and more,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So, being relieved from that duty, I followed</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Inclination, which led me, you see, to your door;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And now will your ladyship so condescend</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As just to inform me if you intend</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your beauty, and graces, and presence to lend</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(All of which, when I own, I hope no one will borrow)</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the Stuckups' whose party, you know, is to-morrow?"</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1439" id="Page_1439">[Pg 1439]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">The fair Flora looked up, with a pitiful air,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And answered quite promptly, "Why, Harry, <i>mon cher</i>,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I should like above all things to go with you there,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But really and truly—I've nothing to wear."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Nothing to wear! Go just as you are;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wear the dress you have on, and you'll be by far,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I engage, the most bright and particular star</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the Stuckup horizon—" I stopped, for her eye,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Notwithstanding this delicate onset of flattery,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Opened on me at once a most terrible battery</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of scorn and amazement. She made no reply,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But gave a slight turn to the end of her nose</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(That pure Grecian feature), as much as to say,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"How absurd that any sane man should suppose</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That a lady would go to a ball in the clothes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No matter how fine, that she wears every day!"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So I ventured again: "Wear your crimson brocade;"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(Second turn up of nose)—"That's too dark by a shade."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Your blue silk"—"That's too heavy." "Your pink"—"That's too light."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Wear tulle over satin"—"I can't endure white."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Your rose-colored, then, the best of the batch"—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I haven't a thread of point-lace to match."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Your brown <i>moire antique</i>"—"Yes, and look like a Quaker."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The pearl-colored"—"I would, but that plaguy dressmaker</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has had it a week." "Then that exquisite lilac,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In which you would melt the heart of a Shylock;"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(Here the nose took again the same elevation)—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I wouldn't wear that for the whole of creation."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Why not? It's my fancy, there's nothing could strike it</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As more <i>comme il faut</i>"—"Yes, but, dear me, that lean</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sophronia Stuckup has got one just like it,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1440" id="Page_1440">[Pg 1440]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I won't appear dressed like a chit of sixteen."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Then that splendid purple, the sweet Mazarine;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That superb <i>point d'aiguille</i>, that imperial green,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That zephyr-like tarletan, that rich <i>grenadine</i>"—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Not one of all which is fit to be seen,"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Said the lady, becoming excited and flushed.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Then wear," I exclaimed, in a tone which quite crushed</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Opposition, "that gorgeous <i>toilette</i> which you sported</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In Paris last spring, at the grand presentation,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When you quite turned the head of the head of the nation,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And by all the grand court were so very much courted."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The end of the nose was portentously tipped up</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And both the bright eyes shot forth indignation,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As she burst upon me with the fierce exclamation,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I have worn it three times, at the least calculation,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And that and most of my dresses are ripped up!"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Here I <i>ripped out</i> something, perhaps rather rash,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Quite innocent, though; but to use an expression</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">More striking than classic, it "settled my hash,"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And proved very soon the last act of our session.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Fiddlesticks, is it, sir? I wonder the ceiling</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doesn't fall down and crush you—you men have no feeling;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You selfish, unnatural, illiberal creatures,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who set yourselves up as patterns and preachers,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your silly pretense—why, what a mere guess it is!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pray, what do you know of a woman's necessities?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I have told you and shown you I've nothing to wear,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And it's perfectly plain you not only don't care,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But you do not believe me" (here the nose went still higher).</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I suppose, if you dared, you would call me a liar.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our engagement is ended, sir—yes, on the spot;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You're a brute, and a monster, and—I don't know what."</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1441" id="Page_1441">[Pg 1441]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">I mildly suggested the words Hottentot,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pickpocket, and cannibal, Tartar, and thief,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As gentle expletives which might give relief;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But this only proved as a spark to the powder,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the storm I had raised came faster and louder;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It blew and it rained, thundered, lightened and hailed</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Interjections, verbs, pronouns, till language quite failed</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To express the abusive, and then its arrears</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Were brought up all at once by a torrent of tears,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And my last faint, despairing attempt at an obs-</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ervation was lost in a tempest of sobs.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Well, I felt for the lady, and felt for my hat, too,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Improvised on the crown of the latter a tattoo,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In lieu of expressing the feelings which lay</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Quite too deep for words, as Wordsworth would say;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then, without going through the form of a bow,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Found myself in the entry—I hardly know how,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On doorstep and sidewalk, past lamp-post and square,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At home and upstairs, in my own easy-chair;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poked my feet into slippers, my fire into blaze,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And said to myself, as I lit my cigar,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Supposing a man had the wealth of the Czar</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the Russias to boot, for the rest of his days,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the whole, do you think he would have much to spare,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If he married a woman with nothing to wear?"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since that night, taking pains that it should not be bruited</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Abroad in society, I've instituted</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A course of inquiry, extensive and thorough,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On this vital subject, and find, to my horror,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That the fair Flora's case is by no means surprising,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But that there exists the greatest distress</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In our female community, solely arising</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1442" id="Page_1442">[Pg 1442]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">From this unsupplied destitution of dress,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whose unfortunate victims are filling the air</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the pitiful wail of "Nothing to wear."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Researches in some of the "Upper Ten" districts</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Reveal the most painful and startling statistics,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of which let me mention only a few:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In one single house on the Fifth Avenue,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Three young ladies were found, all below twenty-two,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who have been three whole weeks without anything new</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the way of flounced silks, and thus left in the lurch,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are unable to go to ball, concert or church.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In another large mansion near the same place</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was found a deplorable, heartrending case</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of entire destitution of Brussels point-lace.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a neighboring block there was found, in three calls,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Total want, long continued, of camel's-hair shawls;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a suffering family, whose case exhibits</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The most pressing need of real ermine tippets;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One deserving young lady almost unable</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To survive for the want of a new Russian sable;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still another, whose tortures have been most terrific</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ever since the sad loss of the steamer <i>Pacific</i>,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In which were engulfed, not friend or relation</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(For whose fate she, perhaps, might have found consolation,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or borne it, at least, with serene resignation),</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But the choicest assortment of French sleeves and collars</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ever sent out from Paris, worth thousands of dollars,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all as to style most <i>recherché</i> and rare,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The want of which leaves her with nothing to wear,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And renders her life so drear and dyspeptic</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That she's quite a recluse, and almost a skeptic,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For she touchingly says that this sort of grief</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1443" id="Page_1443">[Pg 1443]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Can not find in Religion the slightest relief,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Philosophy has not a maxim to spare</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For the victims of such overwhelming despair.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But the saddest, by far, of all these sad features,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is the cruelty practised upon the poor creatures</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By husbands and fathers, real Bluebeards and Timons,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who resist the most touching appeals made for diamonds</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By their wives and their daughters, and leave them for days</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unsupplied with new jewelry, fans or bouquets,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Even laugh at their miseries whenever they have a chance,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And deride their demands as useless extravagance.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One case of a bride was brought to my view,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Too sad for belief, but alas! 'twas too true,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whose husband refused, as savage as Charon,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To permit her to take more than ten trunks to Sharon.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The consequence was, that when she got there,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At the end of three weeks she had nothing to wear;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And when she proposed to finish the season</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At Newport, the monster refused, out and out,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For his infamous conduct alleging no reason,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Except that the waters were good for his gout;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Such treatment as this was too shocking, of course,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And proceedings are now going on for divorce.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But why harrow the feelings by lifting the curtain</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From these scenes of woe? Enough, it is certain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has here been disclosed to stir up the pity</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of every benevolent heart in the city,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And spur up humanity into a canter</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To rush and relieve these sad cases instanter.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Won't somebody, moved by this touching description,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Come forward to-morrow and head a subscription?</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1444" id="Page_1444">[Pg 1444]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Won't some kind philanthropist, seeing that aid is</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So needed at once by these indigent ladies,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Take charge of the matter? Or won't Peter Cooper</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The corner-stone lay of some new splendid super-</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Structure, like that which to-day links his name</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the Union unending of Honor and Fame,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And found a new charity just for the care</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of these unhappy women with nothing to wear,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which, in view of the cash which would daily be claimed,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The <i>Laying-out</i> Hospital well might be named?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Won't Stewart, or some of our dry-goods importers,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Take a contract for clothing our wives and our daughters?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or, to furnish the cash to supply these distresses,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And life's pathway strew with shawls, collars and dresses,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ere the want of them makes it much rougher and thornier,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Won't some one discover a new California?</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O! ladies, dear ladies, the next sunny day,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Please trundle your hoops just out of Broadway,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From its swirl and its bustle, its fashion and pride</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the temples of Trade which tower on each side,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the alleys and lanes, where Misfortune and Guilt</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their children have gathered, their city have built;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where Hunger and Vice, like twin beasts of prey,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Have hunted their victims to gloom and despair;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Raise the rich, dainty dress, and the fine broidered skirt,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pick your delicate way through the dampness and dirt.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grope through the dark dens, climb the rickety stair</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the garret, where wretches, the young and the old,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Half starved and half naked, lie crouched from the cold;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">See those skeleton limbs, those frost-bitten feet,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1445" id="Page_1445">[Pg 1445]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">All bleeding and bruised by the stones of the street;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hear the sharp cry of childhood, the deep groans that</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">swell</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the poor dying creature who writhes on the floor;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hear the curses that sound like the echoes of Hell,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As you sicken and shudder and fly from the door;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then home to your wardrobes, and say, if you dare—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Spoiled children of fashion—you've nothing to wear!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And O! if perchance there should be a sphere</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where all is made right which so puzzles us here,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where the glare and the glitter and tinsel of Time</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fade and die in the light of that region sublime,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where the soul, disenchanted of flesh and of sense,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unscreened by its trappings and shows and pretense,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Must be clothed for the life and the service above,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With purity, truth, faith, meekness and love,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O! daughters of Earth! foolish virgins, beware!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lest in that upper realm you have nothing to wear!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1446" id="Page_1446">[Pg 1446]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_BRANCH_LIBRARY4" id="A_BRANCH_LIBRARY4"></a>A BRANCH LIBRARY<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY JAMES MONTGOMERY FLAGG</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There is an old fellow named Mark,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who lives in a tree in the Park.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">You can see him each night,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">By his library light,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Turning over the leaves after dark.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1447" id="Page_1447">[Pg 1447]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IS_IT_I5" id="IS_IT_I5"></a>IS IT I?<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY WARWICK S. PRICE</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where is the man who has not said</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At evening, when he went to bed,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I'll waken with the crowing cock,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And get to work by six o'clock?"</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where is the man who, rather late,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Crawls out of bed at half-past eight,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That has not thought, with fond regard,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"It's better not to work too hard?"</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1448" id="Page_1448">[Pg 1448]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="NOT_ACCORDING_TO_SCHEDULE" id="NOT_ACCORDING_TO_SCHEDULE"></a>NOT ACCORDING TO SCHEDULE</h2> + +<h3>BY MARY STEWART CUTTING</h3> + +<p>"Haven't you any coffee spoons, Kitty? I thought you had a couple of +dozen when you went to housekeeping."</p> + +<p>Marcia, with her sleeves rolled up from her round white arms, was +rummaging in the sideboard, as she knelt beside it on the floor, her +brown eyes peering into the corners.</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course I have coffee spoons. Aren't they there? I'm sure I +don't know <i>what</i> becomes of things."</p> + +<p>Young Mrs. Fosdyke, stout and matronly, held a fat and placid year-old +baby on her lap with one arm, while with the other hand she lunged out +intermittently to pick up a much-chewed rubber dog cast upon the floor +by the infant. "Oh, now I remember; they're at the bank, with the rest +of the silver—we sent them there the summer we went to the seashore, +and forgot to take them out again. I know it's dreadful to get in the +habit of living in this picnic fashion; I'm ashamed sometimes to have +any one come here. Not that I mind your having asked Mrs. Devereaux for +Thanksgiving, Marcia; I don't want you to feel that way for a minute. I +think it was nice of you to want to. If <i>you</i> don't mind having her +here, I'm sure I don't. You know I've had such a time changing servants; +and when you have three babies—"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fosdyke was accustomed to anticipate possible astonishment at the +size of her young family by stating tersely to begin with that the three +were all of the same<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1449" id="Page_1449">[Pg 1449]</a></span> age; if this were not literally true, it was true +enough to account for the disposal of most of her time. In a small +house, on a small income, with one maid, all departments can not receive +attention; under such circumstances something has to go. Mrs. Fosdyke's +attention went, rightly enough, to the children; there were no graces of +management left for the household—there couldn't be; that was one +reason why she never invited company any more. She felt apologetic even +before her sister.</p> + +<p>"I wish things were a little nicer here—but I know just how you +feel about Mrs. Devereaux. No matter how rich a person is, it seems +sort of desolate to be alone at a hotel in a small town on a +holiday—Thanksgiving Day especially. And she was so good to you in +Paris. I shall never forget it."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I never shall," said Marcia.</p> + +<p>She saw with retrospective vision the scene of two years ago, when she, +a terrified girl of twenty, just recovering from an illness, had missed +connections with her party at a railway station, and had been blessedly +taken in charge by a stranger whose spoken name carried recognition with +it to any American abroad. Marcia had been taken to Mrs. Devereaux's +luxurious house for the day, put to bed, comforted, telegrams and +messages sent hither and thither to her friends; truly it was the kind +of a thing one does not forget, that must claim gratitude forever.</p> + +<p>She went on now: "I can't get over our meeting in the street here in +this place, just the day we both came—the strangest coincidence! I +could hardly believe my eyes. And then to drive back to her rooms with +her and find myself telling her all I've been doing, just as if I had +known her always—I'm sure, though, I feel as if I had. I do want to do +something for her so much—it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1450" id="Page_1450">[Pg 1450]</a></span> doesn't make any real difference, her +being so rich and grand. And then I thought of our Thanksgiving dinner, +and she seemed so pleased, and accepted at once. Of course she +stipulated that we were to promise not to make any difference on her +account, but I do want to have everything as pretty and characteristic +as possible. And you needn't bother a bit about anything, Kitty. I'll do +all the work, and there's a whole week to get ready in. We'll have Frank +bring your wedding silver from the bank; you had so many lovely large +pieces."</p> + +<p>"I had ten cut glass and silver loving cups," annotated Kitty, in the +tone of injury the recollection always produced in the light of her +present needs. "It will take you hours and days to clean all those +things, Marcia; that's why I never use them. When you have three babies +all the same age—"</p> + +<p>"Kersley will help me," said Marcia, deftly introducing another subject.</p> + +<p>"Kersley!" There was deep surprise in Kitty's voice; she turned to fix +her eyes on her sister. Marcia flushed independently of her will.</p> + +<p>"Yes—didn't I tell you? He's coming out to his brother's over +Thanksgiving."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Kitty, with significance; she made a precipitate lunge for +the rubber dog. There was an alert tone in her voice when she spoke +again:</p> + +<p>"Marcia."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"How long is this thing to go on? Are you engaged to Kersley Battersby, +or are you not? For if you're not, I don't think it's decent to keep him +dangling on in this way any longer."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Kitty, do stop!" Marcia ceased her investigations to relapse into a +jumbled heap on the rug, her chin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1451" id="Page_1451">[Pg 1451]</a></span> resting on her hand, her dark, +vivacious little face tense. "I suppose I <i>do</i> consider that I'm +engaged, if you <i>will</i> have me say it; he's the only man I could ever +care for, but I'm not going to let <i>him</i> know it, not until he gets on +his feet—not while he's only making fifteen dollars here and twenty +dollars there, and some weeks not even that, painting labels for tomato +cans and patent medicines. It does seem a pity that, after all the +studying in Paris and winning the prize for his portraits in the Salon, +it should take him so long to get a start here. I suppose you have to +have a 'pull,' as in everything else. If he once knew that I really +cared for him he'd lose his head and want to be married out of hand. I +couldn't do a thing with him. He'd insist that it would help him to work +if I were near all the time."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it would," suggested Kitty.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and have all his family say that I've ruined his prospects—you +can imagine how pleasant <i>that</i> would be! Everyone says that if a poor +artist is hampered at the beginning he has no career at all. <i>I</i> enjoy +things as they are, anyway, and if Kersley doesn't it's his own lookout. +He's a perfect baby, great, big, blue-eyed, ridiculous, unpractical +thing! What do you suppose he did when he was in Chester last month, +just after I'd left there? Walked all the way into town and back, twenty +miles—he hadn't enough money for his car fare—to buy me a little +trumpery pin I wanted, when they had the identical thing on sale at the +little shop by the station! Wasn't that like him? And with all his +artistic talent, I have to tell him what kind of a necktie to get. +Imagine him, with <i>his</i> hair, in a scarlet one, when he looks so +adorable in dull blue. Let's change the subject. Is this your best +centerpiece, with the color all washed out?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1452" id="Page_1452">[Pg 1452]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then I'll finish that lace one I'm making and put yellow under it. +Yellow is to be the color scheme, Kitty. I'm going to present you with +some of those lovely glasses I saw at Ketterer's, with gilt flowers on +them. I want you to let me pay for the chrysanthemums and all the +extras—a few palms can be hired; they add so much to the effect. You +know I got the money for those illustrations yesterday, and I don't care +whether I have any clothes or not. I just want to do my prettiest for a +Thanksgiving for Mrs. Devereaux."</p> + +<p>"Very well, dear," said Kitty.</p> + +<p>"I should think that woman wouldn't want such a time made over her," +said Mr. Fosdyke to his wife, disgustedly, in private. There are married +men who may on occasion be mistaken for bachelors, but Mr. Fosdyke was +not of that ilk; the respectable bondage of one wedded to family claims +was stamped upon him as with a die, in spite of a humorous tendency that +was sometimes trying to his wife. "What's the sense? With all her +millions she must be used to everything. I should think she'd like +something plain and homelike for a change, instead of all this fuss and +feathers. I'm worn out with it already. There seems to be a perfect +upheaval downstairs, with all Marcia's decorations and color schemes and +'artistic effects.' My arm's broken lugging loving cups home from the +bank—they weigh a ton. Why can't Mrs. Devereaux take us as we are?"</p> + +<p>"Now, Frank, I've told you how Marcia feels about it," said his wife, +reprovingly. "You know how intense she is—it gives her positive +satisfaction to show her gratitude by working her fingers off and +spending all the money she's got. She wants to make it a special +occasion."</p> + +<p>"Well, she's doing it," said Frank Fosdyke, with, how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1453" id="Page_1453">[Pg 1453]</a></span>ever, a relenting +smile; he was fond of whole-souled little Marcia. "I say, though, Kitty, +what's Kersley doing here all the time? I thought he was living in New +York. I can't go anywhere that I don't see that big smile of his and the +gray suit. I'm always running across him with Marcia. It makes me feel +like a fool. Am I to treat them as if they were engaged, or not?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Fosdyke shook her head. "Not yet."</p> + +<p>"Can't he stop her shillyshallying?"</p> + +<p>"Frank, I said 'Not yet.'"</p> + +<p>"All right," said Frank, resignedly, moving around the darkened room, as +he disrobed, with the catlike step of one whose ever haunting fear is +that he may wake the baby.</p> + +<p>Marcia had decreed against the old-fashioned, middle-of-the-day +Thanksgiving dinner; half-past seven was early enough. "And it ought to +be eight," she added, ruefully. "At any rate, the babies will be asleep, +and Mrs. Fogarty is going to let her Maggie come and sit upstairs with +them. Thank goodness, Ellen can cook the dinner, with my help, and wait +on the table afterward. She's as nice and interested as she can be, and +I'll keep her in good humor. I've promised to buy her a lovely new cap +and apron. We've just decided what to have for the nine courses."</p> + +<p>"<i>Nine courses!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Now, Kitty, it's no more trouble to have nine courses than two, if you +manage properly. I'll make a number of the dishes the day before, and +Ellen can see to the turkey herself; I'll show you my bill of fare +afterward. I'm going to have the loveliest little menu cards, with +golden pumpkins in wheat sheaves painted on them—so nice and +Thanksgivingy! You've seen the yellow paper cases I've made for the ice +pudding, and the candle shades—the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1454" id="Page_1454">[Pg 1454]</a></span> color scheme, you know, is yellow. +I'm going to ornament the dishes for the almonds and raisins and olives +and the candied ginger and other things in the same way. Now, please +don't worry about anything, Kitty! If people only make the arrangements +beforehand, it's no trouble at all. It's all in the way one plans, and +having a system about things."</p> + +<p>"I hope so," said Mrs. Fosdyke; for she had her misgivings. In +housekeeping it is only too often that two and two fail to make four.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Kersley Battersby, tall and handsome, coming in gayly at four o'clock on +Thanksgiving afternoon, during a brief interval of the festivities at +his brother's house, stopped short at the sight of Marcia's face.</p> + +<p>"What's up?" he asked, reaching out his arms with the unconsciousness of +habit, while Marcia, in her blue gingham gown, as mechanically +retreated. Her tone was tragic.</p> + +<p>"Ellen says she won't wait on the table; she says there's work for ten +in the kitchen, and no lady would ask it of her. And I had it all +arranged so beautifully. I don't know what we're to do. Kitty and I have +been busy every minute, and Frank has had to take care of the babies all +day. I didn't mean to make everyone so uncomfortable. He's gone out now, +and she's upstairs with a headache."</p> + +<p>"Well, you know you've always got me to fall back on," said Kersley, +firmly. "My word, but the dining-room looks fine, though! I wouldn't +know it for the same place." His gaze rested on the pretty scene with +genuine admiration.</p> + +<p>Loving cups in the corner of the room held the tall, yellow +chrysanthemums against the florist's palms; yellow chrysanthemums waved +from the vine-draped mantel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1455" id="Page_1455">[Pg 1455]</a></span> and drooped from the prettiest loving cup +of all over the yellow-lined lace centerpiece set on the satin-smooth +"best" tablecloth. The silver was polished to perfection. The new +goblets with their gilt flowers shone like bubbles, and on the sideboard +a golden pumpkin hollowed into a dish among trailing vines was heaped +high with yellow oranges and crimson apples and pearly hothouse grapes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, this is all right," sighed Marcia, "and the cooking is, and +Frank has had his dress suit pressed and Kitty's gown is dear. But, +Kersley, the <i>dinner</i>!" Her swimming eyes looked at him helplessly as +she pushed back her disheveled hair. "You can't have nine courses with +no one to serve them. Ellen even refuses to bring anything in. <i>We</i> +can't get up and keep running around the table! It makes the whole thing +a failure—worse than that, ridiculous. I didn't mind how hard I worked +for dear Mrs. Devereaux, but I did want it all to be right."</p> + +<p>"Poor girl!" said Kersley, tenderly, moving sympathetically very, very +near her, with a repetition of the arm movement. "You're tired."</p> + +<p>"Now, Kersley, please don't." Marcia again retreated with glowing +cheeks. She tried to keep an unexpected tremulousness out of her voice. +"I have enough on my mind without having you, too. If I were to spoil +all your prospects now, I'd never forgive myself."</p> + +<p>"You get so in the habit of saying that absurd thing," began Kersley, +doggedly, "that—Never mind, never mind, Marcia dear. I won't bother you +now. But you'll have to let me have my way in one thing, anyway—I'm +going to help you out; I'm going to stay and wait on the table myself."</p> + +<p>"Kersley!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1456" id="Page_1456">[Pg 1456]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll make a bang-up waiter; do it in style."</p> + +<p>"Kersley!"</p> + +<p>"Just pretend I'm the butler. It's been done lots of times before, you +know; it's not a bit original. And I'd like to do something for Mrs. +Devereaux, too, good old multi-millionairess. I owe her one for being +such a trump to you. I'll make her one of my omelets, too, if Ellen will +let me."</p> + +<p>"But Mrs. Devereaux will recognize you!" Marcia felt wildly that she was +half assenting, in spite of the absurdity of it.</p> + +<p>"Recognize the butler? She won't know that he exists except to pass her +things. Besides, she's only seen me a couple of times."</p> + +<p>"But the family party at your brother's?"</p> + +<p>"They'll have to get along without me. I'll cut back now and tell them, +and get my dress suit, and then I'll turn myself loose in your kitchen. +It's all decided, Marcia." He smiled brilliantly down at her from the +height of his six feet, as Kersley could smile sometimes, when he wanted +to get his own way. His finger tips touched her curling locks on his way +past the ottoman upon which she had dropped.</p> + +<p>She sat there after he had gone, her chin supported by her hand, her +dark eyes looking intently before her into the yellow chrysanthemum. In +spite of her boast to Kitty that she was satisfied with "things as they +were," there were moments when a long-drawn-out future of joy withheld +pressed upon little Marcia with strange heaviness—moments when it was +hard to be always wise for two; there were, indeed, sudden, inexplicable +moments when she longed weakly to give herself up to the alluring +blissfulness of Kersley's kisses on her soft lips, no matter how +unpractical he was. But she was too stanchly eager<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1457" id="Page_1457">[Pg 1457]</a></span> to do what was best +for him to give way in the conduct of life; it was even a giddy sort of +thing that she had given way to him in anything.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>If a nervous and uncertain hilarity characterized the atmosphere of the +dinner table that night, Mrs. Devereaux, in her black lace and diamonds, +was happily unaware of its cause in the antics of the obsequious butler, +who in the intervals of his calling threw kisses from behind the guest +to the yellow-gowned Marcia, attempted to poise in the attitude of +flight or that of benediction, or indulged in other pantomimes as +extraordinary.</p> + +<p>It was almost a relief when the intervals between the courses were +unduly prolonged and conversation could proceed without spasmodic jerks +on the part of the entertainers. Mrs. Devereaux herself, a rather +slight, elderly woman with soft white hair elaborately arranged, and +kind, brown eyes, responded with evident pleasure to Marcia's pretty, +childlike warmth, and was politely cordial to Frank and Kitty. Her +manner was at once quietly assured and quietly unassuming, although on +her entrance her eyes had seemed furtively observant, as one who found +herself among strange, if interesting, surroundings.</p> + +<p>"I feel as if we might be Eskimos, by Jove!" Frank Fosdyke whispered +with a secret gurgle to his wife, who responded only with an agonized +"Hush!"</p> + +<p>"This omelet is really delicious," said Mrs. Devereaux, kindly, in one +of the pauses of the dinner. "I don't know that I have eaten one as good +since I left Paris. May I ask if you have a woman or a man cook?"</p> + +<p>"We have a man in the kitchen," said Marcia, unblushingly, Kersley being +out there at the moment. "He has lived in Paris."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1458" id="Page_1458">[Pg 1458]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, the touch was unmistakable!" said Mrs. Devereaux. She turned +graciously to Kitty. "I take a great interest in small establishments; +my niece, Angela Homestead, is about to marry in moderate circumstances. +Unlike many women in society, I have always looked after my own +household. When I am at home the servants report to me for half an hour +every morning to receive their orders for the day. So when Angela +naturally came to me for advice, I said to her: 'Above all things, +Angela, remember that a good cook is always worth what you pay for him.' +The health of the family is so largely dependent on the food. With a +French cook, a butler, a laundress and three maids, a simple +establishment for two people can be kept up decently and in order; a +retinue of servants is not necessary when you do not entertain. Of +course, with less than three maids it is impossible to be clean."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," said Kitty.</p> + +<p>"I should think not," assented Mr. Fosdyke, with unnecessary ardor.</p> + +<p>"It is pleasant to have you agree with me," said Mrs. Devereaux, +politely. "But, speaking of Paris, oddly enough, since we've been +sitting here I have been reminded forcibly, though I can't imagine why, +of a young man whom I met there a couple of times over a year ago—a +tall, blond young artist who won a prize at the Salon. I haven't heard +of him since, though he seemed to have rather unusual talent. I believe +he left for New York. I can't recall his name, but perhaps you can help +me to it. He painted children very fetchingly."</p> + +<p>"Was it Kersley Battersby?" asked Marcia, with a swift frown at the +owner of the name, who had doubled over suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Kersley Battersby. The very man!" exclaimed Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1459" id="Page_1459">[Pg 1459]</a></span> Devereaux, with +animation. "How clever you are, my dear, to guess it! My sister, the +Countess of Crayford, who has just come over this autumn, wants some one +to paint her twin girls. It strikes me that he would be the very person +to do it, if possibly you have his address. There was a sentiment, a +bloom, one might call it, that seemed to characterize his children's +heads particularly. They made a real impression on me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Battersby has a great deal of bloom," said Mr. Fosdyke, solemnly. +"Bloom is what he excels in. Alphonse, fill Mrs. Devereaux's glass. I +will look up his address in my notebook, Mrs. Devereaux. I have an +impression that he is within reach."</p> + +<p>He turned to Marcia provocatively, but she did not respond. Her brain +was suddenly in a whirl that carried her past the wild incongruities of +the situation. If Kersley had "prospects" like that—She did not dare to +meet his eyes.</p> + +<p>The dinner was excellent, the waiting perfect. Marcia was in a glow of +happiness. She felt repaid for her work, her struggles, and the +expenditure which would make a new gown this winter impossible. This was +as she had wanted it to be—a little Thanksgiving feast for this woman +who was her friend. Through all Mrs. Devereaux's interest in the others, +the little inner bond was between her and Marcia. It did not matter that +Ellen had stumped upstairs after the last cup of coffee, leaving Kersley +to clear the table, or that the babies might wake up and cry. Nothing +mattered when she knew that dear Mrs. Devereaux was pleased. She said to +herself that this was what gave her such a strangely exhilarated +feeling; and yet—When it was time for the guest to depart, and Marcia +came from upstairs bringing Mrs. Dever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1460" id="Page_1460">[Pg 1460]</a></span>eaux's fur cloak, that lady and +Kitty both looked smilingly at the girl from the midst of a +conversation.</p> + +<p>"Must you go so soon?" pleaded Marcia.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the carriage is waiting," said Mrs. Devereaux. "I am under the +doctor's orders, you remember, my dear. I've had a charming +Thanksgiving; you don't know how much I appreciate Mrs. Fosdyke's +letting me spend it here. And one thing has appealed to me particularly, +if you won't mind my saying it: I am more complimented, more touched, by +being made one of your little family circle, without any alteration in +your usual mode of living, than by any amount of the ceremony which is +often so foolishly considered necessary—a man behind each chair, masses +of orchids, and expensive menus." She smiled warmly at Marcia, and +added: "It is to you that I really owe my introduction into this +charmingly domestic household. Your sister, however, has made me partner +to a little secret, in response to my inquiries; she says that you are +about to be engaged to the very Mr. Battersby of whom we were speaking, +and whose address she has given me, so that I may make arrangements at +once for my nieces' portraits. She tells me that he has excellent +prospects."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" murmured Marcia, in sudden crimson embarrassment. She could +actually feel Kersley's triumphant smile behind the dining-room +portières.</p> + +<p>"And as I am about to start on the Egyptian tour that will take me away +for a year, I want to know if I may take advantage of having been made +one of the family and ask you to make use of my cottage at Ardsley for +the honeymoon—which I hope may last until my return, if Mr. Battersby's +commissions don't call him away before. I will have my people put it at +your disposal."</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear Mrs. Devereaux!" cried Marcia. If some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1461" id="Page_1461">[Pg 1461]</a></span>thing odd in the +beating of her heart made her feel her further speech to be foolishly +incoherent, it was, perhaps, not unattractively so to her smiling +elders.</p> + +<p>She did not hear Mr. Fosdyke's exclamation as the lights of Mrs. +Devereaux's carriage disappeared from view: "Of all the Arabian Nights' +entertainments! Who am I, anyway?"</p> + +<p>She had been drawn into the dining-room with Kersley's outstretched arms +closing around her firmly as she mechanically but ineffectually strove +to retreat, his blue eyes beaming down on her as he whispered:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Marcia, Marcia! This comes of trying to show gratitude to +strangers. '<i>About to be engaged!</i>' Accepting a honeymoon cottage before +you'd accepted the man!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1462" id="Page_1462">[Pg 1462]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="MR_CARTERET_AND_HIS_FELLOW_AMERICANS_ABROAD6" id="MR_CARTERET_AND_HIS_FELLOW_AMERICANS_ABROAD6"></a>MR. CARTERET AND HIS FELLOW AMERICANS ABROAD<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY DAVID GRAY</h3> + +<p>"It must have been highly interesting," observed Mrs. Archie Brawle; "so +much pleasanter than a concert."</p> + +<p>"Rather!" replied Lord Frederic. "It was ripping!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ascott-Smith turned to Mr. Carteret. She had been listening to Lord +Frederic Westcote, who had just come down from town where he had seen +the Wild West show. "Is it so?" she asked. "Have you ever seen them?" By +"them" she meant the Indians.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carteret nodded.</p> + +<p>"It seems so odd," continued Mrs. Archie Brawle, "that they should ride +without saddles. Is it a pose?"</p> + +<p>"No, I fancy not," replied Lord Frederic.</p> + +<p>"They must get very tired without stirrups," insisted Mrs. Archie. "But +perhaps they never ride very long at a time."</p> + +<p>"That is possible," said Lord Frederic doubtfully. "They are only on +about twenty minutes in the show."</p> + +<p>Mr. Pringle, the curate, who had happened in to pay his monthly call +upon Mrs. Ascott-Smith, took advantage of the pause. "Of course, I am no +horseman," he began apprehensively, "and I have never seen the red +Indians, either in their native wilds or in a show, but I have read<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1463" id="Page_1463">[Pg 1463]</a></span> not +a little about them, and I have gathered that they almost live on +horseback."</p> + +<p>Major Hammerslea reached toward the tea table for another muffin and +hemmed. "It is a very different thing," he said with heavy +impressiveness. "It is a very different thing."</p> + +<p>The curate looked expectant, as if believing that his remarks were going +to be noticed. But nothing was further from the Major's mind.</p> + +<p>"What is so very different?" inquired Mrs. Ascott-Smith, after a pause +had made it clear that the Major had ignored Pringle.</p> + +<p>"It is one thing, my dear Madame, to ride a stunted, half-starved pony, +as you say 'bareback,' and another thing to ride a conditioned British +Hunter (he pronounced it huntaw) without a saddle. I must say that the +latter is an impossibility." The oracle came to an end and the material +Major began on the muffin.</p> + +<p>There was an approving murmur of assent. The Major was the author of +"Schooling and Riding British Hunters;" however, it was not only his +authority which swayed the company, but individual conviction. Of the +dozen people in the room, excepting Pringle, all rode to hounds with +more or less enthusiasm, and no one had ever seen any one hunting +without a saddle and no one had ever experienced any desire to try the +experiment. Obviously it was an absurdity.</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless," observed Lord Frederic, "I must say their riding was +very creditable—quite as good as one sees on any polo field in +England."</p> + +<p>Major Hammerslea looked at him severely, as if his youth were not wholly +an excuse. "It is, as I said," he observed. "It is one thing to ride an +American pony and another to ride a British Hunter. One requires +horse<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1464" id="Page_1464">[Pg 1464]</a></span>manship, the other does not. And horsemanship," he continued, +"which properly is the guiding of a horse across country, requires years +of study and experience."</p> + +<p>Lord Frederic looked somewhat unconvinced but he said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Of course the dear Major (she called it deah Majaw) is unquestionably +right," said Mrs. Ascott-Smith.</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly," said Mr. Carteret. "I suppose that he has often seen +Indians ride?"</p> + +<p>"Have you often seen these Indians ride?" inquired Mrs. Ascott-Smith of +the Major.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean Indians or the Red Men of North America?" replied the +Major. "And do you mean upon ponies in a show or upon British Hunters?"</p> + +<p>"Which do you mean?" asked Mrs. Ascott-Smith.</p> + +<p>"I suppose that I mean American Indians," said Mr. Carteret, "and either +upon ponies or upon British Hunters."</p> + +<p>"No," said the Major, "I have not. Have you?"</p> + +<p>"Not upon British Hunters," said Mr. Carteret.</p> + +<p>"But do you think that they could?" inquired Lord Frederic.</p> + +<p>"It would be foolish of me to express an opinion," replied Mr. Carteret, +"because, in the first place, I have never seen them ride British +Hunters over jumps—"</p> + +<p>"They would come off at the first obstacle," observed the Major, more in +sorrow than in anger.</p> + +<p>"And in the second place," continued Mr. Carteret, "I am perhaps +naturally prejudiced in behalf of my fellow countrymen."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ascott-Smith looked at him anxiously. His sister had married a +British peer. "But you Americans are quite distinct from the red +Indians," she said. "We quite un<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1465" id="Page_1465">[Pg 1465]</a></span>derstand that nowadays. To be sure, my +dear Aunt—" She stopped.</p> + +<p>"Rather!" said Mrs. Archie Brawle. "You don't even intermarry with them, +do you?"</p> + +<p>"That is a matter of personal taste," said Mr. Carteret. "There is no +law against it."</p> + +<p>"But nobody that one knows—" began Mrs. Ascott-Smith.</p> + +<p>"There was John Rohlfs," said Mr. Carteret; "he was a very well known +chap."</p> + +<p>"Do you know him?" asked Mrs. Brawle.</p> + +<p>The Curate sniggered. His hour of triumph had come. "Rohlfs is dead," he +said.</p> + +<p>"Really!" said Mrs. Brawle, coldly. "It had quite slipped my mind. You +see I never read the papers during the hunting. But is his wife +received?"</p> + +<p>"I believe that she was," said Mr. Carteret.</p> + +<p>The Curate was still sniggering and Mrs. Brawle put her glass in her eye +and looked at him. Then she turned to Mr. Carteret. "But all this," she +said, "of course, has nothing to do with the question. Do you think that +these red Indians could ride bareback across our country?"</p> + +<p>"As I said before," replied Mr. Carteret, "it would be silly of me to +express an opinion, but I should be interested in seeing them try it."</p> + +<p>"I have a topping idea!" cried Lord Frederic. He was a simple-minded +fellow.</p> + +<p>"You must tell us," exclaimed Mrs. Ascott-Smith.</p> + +<p>"Let us have them down, and take them hunting!"</p> + +<p>"How exciting!" exclaimed Mrs. Ascott-Smith. "What sport!"</p> + +<p>The Major looked at her reprovingly. "It would be as I said," he +observed.</p> + +<p>"But it would be rather interesting," said Mrs. Brawle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1466" id="Page_1466">[Pg 1466]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It might," said the Major, "it might be interesting."</p> + +<p>"It would be ripping!" said Lord Frederic. "But how can we manage it?"</p> + +<p>"I'll mount them," said the Major with a grim smile. "My word! They +shall have the pick of my stable though I have to spend a month +rebreaking horses that have run away."</p> + +<p>"But it isn't the mounts," said Lord Frederic. "You see I've never met +any of these chaps." He turned to Mr. Carteret with a sudden +inspiration. "Are any of them friends of yours?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ascott-Smith looked anxiously at Mr. Carteret, as if she feared +that it would develop that some of the people in the show were his +cousins.</p> + +<p>"No," he replied, "I don't think so, although I may have met some of +them in crossing the reservations. But I once went shooting with Grady, +one of the managers of the show."</p> + +<p>"Better yet!" said Lord Frederic. "Do you think that he would come and +bring some of them down?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I think he would," said Mr. Carteret. He knew that the showman was +strong in Grady—if not the sportsman.</p> + +<p>The Major rose to go to the billiard room. "I have one piece of advice +to give you," he said. "This prank is harmless enough, but establish a +definite understanding with this fellow that you are not to be liable in +damages for personal injuries which his Indians may receive. Explain to +him that it is not child's play and have him put it in writing."</p> + +<p>"You mean to have him execute a kind of release?" said Mr. Carteret.</p> + +<p>"Precisely that," said the Major. "I was once sued for twenty pounds by +a groom that fell off my best hunter and let him run away, and damme, +the fellow recovered." He bowed to the ladies and left the room.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1467" id="Page_1467">[Pg 1467]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Of course we can fix all that up," said Lord Frederic. "The old chap is +a bit over cautious nowadays, but how can we get hold of this fellow +Grady?"</p> + +<p>"I'll wire him at once, if you wish," said Mr. Carteret, and he went to +the writing table.</p> + +<p>"When do you want him to come down?" he asked, as he wrote the address.</p> + +<p>"We might take them out with the Pytchley on Saturday," said Lord +Frederic, "but the meet is rather far from our station. Perhaps it would +be better to have them on Thursday with Charley Ploversdale's hounds."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carteret hesitated a moment. "Wouldn't Ploversdale be apt to be +fussy about experiments? He's rather conservative, you know, about the +way people are turned out. I saw him send a man home one day who was out +without a hat. It was an American who was afraid that his hair was +coming out."</p> + +<p>"Pish," said Lord Frederic, "Charley Ploversdale is mild as a dove."</p> + +<p>"Suit yourself," said Mr. Carteret. "I'll make it Thursday. One more +question," he added. "How many shall I ask him to bring down?" At this +moment the Major came into the room again. He had mislaid his +eyeglasses.</p> + +<p>"I should think that a dozen would be about the right number," said Lord +Frederic, replying to Mr. Carteret. "It would be very imposing."</p> + +<p>"Too many!" said the Major. "We must mount them on good horses and I +don't want my entire stable ruined by men who have never lepped a +fence."</p> + +<p>"I think the Major is right about the matter of numbers," said Mr. +Carteret. "How would three do?"</p> + +<p>"Make it three," said the Major.</p> + +<p>Before dinner was over a reply came from Grady say<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1468" id="Page_1468">[Pg 1468]</a></span>ing that he and three +bucks would be pleased to arrive Thursday morning prepared for a hunting +party.</p> + +<p>This took place on Monday, and at various times during Tuesday and +Wednesday, Mr. Carteret gave the subject thought. By Thursday morning +his views had ripened. He ordered his tea and eggs to be served in his +room and came down a little past ten dressed in morning clothes. He +wandered into the dining-room and found Mrs. Ascott-Smith sitting by the +fire entertaining Lord Frederic, as he went to and from the sideboard in +search of things to eat.</p> + +<p>"Good morning," said Mr. Carteret, hoarsely.</p> + +<p>Lord Frederic looked around and as he noticed Mr. Carteret's morning +clothes his face showed surprise.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" he said, "you had better hurry and change, or you will be late. +We have to start in half an hour to meet Grady."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carteret coughed. "I don't think that I can go out to-day. It is a +great disappointment."</p> + +<p>"Not going hunting?" exclaimed Mrs. Ascott-Smith. "What is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"I have a bad cold," said Mr. Carteret miserably.</p> + +<p>"But, my dear fellow," exclaimed Lord Frederic, "it will do your cold a +world of good!"</p> + +<p>"Not a cold like mine," said Mr. Carteret.</p> + +<p>"But this is the day, don't you know?" said Lord Frederic. "How am I +going to manage things without you?"</p> + +<p>"All that you have to do is to meet them at the station and take them to +the meet," said Mr. Carteret. "Everything else has been arranged."</p> + +<p>"But I'm awfully disappointed," said Lord Frederic. "I had counted on +you to help, don't you see, and introduce them to Ploversdale. It would +be more graceful for an American to do it than for me. You understand?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1469" id="Page_1469">[Pg 1469]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Carteret, "I understand. It's a great disappointment, +but I must bear it philosophically."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ascott-Smith looked at him sympathetically, and he coughed twice. +"You are suffering," she said. "Lord Frederic, you really must not urge +him to expose himself. Have you a pain here?" she inquired, touching +herself in the region of the pleura.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Carteret, "it is rather bad, but I daresay that it will +soon be better."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid that it may be pneumonia," said his hostess. "You must take +a medicine that I have. They say that it is quite wonderful for +inflammatory colds. I'll send Hodgson for it," and she touched the bell.</p> + +<p>"Please, please don't take that trouble," entreated Mr. Carteret.</p> + +<p>"But you must take it," said Mrs. Ascott-Smith. "They call it +Broncholine. You pour it in a tin and inhale it or swallow it, I forget +which, but it's very efficacious. They used it on Teddy's pony when it +was sick. The little creature died but that was because they gave it too +much, or not enough, I forget which."</p> + +<p>Hodgson appeared and Mrs. Ascott-Smith gave directions about the +Broncholine.</p> + +<p>"I thank you very much," said Mr. Carteret humbly. "I'll go to my room +and try it at once."</p> + +<p>"That's a good chap!" said Lord Frederic, "perhaps you will feel so much +better that you can join us.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said Mr. Carteret gloomily, "or it may work as it did on the +pony." And he left the room.</p> + +<p>After Hodgson had departed from his chamber leaving explicit directions +as to how and how not to use the excellent Broncholine, Mr. Carteret +poured a quantity of it from the bottle and threw it out of the window +resolving to be on the safe side. Then he looked at his boots and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1470" id="Page_1470">[Pg 1470]</a></span> his +pink coat and white leathers which were laid out upon a chair. "I don't +think there can be any danger," he thought, "if I turn up after they +have started. I loathe stopping in all day." He dressed leisurely, +ordered his horse, and some time after the rest of the household had +sallied forth, he followed. As he knew the country and the coverts which +Lord Ploversdale would draw, he counted on joining the tail of the hunt, +thus keeping out of sight. He inquired of a rustic if he had seen hounds +pass and receiving "no," for an answer he jogged on at a faster trot, +fearing that the hounds might have gone away in some other direction. As +he came around a bend in the road, he saw four women riding toward him, +and as they drew near, he saw that it was Lady Violet Weatherbone and +her three daughters. These young ladies were known as the Three +Guardsmen, a sobriquet not wholly inappropriate; for, as Lord Frederic +described them, they were "uncommon big boned, upstanding fillies," +between twenty-five and thirty and very hard goers across any country, +and always together.</p> + +<p>"Good morning," said Mr. Carteret, bowing. "I suppose the hounds are +close by?" It was a natural assumption, as Lady Violet on hunting days +was never very far from the hounds.</p> + +<p>"I do not know," she responded, and her tone further implied that she +did not care.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carteret hesitated a moment. "Has anything happened?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Lady Violet frankly, "something has happened." Here the +daughters modestly turned their horses away.</p> + +<p>"Some one," continued Lady Violet, "brought savages to the meet." She +paused impressively.</p> + +<p>"Not really!" said Mr. Carteret with hypocritical surprise.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1471" id="Page_1471">[Pg 1471]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," said Lady Violet, "and while it would have mattered little to me, +it was impossible—" She motioned with her head toward the three +maidens, and paused.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," said Mr. Carteret, "but I hardly understand."</p> + +<p>"At the first I thought," said Lady Violet, "that they were attired in +painted fleshings, but upon using my glass, it was clear that I was +mistaken. Otherwise, I should have brought them away at the first +moment."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Mr. Carteret. "It is outrageous."</p> + +<p>"It is indeed!" said Lady Violet; "but the matter will not be allowed to +drop. They were brought to the meet by that young profligate, Lord +Frederic Westcote."</p> + +<p>"You surprise me," said Mr. Carteret, wholly without shame. He bowed, +started his horse, and jogged along for five minutes, then he turned to +the right upon a crossroad and suddenly found himself upon the hounds. +They were feathering excitedly about the mouth of a tile drain into +which the fox had evidently gone. No master, huntsmen nor whips were in +sight, but sitting, wet and mud daubed, upon horses dripping with muddy +water were Grady dressed in cowboy costume and three naked Indians. Mr. +Carteret glanced about over the country and understood. They had swum +the brook at the place where it ran between steep clay banks and the +rest of the field had gone around to the bridge. As he looked toward the +south, he saw Lord Ploversdale riding furiously toward him followed by +Smith, the first whip. Grady had not recognized him turned out in pink +as he was, and for the moment he decided to remain incognito.</p> + +<p>Before Lord Ploversdale, Master of Fox-hounds, reached the road, he +began waving his crop. He appeared excited. "What do you mean by riding +upon my hounds?" he shouted. He said this in several ways with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1472" id="Page_1472">[Pg 1472]</a></span> various +accompanying phrases, but neither the Indians nor Grady seemed to notice +him. It occurred to Mr. Carteret that although Lord Ploversdale's power +of expression was wonderful for England, it, nevertheless, fell short of +Arizona standards. Then, however, he noticed that Grady was absorbed in +adjusting a kodak camera, with which he was evidently about to take a +picture of the Indians alone with the hounds. He drew back in order both +to avoid being in the field of the picture and to avoid too close +proximity with Lord Ploversdale as he came over the fence into the road.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, sir!" shouted the enraged Master of Fox-hounds, as he +pulled up his horse.</p> + +<p>"A little more in the middle," replied Grady, still absorbed in taking +the picture.</p> + +<p>Lord Ploversdale hesitated. He was speechless with surprise for the +moment.</p> + +<p>Grady pressed the button and began putting up the machine.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by riding on my hounds, you and these persons?" +demanded Lord Ploversdale.</p> + +<p>"We didn't," said Grady amiably, "but if your bunch of dogs don't know +enough to keep out of the way of a horse, they ought to learn."</p> + +<p>Lord Ploversdale looked aghast, and Smith, the whip, pinched himself to +make sure that he was not dreaming.</p> + +<p>"Many thanks for your advice," said Lord Ploversdale. "May I inquire who +you and your friends may be?"</p> + +<p>"I'm James Grady," said that gentleman. "This," he said, pointing to the +Indian nearest, "is Chief Hole-in-the-Ground of the Olgallala Sioux. Him +in the middle is Mr. Jim Snake, and the one beyond is Chief Skytail, +being a Pawnee."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1473" id="Page_1473">[Pg 1473]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Thank you, that is very interesting," said Lord Ploversdale, with +polite irony. "Now will you kindly take them home?"</p> + +<p>"See here," said Grady, strapping the camera to his saddle, "I was +invited to this round-up regular, and if you hand me out any more +hostile talk—" He paused.</p> + +<p>"Who invited you?" inquired Lord Ploversdale.</p> + +<p>"One of your own bunch," said Grady, "Lord Frederic Westcote. I'm no +butter-in."</p> + +<p>"Your language is unintelligible," said Lord Ploversdale. "Where is Lord +Westcote?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Carteret had watched the field approaching as fast as whip and spur +could drive them, and in the first flight he noticed Lord Frederic and +the Major. For this reason he still hesitated about thrusting himself +into the discussion. It seemed that the interference of a third party +could only complicate matters, inasmuch as Lord Frederic would so soon +be upon the spot.</p> + +<p>Lord Ploversdale looked across the field impatiently. "I've no doubt, my +good fellow, that Lord Westcote brought you here, and I'll see him about +it, but kindly take these fellows home. They'll kill all my hounds."</p> + +<p>"Now you're beginning to talk reasonable," said Grady. "I'll discuss +with you."</p> + +<p>The words were hardly out of his mouth before the hounds gave tongue +riotously and went off. The fox had slipped out of the other end of the +drain and old Archer had found the line.</p> + +<p>As if shot out of a gun the three Indians dashed at the stake and bound +fence on the farther side of the road, joyously using their heavy quirts +on the Major's thoroughbreds. Skytail's horse being hurried top much, +blundered his take-off, hit above the knees and rolled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1474" id="Page_1474">[Pg 1474]</a></span> over on the +Chief, who was sitting tight. There was a stifled grunt and then the +Pawnee word "Go-dam!"</p> + +<p>Hole-in-the-Ground looked back and laughed one of the few laughs of his +life. It was a joke which he could understand. Then he used the quirt +again to make the most of his advantage.</p> + +<p>"That one is finished," said Lord Ploversdale gratefully. But as the +words were in his mouth, Skytail rose with his horse, vaulted up and was +away.</p> + +<p>The M. F. H. followed over the hedge shouting at Smith to whip off the +hounds. But the hounds were going too fast. They had got a view of the +fox and three whooping horsemen were behind them driving them on.</p> + +<p>The first flight of the field followed the M. F. H. out of the road, and +so did Mr. Carteret, and presently he found himself riding between Lord +Frederic and the Major. They were both a bit winded and had evidently +come fast.</p> + +<p>"I say," exclaimed Lord Frederic, "where did you come from?"</p> + +<p>"I was cured by the Broncholine," said Mr. Carteret.</p> + +<p>"Is your horse fresh?" asked Lord Frederic.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Mr. Carteret, "I happened upon them at the road."</p> + +<p>"Then go after that man Grady," said Lord Frederic, "and implore him to +take those beggars home. They have been riding on the hounds for twenty +minutes."</p> + +<p>"Were they able," asked Mr. Carteret, "to stay with their horses at the +fences?"</p> + +<p>"Stay with their horses!" puffed the Major.</p> + +<p>"Go on, like a good chap," said Lord Frederic, "stop that fellow or I +shall be expelled from the hunt. Was Lord Ploversdale vexed?" he added.</p> + +<p>"I should judge by his language," said Mr. Carteret, "that he was +vexed."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1475" id="Page_1475">[Pg 1475]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hurry on," said Lord Frederic. "Put your spurs in."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carteret gave his horse its head and he shot to the front, but Grady +was nearly a field in the lead, and it promised to be a long chase, as +he was on the Major's black thoroughbred. The cowboy rode along with a +loose rein and an easy balance seat. At his fences he swung his hat and +cheered. He seemed to be enjoying himself, and Mr. Carteret was anxious +lest he might begin to shoot for pure delight. Such a demonstration +would have been misconstrued. Nearly two hundred yards ahead at the +heels of the pack galloped the Indians, and in the middle distance +between them and Grady rode Lord Ploversdale and Smith vainly trying to +overtake the hounds and whip them off. Behind and trailing over a mile +or more came the field and the rest of the hunt servants in little +groups, all awestruck at what had happened. It was unspeakable that Lord +Ploversdale's hounds, which had been hunted by his father and his +grandfather, should be so scandalized.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carteret finally got within a length of Grady and hailed him.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Carty," said Grady, "glad to see you. I thought you was sick. +What can I do? They've stampeded. But it's a great ad. for the show, +isn't it? There's four reporters that I brought along."</p> + +<p>"Forget about the show," said Mr. Carteret. "This isn't any laughing +matter. It's one of the smartest packs in England. You don't +understand."</p> + +<p>"It will make all the better story in the papers," said Grady.</p> + +<p>"No it won't," said Mr. Carteret. "They won't print it. It's like a +blasphemy upon the Church."</p> + +<p>"Whoop!" yelled Grady, as they tore through a bullfinch.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1476" id="Page_1476">[Pg 1476]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Call them off," said Mr. Carteret, straightening his hat.</p> + +<p>"But I can't catch 'em," said Grady, and that was the truth.</p> + +<p>Lord Ploversdale, however, had been gaining on the Indians, and by the +way in which he clubbed his heavy crop, loaded at the butt, it was +apparent that he meant to put an end to the proceedings if he could.</p> + +<p>Just then the hounds swept over the crest of a green hill, and as they +went down the other side they viewed the fox in the field beyond. He was +in distress, and it looked as if the pack would kill in the open. They +were running wonderfully together, a blanket would have covered them, +and in the natural glow of pride which came over the M. F. H., he +loosened his grip upon the crop. But as the hounds viewed the fox, so +did the three sons of the wilderness who were following close behind. +From the hill-top fifty of the hardest going men in England saw +Hole-in-the-Ground flogging his horse with the heavy quirt which hung +from his wrist. The outraged British hunter shot forward scattering +hounds to right and left, flew a ditch and hedge and was close on the +fox, who had stopped to make a last stand. Without drawing rein, the +astonished onlookers saw the lean Indian suddenly disappear under the +neck of his horse and almost instantly swing back into his seat waving a +brown thing above his head. Hole-in-the-Ground had caught the fox.</p> + +<p>"Most unprecedented!" Mr. Carteret heard the Major exclaim. He pulled up +his horse, as the field did with theirs, and waited apprehensively. He +saw Hole-in-the-Ground circle around, jerk the Major's five hundred +guinea hunter to a standstill close to Lord Ploversdale and address him. +He was speaking in his own language.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1477" id="Page_1477">[Pg 1477]</a></span></p> + +<p>As the Chief went on, he saw Grady smile.</p> + +<p>"He says," says Grady, translating, "that the white chief can eat the +fox if he wants him. He's proud himself, bein' packed with store grub."</p> + +<p>The English onlookers heard and beheld with blank faces. It was beyond +them.</p> + +<p>The M. F. H. bowed stiffly as Hole-in-the-Ground's offer was made known +to him. He regarded them a moment in thought. A vague light was breaking +in upon him. "Aw, thank you," he said. "Smith, take the fox. Good +afternoon!"</p> + +<p>Then he wheeled his horse, called the hounds in with his horn and +trotted out to the road that led to the kennels. Lord Ploversdale, +though he had never been out of England, was cast in a large mold.</p> + +<p>The three Indians sat on their panting horses, motionless, stolidly +facing the curious gaze of the crowd; or rather they looked through the +crowd, as the lion, with the high breeding of the desert, looks through +and beyond the faces that stare and gape before the bars of his cage.</p> + +<p>"Most amazing! Most amazing!" muttered the Major.</p> + +<p>"It is," said Mr. Carteret, "if you have never been away from this." He +made a sweeping gesture over the restricted English scenery, pampered +and brought up by hand.</p> + +<p>"Been away from this?" repeated the Major. "I don't understand."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carteret turned to him. How could he explain it?</p> + +<p>"With us," he began, laying an emphasis on the "us." Then he stopped. +"Look into their eyes," he said hopelessly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1478" id="Page_1478">[Pg 1478]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Major looked at him blankly. How could he, Major Hammerslea, know +what those inexplicable dark eyes saw beyond the fenced tillage—the +brown, bare, illimitable range under the noonday sun, the evening light +on far, silent mountains, the starlit desert!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1479" id="Page_1479">[Pg 1479]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_BOSTON_BALLAD" id="A_BOSTON_BALLAD"></a>A BOSTON BALLAD</h2> + +<h3>BY WALT WHITMAN</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To get betimes in Boston town, I rose this morning early;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Here's a good place at the corner—I must stand and see the show.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Clear the way there, Jonathan!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Way for the President's marshal! Way for the government cannon!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Way for the Federal foot and dragoons—and the apparitions copiously tumbling.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I love to look on the stars and stripes—I hope the fifes will play Yankee Doodle.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How bright shine the cutlasses of the foremost troops!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Every man holds his revolver, marching stiff through Boston town.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A fog follows—antiques of the same come limping,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some appear wooden-legged, and some appear bandaged and bloodless.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Why this is indeed a show! It has called the dead out of the earth!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The old grave-yards of the hills have hurried to see!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Phantoms! phantoms countless by flank and rear!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cocked hats of mothy mould! crutches made of mist!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1480" id="Page_1480">[Pg 1480]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Arms in slings! old men leaning on young men's shoulders!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What troubles you, Yankee phantoms? What is all this chattering of bare gums?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Does the ague convulse your limbs? Do you mistake your crutches for fire-locks, and level them?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If you blind your eyes with tears, you will not see the President's marshal;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If you groan such groans, you might balk the government cannon.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For shame, old maniacs! Bring down those tossed arms, and let your white hair be;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Here gape your great grand-sons—their wives gaze at them from the windows,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">See how well dressed—see how orderly they conduct themselves.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Worse and worse! Can't you stand it? Are you retreating?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is this hour with the living too dead for you?</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Retreat then! Pell-mell!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To your graves! Back! back to the hills, old limpers!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I do not think you belong here, anyhow.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But there is one thing that belongs here—shall I tell you what it is, gentlemen of Boston?</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I will whisper it to the Mayor—he shall send a committee to England;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They shall get a grant from the Parliament, go with a cart to the royal vault—haste!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dig out King George's coffin, unwrap him quick from the grave-clothes, box up his bones for a journey;</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1481" id="Page_1481">[Pg 1481]</a></span> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Find a swift Yankee clipper—here is freight for you, black-bellied clipper,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Up with your anchor! shake out your sails! steer straight toward Boston bay.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now call for the President's marshal again, bring put the government cannon,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fetch home the roarers from Congress, make another procession, guard it with foot and dragoons.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This centre-piece for them:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Look! all orderly citizens—look from the windows, women!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The committee open the box, set up the regal ribs, glue those that will not stay,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Clap the skull on top of the ribs, and clap a crown on top of the skull.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You have got your revenge, old buster! The crown is come to its own, and more than its own.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stick your hands in your pockets, Jonathan—you are a made man from this day;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You are mighty cute—and here is one of your bargains.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1482" id="Page_1482">[Pg 1482]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_CHIEF_MATE" id="THE_CHIEF_MATE"></a>THE CHIEF MATE</h2> + +<h3>BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL</h3> + +<p>My first glimpse of Europe was the shore of Spain. Since we got into the +Mediterranean, we have been becalmed for some days within easy view of +it. All along are fine mountains, brown all day, and with a bloom on +them at sunset like that of a ripe plum. Here and there at their feet +little white towns are sprinkled along the edge of the water, like the +grains of rice dropped by the princess in the story. Sometimes we see +larger buildings on the mountain slopes, probably convents. I sit and +wonder whether the farther peaks may not be the Sierra Morena (the rusty +saw) of Don Quixote. I resolve that they shall be, and am content. +Surely latitude and longitude never showed me any particular respect, +that I should be over-scrupulous with them.</p> + +<p>But after all, Nature, though she may be more beautiful, is nowhere so +entertaining as in man, and the best thing I have seen and learned at +sea is our Chief Mate. My first acquaintance with him was made over my +knife, which he asked to look at, and, after a critical examination, +handed back to me, saying, "I shouldn't wonder if that 'ere was a good +piece o' stuff." Since then he has transferred a part of his regard for +my knife to its owner. I like folks who like an honest bit of steel, and +take no interest whatever in "your Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff." +There is always more than the average human nature in the man who has a +hearty sympathy with iron.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1483" id="Page_1483">[Pg 1483]</a></span> It is a manly metal, with no sordid +associations like gold and silver. My sailor fully came up to my +expectation on further acquaintance. He might well be called an old salt +who had been wrecked on Spitzbergen before I was born. He was not an +American, but I should never have guessed it by his speech, which was +the purest Cape Cod, and I reckon myself a good taster of dialects. Nor +was he less Americanized in all his thoughts and feelings, a singular +proof of the ease with which our omnivorous country assimilates foreign +matter, provided it be Protestant, for he was a man ere he became an +American citizen. He used to walk the deck with his hands in his +pockets, in seeming abstraction, but nothing escaped his eyes. <i>How</i> he +saw I could never make out, though I had a theory that it was with his +elbows. After he had taken me (or my knife) into his confidence, he took +care that I should see whatever he deemed of interest to a landsman. +Without looking up, he would say, suddenly, "There's a whale blowin' +clearn up to win'ard," or, "Them's porpises to leeward: that means +change o' wind." He is as impervious to cold as a polar bear, and paces +the deck during his watch much as one of those yellow hummocks goes +slumping up and down his cage. On the Atlantic, if the wind blew a gale +from the northeast, and it was cold as an English summer, he was sure to +turn out in a calico shirt and trousers, his furzy brown chest half +bare, and slippers, without stockings. But lest you might fancy this to +have chanced by defect of wardrobe, he comes out in a monstrous +pea-jacket here in the Mediterranean, when the evening is so hot that +Adam would have been glad to leave off his fig-leaves. "It's a kind o' +damp and unwholesome in these ere waters," he says, evidently regarding +the Midland Sea as a vile standing pool, in comparison with the bluff +ocean. At meals he is superb, not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1484" id="Page_1484">[Pg 1484]</a></span> only for his strengths, but his +weaknesses. He has somehow or other come to think me a wag, and if I ask +him to pass the butter, detects an occult joke, and laughs as much as is +proper for a mate. For you must know that our social hierarchy on +shipboard is precise, and the second mate, were he present, would only +laugh half as much as the first. Mr. X. always combs his hair, and works +himself into a black frock-coat (on Sundays he adds a waist-coat) before +he comes to meals, sacrificing himself nobly and painfully to the social +proprieties. The second mate, on the other hand, who eats after us, +enjoys the privilege of shirt-sleeves, and is, I think, the happier man +of the two. We do not have seats above and below the salt, as in old +time, but above and below the white sugar. Mr. X. always takes brown +sugar, and it is delightful to see how he ignores the existence of +certain delicates which he considers above his grade, tipping his head +on one side with an air of abstraction so that he may seem not to deny +himself, but to omit helping himself from inadvertence, or absence of +mind. At such times he wrinkles his forehead in a peculiar manner, +inscrutable at first as a cuneiform inscription, but as easily read +after you once get the key. The sense of it is something like this: "I, +X., know my place, a height of wisdom attained by few. Whatever you may +think, I do <i>not</i> see that currant jelly, nor that preserved grape. +Especially a kind Providence has made me blind to bowls of white sugar, +and deaf to the pop of champagne corks. It is much that a merciful +compensation gives me a sense of the dingier hue of Havana, and the +muddier gurgle of beer. Are there potted meats? My physician has ordered +me three pounds of minced salt-junk at every meal." There is such a +thing, you know, as a ship's husband: X. is the ship's poor relation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1485" id="Page_1485">[Pg 1485]</a></span></p> + +<p>As I have said, he takes also a below-the-white-sugar interest in the +jokes, laughing by precise point of compass, just as he would lay the +ship's course, all <i>yawing</i> being out of the question with his +scrupulous decorum at the helm. Once or twice I have got the better of +him, and touched him off into a kind of compromised explosion, like that +of damp fireworks, that splutter and simmer a little, and then go out +with painful slowness and occasional relapses. But his fuse is always of +the unwillingest, and you must blow your match, and touch him off again +and again with the same joke. Or rather, you must magnetize him many +times to get him <i>en rapport</i> with a jest. This once accomplished, you +have him, and one bit of fun will last the whole voyage. He prefers +those of one syllable, the <i>a-b abs</i> of humor. The gradual fattening of +the steward, a benevolent mulatto with whiskers and ear-rings, who looks +as if he had been meant for a woman, and had become a man by accident, +as in some of those stories by the elder physiologists, is an abiding +topic of humorous comment with Mr. X. "That 'ere stooard," he says, with +a brown grin like what you might fancy on the face of a serious and aged +seal, "'s agittin' as fat's a porpis. He was as thin's a shingle when he +come aboord last v'yge. Them trousis'll bust yit. He don't darst take +'em off nights, for the whole ship's company couldn't git him into 'em +agin." And then he turns aside to enjoy the intensity of his emotion by +himself, and you hear at intervals low rumblings, an indigestion of +laughter. He tells me of St. Elmo's fires, Marvell's <i>corposants</i>, +though with him the original <i>corpos santos</i> has suffered a sea change, +and turned to <i>comepleasants</i>, pledges of fine weather. I shall not soon +find a pleasanter companion. It is so delightful to meet a man who knows +just what you do <i>not</i>. Nay, I think the tired mind finds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1486" id="Page_1486">[Pg 1486]</a></span> something in +plump ignorance like what the body feels in cushiony moss. Talk of the +sympathy of kindred pursuits! It is the sympathy of the upper and nether +mill-stones, both forever grinding the same grist, and wearing each +other smooth. One has not far to seek for book-nature, artist-nature, +every variety of superinduced nature, in short, but genuine human-nature +is hard to find. And how good it is! Wholesome as a potato, fit company +for any dish. The free masonry of cultivated men is agreeable, but +artificial, and I like better the natural grip with which manhood +recognizes manhood.</p> + +<p>X. has one good story, and with that I leave him, wishing him with all +my heart that little inland farm at last which is his calenture as he +paces the windy deck. One evening, when the clouds looked wild and +whirling, I asked X. if it was coming on to blow. "No, I guess not," +said he; "bumby the moon'll be up, and scoff away that 'ere loose +stuff." His intonation set the phrase "scoff away" in quotation-marks as +plain as print. So I put a query in each eye, and he went on. "Ther' was +a Dutch cappen onct, an' his mate come to him in the cabin, where he sot +takin' his schnapps, an' says, 'Cappen, it's agittin' thick, an' looks +kin' o' squally, hedn't we's good's shorten sail?' 'Gimmy my alminick,' +says the cappen. So he looks at it a spell, an' says he, 'The moon's due +in less'n half an hour, an' she'll scoff away ev'ythin' clare agin.' So +the mate he goes, an' bumby down he comes agin, an' says, 'Cappen, this +'ere's the allfiredest, powerfullest moon 't ever you <i>did</i> see. She's +scoffed away the main-togallants'l, an' she's to work on the foretops'l +now. Guess you'd better look in the alminick agin, and fin' out when +<i>this</i> moon sets.' So the cappen thought 'twas 'bout time to go on deck. +Dreadful slow them Dutch cappens be." And X. walked away, rumbling +inwardly, like the rote of the sea heard afar.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1487" id="Page_1487">[Pg 1487]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_ROAD_TO_A_WOMANS_HEART" id="THE_ROAD_TO_A_WOMANS_HEART"></a>THE ROAD TO A WOMAN'S HEART</h2> + +<h3>BY SAM SLICK</h3> + +<p>As we approached the inn at Amherst, the Clockmaker grew uneasy. "It's +pretty well on in the evening, I guess," said he, "and Marm Pugwash is +as onsartin in her temper as a mornin' in April; it's all sunshine or +all clouds with her, and if she's in one of her tantrums she'll stretch +out her neck and hiss like a goose with a flock of goslin's. I wonder +what on airth Pugwash was a-thinkin' on when he signed articles of +partnership with that are woman; she's not a bad-lookin' piece of +furniture, neither, and it's a proper pity sich a clever woman should +carry sich a stiff upper lip. She reminds me of our old minister Joshua +Hopewell's apple-trees.</p> + +<p>"The old minister had an orchard of most particular good fruit, for he +was a great hand at buddin', graftin', and what not, and the orchard (it +was on the south side of the house) stretched right up to the road. +Well, there were some trees hung over the fence, I never seed such +bearers: the apples hung in ropes, for all the world like strings of +onions, and the fruit was beautiful. Nobody touched the minister's +apples, and when other folks lost their'n from the boys, his'n always +hung there like bait t' a hook, but there never was so much as a nibble +at 'em. So I said to him one day, 'Minister,' said I, 'how on airth do +you manage to keep your fruit that's so exposed, when no one else can't +do it nohow?' 'Why,' says he, 'they are dreadfully pretty fruit, ain't +they?' 'I guess,' said I,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1488" id="Page_1488">[Pg 1488]</a></span> 'there ain't the like on 'em in all +Connecticut.' 'Well,' says he, 'I'll tell you the secret, but you +needn't let on to no one about it. That are row next the fence, I +grafted it myself: I took great pains to get the right kind. I sent +clean up to Roxberry and away down to Squawneck Creek.' I was afeard he +was a-goin' to give me day and date for every graft, bein' a terrible +long-winded man in his stories; so says I, 'I know that, minister, but +how do you preserve them?' 'Why, I was a-goin' to tell you,' said he, +'when you stopped me. That are outward row I grafted myself with the +choicest kind I could find, and I succeeded. They are beautiful, but so +etarnal sour, no human soul can eat them. Well, the boys think the old +minister's graftin' has all succeeded about as well as that row, and +they sarch no further. They snicker at my graftin', and I laugh in my +sleeve, I guess, at their penetration.'</p> + +<p>"Now, Marm Pugwash is like the minister's apples, very temptin' fruit to +look at, but desperate sour. If Pugwash had a watery mouth when he +married, I guess it's pretty puckery by this time. However, if she goes +to act ugly, I'll give her a dose of 'soft sawder' that will take the +frown out of her frontispiece and make her dial-plate as smooth as a +lick of copal varnish. It's a pity she's such a kickin' devil, too, for +she has good points,—good eye, good foot, neat pastern, fine chest, a +clean set of limbs, and carries a good—But here we are. Now you'll see +what 'soft sawder' will do."</p> + +<p>When we entered the house, the travelers' room was all in darkness, and +on opening the opposite door into the sitting-room we found the female +part of the family extinguishing the fire for the night. Mrs. Pugwash +had a broom in her hand, and was in the act (the last act of female +housewifery) of sweeping the hearth. The strong flickering light of the +fire, as it fell upon her tall,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1489" id="Page_1489">[Pg 1489]</a></span> fine figure and beautiful face, +revealed a creature worthy of the Clockmaker's comments.</p> + +<p>"Good evening, marm," said Mr. Slick. "How do you do? and how's Mr. +Pugwash?" "He!" said she: "why, he's been abed this hour. You don't +expect to disturb him this time of night, I hope?" "Oh, no," said Mr. +Slick, "certainly not, and I am sorry to have disturbed you, but we got +detained longer than we expected; I am sorry that—" "So am I," said +she, "but if Mr. Pugwash will keep an inn when he has no occasion to, +his family can't expect no rest."</p> + +<p>Here the Clockmaker, seeing the storm gathering, stooped down suddenly, +and, staring intently, held out his hand and exclaimed: "Well, if that +ain't a beautiful child! Come here, my little man, and shake hands along +with me. Well, I declare, if that are little feller ain't the finest +child I ever seed. What, not abed yet? Ah, you rogue, where did you get +them are pretty rosy cheeks? Stole them from mama, eh? Well, I wish my +old mother could see that child, it is such a treat. In our country," +said he, turning to me, "the children are all as pale as chalk or as +yaller as an orange. Lord! that are little feller would be a show in our +country. Come to me, my man." Here the "soft sawder" began to operate. +Mrs. Pugwash said, in a milder tone than we had yet heard, "Go, my dear, +to the gentleman; go, dear." Mr. Slick kissed him, asked him if he would +go to the States along with him, told him all the little girls would +fall in love with him, for they didn't see such a beautiful face once in +a month of Sundays. "Black eyes,—let me see,—ah, mama's eyes, too, and +black hair also; as I am alive, you are mama's own boy, the very image +of mama." "Do be seated, gentlemen," said Mrs. Pugwash. "Sally, make a +fire in the next room." "She ought to be proud of you,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1490" id="Page_1490">[Pg 1490]</a></span> he continued. +"Well, if I live to return here, I must paint your face, and have it put +on my clocks, and our folks will buy the clocks for the sake of the +face. Did you ever see," said he, again addressing me, "such a likeness +between one human and another, as between this beautiful little boy and +his mother?" "I am sure you have had no supper," said Mrs. Pugwash to +me; "you must be hungry, and weary, too. I will get you a cup of tea." +"I am sorry to give you so much trouble," said I. "Not the least trouble +in the world," she replied; "on the contrary, a pleasure."</p> + +<p>We were then shown into the next room, where the fire was now blazing +up, but Mr. Slick protested he could not proceed without the little boy, +and lingered behind to ascertain his age, and concluded by asking the +child if he had any aunts that looked like mama.</p> + +<p>As the door closed Mr. Slick said, "It's a pity she don't go well in +gear. The difficulty with those critters is to git them to start: arter +that there is no trouble with them, if you don't check 'em too short. If +you do they'll stop again, run back and kick like mad, and then Old Nick +himself wouldn't start 'em. Pugwash, I guess, don't understand the +natur' of the crittur; she'll never go kind in harness for him. <i>When I +see a child</i>," said the Clockmaker, "<i>I always feel safe with these +women-folk; for I have always found that the road to a woman's heart +lies through her child</i>."</p> + +<p>"You seem," said I, "to understand the female heart so well, I make no +doubt you are a general favorite among the fair sex." "Any man," he +replied, "that understands horses has a pretty considerable fair +knowledge of women, for they are jist alike in temper, and require the +very identical same treatment. <i>Encourage the timid ones, be gentle and +steady with the fractious, but lather the sulky ones like blazes.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1491" id="Page_1491">[Pg 1491]</a></span></p> + +<p>"People talk an everlastin' sight of nonsense about wine, women and +horses. I've bought and sold 'em all, I've traded in all of them, and I +tell you there ain't one in a thousand that knows a grain about either +on 'em. You hear folks say, Oh, such a man is an ugly-grained critter, +he'll break his wife's heart; jist as if a woman's heart was as brittle +as a pipe-stalk. The female heart, as far as my experience goes, is jist +like a new india-rubber shoe: you may pull and pull at it till it +stretches out a yard long, and then let go, and it will fly right back +to its old shape. Their hearts are made of stout leather, I tell you; +there's a plaguy sight of wear in 'em.</p> + +<p>"I never knowed but one case of a broken heart, and that was in t'other +sex, one Washington Banks. He was a sneezer. He was tall enough to spit +down on the heads of your grenadiers, and near about high enough to wade +across Charlestown River, and as strong as a tow-boat. I guess he was +somewhat less than a foot longer than the moral law and catechism, too. +He was a perfect pictur' of a man; you couldn't fault him in no +particular, he was so just a made critter; folks used to run to the +winder when he passed, and say, 'There goes Washington Banks; beant he +lovely!' I do believe there wasn't a gal in the Lowell factories that +warn't in love with him. Sometimes, at intermission, on Sabbath-days, +when they all came out together (an amazin' handsom' sight, too, near +about a whole congregation of young gals), Banks used to say, 'I vow, +young ladies, I wish I had five hundred arms to reciprocate one with +each of you; but I reckon I have a heart big enough for you all; it's a +whopper, you may depend, and every mite and morsel of it at your +service.' 'Well, how you do act, Mr. Banks!' half a thousand little +clipper-clapper tongues would say, all at the same time,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1492" id="Page_1492">[Pg 1492]</a></span> and their dear +little eyes sparklin' like so many stars twinklin' of a frosty night.</p> + +<p>"Well, when I last seed him he was all skin and bone, like a horse +turned out to die. He was teetotally defleshed, a mere walkin' skeleton. +'I am dreadful sorry,' says I, 'to see you, Banks, lookin' so peaked. +Why, you look like a sick turkey-hen, all legs! What on airth ails you?' +'I'm dyin', says he, '<i>of a broken heart</i>.' 'What!' I says I, 'have the +gals been jiltin' you?' 'No, no,' says he; 'I beant such a fool as that, +neither.' 'Well,' says I, 'have you made a bad speculation?' 'No,' says +he, shakin' his head, 'I hope I have too much clear grit in me to take +on so bad for that.' 'What under the sun is it, then?' said I. 'Why,' +says he, 'I made a bet the fore part of the summer with Leftenant Oby +Knowles that I could shoulder the best bower of the Constitution +frigate. I won my bet, <i>but the anchor was so etarnal heavy that it +broke my heart</i>.' Sure enough, he did die that very fall; and he was the +only instance I ever heard tell of a <i>broken heart</i>."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1493" id="Page_1493">[Pg 1493]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ICARUS" id="ICARUS"></a>ICARUS</h2> + +<h3>BY JOHN G. SAXE</h3> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All modern themes of poesy are spun so very fine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That now the most amusing muse, <i>e gratia</i>, such as mine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is often forced to cut the thread that strings our recent rhymes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And try the stronger staple of the good old classic times.</span><br /> +</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There lived and flourished long ago, in famous Athens town,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One <i>Dædalus</i>, a carpenter of genius and renown;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">('Twas he who with an <i>auger</i> taught mechanics how to <i>bore</i>,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An art which the philosophers monopolized before.)</span><br /> +</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His only son was <i>Icarus</i>, a most precocious lad,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The pride of Mrs. Dædalus, the image of his dad;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And while he yet was in his teens such progress he had made,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He'd got above his father's size, and much above his trade.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1494" id="Page_1494">[Pg 1494]</a></span></p> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now <i>Dædalus</i>, the carpenter, had made a pair of wings,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Contrived of wood and feathers and a cunning set of springs,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By means of which the wearer could ascend to any height,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sail about among the clouds as easy as a kite!</span><br /> +</p> + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"O father," said young <i>Icarus</i>, "how I should like to fly!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And go like you where all is blue along the upper sky;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How very charming it would be above the moon to climb,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And scamper through the Zodiac, and have a high old time!</span><br /> +</p> + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Oh wouldn't it be jolly, though,—to stop at all the inns;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To take a luncheon at 'The Crab,' and tipple at 'The Twins';</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, just for fun and fancy, while careering through the air,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To kiss the <i>Virgin</i>, tease the <i>Ram</i>, and bait the biggest <i>Bear</i>?</span><br /> +</p> + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"O father, please to let me go!" was still the urchin's cry;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I'll be extremely careful, sir, and won't go <i>very</i> high;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh if this little pleasure-trip you only will allow,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I promise to be back again in time to fetch the cow!"</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1495" id="Page_1495">[Pg 1495]</a></span></p> + +<h3>VIII</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"You're rather young," said Dædalus, "to tempt the upper air;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But take the wings, and mind your eye with very special care;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And keep at least a thousand miles below the nearest star;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Young lads, when out upon a lark, are apt to go too far!"</span><br /> +</p> + +<h3>IX</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He took the wings—that foolish boy—without the least dismay;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His father stuck 'em on with wax, and so he soared away;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Up, up he rises, like a bird, and not a moment stops</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Until he's fairly out of sight beyond the mountain-tops!</span><br /> +</p> + +<h3>X</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And still he flies—away—away; it seems the merest fun;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No marvel he is getting bold, and aiming at the sun;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No marvel he forgets his sire; it isn't very odd</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That one so far above the earth should think himself a god!</span><br /> +</p> + +<h3>XI</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Already, in his silly pride, he's gone too far aloft;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The heat begins to scorch his wings; the wax is waxing soft;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Down—down he goes!—Alas!—next day poor Icarus was found</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Afloat upon the Ægean Sea, extremely damp and drowned!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1496" id="Page_1496">[Pg 1496]</a></span></p> + +<h3>L'ENVOI</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The moral of this mournful tale is plain enough to all:—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Don't get above your proper sphere, or you may chance to fall;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Remember, too, that borrowed plumes are most uncertain things;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And never try to scale the sky with other people's wings!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1497" id="Page_1497">[Pg 1497]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIVE_LA_BAGATELLE" id="VIVE_LA_BAGATELLE"></a>VIVE LA BAGATELLE</h2> + +<h3>("<i>Swift's Cheerful Creed</i>")</h3> + +<h3>BY CLINTON SCOLLARD</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A bumper to the jolly Dean</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Who, in "Augustan" times,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Made merriment for fat and lean</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In jocund prose and rhymes!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ah, but he drove a pranksome quill!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With quips he wove a spell;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His creed—he cried it with a will—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Was "<i>Vive la bagatelle!</i>"</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, there were reckless jesters then!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And when a man was hit,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He quick returned the stroke again</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With trenchant blade of wit.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Twas parry, thrust, and counter-thrust</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That round the board befell;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They quaffed the wine and crunched the crust</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With "<i>Vive la bagatelle!</i>"</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How rang the genial laugh of Gay</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">At Pope's defiant ire!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How Parnell's sallies brought in play</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The rapier wit of Prior!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And how o'er all the banter's shift—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The laughter's fall and swell—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upleaped the great guffaw of Swift,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1498" id="Page_1498">[Pg 1498]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">With "<i>Vive la bagatelle!</i>"</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O moralist, frown not so dark,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Purse not thy lip severe;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'T will warm the heart if ye but hark</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The mirth of "yester year."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To-day we wear too grave a face;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">We slave,—we buy and sell;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Forget a while mad Mammon's race</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In "<i>Vive la bagatelle!</i>"</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1499" id="Page_1499">[Pg 1499]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_STACCATO_TO_O_LE_LUPE" id="A_STACCATO_TO_O_LE_LUPE"></a>A STACCATO TO O LE LUPE</h2> + +<h3>BY BLISS CARMAN</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O Le Lupe, Gelett Burgess, this is very sad to find:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In <i>The Bookman</i> for September, in a manner most unkind,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There appears a half-page picture, makes me think I've lost my mind.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They have reproduced a window,—Doxey's window,—(I dare say</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In your rambles you have seen it, passed it twenty times a day,)</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As "A Novel Exhibition of Examples of Decay."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There is Nordau we all sneer at, and Verlaine we all adore,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a little book of verses with its betters by the score,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With three faces on the cover I believe I've seen before.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Well, here's matter for reflection, makes me wonder where I am.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Here is Ibsen the gray lion, linked to Beardsley the black lamb.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1500" id="Page_1500">[Pg 1500]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">I was never out of Boston: all that I can say is, "Damn!"</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who could think, in two short summers we should cause so much remark,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With no purpose but our pastime, and to make the public hark,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When I soloed on <i>The Chap-Book</i>, and you answered with <i>The Lark</i>!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Do young people take much pleasure when they read that sort of thing?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Well, they buy it," answered Doxey, "and I take what it will bring.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Publishers may dread extinction—not with such fads on the string.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"There is always sale for something, and demand for what is new.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">These young men who are so restless, and have nothing else to do,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like to think there is 'a movement,' just to keep themselves in view.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"There is nothing in Decadence but the magic of a name.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">People talk and papers drivel, scent a vice, and hint a shame;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all that is good for business, helps to boom my little game."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But when I sit down to reason, think to stand upon my nerve,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Meditate on portly leisure with a balance in reserve,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1501" id="Page_1501">[Pg 1501]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">In he comes with his "Decadence!" like a fly in my preserve.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I can see myself, O Burgess, half a century from now,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Laid to rest among the ghostly, like a broken toy somehow,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All my lovely songs and ballads vanished with your "Purple Cow."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But I will return some morning, though I know it will be hard,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To Cornhill among the bookstalls, and surprise some minor bard,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Turning over their old rubbish for the treasures we discard.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I shall warn him like a critic, creeping when his back is turned,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Ink and paper, dead and done with; Doxey spent what Doxey earned;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Poems doubtless are immortal, where a poem can be discerned!"</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How his face will go to ashes, when he feels his empty purse!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How he'll wish his vogue were greater; plume himself it is no worse;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then go bother the dear public with his puny little verse!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Don't I know how he will pose it; patronize our larger time;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Poor old Browning; little Kipling; what attempts they made to rhyme!"</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1502" id="Page_1502">[Pg 1502]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Just let me have half an hour with the nincompoop sublime!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I will haunt him like a purpose, I will ghost him like a fear;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When he least expects my presence, I'll be mumbling in his ear,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"O Le Lupe lived in Frisco, and I lived in Boston here.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Never heard of us? Good heavens, can you never have been told</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the <i>Larks</i> we used to publish, and the <i>Chap-Books</i> that we sold?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where are all our first edition?" I feel damp and full of mould.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1503" id="Page_1503">[Pg 1503]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_GUEST_AT_THE_LUDLOW" id="A_GUEST_AT_THE_LUDLOW"></a>A GUEST AT THE LUDLOW</h2> + +<h3>BY BILL NYE</h3> + +<p>We are stopping quietly here, taking our meals in our rooms mostly, and +going out very little indeed. When I say we, I use the term editorially.</p> + +<p>We notice first of all the great contrast between this and other hotels, +and in several instances this one is superior. In the first place, there +is a sense of absolute security when one goes to sleep here that can not +be felt at a popular hotel, where burglars secrete themselves in the +wardrobe during the day and steal one's pantaloons and contents at +night. This is one of the compensations of life in prison.</p> + +<p>Here the burglars go to bed at the hour that the rest of us do. We all +retire at the same time, and a murderer can not sit up any later at +night than the smaller or unknown criminal can.</p> + +<p>You can get to Ludlow Street Jail by taking the Second avenue Elevated +train to Grand street, and then going east two blocks, or you can fire a +shotgun into a Sabbath-school.</p> + +<p>You can pay five cents to the Elevated Railroad and get here, or you can +put some other man's nickel in your own slot and come here with an +attendant.</p> + +<p>William Marcy Tweed was the contractor of Ludlow Street Jail, and here +also he died. He was the son of a poor chair-maker, and was born April +3, 1823. From the chair business in 1853 to congress was the first false +step.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1504" id="Page_1504">[Pg 1504]</a></span> Exhilarated by the delirium of official life, and the false joys +of franking his linen home every week, and having cake and preserves +franked back to him at Washington, he resolved to still further taste +the delights of office, and in 1857 we find him as a school +commissioner.</p> + +<p>In 1860 he became Grand Sachem of the Tammany Society, an association at +that time more purely political than politically pure. As president of +the board of supervisors, head of the department of public works, state +senator, and Grand Sachem of Tammany, Tweed had a large and seductive +influence over the city and state. The story of how he earned a scanty +livelihood by stealing a million of dollars at a pop, and thus, with the +most rigid economy, scraped together $20,000,000 in a few years by +patient industry and smoking plug tobacco, has been frequently told.</p> + +<p>Tweed was once placed here in Ludlow Street Jail in default of +$3,000,000 bail. How few there are of us who could slap up that amount +of bail if rudely gobbled on the street by the hand of the law. While +riding out with the sheriff, in 1875, Tweed asked to see his wife, and +said he would be back in a minute.</p> + +<p>He came back by way of Spain, in the fall of '76, looking much improved. +But the malaria and dissipation of Blackwell's Island afterward impaired +his health, and having done time there, and having been arrested +afterward and placed in Ludlow Street Jail, he died here April 12, 1878, +leaving behind him a large, vain world, and an equally vain judgment for +$6,537,117.38, to which he said he would give his attention as soon as +he could get a paving contract in the sweet ultimately.</p> + +<p>From the exterior Ludlow Street Jail looks somewhat like a conservatory +of music, but as soon as one enters he readily discovers his mistake. +The structure has 100 feet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1505" id="Page_1505">[Pg 1505]</a></span> frontage, and a court, which is sometimes +called the court of last resort. The guest can climb out of this court +by ascending a polished brick wall about 100 feet high, and then letting +himself down in a similar way on the Ludlow street side.</p> + +<p>That one thing is doing a great deal toward keeping quite a number of +people here who would otherwise, I think, go away.</p> + +<p>James D. Fish and Ferdinand Ward both remained here prior to their +escape to Sing Sing. Red Leary, also, made his escape from this point, +but did not succeed in reaching the penitentiary. Forty thousand +prisoners have been confined in Ludlow Street Jail, mostly for civil +offenses. A man in New York runs a very short career if he tries to be +offensively civil.</p> + +<p>As you enter Ludlow Street Jail the door is carefully closed after you, +and locked by means of an iron lock about the size of a pictorial family +Bible. You then remain on the inside for quite a spell. You do not hear +the prattle of soiled children any more. All the glad sunlight, and +stench-condensing pavements, and the dark-haired inhabitants of +Rivington street, are seen no longer, and the heavy iron storm-door +shuts out the wail of the combat from the alley near by. Ludlow Street +Jail may be surrounded by a very miserable and dirty quarter of the +city, but when you get inside all is changed.</p> + +<p>You register first. There is a good pen there that you can write with, +and the clerk does not chew tolu and read a sporting paper while you +wait for a room. He is there to attend to business, and he attends to +it. He does not seem to care whether you have any baggage or not. You +can stay here for days, even if you don't have any baggage. All you need +is a kind word and a mittimus from the court.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1506" id="Page_1506">[Pg 1506]</a></span></p> + +<p>One enters this sanitarium either as a boarder or a felon. If you decide +to come in as a boarder, you pay the warden $15 a week for the privilege +of sitting at his table and eating the luxuries of the market. You also +get a better room than at many hotels, and you have a good strong door, +with a padlock on it, which enables you to prevent the sudden and +unlooked-for entrance of the chambermaid. It is a good-sized room, with +a wonderful amount of seclusion, a plain bed, table, chairs, carpet and +so forth. After a few weeks at the seaside, at $19 per day, I think the +room in which I am writing is not unreasonable at $2.</p> + +<p>Still, of course, we miss the sea breeze.</p> + +<p>You can pay $50 to $100 per week here if you wish, and get your money's +worth, too. For the latter sum one may live in the bridal chamber, so to +speak, and eat the very best food all the time.</p> + +<p>Heavy iron bars keep the mosquitoes out, and at night the house is +brilliantly lighted by incandescent lights of one-candle power each. +Neat snuffers, consisting of the thumb and forefinger polished on the +hair, are to be found in each occupied room.</p> + +<p>Bread is served to the Freshmen and Juniors in rectangular wads. It is +such bread as convicts' tears have moistened many thousand years. In +that way it gets quite moist.</p> + +<p>The most painful feature about life in Ludlow Street Jail is the +confinement. One can not avoid a feeling of being constantly hampered +and hemmed in.</p> + +<p>One more disagreeable thing is the great social distinction here. The +poor man who sleeps in a stone niche near the roof, and who is +constantly elbowed and hustled out of his bed by earnest and restless +vermin with a tendency toward insomnia, is harassed by meeting in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1507" id="Page_1507">[Pg 1507]</a></span> +court-yard and corridors the paying boarders who wear good clothes, live +well, have their cigars, brandy and Kentucky Sec all the time.</p> + +<p>The McAllister crowd here is just as exclusive as it is on the outside.</p> + +<p>But, great Scott! what a comfort it is to a man like me, who has been +nearly killed by a cyclone, to feel the firm, secure walls and solid +time lock when he goes to bed at night! Even if I can not belong to the +400, I am almost happy.</p> + +<p>We retire at 7:30 o'clock at night and arise at 6:30 in the morning, so +as to get an early start. A man who has five or ten years to stay in a +place like this naturally likes to get at it as soon as possible each +day, and so he gets up at 6:30.</p> + +<p>We dress by the gaudy light of the candle, and while we do so, we +remember far away at home our wife and the little boy asleep in her +arms. They do not get up at 6:30. It is at this hour we remember the +fragrant drawer in the dresser at home where our clean shirts, and +collars and cuffs, and socks and handkerchiefs, are put every week by +our wife. We also recall as we go about our stone den, with its odor of +former corned beef, and the ghost of some bloody-handed predecessor's +snore still moaning in the walls, the picture of green grass by our own +doorway, and the apples that were just ripening, when the bench warrant +came.</p> + +<p>The time from 6:30 to breakfast is occupied by the average, or +non-paying inmate, in doing the chamberwork and tidying up his +state-room. I do not know how others feel about it, but I dislike +chamberwork most heartily, especially when I am in jail. Nothing has +done more to keep me out of jail, I guess, than the fact that while +there I have to make up my bed and dust the piano.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1508" id="Page_1508">[Pg 1508]</a></span></p> + +<p>Breakfast is generally table d'hôte and consists of bread. A tin-cup of +coffee takes the taste of the bread out of your mouth, and then if you +have some Limburger cheese in your pocket you can with that remove the +taste of the coffee.</p> + +<p>Dinner is served at 12 o'clock, and consists of more bread with soup. +This soup has everything in it except nourishment. The bead on this soup +is noticeable for quite a distance. It is disagreeable. Several days ago +I heard that the Mayor was in the soup, but I didn't realize it before. +I thought it was a newspaper yarn. There is everything in this soup, +from shop-worn rice up to neat's-foot oil. Once I thought I detected +cuisine in it.</p> + +<p>The dinner menu is changed on Fridays, Sundays and Thursdays, on which +days you get the soup first and the bread afterward. In this way the +bread is saved.</p> + +<p>Three days in a week each man gets at dinner a potato containing a +thousand-legged worm. At 6 o'clock comes supper with toast and +responses. Bread is served at supper time, together with a cup of tea. +To those who dislike bread and never eat soup, or do not drink tea or +coffee, life at Ludlow Street Jail is indeed irksome.</p> + +<p>I asked for kumiss and a pony of Benedictine, as my stone boudoir made +me feel rocky, but it has not yet been sent up.</p> + +<p>Somehow, while here, I can not forget poor old man Dorrit, the Master of +the Marshalsea, and how the Debtors' Prison preyed upon his mind till he +didn't enjoy anything except to stand off and admire himself. Ludlow +Street Jail is a good deal like it in many ways, and I can see how in +time the canker of unrest and the bitter memories of those who did us +wrong but who are basking in the bright and bracing air, while we, to +meet their ob<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1509" id="Page_1509">[Pg 1509]</a></span>ligations, sacrifice our money, our health and at last our +minds, would kill hope and ambition.</p> + +<p>In a few weeks I believe I should also get a preying on my mind. That is +about the last thing I would think of preying on, but a man must eat +something.</p> + +<p>Before closing this brief and incomplete account as a guest at Ludlow +Street Jail I ought, in justice to my family, to say, perhaps, that I +came down this morning to see a friend of mine who is here because he +refuses to pay alimony to his recreant and morbidly sociable wife. He +says he is quite content to stay here, so long as his wife is on the +outside. He is writing a small ready-reference book on his side of the +great problem, "Is Marriage a Failure?"</p> + +<p>With this I shake him by the hand and in a moment the big iron +storm-door clangs behind me, the big lock clicks in its hoarse, black +throat and I welcome even the air of Ludlow street so long as the blue +sky is above it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1510" id="Page_1510">[Pg 1510]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_ENCHANTED_HAT" id="THE_ENCHANTED_HAT"></a>THE ENCHANTED HAT</h2> + +<h3><i>The Adventure of My Lady's Letter</i></h3> + +<h3>BY HAROLD MACGRATH</h3> + +<p>It was half-after six when I entered Martin's from the Broadway side. I +chose a table by the north wall and sat down on the cushioned seat. I +ordered dinner, and the ample proportions of it completely hoodwinked +the waiter as to the condition of my cardiac affliction: being, as I +was, desperately and hopelessly and miserably in love. Old owls say that +a man can not eat when he is in love. He can if he is mad at the way the +object of his affections has treated him; and I was mad. To be sure, I +can not recall what my order was, but the amount of the waiter's check +is still vivid to my recollection.</p> + +<p>I glanced about. The café was crowded, as it usually is at this hour. +Here and there I caught glimpses of celebrities and familiar faces: +journalists, musicians, authors, artists and actors. This is the time +they drop in to be pointed out to strangers from out of town. It's a +capital advertisement. To-night, however, none of these interested me in +the slightest degree; rather, their animated countenances angered me. +How <i>could</i> they laugh and look happy!</p> + +<p>At my left sat a young man about my own age. He was also in evening +dress. At my right a benevolent old gentleman, whose eye-glasses +balanced neatly upon the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1511" id="Page_1511">[Pg 1511]</a></span> end of his nose, was deeply interested in <i>The +Law Journal</i> and a pint pf mineral water. A little beyond my table was +an exiled Frenchman, and the irritating odor of absinthe drifted at +times across my nostrils.</p> + +<p>With my coffee I ordered a glass of Dantzic, and watched the flakes of +beaten gold waver and settle; and presently I devoted myself entirely to +my own particularly miserable thoughts.... To be in love and in debt! To +be with the gods one moment and hunted by a bill-collector the next! To +have the girl you love snub and dismiss you for no more lucid reason +than that you did not attend the dance at the Country Club when you +promised you would! It did not matter that you had a case on that night +from which depended a large slice of your bread and butter; no, that did +not matter. Neither did the fact that you had mixed the dates. You had +promised to go, and you hadn't gone or notified the girl that you +wouldn't go. Your apologetic telegram she had torn into halves and +returned the following morning, together with a curt note to the effect +that she could not value the friendship of a man who made and broke a +promise so easily. It was all over. It was a dashed hard world. How the +deuce do you win a girl, anyhow?</p> + +<p>Supposing, besides, that you possessed a rich uncle who said that on the +day of your wedding he would make over to you fifty thousand in +Government three per cents? Hard, wasn't it? Suppose that you were +earning about two thousand a year, and that the struggle to keep up +smart appearances was a keen one. Wouldn't you have been eager to marry, +especially the girl you loved? A man can not buy flowers twice a week, +dine before and take supper after the theater twice a week, belong (and +pay dues and house-accounts) to a country club, a town club and keep +respectable bachelor apartments on two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1512" id="Page_1512">[Pg 1512]</a></span> thousand ... and save anything. +And suppose the girl was independently rich? Heigh-ho!</p> + +<p>I find that a man needs more money in love than he does in debt. This is +not to say that I was ever very hard pressed; but I hated to pay ten +dollars "on account" when the total was only twenty. You understand me, +don't you? If you don't, somebody who reads this will. Of course, the +girl knew nothing about these things. A young man always falls into the +fault of magnifying his earning capacity to the girl he loves. You see, +I hadn't told her yet that I loved her, though I was studying up +somebody on Moral and Physical Courage for that purpose.</p> + +<p>And now it was all over!</p> + +<p>I did not care so much about my uncle's gold-bonds, but I did think a +powerful lot of the girl. Why, when I recall the annoyances I've put up +with from that kid brother of hers!... Pshaw, what's the use?</p> + +<p>His mother called him "Toddy-One-Boy," in memory of a book she had read +long years ago. He was six years old, and I never think of him without +that jingle coming to mind:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Little Willie choked his sister,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She was dead before they missed her.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Willie's always up to tricks.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ain't he cute, he's only six!"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>He had the face of a Bouguereau cherub, and mild blue eyes such as we +are told inhabit the countenances of angels. He was the most +innocent-looking chap you ever set eyes on. His mother called him an +angel; I should hate to tell you what the neighbors called him. He +lacked none of that subtle humor so familiar in child-life. Heavens! the +deeds I could (if I dared) enumerate.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1513" id="Page_1513">[Pg 1513]</a></span> They turned him loose among the +comic supplements one Sunday, and after that it was all over.</p> + +<p>Hadn't he emptied his grandma's medicine capsules and substituted +cotton? And hadn't dear old grandma come down stairs three days later, +saying that she felt much improved? Hadn't he beaten out the brains of +his toy bank and bought up the peanut man on the corner? Yes, indeed! +And hadn't he taken my few letters from his sister's desk and played +postman up and down the street? His papa thought it all a huge joke till +one of the neighbors brought back a dunning dressmaker's bill that had +lain on the said neighbor's porch. It was altogether a different matter +then. Toddy-One-Boy crawled under the bed that night, and only his +mother's tears saved him from a hiding.</p> + +<p>All these I thought over as I sat at my table. She knew that I would +have gone had it been possible. Women and logic are only cousins german. +Six months ago I hadn't been in love with any one but myself, and now +the Virgil of love's dream was leading me like a new Dante through <i>his</i> +Inferno, and was pointing out the foster-brother of Sisyphus (if he had +a foster-brother), pushing the stone of my lady's favor up the steeps of +Forlorn Hope. Well, I would go up to the club, and if I didn't get home +till mor-r-ning, who was there to care?</p> + +<p>The Frenchman had gone, and the benevolent old gentleman. The crowd was +thinning out. The young man at my left rose, and I rose also. We both +stared thoughtfully at the hat-rack. There hung two hats: an opera-hat +and a dilapidated old stovepipe. The young fellow reached up and, quite +naturally, selected the opera-hat. He glanced into it, and immediately a +wrinkle of annoyance darkened his brow. He held the hat toward me.</p> + +<p>"Is this yours?" he asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1514" id="Page_1514">[Pg 1514]</a></span></p> + +<p>I looked at the label.</p> + +<p>"No." The wrinkle of annoyance sprang from his brow to mine. My +opera-hat had cost me eight dollars.</p> + +<p>The young fellow laughed rather lamely. "Do you live in New York?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>I nodded.</p> + +<p>"So do I," he continued; "and yet it is evident that both of us have +been neatly caught." He thought for a moment, then brightened. "I'll +tell you what; let's match for the good one."</p> + +<p>I gazed indignantly at the rusty stovepipe. "Done!" said I.</p> + +<p>I lost; I knew that I should; and the young fellow walked off with the +good hat. Then, with the relic in my hand, a waiter and myself began a +systematic search. My hat was nowhere to be found. How the deuce was I +to get up town to the club? I couldn't wear the old plug; I wasn't rich +enough for such an eccentricity. I had nothing but a silk hat at the +apartment, and I hated it because it was always in the way when I +entered carriages and elevators.</p> + +<p>Angrily, I strode up to the cashier's desk and explained the situation, +leaving my address and the number of my apartment; my name wasn't +necessary.</p> + +<p>Troubles never come singly. Here I had lost my girl and my hat, to say +nothing of my temper—of the three the most certain to be found again. I +passed out of the café, bareheaded and hotheaded. I hailed a cab and +climbed in. I had finally determined to return to my rooms and study. I +simply could not afford to be seen with that stovepipe hat either on my +head or under my arm. Had I been green from college it is probable that +I should have worn it proudly and defiantly. But I had left college +behind these six years.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1515" id="Page_1515">[Pg 1515]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hang these old duffers who are so absent-minded! For I was confident +that the benevolent old gentleman was the cause of all this confusion. +Inside the cab I tried on the thing, just to get a picture in my mind of +the old gentleman going it up Broadway with my opera-hat on his head. +The hat sagged over my ears; and I laughed. The picture I had conjured +up was too much for my anger, which vanished suddenly. And once I had +laughed I felt a trifle more agreeable toward the world. So long as a +man can see the funny side of things he has no active desire to leave +life behind; and laughter does more to lighten his sorrows than +sympathy, which only aggravates them.</p> + +<p>After all, the old gentleman would feel the change more sharply than I. +This was, in all probability, the only hat he had. I turned it over and +scrutinized it. It was a genteel old beaver, with an air of +respectability that was quite convincing. There was nothing smug about +it, either. It suggested amiability in the man who had recently +possessed it. It suggested also a mild contempt for public opinion, +which is always a sign of superior mentality and advanced years. I began +to draw a mental portrait of the old man. He was a family lawyer, +doubtless, who lived in the past and hugged his retrospections. When we +are young there is never any vanishing point to our day-dreams. Well, +well! On the morrow he would have a new hat, of approved shape and +pattern; unless, indeed, he possessed others like this which had fallen +into my keeping. Perhaps he would soon discover his mistake, return to +the café and untangle the snarl. I sincerely hoped he would. As I +remarked, my hat had cost me eight dollars.</p> + +<p>I soon arrived at my apartments, and got into a smoking-jacket. I rather +delight in lolling around in a dress-shirt;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1516" id="Page_1516">[Pg 1516]</a></span> it looks so like the +pictures we see in the fashionable novels. I picked up Blackstone and +turned to his "promissory notes." I had two or three out myself. It was +nine o'clock when the hall-boy's bell rang, and I placed my ear to the +tube. A gentleman wished to see me in regard to a lost hat.</p> + +<p>"Send him up, James; send him up!" I bawled down the tube. Visions of +the club returned, and I tossed Blackstone into a corner.</p> + +<p>Presently there came a tap on the door, and I flung it wide. But my +visitor was not the benevolent old gentleman. He was the Frenchman whose +absinthe had offended me. He glanced at the slip of paper in his hand.</p> + +<p>"I have zee honaire to address zee—ah—gentleman in numbaire six?"</p> + +<p>"I live here."</p> + +<p>"Delight'! We have meexed zee hats, I have zee r-r-regret. Ees thees +your hat?" He held out, for my inspection, an opera-hat. "I am <i>so</i> +absent-mind'—what you call deestrait?"—affably.</p> + +<p>I took the hat, which at first glance I thought to be mine, and went +over to the rack, taking down the old stovepipe.</p> + +<p>"This is yours, then?" I said, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Thousand thanks, m'sieu! Eet ees certain mine. I have zee honaire to +beg pardon for zee confusion. My compliments! Good night!"</p> + +<p>Without giving the hat a single glance, he clapped it on his head, bowed +and disappeared, leaving me his card. He hadn't been gone two minutes +when I discovered that the hat he had exchanged for the stovepipe was +<i>not</i> mine. It came from the same firm, but the initials proved it +without doubt to belong to the young fellow I had met at the table. I +said some uncomplimentary things. Where<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1517" id="Page_1517">[Pg 1517]</a></span> the deuce <i>was</i> my hat? +Evidently the benevolent old gentleman hadn't waked up yet.</p> + +<p>Ting-a-ling! It was the boy's bell again.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Another man after a hat. What's goin' on?"</p> + +<p>"Send him up!" I yelled. It came over me that the Frenchman had made a +second mistake.</p> + +<p>I was not disappointed this time in my visitor. It was the benevolent +old gentleman. Evidently he had not located <i>his</i> hat either, and might +not for some time to come. I began to believe that I had given it to the +Frenchman. He seemed terribly excited.</p> + +<p>"You are the gentleman who occupies number six?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. This is my apartment. You have come in regard to a hat?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. My name is Chittenden. Our hats got mixed up at Martin's this +evening; my fault, as usual. I am always doing something absurd, my +memory is so bad. When I discovered my mistake I was calling on the +family of a client with whom I had spent most of the afternoon. I missed +some valuable papers, legal documents. I believed as usual that I had +forgotten to take them with me. They were nowhere to be found at the +house. My client has a very mischievous son, and it seems that he +stuffed the papers behind the inside band of my hat. With them there was +a letter. I have had two very great scares. A great deal of trouble +would ensue if the papers were lost. I just telephoned that I had +located the hat." He laughed pleasantly.</p> + +<p>Good heavens! here was a howdy-do.</p> + +<p>"My dear Mr. Chittenden, there has been a great confusion," I faltered. +"I had your hat, but—but you have come too late."</p> + +<p>"Too late?" he roared, or I should say, to be exact, shouted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1518" id="Page_1518">[Pg 1518]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"What have you done with it?"</p> + +<p>"Not five minutes ago I gave it to a Frenchman, who seemed to recognize +it as his. It was the Frenchman, if you will remember, who sat near your +table in the café."</p> + +<p>"And this hat isn't yours, then?"—helplessly.</p> + +<p>"This" was a flat-brimmed hat of the Paris boulevards, the father of all +stovepipe hats, dear to the Frenchman's heart.</p> + +<p>"Candidly, now," said I with a bit of excusable impatience, "do I look +like a man who would wear a hat like that?"</p> + +<p>He surveyed me miserably through his eye-glasses.</p> + +<p>"No, I can't say that you do. But what in the world am I to do?" He +mopped his brow in the ecstasy of anguish. "The hat must be found. The +legal papers could be replaced, but.... You see, sir, that boy put a +private letter of his sister's in the band of that hat, and it must be +recovered at all hazards."</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry, sir."</p> + +<p>"But what shall I do?"</p> + +<p>"I do not see what can be done save for you to leave word at the café. +The Frenchman is doubtless a frequenter, and may easily be found. If you +had come a few moments sooner...."</p> + +<p>With a gurgle of dismay he fled, leaving me with a half-finished +sentence hanging on my lips and the Frenchman's chapeau hanging on my +fingers. And <i>my</i> hat; where was <i>my</i> hat? (I may as well add here, in +parenthesis, that the disappearance of my eight-dollar hat still remains +a mystery. I have had to buy a new one.)</p> + +<p>So the boy had put a letter of his sister's in the band of the hat, I +mused. How like <i>her</i> kid brother! It seemed that more or less families +had Toddy-One-Boys to look<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1519" id="Page_1519">[Pg 1519]</a></span> after. Pshaw! what a muddle because a man +couldn't keep his thoughts from wool-gathering!</p> + +<p>Well, here I had two hats, neither of which was mine. I could, at a +pinch, wear the opera-hat, as it was the exact size of the one I had +lost. But what was to be done with the Frenchman's?... Fool that I was! +I rushed over to the table. The Frenchman had left his card, and I had +forgotten all about it. And I hadn't asked the benevolent old gentleman +where he lived. The Frenchman's card read: "M. de Beausire, No. —— +Washington Place." I decided to go myself to the address, state the +matter to Monsieur de Beausire, and rescue the letter. I knew all about +these Toddy-One-Boys, and I might be doing some girl a signal service.</p> + +<p>I looked at my watch. It was closing on to ten. So I reluctantly got +into my coat again, drew on a topcoat, and put on the hat that fitted +me. Probably the girl had been writing some fortunate fellow a +love-letter. No gentleman will ever overlook a chance to do a favor for +a young girl in distress. I had scarcely drawn my stick from the +umbrella-jar when the bell rang once again.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" I called down the tube. Why couldn't they let me be?</p> + +<p>"Lady wants to see you, sir."</p> + +<p>"A lady!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. A real lady; l-a-d-y. She says she's come to see the +gentleman in number six about a plug hat. What's the graft, anyway?"</p> + +<p>"A plug hat!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; a plug hat. She seems a bit anxious. Shall I send her up? +She's a peach."</p> + +<p>"Yes, send her up," I answered feebly enough.</p> + +<p>And now there was a woman in the case! I wiped the perspiration from my +brow and wondered what I should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1520" id="Page_1520">[Pg 1520]</a></span> say to her. A woman.... By Jove! the +sister of the mischievous boy! Old Chittenden must have told her where +he had gone, and as he hasn't shown up, she's worried. It must be a +tremendously important letter to cause all this hubbub. So I laid aside +my hat and waited, tugging and gnawing at my mustache.... Had the Girl +acted reasonably I shouldn't have gone to Martin's that night.</p> + +<p>How easy it is for a woman to hurt the man she knows I is in love with +her! And the Girl had hurt me more than I was willing to confess even to +myself. She had implied that I had carelessly broken an engagement.</p> + +<p>Soon there came a gentle tapping. Certainly the young woman had abundant +pluck. I approached the door quickly, and flung it open.</p> + +<p>The Girl herself stood on the threshold, and we stared at each other +with bewildered eyes!</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>She was the most exquisite creature in all the wide world; and here she +was, within reach of my hungry arms!</p> + +<p>"You?" she cried, stepping back, one hand at her throat and the other +against the jamb of the door.</p> + +<p>Dumb as ever was Lot's wife (after the turning-point in her career), I +stood and stared and admired. A woman would instantly have noticed the +beauty of her sables, but I was a man to whom such details were +inconsequent.</p> + +<p>"I did not expect ... that is, only the number of the apartment was +given," she stammered. "I ..." Then her slender figure straightened, and +with an effort she subdued the fright and dismay which had evidently +seized her. "Have you Mr. Chittenden's hat?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1521" id="Page_1521">[Pg 1521]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mr. Chittenden's hat?" I repeated, with a tingling in my throat similar +to that when you hit your elbow smartly on a corner. "Mr. Chittenden's +hat?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he is so thoughtless that I dared not trust him to search for it +alone. Have <i>you</i> got it?"</p> + +<p>Heavens! how my heart beat at the sight of this beautiful being, as she +stood there, palpitating between shame and anxiety! She <i>was</i> beautiful; +and I knew instantly that I loved her better than anything else on +earth.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Chittenden's hat," I continued, as lucid as a trained parrot and in +tones not wholly dissimilar.</p> + +<p>"Can't you say anything more than that?"—impatiently.</p> + +<p>How much more easily a woman recovers her poise than a man, especially +when that man gives himself over as tamely as I did!</p> + +<p>"Was it <i>your</i> letter he was seeking?" I cried, all eagerness and +excitement as this one sane thought entered my head.</p> + +<p>"Did he tell you that there was a letter in it?"—scornfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes,"—guiltily. Heaven only knows why I should have had any sense of +guilt.</p> + +<p>"Give it to me at once,"—imperatively.</p> + +<p>"The hat or the letter?" Truly, I did not know what I was about. Only +one thing was plain to my confused mind, and that was the knowledge that +I wanted to put my arms around her and carry her far, far away from +Toddy-One-Boy.</p> + +<p>"Are you mad, to anger me in this fashion?" she said, balling her little +gloved hands wrathfully. Had there been real lightning in her eyes I'd +have been dead this long while. "Do you dare believe that I knew you +lived in this apartment?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1522" id="Page_1522">[Pg 1522]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I ... haven't the hat."</p> + +<p>"You dared to search it?"—drawing herself up to a supreme height, which +was something less than five-feet-two.</p> + +<p>I became angry, and somehow found myself.</p> + +<p>"I never pry into other people's affairs. You are the last person I +expected to see this night."</p> + +<p>"Will you answer a single question? I promise not to intrude further +upon your time, which, doubtless, is very valuable. Have you either the +hat or the letter?"</p> + +<p>"Neither. I knew nothing about any letter till Mr. Chittenden came. But +he came too late."</p> + +<p>"Too late?"—in an agonized whisper.</p> + +<p>"Yes, too late. I had, unfortunately, given his hat to another gentleman +who made a trifling mistake in thinking it to be his own." Suddenly my +manners returned to me. "Will you come in?"</p> + +<p>"Come in? No! You have given the hat to another man? A trifling mistake! +He calls it a trifling mistake!"—addressing the heavens, obscured +though they were by the thickness of several ceilings. "Oh, what <i>shall</i> +I do?" She began to wring her hands, and when a woman does that what +earthly hope is there for the man who looks on?</p> + +<p>"Don't do that!" I implored. "I'll find the hat." At a word from her, +for all she had trampled on me, I would gladly have gone to Honolulu in +search of a hat-pin. "The gentleman left me his card. With your +permission I will go at once in search of him."</p> + +<p>"I have a cab outside. Give me the address."</p> + +<p>"I refuse to permit you to go alone."</p> + +<p>"You have absolutely nothing to say in regard to where I shall or shall +not go."</p> + +<p>"In this one instance. I shall withhold the address."</p> + +<p>How her eyes blazed!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1523" id="Page_1523">[Pg 1523]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, it is easily to be seen that you do not trust me." I was utterly +discouraged.</p> + +<p>"I did not imply that," with the least bit of softening. "Certainly I +would trust you. But ..."</p> + +<p>"Well?"—as laughingly as I could.</p> + +<p>"I must be the one to take out that letter,"—decidedly.</p> + +<p>"I offer to bring you the hat untouched," I replied.</p> + +<p>"I insist on going."</p> + +<p>"Very well; we shall go together; under no other circumstances. This is +a common courtesy that I would show to a perfect stranger."</p> + +<p>I put on my hat, took up the Frenchman's card and tile, and bowed her +gravely into the main hallway. We did not speak on the way down to the +street. We entered the cab in silence, and went rumbling off southwest. +When the monotony became positively unbearable I spoke.</p> + +<p>"I regret to force myself upon you."</p> + +<p>No reply.</p> + +<p>"It must be a very important letter."</p> + +<p>"To no one but myself,"—with extreme frigidity.</p> + +<p>"His father ought to wring his neck,"—thinking of Toddy-One-Boy.</p> + +<p>"Sir, he is my brother!"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon." It seemed that I wasn't getting on very well.</p> + +<p>We bumped across the Broadway tracks. Once or twice our shoulders +touched, and the thrill I experienced was as painful as it was +rapturous. What was in a letter that she should go to this extreme to +recall it? A heat-flash of jealousy went over me. She had written to +some other fellow; for there always is some other fellow, hang him!... +And then a grand idea came into my erstwhile stupid head. Here she was, +alone with me in a cab. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. I could +force her to listen to my explanation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1524" id="Page_1524">[Pg 1524]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I received your note," I began. "It was cruel and without justice."</p> + +<p>Her chin went up a degree.</p> + +<p>"The worst criminal is not condemned without a hearing, and I have had +none."</p> + +<p>No perceptible movement.</p> + +<p>"We are none of us infallible in keeping appointments. We are liable to +make mistakes occasionally. Had I known that Tuesday night was the night +of the dance I'd have crossed to Jersey in a rowboat."</p> + +<p>The chin remained precipitously inclined.</p> + +<p>"I am poor, and the case involved some of my bread and butter. The work +was done at ten, and even then I did not discover that I had in any way +affronted you. I had it down in my note-book as Wednesday night."</p> + +<p>The lips above the chin curled slightly.</p> + +<p>"You see," I went on, striving to keep my voice even-toned, "my uncle is +rich, but I ask no odds of him. I live entirely upon what I earn at law. +It's the only way I can maintain my individuality, my self-respect and +independence. My uncle has often expressed his desire to make me a +handsome allowance, but what would be the use ... now?"—bitterly.</p> + +<p>The chin moved a little. It was too dark to see what this movement +expressed.</p> + +<p>"It seems that I am only a very unfortunate fellow."</p> + +<p>"You had given me your promise."</p> + +<p>"I know it."</p> + +<p>"Not that I cared,"—with cat-like cruelty; "but I lost the last train +out while waiting for you. Not even a note to warn me! Not the slightest +chance to find an escort! When a man gives his promise to a lady it does +not seem possible that he could forget it ... if he cared to keep it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1525" id="Page_1525">[Pg 1525]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I tell you honestly that I mixed the dates." How weak my excuses +seemed, now that they had passed my lips!</p> + +<p>"You are sure that you mixed nothing else?"—ironically. (She afterward +apologized for this.) "It appears that it would have been better to come +alone."</p> + +<p>"I regret I did not give you the address."</p> + +<p>"It is not too late."</p> + +<p>"I never retreat from any position I have taken."</p> + +<p>"Indeed?"</p> + +<p>Then both our chins assumed an acute angle and remained thus. When a +woman is angry she is about as reasonable as a frightened horse; when a +man is angry he longs to hit something or smoke a cigar. Imagine my +predicament!</p> + +<p>When the cab reached Washington Place and came to a stand I spoke again.</p> + +<p>"Shall I take the hat in, or will you?"</p> + +<p>"We shall go together."</p> + +<p>Ah, if only I had had the courage to say: "I would it were for ever!" +But I feared that it wouldn't take.</p> + +<p>I rang the bell, and presently a maid opened the door.</p> + +<p>"Is Monsieur de Beausire in?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"No, sir, he is not," the maid answered civilly.</p> + +<p>"Do you know where he may be found?"</p> + +<p>"If you have a bill you may leave it,"—frostily and with sudden +suspicion.</p> + +<p>There was a smothered sound from behind me, and I flushed angrily.</p> + +<p>"I am not a bill-collector."</p> + +<p>"Oh; it's the second day of the month, you know. I thought perhaps you +were."</p> + +<p>"He has in his possession a hat which does not belong to him."</p> + +<p>"Good gracious, he hasn't been <i>stealing</i>? I don't believe"—making as +though to shut the door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1526" id="Page_1526">[Pg 1526]</a></span></p> + +<p>This was too much, and I laughed. "No, my girl; he hasn't been stealing. +But, being absent-minded, he has taken another man's hat, and I am +bringing his home in hopes of getting the one he took by mistake."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" And the maid laughed shrilly.</p> + +<p>I held out the hat.</p> + +<p>"My land! that's his hat, sure enough. I was wondering what made him +look so funny when he went out."</p> + +<p>"Where has he gone?" came sharply over my shoulder.</p> + +<p>"If you will wait," said the maid good-naturedly, "I will inquire."</p> + +<p>We waited. So far as I was concerned, I hoped he was miles away, and +that we might go on riding for hours and hours. The maid returned soon.</p> + +<p>"He has gone to meet the French consul at Mouquin's."</p> + +<p>"Which one?" I asked. "There are two, one down and one up town."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't know. You can leave the hat and your card."</p> + +<p>"Thank you; we shall retain the hat. If we find monsieur he will need +it."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," said the maid sympathetically. "He's the worst man you ever +saw for forgetting things. Sometimes he goes right by the house and has +to walk back."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry to have bothered you," said I; and the only girl in the world +and myself reëntered the cab.</p> + +<p>"This is terrible!" she murmured as we drove off.</p> + +<p>"It might be worse," I replied, thinking of the probable long ride with +her: perhaps the last I should ever take!</p> + +<p>"How could it be!"</p> + +<p>I had nothing to offer, and subsided for a space.</p> + +<p>"If we should not find him!"</p> + +<p>"I'll sit on his front stoop all night.... Forgive<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1527" id="Page_1527">[Pg 1527]</a></span> me if I sound +flippant; but I mean it." Snow was in the air, and I considered it a +great sacrifice on my part to sit on a cold stone in the small morning +hours. It looks flippant in print, too, but I honestly meant it. "I am +sorry. You are in great trouble of some sort, I know; and there's +nothing in the world I would not do to save you from this trouble. Let +me take you home and continue the search alone. I'll find him if I have +to search the whole town."</p> + +<p>"We shall continue the search together,"—wearily.</p> + +<p>What had she written to this other fellow? <i>Did</i> she love some one else +and was she afraid that I might learn who it was? My heart became as +lead in my bosom. I simply could not lose this charming creature. And +now, how was I ever to win her?</p> + +<p>It was not far up town to the restaurant, and we made good time.</p> + +<p>"Would you know him if you saw him?" she asked as we left the cab.</p> + +<p>"Not the least doubt of it,"—confidently.</p> + +<p>She sighed, and together we entered the restaurant. It was full of +theater-going people, music and the hum of voices. We must have created +a small sensation, wandering from table to table, from room to room, the +girl with a look of dread and weariness on her face, and I with the +Frenchman's hat grasped firmly in my hand and my brows scowling. If I +hadn't been in love it would have been a fine comedy. Once I surprised +her looking toward the corner table near the orchestra. How many joyous +Sunday dinners we had had there! Heigh-ho!</p> + +<p>"Is that he?" she whispered, clutching my arm of a sudden, her gaze +directed to a near-by table.</p> + +<p>I looked and shook my head.</p> + +<p>"No; my Frenchman had a mustache and a goatee."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1528" id="Page_1528">[Pg 1528]</a></span></p> + +<p>Her hand dropped listlessly. I confess to the thought that it must have +been very trying for her. What a plucky girl she was! She held me in +contempt, and yet she clung to me, patiently and unmurmuring. And I had +lost her!</p> + +<p>"We may have to go down town.... No! as I live, there he is now!"</p> + +<p>"Where?" There was half a sob in her throat.</p> + +<p>"The table by the short flight of stairs ... the man just lighting the +cigarette. I'll go alone."</p> + +<p>"But I can not stand here alone in the middle of the floor...."</p> + +<p>I called a waiter. "Give this lady a chair for a moment;" and I dropped +a coin in his palm. He bowed, and beckoned for her to follow.... Women +are always writing fool things, and then moving Heaven and earth to +recall them.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur de Beausire?" I said.</p> + +<p>Beausire glanced up.</p> + +<p>"Oh, eet ees ... I forget zee name?"</p> + +<p>I told him.</p> + +<p>"I am delight'!" he cried joyfully, as if he had known me all my life. +"Zee chair; be seat'...."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, but it's about the hats."</p> + +<p>"Hats?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It seems that the hat I gave you belongs to another man. In your +haste you did not notice the mistake. <i>This</i> is your hat,"—producing +the shining tile.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu!</i>" he gasped, seizing the hat; "eet <i>ees</i> mine! See! I bring +heem from France; zee <i>nom</i> ees mine. <i>V'là!</i> And I nevaire look in zee +uzzer hat! I am <i>pair</i>fickly dumfound'!" And his astonishment was +genuine.</p> + +<p>"Where is the other hat: the one I gave you?" I was in a great hurry.</p> + +<p>"I have heem here," reaching to the vacant chair at his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1529" id="Page_1529">[Pg 1529]</a></span> side, while the +French consul eyed us both with some suspicion. We <i>might</i> be lunatics. +Beausire handed me the benevolent old gentleman's hat, and the burden +dropped from my shoulders. "Eet ees <i>such</i> a meestake! I laugh; eh?" He +shook with merriment. "I wear <i>two</i> hats and not know zee meestake!"</p> + +<p>I thanked him and made off as gracefully as I could. The girl rose as +she saw me returning. When I reached her side she was standing with her +slender body inclined toward me. She stretched forth a hand and solemnly +I gave her Mr. Chittenden's hat. I wondered vaguely if anybody was +looking at us, and, if so, what he thought of us.</p> + +<p>The girl pulled the hat literally inside out in her eagerness; but her +gloved fingers trembled so that the precious letter fluttered to the +floor. We both stooped, but I was quicker. It was no attempt on my part +to see the address; my act was one of common politeness. But I could not +help seeing the name. It was my own!</p> + +<p>"Give it to me!" she cried breathlessly.</p> + +<p>I did so. I was not, at that particular moment, capable of doing +anything else. I was too bewildered. My own name! She turned, hugging +the hat, the legal documents and the letter, and hurried down the main +stairs, I at her heels.</p> + +<p>"Tell the driver my address; I can return alone."</p> + +<p>"I can not permit that," I objected decidedly. "The driver is a stranger +to us both. I insist on seeing you to the door; after that you may rest +assured that I shall no longer inflict upon you my presence, odious as +it doubtless is to you."</p> + +<p>As she was already in the cab and could not get out without aid, I +climbed in beside her and called the street and number to the driver.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1530" id="Page_1530">[Pg 1530]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Legally the letter is mine; it is addressed to me, and had passed out +of your keeping."</p> + +<p>"You shall never, never have it!"—vehemently.</p> + +<p>"It is not necessary that I should," I replied; "for I vaguely +understand."</p> + +<p>I saw that it was all over. There was now no reason why I should not +speak my mind fully.</p> + +<p>"I can understand without reading. You realized that your note was cruel +and unlike anything you had done, and your good heart compelled you to +write an apology; but your pride got the better of you, and upon second +thought you concluded to let the unmerited hurt go on."</p> + +<p>"Will you kindly stop, the driver, or shall I?"</p> + +<p>"Does truth annoy you?"</p> + +<p>"I decline to discuss truth with you. Will you stop the driver?"</p> + +<p>"Not until we reach Seventy-first Street West."</p> + +<p>"By what right—"</p> + +<p>"The right of a man who loves you. There, it is out, and my pride has +gone down the wind. After to-night I shall trouble you no further. But +every man has the right to tell one woman that he loves her; and I love +you. I loved you the moment I first laid eyes on you. I couldn't help +it. I say this to you now because I perceive how futile it is. What +dreams I have conjured up about you! Poor fool! When I was at work your +face was always crossing the page or peering up from the margins. I +never saw a fine painting that I did not think of you, or heard a fine +piece of music that I did not think of your voice."</p> + +<p>There was a long interval of silence; block after block went by. I never +once looked at her.</p> + +<p>"If I had been rich I should have put it to the touch some time ago; but +my poverty seems to have been for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1531" id="Page_1531">[Pg 1531]</a></span>tunate; it has saved me a refusal. In +some way I have mortally offended you; how, I can not imagine. It can +not be simply because I innocently broke an engagement."</p> + +<p>Then she spoke.</p> + +<p>"You dined after the theater that night with a comic-opera singer. You +were quite at liberty to do so, only you might have done me the honor to +notify me that you had made your choice of entertainment."</p> + +<p>So it was out! Decidedly it was all over now. I never could explain away +the mistake.</p> + +<p>"I have already explained to you my unfortunate mistake. There was and +is no harm that I can see in dining with a woman of her attainments. But +I shall put up no defense. You have convicted me. I retract nothing I +have said. I <i>do</i> love you."</p> + +<p>I was very sorry for myself.</p> + +<p>Cabby drew up. I alighted, and she silently permitted me to assist her +down. I expected her immediately to mount the steps. Instead, she +hesitated, the knuckle of a forefinger against her lips, and assumed the +thoughtful pose of one who contemplates two courses.</p> + +<p>"Have you a stamp?" she asked finally.</p> + +<p>"A stamp?"—blankly.</p> + +<p>"Yes; a postage-stamp."</p> + +<p>I fumbled in my pocket and found, luckily, a single pink square, which I +gave to her. She moistened it with the tip of her tongue and ... stuck +it on the letter!</p> + +<p>"Now, please, drop this in the corner box for me, and take this hat over +to Mr. Chittenden's—Sixty-ninth."</p> + +<p>"What—"</p> + +<p>"Do as I say, or I shall ask you to return the letter to me."</p> + +<p>I rushed off toward the letter-box, drew down the lid, and deposited the +letter—my letter. When I turned she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1532" id="Page_1532">[Pg 1532]</a></span> was running up the steps, and a +second later she had disappeared.</p> + +<p>I hadn't been so happy in all my life!</p> + +<p>Cabby waited at the curb.</p> + +<p>Suddenly I became conscious that I was holding something in my hand. It +was the benevolent old gentleman's stovepipe hat!</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>I pushed the button: pushed it good and hard. Presently I heard a window +open cautiously.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" asked a querulous voice.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Chittenden?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Well, here's your hat!" I cried.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1533" id="Page_1533">[Pg 1533]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="LITIGATION" id="LITIGATION"></a>LITIGATION</h2> + +<h3>BY BILL ARP</h3> + +<p>The fust case I ever had in a Justice Court I emploid old Bob Leggins, +who was a sorter of a self-eddicated fool. I giv him two dollars in +advanse, and he argud the case as I thot, on two sides, and was more +luminus agin me than for me. I lost the case, and found out atterwards +that the defendant had employed Leggins atter I did, and gin him five +dollars to lose my case. I look upon this as a warnin' to all klients to +pay big fees and keep your lawyer out of temtashun.</p> + +<p>My xperience in litigashun hav not been satisfaktory. I sued Sugar Black +onst for the price of a lode of shuks. He sed he wanted to buy sum +ruffness, and I agreed to bring him a lode of shuks for two dollers. My +waggin got broke and he got tired a waitin', and sent out atter the +shuks himself. When I called on him for the pay, he seemed surprised, +and sed it had cost him two dollars and a half to hav the shuks hauld, +and that I justly owd him a half a dollar. He were more bigger than I +was, so I swallered my bile and sued him. His lawyer pled a set-off for +haulin'. He pled that the shuks was unsound; that they was barred by +limitashuns; that they didn't agree with his cow; and that he never got +any shuks from me. He spoak about a hour, and allooded to me as a +swindler about forty-five times. The bedevild jewry went out, and brot +in a verdik agin me for fifty cents, and four dollars for costs. I +hain't saved many shuks on my plantashun<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1534" id="Page_1534">[Pg 1534]</a></span> sence, and I don't intend to +til it gits less xpensiv! I look upon this as a warnin' to all foaks +<i>never to go to law about shuks</i>, or any other small sirkumstanse.</p> + +<p>The next trubble I had was with a feller I hired to dig me a well. He +was to dig it for twenty dollers, and I was to pay him in meat and meal, +and sich like. The vagabon kep gittin' along til he got all the pay, but +hadn't dug nary a foot in the ground. So I made out my akkount, and sued +him as follers, to wit:</p> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>Old John Hanks, to Bill Arp </td><td align='right'>Dr.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>To 1 well you didn't dig</td><td align='right'>$20</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p>Well, Hanks, he hired a cheep lawyer, who rared round xtensively, and +sed a heep of funny things at my xpense, and finally dismissd my case +for what he calld its "ridikulum abserdum." I paid those costs, and went +home a sadder and a wiser man. I pulld down my little kabbin and mooved +it sum three hundred yards nigher the spring, and I hav drunk mity +little well water sence. I look upon this case as a warnin' to all foaks +<i>never to pay for enything till you git it, espeshally if it has to be +dug</i>.</p> + +<p>The next law case I had I ganed it all by myself, by the forse of +sirkumstanses. I bot a man's note that was giv for the hire of a nigger +boy, Dik. Findin' he wouldn't pay me, I sued him before old Squire +Maginnis, beleevin' that it was sich a ded thing that the devil couldn't +keep me out of a verdik. The feller pled failur of konsiderashun, and +<i>non est faktum</i>, and <i>ignis fatuis</i>, and infansy, and that the nigger's +name wasn't Dik, but <i>Richard</i>. The old Squire was a powerful sesesh, +and hated the Yankees amazin'. So atter the lawyer had got thru his +speech and finished up his readin' from a book called "Greenleaf," I +rose forward to a attitood. Stretchin' forth my arms, ses I: "Squire +Maginnis, I would ax, sur, if this is a time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1535" id="Page_1535">[Pg 1535]</a></span> in the histry of our +afflikted kountry when Yankee law books should be admitted in a Southern +patriot's Court? Hain't we got a State of our own and a code of Georgy +laws that's printed on Georgy sile? On the very fust page of the +gentleman's book I seed the name of the sitty of Bosting. Yes, sur, it +was ritten in Bosting, where they don't know no more about the hire of a +nigger than an ox knows the man who will tan his hide." I sed sum more +things that was pinted and patriotik, and closd my argyment by handin' +the book to the Squire. He put on his speks, and atter lookin' at the +book about a minit, ses he:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Arp, you can have a judgment, and I hope that from hensefourth no +lawyer will presoom to cum before this honerabul court with pisen +dokyments to proove his case. If he do, this court will take it as an +insult, and send him to jail."</p> + +<p>I look upon this case as a warnin' to all foaks who gambel in law to +hold a good hand and play it well. High jestice and patriotism are +winning trumps.</p> + +<p>My next case was about steelin' a hog. Larseny from the woods, I think +they call it. I didn't hav but one hog, and we had to let him run out to +keep him alive, for akorns was cheeper than corn at my house. Old +Romulus Ramsour sorter wanted sum fresh meat, and so he shot my shote in +the woods, and was catched carrying him home. He had cut off his ears +and throwed 'em away; but we found 'em, with the under bit in the right +and swaller fork in the left, and so Romulus was brot up square before +the jewry, and his defense was that it was a wild hog. The jewry was out +about two hours and brot in a verdik: "We, the jewry, know that shortly +atter the war the kountry was scarce of provishuns, and in considerashun +of the hard time our poor peepul had in maintainin' their families, and +the temtashuns that surrounded 'em, we find the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1536" id="Page_1536">[Pg 1536]</a></span> defendant not guilty, +but we rekommend him not to do so any more." The motto of this case is +that a man ortent to keep hogs in a poor naberhood.</p> + +<p>After this I had a diffikulty with a man by the name of Kohen, and I +thot I wouldn't go to law, but would arbytrate. I had bot Tom Swillins' +wheat at a dollar a bushel, <i>if he couldn't do any better</i>, and if he +could do better he was to cum back and <i>giv me the prefferense</i>. The +skamp went off and sold the wheat to Kohen for a dollar and five cents, +and Kohen knowd all about his kontrak with me. Me and him lik to hav +fit, and perhaps would, if I hadn't been puny; but we finally left it to +Josh Billins to arbytrate. Old Josh deliberated on the thing three days +and nites, and finally brot in an award that Kohen should hav the wheat +an' <i>I should hav the prefferense</i>. I hain't submitted no more cases to +arbytration sinse, and my advise to all peepul is to arbytrate nuthin' +if your case is honest, for there ain't no judge there to keep one man +from trikkin' the other. An honest man don't stan no chance nowhere +xceptin' in a court house with a good lawyer to back him. The motto of +this case is, never to arbytrate nuthin' but a bad case, and take a good +lawyer to advise, and pay him fur it before you do that.</p> + +<p>But I got Fretman. <i>I</i> didn't, but my lawyer, Marks, did. Fretman was a +nutmeg skhool teacher who had gone round my naborhood with his skool +artikles, and I put down of Troup and Calhoun to go, and intended to +send seven or eight more if he proved himself right. I soon found that +the little nullifiers warn't lernin' enything, and on inquiry I found +that nutmeg was a givin' powerful long recessess, and employin' his time +cheefly in carryin' on with a tolerbul sized female gal that was a goin' +to him. Troup sed he heerd the gal squeel one day, and he knowed Fretman +was a squeezin' of her. I don't mind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1537" id="Page_1537">[Pg 1537]</a></span> our boys a squeezin' of the Yankee +gals, but I'll be blamed if the Yankees shall be a squeezin' ourn. So I +got mad and took the children away. At the end of the term Fretman sued +me for eighteen dollars, and hired a cheep lawyer to kollekt it. Before +this time I had lerned sum sense about a lawyer, so I hired a good one, +and spred my pokit book down before him, and told him to take what would +satisfi him. And he took. Old Phil Davis was the jestice. Marks made the +openin' speech to the effek that every profeshunal man ort to be able to +illustrate his trade, and he therefore proposed to put Mr. Fretman on +the stan' and <i>spell him</i>. This moshun was fout hard, but it agreed with +old Phil's noshuns of "high jestice," and ses he: "Mr. Fretman, you will +hav to spell, sur." Marks then swore him that he would giv true evidense +in this case, and that he would spell evry word in Dan'l Webster's +spellin' book correkly to the best of his knowledge and beleef, so help +him, etc. I saw that he were a tremblin' all over like a cold wet dog. +Ses Marks, "Mr. Fretman, spell 'tisik.'" Well, he spelt it, puttin' in a +<i>ph</i> and a <i>th</i> and a <i>gh</i> and a <i>zh</i>, and I don't know what all, and I +thot he were gone up the fust pop, but Marks sed it were right. He then +spelt him right strate along on all sorts of big words, and little +words, and long words, and short words, and he knowd 'em all, til +finally Marks ses, "Now, sur, spell 'Ompompynusuk.'" Fretman drawd a +long breth and sed it warn't in the book. Marks proved it was by a old +preecher who was a settin' by, and old Phil spoke up with power, ses he, +"Mr. Fretman, you must spell it, sur." Fretman was a swettin' like a run +down filly. He took one pass at it, and <i>missd</i>.</p> + +<p>"You can cum down, sur," ses Marks, "you've lost your case;" and shore +enuf, old Phil giv a verdik agin him like a darn.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1538" id="Page_1538">[Pg 1538]</a></span></p> + +<p>Marks was a whale in his way. At the same court he was about to nonsoot +a Doktor bekaus he didn't hav his diplomy, and the Doktor begged the +court for time to go home after it. He rode seven miles and back as hard +as he could lick it, and when he handed it over, Marks, ses he, "Now, +sur, you will just take the stand and translate this lattin' into +English, so that the court may onderstand it." Well, he jest caved, for +he couldn't do it.</p> + +<p>He lost his case in two minits, for the old squire sed that a dokter who +couldn't read his diplomy had no more right to praktise than a +magistrate what couldn't read the license had to jine two cuple +together.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1539" id="Page_1539">[Pg 1539]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="DARIUS_GREEN_AND_HIS_FLYING-MACHINE" id="DARIUS_GREEN_AND_HIS_FLYING-MACHINE"></a>DARIUS GREEN AND HIS FLYING-MACHINE</h2> + +<h3>BY J. T. TROWBRIDGE</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If ever there lived a Yankee lad,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wise or otherwise, good or bad,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who, seeing the birds fly, didn't jump</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With flapping arms from stake or stump,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or, spreading the tail</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of his coat for a sail,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Take a soaring leap from post or rail,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And wonder why</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>He</i> couldn't fly,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And flap, and flutter, and wish, and try,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If ever you knew a country dunce</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who didn't try that as often as once,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All I can say is, that's a sign</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He never would do for a hero of mine.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An aspiring genius was D. Green:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The son of a farmer, age fourteen;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His body was long and lank and lean,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Just right for flying, as will be seen;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He had two eyes as bright as a bean,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a freckled nose that grew between,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A little awry,—for I must mention</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That he had riveted his attention</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon his wonderful invention,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Twisting his tongue as he twisted the strings,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1540" id="Page_1540">[Pg 1540]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And working his face as he worked the wings,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And with every turn of gimlet and screw</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Turning and screwing his mouth round, too,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Till his nose seemed bent</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To catch the scent,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Around some corner, of new-baked pies,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And his wrinkled cheeks and his squinting eyes</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Grew puckered into a queer grimace,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That made him look very droll in the face,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And also very wise.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And wise he must have been, to do more</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than ever a genius did before,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Excepting Dædalus, of yore,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And his son Icarus, who wore</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Upon their backs</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Those wings of wax</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He had read of in the old almanacs.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Darius was clearly of the opinion</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That the air is also man's dominion,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And that, with paddle or fin or pinion,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">We soon or late shall navigate</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The azure, as now we sail the sea.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The thing looks simple enough to me;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And, if you doubt it,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hear how Darius reasoned about it.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"The birds can fly, an' why can't I?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Must we give in," says he, with a grin,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"That the bluebird an' phœbe</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Are smarter'n we be?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jest fold our hands an' see the swaller</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' blackbird an' catbird beat us holler?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Does the little, chatterin', sassy wren,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No bigger'n my thumb, know more than men?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Jest show me that!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1541" id="Page_1541">[Pg 1541]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ur prove't the bat</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hez got more brains than's in my hat,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' I'll back down, an' not till then!"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He argued further, "Nur I can't see</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What's the use o' wings to a bumble-bee,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fur to git a livin' with, more'n to me;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Ain't my business</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Important's his'n is?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That Icarus</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Made a perty muss:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Him an' his daddy Dædalus</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They might 'a' knowed wings made o' wax</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wouldn't stand sun-heat an' hard whacks.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I'll make mine o' luther,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ur suthin' ur other."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he said to himself, as he tinkered and planned,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"But I ain't goin' to show my hand</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To nummies that never can understand</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The fust idee that's big an' grand."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So he kept his secret from all the rest,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Safely buttoned within his vest;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in the loft above the shed</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Himself he locks, with thimble and thread</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And wax and hammer and buckles and screws,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And all such things as geniuses use;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Two bats for patterns, curious fellows!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A charcoal-pot and a pair of bellows;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some wire, and several old umbrellas;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A carriage-cover, for tail and wings;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A piece of harness; and straps and strings;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And a big strong box,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In which he locks</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">These and a hundred other things.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1542" id="Page_1542">[Pg 1542]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">His grinning brothers, Reuben and Burke</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Nathan and Jotham and Solomon, lurk</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Around the corner to see him work,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sitting cross-legged, like a Turk,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Drawing the wax-end through with a jerk,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And boring the holes with a comical quirk</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of his wise old head, and a knowing smirk.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But vainly they mounted each other's backs,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And poked through knot-holes and pried through cracks;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With wood from the pile and straw from the stacks</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He plugged the knot-holes and calked the cracks;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a bucket of water, which one would think</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He had brought up into the loft to drink</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When he chanced to be dry,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Stood always nigh,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For Darius was sly!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And whenever at work he happened to spy</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At chink or crevice a blinking eye,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He let a dipper of water fly.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Take that! an' ef ever ye git a peep,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Guess ye'll ketch a weasel asleep!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And he sings as he locks</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">His big strong box:—</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">SONG</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The weasel's head is small an' trim,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' he is leetle an' long an' slim,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' quick of motion an' nimble of limb,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An' ef yeou'll be</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Advised by me,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Keep wide awake when ye're ketchin' him!"</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">So day after day</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He stitched and tinkered and hammered away,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1543" id="Page_1543">[Pg 1543]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">Till at last 'twas done,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The greatest invention under the sun!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"An' now," says Darius, "hooray fer some fun!"</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">'T was the Fourth of July,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And the weather was dry,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And not a cloud was on all the sky,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Save a few light fleeces, which here and there,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Half mist, half air,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like foam on the ocean went floating by:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Just as lovely a morning as ever was seen</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For a nice little trip in a flying-machine.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thought cunning Darius: "Now I shan't go</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Along 'ith the fellers to see the show.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'll say I've got sich a terrible cough!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' then, when the folks 'ave all gone off,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I'll hev full swing</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Fer to try the thing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An' practyse a leetle on the wing."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Ain't goin' to see the celebration?"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Says Brother Nate. "No; botheration!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I've got sich a cold—a toothache—I—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My gracious!—feel's though I should fly!"</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Said Jotham, "'Sho!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Guess ye better go."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But Darius said, "No!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shouldn't wonder 'f yeou might see me, though,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Long 'bout noon, ef I git red</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O' this jumpin', thumpin' pain 'n my head."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For all the while to himself he said:—</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"I tell ye what!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'll fly a few times around the lot,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1544" id="Page_1544">[Pg 1544]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see how 't seems, then soon 's I've got</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The hang o' the thing, ez likely 's not,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I'll astonish the nation,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An' all creation,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By flyin' over the celebration!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'll balance myself on my wings like a sea-gull;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'll dance on the chimbleys; I'll stan' on the steeple;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'll flop up to winders an' scare the people!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'll light on the libbe'ty-pole, an' crow;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' I'll say to the gawpin' fools below,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">'What world 's this 'ere</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That I've come near?'</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fer I'll make 'em b'lieve I'm a chap f'm the moon!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' I'll try a race 'ith their ol' bulloon."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">He crept from his bed;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, seeing the others were gone, he said,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I'm gittin' over the cold'n my head."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And away he sped,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To open the wonderful box in the shed.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His brothers had walked but a little way,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When Jotham to Nathan chanced to say,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"What is the feller up to, hey?"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Do'no': the's suthin' ur other to pay,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ur he wouldn't 'a' stayed to hum to-day."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Says Burke, "His toothache's all'n his eye!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>He</i> never'd miss a Fo'th-o'-July,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ef he hedn't got some machine to try."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then Sol, the little one, spoke: "By darn!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Le's hurry back an' hide'n the barn,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' pay him fur tellin' us that yarn!"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Agreed!" Through the orchard they crept back,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Along by the fences, behind the stack,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And one by one, through a hole in the wall,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1545" id="Page_1545">[Pg 1545]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">In under the dusty barn they crawl,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dressed in their Sunday garments all;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a very astonishing sight was that,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When each in his cobwebbed coat and hat</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Came up through the floor like an ancient rat.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And there they hid;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And Reuben slid</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The fastenings back, and the door undid.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"Keep dark!" said he,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"While I squint an' see what the' is to see."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As knights of old put on their mail,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">From head to foot an iron suit,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Iron jacket and iron boot,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Iron breeches, and on the head</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No hat, but an iron pot instead,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And under the chin the bail</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(I believe they call the thing a helm),</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then sallied forth to overwhelm</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The dragons and pagans that plagued the realm,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">So this <i>modern</i> knight</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Prepared for flight,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Put on his wings and strapped them tight,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jointed and jaunty, strong and light,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Buckled them fast to shoulder and hip;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ten feet they measured from tip to tip!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a helm had he, but that he wore,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not on his head, like those of yore,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But more like the helm of a ship.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"Hush!" Reuben said,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"He's up in the shed!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He's opened the winder,—I see his head!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He stretches it out, an' pokes it about,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lookin' to see 'f the coast is clear</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1546" id="Page_1546">[Pg 1546]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 3em;">An' nobody near:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Guess he do'no' who's hid in here!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He's riggin' a spring-board over the sill!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stop laffin', Solomon! Burke, keep still!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He's a climbin' out now—Of all the things!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What's he got on? I van, it's wings!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' that t'other thing? I vum, it's a tail!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' there he sets, like a hawk on a rail!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Steppin' careful, he travels the length</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of his spring-board, and teeters to try its strength.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now he stretches his wings, like a monstrous bat,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Peeps over his shoulder, this way an' that,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fur to see 'f the 's any one passin' by;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But the' 's on'y a ca'f an' a goslin' nigh.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>They</i> turn up at him a wonderin' eye,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see—The dragon! he's goin' to fly!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Away he goes! Jimminy! what a jump!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Flop—flop—an' plump</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To the ground with a thump!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Flutt'rin an' flound'rin', all 'n a lump!"</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As a demon is hurled by an angel's spear,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Heels over head, to his proper sphere,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Heels over head and head over heels,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dizzily down the abyss he wheels,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So fell Darius. Upon his crown,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the midst of the barn-yard, he came down,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a wonderful whirl of tangled strings,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Broken braces and broken springs,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Broken tail and broken wings,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shooting-stars, and various things,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Barn-yard litter of straw and chaff,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And much that wasn't so sweet by half.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Away with a bellow fled the calf;</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1547" id="Page_1547">[Pg 1547]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">And what was that? Did the gosling laugh?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Tis a merry roar from the old barn door,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he hears the voice of Jotham crying,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Say, D'rius! how do you like flyin'?"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Slowly, ruefully, where he lay,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Darius just turned and looked that way,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As he stanched his sorrowful nose with his cuff.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Wal, I like flyin' well enough,"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He said; "but the' ain't sich a thunderin' sight</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O' fun in't when ye come to light."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I just have room for the <span class="smcap">MORAL</span> here:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And this is the moral: Stick to your sphere.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or, if you insist, as you have the right,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On spreading your wings for a loftier flight,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The moral is, Take care how you light.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1548" id="Page_1548">[Pg 1548]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PAPER_A_POEM" id="PAPER_A_POEM"></a>PAPER: A POEM</h2> + +<h3>BY BENJAMIN FRANKLIN</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some wit of old,—such wits of old there were,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whose hints showed meaning, whose allusions care,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By one brave stroke to mark all human kind,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Called clear blank paper every infant mind!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then still, as opening sense her dictates wrote,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fair virtue put a seal, or vice a blot.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The thought was happy, pertinent, and true;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Methinks a genius might the plan pursue.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I (can you pardon my presumption), I—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No wit, no genius—yet for once will try.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Various the papers various wants produce,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wants of fashion, elegance and use.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Men are as various; and, if right I scan,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Each sort of <i>paper</i> represents some <i>man</i>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pray not the fop,—half powder and half lace,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nice as a bandbox were his dwelling-place;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He's the <i>gilt paper</i>, which apart you store,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lock from vulgar hands in the escritoire.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mechanics, servants, farmers, and so forth,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are <i>copy-paper</i>, of inferior worth,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Less prized, more useful, for your desk decreed.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1549" id="Page_1549">[Pg 1549]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Free to all pens, and prompt at every need.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wretch whom avarice bids to pinch and spare,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is coarse <i>brown paper</i>, such as peddlers choose</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To wrap up wares which better men will use.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Take next the miser's contrast, who destroys</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Health, fame and fortune in a round of joys.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will any paper match him? Yes, throughout.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He's a true <i>sinking paper</i>, past all doubt.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The retail politician's anxious thought</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Deems <i>this</i> side always right, and <i>that</i> stark naught;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He foams with censure, with applause he raves,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A dupe to rumors, and a tool of knaves:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He'll want no type his weakness to proclaim</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While such a thing as <i>foolscap</i> has a name.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The hasty gentleman, whose blood runs high,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who picks a quarrel if you step awry,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who can't a jest, or hint, or look endure,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What's he? What? <i>Touch-paper</i>, to be sure.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What are our poets, take them as they fall,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Good, bad, rich, poor, much read, not read at all?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Them and their works in the same class you'll find:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They are the mere <i>waste paper</i> of mankind.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Observe the maiden, innocently sweet;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She's fair <i>white paper</i>, an unsullied sheet,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On which the happy man, whom fate ordains,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">May write his <i>name</i>, and take her for his pains.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One instance more, and only one, I'll bring;</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1550" id="Page_1550">[Pg 1550]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Tis the <i>great man</i> who scorns a little thing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims, are his own,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Formed on the feelings of his heart alone;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">True genuine <i>royal paper</i> is his breast,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of all the kinds most precious, purest, best.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1551" id="Page_1551">[Pg 1551]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="NIAGARA_BE_DAMMED7" id="NIAGARA_BE_DAMMED7"></a>NIAGARA BE DAMMED<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY WALLACE IRWIN</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Them beauties o' Nature," said Senator Grabb,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As he spat on the floor of Justitia's halls,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Is pretty enough and artistic enough—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Referrin', of course, to Niagara Falls,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whose waters go rumblin' and mumblin' and grumblin'</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And tearin' and stumblin' and bumblin' and tumblin'</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And foamin' and roarin'</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And plungin' and pourin'</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And wastin' the waters God gave to us creechers</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To wash down our liquor and wash up our feechers—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Then what in the deuce</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Is the swish-bingled use</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O' keepin' them noisy old cataracts busy</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To give folks a headache and make people dizzy?</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Some poets and children and cripples and fools</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">They say that them Falls is eternal. That so?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Say, what is Eternity, Nature, and God</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Compared to the Inter-Graft Gaslighting Co.?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Could all the durn waterfalls born in creation</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Compete with a sugar or soap corporation?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But Nature, you feel,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Has a voice in the deal?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She ain't. For I'm deaf both in that ear and this un—</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1552" id="Page_1552">[Pg 1552]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">If Nature talks Money I'm willin' to listen!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">So bring on your dredges,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And shovels and sledges,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Yer bricklayers, masons, yer hammers and mauls—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The public be dammed while we dam up the Falls.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Just look at the plans o' me beautiful dream!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A sewer-pipe conduit to carry the Falls</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Past eight hundred mill-wheels (great savin' of steam):</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The cliffs to be covered with dump heaps and walls,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With many a smokestack and fly-wheel and pulley,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bridge, engine, and derrick—say, won't it look bully!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With, furnaces smokin',</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And stokers a-stokin'</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With factory children a-workin' like Scotches</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A-turnin' out chewing-gum, shoe-laces, watches,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And kitchen utensils,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And patent lead-pencils,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And mission-oak furniture, pie-crust, and flannels—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thus turnin' Niag' to legitimate channels.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The province o' Beauty," said Senator Grabb,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Is bossed by us fellers that know what to do.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When Senator Copper hogs half of a State</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He builds an Art Palace on Fift' Avenoo.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What people believed in the dark Middle Ages</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Don't go in this chapter o' history's pages,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And the worship of mountains</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And rivers and fountains</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is sinful, idolatrous, dark superstition—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And likely to lose in a cash proposition.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ere the good time is past</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Let's get busy and cast</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our bread on the waterfall—it'll come back.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We'll first pass the Grabb Bill, and then pass the sack."</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1553" id="Page_1553">[Pg 1553]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_FORBEARANCE_OF_THE_ADMIRAL8" id="THE_FORBEARANCE_OF_THE_ADMIRAL8"></a>THE FORBEARANCE OF THE ADMIRAL<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY WALLACE IRWIN</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I ain't afeard o' the Admiral,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Though a common old tar I be,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And I've oftentimes spoke to the Admiral</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Expressin' a bright idee;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For he's very nice at takin' advice</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And a tractable man is he.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For once I says to the Admiral,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Unterrified, though polite,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Don't think me critical, Admiral,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But yer vessel ain't sailin' right;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For our engine should be burnin' wood</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And our rattlelines should be tight."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But when I spoke to the Admiral</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He wasn't inclined to scold,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though me words, addressed to the Admiral,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Was intimate-like and bold,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">(But he was up on deck at the time</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And I was down in the hold).</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1554" id="Page_1554">[Pg 1554]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="FATE" id="FATE"></a>FATE</h2> + +<h3>BY R. K. MUNKITTRICK</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Once I planted some potatoes</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In my garden fair and bright;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Unelated</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Long I waited,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And no sprout appeared in sight.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But my "peachblows" in the cellar,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">On the cold and grimy flag,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">All serenely</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Sprouted greenly</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In an ancient paper bag.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1555" id="Page_1555">[Pg 1555]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_LIFE_ELIXIR_OF_MARTHY" id="THE_LIFE_ELIXIR_OF_MARTHY"></a>THE LIFE ELIXIR OF MARTHY</h2> + +<h3>BY ELIZABETH HYER NEFF</h3> + +<p>"An-ndrew! An-ndrew!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Marthy."</p> + +<p>"Andrew, what be you doin' out there? You've ben sayin' 'Yes, Marthy,' +for the last ten minutes."</p> + +<p>The patient, middle-aged face of Andrew appeared in the doorway, its +high, white forehead in sharp contrast with the deeply tanned features +below it.</p> + +<p>"I've jest ben takin' your buryin' clothes off the line an' foldin' 'em +up. It is such a good day to air 'em for fall—and, then,—I jest hate +to tell you!—the moths has got into the skirt of your shroud. I sunned +it good, but the holes is there yet."</p> + +<p>"Moths!" screamed the thin voice, sharpened by much calling to people in +distant rooms. "Then they've got all over the house, I presume to say, +if they've got into that. Why don't you keep it in the cedar chist?"</p> + +<p>"Because it's full of your laid-by clothes now, and I keep my black suit +that you had me git for the funeral in there, too. There ain't room. You +told me allus to keep your buryin' clothes in a box in the spare room +closet, so's they'd be handy to git if they was wanted in the night. You +told me that four or five years ago, Marthy."</p> + +<p>"So I did. And I presume to say that my good three-ply carpet that +mother gave me when we was married is jest reddled with moths—if +they're in that closet. If it wasn't for keepin' that spare room ready +for the cousins<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1556" id="Page_1556">[Pg 1556]</a></span> in Maine when they come to the buryin', I'd have you +take up that carpet and beat it good and store it in the garret. My, oh, +my, what worries a body has when they can't git around to do for +themselves! Now it's moths, right on top of Mr. Oldshaw's death after +he'd got my discourse all prepared on the text I picked out for him. He +had as good as preached it to me, and it was a powerful one, a warnin' +to the ungodly not to be took unawares. I advised him to p'int it that +way. Then, Jim Woodworth's Mary is leavin' the choir to marry and go +west, and I jest won't have Palmyra Stockly sing 'Cool Siloam' over me. +I can settle that right now, for I couldn't abide the way she acted +about that church fair—and she sings through her nose anyway. +An-ndrew!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Marthy."</p> + +<p>"You oughtn't to go walkin' off when a body is talkin' to you. You allus +do that."</p> + +<p>"I c'n hear you, Marthy. I'm jest in the kitchen. I thought the dinner +had b'iled dry."</p> + +<p>"Are you gittin' a b'iled dinner? It smells wonderful good. What you got +in it?"</p> + +<p>"Corned beef and cabbage and onions and potatoes and turnips. I've het +up a squash pie and put out some of the cider apple sauce that will +spile if it isn't et pretty soon. I'll put the tea a-drawin' soon's the +kittle b'iles."</p> + +<p>Andrew's voice came into the sick room in a mechanical recitative, as if +accustomed to recount every particular of the day's doings.</p> + +<p>"Well, I guess you can bring me some of it. You bring me a piece of the +corned beef and consid'able of the cabbage and potaters and an onion or +two. And if that cider apple sauce is likely to spile, I might eat a +little of it; bring me a cooky to eat with it. And a piece of the squash +pie. What else did you say you had?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1557" id="Page_1557">[Pg 1557]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's all."</p> + +<p>"Don't forgit to put on consid'able of bread. It's a good while till +supper, and I don't dast to eat between meals."</p> + +<p>Andrew brought the tray to the bedside and propped up the invalid before +he ate his own dinner. He had finished it and cleared up the table +before the high voice called again: "An-ndrew!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Marthy."</p> + +<p>"Is there any more of the corned beef? You brought me such a little +mite of a piece."</p> + +<p>"Yes, there's plenty more, but I knew you'd object if I brought it +first. Like it, did you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was tol'able. Them vegetables was a little rich, but maybe they +won't hurt me. You might bring me another cooky when you come.—Now, you +set down a minute while you're waitin' for my dishes. I've ben worryin' +'bout them moths every minute since you told me, and somethin' has got +to be done."</p> + +<p>"I know it. I hated to tell you, but I thought you ought to know. I +guess I c'n clean 'em out the next rainy spell when I have to stay in."</p> + +<p>"No, you can't wait for that. And you can't do it anyway. There's things +a man can do, and then again there's things he can't. You're uncommon +handy, Andrew, but you're a man."</p> + +<p>Andrew's deprecatory gesture implied that he couldn't help it.</p> + +<p>"I've thought of that ever so much in the years that I've ben layin' +here, and I've worried about what you're goin' to do when I ain't here +to plan and direct for you. Those moths are jest an instance. Now, what +you goin' to do when you have to think for yourself?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1558" id="Page_1558">[Pg 1558]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I do' know, but you ain't goin' to git up a new worry 'bout that, I +hope?"</p> + +<p>"No, it is not a new worry. It's an old one, but it's such a delicate +subject, even between man and wife, that I've hesitated to speak of it. +Andrew, I don't want you to stay single but jest six months—jest six +months to the very day after I'm laid away. I've spoken to Hannah +Brewster to come in and do for you twice a week, same as she does now, +and to mend your socks and underclothes for six months, and then I want +you to—git married."</p> + +<p>"Why, Marthy!"</p> + +<p>"You needn't gasp like you was struck. I presume to say you'd do it +anyway without thinkin' it over well beforehand. I've allus planned and +thought things over for you till I don't know whether you'd be capable +of attendin' to that or not. And I'd go off a sight easier if I knew +'twas all settled satisfactory. I'd like to know who's goin' to keep my +house and wear my clothes and sun my bed quilts, and I could have her +come and learn my ways beforehand."</p> + +<p>"Good gracious, Marthy! There's a limit to plannin'—and directin'—even +for as smart a woman as you be. You're not goin' to know whether +she'll—consent or not, not while—while you're here, yet. And you're +gittin' no worse; it does seem like you're gittin' better all the time. +Last time Aunt Lyddy was here she said you was lookin' better'n she ever +see you before. I told her you'd picked up in your appetite consid'able. +You'll git up yet and be my second wife yourself."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Aunt Lyddy allus thinks great things 'bout me; she never would +believe how low I've ben, but I guess I know how I be. No, you can't +head me off that way, with the moths in my best things and one of my +grandmother's silver spoons missin'. If there's one thing a +fore<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1559" id="Page_1559">[Pg 1559]</a></span>thoughtful woman ought to plan beforehand, it's to pick out the +woman who's to have her house and her things and her husband."</p> + +<p>Andrew wriggled uncomfortably. "I shouldn't wonder if the dish water was +a-b'ilin', Marthy."</p> + +<p>"No, it isn't. You haven't got fire enough. And we'd better settle this +matter while we're at it."</p> + +<p>"Settle it! Why, Marthy, you talk 's if you wanted me to go 'n' git +married on the spot and bring my second wife home to you before—while +you're still here. I'm no Mormon. Like's not you've got her selected; +you're such a wonderful hand to settle things."</p> + +<p>"I can't say 's I've got her selected—not the exact one—but I've ben +runnin' over several in my mind. We'd better have several to pick from, +and then if some refused you, we'd still have a chance."</p> + +<p>"But how would you git any of 'em to consent?" asked Andrew with a show +of interest.</p> + +<p>"How else but ask 'em? They would understand how I feel about you. The +hull town knows how I've laid here expectin' every day to be to-morrow, +and if I want that thing settled before I go, I don't see how it could +make talk."</p> + +<p>"Now, who had you sorted out to pick from?" and Andrew leaned back +comfortably in his chair. His wife punched up her pillow to lift her +head higher.</p> + +<p>"Well, there's the widows first. I've sorted them over and over till +I've got 'em down to four that ain't wasteful cooks nor got too many +relations. There's Widow Jackson—"</p> + +<p>"She's weakly," promptly decided Andrew.</p> + +<p>"And Mary Josephine Wilson—"</p> + +<p>"She don't go to our church. What about the old maids?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1560" id="Page_1560">[Pg 1560]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't take much stock in old maids. The likeliest person I know, and +I wouldn't call her an old maid, either, is Abilonia Supe. Her mother +was counted the best breadmaker in North Sudbury, and Abby was the +neatest darner in her class at sewing school."</p> + +<p>"But, why, Marthy, isn't Abby promised to Willy Parks?"</p> + +<p>"No; I asked Mis' Parks about that yisterday. She said Willy had been +waitin' on Abby for four or five years, but they'd had a +misunderstandin' this summer, and it was broke off for good."</p> + +<p>"He ought to be horsewhipped!" said Andrew warmly. "Abilonia Supe is the +finest girl in North Sudbury."</p> + +<p>"Ye-es," admitted Marthy reluctantly. "You're sure she wouldn't be too +young for you, are you?"</p> + +<p>"Too young? For me? I don't want to marry my grandmother, I guess. And +I'm not Methusalem myself," and he shook the stoop out of his back and +spread the thin hair across his bald spot. His wife looked at him in +wondering surprise.</p> + +<p>"Abby has had rather a hard time since her mother died," she said +weakly.</p> + +<p>"Indeed she has, and she deserves to have it easy now. She needs +somebody to take care of her if that scamp—and she isn't bad lookin', +either—Abby isn't. I tell you, Marthy, there isn't your beat in the +hull town for managin' forethoughtedness. Sick or well, you've allus ben +a captain at managin'. Now, come to think it over, this isn't a bad +idee. But, how'll we git her consent? Maybe I'd better step over +and—well—ruther lead up to the subject. I might—"</p> + +<p>"That dish water's a-b'ilin', Andrew. It's a-b'ilin' hard. I c'n hear +it."</p> + +<p>Andrew started briskly for the kitchen, and the dishes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1561" id="Page_1561">[Pg 1561]</a></span> clattered +merrily. An hour later he framed himself in the doorway in his Sunday +clothes.</p> + +<p>"I have to go down to the store this afternoon to git that baggin' for +the hops, and I can jest as well 's not go round by Supes' and—sort +of—talk that over with Abby—and tell her your wishes. I never deny you +nothin', Marthy; you know that. If it'll be any comfort to you, I'll +jest brace up and do it, no matter how hard it is."</p> + +<p>"Well—say, Andrew, wait a minute. Maybe you'd better wait till we talk +it over a little more. I might consult with Abby, myself, on the +subject—An-ndrew! An-ndrew! That man is gittin' a good deal deafer'n +he'll own to."</p> + +<p>It was quite supper time when Andrew returned; it was too late to cook +anything, so he brought Marthy some of the Sunday baked beans and brown +bread, with the cider apple sauce.</p> + +<p>"Well, you must 'a' had a time of it with her," suggested his wife as he +placed the tray. "I hope you didn't do more'n make a suppositious case +and find out what her sentiments was."</p> + +<p>"That was what I set out to do, but she was so surprised an' asked so +many questions that I jest had to up and tell her what I was drivin' at. +I told her that it was your last wish, and that you'd set your heart on +it till you felt like you couldn't die easy unless you knew who was +goin' to have your house and your beddin' and—me, and after I'd +reasoned with her quite a spell and she'd ruther got used to the idee, +she saw how 'twas. I thought you'd like to have it settled, because you +allus do, and, as you say, there's no tellin' what day'll be to-morrow. +Then, that Willy Parks is likely to come back and spile the hull plan."</p> + +<p>"Settle it all? Why, what did she say to it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1562" id="Page_1562">[Pg 1562]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I guess you may call it settled. I asked her if she'd consider herself +engaged to me—"</p> + +<p>"What? What's that? Engaged to you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; isn't that what you wanted?"</p> + +<p>"What did she say to that?"</p> + +<p>"She said yes, she guessed that she would, though she would like to +think it over a little."</p> + +<p>"I didn't presume to think you'd go and get it all settled without +talkin' it over with me, and I calc'lated to—to do the arrangin' +myself. What did she say when she consented to it, Andrew?"</p> + +<p>Andrew squirmed on the edge of his chair. "I guess my tea is coolin' out +there. I'd better go and eat, now."</p> + +<p>"A minute more won't make no difference. What did she say?"</p> + +<p>"She said—why, she said—a whole lot of things. She said she never +expected to marry; that she wanted to give her life to makin' folks +happy and doin' for them, folks that had a sorrow—but the Lord hadn't +given her any sorrowful folks to do for. It's my opinion that she +thought consid'able of that fickle Willy Parks. Then I reasoned with her +some, and she come to see that maybe this was the app'inted work for her +to do—considerin' you'd set your heart on it so. She said she didn't +know but I needed lookin' after and doin' for as much as any one she +knew, and it would be a pleasure to—now, Marthy, let me go and have my +tea."</p> + +<p>"What else did she say?"</p> + +<p>"Well, she said I certainly had—that I had—a hard trial this trip, and +I'd served my time so faithfully it would be a comfort and a pleasure +to—now, Marthy, I know my tea's cold."</p> + +<p>It took him so long to have his tea and wash the dishes and bring in the +squashes for fear of frost that Marthy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1563" id="Page_1563">[Pg 1563]</a></span> had no further opportunity to +consider the new position of her husband as an engaged man that night. +She resumed the subject early the next morning.</p> + +<p>"Andrew, I want you should go and bring Abilonia over here as soon as +you git the work done up. There's so much I want to arrange with her, +and you never know what day'll be to-morrow. And them moths ought to be +seen to right off—</p> + +<p>"What be you goin' up stairs for? You needn't put on your Sunday clothes +jest for that. She'll have to see you in your old clothes many a year +after you're—ah—when she comes to live here."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but that's not now. I'm only engaged to her; I'm only sort of +courtin' now, as you might say."</p> + +<p>He came back in a little while, bringing a gentle, brown-eyed young +woman, who laid away her things and took an apron from her bag with the +air of one accustomed to do for others.</p> + +<p>"Did you want to see me particularly, Mis' Dobson? I hope you're not +feelin' worse?"</p> + +<p>"I do' know's I slep' much las' night, and I have an awful funny feelin' +round my heart this mornin'. I'm preparin' for the worst. You know 'Two +men shall be grindin' at the mill and'—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, now, you aren't so bad as all that. You look as smart as a spring +robin—you do look wonderful well, Mis' Dobson. Now, what can I do for +you?"</p> + +<p>"There's a lot of things to look after, Abilonia, now that you—that +you—that—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know there are, and I'll just delight to take hold and do them. +I told Mr. Dobson that I wanted to begin to do for you both right away. +I'm real glad you thought—of it, Mis' Dobson, for I've nobody else, +now, to care for, and I should love to take care of poor Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1564" id="Page_1564">[Pg 1564]</a></span> Dobson and +try to make him happy—just real happy—the best of anybody in the +world. He looked so pleased when I told him so."</p> + +<p>"Did he? He did!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, his face just lighted up when I told him that we all knew how +faithful he'd been to his trust through such a long, hard siege, how +kind and patient, and that it would be a privilege to try to make it up +to him a little."</p> + +<p>"Oh—ah—well, what did he say to that?"</p> + +<p>"He just said the hand of the Lord had fallen rather heavy on him, but +he'd tried to bear the burden the best he could, and if he held out to +the end the Lord would reward him. And he said it was the Lord's mercy +to give him such a good, clever wife to take care of—since she was +sickly. Now, would you like me to bake you some cookies this morning, or +do the mending?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Did Andrew say that? Well, he has been faithful. You're +goin' to git an awful good man, Abilonia. Say, don't you tell him, or +it'll scare him, but I'm goin' to do a terrible resky thing. I'm goin' +to set up here in the bed a little spell. Go you up to the top bureau +drawer in the spare room and git my black shawl. I know I might fall +over dead, but I'm goin' to take the resk."</p> + +<p>"Why, Mis' Dobson, it isn't safe!"</p> + +<p>"Safe or not, I'm goin' to do it. I'm goin' to set up a spell. I never +stop for consequences to myself when I set out to do a thing."</p> + +<p>The perilous feat was accomplished without tragedy. After she had had a +nap, propped up in the bed, Mrs. Dobson's soul rose to greater heights +of daring, when Abilonia remarked that Mrs. Dobson's plum-colored silk +was the very thing for a lining to her own silk quilt, and as it would +not be worn again she might as well take it over and make it up. She was +adding that she would like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1565" id="Page_1565">[Pg 1565]</a></span> to have a crayon portrait made of Mr. Dobson +to hang beside that of his wife which adorned the parlor in ante-mortem +state, when Marthy interrupted: "Abilonia, go you and git me a dress. +There ought to be a brown poplin hangin' in the little room closet, +unless somebody moved it last spring in housecleanin' time. You bring +that down. I want to git my feet onto the floor."</p> + +<p>When Andrew came home to get dinner he stopped in the kitchen door, dumb +with amazement. Marthy sat by the table in the big wooden chair peeling +apples, while Abilonia rolled out the pie crust and told about the +church quilting bee.</p> + +<p>The next Sunday Andrew did not change his best suit, as usual, after +church, and his wife remarked the fact as she sat in a blanketed chair +by the living room fire in the evening, with her "Christian Register" in +her hand.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know—I've ben thinkin'—Abby's settin' over there by +herself, and it must be lonesome for the girl. And—if I'm—sort +of—engaged to her—don't you see, Marthy? I don't want to leave +you—but it's my duty to keep company with her. I want to carry out your +wishes exact—every one. You can't ask a thing too hard for me to do."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that, Andrew. If ever a man done his duty, it's you. And +you've had little reward for it, too. I'm tryin' to git you a second +wife that'll have her health and—and—yes, I presume to say that +Abilonia'll ruther look for you to set a while, now that she is bespoke +to you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's what I guess I ought to do," and he rose briskly.</p> + +<p>"Say, Andrew! Don't be in such a hurry. Come back a minute. You gear up +ole Jule to the buggy and git down a comforter for me. I c'n walk some, +to-day, and if you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1566" id="Page_1566">[Pg 1566]</a></span> help me I c'n git into the buggy. I feel like the +air would do me good.—Yes, I presume to say it'll be the death of me, +but you never knew me to stop for that, did you? Git my circular cloak +and the white cloud for my head. Yes, I'm goin', Andrew. When I git my +mind made up, you know what it means."</p> + +<p>There was a light in Abilonia's parlor when they drove up, and a man's +figure showed through the glass panel of the door as he opened it.</p> + +<p>"Willy Parks!" cried Mrs. Dobson in a queer voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes, walk right in, Mr. Dobson. That isn't Mrs. Dobson with you—is it +possible!—after so many years. Let me help you steady her. Well, this +is a surprise! Just walk into the parlor and sit down. Abby's down +cellar putting away the milk, but she'll be up in a minute."</p> + +<p>"It's consid'able of a surprise to see you here, Willy; it's consid'able +of a disapp'intment—to Mis' Dobson. She had set her mind on—on—" +ventured Andrew mildly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, so I heard—and I thought I'd come home. Abby tells me that she is +engaged to you—that she has given her solemn promise."</p> + +<p>"That's what she has," said Andrew firmly. "That's what she has, and +Mis' Dobson has set her mind on it—and I never refuse her nothin'. I +don't want nothin' to reproach myself for. You went off and left that +girl—the finest girl in town—and near about broke her heart. You ought +to be ashamed to show yourself now."</p> + +<p>"I am, Mr. Dobson," said the young man gravely, "and I deserve to lose +her. But when I heard that she was engaged to you—as it were—it +brought me to my senses, and, since you are my rival, I am going to ask +you to be magnanimous. She is so good and true that I believe she will +forgive me and take me back if you will release her—you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1567" id="Page_1567">[Pg 1567]</a></span> and Mrs. +Dobson. You wouldn't hold her while Mrs. Dobson looks so smart as she +does to-night—"</p> + +<p>"No, Andrew, we won't hold her. It wouldn't be right. She's +young—and—and real good lookin', and it would be a pity to spile a +good match for her. We oughtn't to hold her—here she is. We will +release you from your engagement to—to us, Abilonia—and may you be +happy! I'm feelin' a sight better lately; that last bitters you got for +me is a wonderful medicine, Andrew. I presume to say I'll be round on my +feet yet, before long, and be able to take as good care of you as you +have took of me all these years. It's a powerful medicine, that root +bitters. We better be goin', Andrew. They've got things to talk about. +Good night, Abilonia. Good night, Willy."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1568" id="Page_1568">[Pg 1568]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_KAISERS_FAREWELL_TO_PRINCE_HENRY" id="THE_KAISERS_FAREWELL_TO_PRINCE_HENRY"></a>THE KAISER'S FAREWELL TO PRINCE HENRY</h2> + +<h3>BY BERT LESTON TAYLOR</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Auf wiedersehen, brother mine!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Farewells will soon be kissed;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, ere you leave to breast the brine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Give me once more your fist;</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That mailed fist, clenched high in air</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">On many a foreign shore,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Enforcing coaling stations where</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">No stations were before;</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That fist, which weaker nations view</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As if 'twere Michael's own.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And which appals the heathen who</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Bow down to wood and stone.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But this trip no brass knuckles. Glove</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That heavy mailed hand;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your mission now is one of Love</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And Peace—you understand.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All that's American you'll praise;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The Yank can do no wrong.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To use his own expressive phrase,</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1569" id="Page_1569">[Pg 1569]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Just "jolly him along."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Express surprise to find, the more</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of Roosevelt you see,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How much I am like Theodore,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And Theodore like me.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I am, in fact, (this might not be</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A bad thing to suggest,)</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Theodore of the East, and he</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The William of the West.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And, should you get a chance, find out—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">If anybody knows—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Exactly what it's all about,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That Doctrine of Monroe's.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That's <i>entre nous</i>. My present plan</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">You know as well as I;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Be just as Yankee as you can;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">If needs be, eat some pie.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cut out the kraut, cut out Rhine wine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Cut out the Schützenfest,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Sängerbund, the Turnverein,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The Kommers, and the rest.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And if some fool society</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Die Wacht am Rhein" should sing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You sing "My Country 'tis of Thee"—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The tune's "God Save the King."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To our own kindred in that land</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">There's not much you need tell.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Just tell them that you saw me, and</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That I was looking well.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1570" id="Page_1570">[Pg 1570]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="JOHNNYS_LESSONS9" id="JOHNNYS_LESSONS9"></a>JOHNNY'S LESSONS<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY CARROLL WATSON RANKIN</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Tis very, very late; poor mamma and Cousin Kate,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Papa and Aunty Jane, all know it to their sorrow.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Struggling with the mystery of Latin, Greek, and history,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">They're learning Johnny's lessons for the morrow.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His relatives are bright; still, it takes them half the night</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With only four of them—ofttimes a friend they borrow—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To grapple with hard sums, and to fill young John with crumbs</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of wisdom 'gainst the coming of the morrow.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They bitterly complain; still, with only <i>one</i> small brain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The boy needs all his kin can give him, for oh!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">These lessons, if they slight 'em, how <i>can</i> poor John recite 'em</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To a dozen wiser teachers on the morrow.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1571" id="Page_1571">[Pg 1571]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="GRANDFATHER_SQUEERS" id="GRANDFATHER_SQUEERS"></a>GRANDFATHER SQUEERS</h2> + +<h3>BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"My grandfather Squeers," said the Raggedy Man,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As he solemnly lighted his pipe and began—</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The most indestructible man, for his years,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the grandest on earth, was my grandfather Squeers!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"He said, when he rounded his three-score-and-ten,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'I've the hang of it now and can do it again!'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"He had frozen his heels so repeatedly, he</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Could tell by them just what the weather would be;</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"And would laugh and declare, 'while <i>the Almanac</i> would</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Most falsely prognosticate, <i>he</i> never could!'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Such a hale constitution had grandfather Squeers</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That, though he'd used '<i>navy</i>' for sixty odd years,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"He still chewed a dime's-worth six days of the week,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While the seventh he passed with a chew in each cheek:</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Then my grandfather Squeers had a singular knack</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of sitting around on the small of his back,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"With his legs like a letter Y stretched o'er the grate</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1572" id="Page_1572">[Pg 1572]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wherein 'twas his custom to ex-pec-tor-ate.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"He was fond of tobacco in <i>manifold</i> ways,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And would sit on the door-step, of sunshiny days,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"And smoke leaf-tobacco he'd raised strictly for</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The pipe he'd used all through The Mexican War."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And The Raggedy Man said, refilling the bowl</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of his <i>own</i> pipe and leisurely picking a coal</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the stove with his finger and thumb, "You can see</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">What a tee-nacious habit he's fastened on me!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"And my grandfather Squeers took a special delight</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In pruning his corns every Saturday night</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"With a horn-handled razor, whose edge he excused</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By saying 'twas one that his grandfather used;</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"And, though deeply etched in the haft of the same</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was the ever-euphonious Wostenholm's name,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"'Twas my grandfather's custom to boast of the blade</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As 'A Seth Thomas razor—the best ever made!'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"No Old Settlers' Meeting, or Pioneers' Fair,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was complete without grandfather Squeers in the chair,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"To lead off the programme by telling folks how</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'He used to shoot deer where the Court-House stands now'—</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"How 'he felt, of a truth, to live over the past,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the country was wild and unbroken and vast,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"'That the little log cabin was just plenty fine</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1573" id="Page_1573">[Pg 1573]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">For himself, his companion, and fambly of nine!—</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"'When they didn't have even a pump, or a tin,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But drunk surface-water, year out and year in,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"'From the old-fashioned gourd that was sweeter, by odds,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than the goblets of gold at the lips of the gods!'"</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then The Raggedy Man paused to plaintively say</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It was clockin' along to'rds the close of the day—</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he'd <i>ought</i> to get back to his work on the lawn,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then dreamily blubbered his pipe and went on:</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"His teeth were imperfect—my grandfather owned</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That he couldn't eat oysters unless they were 'boned';</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"And his eyes were so weak, and so feeble of sight,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He couldn't sleep with them unless, every night,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"He put on his spectacles—all he possessed,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Three pairs—with his goggles on top of the rest.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"And my grandfather always, retiring at night,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Blew down the lamp-chimney to put out the light;</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Then he'd curl up on edge like a shaving, in bed,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And puff and smoke pipes in his sleep, it is said:</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"And would snore oftentimes, as the legends relate,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till his folks were wrought up to a terrible state,—</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Then he'd snort, and rear up, and roll over; and there</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the subsequent hush they could hear him chew air.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"And so glaringly bald was the top of his head</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1574" id="Page_1574">[Pg 1574]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">That many's the time he has musingly said,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"As his eyes journeyed o'er its reflex in the glass,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'I must set out a few signs of <i>Keep Off the Grass!</i>'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"So remarkably deaf was my grandfather Squeers</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That he had to wear lightning-rods over his ears</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"To even hear thunder—and oftentimes then</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He was forced to request it to thunder again."</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1575" id="Page_1575">[Pg 1575]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_GENTLE_ART_OF_BOOSTING" id="THE_GENTLE_ART_OF_BOOSTING"></a>THE GENTLE ART OF BOOSTING</h2> + +<h3>BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS</h3> + +<p>The Idiot was very late at breakfast, so extremely late in fact that +some apprehension was expressed by his fellow boarders as to the state +of his health.</p> + +<p>"I hope he isn't ill," said Mr. Whitechoker. "He is usually so prompt at +his meals that I fear something is the matter with him."</p> + +<p>"He's all right," said the Doctor, whose room adjoins that of the Idiot +in Mrs. Smithers-Pedagog's Select Home for Gentlemen. "He'll be down in +a minute. He's suffering from an overdose of vacation—rested too hard."</p> + +<p>Just then the subject of the conversation appeared in the doorway, pale +and haggard, but with an eye that boded ill for the larder.</p> + +<p>"Quick!" he cried, as he entered. "Lead me to a square meal. Mary, +please give me four bowls of mush, ten medium soft-boiled eggs, a barrel +of sautée potatoes and eighteen dollars' worth of corned beef hash. I'll +have two pots of coffee, Mrs. Pedagog, please, four pounds of sugar and +a can of condensed milk. If there is any extra charge you may put it on +the bill, and some day when Hot Air Common goes up thirty or forty +points I'll pay."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with you, Mr. Idiot?" asked Mr. Brief. "Been fasting +for a week?"</p> + +<p>"No," replied the Idiot. "I've just taken my first week's vacation, and +between you and me I've come back to business so as to get rested up for +the second."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1576" id="Page_1576">[Pg 1576]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Doesn't look as though vacation agreed with you," said the +Bibliomaniac.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't," said the Idiot. "Hereafter I am an advocate of the Russell +Sage system. Never take a day off if you can help it. There's nothing so +restful as paying attention to business, and no greater promoter of +weariness of spirit and vexation of your digestion than the modern style +of vacating. No more for mine, if you please."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" sneered the Bibliomaniac. "I suppose you went to Coney Island +to get rested up Bumping the Bump and Looping the Loop and doing a lot +of other crazy things."</p> + +<p>"Not I," quoth the Idiot. "I didn't have sense enough to go to some +quiet place like Coney Island, where you can get seven square meals a +day, and then climb into a Ferris Wheel and be twirled around in the air +until they have been properly shaken down. I took one of the 400 +Vacations. Know what that is?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Mr. Brief. "I didn't know there were 400 Vacations with only +365 days in the year. What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean the kind of Vacation the people in the 400 take," explained the +Idiot. "I've been to a house-party up in Newport with some friends of +mine who're in the swim, and I tell you it's hard swimming. You'll never +hear me talking about a leisure class in this country again. Those +people don't know what leisure is. I don't wonder they're always such a +tired-looking lot."</p> + +<p>"I was not aware that you were in with the smart set," said the +Bibliomaniac.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," said the Idiot. "I'm in with several of 'em—way in. So far in +that I'm sometimes afraid I'll never get out. We're carrying a whole lot +of wild-cats on margin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1577" id="Page_1577">[Pg 1577]</a></span> for Billie Van Gelder, the cotillion leader; +Tommy de Cahoots, the famous yachtsman, owes us about $8,000 more than +he can spare from his living expenses on one of his plunges into Copper, +and altogether we are pretty long on swells in our office."</p> + +<p>"And do you mean to say those people invite you out?" asked the +Bibliomaniac.</p> + +<p>"All the time," said the Idiot. "Just as soon as one of our swell +customers finds he can't pay his margins he comes down to the office and +gets very chummy with all of us. The deeper he is in it the more affable +he becomes. The result is there are house-parties and yacht cruises and +all that sort of thing galore on tap for us every summer."</p> + +<p>"And you accept them, eh?" said the Bibliomaniac scornfully.</p> + +<p>"As a matter of business, of course," replied the Idiot. "We've got to +get something out of it. If one of our customers can't pay cash, why we +get what we can. In this particular case Mr. Reginald Squandercash had +me down at Newport for five full days, and I know now why he can't pay +up his little shortage of $800. He's got the money, but he needs it for +other things, and now that I know it I shall recommend the firm to give +him an extension of thirty days. By that time he will have collected +from the De Boodles, whom he is launching in society—C. O. D.—and will +be able to square matters with us."</p> + +<p>"Your conversation is Greek to me," said the Bibliomaniac. "Who are the +De Boodles, and for what do they owe your friend Reginald Squandercash +money?"</p> + +<p>"The De Boodles," explained the Idiot, "are what is known as Climbers, +and Reginald Squandercash is a Booster."</p> + +<p>"A what?" cried the Bibliomaniac.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1578" id="Page_1578">[Pg 1578]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A Booster," said the Idiot. "There are several Boosters in the 400. For +a consideration they will boost wealthy Climbers into Society. The +Climbers are people like the De Boodles, who have suddenly come into +great wealth, and who wish to be in it with others of great wealth who +are also of high social position. They don't know how to do the trick, +so they seek out some Booster like Reggie, strike a bargain with him, +and he steers 'em up against the 'Among Those Present' Game until +finally you find the De Boodles have a social cinch."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that Society tolerates such a business as that?" +demanded the Bibliomaniac.</p> + +<p>"Tolerates?" laughed the Idiot. "What a word to use! Tolerates? Why, +Society encourages, because Society shares the benefits. Take this +especial vacation of mine. Society had two five-o'clock teas, four of +the swellest dinners you ever sat down to, a cotillion where the favors +were of solid silver and real ostrich feathers, a whole day's clam-bake +on Reggie's steam yacht, with automobile runs and coaching trips galore. +Nobody ever declines one of Reggie's invitations, because what he has +from a Society point of view is the best the market affords. Why, the +floral decorations alone at the <i>Fête Champêtre</i> he gave in honor of the +De Boodles at his villa last Thursday night must have cost $5,000, and +everything was on the same scale. I don't believe a cent less than +$7,500 was burned up in the fire-works, and every lady present received +a souvenir of the occasion that cost at least $100."</p> + +<p>"Your story doesn't quite hold together," said Mr. Brief. "If your +friend Reggie has a villa and a steam yacht, and automobiles and +coaches, and gives <i>fêtes champêtres</i> that cost fifteen or twenty +thousand dollars, I don't see why he has to make himself a Booster of +in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1579" id="Page_1579">[Pg 1579]</a></span>ferior people who want to get into Society. What does he gain by it? +It surely isn't sport to do a thing like that, and I should think he'd +find it a dreadful bore."</p> + +<p>"The man must live," said the Idiot. "He boosts for a living."</p> + +<p>"When he has the wealth of Monte Cristo at his command?" demanded Mr. +Brief.</p> + +<p>"Reggie hasn't a cent to his name," said the Idiot. "I've already told +you he owes us $800 he can't pay."</p> + +<p>"Then who in thunder pays for the villa and the lot and all those +hundred-dollar souvenirs?" asked the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"Why—this year, the De Boodles," said the Idiot. "Last year it was +Colonel and Mrs. Moneybags, whose daughter, Miss Fayette Moneybags, is +now clinching the position Reggie sold her at Newport over in London, +whither Reggie has consigned her to his sister, an impecunious American +Duchess—the Duchess of Nocash—who is also in the boosting business. +The chances are Miss Moneybags will land one of England's most deeply +indebted peers, and if she does, Reggie will receive a handsome cheque +for steering the family up against so attractive a proposition."</p> + +<p>"And you mean to tell us that a plain man like old John De Boodle, of +Nevada, is putting out his hard-earned wealth in that way?" demanded Mr. +Brief.</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to mention any names," said the Idiot. "But you've +spotted the victim. Old John De Boodle, who made his $60,000,000 in six +months after having kept a saloon on the frontier for forty years, is +the man. His family wants to get in the swim, and Reggie is turning the +trick for them—and after all, what better way is there for De Boodle to +get in? He might take sixty villas at Newport and not get a peep at the +Divorce Colony<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1580" id="Page_1580">[Pg 1580]</a></span> there, much less a glimpse of the monogamous set acting +independently. Not a monkey in the Zoo would dine with the De Boodles, +and in his most eccentric moment I doubt if Tommy Dare would take them +up unless there was somebody to stand sponsor for them. A cool million +might easily be expended without results, by the De Boodles themselves, +but hand that money over to Reggie Squandercash, whose blood is as blue +as his creditors sometimes get, and you can look for results. What the +Frohmans are to the stage, Reggie Squandercash is to Society. He's right +in it; popular as all spenders are; lavish as all people spending other +people's money are apt to be. Old De Boodle, egged on by Mrs. De Boodle +and Miss Mary Ann De Boodle, now known as Miss Marianne De Boodle, goes +to Reggie and says, 'The old lady and my girl are nutty on Society. Can +you land 'em?' 'Certainly,' says Reggie, 'if your pocket is long +enough.' 'How long is that?' asks De Boodle, wincing a bit. 'A hundred +thousand a month, and no extras, until you're in,' says Reggie. 'No +reduction for families?' asks De Boodle, anxiously. 'No,' says Reggie. +'Harder job.' 'All right,' says De Boodle, 'here's my cheque for the +first month.' That's how Reggie gets his Newport villa, his servants, +his horses, yacht, automobiles and coaches. Then he invites the De +Boodles up to visit him. They accept, and the fun begins. First it's a +little dinner to meet my friends Mr. and Mrs. De Boodle, of Nevada. +Everybody there, hungry, dinner from Sherrys, best wines in the market. +De Boodles covered with diamonds, a great success, especially old John +De Boodle, who tells racy stories over the <i>demi-tasse</i> when the ladies +have gone into the drawing-room. De Boodle voted a character. Next +thing, Bridge Whist party. Everybody there. Society a good winner. The +De Boodles magnificent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1581" id="Page_1581">[Pg 1581]</a></span> losers. Popularity cinched. Next, yachting +party. Everybody on board. De Boodle on deck in fine shape. Champagne +flows like Niagara. Poker game in main cabin. Food everywhere. De +Boodles much easier. Stiffness wearing off, and so on and so on until +finally Miss De Boodle's portrait is printed in nineteen Sunday +newspapers all over the country. They're launched, and Reggie comes into +his own with a profit for the season in a cash balance of $50,000. He's +had a bully time all summer, entertained like a Prince, and comes to the +rainy season with a tidy little umbrella to keep him out of the wet."</p> + +<p>"And can he count on that as a permanent business?" asked Mr. +Whitechoker.</p> + +<p>"My dear sir, the Rock of Gibraltar is no solider and no more +permanent," said the Idiot. "For as long as there is a 400 in existence +human nature is such that there will also be a million who will want to +get into it."</p> + +<p>"At such a cost?" demanded the Bibliomaniac.</p> + +<p>"At any cost," replied the Idiot. "Even people who know they can not +swim want to get in it."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1582" id="Page_1582">[Pg 1582]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="COLUMBIA_AND_THE_COWBOY" id="COLUMBIA_AND_THE_COWBOY"></a>COLUMBIA AND THE COWBOY</h2> + +<h3>BY ALICE MACGOWAN</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"When the circus come to town,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Mighty me! Mighty me!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jest one wink from that ol' clown,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When he's struttin' up an' down</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To the music Bim—bam—bee!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Oh, sich sights, sich sights to see,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the circus come to town!"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Blowout was on a boom.</p> + +<p>The railroad from above was coming through, and Blowout was to be a city +with that mysterious and rather disconcerting abruptness with which tiny +Western villages do become cities in these circumstances.</p> + +<p>It had been hoped that the railroad would be through by the Fourth of +July, when the less important celebration of the nation's birthday might +be combined with the proper marking of that event. But though tales came +down to Blowout of how the contractors were working night and day +shifts, and shipping men from the East in order to have the road through +in time, though the Wagon-Tire House had entertained many squads of +engineers and even occasional parties of the contractors' men, the +railroad was not through on the Fourth.</p> + +<p>Something much more important was arranged by Providence, however—at +least, more important in the eyes of the children of the Wagon-Tire +House. Frosty La Rue's grand aggregation of talent was to be in Blow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1583" id="Page_1583">[Pg 1583]</a></span>out +for a week, and the human performers were stopping at Huldah Sarvice's +hotel.</p> + +<p>If one can go far enough back to remember the awe and mystery +surrounding a circus, and then imagine a circus coming bodily to lodge +in one's own dwelling, to eat with the knives and forks at one's +table—a circus which could swallow fire and swords, and things of that +sort, just eating off plates in the ordinary manner, with Sissy waiting +on the table behind its chairs—if one can get back to this happy time, +it will be possible to comprehend some of the rapture the twins, Gess +and Tell, experienced while Frosty La Rue's show abode at the Wagon-Tire +House.</p> + +<p>They lorded it over every other child in Blowout, shining with reflected +splendor. They were the most sought after of any of the boys in school, +for Romey was too young to afford information. La Rue himself looked +upon them and said that they were "likely little fellers," and that he +"wouldn't mind having them to train." Think of that! To train!</p> + +<p>Aunt Huldah, with bat-like blindness to their best advantages, had +stated to Mr. La Rue that their father was in—well—in Kansas, and had +only left them with her, as it were, "on demand."</p> + +<p>For one dreadful moment the twins envied Aunt Huldah's real orphans. +Then, realizing that Aunt Huldah would no more give up Sissy or Ally +than she would give up them, they reflected that the ambition of boys is +apt, in this cold, unsympathetic world, to be thwarted by their elders, +and settled down to the more active and thorough enjoyment of what they +might have.</p> + +<p>The company consisted of old La Rue; his second wife, who figured upon +the bill as Signorina Ippolita di Castelli, an ex-circus rider of very +mature years; Frosty's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1584" id="Page_1584">[Pg 1584]</a></span> factotum, a Mexican by the name of José Romero; +little Roy, the Aerial Wonder, son of Frosty and the Signorina; and last +and most important of all, Minnie La Rue.</p> + +<p>The show was well known in the Texas cattle country, and well loved. +Frosty's daughter—she was only sixteen when he was last at Blowout, +more than a year ago—was a pretty little thing, and her father had +trained her to be a graceful tight-rope performer. He himself did some +shooting from horseback, which most of the cowboys who applauded it +could have beaten.</p> + +<p>Frosty La Rue drank hard, and he was very surly when he was drinking. +Even Aunt Huldah's boundless charity found it difficult to speak well of +his treatment of Minnie. The Signorina could take care of herself—and +of the Aerial Wonder as well. But the heft of her father's temper, and +sometimes the weight of his hand also, fell on the young girl when +things went amiss.</p> + +<p>And things had gone amiss, more particularly in regard to her, during +the last six months. Up to that time she had looked like a child, small +for her age, silent, with big, wistful eyes, deft, clever fingers, and a +voice and manner that charmed every audience—in short, the most +valuable piece of property in La Rue's outfit.</p> + +<p>The girl had bloomed into sudden and lovely girlhood when Kid Barringer +saw her at Abilene, in April, patiently performing the tricks that had +been taught her, obediently risking her young life that there might be +plenty of money for her father to lose at the monte table, and that they +might all be clothed and fed.</p> + +<p>Kid had known the La Rue family and the girl for years, and when he +promptly lost his heart to this surprising development of its daughter, +he went frankly to the head of the clan and asked for her like a man.</p> + +<p>There was no fault to find with Kid Barringer. He was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1585" id="Page_1585">[Pg 1585]</a></span> good-looking, +more intelligent than most of his mates, an honest, industrious and +kind-hearted fellow, of whom his employers spoke well. If the girl cared +for him—and Kid asserted that he had asked her and found out that she +did care—she could not hope to do better.</p> + +<p>But, of course, for La Rue to give up this most valuable chattel was out +of the question. What he did, therefore, was to fly into a rage, refuse +the Kid's offer in language which would have precipitated a brawl had +the young man been less earnest in his wooing, and consign Minnie to the +watchful vigilance of her stepmother.</p> + +<p>And the cowboy had been vainly following the show during the whole two +months that had passed since this episode, anxiously watching his poor +little hard-worked sweetheart, hoping to get a word from her, meaning in +any case to reassure her, and show her that he had not given up.</p> + +<p>Matters were in this state when the "aggregation" settled down at the +Wagon-Tire House for the week during which the Fourth of July was to +occur. For this occasion La Rue promised a display of fireworks +"superior to anything ever shown in West Texas."</p> + +<p>The fame of this spectacle had preceded the show. It had been given in +Emerald the year before, and all the cowboys who had seen it there +brought back word that it was "the finest ever." The particular feature +was in the closing act which La Rue had christened "Columbia +Enlightening the World."</p> + +<p>For this performance a wire was stretched across the street from the top +of one building to another. La Rue intended this year to have it +stretched from the Roundup to the Wagon-Tire House. Across this wire +Minnie was to walk, dressed as Columbia, with a high-spiked diadem upon +her head, her whole form outlined with colored fires,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1586" id="Page_1586">[Pg 1586]</a></span> and bearing +certain rockets which were set off when she reached the center of the +street.</p> + +<p>Everybody in the Wagon-Tire House liked the girl; Frosty was offensively +polite or aggressively insulting; Mrs. La Rue was, as Troy Gilbert said, +"a pretty tough specimen"; or, if one would rather follow Aunt Huldah's +cheerful and charitable lead, "She looked a heap nicer, and appeared a +heap better, in the show than out of it"; the Aerial Wonder was +something of a terrestrial terror; but there was no question that Minnie +La Rue was one of the sweetest and best little girls ever brought up in +an inappropriate circus.</p> + +<p>Therefore, when Kid Barringer appeared, a day after the La Rue family, +and told the boys freely what the situation of his affairs was, he +received unlimited sympathy and offers of assistance.</p> + +<p>"I wish I could help you, Kid," Troy Gilbert said. "There isn't a soul +in town that doesn't feel as though that little girl ought to be taken +out of that man's keeping. But you see he's her own father, I +reckon—says he is—and the law can't go behind that."</p> + +<p>"If you boys would fix up a scheme to get me a chance to speak to +Minnie—" Kid began. "At first I thought I could steal her just as easy +as anything. She'd be glad to go; I had a little note from her—Say, +Gib," he broke off suddenly, with a catch in his voice, "he's liable to +strike her—to hurt her—when he's drinking."</p> + +<p>"Well, if it went as far as that, here in Blowout, I would arrest him, +you know," Gilbert suggested.</p> + +<p>"It won't," Kid returned, dejectedly; "not at the Wagon-Tire House. Aunt +Huldy has a good effect on him—or rather, bad effect, for that purpose. +He's jest behavin' himself so straight, that Aunt Huldy won't hear a +word about him bein' the meanest that ever was."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1587" id="Page_1587">[Pg 1587]</a></span></p> + +<p>Troy was thinking intently.</p> + +<p>"Say, Kid, I've got an idea. Do you reckon Aunt Huldy thinks too well of +Frosty to help us out a little? If she doesn't, I believe the thing's as +good as done. I saw that there 'Columbia Enlightening the World' at +Emerald last year, and I know exactly how I could fix it so as to let +you—well, you wait a minute, and I'll give you all the details. It's +the only thing on the program that separates your girl from the +Signorina for five minutes."</p> + +<p>It must have been that Aunt Huldah saw more harm in Frosty La Rue than +she was willing to mention; for an hour later Gilbert had made his +arrangements.</p> + +<p>"Now, Kid," he counseled, "I want you to make yourself scarce around +here from now on. Don't let Frosty know you're in the diggin's at all. +We boys are going to give it out that you've gone to Fort Worth, so that +he and Mrs. La Rue won't watch Miss Minnie quite so close."</p> + +<p>The Kid obediently withdrew from public life, spending most of his days +in the back room of the big store, where a few sympathizing friends were +always ready to bear him company; and the word went out that he had, in +despair, given up camping on Miss Minnie's trail and gone off to Fort +Worth.</p> + +<p>This intelligence reaching old man La Rue—Gilbert wondered a little if +it were possible any of it came to him through Aunt Huldah—had the +desired effect of relaxing the watch upon the girl.</p> + +<p>The first move in Gilbert's game was to waylay Frosty's Mexican, and +bribe him to feign sickness. To this José promptly consented; and he +counterfeited with such vigor, and so to the life, that the proprietor +of the show was beside himself; for it was too late to teach a new man +the management of the fireworks.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1588" id="Page_1588">[Pg 1588]</a></span></p> + +<p>And now came Gilbert's second move. He approached the old man with the +inquiry, "Why, what's the racket, Frosty? Something the matter with some +of your outfit?"</p> + +<p>La Rue sweepingly condemned the whole republic of Mexico in general, and +José Romero in particular, winding up with the statement that the +no-account greaser had gone and got sick, here at the last +minute—Frosty would seem to imply, out of sheer perversity—and when it +was too late to teach another his duties.</p> + +<p>Upon this, Gilbert unfolded his scheme with a careful carelessness.</p> + +<p>"Fireworks? Why, do you know, Frosty, I believe I could do your +fireworks for you all right. I know fireworks pretty well, and I saw +your 'Columbia' at Emerald last year."</p> + +<p>"And would you do it, Gilbert?" asked La Rue. "It wouldn't <i>pay</i>," added +the tight-fisted old fellow. "It wouldn't pay <i>you</i>—a man like <i>you</i>; +but—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I just don't want to see the boys disappointed and the show +spoiled," rejoined Gilbert. "I don't want any money."</p> + +<p>La Rue was almost ready to embrace the sheriff of Wild Horse County. His +burdens had not been light, even before the despised José's defection. +There was a multitude of things, big and little, which could not well be +carried with a show of the sort, but had always to be picked up locally, +at the last moment; and a crude little cow-town like Blowout not only +failed to supply many of these, but stood, as one might say, with +dropped jaw at the very suggestion of them—at the mere mention of their +unfamiliar names.</p> + +<p>And so the company—otherwise the La Rue family—had to produce much of +the paraphernalia out of its inner consciousness, which meant that the +old man's temper<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1589" id="Page_1589">[Pg 1589]</a></span> was continually rasped, that the Signorina's nerves +and her ingenuity were on a strain, and that Minnie was hard at work +from dawn till dark, practising between whiles.</p> + +<p>Troy Gilbert had put it most hopefully when he said that he knew +fireworks pretty well—or one might say that the statement was +susceptible of two different interpretations. As a matter of fact, Troy +knew fireworks only from the spectator's side of the question.</p> + +<p>He now had José Romero moved over into the back room of his place, where +he might mitigate the rigors of that alien's confinement, and at the +same time receive from the Mexican very necessary instruction.</p> + +<p>Mercifully, there was an ample supply of fireworks, for the show was to +be repeated at Antelope, over in Lone Jack County, and again at Cinche.</p> + +<p>Moreover, drawing heavily, as he had been instructed, upon Kid +Barringer's bank account, Gilbert wrote to Fort Worth and ordered a +duplicate set of these fireworks sent on to Cinche. And in the darkness +of night, when Blowout was wrapped in slumber, Gilbert and Romero rode +silently out, down the flank of the divide, across the plain and into a +little cañon six or seven miles distant in the breaks of Wild Horse +Creek.</p> + +<p>All day, in the intervals of his business duties, Gilbert had been +receiving theoretical instructions; now with the set of fireworks which +was to have dazzled and delighted the residents of Antelope, he made +practical experiment of the knowledge so gained. The little show, +witnessed only by the naked walls of the cañon and such prairie-dogs and +jack-rabbits as had been untimely aroused from their slumbers, went off +fairly well—which is to say that most of Gilbert's fingers and nearly +all of his features went back to Blowout sound and entire.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I got the hang of the business," he declared again<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1590" id="Page_1590">[Pg 1590]</a></span> and again, as +they rode along through the soft Texas night; "I got the hang of it. I +can make the whole first part go all right. The thing now is to get that +Columbia act fixed so as to give the boys a run for their money, and +leave a chance for Minnie and Kid."</p> + +<p>The two rode home, and later José went to bed in Gilbert's back room, +where work was going forward upon a mysterious-looking structure.</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"In our village hall a Justice stands:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A neater form was never made of board."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Frosty La Rue's grand aggregation of talent had given two shows in a +tent on the third of July.</p> + +<p>On the Fourth there would again be two tent-shows, one in the afternoon +and one at night; and at the close of the night performance, when the +"concert" of an ordinary circus takes place, there was to be "a grand +open-air spectacle," as Frosty himself put it.</p> + +<p>For this purpose a platform had been erected, upon which Frosty and the +Signorina could do a knife-throwing turn; and where the Aerial Wonder +could give an infantile exhibition with a small bicycle.</p> + +<p>A wire had been stretched across Comanche Street from the top of the +Roundup to the top of the Wagon-Tire House, and upon this was to be +given the most ambitious performance of the evening, "Columbia +Enlightening the World."</p> + +<p>All day long on the Fourth, the town was full of rejoicing young Texas +masculinity, mounted upon Texas ponies, careering about the streets in +conspicuously full enjoyment of life, liberty, and the pursuit of +happiness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1591" id="Page_1591">[Pg 1591]</a></span> And all day long Frosty La Rue's tent-show did a land-office +business.</p> + +<p>Poor old Frosty! Many of the cowboys could shoot better than he; but +they didn't shoot at colored glass balls. The bareback riding also came +under some contempt; but the spangles and pink fleshings carried much +weight, the Signorina painted most artistically, and, as Aunt Huldah +said, "When she was a-goin' right fast on that fat white hoss, with the +little platform on his back, an' a-smilin' an' kissin' her hand, she did +really look right nice."</p> + +<p>Minnie's trapeze acts were truly fine, and were appreciated at their +full value; and the beautiful little figure walking the wire twenty feet +above the ground was greeted with unlimited enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>When the evening came, old Frosty, inclined to be as nervous and +irritable with Gilbert as he dared, came running into the latter's place +worrying about the fireworks.</p> + +<p>"Now you chase yourself along," advised the sheriff, good-naturedly. +"Just get right along, an' 'tend to your little old illuminated +knife-throwin' trick. 'Tain't ten minutes till that's due, an' you've +got a crowd that's good for five hundred dollars if it's good for a +cent, when you pass the hat. And," he added, delight in the scheme he +was working getting the better of his natural instinct for literal +truth, "and luck—just fool luck—has sent you the finest fireworks +operator in West Texas. Shoo out of here now, an' 'tend to your own job, +an' let me 'tend to mine!"</p> + +<p>As for the children of the Wagon-Tire House, they were perhaps more +glorious on that warm, dark July night than anything in their after +lives could make them. This is not to say that the six were not destined +for happy or distinguished careers; but, after all, the magnificence of +an occasion depends greatly upon the point of view; and the small hill +is a high mountain to the little child.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1592" id="Page_1592">[Pg 1592]</a></span></p> + +<p>They had been permitted to extend invitations to the more favored of +their young friends. Bunt Tarver and Roach Porterman's two small girls, +with Eddie Beach, who lived on a ranch outside of Blowout and stayed all +night at the Wagon-Tire House (in a state of bliss that was almost +cataleptic), were among the little bunch that presented themselves to go +upon the roof of the kitchen, from which a magnificent view of the +fireworks was to be had.</p> + +<p>"I can't have it," Troy announced. "I can't have you children up here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, Gib—oh, yes, you can. They won't—" Aunt Huldah's voice sank +to a murmur, which Troy Gilbert answered with a shake of the head.</p> + +<p>"Well, ef they do see anything, they'll keep still—my chil'en are +trained to mind; and these others are all good people;" and Aunt Huldah +beamed upon the palpitating, expectant, alarmed little band.</p> + +<p>"Keep still!"—what an awful phrase for such a connection! Gilbert +turned and asked them kindly, "Will you, kids? Will you keep right +still, whatever you see?"</p> + +<p>Only Gess and Tell were bold enough to put the horror into words.</p> + +<p>"'Tain't no use fer us to promise," Gess said huskily. "We're jest bound +to holler when the fireworks begins to go off, even if we had promised +cross-yer-heart."</p> + +<p>And Tell piped in, after him, as usual:</p> + +<p>"W'y, a circus is jest hollerin'—or some hollerin' is the best part of +a circus." And he added, with a suspicious tremble in his voice, "I'd +rather go downstairs an' set in the kitchen, if we can't holler."</p> + +<p>Troy burst out laughing at sight of the dejected faces.</p> + +<p>"Oh, holler all you want to—holler as much as you can—I don't mean +hollerin'. I expect to do some pretty con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1593" id="Page_1593">[Pg 1593]</a></span>siderable hollerin' myself, +and I've got a lot of the boys promised to holler at the right time. +But there's to be a little—a little extra performance up here on the +roof, and if you see anything queer about it, you mustn't let on—you +mustn't tell."</p> + +<p>"That's all right," assured Aunt Huldah, turning to descend the narrow +little stairway. "They'll do jest as you tell 'em, Gib. Mind you don't +tip them soap boxes over an' fall off'n the roof, chil'en. Sissy, you +keep tight hold of Ally's hand—she's apt to fly when the big +performance comes;" and Aunt Huldah's rich, mellow, chuckling laugh came +back to them up the stairs.</p> + +<p>One would have said that nothing on earth could make matters more +glorious to the children of the Wagon-Tire House on this Fourth of July +evening; but after Troy Gilbert's words, they trod not upon the earthen +roof of the hotel, but on air; they sat not upon soap boxes, but on +thrones.</p> + +<p>Nay, kings were small people compared to them. There was to be a +mysterious extra performance, in which the sheriff was implicated; it +would take place under their very noses, and they were asked to assist, +to keep still about it!</p> + +<p>Gilbert had said truly: the crowd was a big one, and most enthusiastic. +As a matter of fact, there were nearly a hundred cowboys on hand who had +been let into Gilbert's scheme. The fireworks were equally successful +whether they blazed splendidly or fizzled ingloriously. It was enough +for the boys that Troy Gilbert was doing the act; they whooped at every +figure, and whooped again at Troy's unaccustomed drollery.</p> + +<p>There was a strain of intense expectancy in the audience, communicated, +though without their knowledge, to those not in the secret from those +who were; so that the crowd was wildly eager, without altogether knowing +why.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1594" id="Page_1594">[Pg 1594]</a></span></p> + +<p>After the display of pin-wheels, fiery serpents, bouquets, Roman candles +and rockets, old Frosty and Mrs. Frosty (otherwise the Signorina +Ippolita di Castelli) came on the small platform to do their +knife-throwing-act, the knives trailing fiery tails. This kept the +audience entertained during the time necessary to prepare the Columbia +act.</p> + +<p>"Bet you'd be scared to do that," whispered Eddie Beach.</p> + +<p>"Bet I wouldn't," Gess made answer. "I'd jest as soon sling them old +knives—Mr. La Rue said me an' Tell was likely boys to train. I bet +Ally'd hold as still as the Signorina 'f I was to throw them knives at +her."</p> + +<p>For the Columbia performance Gilbert had, during the day, stretched +another wire about five feet and three inches above the big wire on +which Minnie was to walk. Indeed, it was this secondary wire which had +caused the eruption of old Frosty demanding to "know."</p> + +<p>When the knife-throwing act was finished, there was a short pause +followed by a little murmur of applause; and this grew louder and +louder, until it was a medley of whoops, yells, stamping, and calls in +every tone and key for the next act—the grand stroke of the +performance. Frosty and the Signorina forbore to go upon the roof of the +Roundup to receive Minnie, until they should see her start from the roof +of the hotel.</p> + +<p>Figures were seen upon the top of the Wagon-Tire House (both roofs were +flat) and Frosty strained his eyes eagerly toward that end of the big +wire. The wondering children drew back and refrained even from +whispering among themselves—Troy's caution was not needed. Strange +doings, indeed, were going forward about the end of the wire. Troy +Gilbert was apparently pushing a reluctant figure toward it—it looked +as though the person<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1595" id="Page_1595">[Pg 1595]</a></span> were tied, and he laughed and struck her when she +seemed unwilling.</p> + +<p>Finally, Columbia began to move out slowly along the wire. She was +everything that audience or proprietor could desire. The spiked tiara +was on her head, blazing with violet light. Down her back hung her fair +curling hair; in her hands was the long balancing pole—Columbia's +scepter of power; and her white draperies were illuminated with fires of +blue and crimson and violet.</p> + +<p>The children stared, silent, motionless, expectant. They were nearer +than those in the street and had had opportunity to observe the +irregularity of Columbia's launching.</p> + +<p>There was a little outburst of applause when she first appeared. But as +she moved out over the wire, the silence was so complete that the +coughing of one of the patient ponies on the outskirts of the crowd was +plainly audible.</p> + +<p>Those in the secret were silent, in ecstasies of admiration. The +children kept still because they had been told to—whatever they saw. +Those not instructed were mute with amazement—a sort of creeping awe.</p> + +<p>Most of the audience had seen Minnie that afternoon in the tent-show, +her slender girlish form clad in spangled gauze, her delicate blonde +prettiness enhanced by the attire, doing her trapeze act. She had then +moved with the lithe grace of a young deer; her face had been all eager +animation. What sort of thing was this, that seemed to advance along the +wire as though it were on casters—that was never seen to take a step? +What face was this, strange, staring, immobile as a face carved in wood?</p> + +<p>"Gee!" murmured one of the X Q K boys, who had come in late and was +uninformed. "Gee, I ain't been a-drinkin' a thing—what in the name o' +pity ails that gal!"</p> + +<p>"Great Scott; she gives me the mauley-grubs! Ugh!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1596" id="Page_1596">[Pg 1596]</a></span> and his companion +shivered. But save for these murmured comments, the crowd was intensely +still.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, about the middle of the street, Columbia's forward movement +slackened, checked altogether. This was not unexpected, for midway the +rockets fastened about her waist, and upon her crown were to be +discharged. The manner in which these latter went off brought shrieks +and groans from the crowd below. They fizzed up into Columbia's face, +they burned against her bodice, they struck her arms. "Oh! oh! Poor +soul! she'll have her eyes put out! She'll be killed!" cried a woman's +voice from the street.</p> + +<p>"I might 'a' known better than to trust that fool Gilbert with them +fireworks," groaned old Frosty. "That there girl is worth more'n a +hundred dollars a month to me. If I was to take her East I could hire +her out for two hundred, easy, an' here she's likely to get all crippled +up, so's't she won't never be no account."</p> + +<p>Columbia was the only personage unmoved by all the fiery demonstrations; +she stood rigid, looking strangely massive and tall, till the last +rocket had spent itself. Then her progress began again with a sort of +jerk. A shudder went over her frame, the pole wavered in her +hands—those hands that seemed so limp and lifeless—she tottered, made +a violent movement with her head, then swayed out sidewise and +fell—holding the pole tight in her hands!</p> + +<p>And the strangest sound went up from that big assembly, a mingled sound +of groans and smothered outcries, and also what one might have +sworn—had it not seemed impossible—was wild hysteric laughter.</p> + +<p>Gess and Tell and Eddie Beach, luxuriating in Troy's permission to +"holler as much as they pleased," emitted shrieks that would have +chilled the blood of any whom this strange spectacle had not already +terrified.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1597" id="Page_1597">[Pg 1597]</a></span></p> + +<p>For, instead of falling to the ground twenty feet below, as would have +been natural, and lying there, a mangled body, Columbia hung to the +wire, a mad, fantastic, incredible spectacle, head downward, in a blaze +of inverted patriotic splendor!</p> + +<p>The wildest confusion ensued. Frosty was beside himself. He simply +danced and yelled where he stood. Those who were in the secret shouted +themselves hoarse with rapture, capering like dervishes, embracing one +another; those who were not, screamed with horror and dismay.</p> + +<p>As all gazed fascinated, something drifted down from the hanging figure. +A cowboy plunged forward, caught it up, and there broke upon the sudden +stillness which had followed this incident, a roar of hearty laughter, +as he held high in the blaze of light that came from the pendent figure, +Columbia's wooden-seeming countenance—a false face!</p> + +<p>Instantly, the shouting and confusion broke out again. The figure began +to sway; and the light draperies were ignited by some bit of fire which +had been brought into contact with them, by the inversion of Columbia's +proper position.</p> + +<p>The figure showed that, beyond the streaming golden hair—the beautiful +fair hair which Aunt Huldah had cut from Daisy's head, and which Daisy +had given with loving generosity—and the stuffed-out waist of +Columbia's classic robe, the only anatomy Columbia possessed was an +upright post with a wheel at the bottom—a caster indeed!—which had run +upon the big wire.</p> + +<p>At the top of Columbia's head there had been another wheel, which ran, +trolley-like, upon the upper wire; and a slender wire traveling along +the lower, or footway wire, had drawn the figure forward.</p> + +<p>Some obstacle had been met in the overhead wire; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1598" id="Page_1598">[Pg 1598]</a></span> when the figure +was jerked forward, harder and harder, to overcome this, the upper +attachment finally gave way entirely and allowed the figure to fall. +Only Gilbert's precaution of looping a heavy wire from axle to axle of +the lower wheel around the footway wire, had prevented Columbia from +falling to the ground.</p> + +<p>As the explanation began to spread over the crowd—not in whispers, but +in shouts, mingled with roars of laughter—those who had been instructed +beforehand pressed round old Frosty and the Signorina in a dense mass.</p> + +<p>Threats, complaints, demands, all sorts of outcries filled the air.</p> + +<p>"You old fakir!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by it, Frosty?"</p> + +<p>"Do you think you're a-goin' to run a blazer like this on us, and we'll +swaller hit like hit was catnip tea?"</p> + +<p>"What fer did ye want to fool us thataway?"</p> + +<p>"We ain't a-goin' to stand it—we'll——"</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen, jest be quiet. Let me out—let me git across the street to +the Wagon-Tire—where my daughter is—and I can explain things."</p> + +<p>"Explain nothin'!" was the cry; "you'll explain right here! Do you think +Blowout is a-goin' to stand this kind o' thing?"</p> + +<p>"Who put you up to run this blazer on us? Them fellers at Plain View? Er +them scrubs at Cinche? This town ain't a-goin' to stand it!"</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," came Frosty's pipe again, "gentlemen, let me out—jest let +me git to my daughter—let me git out o' here before it's too late! This +is some o' that scoundrel Kid Barringer's doin's. Let me out, +gentlemen!"</p> + +<p>But the old man had gone the wrong way about it. Kid was one of them, a +good fellow, and much liked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1599" id="Page_1599">[Pg 1599]</a></span> Even those who knew nothing now scented a +romance. The big crowd hemmed old Frosty in and held him there with +pretended wrath and resentment.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>At the back door of the Wagon-Tire House, just before the wooden +Columbia appeared to the eyes of Blowout, a meeting had taken place. +From that door Aunt Huldah had stepped with Minnie clinging to her arm. +In the dense shadow Kid Barringer was waiting with two of the best +ponies in Wild Horse County. He came eagerly forward.</p> + +<p>"Kid," said Aunt Huldah's heartsome voice, "here's Minnie—I've brung +her to you. I b'lieve we're doin' right. You're a good boy, Kid. An' I +know you love her an' will take keer o' her. Ef you wasn't to, you'd +shore have me to fight!" and she chuckled genially.</p> + +<p>"Good-by, honey. Ye needn't to look skeered. We-all have got ye now, an' +we'll take keer of ye—the hull kit an' bilin' o' us. Good-by, bless +your sweet little heart!"</p> + +<p>With the word Minnie was in her saddle, swung there by her lover's +strong arms, and away across the levels beside him.</p> + +<p>And while, back in Blowout, the Signorina fairly clawed, cat-like, to +get through that wall of cowboys and across the street to where +(believing Kid Barringer to be as far away as Fort Worth) she had left +Minnie scarce half an hour before—while the old man shouted and swore +and protested and fairly wept with rage and apprehension; Kid Barringer +reached his left hand out to his companion, saying:</p> + +<p>"Slack him down a little, honey; we're safe now. Mr. Ferguson, the +Presbyterian preacher—he's promised me—I told him—an' he's a-goin' to +marry us. His place ain't half a mile further on, an' he's lookin' fer +us. We're safe now, my poor little girl."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1600" id="Page_1600">[Pg 1600]</a></span></p> + +<p>The cowboys, with roars of delight, fished down the remains of the +dangling Columbia, while the original performer, to whom Columbia's +figure was understudy, stood in Mr. Ferguson's little parlor, waiting +for that gentleman to bring in a second witness. Her little fair head +was resting on Kid's broad shoulder; Kid's arm was around her slender +figure; and she was saying, between laughter and tears:</p> + +<p>"Kid, how do you reckon that old machine Columbia is getting along with +my turn, back there at Blowout?"</p> + +<p>And the happy bridegroom made blissful answer: "I don't know—or +keer—honey. She can go it on her head for all of us, can't she? She +give us our chance to get away, and that was all we wanted. Aunt Huldy +is the Lord's own people. I'll never forget her. You wouldn't hardly 'a' +thought I was good enough, if Aunt Huldy hadn't a-recommended me, I +don't believe. My little girl ain't never a-goin' to get to walk no more +wires."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1601" id="Page_1601">[Pg 1601]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ONE_OF_THE_PALLS" id="ONE_OF_THE_PALLS"></a>ONE OF THE PALLS</h2> + +<h3>BY DOANE ROBINSON</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I were a pall to the burrying,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Joe's finally out of the way,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nothing 'special ailing of him,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Just old age and gen'ral decay.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hope to the Lord that I'll never be</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Old and decrepit and useless as he.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cuss to his family the last five year—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Monstrous expensive with keep so dear—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Sides all the fuss and worrying.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Terrible trial to get so old;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cur'us a man will continue to hold</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So on to life, when it's easy to see</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His chances for living, tho' dreadfully slim,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are better than his family are lotting for him.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Joe was that kind of a hanger on;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hadn't no sense of the time to quit;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stunted discretion and stall-fed grit</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Helped him unbuckle many a cinch,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where a sensible man would have died in the pinch.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Kind of tickled to have him gone;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bested for once and laid away,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Got him down where he's bound to stay;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I were a pall to his burrying.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Knowed him for more than sixty year back—</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1602" id="Page_1602">[Pg 1602]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Used to be somewhat older than him</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fought him one night to a husking bee;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Licked him in manner uncommon complete;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Every one said 'twas a beautiful fight;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Joe he wa'n't satisfied with it that way,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Kept dinging along, and when he got through</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The worst looking critter that you ever see</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Were stretched on a bed rigged up in the hay—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They carted me home the following day.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Got me a sweetheart purty and trim,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Told me that I was a heap likelier than Joe;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mittened him twict; he kept on the track,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Followed her round every place she would go;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Offered to lick him; says she, "It's a treat,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let's watch and find out what the poor critter will do."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Watched him, believing the thing was all right—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That identical girl is Joe's widow to-night.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Run to be justice, then Joe he run, too;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Knowed I was pop'lar and he hadn't a friend,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So there wa'n't no use of my hurrying.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The 'lection came off, we counted the votes;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I hadn't enough; Joe had them to lend.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now all the way through I had been taking notes</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of his disagreeable way,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And it tickles me now to be able to say</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He's bested for good in the end;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Got him down where he's bound to stay;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I were a pall to his burrying.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1603" id="Page_1603">[Pg 1603]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_V-A-S-E" id="THE_V-A-S-E"></a>THE V-A-S-E</h2> + +<h3>BY JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From the madding crowd they stand apart,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The maidens four and the Work of Art;</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And none might tell from sight alone</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In which had Culture ripest grown—</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Gotham Million fair to see,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Philadelphia Pedigree,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Boston Mind of azure hue,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or the soulful Soul from Kalamazoo—</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For all loved Art in a seemly way,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With an earnest soul and a capital A.</span><br /> +<br /></p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Long they worshipped; but no one broke</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sacred stillness, until upspoke</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Western one from the nameless place,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who, blushing, said: "What a lovely vase!"</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Over three faces a sad smile flew,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And they edged away from Kalamazoo.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But Gotham's haughty soul was stirred</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1604" id="Page_1604">[Pg 1604]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">To crush the stranger with one small word.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Deftly hiding reproof in praise,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She cries: "'T is, indeed, a lovely vaze!"</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But brief her unworthy triumph when</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The lofty one from the house of Penn,</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the consciousness of two grandpapas,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Exclaims: "It is quite a lovely vahs!"</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And glances round with an anxious thrill,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Awaiting the word of Beacon Hill.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But the Boston maid smiles courteouslee</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And gently murmurs: "Oh, pardon me!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I did not catch your remark, because</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I was so entranced with that charming vaws!"</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;"><i>Dies erit prœgelida</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;"><i>Sinistra quum Bostonia.</i></span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1605" id="Page_1605">[Pg 1605]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="EVES_DAUGHTER" id="EVES_DAUGHTER"></a>EVE'S DAUGHTER</h2> + +<h3>BY EDWARD ROWLAND SILL</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I waited in the little sunny room:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The cool breeze waved the window-lace, at play,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The white rose on the porch was all in bloom,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And out upon the bay</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I watched the wheeling sea-birds go and come.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Such an old friend,—she would not make me stay</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While she bound up her hair." I turned, and lo,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Danaë in her shower! and fit to slay</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">All a man's hoarded prudence at a blow:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gold hair that streamed away</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As round some nymph a sunlit fountain's flow.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"She would not make me wait!"—but well I know</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She took a good half-hour to loose and lay</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Those locks in dazzling disarrangement so!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1606" id="Page_1606">[Pg 1606]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_DULUTH_SPEECH" id="THE_DULUTH_SPEECH"></a>THE DULUTH SPEECH</h2> + +<h3>BY J. PROCTOR KNOTT</h3> + +<p>The House having under consideration the joint resolution (S. R. No. +11), extending the time to construct a railroad from the St. Croix river +or lake to the west end of Lake Superior and to Bayfield—</p> + +<p>Mr. Knott said:—</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Speaker</span>: If I could be actuated by any conceivable inducement to +betray the sacred trust reposed in me by those to whose generous +confidence I am indebted for the honor of a seat on this floor; if I +could be influenced by any possible consideration to become instrumental +in giving away, in violation of their known wishes, any portion of their +interest in the public domain for the mere promotion of any railroad +enterprise whatever, I should certainly feel a strong inclination to +give this measure my most earnest and hearty support; for I am assured +that its success would materially enhance the pecuniary prosperity of +some of the most valued friends I have on earth,—friends for whose +accommodation I would be willing to make almost any sacrifice not +involving my personal honor or my fidelity as the trustee of an express +trust. And that fact of itself would be sufficient to countervail almost +any objection I might entertain to the passage of this bill not inspired +by an imperative and inexorable sense of public duty.</p> + +<p>But, independent of the seductive influences of private friendship, to +which I admit I am, perhaps, as susceptible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1607" id="Page_1607">[Pg 1607]</a></span> as any of the gentlemen I +see around me, the intrinsic merits of the measure itself are of such an +extraordinary character as to commend it most strongly to the favorable +consideration of every member of this House, myself not excepted, +notwithstanding my constituents, in whose behalf alone I am acting here, +would not be benefited by its passage one particle more than they would +be by a project to cultivate an orange grove on the bleakest summit of +Greenland's icy mountains. (Laughter.)</p> + +<p>Now, sir, as to those great trunk lines of railway, spanning the +continent from ocean to ocean, I confess my mind has never been fully +made up. It is true they may afford some trifling advantages to local +traffic, and they may even in time become the channels of a more +extended commerce. Yet I have never been thoroughly satisfied either of +the necessity or expediency of projects promising such meagre results to +the great body of our people. But with regard to the transcendent merits +of the gigantic enterprise contemplated in this bill I never entertained +the shadow of a doubt. (Laughter.)</p> + +<p>Years ago, when I first heard that there was somewhere in the vast +<i>terra incognita</i>, somewhere in the bleak regions of the great +Northwest, a stream of water known to the nomadic inhabitants of the +neighborhood as the river St. Croix, I became satisfied that the +construction of a railroad from that raging torrent to some point in the +civilized world was essential to the happiness and prosperity of the +American people, if not absolutely indispensable to the perpetuity of +republican institutions on this continent. (Great laughter.) I felt +instinctively that the boundless resources of that prolific region of +sand and pine shrubbery would never be fully developed without a +railroad constructed and equipped at the expense of the Government, and +perhaps not then. (Laughter.) I had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1608" id="Page_1608">[Pg 1608]</a></span> an abiding presentiment that, some +day or other, the people of this whole country, irrespective of party +affiliations, regardless of sectional prejudices, and "without +distinction of race, color, or previous condition of servitude," would +rise in their majesty, and demand an outlet for the enormous +agricultural productions of those vast and fertile pine barrens, drained +in the rainy season by the surging waters of the turbid St. Croix. +(Great laughter.)</p> + +<p>These impressions, derived simply and solely from the "eternal fitness +of things," were not only strengthened by the interesting and eloquent +debate on this bill, to which I listened with so much pleasure the other +day, but intensified, if possible, as I read over this morning the +lively colloquy which took place on that occasion, as I find it reported +in last Friday's "Globe." I will ask the indulgence of the House while I +read a few short passages, which are sufficient, in my judgment, to +place the merits of the great enterprise contemplated in the measure now +under discussion beyond all possible controversy.</p> + +<p>The honorable gentleman from Minnesota (Mr. Wilson), who, I believe, is +managing this bill, in speaking of the character of the country through +which this railroad is to pass, says this:—</p> + +<p>"We want to have the timber brought to us as cheaply as possible. Now, +if you tie up the lands in this way, so that no title can be obtained to +them,—for no settler will go on these lands, for he can not make a +living,—you deprive us of the benefit of that timber."</p> + +<p>Now, sir, I would not have it by any means inferred from this that the +gentleman from Minnesota would insinuate that the people out in his +section desire this timber merely for the purpose of fencing up their +farms, so that their stock may not wander off and die of starvation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1609" id="Page_1609">[Pg 1609]</a></span> +among the bleak hills of the St. Croix. (Laughter.) I read it for no +such purpose, sir, and make no such comment on it myself. In +corroboration of this statement of the gentleman from Minnesota, I find +this testimony given by the honorable gentleman from Wisconsin (Mr. +Washburn). Speaking of these same lands, he says:</p> + +<p>"Under the bill, as amended by my friend from Minnesota, nine tenths of +the land is open to actual settlers at $2.50 per acre; the remaining one +tenth is pine-timbered land, that is not fit for settlement, and never +will be settled upon; but the timber will be cut off. I admit that it is +the most valuable portion of the grant, for most of the grant is not +valuable. It is quite valueless; and if you put in this amendment of the +gentleman from Indiana, you may as well just kill the bill, for no man +and no company will take the grant and build the road."</p> + +<p>I simply pause here to ask some gentleman better versed in the science +of mathematics than I am to tell me, if the timbered lands are in fact +the most valuable portion of that section of country, and they would be +entirely valueless without the timber that is on them, what the +remainder of the land is worth which has no timber on it at all. +(Laughter.)</p> + +<p>But further on I find a most entertaining and instructive interchange of +views between the gentleman from Arkansas (Mr. Rogers), the gentleman +from Wisconsin (Mr. Washburn), and the gentleman from Maine (Mr. Peters) +upon the subject of pine lands generally, which I will tax the patience +of the House to read:—</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rogers. Will the gentleman allow me to ask him a question?</p> + +<p>"Mr. Washburn, of Wisconsin. Certainly.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rogers. Are these pine lands entirely worthless except for timber?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1610" id="Page_1610">[Pg 1610]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mr. Washburn, of Wisconsin. They are generally! worthless for any other +purpose. I am perfectly familiar with that subject. These lands are not +valuable for purposes of settlement.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Farnsworth. They will be after the timber is taken off?</p> + +<p>"Mr. Washburn, of Wisconsin. No, sir.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rogers. I want to know the character of these pine lands.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Washburn, of Wisconsin. They are generally sandy, barren lands. My +friend from the Green Bay district (Mr. Sawyer) is himself perfectly +familiar with this question, and he will bear me out in what I say, that +these pine-timber lands are not adapted to settlement.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Rogers. The pine lands to which I am accustomed are generally very +good. What I want to know is, what is the difference between our pine +lands and your pine lands?</p> + +<p>"Mr. Washburn, of Wisconsin. The pine timber of Wisconsin generally +grows upon barren, sandy land. The gentleman from Maine (Mr. Peters), +who is familiar with pine lands, will, I have no doubt, say that pine +timber grows generally upon the most barren lands.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Peters. As a general thing pine lands are not worth much for +cultivation."</p> + +<p>And further on I find this pregnant question, the joint production of +the two gentlemen from Wisconsin:—</p> + +<p>"Mr. Paine. Does my friend from Indiana suppose that in any event +settlers will occupy and cultivate these pine lands?</p> + +<p>"Mr. Washburn, of Wisconsin. Particularly without a railroad?"</p> + +<p>Yes, sir, "particularly without a railroad." It will be asked after a +while, I am afraid, if settlers will go any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1611" id="Page_1611">[Pg 1611]</a></span>where unless the Government +builds a railroad for them to go on. (Laughter.)</p> + +<p>I desire to call attention to only one more statement, which I think +sufficient to settle the question. It is one made by the gentleman from +Wisconsin (Mr. Paine), who says:—</p> + +<p>"These lands will be abandoned for the present. It may be that at some +remote period there will spring up in that region a new kind of +agriculture, which will cause a demand for these particular lands; and +they may then come into use and be valuable for agricultural purposes. +But I know, and I can not help thinking that my friend from Indiana +understands, that for the present, and for many years to come, these +pine lands can have no possible value other than that arising from the +pine timber which stands on them."</p> + +<p>Now, sir, who, after listening to this emphatic and unequivocal +testimony of these intelligent, competent and able-bodied witnesses +(laughter), who that is not as incredulous as St. Thomas himself, will +doubt for a moment that the Goshen of America is to be found in the +sandy valleys and upon the pine-clad hills of St. Croix? (Laughter.) Who +will have the hardihood to rise in his seat on this floor and assert +that, excepting the pine bushes, the entire region would not produce +vegetation enough in ten years to fatten a grasshopper? (Great +laughter.) Where is the patriot who is willing that his country shall +incur the peril of remaining another day without the amplest railroad +connection with such an inexhaustible mine of agricultural wealth? +(Laughter.) Who will answer for the consequences of abandoning a great +and warlike people, in possession of a country like that, to brood over +the indifference and neglect of their Government? (Laughter.) How long +would it be before they would take to studying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1612" id="Page_1612">[Pg 1612]</a></span> the Declaration of +Independence, and hatching out the damnable heresy of secession? How +long before the grim demon of civil discord would rear again his horrid +head in our midst, "gnash loud his iron fangs, and shake his crest of +bristling bayonets"? (Laughter.)</p> + +<p>Then, sir, think of the long and painful process of reconstruction that +must follow, with its concomitant amendments to the Constitution; the +seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth articles. The sixteenth, it is of +course understood, is to be appropriated to those blushing damsels who +are, day after day, beseeching us to let them vote, hold office, drink +cock-tails, ride astraddle, and do everything else the men do. (Roars of +laughter.) But above all, sir, let me implore you to reflect for a +single moment on the deplorable condition of our country in case of a +foreign war, with all our ports blockaded, all our cities in a state of +siege; the gaunt spectre of famine brooding like a hungry vulture over +our starving land; our commissary stores all exhausted, and our +famishing armies withering away in the field, a helpless prey to the +insatiate demon of hunger; our navy rotting in the docks for want of +provisions for our gallant seamen, and we without any railroad +communication whatever with the prolific pine thickets of the St. Croix. +(Great laughter.)</p> + +<p>Ah, sir, I could very well understand why my amiable friends from +Pennsylvania (Mr. Myers, Mr. Kelley and Mr. O'Neill) should be so +earnest in their support of this bill the other day, and if their +honorable colleague, my friend, Mr. Randall, will pardon the remark, I +will say I considered his criticism of their action on that occasion as +not only unjust, but ungenerous. I knew they were looking forward with +the far-reaching ken of enlightened statesmanship to the pitiable +condition in which Phila<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1613" id="Page_1613">[Pg 1613]</a></span>delphia will be left, unless speedily supplied +with railroad connection in some way or other with this garden spot of +the universe. (Laughter.) And besides, sir, this discussion has relieved +my mind of a mystery that has weighed upon it like an incubus for years. +I could never understand before why there was so much excitement during +the last Congress over the acquisition of Alta Vela. I could never +understand why it was that some of our ablest statesmen and most +disinterested patriots should entertain such dark forebodings of the +untold calamities that were to befall our beloved country unless we +should take immediate possession of that desirable island. But I see now +that they were laboring under the mistaken impression that the +Government would need the guano to manure the public lands on the St. +Croix. (Great laughter.)</p> + +<p>Now, sir, I repeat I have been satisfied for years that if there was any +portion of the inhabited globe absolutely in a suffering condition for +want of a railroad it was these teeming pine barrens of the St. Croix. +(Laughter.) At what particular point on that noble stream such a road +should be commenced I knew was immaterial, and so it seems to have been +considered by the draughtsman of this bill. It might be up at the spring +or down at the foot-log, or the Watergate, or the fish-dam, or anywhere +along the bank, no matter where. (Laughter.) But in what direction +should it run, or where should it terminate, were always to my mind +questions of the most painful perplexity. I could conceive of no place +on "God's green earth" in such straitened circumstances for railroad +facilities as to be likely to desire or willing to accept such a +connection. (Laughter.) I knew that neither Bayfield nor Superior City +would have it, for they both indignantly spurned the munificence of the +Government when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1614" id="Page_1614">[Pg 1614]</a></span> coupled with such ignominious conditions, and let this +very same land grant die on their hands years and years ago, rather than +submit to the degradation of a direct communication by railroad with the +piny woods of the St. Croix; and I knew that what the enterprising +inhabitants of those giant young cities would refuse to take would have +few charms for others, whatever their necessities or cupidity might be. +(Laughter.)</p> + +<p>Hence, as I have said, sir, I was utterly at a loss to determine where +the terminus of this great and indispensable road should be, until I +accidentally overheard some gentleman the other day mention the name of +"Duluth." (Great laughter.) Duluth! The word fell upon my ear with +peculiar and indescribable charm, like the gentle murmur of a low +fountain stealing forth in the midst of roses, or the soft, sweet +accents of an angel's whisper in the bright, joyous dream of sleeping +innocence. Duluth! 'Twas the name for which my soul had panted for +years, as the hart panteth for the water-brooks. (Renewed laughter.) But +where was Duluth? Never, in all my limited reading, had my vision been +gladdened by seeing the celestial word in print. (Laughter.) And I felt +a profounder humiliation in my ignorance that its dulcet syllables had +never before ravished my delighted ear. (Roars of laughter.) I was +certain the draughtsman of this bill had never heard of it, or it would +have been designated as one of the termini of this road. I asked my +friends about it, but they knew nothing of it. I rushed to the library, +and examined all the maps I could find. (Laughter.) I discovered in one +of them a delicate, hair-like line, diverging from the Mississippi near +a place marked Prescott, which I supposed was intended to represent the +river St. Croix, but I could nowhere find Duluth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1615" id="Page_1615">[Pg 1615]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nevertheless, I was confident it existed somewhere, and that its +discovery would constitute the crowning-glory of the present century, if +not of all modern times. (Laughter.) I knew it was bound to exist in the +very nature of things; that the symmetry and perfection of our planetary +system would be incomplete without it (renewed laughter); that the +elements of material nature would long since have resolved themselves +back into original chaos, if there had been such a hiatus in creation as +would have resulted from leaving out Duluth. (Roars of laughter.) In +fact, sir, I was overwhelmed with the conviction that Duluth not only +existed somewhere, but that, wherever it was, it was a great and +glorious place. I was convinced that the greatest calamity that ever +befell the benighted nations of the ancient world was in their having +passed away without a knowledge of the actual existence of Duluth; that +their fabled Atlantis, never seen save by the hallowed vision of +inspired poesy, was, in fact, but another name for Duluth; that the +golden orchard of the Hesperides was but a poetical synonym for the beer +gardens in the vicinity of Duluth. (Great laughter.) I was certain that +Herodotus had died a miserable death because in all his travels and with +all his geographical research he had never heard pf Duluth. (Laughter,) +I knew that if the immortal spirit of Homer could look down from another +heaven than that created by his own celestial genius upon the long lines +of pilgrims from every nation of the earth to the gushing fountain of +poesy opened by the touch of his magic wand; if he could be permitted to +behold the vast assemblage of grand and glorious productions of the +lyric art called into being by his own inspired strains, he would weep +tears of bitter anguish that, instead of lavishing all the stores of his +mighty genius upon the fall of Ilion, it had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1616" id="Page_1616">[Pg 1616]</a></span> not been his more blessed +lot to crystallize in deathless song the rising glories of Duluth. +(Great and continued laughter.) Yet, sir, had it not been for this map, +kindly furnished me by the Legislature of Minnesota, I might have gone +down to my obscure and humble grave in an agony of despair, because I +could nowhere find Duluth. (Renewed laughter.) Had such been my +melancholy fate, I have no doubt that, with the last feeble pulsation of +my breaking heart, with the last faint exhalation of my fleeting breath, +I should have whispered, "Where is Duluth?" (Roars of laughter.)</p> + +<p>But, thanks to the beneficence of that band of ministering angels who +have their bright abodes in the far-off capital of Minnesota, just as +the agony of my anxiety was about to culminate in the frenzy of despair, +this blessed map was placed in my hands; and as I unfolded it a +resplendent scene of ineffable glory opened before me, such as I imagine +burst upon the enraptured vision of the wandering peri through the +opening gates of paradise. (Renewed laughter.) There, there for the +first time, my enchanted eye rested upon the ravishing word "Duluth."</p> + +<p>This map, sir, is intended, as it appears from its title, to illustrate +the position of Duluth in the United States; but if gentlemen will +examine it, I think they will concur with me in the opinion that it is +far too modest in its pretensions. It not only illustrates the position +of Duluth in the United States, but exhibits its relations with all +created things. It even goes farther than this. It lifts the shadowy +veil of futurity, and affords us a view of the golden prospects of +Duluth far along the dim vista of ages yet to come.</p> + +<p>If gentlemen will examine it, they will find Duluth not only in the +centre of the map, but represented in the centre<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1617" id="Page_1617">[Pg 1617]</a></span> of a series of +concentric circles, one hundred miles apart, and some of them as much as +four thousand miles in diameter, embracing alike in their tremendous +sweep the fragrant savannas of the sun-lit South and the eternal +solitudes of snow that mantle the ice-bound North. (Laughter.) How these +circles were produced is perhaps one of those primordial mysteries that +the most skillful paleologist will never be able to explain. (Renewed +laughter.) But the fact is, sir, Duluth is preeminently a central place, +for I am told by gentlemen who have been so reckless of their own +personal safety as to venture away into those awful regions where Duluth +is supposed to be that it is so exactly in the centre of the visible +universe that the sky comes down at precisely the same distance all +around it. (Roars of laughter.)</p> + +<p>I find by reference to this map that Duluth is situated somewhere near +the western end of Lake Superior; but as there is no dot or other mark +indicating its exact location, I am unable to say whether it is actually +confined to any particular spot, or whether "it is just lying around +there loose." (Renewed laughter.) I really can not tell whether it is +one of those ethereal creations of intellectual frostwork, more +intangible than the rose-tinted clouds of a summer sunset,—one of those +airy exhalations of the speculator's brain, which I am told are ever +flitting in the form of towns and cities along those lines of railroad, +built with Government subsidies, luring the unwary settlers as the +mirage of the desert lures the famishing traveler on, and ever on, until +it fades away in the darkening horizon,—or whether it is a real <i>bona +fide</i>, substantial city, all "staked off," with the lots marked with +their owners' names, like that proud commercial metropolis recently +discovered on the desirable shores of San Domingo. (Laughter.) But, +however that may be, I am<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1618" id="Page_1618">[Pg 1618]</a></span> satisfied Duluth is there, or thereabout, for +I see it stated here on this map that it is exactly thirty-nine hundred +and ninety miles from Liverpool (laughter), though I have no doubt, for +the sake of convenience, it will be moved back ten miles, so as to make +the distance an even four thousand. (Renewed laughter.)</p> + +<p>Then, sir, there is the climate of Duluth, unquestionably the most +salubrious and delightful to be found anywhere on the Lord's earth. Now, +I have always been under the impression, as I presume other gentlemen +have, that in the region around Lake Superior it was cold enough for at +least nine months in the year to freeze the smokestack off a locomotive. +(Great laughter.) But I see it represented on this map that Duluth is +situated exactly halfway between the latitudes of Paris and Venice, so +that gentlemen who have inhaled the exhilarating airs of the one or +basked in the golden sunlight of the other may see at a glance that +Duluth must be a place of untold delights (laughter), a terrestrial +paradise, fanned by the balmy zephyrs of an eternal spring, clothed in +the gorgeous sheen of ever-blooming flowers, and vocal with the silvery +melody of nature's choicest songsters. (Laughter.) In fact, sir, since I +have seen this map I have no doubt that Byron was vainly endeavoring to +convey some faint conception of the delicious charms of Duluth when his +poetic soul gushed forth in the rippling strains of that beautiful +rhapsody:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Know ye the land of the cedar and vine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppressed with perfume,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gul in her bloom;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the voice of the nightingale never is mute;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where the tints of the earth and the hues of the sky,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In color though varied, in beauty may vie?"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>(Laughter.)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1619" id="Page_1619">[Pg 1619]</a></span></p> + +<p>As to the commercial resources of Duluth, sir, they are simply +illimitable and inexhaustible, as is shown by this map. I see it stated +here that there is a vast scope of territory, embracing an area of over +two million square miles, rich in every element of material wealth and +commercial prosperity, all tributary to Duluth. Look at it, sir +(pointing to the map). Here are inexhaustible mines of gold, +immeasurable veins of silver, impenetrable depths of boundless forest, +vast coal-measures, wide, extended plains of richest pasturage, all, all +embraced in this vast territory, which must, in the very nature of +things, empty the untold treasures of its commerce into the lap of +Duluth. (Laughter.)</p> + +<p>Look at it, sir! (Pointing to the map.) Do not you see from these broad, +brown lines drawn around this immense territory that the enterprising +inhabitants of Duluth intend some day to inclose it all in one vast +corral, so that its commerce will be bound to go there, whether it would +or not? (Great laughter.) And here, sir (still pointing to the map), I +find within a convenient distance the Piegan Indians, which, of all the +many accessories to the glory of Duluth, I consider by far the most +inestimable. For, sir, I have been told that when the small-pox breaks +out among the women and children of that famous tribe, as it sometimes +does, they afford the finest subjects in the world for the strategical +experiments of any enterprising military hero who desires to improve +himself in the noble art of war (laughter); especially for any valiant +lieutenant general, whose</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">"Trenchant blade, Toledo trusty,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For want of fighting has grown rusty,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And eats into itself for lack</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of somebody to hew and hack."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>(Great laughter.)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1620" id="Page_1620">[Pg 1620]</a></span></p> + +<p>Sir, the great conflict now raging in the Old World has presented a +phenomenon in military science unprecedented in the annals of mankind—a +phenomenon that has reversed all the traditions of the past as it has +disappointed all the expectations of the present. A great and warlike +people, renowned alike for their skill and valor, have been swept away +before the triumphant advance of an inferior foe, like autumn stubble +before a hurricane of fire. For aught I know, the next flash of electric +fire that shimmers along the ocean cable may tell us that Paris, with +every fibre quivering with the agony of impotent despair, writhes +beneath the conquering heel of her loathed invader. Ere another moon +shall wax and wane the brightest star in the galaxy of nations may fall +from the zenith of her glory never to rise again. Ere the modest violets +of early spring shall ope their beauteous eyes, the genius of +civilization may chant the wailing requiem of the proudest nationality +the world has ever seen, as she scatters her withered and tear-moistened +lilies o'er the bloody tomb of butchered France. But, sir, I wish to ask +if you honestly and candidly believe that the Dutch would have ever +overrun the French in that kind of style if General Sheridan had not +gone over there and told King William and Von Moltke how he had managed +to whip the Piegan Indians. (Great laughter.)</p> + +<p>And here, sir, recurring to this map, I find in the immediate vicinity +of the Piegans "vast herds of buffalo" and "immense fields of rich wheat +lands."</p> + +<p>(Here the hammer fell.)</p> + +<p>(Many cries: "Go on!" "Go on!")</p> + +<p>The Speaker. Is there objection to the gentleman from Kentucky +continuing his remarks? The Chair hears none. The gentleman will +proceed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1621" id="Page_1621">[Pg 1621]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Knott. I was remarking, sir, upon these vast "wheat fields" +represented on this map as in the immediate neighborhood of the +buffaloes and the Piegans, and was about to say that the idea of there +being these immense wheat fields in the very heart of a wilderness, +hundreds and hundreds of miles beyond the utmost verge of civilization, +may appear to some gentlemen as rather incongruous, as rather too great +a strain on the "blankets" of veracity. But to my mind there is no +difficulty in the matter whatever. The phenomenon is very easily +accounted for. It is evident, sir, that the Piegans sowed that wheat +there and plowed it with buffalo bulls. (Great laughter.) Now, sir, this +fortunate combination of buffaloes and Piegans, considering their +relative positions to each other and to Duluth, as they are arranged on +this map, satisfies me that Duluth is destined to be the beef market of +the world.</p> + +<p>Here, you will observe (pointing to the map), are the buffaloes, +directly between the Piegans and Duluth; and here, right on the road to +Duluth, are the Creeks. Now, sir, when the buffaloes are sufficiently +fat from grazing on these immense wheat fields, you see it will be the +easiest thing in the world for the Piegans to drive them on down, stay +all night with their friends, the Creeks, and go into Duluth in the +morning. (Great laughter.) I think I see them now, sir, a vast herd of +buffaloes, with their heads down, their eyes glaring, their nostrils +dilated, their tongues out, and their tails curled over their backs, +tearing along toward Duluth, with about a thousand Piegans on their +grass-bellied ponies yelling at their heels! (Great laughter.) On they +come! And as they sweep past the Creeks, they join in the chase, and +away they all go, yelling, bellowing, ripping, and tearing along, amid +clouds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1622" id="Page_1622">[Pg 1622]</a></span> of dust, until the last buffalo is safely penned in the +stockyards of Duluth! (Shouts of laughter.)</p> + +<p>Sir, I might stand here for hours and hours, and expatiate with rapture +upon the gorgeous prospects of Duluth, as depicted upon this map. But +human life is too short and the time of this House far too valuable to +allow me to linger longer upon the delightful theme, (Laughter.) I think +every gentleman on this floor is as well satisfied as I am that Duluth +is destined to become the commercial metropolis of the universe, and +that this road should be built at once. I am fully persuaded that no +patriotic representative of the American people, who has a proper +appreciation of the associated glories of Duluth and the St. Croix, will +hesitate a moment to say that every able-bodied female in the land, +between the ages of eighteen and forty-five, who is in favor of "women's +rights" should be drafted and set to work upon this great work without +delay. (Roars of laughter.) Nevertheless, sir, it grieves my very soul +to be compelled to say that I can not vote for the grant of lands +provided for in this bill.</p> + +<p>Ah, sir, you can have no conception of the poignancy of my anguish that +I am deprived of that blessed privilege! (Laughter.) There are two +insuperable obstacles in the way. In the first place, my constituents, +for whom I am acting here, have no more interest in this road than they +have in the great question of culinary taste now perhaps agitating the +public mind of Dominica, as to whether the illustrious commissioners who +recently left this capital for that free and enlightened republic would +be better fricasseed, boiled, or roasted (great laughter); and, in the +second place, these lands which I am asked to give away, alas, are not +mine to bestow! My relation to them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1623" id="Page_1623">[Pg 1623]</a></span> is simply that of trustee to an +express trust. And shall I ever betray that trust? Never, sir! Rather +perish Duluth! (Shouts of laughter.) Perish the paragon of cities! +Rather let the freezing cyclones of the bleak Northwest bury it forever +beneath the eddying sands of the raging St. Croix! (Great laughter.)<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1624" id="Page_1624">[Pg 1624]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="DICTUM_SAPIENTI" id="DICTUM_SAPIENTI"></a>DICTUM SAPIENTI</h2> + +<h3>BY JOHN PAUL</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That 'tis well to be off with the old love</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Before one is on with the new</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has somehow passed into a proverb,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But I never have found it true.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No love can be quite like the old love,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Whate'er may be said for the new—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And if you dismiss me, my darling,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">You may come to this thinking, too.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Were the proverb not wiser if mended,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And the fickle and wavering told</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To be sure they're on with the new love</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Before they are off with the old?</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1625" id="Page_1625">[Pg 1625]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HARD10" id="HARD10"></a>HARD<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></h2> + +<h3>BY TOM MASSON</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I wrote some foolish verses once</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">On love. Unhappy churl!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The metre makes me shudder still,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I sent them to a girl.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I know that girl, and if I should,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Like Byron, wake some day</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To find Fame written on my brow,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">She'd give those lines away.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So now I have to watch myself</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Each hour. Oh, hapless plight!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For if I should be great, of course,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Those lines would come to light.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1626" id="Page_1626">[Pg 1626]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_SCEPTICS" id="THE_SCEPTICS"></a>THE SCEPTICS</h2> + +<h3>BY BLISS CARMAN</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It was the little leaves beside the road.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Said Grass, "What is that sound</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So dismally profound,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That detonates and desolates the air?"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"That is St. Peter's bell,"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Said rain-wise Pimpernel;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"He is music to the godly,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though to us he sounds so oddly,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he terrifies the faithful unto prayer."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then something very like a groan</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Escaped the naughty little leaves.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Said Grass, "And whither track</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">These creatures all in black,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So woebegone and penitent and meek?"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"They're mortals bound for church,"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Said the little Silver Birch;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"They hope to get to heaven</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And have their sins forgiven,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If they talk to God about it once a week."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And something very like a smile</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1627" id="Page_1627">[Pg 1627]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ran through the naughty little leaves.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Said Grass, "What is that noise</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That startles and destroys</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our blessed summer brooding when we're tired?"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"That's folk a-praising God,"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Said the tough old cynic Clod;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"They do it every Sunday,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They'll be all right on Monday;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It's just a little habit they've acquired."</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And laughter spread among the little leaves.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1628" id="Page_1628">[Pg 1628]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_DAY_IS_DONE" id="THE_DAY_IS_DONE"></a>"THE DAY IS DONE"</h2> + +<h3>BY PHŒBE CARY</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The day is done, and darkness</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">From the wing of night is loosed,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As a feather is wafted downward,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">From a chicken going to roost.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I see the lights of the baker,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Gleam through the rain and mist,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That I can not well resist.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A feeling of sadness and longing</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That is not like being sick,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And resembles sorrow only</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As a brickbat resembles a brick.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Come, get for me some supper,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A good and regular meal—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That shall soothe this restless feeling,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And banish the pain I feel.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not from the pastry bakers,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Not from the shops for cake;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I wouldn't give a farthing</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1629" id="Page_1629">[Pg 1629]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 2em;">For all that they can make.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For, like the soup at dinner,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Such things would but suggest</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some dishes more substantial,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And to-night I want the best.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Go to some honest butcher,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Whose beef is fresh and nice,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As any they have in the city,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And get a liberal slice.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Such things through days of labor,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And nights devoid of ease,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For sad and desperate feelings,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Are wonderful remedies.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They have an astonishing power</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To aid and reinforce,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And come like the "finally, brethren,"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That follows a long discourse.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then get me a tender sirloin</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">From off the bench or hook.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And lend to its sterling goodness</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The science of the cook.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the night shall be filled with comfort,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And the cares with which it begun</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Shall fold up their blankets like Indians,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And silently cut and run.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1630" id="Page_1630">[Pg 1630]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="MR_DOOLEY_ON_GOLF" id="MR_DOOLEY_ON_GOLF"></a>MR. DOOLEY ON GOLF</h2> + +<h3>BY FINLEY PETER DUNNE</h3> + +<p>"An' what's this game iv goluf like, I dinnaw?" said Mr. Hennessy, +lighting his pipe with much unnecessary noise. "Ye're a good deal iv a +spoort, Jawnny: did ye iver thry it?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Mr. McKenna. "I used to roll a hoop onct upon a time, but I'm +out of condition now."</p> + +<p>"It ain't like base-ball," said Mr. Hennessy, "an' it ain't like shinny, +an' it ain't like lawn-teenis, an' it ain't like forty-fives, an' it +ain't"—</p> + +<p>"Like canvas-back duck or anny other game ye know," said Mr. Dooley.</p> + +<p>"Thin what is it like?" said Mr. Hennessy. "I see be th' pa-aper that +Hobart What-d'ye-call-him is wan iv th' best at it. Th' other day he +made a scoor iv wan hundherd an' sixty-eight, but whether 'twas miles or +stitches I cudden't make out fr'm th' raypoorts."</p> + +<p>"'Tis little ye know," said Mr. Dooley. "Th' game iv goluf is as old as +th' hills. Me father had goluf links all over his place, an', whin I was +a kid, 'twas wan iv th' principal spoorts iv me life, afther I'd dug the +turf f'r th' avenin', to go out and putt"—</p> + +<p>"Poot, ye mean," said Mr. Hennessy. "They'se no such wurrud in th' +English language as putt. Belinda called me down ha-ard on it no more +thin las' night."</p> + +<p>"There ye go!" said Mr. Dooley, angrily. "There ye go! D'ye think this +here game iv goluf is a spellin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1631" id="Page_1631">[Pg 1631]</a></span> match? 'Tis like ye, Hinnissy, to be +refereein' a twinty-round glove contest be th' rule iv three. I tell ye +I used to go out in th' avenin' an' putt me mashie like hell-an'-all, +till I was knowed fr'm wan end iv th' county to th' other as th' +champeen putter. I putted two men fr'm Roscommon in wan day, an' they +had to be took home on a dure.</p> + +<p>"In America th' ga-ame is played more ginteel, an' is more like +cigareet-smokin', though less onhealthy f'r th' lungs. 'Tis a good game +to play in a hammick whin ye're all tired out fr'm social duties or +shovellin' coke. Out-iv-dure golf is played be th' followin' rules. If +ye bring ye'er wife f'r to see th' game, an' she has her name in th' +paper, that counts ye wan. So th' first thing ye do is to find th' +raypoorter, an' tell him ye're there. Thin ye ordher a bottle iv brown +pop, an' have ye'er second fan ye with a towel. Afther this ye'd dhress, +an' here ye've got to be dam particklar or ye'll be stuck f'r th' +dhrinks. If ye'er necktie is not on sthraight, that counts ye'er +opponent wan. If both ye an' ye'er opponent have ye'er neckties on +crooked, th' first man that sees it gets th' stakes. Thin ye ordher a +carredge"—</p> + +<p>"Order what?" demanded Mr. McKenna.</p> + +<p>"A carredge."</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"F'r to take ye 'round th' links. Ye have a little boy followin' ye, +carryin' ye'er clubs. Th' man that has th' smallest little boy it counts +him two. If th' little boy has th' rickets, it counts th' man in th' +carredge three. The little boys is called caddies; but Clarence Heaney +that tol' me all this—he belongs to th' Foorth Wa-ard Goluf an' +McKinley Club—said what th' little boys calls th' players'd not be fit +f'r to repeat.</p> + +<p>"Well, whin ye dhrive up to th' tea grounds"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1632" id="Page_1632">[Pg 1632]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Th' what?" demanded Mr. Hennessy.</p> + +<p>"Th' tea grounds, that's like th' home-plate in base-ball or ordherin' a +piece iv chalk in a game iv spoil five. It's th' be-ginnin' iv +ivrything. Whin ye get to th' tea grounds, ye step out, an' have ye'er +hat irned be th' caddie. Thin ye'er man that ye're goin' aginst comes +up, an' he asks ye, 'Do you know Potther Pammer?' Well, if ye don't know +Potther Pammer, it's all up with ye: ye lose two points. But ye come +right back at him with an upper cut: 'Do ye live on th' Lake Shore +dhrive?' If he doesn't, ye have him in th' nine hole. Ye needn't play +with him anny more. But, if ye do play with him, he has to spot three +balls. If he's a good man an' shifty on his feet, he'll counter be +askin' ye where ye spend th' summer. Now ye can't tell him that ye spent +th' summer with wan hook on th' free lunch an' another on th' ticker +tape, an' so ye go back three. That needn't discourage ye at all, at +all. Here's yer chance to mix up, an' ye ask him if he was iver in +Scotland. If he wasn't, it counts ye five. Thin ye tell him that ye had +an aunt wanst that heerd th' Jook iv Argyle talk in a phonograph; an', +onless he comes back an' shoots it into ye that he was wanst run over be +th' Prince iv Wales, ye have him groggy. I don't know whether th' Jook +iv Argyle or th' Prince iv Wales counts f'r most. They're like th' right +an' left bower iv thrumps. Th' best players is called scratch-men."</p> + +<p>"What's that f'r?" Mr. Hennessy asked.</p> + +<p>"It's a Scotch game," said Mr. Dooley, with a wave of his hand. "I +wonder how it come out to-day. Here's th' pa-aper. Let me see. McKinley +at Canton. Still there. He niver cared to wandher fr'm his own fireside. +Collar-button men f'r th' goold standard. Statues iv Heidelback, +Ickleheimer an' Company to be erected in Washington. Another Vanderbilt +weddin'. That sounds like goluf, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1633" id="Page_1633">[Pg 1633]</a></span> it ain't. Newport society livin' +in Mrs. Potther Pammer's cellar. Green-goods men declare f'r honest +money. Anson in foorth place some more. Pianny tuners f'r McKinley. Li +Hung Chang smells a rat. Abner McKinley supports th' goold standard. +Wait a minyit. Here it is: 'Goluf in gay attire.' Let me see. H'm. +'Foozled his aproach,'—nasty thing. 'Topped th' ball.' 'Three up an' +two to play.' Ah, here's the scoor. 'Among those prisint were Messrs. +an' Mesdames'"—</p> + +<p>"Hol' on!" cried Mr. Hennessy, grabbing the paper out of his friend's +hands. "That's thim that was there."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mr. Dooley, decisively, "that's th' goluf scoor."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1634" id="Page_1634">[Pg 1634]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHEN_THE_SIRUPS_ON_THE_FLAPJACK" id="WHEN_THE_SIRUPS_ON_THE_FLAPJACK"></a>WHEN THE SIRUP'S ON THE FLAPJACK</h2> + +<h3>BY BERT LESTON TAYLOR</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the sirup's on the flapjack and the coffee's in the pot;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the fly is in the butter—where he'd rather be than not;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the cloth is on the table, and the plates are on the cloth;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the salt is in the shaker and the chicken's in the broth;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the cream is in the pitcher and the pitcher's on the tray,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the tray is on the sideboard when it isn't on the way;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the rind is on the bacon, and likewise upon the cheese,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Then I somehow feel inspired to do a lot of rhymes like these.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1635" id="Page_1635">[Pg 1635]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="bbox"> +<div class="boxtext"> +<h4><i>A NEW and Entirely Up-to-Date</i></h4> +<h4><i>DICTIONARY</i></h4> + +<h4>The Funk & Wagnalls</h4> + +<h2><span class="smcap">Desk Standard</span></h2> +<h2><span class="smcap">Dictionary</span></h2> + +<p>This entirely new work, which is the most recent of the abridgments from +the New Standard Dictionary, <i>describes</i> and <i>explains 80,000 words, +phrases</i>, and <i>topics of interest</i>.</p> + +<p>It is a special handy-sized dictionary designed particularly for desk +use in the office, the college, the study, and for handy reference on +the library table.</p> + +<p>Its vocabulary is sufficiently inclusive to cover all words that may be +met with in study or in reading.</p> + +<p>Every term has its <i>own alphabetical place</i> in the main vocabulary—no +confusing appendix.</p> + +<p>It contains more than 6,000 discriminating articles and groups of +Synonyms, occupying 11,700 lines—2,000 more than any other dictionary +of the same size. There are 1,200 Pictorial Illustrations.</p> + +<p>"Of uncommon usefulness and convenience."</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">—<i>St. Louis Republic.</i></span><br /> +<br /></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Price Cloth, $1.50, net. With Thumb-Notch Index, 30<br /> +Cents Extra. Half Leather, Indexed, $2.25, net</i></p> + +<p class="center">FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers<br /> +NEW YORK and LONDON<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1636" id="Page_1636">[Pg 1636]</a></span></p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="bbox"> +<div class="boxtext"> +<h4><i>A New Creation From Cover To Cover</i></h4> + +<h2>THE FUNK & WAGNALLS</h2> + +<h2>NEW</h2> + +<h2>Standard Dictionary</h2> + +<p>Completed after nearly four years of time and almost a million and a +half of dollars had been spent in its production. The work of over 380 +Editors and Specialists. Has about 3,000 pages; more than 7,000 +illustrations; contains over 450,000 living vocabulary terms—more than +125,000 of these being new; has dozens of important features not found +in any other work; and is as far ahead of the old Standard as that was +ahead of every other dictionary twenty years ago.</p> + +<h4><i>The Superlative Achievement in<br /> +Lexicography</i></h4> + +<h4>UNITED STATES DEPT. OF EDUCATION</h4> + +<p>"This great work can not fail to be a distinct contribution to English +scholarship."—<i>Hon. Philander P. Claxton</i>, United States Commissioner +of Education.</p> + +<h4>"THE BEST"</h4> + +<p>"I am convinced that your new unabridged is the best kit of tools I +possess in my library."—<i>Jack London</i>, the popular American author.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Funk & Wagnalls Company</span>, Pubs.<br /> +<br /> +NEW YORK and LONDON<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1637" id="Page_1637">[Pg 1637]</a></span></p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="bbox"> +<div class="boxtext"> +<h5><i>The Greatest Single Volume Reference Work Ever Produced</i></h5> + +<h4>THE FUNK & WAGNALLS</h4> + +<h2>NEW</h2> + +<h2>Standard Dictionary</h2> + +<p>Retaining all of the characteristic superior features of the old +Standard, which have given that work worldwide fame, this yet more +stupendous book adds others exclusive and of immense value. Here are but</p> + +<h4><i>A Few of Its Many Points of<br /> +Surpassing Superiority</i>:</h4> + +<p>ONE ALPHABETICAL ORDER throughout its entire vocabulary, an immense +time-saving feature,—no divided pages, supplemental vocabularies, etc.</p> + +<p>THE COMMON MEANING OF EVERY WORD is given in its first definition and +the obsolete meaning last as it should be.</p> + +<p>KEY-WORDS TO THE CONTENTS of every two facing pages greatly aid +consultation.</p> + +<p>TWO KEYS TO PRONUNCIATION are placed at the top of every page.</p> + +<p>COMMON ERRORS OF SPEECH are systematically corrected.</p> + +<p>A SYSTEMATIC METHOD OF COMPOUNDING words reduces compounding to a +science.</p> + +<p>RULES GOVERNING THE PLURALS of nouns and their formation are a great +help.</p> + +<p>GRAMMATICAL AND RHETORICAL CONSTRUCTION are aided by the special rules +which the New Standard explains.</p> + +<p>THE SYLLABIC DIVISION OF WORDS is shown by the simplest possible system.</p> + +<p>SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS are given in such numbers as are nowhere else +found.</p> + +<h5><i>Send for Information, Prices, etc</i>.</h5> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Funk</span> & <span class="smcap">Wagnalls Company</span>, Pubs.</h4> + +<h5>NEW YORK and LONDON</h5> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1638" id="Page_1638">[Pg 1638]</a></span></p> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="bbox"> +<div class="boxtext"> +<h2>English Synonyms,</h2> +<h2>Antonyms, and</h2> +<h2>Prepositions</h2> + +<h4><i>NEW AND ENLARGED EDITION</i></h4> + +<h5><i>Companion Volume to the Author's Book<br /> +"Connectives of English Speech</i>"</h5> + +<h4>By JAMES C. FERNALD, L.H.D.</h4> + +<p>Over 8,100 classified synonyms with their various shades of meaning +carefully discriminated, this being an exclusive feature of this work. +Nearly 4,000 classified antonyms. Correct use of prepositions shown by +illustrative examples. Hints and helps on the accurate use of words, +revealing surprizing possibilities of fulness, freedom, and variety of +utterance.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"This book will do more to secure rhetorical perspicuity, +propriety, and precision of expression than any other text-book of +higher English yet produced."—<i>President Cochran</i>, Brooklyn +Polytechnic Institute.</p></div> + +<h4><i>12mo, Cloth, 724 Pages. $1.50, net;<br /> +post-paid, $1.64</i></h4> + +<h4>FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers</h4> +<h4>NEW YORK and LONDON</h4> +</div></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<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> Lippincott's Magazine.</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> By permission of Life Publishing Company.</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> By permission of Life Publishing Company.</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> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Copyright, 1905, by the Metropolitan Magazine Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> From "At the Sign of the Dollar," by Wallace Irwin. +Copyright, 1905, by Fox, Duffield & Co.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> From "Nautical Lays of a Landsman," by Wallace Irwin. +Copyright, 1904, by Dodd, Mead & Co.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> Lippincott's Magazine.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> By permission of Life Publishing Company.</p></div> + +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wit and Humor of America, Volume +VIII (of X), by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WIT AND HUMOR *** + +***** This file should be named 24432-h.htm or 24432-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/4/3/24432/ + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Annie McGuire, Brian Janes +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/24432-h/images/gs004.jpg b/24432-h/images/gs004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d547e1d --- /dev/null +++ b/24432-h/images/gs004.jpg diff --git a/24432.txt b/24432.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8287b31 --- /dev/null +++ b/24432.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8069 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wit and Humor of America, Volume VIII +(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 VIII (of X) + +Author: Various + +Editor: Marshall P. Wilder + +Release Date: January 26, 2008 [EBook #24432] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WIT AND HUMOR *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Lybarger, Annie McGuire, 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. VIII + + + + +[Illustration: ROBERT J. BURDETTE] + + + + +THE WIT AND HUMOR OF AMERICA + +EDITED BY MARSHALL P. WILDER + +_Volume VIII_ + + +Funk & Wagnalls Company New York and London + +Copyright MDCCCCVII, BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY +Copyright MDCCCCXI, THE THWING COMPANY + + + + +CONTENTS + + PAGE + + Boston Ballad, A. Walt Whitman 1479 + Branch Library, A. James Montgomery Flagg 1446 + Chief Mate, The James Russell Lowell 1482 + Columbia and the Cowboy Alice MacGowan 1582 + Daniel Come to Judgment, A Edmund Vance Cooke 1399 + Darius Green and His Flying Machine J. T. Trowbridge 1539 + "Day is Done, The" Phoebe Cary 1628 + Dictum Sapienti John Paul 1624 + Duluth Speech, The J. Proctor Knott 1606 + Enchanted Hat, The Harold MacGrath 1510 + Eve's Daughter Edward Rowland Sill 1605 + Fate R. K. Munkittrick 1554 + Final Choice, The Edmund Vance Cooke 1427 + Forbearance of the Admiral, The Wallace Irwin 1553 + Gentle Art of Boosting, The John Kendrick Bangs 1575 + Girl and the Julep, The Emerson Hough 1401 + Grandfather Squeers James Whitcomb Riley 1571 + Guest at the Ludlow Bill Nye 1503 + Hard Tom Masson 1625 + Hon. Ranson Peabody George Ade 1429 + Icarus John G. Saxe 1493 + Is it I? Warwick S. Price 1447 + Johnny's Lessons Carroll Watson Rankin 1570 + Kaiser's Farewell to Prince Henry Bert Leston Taylor 1568 + Life Elixir of Marthy, The Elizabeth Hyer Neff 1555 + Litigation Bill Arp 1533 + Mr. Carteret and His Fellow + Americans Abroad David Gray 1462 + Mr. Dooley on Golf Finley Peter Dunne 1630 + Niagara be Dammed Wallace Irwin 1551 + Not According to Schedule Mary Stewart Cutting 1448 + Nothing to Wear William Allen Butler 1435 + One of the Palls Doane Robinson 1601 + Paper: A Poem Benjamin Franklin 1548 + Road to a Woman's Heart, The Sam Slick 1487 + Sceptics, The Bliss Carman 1626 + Staccato to O Le Lupe, A Bliss Carman 1499 + Table Manners James Montgomery Flagg 1400 + V-A-S-E, The James Jeffrey Roche 1603 + Vive la Bagatelle Clinton Scollard 1497 + When the Sirup's on the Flapjack Bert Leston Taylor 1634 + + COMPLETE INDEX AT THE END OF VOLUME X. + + + + +A DANIEL COME TO JUDGMENT[1] + +BY EDMUND VANCE COOKE + + + Now, everything that Russell did, he did his best to hasten, + And one day he decided that he'd like to be a Mason; + But nothing else would suit him, and nothing less would please, + But he must take, and all at once, the thirty-three degrees. + + So he rode the--ah, that is, he crossed the--I can't tell; + You either must not know at all, or else know very well. + He dived in--well, well, never mind! It only need be said + That somewhere in the last degree poor Russell dropped down dead. + + They arrested all the Masons, and they stayed in durance vile + Till the jury found them guilty, when the Judge said, with a smile, + "I'm forced to let the prisoners go, for I can find," said he, + "No penalty for murder in the thirty-third degree!" + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] Lippincott's Magazine. + + + + +TABLE MANNERS[2] + +BY JAMES MONTGOMERY FLAGG + + + When you turn down your glass, it's a sign + That you're not going to take any wign. + So turn down your plate + When they serve things you hate, + And you'll often be asked out to dign. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[2] By permission of Life Publishing Company. + + + + +THE GIRL AND THE JULEP + +BY EMERSON HOUGH + + +In the warm sun of the southern morning the great plantation lay as +though half-asleep, dozing and blinking at the advancing day. The +plantation house, known in all the country side as the Big House, rested +calm and self-confident in the middle of a wide sweep of cleared lands, +surrounded immediately by dark evergreens and the occasional primeval +oaks spared in the original felling of the forest. Wide and rambling +galleries of one height or another crawled partially about the expanses +of the building, and again paused, as though weary of the attempt to +circumvent it. The strong white pillars, rising from the ground floor +straight to the third story, shone white and stately, after the old +Southern fashion, that Grecian style, simplified and made suitable to +provincial purses by those Adams brothers of old England who first set +the fashion in early American architecture. White-coated, with wide, +cool, green blinds, with ample and wide-doored halls, and deep, low +windows, the Big House, here in the heart of the warm southland, was +above all things suited to its environment. It was all so safe and sure +that there was no need for anxiety. Life here was as it had been for +generations, even for the generation following the upheaval of the Civil +War. + +But if this were a kingdom apart and self-sufficient, what meant this +thing which crossed the head of the plantation--this double line, +tenacious and continuous, which shone upon the one hand dark, and upon +the other, where the sun touched it, a cold gray in color? What meant +this squat little building at the side of these rails which reached on +out straight as the flight of a bird across the clearing and vanished +keenly in the forest wall? This was the road of the iron rails. It clung +close to the ground, at times almost sinking into the embankment now +grown scarcely discernible among the concealing grass and weeds, +although the track itself had been built but recently. This railroad +sought to efface itself, even as the land sought to aid in its +effacement, as though neither believed that this was lawful spot for it. +One might say it made a blot upon this picture of the morning. + +Perhaps it seemed thus to the tall young girl who now stood upon its +long gallery, her tangle of high-rolled, red-brown hair held back by the +hand which half shaded her eyes as she looked out discontentedly over +the familiar scene. Miss Lady--for thus she was christened by the Big +House servants; and she bore well the title--frowned now as she tapped a +little foot upon the gallery floor. Perhaps it was not so much what she +saw as what she did not see that made Miss Lady discontented, for this +white rim of the forest bounded the world for her; yet after all, youth +and the morning do not conspire with discontent. A moment more, light, +fleet of foot, Miss Lady fled down the gallery steps, through the gate +and out along the garden walk. Beyond the yard fence she was greeted +riotously by a score of dogs and puppies, long since her friends and +devoted admirers; as, indeed, were all dwellers, dumb or human, +thereabout. + +Had Miss Lady, or any observer, looked from the gallery off to the +southward and down the railway track, there might thus have been +discovered two figures just emerging from the rim of the forest +something like a mile away; and these might have been seen growing +slowly more distinct, as they plodded up the railway track toward the +Big House. Presently they might have been discovered to be a man and a +woman; the former tall, thin, dark and stooped; his companion, tall as +himself, quite as thin, and almost as bent. The garb of the man was +nondescript, neutral, loose; his hat dark and flapping. The woman wore a +shapeless calico gown, and on her head was a long, telescopic sunbonnet +of faded pink, from which she must perforce peer forward, looking +neither to the right nor to the left. + +The travelers, indeed, needed not to look to the right or the left, for +the path of the iron rails led them directly on. They did not step to +the gallery, did not knock at the door, or, indeed, give any evidences +of their intentions, but seated themselves deliberately upon a pile of +boards that lay near in the broad expanse of the front yard. Here they +remained, silent and at rest, fitting well enough into the sleepy scene. +No one in the house noticed them for a time, and they, tired by the +walk, seemed willing to rest under the shade of the evergreens before +making known their errand. They sat speechless and content for several +moments, until finally a mulatto house-servant, passing from one +building to another, cast a look in their direction, and paused +uncertainly in curiosity. The man on the board-pile saw her. + +"Here, Jinny! Jinny!" he called, just loud enough to be heard, and not +turning toward her more than half-way. "Come here." + +"Yessah," said the girl, and slowly approached. + +"Get us a little melk, Jinny," said the speaker. "We're plumb out o' +melk down home." + +"Yessah," said Jinny, and disappeared leisurely, to be gone perhaps half +an hour. + +There remained little sign of life on the board-pile, the bonnet tube +pointing fixedly toward the railway station, the man now and then slowly +shifting one leg across the other, but staring out at nothing, his lower +lip drooping laxly. When the servant finally brought back the milk-pail +and placed it beside him, he gave no word of thanks. To all appearances, +he was willing to wait here indefinitely, forgetful of the pail of milk, +toward which the sun was creeping ominously close. The way back home +seemed long and weary at that moment. His lip drooped still more laxly, +as he sat looking out vaguely. + +Not so calm seemed his consort, she of the sunbonnet. Restored to some +extent by her tarrying in the shade, she began to shift and hitch about +uneasily upon the board-pile. At length she leaned a bit to one side, +reached into a pocket and taking out a snuff-stick and a parcel of its +attendant compound, began to take a "dip" of snuff, after the habit of +certain of the population of that region. This done, she turned with a +swift jerk of the head, bringing to bear the tube of her bonnet in full +force upon her lord and master. + +"Jim Bowles," she said, "this here is a shame! Hit's a plumb shame!" + +There was no answer, save an uneasy hitch on the part of the person so +addressed. He seemed to feel the focus of the sunbonnet boring into his +system. The voice in the bonnet went on, shot straight toward him, so +that he might not escape. + +"It's a plumb shame," said Mrs. Bowles again. + +"I know it, I know it," said her husband at length, uneasily. "But, now, +Sar' Ann, how kin I help it? The cow's daid and I kain't help it, and +that's all about it. My God, woman!"--this with sudden energy,--"do you +think I kin bring a cow to life that's been killed by the old railroad +kyahs? I ain't no 'vangelist. It ain't my fault old Muley got killed." + +"Ain't yore fault!" + +"No, it ain't my fault. Whut am I going to do? I kaint get no otheh cow +right now, and I done tol' you so. You reckon cows grows on bushes?" + +"Grows on bushes!" + +"Yes, or that they comes for nuthin'?" + +"Comes for nuthin'!" + +"Yes, Sar' Ann, that's whut I said. I tell you, it ain't so fur to come, +ain't so fur up here, if you take it easy; only three mile. And Cunnel +Blount'll give us melk as long as we want. I reckon he would give us a +cow, too, if I ast him. I s'pose I could pay him out o' the next crop, +if they wasn't so many things that has to be paid out'n the crop. It's +too blame bad 'bout Muley." He scratched his head thoughtfully. + +"Yes," responded his spouse, "Muley was a heap better cow then you'll +ever git agin. Why, she gave two quo'ts o' melk the very mornin' she was +done killed, two quo'ts. I reckon we didn't have to walk no three mile +that mornin', did we? And she that kin' and gentle like--oh, we ain't +goin' to git no new cow like Muley, no time right soon, I want to tell +you that, Jim Bowles." + +"Well, well, I know all that," said her husband, conciliatingly, a +trifle easier now that the sunbonnet was for the moment turned aside. +"That's all true, mighty true. But what kin you _do_?" + +"Do? Why, do _somethin'_! Somebody sho' ought to suffer for this here. +This new-fangled railroad a-comin' through here, a-killing things an' +a-killing _folks_! Why, Bud Sowers said just the other week he heard of +three darkies gittin' killed in one bunch down to Allenville. They +standin' on the track, jes' talkin' and visitin' like. Didn't notice +nuthin'. Didn't notice the train a-comin'. 'Biff!' says Bud; an' thah +was them darkies." + +"Yes," said Mr. Bowles, "that's the way it was with Muley. She just walk +up out'n the cane, and stan' thah in the sun on ther track, to sort o' +look aroun' whah she could see free for a little ways. Then, 'long comes +the railroad train, an' biff! Thah's Muley!" + +"Plumb daid." + +"Plumb daid." + +"And she a good cow fer us fer fo'teen yeahs. It don't look exactly +right, now, does it? It sho' don't." + +"It's a outrage, that's whut it is," said Sar' Ann Bowles. + +"Well, we got the railroad," said her husband, tentatively. + +"Yes, we got the railroad," said Sar' Ann Bowles, savagely, "and what +yearthly good is hit? Who wants any railroad? Why, all the way here this +mornin', I was skeered every foot of the way, afearin' that there ingine +was goin' to come along an' kill us both!" + +"Sho! Sar' Ann," said her husband, with superiority. "It ain't time for +the train yit--leastwise I don't think it is." He looked about uneasily. + +"That's all right, Jim Bowles. One of them ingines might come 'long most +any time. It might creep up behine you, then, biff! Thah's Jim Bowles! +Whut use is the railroad, I'd like to know? I wouldn't be caught a +climbin' in one o' them thar kyars, not for big money. Supposin' it run +off the track?" + +"Oh, well, now," said her husband, "maybe it don't, always." + +"But supposin' it _did_?" The front of the telescope turned toward him +suddenly, and so burning was the focus this time that Mr. Bowles shifted +his seat, and took refuge upon another board at the other end of the +board-pile, out of range. + +"Whut made you vote for this yere railroad?" said Sarah Ann, following +him mercilessly with the bonnet tube. "We didn't want no railroad. We +never did have one, and we never ought to a-had one. You listen to me; +that railroad is goin' to ruin this country. Th' ain't a woman in these +yeah bottoms but would be skeered to have a baby grow up in her house. +Supposin' you got a baby; nice little baby, never did harm no one. You +a-cookin' or somethin'--out to the smoke-house, like enough; baby alone +for about two minutes. Baby crawls out on to the railroad track. Along +comes the ingine, an' biff! Thah's baby!" Mrs. Bowles shed tears at this +picture which she had conjured up, and even her less imaginative consort +became visibly affected, so that for a moment he half-straightened up. + +"Well, I dunno," said he, vaguely, and sighed softly; all of which +irritated Mrs. Bowles to such an extent that she flounced suddenly +around to get a better gaze upon her master. In this movement, her foot +struck the pail of milk which had been sitting near, and overturned it. + +"Jinny," she called out, "you, Jinny!" + +"Yassam," replied Jinny, from some place on the gallery. + +"Come here," said Mrs. Bowles. "Git me another pail o' melk. I done +spilled this one." + +"Yassam," replied Jinny, and presently returned with the refilled +vessel. + +"Well, anyway," said Jim Bowles at length, rising and standing with +hands in pockets, inside the edge of the shade line of the evergreens, +"I heard that there was a man came down through yere a few days ago. He +was sort of taking count of the critters that done got killed by the +railroad kyahs." + +"That so?" said Sarah Ann, somewhat mollified. + +"I reckon so," said Jim Bowles. "I 'lowed I'd ast Cunnel Blount here at +the Big House, about that some time. O' course it don't bring Muley +back, but then--" + +"No, hit don't," said Sarah Ann, resuming her original position. "And +our little Sim, he just loved that Muley cow, little Sim, he did. Say, +Jim Bowles, do you heah me!"--this with a sudden flirt of the sunbonnet +in an agony of actual fear. "Why, Jim Bowles, do you know that our +little Sim might be a playin', out thah in front of ouah house, on to +that railroad track, at this very minute? S'pose, s'posen--'long comes +that there railroad train? Say, man, whut you standin' there in that +there shade fer? We got to go! We got to git home! Come right along this +minute, er we may be too late." + +And so, smitten by this sudden thought, they gathered themselves +together as best they might and started toward the railroad for their +return. Even as they did so there appeared upon the northern horizon a +wreath of smoke rising above the forest. There was the far-off sound of +a whistle, deadened by the heavy intervening vegetation; presently there +puffed into view one of the railroad trains, still new upon this region. +Iconoclastic, modern, strenuous, it wabbled unevenly over the new-laid +rails up to the station house, where it paused for a few moments ere it +resumed its wheezing way to the southward. The two visitors at the Big +House gazed at it open-mouthed for a time, until all at once her former +thought crossed the woman's mind. She turned upon her husband. + +"Thar hit goes! Thar hit goes!" she cried. "Right on straight to our +house! Hit kaint miss hit! And little Sim, he's sure to be playin' out +thah on the track. Oh, he's daid right this minute, he shorely is!" + +Her speech exercised a certain force upon Jim Bowles. He stepped on the +faster, tripped upon a clod and stumbled, spilling half the milk from +the pail. + +"Thah, now," said he. "Thah hit goes agin. Done spilled the melk. Well, +hit's too far back to the house now fer mo'. But, now, mabbe Sim wasn't +playin' on the track." + +"Mabbe he wasn't!" said Sarah Ann scornfully. "Why, _o' course_ he was." + +"Well, if he was," said Jim Bowles, philosophically, "why, Sar' Ann, +from whut I done notice about this here railroad train, why--it's too +_late_ now." + +He might perhaps have pursued this logical line of thought further, had +not there occurred an incident which brought the conversation to a +close. Looking up, the two saw approaching them across the lawn, +evidently coming from the little railway station, and doubtless +descended from this very train, the alert, quick-stepping figure of a +man evidently a stranger to the place. Jim and Sarah Ann Bowles stepped +to one side as he approached and lifted his hat with a pleasant smile. + +"Good morning," said the stranger. "It's a fine day, isn't it? Can you +tell me whether or not Colonel Blount is at home this morning?" + +"Well, suh," said Jim Bowles, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "he is, an' +he ain't. He's home, o' course; that is, he hain't gone away no whah, to +co'te er nothin'. But then ag'in he's out huntin', gone after b'ah. I +reckon he's likely to be in 'most any day now." + +"'Most any day?" + +"Yessah. You better go on up to the house." + +"Thank you," said the stranger. "I am very much obliged to you, indeed. +I believe I'll wait here for just a little while. Good morning, sir. +Good morning, madam." + +He turned and walked slowly up the path toward the house, as the others +pursued their way to the railroad track, down which they presently were +plodding on their homeward journey. There was at least a little milk +left in the pail when finally they reached their small log cabin, with +its yard full of pigs and chickens. Eagerly they scanned the sides of +the railway embankment as they drew near, looking for signs of what they +feared to see. One need not describe the fierce joy with which Sarah Ann +Bowles fell upon little Sim, who was presently discovered, safe and +dirty, knocking about on the kitchen floor in abundant company of +puppies, cats and chickens. + +"I knowed he would be killed," said Sarah Ann. + +"But he _hain't_," said her husband, triumphantly. And for one time in +their married life there seemed to be no possible way in which she might +contradict him, which fact for her constituted a situation somewhat +difficult. + +"Well, it hain't yore fault ef he hain't," said she at length. + +The new-comer at the Big House was a well-looking figure enough as he +advanced up the path toward the white-pillared galleries. In height just +above middle stature, and of rather spare habit of body, alert, compact +and vigorous, he carried himself with a self-respect redeemed from +aggressiveness by an open candor of face and the pleasant forthright +gaze of a kindly blue-gray eye. In spite of a certain gravity of mien, +his eyes seemed wont to smile upon occasions, as witnessed divers little +wrinkles at the corners. A hurried observer might have guessed his age +within ten years, but might have been wrong upon either side, and might +have had an equal difficulty in classifying his residence or occupation. +It was evident that he was not ill at ease in this environment; for as +he met coming around the corner an old colored man, who, with a rag in +one hand and a bottle in the other, seemed intent upon some errand at +the dog kennel beyond, he paused not in query or salutation, but tossed +his umbrella to the servant and at the same time handed him his +traveling-bag. "Take care of these, Bill," said he. + +Bill, for that was indeed his name, placed the bag and umbrella upon a +gallery floor, and with the air of owning the place himself, invited the +visitor to enter. + +"The Cunnel's not to home, suh," said Bill. "But you better come in and +sed-down. I'll go call the folks." + +"Never mind," said the visitor. "I reckon I'll just walk around a little +outside. I hear Colonel Blount is off on a bear hunt." + +"Yassah," said Bill. "An' when he goes he mostly gets b'ah. I'm right +'spondent dis time, though, 'deed I is, suh." + +"What's the matter?" + +"Why, you see, suh," replied Bill, leaning comfortably back against a +gallery post. "It's dis-a-way. I'm just gwine out to fix up Old Hec's +foot. He's ouah bestest b'ah dog, but he got so blame biggoty, las' time +he was out, stuck his foot right intoe a ba'h's mouth. Now, Hec's lef' +home, an' me lef' home to 'ten' to Hec. How kin Cunnel Blount git any +b'ah widout me an' Hec along? I'se right 'spondent, dat's whut I is." + +"Well, now, that's too bad," said the stranger, with a smile. + +"Too bad? I reckon it sho' is. Fer, if Cunnel Blount don't get no +b'ah--look out den, _I_ kin tell you." + +"Gets his dander up, eh?" + +"Dandah--dandah! You know him? Th' ain't no better boss, but ef he goes +out huntin' b'ah and don't get no _b'ah_--why, den dey ain't no reason +gwine _do_ foh him. + +"Now, when you see Cunnel Blount come home, he'll come up along dat +lane, him an' de dogs, an' dem no 'count niggers he done took 'long with +him; an' when he gits up to whah de lane crosses de railroad track, ef +he come' ridin' 'long easy like, now an' den tootin' his hawn to sort o' +let us know he's a-comin'--ef he do dat-a-way, dat's all right,--dat's +all right." Here the garrulous old servant shook his head. "But ef he +don't--well den--" + +"That's bad, if he doesn't, eh?" + +"Yessah. Ef he don' come a-blowin' an' ef he _do_ come _a-singin_', den +look out! I allus did notice dat ef Cunnel Blount 'gins to sing 'ligious +hymns, somethin's wrong, and somethin' gwine ter drap. He hain't right +easy ter git 'long wif when he's a-singin'. But if you'll 'scuse me, +suh, I got ter take care o' Hec. Jest make yourself to home, +suh,--anyways you like." + +The visitor contented himself with wandering about the yard, until at +length he seated himself on the board-pile beneath the evergreen trees, +and so sank into an idle reverie, his chin in his hand, and his eyes +staring out across the wide field. He sat thus for some time, and the +sun was beginning to encroach upon his refuge, when suddenly he was +aroused by the faint and far-off sound of a hunting-horn. That the +listener distinguished it at such a distance might have argued that he +himself had known hound and saddle in his day; yet he readily caught the +note of the short hunting-horn universally used by the Southern hunters, +and recognized the assembly call for the hunting-pack. As it came near, +all the dogs in the kennel yards heard it and raged to escape from their +confinement. Old Bill came hobbling around the corner. Steps were heard +on the gallery. The visitor's face showed a slight uneasiness as he +caught a glance of a certain spot now suddenly made alive by the flutter +of a soft gown and the flash of a bunch of scarlet ribbons. Thither he +gazed as directly as he might under these circumstances, but the girl +was gone before he had opportunity even to rise and remove his hat. + +"That's her. That's Miss Lady," said Bill to his new friend, in a low +voice. "Han'somest gal in the hull Delta. They'll all be right glad ter +see the Cunnel back. He's got a b'ah shore, fer he's comin' a-blowin'." + +Bill's joy was not long-lived, for even as the little cavalcade came in +view, a tall figure on a chestnut hunting horse riding well in advance, +certain colored stragglers coming behind, and the party-colored pack +trotting or limping along on all sides, the music of the summoning horn +suddenly ceased. Looking neither to the right nor to the left, the +leader of the hunt rode on up the lane, sitting loose and careless in +the saddle, his right hand steadying a short rifle across the saddle +front. He rode thus until presently those at the Big House heard, softly +rising on the morning air, the chant of an old church hymn: "On Jordan's +strand I'll take my stand, An-n-n--" + +"Oh, Lawd," exclaimed Bill. "Dat's his very wustest chune!"--saying +which he dodged around the corner of the house. + +Turning in from the lane at the yard gate, Colonel Calvin Blount and his +retinue rode close up to the side door of the plantation house; but even +here the master vouchsafed no salutation to those who awaited his +coming. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, lean and muscular; yet so +far from being thin and dark, he was spare rather from physical exercise +than through gaunt habit of body; his complexion was ruddy and +sun-colored, and the long mustache hanging across his jaws showed a deep +mahogany-red. Western ranchman one might have called him, rather than +Southern planter. Scotch-Irish, generations back, perhaps, yet Southern +always, and by birthright American, he might have been a war-lord of +another land and day. No feudal baron ever dismounted with more +assuredness at his own hall, to toss careless rein to a retainer. He +stood now, tall and straight, a trifle rough-looking in his careless +planter's dress, but every inch the master. A slight frown puckered up +his forehead, giving to his face an added hint of sternness. + +Colonel Blount busied himself with directions as to the horses and dogs. +The latter came straggling along in groups or pairs or singly, some of +them hobbling on three legs, many showing bitter wounds. The chase of +the great bear had proved stern pastime for them. Of half a hundred +hounds which had started, not two-thirds were back again, and many of +these would be unfit for days for the resumption of their savage trade. +None the less, as the master sounded again, loud and clear, the call for +the assembly, all the dogs about the place, young and old, homekeepers +and warriors, came pouring in with heads uplifted, each pealing out his +sweet and mournful music. Blount spoke to dozens of them, calling each +by its proper name. + +In the confusion of the disbandment of the hunt, the master of the Big +House had as yet hardly had time to look about him, but now, as the +conclave scattered he found himself alone, and turning discovered the +occupant of the board-pile, who arose and advanced, offering his hand. + +"This is Colonel Blount, I presume," said he. + +"Yes, sir, that's my name. I beg your pardon, I'm sure, but I didn't +know you were there. Come right on into the house and sit down, sir. +Now, your name was--?" + +"Eddring," said the new-comer. "John Eddring. I am just down on the +morning's train from the city." + +"I'm right glad to see you, Mr. Eddring," said Colonel Blount, extending +his hand. The two, without plan, wandered over toward the shade of the +evergreen, and presently seated themselves at the board-pile. + +"Well, Colonel Blount," said the visitor, "I reckon you must have had a +good hunt." + +"Yes, sir, there ain't a ba'h in the Delta can get away from those dogs. +We run this fellow straight on end for ten miles; put him across the +river twice, and all around the Black Bayou, but the dogs kept him hot +all the time, I'm telling you, for more than five miles through the cane +beyond the bayou." + +"Who got the shot, Colonel?" asked Eddring--a question apparently most +unwelcome. + +"Well, I ought to have had it," said Blount, with a frown of +displeasure. "The fact is, I did take a flying chance from horseback, +when the ba'h ran by in the cane half a mile back of where they killed +him. Somehow I must have missed. But man! you ought to have heard that +pack for two hours through the woods. It certainly would have raised +your hair straight up. You ever hunt ba'h, sir?" + +"A little, once in a while, when I have had the time. You see, a +railroad man can't always choose." + +"Railroad man?" said Colonel Blount. A sudden gloom fell upon his ruddy +face. "Railroad man, eh? Well, I wish you was something else. Now, I +helped get that railroad through this country--if it hadn't been for me, +they never could have laid a mile of track through here. But now, do you +know what they done did to me the other day, with their damned old +railroad?" + +"No, sir, I haven't heard." + +"Well, I'll tell you--Bill! Oh, _Bill_! Go into the house and get me +some ice; and go pick some mint and bring it here to this gentleman and +me--Say, do you know what that railroad did? Why, it just killed the +best filly on my plantation, my best running stock, too. Now, I was the +man to help get that railroad through the Delta, and I--" + +"Well, now, Colonel Blount," said the other, "the road isn't a bad sort +of thing for you all down here, after all. It relieves you of the river +market, and it gives you a double chance to get out your cotton. You +don't have to haul your cotton twelve miles back to the boat any more. +Here is your station right at your door, and you can load on the cars +any day you want to." + +"Oh, that's all right, that's all right. But how about this killing of +my stock?" + +"Well, that's so," said the other, facing the point and ruminatingly +biting a splinter between his teeth. "It does look as if we had killed +about everything loose in the whole Delta during the last month or so." + +"Are you on this railroad?" asked Blount suddenly. + +"I reckon I'll have to admit that I am," said the other, smiling. + +"Passenger agent, or something of that sort, I reckon? Well, let me tell +you, you change your road. Say, there was a man down below here last +week settling up claims--Bill! Ah-h, _Bill_! Where've you gone?" + +"Yes," said Eddring, "it certainly did seem that when we built this road +every cow and every nigger, not to mention a lot of white folks, made a +bee-line straight for our right of way. Why, sir, it was a solid line of +cows and niggers from Memphis to New Orleans. How could you blame an +engineer if he run into something once in a while? He couldn't _help_ +it." + +"Yes. Now, do you know what this claim-settler, or this claim-agent man +did? Why, he paid a man down below here two stations--what do you think +he paid him for as fine a heifer as ever eat cane? Why, fifteen +dollars!" + +"Fifteen dollars!" + +"Yes, fifteen dollars." + +"That looks like a heap of money for a heifer, doesn't it, Colonel +Blount?" + +"A heap of money? Why, no. Heap of _money_? Why, what do you mean?" + +"Heifers didn't bring that before the road came through. Why, you would +have had to drive that heifer twenty-five miles before you could get a +market, and then she wouldn't have brought over twelve dollars. Now, +fifteen dollars, seems to me, is about right." + +"Well, let the heifer go. But there was a cow killed three miles below +here the other day. Neighbors of mine. I reckon that claim agent +wouldn't want to allow any more than fifteen dollars for Jim Bowles' +cow, neither." + +"Maybe not." + +"Well, never mind about the cow, either; but look here. A nigger lost +his wife down there, killed by these steam kyars--looks like the niggers +get _fascinated_ by them kyars. But here's Bill coming at last. Now, Mr. +Eddring, we'll just make a little julep. Tell me, how do you make a +julep, sir?" + +Eddring hitched a little nearer on the board-pile. "Well, Colonel +Blount," said he, "in our family we used to have an old silver mug--sort +of plain mug, you know, few flowers around the edge of it--been in the +family for years. Now, you take a mug like that and let it lie in the +ice box all the time, and when you take it out, it's sort of got a white +frost all over it. Now, my old daddy, he would take this mug and put +some fine ice into it,--not too fine. Then he'd take a little cut loaf +sugar, in another glass, and he'd mash it up in a little water--not too +much water--then he'd pour that in over the ice. Then he would pour in +some good corn whisky, till all the interstices of that ice were filled +plumb up; then he'd put some mint--" + +"Didn't smash the mint? Say, he didn't smash the mint, did he?" said +Colonel Blount, eagerly, hitching over toward the speaker. + +"Smash it? I should say not, sir! Sometimes, at certain seasons of the +mint, he might just sort of take a twist at the leaf, to sort of release +a little of the flavor, you know. You don't want to be rough with mint. +Just twist it gently between the thumb and finger. Then you set it in +nicely around the edge of the glass. Sometimes just a little powder of +fine sugar around on top of the mint leaves, and then a straw--" + +"Sir," said Colonel Blount, gravely rising and taking off his hat, "you +are welcome to my home!" + +Eddring, with equal courtesy, arose and removed his own hat. + +"For my part," resumed Blount, judicially, "I rather lean to a piece of +cut glass, for the green and the crystal look mighty fine together. I +don't always make them with any sugar on top of the mint. But, you know, +just a circle of mint--not crushed--not crushed, mind you--just a green +ring of fragrance, so that you can bury your nose in it and forget your +troubles. Sir, allow me once more to shake your hand. I think I know a +gentleman when I see one." + +"A gentleman," said the other, smiling slightly. "Well, don't shake +hands with me yet, sir. I don't know. You see I'm a railroad man, and +I'm here on business." + +"Damn it, sir, if it was only your description of a julep, if it was +only your mention of that old family silver mug, devoted to that sacred +purpose, sir--that would be your certificate of character here. Forget +your business. Come down here and live with me. We'll go huntin' ba'h +together. Why, man, I'm mighty glad to make your acquaintance." + +"But wait," said Eddring, "there may be two ways of looking at this." + +"Well, there's only one way of looking at a julep," said Blount, "and +that's down a straw. Now, I'll show you how we make them down here in +the Sunflower country. + +"But, as I as a-sayin'"--and here Blount set down the glasses midway in +his compounding, and went on with his interrupted proposition,--"now +here was that nigger that lost his wife. Of course he had a whole flock +of children. Now, what do you think that claim agent said he would pay +that nigger for his wife?" + +"Well, I--" + +"Well, but what do you _reckon_?" + +"Why, I reckon about fifteen dollars." + +"That's it, that's it!" said Blount, slapping his hand upon the board +until the glasses jingled. "That's just what he did offer; fifteen +dollars! Not a cent more." + +"Well, now, Colonel Blount," said Eddring, "you know there's a heap of +mighty trifling niggers loose in this part of the world. You see, that +fellow would marry again in a little while, and he might get a heap +better woman next time. There's a lot of swapping wives among the +niggers at best. Now, here's a man lost his wife decent and respectable, +and there's nothing on earth a nigger likes better than a good funeral, +even if it has to be his own wife. Now, how many nigger funerals are +there that cost fifteen dollars? I'll bet you if that nigger had it to +do over again he'd a heap rather be rid of her and have the fifteen +dollars. Look at it! Fine funeral for one wife and something left over +to get a bonnet for his new wife. I'll bet there isn't a nigger on your +place that wouldn't jump at a chance like that." + +Colonel Blount scratched his head. "You understand niggers all right, +I'll admit," said he. "But, now, supposin' it had been a white man?" + +"Well, supposing it was?" + +"We don't need to suppose. There was the same thing happened to a white +family. Wife got killed--left three children." + +"Oh, you mean that accident down at Shelby?" + +"Yes, Mrs. Something-or-other, she was. Well, sir, damn me, if that +infernal claim agent didn't have the face to offer fifteen dollars for +her, too." + +"Looks almost like he played a fifteen-dollar limit all the time, +doesn't it?" said the visitor. + +"It certainly does. It ain't right." + +"Well, now, I heard about that woman. She was a tall, thin creature, +with no liver left at all, and her chills came three times a week. She +wouldn't work; she was red-headed and had only one straight eye; and as +for a tongue--well, I only hope, Colonel Blount, that you and I will +never have a chance to meet anything like that. Of course, I know she +was killed. Her husband just hated her before she died, but blame _me_, +just as soon as she was _dead_, he loved her more than if she was his +sweetheart all over again. Now, that's how it goes. Say, I want to tell +you, Colonel Blount, this road is plumb beneficent, if only for the fact +that it develops human affection the way it does. Fifteen dollars! Why, +I tell you, sir, fifteen dollars was _more_ than enough for that woman." +He turned indignantly on the board-pile. + +"I reckon," said Colonel Blount, "that you would say that about my +neighbor Jim Bowles' cow?" + +"Certainly. I know about that cow, too. She was twenty years old and on +her last legs. Road kills her, and all at once she becomes a dream of +heifer loveliness. _I_ know." + +"I reckon," said Colonel Blount, still more grimly; "I reckon if that +damned claim agent was to come here, he would just about say that +fifteen dollars was enough for my filly." + +"I shouldn't wonder. Now, look here, Colonel Blount. You see, I'm a +railroad man, and I'm able to see the other side of these things." + +"Oh, well, all right," said Blount, "but that don't bring my filly back. +You can't get Himyah blood every day in the week. That filly would have +seen Churchill Downs in her day, if she had lived." + +"Yes; and if she had, you would have had to back her, wouldn't you? You +would have trained that filly and paid a couple of hundred for it. You +would have fitted her at the track and paid several hundred more. You +would have bet a couple of thousand, anyway, as a matter of principle, +and, like enough, you'd have lost it. Now, if this road paid you fifteen +dollars for that filly and saved you twenty-five hundred or three +thousand into the bargain, how ought you to feel about it? Are you +twenty-five hundred behind or fifteen ahead?" + +Colonel Calvin Blount had now feverishly finished his julep, and as the +other stopped, he placed his glass beside him on the board-pile and +swung a long leg across, so that he sat directly facing his enigmatical +guest. The latter, in the enthusiasm of his argument, swung into a +similar position, and so they sat, both hammering on the board between +them. + +"Well, I would like to see that damned claim agent offer me fifteen +dollars for that filly," said Blount. "I might take fifty, for the sake +of the road; but fifteen--" + +"Well, what would you do?" + +"Well, by God, sir, if I saw that claim agent--" + +"Well, by God, sir, _I'm_ that claim agent; and I _do_ offer you fifteen +dollars for that filly, right now!" + +"What! You--" + +"Yes, me!" + +"Fifteen dollars!" + +"Yes, sir, fifteen dollars." + +Colonel Blount burst into a sudden song--"On _Jor_dan's strand I'll +_take_ my stand!" he began. + +"It's all she's worth," interrupted the claim agent. + +Blount fairly gasped. "Do you mean to tell me," said he, in forced calm, +"that you are this claim agent?" + +"I have told you. That's the way I make my living. That's my duty." + +"Your duty to give me fifteen dollars for a Himyah filly?" + +"I said fifteen." + +"And I said fifty." + +"You don't get it." + +"I don't, eh? Say, my friend"--Blount pushed the glasses away, his +choler rising at the temerity of this, the only man who in many a year +had dared to confront him. "You look here. Write me a check for fifty; +an' write it now." With a sudden whip of his hand he reached behind him. +Like a flash he pulled a long revolver from its holster. Eddring gazed +into the round aperture of the muzzle and certain surrounding apertures +of the cylinder. "Write me a check," said Blount, slowly, "and write it +for fifty. I may tear it up when I get it--I don't care fifty cents for +it--but you write it!" + +The eyes of the two met, and which were the braver man it had been hard +to tell. Neither flinched. Eddring returned a gaze as direct as that +which he received. The florid face back of the barrel held a gleam of +half-admiration at witnessing his deliberation. The claim agent's eye +did not falter. + +"You said fifty dollars, Colonel Blount," said he, just a suggestion of +a smile at the corner of his mouth. "Don't you think there has been a +slight misunderstanding between us two? If you are so blamed particular +and really _want_ a check for fifty, why, here it is." He busied himself +a moment, and passed over a strip of paper. Even as he did so, the ire +of Colonel Blount cooled as suddenly as it had gained warmth. A sudden +contrition sat on his face, and he crowded the paper into his pocket +with an air half shamed-faced. + +"Sir--Mr. Eddring--" he began, falteringly. + +"Well, what do you want? You've got your check, and you've got the +railroad. We've paid our little debt to you." + +"Sir," said Blount. "My friend--why, sir, here is your julep." + +"To hell with your julep, sir." + +"My friend," said Blount, flushing. "You serve me right. I am forgetting +my duties as a gentleman. I asked you into my house." + +"I'll see you damned first," said Eddring, hotly. + +"Right!" cried Blount, exultingly. "You're right. You are one of the +fighting Eddrings, sure as you're born. Why, sir, come on in. You +wouldn't punish the son of your uncle's friend, your own daddy's friend, +would you? Why, man, I know your folks--" + +But the ire of Eddring was now aroused. A certain smoldering fire, long +with difficulty suppressed, began to flame in spite of him. + +"Bring me out a plate," said he, bitterly, "and let me eat on the +gallery. As you say, I am only a claim agent. Good God, man!" And then +of a sudden his wrath arose still higher. His own hand made a swift +motion. "Give me back that check," he said, and his extended hand +presented a weapon held steady as though supported by the limb of a +tree. "You didn't give me a fair show." + +"Well, by the eternal," half-whispered Colonel Calvin Blount to himself. +"Ain't he a fightin' chicken?" + +"Give it to me," demanded Eddring; and the other, astounded, humbled, +reached into his pocket and produced the paper. + +"I will give it to you, boy," said he, soberly, "and twenty like it, if +you'll forget all this and come into my house." + +"I will not, sir," said Eddring. "This was business, and you made it +personal." + +"Oh, business!" said Blount. + +"Sir," said John Eddring, "the world never understands when a fellow has +to choose between being a business man and a gentleman. I can't afford +to be a gentleman--" + +"And you are so much one, my son," said Calvin Blount, grimly, "that you +won't do anything but what you know is right. My friend, I won't ask you +in again, not any more, right now. But when you can, come again, sir, +some day. When you come right easy and pleasant, my son, why, you know I +want you." + +John Eddring's hard-set jaw relaxed, trembled, and he dared not commit +himself to speech. With a straight look into Colonel Blount's eyes, he +half turned away, and passed on down the path, Blount looking after him +more than half-yearningly. + +So intent, indeed, was the latter in his gaze upon the receding figure +that he did not hear the swift rush of light feet on the gallery, nor +turn until Miss Lady stood before him. The girl swept him a deep +curtsey, spreading out the skirt of her biscuit-colored gown in mocking +deference of posture. + +"Please, Mr. Colonel," said she, "since he can't hear the dinner-bell, +would he be good enough to tell whether or not he will come in and eat? +Everything is growing cold; and I made the biscuits." + +Calvin Blount put out his hand, and a softer shade came upon his face. +"Oh, it is you, Miss Lady, is it?" said he. "Yes, I'm back home again. +And you made the biscuits, eh?" + +"I called to you several times," said Miss Lady. "Who is that gentleman +you are staring at? Why doesn't he come in and eat with us?" + +Colonel Blount turned slowly as Miss Lady tugged at his arm. "Who is +he?" he replied, half-musingly. "Who is he? You tell me. He refused to +eat in Calvin Blount's house; that's why he didn't come in, Miss Lady. +He says he's the cow coroner on the railroad; but I want to tell you, +he's the finest fellow and the nearest to a gentleman that ever struck +this country. That's what he is. I'm mighty troubled over his going +away." + +"Why, he didn't drink his julep!" said Miss Lady, severely. + +"No," said Blount, miserably. + +"And he hasn't any other place to eat," said Miss Lady, argumentatively. + +"No." + +"And he--he hasn't been introduced to me," said Miss Lady, conclusively. + +"No." + +"Colonel Cal, call him!" said Miss Lady, decisively. + +Her words roused the old planter. + +"You--I say, Eddring; you, there! Come on back here! Forgot something!" + +In spite of himself--or was it in union with himself?--John Eddring +turned back, and at last stood hat in hand near to the others. A smile +softened the stern features of Colonel Blount as he pointed, +half-quizzically to the untasted julep on the board-pile. + +"Besides, Mr. Eddring," said he; "besides, you have not yet heard that +this young lady of ours, Miss Lady, here, helped make the dinner this +evenin'. Now, sir, I ask, will you come?" + +The same odd tremble caught the claim agent's lip, and he frowned to +pull himself out of his own weakness before he made reply. Miss Lady, +tall, well-rounded, dark-eyed, her ruff of red-brown hair thrown back, +stood looking at him, her hand clasped upon Blount's arm. + +Eddring bowed deeply. "Sir," he said, "it wasn't fair of you; but I +yield to your superior weapons!" + + + + +THE FINAL CHOICE[3] + +BY EDMUND VANCE COOKE + +"_Dark doubts between the promise and event._"--_Young._ + + + I rather thought that Alexander + Would sound well at the font, + While mother much preferred Leander + For him who swam the Hellespont. + Grandfather clamored for Uriah, + While grandma mentioned Obadiah. + + Then mother spoke of Clarence, Cyril, + And Reginald and Claude, + But I thought none of them were virile + Like some such name as Ichabod. + Grandfather spoke for Jeremiah. + And grandma favored Azariah. + + Then Harold, Gerald, Donald, Luke, + And lordly Roderick + Waged wordy war with Marmaduke + And Bernard and Theodoric, + While grandpa hinted Zachariah + And grandma thought of Hezekiah. + + We spoke of Gottlieb from the German, + Of Gaius, Caius, Saul, + Of Andrew, Francois, Ivan, Herman, + Of Caspar, Jasper, Peter, Paul. + Still grandpa stuck for Nehemiah, + And grandma ventured Jedediah. + + From Aaron down to Zeph we went, + But Fate is so contrary! + For after the august event + The name we really chose was Mary! + Though grandma much preferred Maria, + And grandpa rooted for Sophia. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[3] Lippincott's Magazine. + + + + +HON. RANSOM PEABODY + +BY GEORGE ADE + +The Fable of the Hoosier Bill of Fare and How the Women Folks Cooked Up +Things for the Well-known Citizen. + + +Once upon a Time there was a Hired Hand who felt that he was cut out to +be Somebody. Among the Agriculturists he was said to be too dosh-burned +Toney because he wore gloves when he Toiled and on Sundays put on a slew +of Agony, with sheet-iron Shoes pointed at the End and a neat Derby +purchased in Terry Hut. + +Now this Freckled Swain, whose name was Ransom, wanted to hop on the +Inter-Reuben and go zipping away to see the Great World. He wanted to +live in a Big Town where he would not have to walk on the Ploughed +Ground and where he could get something Good to Eat. He was tired of the +plain Vittles out on the Farm. They very seldom had anything on the +Table except Chicken with Gravy, Salt-Rising Bread, Milk, seven or eight +Vegetables, Crulls, Cookies, Apple Butter, Whortleberry Pie, Light +Biscuit, Spare Ribs, Pig's Feet, Hickory Nut Cake and such like. This +thing of drawing up every A. M. to the same old Lay Out of home-made +Sausage, Buckwheat Cakes, Recent Eggs, Fried Mush and Mother's Coffee +was beginning to wear on him. Often he dreamt of being in the +Metropolis, where he could get an Oyster Stew, Sardines, and Ice Cream +in the Winter Time. + +At last his Dream came out of the Box. He went up to the City to attend +a Law School and found himself domiciled in a Refined Joint that was a +Cross between a Salon and a Beanery. It was one of those Regular Places +kept by a thin Lady who had once ridden in her Own Carriage. Her Long +Suit was Home Atmosphere. She had the Hall-Ways filled with it. What is +more, she came from an Old Family. Lord Cornwallis once stopped at their +House to get a Drink of Water and George Washington came very near +sleeping in one of the Bed-Rooms. So that made the Board about 50 cents +more on the Week. + +Like all high class Boarding Houses, it was infested by some Lovely +People. There was the girl who spelled it Edythe and was having her +voice done over. She had a Mother to keep Cases on her and do the Press +Work. Also there was the Grass Widow who remembered her Husband's name +but had mislaid the Address. Also the Old Boarder who was always under +the influence of Pepsin. He would come down to Breakfast wearing the +Hoof-Marks of a Nightmare Seventeen Hands high and holler about the Food +and tell the Young Lawyer how you can't believe anything you see in the +Papers. Also there was a young man employed in a Furniture Store who +knew that he could put Eddie Sothern on the Fritz if he ever got a Whack +at the Drama. Unless some one got out an Injunction he would recite +Poe's "Raven" while Edythe played Chills and Fever music on the +Once-Piano. So the Astute Reader will understand that this was a sure +enough Boarding House. + +Ranse could have stood for the Intellectual Environment if there had +been a little more doing in the Food Line. Instead of stacking it up on +the Table and giving the word to Pitch In, the Refined Landlady had it +brought on in stingy little Dabs by several Beautiful Heiresses who +hated to hold Converse with Ordinary Boarders. About the time that +Ranse, with the Farm Appetite, began to settle down to Business he would +notice all the other People rolling up the Red Napkins and trying to get +them into the Rings. If he kept on eating after that, they would give +him the Eye. + +Cereals were strongly featured at the polite Prunery. Ransom, while +employed on the Farm, had often mixed up Chop Feed and Bran for the +Shoats and Yearlings, but he never thought he would come down to eating +it himself. Another Strong Card was a Soup that was quite Pale and had a +couple of Vermicelli swimming around in it. And every Tuesday they +served Dried Currants with Clinkers in them. + +Before Ranse had been against the Health Food Proposition many moons he +began to hanker for the yellow-legged Plymouth Rocks, the golden Butter +and the kind of milk that comes from the Cow--take a Tin Cup and go +right out to the Spring House and dip it up for yourself. Poor, eh? + +Still, he figured that as soon as he got into Practice and began to +connect with the Currency he could shake the Oatmeal Circuit and put up +at an A1 Hotel. + +Like all the other Country Boys of the Story Books, Ransom made a +Ten-Strike in the City. He worked 18 hours per and in Due Time he was +taken into the Firm and stopped shaving his Neck and wore Pajamas +instead of a home-made Nightie. + +Then he moved into a Hotel that had $40,000 worth of Paintings on the +First Floor, so that no one had a right to kick even if the Push Button +failed to work. All the Furniture was Louie Something. You take an +ex-Farm-Hand and let him sit in a Gold Chair with Satin Monogram that is +too Nice to lean against, and you can see at a Glance that he is sure +enjoying himself. Ranse now began to go against the a la Carte Gag. The +Menu was prepared by a Near-French Chef. For Fear that People might find +Fault with the Food he always smothered it and covered it over with Goo. + +Ranse began to find out that Goulasch meant Boiled Dinner with Perfumery +in it, and also that there were seven different names for Hash. The only +Thing that saved it from being Hash was the Piece of Lemon Peel tucked +on the Side. + +Ranse was not very strong for the French Cooking. Sometimes he would +find himself Chicken-Hungry and he would order what he thought was +Chicken and he would get a half section of cold storage Poulet covered +with Armor Plate, a neat Ruffle around the Ankle and an Olive reposing +on the Bosom. If he ordered Ice Cream he got something resembling a +sample Paper Weight from the Quarries at Bedford, Indiana. And the +Buckwheat Cakes! They looked like Doilies and tasted like Blotters. And +the Demi-Tasse is an Awful Joke to spring on the Man who wants a Cup of +Coffee. + +Here was the Hon. Ransom, rich and prosperous and apparently happy, but +in reality he was Dead Sore. Things appeared to be coming very Soft for +him and yet that which he wanted most of all he could not get. He wanted +the real old simon-pure Home Cooking: He recalled the Happy Days of Bean +Soup and Punkin Pie and Cottage Cheese. Time and again he would see one +of those old Friends on a Score-Card in a Restaurant and he would order +it and get some Fake Imitation with Smilax all around the edges. So, +after a while, he became discouraged and ate all the Junk that was set +before him--Dope, Lemon Peel, Floral Decoration and all. + +Often he would go to Banquets that cost as much as Ten a Throw. He +would dally with Fish that had Glue Dressing on top of it and Golf Balls +lying alongside. He would tackle Siberian Slush that had Hair Tonic +floating on top of it. Then the Petrified Quail and the Cheese that +should have been served in 1884. Often, sitting at these Magnificent +Spreads, he thought to himself that he would willingly trade all the +Tiffany Water on the Table for one Goblet of real Buttermilk. + +After Ransom had insulted his Digestive Apparatus for many years with +the horrible Concoctions of the Gents' Cafe he resolved to go back to +his native Town and visit some of his Blood Relations so that he could +get at least one more Crack at real American Grub. + +He wrote that he was coming and his Kin became greatly Agitated. + +"Our celebrated Cousin, the Hon. Ransom Peabody, is coming to visit us," +they said. "We must make unusual Preparations to receive the big +Battleship. He is Rich and High-Toned and has been living at one of +those $6-a-Day Palaces and we must cut a big Melon when he shows up. He +is accustomed to City Food and we must not insult him with ordinary +Provender." + +So they began framing up Dishes out of a Subscription Cook Book +purchased the year before from a Lady with Gold Glasses and a grand flow +of Language. + +The Hon. Ransom arrived late one Evening and all Night he lay awake in +the Spare Bed-Room, gloating over the prospect of a Home Breakfast. + +"Me for the Sausage Cakes with the good old Sage rubbed into them," said +Ranse. "I will certainly show the Buckwheats how to take a Joke and the +way I'll dip into that Coffee will be a Caution. And mebbe I won't go to +those Eggs direct from the Hen!" + +He arose early, but had to wait two Hours. As he was from the City, the +Family had postponed Breakfast until 9 o'clock. When he faced up to the +Table he was Wolfish. First they gave him Grape Fruit au Kirsch. Then +the Finger Bowl with the cute Rose Leaves floating idly on the dimpled +Surface. Then a dainty Lamb Chop with an ornamental Fence around it and +a sweet little cup of Cocoa in the China that Uncle Henry bought at the +World's Fair. Then French Toast and Eggs a la Gazaza, with Christmas +Trees stuck into them. + +The Hon. Ransom arose and howled like a Siberian Wolf, which was +Impolite of him. Before he went Home he did manage to get a little real +Eating, but every one said he was very Eccentric to prefer such a simple +dish as Fried Chicken. + +Moral--Hurry up and get it before the Chef and the Cook-Book have us +entirely Civilized. + + + + +NOTHING TO WEAR + +BY WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER + + + Miss Flora M'Flimsey, of Madison Square, + Has made three separate journeys to Paris, + And her father assures me, each time she was there, + That she and her friend, Mrs. Harris + (Not the lady whose name is so famous in history, + But plain Mrs. H., without romance or mystery), + Spent six consecutive weeks, without stopping, + In one continuous round of shopping-- + Shopping alone, and shopping together, + At all hours of the day, and in all sorts of weather, + For all manner of things that a woman can put + On the crown of her head, or the sole of her foot, + Or wrap round her shoulders, or fit round her waist, + Or that can be sewed on, or pinned on, or laced, + Or tied on with a string, or stitched on with a bow + In front or behind, above or below; + For bonnets, mantillas, capes, collars and shawls; + Dresses for breakfast, and dinners, and balls; + Dresses to sit in, and stand in, and walk in; + Dresses to dance in, and flirt in, and talk in; + Dresses in which to do nothing at all; + Dresses for winter, spring, summer and fall; + All of them different in color and shape, + Silk, muslin and lace, velvet, satin and crape, + Brocade and broadcloth, and other material, + Quite as expensive and much more ethereal; + In short, for all things that could ever be thought of, + Or milliner, _modiste_ or tradesman be bought of, + From ten-thousand-franc robes to twenty-sous frills; + In all quarters of Paris, and to every store, + While M'Flimsey in vain stormed, scolded and swore, + They footed the streets, and he footed the bills! + The last trip, their goods shipped by the steamer _Arago_, + Formed, M'Flimsey declares, the bulk of her cargo, + Not to mention a quantity kept from the rest, + Sufficient to fill the largest-sized chest, + Which did not appear on the ship's manifest, + But for which the ladies themselves manifested + Such particular interest, that they invested + Their own proper persons in layers and rows + Of muslin, embroideries, worked underclothes, + Gloves, handkerchiefs, scarfs, and such trifles as those; + Then, wrapped in great shawls, like Circassian beauties, + Gave _good-by_ to the ship, and _go by_ to the duties. + Her relations at home all marveled, no doubt, + Miss Flora had grown so enormously stout + For an actual belle and a possible bride; + But the miracle ceased when she turned inside out, + And the truth came to light, and the dry-goods besides, + Which, in spite of Collector and Custom-House sentry, + Had entered the port without any entry. + And yet, though scarce three months have passed since the day + This merchandise went, on twelve carts, up Broadway, + This same Miss M'Flimsey of Madison Square, + The last time we met was in utter despair, + Because she had nothing whatever to wear! + + Nothing to wear! Now, as this is a true ditty, + I do not assert--this, you know, is between us + That she's in a state of absolute nudity, + Like Powers's Greek Slave or the Medici Venus; + But I do mean to say, I have heard her declare, + When at the same moment she had on a dress + Which cost five hundred dollars, and not a cent less, + And jewelry worth ten times more, I should guess, + That she had not a thing in the wide world to wear! + I should mention just here, that out of Miss Flora's + Two hundred and fifty or sixty adorers, + I had just been selected as he who should throw all + The rest in the shade, by the gracious bestowal + On myself, after twenty or thirty rejections, + Of those fossil remains which she called her "affections," + And that rather decayed but well-known work of art + Which Miss Flora persisted in styling her "heart." + So we were engaged. Our troth had been plighted, + Not by moonbeam or starbeam, by fountain or grove, + But in a front parlor, most brilliantly lighted, + Beneath the gas-fixtures, we whispered our love. + Without any romance, or raptures, or sighs, + Without any tears in Miss Flora's blue eyes, + Or blushes, or transports, or such silly actions, + It was one of the quietest business transactions, + With a very small sprinkling of sentiment, if any, + And a very large diamond imported by Tiffany. + On her virginal lips, while I printed a kiss, + She exclaims, as a sort of parenthesis, + And by way of putting me quite at my ease, + "You know I'm to polka as much as I please, + And flirt when I like--now, stop, don't you speak-- + And you must not come here more than twice in the week, + Or talk to me either at party or ball, + But always be ready to come when I call; + So don't prose to me about duty and stuff, + If we don't break this off, there will be time enough + For that sort of thing; but the bargain must be + That, as long as I choose, I am perfectly free-- + For this is a kind of engagement, you see, + Which is binding on you, but not binding on me." + + Well, having thus wooed Miss M'Flimsey and gained her, + With the silks, crinolines, and hoops that contained her, + I had, as I thought, a contingent remainder + At least in the property, and the best right + To appear as its escort by day and by night; + And it being the week of the Stuckups' grand ball-- + Their cards had been out a fortnight or so, + And set all the Avenue on the tiptoe-- + I considered it only my duty to call, + And see if Miss Flora intended to go. + I found her--as ladies are apt to be found, + When the time intervening between the first sound + Of the bell and the visitor's entry is shorter + Than usual--I found; I won't say--I caught her, + Intent on the pier-glass, undoubtedly meaning + To see if perhaps it didn't need cleaning. + She turned as I entered--"Why, Harry, you sinner, + I thought that you went to the Flashers' to dinner!" + "So I did," I replied; "the dinner is swallowed, + And digested, I trust, for 'tis now nine and more, + So, being relieved from that duty, I followed + Inclination, which led me, you see, to your door; + And now will your ladyship so condescend + As just to inform me if you intend + Your beauty, and graces, and presence to lend + (All of which, when I own, I hope no one will borrow) + To the Stuckups' whose party, you know, is to-morrow?" + The fair Flora looked up, with a pitiful air, + And answered quite promptly, "Why, Harry, _mon cher_, + I should like above all things to go with you there, + But really and truly--I've nothing to wear." + "Nothing to wear! Go just as you are; + Wear the dress you have on, and you'll be by far, + I engage, the most bright and particular star + On the Stuckup horizon--" I stopped, for her eye, + Notwithstanding this delicate onset of flattery, + Opened on me at once a most terrible battery + Of scorn and amazement. She made no reply, + But gave a slight turn to the end of her nose + (That pure Grecian feature), as much as to say, + "How absurd that any sane man should suppose + That a lady would go to a ball in the clothes, + No matter how fine, that she wears every day!" + So I ventured again: "Wear your crimson brocade;" + (Second turn up of nose)--"That's too dark by a shade." + "Your blue silk"--"That's too heavy." "Your pink"--"That's too light." + "Wear tulle over satin"--"I can't endure white." + "Your rose-colored, then, the best of the batch"-- + "I haven't a thread of point-lace to match." + "Your brown _moire antique_"--"Yes, and look like a Quaker." + "The pearl-colored"--"I would, but that plaguy dressmaker + Has had it a week." "Then that exquisite lilac, + In which you would melt the heart of a Shylock;" + (Here the nose took again the same elevation)-- + "I wouldn't wear that for the whole of creation." + "Why not? It's my fancy, there's nothing could strike it + As more _comme il faut_"--"Yes, but, dear me, that lean + Sophronia Stuckup has got one just like it, + And I won't appear dressed like a chit of sixteen." + "Then that splendid purple, the sweet Mazarine; + That superb _point d'aiguille_, that imperial green, + That zephyr-like tarletan, that rich _grenadine_"-- + "Not one of all which is fit to be seen," + Said the lady, becoming excited and flushed. + "Then wear," I exclaimed, in a tone which quite crushed + Opposition, "that gorgeous _toilette_ which you sported + In Paris last spring, at the grand presentation, + When you quite turned the head of the head of the nation, + And by all the grand court were so very much courted." + The end of the nose was portentously tipped up + And both the bright eyes shot forth indignation, + As she burst upon me with the fierce exclamation, + "I have worn it three times, at the least calculation, + And that and most of my dresses are ripped up!" + Here I _ripped out_ something, perhaps rather rash, + Quite innocent, though; but to use an expression + More striking than classic, it "settled my hash," + And proved very soon the last act of our session. + "Fiddlesticks, is it, sir? I wonder the ceiling + Doesn't fall down and crush you--you men have no feeling; + You selfish, unnatural, illiberal creatures, + Who set yourselves up as patterns and preachers, + Your silly pretense--why, what a mere guess it is! + Pray, what do you know of a woman's necessities? + I have told you and shown you I've nothing to wear, + And it's perfectly plain you not only don't care, + But you do not believe me" (here the nose went still higher). + "I suppose, if you dared, you would call me a liar. + Our engagement is ended, sir--yes, on the spot; + You're a brute, and a monster, and--I don't know what." + I mildly suggested the words Hottentot, + Pickpocket, and cannibal, Tartar, and thief, + As gentle expletives which might give relief; + But this only proved as a spark to the powder, + And the storm I had raised came faster and louder; + It blew and it rained, thundered, lightened and hailed + Interjections, verbs, pronouns, till language quite failed + To express the abusive, and then its arrears + Were brought up all at once by a torrent of tears, + And my last faint, despairing attempt at an obs- + Ervation was lost in a tempest of sobs. + + Well, I felt for the lady, and felt for my hat, too, + Improvised on the crown of the latter a tattoo, + In lieu of expressing the feelings which lay + Quite too deep for words, as Wordsworth would say; + Then, without going through the form of a bow, + Found myself in the entry--I hardly know how, + On doorstep and sidewalk, past lamp-post and square, + At home and upstairs, in my own easy-chair; + Poked my feet into slippers, my fire into blaze, + And said to myself, as I lit my cigar, + "Supposing a man had the wealth of the Czar + Of the Russias to boot, for the rest of his days, + On the whole, do you think he would have much to spare, + If he married a woman with nothing to wear?" + Since that night, taking pains that it should not be bruited + Abroad in society, I've instituted + A course of inquiry, extensive and thorough, + On this vital subject, and find, to my horror, + That the fair Flora's case is by no means surprising, + But that there exists the greatest distress + In our female community, solely arising + From this unsupplied destitution of dress, + Whose unfortunate victims are filling the air + With the pitiful wail of "Nothing to wear." + + Researches in some of the "Upper Ten" districts + Reveal the most painful and startling statistics, + Of which let me mention only a few: + In one single house on the Fifth Avenue, + Three young ladies were found, all below twenty-two, + Who have been three whole weeks without anything new + In the way of flounced silks, and thus left in the lurch, + Are unable to go to ball, concert or church. + In another large mansion near the same place + Was found a deplorable, heartrending case + Of entire destitution of Brussels point-lace. + In a neighboring block there was found, in three calls, + Total want, long continued, of camel's-hair shawls; + And a suffering family, whose case exhibits + The most pressing need of real ermine tippets; + One deserving young lady almost unable + To survive for the want of a new Russian sable; + Still another, whose tortures have been most terrific + Ever since the sad loss of the steamer _Pacific_, + In which were engulfed, not friend or relation + (For whose fate she, perhaps, might have found consolation, + Or borne it, at least, with serene resignation), + But the choicest assortment of French sleeves and collars + Ever sent out from Paris, worth thousands of dollars, + And all as to style most _recherche_ and rare, + The want of which leaves her with nothing to wear, + And renders her life so drear and dyspeptic + That she's quite a recluse, and almost a skeptic, + For she touchingly says that this sort of grief + Can not find in Religion the slightest relief, + And Philosophy has not a maxim to spare + For the victims of such overwhelming despair. + But the saddest, by far, of all these sad features, + Is the cruelty practised upon the poor creatures + By husbands and fathers, real Bluebeards and Timons, + Who resist the most touching appeals made for diamonds + By their wives and their daughters, and leave them for days + Unsupplied with new jewelry, fans or bouquets, + Even laugh at their miseries whenever they have a chance, + And deride their demands as useless extravagance. + One case of a bride was brought to my view, + Too sad for belief, but alas! 'twas too true, + Whose husband refused, as savage as Charon, + To permit her to take more than ten trunks to Sharon. + The consequence was, that when she got there, + At the end of three weeks she had nothing to wear; + And when she proposed to finish the season + At Newport, the monster refused, out and out, + For his infamous conduct alleging no reason, + Except that the waters were good for his gout; + Such treatment as this was too shocking, of course, + And proceedings are now going on for divorce. + + But why harrow the feelings by lifting the curtain + From these scenes of woe? Enough, it is certain, + Has here been disclosed to stir up the pity + Of every benevolent heart in the city, + And spur up humanity into a canter + To rush and relieve these sad cases instanter. + Won't somebody, moved by this touching description, + Come forward to-morrow and head a subscription? + Won't some kind philanthropist, seeing that aid is + So needed at once by these indigent ladies, + Take charge of the matter? Or won't Peter Cooper + The corner-stone lay of some new splendid super- + Structure, like that which to-day links his name + In the Union unending of Honor and Fame, + And found a new charity just for the care + Of these unhappy women with nothing to wear, + Which, in view of the cash which would daily be claimed, + The _Laying-out_ Hospital well might be named? + Won't Stewart, or some of our dry-goods importers, + Take a contract for clothing our wives and our daughters? + Or, to furnish the cash to supply these distresses, + And life's pathway strew with shawls, collars and dresses, + Ere the want of them makes it much rougher and thornier, + Won't some one discover a new California? + + O! ladies, dear ladies, the next sunny day, + Please trundle your hoops just out of Broadway, + From its swirl and its bustle, its fashion and pride + And the temples of Trade which tower on each side, + To the alleys and lanes, where Misfortune and Guilt + Their children have gathered, their city have built; + Where Hunger and Vice, like twin beasts of prey, + Have hunted their victims to gloom and despair; + Raise the rich, dainty dress, and the fine broidered skirt, + Pick your delicate way through the dampness and dirt. + Grope through the dark dens, climb the rickety stair + To the garret, where wretches, the young and the old, + Half starved and half naked, lie crouched from the cold; + See those skeleton limbs, those frost-bitten feet, + All bleeding and bruised by the stones of the street; + Hear the sharp cry of childhood, the deep groans that + swell + From the poor dying creature who writhes on the floor; + Hear the curses that sound like the echoes of Hell, + As you sicken and shudder and fly from the door; + Then home to your wardrobes, and say, if you dare-- + Spoiled children of fashion--you've nothing to wear! + + And O! if perchance there should be a sphere + Where all is made right which so puzzles us here, + Where the glare and the glitter and tinsel of Time + Fade and die in the light of that region sublime, + Where the soul, disenchanted of flesh and of sense, + Unscreened by its trappings and shows and pretense, + Must be clothed for the life and the service above, + With purity, truth, faith, meekness and love, + O! daughters of Earth! foolish virgins, beware! + Lest in that upper realm you have nothing to wear! + + + + +A BRANCH LIBRARY[4] + +BY JAMES MONTGOMERY FLAGG + + + There is an old fellow named Mark, + Who lives in a tree in the Park. + You can see him each night, + By his library light, + Turning over the leaves after dark. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[4] By permission of Life Publishing Company. + + + + +IS IT I?[5] + +BY WARWICK S. PRICE + + + Where is the man who has not said + At evening, when he went to bed, + "I'll waken with the crowing cock, + And get to work by six o'clock?" + + Where is the man who, rather late, + Crawls out of bed at half-past eight, + That has not thought, with fond regard, + "It's better not to work too hard?" + +FOOTNOTES: + +[5] Lippincott's Magazine. + + + + +NOT ACCORDING TO SCHEDULE + +BY MARY STEWART CUTTING + + +"Haven't you any coffee spoons, Kitty? I thought you had a couple of +dozen when you went to housekeeping." + +Marcia, with her sleeves rolled up from her round white arms, was +rummaging in the sideboard, as she knelt beside it on the floor, her +brown eyes peering into the corners. + +"Yes, of course I have coffee spoons. Aren't they there? I'm sure I +don't know _what_ becomes of things." + +Young Mrs. Fosdyke, stout and matronly, held a fat and placid year-old +baby on her lap with one arm, while with the other hand she lunged out +intermittently to pick up a much-chewed rubber dog cast upon the floor +by the infant. "Oh, now I remember; they're at the bank, with the rest +of the silver--we sent them there the summer we went to the seashore, +and forgot to take them out again. I know it's dreadful to get in the +habit of living in this picnic fashion; I'm ashamed sometimes to have +any one come here. Not that I mind your having asked Mrs. Devereaux for +Thanksgiving, Marcia; I don't want you to feel that way for a minute. I +think it was nice of you to want to. If _you_ don't mind having her +here, I'm sure I don't. You know I've had such a time changing servants; +and when you have three babies--" + +Mrs. Fosdyke was accustomed to anticipate possible astonishment at the +size of her young family by stating tersely to begin with that the three +were all of the same age; if this were not literally true, it was true +enough to account for the disposal of most of her time. In a small +house, on a small income, with one maid, all departments can not receive +attention; under such circumstances something has to go. Mrs. Fosdyke's +attention went, rightly enough, to the children; there were no graces of +management left for the household--there couldn't be; that was one +reason why she never invited company any more. She felt apologetic even +before her sister. + +"I wish things were a little nicer here--but I know just how you +feel about Mrs. Devereaux. No matter how rich a person is, it seems +sort of desolate to be alone at a hotel in a small town on a +holiday--Thanksgiving Day especially. And she was so good to you in +Paris. I shall never forget it." + +"I'm sure I never shall," said Marcia. + +She saw with retrospective vision the scene of two years ago, when she, +a terrified girl of twenty, just recovering from an illness, had missed +connections with her party at a railway station, and had been blessedly +taken in charge by a stranger whose spoken name carried recognition with +it to any American abroad. Marcia had been taken to Mrs. Devereaux's +luxurious house for the day, put to bed, comforted, telegrams and +messages sent hither and thither to her friends; truly it was the kind +of a thing one does not forget, that must claim gratitude forever. + +She went on now: "I can't get over our meeting in the street here in +this place, just the day we both came--the strangest coincidence! I +could hardly believe my eyes. And then to drive back to her rooms with +her and find myself telling her all I've been doing, just as if I had +known her always--I'm sure, though, I feel as if I had. I do want to do +something for her so much--it doesn't make any real difference, her +being so rich and grand. And then I thought of our Thanksgiving dinner, +and she seemed so pleased, and accepted at once. Of course she +stipulated that we were to promise not to make any difference on her +account, but I do want to have everything as pretty and characteristic +as possible. And you needn't bother a bit about anything, Kitty. I'll do +all the work, and there's a whole week to get ready in. We'll have Frank +bring your wedding silver from the bank; you had so many lovely large +pieces." + +"I had ten cut glass and silver loving cups," annotated Kitty, in the +tone of injury the recollection always produced in the light of her +present needs. "It will take you hours and days to clean all those +things, Marcia; that's why I never use them. When you have three babies +all the same age--" + +"Kersley will help me," said Marcia, deftly introducing another subject. + +"Kersley!" There was deep surprise in Kitty's voice; she turned to fix +her eyes on her sister. Marcia flushed independently of her will. + +"Yes--didn't I tell you? He's coming out to his brother's over +Thanksgiving." + +"Oh!" said Kitty, with significance; she made a precipitate lunge for +the rubber dog. There was an alert tone in her voice when she spoke +again: + +"Marcia." + +"Well?" + +"How long is this thing to go on? Are you engaged to Kersley Battersby, +or are you not? For if you're not, I don't think it's decent to keep him +dangling on in this way any longer." + +"Oh, Kitty, do stop!" Marcia ceased her investigations to relapse into a +jumbled heap on the rug, her chin resting on her hand, her dark, +vivacious little face tense. "I suppose I _do_ consider that I'm +engaged, if you _will_ have me say it; he's the only man I could ever +care for, but I'm not going to let _him_ know it, not until he gets on +his feet--not while he's only making fifteen dollars here and twenty +dollars there, and some weeks not even that, painting labels for tomato +cans and patent medicines. It does seem a pity that, after all the +studying in Paris and winning the prize for his portraits in the Salon, +it should take him so long to get a start here. I suppose you have to +have a 'pull,' as in everything else. If he once knew that I really +cared for him he'd lose his head and want to be married out of hand. I +couldn't do a thing with him. He'd insist that it would help him to work +if I were near all the time." + +"Perhaps it would," suggested Kitty. + +"Yes, and have all his family say that I've ruined his prospects--you +can imagine how pleasant _that_ would be! Everyone says that if a poor +artist is hampered at the beginning he has no career at all. _I_ enjoy +things as they are, anyway, and if Kersley doesn't it's his own lookout. +He's a perfect baby, great, big, blue-eyed, ridiculous, unpractical +thing! What do you suppose he did when he was in Chester last month, +just after I'd left there? Walked all the way into town and back, twenty +miles--he hadn't enough money for his car fare--to buy me a little +trumpery pin I wanted, when they had the identical thing on sale at the +little shop by the station! Wasn't that like him? And with all his +artistic talent, I have to tell him what kind of a necktie to get. +Imagine him, with _his_ hair, in a scarlet one, when he looks so +adorable in dull blue. Let's change the subject. Is this your best +centerpiece, with the color all washed out?" + +"Yes." + +"Then I'll finish that lace one I'm making and put yellow under it. +Yellow is to be the color scheme, Kitty. I'm going to present you with +some of those lovely glasses I saw at Ketterer's, with gilt flowers on +them. I want you to let me pay for the chrysanthemums and all the +extras--a few palms can be hired; they add so much to the effect. You +know I got the money for those illustrations yesterday, and I don't care +whether I have any clothes or not. I just want to do my prettiest for a +Thanksgiving for Mrs. Devereaux." + +"Very well, dear," said Kitty. + +"I should think that woman wouldn't want such a time made over her," +said Mr. Fosdyke to his wife, disgustedly, in private. There are married +men who may on occasion be mistaken for bachelors, but Mr. Fosdyke was +not of that ilk; the respectable bondage of one wedded to family claims +was stamped upon him as with a die, in spite of a humorous tendency that +was sometimes trying to his wife. "What's the sense? With all her +millions she must be used to everything. I should think she'd like +something plain and homelike for a change, instead of all this fuss and +feathers. I'm worn out with it already. There seems to be a perfect +upheaval downstairs, with all Marcia's decorations and color schemes and +'artistic effects.' My arm's broken lugging loving cups home from the +bank--they weigh a ton. Why can't Mrs. Devereaux take us as we are?" + +"Now, Frank, I've told you how Marcia feels about it," said his wife, +reprovingly. "You know how intense she is--it gives her positive +satisfaction to show her gratitude by working her fingers off and +spending all the money she's got. She wants to make it a special +occasion." + +"Well, she's doing it," said Frank Fosdyke, with, however, a relenting +smile; he was fond of whole-souled little Marcia. "I say, though, Kitty, +what's Kersley doing here all the time? I thought he was living in New +York. I can't go anywhere that I don't see that big smile of his and the +gray suit. I'm always running across him with Marcia. It makes me feel +like a fool. Am I to treat them as if they were engaged, or not?" + +Mrs. Fosdyke shook her head. "Not yet." + +"Can't he stop her shillyshallying?" + +"Frank, I said 'Not yet.'" + +"All right," said Frank, resignedly, moving around the darkened room, as +he disrobed, with the catlike step of one whose ever haunting fear is +that he may wake the baby. + +Marcia had decreed against the old-fashioned, middle-of-the-day +Thanksgiving dinner; half-past seven was early enough. "And it ought to +be eight," she added, ruefully. "At any rate, the babies will be asleep, +and Mrs. Fogarty is going to let her Maggie come and sit upstairs with +them. Thank goodness, Ellen can cook the dinner, with my help, and wait +on the table afterward. She's as nice and interested as she can be, and +I'll keep her in good humor. I've promised to buy her a lovely new cap +and apron. We've just decided what to have for the nine courses." + +"_Nine courses!_" + +"Now, Kitty, it's no more trouble to have nine courses than two, if you +manage properly. I'll make a number of the dishes the day before, and +Ellen can see to the turkey herself; I'll show you my bill of fare +afterward. I'm going to have the loveliest little menu cards, with +golden pumpkins in wheat sheaves painted on them--so nice and +Thanksgivingy! You've seen the yellow paper cases I've made for the ice +pudding, and the candle shades--the color scheme, you know, is yellow. +I'm going to ornament the dishes for the almonds and raisins and olives +and the candied ginger and other things in the same way. Now, please +don't worry about anything, Kitty! If people only make the arrangements +beforehand, it's no trouble at all. It's all in the way one plans, and +having a system about things." + +"I hope so," said Mrs. Fosdyke; for she had her misgivings. In +housekeeping it is only too often that two and two fail to make four. + + * * * * * + +Kersley Battersby, tall and handsome, coming in gayly at four o'clock on +Thanksgiving afternoon, during a brief interval of the festivities at +his brother's house, stopped short at the sight of Marcia's face. + +"What's up?" he asked, reaching out his arms with the unconsciousness of +habit, while Marcia, in her blue gingham gown, as mechanically +retreated. Her tone was tragic. + +"Ellen says she won't wait on the table; she says there's work for ten +in the kitchen, and no lady would ask it of her. And I had it all +arranged so beautifully. I don't know what we're to do. Kitty and I have +been busy every minute, and Frank has had to take care of the babies all +day. I didn't mean to make everyone so uncomfortable. He's gone out now, +and she's upstairs with a headache." + +"Well, you know you've always got me to fall back on," said Kersley, +firmly. "My word, but the dining-room looks fine, though! I wouldn't +know it for the same place." His gaze rested on the pretty scene with +genuine admiration. + +Loving cups in the corner of the room held the tall, yellow +chrysanthemums against the florist's palms; yellow chrysanthemums waved +from the vine-draped mantel and drooped from the prettiest loving cup +of all over the yellow-lined lace centerpiece set on the satin-smooth +"best" tablecloth. The silver was polished to perfection. The new +goblets with their gilt flowers shone like bubbles, and on the sideboard +a golden pumpkin hollowed into a dish among trailing vines was heaped +high with yellow oranges and crimson apples and pearly hothouse grapes. + +"Oh, yes, this is all right," sighed Marcia, "and the cooking is, and +Frank has had his dress suit pressed and Kitty's gown is dear. But, +Kersley, the _dinner_!" Her swimming eyes looked at him helplessly as +she pushed back her disheveled hair. "You can't have nine courses with +no one to serve them. Ellen even refuses to bring anything in. _We_ +can't get up and keep running around the table! It makes the whole thing +a failure--worse than that, ridiculous. I didn't mind how hard I worked +for dear Mrs. Devereaux, but I did want it all to be right." + +"Poor girl!" said Kersley, tenderly, moving sympathetically very, very +near her, with a repetition of the arm movement. "You're tired." + +"Now, Kersley, please don't." Marcia again retreated with glowing +cheeks. She tried to keep an unexpected tremulousness out of her voice. +"I have enough on my mind without having you, too. If I were to spoil +all your prospects now, I'd never forgive myself." + +"You get so in the habit of saying that absurd thing," began Kersley, +doggedly, "that--Never mind, never mind, Marcia dear. I won't bother you +now. But you'll have to let me have my way in one thing, anyway--I'm +going to help you out; I'm going to stay and wait on the table myself." + +"Kersley!" + +"I'll make a bang-up waiter; do it in style." + +"Kersley!" + +"Just pretend I'm the butler. It's been done lots of times before, you +know; it's not a bit original. And I'd like to do something for Mrs. +Devereaux, too, good old multi-millionairess. I owe her one for being +such a trump to you. I'll make her one of my omelets, too, if Ellen will +let me." + +"But Mrs. Devereaux will recognize you!" Marcia felt wildly that she was +half assenting, in spite of the absurdity of it. + +"Recognize the butler? She won't know that he exists except to pass her +things. Besides, she's only seen me a couple of times." + +"But the family party at your brother's?" + +"They'll have to get along without me. I'll cut back now and tell them, +and get my dress suit, and then I'll turn myself loose in your kitchen. +It's all decided, Marcia." He smiled brilliantly down at her from the +height of his six feet, as Kersley could smile sometimes, when he wanted +to get his own way. His finger tips touched her curling locks on his way +past the ottoman upon which she had dropped. + +She sat there after he had gone, her chin supported by her hand, her +dark eyes looking intently before her into the yellow chrysanthemum. In +spite of her boast to Kitty that she was satisfied with "things as they +were," there were moments when a long-drawn-out future of joy withheld +pressed upon little Marcia with strange heaviness--moments when it was +hard to be always wise for two; there were, indeed, sudden, inexplicable +moments when she longed weakly to give herself up to the alluring +blissfulness of Kersley's kisses on her soft lips, no matter how +unpractical he was. But she was too stanchly eager to do what was best +for him to give way in the conduct of life; it was even a giddy sort of +thing that she had given way to him in anything. + + * * * * * + +If a nervous and uncertain hilarity characterized the atmosphere of the +dinner table that night, Mrs. Devereaux, in her black lace and diamonds, +was happily unaware of its cause in the antics of the obsequious butler, +who in the intervals of his calling threw kisses from behind the guest +to the yellow-gowned Marcia, attempted to poise in the attitude of +flight or that of benediction, or indulged in other pantomimes as +extraordinary. + +It was almost a relief when the intervals between the courses were +unduly prolonged and conversation could proceed without spasmodic jerks +on the part of the entertainers. Mrs. Devereaux herself, a rather +slight, elderly woman with soft white hair elaborately arranged, and +kind, brown eyes, responded with evident pleasure to Marcia's pretty, +childlike warmth, and was politely cordial to Frank and Kitty. Her +manner was at once quietly assured and quietly unassuming, although on +her entrance her eyes had seemed furtively observant, as one who found +herself among strange, if interesting, surroundings. + +"I feel as if we might be Eskimos, by Jove!" Frank Fosdyke whispered +with a secret gurgle to his wife, who responded only with an agonized +"Hush!" + +"This omelet is really delicious," said Mrs. Devereaux, kindly, in one +of the pauses of the dinner. "I don't know that I have eaten one as good +since I left Paris. May I ask if you have a woman or a man cook?" + +"We have a man in the kitchen," said Marcia, unblushingly, Kersley being +out there at the moment. "He has lived in Paris." + +"Oh, the touch was unmistakable!" said Mrs. Devereaux. She turned +graciously to Kitty. "I take a great interest in small establishments; +my niece, Angela Homestead, is about to marry in moderate circumstances. +Unlike many women in society, I have always looked after my own +household. When I am at home the servants report to me for half an hour +every morning to receive their orders for the day. So when Angela +naturally came to me for advice, I said to her: 'Above all things, +Angela, remember that a good cook is always worth what you pay for him.' +The health of the family is so largely dependent on the food. With a +French cook, a butler, a laundress and three maids, a simple +establishment for two people can be kept up decently and in order; a +retinue of servants is not necessary when you do not entertain. Of +course, with less than three maids it is impossible to be clean." + +"No, indeed," said Kitty. + +"I should think not," assented Mr. Fosdyke, with unnecessary ardor. + +"It is pleasant to have you agree with me," said Mrs. Devereaux, +politely. "But, speaking of Paris, oddly enough, since we've been +sitting here I have been reminded forcibly, though I can't imagine why, +of a young man whom I met there a couple of times over a year ago--a +tall, blond young artist who won a prize at the Salon. I haven't heard +of him since, though he seemed to have rather unusual talent. I believe +he left for New York. I can't recall his name, but perhaps you can help +me to it. He painted children very fetchingly." + +"Was it Kersley Battersby?" asked Marcia, with a swift frown at the +owner of the name, who had doubled over suddenly. + +"Kersley Battersby. The very man!" exclaimed Mrs. Devereaux, with +animation. "How clever you are, my dear, to guess it! My sister, the +Countess of Crayford, who has just come over this autumn, wants some one +to paint her twin girls. It strikes me that he would be the very person +to do it, if possibly you have his address. There was a sentiment, a +bloom, one might call it, that seemed to characterize his children's +heads particularly. They made a real impression on me." + +"Yes, Battersby has a great deal of bloom," said Mr. Fosdyke, solemnly. +"Bloom is what he excels in. Alphonse, fill Mrs. Devereaux's glass. I +will look up his address in my notebook, Mrs. Devereaux. I have an +impression that he is within reach." + +He turned to Marcia provocatively, but she did not respond. Her brain +was suddenly in a whirl that carried her past the wild incongruities of +the situation. If Kersley had "prospects" like that--She did not dare to +meet his eyes. + +The dinner was excellent, the waiting perfect. Marcia was in a glow of +happiness. She felt repaid for her work, her struggles, and the +expenditure which would make a new gown this winter impossible. This was +as she had wanted it to be--a little Thanksgiving feast for this woman +who was her friend. Through all Mrs. Devereaux's interest in the others, +the little inner bond was between her and Marcia. It did not matter that +Ellen had stumped upstairs after the last cup of coffee, leaving Kersley +to clear the table, or that the babies might wake up and cry. Nothing +mattered when she knew that dear Mrs. Devereaux was pleased. She said to +herself that this was what gave her such a strangely exhilarated +feeling; and yet--When it was time for the guest to depart, and Marcia +came from upstairs bringing Mrs. Devereaux's fur cloak, that lady and +Kitty both looked smilingly at the girl from the midst of a +conversation. + +"Must you go so soon?" pleaded Marcia. + +"Yes, the carriage is waiting," said Mrs. Devereaux. "I am under the +doctor's orders, you remember, my dear. I've had a charming +Thanksgiving; you don't know how much I appreciate Mrs. Fosdyke's +letting me spend it here. And one thing has appealed to me particularly, +if you won't mind my saying it: I am more complimented, more touched, by +being made one of your little family circle, without any alteration in +your usual mode of living, than by any amount of the ceremony which is +often so foolishly considered necessary--a man behind each chair, masses +of orchids, and expensive menus." She smiled warmly at Marcia, and +added: "It is to you that I really owe my introduction into this +charmingly domestic household. Your sister, however, has made me partner +to a little secret, in response to my inquiries; she says that you are +about to be engaged to the very Mr. Battersby of whom we were speaking, +and whose address she has given me, so that I may make arrangements at +once for my nieces' portraits. She tells me that he has excellent +prospects." + +"Oh!" murmured Marcia, in sudden crimson embarrassment. She could +actually feel Kersley's triumphant smile behind the dining-room +portieres. + +"And as I am about to start on the Egyptian tour that will take me away +for a year, I want to know if I may take advantage of having been made +one of the family and ask you to make use of my cottage at Ardsley for +the honeymoon--which I hope may last until my return, if Mr. Battersby's +commissions don't call him away before. I will have my people put it at +your disposal." + +"Dear, dear Mrs. Devereaux!" cried Marcia. If something odd in the +beating of her heart made her feel her further speech to be foolishly +incoherent, it was, perhaps, not unattractively so to her smiling +elders. + +She did not hear Mr. Fosdyke's exclamation as the lights of Mrs. +Devereaux's carriage disappeared from view: "Of all the Arabian Nights' +entertainments! Who am I, anyway?" + +She had been drawn into the dining-room with Kersley's outstretched arms +closing around her firmly as she mechanically but ineffectually strove +to retreat, his blue eyes beaming down on her as he whispered: + +"Oh, Marcia, Marcia! This comes of trying to show gratitude to +strangers. '_About to be engaged!_' Accepting a honeymoon cottage before +you'd accepted the man!" + + + + +MR. CARTERET AND HIS FELLOW AMERICANS ABROAD[6] + +BY DAVID GRAY + + +"It must have been highly interesting," observed Mrs. Archie Brawle; "so +much pleasanter than a concert." + +"Rather!" replied Lord Frederic. "It was ripping!" + +Mrs. Ascott-Smith turned to Mr. Carteret. She had been listening to Lord +Frederic Westcote, who had just come down from town where he had seen +the Wild West show. "Is it so?" she asked. "Have you ever seen them?" By +"them" she meant the Indians. + +Mr. Carteret nodded. + +"It seems so odd," continued Mrs. Archie Brawle, "that they should ride +without saddles. Is it a pose?" + +"No, I fancy not," replied Lord Frederic. + +"They must get very tired without stirrups," insisted Mrs. Archie. "But +perhaps they never ride very long at a time." + +"That is possible," said Lord Frederic doubtfully. "They are only on +about twenty minutes in the show." + +Mr. Pringle, the curate, who had happened in to pay his monthly call +upon Mrs. Ascott-Smith, took advantage of the pause. "Of course, I am no +horseman," he began apprehensively, "and I have never seen the red +Indians, either in their native wilds or in a show, but I have read not +a little about them, and I have gathered that they almost live on +horseback." + +Major Hammerslea reached toward the tea table for another muffin and +hemmed. "It is a very different thing," he said with heavy +impressiveness. "It is a very different thing." + +The curate looked expectant, as if believing that his remarks were going +to be noticed. But nothing was further from the Major's mind. + +"What is so very different?" inquired Mrs. Ascott-Smith, after a pause +had made it clear that the Major had ignored Pringle. + +"It is one thing, my dear Madame, to ride a stunted, half-starved pony, +as you say 'bareback,' and another thing to ride a conditioned British +Hunter (he pronounced it huntaw) without a saddle. I must say that the +latter is an impossibility." The oracle came to an end and the material +Major began on the muffin. + +There was an approving murmur of assent. The Major was the author of +"Schooling and Riding British Hunters;" however, it was not only his +authority which swayed the company, but individual conviction. Of the +dozen people in the room, excepting Pringle, all rode to hounds with +more or less enthusiasm, and no one had ever seen any one hunting +without a saddle and no one had ever experienced any desire to try the +experiment. Obviously it was an absurdity. + +"Nevertheless," observed Lord Frederic, "I must say their riding was +very creditable--quite as good as one sees on any polo field in +England." + +Major Hammerslea looked at him severely, as if his youth were not wholly +an excuse. "It is, as I said," he observed. "It is one thing to ride an +American pony and another to ride a British Hunter. One requires +horsemanship, the other does not. And horsemanship," he continued, +"which properly is the guiding of a horse across country, requires years +of study and experience." + +Lord Frederic looked somewhat unconvinced but he said nothing. + +"Of course the dear Major (she called it deah Majaw) is unquestionably +right," said Mrs. Ascott-Smith. + +"Undoubtedly," said Mr. Carteret. "I suppose that he has often seen +Indians ride?" + +"Have you often seen these Indians ride?" inquired Mrs. Ascott-Smith of +the Major. + +"Do you mean Indians or the Red Men of North America?" replied the +Major. "And do you mean upon ponies in a show or upon British Hunters?" + +"Which do you mean?" asked Mrs. Ascott-Smith. + +"I suppose that I mean American Indians," said Mr. Carteret, "and either +upon ponies or upon British Hunters." + +"No," said the Major, "I have not. Have you?" + +"Not upon British Hunters," said Mr. Carteret. + +"But do you think that they could?" inquired Lord Frederic. + +"It would be foolish of me to express an opinion," replied Mr. Carteret, +"because, in the first place, I have never seen them ride British +Hunters over jumps--" + +"They would come off at the first obstacle," observed the Major, more in +sorrow than in anger. + +"And in the second place," continued Mr. Carteret, "I am perhaps +naturally prejudiced in behalf of my fellow countrymen." + +Mrs. Ascott-Smith looked at him anxiously. His sister had married a +British peer. "But you Americans are quite distinct from the red +Indians," she said. "We quite understand that nowadays. To be sure, my +dear Aunt--" She stopped. + +"Rather!" said Mrs. Archie Brawle. "You don't even intermarry with them, +do you?" + +"That is a matter of personal taste," said Mr. Carteret. "There is no +law against it." + +"But nobody that one knows--" began Mrs. Ascott-Smith. + +"There was John Rohlfs," said Mr. Carteret; "he was a very well known +chap." + +"Do you know him?" asked Mrs. Brawle. + +The Curate sniggered. His hour of triumph had come. "Rohlfs is dead," he +said. + +"Really!" said Mrs. Brawle, coldly. "It had quite slipped my mind. You +see I never read the papers during the hunting. But is his wife +received?" + +"I believe that she was," said Mr. Carteret. + +The Curate was still sniggering and Mrs. Brawle put her glass in her eye +and looked at him. Then she turned to Mr. Carteret. "But all this," she +said, "of course, has nothing to do with the question. Do you think that +these red Indians could ride bareback across our country?" + +"As I said before," replied Mr. Carteret, "it would be silly of me to +express an opinion, but I should be interested in seeing them try it." + +"I have a topping idea!" cried Lord Frederic. He was a simple-minded +fellow. + +"You must tell us," exclaimed Mrs. Ascott-Smith. + +"Let us have them down, and take them hunting!" + +"How exciting!" exclaimed Mrs. Ascott-Smith. "What sport!" + +The Major looked at her reprovingly. "It would be as I said," he +observed. + +"But it would be rather interesting," said Mrs. Brawle. + +"It might," said the Major, "it might be interesting." + +"It would be ripping!" said Lord Frederic. "But how can we manage it?" + +"I'll mount them," said the Major with a grim smile. "My word! They +shall have the pick of my stable though I have to spend a month +rebreaking horses that have run away." + +"But it isn't the mounts," said Lord Frederic. "You see I've never met +any of these chaps." He turned to Mr. Carteret with a sudden +inspiration. "Are any of them friends of yours?" he asked. + +Mrs. Ascott-Smith looked anxiously at Mr. Carteret, as if she feared +that it would develop that some of the people in the show were his +cousins. + +"No," he replied, "I don't think so, although I may have met some of +them in crossing the reservations. But I once went shooting with Grady, +one of the managers of the show." + +"Better yet!" said Lord Frederic. "Do you think that he would come and +bring some of them down?" he asked. + +"I think he would," said Mr. Carteret. He knew that the showman was +strong in Grady--if not the sportsman. + +The Major rose to go to the billiard room. "I have one piece of advice +to give you," he said. "This prank is harmless enough, but establish a +definite understanding with this fellow that you are not to be liable in +damages for personal injuries which his Indians may receive. Explain to +him that it is not child's play and have him put it in writing." + +"You mean to have him execute a kind of release?" said Mr. Carteret. + +"Precisely that," said the Major. "I was once sued for twenty pounds by +a groom that fell off my best hunter and let him run away, and damme, +the fellow recovered." He bowed to the ladies and left the room. + +"Of course we can fix all that up," said Lord Frederic. "The old chap is +a bit over cautious nowadays, but how can we get hold of this fellow +Grady?" + +"I'll wire him at once, if you wish," said Mr. Carteret, and he went to +the writing table. + +"When do you want him to come down?" he asked, as he wrote the address. + +"We might take them out with the Pytchley on Saturday," said Lord +Frederic, "but the meet is rather far from our station. Perhaps it would +be better to have them on Thursday with Charley Ploversdale's hounds." + +Mr. Carteret hesitated a moment. "Wouldn't Ploversdale be apt to be +fussy about experiments? He's rather conservative, you know, about the +way people are turned out. I saw him send a man home one day who was out +without a hat. It was an American who was afraid that his hair was +coming out." + +"Pish," said Lord Frederic, "Charley Ploversdale is mild as a dove." + +"Suit yourself," said Mr. Carteret. "I'll make it Thursday. One more +question," he added. "How many shall I ask him to bring down?" At this +moment the Major came into the room again. He had mislaid his +eyeglasses. + +"I should think that a dozen would be about the right number," said Lord +Frederic, replying to Mr. Carteret. "It would be very imposing." + +"Too many!" said the Major. "We must mount them on good horses and I +don't want my entire stable ruined by men who have never lepped a +fence." + +"I think the Major is right about the matter of numbers," said Mr. +Carteret. "How would three do?" + +"Make it three," said the Major. + +Before dinner was over a reply came from Grady saying that he and three +bucks would be pleased to arrive Thursday morning prepared for a hunting +party. + +This took place on Monday, and at various times during Tuesday and +Wednesday, Mr. Carteret gave the subject thought. By Thursday morning +his views had ripened. He ordered his tea and eggs to be served in his +room and came down a little past ten dressed in morning clothes. He +wandered into the dining-room and found Mrs. Ascott-Smith sitting by the +fire entertaining Lord Frederic, as he went to and from the sideboard in +search of things to eat. + +"Good morning," said Mr. Carteret, hoarsely. + +Lord Frederic looked around and as he noticed Mr. Carteret's morning +clothes his face showed surprise. + +"Hello!" he said, "you had better hurry and change, or you will be late. +We have to start in half an hour to meet Grady." + +Mr. Carteret coughed. "I don't think that I can go out to-day. It is a +great disappointment." + +"Not going hunting?" exclaimed Mrs. Ascott-Smith. "What is the matter?" + +"I have a bad cold," said Mr. Carteret miserably. + +"But, my dear fellow," exclaimed Lord Frederic, "it will do your cold a +world of good!" + +"Not a cold like mine," said Mr. Carteret. + +"But this is the day, don't you know?" said Lord Frederic. "How am I +going to manage things without you?" + +"All that you have to do is to meet them at the station and take them to +the meet," said Mr. Carteret. "Everything else has been arranged." + +"But I'm awfully disappointed," said Lord Frederic. "I had counted on +you to help, don't you see, and introduce them to Ploversdale. It would +be more graceful for an American to do it than for me. You understand?" + +"Yes," said Mr. Carteret, "I understand. It's a great disappointment, +but I must bear it philosophically." + +Mrs. Ascott-Smith looked at him sympathetically, and he coughed twice. +"You are suffering," she said. "Lord Frederic, you really must not urge +him to expose himself. Have you a pain here?" she inquired, touching +herself in the region of the pleura. + +"Yes," said Mr. Carteret, "it is rather bad, but I daresay that it will +soon be better." + +"I am afraid that it may be pneumonia," said his hostess. "You must take +a medicine that I have. They say that it is quite wonderful for +inflammatory colds. I'll send Hodgson for it," and she touched the bell. + +"Please, please don't take that trouble," entreated Mr. Carteret. + +"But you must take it," said Mrs. Ascott-Smith. "They call it +Broncholine. You pour it in a tin and inhale it or swallow it, I forget +which, but it's very efficacious. They used it on Teddy's pony when it +was sick. The little creature died but that was because they gave it too +much, or not enough, I forget which." + +Hodgson appeared and Mrs. Ascott-Smith gave directions about the +Broncholine. + +"I thank you very much," said Mr. Carteret humbly. "I'll go to my room +and try it at once." + +"That's a good chap!" said Lord Frederic, "perhaps you will feel so much +better that you can join us. + +"Perhaps," said Mr. Carteret gloomily, "or it may work as it did on the +pony." And he left the room. + +After Hodgson had departed from his chamber leaving explicit directions +as to how and how not to use the excellent Broncholine, Mr. Carteret +poured a quantity of it from the bottle and threw it out of the window +resolving to be on the safe side. Then he looked at his boots and his +pink coat and white leathers which were laid out upon a chair. "I don't +think there can be any danger," he thought, "if I turn up after they +have started. I loathe stopping in all day." He dressed leisurely, +ordered his horse, and some time after the rest of the household had +sallied forth, he followed. As he knew the country and the coverts which +Lord Ploversdale would draw, he counted on joining the tail of the hunt, +thus keeping out of sight. He inquired of a rustic if he had seen hounds +pass and receiving "no," for an answer he jogged on at a faster trot, +fearing that the hounds might have gone away in some other direction. As +he came around a bend in the road, he saw four women riding toward him, +and as they drew near, he saw that it was Lady Violet Weatherbone and +her three daughters. These young ladies were known as the Three +Guardsmen, a sobriquet not wholly inappropriate; for, as Lord Frederic +described them, they were "uncommon big boned, upstanding fillies," +between twenty-five and thirty and very hard goers across any country, +and always together. + +"Good morning," said Mr. Carteret, bowing. "I suppose the hounds are +close by?" It was a natural assumption, as Lady Violet on hunting days +was never very far from the hounds. + +"I do not know," she responded, and her tone further implied that she +did not care. + +Mr. Carteret hesitated a moment. "Has anything happened?" he asked. + +"Yes," said Lady Violet frankly, "something has happened." Here the +daughters modestly turned their horses away. + +"Some one," continued Lady Violet, "brought savages to the meet." She +paused impressively. + +"Not really!" said Mr. Carteret with hypocritical surprise. + +"Yes," said Lady Violet, "and while it would have mattered little to me, +it was impossible--" She motioned with her head toward the three +maidens, and paused. + +"Forgive me," said Mr. Carteret, "but I hardly understand." + +"At the first I thought," said Lady Violet, "that they were attired in +painted fleshings, but upon using my glass, it was clear that I was +mistaken. Otherwise, I should have brought them away at the first +moment." + +"I see," said Mr. Carteret. "It is outrageous." + +"It is indeed!" said Lady Violet; "but the matter will not be allowed to +drop. They were brought to the meet by that young profligate, Lord +Frederic Westcote." + +"You surprise me," said Mr. Carteret, wholly without shame. He bowed, +started his horse, and jogged along for five minutes, then he turned to +the right upon a crossroad and suddenly found himself upon the hounds. +They were feathering excitedly about the mouth of a tile drain into +which the fox had evidently gone. No master, huntsmen nor whips were in +sight, but sitting, wet and mud daubed, upon horses dripping with muddy +water were Grady dressed in cowboy costume and three naked Indians. Mr. +Carteret glanced about over the country and understood. They had swum +the brook at the place where it ran between steep clay banks and the +rest of the field had gone around to the bridge. As he looked toward the +south, he saw Lord Ploversdale riding furiously toward him followed by +Smith, the first whip. Grady had not recognized him turned out in pink +as he was, and for the moment he decided to remain incognito. + +Before Lord Ploversdale, Master of Fox-hounds, reached the road, he +began waving his crop. He appeared excited. "What do you mean by riding +upon my hounds?" he shouted. He said this in several ways with various +accompanying phrases, but neither the Indians nor Grady seemed to notice +him. It occurred to Mr. Carteret that although Lord Ploversdale's power +of expression was wonderful for England, it, nevertheless, fell short of +Arizona standards. Then, however, he noticed that Grady was absorbed in +adjusting a kodak camera, with which he was evidently about to take a +picture of the Indians alone with the hounds. He drew back in order both +to avoid being in the field of the picture and to avoid too close +proximity with Lord Ploversdale as he came over the fence into the road. + +"What do you mean, sir!" shouted the enraged Master of Fox-hounds, as he +pulled up his horse. + +"A little more in the middle," replied Grady, still absorbed in taking +the picture. + +Lord Ploversdale hesitated. He was speechless with surprise for the +moment. + +Grady pressed the button and began putting up the machine. + +"What do you mean by riding on my hounds, you and these persons?" +demanded Lord Ploversdale. + +"We didn't," said Grady amiably, "but if your bunch of dogs don't know +enough to keep out of the way of a horse, they ought to learn." + +Lord Ploversdale looked aghast, and Smith, the whip, pinched himself to +make sure that he was not dreaming. + +"Many thanks for your advice," said Lord Ploversdale. "May I inquire who +you and your friends may be?" + +"I'm James Grady," said that gentleman. "This," he said, pointing to the +Indian nearest, "is Chief Hole-in-the-Ground of the Olgallala Sioux. Him +in the middle is Mr. Jim Snake, and the one beyond is Chief Skytail, +being a Pawnee." + +"Thank you, that is very interesting," said Lord Ploversdale, with +polite irony. "Now will you kindly take them home?" + +"See here," said Grady, strapping the camera to his saddle, "I was +invited to this round-up regular, and if you hand me out any more +hostile talk--" He paused. + +"Who invited you?" inquired Lord Ploversdale. + +"One of your own bunch," said Grady, "Lord Frederic Westcote. I'm no +butter-in." + +"Your language is unintelligible," said Lord Ploversdale. "Where is Lord +Westcote?" + +Mr. Carteret had watched the field approaching as fast as whip and spur +could drive them, and in the first flight he noticed Lord Frederic and +the Major. For this reason he still hesitated about thrusting himself +into the discussion. It seemed that the interference of a third party +could only complicate matters, inasmuch as Lord Frederic would so soon +be upon the spot. + +Lord Ploversdale looked across the field impatiently. "I've no doubt, my +good fellow, that Lord Westcote brought you here, and I'll see him about +it, but kindly take these fellows home. They'll kill all my hounds." + +"Now you're beginning to talk reasonable," said Grady. "I'll discuss +with you." + +The words were hardly out of his mouth before the hounds gave tongue +riotously and went off. The fox had slipped out of the other end of the +drain and old Archer had found the line. + +As if shot out of a gun the three Indians dashed at the stake and bound +fence on the farther side of the road, joyously using their heavy quirts +on the Major's thoroughbreds. Skytail's horse being hurried top much, +blundered his take-off, hit above the knees and rolled over on the +Chief, who was sitting tight. There was a stifled grunt and then the +Pawnee word "Go-dam!" + +Hole-in-the-Ground looked back and laughed one of the few laughs of his +life. It was a joke which he could understand. Then he used the quirt +again to make the most of his advantage. + +"That one is finished," said Lord Ploversdale gratefully. But as the +words were in his mouth, Skytail rose with his horse, vaulted up and was +away. + +The M. F. H. followed over the hedge shouting at Smith to whip off the +hounds. But the hounds were going too fast. They had got a view of the +fox and three whooping horsemen were behind them driving them on. + +The first flight of the field followed the M. F. H. out of the road, and +so did Mr. Carteret, and presently he found himself riding between Lord +Frederic and the Major. They were both a bit winded and had evidently +come fast. + +"I say," exclaimed Lord Frederic, "where did you come from?" + +"I was cured by the Broncholine," said Mr. Carteret. + +"Is your horse fresh?" asked Lord Frederic. + +"Yes," replied Mr. Carteret, "I happened upon them at the road." + +"Then go after that man Grady," said Lord Frederic, "and implore him to +take those beggars home. They have been riding on the hounds for twenty +minutes." + +"Were they able," asked Mr. Carteret, "to stay with their horses at the +fences?" + +"Stay with their horses!" puffed the Major. + +"Go on, like a good chap," said Lord Frederic, "stop that fellow or I +shall be expelled from the hunt. Was Lord Ploversdale vexed?" he added. + +"I should judge by his language," said Mr. Carteret, "that he was +vexed." + +"Hurry on," said Lord Frederic. "Put your spurs in." + +Mr. Carteret gave his horse its head and he shot to the front, but Grady +was nearly a field in the lead, and it promised to be a long chase, as +he was on the Major's black thoroughbred. The cowboy rode along with a +loose rein and an easy balance seat. At his fences he swung his hat and +cheered. He seemed to be enjoying himself, and Mr. Carteret was anxious +lest he might begin to shoot for pure delight. Such a demonstration +would have been misconstrued. Nearly two hundred yards ahead at the +heels of the pack galloped the Indians, and in the middle distance +between them and Grady rode Lord Ploversdale and Smith vainly trying to +overtake the hounds and whip them off. Behind and trailing over a mile +or more came the field and the rest of the hunt servants in little +groups, all awestruck at what had happened. It was unspeakable that Lord +Ploversdale's hounds, which had been hunted by his father and his +grandfather, should be so scandalized. + +Mr. Carteret finally got within a length of Grady and hailed him. + +"Hello, Carty," said Grady, "glad to see you. I thought you was sick. +What can I do? They've stampeded. But it's a great ad. for the show, +isn't it? There's four reporters that I brought along." + +"Forget about the show," said Mr. Carteret. "This isn't any laughing +matter. It's one of the smartest packs in England. You don't +understand." + +"It will make all the better story in the papers," said Grady. + +"No it won't," said Mr. Carteret. "They won't print it. It's like a +blasphemy upon the Church." + +"Whoop!" yelled Grady, as they tore through a bullfinch. + +"Call them off," said Mr. Carteret, straightening his hat. + +"But I can't catch 'em," said Grady, and that was the truth. + +Lord Ploversdale, however, had been gaining on the Indians, and by the +way in which he clubbed his heavy crop, loaded at the butt, it was +apparent that he meant to put an end to the proceedings if he could. + +Just then the hounds swept over the crest of a green hill, and as they +went down the other side they viewed the fox in the field beyond. He was +in distress, and it looked as if the pack would kill in the open. They +were running wonderfully together, a blanket would have covered them, +and in the natural glow of pride which came over the M. F. H., he +loosened his grip upon the crop. But as the hounds viewed the fox, so +did the three sons of the wilderness who were following close behind. +From the hill-top fifty of the hardest going men in England saw +Hole-in-the-Ground flogging his horse with the heavy quirt which hung +from his wrist. The outraged British hunter shot forward scattering +hounds to right and left, flew a ditch and hedge and was close on the +fox, who had stopped to make a last stand. Without drawing rein, the +astonished onlookers saw the lean Indian suddenly disappear under the +neck of his horse and almost instantly swing back into his seat waving a +brown thing above his head. Hole-in-the-Ground had caught the fox. + +"Most unprecedented!" Mr. Carteret heard the Major exclaim. He pulled up +his horse, as the field did with theirs, and waited apprehensively. He +saw Hole-in-the-Ground circle around, jerk the Major's five hundred +guinea hunter to a standstill close to Lord Ploversdale and address him. +He was speaking in his own language. + +As the Chief went on, he saw Grady smile. + +"He says," says Grady, translating, "that the white chief can eat the +fox if he wants him. He's proud himself, bein' packed with store grub." + +The English onlookers heard and beheld with blank faces. It was beyond +them. + +The M. F. H. bowed stiffly as Hole-in-the-Ground's offer was made known +to him. He regarded them a moment in thought. A vague light was breaking +in upon him. "Aw, thank you," he said. "Smith, take the fox. Good +afternoon!" + +Then he wheeled his horse, called the hounds in with his horn and +trotted out to the road that led to the kennels. Lord Ploversdale, +though he had never been out of England, was cast in a large mold. + +The three Indians sat on their panting horses, motionless, stolidly +facing the curious gaze of the crowd; or rather they looked through the +crowd, as the lion, with the high breeding of the desert, looks through +and beyond the faces that stare and gape before the bars of his cage. + +"Most amazing! Most amazing!" muttered the Major. + +"It is," said Mr. Carteret, "if you have never been away from this." He +made a sweeping gesture over the restricted English scenery, pampered +and brought up by hand. + +"Been away from this?" repeated the Major. "I don't understand." + +Mr. Carteret turned to him. How could he explain it? + +"With us," he began, laying an emphasis on the "us." Then he stopped. +"Look into their eyes," he said hopelessly. + +The Major looked at him blankly. How could he, Major Hammerslea, know +what those inexplicable dark eyes saw beyond the fenced tillage--the +brown, bare, illimitable range under the noonday sun, the evening light +on far, silent mountains, the starlit desert! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[6] Copyright, 1905, by the Metropolitan Magazine Company. + + + + +A BOSTON BALLAD + +BY WALT WHITMAN + + + To get betimes in Boston town, I rose this morning early; + Here's a good place at the corner--I must stand and see the show. + + Clear the way there, Jonathan! + Way for the President's marshal! Way for the government cannon! + Way for the Federal foot and dragoons--and the apparitions copiously + tumbling. + + I love to look on the stars and stripes--I hope the fifes will play + Yankee Doodle. + + How bright shine the cutlasses of the foremost troops! + Every man holds his revolver, marching stiff through Boston town. + + A fog follows--antiques of the same come limping, + Some appear wooden-legged, and some appear bandaged and bloodless. + + Why this is indeed a show! It has called the dead out of the earth! + The old grave-yards of the hills have hurried to see! + Phantoms! phantoms countless by flank and rear! + Cocked hats of mothy mould! crutches made of mist! + Arms in slings! old men leaning on young men's shoulders! + + What troubles you, Yankee phantoms? What is all this chattering of + bare gums? + Does the ague convulse your limbs? Do you mistake your crutches for + fire-locks, and level them? + If you blind your eyes with tears, you will not see the President's + marshal; + If you groan such groans, you might balk the government cannon. + + For shame, old maniacs! Bring down those tossed arms, and let your + white hair be; + Here gape your great grand-sons--their wives gaze at them from the + windows, + See how well dressed--see how orderly they conduct themselves. + + Worse and worse! Can't you stand it? Are you retreating? + Is this hour with the living too dead for you? + + Retreat then! Pell-mell! + To your graves! Back! back to the hills, old limpers! + I do not think you belong here, anyhow. + + But there is one thing that belongs here--shall I tell you what it is, + gentlemen of Boston? + + I will whisper it to the Mayor--he shall send a committee to England; + They shall get a grant from the Parliament, go with a cart to the + royal vault--haste! + Dig out King George's coffin, unwrap him quick from the grave-clothes, + box up his bones for a journey; + + Find a swift Yankee clipper--here is freight for you, black-bellied + clipper, + Up with your anchor! shake out your sails! steer straight toward + Boston bay. + + Now call for the President's marshal again, bring put the government + cannon, + Fetch home the roarers from Congress, make another procession, guard + it with foot and dragoons. + + This centre-piece for them: + Look! all orderly citizens--look from the windows, women! + + The committee open the box, set up the regal ribs, glue those that + will not stay, + Clap the skull on top of the ribs, and clap a crown on top of the + skull. + You have got your revenge, old buster! The crown is come to its own, + and more than its own. + + Stick your hands in your pockets, Jonathan--you are a made man from + this day; + You are mighty cute--and here is one of your bargains. + + + + +THE CHIEF MATE + +BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL + + +My first glimpse of Europe was the shore of Spain. Since we got into the +Mediterranean, we have been becalmed for some days within easy view of +it. All along are fine mountains, brown all day, and with a bloom on +them at sunset like that of a ripe plum. Here and there at their feet +little white towns are sprinkled along the edge of the water, like the +grains of rice dropped by the princess in the story. Sometimes we see +larger buildings on the mountain slopes, probably convents. I sit and +wonder whether the farther peaks may not be the Sierra Morena (the rusty +saw) of Don Quixote. I resolve that they shall be, and am content. +Surely latitude and longitude never showed me any particular respect, +that I should be over-scrupulous with them. + +But after all, Nature, though she may be more beautiful, is nowhere so +entertaining as in man, and the best thing I have seen and learned at +sea is our Chief Mate. My first acquaintance with him was made over my +knife, which he asked to look at, and, after a critical examination, +handed back to me, saying, "I shouldn't wonder if that 'ere was a good +piece o' stuff." Since then he has transferred a part of his regard for +my knife to its owner. I like folks who like an honest bit of steel, and +take no interest whatever in "your Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff." +There is always more than the average human nature in the man who has a +hearty sympathy with iron. It is a manly metal, with no sordid +associations like gold and silver. My sailor fully came up to my +expectation on further acquaintance. He might well be called an old salt +who had been wrecked on Spitzbergen before I was born. He was not an +American, but I should never have guessed it by his speech, which was +the purest Cape Cod, and I reckon myself a good taster of dialects. Nor +was he less Americanized in all his thoughts and feelings, a singular +proof of the ease with which our omnivorous country assimilates foreign +matter, provided it be Protestant, for he was a man ere he became an +American citizen. He used to walk the deck with his hands in his +pockets, in seeming abstraction, but nothing escaped his eyes. _How_ he +saw I could never make out, though I had a theory that it was with his +elbows. After he had taken me (or my knife) into his confidence, he took +care that I should see whatever he deemed of interest to a landsman. +Without looking up, he would say, suddenly, "There's a whale blowin' +clearn up to win'ard," or, "Them's porpises to leeward: that means +change o' wind." He is as impervious to cold as a polar bear, and paces +the deck during his watch much as one of those yellow hummocks goes +slumping up and down his cage. On the Atlantic, if the wind blew a gale +from the northeast, and it was cold as an English summer, he was sure to +turn out in a calico shirt and trousers, his furzy brown chest half +bare, and slippers, without stockings. But lest you might fancy this to +have chanced by defect of wardrobe, he comes out in a monstrous +pea-jacket here in the Mediterranean, when the evening is so hot that +Adam would have been glad to leave off his fig-leaves. "It's a kind o' +damp and unwholesome in these ere waters," he says, evidently regarding +the Midland Sea as a vile standing pool, in comparison with the bluff +ocean. At meals he is superb, not only for his strengths, but his +weaknesses. He has somehow or other come to think me a wag, and if I ask +him to pass the butter, detects an occult joke, and laughs as much as is +proper for a mate. For you must know that our social hierarchy on +shipboard is precise, and the second mate, were he present, would only +laugh half as much as the first. Mr. X. always combs his hair, and works +himself into a black frock-coat (on Sundays he adds a waist-coat) before +he comes to meals, sacrificing himself nobly and painfully to the social +proprieties. The second mate, on the other hand, who eats after us, +enjoys the privilege of shirt-sleeves, and is, I think, the happier man +of the two. We do not have seats above and below the salt, as in old +time, but above and below the white sugar. Mr. X. always takes brown +sugar, and it is delightful to see how he ignores the existence of +certain delicates which he considers above his grade, tipping his head +on one side with an air of abstraction so that he may seem not to deny +himself, but to omit helping himself from inadvertence, or absence of +mind. At such times he wrinkles his forehead in a peculiar manner, +inscrutable at first as a cuneiform inscription, but as easily read +after you once get the key. The sense of it is something like this: "I, +X., know my place, a height of wisdom attained by few. Whatever you may +think, I do _not_ see that currant jelly, nor that preserved grape. +Especially a kind Providence has made me blind to bowls of white sugar, +and deaf to the pop of champagne corks. It is much that a merciful +compensation gives me a sense of the dingier hue of Havana, and the +muddier gurgle of beer. Are there potted meats? My physician has ordered +me three pounds of minced salt-junk at every meal." There is such a +thing, you know, as a ship's husband: X. is the ship's poor relation. + +As I have said, he takes also a below-the-white-sugar interest in the +jokes, laughing by precise point of compass, just as he would lay the +ship's course, all _yawing_ being out of the question with his +scrupulous decorum at the helm. Once or twice I have got the better of +him, and touched him off into a kind of compromised explosion, like that +of damp fireworks, that splutter and simmer a little, and then go out +with painful slowness and occasional relapses. But his fuse is always of +the unwillingest, and you must blow your match, and touch him off again +and again with the same joke. Or rather, you must magnetize him many +times to get him _en rapport_ with a jest. This once accomplished, you +have him, and one bit of fun will last the whole voyage. He prefers +those of one syllable, the _a-b abs_ of humor. The gradual fattening of +the steward, a benevolent mulatto with whiskers and ear-rings, who looks +as if he had been meant for a woman, and had become a man by accident, +as in some of those stories by the elder physiologists, is an abiding +topic of humorous comment with Mr. X. "That 'ere stooard," he says, with +a brown grin like what you might fancy on the face of a serious and aged +seal, "'s agittin' as fat's a porpis. He was as thin's a shingle when he +come aboord last v'yge. Them trousis'll bust yit. He don't darst take +'em off nights, for the whole ship's company couldn't git him into 'em +agin." And then he turns aside to enjoy the intensity of his emotion by +himself, and you hear at intervals low rumblings, an indigestion of +laughter. He tells me of St. Elmo's fires, Marvell's _corposants_, +though with him the original _corpos santos_ has suffered a sea change, +and turned to _comepleasants_, pledges of fine weather. I shall not soon +find a pleasanter companion. It is so delightful to meet a man who knows +just what you do _not_. Nay, I think the tired mind finds something in +plump ignorance like what the body feels in cushiony moss. Talk of the +sympathy of kindred pursuits! It is the sympathy of the upper and nether +mill-stones, both forever grinding the same grist, and wearing each +other smooth. One has not far to seek for book-nature, artist-nature, +every variety of superinduced nature, in short, but genuine human-nature +is hard to find. And how good it is! Wholesome as a potato, fit company +for any dish. The free masonry of cultivated men is agreeable, but +artificial, and I like better the natural grip with which manhood +recognizes manhood. + +X. has one good story, and with that I leave him, wishing him with all +my heart that little inland farm at last which is his calenture as he +paces the windy deck. One evening, when the clouds looked wild and +whirling, I asked X. if it was coming on to blow. "No, I guess not," +said he; "bumby the moon'll be up, and scoff away that 'ere loose +stuff." His intonation set the phrase "scoff away" in quotation-marks as +plain as print. So I put a query in each eye, and he went on. "Ther' was +a Dutch cappen onct, an' his mate come to him in the cabin, where he sot +takin' his schnapps, an' says, 'Cappen, it's agittin' thick, an' looks +kin' o' squally, hedn't we's good's shorten sail?' 'Gimmy my alminick,' +says the cappen. So he looks at it a spell, an' says he, 'The moon's due +in less'n half an hour, an' she'll scoff away ev'ythin' clare agin.' So +the mate he goes, an' bumby down he comes agin, an' says, 'Cappen, this +'ere's the allfiredest, powerfullest moon 't ever you _did_ see. She's +scoffed away the main-togallants'l, an' she's to work on the foretops'l +now. Guess you'd better look in the alminick agin, and fin' out when +_this_ moon sets.' So the cappen thought 'twas 'bout time to go on deck. +Dreadful slow them Dutch cappens be." And X. walked away, rumbling +inwardly, like the rote of the sea heard afar. + + + + +THE ROAD TO A WOMAN'S HEART + +BY SAM SLICK + + +As we approached the inn at Amherst, the Clockmaker grew uneasy. "It's +pretty well on in the evening, I guess," said he, "and Marm Pugwash is +as onsartin in her temper as a mornin' in April; it's all sunshine or +all clouds with her, and if she's in one of her tantrums she'll stretch +out her neck and hiss like a goose with a flock of goslin's. I wonder +what on airth Pugwash was a-thinkin' on when he signed articles of +partnership with that are woman; she's not a bad-lookin' piece of +furniture, neither, and it's a proper pity sich a clever woman should +carry sich a stiff upper lip. She reminds me of our old minister Joshua +Hopewell's apple-trees. + +"The old minister had an orchard of most particular good fruit, for he +was a great hand at buddin', graftin', and what not, and the orchard (it +was on the south side of the house) stretched right up to the road. +Well, there were some trees hung over the fence, I never seed such +bearers: the apples hung in ropes, for all the world like strings of +onions, and the fruit was beautiful. Nobody touched the minister's +apples, and when other folks lost their'n from the boys, his'n always +hung there like bait t' a hook, but there never was so much as a nibble +at 'em. So I said to him one day, 'Minister,' said I, 'how on airth do +you manage to keep your fruit that's so exposed, when no one else can't +do it nohow?' 'Why,' says he, 'they are dreadfully pretty fruit, ain't +they?' 'I guess,' said I, 'there ain't the like on 'em in all +Connecticut.' 'Well,' says he, 'I'll tell you the secret, but you +needn't let on to no one about it. That are row next the fence, I +grafted it myself: I took great pains to get the right kind. I sent +clean up to Roxberry and away down to Squawneck Creek.' I was afeard he +was a-goin' to give me day and date for every graft, bein' a terrible +long-winded man in his stories; so says I, 'I know that, minister, but +how do you preserve them?' 'Why, I was a-goin' to tell you,' said he, +'when you stopped me. That are outward row I grafted myself with the +choicest kind I could find, and I succeeded. They are beautiful, but so +etarnal sour, no human soul can eat them. Well, the boys think the old +minister's graftin' has all succeeded about as well as that row, and +they sarch no further. They snicker at my graftin', and I laugh in my +sleeve, I guess, at their penetration.' + +"Now, Marm Pugwash is like the minister's apples, very temptin' fruit to +look at, but desperate sour. If Pugwash had a watery mouth when he +married, I guess it's pretty puckery by this time. However, if she goes +to act ugly, I'll give her a dose of 'soft sawder' that will take the +frown out of her frontispiece and make her dial-plate as smooth as a +lick of copal varnish. It's a pity she's such a kickin' devil, too, for +she has good points,--good eye, good foot, neat pastern, fine chest, a +clean set of limbs, and carries a good--But here we are. Now you'll see +what 'soft sawder' will do." + +When we entered the house, the travelers' room was all in darkness, and +on opening the opposite door into the sitting-room we found the female +part of the family extinguishing the fire for the night. Mrs. Pugwash +had a broom in her hand, and was in the act (the last act of female +housewifery) of sweeping the hearth. The strong flickering light of the +fire, as it fell upon her tall, fine figure and beautiful face, +revealed a creature worthy of the Clockmaker's comments. + +"Good evening, marm," said Mr. Slick. "How do you do? and how's Mr. +Pugwash?" "He!" said she: "why, he's been abed this hour. You don't +expect to disturb him this time of night, I hope?" "Oh, no," said Mr. +Slick, "certainly not, and I am sorry to have disturbed you, but we got +detained longer than we expected; I am sorry that--" "So am I," said +she, "but if Mr. Pugwash will keep an inn when he has no occasion to, +his family can't expect no rest." + +Here the Clockmaker, seeing the storm gathering, stooped down suddenly, +and, staring intently, held out his hand and exclaimed: "Well, if that +ain't a beautiful child! Come here, my little man, and shake hands along +with me. Well, I declare, if that are little feller ain't the finest +child I ever seed. What, not abed yet? Ah, you rogue, where did you get +them are pretty rosy cheeks? Stole them from mama, eh? Well, I wish my +old mother could see that child, it is such a treat. In our country," +said he, turning to me, "the children are all as pale as chalk or as +yaller as an orange. Lord! that are little feller would be a show in our +country. Come to me, my man." Here the "soft sawder" began to operate. +Mrs. Pugwash said, in a milder tone than we had yet heard, "Go, my dear, +to the gentleman; go, dear." Mr. Slick kissed him, asked him if he would +go to the States along with him, told him all the little girls would +fall in love with him, for they didn't see such a beautiful face once in +a month of Sundays. "Black eyes,--let me see,--ah, mama's eyes, too, and +black hair also; as I am alive, you are mama's own boy, the very image +of mama." "Do be seated, gentlemen," said Mrs. Pugwash. "Sally, make a +fire in the next room." "She ought to be proud of you," he continued. +"Well, if I live to return here, I must paint your face, and have it put +on my clocks, and our folks will buy the clocks for the sake of the +face. Did you ever see," said he, again addressing me, "such a likeness +between one human and another, as between this beautiful little boy and +his mother?" "I am sure you have had no supper," said Mrs. Pugwash to +me; "you must be hungry, and weary, too. I will get you a cup of tea." +"I am sorry to give you so much trouble," said I. "Not the least trouble +in the world," she replied; "on the contrary, a pleasure." + +We were then shown into the next room, where the fire was now blazing +up, but Mr. Slick protested he could not proceed without the little boy, +and lingered behind to ascertain his age, and concluded by asking the +child if he had any aunts that looked like mama. + +As the door closed Mr. Slick said, "It's a pity she don't go well in +gear. The difficulty with those critters is to git them to start: arter +that there is no trouble with them, if you don't check 'em too short. If +you do they'll stop again, run back and kick like mad, and then Old Nick +himself wouldn't start 'em. Pugwash, I guess, don't understand the +natur' of the crittur; she'll never go kind in harness for him. _When I +see a child_," said the Clockmaker, "_I always feel safe with these +women-folk; for I have always found that the road to a woman's heart +lies through her child_." + +"You seem," said I, "to understand the female heart so well, I make no +doubt you are a general favorite among the fair sex." "Any man," he +replied, "that understands horses has a pretty considerable fair +knowledge of women, for they are jist alike in temper, and require the +very identical same treatment. _Encourage the timid ones, be gentle and +steady with the fractious, but lather the sulky ones like blazes._ + +"People talk an everlastin' sight of nonsense about wine, women and +horses. I've bought and sold 'em all, I've traded in all of them, and I +tell you there ain't one in a thousand that knows a grain about either +on 'em. You hear folks say, Oh, such a man is an ugly-grained critter, +he'll break his wife's heart; jist as if a woman's heart was as brittle +as a pipe-stalk. The female heart, as far as my experience goes, is jist +like a new india-rubber shoe: you may pull and pull at it till it +stretches out a yard long, and then let go, and it will fly right back +to its old shape. Their hearts are made of stout leather, I tell you; +there's a plaguy sight of wear in 'em. + +"I never knowed but one case of a broken heart, and that was in t'other +sex, one Washington Banks. He was a sneezer. He was tall enough to spit +down on the heads of your grenadiers, and near about high enough to wade +across Charlestown River, and as strong as a tow-boat. I guess he was +somewhat less than a foot longer than the moral law and catechism, too. +He was a perfect pictur' of a man; you couldn't fault him in no +particular, he was so just a made critter; folks used to run to the +winder when he passed, and say, 'There goes Washington Banks; beant he +lovely!' I do believe there wasn't a gal in the Lowell factories that +warn't in love with him. Sometimes, at intermission, on Sabbath-days, +when they all came out together (an amazin' handsom' sight, too, near +about a whole congregation of young gals), Banks used to say, 'I vow, +young ladies, I wish I had five hundred arms to reciprocate one with +each of you; but I reckon I have a heart big enough for you all; it's a +whopper, you may depend, and every mite and morsel of it at your +service.' 'Well, how you do act, Mr. Banks!' half a thousand little +clipper-clapper tongues would say, all at the same time, and their dear +little eyes sparklin' like so many stars twinklin' of a frosty night. + +"Well, when I last seed him he was all skin and bone, like a horse +turned out to die. He was teetotally defleshed, a mere walkin' skeleton. +'I am dreadful sorry,' says I, 'to see you, Banks, lookin' so peaked. +Why, you look like a sick turkey-hen, all legs! What on airth ails you?' +'I'm dyin', says he, '_of a broken heart_.' 'What!' I says I, 'have the +gals been jiltin' you?' 'No, no,' says he; 'I beant such a fool as that, +neither.' 'Well,' says I, 'have you made a bad speculation?' 'No,' says +he, shakin' his head, 'I hope I have too much clear grit in me to take +on so bad for that.' 'What under the sun is it, then?' said I. 'Why,' +says he, 'I made a bet the fore part of the summer with Leftenant Oby +Knowles that I could shoulder the best bower of the Constitution +frigate. I won my bet, _but the anchor was so etarnal heavy that it +broke my heart_.' Sure enough, he did die that very fall; and he was the +only instance I ever heard tell of a _broken heart_." + + + + +ICARUS + +BY JOHN G. SAXE + +I + + + All modern themes of poesy are spun so very fine, + That now the most amusing muse, _e gratia_, such as mine, + Is often forced to cut the thread that strings our recent rhymes, + And try the stronger staple of the good old classic times. + + +II + + There lived and flourished long ago, in famous Athens town, + One _Daedalus_, a carpenter of genius and renown; + ('Twas he who with an _auger_ taught mechanics how to _bore_,-- + An art which the philosophers monopolized before.) + + +III + + His only son was _Icarus_, a most precocious lad, + The pride of Mrs. Daedalus, the image of his dad; + And while he yet was in his teens such progress he had made, + He'd got above his father's size, and much above his trade. + + +IV + + Now _Daedalus_, the carpenter, had made a pair of wings, + Contrived of wood and feathers and a cunning set of springs, + By means of which the wearer could ascend to any height, + And sail about among the clouds as easy as a kite! + + +V + + "O father," said young _Icarus_, "how I should like to fly! + And go like you where all is blue along the upper sky; + How very charming it would be above the moon to climb, + And scamper through the Zodiac, and have a high old time! + + +VI + + "Oh wouldn't it be jolly, though,--to stop at all the inns; + To take a luncheon at 'The Crab,' and tipple at 'The Twins'; + And, just for fun and fancy, while careering through the air, + To kiss the _Virgin_, tease the _Ram_, and bait the biggest _Bear_? + + +VII + + "O father, please to let me go!" was still the urchin's cry; + "I'll be extremely careful, sir, and won't go _very_ high; + Oh if this little pleasure-trip you only will allow, + I promise to be back again in time to fetch the cow!" + + +VIII + + "You're rather young," said Daedalus, "to tempt the upper air; + But take the wings, and mind your eye with very special care; + And keep at least a thousand miles below the nearest star; + Young lads, when out upon a lark, are apt to go too far!" + + +IX + + He took the wings--that foolish boy--without the least dismay; + His father stuck 'em on with wax, and so he soared away; + Up, up he rises, like a bird, and not a moment stops + Until he's fairly out of sight beyond the mountain-tops! + + +X + + And still he flies--away--away; it seems the merest fun; + No marvel he is getting bold, and aiming at the sun; + No marvel he forgets his sire; it isn't very odd + That one so far above the earth should think himself a god! + + +XI + + Already, in his silly pride, he's gone too far aloft; + The heat begins to scorch his wings; the wax is waxing soft; + Down--down he goes!--Alas!--next day poor Icarus was found + Afloat upon the AEgean Sea, extremely damp and drowned! + + +L'ENVOI + + The moral of this mournful tale is plain enough to all:-- + Don't get above your proper sphere, or you may chance to fall; + Remember, too, that borrowed plumes are most uncertain things; + And never try to scale the sky with other people's wings! + + + + +VIVE LA BAGATELLE + +("_Swift's Cheerful Creed_") + +BY CLINTON SCOLLARD + + + A bumper to the jolly Dean + Who, in "Augustan" times, + Made merriment for fat and lean + In jocund prose and rhymes! + Ah, but he drove a pranksome quill! + With quips he wove a spell; + His creed--he cried it with a will-- + Was "_Vive la bagatelle!_" + + Oh, there were reckless jesters then! + And when a man was hit, + He quick returned the stroke again + With trenchant blade of wit. + 'Twas parry, thrust, and counter-thrust + That round the board befell; + They quaffed the wine and crunched the crust + With "_Vive la bagatelle!_" + + How rang the genial laugh of Gay + At Pope's defiant ire! + How Parnell's sallies brought in play + The rapier wit of Prior! + And how o'er all the banter's shift-- + The laughter's fall and swell-- + Upleaped the great guffaw of Swift, + With "_Vive la bagatelle!_" + + O moralist, frown not so dark, + Purse not thy lip severe; + 'T will warm the heart if ye but hark + The mirth of "yester year." + To-day we wear too grave a face; + We slave,--we buy and sell; + Forget a while mad Mammon's race + In "_Vive la bagatelle!_" + + + + +A STACCATO TO O LE LUPE + +BY BLISS CARMAN + + + O Le Lupe, Gelett Burgess, this is very sad to find: + In _The Bookman_ for September, in a manner most unkind, + There appears a half-page picture, makes me think I've lost my mind. + + They have reproduced a window,--Doxey's window,--(I dare say + In your rambles you have seen it, passed it twenty times a day,) + As "A Novel Exhibition of Examples of Decay." + + There is Nordau we all sneer at, and Verlaine we all adore, + And a little book of verses with its betters by the score, + With three faces on the cover I believe I've seen before. + + Well, here's matter for reflection, makes me wonder where I am. + Here is Ibsen the gray lion, linked to Beardsley the black lamb. + I was never out of Boston: all that I can say is, "Damn!" + + Who could think, in two short summers we should cause so much remark, + With no purpose but our pastime, and to make the public hark, + When I soloed on _The Chap-Book_, and you answered with _The Lark_! + + Do young people take much pleasure when they read that sort of thing? + "Well, they buy it," answered Doxey, "and I take what it will bring. + Publishers may dread extinction--not with such fads on the string. + + "There is always sale for something, and demand for what is new. + These young men who are so restless, and have nothing else to do, + Like to think there is 'a movement,' just to keep themselves in view. + + "There is nothing in Decadence but the magic of a name. + People talk and papers drivel, scent a vice, and hint a shame; + And all that is good for business, helps to boom my little game." + + But when I sit down to reason, think to stand upon my nerve, + Meditate on portly leisure with a balance in reserve, + In he comes with his "Decadence!" like a fly in my preserve. + + I can see myself, O Burgess, half a century from now, + Laid to rest among the ghostly, like a broken toy somehow, + All my lovely songs and ballads vanished with your "Purple Cow." + + But I will return some morning, though I know it will be hard, + To Cornhill among the bookstalls, and surprise some minor bard, + Turning over their old rubbish for the treasures we discard. + + I shall warn him like a critic, creeping when his back is turned, + "Ink and paper, dead and done with; Doxey spent what Doxey earned; + Poems doubtless are immortal, where a poem can be discerned!" + + How his face will go to ashes, when he feels his empty purse! + How he'll wish his vogue were greater; plume himself it is no worse; + Then go bother the dear public with his puny little verse! + + Don't I know how he will pose it; patronize our larger time; + "Poor old Browning; little Kipling; what attempts they made to rhyme!" + Just let me have half an hour with the nincompoop sublime! + + I will haunt him like a purpose, I will ghost him like a fear; + When he least expects my presence, I'll be mumbling in his ear, + "O Le Lupe lived in Frisco, and I lived in Boston here. + + "Never heard of us? Good heavens, can you never have been told + Of the _Larks_ we used to publish, and the _Chap-Books_ that we sold? + Where are all our first edition?" I feel damp and full of mould. + + + + +A GUEST AT THE LUDLOW + +BY BILL NYE + + +We are stopping quietly here, taking our meals in our rooms mostly, and +going out very little indeed. When I say we, I use the term editorially. + +We notice first of all the great contrast between this and other hotels, +and in several instances this one is superior. In the first place, there +is a sense of absolute security when one goes to sleep here that can not +be felt at a popular hotel, where burglars secrete themselves in the +wardrobe during the day and steal one's pantaloons and contents at +night. This is one of the compensations of life in prison. + +Here the burglars go to bed at the hour that the rest of us do. We all +retire at the same time, and a murderer can not sit up any later at +night than the smaller or unknown criminal can. + +You can get to Ludlow Street Jail by taking the Second avenue Elevated +train to Grand street, and then going east two blocks, or you can fire a +shotgun into a Sabbath-school. + +You can pay five cents to the Elevated Railroad and get here, or you can +put some other man's nickel in your own slot and come here with an +attendant. + +William Marcy Tweed was the contractor of Ludlow Street Jail, and here +also he died. He was the son of a poor chair-maker, and was born April +3, 1823. From the chair business in 1853 to congress was the first false +step. Exhilarated by the delirium of official life, and the false joys +of franking his linen home every week, and having cake and preserves +franked back to him at Washington, he resolved to still further taste +the delights of office, and in 1857 we find him as a school +commissioner. + +In 1860 he became Grand Sachem of the Tammany Society, an association at +that time more purely political than politically pure. As president of +the board of supervisors, head of the department of public works, state +senator, and Grand Sachem of Tammany, Tweed had a large and seductive +influence over the city and state. The story of how he earned a scanty +livelihood by stealing a million of dollars at a pop, and thus, with the +most rigid economy, scraped together $20,000,000 in a few years by +patient industry and smoking plug tobacco, has been frequently told. + +Tweed was once placed here in Ludlow Street Jail in default of +$3,000,000 bail. How few there are of us who could slap up that amount +of bail if rudely gobbled on the street by the hand of the law. While +riding out with the sheriff, in 1875, Tweed asked to see his wife, and +said he would be back in a minute. + +He came back by way of Spain, in the fall of '76, looking much improved. +But the malaria and dissipation of Blackwell's Island afterward impaired +his health, and having done time there, and having been arrested +afterward and placed in Ludlow Street Jail, he died here April 12, 1878, +leaving behind him a large, vain world, and an equally vain judgment for +$6,537,117.38, to which he said he would give his attention as soon as +he could get a paving contract in the sweet ultimately. + +From the exterior Ludlow Street Jail looks somewhat like a conservatory +of music, but as soon as one enters he readily discovers his mistake. +The structure has 100 feet frontage, and a court, which is sometimes +called the court of last resort. The guest can climb out of this court +by ascending a polished brick wall about 100 feet high, and then letting +himself down in a similar way on the Ludlow street side. + +That one thing is doing a great deal toward keeping quite a number of +people here who would otherwise, I think, go away. + +James D. Fish and Ferdinand Ward both remained here prior to their +escape to Sing Sing. Red Leary, also, made his escape from this point, +but did not succeed in reaching the penitentiary. Forty thousand +prisoners have been confined in Ludlow Street Jail, mostly for civil +offenses. A man in New York runs a very short career if he tries to be +offensively civil. + +As you enter Ludlow Street Jail the door is carefully closed after you, +and locked by means of an iron lock about the size of a pictorial family +Bible. You then remain on the inside for quite a spell. You do not hear +the prattle of soiled children any more. All the glad sunlight, and +stench-condensing pavements, and the dark-haired inhabitants of +Rivington street, are seen no longer, and the heavy iron storm-door +shuts out the wail of the combat from the alley near by. Ludlow Street +Jail may be surrounded by a very miserable and dirty quarter of the +city, but when you get inside all is changed. + +You register first. There is a good pen there that you can write with, +and the clerk does not chew tolu and read a sporting paper while you +wait for a room. He is there to attend to business, and he attends to +it. He does not seem to care whether you have any baggage or not. You +can stay here for days, even if you don't have any baggage. All you need +is a kind word and a mittimus from the court. + +One enters this sanitarium either as a boarder or a felon. If you decide +to come in as a boarder, you pay the warden $15 a week for the privilege +of sitting at his table and eating the luxuries of the market. You also +get a better room than at many hotels, and you have a good strong door, +with a padlock on it, which enables you to prevent the sudden and +unlooked-for entrance of the chambermaid. It is a good-sized room, with +a wonderful amount of seclusion, a plain bed, table, chairs, carpet and +so forth. After a few weeks at the seaside, at $19 per day, I think the +room in which I am writing is not unreasonable at $2. + +Still, of course, we miss the sea breeze. + +You can pay $50 to $100 per week here if you wish, and get your money's +worth, too. For the latter sum one may live in the bridal chamber, so to +speak, and eat the very best food all the time. + +Heavy iron bars keep the mosquitoes out, and at night the house is +brilliantly lighted by incandescent lights of one-candle power each. +Neat snuffers, consisting of the thumb and forefinger polished on the +hair, are to be found in each occupied room. + +Bread is served to the Freshmen and Juniors in rectangular wads. It is +such bread as convicts' tears have moistened many thousand years. In +that way it gets quite moist. + +The most painful feature about life in Ludlow Street Jail is the +confinement. One can not avoid a feeling of being constantly hampered +and hemmed in. + +One more disagreeable thing is the great social distinction here. The +poor man who sleeps in a stone niche near the roof, and who is +constantly elbowed and hustled out of his bed by earnest and restless +vermin with a tendency toward insomnia, is harassed by meeting in the +court-yard and corridors the paying boarders who wear good clothes, live +well, have their cigars, brandy and Kentucky Sec all the time. + +The McAllister crowd here is just as exclusive as it is on the outside. + +But, great Scott! what a comfort it is to a man like me, who has been +nearly killed by a cyclone, to feel the firm, secure walls and solid +time lock when he goes to bed at night! Even if I can not belong to the +400, I am almost happy. + +We retire at 7:30 o'clock at night and arise at 6:30 in the morning, so +as to get an early start. A man who has five or ten years to stay in a +place like this naturally likes to get at it as soon as possible each +day, and so he gets up at 6:30. + +We dress by the gaudy light of the candle, and while we do so, we +remember far away at home our wife and the little boy asleep in her +arms. They do not get up at 6:30. It is at this hour we remember the +fragrant drawer in the dresser at home where our clean shirts, and +collars and cuffs, and socks and handkerchiefs, are put every week by +our wife. We also recall as we go about our stone den, with its odor of +former corned beef, and the ghost of some bloody-handed predecessor's +snore still moaning in the walls, the picture of green grass by our own +doorway, and the apples that were just ripening, when the bench warrant +came. + +The time from 6:30 to breakfast is occupied by the average, or +non-paying inmate, in doing the chamberwork and tidying up his +state-room. I do not know how others feel about it, but I dislike +chamberwork most heartily, especially when I am in jail. Nothing has +done more to keep me out of jail, I guess, than the fact that while +there I have to make up my bed and dust the piano. + +Breakfast is generally table d'hote and consists of bread. A tin-cup of +coffee takes the taste of the bread out of your mouth, and then if you +have some Limburger cheese in your pocket you can with that remove the +taste of the coffee. + +Dinner is served at 12 o'clock, and consists of more bread with soup. +This soup has everything in it except nourishment. The bead on this soup +is noticeable for quite a distance. It is disagreeable. Several days ago +I heard that the Mayor was in the soup, but I didn't realize it before. +I thought it was a newspaper yarn. There is everything in this soup, +from shop-worn rice up to neat's-foot oil. Once I thought I detected +cuisine in it. + +The dinner menu is changed on Fridays, Sundays and Thursdays, on which +days you get the soup first and the bread afterward. In this way the +bread is saved. + +Three days in a week each man gets at dinner a potato containing a +thousand-legged worm. At 6 o'clock comes supper with toast and +responses. Bread is served at supper time, together with a cup of tea. +To those who dislike bread and never eat soup, or do not drink tea or +coffee, life at Ludlow Street Jail is indeed irksome. + +I asked for kumiss and a pony of Benedictine, as my stone boudoir made +me feel rocky, but it has not yet been sent up. + +Somehow, while here, I can not forget poor old man Dorrit, the Master of +the Marshalsea, and how the Debtors' Prison preyed upon his mind till he +didn't enjoy anything except to stand off and admire himself. Ludlow +Street Jail is a good deal like it in many ways, and I can see how in +time the canker of unrest and the bitter memories of those who did us +wrong but who are basking in the bright and bracing air, while we, to +meet their obligations, sacrifice our money, our health and at last our +minds, would kill hope and ambition. + +In a few weeks I believe I should also get a preying on my mind. That is +about the last thing I would think of preying on, but a man must eat +something. + +Before closing this brief and incomplete account as a guest at Ludlow +Street Jail I ought, in justice to my family, to say, perhaps, that I +came down this morning to see a friend of mine who is here because he +refuses to pay alimony to his recreant and morbidly sociable wife. He +says he is quite content to stay here, so long as his wife is on the +outside. He is writing a small ready-reference book on his side of the +great problem, "Is Marriage a Failure?" + +With this I shake him by the hand and in a moment the big iron +storm-door clangs behind me, the big lock clicks in its hoarse, black +throat and I welcome even the air of Ludlow street so long as the blue +sky is above it. + + + + +THE ENCHANTED HAT + +_The Adventure of My Lady's Letter_ + +BY HAROLD MACGRATH + + +It was half-after six when I entered Martin's from the Broadway side. I +chose a table by the north wall and sat down on the cushioned seat. I +ordered dinner, and the ample proportions of it completely hoodwinked +the waiter as to the condition of my cardiac affliction: being, as I +was, desperately and hopelessly and miserably in love. Old owls say that +a man can not eat when he is in love. He can if he is mad at the way the +object of his affections has treated him; and I was mad. To be sure, I +can not recall what my order was, but the amount of the waiter's check +is still vivid to my recollection. + +I glanced about. The cafe was crowded, as it usually is at this hour. +Here and there I caught glimpses of celebrities and familiar faces: +journalists, musicians, authors, artists and actors. This is the time +they drop in to be pointed out to strangers from out of town. It's a +capital advertisement. To-night, however, none of these interested me in +the slightest degree; rather, their animated countenances angered me. +How _could_ they laugh and look happy! + +At my left sat a young man about my own age. He was also in evening +dress. At my right a benevolent old gentleman, whose eye-glasses +balanced neatly upon the end of his nose, was deeply interested in _The +Law Journal_ and a pint pf mineral water. A little beyond my table was +an exiled Frenchman, and the irritating odor of absinthe drifted at +times across my nostrils. + +With my coffee I ordered a glass of Dantzic, and watched the flakes of +beaten gold waver and settle; and presently I devoted myself entirely to +my own particularly miserable thoughts.... To be in love and in debt! To +be with the gods one moment and hunted by a bill-collector the next! To +have the girl you love snub and dismiss you for no more lucid reason +than that you did not attend the dance at the Country Club when you +promised you would! It did not matter that you had a case on that night +from which depended a large slice of your bread and butter; no, that did +not matter. Neither did the fact that you had mixed the dates. You had +promised to go, and you hadn't gone or notified the girl that you +wouldn't go. Your apologetic telegram she had torn into halves and +returned the following morning, together with a curt note to the effect +that she could not value the friendship of a man who made and broke a +promise so easily. It was all over. It was a dashed hard world. How the +deuce do you win a girl, anyhow? + +Supposing, besides, that you possessed a rich uncle who said that on the +day of your wedding he would make over to you fifty thousand in +Government three per cents? Hard, wasn't it? Suppose that you were +earning about two thousand a year, and that the struggle to keep up +smart appearances was a keen one. Wouldn't you have been eager to marry, +especially the girl you loved? A man can not buy flowers twice a week, +dine before and take supper after the theater twice a week, belong (and +pay dues and house-accounts) to a country club, a town club and keep +respectable bachelor apartments on two thousand ... and save anything. +And suppose the girl was independently rich? Heigh-ho! + +I find that a man needs more money in love than he does in debt. This is +not to say that I was ever very hard pressed; but I hated to pay ten +dollars "on account" when the total was only twenty. You understand me, +don't you? If you don't, somebody who reads this will. Of course, the +girl knew nothing about these things. A young man always falls into the +fault of magnifying his earning capacity to the girl he loves. You see, +I hadn't told her yet that I loved her, though I was studying up +somebody on Moral and Physical Courage for that purpose. + +And now it was all over! + +I did not care so much about my uncle's gold-bonds, but I did think a +powerful lot of the girl. Why, when I recall the annoyances I've put up +with from that kid brother of hers!... Pshaw, what's the use? + +His mother called him "Toddy-One-Boy," in memory of a book she had read +long years ago. He was six years old, and I never think of him without +that jingle coming to mind: + + "Little Willie choked his sister, + She was dead before they missed her. + Willie's always up to tricks. + Ain't he cute, he's only six!" + +He had the face of a Bouguereau cherub, and mild blue eyes such as we +are told inhabit the countenances of angels. He was the most +innocent-looking chap you ever set eyes on. His mother called him an +angel; I should hate to tell you what the neighbors called him. He +lacked none of that subtle humor so familiar in child-life. Heavens! the +deeds I could (if I dared) enumerate. They turned him loose among the +comic supplements one Sunday, and after that it was all over. + +Hadn't he emptied his grandma's medicine capsules and substituted +cotton? And hadn't dear old grandma come down stairs three days later, +saying that she felt much improved? Hadn't he beaten out the brains of +his toy bank and bought up the peanut man on the corner? Yes, indeed! +And hadn't he taken my few letters from his sister's desk and played +postman up and down the street? His papa thought it all a huge joke till +one of the neighbors brought back a dunning dressmaker's bill that had +lain on the said neighbor's porch. It was altogether a different matter +then. Toddy-One-Boy crawled under the bed that night, and only his +mother's tears saved him from a hiding. + +All these I thought over as I sat at my table. She knew that I would +have gone had it been possible. Women and logic are only cousins german. +Six months ago I hadn't been in love with any one but myself, and now +the Virgil of love's dream was leading me like a new Dante through _his_ +Inferno, and was pointing out the foster-brother of Sisyphus (if he had +a foster-brother), pushing the stone of my lady's favor up the steeps of +Forlorn Hope. Well, I would go up to the club, and if I didn't get home +till mor-r-ning, who was there to care? + +The Frenchman had gone, and the benevolent old gentleman. The crowd was +thinning out. The young man at my left rose, and I rose also. We both +stared thoughtfully at the hat-rack. There hung two hats: an opera-hat +and a dilapidated old stovepipe. The young fellow reached up and, quite +naturally, selected the opera-hat. He glanced into it, and immediately a +wrinkle of annoyance darkened his brow. He held the hat toward me. + +"Is this yours?" he asked. + +I looked at the label. + +"No." The wrinkle of annoyance sprang from his brow to mine. My +opera-hat had cost me eight dollars. + +The young fellow laughed rather lamely. "Do you live in New York?" he +asked. + +I nodded. + +"So do I," he continued; "and yet it is evident that both of us have +been neatly caught." He thought for a moment, then brightened. "I'll +tell you what; let's match for the good one." + +I gazed indignantly at the rusty stovepipe. "Done!" said I. + +I lost; I knew that I should; and the young fellow walked off with the +good hat. Then, with the relic in my hand, a waiter and myself began a +systematic search. My hat was nowhere to be found. How the deuce was I +to get up town to the club? I couldn't wear the old plug; I wasn't rich +enough for such an eccentricity. I had nothing but a silk hat at the +apartment, and I hated it because it was always in the way when I +entered carriages and elevators. + +Angrily, I strode up to the cashier's desk and explained the situation, +leaving my address and the number of my apartment; my name wasn't +necessary. + +Troubles never come singly. Here I had lost my girl and my hat, to say +nothing of my temper--of the three the most certain to be found again. I +passed out of the cafe, bareheaded and hotheaded. I hailed a cab and +climbed in. I had finally determined to return to my rooms and study. I +simply could not afford to be seen with that stovepipe hat either on my +head or under my arm. Had I been green from college it is probable that +I should have worn it proudly and defiantly. But I had left college +behind these six years. + +Hang these old duffers who are so absent-minded! For I was confident +that the benevolent old gentleman was the cause of all this confusion. +Inside the cab I tried on the thing, just to get a picture in my mind of +the old gentleman going it up Broadway with my opera-hat on his head. +The hat sagged over my ears; and I laughed. The picture I had conjured +up was too much for my anger, which vanished suddenly. And once I had +laughed I felt a trifle more agreeable toward the world. So long as a +man can see the funny side of things he has no active desire to leave +life behind; and laughter does more to lighten his sorrows than +sympathy, which only aggravates them. + +After all, the old gentleman would feel the change more sharply than I. +This was, in all probability, the only hat he had. I turned it over and +scrutinized it. It was a genteel old beaver, with an air of +respectability that was quite convincing. There was nothing smug about +it, either. It suggested amiability in the man who had recently +possessed it. It suggested also a mild contempt for public opinion, +which is always a sign of superior mentality and advanced years. I began +to draw a mental portrait of the old man. He was a family lawyer, +doubtless, who lived in the past and hugged his retrospections. When we +are young there is never any vanishing point to our day-dreams. Well, +well! On the morrow he would have a new hat, of approved shape and +pattern; unless, indeed, he possessed others like this which had fallen +into my keeping. Perhaps he would soon discover his mistake, return to +the cafe and untangle the snarl. I sincerely hoped he would. As I +remarked, my hat had cost me eight dollars. + +I soon arrived at my apartments, and got into a smoking-jacket. I rather +delight in lolling around in a dress-shirt; it looks so like the +pictures we see in the fashionable novels. I picked up Blackstone and +turned to his "promissory notes." I had two or three out myself. It was +nine o'clock when the hall-boy's bell rang, and I placed my ear to the +tube. A gentleman wished to see me in regard to a lost hat. + +"Send him up, James; send him up!" I bawled down the tube. Visions of +the club returned, and I tossed Blackstone into a corner. + +Presently there came a tap on the door, and I flung it wide. But my +visitor was not the benevolent old gentleman. He was the Frenchman whose +absinthe had offended me. He glanced at the slip of paper in his hand. + +"I have zee honaire to address zee--ah--gentleman in numbaire six?" + +"I live here." + +"Delight'! We have meexed zee hats, I have zee r-r-regret. Ees thees +your hat?" He held out, for my inspection, an opera-hat. "I am _so_ +absent-mind'--what you call deestrait?"--affably. + +I took the hat, which at first glance I thought to be mine, and went +over to the rack, taking down the old stovepipe. + +"This is yours, then?" I said, smiling. + +"Thousand thanks, m'sieu! Eet ees certain mine. I have zee honaire to +beg pardon for zee confusion. My compliments! Good night!" + +Without giving the hat a single glance, he clapped it on his head, bowed +and disappeared, leaving me his card. He hadn't been gone two minutes +when I discovered that the hat he had exchanged for the stovepipe was +_not_ mine. It came from the same firm, but the initials proved it +without doubt to belong to the young fellow I had met at the table. I +said some uncomplimentary things. Where the deuce _was_ my hat? +Evidently the benevolent old gentleman hadn't waked up yet. + +Ting-a-ling! It was the boy's bell again. + +"Well?" + +"Another man after a hat. What's goin' on?" + +"Send him up!" I yelled. It came over me that the Frenchman had made a +second mistake. + +I was not disappointed this time in my visitor. It was the benevolent +old gentleman. Evidently he had not located _his_ hat either, and might +not for some time to come. I began to believe that I had given it to the +Frenchman. He seemed terribly excited. + +"You are the gentleman who occupies number six?" + +"Yes, sir. This is my apartment. You have come in regard to a hat?" + +"Yes, sir. My name is Chittenden. Our hats got mixed up at Martin's this +evening; my fault, as usual. I am always doing something absurd, my +memory is so bad. When I discovered my mistake I was calling on the +family of a client with whom I had spent most of the afternoon. I missed +some valuable papers, legal documents. I believed as usual that I had +forgotten to take them with me. They were nowhere to be found at the +house. My client has a very mischievous son, and it seems that he +stuffed the papers behind the inside band of my hat. With them there was +a letter. I have had two very great scares. A great deal of trouble +would ensue if the papers were lost. I just telephoned that I had +located the hat." He laughed pleasantly. + +Good heavens! here was a howdy-do. + +"My dear Mr. Chittenden, there has been a great confusion," I faltered. +"I had your hat, but--but you have come too late." + +"Too late?" he roared, or I should say, to be exact, shouted. + +"Yes, sir." + +"What have you done with it?" + +"Not five minutes ago I gave it to a Frenchman, who seemed to recognize +it as his. It was the Frenchman, if you will remember, who sat near your +table in the cafe." + +"And this hat isn't yours, then?"--helplessly. + +"This" was a flat-brimmed hat of the Paris boulevards, the father of all +stovepipe hats, dear to the Frenchman's heart. + +"Candidly, now," said I with a bit of excusable impatience, "do I look +like a man who would wear a hat like that?" + +He surveyed me miserably through his eye-glasses. + +"No, I can't say that you do. But what in the world am I to do?" He +mopped his brow in the ecstasy of anguish. "The hat must be found. The +legal papers could be replaced, but.... You see, sir, that boy put a +private letter of his sister's in the band of that hat, and it must be +recovered at all hazards." + +"I am very sorry, sir." + +"But what shall I do?" + +"I do not see what can be done save for you to leave word at the cafe. +The Frenchman is doubtless a frequenter, and may easily be found. If you +had come a few moments sooner...." + +With a gurgle of dismay he fled, leaving me with a half-finished +sentence hanging on my lips and the Frenchman's chapeau hanging on my +fingers. And _my_ hat; where was _my_ hat? (I may as well add here, in +parenthesis, that the disappearance of my eight-dollar hat still remains +a mystery. I have had to buy a new one.) + +So the boy had put a letter of his sister's in the band of the hat, I +mused. How like _her_ kid brother! It seemed that more or less families +had Toddy-One-Boys to look after. Pshaw! what a muddle because a man +couldn't keep his thoughts from wool-gathering! + +Well, here I had two hats, neither of which was mine. I could, at a +pinch, wear the opera-hat, as it was the exact size of the one I had +lost. But what was to be done with the Frenchman's?... Fool that I was! +I rushed over to the table. The Frenchman had left his card, and I had +forgotten all about it. And I hadn't asked the benevolent old gentleman +where he lived. The Frenchman's card read: "M. de Beausire, No. ---- +Washington Place." I decided to go myself to the address, state the +matter to Monsieur de Beausire, and rescue the letter. I knew all about +these Toddy-One-Boys, and I might be doing some girl a signal service. + +I looked at my watch. It was closing on to ten. So I reluctantly got +into my coat again, drew on a topcoat, and put on the hat that fitted +me. Probably the girl had been writing some fortunate fellow a +love-letter. No gentleman will ever overlook a chance to do a favor for +a young girl in distress. I had scarcely drawn my stick from the +umbrella-jar when the bell rang once again. + +"Hello!" I called down the tube. Why couldn't they let me be? + +"Lady wants to see you, sir." + +"A lady!" + +"Yes, sir. A real lady; l-a-d-y. She says she's come to see the +gentleman in number six about a plug hat. What's the graft, anyway?" + +"A plug hat!" + +"Yes, sir; a plug hat. She seems a bit anxious. Shall I send her up? +She's a peach." + +"Yes, send her up," I answered feebly enough. + +And now there was a woman in the case! I wiped the perspiration from my +brow and wondered what I should say to her. A woman.... By Jove! the +sister of the mischievous boy! Old Chittenden must have told her where +he had gone, and as he hasn't shown up, she's worried. It must be a +tremendously important letter to cause all this hubbub. So I laid aside +my hat and waited, tugging and gnawing at my mustache.... Had the Girl +acted reasonably I shouldn't have gone to Martin's that night. + +How easy it is for a woman to hurt the man she knows I is in love with +her! And the Girl had hurt me more than I was willing to confess even to +myself. She had implied that I had carelessly broken an engagement. + +Soon there came a gentle tapping. Certainly the young woman had abundant +pluck. I approached the door quickly, and flung it open. + +The Girl herself stood on the threshold, and we stared at each other +with bewildered eyes! + + +II + +She was the most exquisite creature in all the wide world; and here she +was, within reach of my hungry arms! + +"You?" she cried, stepping back, one hand at her throat and the other +against the jamb of the door. + +Dumb as ever was Lot's wife (after the turning-point in her career), I +stood and stared and admired. A woman would instantly have noticed the +beauty of her sables, but I was a man to whom such details were +inconsequent. + +"I did not expect ... that is, only the number of the apartment was +given," she stammered. "I ..." Then her slender figure straightened, and +with an effort she subdued the fright and dismay which had evidently +seized her. "Have you Mr. Chittenden's hat?" + +"Mr. Chittenden's hat?" I repeated, with a tingling in my throat similar +to that when you hit your elbow smartly on a corner. "Mr. Chittenden's +hat?" + +"Yes; he is so thoughtless that I dared not trust him to search for it +alone. Have _you_ got it?" + +Heavens! how my heart beat at the sight of this beautiful being, as she +stood there, palpitating between shame and anxiety! She _was_ beautiful; +and I knew instantly that I loved her better than anything else on +earth. + +"Mr. Chittenden's hat," I continued, as lucid as a trained parrot and in +tones not wholly dissimilar. + +"Can't you say anything more than that?"--impatiently. + +How much more easily a woman recovers her poise than a man, especially +when that man gives himself over as tamely as I did! + +"Was it _your_ letter he was seeking?" I cried, all eagerness and +excitement as this one sane thought entered my head. + +"Did he tell you that there was a letter in it?"--scornfully. + +"Yes,"--guiltily. Heaven only knows why I should have had any sense of +guilt. + +"Give it to me at once,"--imperatively. + +"The hat or the letter?" Truly, I did not know what I was about. Only +one thing was plain to my confused mind, and that was the knowledge that +I wanted to put my arms around her and carry her far, far away from +Toddy-One-Boy. + +"Are you mad, to anger me in this fashion?" she said, balling her little +gloved hands wrathfully. Had there been real lightning in her eyes I'd +have been dead this long while. "Do you dare believe that I knew you +lived in this apartment?" + +"I ... haven't the hat." + +"You dared to search it?"--drawing herself up to a supreme height, which +was something less than five-feet-two. + +I became angry, and somehow found myself. + +"I never pry into other people's affairs. You are the last person I +expected to see this night." + +"Will you answer a single question? I promise not to intrude further +upon your time, which, doubtless, is very valuable. Have you either the +hat or the letter?" + +"Neither. I knew nothing about any letter till Mr. Chittenden came. But +he came too late." + +"Too late?"--in an agonized whisper. + +"Yes, too late. I had, unfortunately, given his hat to another gentleman +who made a trifling mistake in thinking it to be his own." Suddenly my +manners returned to me. "Will you come in?" + +"Come in? No! You have given the hat to another man? A trifling mistake! +He calls it a trifling mistake!"--addressing the heavens, obscured +though they were by the thickness of several ceilings. "Oh, what _shall_ +I do?" She began to wring her hands, and when a woman does that what +earthly hope is there for the man who looks on? + +"Don't do that!" I implored. "I'll find the hat." At a word from her, +for all she had trampled on me, I would gladly have gone to Honolulu in +search of a hat-pin. "The gentleman left me his card. With your +permission I will go at once in search of him." + +"I have a cab outside. Give me the address." + +"I refuse to permit you to go alone." + +"You have absolutely nothing to say in regard to where I shall or shall +not go." + +"In this one instance. I shall withhold the address." + +How her eyes blazed! + +"Oh, it is easily to be seen that you do not trust me." I was utterly +discouraged. + +"I did not imply that," with the least bit of softening. "Certainly I +would trust you. But ..." + +"Well?"--as laughingly as I could. + +"I must be the one to take out that letter,"--decidedly. + +"I offer to bring you the hat untouched," I replied. + +"I insist on going." + +"Very well; we shall go together; under no other circumstances. This is +a common courtesy that I would show to a perfect stranger." + +I put on my hat, took up the Frenchman's card and tile, and bowed her +gravely into the main hallway. We did not speak on the way down to the +street. We entered the cab in silence, and went rumbling off southwest. +When the monotony became positively unbearable I spoke. + +"I regret to force myself upon you." + +No reply. + +"It must be a very important letter." + +"To no one but myself,"--with extreme frigidity. + +"His father ought to wring his neck,"--thinking of Toddy-One-Boy. + +"Sir, he is my brother!" + +"I beg your pardon." It seemed that I wasn't getting on very well. + +We bumped across the Broadway tracks. Once or twice our shoulders +touched, and the thrill I experienced was as painful as it was +rapturous. What was in a letter that she should go to this extreme to +recall it? A heat-flash of jealousy went over me. She had written to +some other fellow; for there always is some other fellow, hang him!... +And then a grand idea came into my erstwhile stupid head. Here she was, +alone with me in a cab. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. I could +force her to listen to my explanation. + +"I received your note," I began. "It was cruel and without justice." + +Her chin went up a degree. + +"The worst criminal is not condemned without a hearing, and I have had +none." + +No perceptible movement. + +"We are none of us infallible in keeping appointments. We are liable to +make mistakes occasionally. Had I known that Tuesday night was the night +of the dance I'd have crossed to Jersey in a rowboat." + +The chin remained precipitously inclined. + +"I am poor, and the case involved some of my bread and butter. The work +was done at ten, and even then I did not discover that I had in any way +affronted you. I had it down in my note-book as Wednesday night." + +The lips above the chin curled slightly. + +"You see," I went on, striving to keep my voice even-toned, "my uncle is +rich, but I ask no odds of him. I live entirely upon what I earn at law. +It's the only way I can maintain my individuality, my self-respect and +independence. My uncle has often expressed his desire to make me a +handsome allowance, but what would be the use ... now?"--bitterly. + +The chin moved a little. It was too dark to see what this movement +expressed. + +"It seems that I am only a very unfortunate fellow." + +"You had given me your promise." + +"I know it." + +"Not that I cared,"--with cat-like cruelty; "but I lost the last train +out while waiting for you. Not even a note to warn me! Not the slightest +chance to find an escort! When a man gives his promise to a lady it does +not seem possible that he could forget it ... if he cared to keep it." + +"I tell you honestly that I mixed the dates." How weak my excuses +seemed, now that they had passed my lips! + +"You are sure that you mixed nothing else?"--ironically. (She afterward +apologized for this.) "It appears that it would have been better to come +alone." + +"I regret I did not give you the address." + +"It is not too late." + +"I never retreat from any position I have taken." + +"Indeed?" + +Then both our chins assumed an acute angle and remained thus. When a +woman is angry she is about as reasonable as a frightened horse; when a +man is angry he longs to hit something or smoke a cigar. Imagine my +predicament! + +When the cab reached Washington Place and came to a stand I spoke again. + +"Shall I take the hat in, or will you?" + +"We shall go together." + +Ah, if only I had had the courage to say: "I would it were for ever!" +But I feared that it wouldn't take. + +I rang the bell, and presently a maid opened the door. + +"Is Monsieur de Beausire in?" I asked. + +"No, sir, he is not," the maid answered civilly. + +"Do you know where he may be found?" + +"If you have a bill you may leave it,"--frostily and with sudden +suspicion. + +There was a smothered sound from behind me, and I flushed angrily. + +"I am not a bill-collector." + +"Oh; it's the second day of the month, you know. I thought perhaps you +were." + +"He has in his possession a hat which does not belong to him." + +"Good gracious, he hasn't been _stealing_? I don't believe"--making as +though to shut the door. + +This was too much, and I laughed. "No, my girl; he hasn't been stealing. +But, being absent-minded, he has taken another man's hat, and I am +bringing his home in hopes of getting the one he took by mistake." + +"Oh!" And the maid laughed shrilly. + +I held out the hat. + +"My land! that's his hat, sure enough. I was wondering what made him +look so funny when he went out." + +"Where has he gone?" came sharply over my shoulder. + +"If you will wait," said the maid good-naturedly, "I will inquire." + +We waited. So far as I was concerned, I hoped he was miles away, and +that we might go on riding for hours and hours. The maid returned soon. + +"He has gone to meet the French consul at Mouquin's." + +"Which one?" I asked. "There are two, one down and one up town." + +"I'm sure I don't know. You can leave the hat and your card." + +"Thank you; we shall retain the hat. If we find monsieur he will need +it." + +"I'm sorry," said the maid sympathetically. "He's the worst man you ever +saw for forgetting things. Sometimes he goes right by the house and has +to walk back." + +"I'm sorry to have bothered you," said I; and the only girl in the world +and myself reentered the cab. + +"This is terrible!" she murmured as we drove off. + +"It might be worse," I replied, thinking of the probable long ride with +her: perhaps the last I should ever take! + +"How could it be!" + +I had nothing to offer, and subsided for a space. + +"If we should not find him!" + +"I'll sit on his front stoop all night.... Forgive me if I sound +flippant; but I mean it." Snow was in the air, and I considered it a +great sacrifice on my part to sit on a cold stone in the small morning +hours. It looks flippant in print, too, but I honestly meant it. "I am +sorry. You are in great trouble of some sort, I know; and there's +nothing in the world I would not do to save you from this trouble. Let +me take you home and continue the search alone. I'll find him if I have +to search the whole town." + +"We shall continue the search together,"--wearily. + +What had she written to this other fellow? _Did_ she love some one else +and was she afraid that I might learn who it was? My heart became as +lead in my bosom. I simply could not lose this charming creature. And +now, how was I ever to win her? + +It was not far up town to the restaurant, and we made good time. + +"Would you know him if you saw him?" she asked as we left the cab. + +"Not the least doubt of it,"--confidently. + +She sighed, and together we entered the restaurant. It was full of +theater-going people, music and the hum of voices. We must have created +a small sensation, wandering from table to table, from room to room, the +girl with a look of dread and weariness on her face, and I with the +Frenchman's hat grasped firmly in my hand and my brows scowling. If I +hadn't been in love it would have been a fine comedy. Once I surprised +her looking toward the corner table near the orchestra. How many joyous +Sunday dinners we had had there! Heigh-ho! + +"Is that he?" she whispered, clutching my arm of a sudden, her gaze +directed to a near-by table. + +I looked and shook my head. + +"No; my Frenchman had a mustache and a goatee." + +Her hand dropped listlessly. I confess to the thought that it must have +been very trying for her. What a plucky girl she was! She held me in +contempt, and yet she clung to me, patiently and unmurmuring. And I had +lost her! + +"We may have to go down town.... No! as I live, there he is now!" + +"Where?" There was half a sob in her throat. + +"The table by the short flight of stairs ... the man just lighting the +cigarette. I'll go alone." + +"But I can not stand here alone in the middle of the floor...." + +I called a waiter. "Give this lady a chair for a moment;" and I dropped +a coin in his palm. He bowed, and beckoned for her to follow.... Women +are always writing fool things, and then moving Heaven and earth to +recall them. + +"Monsieur de Beausire?" I said. + +Beausire glanced up. + +"Oh, eet ees ... I forget zee name?" + +I told him. + +"I am delight'!" he cried joyfully, as if he had known me all my life. +"Zee chair; be seat'...." + +"Thank you, but it's about the hats." + +"Hats?" + +"Yes. It seems that the hat I gave you belongs to another man. In your +haste you did not notice the mistake. _This_ is your hat,"--producing +the shining tile. + +"_Mon Dieu!_" he gasped, seizing the hat; "eet _ees_ mine! See! I bring +heem from France; zee _nom_ ees mine. _V'la!_ And I nevaire look in zee +uzzer hat! I am _pair_fickly dumfound'!" And his astonishment was +genuine. + +"Where is the other hat: the one I gave you?" I was in a great hurry. + +"I have heem here," reaching to the vacant chair at his side, while the +French consul eyed us both with some suspicion. We _might_ be lunatics. +Beausire handed me the benevolent old gentleman's hat, and the burden +dropped from my shoulders. "Eet ees _such_ a meestake! I laugh; eh?" He +shook with merriment. "I wear _two_ hats and not know zee meestake!" + +I thanked him and made off as gracefully as I could. The girl rose as +she saw me returning. When I reached her side she was standing with her +slender body inclined toward me. She stretched forth a hand and solemnly +I gave her Mr. Chittenden's hat. I wondered vaguely if anybody was +looking at us, and, if so, what he thought of us. + +The girl pulled the hat literally inside out in her eagerness; but her +gloved fingers trembled so that the precious letter fluttered to the +floor. We both stooped, but I was quicker. It was no attempt on my part +to see the address; my act was one of common politeness. But I could not +help seeing the name. It was my own! + +"Give it to me!" she cried breathlessly. + +I did so. I was not, at that particular moment, capable of doing +anything else. I was too bewildered. My own name! She turned, hugging +the hat, the legal documents and the letter, and hurried down the main +stairs, I at her heels. + +"Tell the driver my address; I can return alone." + +"I can not permit that," I objected decidedly. "The driver is a stranger +to us both. I insist on seeing you to the door; after that you may rest +assured that I shall no longer inflict upon you my presence, odious as +it doubtless is to you." + +As she was already in the cab and could not get out without aid, I +climbed in beside her and called the street and number to the driver. + +"Legally the letter is mine; it is addressed to me, and had passed out +of your keeping." + +"You shall never, never have it!"--vehemently. + +"It is not necessary that I should," I replied; "for I vaguely +understand." + +I saw that it was all over. There was now no reason why I should not +speak my mind fully. + +"I can understand without reading. You realized that your note was cruel +and unlike anything you had done, and your good heart compelled you to +write an apology; but your pride got the better of you, and upon second +thought you concluded to let the unmerited hurt go on." + +"Will you kindly stop, the driver, or shall I?" + +"Does truth annoy you?" + +"I decline to discuss truth with you. Will you stop the driver?" + +"Not until we reach Seventy-first Street West." + +"By what right--" + +"The right of a man who loves you. There, it is out, and my pride has +gone down the wind. After to-night I shall trouble you no further. But +every man has the right to tell one woman that he loves her; and I love +you. I loved you the moment I first laid eyes on you. I couldn't help +it. I say this to you now because I perceive how futile it is. What +dreams I have conjured up about you! Poor fool! When I was at work your +face was always crossing the page or peering up from the margins. I +never saw a fine painting that I did not think of you, or heard a fine +piece of music that I did not think of your voice." + +There was a long interval of silence; block after block went by. I never +once looked at her. + +"If I had been rich I should have put it to the touch some time ago; but +my poverty seems to have been fortunate; it has saved me a refusal. In +some way I have mortally offended you; how, I can not imagine. It can +not be simply because I innocently broke an engagement." + +Then she spoke. + +"You dined after the theater that night with a comic-opera singer. You +were quite at liberty to do so, only you might have done me the honor to +notify me that you had made your choice of entertainment." + +So it was out! Decidedly it was all over now. I never could explain away +the mistake. + +"I have already explained to you my unfortunate mistake. There was and +is no harm that I can see in dining with a woman of her attainments. But +I shall put up no defense. You have convicted me. I retract nothing I +have said. I _do_ love you." + +I was very sorry for myself. + +Cabby drew up. I alighted, and she silently permitted me to assist her +down. I expected her immediately to mount the steps. Instead, she +hesitated, the knuckle of a forefinger against her lips, and assumed the +thoughtful pose of one who contemplates two courses. + +"Have you a stamp?" she asked finally. + +"A stamp?"--blankly. + +"Yes; a postage-stamp." + +I fumbled in my pocket and found, luckily, a single pink square, which I +gave to her. She moistened it with the tip of her tongue and ... stuck +it on the letter! + +"Now, please, drop this in the corner box for me, and take this hat over +to Mr. Chittenden's--Sixty-ninth." + +"What--" + +"Do as I say, or I shall ask you to return the letter to me." + +I rushed off toward the letter-box, drew down the lid, and deposited the +letter--my letter. When I turned she was running up the steps, and a +second later she had disappeared. + +I hadn't been so happy in all my life! + +Cabby waited at the curb. + +Suddenly I became conscious that I was holding something in my hand. It +was the benevolent old gentleman's stovepipe hat! + + * * * * * + +I pushed the button: pushed it good and hard. Presently I heard a window +open cautiously. + +"What is it?" asked a querulous voice. + +"Mr. Chittenden?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, here's your hat!" I cried. + + + + +LITIGATION + +BY BILL ARP + + +The fust case I ever had in a Justice Court I emploid old Bob Leggins, +who was a sorter of a self-eddicated fool. I giv him two dollars in +advanse, and he argud the case as I thot, on two sides, and was more +luminus agin me than for me. I lost the case, and found out atterwards +that the defendant had employed Leggins atter I did, and gin him five +dollars to lose my case. I look upon this as a warnin' to all klients to +pay big fees and keep your lawyer out of temtashun. + +My xperience in litigashun hav not been satisfaktory. I sued Sugar Black +onst for the price of a lode of shuks. He sed he wanted to buy sum +ruffness, and I agreed to bring him a lode of shuks for two dollers. My +waggin got broke and he got tired a waitin', and sent out atter the +shuks himself. When I called on him for the pay, he seemed surprised, +and sed it had cost him two dollars and a half to hav the shuks hauld, +and that I justly owd him a half a dollar. He were more bigger than I +was, so I swallered my bile and sued him. His lawyer pled a set-off for +haulin'. He pled that the shuks was unsound; that they was barred by +limitashuns; that they didn't agree with his cow; and that he never got +any shuks from me. He spoak about a hour, and allooded to me as a +swindler about forty-five times. The bedevild jewry went out, and brot +in a verdik agin me for fifty cents, and four dollars for costs. I +hain't saved many shuks on my plantashun sence, and I don't intend to +til it gits less xpensiv! I look upon this as a warnin' to all foaks +_never to go to law about shuks_, or any other small sirkumstanse. + +The next trubble I had was with a feller I hired to dig me a well. He +was to dig it for twenty dollers, and I was to pay him in meat and meal, +and sich like. The vagabon kep gittin' along til he got all the pay, but +hadn't dug nary a foot in the ground. So I made out my akkount, and sued +him as follers, to wit: + + Old John Hanks, to Bill Arp Dr. + To 1 well you didn't dig $20 + +Well, Hanks, he hired a cheep lawyer, who rared round xtensively, and +sed a heep of funny things at my xpense, and finally dismissd my case +for what he calld its "ridikulum abserdum." I paid those costs, and went +home a sadder and a wiser man. I pulld down my little kabbin and mooved +it sum three hundred yards nigher the spring, and I hav drunk mity +little well water sence. I look upon this case as a warnin' to all foaks +_never to pay for enything till you git it, espeshally if it has to be +dug_. + +The next law case I had I ganed it all by myself, by the forse of +sirkumstanses. I bot a man's note that was giv for the hire of a nigger +boy, Dik. Findin' he wouldn't pay me, I sued him before old Squire +Maginnis, beleevin' that it was sich a ded thing that the devil couldn't +keep me out of a verdik. The feller pled failur of konsiderashun, and +_non est faktum_, and _ignis fatuis_, and infansy, and that the nigger's +name wasn't Dik, but _Richard_. The old Squire was a powerful sesesh, +and hated the Yankees amazin'. So atter the lawyer had got thru his +speech and finished up his readin' from a book called "Greenleaf," I +rose forward to a attitood. Stretchin' forth my arms, ses I: "Squire +Maginnis, I would ax, sur, if this is a time in the histry of our +afflikted kountry when Yankee law books should be admitted in a Southern +patriot's Court? Hain't we got a State of our own and a code of Georgy +laws that's printed on Georgy sile? On the very fust page of the +gentleman's book I seed the name of the sitty of Bosting. Yes, sur, it +was ritten in Bosting, where they don't know no more about the hire of a +nigger than an ox knows the man who will tan his hide." I sed sum more +things that was pinted and patriotik, and closd my argyment by handin' +the book to the Squire. He put on his speks, and atter lookin' at the +book about a minit, ses he: + +"Mr. Arp, you can have a judgment, and I hope that from hensefourth no +lawyer will presoom to cum before this honerabul court with pisen +dokyments to proove his case. If he do, this court will take it as an +insult, and send him to jail." + +I look upon this case as a warnin' to all foaks who gambel in law to +hold a good hand and play it well. High jestice and patriotism are +winning trumps. + +My next case was about steelin' a hog. Larseny from the woods, I think +they call it. I didn't hav but one hog, and we had to let him run out to +keep him alive, for akorns was cheeper than corn at my house. Old +Romulus Ramsour sorter wanted sum fresh meat, and so he shot my shote in +the woods, and was catched carrying him home. He had cut off his ears +and throwed 'em away; but we found 'em, with the under bit in the right +and swaller fork in the left, and so Romulus was brot up square before +the jewry, and his defense was that it was a wild hog. The jewry was out +about two hours and brot in a verdik: "We, the jewry, know that shortly +atter the war the kountry was scarce of provishuns, and in considerashun +of the hard time our poor peepul had in maintainin' their families, and +the temtashuns that surrounded 'em, we find the defendant not guilty, +but we rekommend him not to do so any more." The motto of this case is +that a man ortent to keep hogs in a poor naberhood. + +After this I had a diffikulty with a man by the name of Kohen, and I +thot I wouldn't go to law, but would arbytrate. I had bot Tom Swillins' +wheat at a dollar a bushel, _if he couldn't do any better_, and if he +could do better he was to cum back and _giv me the prefferense_. The +skamp went off and sold the wheat to Kohen for a dollar and five cents, +and Kohen knowd all about his kontrak with me. Me and him lik to hav +fit, and perhaps would, if I hadn't been puny; but we finally left it to +Josh Billins to arbytrate. Old Josh deliberated on the thing three days +and nites, and finally brot in an award that Kohen should hav the wheat +an' _I should hav the prefferense_. I hain't submitted no more cases to +arbytration sinse, and my advise to all peepul is to arbytrate nuthin' +if your case is honest, for there ain't no judge there to keep one man +from trikkin' the other. An honest man don't stan no chance nowhere +xceptin' in a court house with a good lawyer to back him. The motto of +this case is, never to arbytrate nuthin' but a bad case, and take a good +lawyer to advise, and pay him fur it before you do that. + +But I got Fretman. _I_ didn't, but my lawyer, Marks, did. Fretman was a +nutmeg skhool teacher who had gone round my naborhood with his skool +artikles, and I put down of Troup and Calhoun to go, and intended to +send seven or eight more if he proved himself right. I soon found that +the little nullifiers warn't lernin' enything, and on inquiry I found +that nutmeg was a givin' powerful long recessess, and employin' his time +cheefly in carryin' on with a tolerbul sized female gal that was a goin' +to him. Troup sed he heerd the gal squeel one day, and he knowed Fretman +was a squeezin' of her. I don't mind our boys a squeezin' of the Yankee +gals, but I'll be blamed if the Yankees shall be a squeezin' ourn. So I +got mad and took the children away. At the end of the term Fretman sued +me for eighteen dollars, and hired a cheep lawyer to kollekt it. Before +this time I had lerned sum sense about a lawyer, so I hired a good one, +and spred my pokit book down before him, and told him to take what would +satisfi him. And he took. Old Phil Davis was the jestice. Marks made the +openin' speech to the effek that every profeshunal man ort to be able to +illustrate his trade, and he therefore proposed to put Mr. Fretman on +the stan' and _spell him_. This moshun was fout hard, but it agreed with +old Phil's noshuns of "high jestice," and ses he: "Mr. Fretman, you will +hav to spell, sur." Marks then swore him that he would giv true evidense +in this case, and that he would spell evry word in Dan'l Webster's +spellin' book correkly to the best of his knowledge and beleef, so help +him, etc. I saw that he were a tremblin' all over like a cold wet dog. +Ses Marks, "Mr. Fretman, spell 'tisik.'" Well, he spelt it, puttin' in a +_ph_ and a _th_ and a _gh_ and a _zh_, and I don't know what all, and I +thot he were gone up the fust pop, but Marks sed it were right. He then +spelt him right strate along on all sorts of big words, and little +words, and long words, and short words, and he knowd 'em all, til +finally Marks ses, "Now, sur, spell 'Ompompynusuk.'" Fretman drawd a +long breth and sed it warn't in the book. Marks proved it was by a old +preecher who was a settin' by, and old Phil spoke up with power, ses he, +"Mr. Fretman, you must spell it, sur." Fretman was a swettin' like a run +down filly. He took one pass at it, and _missd_. + +"You can cum down, sur," ses Marks, "you've lost your case;" and shore +enuf, old Phil giv a verdik agin him like a darn. + +Marks was a whale in his way. At the same court he was about to nonsoot +a Doktor bekaus he didn't hav his diplomy, and the Doktor begged the +court for time to go home after it. He rode seven miles and back as hard +as he could lick it, and when he handed it over, Marks, ses he, "Now, +sur, you will just take the stand and translate this lattin' into +English, so that the court may onderstand it." Well, he jest caved, for +he couldn't do it. + +He lost his case in two minits, for the old squire sed that a dokter who +couldn't read his diplomy had no more right to praktise than a +magistrate what couldn't read the license had to jine two cuple +together. + + + + +DARIUS GREEN AND HIS FLYING-MACHINE + +BY J. T. TROWBRIDGE + + If ever there lived a Yankee lad, + Wise or otherwise, good or bad, + Who, seeing the birds fly, didn't jump + With flapping arms from stake or stump, + Or, spreading the tail + Of his coat for a sail, + Take a soaring leap from post or rail, + And wonder why + _He_ couldn't fly, + And flap, and flutter, and wish, and try,-- + If ever you knew a country dunce + Who didn't try that as often as once, + All I can say is, that's a sign + He never would do for a hero of mine. + + An aspiring genius was D. Green: + The son of a farmer, age fourteen; + His body was long and lank and lean,-- + Just right for flying, as will be seen; + He had two eyes as bright as a bean, + And a freckled nose that grew between, + A little awry,--for I must mention + That he had riveted his attention + Upon his wonderful invention, + Twisting his tongue as he twisted the strings, + And working his face as he worked the wings, + And with every turn of gimlet and screw + Turning and screwing his mouth round, too, + Till his nose seemed bent + To catch the scent, + Around some corner, of new-baked pies, + And his wrinkled cheeks and his squinting eyes + Grew puckered into a queer grimace, + That made him look very droll in the face, + And also very wise. + And wise he must have been, to do more + Than ever a genius did before, + Excepting Daedalus, of yore, + And his son Icarus, who wore + Upon their backs + Those wings of wax + He had read of in the old almanacs. + Darius was clearly of the opinion + That the air is also man's dominion, + And that, with paddle or fin or pinion, + We soon or late shall navigate + The azure, as now we sail the sea. + The thing looks simple enough to me; + And, if you doubt it, + Hear how Darius reasoned about it. + "The birds can fly, an' why can't I? + Must we give in," says he, with a grin, + "That the bluebird an' phoebe + Are smarter'n we be? + Jest fold our hands an' see the swaller + An' blackbird an' catbird beat us holler? + Does the little, chatterin', sassy wren, + No bigger'n my thumb, know more than men? + Jest show me that! + Ur prove't the bat + Hez got more brains than's in my hat, + An' I'll back down, an' not till then!" + He argued further, "Nur I can't see + What's the use o' wings to a bumble-bee, + Fur to git a livin' with, more'n to me; + Ain't my business + Important's his'n is? + That Icarus + Made a perty muss: + Him an' his daddy Daedalus + They might 'a' knowed wings made o' wax + Wouldn't stand sun-heat an' hard whacks. + I'll make mine o' luther, + Ur suthin' ur other." + + And he said to himself, as he tinkered and planned, + "But I ain't goin' to show my hand + To nummies that never can understand + The fust idee that's big an' grand." + So he kept his secret from all the rest, + Safely buttoned within his vest; + And in the loft above the shed + Himself he locks, with thimble and thread + And wax and hammer and buckles and screws, + And all such things as geniuses use; + Two bats for patterns, curious fellows! + A charcoal-pot and a pair of bellows; + Some wire, and several old umbrellas; + A carriage-cover, for tail and wings; + A piece of harness; and straps and strings; + And a big strong box, + In which he locks + These and a hundred other things. + His grinning brothers, Reuben and Burke + And Nathan and Jotham and Solomon, lurk + Around the corner to see him work,-- + Sitting cross-legged, like a Turk, + Drawing the wax-end through with a jerk, + And boring the holes with a comical quirk + Of his wise old head, and a knowing smirk. + But vainly they mounted each other's backs, + And poked through knot-holes and pried through cracks; + With wood from the pile and straw from the stacks + He plugged the knot-holes and calked the cracks; + And a bucket of water, which one would think + He had brought up into the loft to drink + When he chanced to be dry, + Stood always nigh, + For Darius was sly! + And whenever at work he happened to spy + At chink or crevice a blinking eye, + He let a dipper of water fly. + "Take that! an' ef ever ye git a peep, + Guess ye'll ketch a weasel asleep! + And he sings as he locks + His big strong box:-- + + + SONG + + "The weasel's head is small an' trim, + An' he is leetle an' long an' slim, + An' quick of motion an' nimble of limb, + An' ef yeou'll be + Advised by me, + Keep wide awake when ye're ketchin' him!" + + So day after day + He stitched and tinkered and hammered away, + Till at last 'twas done,-- + The greatest invention under the sun! + "An' now," says Darius, "hooray fer some fun!" + + 'T was the Fourth of July, + And the weather was dry, + And not a cloud was on all the sky, + Save a few light fleeces, which here and there, + Half mist, half air, + Like foam on the ocean went floating by: + Just as lovely a morning as ever was seen + For a nice little trip in a flying-machine. + + Thought cunning Darius: "Now I shan't go + Along 'ith the fellers to see the show. + I'll say I've got sich a terrible cough! + An' then, when the folks 'ave all gone off, + I'll hev full swing + Fer to try the thing, + An' practyse a leetle on the wing." + "Ain't goin' to see the celebration?" + Says Brother Nate. "No; botheration! + I've got sich a cold--a toothache--I-- + My gracious!--feel's though I should fly!" + + Said Jotham, "'Sho! + Guess ye better go." + But Darius said, "No! + Shouldn't wonder 'f yeou might see me, though, + 'Long 'bout noon, ef I git red + O' this jumpin', thumpin' pain 'n my head." + For all the while to himself he said:-- + + "I tell ye what! + I'll fly a few times around the lot, + To see how 't seems, then soon 's I've got + The hang o' the thing, ez likely 's not, + I'll astonish the nation, + An' all creation, + By flyin' over the celebration! + I'll balance myself on my wings like a sea-gull; + I'll dance on the chimbleys; I'll stan' on the steeple; + I'll flop up to winders an' scare the people! + I'll light on the libbe'ty-pole, an' crow; + An' I'll say to the gawpin' fools below, + 'What world 's this 'ere + That I've come near?' + Fer I'll make 'em b'lieve I'm a chap f'm the moon! + An' I'll try a race 'ith their ol' bulloon." + He crept from his bed; + And, seeing the others were gone, he said, + "I'm gittin' over the cold'n my head." + And away he sped, + To open the wonderful box in the shed. + + His brothers had walked but a little way, + When Jotham to Nathan chanced to say, + "What is the feller up to, hey?" + "Do'no': the's suthin' ur other to pay, + Ur he wouldn't 'a' stayed to hum to-day." + Says Burke, "His toothache's all'n his eye! + _He_ never'd miss a Fo'th-o'-July, + Ef he hedn't got some machine to try." + Then Sol, the little one, spoke: "By darn! + Le's hurry back an' hide'n the barn, + An' pay him fur tellin' us that yarn!" + "Agreed!" Through the orchard they crept back, + Along by the fences, behind the stack, + And one by one, through a hole in the wall, + In under the dusty barn they crawl, + Dressed in their Sunday garments all; + And a very astonishing sight was that, + When each in his cobwebbed coat and hat + Came up through the floor like an ancient rat. + And there they hid; + And Reuben slid + The fastenings back, and the door undid. + "Keep dark!" said he, + "While I squint an' see what the' is to see." + + As knights of old put on their mail,-- + From head to foot an iron suit, + Iron jacket and iron boot, + Iron breeches, and on the head + No hat, but an iron pot instead, + And under the chin the bail + (I believe they call the thing a helm), + Then sallied forth to overwhelm + The dragons and pagans that plagued the realm,-- + So this _modern_ knight + Prepared for flight, + Put on his wings and strapped them tight, + Jointed and jaunty, strong and light,-- + Buckled them fast to shoulder and hip; + Ten feet they measured from tip to tip! + And a helm had he, but that he wore, + Not on his head, like those of yore, + But more like the helm of a ship. + "Hush!" Reuben said, + "He's up in the shed! + He's opened the winder,--I see his head! + He stretches it out, an' pokes it about, + Lookin' to see 'f the coast is clear + An' nobody near: + Guess he do'no' who's hid in here! + He's riggin' a spring-board over the sill! + Stop laffin', Solomon! Burke, keep still! + He's a climbin' out now--Of all the things! + What's he got on? I van, it's wings! + An' that t'other thing? I vum, it's a tail! + An' there he sets, like a hawk on a rail! + Steppin' careful, he travels the length + Of his spring-board, and teeters to try its strength. + Now he stretches his wings, like a monstrous bat, + Peeps over his shoulder, this way an' that, + Fur to see 'f the 's any one passin' by; + But the' 's on'y a ca'f an' a goslin' nigh. + _They_ turn up at him a wonderin' eye, + To see--The dragon! he's goin' to fly! + Away he goes! Jimminy! what a jump! + Flop--flop--an' plump + To the ground with a thump! + Flutt'rin an' flound'rin', all 'n a lump!" + + As a demon is hurled by an angel's spear, + Heels over head, to his proper sphere,-- + Heels over head and head over heels, + Dizzily down the abyss he wheels,-- + So fell Darius. Upon his crown, + In the midst of the barn-yard, he came down, + In a wonderful whirl of tangled strings, + Broken braces and broken springs, + Broken tail and broken wings, + Shooting-stars, and various things, + Barn-yard litter of straw and chaff, + And much that wasn't so sweet by half. + Away with a bellow fled the calf; + And what was that? Did the gosling laugh? + 'Tis a merry roar from the old barn door, + And he hears the voice of Jotham crying, + "Say, D'rius! how do you like flyin'?" + Slowly, ruefully, where he lay, + Darius just turned and looked that way, + As he stanched his sorrowful nose with his cuff. + "Wal, I like flyin' well enough," + He said; "but the' ain't sich a thunderin' sight + O' fun in't when ye come to light." + + I just have room for the MORAL here: + And this is the moral: Stick to your sphere. + Or, if you insist, as you have the right, + On spreading your wings for a loftier flight, + The moral is, Take care how you light. + + + + +PAPER: A POEM + +BY BENJAMIN FRANKLIN + + + Some wit of old,--such wits of old there were,-- + Whose hints showed meaning, whose allusions care, + By one brave stroke to mark all human kind, + Called clear blank paper every infant mind! + Then still, as opening sense her dictates wrote, + Fair virtue put a seal, or vice a blot. + + The thought was happy, pertinent, and true; + Methinks a genius might the plan pursue. + I (can you pardon my presumption), I-- + No wit, no genius--yet for once will try. + + Various the papers various wants produce, + The wants of fashion, elegance and use. + Men are as various; and, if right I scan, + Each sort of _paper_ represents some _man_. + + Pray not the fop,--half powder and half lace,-- + Nice as a bandbox were his dwelling-place; + He's the _gilt paper_, which apart you store, + And lock from vulgar hands in the escritoire. + + Mechanics, servants, farmers, and so forth, + Are _copy-paper_, of inferior worth,-- + Less prized, more useful, for your desk decreed. + Free to all pens, and prompt at every need. + + The wretch whom avarice bids to pinch and spare, + Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir, + Is coarse _brown paper_, such as peddlers choose + To wrap up wares which better men will use. + + Take next the miser's contrast, who destroys + Health, fame and fortune in a round of joys. + Will any paper match him? Yes, throughout. + He's a true _sinking paper_, past all doubt. + + The retail politician's anxious thought + Deems _this_ side always right, and _that_ stark naught; + He foams with censure, with applause he raves,-- + A dupe to rumors, and a tool of knaves: + He'll want no type his weakness to proclaim + While such a thing as _foolscap_ has a name. + + The hasty gentleman, whose blood runs high, + Who picks a quarrel if you step awry, + Who can't a jest, or hint, or look endure,-- + What's he? What? _Touch-paper_, to be sure. + + What are our poets, take them as they fall, + Good, bad, rich, poor, much read, not read at all? + Them and their works in the same class you'll find: + They are the mere _waste paper_ of mankind. + + Observe the maiden, innocently sweet; + She's fair _white paper_, an unsullied sheet, + On which the happy man, whom fate ordains, + May write his _name_, and take her for his pains. + + One instance more, and only one, I'll bring; + 'Tis the _great man_ who scorns a little thing, + Whose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims, are his own, + Formed on the feelings of his heart alone; + True genuine _royal paper_ is his breast,-- + Of all the kinds most precious, purest, best. + + + + +NIAGARA BE DAMMED[7] + +BY WALLACE IRWIN + + + "Them beauties o' Nature," said Senator Grabb, + As he spat on the floor of Justitia's halls, + "Is pretty enough and artistic enough-- + Referrin', of course, to Niagara Falls, + Whose waters go rumblin' and mumblin' and grumblin' + And tearin' and stumblin' and bumblin' and tumblin' + And foamin' and roarin' + And plungin' and pourin' + And wastin' the waters God gave to us creechers + To wash down our liquor and wash up our feechers-- + Then what in the deuce + Is the swish-bingled use + O' keepin' them noisy old cataracts busy + To give folks a headache and make people dizzy? + + "Some poets and children and cripples and fools + They say that them Falls is eternal. That so? + Say, what is Eternity, Nature, and God + Compared to the Inter-Graft Gaslighting Co.? + Could all the durn waterfalls born in creation + Compete with a sugar or soap corporation? + But Nature, you feel, + Has a voice in the deal? + She ain't. For I'm deaf both in that ear and this un-- + If Nature talks Money I'm willin' to listen! + So bring on your dredges, + And shovels and sledges, + Yer bricklayers, masons, yer hammers and mauls-- + The public be dammed while we dam up the Falls. + + "Just look at the plans o' me beautiful dream! + A sewer-pipe conduit to carry the Falls + Past eight hundred mill-wheels (great savin' of steam): + The cliffs to be covered with dump heaps and walls, + With many a smokestack and fly-wheel and pulley, + Bridge, engine, and derrick--say, won't it look bully! + With, furnaces smokin', + And stokers a-stokin' + With factory children a-workin' like Scotches + A-turnin' out chewing-gum, shoe-laces, watches, + And kitchen utensils, + And patent lead-pencils, + And mission-oak furniture, pie-crust, and flannels-- + Thus turnin' Niag' to legitimate channels. + + "The province o' Beauty," said Senator Grabb, + "Is bossed by us fellers that know what to do. + When Senator Copper hogs half of a State + He builds an Art Palace on Fift' Avenoo. + What people believed in the dark Middle Ages + Don't go in this chapter o' history's pages, + And the worship of mountains + And rivers and fountains + Is sinful, idolatrous, dark superstition-- + And likely to lose in a cash proposition. + Ere the good time is past + Let's get busy and cast + Our bread on the waterfall--it'll come back. + We'll first pass the Grabb Bill, and then pass the sack." + +FOOTNOTES: + +[7] From "At the Sign of the Dollar," by Wallace Irwin. Copyright, 1905, +by Fox, Duffield & Co. + + + + +THE FORBEARANCE OF THE ADMIRAL[8] + +BY WALLACE IRWIN + + + I ain't afeard o' the Admiral, + Though a common old tar I be, + And I've oftentimes spoke to the Admiral + Expressin' a bright idee; + For he's very nice at takin' advice + And a tractable man is he. + + For once I says to the Admiral, + Unterrified, though polite, + "Don't think me critical, Admiral, + But yer vessel ain't sailin' right; + For our engine should be burnin' wood + And our rattlelines should be tight." + + But when I spoke to the Admiral + He wasn't inclined to scold, + Though me words, addressed to the Admiral, + Was intimate-like and bold, + (But he was up on deck at the time + And I was down in the hold). + +FOOTNOTES: + +[8] From "Nautical Lays of a Landsman," by Wallace Irwin. Copyright, +1904, by Dodd, Mead & Co. + + + + +FATE + +BY R. K. MUNKITTRICK + + + Once I planted some potatoes + In my garden fair and bright; + Unelated + Long I waited, + And no sprout appeared in sight. + + But my "peachblows" in the cellar, + On the cold and grimy flag, + All serenely + Sprouted greenly + In an ancient paper bag. + + + + +THE LIFE ELIXIR OF MARTHY + +BY ELIZABETH HYER NEFF + + +"An-ndrew! An-ndrew!" + +"Yes, Marthy." + +"Andrew, what be you doin' out there? You've ben sayin' 'Yes, Marthy,' +for the last ten minutes." + +The patient, middle-aged face of Andrew appeared in the doorway, its +high, white forehead in sharp contrast with the deeply tanned features +below it. + +"I've jest ben takin' your buryin' clothes off the line an' foldin' 'em +up. It is such a good day to air 'em for fall--and, then,--I jest hate +to tell you!--the moths has got into the skirt of your shroud. I sunned +it good, but the holes is there yet." + +"Moths!" screamed the thin voice, sharpened by much calling to people in +distant rooms. "Then they've got all over the house, I presume to say, +if they've got into that. Why don't you keep it in the cedar chist?" + +"Because it's full of your laid-by clothes now, and I keep my black suit +that you had me git for the funeral in there, too. There ain't room. You +told me allus to keep your buryin' clothes in a box in the spare room +closet, so's they'd be handy to git if they was wanted in the night. You +told me that four or five years ago, Marthy." + +"So I did. And I presume to say that my good three-ply carpet that +mother gave me when we was married is jest reddled with moths--if +they're in that closet. If it wasn't for keepin' that spare room ready +for the cousins in Maine when they come to the buryin', I'd have you +take up that carpet and beat it good and store it in the garret. My, oh, +my, what worries a body has when they can't git around to do for +themselves! Now it's moths, right on top of Mr. Oldshaw's death after +he'd got my discourse all prepared on the text I picked out for him. He +had as good as preached it to me, and it was a powerful one, a warnin' +to the ungodly not to be took unawares. I advised him to p'int it that +way. Then, Jim Woodworth's Mary is leavin' the choir to marry and go +west, and I jest won't have Palmyra Stockly sing 'Cool Siloam' over me. +I can settle that right now, for I couldn't abide the way she acted +about that church fair--and she sings through her nose anyway. +An-ndrew!" + +"Yes, Marthy." + +"You oughtn't to go walkin' off when a body is talkin' to you. You allus +do that." + +"I c'n hear you, Marthy. I'm jest in the kitchen. I thought the dinner +had b'iled dry." + +"Are you gittin' a b'iled dinner? It smells wonderful good. What you got +in it?" + +"Corned beef and cabbage and onions and potatoes and turnips. I've het +up a squash pie and put out some of the cider apple sauce that will +spile if it isn't et pretty soon. I'll put the tea a-drawin' soon's the +kittle b'iles." + +Andrew's voice came into the sick room in a mechanical recitative, as if +accustomed to recount every particular of the day's doings. + +"Well, I guess you can bring me some of it. You bring me a piece of the +corned beef and consid'able of the cabbage and potaters and an onion or +two. And if that cider apple sauce is likely to spile, I might eat a +little of it; bring me a cooky to eat with it. And a piece of the squash +pie. What else did you say you had?" + +"That's all." + +"Don't forgit to put on consid'able of bread. It's a good while till +supper, and I don't dast to eat between meals." + +Andrew brought the tray to the bedside and propped up the invalid before +he ate his own dinner. He had finished it and cleared up the table +before the high voice called again: "An-ndrew!" + +"Yes, Marthy." + +"Is there any more of the corned beef? You brought me such a little +mite of a piece." + +"Yes, there's plenty more, but I knew you'd object if I brought it +first. Like it, did you?" + +"Yes, it was tol'able. Them vegetables was a little rich, but maybe they +won't hurt me. You might bring me another cooky when you come.--Now, you +set down a minute while you're waitin' for my dishes. I've ben worryin' +'bout them moths every minute since you told me, and somethin' has got +to be done." + +"I know it. I hated to tell you, but I thought you ought to know. I +guess I c'n clean 'em out the next rainy spell when I have to stay in." + +"No, you can't wait for that. And you can't do it anyway. There's things +a man can do, and then again there's things he can't. You're uncommon +handy, Andrew, but you're a man." + +Andrew's deprecatory gesture implied that he couldn't help it. + +"I've thought of that ever so much in the years that I've ben layin' +here, and I've worried about what you're goin' to do when I ain't here +to plan and direct for you. Those moths are jest an instance. Now, what +you goin' to do when you have to think for yourself?" + +"I do' know, but you ain't goin' to git up a new worry 'bout that, I +hope?" + +"No, it is not a new worry. It's an old one, but it's such a delicate +subject, even between man and wife, that I've hesitated to speak of it. +Andrew, I don't want you to stay single but jest six months--jest six +months to the very day after I'm laid away. I've spoken to Hannah +Brewster to come in and do for you twice a week, same as she does now, +and to mend your socks and underclothes for six months, and then I want +you to--git married." + +"Why, Marthy!" + +"You needn't gasp like you was struck. I presume to say you'd do it +anyway without thinkin' it over well beforehand. I've allus planned and +thought things over for you till I don't know whether you'd be capable +of attendin' to that or not. And I'd go off a sight easier if I knew +'twas all settled satisfactory. I'd like to know who's goin' to keep my +house and wear my clothes and sun my bed quilts, and I could have her +come and learn my ways beforehand." + +"Good gracious, Marthy! There's a limit to plannin'--and directin'--even +for as smart a woman as you be. You're not goin' to know whether +she'll--consent or not, not while--while you're here, yet. And you're +gittin' no worse; it does seem like you're gittin' better all the time. +Last time Aunt Lyddy was here she said you was lookin' better'n she ever +see you before. I told her you'd picked up in your appetite consid'able. +You'll git up yet and be my second wife yourself." + +"Yes, Aunt Lyddy allus thinks great things 'bout me; she never would +believe how low I've ben, but I guess I know how I be. No, you can't +head me off that way, with the moths in my best things and one of my +grandmother's silver spoons missin'. If there's one thing a +forethoughtful woman ought to plan beforehand, it's to pick out the +woman who's to have her house and her things and her husband." + +Andrew wriggled uncomfortably. "I shouldn't wonder if the dish water was +a-b'ilin', Marthy." + +"No, it isn't. You haven't got fire enough. And we'd better settle this +matter while we're at it." + +"Settle it! Why, Marthy, you talk 's if you wanted me to go 'n' git +married on the spot and bring my second wife home to you before--while +you're still here. I'm no Mormon. Like's not you've got her selected; +you're such a wonderful hand to settle things." + +"I can't say 's I've got her selected--not the exact one--but I've ben +runnin' over several in my mind. We'd better have several to pick from, +and then if some refused you, we'd still have a chance." + +"But how would you git any of 'em to consent?" asked Andrew with a show +of interest. + +"How else but ask 'em? They would understand how I feel about you. The +hull town knows how I've laid here expectin' every day to be to-morrow, +and if I want that thing settled before I go, I don't see how it could +make talk." + +"Now, who had you sorted out to pick from?" and Andrew leaned back +comfortably in his chair. His wife punched up her pillow to lift her +head higher. + +"Well, there's the widows first. I've sorted them over and over till +I've got 'em down to four that ain't wasteful cooks nor got too many +relations. There's Widow Jackson--" + +"She's weakly," promptly decided Andrew. + +"And Mary Josephine Wilson--" + +"She don't go to our church. What about the old maids?" + +"I don't take much stock in old maids. The likeliest person I know, and +I wouldn't call her an old maid, either, is Abilonia Supe. Her mother +was counted the best breadmaker in North Sudbury, and Abby was the +neatest darner in her class at sewing school." + +"But, why, Marthy, isn't Abby promised to Willy Parks?" + +"No; I asked Mis' Parks about that yisterday. She said Willy had been +waitin' on Abby for four or five years, but they'd had a +misunderstandin' this summer, and it was broke off for good." + +"He ought to be horsewhipped!" said Andrew warmly. "Abilonia Supe is the +finest girl in North Sudbury." + +"Ye-es," admitted Marthy reluctantly. "You're sure she wouldn't be too +young for you, are you?" + +"Too young? For me? I don't want to marry my grandmother, I guess. And +I'm not Methusalem myself," and he shook the stoop out of his back and +spread the thin hair across his bald spot. His wife looked at him in +wondering surprise. + +"Abby has had rather a hard time since her mother died," she said +weakly. + +"Indeed she has, and she deserves to have it easy now. She needs +somebody to take care of her if that scamp--and she isn't bad lookin', +either--Abby isn't. I tell you, Marthy, there isn't your beat in the +hull town for managin' forethoughtedness. Sick or well, you've allus ben +a captain at managin'. Now, come to think it over, this isn't a bad +idee. But, how'll we git her consent? Maybe I'd better step over +and--well--ruther lead up to the subject. I might--" + +"That dish water's a-b'ilin', Andrew. It's a-b'ilin' hard. I c'n hear +it." + +Andrew started briskly for the kitchen, and the dishes clattered +merrily. An hour later he framed himself in the doorway in his Sunday +clothes. + +"I have to go down to the store this afternoon to git that baggin' for +the hops, and I can jest as well 's not go round by Supes' and--sort +of--talk that over with Abby--and tell her your wishes. I never deny you +nothin', Marthy; you know that. If it'll be any comfort to you, I'll +jest brace up and do it, no matter how hard it is." + +"Well--say, Andrew, wait a minute. Maybe you'd better wait till we talk +it over a little more. I might consult with Abby, myself, on the +subject--An-ndrew! An-ndrew! That man is gittin' a good deal deafer'n +he'll own to." + +It was quite supper time when Andrew returned; it was too late to cook +anything, so he brought Marthy some of the Sunday baked beans and brown +bread, with the cider apple sauce. + +"Well, you must 'a' had a time of it with her," suggested his wife as he +placed the tray. "I hope you didn't do more'n make a suppositious case +and find out what her sentiments was." + +"That was what I set out to do, but she was so surprised an' asked so +many questions that I jest had to up and tell her what I was drivin' at. +I told her that it was your last wish, and that you'd set your heart on +it till you felt like you couldn't die easy unless you knew who was +goin' to have your house and your beddin' and--me, and after I'd +reasoned with her quite a spell and she'd ruther got used to the idee, +she saw how 'twas. I thought you'd like to have it settled, because you +allus do, and, as you say, there's no tellin' what day'll be to-morrow. +Then, that Willy Parks is likely to come back and spile the hull plan." + +"Settle it all? Why, what did she say to it?" + +"I guess you may call it settled. I asked her if she'd consider herself +engaged to me--" + +"What? What's that? Engaged to you?" + +"Yes; isn't that what you wanted?" + +"What did she say to that?" + +"She said yes, she guessed that she would, though she would like to +think it over a little." + +"I didn't presume to think you'd go and get it all settled without +talkin' it over with me, and I calc'lated to--to do the arrangin' +myself. What did she say when she consented to it, Andrew?" + +Andrew squirmed on the edge of his chair. "I guess my tea is coolin' out +there. I'd better go and eat, now." + +"A minute more won't make no difference. What did she say?" + +"She said--why, she said--a whole lot of things. She said she never +expected to marry; that she wanted to give her life to makin' folks +happy and doin' for them, folks that had a sorrow--but the Lord hadn't +given her any sorrowful folks to do for. It's my opinion that she +thought consid'able of that fickle Willy Parks. Then I reasoned with her +some, and she come to see that maybe this was the app'inted work for her +to do--considerin' you'd set your heart on it so. She said she didn't +know but I needed lookin' after and doin' for as much as any one she +knew, and it would be a pleasure to--now, Marthy, let me go and have my +tea." + +"What else did she say?" + +"Well, she said I certainly had--that I had--a hard trial this trip, and +I'd served my time so faithfully it would be a comfort and a pleasure +to--now, Marthy, I know my tea's cold." + +It took him so long to have his tea and wash the dishes and bring in the +squashes for fear of frost that Marthy had no further opportunity to +consider the new position of her husband as an engaged man that night. +She resumed the subject early the next morning. + +"Andrew, I want you should go and bring Abilonia over here as soon as +you git the work done up. There's so much I want to arrange with her, +and you never know what day'll be to-morrow. And them moths ought to be +seen to right off-- + +"What be you goin' up stairs for? You needn't put on your Sunday clothes +jest for that. She'll have to see you in your old clothes many a year +after you're--ah--when she comes to live here." + +"Yes, but that's not now. I'm only engaged to her; I'm only sort of +courtin' now, as you might say." + +He came back in a little while, bringing a gentle, brown-eyed young +woman, who laid away her things and took an apron from her bag with the +air of one accustomed to do for others. + +"Did you want to see me particularly, Mis' Dobson? I hope you're not +feelin' worse?" + +"I do' know's I slep' much las' night, and I have an awful funny feelin' +round my heart this mornin'. I'm preparin' for the worst. You know 'Two +men shall be grindin' at the mill and'--" + +"Oh, now, you aren't so bad as all that. You look as smart as a spring +robin--you do look wonderful well, Mis' Dobson. Now, what can I do for +you?" + +"There's a lot of things to look after, Abilonia, now that you--that +you--that--" + +"Yes, I know there are, and I'll just delight to take hold and do them. +I told Mr. Dobson that I wanted to begin to do for you both right away. +I'm real glad you thought--of it, Mis' Dobson, for I've nobody else, +now, to care for, and I should love to take care of poor Mr. Dobson and +try to make him happy--just real happy--the best of anybody in the +world. He looked so pleased when I told him so." + +"Did he? He did!" + +"Yes, his face just lighted up when I told him that we all knew how +faithful he'd been to his trust through such a long, hard siege, how +kind and patient, and that it would be a privilege to try to make it up +to him a little." + +"Oh--ah--well, what did he say to that?" + +"He just said the hand of the Lord had fallen rather heavy on him, but +he'd tried to bear the burden the best he could, and if he held out to +the end the Lord would reward him. And he said it was the Lord's mercy +to give him such a good, clever wife to take care of--since she was +sickly. Now, would you like me to bake you some cookies this morning, or +do the mending?" + +"I don't know. Did Andrew say that? Well, he has been faithful. You're +goin' to git an awful good man, Abilonia. Say, don't you tell him, or +it'll scare him, but I'm goin' to do a terrible resky thing. I'm goin' +to set up here in the bed a little spell. Go you up to the top bureau +drawer in the spare room and git my black shawl. I know I might fall +over dead, but I'm goin' to take the resk." + +"Why, Mis' Dobson, it isn't safe!" + +"Safe or not, I'm goin' to do it. I'm goin' to set up a spell. I never +stop for consequences to myself when I set out to do a thing." + +The perilous feat was accomplished without tragedy. After she had had a +nap, propped up in the bed, Mrs. Dobson's soul rose to greater heights +of daring, when Abilonia remarked that Mrs. Dobson's plum-colored silk +was the very thing for a lining to her own silk quilt, and as it would +not be worn again she might as well take it over and make it up. She was +adding that she would like to have a crayon portrait made of Mr. Dobson +to hang beside that of his wife which adorned the parlor in ante-mortem +state, when Marthy interrupted: "Abilonia, go you and git me a dress. +There ought to be a brown poplin hangin' in the little room closet, +unless somebody moved it last spring in housecleanin' time. You bring +that down. I want to git my feet onto the floor." + +When Andrew came home to get dinner he stopped in the kitchen door, dumb +with amazement. Marthy sat by the table in the big wooden chair peeling +apples, while Abilonia rolled out the pie crust and told about the +church quilting bee. + +The next Sunday Andrew did not change his best suit, as usual, after +church, and his wife remarked the fact as she sat in a blanketed chair +by the living room fire in the evening, with her "Christian Register" in +her hand. + +"Well, you know--I've ben thinkin'--Abby's settin' over there by +herself, and it must be lonesome for the girl. And--if I'm--sort +of--engaged to her--don't you see, Marthy? I don't want to leave +you--but it's my duty to keep company with her. I want to carry out your +wishes exact--every one. You can't ask a thing too hard for me to do." + +"Yes, I know that, Andrew. If ever a man done his duty, it's you. And +you've had little reward for it, too. I'm tryin' to git you a second +wife that'll have her health and--and--yes, I presume to say that +Abilonia'll ruther look for you to set a while, now that she is bespoke +to you." + +"Yes, that's what I guess I ought to do," and he rose briskly. + +"Say, Andrew! Don't be in such a hurry. Come back a minute. You gear up +ole Jule to the buggy and git down a comforter for me. I c'n walk some, +to-day, and if you help me I c'n git into the buggy. I feel like the +air would do me good.--Yes, I presume to say it'll be the death of me, +but you never knew me to stop for that, did you? Git my circular cloak +and the white cloud for my head. Yes, I'm goin', Andrew. When I git my +mind made up, you know what it means." + +There was a light in Abilonia's parlor when they drove up, and a man's +figure showed through the glass panel of the door as he opened it. + +"Willy Parks!" cried Mrs. Dobson in a queer voice. + +"Yes, walk right in, Mr. Dobson. That isn't Mrs. Dobson with you--is it +possible!--after so many years. Let me help you steady her. Well, this +is a surprise! Just walk into the parlor and sit down. Abby's down +cellar putting away the milk, but she'll be up in a minute." + +"It's consid'able of a surprise to see you here, Willy; it's consid'able +of a disapp'intment--to Mis' Dobson. She had set her mind on--on--" +ventured Andrew mildly. + +"Yes, so I heard--and I thought I'd come home. Abby tells me that she is +engaged to you--that she has given her solemn promise." + +"That's what she has," said Andrew firmly. "That's what she has, and +Mis' Dobson has set her mind on it--and I never refuse her nothin'. I +don't want nothin' to reproach myself for. You went off and left that +girl--the finest girl in town--and near about broke her heart. You ought +to be ashamed to show yourself now." + +"I am, Mr. Dobson," said the young man gravely, "and I deserve to lose +her. But when I heard that she was engaged to you--as it were--it +brought me to my senses, and, since you are my rival, I am going to ask +you to be magnanimous. She is so good and true that I believe she will +forgive me and take me back if you will release her--you and Mrs. +Dobson. You wouldn't hold her while Mrs. Dobson looks so smart as she +does to-night--" + +"No, Andrew, we won't hold her. It wouldn't be right. She's +young--and--and real good lookin', and it would be a pity to spile a +good match for her. We oughtn't to hold her--here she is. We will +release you from your engagement to--to us, Abilonia--and may you be +happy! I'm feelin' a sight better lately; that last bitters you got for +me is a wonderful medicine, Andrew. I presume to say I'll be round on my +feet yet, before long, and be able to take as good care of you as you +have took of me all these years. It's a powerful medicine, that root +bitters. We better be goin', Andrew. They've got things to talk about. +Good night, Abilonia. Good night, Willy." + + + + +THE KAISER'S FAREWELL TO PRINCE HENRY + +BY BERT LESTON TAYLOR + + + Auf wiedersehen, brother mine! + Farewells will soon be kissed; + And, ere you leave to breast the brine, + Give me once more your fist; + + That mailed fist, clenched high in air + On many a foreign shore, + Enforcing coaling stations where + No stations were before; + + That fist, which weaker nations view + As if 'twere Michael's own. + And which appals the heathen who + Bow down to wood and stone. + + But this trip no brass knuckles. Glove + That heavy mailed hand; + Your mission now is one of Love + And Peace--you understand. + + All that's American you'll praise; + The Yank can do no wrong. + To use his own expressive phrase, + Just "jolly him along." + + Express surprise to find, the more + Of Roosevelt you see, + How much I am like Theodore, + And Theodore like me. + + I am, in fact, (this might not be + A bad thing to suggest,) + The Theodore of the East, and he + The William of the West. + + And, should you get a chance, find out-- + If anybody knows-- + Exactly what it's all about, + That Doctrine of Monroe's. + + That's _entre nous_. My present plan + You know as well as I; + Be just as Yankee as you can; + If needs be, eat some pie. + + Cut out the kraut, cut out Rhine wine, + Cut out the Schuetzenfest, + The Saengerbund, the Turnverein, + The Kommers, and the rest. + + And if some fool society + "Die Wacht am Rhein" should sing, + You sing "My Country 'tis of Thee"-- + The tune's "God Save the King." + + To our own kindred in that land + There's not much you need tell. + Just tell them that you saw me, and + That I was looking well. + + + + +JOHNNY'S LESSONS[9] + +BY CARROLL WATSON RANKIN + + + 'Tis very, very late; poor mamma and Cousin Kate, + Papa and Aunty Jane, all know it to their sorrow. + Struggling with the mystery of Latin, Greek, and history, + They're learning Johnny's lessons for the morrow. + + His relatives are bright; still, it takes them half the night + With only four of them--ofttimes a friend they borrow-- + To grapple with hard sums, and to fill young John with crumbs + Of wisdom 'gainst the coming of the morrow. + + They bitterly complain; still, with only _one_ small brain, + The boy needs all his kin can give him, for oh! + These lessons, if they slight 'em, how _can_ poor John recite 'em + To a dozen wiser teachers on the morrow. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[9] Lippincott's Magazine. + + + + +GRANDFATHER SQUEERS + +BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY + + "My grandfather Squeers," said the Raggedy Man, + As he solemnly lighted his pipe and began-- + + "The most indestructible man, for his years, + And the grandest on earth, was my grandfather Squeers! + + "He said, when he rounded his three-score-and-ten, + 'I've the hang of it now and can do it again!' + + "He had frozen his heels so repeatedly, he + Could tell by them just what the weather would be; + + "And would laugh and declare, 'while _the Almanac_ would + Most falsely prognosticate, _he_ never could!' + + "Such a hale constitution had grandfather Squeers + That, though he'd used '_navy_' for sixty odd years, + + "He still chewed a dime's-worth six days of the week, + While the seventh he passed with a chew in each cheek: + + "Then my grandfather Squeers had a singular knack + Of sitting around on the small of his back, + + "With his legs like a letter Y stretched o'er the grate + Wherein 'twas his custom to ex-pec-tor-ate. + + "He was fond of tobacco in _manifold_ ways, + And would sit on the door-step, of sunshiny days, + + "And smoke leaf-tobacco he'd raised strictly for + The pipe he'd used all through The Mexican War." + + And The Raggedy Man said, refilling the bowl + Of his _own_ pipe and leisurely picking a coal + + From the stove with his finger and thumb, "You can see + What a tee-nacious habit he's fastened on me! + + "And my grandfather Squeers took a special delight + In pruning his corns every Saturday night + + "With a horn-handled razor, whose edge he excused + By saying 'twas one that his grandfather used; + + "And, though deeply etched in the haft of the same + Was the ever-euphonious Wostenholm's name, + + "'Twas my grandfather's custom to boast of the blade + As 'A Seth Thomas razor--the best ever made!' + + "No Old Settlers' Meeting, or Pioneers' Fair, + Was complete without grandfather Squeers in the chair, + + "To lead off the programme by telling folks how + 'He used to shoot deer where the Court-House stands now'-- + + "How 'he felt, of a truth, to live over the past, + When the country was wild and unbroken and vast, + + "'That the little log cabin was just plenty fine + For himself, his companion, and fambly of nine!-- + + "'When they didn't have even a pump, or a tin, + But drunk surface-water, year out and year in, + + "'From the old-fashioned gourd that was sweeter, by odds, + Than the goblets of gold at the lips of the gods!'" + + Then The Raggedy Man paused to plaintively say + It was clockin' along to'rds the close of the day-- + + And he'd _ought_ to get back to his work on the lawn,-- + Then dreamily blubbered his pipe and went on: + + "His teeth were imperfect--my grandfather owned + That he couldn't eat oysters unless they were 'boned'; + + "And his eyes were so weak, and so feeble of sight, + He couldn't sleep with them unless, every night, + + "He put on his spectacles--all he possessed,-- + Three pairs--with his goggles on top of the rest. + + "And my grandfather always, retiring at night, + Blew down the lamp-chimney to put out the light; + + "Then he'd curl up on edge like a shaving, in bed, + And puff and smoke pipes in his sleep, it is said: + + "And would snore oftentimes, as the legends relate, + Till his folks were wrought up to a terrible state,-- + + "Then he'd snort, and rear up, and roll over; and there + In the subsequent hush they could hear him chew air. + + "And so glaringly bald was the top of his head + That many's the time he has musingly said, + + "As his eyes journeyed o'er its reflex in the glass,-- + 'I must set out a few signs of _Keep Off the Grass!_' + + "So remarkably deaf was my grandfather Squeers + That he had to wear lightning-rods over his ears + + "To even hear thunder--and oftentimes then + He was forced to request it to thunder again." + + + + +THE GENTLE ART OF BOOSTING + +BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS + + +The Idiot was very late at breakfast, so extremely late in fact that +some apprehension was expressed by his fellow boarders as to the state +of his health. + +"I hope he isn't ill," said Mr. Whitechoker. "He is usually so prompt at +his meals that I fear something is the matter with him." + +"He's all right," said the Doctor, whose room adjoins that of the Idiot +in Mrs. Smithers-Pedagog's Select Home for Gentlemen. "He'll be down in +a minute. He's suffering from an overdose of vacation--rested too hard." + +Just then the subject of the conversation appeared in the doorway, pale +and haggard, but with an eye that boded ill for the larder. + +"Quick!" he cried, as he entered. "Lead me to a square meal. Mary, +please give me four bowls of mush, ten medium soft-boiled eggs, a barrel +of sautee potatoes and eighteen dollars' worth of corned beef hash. I'll +have two pots of coffee, Mrs. Pedagog, please, four pounds of sugar and +a can of condensed milk. If there is any extra charge you may put it on +the bill, and some day when Hot Air Common goes up thirty or forty +points I'll pay." + +"What's the matter with you, Mr. Idiot?" asked Mr. Brief. "Been fasting +for a week?" + +"No," replied the Idiot. "I've just taken my first week's vacation, and +between you and me I've come back to business so as to get rested up for +the second." + +"Doesn't look as though vacation agreed with you," said the +Bibliomaniac. + +"It doesn't," said the Idiot. "Hereafter I am an advocate of the Russell +Sage system. Never take a day off if you can help it. There's nothing so +restful as paying attention to business, and no greater promoter of +weariness of spirit and vexation of your digestion than the modern style +of vacating. No more for mine, if you please." + +"Humph!" sneered the Bibliomaniac. "I suppose you went to Coney Island +to get rested up Bumping the Bump and Looping the Loop and doing a lot +of other crazy things." + +"Not I," quoth the Idiot. "I didn't have sense enough to go to some +quiet place like Coney Island, where you can get seven square meals a +day, and then climb into a Ferris Wheel and be twirled around in the air +until they have been properly shaken down. I took one of the 400 +Vacations. Know what that is?" + +"No," said Mr. Brief. "I didn't know there were 400 Vacations with only +365 days in the year. What do you mean?" + +"I mean the kind of Vacation the people in the 400 take," explained the +Idiot. "I've been to a house-party up in Newport with some friends of +mine who're in the swim, and I tell you it's hard swimming. You'll never +hear me talking about a leisure class in this country again. Those +people don't know what leisure is. I don't wonder they're always such a +tired-looking lot." + +"I was not aware that you were in with the smart set," said the +Bibliomaniac. + +"Oh yes," said the Idiot. "I'm in with several of 'em--way in. So far in +that I'm sometimes afraid I'll never get out. We're carrying a whole lot +of wild-cats on margin for Billie Van Gelder, the cotillion leader; +Tommy de Cahoots, the famous yachtsman, owes us about $8,000 more than +he can spare from his living expenses on one of his plunges into Copper, +and altogether we are pretty long on swells in our office." + +"And do you mean to say those people invite you out?" asked the +Bibliomaniac. + +"All the time," said the Idiot. "Just as soon as one of our swell +customers finds he can't pay his margins he comes down to the office and +gets very chummy with all of us. The deeper he is in it the more affable +he becomes. The result is there are house-parties and yacht cruises and +all that sort of thing galore on tap for us every summer." + +"And you accept them, eh?" said the Bibliomaniac scornfully. + +"As a matter of business, of course," replied the Idiot. "We've got to +get something out of it. If one of our customers can't pay cash, why we +get what we can. In this particular case Mr. Reginald Squandercash had +me down at Newport for five full days, and I know now why he can't pay +up his little shortage of $800. He's got the money, but he needs it for +other things, and now that I know it I shall recommend the firm to give +him an extension of thirty days. By that time he will have collected +from the De Boodles, whom he is launching in society--C. O. D.--and will +be able to square matters with us." + +"Your conversation is Greek to me," said the Bibliomaniac. "Who are the +De Boodles, and for what do they owe your friend Reginald Squandercash +money?" + +"The De Boodles," explained the Idiot, "are what is known as Climbers, +and Reginald Squandercash is a Booster." + +"A what?" cried the Bibliomaniac. + +"A Booster," said the Idiot. "There are several Boosters in the 400. For +a consideration they will boost wealthy Climbers into Society. The +Climbers are people like the De Boodles, who have suddenly come into +great wealth, and who wish to be in it with others of great wealth who +are also of high social position. They don't know how to do the trick, +so they seek out some Booster like Reggie, strike a bargain with him, +and he steers 'em up against the 'Among Those Present' Game until +finally you find the De Boodles have a social cinch." + +"Do you mean to say that Society tolerates such a business as that?" +demanded the Bibliomaniac. + +"Tolerates?" laughed the Idiot. "What a word to use! Tolerates? Why, +Society encourages, because Society shares the benefits. Take this +especial vacation of mine. Society had two five-o'clock teas, four of +the swellest dinners you ever sat down to, a cotillion where the favors +were of solid silver and real ostrich feathers, a whole day's clam-bake +on Reggie's steam yacht, with automobile runs and coaching trips galore. +Nobody ever declines one of Reggie's invitations, because what he has +from a Society point of view is the best the market affords. Why, the +floral decorations alone at the _Fete Champetre_ he gave in honor of the +De Boodles at his villa last Thursday night must have cost $5,000, and +everything was on the same scale. I don't believe a cent less than +$7,500 was burned up in the fire-works, and every lady present received +a souvenir of the occasion that cost at least $100." + +"Your story doesn't quite hold together," said Mr. Brief. "If your +friend Reggie has a villa and a steam yacht, and automobiles and +coaches, and gives _fetes champetres_ that cost fifteen or twenty +thousand dollars, I don't see why he has to make himself a Booster of +inferior people who want to get into Society. What does he gain by it? +It surely isn't sport to do a thing like that, and I should think he'd +find it a dreadful bore." + +"The man must live," said the Idiot. "He boosts for a living." + +"When he has the wealth of Monte Cristo at his command?" demanded Mr. +Brief. + +"Reggie hasn't a cent to his name," said the Idiot. "I've already told +you he owes us $800 he can't pay." + +"Then who in thunder pays for the villa and the lot and all those +hundred-dollar souvenirs?" asked the Doctor. + +"Why--this year, the De Boodles," said the Idiot. "Last year it was +Colonel and Mrs. Moneybags, whose daughter, Miss Fayette Moneybags, is +now clinching the position Reggie sold her at Newport over in London, +whither Reggie has consigned her to his sister, an impecunious American +Duchess--the Duchess of Nocash--who is also in the boosting business. +The chances are Miss Moneybags will land one of England's most deeply +indebted peers, and if she does, Reggie will receive a handsome cheque +for steering the family up against so attractive a proposition." + +"And you mean to tell us that a plain man like old John De Boodle, of +Nevada, is putting out his hard-earned wealth in that way?" demanded Mr. +Brief. + +"I didn't mean to mention any names," said the Idiot. "But you've +spotted the victim. Old John De Boodle, who made his $60,000,000 in six +months after having kept a saloon on the frontier for forty years, is +the man. His family wants to get in the swim, and Reggie is turning the +trick for them--and after all, what better way is there for De Boodle to +get in? He might take sixty villas at Newport and not get a peep at the +Divorce Colony there, much less a glimpse of the monogamous set acting +independently. Not a monkey in the Zoo would dine with the De Boodles, +and in his most eccentric moment I doubt if Tommy Dare would take them +up unless there was somebody to stand sponsor for them. A cool million +might easily be expended without results, by the De Boodles themselves, +but hand that money over to Reggie Squandercash, whose blood is as blue +as his creditors sometimes get, and you can look for results. What the +Frohmans are to the stage, Reggie Squandercash is to Society. He's right +in it; popular as all spenders are; lavish as all people spending other +people's money are apt to be. Old De Boodle, egged on by Mrs. De Boodle +and Miss Mary Ann De Boodle, now known as Miss Marianne De Boodle, goes +to Reggie and says, 'The old lady and my girl are nutty on Society. Can +you land 'em?' 'Certainly,' says Reggie, 'if your pocket is long +enough.' 'How long is that?' asks De Boodle, wincing a bit. 'A hundred +thousand a month, and no extras, until you're in,' says Reggie. 'No +reduction for families?' asks De Boodle, anxiously. 'No,' says Reggie. +'Harder job.' 'All right,' says De Boodle, 'here's my cheque for the +first month.' That's how Reggie gets his Newport villa, his servants, +his horses, yacht, automobiles and coaches. Then he invites the De +Boodles up to visit him. They accept, and the fun begins. First it's a +little dinner to meet my friends Mr. and Mrs. De Boodle, of Nevada. +Everybody there, hungry, dinner from Sherrys, best wines in the market. +De Boodles covered with diamonds, a great success, especially old John +De Boodle, who tells racy stories over the _demi-tasse_ when the ladies +have gone into the drawing-room. De Boodle voted a character. Next +thing, Bridge Whist party. Everybody there. Society a good winner. The +De Boodles magnificent losers. Popularity cinched. Next, yachting +party. Everybody on board. De Boodle on deck in fine shape. Champagne +flows like Niagara. Poker game in main cabin. Food everywhere. De +Boodles much easier. Stiffness wearing off, and so on and so on until +finally Miss De Boodle's portrait is printed in nineteen Sunday +newspapers all over the country. They're launched, and Reggie comes into +his own with a profit for the season in a cash balance of $50,000. He's +had a bully time all summer, entertained like a Prince, and comes to the +rainy season with a tidy little umbrella to keep him out of the wet." + +"And can he count on that as a permanent business?" asked Mr. +Whitechoker. + +"My dear sir, the Rock of Gibraltar is no solider and no more +permanent," said the Idiot. "For as long as there is a 400 in existence +human nature is such that there will also be a million who will want to +get into it." + +"At such a cost?" demanded the Bibliomaniac. + +"At any cost," replied the Idiot. "Even people who know they can not +swim want to get in it." + + + + +COLUMBIA AND THE COWBOY + +BY ALICE MACGOWAN + + + "When the circus come to town, + Mighty me! Mighty me! + Jest one wink from that ol' clown, + When he's struttin' up an' down + To the music Bim--bam--bee! + Oh, sich sights, sich sights to see, + When the circus come to town!" + +Blowout was on a boom. + +The railroad from above was coming through, and Blowout was to be a city +with that mysterious and rather disconcerting abruptness with which tiny +Western villages do become cities in these circumstances. + +It had been hoped that the railroad would be through by the Fourth of +July, when the less important celebration of the nation's birthday might +be combined with the proper marking of that event. But though tales came +down to Blowout of how the contractors were working night and day +shifts, and shipping men from the East in order to have the road through +in time, though the Wagon-Tire House had entertained many squads of +engineers and even occasional parties of the contractors' men, the +railroad was not through on the Fourth. + +Something much more important was arranged by Providence, however--at +least, more important in the eyes of the children of the Wagon-Tire +House. Frosty La Rue's grand aggregation of talent was to be in Blowout +for a week, and the human performers were stopping at Huldah Sarvice's +hotel. + +If one can go far enough back to remember the awe and mystery +surrounding a circus, and then imagine a circus coming bodily to lodge +in one's own dwelling, to eat with the knives and forks at one's +table--a circus which could swallow fire and swords, and things of that +sort, just eating off plates in the ordinary manner, with Sissy waiting +on the table behind its chairs--if one can get back to this happy time, +it will be possible to comprehend some of the rapture the twins, Gess +and Tell, experienced while Frosty La Rue's show abode at the Wagon-Tire +House. + +They lorded it over every other child in Blowout, shining with reflected +splendor. They were the most sought after of any of the boys in school, +for Romey was too young to afford information. La Rue himself looked +upon them and said that they were "likely little fellers," and that he +"wouldn't mind having them to train." Think of that! To train! + +Aunt Huldah, with bat-like blindness to their best advantages, had +stated to Mr. La Rue that their father was in--well--in Kansas, and had +only left them with her, as it were, "on demand." + +For one dreadful moment the twins envied Aunt Huldah's real orphans. +Then, realizing that Aunt Huldah would no more give up Sissy or Ally +than she would give up them, they reflected that the ambition of boys is +apt, in this cold, unsympathetic world, to be thwarted by their elders, +and settled down to the more active and thorough enjoyment of what they +might have. + +The company consisted of old La Rue; his second wife, who figured upon +the bill as Signorina Ippolita di Castelli, an ex-circus rider of very +mature years; Frosty's factotum, a Mexican by the name of Jose Romero; +little Roy, the Aerial Wonder, son of Frosty and the Signorina; and last +and most important of all, Minnie La Rue. + +The show was well known in the Texas cattle country, and well loved. +Frosty's daughter--she was only sixteen when he was last at Blowout, +more than a year ago--was a pretty little thing, and her father had +trained her to be a graceful tight-rope performer. He himself did some +shooting from horseback, which most of the cowboys who applauded it +could have beaten. + +Frosty La Rue drank hard, and he was very surly when he was drinking. +Even Aunt Huldah's boundless charity found it difficult to speak well of +his treatment of Minnie. The Signorina could take care of herself--and +of the Aerial Wonder as well. But the heft of her father's temper, and +sometimes the weight of his hand also, fell on the young girl when +things went amiss. + +And things had gone amiss, more particularly in regard to her, during +the last six months. Up to that time she had looked like a child, small +for her age, silent, with big, wistful eyes, deft, clever fingers, and a +voice and manner that charmed every audience--in short, the most +valuable piece of property in La Rue's outfit. + +The girl had bloomed into sudden and lovely girlhood when Kid Barringer +saw her at Abilene, in April, patiently performing the tricks that had +been taught her, obediently risking her young life that there might be +plenty of money for her father to lose at the monte table, and that they +might all be clothed and fed. + +Kid had known the La Rue family and the girl for years, and when he +promptly lost his heart to this surprising development of its daughter, +he went frankly to the head of the clan and asked for her like a man. + +There was no fault to find with Kid Barringer. He was good-looking, +more intelligent than most of his mates, an honest, industrious and +kind-hearted fellow, of whom his employers spoke well. If the girl cared +for him--and Kid asserted that he had asked her and found out that she +did care--she could not hope to do better. + +But, of course, for La Rue to give up this most valuable chattel was out +of the question. What he did, therefore, was to fly into a rage, refuse +the Kid's offer in language which would have precipitated a brawl had +the young man been less earnest in his wooing, and consign Minnie to the +watchful vigilance of her stepmother. + +And the cowboy had been vainly following the show during the whole two +months that had passed since this episode, anxiously watching his poor +little hard-worked sweetheart, hoping to get a word from her, meaning in +any case to reassure her, and show her that he had not given up. + +Matters were in this state when the "aggregation" settled down at the +Wagon-Tire House for the week during which the Fourth of July was to +occur. For this occasion La Rue promised a display of fireworks +"superior to anything ever shown in West Texas." + +The fame of this spectacle had preceded the show. It had been given in +Emerald the year before, and all the cowboys who had seen it there +brought back word that it was "the finest ever." The particular feature +was in the closing act which La Rue had christened "Columbia +Enlightening the World." + +For this performance a wire was stretched across the street from the top +of one building to another. La Rue intended this year to have it +stretched from the Roundup to the Wagon-Tire House. Across this wire +Minnie was to walk, dressed as Columbia, with a high-spiked diadem upon +her head, her whole form outlined with colored fires, and bearing +certain rockets which were set off when she reached the center of the +street. + +Everybody in the Wagon-Tire House liked the girl; Frosty was offensively +polite or aggressively insulting; Mrs. La Rue was, as Troy Gilbert said, +"a pretty tough specimen"; or, if one would rather follow Aunt Huldah's +cheerful and charitable lead, "She looked a heap nicer, and appeared a +heap better, in the show than out of it"; the Aerial Wonder was +something of a terrestrial terror; but there was no question that Minnie +La Rue was one of the sweetest and best little girls ever brought up in +an inappropriate circus. + +Therefore, when Kid Barringer appeared, a day after the La Rue family, +and told the boys freely what the situation of his affairs was, he +received unlimited sympathy and offers of assistance. + +"I wish I could help you, Kid," Troy Gilbert said. "There isn't a soul +in town that doesn't feel as though that little girl ought to be taken +out of that man's keeping. But you see he's her own father, I +reckon--says he is--and the law can't go behind that." + +"If you boys would fix up a scheme to get me a chance to speak to +Minnie--" Kid began. "At first I thought I could steal her just as easy +as anything. She'd be glad to go; I had a little note from her--Say, +Gib," he broke off suddenly, with a catch in his voice, "he's liable to +strike her--to hurt her--when he's drinking." + +"Well, if it went as far as that, here in Blowout, I would arrest him, +you know," Gilbert suggested. + +"It won't," Kid returned, dejectedly; "not at the Wagon-Tire House. Aunt +Huldy has a good effect on him--or rather, bad effect, for that purpose. +He's jest behavin' himself so straight, that Aunt Huldy won't hear a +word about him bein' the meanest that ever was." + +Troy was thinking intently. + +"Say, Kid, I've got an idea. Do you reckon Aunt Huldy thinks too well of +Frosty to help us out a little? If she doesn't, I believe the thing's as +good as done. I saw that there 'Columbia Enlightening the World' at +Emerald last year, and I know exactly how I could fix it so as to let +you--well, you wait a minute, and I'll give you all the details. It's +the only thing on the program that separates your girl from the +Signorina for five minutes." + +It must have been that Aunt Huldah saw more harm in Frosty La Rue than +she was willing to mention; for an hour later Gilbert had made his +arrangements. + +"Now, Kid," he counseled, "I want you to make yourself scarce around +here from now on. Don't let Frosty know you're in the diggin's at all. +We boys are going to give it out that you've gone to Fort Worth, so that +he and Mrs. La Rue won't watch Miss Minnie quite so close." + +The Kid obediently withdrew from public life, spending most of his days +in the back room of the big store, where a few sympathizing friends were +always ready to bear him company; and the word went out that he had, in +despair, given up camping on Miss Minnie's trail and gone off to Fort +Worth. + +This intelligence reaching old man La Rue--Gilbert wondered a little if +it were possible any of it came to him through Aunt Huldah--had the +desired effect of relaxing the watch upon the girl. + +The first move in Gilbert's game was to waylay Frosty's Mexican, and +bribe him to feign sickness. To this Jose promptly consented; and he +counterfeited with such vigor, and so to the life, that the proprietor +of the show was beside himself; for it was too late to teach a new man +the management of the fireworks. + +And now came Gilbert's second move. He approached the old man with the +inquiry, "Why, what's the racket, Frosty? Something the matter with some +of your outfit?" + +La Rue sweepingly condemned the whole republic of Mexico in general, and +Jose Romero in particular, winding up with the statement that the +no-account greaser had gone and got sick, here at the last +minute--Frosty would seem to imply, out of sheer perversity--and when it +was too late to teach another his duties. + +Upon this, Gilbert unfolded his scheme with a careful carelessness. + +"Fireworks? Why, do you know, Frosty, I believe I could do your +fireworks for you all right. I know fireworks pretty well, and I saw +your 'Columbia' at Emerald last year." + +"And would you do it, Gilbert?" asked La Rue. "It wouldn't _pay_," added +the tight-fisted old fellow. "It wouldn't pay _you_--a man like _you_; +but--" + +"Oh, I just don't want to see the boys disappointed and the show +spoiled," rejoined Gilbert. "I don't want any money." + +La Rue was almost ready to embrace the sheriff of Wild Horse County. His +burdens had not been light, even before the despised Jose's defection. +There was a multitude of things, big and little, which could not well be +carried with a show of the sort, but had always to be picked up locally, +at the last moment; and a crude little cow-town like Blowout not only +failed to supply many of these, but stood, as one might say, with +dropped jaw at the very suggestion of them--at the mere mention of their +unfamiliar names. + +And so the company--otherwise the La Rue family--had to produce much of +the paraphernalia out of its inner consciousness, which meant that the +old man's temper was continually rasped, that the Signorina's nerves +and her ingenuity were on a strain, and that Minnie was hard at work +from dawn till dark, practising between whiles. + +Troy Gilbert had put it most hopefully when he said that he knew +fireworks pretty well--or one might say that the statement was +susceptible of two different interpretations. As a matter of fact, Troy +knew fireworks only from the spectator's side of the question. + +He now had Jose Romero moved over into the back room of his place, where +he might mitigate the rigors of that alien's confinement, and at the +same time receive from the Mexican very necessary instruction. + +Mercifully, there was an ample supply of fireworks, for the show was to +be repeated at Antelope, over in Lone Jack County, and again at Cinche. + +Moreover, drawing heavily, as he had been instructed, upon Kid +Barringer's bank account, Gilbert wrote to Fort Worth and ordered a +duplicate set of these fireworks sent on to Cinche. And in the darkness +of night, when Blowout was wrapped in slumber, Gilbert and Romero rode +silently out, down the flank of the divide, across the plain and into a +little canon six or seven miles distant in the breaks of Wild Horse +Creek. + +All day, in the intervals of his business duties, Gilbert had been +receiving theoretical instructions; now with the set of fireworks which +was to have dazzled and delighted the residents of Antelope, he made +practical experiment of the knowledge so gained. The little show, +witnessed only by the naked walls of the canon and such prairie-dogs and +jack-rabbits as had been untimely aroused from their slumbers, went off +fairly well--which is to say that most of Gilbert's fingers and nearly +all of his features went back to Blowout sound and entire. + +"Oh, I got the hang of the business," he declared again and again, as +they rode along through the soft Texas night; "I got the hang of it. I +can make the whole first part go all right. The thing now is to get that +Columbia act fixed so as to give the boys a run for their money, and +leave a chance for Minnie and Kid." + +The two rode home, and later Jose went to bed in Gilbert's back room, +where work was going forward upon a mysterious-looking structure. + + +II + + "In our village hall a Justice stands: + A neater form was never made of board." + +Frosty La Rue's grand aggregation of talent had given two shows in a +tent on the third of July. + +On the Fourth there would again be two tent-shows, one in the afternoon +and one at night; and at the close of the night performance, when the +"concert" of an ordinary circus takes place, there was to be "a grand +open-air spectacle," as Frosty himself put it. + +For this purpose a platform had been erected, upon which Frosty and the +Signorina could do a knife-throwing turn; and where the Aerial Wonder +could give an infantile exhibition with a small bicycle. + +A wire had been stretched across Comanche Street from the top of the +Roundup to the top of the Wagon-Tire House, and upon this was to be +given the most ambitious performance of the evening, "Columbia +Enlightening the World." + +All day long on the Fourth, the town was full of rejoicing young Texas +masculinity, mounted upon Texas ponies, careering about the streets in +conspicuously full enjoyment of life, liberty, and the pursuit of +happiness. And all day long Frosty La Rue's tent-show did a land-office +business. + +Poor old Frosty! Many of the cowboys could shoot better than he; but +they didn't shoot at colored glass balls. The bareback riding also came +under some contempt; but the spangles and pink fleshings carried much +weight, the Signorina painted most artistically, and, as Aunt Huldah +said, "When she was a-goin' right fast on that fat white hoss, with the +little platform on his back, an' a-smilin' an' kissin' her hand, she did +really look right nice." + +Minnie's trapeze acts were truly fine, and were appreciated at their +full value; and the beautiful little figure walking the wire twenty feet +above the ground was greeted with unlimited enthusiasm. + +When the evening came, old Frosty, inclined to be as nervous and +irritable with Gilbert as he dared, came running into the latter's place +worrying about the fireworks. + +"Now you chase yourself along," advised the sheriff, good-naturedly. +"Just get right along, an' 'tend to your little old illuminated +knife-throwin' trick. 'Tain't ten minutes till that's due, an' you've +got a crowd that's good for five hundred dollars if it's good for a +cent, when you pass the hat. And," he added, delight in the scheme he +was working getting the better of his natural instinct for literal +truth, "and luck--just fool luck--has sent you the finest fireworks +operator in West Texas. Shoo out of here now, an' 'tend to your own job, +an' let me 'tend to mine!" + +As for the children of the Wagon-Tire House, they were perhaps more +glorious on that warm, dark July night than anything in their after +lives could make them. This is not to say that the six were not destined +for happy or distinguished careers; but, after all, the magnificence of +an occasion depends greatly upon the point of view; and the small hill +is a high mountain to the little child. + +They had been permitted to extend invitations to the more favored of +their young friends. Bunt Tarver and Roach Porterman's two small girls, +with Eddie Beach, who lived on a ranch outside of Blowout and stayed all +night at the Wagon-Tire House (in a state of bliss that was almost +cataleptic), were among the little bunch that presented themselves to go +upon the roof of the kitchen, from which a magnificent view of the +fireworks was to be had. + +"I can't have it," Troy announced. "I can't have you children up here." + +"Oh, yes, Gib--oh, yes, you can. They won't--" Aunt Huldah's voice sank +to a murmur, which Troy Gilbert answered with a shake of the head. + +"Well, ef they do see anything, they'll keep still--my chil'en are +trained to mind; and these others are all good people;" and Aunt Huldah +beamed upon the palpitating, expectant, alarmed little band. + +"Keep still!"--what an awful phrase for such a connection! Gilbert +turned and asked them kindly, "Will you, kids? Will you keep right +still, whatever you see?" + +Only Gess and Tell were bold enough to put the horror into words. + +"'Tain't no use fer us to promise," Gess said huskily. "We're jest bound +to holler when the fireworks begins to go off, even if we had promised +cross-yer-heart." + +And Tell piped in, after him, as usual: + +"W'y, a circus is jest hollerin'--or some hollerin' is the best part of +a circus." And he added, with a suspicious tremble in his voice, "I'd +rather go downstairs an' set in the kitchen, if we can't holler." + +Troy burst out laughing at sight of the dejected faces. + +"Oh, holler all you want to--holler as much as you can--I don't mean +hollerin'. I expect to do some pretty considerable hollerin' myself, +and I've got a lot of the boys promised to holler at the right time. +But there's to be a little--a little extra performance up here on the +roof, and if you see anything queer about it, you mustn't let on--you +mustn't tell." + +"That's all right," assured Aunt Huldah, turning to descend the narrow +little stairway. "They'll do jest as you tell 'em, Gib. Mind you don't +tip them soap boxes over an' fall off'n the roof, chil'en. Sissy, you +keep tight hold of Ally's hand--she's apt to fly when the big +performance comes;" and Aunt Huldah's rich, mellow, chuckling laugh came +back to them up the stairs. + +One would have said that nothing on earth could make matters more +glorious to the children of the Wagon-Tire House on this Fourth of July +evening; but after Troy Gilbert's words, they trod not upon the earthen +roof of the hotel, but on air; they sat not upon soap boxes, but on +thrones. + +Nay, kings were small people compared to them. There was to be a +mysterious extra performance, in which the sheriff was implicated; it +would take place under their very noses, and they were asked to assist, +to keep still about it! + +Gilbert had said truly: the crowd was a big one, and most enthusiastic. +As a matter of fact, there were nearly a hundred cowboys on hand who had +been let into Gilbert's scheme. The fireworks were equally successful +whether they blazed splendidly or fizzled ingloriously. It was enough +for the boys that Troy Gilbert was doing the act; they whooped at every +figure, and whooped again at Troy's unaccustomed drollery. + +There was a strain of intense expectancy in the audience, communicated, +though without their knowledge, to those not in the secret from those +who were; so that the crowd was wildly eager, without altogether knowing +why. + +After the display of pin-wheels, fiery serpents, bouquets, Roman candles +and rockets, old Frosty and Mrs. Frosty (otherwise the Signorina +Ippolita di Castelli) came on the small platform to do their +knife-throwing-act, the knives trailing fiery tails. This kept the +audience entertained during the time necessary to prepare the Columbia +act. + +"Bet you'd be scared to do that," whispered Eddie Beach. + +"Bet I wouldn't," Gess made answer. "I'd jest as soon sling them old +knives--Mr. La Rue said me an' Tell was likely boys to train. I bet +Ally'd hold as still as the Signorina 'f I was to throw them knives at +her." + +For the Columbia performance Gilbert had, during the day, stretched +another wire about five feet and three inches above the big wire on +which Minnie was to walk. Indeed, it was this secondary wire which had +caused the eruption of old Frosty demanding to "know." + +When the knife-throwing act was finished, there was a short pause +followed by a little murmur of applause; and this grew louder and +louder, until it was a medley of whoops, yells, stamping, and calls in +every tone and key for the next act--the grand stroke of the +performance. Frosty and the Signorina forbore to go upon the roof of the +Roundup to receive Minnie, until they should see her start from the roof +of the hotel. + +Figures were seen upon the top of the Wagon-Tire House (both roofs were +flat) and Frosty strained his eyes eagerly toward that end of the big +wire. The wondering children drew back and refrained even from +whispering among themselves--Troy's caution was not needed. Strange +doings, indeed, were going forward about the end of the wire. Troy +Gilbert was apparently pushing a reluctant figure toward it--it looked +as though the person were tied, and he laughed and struck her when she +seemed unwilling. + +Finally, Columbia began to move out slowly along the wire. She was +everything that audience or proprietor could desire. The spiked tiara +was on her head, blazing with violet light. Down her back hung her fair +curling hair; in her hands was the long balancing pole--Columbia's +scepter of power; and her white draperies were illuminated with fires of +blue and crimson and violet. + +The children stared, silent, motionless, expectant. They were nearer +than those in the street and had had opportunity to observe the +irregularity of Columbia's launching. + +There was a little outburst of applause when she first appeared. But as +she moved out over the wire, the silence was so complete that the +coughing of one of the patient ponies on the outskirts of the crowd was +plainly audible. + +Those in the secret were silent, in ecstasies of admiration. The +children kept still because they had been told to--whatever they saw. +Those not instructed were mute with amazement--a sort of creeping awe. + +Most of the audience had seen Minnie that afternoon in the tent-show, +her slender girlish form clad in spangled gauze, her delicate blonde +prettiness enhanced by the attire, doing her trapeze act. She had then +moved with the lithe grace of a young deer; her face had been all eager +animation. What sort of thing was this, that seemed to advance along the +wire as though it were on casters--that was never seen to take a step? +What face was this, strange, staring, immobile as a face carved in wood? + +"Gee!" murmured one of the X Q K boys, who had come in late and was +uninformed. "Gee, I ain't been a-drinkin' a thing--what in the name o' +pity ails that gal!" + +"Great Scott; she gives me the mauley-grubs! Ugh!" and his companion +shivered. But save for these murmured comments, the crowd was intensely +still. + +Suddenly, about the middle of the street, Columbia's forward movement +slackened, checked altogether. This was not unexpected, for midway the +rockets fastened about her waist, and upon her crown were to be +discharged. The manner in which these latter went off brought shrieks +and groans from the crowd below. They fizzed up into Columbia's face, +they burned against her bodice, they struck her arms. "Oh! oh! Poor +soul! she'll have her eyes put out! She'll be killed!" cried a woman's +voice from the street. + +"I might 'a' known better than to trust that fool Gilbert with them +fireworks," groaned old Frosty. "That there girl is worth more'n a +hundred dollars a month to me. If I was to take her East I could hire +her out for two hundred, easy, an' here she's likely to get all crippled +up, so's't she won't never be no account." + +Columbia was the only personage unmoved by all the fiery demonstrations; +she stood rigid, looking strangely massive and tall, till the last +rocket had spent itself. Then her progress began again with a sort of +jerk. A shudder went over her frame, the pole wavered in her +hands--those hands that seemed so limp and lifeless--she tottered, made +a violent movement with her head, then swayed out sidewise and +fell--holding the pole tight in her hands! + +And the strangest sound went up from that big assembly, a mingled sound +of groans and smothered outcries, and also what one might have +sworn--had it not seemed impossible--was wild hysteric laughter. + +Gess and Tell and Eddie Beach, luxuriating in Troy's permission to +"holler as much as they pleased," emitted shrieks that would have +chilled the blood of any whom this strange spectacle had not already +terrified. + +For, instead of falling to the ground twenty feet below, as would have +been natural, and lying there, a mangled body, Columbia hung to the +wire, a mad, fantastic, incredible spectacle, head downward, in a blaze +of inverted patriotic splendor! + +The wildest confusion ensued. Frosty was beside himself. He simply +danced and yelled where he stood. Those who were in the secret shouted +themselves hoarse with rapture, capering like dervishes, embracing one +another; those who were not, screamed with horror and dismay. + +As all gazed fascinated, something drifted down from the hanging figure. +A cowboy plunged forward, caught it up, and there broke upon the sudden +stillness which had followed this incident, a roar of hearty laughter, +as he held high in the blaze of light that came from the pendent figure, +Columbia's wooden-seeming countenance--a false face! + +Instantly, the shouting and confusion broke out again. The figure began +to sway; and the light draperies were ignited by some bit of fire which +had been brought into contact with them, by the inversion of Columbia's +proper position. + +The figure showed that, beyond the streaming golden hair--the beautiful +fair hair which Aunt Huldah had cut from Daisy's head, and which Daisy +had given with loving generosity--and the stuffed-out waist of +Columbia's classic robe, the only anatomy Columbia possessed was an +upright post with a wheel at the bottom--a caster indeed!--which had run +upon the big wire. + +At the top of Columbia's head there had been another wheel, which ran, +trolley-like, upon the upper wire; and a slender wire traveling along +the lower, or footway wire, had drawn the figure forward. + +Some obstacle had been met in the overhead wire; and when the figure +was jerked forward, harder and harder, to overcome this, the upper +attachment finally gave way entirely and allowed the figure to fall. +Only Gilbert's precaution of looping a heavy wire from axle to axle of +the lower wheel around the footway wire, had prevented Columbia from +falling to the ground. + +As the explanation began to spread over the crowd--not in whispers, but +in shouts, mingled with roars of laughter--those who had been instructed +beforehand pressed round old Frosty and the Signorina in a dense mass. + +Threats, complaints, demands, all sorts of outcries filled the air. + +"You old fakir!" + +"What do you mean by it, Frosty?" + +"Do you think you're a-goin' to run a blazer like this on us, and we'll +swaller hit like hit was catnip tea?" + +"What fer did ye want to fool us thataway?" + +"We ain't a-goin' to stand it--we'll----" + +"Gentlemen, jest be quiet. Let me out--let me git across the street to +the Wagon-Tire--where my daughter is--and I can explain things." + +"Explain nothin'!" was the cry; "you'll explain right here! Do you think +Blowout is a-goin' to stand this kind o' thing?" + +"Who put you up to run this blazer on us? Them fellers at Plain View? Er +them scrubs at Cinche? This town ain't a-goin' to stand it!" + +"Gentlemen," came Frosty's pipe again, "gentlemen, let me out--jest let +me git to my daughter--let me git out o' here before it's too late! This +is some o' that scoundrel Kid Barringer's doin's. Let me out, +gentlemen!" + +But the old man had gone the wrong way about it. Kid was one of them, a +good fellow, and much liked. Even those who knew nothing now scented a +romance. The big crowd hemmed old Frosty in and held him there with +pretended wrath and resentment. + + * * * * * + +At the back door of the Wagon-Tire House, just before the wooden +Columbia appeared to the eyes of Blowout, a meeting had taken place. +From that door Aunt Huldah had stepped with Minnie clinging to her arm. +In the dense shadow Kid Barringer was waiting with two of the best +ponies in Wild Horse County. He came eagerly forward. + +"Kid," said Aunt Huldah's heartsome voice, "here's Minnie--I've brung +her to you. I b'lieve we're doin' right. You're a good boy, Kid. An' I +know you love her an' will take keer o' her. Ef you wasn't to, you'd +shore have me to fight!" and she chuckled genially. + +"Good-by, honey. Ye needn't to look skeered. We-all have got ye now, an' +we'll take keer of ye--the hull kit an' bilin' o' us. Good-by, bless +your sweet little heart!" + +With the word Minnie was in her saddle, swung there by her lover's +strong arms, and away across the levels beside him. + +And while, back in Blowout, the Signorina fairly clawed, cat-like, to +get through that wall of cowboys and across the street to where +(believing Kid Barringer to be as far away as Fort Worth) she had left +Minnie scarce half an hour before--while the old man shouted and swore +and protested and fairly wept with rage and apprehension; Kid Barringer +reached his left hand out to his companion, saying: + +"Slack him down a little, honey; we're safe now. Mr. Ferguson, the +Presbyterian preacher--he's promised me--I told him--an' he's a-goin' to +marry us. His place ain't half a mile further on, an' he's lookin' fer +us. We're safe now, my poor little girl." + +The cowboys, with roars of delight, fished down the remains of the +dangling Columbia, while the original performer, to whom Columbia's +figure was understudy, stood in Mr. Ferguson's little parlor, waiting +for that gentleman to bring in a second witness. Her little fair head +was resting on Kid's broad shoulder; Kid's arm was around her slender +figure; and she was saying, between laughter and tears: + +"Kid, how do you reckon that old machine Columbia is getting along with +my turn, back there at Blowout?" + +And the happy bridegroom made blissful answer: "I don't know--or +keer--honey. She can go it on her head for all of us, can't she? She +give us our chance to get away, and that was all we wanted. Aunt Huldy +is the Lord's own people. I'll never forget her. You wouldn't hardly 'a' +thought I was good enough, if Aunt Huldy hadn't a-recommended me, I +don't believe. My little girl ain't never a-goin' to get to walk no more +wires." + + + + +ONE OF THE PALLS + +BY DOANE ROBINSON + + + I were a pall to the burrying, + Joe's finally out of the way, + Nothing 'special ailing of him, + Just old age and gen'ral decay. + Hope to the Lord that I'll never be + Old and decrepit and useless as he. + Cuss to his family the last five year-- + Monstrous expensive with keep so dear-- + 'Sides all the fuss and worrying. + Terrible trial to get so old; + Cur'us a man will continue to hold + So on to life, when it's easy to see + His chances for living, tho' dreadfully slim, + Are better than his family are lotting for him. + Joe was that kind of a hanger on; + Hadn't no sense of the time to quit; + Stunted discretion and stall-fed grit + Helped him unbuckle many a cinch, + Where a sensible man would have died in the pinch. + Kind of tickled to have him gone; + Bested for once and laid away, + Got him down where he's bound to stay; + I were a pall to his burrying. + + Knowed him for more than sixty year back-- + Used to be somewhat older than him + Fought him one night to a husking bee; + Licked him in manner uncommon complete; + Every one said 'twas a beautiful fight; + Joe he wa'n't satisfied with it that way, + Kept dinging along, and when he got through + The worst looking critter that you ever see + Were stretched on a bed rigged up in the hay-- + They carted me home the following day. + Got me a sweetheart purty and trim, + Told me that I was a heap likelier than Joe; + Mittened him twict; he kept on the track, + Followed her round every place she would go; + Offered to lick him; says she, "It's a treat, + Let's watch and find out what the poor critter will do." + Watched him, believing the thing was all right-- + That identical girl is Joe's widow to-night. + Run to be justice, then Joe he run, too; + Knowed I was pop'lar and he hadn't a friend, + So there wa'n't no use of my hurrying. + The 'lection came off, we counted the votes; + I hadn't enough; Joe had them to lend. + Now all the way through I had been taking notes + Of his disagreeable way, + And it tickles me now to be able to say + He's bested for good in the end; + Got him down where he's bound to stay; + I were a pall to his burrying. + + + + +THE V-A-S-E + +BY JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE + + + From the madding crowd they stand apart, + The maidens four and the Work of Art; + + And none might tell from sight alone + In which had Culture ripest grown-- + + The Gotham Million fair to see, + The Philadelphia Pedigree, + + The Boston Mind of azure hue, + Or the soulful Soul from Kalamazoo-- + + For all loved Art in a seemly way, + With an earnest soul and a capital A. + + * * * * * + + Long they worshipped; but no one broke + The sacred stillness, until upspoke + + The Western one from the nameless place, + Who, blushing, said: "What a lovely vase!" + + Over three faces a sad smile flew, + And they edged away from Kalamazoo. + + But Gotham's haughty soul was stirred + To crush the stranger with one small word. + + Deftly hiding reproof in praise, + She cries: "'T is, indeed, a lovely vaze!" + + But brief her unworthy triumph when + The lofty one from the house of Penn, + + With the consciousness of two grandpapas, + Exclaims: "It is quite a lovely vahs!" + + And glances round with an anxious thrill, + Awaiting the word of Beacon Hill. + + But the Boston maid smiles courteouslee + And gently murmurs: "Oh, pardon me! + + "I did not catch your remark, because + I was so entranced with that charming vaws!" + + _Dies erit proegelida + Sinistra quum Bostonia._ + + + + +EVE'S DAUGHTER + +BY EDWARD ROWLAND SILL + + + I waited in the little sunny room: + The cool breeze waved the window-lace, at play, + The white rose on the porch was all in bloom, + And out upon the bay + I watched the wheeling sea-birds go and come. + "Such an old friend,--she would not make me stay + While she bound up her hair." I turned, and lo, + Danae in her shower! and fit to slay + All a man's hoarded prudence at a blow: + Gold hair that streamed away + As round some nymph a sunlit fountain's flow. + "She would not make me wait!"--but well I know + She took a good half-hour to loose and lay + Those locks in dazzling disarrangement so! + + + + +THE DULUTH SPEECH + +BY J. PROCTOR KNOTT + + +The House having under consideration the joint resolution (S. R. No. +11), extending the time to construct a railroad from the St. Croix river +or lake to the west end of Lake Superior and to Bayfield-- + +Mr. Knott said:-- + +MR. SPEAKER: If I could be actuated by any conceivable inducement to +betray the sacred trust reposed in me by those to whose generous +confidence I am indebted for the honor of a seat on this floor; if I +could be influenced by any possible consideration to become instrumental +in giving away, in violation of their known wishes, any portion of their +interest in the public domain for the mere promotion of any railroad +enterprise whatever, I should certainly feel a strong inclination to +give this measure my most earnest and hearty support; for I am assured +that its success would materially enhance the pecuniary prosperity of +some of the most valued friends I have on earth,--friends for whose +accommodation I would be willing to make almost any sacrifice not +involving my personal honor or my fidelity as the trustee of an express +trust. And that fact of itself would be sufficient to countervail almost +any objection I might entertain to the passage of this bill not inspired +by an imperative and inexorable sense of public duty. + +But, independent of the seductive influences of private friendship, to +which I admit I am, perhaps, as susceptible as any of the gentlemen I +see around me, the intrinsic merits of the measure itself are of such an +extraordinary character as to commend it most strongly to the favorable +consideration of every member of this House, myself not excepted, +notwithstanding my constituents, in whose behalf alone I am acting here, +would not be benefited by its passage one particle more than they would +be by a project to cultivate an orange grove on the bleakest summit of +Greenland's icy mountains. (Laughter.) + +Now, sir, as to those great trunk lines of railway, spanning the +continent from ocean to ocean, I confess my mind has never been fully +made up. It is true they may afford some trifling advantages to local +traffic, and they may even in time become the channels of a more +extended commerce. Yet I have never been thoroughly satisfied either of +the necessity or expediency of projects promising such meagre results to +the great body of our people. But with regard to the transcendent merits +of the gigantic enterprise contemplated in this bill I never entertained +the shadow of a doubt. (Laughter.) + +Years ago, when I first heard that there was somewhere in the vast +_terra incognita_, somewhere in the bleak regions of the great +Northwest, a stream of water known to the nomadic inhabitants of the +neighborhood as the river St. Croix, I became satisfied that the +construction of a railroad from that raging torrent to some point in the +civilized world was essential to the happiness and prosperity of the +American people, if not absolutely indispensable to the perpetuity of +republican institutions on this continent. (Great laughter.) I felt +instinctively that the boundless resources of that prolific region of +sand and pine shrubbery would never be fully developed without a +railroad constructed and equipped at the expense of the Government, and +perhaps not then. (Laughter.) I had an abiding presentiment that, some +day or other, the people of this whole country, irrespective of party +affiliations, regardless of sectional prejudices, and "without +distinction of race, color, or previous condition of servitude," would +rise in their majesty, and demand an outlet for the enormous +agricultural productions of those vast and fertile pine barrens, drained +in the rainy season by the surging waters of the turbid St. Croix. +(Great laughter.) + +These impressions, derived simply and solely from the "eternal fitness +of things," were not only strengthened by the interesting and eloquent +debate on this bill, to which I listened with so much pleasure the other +day, but intensified, if possible, as I read over this morning the +lively colloquy which took place on that occasion, as I find it reported +in last Friday's "Globe." I will ask the indulgence of the House while I +read a few short passages, which are sufficient, in my judgment, to +place the merits of the great enterprise contemplated in the measure now +under discussion beyond all possible controversy. + +The honorable gentleman from Minnesota (Mr. Wilson), who, I believe, is +managing this bill, in speaking of the character of the country through +which this railroad is to pass, says this:-- + +"We want to have the timber brought to us as cheaply as possible. Now, +if you tie up the lands in this way, so that no title can be obtained to +them,--for no settler will go on these lands, for he can not make a +living,--you deprive us of the benefit of that timber." + +Now, sir, I would not have it by any means inferred from this that the +gentleman from Minnesota would insinuate that the people out in his +section desire this timber merely for the purpose of fencing up their +farms, so that their stock may not wander off and die of starvation +among the bleak hills of the St. Croix. (Laughter.) I read it for no +such purpose, sir, and make no such comment on it myself. In +corroboration of this statement of the gentleman from Minnesota, I find +this testimony given by the honorable gentleman from Wisconsin (Mr. +Washburn). Speaking of these same lands, he says: + +"Under the bill, as amended by my friend from Minnesota, nine tenths of +the land is open to actual settlers at $2.50 per acre; the remaining one +tenth is pine-timbered land, that is not fit for settlement, and never +will be settled upon; but the timber will be cut off. I admit that it is +the most valuable portion of the grant, for most of the grant is not +valuable. It is quite valueless; and if you put in this amendment of the +gentleman from Indiana, you may as well just kill the bill, for no man +and no company will take the grant and build the road." + +I simply pause here to ask some gentleman better versed in the science +of mathematics than I am to tell me, if the timbered lands are in fact +the most valuable portion of that section of country, and they would be +entirely valueless without the timber that is on them, what the +remainder of the land is worth which has no timber on it at all. +(Laughter.) + +But further on I find a most entertaining and instructive interchange of +views between the gentleman from Arkansas (Mr. Rogers), the gentleman +from Wisconsin (Mr. Washburn), and the gentleman from Maine (Mr. Peters) +upon the subject of pine lands generally, which I will tax the patience +of the House to read:-- + +"Mr. Rogers. Will the gentleman allow me to ask him a question? + +"Mr. Washburn, of Wisconsin. Certainly. + +"Mr. Rogers. Are these pine lands entirely worthless except for timber? + +"Mr. Washburn, of Wisconsin. They are generally! worthless for any other +purpose. I am perfectly familiar with that subject. These lands are not +valuable for purposes of settlement. + +"Mr. Farnsworth. They will be after the timber is taken off? + +"Mr. Washburn, of Wisconsin. No, sir. + +"Mr. Rogers. I want to know the character of these pine lands. + +"Mr. Washburn, of Wisconsin. They are generally sandy, barren lands. My +friend from the Green Bay district (Mr. Sawyer) is himself perfectly +familiar with this question, and he will bear me out in what I say, that +these pine-timber lands are not adapted to settlement. + +"Mr. Rogers. The pine lands to which I am accustomed are generally very +good. What I want to know is, what is the difference between our pine +lands and your pine lands? + +"Mr. Washburn, of Wisconsin. The pine timber of Wisconsin generally +grows upon barren, sandy land. The gentleman from Maine (Mr. Peters), +who is familiar with pine lands, will, I have no doubt, say that pine +timber grows generally upon the most barren lands. + +"Mr. Peters. As a general thing pine lands are not worth much for +cultivation." + +And further on I find this pregnant question, the joint production of +the two gentlemen from Wisconsin:-- + +"Mr. Paine. Does my friend from Indiana suppose that in any event +settlers will occupy and cultivate these pine lands? + +"Mr. Washburn, of Wisconsin. Particularly without a railroad?" + +Yes, sir, "particularly without a railroad." It will be asked after a +while, I am afraid, if settlers will go anywhere unless the Government +builds a railroad for them to go on. (Laughter.) + +I desire to call attention to only one more statement, which I think +sufficient to settle the question. It is one made by the gentleman from +Wisconsin (Mr. Paine), who says:-- + +"These lands will be abandoned for the present. It may be that at some +remote period there will spring up in that region a new kind of +agriculture, which will cause a demand for these particular lands; and +they may then come into use and be valuable for agricultural purposes. +But I know, and I can not help thinking that my friend from Indiana +understands, that for the present, and for many years to come, these +pine lands can have no possible value other than that arising from the +pine timber which stands on them." + +Now, sir, who, after listening to this emphatic and unequivocal +testimony of these intelligent, competent and able-bodied witnesses +(laughter), who that is not as incredulous as St. Thomas himself, will +doubt for a moment that the Goshen of America is to be found in the +sandy valleys and upon the pine-clad hills of St. Croix? (Laughter.) Who +will have the hardihood to rise in his seat on this floor and assert +that, excepting the pine bushes, the entire region would not produce +vegetation enough in ten years to fatten a grasshopper? (Great +laughter.) Where is the patriot who is willing that his country shall +incur the peril of remaining another day without the amplest railroad +connection with such an inexhaustible mine of agricultural wealth? +(Laughter.) Who will answer for the consequences of abandoning a great +and warlike people, in possession of a country like that, to brood over +the indifference and neglect of their Government? (Laughter.) How long +would it be before they would take to studying the Declaration of +Independence, and hatching out the damnable heresy of secession? How +long before the grim demon of civil discord would rear again his horrid +head in our midst, "gnash loud his iron fangs, and shake his crest of +bristling bayonets"? (Laughter.) + +Then, sir, think of the long and painful process of reconstruction that +must follow, with its concomitant amendments to the Constitution; the +seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth articles. The sixteenth, it is of +course understood, is to be appropriated to those blushing damsels who +are, day after day, beseeching us to let them vote, hold office, drink +cock-tails, ride astraddle, and do everything else the men do. (Roars of +laughter.) But above all, sir, let me implore you to reflect for a +single moment on the deplorable condition of our country in case of a +foreign war, with all our ports blockaded, all our cities in a state of +siege; the gaunt spectre of famine brooding like a hungry vulture over +our starving land; our commissary stores all exhausted, and our +famishing armies withering away in the field, a helpless prey to the +insatiate demon of hunger; our navy rotting in the docks for want of +provisions for our gallant seamen, and we without any railroad +communication whatever with the prolific pine thickets of the St. Croix. +(Great laughter.) + +Ah, sir, I could very well understand why my amiable friends from +Pennsylvania (Mr. Myers, Mr. Kelley and Mr. O'Neill) should be so +earnest in their support of this bill the other day, and if their +honorable colleague, my friend, Mr. Randall, will pardon the remark, I +will say I considered his criticism of their action on that occasion as +not only unjust, but ungenerous. I knew they were looking forward with +the far-reaching ken of enlightened statesmanship to the pitiable +condition in which Philadelphia will be left, unless speedily supplied +with railroad connection in some way or other with this garden spot of +the universe. (Laughter.) And besides, sir, this discussion has relieved +my mind of a mystery that has weighed upon it like an incubus for years. +I could never understand before why there was so much excitement during +the last Congress over the acquisition of Alta Vela. I could never +understand why it was that some of our ablest statesmen and most +disinterested patriots should entertain such dark forebodings of the +untold calamities that were to befall our beloved country unless we +should take immediate possession of that desirable island. But I see now +that they were laboring under the mistaken impression that the +Government would need the guano to manure the public lands on the St. +Croix. (Great laughter.) + +Now, sir, I repeat I have been satisfied for years that if there was any +portion of the inhabited globe absolutely in a suffering condition for +want of a railroad it was these teeming pine barrens of the St. Croix. +(Laughter.) At what particular point on that noble stream such a road +should be commenced I knew was immaterial, and so it seems to have been +considered by the draughtsman of this bill. It might be up at the spring +or down at the foot-log, or the Watergate, or the fish-dam, or anywhere +along the bank, no matter where. (Laughter.) But in what direction +should it run, or where should it terminate, were always to my mind +questions of the most painful perplexity. I could conceive of no place +on "God's green earth" in such straitened circumstances for railroad +facilities as to be likely to desire or willing to accept such a +connection. (Laughter.) I knew that neither Bayfield nor Superior City +would have it, for they both indignantly spurned the munificence of the +Government when coupled with such ignominious conditions, and let this +very same land grant die on their hands years and years ago, rather than +submit to the degradation of a direct communication by railroad with the +piny woods of the St. Croix; and I knew that what the enterprising +inhabitants of those giant young cities would refuse to take would have +few charms for others, whatever their necessities or cupidity might be. +(Laughter.) + +Hence, as I have said, sir, I was utterly at a loss to determine where +the terminus of this great and indispensable road should be, until I +accidentally overheard some gentleman the other day mention the name of +"Duluth." (Great laughter.) Duluth! The word fell upon my ear with +peculiar and indescribable charm, like the gentle murmur of a low +fountain stealing forth in the midst of roses, or the soft, sweet +accents of an angel's whisper in the bright, joyous dream of sleeping +innocence. Duluth! 'Twas the name for which my soul had panted for +years, as the hart panteth for the water-brooks. (Renewed laughter.) But +where was Duluth? Never, in all my limited reading, had my vision been +gladdened by seeing the celestial word in print. (Laughter.) And I felt +a profounder humiliation in my ignorance that its dulcet syllables had +never before ravished my delighted ear. (Roars of laughter.) I was +certain the draughtsman of this bill had never heard of it, or it would +have been designated as one of the termini of this road. I asked my +friends about it, but they knew nothing of it. I rushed to the library, +and examined all the maps I could find. (Laughter.) I discovered in one +of them a delicate, hair-like line, diverging from the Mississippi near +a place marked Prescott, which I supposed was intended to represent the +river St. Croix, but I could nowhere find Duluth. + +Nevertheless, I was confident it existed somewhere, and that its +discovery would constitute the crowning-glory of the present century, if +not of all modern times. (Laughter.) I knew it was bound to exist in the +very nature of things; that the symmetry and perfection of our planetary +system would be incomplete without it (renewed laughter); that the +elements of material nature would long since have resolved themselves +back into original chaos, if there had been such a hiatus in creation as +would have resulted from leaving out Duluth. (Roars of laughter.) In +fact, sir, I was overwhelmed with the conviction that Duluth not only +existed somewhere, but that, wherever it was, it was a great and +glorious place. I was convinced that the greatest calamity that ever +befell the benighted nations of the ancient world was in their having +passed away without a knowledge of the actual existence of Duluth; that +their fabled Atlantis, never seen save by the hallowed vision of +inspired poesy, was, in fact, but another name for Duluth; that the +golden orchard of the Hesperides was but a poetical synonym for the beer +gardens in the vicinity of Duluth. (Great laughter.) I was certain that +Herodotus had died a miserable death because in all his travels and with +all his geographical research he had never heard pf Duluth. (Laughter,) +I knew that if the immortal spirit of Homer could look down from another +heaven than that created by his own celestial genius upon the long lines +of pilgrims from every nation of the earth to the gushing fountain of +poesy opened by the touch of his magic wand; if he could be permitted to +behold the vast assemblage of grand and glorious productions of the +lyric art called into being by his own inspired strains, he would weep +tears of bitter anguish that, instead of lavishing all the stores of his +mighty genius upon the fall of Ilion, it had not been his more blessed +lot to crystallize in deathless song the rising glories of Duluth. +(Great and continued laughter.) Yet, sir, had it not been for this map, +kindly furnished me by the Legislature of Minnesota, I might have gone +down to my obscure and humble grave in an agony of despair, because I +could nowhere find Duluth. (Renewed laughter.) Had such been my +melancholy fate, I have no doubt that, with the last feeble pulsation of +my breaking heart, with the last faint exhalation of my fleeting breath, +I should have whispered, "Where is Duluth?" (Roars of laughter.) + +But, thanks to the beneficence of that band of ministering angels who +have their bright abodes in the far-off capital of Minnesota, just as +the agony of my anxiety was about to culminate in the frenzy of despair, +this blessed map was placed in my hands; and as I unfolded it a +resplendent scene of ineffable glory opened before me, such as I imagine +burst upon the enraptured vision of the wandering peri through the +opening gates of paradise. (Renewed laughter.) There, there for the +first time, my enchanted eye rested upon the ravishing word "Duluth." + +This map, sir, is intended, as it appears from its title, to illustrate +the position of Duluth in the United States; but if gentlemen will +examine it, I think they will concur with me in the opinion that it is +far too modest in its pretensions. It not only illustrates the position +of Duluth in the United States, but exhibits its relations with all +created things. It even goes farther than this. It lifts the shadowy +veil of futurity, and affords us a view of the golden prospects of +Duluth far along the dim vista of ages yet to come. + +If gentlemen will examine it, they will find Duluth not only in the +centre of the map, but represented in the centre of a series of +concentric circles, one hundred miles apart, and some of them as much as +four thousand miles in diameter, embracing alike in their tremendous +sweep the fragrant savannas of the sun-lit South and the eternal +solitudes of snow that mantle the ice-bound North. (Laughter.) How these +circles were produced is perhaps one of those primordial mysteries that +the most skillful paleologist will never be able to explain. (Renewed +laughter.) But the fact is, sir, Duluth is preeminently a central place, +for I am told by gentlemen who have been so reckless of their own +personal safety as to venture away into those awful regions where Duluth +is supposed to be that it is so exactly in the centre of the visible +universe that the sky comes down at precisely the same distance all +around it. (Roars of laughter.) + +I find by reference to this map that Duluth is situated somewhere near +the western end of Lake Superior; but as there is no dot or other mark +indicating its exact location, I am unable to say whether it is actually +confined to any particular spot, or whether "it is just lying around +there loose." (Renewed laughter.) I really can not tell whether it is +one of those ethereal creations of intellectual frostwork, more +intangible than the rose-tinted clouds of a summer sunset,--one of those +airy exhalations of the speculator's brain, which I am told are ever +flitting in the form of towns and cities along those lines of railroad, +built with Government subsidies, luring the unwary settlers as the +mirage of the desert lures the famishing traveler on, and ever on, until +it fades away in the darkening horizon,--or whether it is a real _bona +fide_, substantial city, all "staked off," with the lots marked with +their owners' names, like that proud commercial metropolis recently +discovered on the desirable shores of San Domingo. (Laughter.) But, +however that may be, I am satisfied Duluth is there, or thereabout, for +I see it stated here on this map that it is exactly thirty-nine hundred +and ninety miles from Liverpool (laughter), though I have no doubt, for +the sake of convenience, it will be moved back ten miles, so as to make +the distance an even four thousand. (Renewed laughter.) + +Then, sir, there is the climate of Duluth, unquestionably the most +salubrious and delightful to be found anywhere on the Lord's earth. Now, +I have always been under the impression, as I presume other gentlemen +have, that in the region around Lake Superior it was cold enough for at +least nine months in the year to freeze the smokestack off a locomotive. +(Great laughter.) But I see it represented on this map that Duluth is +situated exactly halfway between the latitudes of Paris and Venice, so +that gentlemen who have inhaled the exhilarating airs of the one or +basked in the golden sunlight of the other may see at a glance that +Duluth must be a place of untold delights (laughter), a terrestrial +paradise, fanned by the balmy zephyrs of an eternal spring, clothed in +the gorgeous sheen of ever-blooming flowers, and vocal with the silvery +melody of nature's choicest songsters. (Laughter.) In fact, sir, since I +have seen this map I have no doubt that Byron was vainly endeavoring to +convey some faint conception of the delicious charms of Duluth when his +poetic soul gushed forth in the rippling strains of that beautiful +rhapsody: + + "Know ye the land of the cedar and vine, + Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine; + Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppressed with perfume, + Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gul in her bloom; + Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, + And the voice of the nightingale never is mute; + Where the tints of the earth and the hues of the sky, + In color though varied, in beauty may vie?" + +(Laughter.) + +As to the commercial resources of Duluth, sir, they are simply +illimitable and inexhaustible, as is shown by this map. I see it stated +here that there is a vast scope of territory, embracing an area of over +two million square miles, rich in every element of material wealth and +commercial prosperity, all tributary to Duluth. Look at it, sir +(pointing to the map). Here are inexhaustible mines of gold, +immeasurable veins of silver, impenetrable depths of boundless forest, +vast coal-measures, wide, extended plains of richest pasturage, all, all +embraced in this vast territory, which must, in the very nature of +things, empty the untold treasures of its commerce into the lap of +Duluth. (Laughter.) + +Look at it, sir! (Pointing to the map.) Do not you see from these broad, +brown lines drawn around this immense territory that the enterprising +inhabitants of Duluth intend some day to inclose it all in one vast +corral, so that its commerce will be bound to go there, whether it would +or not? (Great laughter.) And here, sir (still pointing to the map), I +find within a convenient distance the Piegan Indians, which, of all the +many accessories to the glory of Duluth, I consider by far the most +inestimable. For, sir, I have been told that when the small-pox breaks +out among the women and children of that famous tribe, as it sometimes +does, they afford the finest subjects in the world for the strategical +experiments of any enterprising military hero who desires to improve +himself in the noble art of war (laughter); especially for any valiant +lieutenant general, whose + + "Trenchant blade, Toledo trusty, + For want of fighting has grown rusty, + And eats into itself for lack + Of somebody to hew and hack." + +(Great laughter.) + +Sir, the great conflict now raging in the Old World has presented a +phenomenon in military science unprecedented in the annals of mankind--a +phenomenon that has reversed all the traditions of the past as it has +disappointed all the expectations of the present. A great and warlike +people, renowned alike for their skill and valor, have been swept away +before the triumphant advance of an inferior foe, like autumn stubble +before a hurricane of fire. For aught I know, the next flash of electric +fire that shimmers along the ocean cable may tell us that Paris, with +every fibre quivering with the agony of impotent despair, writhes +beneath the conquering heel of her loathed invader. Ere another moon +shall wax and wane the brightest star in the galaxy of nations may fall +from the zenith of her glory never to rise again. Ere the modest violets +of early spring shall ope their beauteous eyes, the genius of +civilization may chant the wailing requiem of the proudest nationality +the world has ever seen, as she scatters her withered and tear-moistened +lilies o'er the bloody tomb of butchered France. But, sir, I wish to ask +if you honestly and candidly believe that the Dutch would have ever +overrun the French in that kind of style if General Sheridan had not +gone over there and told King William and Von Moltke how he had managed +to whip the Piegan Indians. (Great laughter.) + +And here, sir, recurring to this map, I find in the immediate vicinity +of the Piegans "vast herds of buffalo" and "immense fields of rich wheat +lands." + +(Here the hammer fell.) + +(Many cries: "Go on!" "Go on!") + +The Speaker. Is there objection to the gentleman from Kentucky +continuing his remarks? The Chair hears none. The gentleman will +proceed. + +Mr. Knott. I was remarking, sir, upon these vast "wheat fields" +represented on this map as in the immediate neighborhood of the +buffaloes and the Piegans, and was about to say that the idea of there +being these immense wheat fields in the very heart of a wilderness, +hundreds and hundreds of miles beyond the utmost verge of civilization, +may appear to some gentlemen as rather incongruous, as rather too great +a strain on the "blankets" of veracity. But to my mind there is no +difficulty in the matter whatever. The phenomenon is very easily +accounted for. It is evident, sir, that the Piegans sowed that wheat +there and plowed it with buffalo bulls. (Great laughter.) Now, sir, this +fortunate combination of buffaloes and Piegans, considering their +relative positions to each other and to Duluth, as they are arranged on +this map, satisfies me that Duluth is destined to be the beef market of +the world. + +Here, you will observe (pointing to the map), are the buffaloes, +directly between the Piegans and Duluth; and here, right on the road to +Duluth, are the Creeks. Now, sir, when the buffaloes are sufficiently +fat from grazing on these immense wheat fields, you see it will be the +easiest thing in the world for the Piegans to drive them on down, stay +all night with their friends, the Creeks, and go into Duluth in the +morning. (Great laughter.) I think I see them now, sir, a vast herd of +buffaloes, with their heads down, their eyes glaring, their nostrils +dilated, their tongues out, and their tails curled over their backs, +tearing along toward Duluth, with about a thousand Piegans on their +grass-bellied ponies yelling at their heels! (Great laughter.) On they +come! And as they sweep past the Creeks, they join in the chase, and +away they all go, yelling, bellowing, ripping, and tearing along, amid +clouds of dust, until the last buffalo is safely penned in the +stockyards of Duluth! (Shouts of laughter.) + +Sir, I might stand here for hours and hours, and expatiate with rapture +upon the gorgeous prospects of Duluth, as depicted upon this map. But +human life is too short and the time of this House far too valuable to +allow me to linger longer upon the delightful theme, (Laughter.) I think +every gentleman on this floor is as well satisfied as I am that Duluth +is destined to become the commercial metropolis of the universe, and +that this road should be built at once. I am fully persuaded that no +patriotic representative of the American people, who has a proper +appreciation of the associated glories of Duluth and the St. Croix, will +hesitate a moment to say that every able-bodied female in the land, +between the ages of eighteen and forty-five, who is in favor of "women's +rights" should be drafted and set to work upon this great work without +delay. (Roars of laughter.) Nevertheless, sir, it grieves my very soul +to be compelled to say that I can not vote for the grant of lands +provided for in this bill. + +Ah, sir, you can have no conception of the poignancy of my anguish that +I am deprived of that blessed privilege! (Laughter.) There are two +insuperable obstacles in the way. In the first place, my constituents, +for whom I am acting here, have no more interest in this road than they +have in the great question of culinary taste now perhaps agitating the +public mind of Dominica, as to whether the illustrious commissioners who +recently left this capital for that free and enlightened republic would +be better fricasseed, boiled, or roasted (great laughter); and, in the +second place, these lands which I am asked to give away, alas, are not +mine to bestow! My relation to them is simply that of trustee to an +express trust. And shall I ever betray that trust? Never, sir! Rather +perish Duluth! (Shouts of laughter.) Perish the paragon of cities! +Rather let the freezing cyclones of the bleak Northwest bury it forever +beneath the eddying sands of the raging St. Croix! (Great laughter.) + + + + +DICTUM SAPIENTI + +BY JOHN PAUL + + + That 'tis well to be off with the old love + Before one is on with the new + Has somehow passed into a proverb,-- + But I never have found it true. + + No love can be quite like the old love, + Whate'er may be said for the new-- + And if you dismiss me, my darling, + You may come to this thinking, too. + + Were the proverb not wiser if mended, + And the fickle and wavering told + To be sure they're on with the new love + Before they are off with the old? + + + + +HARD[10] + +BY TOM MASSON + + + I wrote some foolish verses once + On love. Unhappy churl! + The metre makes me shudder still, + I sent them to a girl. + + I know that girl, and if I should, + Like Byron, wake some day + To find Fame written on my brow, + She'd give those lines away. + + So now I have to watch myself + Each hour. Oh, hapless plight! + For if I should be great, of course, + Those lines would come to light. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[10] By permission of Life Publishing Company. + + + + +THE SCEPTICS + +BY BLISS CARMAN + + + It was the little leaves beside the road. + + Said Grass, "What is that sound + So dismally profound, + That detonates and desolates the air?" + "That is St. Peter's bell," + Said rain-wise Pimpernel; + "He is music to the godly, + Though to us he sounds so oddly, + And he terrifies the faithful unto prayer." + + Then something very like a groan + Escaped the naughty little leaves. + + Said Grass, "And whither track + These creatures all in black, + So woebegone and penitent and meek?" + "They're mortals bound for church," + Said the little Silver Birch; + "They hope to get to heaven + And have their sins forgiven, + If they talk to God about it once a week." + + And something very like a smile + Ran through the naughty little leaves. + + Said Grass, "What is that noise + That startles and destroys + Our blessed summer brooding when we're tired?" + "That's folk a-praising God," + Said the tough old cynic Clod; + "They do it every Sunday, + They'll be all right on Monday; + It's just a little habit they've acquired." + + And laughter spread among the little leaves. + + + + +"THE DAY IS DONE" + +BY PHOEBE CARY + + + The day is done, and darkness + From the wing of night is loosed, + As a feather is wafted downward, + From a chicken going to roost. + + I see the lights of the baker, + Gleam through the rain and mist, + And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me + That I can not well resist. + + A feeling of sadness and longing + That is not like being sick, + And resembles sorrow only + As a brickbat resembles a brick. + + Come, get for me some supper,-- + A good and regular meal-- + That shall soothe this restless feeling, + And banish the pain I feel. + + Not from the pastry bakers, + Not from the shops for cake; + I wouldn't give a farthing + For all that they can make. + + For, like the soup at dinner, + Such things would but suggest + Some dishes more substantial, + And to-night I want the best. + + Go to some honest butcher, + Whose beef is fresh and nice, + As any they have in the city, + And get a liberal slice. + + Such things through days of labor, + And nights devoid of ease, + For sad and desperate feelings, + Are wonderful remedies. + + They have an astonishing power + To aid and reinforce, + And come like the "finally, brethren," + That follows a long discourse. + + Then get me a tender sirloin + From off the bench or hook. + And lend to its sterling goodness + The science of the cook. + + And the night shall be filled with comfort, + And the cares with which it begun + Shall fold up their blankets like Indians, + And silently cut and run. + + + + +MR. DOOLEY ON GOLF + +BY FINLEY PETER DUNNE + + +"An' what's this game iv goluf like, I dinnaw?" said Mr. Hennessy, +lighting his pipe with much unnecessary noise. "Ye're a good deal iv a +spoort, Jawnny: did ye iver thry it?" + +"No," said Mr. McKenna. "I used to roll a hoop onct upon a time, but I'm +out of condition now." + +"It ain't like base-ball," said Mr. Hennessy, "an' it ain't like shinny, +an' it ain't like lawn-teenis, an' it ain't like forty-fives, an' it +ain't"-- + +"Like canvas-back duck or anny other game ye know," said Mr. Dooley. + +"Thin what is it like?" said Mr. Hennessy. "I see be th' pa-aper that +Hobart What-d'ye-call-him is wan iv th' best at it. Th' other day he +made a scoor iv wan hundherd an' sixty-eight, but whether 'twas miles or +stitches I cudden't make out fr'm th' raypoorts." + +"'Tis little ye know," said Mr. Dooley. "Th' game iv goluf is as old as +th' hills. Me father had goluf links all over his place, an', whin I was +a kid, 'twas wan iv th' principal spoorts iv me life, afther I'd dug the +turf f'r th' avenin', to go out and putt"-- + +"Poot, ye mean," said Mr. Hennessy. "They'se no such wurrud in th' +English language as putt. Belinda called me down ha-ard on it no more +thin las' night." + +"There ye go!" said Mr. Dooley, angrily. "There ye go! D'ye think this +here game iv goluf is a spellin' match? 'Tis like ye, Hinnissy, to be +refereein' a twinty-round glove contest be th' rule iv three. I tell ye +I used to go out in th' avenin' an' putt me mashie like hell-an'-all, +till I was knowed fr'm wan end iv th' county to th' other as th' +champeen putter. I putted two men fr'm Roscommon in wan day, an' they +had to be took home on a dure. + +"In America th' ga-ame is played more ginteel, an' is more like +cigareet-smokin', though less onhealthy f'r th' lungs. 'Tis a good game +to play in a hammick whin ye're all tired out fr'm social duties or +shovellin' coke. Out-iv-dure golf is played be th' followin' rules. If +ye bring ye'er wife f'r to see th' game, an' she has her name in th' +paper, that counts ye wan. So th' first thing ye do is to find th' +raypoorter, an' tell him ye're there. Thin ye ordher a bottle iv brown +pop, an' have ye'er second fan ye with a towel. Afther this ye'd dhress, +an' here ye've got to be dam particklar or ye'll be stuck f'r th' +dhrinks. If ye'er necktie is not on sthraight, that counts ye'er +opponent wan. If both ye an' ye'er opponent have ye'er neckties on +crooked, th' first man that sees it gets th' stakes. Thin ye ordher a +carredge"-- + +"Order what?" demanded Mr. McKenna. + +"A carredge." + +"What for?" + +"F'r to take ye 'round th' links. Ye have a little boy followin' ye, +carryin' ye'er clubs. Th' man that has th' smallest little boy it counts +him two. If th' little boy has th' rickets, it counts th' man in th' +carredge three. The little boys is called caddies; but Clarence Heaney +that tol' me all this--he belongs to th' Foorth Wa-ard Goluf an' +McKinley Club--said what th' little boys calls th' players'd not be fit +f'r to repeat. + +"Well, whin ye dhrive up to th' tea grounds"-- + +"Th' what?" demanded Mr. Hennessy. + +"Th' tea grounds, that's like th' home-plate in base-ball or ordherin' a +piece iv chalk in a game iv spoil five. It's th' be-ginnin' iv +ivrything. Whin ye get to th' tea grounds, ye step out, an' have ye'er +hat irned be th' caddie. Thin ye'er man that ye're goin' aginst comes +up, an' he asks ye, 'Do you know Potther Pammer?' Well, if ye don't know +Potther Pammer, it's all up with ye: ye lose two points. But ye come +right back at him with an upper cut: 'Do ye live on th' Lake Shore +dhrive?' If he doesn't, ye have him in th' nine hole. Ye needn't play +with him anny more. But, if ye do play with him, he has to spot three +balls. If he's a good man an' shifty on his feet, he'll counter be +askin' ye where ye spend th' summer. Now ye can't tell him that ye spent +th' summer with wan hook on th' free lunch an' another on th' ticker +tape, an' so ye go back three. That needn't discourage ye at all, at +all. Here's yer chance to mix up, an' ye ask him if he was iver in +Scotland. If he wasn't, it counts ye five. Thin ye tell him that ye had +an aunt wanst that heerd th' Jook iv Argyle talk in a phonograph; an', +onless he comes back an' shoots it into ye that he was wanst run over be +th' Prince iv Wales, ye have him groggy. I don't know whether th' Jook +iv Argyle or th' Prince iv Wales counts f'r most. They're like th' right +an' left bower iv thrumps. Th' best players is called scratch-men." + +"What's that f'r?" Mr. Hennessy asked. + +"It's a Scotch game," said Mr. Dooley, with a wave of his hand. "I +wonder how it come out to-day. Here's th' pa-aper. Let me see. McKinley +at Canton. Still there. He niver cared to wandher fr'm his own fireside. +Collar-button men f'r th' goold standard. Statues iv Heidelback, +Ickleheimer an' Company to be erected in Washington. Another Vanderbilt +weddin'. That sounds like goluf, but it ain't. Newport society livin' +in Mrs. Potther Pammer's cellar. Green-goods men declare f'r honest +money. Anson in foorth place some more. Pianny tuners f'r McKinley. Li +Hung Chang smells a rat. Abner McKinley supports th' goold standard. +Wait a minyit. Here it is: 'Goluf in gay attire.' Let me see. H'm. +'Foozled his aproach,'--nasty thing. 'Topped th' ball.' 'Three up an' +two to play.' Ah, here's the scoor. 'Among those prisint were Messrs. +an' Mesdames'"-- + +"Hol' on!" cried Mr. Hennessy, grabbing the paper out of his friend's +hands. "That's thim that was there." + +"Well," said Mr. Dooley, decisively, "that's th' goluf scoor." + + + + +WHEN THE SIRUP'S ON THE FLAPJACK + +BY BERT LESTON TAYLOR + + + When the sirup's on the flapjack and the coffee's in the pot; + When the fly is in the butter--where he'd rather be than not; + When the cloth is on the table, and the plates are on the cloth; + When the salt is in the shaker and the chicken's in the broth; + When the cream is in the pitcher and the pitcher's on the tray, + And the tray is on the sideboard when it isn't on the way; + When the rind is on the bacon, and likewise upon the cheese, + Then I somehow feel inspired to do a lot of rhymes like these. + + + + +_A NEW and Entirely Up-to-Date DICTIONARY_ + +The Funk & Wagnalls + +DESK STANDARD DICTIONARY + +This entirely new work, which is the most recent of the abridgments from +the New Standard Dictionary, _describes_ and _explains 80,000 words_, +_phrases_, and _topics of interest_. + +It is a special handy-sized dictionary designed particularly for desk +use in the office, the college, the study, and for handy reference on +the library table. + +Its vocabulary is sufficiently inclusive to cover all words that may be +met with in study or in reading. + +Every term has its _own alphabetical place_ in the main vocabulary--no +confusing appendix. + +It contains more than 6,000 discriminating articles and groups of +Synonyms, occupying 11,700 lines--2,000 more than any other dictionary +of the same size. There are 1,200 Pictorial Illustrations. + +"Of uncommon usefulness and convenience." + --_St. Louis Republic._ + +_Price Cloth, $1.50, net. With Thumb-Notch Index, 30 +Cents Extra. Half Leather, Indexed, $2.25, net_ + +FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Publishers +NEW YORK and LONDON + + + + +_A New Creation From Cover To Cover_ + +THE FUNK & WAGNALLS + +NEW + +Standard Dictionary + +Completed after nearly four years of time and almost a million and a +half of dollars had been spent in its production. The work of over 380 +Editors and Specialists. Has about 3,000 pages; more than 7,000 +illustrations; contains over 450,000 living vocabulary terms--more than +125,000 of these being new; has dozens of important features not found +in any other work; and is as far ahead of the old Standard as that was +ahead of every other dictionary twenty years ago. + +_The Superlative Achievement in Lexicography_ + +UNITED STATES DEPT. OF EDUCATION + +"This great work can not fail to be a distinct contribution to English +scholarship."--_Hon. Philander P. Claxton_, United States Commissioner +of Education. + +"THE BEST" + +"I am convinced that your new unabridged is the best kit of tools I +possess in my library."--_Jack London_, the popular American author. + +FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Pubs. + +NEW YORK and LONDON + + + + +_The Greatest Single Volume Reference Work Ever Produced_ + +THE FUNK & WAGNALLS + +NEW + +Standard Dictionary + +Retaining all of the characteristic superior features of the old +Standard, which have given that work worldwide fame, this yet more +stupendous book adds others exclusive and of immense value. Here are but + +_A Few of Its Many Points of +Surpassing Superiority_: + +ONE ALPHABETICAL ORDER throughout its entire vocabulary, an immense +time-saving feature,--no divided pages, supplemental vocabularies, etc. + +THE COMMON MEANING OF EVERY WORD is given in its first definition and +the obsolete meaning last as it should be. + +KEY-WORDS TO THE CONTENTS of every two facing pages greatly aid +consultation. + +TWO KEYS TO PRONUNCIATION are placed at the top of every page. + +COMMON ERRORS OF SPEECH are systematically corrected. + +A SYSTEMATIC METHOD OF COMPOUNDING words reduces compounding to a +science. + +RULES GOVERNING THE PLURALS of nouns and their formation are a great +help. + +GRAMMATICAL AND RHETORICAL CONSTRUCTION are aided by the special rules +which the New Standard explains. + +THE SYLLABIC DIVISION OF WORDS is shown by the simplest possible system. + +SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS are given in such numbers as are nowhere else +found. + +_Send for Information, Prices, etc_. + +FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY, Pubs. + +NEW YORK and LONDON + + + + +English Synonyms, +Antonyms, and +Prepositions + +_NEW AND ENLARGED EDITION_ + +_Companion Volume to the Author's Book "Connectives of +English Speech_" + +By JAMES C. 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