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diff --git a/3162-0.txt b/3162-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..550c74f --- /dev/null +++ b/3162-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3494 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Enchanted Typewriter, by John Kendrick Bangs + +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 Enchanted Typewriter + +Author: John Kendrick Bangs + +Posting Date: February 15, 2009 [EBook #3162] +Release Date: April, 2002 +Last Updated: March 15, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ENCHANTED TYPEWRITER *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + + + + + +THE ENCHANTED TYPEWRITER + +By John Kendrick Bangs + + + + +I. THE DISCOVERY + + +It is a strange fact, for which I do not expect ever satisfactorily to +account, and which will receive little credence even among those who +know that I am not given to romancing--it is a strange fact, I say, that +the substance of the following pages has evolved itself during a period +of six months, more or less, between the hours of midnight and four +o'clock in the morning, proceeding directly from a type-writing machine +standing in the corner of my library, manipulated by unseen hands. The +machine is not of recent make. It is, in fact, a relic of the early +seventies, which I discovered one morning when, suffering from a slight +attack of the grip, I had remained at home and devoted my time to +pottering about in the attic, unearthing old books, bringing to the +light long-forgotten correspondences, my boyhood collections of “stuff,” + and other memory-inducing things. Whence the machine came originally I +do not recall. My impression is that it belonged to a stenographer once +in the employ of my father, who used frequently to come to our house to +take down dictations. However this may be, the machine had lain hidden +by dust and the flotsam and jetsam of the house for twenty years, when, +as I have said, I came upon it unexpectedly. Old man as I am--I shall +soon be thirty--the fascination of a machine has lost none of its +potency. I am as pleased to-day watching the wheels of my watch “go +round” as ever I was, and to “monkey” with a type-writing apparatus has +always brought great joy into my heart--though for composing give me +the pen. Perhaps I should apologize for the use here of the verb monkey, +which savors of what a friend of mine calls the “English slanguage,” to +differentiate it from what he also calls the “Andrew Language.” But I +shall not do so, because, to whatever branch of our tongue the word may +belong, it is exactly descriptive, and descriptive as no other word can +be, of what a boy does with things that click and “go,” and is therefore +not at all out of place in a tale which I trust will be regarded as a +polite one. + +The discovery of the machine put an end to my attic potterings. I cared +little for finding old bill-files and collections of Atlantic cable-ends +when, with a whole morning, a type-writing machine, and a screw-driver +before me I could penetrate the mysteries of that useful mechanism. I +shall not endeavor to describe the delightful sensations of that hour of +screwing and unscrewing; they surpass the powers of my pen. Suffice it +to say that I took the whole apparatus apart, cleaned it well, oiled +every joint, and then put it together again. I do not suppose a +seven-year-old boy could have derived more satisfaction from taking a +piano to pieces. It was exhilarating, and I resolved that as a reward +for the pleasure it had given me the machine should have a brand-new +ribbon and as much ink as it could consume. And that, in brief, is how +it came to be that this machine of antiquated pattern was added to the +library bric-a-brac. To say the truth, it was of no more practical +use than Barye's dancing bear, a plaster cast of which adorns my +mantel-shelf, so that when I classify it with the bric-a-brac I do so +advisedly. I frequently tried to write a jest or two upon it, but the +results were extraordinarily like Sir Arthur Sullivan's experience with +the organ into whose depths the lost chord sank, never to return. I +dashed off the jests well enough, but somewhere between the keys and the +types they were lost, and the results, when I came to scan the paper, +were depressing. And once I tried a sonnet on the keys. Exactly how +to classify the jumble that came out of it I do not know, but it was +curious enough to have appealed strongly to D'Israeli or any other +collector of the literary oddity. More singular than the sonnet, though, +was the fact that when I tried to write my name upon this strange +machine, instead of finding it in all its glorious length written upon +the paper, I did find “William Shakespeare” printed there in its stead. +Of course you will say that in putting the machine together I mixed up +the keys and the letters. I have no doubt that I did, but when I tell +you that there have been times when, looking at myself in the glass, I +have fancied that I saw in my mirrored face the lineaments of the great +bard; that the contour of my head is precisely the same as was his; that +when visiting Stratford for the first time every foot of it was pregnant +with clearly defined recollections to me, you will perhaps more easily +picture to yourself my sensations at the moment. + +However, enough of describing the machine in its relation to myself. I +have said sufficient, I think, to convince you that whatever its make, +its age, and its limitations, it was an extraordinary affair; and, once +convinced of that, you may the more readily believe me when I tell you +that it has gone into business apparently for itself--and incidentally +for me. + +It was on the morning of the 26th of March last that I discovered the +curious condition of affairs concerning which I have essayed to write. +My family do not agree with me as to the date. They say that it was on +the evening of the 25th of March that the episode had its beginning; but +they are not aware, for I have not told them, that it was not evening, +but morning, when I reached home after the dinner at the Aldus Club. +It was at a quarter of three A.M. precisely that I entered my house +and proceeded to remove my hat and coat, in which operation I was +interrupted, and in a startling manner, by a click from the dark +recesses of the library. A man does not like to hear a click which +he cannot comprehend, even before he has dined. After he has dined, +however, and feels a satisfaction with life which cannot come to him +before dinner, to hear a mysterious click, and from a dark corner, at +an hour when the world is at rest, is not pleasing. To say that my heart +jumped into my mouth is mild. I believe it jumped out of my mouth and +rebounded against the wall opposite back though my system into my boots. +All the sins of my past life, and they are many--I once stepped upon a +caterpillar, and I have coveted my neighbor both his man-servant and his +maid-servant, though not his wife nor his ass, because I don't like his +wife and he keeps no live-stock--all my sins, I say, rose up before me, +for I expected every moment that a bullet would penetrate my brain, +or my heart if perchance the burglar whom I suspected of levelling a +clicking revolver at me aimed at my feet. + +“Who is there?” I cried, making a vocal display of bravery I did not +feel, hiding behind our hair sofa. + +The only answer was another click. + +“This is serious,” I whispered softly to myself. “There are two of 'em; +I am in the light, unarmed. They are concealed by the darkness and have +revolvers. There is only one way out of this, and that is by strategy. +I'll pretend I think I've made a mistake.” So I addressed myself aloud. + +“What an idiot you are,” I said, so that my words could be heard by the +burglars. “If this is the effect of Aldus Club dinners you'd better give +them up. That click wasn't a click at all, but the ticking of our new +eight-day clock.” + +I paused, and from the corner there came a dozen more clicks in quick +succession, like the cocking of as many revolvers. + +“Great Heavens!” I murmured, under my breath. “It must be Ali Baba with +his forty thieves.” + +As I spoke, the mystery cleared itself, for following close upon a +thirteenth click came the gentle ringing of a bell, and I knew then +that the type-writing machine was in action; but this was by no means a +reassuring discovery. Who or what could it be that was engaged upon the +type-writer at that unholy hour, 3 A.M.? If a mortal being, why was +my coming no interruption? If a supernatural being, what infernal +complication might not the immediate future have in store for me? + +My first impulse was to flee the house, to go out into the night and +pace the fields--possibly to rush out to the golf links and play a few +holes in the dark in order to cool my brow, which was rapidly becoming +fevered. Fortunately, however, I am not a man of impulse. I never yield +to a mere nerve suggestion, and so, instead of going out into the storm +and certainly contracting pneumonia, I walked boldly into the library to +investigate the causes of the very extraordinary incident. You may rest +well assured, however, that I took care to go armed, fortifying myself +with a stout stick, with a long, ugly steel blade concealed within it--a +cowardly weapon, by-the-way, which I permit to rest in my house merely +because it forms a part of a collection of weapons acquired through the +failure of a comic paper to which I had contributed several articles. +The editor, when the crash came, sent me the collection as part payment +of what was owed me, which I think was very good of him, because a great +many people said that it was my stuff that killed the paper. But to +return to the story. Fortifying myself with the sword-cane, I walked +boldly into the library, and, touching the electric button, soon had +every gas-jet in the room giving forth a brilliant flame; but these, +brilliant as they were, disclosed nothing in the chair before the +machine. + +The latter, apparently oblivious of my presence, went clicking merrily +and as rapidly along as though some expert young woman were in charge. +Imagine the situation if you can. A type-writing machine of ancient +make, its letters clear, but out of accord with the keys, confronted by +an empty chair, three hours after midnight, rattling off page after page +of something which might or might not be readable, I could not at the +moment determine. For two or three minutes I gazed in open-mouthed +wonder. I was not frightened, but I did experience a sensation which +comes from contact with the uncanny. As I gradually grasped the +situation and became used, somewhat, to what was going on, I ventured a +remark. + +“This beats the deuce!” I observed. + +The machine stopped for an instant. The sheet of paper upon which the +impressions of letters were being made flew out from under the cylinder, +a pure white sheet was as quickly substituted, and the keys clicked off +the line: + +“What does?” + +I presumed the line was in response to my assertion, so I replied: + +“You do. What uncanny freak has taken possession of you to-night that +you start in to write on your own hook, having resolutely declined to do +any writing for me ever since I rescued you from the dust and dirt and +cobwebs of the attic?” + +“You never rescued me from any attic,” the machine replied. “You'd +better go to bed; you've dined too well, I imagine. When did you rescue +me from the dust and dirt and the cobwebs of any attic?” + +“What an ungrateful machine you are!” I cried. “If you have sense enough +to go into writing on your own account, you ought to have mind enough +to remember the years you spent up-stairs under the roof neglected, and +covered with hammocks, awnings, family portraits, and receipted bills.” + +“Really, my dear fellow,” the machine tapped back, “I must repeat it. +Bed is the place for you. You're not coherent. I'm not a machine, and +upon my honor, I've never seen your darned old attic.” + +“Not a machine!” I cried. “Then what in Heaven's name are you?--a +sofa-cushion?” + +“Don't be sarcastic, my dear fellow,” replied the machine. “Of course +I'm not a machine; I'm Jim--Jim Boswell.” + +“What?” I roared. “You? A thing with keys and type and a bell--” + +“I haven't got any keys or any type or a bell. What on earth are you +talking about?” replied the machine. “What have you been eating?” + +“What's that?” I asked, putting my hand on the keys. + +“That's keys,” was the answer. + +“And these, and that?” I added, indicating the type and the bell. + +“Type and bell,” replied the machine. + +“And yet you say you haven't got them,” I persisted. + +“No, I haven't. The machine has got them, not I,” was the response. “I'm +not the machine. I'm the man that's using it--Jim--Jim Boswell. What +good would a bell do me? I'm not a cow or a bicycle. I'm the editor of +the Stygian Gazette, and I've come here to copy off my notes of what I +see and hear, and besides all this I do type-writing for various people +in Hades, and as this machine of yours seemed to be of no use to you I +thought I'd try it. But if you object, I'll go.” + +As I read these lines upon the paper I stood amazed and delighted. + +“Go!” I cried, as the full value of his patronage of my machine dawned +upon me, for I could sell his copy and he would be none the worse +off, for, as I understand the copyright laws, they are not designed to +benefit authors, but for the protection of type-setters. “Why, my dear +fellow, it would break my heart if, having found my machine to your +taste, you should ever think of using another. I'll lend you my bicycle, +too, if you'd like it--in fact, anything I have is at your command.” + +“Thank you very much,” returned Boswell through the medium of the keys, +as usual. “I shall not need your bicycle, but this machine is of great +value to me. It has several very remarkable qualities which I have +never found in any other machine. For instance, singular to relate, +Mendelssohn and I were fooling about here the other night, and when he +saw this machine he thought it was a spinet of some new pattern; so what +does he do but sit down and play me one of his songs without words on +it, and, by jove! when he got through, there was the theme of the whole +thing printed on a sheet of paper before him.” + +“You don't really mean to say--” I began. + +“I'm telling you precisely what happened,” said Boswell. “Mendelssohn +was tickled to death with it, and he played every song without words +that he ever wrote, and every one of 'em was fitted with words which he +said absolutely conveyed the ideas he meant to bring out with the music. +Then I tried the machine, and discovered another curious thing about +it. It's intensely American. I had a story of Alexander Dumas' about his +Musketeers that he wanted translated from French into American, which is +the language we speak below, in preference to German, French, Volapuk, +or English. I thought I'd copy off a few lines of the French original, +and as true as I'm sitting here before your eyes, where you can't see +me, the copy I got was a good, though rather free, translation. Think of +it! That's an advanced machine for you!” + +I looked at the machine wistfully. “I wish I could make it work,” I +said; and I tried as before to tap off my name, and got instead only a +confused jumble of letters. It wouldn't even pay me the compliment of +transforming my name into that of Shakespeare, as it had previously +done. + +It was thus that the magic qualities of the machine were made known to +me, and out of it the following papers have grown. I have set them +down without much editing or alteration, and now submit them to your +inspection, hoping that in perusing them you will derive as much +satisfaction and delight as I have in being the possessor of so +wonderful a machine, manipulated by so interesting a person as “Jim--Jim +Boswell”--as he always calls himself--and others, who, as you will note, +if perchance you have the patience to read further, have upon occasions +honored my machine by using it. + +I must add in behalf of my own reputation for honesty that Mr. Boswell +has given me all right, title, and interest in these papers in this +world as a return for my permission to him to use my machine. + +“What if they make a hit and bring in barrels of gold in royalties,” he +said. “I can't take it back with me where I live, so keep it yourself.” + + + + +II. MR. BOSWELL IMPARTS SOME LATE NEWS OF HADES + + +Boswell was a little late in arriving the next night. He had agreed to +be on hand exactly at midnight, but it was after one o'clock before the +machine began to click and the bell to ring. I had fallen asleep in the +soft upholstered depths of my armchair, feeling pretty thoroughly worn +out by the experiences of the night before, which, in spite of their +pleasant issue, were nevertheless somewhat disturbing to a nervous +organization like mine. Suddenly I waked, and with the awakening there +entered into my mind the notion that the whole thing was merely a dream, +and that in the end it would be the better for me if I were to give up +Aldus and other club dinners with nightmare inducing menus. But I was +soon convinced that the real state of affairs was quite otherwise, and +that everything really had happened as I have already related it to you, +for I had hardly gotten my eyes free from what my poetic son calls “the +seeds of sleep” when I heard the type-writer tap forth: + +“Hello, old man!” + +Incidentally let me say that this had become another interesting feature +of the machine. Since my first interview with Boswell the taps seemed +to speak, and if some one were sitting before it and writing a line the +mere differentiation of sounds of the various keys would convey to the +mind the ideas conveyed to it by the printed words. So, as I say, my +ears were greeted with a clicking “Hello, old man!” followed immediately +by the bell. + +“You are late,” said I, looking at my watch. + +“I know it,” was the response. “But I can't help it. During the campaign +I am kept so infernally busy I hardly know where I am.” + +“Campaign, eh?” I put in. “Do you have campaigns in Hades?” + +“Yes,” replied Boswell, “and we are having a--well, to be polite, a +regular Gehenna of a time. Things have changed much in Hades latterly. +There has been a great growth in the democratic spirit below, and his +Majesty is having a deuce of a time running his kingdom. Washington and +Cromwell and Caesar have had the nerve to demand a constitution from the +venerable Nicholas--” + +“From whom?” I queried, perplexed somewhat, for I was not yet fully +awake. + +“Old Nick,” replied Boswell; “and I can tell you there's a pretty fight +on between the supporters of the administration and the opposition. +Secure in his power, the Grand Master of Hades has been somewhat +arbitrary, and he has made the mistake of doing some of his subjects +a little too brown. Take the case of Bonaparte, for instance: the +government has ruled that he was personally responsible for all the wars +of Europe from 1800 up to Waterloo, and it was proposed to hang him once +for every man killed on either side throughout that period. Bonaparte +naturally resisted. He said he had a good neck, which he did not object +to have broken three or four times, because he admitted he deserved it; +but when it came to hanging him five or six million times, once a month, +for, say, five million months, or twelve times a year for 415,000 years, +he didn't like it, and wouldn't stand it, and wanted to submit the +question to arbitration. + +“Nicholas observed that the word arbitration was not in his especially +expurgated dictionary, whereupon Bonaparte remarked that he wasn't +responsible for that; that he thought it a good word and worthy of +incorporation in any dictionary and in all vocabularies. + +“'I don't care what you think,' retorted his Majesty. 'It's what I don't +think that goes;' and he commanded his imps to prepare the gallows on +the third Thursday of each month for Bonaparte's expiation; ordered his +secretary to send Bonaparte a type-written notice that his presence on +each occasion was expected, and gave orders to the police to see that he +was there willy-nilly. Naturally Bonaparte resisted, and appealed to the +courts. Blackstone sustained his appeal, and Nicholas overruled him. +The first Thursday came, and the police went for the Emperor, but he was +surrounded by a good half of the men who had fought under him, and +the minions of the law could do nothing against them. In consequence, +Bonaparte's brother, Joseph, a quiet, inoffensive citizen, was dragged +from his home and hanged in his place, Nicholas contending that when a +soldier could not, or would not, serve, the government had a right to +expect a substitute. Well,” said Boswell, at this point, “that set +all Hades on fire. We were divided as to Bonaparte's deserts, but the +hanging of other people as substitutes was too much. We didn't know +who'd be substituted next. The English backed up Blackstone, of course. +The French army backed up Bonaparte. The inoffensive citizens were +aroused in behalf of Joseph, for they saw at once whither they +were drifting if the substitute idea was carried out to its logical +conclusion; and in half an hour the administration was on the +defensive, which, as you know, is a very, very, very bad thing for an +administration.” + +“It is, if it desires to be returned to office,” said I. + +“It is anyhow,” replied Boswell through the medium of the keys. “It's +in exactly the same position as that of a humorist who has to print +explanatory diagrams with all of his jokes. The administration papers +were hot over the situation. The king can do no wrong idea was worked +for all it was worth, but beyond this they drew pathetic pictures of +the result of all these deplorable tendencies. What was Hades for, they +asked, if a man, after leading a life of crime in the other world, was +not to receive his punishment there? The attitude of the opposition was +a radical and vicious blow at the vital principles of the sphere itself. +The opposition papers coolly and calmly took the position that the vital +principles of Hades were all right; that it was the extreme view as to +the power of the Emperor taken by that person himself that wouldn't +go in these democratic days. Punishment for Bonaparte was the correct +thing, and Bonaparte expected some, but was not grasping enough to +want it all. They added that recent fully settled ideas as to a humane +application of the laws required the bunching of the indictments or +the selection of one and a fair trial based upon that, and that anyhow, +under no circumstances, should a wholly innocent person be made to +suffer for the crimes of another. These journals were suppressed, but +the next day a set of new papers were started to promulgate the same +theories as to individual rights. The province of Cimmeria declared +itself independent of the throne, and set up in the business of +government for itself. Gehenna declared for the Emperor, but insisted +upon home rule for cities of its own class, and finally, as I informed +you at the beginning, Washington, Cromwell, and Caesar went in person to +Apollyon and demanded a constitution. That was the day before yesterday, +and just what will come of it we don't as yet know, because Washington +and Cromwell and Caesar have not been seen since, but we have great +fears for them, because seventeen car-loads of vitriol and a thousand +extra tons of coal were ordered by the Lord High Steward of the palace +to be delivered to the Minister of Justice last night.” + +“Quite a complication,” said I. “The Americanization of Hades has begun +at last. How does society regard the affair?” + +“Variously,” observed Boswell. “Society hates the government as much as +anybody, and really believes in curtailing the Emperor's powers, but, +on the other hand, it desires to maintain all of its own aristocratic +privileges. The main trouble in Hades at present is the gradual +disintegration of society; that is to say, its former component parts +are beginning to differentiate themselves the one from the other.” + +“Like capital and labor here?” I queried. + +“In a sense, yes--possibly more like your Colonial Dames, and Daughters +of the Revolution. For instance, great organizations are in process +of formation--people are beginning to flock together for purposes +of protection. Charles the First and Henry the Eighth and Louis the +Fourteenth have established Ye Ancient and Honorable Order of Kings, to +which only those who have actually worn crowns shall be eligible. The +painters have gotten together with a Society of Fine Arts, the sculptors +have formed a Society of Chisellers, and all the authors from Homer +down to myself have got up an Authors' Club where we have a lovely +time talking about ourselves, no man to be eligible who hasn't written +something that has lasted a hundred years. Perhaps, if you are thinking +of coming over soon, you'll let me put you on our waiting-list?” + +I smiled at his seeming inconsistency and let myself into his snare. + +“I haven't written anything that has lasted a hundred years yet,” said +I. + +“Oh, yes, I think you have,” replied Boswell, and the machine seemed to +laugh as he wrote out his answer. “I saw a joke of yours the other day +that's two hundred centuries old. Diogenes showed it to me and said that +it was a great favorite with his grandfather, who had inherited it from +one of his remote ancestors.” + +A hot retort was on my lips, but I had no wish to offend my guest, so +I smiled and observed that I had frequently indulged in unconscious +plagiarism of that sort. + +“I should imagine,” I hastened to add, “that to men like Charles the +First this uncertainty as to the safety of Cromwell would be great joy.” + +“I hardly know,” returned Boswell. “That very question has been +discussed among us. Charles made a great outward show of grief when +he heard of the coal being delivered at the office of the Minister of +Justice, and we all thought him quite magnanimous, but it leaked out, +just before I left to come here, that he sent his private secretary to +the palace with a Panama hat and a palm-leaf fan for Cromwell, with his +congratulations. + +“That seems to savor somewhat of sarcasm.” + +“Oh, ultimately Hades is bound to be a republic,” replied Boswell. +“There are too many clever and ambitious politicians among us for the +place to go along as a despotism much longer. If the place were filled +up with poets and society people, and things like that, it might go on +as an autocracy forever, but you see it isn't. To men of the caliber +of Alexander the Great and Bonaparte and Caesar, and a thousand other +warriors who never were used to taking orders from anybody, but were +themselves headquarters, the despotic sway of Apollyon is intolerable, +and he hasn't made any effort to conciliate any of them. If he had +appointed Bonaparte commander-in-chief of his army and made a friend of +him, instead of ordering him to be hanged every month for 415,000 years, +or put Caesar in as Secretary of State, instead of having him roasted +three times a month for seventy or eighty centuries, he would have +strengthened his hold. As it is, he has ignored all these people +officially, treats them like criminals personally; makes friends with +Mazarin and Powhatan, awards the office of Tax Assessor to Dick Turpin, +and makes old Falstaff commander of his Imperial Guard. And just because +poor Ben Jonson scribbled off a rhyme for my paper, The Gazette--a rhyme +running: + + Mazarin And Powhatan, + Turpin and Falstaff, + Form, you bet, A cabinet + To make a donkey laugh. + + Mazarin And Powhatan + Run Apollyon's state. + The Dick and Jacks Collect the tax-- + The people pay the freight. + +--just because Jonson wrote that and I published it, my paper was +confiscated, Jonson was boiled in oil for ten weeks, and I was seized +and thrown into a dungeon where a lot of savages from the South Sea +Islands tattooed the darned old jingle between my shoulder blades in +green letters, and not satisfied with this barbaric act, right under +the jingle they added the line, in red letters, 'This edition strictly +limited to one copy, for private circulation only,' and they every one +of 'em, Apollyon, Mazarin, and the rest, signed the guarantee personally +with red-hot pens dipped in sulphuric acid. It makes a valuable +collection of autographs, no doubt, but I prefer my back as nature made +it. Talk about enlightened government under a man who'll permit things +like that to be done!” + +I ought not to have done it, but I couldn't help smiling. + +“I must say,” I observed, apologetically, “that the treatment was +barbarous, but really I do think it showed a sense of humor on the part +of the government.” + +“No doubt,” replied Boswell, with a sigh; “but when the joke is on me I +don't enjoy it very much. I'm only human, and should prefer to observe +that the government had some sense of justice.” + +The apparently empty chair before the machine gave a slight hitch +forward, and the type-writer began to tap again. + +“You'll have to excuse me now,” observed Boswell through the usual +medium. “I have work to do, and if you'll go to bed like a good fellow, +while I copy off the minutes of the last meeting of the Authors' Club, +I'll see that you don't lose anything by it. After I get the minutes +done I have an interesting story for my Sunday paper from the advance +sheets of Munchausen's Further Recollections, which I shall take great +pleasure in leaving for you when I depart. If you will take the bundle +of manuscript I leave with you and boil it in alcohol for ten minutes, +you will be able to read it, and, no doubt, if you copy it off, sell it +for a goodly sum. It is guaranteed absolutely genuine.” + +“Very well,” said I, rising, “I'll go; but I should think you would put +in most of your time whacking at the government editorially, instead of +going in for minutes and abstract stories of adventure.” + +“You do, eh?” said Boswell. “Well, if you were in my place you'd change +your mind. After my unexpected endorsement by the Emperor and his +cabinet, I've decided to keep out of politics for a little while. I +can stand having a poem tattooed on my back, but if it came to having +a three-column editorial expressing my emotions etched alongside of my +spine, I'm afraid I'd disappear into thin air.” + +So I left him at work and retired. The next morning I found the promised +bundle of manuscripts, and, after boiling the pages as instructed, +discovered the following tale. + + + + +III. FROM ADVANCE SHEETS OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN'S FURTHER RECOLLECTIONS + + +It is with some very considerable hesitation that I come to this +portion of my personal recollections, and yet I feel that I owe it to +my fellow-citizens in this delightful Stygian country, where we are +all enjoying our well-earned rest, to lay before them the exact truth +concerning certain incidents which have now passed into history, and +for participation in which a number of familiar figures are improperly +gaining all the credit, or discredit, as the case may be. It is not a +pleasant task to expose an impostor; much less is it agreeable to expose +four impostors; but to one who from the earliest times--and when I say +earliest times I speak advisedly, as you will see as you read on--to +one, I say, who from the earliest times has been actuated by no other +motive than the promulgation of truth, the task of exposing fraud +becomes a duty which cannot be ignored. Therefore, with regret I set +down this chapter of my memoirs, regardless of its consequences to +certain figures which have been of no inconsiderable importance in our +community for many years--figures which in my own favorite club, the +Associated Shades, have been most welcome, but which, as I and they +alone know, have been nothing more than impostures. + +In previous volumes I have confined my attention to my memoirs as Baron +Munchausen--but, dear reader, there are others. I WAS NOT ALWAYS BARON +MUNCHAUSEN; I HAVE BEEN OTHERS! I am not aware that it has fallen to the +lot of any but myself in the whole span of universal existence to live +more than one life upon that curious, compact little ball of land +and water called the Earth, but, in any event, to me has fallen that +privilege or distinction, or whatever it may be, and upon the record +made by me in four separate existences, placed centuries apart, four +residents of this sphere are basing their claims to notice, securing +election to our clubs, and even venturing so far at times as to make +themselves personally obnoxious to me, who with a word could expose +their wicked deceit in all its naked villainy to an astounded community. +And in taking this course they have gone too far. There is a limit +beyond which no man shall dare go with me. Satisfied with the ultimate +embodiment of my virtues in the Baron Munchausen, I have been disposed +to allow the impostors to pursue their deception in peace so long as +they otherwise behave themselves, but when Adam chooses to allude to +my writings as frothy lies, when Jonah attacks my right as a literary +person to tell tales of leviathans, when Noah states that my ignorance +in yachting matters is colossal, and when William Shakespeare publicly +brands me as a person unworthy of belief who should be expelled from the +Associated Shades, then do I consider it time to speak out and expose +four of the greatest frauds that have ever been inflicted upon a +long-suffering public. + +To begin at the beginning then, let me state that my first recollection +dates back to a beautiful summer morning, when in a lovely garden I +opened my eyes and became conscious of two very material facts: first, a +charming woman arranging her hair in the mirror-like waters of a silver +lake directly before me; and, second, a poignant pain in my side, as +though I had been operated upon for appendicitis, but which in reality +resulted from the loss of a rib which had in turn evoluted into the +charming and very human being I now saw before me. That woman was Eve; +that mirror-like lake was set in the midst of the Garden of Eden; I was +Adam, and not this watery-eyed antediluvian calling himself by my name, +who is a familiar figure in the Anthropological Society, an authority on +evolution, and a blot upon civilization. + +I have little to say about this first existence of mine. It was full +of delights. Speech not having been invented, Eve was an attractive +companion to a man burdened as I was with responsibilities, and until +our children were born we went our way in happiness and silence. It is +not in the nature of things, however, that children should not wish to +talk, and it was through the irrepressible efforts of Cain and Abel +to be heard as well as seen that first called the attention of Eve and +myself to the desirability of expressing our thoughts in words rather +than by masonic signs. + +I shall not burden my readers with further recollections of this period. +It was excessively primitive, of necessity, but before leaving it I must +ask the reader to put one or two questions to himself in this matter. + +1st. How is it that this bearded patriarch, who now poses as the only +original Adam, has never been able, with any degree of positiveness, to +answer the question as to whether or not he was provided with a caudal +appendage--a question which I am prepared to answer definitely, at any +moment, if called upon by the proper authorities, and, if need be, to +produce not only the tail itself, but the fierce and untamed pterodactyl +that bit it off upon that unfortunate autumn afternoon when he and I had +our first and last conflict. + +2d. Why is it that when describing a period concerning which he is +supposed to know all, he seems to have given voice to sentiments in +phrases which would have delighted Sheridan and shed added glory upon +the eloquence of Webster, AT A TIME WHEN, AS I HAVE ALREADY SHOWN, THERE +WAS NO SUCH THING AS SPEECH? + +Upon these two points alone I rest my case against Adam: the first is +the reticence of guilt--he doesn't know, and he knows he doesn't know; +the second is a deliberate and offensive prevarication, which shows +again that he doesn't know, and assumes that we are all equally +ignorant. + +So much for Adam. Now for the cheap and year-ridden person who has +taken unto himself my second personality, Noah; and that other strange +combination of woe and wickedness, Jonah, who has chosen to pre-empt +my third. I shall deal with both at one and the same time, for, taken +separately, they are not worthy of notice. + +Noah asserts that I know nothing of yachting. I will accept the charge +with the qualification that I know a great sight more about Arking than +he does; and as for Jonah, I can give Jonah points on whaling, and I +hereby challenge them both to a Memoir Match for $2000 a side, in gold, +to see which can give to the world the most interesting reminiscences +concerning the cruises of the two craft in question, the Ark and the +Whale, upon neither of which did either of these two anachronisms ever +set foot, and of both of which I, in my two respective existences, was +commander-in-chief. The fact is that, as in the case of the fictitious +Adam, these two impersonators are frauds. The man now masquerading as +Noah was my hired man in the latter part of the antediluvian period; was +discharged three years before the flood; was left on shore at the hour +of departure, and when last seen by me was sitting on the top of an +apple-tree, begging to do two men's work for nothing if we'd only let +him out of the wet. If he will at any time submit to a cross-examination +at my hands as to the principal events of that memorable voyage, I will +show to any fair-minded judge how impossible is his claim that he was +in command, or even afloat, after the first week. I have hitherto kept +silent in this matter, in spite of many and repeated outrageous flings, +for the sake of his--or rather my--family, who have been deceived, +as have all the rest of us, barring, of course, myself. References to +portraits of leading citizens of that period will easily show how this +can be. We were all alike as two peas in the olden days, and at a +time when men reached to an advanced age which is not known now, it +frequently became almost impossible to distinguish one old man from +another. I will say, finally, in regard to this person Noah that if he +can give to the public a statement telling the essential differences +between a pterodactyl and a double spondee that will not prove utterly +absurd to an educated person, I will withdraw my accusation and resign +from the club. BUT I KNOW WELL HE CANNOT DO IT, and he does too, and +that is about the extent of his knowledge. + +Now as to Jonah. I really dislike very much to tread upon this worthy's +toes, and I should not do it had he not chosen to clap an injunction +upon a volume of Tales of the Whales, which I wrote for children last +summer, claiming that I was infringing upon his copyright, and feeling +that I as a self-respecting man would never claim the discredit of +having myself been the person he claims to have been. I will candidly +confess that I am not proud of my achievements as Jonah. I was a very +oily person even before I embarked upon the seas as Lord High Admiral +of H.M.S. Leviathan. I was not a pleasant person to know. If I spent +the night with a friend, his roof would fall in or his house would burn +down. If I bet on a horse, he would lead up to the home-stretch and fall +down dead an inch from the finish. If I went into a stock speculation, +I was invariably caught on a rising or a falling market. In my youth I +spoiled every yachting-party I went on by attracting a gale. When I came +out the moon went behind a cloud, and people who began by endorsing my +paper ended up in the poor-house. Commerce wouldn't have me. Boards of +Trade everywhere repudiated me, and I gradually sank into that state of +despair which finds no solace anywhere but on the sea or in politics, +and as politics was then unknown I went to sea. The result is known +to the world. I was cast overboard, ingulfed by a whale, which, in his +defence let me be generous enough to say, swallowed me inadvertently +and with the usual result. I came back, and life went on. Finally I +came here, and when it got to the ears of the authorities that I was in +Hades, they sent me back for the fourth time to earth in the person of +William Shakespeare. + +That is the whole of the Jonah story. It is a sad story, and I regret +it; and I am sorry for the impostor when I reflect that the character he +has assumed possesses attractions for him. His real life must have +been a fearful thing if he is happy in his impersonation, and for his +punishment let us leave him where he is. Having told the truth, I +have done my duty. I cheerfully resign my claim to the personality he +claims--I relinquish from this time on all right, title, and interest in +the name; but if he ever dares to interfere with me again in the use of +my personal recollections concerning the inside of whales I shall hale +him before the authorities. + +And now, finally, I come to Shakespeare, whom I have kept for the last, +not because he was the last chronologically, but because I like to work +up to a climax. + +Previous to my existence as Baron Munchausen I lived for a term of years +on earth as William Shakespeare, and what I have to say now is more in +the line of confession than otherwise. + +In my boyhood I was wild and I poached. If I were not afraid of having +it set down as a joke, I should say that I poached everything from eggs +to deer. I was not a great joy to my parents. There was no deviltry in +Stratford in which I did not take a leading part, and finally, for the +good of Warwickshire, I was sent to London, where a person of my talents +was more likely to find congenial and appreciative surroundings. A +glance at such of my autographs as are now extant will demonstrate the +fact that I never learned to write; a glance at the first folios of the +plays attributed to me will likewise show that I never learned to spell; +and yet I walked into London with one of the most exquisite poems in the +English language in my pocket. I am still filled with merriment over it. +How was it, the critics of the years since have asked--how was it that +this untutored little savage from leafy Warwickshire, with no training +and little education, came into London with “Venus and Adonis” in +manuscript in his pocket? It is quite evident that the critic fraternity +have no Sherlock Holmes in their midst. It would not take much of an +eye, a true detective's eye, to see the milk in that cocoanut, for it +is but a simple tale after all. The way of it was this: On my way +from Stratford to London I walked through Coventry, and I remained in +Coventry overnight. I was ill-clad and hungry, and, having no money with +which to pay for my supper, I went to the Royal Arms Hotel and offered +my services as porter for the night, having noted that a rich cavalcade +from London, en route to Kenilworth, had arrived unexpectedly at the +Royal Arms. Taken by surprise, and, therefore, unprepared to accommodate +so many guests, the landlord was glad to avail himself of my services, +and I was assigned to the position of boots. Among others whom I served +was Walter Raleigh, who, noting my ragged condition and hearing what a +roisterer and roustabout I had been, immediately took pity upon me, and +gave me a plum-colored court-suit with which he was through, and which +I accepted, put upon my back, and next day wore off to London. It was +in the pocket of this that I found the poem of “Venus and Adonis.” That +poem, to keep myself from starving, I published when I reached London, +sending a complimentary copy of course to my benefactor. When Raleigh +saw it he was naturally surprised but gratified, and on his return to +London he sought me out, and suggested the publication of his sonnets. +I was the first man he'd met, he said, who was willing to publish his +stuff on his own responsibility. I immediately put out some of the +sonnets, and in time was making a comfortable living, publishing the +anonymous works of most of the young bucks about town, who paid well for +my imprint. That the public chose to think the works were mine was none +of my fault. I never claimed them, and the line on the title-page, “By +William Shakespeare,” had reference to the publisher only, and not, as +many have chosen to believe, to the author. Thus were published Lord +Bacon's “Hamlet,” Raleigh's poems, several plays of Messrs. Beaumont +and Fletcher--who were themselves among the cleverest adapters of the +times--and the rest of that glorious monument to human credulity and +memorial to an impossible, wholly apocryphal genius, known as the works +of William Shakespeare. The extent of my writing during this incarnation +was ten autographs for collectors, and one attempt at a comic opera +called “A Midsummer's Nightmare,” which was never produced, because no +one would write the music for it, and which was ultimately destroyed +with three of my quatrains and all of Bacon's evidence against my +authorship of “Hamlet,” in the fire at the Globe Theatre in the year +1613. + +These, then, dear reader, are the revelations which I have to make. +In my next incarnation I was the man I am now known to be, Baron +Munchausen. As I have said, I make the exposure with regret, but the +arrogance of these impudent impersonators of my various personalities +has grown too great to be longer borne. I lay the simple story of their +villany before you for what it is worth. I have done my duty. If after +this exposure the public of Hades choose to receive them in their homes +and at their clubs, and as guests at their functions, they will do it +with a full knowledge of their duplicity. + +In conclusion, fearing lest there be some doubters among the readers +of this paper, I have allowed my friend, the editor of this esteemed +journal, which is to publish this story exclusively on Sunday next, free +access to my archives, and he has selected as exhibits of evidence, to +which I earnestly call your attention, the originals of the cuts which +illustrate this chapter--viz: + +I. A full-length portrait of Eve as she appeared at our first meeting. + +II. Portraits of Cain and Abel at the ages of two, five, and seven. + +III. The original plans and specifications of the Ark. + +IV. Facsimile of her commission. + +V. Portrait-sketch of myself and the false Noah, made at the time, and +showing how difficult it would have been for any member of my family, +save myself, to tell us apart. + +VI. A cathode-ray photograph of the whale, showing myself, the original +Jonah, seated inside. + +VII. Facsimiles of the Shakespeare autographs, proving that he knew +neither how to write nor to spell, and so of course proving effectually +that I was not the author of his works. + + +It must be confessed that I read this article of Munchausen's with +amazement, and I awaited with much excited curiosity the coming again of +the manipulator of my type-writing machine. Surely a revelation of this +nature should create a sensation in Hades, and I was anxious to learn +how it was received. Boswell did not materialize, however, and for five +nights I fairly raged with the fever of curiosity, but on the sixth +night the familiar tinkle of the bell announced an arrival, and I flew +to the machine and breathlessly cried: + +“Hullo, old chap, how did it come out?” + +The reply was as great a surprise as I have yet had, for it was not +Boswell, Jim Boswell, who answered my question. + + + + +IV. A CHAT WITH XANTHIPPE + + +The machine stopped its clicking the moment I spoke, and the words, +“Hullo, old chap!” were no sooner uttered than my face grew red as a +carnation pink. I felt as if I had committed some dreadful faux-pas, and +instead of gazing steadfastly into the vacant chair, as I had been +wont to do in my conversation with Boswell, my eyes fell, as though +the invisible occupant of the chair were regarding me with a look of +indignant scorn. + +“I beg your pardon,” I said. + +“I should think you might,” returned the types. “Hullo, old chap! is +no way to address a woman you've never had the honor of meeting, even if +she is of the most advanced sort. No amount of newness in a woman gives +a man the right to be disrespectful to her.” + +“I didn't know,” I explained. “Really, miss, I--” + +“Madame,” interrupted the machine, “not miss. I am a married woman, sir, +which makes of your rudeness an even more reprehensible act. It is well +enough to affect a good-fellowship with young unmarried females, but +when you attempt to be flippant with a married woman--” + +“But I didn't know, I tell you,” I appealed. “How should I? I supposed +it was Boswell I was talking to, and he and I have become very good +friends.” + +“Humph!” said the machine. “You're a chum of Boswell's, eh?” + +“Well, not exactly a chum, but--” I began. + +“But you go with him?” interrupted the lady. + +“To an extent, yes,” I confessed. + +“And does he GO with you?” was the query. “If he does, permit me to +depart at once. I should not feel quite in my element in a house where +the editor of a Sunday newspaper was an attractive guest. If you like +that sort of thing, your tastes--” + +“I do not, madame,” I replied, quickly. “I prefer the opium habit to the +Sunday-newspaper habit, and if I thought Boswell was merely a purveyor +of what is known as Sunday literature, which depends on the goodness of +the day to offset its shortcomings, I should forbid him the house.” + +A distinct sigh of relief emanated from the chair. + +“Then I may remain,” was the remark rapidly clicked off on the machine. + +“I am glad,” said I. “And may I ask whom I have the honor of +addressing?” + +“Certainly,” was the immediate response. “My name is Socrates, nee +Xanthippe.” + +I instinctively cowered. Candidly, I was afraid. Never in my life before +had I met a woman whom I feared. Never in my life have I wavered in the +presence of the sex which cheers, but I have always felt that while I +could hold my own with Elizabeth, withstand the wiles of Cleopatra, and +manage the recalcitrant Katherine even as did Petruchio, Xanthippe was +another story altogether, and I wished I had gone to the club. My first +impulse was to call up-stairs to my wife and have her come down. She +knows how to handle the new woman far better than I do. She has never +wanted to vote, and my collars are safe in her hands. She has frequently +observed that while she had many things to be thankful for, her greatest +blessing was that she was born a woman and not a man, and the new women +of her native town never leave her presence without wondering in their +own minds whether or not they are mere humorous contributions of the +Almighty to a too serious world. I pulled myself together as best +I could, and feeling that my better-half would perhaps decline the +proffered invitation to meet with one of the most illustrious of her +sex, I decided to fight my own battle. So I merely said: + +“Really? How delightful! I have always felt that I should like to meet +you, and here is one of my devoutest wishes gratified.” + +I felt cheap after the remark, for Mrs. Socrates, nee Xanthippe, covered +five sheets of paper with laughter, with an occasional bracketing of the +word “derisively,” such as we find in the daily newspapers interspersed +throughout the after-dinner speeches of a candidate of another party. +Finally, to my relief, the oft-repeated “Ha-ha-ha!” ceased, and +the line, “I never should have guessed it,” closed her immediate +contribution to our interchange of ideas. + +“May I ask why you laugh?” I observed, when she had at length finished. + +“Certainly,” she replied. “Far be it from me to dispute the right of +a man to ask any question he sees fit to ask. Is he not the lord of +creation? Is not woman his abject slave? I not the whole difference +between them purely economic? Is it not the law of supply and demand +that rules them both, he by nature demanding and she supplying?” + +Dear reader, did you ever encounter a machine, man-made, merely a +mechanism of ivory, iron, and ink, that could sniff contemptuously? I +never did before this encounter, but the infernal power of either this +type-writer or this woman who manipulated its keys imparted to the +atmosphere I was breathing a sniffing contemptuousness which I have +never experienced anywhere outside of a London hotel, and then only +when I ventured, as few Americans have dared, to complain of the ducal +personage who presided over the dining-room, but who, I must confess, +was conquered subsequently by a tip of ten shillings. + +At any rate, there was a sniff of contempt imparted, as I have said, to +the atmosphere I was breathing as Xanthippe answered my question, +and the sniff saved me, just as it did in the London hotel, when I +complained of the lordly lack of manners on the part of the head waiter. +I asserted my independence. + +“Don't trouble yourself,” I put in. “Of course I shall be interested in +anything you may choose to say, but as a gentleman I do not care to put +a woman to any inconvenience and I do not press the question.” + +And then I tried to crush her by adding, “What a lovely day we have +had,” as if any subject other than the most commonplace was not demanded +by the situation. + +“If you contemplate discussing the weather,” was the retort, “I wish you +would kindly seek out some one else with whom to do it. I am not one of +your latter-day sit-out-on-the-stairs-while-the-others-dance girls. I +am, as I have always been, an ardent admirer of principles, of great +problems. For small talk I have no use.” + +“Very well, madame--” I began. + +“You asked me a moment ago why I laughed,” clicked the machine. + +“I know it,” said I. “But I withdraw the question. There is no great +principle involved in a woman's laughter. I have known women who have +laughed at a broken heart, as well as at jokes, which shows that there +is no principle involved there; and as a problem, I have never cared +enough about why women laugh to inquire deeply into it. If she'll +just consent to laugh, I'm satisfied without inquiring into the causes +thereof. Let us get down to an agreeable basis for yourself. What +problem do you wish to discuss? Servants, baby-food, floor-polish, or +the number of godets proper to the skirt of a well-dressed woman?” + +I was regaining confidence in myself, and as I talked I ceased to fear +her. Thought I to myself, “This attitude of supreme patronage is man's +safest weapon against a woman. Keep cool, assume that there is no doubt +of your superiority, and that she knows it. Appear to patronize her, +and her own indignation will defeat her ends.” It is a good principle +generally. Among mortal women I have never known it to fail, and when I +find myself worsted in an argument with one of man's greatest blessings, +I always fall back upon it and am saved the ignominy of defeat. But this +time I counted without my antagonist. + +“Will you repeat that list of problems?” she asked, coldly. + +“Servants, baby-food, floor-polish, and godets,” I repeated, somewhat +sheepishly, she took it so coolly. + +“Very well,” said Xanthippe, with a note of amusement in her +manipulation of the keys. “If those are your subjects, let us discuss +them. I am surprised to find an able-bodied man like yourself bothering +with such problems, but I'll help you out of your difficulties if I can. +No needy man shall ever say that I ignored his cry for help. What do you +want to know about baby-food?” + +This turning of the tables nonplussed me, and I didn't really know what +to say, and so wisely said nothing, and the machine grew sharp in its +clicking. + +“You men!” it cried. “You don't know how fearfully shallow you are. I +can see through you in a minute.” + +“Well,” I said, modestly, “I suppose you can.” Then calling my feeble +wit to my rescue, I added, “It's only natural, since I've made a +spectacle of myself.” + +“Not you!” cried Xanthippe. “You haven't even made a monocle of +yourself.” + +And here we both laughed, and the ice was broken. + +“What has become of Boswell?” I asked. + +“He's been sent to the ovens for ten days for libelling Shakespeare and +Adam and Noah and old Jonah,” replied Xanthippe. “He printed an article +alleged to have been written by Baron Munchausen, in which those four +gentlemen were held up to ridicule and libelled grossly.” + +“And Munchausen?” I cried. + +“Oh, the Baron got out of it by confessing that he wrote the article,” + replied the lady. “And as he swore to his confession the jury were +convinced he was telling another one of his lies and acquitted him, so +Boswell was sent up alone. That's why I am here. There isn't a man in +all Hades that dared take charge of Boswell's paper--they're all so +deadly afraid of the government, so I stepped in, and while Boswell is +baking I'm attending to his editorial duties.” + +“But you spoke contemptuously of the Sunday newspapers awhile ago, Mrs. +Socrates,” said I. + +“I know that,” said Xanthippe, “but I've fixed that. I get out the +Sunday edition on Saturdays.” + +“Oh--I see. And you like it?” I queried. + +“First rate,” she replied. “I'm in love with the work. I almost wish +poor old Bos had been sentenced for ten years. I have enough of the +woman in me to love minding other people's business, and, as far as I +can find out, that's about all journalism amounts to. Sewing societies +aren't to be mentioned in the same day with a newspaper for scandal and +gossip, and, besides, I'm an ardent advocate of men's rights--have been +for centuries--and I've got my first chance now to promulgate a few +of my ideas. I'm really a man in all my views of life--that's the +inevitable end of an advanced woman who persists in following her +'newness' to its logical conclusion. Her habits of thought gradually +come to be those of a man. Even I have a great deal more sympathy with +Socrates than I used to have. I used to think I was the one that should +be emancipated, but I'm really reaching that stage in my manhood where I +begin to believe that he needs emancipation.” + +“Then you admit, do you,” I cried, with great glee, “that this new-woman +business is all Tommy-rot?” + +“Not by a great deal,” snapped the machine. “Far from it. It's the +salvation of the happy life. It is perfectly logical to say that the +more manny a woman becomes, the more she is likely to sympathize with +the troubles and trials which beset men.” + +I scratched my head and pulled the lobe of my ear in the hope of +loosening an argument to confront her with, not that I disagreed with +her entirely, but because I instinctively desired to oppose her as +pleasantly disagreeably as I could. But the result was nil. + +“I'm afraid you are right,” I said. + +“You're a truthful man,” clicked the machine, laughingly. “You are +afraid I'm right. And why are you afraid? Because you are one of those +men who take a cynical view of woman. You want woman to be a mere lump +of sugar, content to be left in a bowl until it pleases you in your +high-and-mightiness to take her in the tongs and drop her into the +coffee of your existence, to sweeten what would otherwise not please +your taste--and like most men you prefer two or three lumps to one.” + +I could only cough. The lady was more or less right. I am very fond of +sugar, though one lump is my allowance, and I never exceed it, whatever +the temptation. Xanthippe continued. + +“You criticise her because she doesn't understand you and your needs, +forgetting that out of twenty-four hours of your daily existence your +wife enjoys personally about twelve hours of your society, during eight +of which you are lying flat on your back, snoring as though your +life depended on it; but when she asks to be allowed to share your +responsibilities as well as what, in her poor little soul, she thinks +are your joys, you flare up and call her 'new' and 'advanced,' as if +advancement were a crime. You ride off on your wheel for forty miles on +your days of rest, and she is glad to have you do it, but when she wants +a bicycle to ride, you think it's all wrong, immoral, and conducive to a +weak heart. Bah!” + +“I--ah--” I began. + +“Yes you do,” she interrupted. “You ah and you hem and you haw, but in +the end you're a poor miserable social mugwump, conscious of your own +magnificence and virtue, but nobody else ever can attain to your lofty +plane. Now what I want to see among women is more good fellows. Suppose +you regarded your wife as good a fellow as you think your friend Jones. +Do you think you'd be running off to the club every night to play +billiards with Jones, leaving your wife to enjoy her own society?” + +“Perhaps not,” I replied, “but that's just the point. My wife isn't a +good fellow.” + +“Exactly, and for that reason you seek out Jones. You have a right to +the companionship of the good fellow--that's what I'm going to advocate. +I've advanced far enough to see that on the average in the present state +of woman she is not a suitable companion for man--she has none of the +qualities of a chum to which he is entitled. I'm not so blind but that I +can see the faults of my own sex, particularly now that I have become so +very masculine myself. Both sexes should have their rights, and that +is the great policy I'm going to hammer at as long as I have Boswell's +paper in charge. I wish you might see my editorial page for to-morrow; +it is simply fine. I urge upon woman the necessity of joining in with +her husband in all his pleasures whether she enjoys them or not. When he +lights a cigar, let her do the same; when he calls for a cocktail, +let her call for another. In time she will begin to understand him. +He understands her pleasures, and often he joins in with them--opera, +dances, lectures; she ought to do the same, and join in with him in his +pleasures, and after a while they'll get upon a common basis, have their +clubs together, and when that happy time comes, when either one goes out +the other will also go, and their companionship will be perfect.” + +“But you objected to my calling you old chap when we first met,” said I. +“Is that quite consistent?” + +“Of course,” retorted the lady. “We had never met before, and, besides, +doctors do not always take their own medicine.” + +“But that women ought to become good fellows is what you're going to +advocate, eh?” said I. + +“Yes,” replied Xanthippe. “It's excellent, don't you think?” + +“Superb,” I answered, “for Hades. It's just my idea of how things ought +to be in Hades. I think, however, that we mortals will stick to the old +plan for a little while yet; most of us prefer to marry wives rather +than old chaps.” + +The remark seemed so to affect my visitor that I suddenly became +conscious of a sense of loneliness. + +“I don't wish to offend you,” I said, “but I rather like to keep the two +separate. Aren't you man enough yet to see the value of variety?” + +But there was no answer. The lady had gone. It was evident that she +considered me unworthy of further attention. + + + + +V. THE EDITING OF XANTHIPPE + + +After my interview with Xanthippe, I hesitated to approach the +type-writer for a week or two. It did a great deal of clicking after the +midnight hour had struck, and I was consumed with curiosity to know what +was going on, but I did not wish to meet Mrs. Socrates again, so I held +aloof until Boswell should have served his sentence. I was no longer +afraid of the woman, but I do fear the good fellow of the weaker sex, +and I deemed it just as well to keep out of any and all disputes that +might arise from a casual conversation with a creature of that sort. An +agreement with a real good fellow, even when it ends in a row, is more +or less diverting; but a disputation with a female good fellow places +a man at a disadvantage. The argumentum ad hominem is not an easy thing +with men, but with women it is impossible. Hence, I let the type-writer +click and ring for a fortnight. + +Finally, to my relief, I recognized Boswell's touch upon the keys and +sauntered up to the side of the machine. + +“Is this Boswell--Jim Boswell?” I inquired. + +“All that's left of him,” was the answer. “How have you been?” + +“Very well,” said I. And then it seemed to me that tact required that I +should not seem to know that he had been in the superheated jail of the +Stygian country. So I observed, “You've been off on a vacation, eh?” + +“How do you know that?” was the immediate response. + +“Well,” I put in, “you've been absent for a fortnight, and you look more +or less--ah--burned.” + +“Yes, I am,” replied the deceitful editor. “Very much burned, in fact. +I've been--er--I've been playing golf with a friend down in Cimmeria.” + +“I envy you,” I observed, with an inward chuckle. + +“You wouldn't if you knew the links,” replied Boswell, sadly. “They're +awfully hard. I don't know any harder course than the Cimmerian.” + +And then I became conscious of a mistrustful gaze fastened upon me. + +“See here,” clicked the machine. “I thought I was invisible to you? If +so, how do you know I look burned?” + +I was cornered, and there was only one way out of it, and that was by +telling the truth. “Well, you are invisible, old chap,” I said. “The +fact is, I've been told of your trouble, and I know what you have +undergone.” + +“And who told you?” queried Boswell. + +“Your successor on the Gazette, Madame Socrates, nee Xanthippe,” I +replied. + +“Oh, that woman--that woman!” moaned Boswell, through the medium of the +keys. “Has she been here, using this machine too? Why didn't you stop +her before she ruined me completely?” + +“Ruined you?” I cried. + +“Well, next thing to it,” replied Boswell. “She's run my paper so far +into the ground that it will take an almighty powerful grip to pull +it out again. Why, my dear boy, when I went to--to the ovens, I had a +circulation of a million, and when I came back that woman had brought it +down to eight copies, seven of which have already been returned. All in +ten days, too.” + +“How do you account for it?” I asked. + +“'Side Talks with Men' helped, and 'The Man's Corner' did a little, but +the editorial page did the most of it. It was given over wholly to the +advancement of certain Xanthippian ideas, which were very offensive to +my women readers, and which found no favor among the men. She wants to +change the whole social structure. She thinks men and women are the same +kind of animal, and that both need to be educated on precisely the same +lines--the girls to be taught business, the boys to go through a course +of domestic training. She called for subscriptions for a cooking-school +for boys, and demanded the endowment of a commercial college for girls, +and wound up by insisting upon a uniform dress for both sexes. I tell +you, if you'd worked for years to establish a dignified newspaper +the way I have, it would have broken your heart to see the suggested +fashion-plates that woman printed. The uniform dress was a holy terror. +It was a combination of all the worst features of modern garb. Trousers +were to be universal and compulsory; sensible masculine coats were +discarded entirely, and puffed-sleeved dress-coats were substituted. +Stiff collars were abolished in favor of ribbons, and rosettes cropped +up everywhere. Imagine it if you can--and everybody in all Hades was to +be forced into garments of that sort!” + +“I should enjoy seeing it,” I said. + +“Possibly--but you wouldn't enjoy wearing it,” retorted the machine. +“And then that woman's funny column--it was frightful. You never saw +such jokes in your life; every one of them contained a covert attack +upon man. There was only one good thing in it, and that was a bit of +verse called 'Fair Play for the Little Girls.' It went like this: + + “'If little boys, when they are young, + Can go about in skirts, + And wear upon their little backs + Small broidered girlish shirts, + Pray why cannot the little girls, + When infants, have a chance + To toddle on their little ways + In little pairs of pants?'” + + +“That isn't at all bad,” said I, smiling in spite of poor Boswell's woe. +“If the rest of the paper was on a par with that I don't see why the +circulation fell off.” + +“Well, she took liberties, that's all,” said Boswell. “For instance, in +her 'Side Talks with Men' she had something like this: 'Napoleon--It +is rather difficult to say just what you can do with your last season's +cocked-hat. If you were to purchase five yards of one-inch blue ribbon, +cut it into three strips of equal length, and fasten one end to each +of the three corners of the hat, tying the other ends into a choux, it +would make a very acceptable work-basket to send to your grandmother +at Christmas.' Now Napoleon never asked that woman for advice on the +subject. Then there was an answer to a purely fictitious inquiry from +Solomon which read: 'It all depends on local custom. In Salt Lake City, +and in London at the time of Henry the Eighth, it was not considered +necessary to be off with the old love before being on with the new, but +latterly the growth of monopolistic ideas tends towards the uniform rate +of one at a time.' A purely gratuitous fling, that was, at one of my +most eminent patrons, or rather two of them, for latterly both Solomon +and Henry the Eighth have yielded to the tendency of the times and gone +into business, which they have paid me well to advertise. Solomon has +established an 'Information Bureau,' where advice can always be had from +the 'Wise-man,' as he calls himself, on payment of a small fee; while +Henry, taking advantage of his superior equipment over any English king +that ever lived, has founded and liberally advertised his 'Chaperon +Company (Limited).' It's a great thing even in Hades for young people +to be chaperoned by an English queen, and Henry has been smart enough to +see it, and having seven or eight queens, all in good standing, he has +been doing a great business. Just look at it from a business point +of view. There are seven nights in every week, and something going on +somewhere all the time, and queens in demand. With a queen quoted so low +as $100 a night, Henry can make nearly $5000 a week, or $260,000 a +year, out of evening chaperonage alone; and when, in addition to this, +yachting-parties up the Styx and slumming-parties throughout the country +are being constantly given, the man's opportunity to make half a million +a year is in plain sight. I'm told that he netted over $500,000 last +year; and of course he had to advertise to get it, and this Xanthippe +woman goes out of her way to get in a nasty little fling at one of my +mainstays for his matrimonial propensities.” + +“Failing utterly to see,” said I, “that, in marrying so many times, +Henry really paid a compliment to her sex which is without parallel in +royal circles.” + +“Well, nearly so,” said Boswell. “There have been other kings who were +quite as complimentary to the ladies, but Henry was the only man among +them who insisted on marrying them all.” + +“True,” said I. “Henry was eminently proper--but then he had to be.” + +“Yes,” said Boswell, with a meditative tap on the letter Y. “Yes--he had +to be. He was the head of the Church, you know.” + +“I know it,” I put in. “I've always had a great deal of sympathy for +Henry. He has been very much misjudged by posterity. He was the father +of the really first new woman, Elizabeth, and his other daughter, Mary, +was such a vindictive person.” + +“You are a very fair man, for an American,” said Boswell. “Not only +fair, but rare. You think about things.” + +“I try to,” said I, modestly. “And I've really thought a great deal +about Henry, and I've truly seen a valid reason for his continuous +matrimonial performances. He set himself up against the Pope, and he had +to be consistent in his antagonism.” + +“He did, indeed,” said Boswell. “A religious discussion is a hard one.” + +“And Henry was consistent in his opposition,” said I. “He didn't yield +a jot on any point, and while a great many people criticise him on the +score of his wives--particularly on their number--I feel that I have in +very truth discovered his principle.” + +“Which was?” queried Boswell. + +“That the Pope was wrong in all things,” said I. + +“So he said,” commented Boswell. + +“And being wrong in all things, celibacy was wrong,” said I. + +“Exactly,” ejaculated Boswell. + +“Well, then,” said I, “if celibacy is wrong, the surest way to protest +against it is to marry as many times as you can.” + +“By Jove!” said Boswell, tapping the keys yearningly, as though he +wished he might spare his hand to shake mine, “you are a man after my +own heart.” + +“Thanks, old chap,” said I, reaching out my hand and shaking it in the +air with my visionary friend--“thanks. I've studied these things with +some care, and I've tried to find a reason for everything in life as +I know it. I have always regarded Henry as a moral man--as is natural, +since in spite of all you can say he is the real head of the English +Church. He wasn't willing to be married a second or a seventh time +unless he was really a widower. He wasn't as long in taking notice again +as some modern widowers that I have met, but I do not criticise him on +that score. I merely attribute his record to his kingly nature, which +involves necessarily a quickness of decision and a decided perception +of the necessities which is sadly lacking in people who are born to a +lesser station in life. England demanded a queen, and he invariably met +the demand, which shows that he knew something of political economy as +well as of matrimony; and as I see it, being an American, a man needs to +know something of political economy to be a good ruler. So many of our +statesmen have acquired a merely kindergarten knowledge of the science, +that we have had many object-lessons of the disadvantages of a merely +elementary knowledge of the subject. To come right down to it, I am +a great admirer of Henry. At any rate, he had the courage of his +heart-convictions.” + +“You really surprise me,” tapped Boswell. “I never expected to find an +American so thoroughly in sympathy with kings and their needs.” + +“Oh, as for that,” said I, “in America we are all kings and we are not +without our needs, matrimonial and otherwise, only our courts are +not quite so expeditious as Henry's little axe. But what was Henry's +attitude towards this extraordinary flight of Xanthippe's?” + +“Wrath,” said Boswell. “He was very much enraged, and withdrew his +advertisements, declined to give our society reporters the usual +accounts of the functions his wives chaperoned, and, worst of all, has +withdrawn himself and induced others to withdraw from the symposium I +was preparing for my special Summer Girls' issue, which is to appear +in August, on 'How Men Propose.' He and Brigham Young and Solomon and +Bonaparte had agreed to dictate graphic accounts of how they had done +it on various occasions, and Queen Elizabeth, who probably had more +proposals to the square minute that any other woman on record, was to +write the introduction. This little plan, which was really the idea of +genius, is entirely shattered by Mrs. Socrates's infernal interference.” + +“Nonsense,” said I. “Don't despair. Why don't you come out with a plain +statement of the facts? Apologize.” + +“You forget, my dear sir,” interposed Boswell, “that one of the +fundamental principles of Hades as an institution is that excuses don't +count. It isn't a place for repentance so much as for expiation, and I +might apologize nine times a minute for forty years and would still have +to suffer the penalty of the offence. No, there is nothing to be done +but to begin my newspaper work again, build up again the institution +that Xanthippe has destroyed, and bear my misfortunes like a true +spirit.” + +“Spoken like a philosopher!” I cried. “And if I can help you, my dear +Boswell, count upon me. In anything you may do, whether you start +a monthly magazine, a sporting weekly, or a purely American Sunday +newspaper, you are welcome to anything I can do for you.” + +“You are very kind,” returned Boswell, appreciatively, “and if I need +your services I shall be glad to avail myself of them. Just at present, +however, my plans are so fully prepared that I do not think I shall +have to call upon you. With Sherlock Holmes engaged to write twelve +new detective stories; Poe to look after my tales of horror; D'Artagnan +dictating his personal memoirs; Lucretia Borgia running my Girls' +Department; and others too numerous to mention, I have a sufficient +supply of stuff to fill up; but if you feel like writing a few poems for +me I may be able to use them as fillers, and they may help to make your +name so well known in Hades that next year I shall be able to print a +Worldly Letter from you every week with a good chance of its proving +popular.” + +And with this promise Boswell left me to get out the first number of The +Cimmerian: a Sunday Magazine for all. Taking him at his word, I sent him +the following poem a few days later: + + + LOCALITY + + Whither do we drift, + Insensate souls, whose every breath + Foretells the doom of nothingness? + Yet onward, upward let it be + Through all the myriad circles + Of the ensuing years-- + And then, pray what? + Alas! 'tis all, and never shall be stated. + Atoms, yet atomless we drift, + But whitherward? + + +I had intended this for one of our leading magazines, but it seemed +so to lack the mystical quality, which is essential to a successful +magazine poem in our sphere, that I deemed it best to try it on Boswell. + + + + +VI. THE BOSWELL TOURS: PERSONALLY CONDUCTED + + +It was and will no doubt be considered, even by those who are not too +friendly towards myself, a daring idea, and it was all my own. One +night, several weeks after the interview with Boswell just narrated, the +idea came to me simultaneously with the first tapping of the keys for +the evening upon the Enchanted Type-Writer. It was Boswell's touch that +summoned me from my divan. My family were on the eve of departure for +a month's rest from care and play in the mountains, and I was +looking forward to a period of very great loneliness. But as Boswell +materialized and began his work upon the machine, the great idea flashed +across my mind, and I resolved to “play it” for all it was worth. + +“Jim,” said I, as I approached the vacant chair in which he sat--for +by this time the great biographer and I had got upon terms of +familiarity--“Jim,” said I, “I've got a very gloomy prospect ahead of +me.” + +“Well, why not?” he tapped off. “Where do you expect to have your gloomy +prospects? They can't very well be behind you.” + +“Humph!” said I. “You are facetious this evening.” + +“Not at all,” he replied. “I have been spending the day with my old-time +boss, Samuel Johnson, and I am so saturated with purism that I hardly +know where I am. From the Johnsonian point of view you have expressed +yourself ill--” + +“Well, I am ill,” I retorted. “I don't know how far you are acquainted +with home life, but I do know that there is no greater homesickness in +the world than that of the man who is sick of home.” + +“I am not an imitator,” said Boswell, “but I must imitate you to the +extent of saying humph! I quote you, and, doing so, I honor you. But +really, I never thought you could be sick of home, as you put it--you +who are so happy at home and who so wildly hate being away from home.” + +“I'm not surprised at that, my dear Boswell,” said I. “But you are, of +course, familiar with the phrase 'Stone walls do not a prison make?'” + +“I've heard it,” said Boswell. + +“Well, there's another equally valid phrase which I have not yet heard +expressed by another, and it is this: 'Stone walls do not a home make.'” + +“It isn't very musical, is it?” said he. + +“Not very,” I answered, “but we don't all live magazine lives, do we? We +have occasionally a sentiment, a feeling, out of which we do not try 'to +make copy.' It is undoubtedly a truth which I have not yet seen voiced +by any modern poet of my acquaintance, not even by the dead-baby poets, +that home is not always preferable to some other things. At any rate, +it is my feeling, and is shortly to represent my condition. My home, +you know. It has its walls and its pictures, and its thousand and one +comforts, and its associations, but when my wife and my children are +away, and the four walls do not re-echo the voices of the children, and +my library lacks the presence of madame, it ceases truly to be home, and +if I've got to stay here during the month of August alone I must have +diversion, else I shall find myself as badly off as the butterfly man, +to whom a vaudeville exhibition is the greatest joy in life.” + +“I think you are queer,” said Boswell. + +“Well, I am not,” said I. “However low we may set the standard of man, +Mr. B.”--and I called him Mr. B. instead of Jim, because I wished to be +severe and yet retain the basis of familiarity--“however low we may set +the standard of man, I think man as a rule prefers his home to the most +seductive roof-garden life in existence.” + +“Wherefore?” said he, coldly. + +“Wherefore my home about to become unattractive through the absence of +my boys and their mother, I shall need some extraordinary diversion to +accomplish my happiness. Now if you can come here, why can't others? +Suppose to-night you dash off on the machine a lot of invitations to the +pleasantest people in Hades to come up here with you and have an evening +on earth, which isn't all bad.” + +“It's a scheme and a half,” said Boswell, with more enthusiasm than I +had expected. “I'll do it, only instead of trying to get these people +to make a pilgrimage to your shrine, which I think they would decline to +do--Shakespeare, for instance, wouldn't give a tuppence to inspect +your birthplace as you have inspected his--I'll institute a series of +'Boswell's Personally Conducted Pleasure Parties,' and make you my agent +here. That, you see, will naturally make your home our headquarters, and +I think the scheme would work a charm, because there are a great many +well-known Stygians who are curious to revisit the scenes of +their earlier state, but who are timid about coming on their own +responsibility.” + +“I see,” said I. “Immortals are but mortal after all, with all the +timidity and weaknesses of mortality. But I agree to the proposition, +and if you wish it I'll prepare to give them a rousing old time.” + +“And be sure to show them something characteristic,” said Boswell. + +“I will,” I replied; “I may even get up a trolley-party for them.” + +“I don't know what a trolley-party is, but it sounds well,” said +Boswell, “and I'll advertise the enterprise at once. 'Boswell's +Personally Conducted Pleasure Parties. First Series, No. 1. Trolleying +Through Hoboken. For the Round Trip, Four Dollars. Supper and All +Expenses Included. No Tips. Extra Lady's Ticket, One Dollar.'” + +“Hold on!” I cried. “That can't be. These affairs will really have to be +stag-parties--with my wife away, you know.” + +“Not if we secure a suitable chaperon,” said Boswell. + +“Anyhow!” said I, with great positiveness. “You don't suppose that in +the absence of my family I'm going to have my neighbors see me cavorting +about the country on a trolley-car full of queens and duchesses and +other females of all ages? Not a bit of it, my dear James. I'm not a +strictly conventional person, but there are some points between which I +draw lines. I've got to live on this earth for a little while yet, and +until I leave it I must be guided more or less in what I do by what the +world approves or disapproves.” + +“Very well,” Boswell answered. “I suppose you are right, but in the +autumn, when your family has returned--” + +“We can discuss the matter again,” said I, resolved to put off the +question for as long a time as I could, for I candidly confess that I +had no wish to make myself responsible for the welfare of such Stygian +ladies as might avail themselves of the opportunity to go off on one +of Boswell's tours. “Show the value and beauties of your plan to the +influential men of Hades first, my dear Boswell,” I added, “and then if +they choose they can come again and bring their wives with them on their +own responsibility.” + +“I fancy that is the best plan, but we ought to have some variety in +these tours,” he replied. “A trolley-party, however successful, would +not make a great season for an entertainment bureau, would it?” + +“No, indeed,” said I. “You are perfectly right about that. What you +want is one function a week during the summer season. Open with the +trolley-party as No. 1 of your first series. Follow this with 'An +Evening of Vaudeville: The Grand Tour of the Roof Gardens.' After that +have a 'Sunday at the Sea-side--Surf Bathing, Summer Girls and Sand.' +That would make a mighty attractive line for your advertisement.” + +“Magnificent. I don't see why you don't give up poetry and magazine +work and get a position as poster-writer for a circus. You are only a +mediocre magazinist, but in the poster business you'd be a genius.” + +This was tapped off with such manifest sincerity that I could not take +offence, so I thanked him and resumed. + +“The grand finale of your first series might be 'A Tandem Scorch: A +Century Run on a Bicycle Built for Two Hundred!'” + +“Magnificent!” cried Boswell, with such enthusiasm that I feared he +would smash the machine. “I'll devote a whole page of my Sunday issue to +the prospectus--but, to return to the woman question, we ought really +to have something to announce for them. Hades hath no fury like a woman +scorned, and I can't afford to scorn the sex. You needn't have anything +to do with them if you don't want to--only tell me something I can +announce, and I'll make Henry the Eighth solid again by putting that +branch of the enterprise in his wives' hands. In that way I'll kill two +birds with one stone.” + +“That's all very well, Boswell, but I'm afraid I can't,” said I. “It's +hard enough to know how to please a mortal woman without attempting to +get up a series of picnics for the rather miscellaneous assortment of +ladies who form your social structure below. All men are alike, and +man's pleasures in all times have been generally the same, but every +woman is unique. I never knew two who were alike, and if it's all the +same to you I'd rather you left me out of your ladies' tours altogether. +Of course I know that even the Queen of Sheba would enjoy a visit to a +Monday sale at one of our big department stores, and I am quite as well +aware that nine out of ten women in Hades or out of it would enjoy +the millinery exhibition at the opera matinee--and if these two ideas +impress you at all you are welcome to them--but beyond this I have +nothing to suggest.” + +“Well, I'm sure those two ideas are worth a great deal,” returned +Boswell, making a note of them; “I shall announce four trips to Monday +sales--” + +“Call 'em 'To Bargaindale and Back: The Great Marked-down Tour,' and be +sure you add, 'For Able-bodied Women Only. No Tickets Issued Except on +Recommendation of your Family Physician.' This is especially important, +for next to a war or a football match there's nothing that I know of +that is quite so dangerous to the participants as a bargain day.” + +“I'll bear what you say in mind,” quoth Boswell, and he made a note of +my injunction. “And immediately upon my return to Hades I will request +an audience with Henry's queens, and ask them to devise a number of +other tours likely to prove profitable and popular.” + +Shortly after my visitor departed and I retired. The next day my family +deserted me and went to the mountains, and all my fears as to the +inordinate sense of loneliness which was to be my lot were realized. +Even Boswell neglected me apparently for a week. I went to my desk +daily and returned at night hoping that my type-writer would bring forth +something of an interesting nature, but naught other than disappointment +awaited me. For a whole blessed week I was thrown back upon the society +of my neighbors for diversion. The type-writer gave no sign of being. + +Little did I guess that Boswell was busy working up my scheme in his +Stygian home! + +But it came to pass finally that I was roused up. Walking one morning to +my desk to find a bit of memoranda I needed, I discovered a type-written +slip marked, “No time for small talk. Boswell's tours grand success. +Trolley-party to-night. Ten cars wanted. Jim.” + +It was a large order for a town like mine, where forty thousand people +have to get along with five cars--two open ones for winter and two +closed for summer, and one, which we have never seen, which is kept for +use in the repair-shop. I was in despair. Ten car-loads of immortals +coming to my house for a trolley-party under such conditions! It was +frightful! I did the best I could, however. + +I ordered one trolley-car to be ready at eight, and a large variety of +good things edible and drinkable, the latter to be held subject to the +demand-notes of our guests. + +As may be imagined, I did little real work that day, and when I returned +home at night I was on tenter-hooks lest something should go wrong; but +fortunately Boswell himself came early and relieved me of my worry--in +fact, he was at the machine when I entered the house. + +“Well,” he said, “have you the ten cars?” + +“What do you take me for,” said I, “a trolley-car trust? Of course I +haven't. There are only five cars in town, one of which is kept in the +repair-shop for effect. I've hired one.” + +“Humph!” he cried. “What will the kings do?” + +“Kings!” I cried. “What kings?” + +“I have nine kings and one car-load of common souls besides for this +affair,” he explained. “Each king wants a special car.” + +“Kings be jiggered!” said I. “A trolley-party, my much beloved James, +is an essentially democratic institution, and private cars are not de +rigueur. If your kings choose to come, let 'em hang on by the straps.” + +“But I've charged 'em extra!” cried Boswell. + +“That's all right,” said I, “they receive extra. They have the ride +plus the straps, with the privilege of standing out on the platform +and ringing the gong if they want to. The great thing about the +trolley-party is that there's no private car business about it.” + +“Well, I don't know,” Boswell murmured, reflectively. “If Charles the +First and Louis Fourteenth don't kick about being crowded in with all +the rest, I can stand anything that Frederick the Great or Nero +might say; but those two fellows are great sticklers for the royal +prerogative.” + +“There isn't any such thing as royal prerogative on a trolley-car,” I +retorted, “and if they don't like what they get they can sit down in the +waiting-room and wait until we get back.” + +But Boswell's fears were not realized. Charles and Louis were perfectly +delighted with the trolley-party, and long before we reached home the +former had rung up the fare-register to its full capacity, while the +latter, a half-a-dozen times, delightedly occupied himself in mastering +the intricacies of the overhead wire. The trolley-party was an undoubted +success. The same remains to be said of the vaudeville expedition of +the following week. The same guests and potentates attended this, to +the number of twenty, and the Boswell tours were accounted a great +enterprise, and bade fair to redeem the losses of the eminent journalist +incurred during Xanthippe's administration of his affairs; but after +the bicycle night I had to withdraw from the combination to save my +reputation. The fact upon which I had not counted was that my neighbors +began to think me insane. I had failed to remember that none of these +visiting spirits was visible to us in this material world, and while +my fellow-townsmen were disposed to lay up my hiring of a special +trolley-car for my own private and particular use against the +eccentricity of genius, they marvelled greatly that I should purchase +twenty of the best seats at a vaudeville show seemingly for my own +exclusive use. When, besides this, they saw me start off apparently +alone on one tandem bicycle, followed by twenty-eight other empty +wheels, which they could not know were manipulated by some of the most +famous legs in the history of the world, from Noah's down to those +of Henry Fielding the novelist, they began to regard me as something +uncanny. + +Nor can I blame them. It seems to me that if I saw one man scorching +along a road alone on a tandem bicycle chatting to an empty front-seat, +I should think him queer, but if following in his wake I perceived +twenty-eight other wheels, scorching up hill and down dale without any +visible motive power, I should regard him as one who was in league with +the devil himself. + +Nevertheless, I judge from what Boswell has told me that I am regarded +in Hades as a great benefactor of the people there, for having +established a series of excursions from that world into this, a service +which has done much to convince the Stygians that after all, if only by +contrast, the life below has its redeeming features. + + + + +VII. AN IMPORTANT DECISION + + +For some time after the organization of the Pleasure Tours, the +Enchanted Type-Writer appeared to be deserted. Night after night I +watched over it with great care lest I should lose any item of interest +that might come to me from below, but, much to my sorrow, things in +Hades appeared to be dull--so dull that the machine was not called +into requisition at all. I little guessed what important matters were +transpiring in that wonderful country. Had I done so, I doubt I should +have waited so patiently, although my only method of getting there +was suicide, for which diversion I have very little liking. On the +twenty-fourth night of waiting, however, the welcome sound of the bell +dragged me forth from my comfortable couch, whither, expecting nothing, +I had retired early. + +“Glad to hear your pleasant tinkle again,” I said. “I've missed you.” + +“I'm glad to get back,” returned Boswell, for it was he who was +manipulating the keys. “I've been so infernally busy, however, over the +court news, that I haven't had a minute to spare.” + +“Court news, eh?” I said. “You are going to open up a society column, +are you?” + +“Not I,” he replied. “It's the other kind of a court. We've been having +some pretty hot litigation down in Hades since I was here last. The +city of Cimmeria has been suing the State of Hades for ten years back +dog-taxes.” + +“For what?” I cried. + +“Unpaid dog-taxes for ten years,” Boswell explained. “We have just as +much government below in our cities as you have, and I will say for +Hades that our cities are better run than yours.” + +“I suppose that is due to the fact that when a man gets to Hades +he immediately becomes a reformer,” I suggested, with a wink at the +machine, which somehow or other did not seem to appreciate the joke. + +“Possibly,” observed Boswell. “Whatever the reason, however, the fact +remains that Cimmeria is a well-governed city, and, what is more, it +isn't afraid to assert its rights even as against old Apollyon himself.” + +“It's safe enough for a corporation,” said I. “Much safer for a +corporation which has no soul, than for an individual who has. You can't +torture a city--” + +“Oh, can't you!” laughed Boswell. “Humph. Apollyon can make it as hot +for a city as he can for an individual. It is evident that you never +heard of Sodom and Gomorrah--which is surprising to me, since your jokes +about Lot's wife being too fresh and getting salted down, would seem to +indicate that you had heard something about the punishment those cities +underwent.” + +“You are right, Bozzy,” I said. “I had forgotten. But tell me about the +dog-tax. Does the State own a dog?” + +“Does it?” roared Boswell. “Why, my dear fellow, where were you brought +up and educated. Does the State own a dog!” + +“That's what I asked you,” I put in, meekly. “I may be very ignorant, +unless you mean the kind that we have in our legislatures, called the +watch-dogs of the treasury, or, perhaps, the dogs of war. But I never +thought any city would be crazy enough to make the government take out a +license for them.” + +“Never heard of a beast named Cerberus, I suppose?” said Boswell. + +“Yes, I have,” I answered. “He guards the gates to the infernal +regions.” + +“Well--he's the bone of contention,” said Boswell. “You see, about ten +years ago the people of Cimmeria got rather tired of the condition of +their streets. They were badly paved. They were full of good intentions, +but the citizens thought they ought to have something more lasting, so +they voted to appropriate an enormous sum for asphalting. They didn't +realize how sloppy asphalt would become in that climate, but after the +asphalt was put down they found out, and a Beelzebub of a time of +it they had. Pegasus sprained his off hind leg by slipping on it, +Bucephalus got into it with all four feet and had to be lifted out with +a derrick, and every other fine horse we had was more or less injured, +and the damage suits against the city were enormous. To remedy this, the +asphalting was taken up and a Nicholson wood pavement was put down. This +was worse than the other. It used to catch fire every other night, and, +finally, to protect their houses, the people rose up en masse and ripped +it all to pieces. + +“This necessitated a third new pavement, of Belgian blocks, to pay for +which the already overburdened city of Cimmeria had to issue bonds to +an enormous amount, all of which necessitated an increase of taxes. +Naturally, one of the first taxes to be imposed was a dog-tax, and it +was that which led to this lawsuit, which, I regret to say, the city has +lost, although Judge Blackstone's decision was eminently fair.” + +“Wouldn't the State pay?” I asked. + +“Yes--on Cerberus as one dog,” said Boswell. “The city claimed, however, +that Cerberus was more than that, and endeavored to collect on three +dogs--one license for each head. This the State declined to pay, and +out of this grew further complications of a distressing nature. The city +sent its dog-catchers up to abscond with the dog, intending to cut off +two of its heads, and return the balance as being as much of the beast +as the State was entitled to maintain on a single license. It was an +unfortunate move, for when Cerberus himself took the situation in, which +he did at a glance, he nabbed the dog-catcher by the coat-tails with one +pair of jaws, grabbed hold of his collar with another, and shook him as +he would a rat, meanwhile chewing up other portions of the unfortunate +official with his third set of teeth. The functionary was then carried +home on a stretcher, and subsequently sued the city for damages, which +he recovered. + +“Another man was sent out to lure the ferocious beast to the pound with +a lasso, but it worked no better than the previous attempt. The lasso +fell all right tight about one of the animal's necks, but his other two +heads immediately set to work and gnawed the rope through, and then set +off after the dog-catcher, overtaking him at the very door of the pound. +This time he didn't do any biting, but lifting the dog-catcher up with +his various sets of teeth, fastened to his collar, coat-tails, and feet +respectively, carried him yelling like a trooper to the end of the +wharf and dropped him into the Styx. The result of this was nervous +prostration for the dog-catcher, another suit for damages for the city, +and a great laugh for the State authorities. In fact,” Boswell added, +confidentially, “I think perhaps the reason why the Prime-minister +hasn't got Apollyon to hang the whole city government has been due to +the fun they've got out of seeing Cerberus and the city fighting it out +together. There's no doubt about it that he is a wonderful dog, and is +quite capable of taking care of himself.” + +“But the outcome of the case?” I asked, much interested. + +“Defeat for the city,” said Boswell. “Failing to enforce its authority +by means of its servants, the city undertook to recover by due process +of law. The dog-catchers were powerless; the police declined to act on +the advice of the commissioners, since dog-catching was not within their +province; and the fire department averred that it was designed for +the putting out of fires and not for extinguishing fiery canines like +Cerberus. The dog, meanwhile, to show his contempt for the city, chewed +the license-tag off the neck upon which it had been placed, and dropped +it into a smelting-pot inside the gates of the infernal regions that was +reserved to bring political prisoners to their senses, and, worse than +all, made a perfect nuisance of himself by barking all day and baying +all night, rain or shine.” + +“Papers in a suit at law were then served on Mazarin and the other +members of Apollyon's council, the causes of complaint were recited, and +damages for ten years back taxes on two dogs, plus the amounts recovered +from the city by the two injured dog-catchers, were demanded. The suit +was put upon the calendar, and Apollyon himself sat upon the bench with +Judge Blackstone, before whom the case was to be tried. + +“On both sides the arguments were exceedingly strong. Coke appeared for +the city and Catiline for the State. After the complaint was read, the +attorney for the State put in his answer, that the State's contention +was that the ordinance had been complied with, that Cerberus was only +one dog, and that the license had been paid; that the license having +been paid, the dog-catchers had no right to endeavor to abduct the +animal, and that having done so they did it at their own peril; that +the suit ought to be dismissed, but that for the fun of it the State was +perfectly willing to let it go on. + +“In rebuttal the plaintiff claimed that Cerberus was three dogs to all +intents and purposes, and the first dog-catcher was called to testify. +After giving his name and address he was asked a few questions of minor +importance, and then Coke asked: + +“'Are you familiar with dogs?' + +“'Moderately,' was the answer. 'I never got quite so intimate with one +as I did with him.' + +“'With whom?' asked Coke. + +“'Cerberus,' replied the witness. + +“'Do you consider him to be one dog, two dogs or three dogs?' + +“'I object!' cried Catiline, springing to his feet. 'The question is a +leading one.' + +“'Sustained,' said Blackstone, with a nervous glance at Apollyon, who +smiled reassuringly at him. + +“'Ah, you say you know a dog when you see one?' asked Coke. + +“'Yes,' said the witness, 'perfectly.' + +“'Do you know two dogs when you see them, or even three?' asked Coke. + +“'I do,' replied the witness. + +“'And how many dogs did you see when you saw Cerberus?' asked Coke, +triumphantly. + +“'Three, anyhow,' replied the witness, with feeling, 'though afterwards +I thought there was a whole bench-show atop of me.' + +“'Your witness,' said Coke. + +“A murmur of applause went through the court-room, at which Apollyon +frowned; but his face cleared in a moment when Catiline rose up. + +“'My cross-examination of this witness, your honor, will be confined to +one question.' Then turning to the witness he said, blandly: 'My poor +friend, if you considered Cerberus to be three dogs anyhow, why did you +in your examination a moment since refer to the avalanche of caninity, +of which you so affectingly speak, as him?' + +“'He is a him,' said the witness. + +“'But if there were three, should he not have been a them?' + +“Coke swore profanely beneath his breath, and the witness squirmed +about in his chair, confused and broken, while both Judge Blackstone and +Apollyon smiled broadly. Manifestly the point of the defence had pierced +the armor of the plaintiff. + +“'Your witness for re-direct,' said Catiline. + +“'No thanks,' retorted Coke; 'there are others,' and, motioning to his +first witness to step down, he called the second dog-catcher. + +“'What is your business?' asked Coke, after the usual preliminary +questions. + +“'I'm out of business. Livin' on my damages,' said the witness. + +“'What damages?' asked Coke. + +“'Them I got from the city for injuries did me by that there--I should +say them there--dorgs, Cerberus.' + +“'Them there what?' persisted Coke, to emphasize the point. + +“'Dorgs,' said the witness, convincingly--'D-o-r-g-s.' + +“'Why s?' queried Coke. 'We may admit the r, but why the s?' + +“'Because it's the pullural of dorg. Cerberus ain't any single-headed +commission,' said the witness, who was something of a ward politician. + +“'Why do you say that Cerberus is more than one dog?' + +“'Because I've had experience,' replied the witness. 'I've seen the time +when he was everywhere all at once; that's why I say he's more than one +dorg. If he'd been only one dorg he couldn't have been anywhere else +than where he was.' + +“'When was that?' + +“'When I lassoed him.' + +“'Him?' remonstrated Coke. + +“'Yes,' said the witness. 'I only caught one of him, and then the other +two took a hand.' + +“'Ah, the other two,' said Coke. 'You know dogs when you see them?' + +“'I do, and he was all of 'em in a bunch,' replied the witness. + +“'Your witness,' said Coke. + +“'My friend,' said Catiline, rising quietly. 'How many men are you?' + +“'One, sir,' was the answer. + +“'Have you ever been in two places at once?' + +“'Yes, sir.' + +“'When was that?' + +“'When I was in jail and in London all at the same time.' + +“'Very good; but were you in two places on the day of this attack upon +you by Cerberus?' + +“'No, sir. I wish I had been. I'd have stayed in the other place.' + +“'Then if you were in but one place yourself, how do you know that +Cerberus was in more than one place?' + +“'Well, I guess if you--' + +“'Answer the question,' said Catiline. + +“'Oh, well--of course--' + +“'Of course,' echoed Catiline. 'That's it, your honor; it is only “of +course,”--and I rest my case. We have no witnesses to call. We have +proven by their own witnesses that there is no evidence of Cerberus +being more than one dog.' + +“You ought to have heard the cheers as Catiline sat down,” continued +Boswell. “As for poor Coke, he was regularly knocked out, but he rose +up to sum up his case as best he could. Blackstone, however, stopped him +right at the beginning. + +“'The counsel for the plaintiff might as well sit down,' he said, 'and +save his breath. I've decided this case in favor of the defendant long +ago. It is plain to every one that Cerberus is only one dog, in spite of +his many talents and manifest ability to be in several places at once, +and inasmuch as the tax which is sued for is merely a dog-tax and not +a poll-tax, I must render judgment for the defendants, with costs. Next +case.' + +“And the city of Cimmeria was thrown out of court,” concluded Boswell. +“Interesting, eh?” + +“Very,” said I. “But how will this affect Blackstone? Isn't he a City +Judge?” + +“No,” replied Boswell; “he was, but his term expired this morning, and +this afternoon Apollyon appointed him Chief Justice of the Supreme Court +of Hades.” + + + + +VIII. A HAND-BOOK TO HADES + + +“Boswell,” said I, the other night, as the machine began to click +nervously. “I have just received a letter from an unknown friend in +Hawaii who wants to know how the prize-fight between Samson and Goliath +came out that time when Kidd and his pirate crew stole the House-Boat on +the Styx.” + +“Just wait a minute, please,” the machine responded. “I am very busy +just now mapping out the itinerary of the first series of the Boswell +Personally Conducted Tours you suggested some time ago. I laid that +whole proposition before the Entertainment Committee of the Associated +Shades, and they have resolved unanimously to charter the Ex-Great +Eastern from the Styx Navigation Company, and return to the scenes of +their former glory, devoting a year to it.” + +“Going to take their wives?” I asked. + +“I don't know,” Boswell replied. “That is a matter outside of the +jurisdiction of the committee and must be decided by a full vote of the +club. I hope they will, however. As manager of the enterprise I need +assistance, and there are some of the men who can't be managed by +anybody except their wives, or mothers-in-law, anyhow. I'll be through +in a few minutes. Meanwhile let me hand you the latest product of the +Boswell press.” + +With this the genial spirit produced from an invisible pocket a +red-covered book bearing the delicious title of “Baedeker's Hades: A +Hand-book for Travellers,” which has entirely superseded, according to +the advertisement on the fly-leaves, such books as Virgil and Dante's +Inferno as the best guide to the lower regions, as well it might, for +it appeared on perusal to have been prepared with as much care as one +of the more material guide-books of the same publisher, which so greatly +assist travellers on this side of the Stygian River. + +Some time, if Boswell will permit, I shall endeavor to have this little +volume published in this country since it contains many valuable hints +to the man of a roving disposition, or for the stay-at-home, for that +matter, for all roads lead to Hades. For instance, we do not find in +previous guide-books, like Dante's Inferno, any references whatsoever to +the languages it is well to know before taking the Stygian tour; to the +kind of money needed, or its quantity per capita; no allusion to +the necessity of passports is found in Dante or Virgil; custom-house +requirements are ignored by these authors; no statements as to the +kind of clothing needed, the quality of the hotels--nor indeed any real +information of vital importance to the traveller is to be found in the +older books. In Baedeker's Hades, on the other hand, all these subjects +are exhaustively treated, together with a very comprehensive series +of chapters on “Stygian Wines,” “Climate,” and “Hellish Art”--the +expression is not mine--and other topics of essential interest. + +And of what suggestive quality was this little book. Who would ever have +guessed from a perusal of Dante that as Hades is the place of departed +spirits so also is it the ultimate resting-place of all other departed +things. What delightful anticipations are there in the idea of a visit +to the Alexandrian library, now suitably housed on the south side of +Apollyon Square, Cimmeria, in a building that would drive the trustees +of the Boston Public Library into envious despair, even though living +Bacchantes are found daily improving their minds in the recesses of +its commodious alcoves! What joyous feelings it gives one to think of +visiting the navy-yards of Tyre and finding there the ships concerning +the whereabouts of which poets have vainly asked questions for ages! +Who would ever dream that the question of the balladist, himself an able +dreamer concerning classic things, “Where are the Cities of Old Time,” + could ever find its answer in a simple guide-book telling us where +Carthage is, where Troy and all the lost cities of antiquity! + +Then the details of amusements in this wonderful country--who could +gather aught of these from the Italian poet? The theatres of Gehenna, +with “Hamlet” produced under the joint direction of Shakespeare and the +Prince of Denmark himself, the great Zoo of Sheolia, with Jumbo, and the +famous woolly horse of earlier days, not to mention the long series +of menageries which have passed over the dark river in the ages now +forgotten; the hanging gardens of Babylon, where the picnicking element +of Hades flock week after week, chuting the chutes, and clambering +joyously in and out of the Trojan Horse, now set up in all its majesty +therein, with bowling-alleys on its roof, elevators in its legs, and +the original Ferris-wheel in its head; the freak museums in the densely +populated sections of the large cities, where Hop o' my Thumb and Jack +the Giant Killer are exhibited day after day alongside of the great +ogres they have killed; the opera-house, with Siegfried himself singing, +supported by the real Brunhild and the original, bona fide dragon +Fafnir, running of his own motive power, and breathing actual fire and +smoke without the aid of a steam-engine and a plumber to connect him +therewith before he can go out upon the stage to engage Siegfried in +deadly combat. + +For the information contained in this last item alone, even if the book +had no other virtue, it would be worthy of careful perusal from the +opening paragraph on language, to the last, dealing with the descent +into the Vitriol Reservoir at Gehenna. The account of the feeding of +Fafnir, to which admission can be had on payment of ten oboli, beginning +with a puree of kerosene, followed by a half-dozen cartridges on the +half-shell, an entree of nitro-glycerine, a solid roast of cannel-coal, +and a salad of gun-cotton, with a mayonnaise dressing of alcohol and a +pinch of powder, topped off with a demi-tasse of benzine and a box of +matches to keep the fires of his spirit going, is one of the most +moving things I have ever read, and yet it may be said without fear of +contradiction that until this guide-book was prepared very few of the +Stygian tourists have imagined that there was such a sight to be seen. +I have gone carefully over Dante, Virgil, and the works of Andrew Lang, +and have found no reference whatsoever in the pages of any of these +talented persons to this marvellous spectacle which takes place three +times a day, and which I doubt not results in a performance of Siegfried +for the delectation of the music lovers of Hades, which is beyond the +power of the human mind to conceive. + +The hand-book has an added virtue, which distinguishes it from any other +that I have ever seen, in that it is anecdotal in style at times where +an anecdote is available and appropriate. In connection with this same +Fafnir, as showing how necessary it is for the tourist to be careful of +his personal safety in Hades, it is related that upon one occasion the +keeper of the dragon having taken a grudge against Siegfried for some +unintentional slight, fed Fafnir upon Roman-candles and a sky-rocket, +with the result that in the fight between the hero and the demon of the +wood the Siegfried was seriously injured by the red, white, and +blue balls of fire which the dragon breathed out upon him, while the +sky-rocket flew out into the audience and struck a young man in the top +gallery, knocking him senseless, the stick falling into a grand-tier +box and impaling one of the best known social lights of Cimmeria. +“Therefore,” adds the astute editor of the hand-book, “on Siegfried +nights it were well if the tourist were to go provided with an asbestos +umbrella for use in case of an emergency of a similar nature.” + +In that portion of the book devoted to the trip up the river Styx the +legends surpass any of the Rhine stories in dramatic interest, because, +according to Commodore Charon's excursion system, the tourist can step +ashore and see the chief actors in them, who for a consideration will +give a full-dress rehearsal of the legendary acts for which they have +been famous. The sirens of the Stygian Lorelei, for instance, sit on an +eminence not far above the city of Cimmeria, and make a profession of +luring people ashore and giving away at so much per head locks of their +hair for remembrance' sake, all of which makes of the Stygian trip a +thing of far greater interest than that of the Rhine. + +It had been my intention to make a few extracts from this portion of the +volume showing later developments in the legends of the Drachenfels, +and others of more than ordinary interest, but I find that with the +departure of Boswell for the night the treasured hand-book disappeared +with him; but, as I have already stated, if I can secure his consent +to do so I will some day have the book copied off on more material +substance than that employed in the original manuscript, so that the +useful little tome may be printed and scattered broadcast over a waiting +and appreciative world. I may as well state here, too, that I have taken +the precaution to have the title “Baedeker's Hades” and its contents +copyrighted, so that any pirate who recognizes the value of the scheme +will attempt to pirate the work at his peril. + +Hardly had I finished the chapter on the legends of the Styx when +Boswell broke in upon me with: “Well, how do you like it?” + +“It's great,” I said. “May I keep it?” + +“You may if you can,” he laughed. “But I fancy it can't withstand the +rigors of this climate any more than an unfireproof copy of one of your +books could stand the caniculars of ours.” + +His words were soon to be verified, for as soon as he left me the book +vanished, but whether it went off into thin air or was repocketed by the +departing Boswell I am not entirely certain. + +“What was it you asked me about Samson and Goliath?” Boswell observed, +as he gathered up his manuscript from the floor beside the Enchanted +Typewriter. “Whether they'd ever been in Honolulu?” + +“No,” I replied. “I got a letter from Hawaii the other day asking for +the result of the prize-fight the day Kidd ran off with the house-boat.” + +“Oh,” replied Boswell. “That? Why, ah, Samson won hands down, but only +because they played according to latter-day rules. If it had been a +regular knock-out fight, like the contests in the old days of the ring +when it was in its prime, Goliath could have managed him with one hand; +but the Samson backers played a sharp game on the Philistine by having +the most recently amended Queensbury rules adopted, and Goliath wasn't +in it five minutes after Samson opened his mouth.” + +“I don't think I understand,” said I. + +“Plain enough,” explained Boswell. “Goliath didn't know what the modern +rules were, but he thought a fight was a fight under any rules, so, like +a decent chap, he agreed, and when he found that it was nothing but a +talking-match he'd got into he fainted. He never was good at expressing +himself fluently. Samson talked him down in two rounds, just as he did +the other Philistines in the early days on earth.” + +I laughed. “You're slightly off there,” I said. “That was a +stand-up-and-be-knocked-down fight, wasn't it? He used the jawbone of an +ass?” + +“Very true,” observed Boswell, “but it is evident that it is you who are +slightly off. You haven't kept up with the higher criticism. It has been +proven scientifically that not only did the whale not swallow Jonah, but +that Samson's great feat against the Philistines was comparable only to +the achievements of your modern senators. He talked them to death.” + +“Then why jawbone of an ass?” I cried. + +“Samson was an ass,” replied Boswell. “They prove that by the temple +episode, for you see if he hadn't been one he'd have got out of the +building before yanking the foundations from under it. I tell you, old +chap, this higher criticism is a great thing, and as logical as death +itself.” + +And with this Boswell left me. + +I sincerely hope that the result of the fight will prove as satisfactory +to my friend in Hawaii as it was to me; for while I have no particular +admiration for Samson, I have always rejoiced to hear of the +discomfitures of Goliath, who, so far as I have been able to ascertain, +was not only not a gentleman, but, in addition, had no more regard for +the rights of others than a member of the New York police force or the +editor of a Sunday newspaper with a thirst for sensation. + + + + +IX. SHERLOCK HOLMES AGAIN + + +I had intended asking Boswell what had become of my copy of the +Baedeker's Hades when he next returned, but the output of the machine +that evening so interested me that the hand-book was entirely forgotten. +If there ever was a hero in this world who could compare with D'Artagnan +in my estimation for sheer ability in a given line that hero was +Sherlock Holmes. With D'Artagnan and Holmes for my companions I think +I could pass the balance of my days in absolute contentment, no matter +what woful things might befall me. So it was that, when I next heard +the tapping keys and dulcet bell of my Enchanted Type-writer, and, after +listening intently for a moment, realized that my friend Boswell was +making a copy of a Sherlock Holmes Memoir thereon for his next Sunday's +paper, all thought of the interesting little red book of the last +meeting flew out of my head. I rose quickly from my couch at the first +sounding of the gong. + +“Got a Holmes story, eh?” I said, walking to his side, and gazing +eagerly over the spot where his shoulder should have been. + +“I have that, and it's a winner,” he replied, enthusiastically. “If you +don't believe it, read it. I'll have it copied in about two minutes.” + +“I'll do both,” I said. “I believe all the Sherlock Holmes stories I +read. It is so much pleasanter to believe them true. If they weren't +true they wouldn't be so wonderful.” + +With this I picked up the first page of the manuscript and shortly after +Boswell presented me with the balance, whereon I read the following +extraordinary tale: + + + A MYSTERY SOLVED + + A WONDERFUL ACHIEVEMENT IN FERRETING + + From Advance Sheets of + + MEMOIRS I REMEMBER + + BY + + SHERLOCK HOLMES, ESQ. + +Ferreter Extraordinary by Special Appointment to his Majesty Apollyon + + --------------- + + WHO THE LADY WAS! + + +It was not many days after my solution of the Missing Diamond of the +Nizam of Jigamaree Mystery that I was called upon to take up a case +which has baffled at least one person for some ten or eleven centuries. +The reader will remember the mystery of the missing diamond--the largest +known in all history, which the Nizam of Jigamaree brought from India to +present to the Queen of England, on the occasion of her diamond jubilee. +I had been dead three years at the time, but, by a special dispensation +of his Imperial Highness Apollyon, was permitted to return incog to +London for the jubilee season, where it so happened that I put up at the +same lodging-house as that occupied by the Nizam and his suite. We +sat opposite each other at table d'hote, and for at least three weeks +previous to the losing of his treasure the Indian prince was very +morose, and it was very difficult to get him to speak. I was not +supposed to know, nor, indeed, was any one else, for that matter, at the +lodging-house, that the Nizam was so exalted a personage. He like myself +was travelling incog and was known to the world as Mr. Wilkins, of +Calcutta--a very wise precaution, inasmuch as he had in his possession a +gem valued at a million and a half of dollars. I recognized him at once, +however, by his unlikeness to a wood-cut that had been appearing in the +American Sunday newspapers, labelled with his name, as well as by the +extraordinary lantern which he had on his bicycle, a lantern which to +the uneducated eye was no more than an ordinary lamp, but which to an +eye like mine, familiar with gems, had for its crystal lens nothing more +nor less than the famous stone which he had brought for her Majesty +the Queen, his imperial sovereign. There are few people who can tell +diamonds from plate-glass under any circumstances, and Mr. Wilkins, +otherwise the Nizam, realizing this fact, had taken this bold method of +secreting his treasure. Of course, the moment I perceived the quality of +the man's lamp I knew at once who Mr. Wilkins was, and I determined to +have a little innocent diversion at his expense. + +“It has been a fine day, Mr. Wilkins,” said I one evening over the pate. + +“Yes,” he replied, wearily. “Very--but somehow or other I'm depressed +to-night.” + +“Too bad,” I said, lightly, “but there are others. There's that poor +Nizam of Jigamaree, for instance--poor devil, he must be the bluest +brown man that ever lived.” + +Wilkins started nervously as I mentioned the prince by name. + +“Wh-why do you think that?” he asked, nervously fingering his +butter-knife. + +“It's tough luck to have to give away a diamond that's worth three or +four times as much as the Koh-i-noor,” I said. “Suppose you owned a +stone like that. Would you care to give it away?” + +“Not by a damn sight!” cried Wilkins, forcibly, and I noticed great +tears gathering in his eyes. + +“Still, he can't help himself, I suppose,” I said, gazing abruptly at +his scarf-pin. “That is, he doesn't KNOW that he can. The Queen expects +it. It's been announced, and now the poor devil can't get out of +it--though I'll tell you, Mr. Wilkins, if I were the Nizam of Jigamaree, +I'd get out of it in ten seconds.” + +I winked at him significantly. He looked at me blankly. + +“Yes, sir,” I added, merely to arouse him, “in just ten seconds! Ten +short, beautiful seconds.” + +“Mr. Postlethwaite,” said the Nizam--Postlethwaite was the name I +was travelling under--“Mr. Postlethwaite,” said the Nizam--otherwise +Wilkins--“your remarks interest me greatly.” His face wreathed with a +smile that I had never before seen there. “I have thought as you do in +regard to this poor Indian prince, but I must confess I don't see how +he can get out of giving the Queen that diamond. Have a cigar, Mr. +Postlethwaite, and, waiter, bring us a triple magnum of champagne. Do +you really think, Mr. Postlethwaite, that there is a way out of it? If +you would like a ticket to Westminster for the ceremony, there are a +half-dozen.” + +He tossed six tickets for seats among the crowned heads across the table +to me. His eagerness was almost too painful to witness. + +“Thank you,” said I, calmly pocketing the tickets, for they were of rare +value at that time. “The way out of it is very simple.” + +“Indeed, Mr. Postlethwaite,” said he, trying to keep cool. “Ah--are you +interested in rubies, sir? There are a few which I should be pleased to +have you accept”--and with that over came a handful of precious stones +each worth a fortune. These also I pocketed as I replied: + +“Why, certainly; if I were the Nizam,” said I, “I'd lose that diamond.” + +A shade of disappointment came over Mr. Wilkins's face. + +“Lose it? How? Where?” he asked, with a frown. + +“Yes. Lose it. Any way I could. As for the place where it should be +lost, any old place will do as long as it is where he can find it again +when he gets back home. He might leave it in his other clothes, or--” + +“Make that two triple magnums, waiter,” cried Mr. Wilkins, excitedly, +interrupting me. “Postlethwaite, you're a genius, and if you ever want a +house and lot in Calcutta, just let me know and they're yours.” + +You never saw such a change come over a man in all your life. Where he +had been all gloom before, he was now all smiles and jollity, and +from that time on to his return to India Mr. Wilkins was as happy as a +school-boy at the beginning of vacation. The next day the diamond was +lost, and whoever may have it at this moment, the British Crown is not +in possession of the Jigamaree gem. + +But, as my friend Terence Mulvaney says, that is another story. It is of +the mystery immediately following this concerning which I have set out +to write. + +I was sitting one day in my office on Apollyon Square opposite the +Alexandrian library, smoking an absinthe cigarette, which I had rolled +myself from my special mixture consisting of two parts tobacco, one part +hasheesh, one part of opium dampened with a liqueur glass of absinthe, +when an excited knock sounded upon my door. + +“Come in,” I cried, adopting the usual formula. + +The door opened and a beautiful woman stood before me clad in most regal +garments, robust of figure, yet extremely pale. It seemed to me that I +had seen her somewhere before, yet for a time I could not place her. + +“Mr. Sherlock Holmes?” said she, in deliciously musical tones, which, +singular to relate, she emitted in a fashion suggestive of a recitative +passage in an opera. + +“The same,” said I, bowing with my accustomed courtesy. + +“The ferret?” she sang, in staccato tones which were ravishing to my +musical soul. + +I laughed. “That term has been applied to me, madame,” said I, chanting +my answer as best I could. “For myself, however, I prefer to assume the +more modest title of detective. I can work with or without clues, and +have never yet been baffled. I know who wrote the Junius letters, and +upon occasions have been known to see through a stone wall with my naked +eye. What can I do for you?” + +“Tell me who I am!” she cried, tragically, taking the centre of the room +and gesticulating wildly. + +“Well--really, madame,” I replied. “You didn't send up any card--” + +“Ah!” she sneered. “This is what your vaunted prowess amounts to, eh? +Ha! Do you suppose if I had a card with my name on it I'd have come +to you to inquire who I am? I can read a card as well as you can, Mr. +Sherlock Holmes.” + +“Then, as I understand it, madame,” I put in, “you have suddenly +forgotten your identity and wish me to--” + +“Nothing of the sort. I have forgotten nothing. I never knew for +certain who I am. I have an impression, but it is based only on hearsay +evidence,” she interrupted. + +For a moment I was fairly puzzled. Still I did not wish to let her know +this, and so going behind my screen and taking a capsule full of cocaine +to steady my nerves, I gained a moment to think. Returning, I said: + +“This really is child's play for me, madame. It won't take more than a +week to find out who you are, and possibly, if you have any clews at all +to your identity, I may be able to solve this mystery in a day.” + +“I have only three,” she answered, and taking a piece of swan's-down, +a lock of golden hair, and a pair of silver-tinsel tights from her +portmanteau she handed them over to me. + +My first impulse was to ask the lady if she remembered the name of the +asylum from which she had escaped, but I fortunately refrained from +doing so, and she shortly left me, promising to return at the end of the +week. + +For three days I puzzled over the clews. Swan's-down, yellow hair, and a +pair of silver-tinsel tights, while very interesting no doubt at times, +do not form a very solid basis for a theory establishing the identity of +so regal a person as my visitor. My first impression was that she was a +vaudeville artist, and that the exhibits she had left me were a part of +her make-up. This I was forced to abandon shortly, because no woman with +the voice of my visitor would sing in vaudeville. The more ambitious +stage was her legitimate field, if not grand opera itself. + +At this point she returned to my office, and I of course reported +progress. That is one of the most valuable things I learned while on +earth--when you have done nothing, report progress. + +“I haven't quite succeeded as yet,” said I, “but I am getting at it +slowly. I do not, however, think it wise to acquaint you with my present +notions until they are verified beyond peradventure. It might help me +somewhat if you were to tell me who it is you think you are. I could +work either forward or backward on that hypothesis, as seemed best, and +so arrive at a hypothetical truth anyhow.” + +“That's just what I don't want to do,” said she. “That information might +bias your final judgment. If, however, acting on the clews which you +have, you confirm my impression that I am such and such a person, as +well as the views which other people have, then will my status be well +defined and I can institute my suit against my husband for a judicial +separation, with back alimony, with some assurance of a successful +issue.” + +I was more puzzled than ever. + +“Well,” said I, slowly, “I of course can see how a bit of swan's-down +and a lock of yellow hair backed up by a pair of silver-tinsel tights +might constitute reasonable evidence in a suit for separation, but +wouldn't it--ah--be more to your purpose if I should use these data as +establishing the identity of--er--somebody else?” + +“How very dense you are,” she replied, impatiently. “That's precisely +what I want you to do.” + +“But you told me it was your identity you wished proven,” I put in, +irritably. + +“Precisely,” said she. + +“Then these bits of evidence are--yours?” I asked, hesitatingly. One +does not like to accuse a lady of an undue liking for tinsel. + +“They are all I have left of my husband,” she answered with a sob. + +“Hum!” said I, my perplexity increasing. “Was the--ah--the gentleman +blown up by dynamite?” + +“Excuse me, Mr. Holmes,” she retorted, rising and running the scales. +“I think, after all, I have come to the wrong shop. Have you Hawkshaw's +address handy? You are too obtuse for a detective.” + +My reputation was at stake, so I said, significantly: + +“Good! Good! I was merely trying one of my disguises on you, madame, and +you were completely taken in. Of course no one would ever know me for +Sherlock Holmes if I manifested such dullness.” + +“Ah!” she said, her face lighting up. “You were merely deceiving me by +appearing to be obtuse?” + +“Of course,” said I. “I see the whole thing in a nutshell. You married +an adventurer; he told you who he was, but you've never been able to +prove it; and suddenly you are deserted by him, and on going over his +wardrobe you find he has left nothing but these articles: and now you +wish to sue him for a separation on the ground of desertion, and secure +alimony if possible.” + +It was a magnificent guess. + +“That is it precisely,” said the lady. “Except as to the extent of his +'leavings.' In addition to the things you have he gave my small brother +a brass bugle and a tin sword.” + +“We may need to see them later,” said I. “At present I will do all I can +for you on the evidence in hand. I have got my eye on a gentleman who +wears silver-tinsel tights now, but I am afraid he is not the man we +are after, because his hair is black, and, as far as I have been able to +learn from his valet, he is utterly unacquainted with swan's-down.” + +We separated again and I went to the club to think. Never in my life +before had I had so baffling a case. As I sat in the cafe sipping a +cocaine cobbler, who should walk in but Hamlet, strangely enough picking +particles of swan's-down from his black doublet, which was literally +covered with it. + +“Hello, Sherlock!” he said, drawing up a chair and sitting down beside +me. “What you up to?” + +“Trying to make out where you have been,” I replied. “I judge from the +swan's-down on your doublet that you have been escorting Ophelia to the +opera in the regulation cloak.” + +“You're mistaken for once,” he laughed. “I've been driving with +Lohengrin. He's got a pair of swans that can do a mile in 2.10--but it +makes them moult like the devil.” + +“Pair of what?” I cried. + +“Swans,” said Hamlet. “He's an eccentric sort of a duffer, that +Lohengrin. Afraid of horses, I fancy.” + +“And so drives swans instead?” said I, incredulously. + +“The same,” replied Hamlet. “Do I look as if he drove squab?” + +“He must be queer,” said I. “I'd like to meet him. He'd make quite an +addition to my collection of freaks.” + +“Very well,” observed Hamlet. “He'll be here to-morrow to take +luncheon with me, and if you'll come, too, you'll be most welcome. He's +collecting freaks, too, and I haven't a doubt would be pleased to know +you.” + +We parted and I sauntered homeward, cogitating over my strange client, +and now and then laughing over the idiosyncrasies of Hamlet's friend the +swan-driver. It never occurred to me at the moment however to connect +the two, in spite of the link of swan's-down. I regarded it merely as +a coincidence. The next day, however, on going to the club and meeting +Hamlet's strange guest, I was struck by the further coincidence that his +hair was of precisely the same shade of yellow as that in my possession. +It was of a hue that I had never seen before except at performances of +grand opera, or on the heads of fool detectives in musical burlesques. +Here, however, was the real thing growing luxuriantly from the man's +head. + +“Ho-ho!” thought I to myself. “Here is a fortunate encounter; there may +be something in it,” and then I tried to lead him on. + +“I understand, Mr. Lohengrin,” I said, “that you have a fine span of +swans.” + +“Yes,” he said, and I was astonished to note that he, like my client, +spoke in musical numbers. “Very. They're much finer than horses, in my +opinion. More peaceful, quite as rapid, and amphibious. If I go out for +a drive and come to a lake they trot quite as well across its surface as +on the highways.” + +“How interesting!” said I. “And so gentle, the swan. Your wife, I +presume--” + +Hamlet kicked my shins under the table. + +“I think it will rain to-morrow,” he said, giving me a glance which if +it said anything said shut up. + +“I think so, too,” said Lohengrin, a lowering look on his face. “If +it doesn't, it will either snow, or hail, or be clear.” And he gazed +abstractedly out of the window. + +The kick and the man's confusion were sufficient proof. I was on the +right track at last. Yet the evidence was unsatisfactory because merely +circumstantial. My piece of down might have come from an opera cloak and +not from a well-broken swan, the hair might equally clearly have come +from some other head than Lohengrin's, and other men have had trouble +with their wives. The circumstantial evidence lying in the coincidences +was strong but not conclusive, so I resolved to pursue the matter and +invite the strange individual to a luncheon with me, at which I +proposed to wear the tinsel tights. Seeing them, he might be forced into +betraying himself. + +This I did, and while my impressions were confirmed by his demeanor, no +positive evidence grew out of it. + +“I'm hungry as a bear!” he said, as I entered the club, clad in a long, +heavy ulster, reaching from my shoulders to the ground, so that the +tights were not visible. + +“Good,” said I. “I like a hearty eater,” and I ordered a luncheon of ten +courses before removing my overcoat; but not one morsel could the man +eat, for on the removal of my coat his eye fell upon my silver garments, +and with a gasp he wellnigh fainted. It was clear. He recognized them +and was afraid, and in consequence lost his appetite. But he was game, +and tried to laugh it off. + +“Silver man, I see,” he said, nervously, smiling. + +“No,” said I, taking the lock of golden hair from my pocket and dangling +it before him. “Bimetallist.” + +His jaw dropped in dismay, but recovering himself instantly he put up a +fairly good fight. + +“It is strange, Mr. Lohengrin,” said I, “that in the three years I have +been here I've never seen you before.” + +“I've been very quiet,” he said. “Fact is, I have had my reasons, Mr. +Holmes, for preferring the life of a hermit. A youthful indiscretion, +sir, has made me fear to face the world. There was nothing wrong about +it, save that it was a folly, and I have been anxious in these days of +newspapers to avoid any possible revival of what might in some eyes seem +scandalous.” + +I felt sorry for him, but my duty was clear. Here was my man--but how +to gain direct proof was still beyond me. No further admissions could be +got out of him, and we soon parted. + +Two days later the lady called and again I reported progress. + +“It needs but one thing, madame, to convince me that I have found +your husband,” said I. “I have found a man who might be connected with +swan's-down, from whose luxuriant curls might have come this tow-colored +lock, and who might have worn the silver-tinsel tights--yet it is all +MIGHT and no certainty.” + +“I will bring my small brother's bugle and the tin sword,” said she. +“The sword has certain properties which may induce him to confess. My +brother tells me that if he simply shakes it at a cat the cat falls +dead.” + +“Do so,” said I, “and I will try it on him. If he recognizes the sword +and remembers its properties when I attempt to brandish it at him, he'll +be forced to confess, though it would be awkward if he is the wrong man +and the sword should work on him as it does on the cat.” + +The next day I was in possession of the famous toy. It was not very +long, and rather more suggestive of a pancake-turner than a sword, but +it was a terror. I tested its qualities on a swarm of gnats in my room, +and the moment I shook it at them they fluttered to the ground as dead +as door-nails. + +“I'll have to be careful of this weapon,” I thought. “It would be +terrible if I should brandish it at a motor-man trying to get one of the +Gehenna Traction Company's cable-cars to stop and he should drop dead at +his post.” + +All was now ready for the demonstration. Fortunately the following +Saturday night was club night at the House-Boat, and we were all +expected to come in costume. For dramatic effect I wore a yellow wig, a +helmet, the silver-tinsel tights, and a doublet to match, with the +brass bugle and the tin sword properly slung about my person. I looked +stunning, even if I do say it, and much to my surprise several people +mistook me for the man I was after. Another link in the chain! EVEN THE +PUBLIC UNCONSCIOUSLY RECOGNIZED THE VALUE OF MY DEDUCTIONS. THEY CALLED +ME LOHENGRIN! + +And of course it all happened as I expected. It always does. Lohengrin +came into the assembly-room five minutes after I did and was visibly +annoyed at my make-up. + +“This is a great liberty,” said he, grasping the hilt of his sword; but +I answered by blowing the bugle at him, at which he turned livid and +fell back. He had recognized its soft cadence. I then hauled the sword +from my belt, shook it at a fly on the wall, which immediately died, and +made as if to do the same at Lohengrin, whereupon he cried for mercy and +fell upon his knees. + +“Turn that infernal thing the other way!” he shrieked. + +“Ah!” said I, lowering my arm. “Then you know its properties?” + +“I do--I do!” he cried. “It used to be mine--I confess it!” + +“Then,” said I, calmly putting the horrid bit of zinc back into my +belt, “that's all I wanted to know. If you'll come up to my office some +morning next week I'll introduce you to your wife,” and I turned from +him. + +My mission accomplished, I left the festivities and returned to my +quarters where my fair client was awaiting me. + +“Well?” she said. + +“It's all right, Mrs. Lohengrin,” I said, and the lady cried aloud with +joy at the name, for it was the very one she had hoped it would be. “My +man turns out to be your man, and I turn him over therefore to you, only +deal gently with him. He's a pretty decent chap and sings like a bird.” + +Whereon I presented her with my bill for 5000 oboli, which she paid +without a murmur, as was entirely proper that she should, for upon +the evidence which I had secured the fair plaintiff, in the suit +for separation of Elsa vs. Lohengrin on the ground of desertion and +non-support, obtained her decree, with back alimony of twenty-five per +cent. of Lohengrin's income for a trifle over fifteen hundred years. + +How much that amounted to I really do not know, but that it was a large +sum I am sure, for Lohengrin must have been very wealthy. He couldn't +have afforded to dress in solid silver-tinsel tights if he had been +otherwise. I had the tights assayed before returning them to their +owner, and even in a country where free coinage of tights is looked upon +askance they could not be duplicated for less than $850 at a ratio of 32 +to 1. + + + + +X. GOLF IN HADES + + +“Jim,” said I to Boswell one morning as the type-writer began to work, +“perhaps you can enlighten me on a point concerning which a great many +people have questioned me recently. Has golf taken hold of Hades yet? +You referred to it some time ago, and I've been wondering ever since if +it had become a fad with you.” + +“Has it?” laughed my visitor; “well, I should rather say it had. The +fact is, it has been a great boon to the country. You remember my +telling you of the projected revolution led by Cromwell, and Caesar, and +the others?” + +“I do, very well,” said I, “and I have been intending to ask you how it +came out.” + +“Oh, everything's as fine and sweet as can be now,” rejoined Boswell, +somewhat gleefully, “and all because of golf. We are all quiet along the +Styx now. All animosities are buried in the general love of golf, and +every one of us, high or low, autocrat and revolutionist, is hobnobbing +away in peace and happiness on the links. Why, only six weeks ago, +Apollyon was for cooking Bonaparte on a waffle iron, and yesterday +the two went out to the Cimmerian links together and played a mixed +foursome, Bonaparte and Medusa playing against Apollyon and Delilah.” + +“Dear me! Really?” I cried. “That must have been an interesting match.” + +“It was, and up to the very last it was nip-and-tuck between 'em,” said +Boswell. “Apollyon and Delilah won it with one hole up, and they got +that on the put. They'd have halved the hole if Medusa's back hair +hadn't wiggled loose and bitten her caddie just as she was holeing out.” + +“It is a remarkable game,” said I. “There is no sensation in the world +quite equal to that which comes to a man's soul when he has hit the ball +a solid clip and sees it sail off through the air towards the green, +whizzing musically along like a very bird.” + +“True,” said Boswell; “but I'm rather of the opinion that it's a safer +game for shades than for you purely material persons.” + +“I don't see why,” I answered. + +“It is easy to understand,” returned Boswell. “For instance, with us +there is no resistance when by a mischance we come into unexpected +contact with the ball. Take the experience of Diogenes and Solomon at +the St. Jonah's Links week before last. The Wiseman's Handicap was +on. Diogenes and Simple Simon were playing just ahead of Solomon and +Montaigne. Solomon was driving in great form. For the first time in his +life he seemed able to keep his eye on the ball, and the way he sent it +flying through the air was a caution. Diogenes and Simple Simon had both +had their second stroke and Solomon drove off. His ball sailed straight +ahead like a missile from a catapult, flew in a bee-line for Diogenes, +struck him at the base of his brain, continued on through, and landed on +the edge of the green.” + +“Mercy!” I cried. “Didn't it kill him?” + +“Of course not,” retorted Boswell. “You can't kill a shade. Diogenes +didn't know he'd been hit, but if that had happened to one of you +material golfers there'd have been a sickening end to that tournament.” + +“There would, indeed,” said I. “There isn't much fun in being hit by a +golf-ball. I can testify to that because I have had the experience,” and +I called to mind the day at St. Peterkin's when I unconsciously stymied +with my material self the celebrated Willie McGuffin, the Demon Driver +from the Hootmon Links, Scotland. McGuffin made his mark that day if he +never did before, and I bear the evidence thereof even now, although the +incident took place two years ago, when I did not know enough to keep +out of the way of the player who plays so well that he thinks he has a +perpetual right of way everywhere. + +“What kind of clubs do you Stygians use?” I asked. + +“Oh, very much the same kind that you chaps do,” returned Boswell. +“Everybody experiments with new fads, too, just as you do. Old Peter +Stuyvesant, for instance, always drives with his wooden leg, and never +uses anything else unless he gets a lie where he's got to.” + +“His wooden leg?” I roared, with a laugh. “How on earth does he do +that?” + +“He screws the small end of it into a square block shod like a brassey,” + explained Boswell, “tees up his ball, goes back ten yards, makes a run +at it and kicks the ball pretty nearly out of sight. He can put with it +too, like a dream, swinging it sideways.” + +“But he doesn't call that golf, does he?” I cried. + +“What is it?” demanded Boswell. + +“I should call it football,” I said. + +“Not at all,” said Boswell. “Not a bit of it. He hasn't any foot on that +leg, and he has a golf-club head with a shaft to it. There isn't any +rule which says that the shaft shall not look like an inverted nine-pin, +nor do any of the accepted authorities require that the club shall be +manipulated by the arms. I admit it's bad form the way he plays, but, as +Stuyvesant himself says, he never did travel on his shape.” + +“Suppose he gets a cuppy lie?” I asked, very much interested at the +first news from Hades of the famous old Dutchman. + +“Oh, he does one of two things,” said Boswell. “He stubs it out with his +toe, or goes back and plays two more. Munchausen plays a good game too. +He beat the colonel forty-seven straight holes last Wednesday, and all +Hades has been talking about it ever since.” + +“Who is the colonel?” I asked, innocently. + +“Bogey,” returned Boswell. “Didn't you ever hear of Colonel Bogey?” + +“Of course,” I replied, “but I always supposed Bogey was an imaginary +opponent, not a real one.” + +“So he is,” said Boswell. + +“Then you mean--” + +“I mean that Munchausen beat him forty-seven up,” said Boswell. + +“Were there any witnesses?” I demanded, for I had little faith in +Munchausen's regard for the eternal verities, among which a golf-card +must be numbered if the game is to survive. + +“Yes, a hundred,” said Boswell. “There was only one trouble with 'em.” + Here the great biographer laughed. “They were all imaginary, like the +colonel.” + +“And Munchausen's score?” I queried. + +“The same, naturally. But it makes him king-pin in golf circles just +the same, because nobody can go back on his logic,” said Boswell. +“Munchausen reasoned it out very logically indeed, and largely, he said, +to protect his own reputation. Here is an imaginary warrior, said he, +who makes a bully, but wholly imaginary, score at golf. He sends me an +imaginary challenge to play him forty-seven holes. I accept, not so much +because I consider myself a golfer as because I am an imaginer--if there +is such a word.” + +“Ask Dr. Johnson,” said I, a little sarcastically. I always grow +sarcastic when golf is mentioned. + +“Dr. Johnson be--” began Boswell. + +“Boswell!” I remonstrated. + +“Dr. Johnson be it, I was about to say,” clicked the type-writer, +suavely; but the ink was thick and inclined to spread. “Munchausen +felt that Bogey was encroaching on his preserve as a man with an +imagination.” + +“I have always considered Colonel Bogey a liar,” said I. “He joins +all the clubs and puts up an ideal score before he has played over the +links.” + +“That isn't the point at all,” said Boswell. “Golfers don't lie. +Realists don't lie. Nobody in polite--or say, rather, accepted--society +lies. They all imagine. Munchausen realizes that he has only one claim +to recognition, and that is based entirely upon his imagination. So when +the imaginary Colonel Bogey sent him an imaginary challenge to play him +forty-seven holes at golf--” + +“Why forty-seven?” I asked. + +“An imaginary number,” explained Boswell. “Don't interrupt. As I say, +when the imaginary colonel--” + +“I must interrupt,” said I. “What was he colonel of?” + +“A regiment of perfect caddies,” said Boswell. + +“Ah, I see,” I replied. “Imaginary in his command. There isn't one +perfect caddy, much less a regiment of the little reprobates.” + +“You are wrong there,” said Boswell. “You don't know how to produce a +good caddy--but good caddies can be made.” + +“How?” I cried, for I have suffered. “I'll have the plan patented.” + +“Take a flexible brassey, and at the ninth hole, if they deserve it, +give them eighteen strokes across the legs with all your strength,” said +Boswell. “But, as I said before, don't interrupt. I haven't much time +left to talk with you.” + +“But I must ask one more question,” I put in, for I was growing excited +over a new idea. “You say give them eighteen strokes across the legs. +Across whose legs?” + +“Yours,” replied Boswell. “Just take your caddy up, place him across +your knees, and spank him with your brassey. Spank isn't a good golf +term, but it is good enough for the average caddy; in fact, it will do +him good.” + +“Go on,” said I, with a mental resolve to adopt his prescription. + +“Well,” said Boswell, “Munchausen, having received an imaginary +challenge from an imaginary opponent, accepted. He went out to the +links with an imaginary ball, an imaginary bagful of fanciful clubs, and +licked the imaginary life out of the colonel.” + +“Still, I don't see,” said I, somewhat jealously, perhaps, “how that +makes him king-pin in golf circles. Where did he play?” + +“On imaginary links,” said Boswell. + +“Poh!” I ejaculated. + +“Don't sneer,” said Boswell. “You know yourself that the links you +imagine are far better than any others.” + +“What is Munchausen's strongest point?” I asked, seeing that there was +no arguing with the man--“driving, approaching, or putting?” + +“None of the three. He cannot put, he foozles every drive, and at +approaching he's a consummate ass,” said Boswell. + +“Then what can he do?” I cried. + +“Count,” said Boswell. “Haven't you learned that yet? You can spend +hours learning how to drive, weeks to approach, and months to put. But +if you want to win you must know how to count.” + +I was silent, and for the first time in my life I realized that +Munchausen was not so very different from certain golfers I have met in +my short day as a golfiac, and then Boswell put in: + +“You see, it isn't lofting or driving that wins,” he continued. “Cups +aren't won on putting or approaching. It's the man who puts in the best +card who becomes the champion.” + +“I am afraid you are right,” I said, sadly, “but I am sorry to find that +Hades is as badly off as we mortals in that matter.” + +“Golf, sir,” retorted Boswell, sententiously, “is the same everywhere, +and that which is dome in our world is directly in line with what is +developed in yours.” + +“I'm sorry for Hades,” said I; “but to continue about golf--do the +ladies play much on your links?” + +“Well, rather,” returned Boswell, “and it's rather amusing to watch them +at it, too. Xanthippe with her Greek clothes finds it rather difficult; +but for rare sport you ought to see Queen Elizabeth trying to keep her +eye on the ball over her ruff! It really is one of the finest spectacles +you ever saw.” + +“But why don't they dress properly?” + +“Ah,” sighed Boswell, “that is one of the things about Hades that +destroys all the charm of life there. We are but shades.” + +“Granted,” said I, “but your garments can--” + +“Our garments can't,” said Boswell. “Through all eternity we shades of +our former selves are doomed to wear the shadows of our former clothes.” + +“Then what the devil does a poor dress-maker do who goes to Hades?” I +cried. + +“She makes over the things she made before,” said Boswell. “That's why, +my dear fellow,” the biographer added, becoming confidential--“that's +why some people confound Hades with--ah--the other place, don't you +know.” + +“Still, there's golf!” I said; “and that's a panacea for all ills. YOU +enjoy it, don't you?” + +“Me?” cried Boswell. “Me enjoy it? Not on all the lives in Christendom. +It is the direst drudgery for me.” + +“Drudgery?” I said. “Bah! Nonsense, Boswell!” + +“You forget--” he began. + +“Forget? It must be you who forget, if you call golf drudgery.” + +“No,” sighed the genial spirit. “No, _I_ don't forget. I remember.” + +“Remember what?” I demanded. + +“That I am Dr. Johnson's caddy!” was the answer. And then came a +heart-rending sigh, and from that time on all was silence. I repeatedly +put questions to the machine, made observations to it, derided it, +insulted it, but there was no response. + +It has so continued to this day, and I can only conclude the story of my +Enchanted Type-writer by saying that I presume golf has taken the same +hold upon Hades that it has upon this world, and that I need not hope +to hear more from that attractive region until the game has relaxed its +grip, which I know can never be. + +Hence let me say to those who have been good enough to follow me through +the realms of the Styx that I bid them an affectionate farewell and +thank them for their kind attention to my chronicles. They are all +truthful; but now that the source of supply is cut off I cannot prove +it. I can only hope that for one and all the future may hold as much of +pleasure as the place of departed spirits has held for me. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Enchanted Typewriter, by John Kendrick Bangs + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ENCHANTED TYPEWRITER *** + +***** This file should be named 3162-0.txt or 3162-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/6/3162/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer + +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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