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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.12.12.00*END* - - - - - -This etext was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> - - - - - -Alonzo Fitz and Other Stories - -by Mark Twain - - - -CONTENTS OF THIS VOLUME: - -THE LOVES OF ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON -ON THE DECAY OF THE ART OF LYING -ABOUT MAGNANIMOUS-INCIDENT LITERATURE - THE GRATEFUL POODLE - THE BENEVOLENT AUTHOR - THE GRATEFUL HUSBAND -PUNCH, BROTHERS, PUNCH -THE GREAT REVOLUTION IN PITCAIRN -THE CANVASSER'S TALE -AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN INTERVIEWER -PARIS NOTES -LEGEND OF SAGENFELD, IN GERMANY -SPEECH ON THE BABIES -SPEECH ON THE WEATHER -CONCERNING THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE -ROGERS - - - - - -THE LOVES OF ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON - - -It was well along in the forenoon of a bitter winter's day. The town of -Eastport, in the state of Maine, lay buried under a deep snow that was -newly fallen. The customary bustle in the streets was wanting. One -could look long distances down them and see nothing but a dead-white -emptiness, with silence to match. Of course I do not mean that you could -see the silence--no, you could only hear it. The sidewalks were merely -long, deep ditches, with steep snow walls on either side. Here and there -you might hear the faint, far scrape of a wooden shovel, and if you were -quick enough you might catch a glimpse of a distant black figure stooping -and disappearing in one of those ditches, and reappearing the next moment -with a motion which you would know meant the heaving out of a shovelful -of snow. But you needed to be quick, for that black figure would not -linger, but would soar drop that shovel and scud for the house, thrashing -itself with its arms to warm them. Yes, it was too venomously cold for -snow-shovelers or anybody else to stay out long. - -Presently the sky darkened; then the wind rose and began to blow in -fitful, vigorous gusts, which sent clouds of powdery snow aloft, and -straight ahead, and everywhere. Under the impulse of one of these gusts, -great white drifts banked themselves like graves across the streets; a -moment later another gust shifted them around the other way, driving a -fine spray of snow from their sharp crests, as the gale drives the spume -flakes from wave-crests at sea; a third gust swept that place as clean as -your hand, if it saw fit. This was fooling, this was play; but each and -all of the gusts dumped some snow into the sidewalk ditches, for that was -business. - -Alonzo Fitz Clarence was sitting in his snug and elegant little parlor, -in a lovely blue silk dressing-gown, with cuffs and facings of crimson -satin, elaborately quilted. The remains of his breakfast were before -him, and the dainty and costly little table service added a harmonious -charm to the grace, beauty, and richness of the fixed appointments of the -room. A cheery fire was blazing on the hearth. - -A furious gust of wind shook the windows, and a great wave of snow washed -against them with a drenching sound, so to speak. The handsome young -bachelor murmured: - -"That means, no going out to-day. Well, I am content. But what to do -for company? Mother is well enough, Aunt Susan is well enough; but -these, like the poor, I have with me always. On so grim a day as this, -one needs a new interest, a fresh element, to whet the dull edge of -captivity. That was very neatly said, but it doesn't mean anything. -One doesn't want the edge of captivity sharpened up, you know, but just -the reverse." - -He glanced at his pretty French mantel-clock. - -"That clock's wrong again. That clock hardly ever knows what time it is; -and when it does know, it lies about it--which amounts to the same thing. -Alfred!" - -There was no answer. - -"Alfred! . . . Good servant, but as uncertain as the clock." - -Alonzo touched an electric bell button in the wall. He waited a moment, -then touched it again; waited a few moments more, and said: - -"Battery out of order, no doubt. But now that I have started, I will -find out what time it is." He stepped to a speaking-tube in the wall, -blew its whistle, and called, "Mother!" and repeated it twice. - -"Well, that's no use. Mother's battery is out of order, too. Can't -raise anybody down-stairs--that is plain." - -He sat down at a rosewood desk, leaned his chin on the left-hand edge of -it and spoke, as if to the floor: "Aunt Susan!" - -A low, pleasant voice answered, "Is that you, Alonzo?' - -"Yes. I'm too lazy and comfortable to go downstairs; I am in extremity, -and I can't seem to scare up any help." - -"Dear me, what is the matter?" - -"Matter enough, I can tell you!" - -"Oh, don't keep me in suspense, dear! What is it?" - -"I want to know what time it is." - -"You abominable boy, what a turn you did give me! Is that all?" - -"All--on my honor. Calm yourself. Tell me the time, and receive my -blessing." - -"Just five minutes after nine. No charge--keep your blessing." - -"Thanks. It wouldn't have impoverished me, aunty, nor so enriched you -that you could live without other means." - -He got up, murmuring, "Just five minutes after nine," and faced his -clock. "Ah," said he, "you are doing better than usual. You are only -thirty-four minutes wrong. Let me see . . , let me see. . . . -Thirty-three and twenty-one are fifty-four; four times fifty-four are two -hundred and thirty-six. One off, leaves two hundred and thirty-five. -That's right." - -He turned the hands of his clock forward till they marked twenty-five -minutes to one, and said, "Now see if you can't keep right for a while ---else I'll raffle you!" - -He sat down at the desk again, and said, "Aunt Susan!" - -"Yes, dear." - -"Had breakfast?" - -"Yes, indeed, an hour ago." - -"Busy?" - -"No--except sewing. Why?" - -"Got any company?" - -"No, but I expect some at half past nine." - -"I wish I did. I'm lonesome. I want to talk to somebody." - -"Very well, talk to me." - -"But this is very private." - -"Don't be afraid--talk right along, there's nobody here but me." - -"I hardly know whether to venture or not, but--" - -"But what? Oh, don't stop there! You know you can trust me, Alonzo--you -know, you can." - -"I feel it, aunt, but this is very serious. It affects me deeply--me, -and all the family---even the whole community." - -"Oh, Alonzo, tell me! I will never breathe a word of it. What is it?" - -"Aunt, if I might dare--" - -"Oh, please go on! I love you, and feel for you. Tell me all. -Confide in me. What is it?" - -"The weather!" - -"Plague take the weather! I don't see how you can have the heart to -serve me so, Lon." - -"There, there, aunty dear, I'm sorry; I am, on my honor. I won't do it -again. Do you forgive me?" - -"Yes, since you seem so sincere about it, though I know I oughtn't to. -You will fool me again as soon as I have forgotten this time." - -"No, I won't, honor bright. But such weather, oh, such weather! You've -got to keep your spirits up artificially. It is snowy, and blowy, and -gusty, and bitter cold! How is the weather with you?" - -"Warm and rainy and melancholy. The mourners go about the streets with -their umbrellas running streams from the end of every whalebone. There's -an elevated double pavement of umbrellas, stretching down the sides of -the streets as far as I can see. I've got a fire for cheerfulness, and -the windows open to keep cool. But it is vain, it is useless: nothing -comes in but the balmy breath of December, with its burden of mocking -odors from the flowers that possess the realm outside, and rejoice in -their lawless profusion whilst the spirit of man is low, and flaunt their -gaudy splendors in his face while his soul is clothed in sackcloth and -ashes and his heart breaketh." - -Alonzo opened his lips to say, "You ought to print that, and get it -framed," but checked himself, for he heard his aunt speaking to some one -else. He went and stood at the window and looked out upon the wintry -prospect. The storm was driving the snow before it more furiously than -ever; window-shutters were slamming and banging; a forlorn dog, with -bowed head and tail withdrawn from service, was pressing his quaking body -against a windward wall for shelter and protection; a young girl was -plowing knee-deep through the drifts, with her face turned from the -blast, and the cape of her waterproof blowing straight rearward over her -head. Alonzo shuddered, and said with a sigh, "Better the slop, and the -sultry rain, and even the insolent flowers, than this!" - -He turned from the window, moved a step, and stopped in a listening -attitude. The faint, sweet notes of a familiar song caught his ear. He -remained there, with his head unconsciously bent forward, drinking in the -melody, stirring neither hand nor foot, hardly breathing. There was a -blemish in the execution of the song, but to Alonzo it seemed an added -charm instead of a defect. This blemish consisted of a marked flatting -of the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh notes of the refrain or -chorus of the piece. When the music ended, Alonzo drew a deep breath, -and said, "Ah, I never have heard 'In the Sweet By-and-by' sung like that -before!" - -He stepped quickly to the desk, listened a moment, and said in a guarded, -confidential voice, "Aunty, who is this divine singer?" - -"She is the company I was expecting. Stays with me a month or two. -I will introduce you. Miss--" - -"For goodness' sake, wait a moment, Aunt Susan! You never stop to think -what you are about!" - -He flew to his bedchamber, and returned in a moment perceptibly changed -in his outward appearance, and remarking, snappishly: - -"Hang it, she would have introduced me to this angel in that sky-blue -dressing-gown with red-hot lapels! Women never think, when they get -a-going." - -He hastened and stood by the desk, and said eagerly, "Now, Aunty, I am -ready," and fell to smiling and bowing with all the persuasiveness and -elegance that were in him. - -"Very well. Miss Rosannah Ethelton, let me introduce to you my favorite -nephew, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence. There! You are both good people, and -I like you; so I am going to trust you together while I attend to a few -household affairs. Sit down, Rosannah; sit down, Alonzo. Good-by; I -sha'n't be gone long." - -Alonzo had been bowing and smiling all the while, and motioning imaginary -young ladies to sit down in imaginary chairs, but now he took a seat -himself, mentally saying, "Oh, this is luck! Let the winds blow now, and -the snow drive, and the heavens frown! Little I care!" - -While these young people chat themselves into an acquaintanceship, let us -take the liberty of inspecting the sweeter and fairer of the two. She -sat alone, at her graceful ease, in a richly furnished apartment which -was manifestly the private parlor of a refined and sensible lady, -if signs and symbols may go for anything. For instance, by a low, -comfortable chair stood a dainty, top-heavy workstand, whose summit was a -fancifully embroidered shallow basket, with varicolored crewels, and -other strings and odds, and ends protruding from under the gaping lid and -hanging down in negligent profusion. On the floor lay bright shreds of -Turkey red, Prussian blue, and kindred fabrics, bits of ribbon, a spool -or two, a pair of scissors, and a roll or so of tinted silken stuffs. -On a luxurious sofa, upholstered with some sort of soft Indian goods -wrought in black and gold threads interwebbed with other threads not so -pronounced in color, lay a great square of coarse white stuff, upon whose -surface a rich bouquet of flowers was growing, under the deft cultivation -of the crochet-needle. The household cat was asleep on this work of art. -In a bay-window stood an easel with an unfinished picture on it, and a -palette and brushes on a chair beside it. There were books everywhere: -Robertson's Sermons, Tennyson, Moody and Sankey, Hawthorne, Rab and His -Friends, cook-books, prayer-books, pattern-books--and books about all -kinds of odious and exasperating pottery, of course. There was a piano, -with a deck-load of music, and more in a tender. There was a great -plenty of pictures on the walls, on the shelves of the mantelpiece, and -around generally; where coigns of vantage offered were statuettes, and -quaint and pretty gimcracks, and rare and costly specimens of peculiarly -devilish china. The bay-window gave upon a garden that was ablaze with -foreign and domestic flowers and flowering shrubs. - -But the sweet young girl was the daintiest thing these premises, within -or without, could offer for contemplation: delicately chiseled features, -of Grecian cast; her complexion the pure snow of a japonica that is -receiving a faint reflected enrichment from some scarlet neighbor of the -garden; great, soft blue eyes fringed with long, curving lashes; an -expression made up of the trustfulness of a child and the gentleness of -a fawn; a beautiful head crowned with its own prodigal gold; a lithe and -rounded figure, whose every attitude and movement was instinct with -native grace. - -Her dress and adornment were marked by that exquisite harmony that can -come only of a fine natural taste perfected by culture. Her gown was of -a simple magenta tulle, cut bias, traversed by three rows of light-blue -flounces, with the selvage edges turned up with ashes-of-roses chenille; -overdress of dark bay tarlatan with scarlet satin lambrequins; corn- -colored polonaise, en zanier, looped with mother-of-pearl buttons and -silver cord, and hauled aft and made fast by buff velvet lashings; basque -of lavender reps, picked out with valenciennes; low neck, short sleeves; -maroon velvet necktie edged with delicate pink silk; inside handkerchief -of some simple three-ply ingrain fabric of a soft saffron tint; coral -bracelets and locket-chain; coiffure of forget-me-nots and lilies-of-the --valley massed around a noble calla. - -This was all; yet even in this subdued attire she was divinely beautiful. -Then what must she have been when adorned for the festival or the ball? - -All this time she had been busily chatting with Alonzo, unconscious of -our inspection. The minutes still sped, and still she talked. But by -and by she happened to look up, and saw the clock. A crimson blush sent -its rich flood through her cheeks, and she exclaimed: - -"There, good-by, Mr. Fitz Clarence; I must go now!" - -She sprang from her chair with such haste that she hardly heard the young -man's answering good-by. She stood radiant, graceful, beautiful, and -gazed, wondering, upon the accusing clock. Presently her pouting lips -parted, and she said: - -"Five minutes after eleven! Nearly two hours, and it did not seem twenty -minutes! Oh, dear, what will he think of me!" - -At the self-same moment Alonzo was staring at his clock. And presently -he said: - -"Twenty-five minutes to three! Nearly two hours, and I didn't believe it -was two minutes! Is it possible that this clock is humbugging again? -Miss Ethelton! Just one moment, please. Are you there yet?" - -"Yes, but be quick; I'm going right away." - -"Would you be so kind as to tell me what time it is?" - -The girl blushed again, murmured to herself, "It's right down cruel of -him to ask me!" and then spoke up and answered with admirably -counterfeited unconcern, "Five minutes after eleven." - -"Oh, thank you! You have to go, now, have you?" - -"I'm sorry." - -No reply. - -"Miss Ethelton!" - -"Well?" - -"You you're there yet, ain't you?" - -"Yes; but please hurry. What did you want to say?" - -"Well, I--well, nothing in particular. It's very lonesome here. It's -asking a great deal, I know, but would you mind talking with me again by -and by--that is, if it will not trouble you too much?" - -"I don't know but I'll think about it. I'll try." - -"Oh, thanks! Miss Ethelton! . . . Ah, me, she's gone, and here are -the black clouds and the whirling snow and the raging winds come again! -But she said good-by. She didn't say good morning, she said good-by!.... -The clock was right, after all. What a lightning-winged two hours it -was!" - -He sat down, and gazed dreamily into his fire for a while, then heaved a -sigh and said: - -"How wonderful it is! Two little hours ago I was a free man, and now my -heart's in San Francisco!" - -About that time Rosannah Ethelton, propped in the window-seat of her -bedchamber, book in hand, was gazing vacantly out over the rainy seas -that washed the Golden Gate, and whispering to herself, "How different he -is from poor Burley, with his empty head and his single little antic -talent of mimicry!" - - -II - -Four weeks later Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley was entertaining a gay -luncheon company, in a sumptuous drawing-room on Telegraph Hill, with -some capital imitations of the voices and gestures of certain popular -actors and San Franciscan literary people and Bonanza grandees. He was -elegantly upholstered, and was a handsome fellow, barring a trifling cast -in his eye. He seemed very jovial, but nevertheless he kept his eye on -the door with an expectant and uneasy watchfulness. By and by a nobby. -lackey appeared, and delivered a message to the mistress, who nodded her -head understandingly. That seemed to settle the thing for Mr. Burley; -his vivacity decreased little by little, and a dejected look began to -creep into one of his eyes and a sinister one into the other. - -The rest of the company departed in due time, leaving him with the -mistress, to whom he said: - -"There is no longer any question about it. She avoids me. She -continually excuses herself. If I could see her, if I could speak to her -only a moment but this suspense--" - -"Perhaps her seeming avoidance is mere accident, Mr. Burley. Go to the -small drawing-room up-stairs and amuse yourself a moment. I will -despatch a household order that is on my mind, and then I will go to her -room. Without doubt she will be persuaded to see you." - -Mr. Burley went up-stairs, intending to go to the small drawing-room, but -as he was passing "Aunt Susan's" private parlor, the door of which stood -slightly ajar, he heard a joyous laugh which he recognized; so without -knock or announcement he stepped confidently in. But before he could -make his presence known he heard words that harrowed up his soul and -chilled his young blood, die heard a voice say: - -"Darling, it has come!" - -Then he heard Rosannah Ethelton, whose back was toward him, say: - -"So has yours, dearest!" - -He saw her bowed form bend lower; he heard her kiss something--not merely -once, but again and again! His soul raged within him. The heartbreaking -conversation went on: - -"Rosannah, I knew you must be beautiful, but this is dazzling, this is -blinding, this is intoxicating!" - -"Alonzo, it is such happiness to hear you say it. I know it is not true, -but I am so grateful to have you think it is, nevertheless! I knew you -must have a noble face, but the grace and majesty of the reality beggar -the poor creation of my fancy." - -Burley heard that rattling shower of kisses again. - -"Thank you, my Rosannah! The photograph flatters me, but you must not -allow yourself to think of that. Sweetheart?" - -"Yes, Alonzo." - -"I am so happy, Rosannah." - -"Oh, Alonzo, none that have gone before me knew what love was, none that -come after me will ever know what happiness is. I float in a gorgeous -cloud land, a boundless firmament of enchanted and bewildering ecstasy!" - -"Oh, my Rosannah! for you are mine, are you not?" - -"Wholly, oh, wholly yours, Alonzo, now and forever! All the day long, -and all through my nightly dreams, one song sings itself, and its sweet -burden is, 'Alonzo Fitz Clarence, Alonzo Fitz Clarence, Eastport, state -of Maine!'" - -"Curse him, I've got his address, anyway!" roared Burley, inwardly, and -rushed from the place. - -Just behind the unconscious Alonzo stood his mother, a picture of -astonishment. She was so muffled from head to heel in furs that nothing -of herself was visible but her eyes and nose. She was a good allegory of -winter, for she was powdered all over with snow. - -Behind the unconscious Rosannah stood "Aunt' Susan," another picture of -astonishment. She was a good allegory of summer, for she was lightly -clad, and was vigorously cooling the perspiration on her face with a fan. - -Both of these women had tears of joy in their eyes. - -"Soho!" exclaimed Mrs. Fitz Clarence, "this explains why nobody has been -able to drag you out of your room for six weeks, Alonzo!" - -"So ho!" exclaimed Aunt Susan, "this explains why you have been a hermit -for the past six weeks, Rosannah!" - -The young couple were on their feet in an instant, abashed, and standing -like detected dealers in stolen goods awaiting judge Lynch's doom. - -"Bless you, my son! I am happy in your happiness. Come to your mother's -arms, Alonzo!" - -"Bless you, Rosannah, for my dear nephew's sake! Come to my arms!" - -Then was there a mingling of hearts and of tears of rejoicing on -Telegraph Hill and in Eastport Square. - -Servants were called by the elders, in both places. Unto one was given -the order, "Pile this fire high, with hickory wood, and bring me a -roasting-hot lemonade." - -Unto the other was given the order, "Put out this, fire, and bring me two -palm-leaf fans and a pitcher of ice-water." - -Then the young people were dismissed, and the elders sat down to talk the -sweet surprise over and make the wedding plans. - -Some minutes before this Mr. Burley rushed from the mansion on Telegraph -Hill without meeting or taking formal leave of anybody. He hissed -through his teeth, in unconscious imitation of a popular favorite in -melodrama, "Him shall she never wed! I have sworn it! Ere great Nature -shall have doffed her winter's ermine to don the emerald gauds of spring, -she shall be mine!" - - -III - -Two weeks later. Every few hours, during same three or four days, a very -prim and devout-looking Episcopal clergyman, with a cast in his eye, had -visited Alonzo. According to his card, he was the Rev. Melton Hargrave, -of Cincinnati. He said he had retired from the ministry on account of -his health. If he had said on account of ill-health, he would probably -have erred, to judge by his wholesome looks and firm build. He was the -inventor of an improvement in telephones, and hoped to make his bread by -selling the privilege of using it. "At present," he continued, "a man -may go and tap a telegraph wire which is conveying a song or a concert -from one state to another, and he can attach his private telephone and -steal a hearing of that music as it passes along. My invention will stop -all that." - -"Well," answered Alonzo, "if the owner of the music could not miss what -was stolen, why should he care?" - -"He shouldn't care," said the Reverend. - -"Well?" said Alonzo, inquiringly. - -"Suppose," replied the Reverend, "suppose that, instead of music that was -passing along and being stolen, the burden of the wire was loving -endearments of the most private and sacred nature?" - -Alonzo shuddered from head to heel. "Sir, it is a priceless invention," -said he; "I must have it at any cost." - -But the invention was delayed somewhere on the road from Cincinnati, most -unaccountably. The impatient Alonzo could hardly wait. The thought of -Rosannah's sweet words being shared with him by some ribald thief was -galling to him. The Reverend came frequently and lamented the delay, and -told of measures he had taken to hurry things up. This was some little -comfort to Alonzo. - -One forenoon the Reverend ascended the stairs and knocked at Alonzo's -door. There was no response. He entered, glanced eagerly around,. -closed the door softly, then ran to the telephone. The exquisitely soft -and remote strains of the "Sweet By-and-by" came floating through the -instrument. The singer was flatting, as usual, the five notes that -follow the first two in the chorus, when the Reverend interrupted her -with this word, in a voice which was an exact imitation of Alonzo's, with -just the faintest flavor of impatience added: - -"Sweetheart?" - -"Yes, Alonzo?" - -"Please don't sing that any more this week-try something modern." - -The agile step that goes with a happy heart was heard on the stairs, and -the Reverend, smiling diabolically, sought sudden refuge behind the heavy -folds of the velvet windowcurtains. Alonzo entered and flew to the -telephone. Said he: - -"Rosannah, dear, shall we sing something together?" - -"Something modern?" asked she, with sarcastic bitterness. - -"Yes, if you prefer." - -"Sing it yourself, if you like!" - -This snappishness amazed and wounded the young man. He said: - -"Rosarmah, that was not like you." - -"I suppose it becomes me as much as your very polite speech became you, -Mr. Fitz Clarence." - -"Mister Fitz Clarence! Rosannah, there was nothing impolite about my -speech." - -"Oh, indeed! Of course, then, I misunderstood you, and I most humbly beg -your pardon, ha-ha-ha! No doubt you said, 'Don't sing it any more -to-day.'" - -"Sing what any more to-day?" - -"The song you mentioned, of course, How very obtuse we are, all of a -sudden!" - -"I never mentioned any song." - -"Oh, you didn't?" - -"No, I didn't!" - -"I am compelled to remark that you did." - -"And I am obliged to reiterate that I didn't." - -"A second rudeness! That is sufficient, sir. I will never forgive you. -All is over between us." - -Then came a muffled sound of crying. Alonzo hastened to say: - -"Oh, Rosannah, unsay those words! There is some dreadful mystery here, -some hideous mistake. I am utterly earnest and sincere when I say I -never said anything about any song. I would not hurt you for the whole -world . . . . Rosannah, dear speak to me, won't you?" - -There was a pause; then Alonzo heard the girl's sobbings retreating, and -knew she had gone from the telephone. He rose with a heavy sigh, and -hastened from the room, saying to himself, "I will ransack the charity -missions and the haunts of the poor for my mother. She will persuade her -that I never meant to wound her." - -A minute later the Reverend was crouching over the telephone like a cat -that knoweth the ways of the prey. He had not very many minutes to wait. -A soft, repentant voice, tremulous with tears, said: - -"Alonzo, dear, I have been wrong. You could not have said so cruel a -thing. It must have been some one who imitated your voice in malice or -in jest." - -The Reverend coldly answered, in Alonzo's tones: - -"You have said all was over between us. So let it be. I spurn your -proffered repentance, and despise it!" - -Then he departed, radiant with fiendish triumph, to return no more with -his imaginary telephonic invention forever. - -Four hours afterward Alonzo arrived with his mother from her favorite -haunts of poverty and vice. They summoned the San Francisco household; -but there was no reply. They waited, and continued to wait, upon the -voiceless telephone. - -At length, when it was sunset in San Francisco, and three hours and a -half after dark in Eastport, an answer to the oft-repeated cry of -"Rosannah!" - -But, alas, it was Aunt Susan's voice that spake. She said: - -"I have been out all day; just got in. I will go and find her." - -The watchers waited two minutes--five minutes--ten minutes. Then came -these fatal words, in a frightened tone: - -"She is gone, and her baggage with her. To visit another friend, she -told the servants. But I found this note on the table in her room. -Listen: 'I am gone; seek not to trace me out; my heart is broken; you -will never see me more. Tell him I shall always think of him when I sing -my poor "Sweet By-and-by," but never of the unkind words he said about -it.' That is her note. Alonzo, Alonzo, what does it mean? What has -happened?" - -But Alonzo sat white and cold as the dead. His mother threw back the -velvet curtains and opened a window. The cold air refreshed the -sufferer, and he told his aunt his dismal story. Meantime his mother was -inspecting a card which had disclosed itself upon the floor when she cast -the curtains back. It read, "Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley, San Francisco." - -"The miscreant!" shouted Alonzo, and rushed forth to seek the false -Reverend and destroy him; for the card explained everything, since in the -course of the lovers' mutual confessions they had told each other all -about all the sweethearts they had ever had, and thrown no end of mud at -their failings and foibles for lovers always do that. It has a -fascination that ranks next after billing and cooing. - - -IV - -During the next two months many things happened. It had early transpired -that Rosannah, poor suffering orphan, had neither returned to her -grandmother in Portland, Oregon, nor sent any word to her save a -duplicate of the woeful note she had left in the mansion on Telegraph -Hill. Whosoever was sheltering her--if she was still alive--had been -persuaded not to betray her whereabouts, without doubt; for all efforts -to find trace of her had failed. - -Did Alonzo give her up? Not he. He said to himself, "She will sing that -sweet song when she is sad; I shall find her." So he took his carpet- -sack and a portable telephone, and shook the snow of his native city from -his arctics, and went forth into the world. He wandered far and wide and -in many states. Time and again, strangers were astounded to see a -wasted, pale, and woe-worn man laboriously climb a telegraph-pole in -wintry and lonely places, perch sadly there an hour, with his ear at a -little box, then come sighing down, and wander wearily away. Sometimes -they shot at him, as peasants do at aeronauts, thinking him mad and -dangerous. Thus his clothes were much shredded by bullets and his person -grievously lacerated. But he bore it all patiently. - -In the beginning of his pilgrimage he used often to say, "Ah, if I could -but hear the 'Sweet By-and-by'!" But toward the end of it he used to -shed tears of anguish and say, "Ah, if I could but hear something else!" - -Thus a month and three weeks drifted by, and at last some humane people -seized him and confined him in a private mad-house in New York. He made -no moan, for his strength was all gone, and with it all heart and all -hope. The superintendent, in pity, gave up his own comfortable parlor -and bedchamber to him and nursed him with affectionate devotion. - -At the end of a week the patient was able to leave his bed for the first -time. He was lying, comfortably pillowed, on a sofa, listening to the -plaintive Miserere of the bleak March winds and the muffled sound of -tramping feet in the street below for it was about six in the evening, -and New York was going home from work. He had a bright fire and the -added cheer of a couple of student-lamps. So it was warm and snug -within, though bleak and raw without; it was light and bright within, -though outside it was as dark and dreary as if the world had been lit -with Hartford gas. Alonzo smiled feebly to think how his loving vagaries -had made him a maniac in the eyes of the world, and was proceeding to -pursue his line of thought further, when a faint, sweet strain, the very -ghost of sound, so remote and attenuated it seemed, struck upon his ear. -His pulses stood still; he listened with parted lips and bated breath. -The song flowed on he waiting, listening, rising slowly and unconsciously -from his recumbent position. At last he exclaimed: - -"It is! it is she! Oh, the divine hated notes!" - -He dragged himself eagerly to the corner whence the sounds proceeded, -tore aside a curtain, and discovered a telephone. He bent over, and as -the last note died away he burst forthwith the exclamation: - -"Oh, thank Heaven, found at last! Speak tome, Rosannah, dearest! The -cruel mystery has been unraveled; it was the villain Burley who mimicked -my voice and wounded you with insolent speech!" - -There was a breathless pause, a waiting age to Alonzo; then a faint sound -came, framing itself into language: - -"Oh, say those precious words again, Alonzo!" - -"They are the truth, the veritable truth, my Rosannah, and you shall have -the proof, ample and abundant proof!" - -"Oh; Alonzo, stay by me! Leave me not for a moment! Let me feel that -you are near me! Tell me we shall never be parted more! Oh, this happy -hour, this blessed hour, this memorable hour!" - -"We will make record of it, my Rosannah; every year, as this dear hour -chimes from the clock, we will celebrate it with thanksgivings, all the -years of our life." - -"We will, we will, Alonzo!" - -"Four minutes after six, in the evening, my Rosannah, shall henceforth--" - -"Twenty-three minutes after twelve, afternoon shall--" - -"Why; Rosannah, darling, where are you?" - -"In Honolulu, Sandwich Islands. And where are you? Stay by me; do not -leave me for a moment. I cannot bear it. Are you at home?" - -"No, dear, I am in New York--a patient in the doctor's hands." - -An agonizing shriek came buzzing to Alonzo's ear, like the sharp buzzing -of a hurt gnat; it lost power in traveling five thousand miles. Alonzo -hastened to say: - -"Calm--yourself, my child. It is nothing. Already I am getting well -under the sweet healing of your presence. Rosannah?" - -"Yes, Alonzo? Oh, how you terrified me! Say on." - -"Name the happy day, Rosannah!" - -There was a little pause. Then a diffident small voice replied, -"I blush--but it is with pleasure, it is with happiness. Would--would -you like to have it soon?" - -"This very night, Rosannah ! Oh, let us risk no more delays. Let it be -now!--this very night, this very moment!" - -"Oh, you impatient creature! I have nobody here but my good old uncle, -a missionary for a generation, and now retired from service--nobody but -him and his wife. I would so dearly like it if your mother and your Aunt -Susan--" - -"Our mother and our Aunt Susan, my Rosannah." - -"Yes, our mother and our Aunt Susan--I am content to word it so if it -pleases you; I would so like to have them present." - -"So would I. Suppose you telegraph Aunt Susan. How long would it take -her to come?" - -"The steamer leaves San Francisco day after tomorrow. The passage is -eight days. She would be here the 31st of March." - -"Then name the 1st of April; do, Rosannah, dear." - -"Mercy, it would make us April fools, Alonzo!" - -"So we be the happiest ones that that day's suit looks down upon in the -whole broad expanse of the globe, why need we care? Call it the 1st of -April, dear." - -"Then the 1st of April at shall be, with all my heart!" - -"Oh, happiness! Name the hour, too, Rosannah." - -"I like the morning, it is so blithe. Will eight in the morning do, -Alonzo?" - -"The loveliest hour in the day--since it will make you mine." - -There was a feeble but frantic sound for some little time, as if -wool-upped, disembodied spirits were exchanging kisses; then Rosannah -said, "Excuse me just a moment, dear; I have an appointment, and am -called to meet it." - -The young girl sought a large parlor and took her place at a window which -looked out upon a beautiful scene. To the left one could view the -charming Nuuana Valley, fringed with its ruddy flush of tropical flowers -and its plumed and graceful cocoa palms; its rising foothills clothed in -the shining green of lemon, citron, and orange groves; its storied -precipice beyond, where the first Kamehameha drove his defeated foes over -to their destruction, a spot that had forgotten its grim history, no -doubt, for now it was smiling, as almost always at noonday, under the -glowing arches of a succession of rainbows. In front of the window one -could see the quaint town, and here and there a picturesque group of -dusky natives, enjoying the blistering weather; and far to the right lay -the restless ocean, tossing its white mane in the sunshine. - -Rosannah stood there, in her filmy white raiment, fanning her flushed and -heated face, waiting. A Kanaka boy, clothed in a damaged blue necktie -and part of a silk hat, thrust his head in at the door, and announced, -"'Frisco haole!" - -"Show him in," said the girl, straightening herself up and assuming a -meaning dignity. Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley entered, clad from head to -heel in dazzling snow--that is to say, in the lightest and whitest of -Irish linen. He moved eagerly forward, but the girl made a gesture and -gave him a look which checked him suddenly. She said, coldly, "I am -here, as I promised. I believed your assertions, I yielded to your -importune lies, and said I would name the day. I name the 1st of April- --eight in the morning. NOW GO!" - -"Oh, my dearest, if the gratitude of a lifetime--" - -"Not a word. Spare me all sight of you, all communication with you, -until that hour. No-no supplications; I will have it so." - -When he was gone, she sank exhausted in a chair, for the long siege of -troubles she had undergone had wasted her strength. Presently she said, -"What a narrow escape! If the hour appointed had been an hour earlier ---Oh, horror, what an escape I have made! And to think I had come to -imagine I was loving this beguiling, this truthless, this treacherous -monster! Oh, he shall repent his villainy!" - -Let us now draw this history to a close, for little more needs to be -told. On the 2d of the ensuing April, the Honolulu Advertiser contained -this notice: - - MARRIED.--In this city, by telephone, yesterday morning,--at eight - o'clock, by Rev. Nathan Hays, assisted by Rev. Nathaniel Davis, of - New York, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence, of Eastport, Maine, U. S., and - Miss Rosannah Ethelton, of Portland, Oregon, U. S. Mrs. Susan - Howland, of San Francisco, a friend of the bride, was present, she - being the guest of the Rev. Mr. Hays and wife, uncle and aunt of the - bride. Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley, of San Francisco, was also - present but did not remain till the conclusion of the marriage - service. Captain Hawthorne's beautiful yacht, tastefully decorated, - was in waiting, and the happy bride and her friends immediately - departed on a bridal trip to Lahaina and Haleakala. - -The New York papers of the same date contained this notice: - - MARRIED.--In this city, yesterday, by telephone, at half-past two in - the morning, by Rev. Nathaniel Davis, assisted by Rev. Nathan Hays, - of Honolulu, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence, of Eastport, Maine, and Miss - Rosannah Ethelton, of Portland, Oregon. The parents and several - friends of the bridegroom were present, and enjoyed a sumptuous - breakfast and much festivity until nearly sunrise, and then departed - on a bridal trip to the Aquarium, the bridegroom's state of health - not admitting of a more extended journey. - -Toward the close of that memorable day Mr. and Mrs. Alonzo Fitz Clarence -were buried in sweet converse concerning the pleasures of their several -bridal tours, when suddenly the young wife exclaimed: "Oh, Lonny, I -forgot! I did what I said I would." - -"Did you, dear?" - -"Indeed, I did. I made him the April fool! And I told him so, too! -Ah, it was a charming surprise! There he stood, sweltering in a black -dress-suit, with the mercury leaking out of the top of the thermometer, -waiting to be married. You should have seen the look he gave when I -whispered it in his ear. Ah, his wickedness cost me many a heartache and -many a tear, but the score was all squared up, then. So the vengeful -feeling went right out of my heart, and I begged him to stay, and said I -forgave him everything. But he wouldn't. He said he would live to be -avenged; said he would make our lives a curse to us. But he can't, can -he, dear?" - -"Never in this world, my Rosannah!" - -Aunt Susan, the Oregonian grandmother, and the young couple and their -Eastport parents, are all happy at this writing, and likely to remain so. -Aunt Susan brought the bride from the islands, accompanied her across our -continent, and had the happiness of witnessing the rapturous meeting -between an adoring husband and wife who had never seen each other until -that moment. - -A word about the wretched Burley, whose wicked machinations came so near -wrecking the hearts and lives of our poor young friends, will be -sufficient. In a murderous attempt to seize a crippled and helpless -artisan who he fancied had done him some small offense, he fell into a -caldron of boiling oil and expired before he could be extinguished. - - - - - - -ON THE DECAY OF THE ART OF LYING - -ESSAY, FOR DISCUSSION, READ AT A MEETING OF THE HISTORICAL AND -ANTIQUARIAN CLUB OF HARTFORD, AND OFFERED FOR THE THIRTY-DOLLAR PRIZE. -NOW FIRST PUBLISHED. --[Did not take the prize] - -Observe, I do not mean to suggest that the custom of lying has suffered -any decay or interruption--no, for the Lie, as a Virtue, a Principle, is -eternal; the Lie, as a recreation, a solace, a refuge in time of need, -the fourth Grace, the tenth Muse, man's best and surest friend, is -immortal, and cannot perish from the earth while this Club remains. My -complaint simply concerns the decay of the art of lying. No high-minded -man, no man of right feeling, can contemplate the lumbering and slovenly -lying of the present day without grieving to see a noble art so -prostituted. In this veteran presence I naturally enter upon this scheme -with diffidence; it is like an old maid trying to teach nursery matters -to the mothers in Israel. It would not become me to criticize you, -gentlemen, who are nearly all my elders--and my superiors, in this thing- --and so, if I should here and there seem to do it, I trust it will in -most cases be more in a spirit of admiration than of fault-finding; -indeed, if this finest of the fine arts had everywhere received the -attention, encouragement, and conscientious practice and development -which this Club has devoted to it I should not need to utter this lament -or shed a single tear. I do not say this to flatter: I say it in a -spirit of just and appreciative recognition. - -[It had been my intention, at this point, to mention names and give -illustrative specimens, but indications observable about me admonished me -to beware of particulars and confine myself to generalities.] - -No fact is more firmly established than that lying is a necessity of our -circumstances--the deduction that it is then a Virtue goes without -saying. No virtue can reach its highest usefulness without careful and -diligent cultivation--therefore, it goes without saying that this one -ought to be taught in the public schools--at the fireside--even in the -newspapers. What chance has the ignorant, uncultivated liar against the -educated expert? What chance have I against Mr. Per-- against a lawyer? -Judicious lying is what the world needs. I sometimes think it were even -better and safer not to lie at all than to lie injudiciously. An -awkward, unscientific lie is often as ineffectual as the truth. - -Now let us see what the philosophers say. Note that venerable proverb: -Children and fools always speak the truth. The deduction is plain ---adults and wise persons never speak it. Parkman, the historian, says, -"The principle of truth may itself be carried into an absurdity." In -another place in the same chapter he says, "The saying is old that truth -should not be spoken at all times; and those whom a sick conscience -worries into habitual violation of the maxim are imbeciles and -nuisances." It is strong language, but true. None of us could live with -an habitual truth-teller; but, thank goodness, none of us has to. An -habitual truth-teller is simply an impossible creature; he does not -exist; he never has existed. Of course there are people who think they -never lie, but it is not so--and this ignorance is one of the very things -that shame our so-called civilization. Everybody lies--every day; every -hour; awake; asleep; in his dreams; in his joy; in his mourning; if he -keeps his tongue still, his hands, his feet, his eyes, his attitude, will -convey deception--and purposely. Even in sermons--but that is a -platitude. - -In a far country where I once lived the ladies used to go around paying -calls, under the humane and kindly pretense of wanting to see each other; -and when they returned home, they would cry out with a glad voice, -saying, "We made sixteen calls and found fourteen of them out"--not -meaning that they found out anything against the fourteen--no, that was -only a colloquial phrase to signify that they were not at home--and their -manner of saying it--expressed their lively satisfaction in that fact. -Now, their pretense of wanting to see the fourteen--and the other two -whom they had been less lucky with--was that commonest and mildest form -of lying which is sufficiently described as a deflection from the truth. -Is it justifiable? Most certainly. It is beautiful, it is noble; for -its object is, not to reap profit, but to convey a pleasure to the -sixteen. The iron-souled truth-monger would plainly manifest, or even -utter the fact, that he didn't want to see those people--and he would be -an ass, and inflict a totally unnecessary pain. And next, those ladies -in that far country--but never mind, they had a thousand pleasant ways of -lying, that grew out of gentle impulses, and were a credit to their -intelligence and at honor to their hearts. Let the particulars go. - -The men in that far country were liars; every one. Their mere howdy-do -was a lie, because they didn't care how you did, except they were -undertakers. To the ordinary inquirer you lied in return; for you made -no conscientious diagnosis of your case, but answered at random, and -usually missed it considerably. You lied to the undertaker, and said -your health was failing--a wholly commendable lie, since it cost you -nothing and pleased the other man. If a stranger called and interrupted -you, you said with your hearty tongue, "I'm glad to see you," and said -with your heartier soul, "I wish you were with the cannibals and it was -dinner-time." When he went, you said regretfully, "Must you go?" and -followed it with a "Call again"; but you did no harm, for you did not -deceive anybody nor inflict any hurt, whereas the truth would have made -you both unhappy. - -I think that all this courteous lying is a sweet and loving art, and -should be cultivated, The highest perfection of politeness is only a -beautiful edifice, built, from the base to the dome, of graceful and -gilded forms of charitable and unselfish lying. - -What I bemoan is the growing prevalence of the brutal truth. Let us do -what we can to eradicate it. An injurious truth has no merit over an -injurious lie. Neither should ever be uttered. The man who speaks an -injurious truth, lest his soul be not saved if he do otherwise, should -reflect that that sort of a soul is not strictly worth saving. The man -who tells a lie to help a poor devil out of trouble is one of whom the -angels doubtless say, "Lo, here is an heroic soul who casts his own -welfare into jeopardy to succor his neighbor's; let us exalt this -magnanimous liar." - -An injurious lie is an uncommendable thing; and so, also, and in the same -degree, is an injurious truth--a fact which is recognized by the law of -libel. - -Among other common lies, we have the silent lie the deception which one -conveys by simply keeping still and concealing the truth. Many obstinate -truth-mongers indulge in this dissipation, imagining that if they speak -no lie, they lie not at all. In that far country where I once lived, -there was a lovely spirit, a lady whose impulses were always high and -pure, and whose character answered to them. One day I was there at -dinner, and remarked, in a general way, that we are all liars. She was -amazed, and said, "Not all!" It was before "Pinafore's" time so I did -not make the response which would naturally follow in our day, but -frankly said, "Yes, all--we are all liars; there are no exceptions." -She looked almost offended, and said, "Why, do you include me?" -"Certainly," I said, "I think you even rank as an expert." She said, -"'Sh!--'sh! the children!" - -So the subject was changed in deference to the children's presence, and -we went on talking about other things. But as soon as the young people -were out of the way, the lady came warmly back to the matter and said, -"I have made it the rule of my life to never tell a lie; and I have never -departed from it in a single instance." I said, "I don't mean the least -harm or disrespect, but really you have been lying like smoke ever since -I've been sitting here. It has caused me a good deal of pain, because I -am not used to it." She required of me an instance--just a single -instance. So I said: - -"Well, here is the unfilled duplicate of the blank which the Oakland -hospital people sent to you by the hand of the sick-nurse when she came -here to nurse your little nephew through his dangerous illness. This -blank asks all manner of questions as to the conduct of that sick-nurse: -'Did she ever sleep on her watch? Did she ever forget to give the -medicine?' and so forth and so on. You are warned to be very careful and -explicit in your answers, for the welfare of the service requires that -the nurses be promptly fined or otherwise punished for derelictions. -You told me you were perfectly delighted with that nurse--that she had a -thousand perfections and only one fault: you found you never could depend -on her wrapping Johnny up half sufficiently while he waited in a chilly -chair for her to rearrange the warm bed. You filled up the duplicate of -this paper, and sent it back to the hospital by the hand of the nurse. -How did you answer this question--'Was the nurse at any time guilty of a -negligence which was likely to result in the patient's taking cold?' -Come--everything is decided by a bet here in California: ten dollars to -ten cents you lied when you answered that question." She said, "I -didn't; I left it blank!" "Just so--you have told a silent lie; you have -left it to be inferred that you had no fault to find in that matter." -She said, "Oh, was that a lie? And how could I mention her one single -fault, and she so ,good?--it would have been cruel." I said, "One ought -always to lie when one can do good by it; your impulse was right, but, -your judgment was crude; this comes of unintelligent practice. Now -observe the result of this inexpert deflection of yours. You know Mr. -Jones's Willie is lying very low with scarlet fever; well, your -recommendation was so enthusiastic that that girl is there nursing him, -and the worn-out family have all been trustingly sound asleep for the -last fourteen hours, leaving their darling with full confidence in those -fatal hands, because you, like young George Washington, have a reputa-- -However, if you are not going to have anything to do, I will come around -to-morrow and we'll attend the funeral together, for, of course, you'll -naturally feel a peculiar interest in Willie's case--as personal a one, -in fact, as the undertaker." - -But that was all lost. Before I was half-way through she was in a -carriage and making thirty miles an hour toward the Jones mansion to save -what was left of Willie and tell all she knew about the deadly nurse. -All of which was unnecessary, as Willie wasn't sick; I had been lying -myself. But that same day, all the same, she sent a line to the hospital -which filled up the neglected blank, and stated the facts, too, in the -squarest possible manner. - -Now, you see, this lady's fault was not in lying, but only in lying -injudiciously. She should have told the, truth, there, and made it up to -the nurse with a fraudulent compliment further along in the paper. She -could have said, "In one respect the sick-nurse is perfection--when she -is on watch, she never snores." Almost any little pleasant lie would -have taken the sting out of that troublesome but necessary expression of -the truth. - -Lying is universal we all do it; we all must do it. Therefore, the wise -thing is for us diligently to train ourselves to lie thoughtfully, -judiciously; to lie with a good object, and not an evil one; to lie for -others' advantage, and not our own; to lie healingly, charitably, -humanely, not cruelly, hurtfully, maliciously; to lie gracefully and -graciously, not awkwardly and clumsily; to lie firmly, frankly, squarely, -with head erect, not haltingly, tortuously, with pusillanimous mien, as -being ashamed of our high calling. Then shall we be rid of the rank and -pestilent truth that is rotting the land; then shall we be great and good -and beautiful, and worthy dwellers in a world where even benign Nature -habitually lies, except when she promises execrable weather. Then-- But -I am but a new and feeble student in this gracious art; I can not -instruct this Club. - -Joking aside, I think there is much need of wise examination into what -sorts of lies are best and wholesomest to be indulged, seeing we must all -lie and do all lie, and what sorts it may be best to avoid--and this is a -thing which I feel I can confidently put into the hands of this -experienced Club--a ripe body, who may be termed, in this regard, and -without undue flattery, Old Masters. - - - - - - -ABOUT MAGNANIMOUS-INCIDENT LITERATURE - -All my life, from boyhood up, I have had the habit of reading a certain -set of anecdotes, written in the quaint vein of The World's ingenious -Fabulist, for the lesson they taught me and the pleasure they gave me. -They lay always convenient to my hand, and whenever I thought meanly of -my kind I turned to them, and they banished that sentiment; whenever I -felt myself to be selfish, sordid, and ignoble I turned to them, and they -told me what to do to win back my self-respect. Many times I wished that -the charming anecdotes had not stopped with their happy climaxes, but had -continued the pleasing history of the several benefactors and -beneficiaries. This wish rose in my breast so persistently that at last -I determined to satisfy it by seeking out the sequels of those anecdotes -myself. So I set about it, and after great labor and tedious research -accomplished my task. I will lay the result before you, giving you each -anecdote in its turn, and following it with its sequel as I gathered it -through my investigations. - - - THE GRATEFUL POODLE - -One day a benevolent physician (who had read the books) having found a -stray poodle suffering from a broken leg, conveyed the poor creature to -his home, and after setting and bandaging the injured limb gave the -little outcast its liberty again, and thought no more about the matter. -But how great was his surprise, upon opening his door one morning, some -days later, to find the grateful poodle patiently waiting there, and in -its company another stray dog, one of whose legs, by some accident, had -been broken. The kind physician at once relieved the distressed animal, -nor did he forget to admire the inscrutable goodness and mercy of God, -who had been willing to use so humble an instrument as the poor outcast -poodle for the inculcating of, etc., etc., etc. - - - SEQUEL - -The next morning the benevolent physician found the two dogs, beaming -with gratitude, waiting at his door, and with them two other -dogs-cripples. The cripples were speedily healed, and the four went -their way, leaving the benevolent physician more overcome by pious wonder -than ever. The day passed, the morning came. There at the door sat now -the four reconstructed dogs, and with them four others requiring -reconstruction. This day also passed, and another morning came; and now -sixteen dogs, eight of them newly crippled, occupied the sidewalk, and -the people were going around. By noon the broken legs were all set, but -the pious wonder in the good physician's breast was beginning to get -mixed with involuntary profanity. The sun rose once more, and exhibited -thirty-two dogs, sixteen of them with broken legs, occupying the sidewalk -and half of the street; the human spectators took up the rest of the -room. The cries of the wounded, the songs of the healed brutes, and the -comments of the onlooking citizens made great and inspiring cheer, but -traffic was interrupted in that street. The good physician hired a -couple of assistant surgeons and got through his benevolent work before -dark, first taking the precaution to cancel his church-membership, so -that he might express himself with the latitude which the case required. - -But some things have their limits. When once more the morning dawned, -and the good physician looked out upon a massed and far-reaching -multitude of clamorous and beseeching dogs, he said, "I might as well -acknowledge it, I have been fooled by the books; they only tell the -pretty part of the story, and then stop. Fetch me the shotgun; this -thing has gone along far enough." - -He issued forth with his weapon, and chanced to step upon the tail of the -original poodle, who promptly bit him in the leg. Now the great and good -work which this poodle had been engaged in had engendered in him such a -mighty and augmenting enthusiasm as to turn his weak head at last and -drive him mad. A month later, when the benevolent physician lay in the -death-throes of hydrophobia, he called his weeping friends about him, and -said: - -"Beware of the books. They tell but half of the story. Whenever a poor -wretch asks you for help, and you feel a doubt as to what result may flow -from your benevolence, give yourself the benefit of the doubt and kill -the applicant." - -And so saying he turned his face to the wall and gave up the ghost. - - - - THE BENEVOLENT AUTHOR - -A poor and young literary beginner had tried in vain to get his -manuscripts accepted. At last, when the horrors of starvation were -staring him in the face, he laid his sad case before a celebrated author, -beseeching his counsel and assistance. This generous man immediately put -aside his own matters and proceeded to peruse one of the despised -manuscripts. Having completed his kindly task, he shook the poor young -man cordially by the hand, saying, "I perceive merit in this; come again -to me on Monday." At the time specified, the celebrated author, with a -sweet smile, but saying nothing, spread open a magazine which was damp -from the press. What was the poor young man's astonishment to discover -upon the printed page his own article. "How can I ever," said he, -falling upon his knees and bursting into tears, "testify my gratitude for -this noble conduct!" - -The celebrated author was the renowned Snodgrass; the poor young beginner -thus rescued from obscurity and starvation was the afterward equally -renowned Snagsby. Let this pleasing incident admonish us to turn a -charitable ear to all beginners that need help. - - SEQUEL - -The next week Snagsby was back with five rejected manuscripts. The -celebrated author was a little surprised, because in the books the young -struggler had needed but one lift, apparently. However, he plowed -through these papers, removing unnecessary flowers and digging up some -acres of adjective stumps, and then succeeded in getting two of the -articles accepted. - -A week or so drifted by, and the grateful Snagsby arrived with another -cargo. The celebrated author had felt a mighty glow of satisfaction -within himself the first time he had successfully befriended the poor -young struggler, and had compared himself with the generous people in the -books with high gratification; but he was beginning to suspect now that -he had struck upon something fresh in the noble-episode line. His -enthusiasm took a chill. Still, he could not bear to repulse this -struggling young author, who clung to him with such pretty simplicity and -trustfulness. - -Well, the upshot of it all was that the celebrated author presently found -himself permanently freighted with the poor young beginner. All his mild -efforts to unload this cargo went for nothing. He had to give daily -counsel, daily encouragement; he had to keep on procuring magazine -acceptances, and then revamping the manuscripts to make them presentable. -When the young aspirant got a start at last, he rode into sudden fame by -describing the celebrated author's private life with such a caustic humor -and such minuteness of blistering detail that the book sold a prodigious -edition, and broke the celebrated author's heart with mortification. -With his latest gasp he said, "Alas, the books deceived me; they do not -tell the whole story. Beware of the struggling young author, my friends. -Whom God sees fit to starve, let not man presumptuously rescue to his own -undoing." - - - - THE GRATEFUL HUSBAND - -One day a lady was driving through the principal street of a great city -with her little boy, when the horses took fright and dashed madly away, -hurling the coachman from his box and leaving the occupants of the -carnage paralyzed with terror. But a brave youth who was driving a -grocery-wagon threw himself before the plunging animals, and succeeded in -arresting their flight at the peril of his own. --[This is probably a -misprint.-M. T.]-- The grateful lady took his number, and upon arriving -at her home she related the heroic act to her husband (who had read the -books), who listened with streaming eyes to the moving recital, and who, -after returning thanks, in conjunction with his restored loved ones, to -Him who suffereth not even a sparrow to fall to the ground unnoticed, -sent for the brave young person, and, placing a check for five hundred -dollars in his hand, said, "Take this as a reward for your noble act, -William Ferguson, and if ever you shall need a, friend, remember that -Thompson McSpadden has a grateful heart." Let us learn from this that -a good deed cannot fail to benefit the doer, however humble he may be. - - SEQUEL - -William Ferguson called the next week and asked Mr. McSpadden to use his -influence to get him a higher employment, he feeling capable of better -things than driving a grocer's wagon. Mr. McSpadden got him an -underclerkship at a good salary. - -Presently William Ferguson's mother fell sick, and William-- Well, to cut -the story short, Mr. McSpadden consented to take her into his house. -Before long she yearned for the society of her younger children; so Mary -and Julia were admitted also, and little Jimmy, their brother. Jimmy had -a pocket knife, and he wandered into the drawing-room with it one day, -alone, and reduced ten thousand dollars' worth of furniture to an -indeterminable value in rather less than three-quarters of an hour. -A day or two later he fell down-stairs and broke his neck, and seventeen -of his family's relatives came to the house to attend the funeral. This -made them acquainted, and they kept the kitchen occupied after that, and -likewise kept the McSpaddens busy hunting-up situations of various sorts -for them, and hunting up more when they wore these out. The old woman -drank a good deal and swore a good deal; but the grateful McSpaddens knew -it was their duty to reform her, considering what her son had done for -them, so they clave nobly to their generous task. William came often and -got decreasing sums of money, and asked for higher and more lucrative -employments--which the grateful McSpadden more or less promptly procured -for him. McSpadden consented also, after some demur, to fit William for -college; but when the first vacation came and the hero requested to be -sent to Europe for his health, the persecuted McSpadden rose against the -tyrant and revolted. He plainly and squarely refused. William -Ferguson's mother was so astounded that she let her gin-bottle drop, and -her profane lips refused to do their office. When she recovered she said -in a half-gasp, "Is this your gratitude? Where would your wife and boy -be now, but for my son?" - -William said, "Is this your gratitude? Did I save your wife's life or -not? Tell me that!" - -Seven relations swarmed in from the kitchen and each said, "And this is -his gratitude!" - -William's sisters stared, bewildered, and said, "And this is his grat--" -but were interrupted by their mother, who burst into tears and exclaimed, - -"To think that my sainted little Jimmy threw away his life in the service -of such a reptile!" - -Then the pluck of the revolutionary McSpadden rose to the occasion, and -he replied with fervor, "Out of my house, the whole beggarly tribe of -you! I was beguiled by the books, but shall never be beguiled again ---once is sufficient for me." And turning to William he shouted, "Yes, -you did save my, wife's life, and the next man that does it shall die in -his tracks!" - - -Not being a clergyman, I place my text at the end of my sermon instead of -at the beginning. Here it is, from Mr. Noah Brooks's Recollections of -President Lincoln in Scribners Monthly: - - J. H. Hackett, in his part of Falstaff, was an actor who gave Mr. - Lincoln great delight. With his usual desire to signify to others - his sense of obligation, Mr. Lincoln wrote a genial little note to - the actor expressing his pleasure at witnessing his performance. - Mr. Hackett, in reply, sent a book of some sort; perhaps it was one - of his own authorship. He also wrote several notes to the - President. One night, quite late, when the episode had passed out - of my mind, I went to the white House in answer to a message. - Passing into the President's office, I noticed, to my surprise, - Hackett sitting in the anteroom as if waiting for an audience. The - President asked me if any one was outside. On being told, he said, - half sadly, "Oh, I can't see him, I can't see him; I was in hopes he - had gone away." Then he added, "Now this just illustrates the - difficulty of having pleasant friends and acquaintances in this - place. You know how I liked Hackett as an actor, and how I wrote to - tell him so. He sent me that book, and there I thought the matter - would end. He is a master of his place in the profession, I - suppose, and well fixed in it; but just because we had a little - friendly correspondence, such as any two men might have, he wants - something. What do you suppose he wants?" I could not guess, and - Mr. Lincoln added, "well, he wants to be consul to London. Oh, - dear!" - -I will observe, in conclusion, that the William Ferguson incident -occurred, and within my personal knowledge--though I have changed the -nature of the details, to keep William from recognizing himself in it. - -All the readers of this article have in some sweet and gushing hour of -their lives played the role of Magnanimous-Incident hero. I wish I knew -how many there are among them who are willing to talk about that episode -and like to be reminded of the consequences that flowed from it. - - - - - - -PUNCH, BROTHERS, PUNCH - -Will the reader please to cast his eye over the following lines, and see -if he can discover anything harmful in them? - - Conductor, when you receive a fare, - Punch in the presence of the passenjare! - A blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, - A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, - A pink trip slip for a three-cent, fare, - Punch in the presence of the passenjare! - - CHORUS - - Punch, brothers! punch with care! - Punch in the presence of the passenjare! - - -I came across these jingling rhymes in a newspaper, a little while ago, -and read them a couple of times. They took instant and entire possession -of me. All through breakfast they went waltzing through my brain; and -when, at last, I rolled up my napkin, I could not tell whether I had -eaten anything or not. I had carefully laid out my day's work the day -before--thrilling tragedy in the novel which I am writing. I went to my -den to begin my deed of blood. I took up my pen, but all I could get it -to say was, "Punch in the presence of the passenjare." I fought hard for -an hour, but it was useless. My head kept humming, "A blue trip slip for -an eight-cent fare, a buff trip slip for a six-cent fare," and so on and -so on, without peace or respite. The day's work was ruined--I could see -that plainly enough. I gave up and drifted down-town, and presently -discovered that my feet were keeping time to that relentless jingle. -When I could stand it no longer I altered my step. But it did no good; -those rhymes accommodated themselves to the new step and went on -harassing me just as before. I returned home, and suffered all the -afternoon; suffered all through an unconscious and unrefreshing dinner; -suffered, and cried, and jingled all through the evening; went to bed and -rolled, tossed, and jingled right along, the same as ever; got up at -midnight frantic, and tried to read; but there was nothing visible upon -the whirling page except "Punch! punch in the presence of the -passenjare." By sunrise I was out of my mind, and everybody marveled and -was distressed at the idiotic burden of my ravings--"'Punch! oh, punch! -punch in the presence of the passenjare!" - -Two days later, on Saturday morning, I arose, a tottering wreck, and went -forth to fulfil an engagement with a valued friend, the Rev. Mr.------, -to walk to the Talcott Tower, ten miles distant. He stared at me, but -asked no questions. We started. Mr.------talked, talked, talked as is -his wont. I said nothing; I heard nothing. At the end of a mile, -Mr.------ said "Mark, are you sick? I never saw a man look so haggard -and worn and absent-minded. Say something, do!" - -Drearily, without enthusiasm, I said: "Punch brothers, punch with care! -Punch in the presence o the passenjare!" - -My friend eyed me blankly, looked perplexed, they said: - -"I do not think I get your drift, Mark. Then does not seem to be any -relevancy in what you have said, certainly nothing sad; and yet--maybe it -was the way you said the words--I never heard anything that sounded so -pathetic. What is--" - -But I heard no more. I was already far away with my pitiless, -heartbreaking "blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, buff trip slip for -a six-cent fare, pink trip slip for a three-cent fare; punch in the -presence of the passenjare." I do not know what occurred during the -other nine miles. However, all of a sudden Mr.------ laid his hand on my -shoulder and shouted: - -"Oh, wake up! wake up! wake up! Don't sleep all day! Here we are at -the Tower, man! I have talked myself deaf and dumb and blind, and never -got a response. Just look at this magnificent autumn landscape! Look at -it! look at it! Feast your eye on it! You have traveled; you have seen -boaster landscapes elsewhere. Come, now, deliver an honest opinion. -What do you say to this?" - -I sighed wearily; and murmured: - -"A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent -fare, punch in the presence of th passenjare." - -Rev. Mr.------ stood there, very grave, full of concern, apparently, and -looked long at me; then he said: - -"Mark, there is something about this that I cannot understand. Those are -about the same words you said before; there does not seem to be anything -in them, and yet they nearly break my heart when you say them. Punch in -the--how is it they go?" - -I began at the beginning and repeated all the lines. - -My friend's face lighted with interest. He said: - -"Why, what a captivating jingle it is! It is almost music. It flows -along so nicely. I have nearly caught the rhymes myself. Say them over -just once more, and then I'll have them, sure." - -I said them over. Then Mr.------ said them. He made one little -mistake, which I corrected. The next time and the next he got them -right. Now a great burden seemed to tumble from my shoulders. That -torturing jingle departed out of my brain, and a grateful sense of rest -and peace descended upon me. I was light-hearted enough to sing; and I -did sing for half an hour, straight along, as we went jogging homeward. -Then my freed tongue found blessed speech again, and the pent talk of -many a weary hour began to gush and flow. It flowed on and on, joyously, -jubilantly, until the fountain was empty and dry. As I wrung my friend's -hand at parting, I said: - -"Haven't we had a royal good time! But now I remember, you haven't said -a word for two hours. Come, come, out with something!" - -The Rev. Mr.------ turned a lack-luster eye upon me, drew a deep sigh, -and said, without animation, without apparent consciousness: - -"Punch, brothers, punch with care! Punch in the presence of the -passenjare!" - -A pang shot through me as I said to myself, "Poor fellow, poor fellow! -he has got it, now." - -I did not see Mr.------ for two or three days after that. Then, on -Tuesday evening, he staggered into my presence and sank dejectedly into a -seat. He was pale, worn; he was a wreck. He lifted his faded eyes to my -face and said: - -"Ah, Mark, it was a ruinous investment that I made in those heartless -rhymes. They have ridden me like a nightmare, day and night, hour after -hour, to this very moment. Since I saw you I have suffered the torments -of the lost. Saturday evening I had a sudden call, by telegraph, and -took the night train for Boston. The occasion was the death of a valued -old friend who had requested that I should preach his funeral sermon. -I took my seat in the cars and set myself to framing the discourse. But -I never got beyond the opening paragraph; for then the train started and -the car-wheels began their 'clack, clack-clack-clack-clack! clack-clack! ---clack-clack-clack!' and right away those odious rhymes fitted -themselves to that accompaniment. For an hour I sat there and set a -syllable of those rhymes to every separate and distinct clack the -car-wheels made. Why, I was as fagged out, then, as if I had been -chopping wood all day. My skull was splitting with headache. It seemed -to me that I must go mad if I sat there any longer; so I undressed and -went to bed. I stretched myself out in my berth, and--well, you know -what the result was. The thing went right along, just the same. -'Clack-clack clack, a blue trip slip, clack-clack-clack, for an eight -cent fare; clack-clack-clack, a buff trip slip, clack clack-clack, for a -six-cent fare, and so on, and so on, and so on punch in the presence of -the passenjare!' Sleep? Not a single wink! I was almost a lunatic when -I got to Boston. Don't ask me about the funeral. I did the best I -could, but every solemn individual sentence was meshed and tangled and -woven in and out with 'Punch, brothers, punch with care, punch in the -presence of the passenjare.' And the most distressing thing was that my -delivery dropped into the undulating rhythm of those pulsing rhymes, and -I could actually catch absent-minded people nodding time to the swing of -it with their stupid heads. And, Mark, you may believe it or not, but -before I got through the entire assemblage were placidly bobbing their -heads in solemn unison, mourners, undertaker, and all. The moment I had -finished, I fled to the anteroom in a state bordering on frenzy. Of -course it would be my luck to find a sorrowing and aged maiden aunt of -the deceased there, who had arrived from Springfield too late to get into -the church. She began to sob, and said: - -"'Oh, oh, he is gone, he is gone, and I didn't see him before he died!' - -"'Yes!' I said, 'he is gone, he is gone, he is gone--oh, will this -suffering never cease!' - -"'You loved him, then! Oh, you too loved him!' - -"'Loved him! Loved who?' - -"'Why, my poor George! my poor nephew!' - -"'Oh--him! Yes--oh, yes, yes. Certainly--certainly. Punch--punch--oh, -this misery will kill me!' - -"'Bless you! bless you, sir, for these sweet words! I, too, suffer in -this dear loss. Were you present during his last moments?' - -"'Yes. I--whose last moments?' - -"'His. The dear departed's.' - -"'Yes! Oh, yes--yes--yes! I suppose so, I think so, I don't know! Oh, -certainly--I was there I was there!' - -"'Oh, what a privilege! what a precious privilege! And his last words- --oh, tell me, tell me his last words! What did he say?' - -"'He said--he said-oh, my head, my head, my head! He said--he said--he -never said anything but Punch, punch, punch in the presence of the -passenjare! Oh, leave me, madam! In the name of all that is generous, -leave me to my madness, my misery, my despair! --a buff trip slip for a -six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent fare--endu--rance can no -fur--ther go!--PUNCH in the presence of the passenjare!" - -My friend's hopeless eyes rested upon mine a pregnant minute, and then he -said impressively: - -"Mark, you do not say anything. You do not offer me any hope. But, ah -me, it is just as well--it is just as well. You could not do me any -good. The time has long gone by when words could comfort me. Something -tells me that my tongue is doomed to wag forever to the jigger of that -remorseless jingle, There--there it is coming on me again: a blue trip -slip for an eight-cent fare, a buff trip slip for a--" - -Thus murmuring faint and fainter, my friend sank into a peaceful trance -and forgot his sufferings in a blessed respite. - -How did I finally save him from an asylum? I took him to a neighboring -university and made him discharge the burden of his persecuting rhymes -into the eager ears of the poor, unthinking students. How is it with -them, now? The result is too sad to tell. Why did I write this article? -It was for a worthy, even a noble, purpose. It was to warn you, reader, -if you should came across those merciless rhymes, to avoid them--avoid -them as you would a pestilence. - - - - - - -THE GREAT REVOLUTION IN PITCAIRN - -Let me refresh the reader's memory a little. Nearly a hundred years ago -the crew of the British ship bounty mutinied, set the captain and his -officers adrift upon the open sea, took possession of the ship, and -sailed southward. They procured wives for themselves among the natives -of Tahiti, then proceeded to a lonely little rock in mid-Pacific, called -Pitcairn's Island, wrecked the vessel, stripped her of everything that -might be useful to a new colony, and established themselves on shore. -Pitcairn's is so far removed from the track of commerce that it was many -years before another vessel touched there. It had always been considered -an uninhabited island; so when a ship did at last drop its anchor there, -in 1808, the captain was greatly surprised to find the place peopled. -Although the mutineers had fought among themselves, and gradually killed -each other off until only two or three of the original stock remained, -these tragedies had not occurred before a number of children had been -born; so in 1808 the island had a population of twenty-seven persons. -John Adams, the chief mutineer, still survived, and was to live many -years yet, as governor and patriarch of the flock. From being mutineer -and homicide, he had turned Christian and teacher, and his nation of -twenty-seven persons was now the purest and devoutest in Christendom. -Adams had long ago hoisted the British flag and constituted his island an -appanage of the British crown. - -To-day the population numbers ninety persons--sixteen men, nineteen -women, twenty-five boys, and thirty girls--all descendants of the -mutineers, all bearing the family names of those mutineers, and all -speaking English, and English only. The island stands high up out of the -sea, and has precipitous walls. It is about three-quarters of a mile -long, and in places is as much as half a mile wide. Such arable land as -it affords is held by the several families, according to a division made -many years ago. There is some live stock--goats, pigs, chickens, and -cats; but no dogs, and no large animals. There is one church-building -used also as a capitol, a schoolhouse, and a public library. The title -of the governor has been, for a generation or two, "Magistrate and Chief -Ruler, in subordination to her Majesty the Queen of Great Britain." It -was his province to make the laws, as well as execute them. His office -was elective; everybody over seventeen years old had a vote--no matter -about the sex. - -The sole occupations of the people were farming and fishing; their sole -recreation, religious services. There has never been a shop in the -island, nor any money. The habits and dress of the people have always -been primitive, and their laws simple to puerility. They have lived in a -deep Sabbath tranquillity, far from the world and its ambitions and -vexations, and neither knowing nor caring what was going on in the mighty -empires that lie beyond their limitless ocean solitudes. Once in three -or four years a ship touched there, moved them with aged news of bloody -battles, devastating epidemics, fallen thrones, and ruined dynasties, -then traded them some soap and flannel for some yams and breadfruit, and -sailed away, leaving them to retire into their peaceful dreams and pious -dissipations once more. - -On the 8th of last September, Admiral de Horsey, commander-in-chief of -the British fleet in the Pacific, visited Pitcairn's Island, and speaks -as follows in his official report to the admiralty: - - They have beans, carrots, turnips, cabbages, and a little maize; - pineapples, fig trees, custard-apples, and oranges; lemons, and - cocoanuts. Clothing is obtained alone from passing ships, in barter - for refreshments. There are no springs on the island, but as it - rains generally once a month they have plenty of water, although at - times in former years they have suffered from drought. No alcoholic - liquors, except for medicinal purposes, are used, and a drunkard is - unknown.... - - The necessary articles required by the islanders are best shown by - those we furnished in barter for refreshments: namely, flannel, - serge, drill, half-boots, combs, tobacco, and soap. They also stand - much in need of maps and slates for their school, and tools of any - kind are most acceptable. I caused them to be supplied from the - public stores with a Union jack: for display on the arrival of - ships, and a pit-saw, of which they were greatly in need. This, I - trust, will meet the approval of their lordships. If the munificent - people of England were only aware of the wants of this most - deserving little colony, they would not long go unsupplied.... - - Divine service is held every Sunday at 10.30 A.M. and at 3 P.M., - in the house built and used by John Adams for that purpose until he - died in 1829. It is conducted strictly in accordance with the - liturgy of the Church of England, by Mr. Simon Young, their selected - pastor, who is much respected. A Bible class is held every - Wednesday, when all who conveniently can attend. There is also a - general meeting for prayer on the first Friday in every month. - Family prayers are said in every house the first thing in the - morning and the last thing in the evening, and no food is partaken - of without asking God's blessing before and afterward. Of these - islanders' religious attributes no one can speak without deep - respect. A people whose greatest pleasure and privilege is to - commune in prayer with their God, and to join in hymns of praise, - and who are, moreover, cheerful, diligent, and probably freer from - vice than any other community, need no priest among them. - -Now I come to a sentence in the admiral's report which he dropped -carelessly from his pen, no doubt, and never gave the matter a second -thought. He little imagined what a freight of tragic prophecy it bore! -This is the sentence: - - One stranger, an American, has settled on the island--a doubtful - acquisition. - -A doubtful acquisition, indeed! Captain Ormsby, in the American ship -Hornet, touched at Pitcairn's nearly four months after the admiral's -visit, and from the facts which he gathered there we now know all about -that American. Let us put these facts together in historical form. The -American's name was Butterworth Stavely. As soon as he had become well -acquainted with all the people--and this took but a few days, of course ---he began to ingratiate himself with them by all the arts he could -command. He became exceedingly popular, and much looked up to; for one -of the first things he did was to forsake his worldly way of life, and -throw all his energies into religion. He was always reading his Bible, -or praying, or singing hymns, or asking blessings. In prayer, no one had -such "liberty" as he, no one could pray so long or so well. - -At last, when he considered the time to be ripe, he began secretly to sow -the seeds of discontent among the people. It was his deliberate purpose, -from the beginning, to subvert the government, but of course he kept that -to himself for a time. He used different arts with different -individuals. He awakened dissatisfaction in one quarter by calling -attention to the shortness of the Sunday services; he argued that there -should be three three-hour services on Sunday instead of only two. Many -had secretly held this opinion before; they now privately banded -themselves into a party to work for it. He showed certain of the women -that they were not allowed sufficient voice in the prayer-meetings; thus -another party was formed. No weapon was beneath his notice; he even -descended to the children, and awoke discontent in their breasts -because--as he discovered for them--they had not enough Sunday-school. -This created a third party. - -Now, as the chief of these parties, he found himself the strongest power -in the community. So he proceeded to his next move-a no less important -one than the impeachment of the chief magistrate, James Russell Nickoy; -a man of character and ability, and possessed of great wealth, he being -the owner of a house with a parlor to it, three acres and a half of yam- -land, and the only boat in Pitcairn's, a whaleboat; and, most -unfortunately, a pretext for this impeachment offered itself at just the -right time. - -One of the earliest and most precious laws of the island was the law -against trespass. It was held in great reverence, and was regarded as -the palladium of the people's liberties. About thirty years ago an -important case came before the courts under this law, in this wise: a -chicken belonging to Elizabeth Young (aged, at that time, fifty-eight, -a daughter of John Mills, one of the mutineers of the Bounty) trespassed -upon the grounds of Thursday October Christian (aged twenty-nine, a -grandson of Fletcher Christian, one of the mutineers). Christian killed -the chicken. According to the law, Christian could keep the chicken; or, -if he preferred, he could restore its remains to the owner and receive -damages in "produce" to an amount equivalent to the waste and injury -wrought by the trespasser. The court records set forth that "the said -Christian aforesaid did deliver the aforesaid remains to the said Eliza -beth Young, and did demand one bushel of yams in satisfaction of the -damage done." But Elizabeth Young considered the demand exorbitant; the -parties could not agree; therefore Christian brought suit in the courts. -He lost his case in the justice's court; at least, he was awarded only a -half-peck of yams, which he considered insufficient, and in the nature of -a defeat. He appealed. The case lingered several years in an ascending -grade of courts, and always resulted in decrees sustaining the original -verdict; and finally the thing got into the supreme court, and there it -stuck for twenty years. But last summer, even the supreme court managed -to arrive at a decision at last. Once more the original verdict was -sustained. Christian then said he was satisfied; but Stavely was -present, and whispered to him and to his lawyer, suggesting, "as a mere -form," that the original law be exhibited, in order to make sure that it -still existed. It seemed an odd idea, but an ingenious one. So the -demand was made. A messenger was sent to the magistrate's house; he -presently returned with the tidings that it had disappeared from among -the state archives. - -The court now pronounced its late decision void, since it had been made -under a law which had no actual existence. - -Great excitement ensued immediately. The news swept abroad over the -whole island that the palladium of the public liberties was lost--maybe -treasonably destroyed. Within thirty minutes almost the entire nation -were in the court-room--that is to say, the church. The impeachment of -the chief magistrate followed, upon Stavely's motion. The accused met -his misfortune with the dignity which became his great office. He did -not plead, or even argue; he offered the simple defense that he had not -meddled with the missing law; that he had kept the state archives in the -same candle-box that had been used as their depository from the -beginning; and that he was innocent of the removal or destruction of the -lost document. - -But nothing could save him; he was found guilty of misprision of treason, -and degraded from his office, and all his property was confiscated. - -The lamest part of the whole shameful matter was the reason suggested by -his enemies for his destruction of the law, to wit: that he did it to -favor Christian, because Christian was his cousin! Whereas Stavely was -the only individual in the entire nation who was not his cousin. The -reader must remember that all these people are the descendants of half a -dozen men; that the first children intermarried together and bore -grandchildren to the mutineers; that these grandchildren intermarried; -after them, great and great-great-grandchildren intermarried; so that to- -day everybody is blood kin to everybody. Moreover, the relationships are -wonderfully, even astoundingly, mixed up and complicated. A stranger, -for instance, says to an islander: - -"You speak of that young woman as your cousin; a while ago you called her -your aunt." - -"Well, she is my aunt, and my cousin, too. And also my stepsister, my -niece, my fourth cousin, my thirty-third cousin, my forty-second cousin, -my great-aunt, my grandmother, my widowed sister-in-law--and next week -she will be my wife." - -So the charge of nepotism against the chief magistrate was weak. But no -matter; weak or strong, it suited Stavely. Stavely was immediately -elected to the vacant magistracy, and, oozing reform from every pore, he -went vigorously to work. In no long time religious services raged -everywhere and unceasingly. By command, the second prayer of the Sunday -morning service, which had customarily endured some thirty-five or forty -minutes, and had pleaded for the world, first by continent and then by -national and tribal detail, was extended to an hour and a half, and made -to include supplications in behalf of the possible peoples in the several -planets. Everybody was pleased with this; everybody said, "Now this is -something like." By command, the usual three-hour sermons were doubled -in length. The nation came in a body to testify their gratitude to the -new magistrate. The old law forbidding cooking on the Sabbath was -extended to the prohibition of eating, also. By command, Sunday-school -was privileged to spread over into the week. The joy of all classes was -complete. In one short month the new magistrate had become the people's -idol! - -The time was ripe for this man's next move. He began, cautiously at -first, to poison the public mind against England. He took the chief -citizens aside, one by one, and conversed with them on this topic. -Presently he grew bolder, and spoke out. He said the nation owed it to -itself, to its honor, to its great traditions, to rise in its might and -throw off "this galling English yoke." - -But the simple islanders answered: - -"We had not noticed that it galled. How does it gall? England sends a -ship once in three or four years to give us soap and clothing, and things -which we sorely need and gratefully receive; but she never troubles us; -she lets us go our own way." - -"She lets you go your own way! So slaves have felt and spoken in all the -ages! This speech shows how fallen you are, how base, how brutalized you -have become, under this grinding tyranny! What! has all manly pride -forsaken you? Is liberty nothing? Are you content to be a mere -appendage to a foreign and hateful sovereignty, when you might rise up -and take your rightful place in the august family of nations, great, -free, enlightened, independent, the minion of no sceptered master, but -the arbiter of your own destiny, and a voice and a power in decreeing the -destinies of your sister-sovereignties of the world?" - -Speeches like this produced an effect by and by. Citizens began to feel -the English yoke; they did not know exactly how or whereabouts they felt -it, but they were perfectly certain they did feel it. They got to -grumbling a good deal, and chafing under their chains, and longing for -relief and release. They presently fell to hating the English flag, that -sign and symbol of their nation's degradation; they ceased to glance up -at it as they passed the capitol, but averted their eyes and grated their -teeth; and one morning, when it was found trampled into the mud at the -foot of the staff, they left it there, and no man put his hand to it to -hoist it again. A certain thing which was sure to happen sooner or later -happened now. Some of the chief citizens went to the magistrate by -night, and said: - -"We can endure this hated tyranny no longer. How can we cast it off?" - -"By a coup d'etat." - -"How?" - -"A coup d'etat. It is like this: everything is got ready, and at the -appointed moment I, as the official head of the nation, publicly and -solemnly proclaim its independence, and absolve it from allegiance to any -and all other powers whatsoever." - -"That sounds simple and easy. We can do that right away. Then what will -be the next thing to do?" - -"Seize all the defenses and public properties of all kinds, establish -martial law, put the army and navy on a war footing, and proclaim the -empire!" - -This fine program dazzled these innocents. They said: - -"This is grand--this is splendid; but will not England resist?" - -"Let her. This rock is a Gibraltar." - -"True. But about the empire? Do we need an empire and an emperor?" - -"What you need, my friends, is unification. Look at Germany; look at -Italy. They are unified. Unification is the thing. It makes living -dear. That constitutes progress. We must have a standing army and a -navy. Taxes follow, as a matter of course. All these things summed up -make grandeur. With unification and grandeur, what more can you want? -Very well--only the empire can confer these boons." - -So on the 8th day of December Pitcairn's Island was proclaimed a free and -independent nation; and on the same day the solemn coronation of -Butterworth I, Emperor of Pitcairn's Island, took place, amid great -rejoicings and festivities. The entire nation, with the exception of -fourteen persons, mainly little children, marched past the throne in -single file, with banners and music, the procession being upward of -ninety feet long; and some said it was as much as three-quarters of a -minute passing a given point. Nothing like it had ever been seen in the -history of the island before. Public enthusiasm was measureless. - -Now straightway imperial reforms began. Orders of nobility were -instituted. A minister of the navy was appointed, and the whale-boat put -in commission. A minister of war was created, and ordered to proceed at -once with the formation of a standing army. A first lord of the treasury -was named, and commanded to get up a taxation scheme, and also open -negotiations for treaties, offensive, defensive, and commercial, with -foreign powers. Some generals and admirals were appointed; also some -chamberlains, some equerries in waiting, and some lords of the -bedchamber. - -At this point all the material was used up. The Grand Duke of Galilee, -minister of war, complained that all the sixteen grown men in the empire -had been given great offices, and consequently would not consent to serve -in the ranks; wherefore his standing army was at a standstill. The -Marquis of Ararat, minister of the navy, made a similar complaint. He -said he was willing to steer the whale-boat himself, but he must have -somebody to man her. - -The emperor did the best he could in the circumstances: he took all the -boys above the age of ten years away from their mothers, and pressed them -into the army, thus constructing a corps of seventeen privates, officered -by one lieutenant-general and two major-generals. This pleased the -minister of war, but procured the enmity of all the mothers in the land; -for they said their precious ones must now find bloody graves in the -fields of war, and he would be answerable for it. Some of the more -heartbroken and unappeasable among them lay constantly wait for the -emperor and threw yams at him, unmindful of the body-guard. - -On account of the extreme scarcity of material, it was found necessary to -require the Duke of Bethany postmaster-general, to pull stroke-oar in the -navy and thus sit in the rear of a noble of lower degree namely, Viscount -Canaan, lord justice of the common pleas. This turned the Duke of -Bethany into tolerably open malcontent and a secret conspirator--a thing -which the emperor foresaw, but could not help. - -Things went from bad to worse. The emperor raised Nancy Peters to the -peerage on one day, and married her the next, notwithstanding, for -reasons of state, the cabinet had strenuously advised him to marry -Emmeline, eldest daughter of the Archbishop of Bethlehem. This caused -trouble in a powerful quarter--the church. The new empress secured the -support and friendship of two-thirds of the thirty-six grown women in the -nation by absorbing them into her court as maids of honor; but this made -deadly enemies of the remaining twelve. The families of the maids of -honor soon began to rebel, because there was nobody at home to keep -house. The twelve snubbed women refused to enter the imperial kitchen as -servants; so the empress had to require the Countess of Jericho and other -great court dames to fetch water, sweep the palace, and perform other -menial and equally distasteful services. This made bad blood in that -department. - -Everybody fell to complaining that the taxes levied for the support of -the army, the navy, and the rest of the imperial establishment were -intolerably burdensome, and were reducing the nation to beggary. The -emperor's reply--"Look--Look at Germany; look at Italy. Are you better -than they? and haven't you unification?"---did not satisfy them. They -said, "People can't eat unification, and we are starving. Agriculture -has ceased. Everybody is in the army, everybody is in the navy, -everybody is in the public service, standing around in a uniform, with -nothing whatever to do, nothing to eat, and nobody to till the fields--" - -"Look at Germany; look at Italy. It is the same there. Such is -unification, and there's no other way to get it--no other way to keep it -after you've got it," said the poor emperor always. - -But the grumblers only replied, "We can't stand the taxes--we can't stand -them." - -Now right on top of this the cabinet reported a national debt amounting -to upward of forty-five dollars--half a dollar to every individual in the -nation. And they proposed to fund something. They had heard that this -was always done in such emergencies. They proposed duties on exports; -also on imports. And they wanted to issue bonds; also paper money, -redeemable in yams and cabbages in fifty years. They said the pay of the -army and of the navy and of the whole governmental machine was far in -arrears, and unless something was done, and done immediately, national -bankruptcy must ensue, and possibly insurrection and revolution. The -emperor at once resolved upon a high-handed measure, and one of a nature -never before heard of in Pitcairn's Island. He went in state to the -church on Sunday morning, with the army at his back, and commanded the -minister of the treasury to take up a collection. - -That was the feather that broke the camel's back. First one citizen, and -then another, rose and refused to submit to this unheard-of outrage ---and each refusal was followed by the immediate confiscation of the -malcontent's property. This vigor soon stopped the refusals, and the -collection proceeded amid a sullen and ominous silence. As the emperor -withdrew with the troops, he said, "I will teach you who is master here." -Several persons shouted, "Down with unification!" They were at once -arrested and torn from the arms of their weeping friends by the soldiery. - -But in the mean time, as any prophet might have foreseen, a Social -Democrat had been developed. As the emperor stepped into the gilded -imperial wheelbarrow at the church door, the social democrat stabbed at -him fifteen or sixteen times with a harpoon, but fortunately with such a -peculiarly social democratic unprecision of aim as to do no damage. - -That very night the convulsion came. The nation rose as one man--though -forty-nine of the revolutionists were of the other sex. The infantry -threw down their pitchforks; the artillery cast aside their cocoanuts; -the navy revolted; the emperor was seized, and bound hand and foot in his -palace. He was very much depressed. He said: - -"I freed you from a grinding tyranny; I lifted yon up out of your -degradation, and made you a nation among nations; I gave you a strong, -compact, centralized government; and, more than all, I gave you the -blessing of blessings--unification. I have done all this, and my reward -is hatred, insult, and these bonds. Take me; do with me as you will. -I here resign my crown and all my dignities, and gladly do I release -myself from their too heavy burden. For your sake I took them up; for -your sake I lay them down. The imperial jewel is no more; now bruise and -defile as ye will the useless setting." - -By a unanimous voice the people condemned the ex-emperor and the social -democrat to perpetual banishment from church services, or to perpetual -labor as galley-slaves in the whale-boat--whichever they might prefer. -The next day the nation assembled again, and rehoisted the British flag, -reinstated the British tyranny, reduced the nobility to the condition of -commoners again, and then straightway turned their diligent attention to -the weeding of the ruined and neglected yam patches, and the -rehabilitaLion of the old useful industries and the old healing and -solacing pieties. The ex-emperor restored the lost trespass law, and -explained that he had stolen it not to injure any one, but to further his -political projects. Therefore the nation gave the late chief magistrate -his office again, and also his alienated Property. - -Upon reflection, the ex-emperor and the social democrat chose perpetual -banishment from religious services in preference to perpetual labor as -galley slaves "with perpetual religious services," as they phrased it; -wherefore the people believed that the poor fellows' troubles had -unseated their reason, and so they judged it best to confine them for the -present. Which they did. - -Such is the history of Pitcairn's "doubtful acquisition." - - - - - - -THE CANVASSER'S TALE - -Poor, sad-eyed stranger! There was that about his humble mien, his tired -look, his decayed-gentility clothes, that almost reached the mustard, -seed of charity that still remained, remote and lonely, in the empty -vastness of my heart, notwithstanding I observed a portfolio under his -arm, and said to myself, Behold, Providence hath delivered his servant -into the hands of another canvasser. - -Well, these people always get one interested. Before I well knew how it -came about, this one was telling me his history, and I was all attention -and sympathy. He told it something like this: - -My parents died, alas, when I was a little, sinless child. My uncle -Ithuriel took me to his heart and reared me as his own. He was my only -relative in the wide world; but he was good and rich and generous. He -reared me in the lap of luxury. I knew no want that money could satisfy. - -In the fullness of time I was graduated, and went with two of my -servants--my chamberlain and my valet--to travel in foreign countries. -During four years I flitted upon careless wing amid the beauteous gardens -of the distant strand, if you will permit this form of speech in one -whose tongue was ever attuned to poesy; and indeed I so speak with -confidence, as one unto his kind, for I perceive by your eyes that you -too, sir, are gifted with the divine inflation. In those far lands I -reveled in the ambrosial food that fructifies the soul, the mind, the -heart. But of all things, that which most appealed to my inborn esthetic -taste was the prevailing custom there, among the rich, of making -collections of elegant and costly rarities, dainty objets de vertu, and -in an evil hour I tried to uplift my uncle Ithuriel to a plane of -sympathy with this exquisite employment. - -I wrote and told him of one gentleman's vast collection of shells; -another's noble collection of meerschaum pipes; another's elevating and -refining collection of undecipherable autographs; another's priceless -collection of old china; another's enchanting collection of postage- -stamps--and so forth and so on. Soon my letters yielded fruit. My uncle -began to look about for something to make a collection of. You may know, -perhaps, how fleetly a taste like this dilates. His soon became a raging -fever, though I knew it not. He began to neglect his great pork -business; presently he wholly retired and turned an elegant leisure into -a rabid search for curious things. His wealth was vast, and he spared it -not. First he tried cow-bells. He made a collection which filled five -large salons, and comprehended all the different sorts of cow-bells that -ever had been contrived, save one. That one--an antique, and the only -specimen extant--was possessed by another collector. My uncle offered -enormous sums for it, but the gentleman would not sell. Doubtless you -know what necessarily resulted. A true collector attaches no value to -a collection that is not complete. His great heart breaks, he sells his -hoard, he turns his mind to some field that seems unoccupied. - -Thus did my uncle. He next tried brickbats. After piling up a vast and -intensely interesting collection, the former difficulty supervened; his -great heart broke again; he sold out his soul's idol to the retired -brewer who possessed the missing brick. Then he tried flint hatchets and -other implements of Primeval Man, but by and by discovered that the -factory where they were made was supplying other collectors as well as -himself. He tried Aztec inscriptions and stuffed whales--another -failure, after incredible labor and expense. When his collection seemed -at last perfect, a stuffed whale arrived from Greenland and an Aztec -inscription from the Cundurango regions of Central America that made all -former specimens insignificant. My uncle hastened to secure these noble -gems. He got the stuffed whale, but another collector got the -inscription. A real Cundurango, as possibly you know, is a possession of -such supreme value that, when once a collector gets it, he will rather -part with his family than with it. So my uncle sold out, and saw his -darlings go forth, never more to return; and his coal-black hair turned -white as snow in a single night. - -Now he waited, and thought. He knew another disappointment might kill -him. He was resolved that he would choose things next time that no other -man was collecting. He carefully made up his mind, and once more entered -the field-this time to make a collection of echoes. - -"Of what?" said I. - -Echoes, sir. His first purchase was an echo in Georgia that repeated -four times; his next was a six-repeater in Maryland; his next was a -thirteen-repeater in Maine; his next was a nine-repeater in Kansas; his -next was a twelve-repeater in Tennessee, which he got cheap, so to speak, -because it was out of repair, a portion of the crag which reflected it -having tumbled down. He believed he could repair it at a cost of a few -thousand dollars, and, by increasing the elevation with masonry, treble -the repeating capacity; but the architect who undertook the job had never -built an echo before, and so he utterly spoiled this one. Before he -meddled with it, it used to talk back like a mother-in-law, but now it -was only fit for the deaf-and-dumb asylum. Well, next he bought a lot of -cheap little double-barreled echoes, scattered around over various states -and territories; he got them at twenty per cent. off by taking the lot. -Next he bought a perfect Gatling-gun of an echo in Oregon, and it cost a -fortune, I can tell you. You may know, sir, that in the echo market the -scale of prices is cumulative, like the carat-scale in diamonds; in fact, -the same phraseology is used. A single-carat echo is worth but ten -dollars over and above the value of the land it is on; a two-carat or -double-barreled echo is worth thirty dollars; a five-carat is worth nine -hundred and fifty; a ten-carat is worth thirteen thousand. My uncle's -Oregon-echo, which he called the Great Pitt Echo, was a twenty-two carat -gem, and cost two hundred and sixteen thousand dollars--they threw the -land in, for it was four hundred miles from a settlement. - -Well, in the mean time my path was a path of roses. I was the accepted -suitor of the only and lovely daughter of an English earl, and was -beloved to distraction. In that dear presence I swam in seas of bliss. -The family were content, for it was known that I was sole heir to an -uncle held to be worth five millions of dollars. However, none of us -knew that my uncle had become a collector, at least in anything more than -a small way, for esthetic amusement. - -Now gathered the clouds above my unconscious head. That divine echo, -since known throughout the world as the Great Koh-i-noor, or Mountain of -Repetitions, was discovered. It was a sixty-five carat gem. You could -utter a word and it would talk back at you for fifteen minutes, when the -day was otherwise quiet. But behold, another fact came to light at the -same time: another echo-collector was in the field. The two rushed to -make the peerless purchase. The property consisted of a couple of small -hills with a shallow swale between, out yonder among the back settlements -of New York State. Both men arrived on the ground at the same time, and -neither knew the other was there. The echo was not all owned by one man; -a person by the name of Williamson Bolivar Jarvis owned the east hill, -and a person by the name of Harbison J. Bledso owned the west hill; the -swale between was the dividing-line. So while my uncle was buying -Jarvis's hill for three million two hundred and eighty-five thousand -dollars, the other party was buying Bledso's hill for a shade over three -million. - -Now, do you perceive the natural result? Why, the noblest collection of -echoes on earth was forever and ever incomplete, since it possessed but -the one-half of the king echo of the universe. Neither man was content -with this divided ownership, yet neither would sell to the other. There -were jawings, bickerings, heart-burnings. And at last that other -collector, with a malignity which only a collector can ever feel toward a -man and a brother, proceeded to cut down his hill! - -You see, as long as he could not have the echo, he was resolved that -nobody should have it. He would remove his hill, and then there would be -nothing to reflect my uncle's echo. My uncle remonstrated with him, but -the man said, "I own one end of this echo; I choose to kill my end; you -must take care of your own end yourself." - -Well, my uncle got an injunction put an him. The other man appealed and -fought it in a higher court. They carried it on up, clear to the Supreme -Court of the United States. It made no end of trouble there. Two of the -judges believed that an echo was personal property, because it was -impalpable to sight and touch, and yet was purchasable, salable, and -consequently taxable; two others believed that an echo was real estate, -because it was manifestly attached to the land, and was not removable -from place to place; other of the judges contended that an echo was not -property at all. - -It was finally decided that the echo was property; that the hills were -property; that the two men were separate and independent owners of the -two hills, but tenants in common in the echo; therefore defendant was at -full liberty to cut down his hill, since it belonged solely to him, but -must give bonds in three million dollars as indemnity for damages which -might result to my uncle's half of the echo. This decision also debarred -my uncle from using defendant's hill to reflect his part of the echo, -without defendant's consent; he must use only his own hill; if his part -of the echo would not go, under these circumstances, it was sad, of -course, but the court could find no remedy. The court also debarred -defendant from using my uncle's hill to reflect his end of the echo, -without consent. You see the grand result! Neither man would give -consent, and so that astonishing and most noble echo had to cease from -its great powers; and since that day that magnificent property is tied up -and unsalable. - -A week before my wedding-day, while I was still swimming in bliss and the -nobility were gathering from far and near to honor our espousals, came -news of my uncle's death, and also a copy of his will, making me his sole -heir. He was gone; alas, my dear benefactor was no more. The thought -surcharges my heart even at this remote day. I handed the will to the -earl; I could not read it for the blinding tears. The earl read it; then -he sternly said, "Sir, do you call this wealth?--but doubtless you do in -your inflated country. Sir, you are left sole heir to a vast collection -of echoes--if a thing can be called a collection that is scattered far -and wide over the huge length and breadth of the American continent; sir, -this is not all; you are head and ears in debt; there is not an echo in -the lot but has a mortgage on it; sir, I am not a hard man, but I must -look to my child's interest; if you had but one echo which you could -honestly call your own, if you had but one echo which was free from -incumbrance, so that you could retire to it with my child, and by humble, -painstaking industry cultivate and improve it, and thus wrest from it a -maintenance, I would not say you nay; but I cannot marry my child to a -beggar. Leave his side, my darling; go, sir, take your mortgage-ridden -echoes and quit my sight forever." - -My noble Celestine clung to me in tears, with loving arms, and swore she -would willingly, nay gladly, marry me, though I had not an echo in the -world. But it could not be. We were torn asunder, she to pine and die -within the twelvemonth, I to toil life's long journey sad and alone, -praying daily, hourly, for that release which shall join us together -again in that dear realm where the wicked cease from troubling and the -weary are at rest. Now, sir, if you will be so kind as to look at these -maps and plans in my portfolio, I am sure I can sell you an echo for less -money than any man in the trade. Now this one, which cost my uncle ten -dollars, thirty years ago, and is one of the sweetest things in Texas, I -will let you have for-- - -"Let me interrupt you," I said. "My friend, I have not had a moment's -respite from canvassers this day. I have bought a sewing-machine which I -did not want; I have bought a map which is mistaken in all its details; -I have bought a clock which will not go; I have bought a moth poison -which the moths prefer to any other beverage; I have bought no end of -useless inventions, and now I have had enough of this foolishness. -I would not have one of your echoes if you were even to give it to me. -I would not let it stay on the place. I always hate a man that tries to -sell me echoes. You see this gun? Now take your collection and move on; -let us not have bloodshed." - -But he only smiled a sad, sweet smile, and got out some more diagrams. -You know the result perfectly well, because you know that when you have -once opened the door to a canvasser, the trouble is done and you have got -to suffer defeat. - -I compromised with this man at the end of an intolerable hour. I bought -two double-barreled echoes in good condition, and he threw in another, -which he said was not salable because it only spoke German. He said, -"She was a perfect polyglot once, but somehow her palate got down." - - - - - - -AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN INTERVIEWER - -The nervous, dapper, "peart" young man took the chair I offered him, and -said he was connected with the Daily Thunderstorm, and added: - -"Hoping it's no harm, I've come to interview you." - -"Come to what?" - -"Interview you." - -"Ah! I see. Yes--yes. Um! Yes--yes." - -I was not feeling bright that morning. Indeed, my powers seemed a bit -under a cloud. However, I went to the bookcase, and when I had been -looking six or seven minutes I found I was obliged to refer to the young -man. I said: - -"How do you spell it?" - -"Spell what?" - -"Interview." - -"Oh, my goodness! what do you want to spell it for?" - -"I don't want to spell it; I want to see what it means." - -"Well, this is astonishing, I must say. I can tell you what it means, if -you--if you--" - -"Oh, all right! That will answer, and much obliged to you, too." - -"In, in, ter, ter, inter--" - -"Then you spell it with an h" - -Why certainly!" - -"Oh, that is what took me so long." - -"Why, my dear sir, what did you propose to spell it with?" - -"Well, I--I--hardly know. I had the Unabridged, and I was ciphering -around in the back end, hoping I might tree her among the pictures. -But it's a very old edition." - -"Why, my friend, they wouldn't have a picture of it in even the latest -e-- My dear sir, I beg your pardon, I mean no harm in the world, but you -do not look as--as--intelligent as I had expected you would. No harm-- -I mean no harm at all." - -"Oh, don't mention it! It has often been said, and by people who would -not flatter and who could have no inducement to flatter, that I am quite -remarkable in that way. Yes--yes; they always speak of it with rapture." - -"I can easily imagine it. But about this interview. You know it is the -custom, now, to interview any man who has become notorious." - -"Indeed, I had not heard of it before. It must be very interesting. -What do you do it with?" - -"Ah, well--well--well--this is disheartening. It ought to be done with a -club in some cases; but customarily it consists in the interviewer asking -questions and the interviewed answering them. It is all the rage now. -Will you let me ask you certain questions calculated to bring out the -salient points of your public and private history?" - -"Oh, with pleasure--with pleasure. I have a very bad memory, but I hope -you will not mind that. That is to say, it is an irregular memory-- -singularly irregular. Sometimes it goes in a gallop, and then again it -will be as much as a fortnight passing a given point. This is a great -grief to me." - -"Oh, it is no matter, so you will try to do the best you can." - -"I will. I will put my whole mind on it." - -"Thanks. Are you ready to begin?" - -"Ready." - -Q. How old are you? - -A. Nineteen, in June. - -Q. Indeed. I would have taken you to be thirty-five or six. Where were -you born? - -A. In Missouri. - -Q. When did you begin to write? - -A. In 1836. - -Q. Why, how could that be, if you are only nineteen now? - -A. I don't know. It does seem curious, somehow. - -Q. It does, indeed. Whom do you consider the most remarkable man you -ever met? - -A. Aaron Burr. - -Q. But you never could have met Aaron Burr, if you are only nineteen -years! - -A. Now, if you know more about me than I do, what do you ask me for? - -Q. Well, it was only a suggestion; nothing more. How did you happen to -meet Burr? - -A. Well, I happened to be at his funeral one day, and he asked me to -make less noise, and-- - -Q. But, good heavens! if you were at his funeral, he must have been -dead, and if he was dead how could he care whether you made a noise or -not? - -A. I don't know. He was always a particular kind of a man that way. - -Q. Still, I don't understand it at all, You say he spoke to you, and -that he was dead. - -A. I didn't say he was dead. - -Q. But wasn't he dead? - -A. Well, some said he was, some said he wasn't. - -Q. What did you think? - -A. Oh, it was none of my business! It wasn't any of my funeral. - -Q. Did you-- However, we can never get this matter straight. Let me ask -about something else. What was the date of your birth? - -A. Monday, October 31, 1693. - -Q. What! Impossible! That would make you a hundred and eighty years -old. How do you account for that? - -A. I don't account for it at all. - -Q. But you said at first you were only nineteen, and now you make -yourself out to be one hundred and eighty. It is an awful discrepancy. - -A. Why, have you noticed that? (Shaking hands.) Many a time it has -seemed to me like a discrepancy, but somehow I couldn't make up my mind. -How quick you notice a thing! - -Q. Thank you for the compliment, as far as it goes. Had you, or have -you, any brothers or sisters? - -A. Eh! I--I--I think so--yes--but I don't remember. - -Q. Well, that is the most extraordinary statement I ever heard! - -A. Why, what makes you think that? - -Q. How could I think otherwise? Why, look here! Who is this a picture -of on the wall? Isn't that a brother of yours? - -A. Oh, yes, yes, yes! Now you remind me of it; that was a brother of -mine. That's William--Bill we called him. Poor old Bill! - -Q. Why? Is he dead, then? - -A. Ah! well, I suppose so. We never could tell. There was a great -mystery about it. - -Q. That is sad, very sad. He disappeared, then? - -A. Well, yes, in a sort of general way. We buried him. - -Q. Buried him! Buried him, without knowing whether he was dead or not? - -A. Oh, no! Not that. He was dead enough. - -Q. Well, I confess that I can't understand this. If you buried him, and -you knew he was dead - -A. No! no! We only thought he was. - -Q. Oh, I see! He came to life again? - -A. I bet he didn't. - -Q. Well, I never heard anything like this. Somebody was dead. Somebody -was buried. Now, where was the mystery? - -A. Ah! that's just it! That's it exactly. You see, we were twins-- -defunct--and I--and we got mixed in the bathtub when we were only two -weeks old, and one of us was drowned. But we didn't know which. Some -think it was Bill. Some think it was me. - -Q. Well, that is remarkable. What do you think? - -A. Goodness knows! I would give whole worlds to know. This solemn, -this awful mystery has cast a gloom over my whole life. But I will tell -you a secret now, which I never have revealed to any creature before. -One of us had a peculiar mark--a large mole on the back of his left hand; -that was me. That child was the one that was drowned! - -Q. Very well, then, I don't see that there is any mystery about it, -after all. - -A. You don't? Well, I do. Anyway, I don't see how they could ever have -been such a blundering lot as to go and bury the wrong child. But, 'sh! ---don't mention it where the family can hear of it. Heaven knows they -have heartbreaking troubles enough without adding this. - -Q. Well, I believe I have got material enough for the present, and I am -very much obliged to you for the pains you have taken. But I was a good -deal interested in that account of Aaron Burr's funeral. Would you mind -telling me what particular circumstance it was that made you think Burr -was such a remarkable man? - -A. Oh! it was a mere trifle! Not one man in fifty would have noticed -it at all. When the sermon was over, and the procession all ready to -start for the cemetery, and the body all arranged nice in the hearse, he -said he wanted to take a last look at the scenery, and so he got up and -rode with the driver. - -Then the young man reverently withdrew. He was very pleasant company, -and I was sorry to see him go. - - - - - - -PARIS NOTES - ---[Crowded out of "A Tramp Abroad" to make room for more vital -statistics.--M. T.] - -The Parisian travels but little, he knows no language but his own, reads -no literature but his own, and consequently he is pretty narrow and -pretty self-sufficient. However, let us not be too sweeping; there are -Frenchmen who know languages not their own: these are the waiters. Among -the rest, they know English; that is, they know it on the European plan-- -which is to say, they can speak it, but can't understand it. They easily -make themselves understood, but it is next to impossible to word an -English sentence in such away as to enable them to comprehend it. They -think they comprehend it; they pretend they do; but they don't. Here is -a conversation which I had with one of these beings; I wrote it down at -the time, in order to have it exactly correct. - -I. These are fine oranges. Where are they grown? - -He. More? Yes, I will bring them. - -I. No, do not bring any more; I only want to know where they are from -where they are raised. - -He. Yes? (with imperturbable mien and rising inflection.) - -I. Yes. Can you tell me what country they are from? - -He. Yes? (blandly, with rising inflection.) - -I. (disheartened). They are very nice. - -He. Good night. (Bows, and retires, quite satisfied with himself.) - -That young man could have become a good English scholar by taking the -right sort of pains, but he was French, and wouldn't do that. How -different is the case with our people; they utilize every means that -offers. There are some alleged French Protestants in Paris, and they -built a nice little church on one of the great avenues that lead away -from the Arch of Triumph, and proposed to listen to the correct thing, -preached in the correct way, there, in their precious French tongue, and -be happy. But their little game does not succeed. Our people are always -there ahead of them Sundays, and take up all the room. When the minister -gets up to preach, he finds his house full of devout foreigners, each -ready and waiting, with his little book in his hand --a morocco-bound -Testament, apparently. But only apparently; it is Mr. Bellows's -admirable and exhaustive little French-English dictionary, which in look -and binding and size is just like a Testament and those, people are there -to study French. The building has been nicknamed "The Church of the -Gratis French Lesson." - -These students probably acquire more language than general information, -for I am told that a French sermon is like a French speech--it never -names a historical event, but only the date of it; if you are not up in -dates, you get left. A French speech is something like this: - - Comrades, citizens, brothers, noble parts of the only sublime and - perfect nation, let us not forget that the 21st January cast off our - chains; that the 10th August relieved us of the shameful presence of - foreign spies; that the 5th September was its own justification - before heaven and humanity; that the 18th Brumaire contained the - seeds of its own punishment; that the 14th July was the mighty voice - of liberty proclaiming the resurrection, the new day, and inviting - the oppressed peoples of the earth to look upon the divine face of - France and live; and let us here record our everlasting curse - against the man of the 2d December, and declare in thunder tones, - the native tones of France, that but for him there had been no 17th - March in history, no 12th October, no 19th January, no 22d April, - no 16th November, no 30th September, no 2d July, no 14th February, - no 29th June, no 15th August, no 31st May--that but for him, France - the pure, the grand, the peerless, had had a serene and vacant - almanac today! - -I have heard of one French sermon which closed in this odd yet eloquent -way: - - My hearers, we have sad cause to remember the man of the 13th - January. The results of the vast crime of the 13th January have - been in just proportion to the magnitude of the set itself. But for - it there had been no 30 November--sorrowful spectacle! The grisly - deed of the 16th June had not been done but for it, nor had the man - of the 16th June known existence; to it alone the 3d September was - due, also the fatal 12th October. Shall we, then, be grateful for - the 13th January, with its freight of death for you and me and all - that breathe? Yes, my friends, for it gave us also that which had - never come but for it, and it atone--the blessed 25th December. - -It may be well enough to explain, though in the case of many of my -readers this will hardly be necessary. The man of the 13th January is -Adam; the crime of that date was the eating of the apple; the sorrowful -spectacle of the 30th November was the expulsion from Eden; the grisly -deed of the 16th June was the murder of Abel; the act of the 3d September -was the beginning of the journey to the land of Nod; the 12th day of -October, the last mountain-tops disappeared under the flood. When you go -to church in France, you want to take your almanac with you--annotated. - - - - - - -LEGEND OF SAGENFELD, IN GERMANY - -[Left out of "A Tramp Abroad" because its authenticity seemed doubtful, -and could not at that time be proved.--M. T.] - -More than a thousand years ago this small district was a kingdom ---a little bit of a kingdom, a sort of dainty little toy kingdom, as one -might say. It was far removed from the jealousies, strifes, and turmoils -of that old warlike day, and so its life was a simple life, its people a -gentle and guileless race; it lay always in a deep dream of peace, a soft -Sabbath tranquillity; there was no malice, there was no envy, there was -no ambition, consequently there were no heart-burnings, there was no -unhappiness in the land. - -In the course of time the old king died and his little son Hubert came to -the throne. The people's love for him grew daily; he was so good and so -pure and so noble, that by and by his love became a passion, almost a -worship. Now at his birth the soothsayers had diligently studied the -stars and found something written in that shining book to this effect: - - In Hubert's fourteenth year a pregnant event will happen; the animal - whose singing shall sound sweetest in Hubert's ear shall save - Hubert's life. So long as the king and the nation shall honor this - animal's race for this good deed, the ancient dynasty shall not fail - of an heir, nor the nation know war or pestilence or poverty. But - beware an erring choice! - -All through the king's thirteenth year but one thing was talked of by the -soothsayers, the statesmen, the little parliament, and the general -people. That one thing was this: How is the last sentence of the -prophecy to be understood? What goes before seems to mean that the -saving animal will choose itself at the proper time; but the closing -sentence seems to mean that the king must choose beforehand, and say what -singer among the animals pleases him best, and that if he choose wisely -the chosen animal will save his life, his dynasty, his people, but that -if he should make "an erring choice"--beware! - -By the end of the year there were as many opinions about this matter as -there had been in the beginning; but a majority of the wise and the -simple were agreed that the safest plan would be for the little king to -make choice beforehand, and the earlier the better. So an edict was sent -forth commanding all persons who owned singing creatures to bring them to -the great hall of the palace in the morning of the first day of the new -year. This command was obeyed. When everything was in readiness for the -trial, the king made his solemn entry with the great officers of the -crown, all clothed in their robes of state. The king mounted his golden -throne and prepared to give judgment. But he presently said: - -"These creatures all sing at once; the noise is unendurable; no one can -choose in such a turmoil. Take them all away, and bring back one at a -time." - -This was done. One sweet warbler after another charmed the young king's -ear and was removed to make way for another candidate. The precious -minutes slipped by; among so many bewitching songsters he found it hard -to choose, and all the harder because the promised penalty for an error -was so terrible that it unsettled his judgment and made him afraid to -trust his own ears. He grew nervous and his face showed distress. His -ministers saw this, for they never took their eyes from him a moment. -Now they began to say in their hearts: - -"He has lost courage--the cool head is gone--he will err--he and his -dynasty and his people are doomed!" - -At the end of an hour the king sat silent awhile, and then said: - -"Bring back the linnet." - -The linnet trilled forth her jubilant music. In the midst of it the king -was about to uplift his scepter in sign of choice, but checked himself -and said: - -"But let us be sure. Bring back the thrush; let them sing together." - -The thrush was brought, and the two birds poured out their marvels of -song together. The king wavered, then his inclination began to settle -and strengthen--one could see it in his countenance. Hope budded in the -hearts of the old ministers, their pulses began to beat quicker, the -scepter began to rise slowly, when: There was a hideous interruption! -It was a sound like this--just at the door: - -"Waw . . . he! waw . . . he! waw-he!-waw -he!-waw-he!" - -Everybody was sorely startled--and enraged at himself for showing it. - -The next instant the dearest, sweetest, prettiest little peasant-maid of -nine years came tripping in, her brown eyes glowing with childish -eagerness; but when she saw that august company and those angry faces she -stopped and hung her head and put her poor coarse apron to her eyes. -Nobody gave her welcome, none pitied her. Presently she looked up -timidly through her tears, and said: - -"My lord the king, I pray you pardon me, for I meant no wrong. I have no -father and no mother, but I have a goat and a donkey, and they are all in -all to me. My goat gives me the sweetest milk, and when my dear good -donkey brays it seems to me there is no music like to it. ~So when my -lord the king's jester said the sweetest singer among all the animals -should save the crown and nation, and moved me to bring him here--" - -All the court burst into a rude laugh, and the child fled away crying, -without trying to finish her speech. The chief minister gave a private -order that she and her disastrous donkey be flogged beyond the precincts -of the palace and commanded to come within them no more. - -Then the trial of the birds was resumed. The two birds sang their best, -but the scepter lay motionless in the king's hand. Hope died slowly out -in the breasts of all. An hour went by; two hours, still no decision. -The day waned to its close, and the waiting multitudes outside the palace -grew crazed with anxiety and apprehension. The twilight came on, the -shadows fell deeper and deeper. The king and his court could no longer -see each other's faces. No one spoke--none called for lights. The great -trial had been made; it had failed; each and all wished to hide their -faces from the light and cover up their deep trouble in their own hearts. - -Finally-hark! A rich, full strain of the divinest melody streamed forth -from a remote part of the hall the nightingale's voice! - -"Up!" shouted the king, "let all the bells make proclamation to the -people, for the choice is made and we have not erred. King, dynasty, -and nation are saved. From henceforth let the nightingale be honored -throughout the land forever. And publish it among all the people that -whosoever shall insult a nightingale, or injure it, shall suffer death. -The king hath spoken." - -All that little world was drunk with joy. The castle and the city blazed -with bonfires all night long, the people danced and drank and sang; and -the triumphant clamor of the bells never ceased. - -From that day the nightingale was a sacred bird. Its song was heard in -every house; the poets wrote its praises; the painters painted it; its -sculptured image adorned every arch and turret and fountain and public -building. It was even taken into the king's councils; and no grave -matter of state was decided until the soothsayers had laid the thing -before the state nightingale and translated to the ministry what it was -that the bird had sung about it. - - -II - -The young king was very fond of the chase. When the summer was come he -rode forth with hawk and hound, one day, in a brilliant company of his -nobles. He got separated from them by and by, in a great forest, and -took what he imagined a neat cut, to find them again; but it was a -mistake. He rode on and on, hopefully at first, but with sinking courage -finally. Twilight came on, and still he was plunging through a lonely -and unknown land. Then came a catastrophe. In the dim light he forced -his horse through a tangled thicket overhanging a steep and rocky -declivity. When horse and rider reached the bottom, the former had a -broken neck and the latter a broken leg. The poor little king lay there -suffering agonies of pain, and each hour seemed a long month to him. -He kept his ear strained to heat any sound that might promise hope of -rescue; but he heard no voice, no sound of horn or bay of hound. So at -last he gave up all hope, and said, "Let death come, four come it must." - -Just then the deep, sweet song of a nightingale swept across the still -wastes of the night. - -"Saved!" the king said. "Saved! It is the sacred bird, and the prophecy -is come true. The gods themselves protected me from error in the -choice." - -He could hardly contain his joy; he could not word his gratitude. Every -few moments, now he thought he caught the sound of approaching succor. -But each time it was a disappointment; no succor came. The dull hours -drifted on. Still no help came--but still the sacred bird sang on. He -began to have misgivings about his choice, but he stifled them. Toward -dawn the bird ceased. The morning came, and with it thirst and hunger; -but no succor. The day waxed and waned. At last the king cursed the -nightingale. - -Immediately the song of the thrush came from out the wood. The king said -in his heart, "This was the true-bird--my choice was false--succor will -come now." - -But it did not come. Then he lay many hours insensible. When he came to -himself, a linnet was singing. He listened-with apathy. His faith was -gone. "These birds," he said, "can bring no help; I and my house and my -people are doomed." He turned him about to die; for he was grown very -feeble from hunger and thirst and suffering, and felt that his end was -near. In truth, he wanted to die, and be released from pain. For long -hours he lay without thought or feeling or motion. Then his senses -returned. The dawn of the third morning was breaking. Ah, the world -seemed very beautiful to those worn eyes. Suddenly a great longing to -live rose up in the lad's heart, and from his soul welled a deep and -fervent prayer that Heaven would have mercy upon him and let him see his -home and his friends once more. In that instant a soft, a faint, a far- -off sound, but oh, how inexpressibly sweet to his waiting ear, came -floating out of the distance: - -"Waw . . . he! waw . . . he! waw-he!--waw-he!--waw-he!" - -"That, oh, that song is sweeter, a thousand times sweeter than the voice -of the nightingale, thrush, or linnet, for it brings not mere hope, but -certainty of succor; and now, indeed, am I saved! The sacred singer has -chosen itself, as the oracle intended; the prophecy is fulfilled, and my -life, my house, and my people are redeemed. The ass shall be sacred from -this day!" - -The divine music grew nearer and nearer, stronger and stronger and ever -sweeter and sweeter to the perishing sufferer's ear. Down the declivity -the docile little donkey wandered, cropping herbage and singing as he -went; and when at last he saw the dead horse and the wounded king, he -came and snuffed at them with simple and marveling curiosity. The king -petted him, and he knelt down as had been his wont when his little -mistress desired to mount. With great labor and pain the lad drew -himself upon the creature's back, and held himself there by aid of the -generous ears. The ass went singing forth from the place and carried the -king to the little peasant-maid's hut. She gave him her pallet for a -bed, refreshed him with goat's milk, and then flew to tell the great news -to the first scouting-party of searchers she might meet. - -The king got well. His first act was to proclaim the sacredness and -inviolability of the ass; his second was to add this particular ass to -his cabinet and make him chief minister of the crown; his third was to -have all the statues and effigies of nightingales throughout his kingdom -destroyed, and replaced by statues and effigies of the sacred donkey; -and, his fourth was to announce that when the little peasant maid should -reach her fifteenth year he would make her his queen and he kept his -word. - -Such is the legend. This explains why the moldering image of the ass -adorns all these old crumbling walls and arches; and it explains why, -during many centuries, an ass was always the chief minister in that royal -cabinet, just as is still the case in most cabinets to this day; and it -also explains why, in that little kingdom, during many centuries, all -great poems, all great speeches, all great books, all public solemnities, -and all royal proclamations, always began with these stirring words: - -"Waw . . . he! waw . . , he!--waw he! Waw-he!" - - - - - - -SPEECH ON THE BABIES - -AT THE BANQUET, IN CHICAGO, GIVEN BY THE ARMY OF THE TENNESSEE TO THEIR -FIRST COMMANDER, GENERAL U. S. GRANT, NOVEMBER, 1879 - - The fifteenth regular toast was "The Babies--as they comfort us in - our sorrows, let us not forget them in our festivities." - -I like that. We have not all had the good for tune to be ladies. We -have not all been generals, or poets, or statesmen; but when the toast -works down to the babies, we stand on common ground. It is a shame that -for a thousand years the world's banquets have utterly ignored the baby, -as if he didn't amount to anything. If you will stop and think a minute ---if you will go back fifty or one hundred years to your early married -life and recontemplate your first baby--you will remember that he -amounted to a great deal, and even something over. You soldiers all know -that when the little fellow arrived at family, headquarters you had to -hand in your resignation. He took entire command. You became his -lackey, his mere body servant, and you had to stand around, too. He was -not a commander who made allowances far time, distance, weather, or -anything else. You had to execute his order whether it was possible or -mot. And there was only one form of marching in his manual of tactics, -and that was the double-quick. He treated you with every sort of -insolence and disrespect, and the bravest of you didn't dare to say a -word. You could face the death-storm at Donelson and Vicksburg, and give -back blow for blow; but when he clawed your whiskers, and pulled your -hair, and twisted your nose, you had to take it. When the thunders of -war were sounding in your ears you set your faces toward the batteries, -and advanced with steady tread; but when he turned on the terrors of his -war-whoop you advanced in the other direction, and mighty glad of the -chance, too. When he called for soothing-syrup, did you venture to throw -out any side remarks about certain services being unbecoming an officer -and a gentleman? No. You got up and got it. When he ordered his pap- -bottle and it was not warm, did you talk back? Not you. You went to -work and warmed it. You even descended so far in your menial office as -to take a suck at that warm, insipid stuff yourself, to see if it was -right--three parts water to one of milk, a touch of sugar to modify the -colic, and a drop of peppermint to kill those hiccoughs. I can taste -that stuff yet. And how many things you learned as you went along! -Sentimental young folks still take stock in that beautiful old saying -that when the baby smiles in his sleep, it is because the angels are -whispering to him. Very pretty, but too thin--simply wind on the -stomach, my friends. If the baby proposed to take a walk at his usual -hour, two o'clock in the morning, didn't you rise up promptly and remark, -with a mental addition which would not improve a Sunday-school book much, -that that was the very thing you were about to propose yourself? Oh! -you were under good discipline, and as you went fluttering up and down -the room in your undress uniform, you not only prattled undignified baby- -talk, but even tuned up your martial voices and tried to sing!--" Rock-a- -by baby in the treetop," for instance. What a spectacle for an Army of -the Tennessee! And what an affliction for the neighbors, too; for it is -not everybody within a mile around that likes military music at three in -the morning: And when you had been keeping this sort of thing up two or -three hours, and your little velvet-head intimated that nothing suited -him like exercise and noise, what did you do? ["Go on!"] You simply went -on until you dropped in the last ditch. The idea that a baby doesn't -amount to anything! Why, one baby is just a house and a front yard full -by itself. One baby can furnish more business than you and your whole -Interior Department can attend to. He is enterprising, irrepressible, -brimful of lawless activities. Do what you please, you can't make him -stay on the reservation. Sufficient unto the day is one baby. As long -as you are in your right mind don't you ever pray for twins. Twins -amount to a permanent riot. And there ain't any real difference between -triplets and an insurrection. - -Yes, it was high time for a toast-master to recognize the importance of -the babies. Think what is in store for the present crop! Fifty years -from now we shall all be dead, I trust, and then this flag, if it still -survive (and let us hope it may), will be floating over a Republic -numbering 200,000,000 souls, according to the settled laws of our -increase. Our present schooner of State will have grown into a political -leviathan--a Great Eastern. The cradled babies of to-day will be on -deck. Let them be well trained, for we are going to leave a big contract -on their hands. Among the three or four million cradles now rocking in -the land are some which this nation would preserve for ages as sacred -things, if we could know which ones they are. In one of them cradles the -unconscious Farragut of the future is at this moment teething--think of -it!--and putting in a world of dead earnest, unarticulated, but perfectly -justifiable profanity over it, too. In another the future renowned -astronomer is blinking at the shining Milky Way with but a languid -interest--poor little chap!--and wondering what has become of that other -one they call the wet-nurse. In another the future great historian is -lying--and doubtless will continue to lie until his earthly mission is -ended. In another the future President is busying himself with no -profounder problem of state than what the mischief has become of his hair -so early; and in a mighty array of other cradles there are now some -60,000 future office-seekers, getting ready to furnish him occasion to -grapple with that same old problem a second time. And in still one more -cradle, somewhere under the flag, the future illustrious commander-in- -chief of the American armies is so little burdened with his approaching -grandeurs and responsibilities as to be giving his whole strategic mind -at this moment to trying to find out some way to get his big toe into his -mouth--an achievement which, meaning no disrespect, the illustrious guest -of this evening turned his entire attention to some fifty-six years ago; -and if the child is but a prophecy of the man, there are mighty few who -will doubt that he succeeded. - - - - - - -SPEECH ON THE WEATHER - -AT THE NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY'S SEVENTY-FIRST ANNUAL DINNER, NEW YORK CITY - - The next toast was: "The Oldest Inhabitant--The Weather of New - England." - - Who can lose it and forget it? - Who can have it and regret it? - - Be interposes 'twixt us Twain. - Merchant of Venice. - - To this Samuel L. Clemens (Mark Twain) replied as follows:-- - - -I reverently believe that the Maker who made us all makes everything in -New England but the weather. I don't know who makes that, but I think it -must be raw apprentices in the weather-clerk's factory who experiment and -learn how, in New England, for board and clothes, and then are promoted -to make weather for countries that require a good article, and will take -their custom elsewhere if they don't get it. There is a sumptuous -variety about the New England weather that compels the stranger's -admiration--and regret. The weather is always doing something there; -always attending strictly to business; always getting up new designs and -trying them on the people to see how they will go. But it gets through -more business in spring than in any other season. In the spring I have -counted one hundred and thirty-six different kinds of weather inside of -four-and-twenty hours. It was I that made the fame and fortune of that -man that had that marvelous collection of weather on exhibition at the -Centennial, that so astounded the foreigners. He was going to travel all -over the world and get specimens from all the climes. I said, "Don't you -do it; you come to New England on a favorable spring day." I told him -what we could do in the way of style, variety, and quantity. Well, he -came and he made his collection in four days. As to variety, why, he -confessed that he got hundreds of kinds of weather that he had never -heard of before. And as to quantity--well, after he had picked out and -discarded all that was blemished in any way, he not only had weather -enough, but weather to spare; weather to hire out; weather to sell; to -deposit; weather to invest; weather to give to the poor. The people of -New England are by nature patient and forbearing, but there are some -things which they will not stand. Every year they kill a lot of poets -for writing about "Beautiful Spring." These are generally casual -visitors, who bring their notions of spring from somewhere else, and -cannot, of course, know how the natives feel about spring. And so the -first thing they know the opportunity to inquire how they feel has -permanently gone by. Old Probabilities has a mighty reputation for -accurate prophecy, and thoroughly well deserves it. You take up the -paper and observe how crisply and confidently he checks off what to-day's -weather is going to be on the Pacific, down South, in the Middle States, -in the Wisconsin region. See him sail along in the joy and pride of his -power till he gets to New England, and then see-his tail drop. He -doesn't know what the weather is going to be in New England. Well, he -mulls over it, and by and by he gets out something about like this: -Probable northeast to southwest minds, varying to the southward and -westward and eastward, and points between, high and low barometer -swapping around from place to place; probable areas of rain, snow, hail, -and drought, succeeded or preceded by earthquakes, with thunder and -lightning. Then he jots down this postscript from his wandering mind, to -cover accidents: "But it is possible that the program may be wholly -changed in the mean time." Yes, one of the brightest gems in the New -England weather is the dazzling uncertainty of it. There is only one -thing certain about it: you are certain there is going to be plenty of -it--a perfect grand review; but you never can tell which end of the -procession is going to move first. You fix up for the drought; you leave -your umbrella in the house and sally out, and two to one you get drowned. -You make up your mind that the earthquake is due; you stand from under, -and take hold of something to steady yourself, and the first thing you -know you get struck by lightning. These are great disappointments; but -they can't be helped. The lightning there is peculiar; it is so -convincing, that when it strikes a thing it doesn't leave enough of that -thing behind for you to tell whether-- Well, you'd think it was something -valuable, and a Congressman had been there. And the thunder. When the -thunder begins to merely tune up and scrape and saw, and key up the -instruments for the performance, strangers say, "Why, what awful thunder -you have here!" But when the baton is raised and the real concert -begins, you'll find that stranger down in the cellar with his head in the -ash-barrel. Now as to the size of the weather in New England lengthways, -I mean. It is utterly disproportioned to the size of that little -country. Half the time, when it is packed as full as it can stick, you -will see that New England weather sticking out beyond the edges and -projecting around hundreds and hundreds of miles over the neighboring -states. She can't hold a tenth part of her weather. You can see cracks -all about where she has strained herself trying to do it. I could speak -volumes about the inhuman perversity of the New England weather, but I -will give but a single specimen. I like to hear rain on a tin roof. -So I covered part of my roof with tin, with an eye to that luxury. Well, -sir, do you think it ever rains on that tin? No, sir; skips it every -time. Mind, in this speech I have been trying merely to do honor to the -New England weather--no language could do it justice. But, after all, -there is at least one or two things about that weather (or, if you -please, effects produced, by it) which we residents would not like to -part with. If we hadn't our bewitching autumn foliage, we should still -have to credit the weather with one feature which compensates for all its -bullying vagaries the ice-storm: when a leafless tree is clothed with ice -from the bottom to the top--ice that is as bright and clear as crystal; -when every bough and twig is strung with ice-beads, frozen dewdrops, and -the whole tree sparkles cold and white, like the Shah of Persia's diamond -plume. Then the wind waves the branches and the sun comes out and turns -all those myriads of beads and drops to prisms that glow and burn and -flash with all manner of colored fires, which change and change again -with inconceivable rapidity from blue to red, from red to green, and -green to gold--the tree becomes a spraying fountain, a very explosion of -dazzling jewels; and it stands there the acme, the climax, the supremest -possibility in art or nature, of bewildering, intoxicating, intolerable -magnificence. One cannot make the words too strong. - - - - - - -CONCERNING THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE - ---[Being part of a chapter which was crowded out of "A Tramp Abroad."-- -M.T.] - -There was as Englishman in our compartment, and he complimented me on-- -on what? But you would never guess. He complimented me on my English. -He said Americans in general did not speak the English language as -correctly as I did. I said I was obliged to him for his compliment, -since I knew he meant it for one, but that I was not fairly entitled to -it, for I did not speak English at all--I only spoke American. - -He laughed, and said it was a distinction without a difference. I said -no, the difference was not prodigious, but still it was considerable. -We fell into a friendly dispute over the matter. I put my case as well -as I could, and said: - -"The languages were identical several generations ago, but our changed -conditions and the spread of our people far to the south and far to the -west have made many alterations in our pronunciation, and have introduced -new words among us and changed the meanings of many old ones. English -people talk through their noses; we do not. We say know, English people -say nao; we say cow, the Briton says kaow; we--" - -"Oh, come! that is pure Yankee; everybody knows that." - -"Yes, it is pure Yankee; that is true. One cannot hear it in America -outside of the little corner called New England, which is Yankee land. -The English themselves planted it there, two hundred and fifty years ago, -and there it remains; it has never spread. But England talks through her -nose yet; the Londoner and the backwoods New-Englander pronounce 'know' -and 'cow' alike, and then the Briton unconsciously satirizes himself by -making fun of the Yankee's pronunciation." - -We argued this point at some length; nobody won; but no matter, the fact -remains Englishmen say nao and kaow for "know" and "cow," and that is -what the rustic inhabitant of a very small section of America does. - -"You conferred your 'a' upon New England, too, and there it remains; it -has not traveled out of the narrow limits of those six little states in -all these two hundred and fifty years. All England uses it, New -England's small population-say four millions-use it, but we have forty- -five millions who do not use it. You say 'glahs of wawtah,' so does New -England; at least, New England says 'glahs.' America at large flattens -the 'a', and says 'glass of water.' These sounds are pleasanter than -yours; you may think they are not right--well, in English they are not -right, but 'American' they are. You say 'flahsk' and 'bahsket,' and -'jackahss'; we say 'flask,' 'basket,' 'jackass'--sounding the 'a' as it -is in 'tallow,' 'fallow,' and so on. 'Up to as late as 1847 Mr. -Webster's Dictionary had the impudence to still pronounce 'basket' -bahsket, when he knew that outside of his little New England all America -shortened the 'a' and paid no attention to his English broadening of it. -However, it called itself an English Dictionary, so it was proper enough -that it should stick to English forms, perhaps. It still calls itself an -English Dictionary today, but it has quietly ceased to pronounce 'basket' -as if it were spelt 'bahsket.' In the American language the 'h' is -respected; the 'h' is not dropped or added improperly." - -"The same is the case in England--I mean among the educated classes, of -course." - -"Yes, that is true; but a nation's language is a very large matter. -It is not simply a manner of speech obtaining among the educated handful; -the manner obtaining among the vast uneducated multitude must be -considered also. Your uneducated masses speak English, you will not deny -that; our uneducated masses speak American it won't be fair for you to -deny that, for you can see, yourself, that when your stable-boy says, -'It isn't the 'unting that 'urts the 'orse, but the 'ammer, 'ammer, -'ammer on the 'ard 'ighway,' and our stable-boy makes the same remark -without suffocating a single h, these two people are manifestly talking -two different languages. But if the signs are to he trusted, even your -educated classes used to drop the 'h.' They say humble, now, and heroic, -and historic etc., but I judge that they used to drop those h's because -your writers still keep up the fashion of patting an before those words -instead of a. This is what Mr. Darwin might call a 'rudimentary' sign -that as an was justifiable once, and useful when your educated classes -used ,to say 'umble, and 'eroic, and 'istorical. Correct writers of the -American language do not put an before three words." - -The English gentleman had something to say upon this matter, but never -mind what he said--I'm not arguing his case. I have him at a -disadvantage, now. I proceeded: - -"In England you encourage an orator by exclaiming, 'H'yaah! h'yaah!' -We pronounce it heer in some sections, 'h'yer' in others, and so on; but -our whites do not say 'h'yaah,' pronouncing the a's like the a in ah. -I have heard English ladies say 'don't you'--making two separate and -distinct words of it; your Mr. Burnand has satirized it. But we always -say 'dontchu.' This is much better. Your ladies say, 'Oh, it's oful -nice!' Ours say, 'Oh, it's awful nice!' We say, 'Four hundred,' you say -'For'--as in the word or. Your clergymen speak of 'the Lawd,' ours of -'the Lord'; yours speak of 'the gawds of the heathen,' ours of 'the gods -of the heathen.' When you are exhausted, you say you are 'knocked up.' -We don't. When you say you will do a thing 'directly,' you mean -'immediately'; in the American language--generally speaking--the word -signifies 'after a little.' When you say 'clever,' you mean 'capable'; -with us the word used to mean 'accommodating,' but I don't know what it -means now. Your word 'stout' means 'fleshy'; our word 'stout' usually -means 'strong.' Your words 'gentleman' and 'lady' have a very restricted -meaning; with us they include the barmaid, butcher, burglar, harlot, and -horse-thief. You say, 'I haven't got any stockings on,' 'I haven't got -any memory,' 'I haven't got any money in my purse; we usually say, 'I -haven't any stockings on,' 'I haven't any memory,!' 'I haven't any money -in my purse.' You say 'out of window'; we always put in a the. If one -asks 'How old is that man?' the Briton answers, 'He will be about forty'; -in the American language we should say, 'He is about forty.' However, -I won't tire you, sir; but if I wanted to, I could pile up differences -here until I not only convinced you that English and American are -separate languages, but that when I speak my native tongue in its utmost -purity an Englishman can't understand me at all." - -"I don't wish to flatter you, but it is about all I can do to understand -you now." - -That was a very pretty compliment, and it put us on the pleasantest terms -directly--I use the word in the English sense. - -[Later--1882. Esthetes in many of our schools are now beginning to teach -the pupils to broaden the 'a,' and to say "don't you," in the elegant -foreign way.] - - - - - - -ROGERS - -This Man Rogers happened upon me and introduced himself at the town -of -----, in the South of England, where I stayed awhile. His stepfather -had married a distant relative of mine who was afterward hanged; and so -he seemed to think a blood relationship existed between us. He came in -every day and sat down and talked. Of all the bland, serene human -curiosities I ever saw, I think he was the chiefest. He desired to look -at my new chimney-pot hat. I was very willing, for I thought he would -notice the name of the great Oxford Street hatter in it, and respect me -accordingly. But he turned it about with a sort of grave compassion, -pointed out two or three blemishes, and said that I, being so recently -arrived, could not be expected to know where to supply myself. Said he -would send me the address of his hatter. Then he said, "Pardon me," and -proceeded to cut a neat circle of red tissue paper; daintily notched the -edges of it; took the mucilage and pasted it in my hat so as to cover the -manufacturer's name. He said, "No one will know now where you got it. -I will send you a hat-tip of my hatter, and you can paste it over this -tissue circle." It was the calmest, coolest thing--I never admired a man -so much in my life. Mind, he did this while his own hat sat offensively -near our noses, on the table--an ancient extinguisher of the "slouch" -pattern, limp and shapeless with age, discolored by vicissitudes of the -weather, and banded by an equator of bear's grease that had stewed -through. - -Another time he examined my coat. I had no terrors, for over my tailor's -door was the legend, "By Special Appointment Tailor to H. R. H. the -Prince of Wales," etc. I did not know at the time that the most of the -tailor shops had the same sign out, and that whereas it takes nine -tailors to make an ordinary man, it takes a hundred and fifty to make a -prince. He was full of compassion for my coat. Wrote down the address -of his tailor for me. Did not tell me to mention my nom de plume and the -tailor would put his best work on my garment, as complimentary people -sometimes do, but said his tailor would hardly trouble himself for an -unknown person (unknown person, when I thought I was so celebrated in -England!--that was the cruelest cut), but cautioned me to mention his -name, and it would be all right. Thinking to be facetious, I said: - -"But he might sit up all night and injure his health." - -"Well, let him," said Rogers; "I've done enough for him, for him to show -some appreciation of it." - -I might as well have tried to disconcert a mummy with my facetiousness. -Said Rogers: "I get all my coats there--they're the only coats fit to be -seen in." - -I made one more attempt. I said, "I wish you had brought one with you-- -I would like to look at it." - -"Bless your heart, haven't I got one on?--this article is Morgan's make." - -I examined it. The coat had been bought ready-made, of a Chatham Street -Jew, without any question--about 1848. It probably cost four dollars -when it was new. It was ripped, it was frayed, it was napless and -greasy. I could not resist showing him where it was ripped. It so -affected him that I was almost sorry I had done it. First he seemed -plunged into a bottomless abyss of grief. Then he roused himself, made a -feint with his hands as if waving off the pity of a nation, and said-- -with what seemed to me a manufactured emotion--"No matter; no matter; -don't mind me; do not bother about it. I can get another." - -When he was thoroughly restored, so that he could examine the rip and -command his feelings, he said, ah, now he understood it--his servant must -have done it while dressing him that morning. - -His servant! There was something awe-inspiring in effrontery like this. - -Nearly every day he interested himself in some article of my clothing. -One would hardly have expected this sort of infatuation in a man who -always wore the same suit, and it a suit that seemed coeval with the -Conquest. - -It was an unworthy ambition, perhaps, but I did wish I could make this -man admire something about me or something I did--you would have felt the -same way. I saw my opportunity: I was about to return to London, and had -"listed" my soiled linen for the, wash. It made quite au imposing -mountain in the corner of the room--fifty-four pieces. I hoped he would -fancy it was the accumulation of a single week. I took up the wash-list, -as if to see that it was all right, and then tossed it on the table, with -pretended forgetfulness. Sure enough, he took it. up and ran his eye -along down to the grand total. Then he said, "You get off easy," and -laid it down again. - -His gloves were the saddest ruin, but he told me where I could get some -like them. His shoes would hardly hold walnuts without leaking, but he -liked to put his feet up on the mantelpiece and contemplate them. -He wore a dim glass breastpin, which he called a "morphylitic diamond"-- -whatever that may mean--and said only two of them had ever been found ---the Emperor of China had the other one. - -Afterward, in London, it was a pleasure to me to see this fantastic -vagabond come marching into the lobby of the hotel in his grand-ducal -way, for he always had some new imaginary grandeur to develop--there was -nothing stale about him but his clothes. If he addressed me when -strangers were about, he always raised his voice a little and called me -"Sir Richard," or "General," or "Your Lordship"--and when people began to -stare and look deferential, he would fall to inquiring in a casual way -why I disappointed the Duke of Argyll the night before; and then remind -me of our engagement at the Duke of Westminster's for the following day. -I think that for the time being these things were realities to him. He -once came and invited me to go with him and spend the evening with the -Earl of Warwick at his town house. I said I had received no formal -invitation. He said that that was of no consequence, the Earl had no -formalities for him or his friends. I asked if I could go just as I was. -He said no, that would hardly do; evening dress was requisite at night in -any gentleman's house. He said he would wait while I dressed, and then -we would go to his apartments and I could take a bottle of champagne and -a cigar while he dressed. I was very willing to see how this enterprise -would turn out, so I dressed, and we started to his lodgings. He said if -I didn't mind we would walk. So we tramped some four miles through the -mud and fog, and finally found his "apartments"; they consisted of a -single room over a barber's shop in a back street. Two chairs, a small -table, an ancient valise, a wash-basin and pitcher (both on the floor in -a corner), an unmade bed, a fragment of a looking-glass, and a flower- -pot, with a perishing little rose geranium in it, which he called a -century plant, and said it had not bloomed now for upward of two -centuries--given to him by the late Lord Palmerston (been offered a -prodigious sum for it)--these were the contents of the room. Also a -brass candlestick and a part of a candle. Rogers lit the candle, and -told me to sit down and make myself at home. He said he hoped I was -thirsty, because he would surprise my palate with an article of champagne -that seldom got into a commoner's system; or would I prefer sherry, or -port? Said he had port in bottles that were swathed in stratified -cobwebs, every stratum representing a generation. And as for his cigars- --well, I should judge of them myself. Then he put his head out at the -door and called: - -"Sackville!" No answer. - -"Hi-Sackville!" No answer. - -"Now what the devil can have become of that butler? I never allow a -servant to--Oh, confound that idiot, he's got the keys. Can't get into -the other rooms without the keys." - -(I was just wondering at his intrepidity in still keeping up the delusion -of the champagne, and trying to imagine how he was going to get out of -the difficulty.) - -Now he stopped calling Sackville and began to call "Anglesy." But -Anglesy didn't come. He said, "This is the second time that that equerry -has been absent without leave. To-morrow I'll discharge him." Now he -began to whoop for "Thomas," but Thomas didn't answer. Then for -"Theodore," but no Theodore replied. - -"Well, I give it up," said Rogers. "The servants never expect me at this -hour, and so they're all off on a lark. Might get along without the -equerry and the page, but can't have any wine or cigars without the -butler, and can't dress without my valet." - -I offered to help him dress, but he would not hear of it; and besides, he -said he would not feel comfortable unless dressed by a practised hand. -However, he finally concluded that he was such old friends with the Earl -that it would not make any difference how he was dressed. So we took a -cab, he gave the driver some directions, and we started. By and by we -stopped before a large house and got out. I never had seen this man with -a collar on. He now stepped under a lamp and got a venerable paper -collar out of his coat pocket, along with a hoary cravat, and put them -on. He ascended the stoop, and entered. Presently he reappeared, -descended rapidly, and said: - -"Come-quick!" - -We hurried away, and turned the corner. - -"Now we're safe," he said, and took off his collar and cravat and -returned them to his pocket. - -"Made a mighty narrow escape," said he. - -"How?" said I. - -"B' George, the Countess was there!" - -"Well, what of that?--don't she know you?" - -"Know me? Absolutely worships me. I just did happen to catch a glimpse -of her before she saw me--and out I shot. Haven't seen her for two -months--to rush in on her without any warning might have been fatal. -She could not have stood it. I didn't know she was in town--thought she -was at the castle. Let me lean on you--just a moment--there; now I am -better--thank you; thank you ever so much. Lord bless me, what an -escape!" - -So I never got to call on the Earl, after all. But I marked the house -for future reference. It proved to be an ordinary family hotel, with -about a thousand plebeians roosting in it. - -In most things Rogers was by no means a fool. In some things it was -plain enough that he was a fool, but he certainly did not know it. -He was in the "deadest" earnest in these matters. He died at sea, last -summer, as the "Earl of Ramsgate." - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg Etext of Alonzo Fitz and others, by Mark Twain - diff --git a/old/mtlaf10.zip b/old/mtlaf10.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 11a926c..0000000 --- a/old/mtlaf10.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/mtlaf11.txt b/old/mtlaf11.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 19e8ddb..0000000 --- a/old/mtlaf11.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3725 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg Etext of Alonzo Fitz and others, by Mark Twain -#45 in our series by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) - -Copyright laws are changing all over the world. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.10/04/01*END* - - - - - -This etext was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> - - - - - -ALONZO FITZ AND OTHER STORIES - -by Mark Twain - - - -CONTENTS OF THIS VOLUME: - -THE LOVES OF ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON -ON THE DECAY OF THE ART OF LYING -ABOUT MAGNANIMOUS-INCIDENT LITERATURE - THE GRATEFUL POODLE - THE BENEVOLENT AUTHOR - THE GRATEFUL HUSBAND -PUNCH, BROTHERS, PUNCH -THE GREAT REVOLUTION IN PITCAIRN -THE CANVASSER'S TALE -AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN INTERVIEWER -PARIS NOTES -LEGEND OF SAGENFELD, IN GERMANY -SPEECH ON THE BABIES -SPEECH ON THE WEATHER -CONCERNING THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE -ROGERS - - - - -THE LOVES OF ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON - - -It was well along in the forenoon of a bitter winter's day. The town of -Eastport, in the state of Maine, lay buried under a deep snow that was -newly fallen. The customary bustle in the streets was wanting. One -could look long distances down them and see nothing but a dead-white -emptiness, with silence to match. Of course I do not mean that you could -see the silence--no, you could only hear it. The sidewalks were merely -long, deep ditches, with steep snow walls on either side. Here and there -you might hear the faint, far scrape of a wooden shovel, and if you were -quick enough you might catch a glimpse of a distant black figure stooping -and disappearing in one of those ditches, and reappearing the next moment -with a motion which you would know meant the heaving out of a shovelful -of snow. But you needed to be quick, for that black figure would not -linger, but would soar drop that shovel and scud for the house, thrashing -itself with its arms to warm them. Yes, it was too venomously cold for -snow-shovelers or anybody else to stay out long. - -Presently the sky darkened; then the wind rose and began to blow in -fitful, vigorous gusts, which sent clouds of powdery snow aloft, and -straight ahead, and everywhere. Under the impulse of one of these gusts, -great white drifts banked themselves like graves across the streets; a -moment later another gust shifted them around the other way, driving a -fine spray of snow from their sharp crests, as the gale drives the spume -flakes from wave-crests at sea; a third gust swept that place as clean as -your hand, if it saw fit. This was fooling, this was play; but each and -all of the gusts dumped some snow into the sidewalk ditches, for that was -business. - -Alonzo Fitz Clarence was sitting in his snug and elegant little parlor, -in a lovely blue silk dressing-gown, with cuffs and facings of crimson -satin, elaborately quilted. The remains of his breakfast were before -him, and the dainty and costly little table service added a harmonious -charm to the grace, beauty, and richness of the fixed appointments of the -room. A cheery fire was blazing on the hearth. - -A furious gust of wind shook the windows, and a great wave of snow washed -against them with a drenching sound, so to speak. The handsome young -bachelor murmured: - -"That means, no going out to-day. Well, I am content. But what to do -for company? Mother is well enough, Aunt Susan is well enough; but -these, like the poor, I have with me always. On so grim a day as this, -one needs a new interest, a fresh element, to whet the dull edge of -captivity. That was very neatly said, but it doesn't mean anything. -One doesn't want the edge of captivity sharpened up, you know, but just -the reverse." - -He glanced at his pretty French mantel-clock. - -"That clock's wrong again. That clock hardly ever knows what time it is; -and when it does know, it lies about it--which amounts to the same thing. -Alfred!" - -There was no answer. - -"Alfred! . . . Good servant, but as uncertain as the clock." - -Alonzo touched an electric bell button in the wall. He waited a moment, -then touched it again; waited a few moments more, and said: - -"Battery out of order, no doubt. But now that I have started, I will -find out what time it is." He stepped to a speaking-tube in the wall, -blew its whistle, and called, "Mother!" and repeated it twice. - -"Well, that's no use. Mother's battery is out of order, too. Can't -raise anybody down-stairs--that is plain." - -He sat down at a rosewood desk, leaned his chin on the left-hand edge of -it and spoke, as if to the floor: "Aunt Susan!" - -A low, pleasant voice answered, "Is that you, Alonzo?' - -"Yes. I'm too lazy and comfortable to go downstairs; I am in extremity, -and I can't seem to scare up any help." - -"Dear me, what is the matter?" - -"Matter enough, I can tell you!" - -"Oh, don't keep me in suspense, dear! What is it?" - -"I want to know what time it is." - -"You abominable boy, what a turn you did give me! Is that all?" - -"All--on my honor. Calm yourself. Tell me the time, and receive my -blessing." - -"Just five minutes after nine. No charge--keep your blessing." - -"Thanks. It wouldn't have impoverished me, aunty, nor so enriched you -that you could live without other means." - -He got up, murmuring, "Just five minutes after nine," and faced his -clock. "Ah," said he, "you are doing better than usual. You are only -thirty-four minutes wrong. Let me see . . , let me see. . . . -Thirty-three and twenty-one are fifty-four; four times fifty-four are two -hundred and thirty-six. One off, leaves two hundred and thirty-five. -That's right." - -He turned the hands of his clock forward till they marked twenty-five -minutes to one, and said, "Now see if you can't keep right for a while ---else I'll raffle you!" - -He sat down at the desk again, and said, "Aunt Susan!" - -"Yes, dear." - -"Had breakfast?" - -"Yes, indeed, an hour ago." - -"Busy?" - -"No--except sewing. Why?" - -"Got any company?" - -"No, but I expect some at half past nine." - -"I wish I did. I'm lonesome. I want to talk to somebody." - -"Very well, talk to me." - -"But this is very private." - -"Don't be afraid--talk right along, there's nobody here but me." - -"I hardly know whether to venture or not, but--" - -"But what? Oh, don't stop there! You know you can trust me, Alonzo--you -know, you can." - -"I feel it, aunt, but this is very serious. It affects me deeply--me, -and all the family---even the whole community." - -"Oh, Alonzo, tell me! I will never breathe a word of it. What is it?" - -"Aunt, if I might dare--" - -"Oh, please go on! I love you, and feel for you. Tell me all. -Confide in me. What is it?" - -"The weather!" - -"Plague take the weather! I don't see how you can have the heart to -serve me so, Lon." - -"There, there, aunty dear, I'm sorry; I am, on my honor. I won't do it -again. Do you forgive me?" - -"Yes, since you seem so sincere about it, though I know I oughtn't to. -You will fool me again as soon as I have forgotten this time." - -"No, I won't, honor bright. But such weather, oh, such weather! You've -got to keep your spirits up artificially. It is snowy, and blowy, and -gusty, and bitter cold! How is the weather with you?" - -"Warm and rainy and melancholy. The mourners go about the streets with -their umbrellas running streams from the end of every whalebone. There's -an elevated double pavement of umbrellas, stretching down the sides of -the streets as far as I can see. I've got a fire for cheerfulness, and -the windows open to keep cool. But it is vain, it is useless: nothing -comes in but the balmy breath of December, with its burden of mocking -odors from the flowers that possess the realm outside, and rejoice in -their lawless profusion whilst the spirit of man is low, and flaunt their -gaudy splendors in his face while his soul is clothed in sackcloth and -ashes and his heart breaketh." - -Alonzo opened his lips to say, "You ought to print that, and get it -framed," but checked himself, for he heard his aunt speaking to some one -else. He went and stood at the window and looked out upon the wintry -prospect. The storm was driving the snow before it more furiously than -ever; window-shutters were slamming and banging; a forlorn dog, with -bowed head and tail withdrawn from service, was pressing his quaking body -against a windward wall for shelter and protection; a young girl was -plowing knee-deep through the drifts, with her face turned from the -blast, and the cape of her waterproof blowing straight rearward over her -head. Alonzo shuddered, and said with a sigh, "Better the slop, and the -sultry rain, and even the insolent flowers, than this!" - -He turned from the window, moved a step, and stopped in a listening -attitude. The faint, sweet notes of a familiar song caught his ear. He -remained there, with his head unconsciously bent forward, drinking in the -melody, stirring neither hand nor foot, hardly breathing. There was a -blemish in the execution of the song, but to Alonzo it seemed an added -charm instead of a defect. This blemish consisted of a marked flatting -of the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh notes of the refrain or -chorus of the piece. When the music ended, Alonzo drew a deep breath, -and said, "Ah, I never have heard 'In the Sweet By-and-by' sung like that -before!" - -He stepped quickly to the desk, listened a moment, and said in a guarded, -confidential voice, "Aunty, who is this divine singer?" - -"She is the company I was expecting. Stays with me a month or two. -I will introduce you. Miss--" - -"For goodness' sake, wait a moment, Aunt Susan! You never stop to think -what you are about!" - -He flew to his bedchamber, and returned in a moment perceptibly changed -in his outward appearance, and remarking, snappishly: - -"Hang it, she would have introduced me to this angel in that sky-blue -dressing-gown with red-hot lapels! Women never think, when they get -a-going." - -He hastened and stood by the desk, and said eagerly, "Now, Aunty, I am -ready," and fell to smiling and bowing with all the persuasiveness and -elegance that were in him. - -"Very well. Miss Rosannah Ethelton, let me introduce to you my favorite -nephew, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence. There! You are both good people, and -I like you; so I am going to trust you together while I attend to a few -household affairs. Sit down, Rosannah; sit down, Alonzo. Good-by; I -sha'n't be gone long." - -Alonzo had been bowing and smiling all the while, and motioning imaginary -young ladies to sit down in imaginary chairs, but now he took a seat -himself, mentally saying, "Oh, this is luck! Let the winds blow now, and -the snow drive, and the heavens frown! Little I care!" - -While these young people chat themselves into an acquaintanceship, let us -take the liberty of inspecting the sweeter and fairer of the two. She -sat alone, at her graceful ease, in a richly furnished apartment which -was manifestly the private parlor of a refined and sensible lady, -if signs and symbols may go for anything. For instance, by a low, -comfortable chair stood a dainty, top-heavy workstand, whose summit was a -fancifully embroidered shallow basket, with varicolored crewels, and -other strings and odds, and ends protruding from under the gaping lid and -hanging down in negligent profusion. On the floor lay bright shreds of -Turkey red, Prussian blue, and kindred fabrics, bits of ribbon, a spool -or two, a pair of scissors, and a roll or so of tinted silken stuffs. -On a luxurious sofa, upholstered with some sort of soft Indian goods -wrought in black and gold threads interwebbed with other threads not so -pronounced in color, lay a great square of coarse white stuff, upon whose -surface a rich bouquet of flowers was growing, under the deft cultivation -of the crochet-needle. The household cat was asleep on this work of art. -In a bay-window stood an easel with an unfinished picture on it, and a -palette and brushes on a chair beside it. There were books everywhere: -Robertson's Sermons, Tennyson, Moody and Sankey, Hawthorne, Rab and His -Friends, cook-books, prayer-books, pattern-books--and books about all -kinds of odious and exasperating pottery, of course. There was a piano, -with a deck-load of music, and more in a tender. There was a great -plenty of pictures on the walls, on the shelves of the mantelpiece, and -around generally; where coigns of vantage offered were statuettes, and -quaint and pretty gimcracks, and rare and costly specimens of peculiarly -devilish china. The bay-window gave upon a garden that was ablaze with -foreign and domestic flowers and flowering shrubs. - -But the sweet young girl was the daintiest thing these premises, within -or without, could offer for contemplation: delicately chiseled features, -of Grecian cast; her complexion the pure snow of a japonica that is -receiving a faint reflected enrichment from some scarlet neighbor of the -garden; great, soft blue eyes fringed with long, curving lashes; an -expression made up of the trustfulness of a child and the gentleness of -a fawn; a beautiful head crowned with its own prodigal gold; a lithe and -rounded figure, whose every attitude and movement was instinct with -native grace. - -Her dress and adornment were marked by that exquisite harmony that can -come only of a fine natural taste perfected by culture. Her gown was of -a simple magenta tulle, cut bias, traversed by three rows of light-blue -flounces, with the selvage edges turned up with ashes-of-roses chenille; -overdress of dark bay tarlatan with scarlet satin lambrequins; corn- -colored polonaise, en zanier, looped with mother-of-pearl buttons and -silver cord, and hauled aft and made fast by buff velvet lashings; basque -of lavender reps, picked out with valenciennes; low neck, short sleeves; -maroon velvet necktie edged with delicate pink silk; inside handkerchief -of some simple three-ply ingrain fabric of a soft saffron tint; coral -bracelets and locket-chain; coiffure of forget-me-nots and lilies-of-the --valley massed around a noble calla. - -This was all; yet even in this subdued attire she was divinely beautiful. -Then what must she have been when adorned for the festival or the ball? - -All this time she had been busily chatting with Alonzo, unconscious of -our inspection. The minutes still sped, and still she talked. But by -and by she happened to look up, and saw the clock. A crimson blush sent -its rich flood through her cheeks, and she exclaimed: - -"There, good-by, Mr. Fitz Clarence; I must go now!" - -She sprang from her chair with such haste that she hardly heard the young -man's answering good-by. She stood radiant, graceful, beautiful, and -gazed, wondering, upon the accusing clock. Presently her pouting lips -parted, and she said: - -"Five minutes after eleven! Nearly two hours, and it did not seem twenty -minutes! Oh, dear, what will he think of me!" - -At the self-same moment Alonzo was staring at his clock. And presently -he said: - -"Twenty-five minutes to three! Nearly two hours, and I didn't believe it -was two minutes! Is it possible that this clock is humbugging again? -Miss Ethelton! Just one moment, please. Are you there yet?" - -"Yes, but be quick; I'm going right away." - -"Would you be so kind as to tell me what time it is?" - -The girl blushed again, murmured to herself, "It's right down cruel of -him to ask me!" and then spoke up and answered with admirably -counterfeited unconcern, "Five minutes after eleven." - -"Oh, thank you! You have to go, now, have you?" - -"I'm sorry." - -No reply. - -"Miss Ethelton!" - -"Well?" - -"You you're there yet, ain't you?" - -"Yes; but please hurry. What did you want to say?" - -"Well, I--well, nothing in particular. It's very lonesome here. It's -asking a great deal, I know, but would you mind talking with me again by -and by--that is, if it will not trouble you too much?" - -"I don't know but I'll think about it. I'll try." - -"Oh, thanks! Miss Ethelton! . . . Ah, me, she's gone, and here are -the black clouds and the whirling snow and the raging winds come again! -But she said good-by. She didn't say good morning, she said good-by!.... -The clock was right, after all. What a lightning-winged two hours it -was!" - -He sat down, and gazed dreamily into his fire for a while, then heaved a -sigh and said: - -"How wonderful it is! Two little hours ago I was a free man, and now my -heart's in San Francisco!" - -About that time Rosannah Ethelton, propped in the window-seat of her -bedchamber, book in hand, was gazing vacantly out over the rainy seas -that washed the Golden Gate, and whispering to herself, "How different he -is from poor Burley, with his empty head and his single little antic -talent of mimicry!" - - -II - -Four weeks later Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley was entertaining a gay -luncheon company, in a sumptuous drawing-room on Telegraph Hill, with -some capital imitations of the voices and gestures of certain popular -actors and San Franciscan literary people and Bonanza grandees. He was -elegantly upholstered, and was a handsome fellow, barring a trifling cast -in his eye. He seemed very jovial, but nevertheless he kept his eye on -the door with an expectant and uneasy watchfulness. By and by a nobby. -lackey appeared, and delivered a message to the mistress, who nodded her -head understandingly. That seemed to settle the thing for Mr. Burley; -his vivacity decreased little by little, and a dejected look began to -creep into one of his eyes and a sinister one into the other. - -The rest of the company departed in due time, leaving him with the -mistress, to whom he said: - -"There is no longer any question about it. She avoids me. She -continually excuses herself. If I could see her, if I could speak to her -only a moment but this suspense--" - -"Perhaps her seeming avoidance is mere accident, Mr. Burley. Go to the -small drawing-room up-stairs and amuse yourself a moment. I will -despatch a household order that is on my mind, and then I will go to her -room. Without doubt she will be persuaded to see you." - -Mr. Burley went up-stairs, intending to go to the small drawing-room, but -as he was passing "Aunt Susan's" private parlor, the door of which stood -slightly ajar, he heard a joyous laugh which he recognized; so without -knock or announcement he stepped confidently in. But before he could -make his presence known he heard words that harrowed up his soul and -chilled his young blood, die heard a voice say: - -"Darling, it has come!" - -Then he heard Rosannah Ethelton, whose back was toward him, say: - -"So has yours, dearest!" - -He saw her bowed form bend lower; he heard her kiss something--not merely -once, but again and again! His soul raged within him. The heartbreaking -conversation went on: - -"Rosannah, I knew you must be beautiful, but this is dazzling, this is -blinding, this is intoxicating!" - -"Alonzo, it is such happiness to hear you say it. I know it is not true, -but I am so grateful to have you think it is, nevertheless! I knew you -must have a noble face, but the grace and majesty of the reality beggar -the poor creation of my fancy." - -Burley heard that rattling shower of kisses again. - -"Thank you, my Rosannah! The photograph flatters me, but you must not -allow yourself to think of that. Sweetheart?" - -"Yes, Alonzo." - -"I am so happy, Rosannah." - -"Oh, Alonzo, none that have gone before me knew what love was, none that -come after me will ever know what happiness is. I float in a gorgeous -cloud land, a boundless firmament of enchanted and bewildering ecstasy!" - -"Oh, my Rosannah! for you are mine, are you not?" - -"Wholly, oh, wholly yours, Alonzo, now and forever! All the day long, -and all through my nightly dreams, one song sings itself, and its sweet -burden is, 'Alonzo Fitz Clarence, Alonzo Fitz Clarence, Eastport, state -of Maine!'" - -"Curse him, I've got his address, anyway!" roared Burley, inwardly, and -rushed from the place. - -Just behind the unconscious Alonzo stood his mother, a picture of -astonishment. She was so muffled from head to heel in furs that nothing -of herself was visible but her eyes and nose. She was a good allegory of -winter, for she was powdered all over with snow. - -Behind the unconscious Rosannah stood "Aunt' Susan," another picture of -astonishment. She was a good allegory of summer, for she was lightly -clad, and was vigorously cooling the perspiration on her face with a fan. - -Both of these women had tears of joy in their eyes. - -"Soho!" exclaimed Mrs. Fitz Clarence, "this explains why nobody has been -able to drag you out of your room for six weeks, Alonzo!" - -"So ho!" exclaimed Aunt Susan, "this explains why you have been a hermit -for the past six weeks, Rosannah!" - -The young couple were on their feet in an instant, abashed, and standing -like detected dealers in stolen goods awaiting judge Lynch's doom. - -"Bless you, my son! I am happy in your happiness. Come to your mother's -arms, Alonzo!" - -"Bless you, Rosannah, for my dear nephew's sake! Come to my arms!" - -Then was there a mingling of hearts and of tears of rejoicing on -Telegraph Hill and in Eastport Square. - -Servants were called by the elders, in both places. Unto one was given -the order, "Pile this fire high, with hickory wood, and bring me a -roasting-hot lemonade." - -Unto the other was given the order, "Put out this, fire, and bring me two -palm-leaf fans and a pitcher of ice-water." - -Then the young people were dismissed, and the elders sat down to talk the -sweet surprise over and make the wedding plans. - -Some minutes before this Mr. Burley rushed from the mansion on Telegraph -Hill without meeting or taking formal leave of anybody. He hissed -through his teeth, in unconscious imitation of a popular favorite in -melodrama, "Him shall she never wed! I have sworn it! Ere great Nature -shall have doffed her winter's ermine to don the emerald gauds of spring, -she shall be mine!" - - -III - -Two weeks later. Every few hours, during same three or four days, a very -prim and devout-looking Episcopal clergyman, with a cast in his eye, had -visited Alonzo. According to his card, he was the Rev. Melton Hargrave, -of Cincinnati. He said he had retired from the ministry on account of -his health. If he had said on account of ill-health, he would probably -have erred, to judge by his wholesome looks and firm build. He was the -inventor of an improvement in telephones, and hoped to make his bread by -selling the privilege of using it. "At present," he continued, "a man -may go and tap a telegraph wire which is conveying a song or a concert -from one state to another, and he can attach his private telephone and -steal a hearing of that music as it passes along. My invention will stop -all that." - -"Well," answered Alonzo, "if the owner of the music could not miss what -was stolen, why should he care?" - -"He shouldn't care," said the Reverend. - -"Well?" said Alonzo, inquiringly. - -"Suppose," replied the Reverend, "suppose that, instead of music that was -passing along and being stolen, the burden of the wire was loving -endearments of the most private and sacred nature?" - -Alonzo shuddered from head to heel. "Sir, it is a priceless invention," -said he; "I must have it at any cost." - -But the invention was delayed somewhere on the road from Cincinnati, most -unaccountably. The impatient Alonzo could hardly wait. The thought of -Rosannah's sweet words being shared with him by some ribald thief was -galling to him. The Reverend came frequently and lamented the delay, and -told of measures he had taken to hurry things up. This was some little -comfort to Alonzo. - -One forenoon the Reverend ascended the stairs and knocked at Alonzo's -door. There was no response. He entered, glanced eagerly around,. -closed the door softly, then ran to the telephone. The exquisitely soft -and remote strains of the "Sweet By-and-by" came floating through the -instrument. The singer was flatting, as usual, the five notes that -follow the first two in the chorus, when the Reverend interrupted her -with this word, in a voice which was an exact imitation of Alonzo's, with -just the faintest flavor of impatience added: - -"Sweetheart?" - -"Yes, Alonzo?" - -"Please don't sing that any more this week-try something modern." - -The agile step that goes with a happy heart was heard on the stairs, and -the Reverend, smiling diabolically, sought sudden refuge behind the heavy -folds of the velvet windowcurtains. Alonzo entered and flew to the -telephone. Said he: - -"Rosannah, dear, shall we sing something together?" - -"Something modern?" asked she, with sarcastic bitterness. - -"Yes, if you prefer." - -"Sing it yourself, if you like!" - -This snappishness amazed and wounded the young man. He said: - -"Rosarmah, that was not like you." - -"I suppose it becomes me as much as your very polite speech became you, -Mr. Fitz Clarence." - -"Mister Fitz Clarence! Rosannah, there was nothing impolite about my -speech." - -"Oh, indeed! Of course, then, I misunderstood you, and I most humbly beg -your pardon, ha-ha-ha! No doubt you said, 'Don't sing it any more -to-day.'" - -"Sing what any more to-day?" - -"The song you mentioned, of course, How very obtuse we are, all of a -sudden!" - -"I never mentioned any song." - -"Oh, you didn't?" - -"No, I didn't!" - -"I am compelled to remark that you did." - -"And I am obliged to reiterate that I didn't." - -"A second rudeness! That is sufficient, sir. I will never forgive you. -All is over between us." - -Then came a muffled sound of crying. Alonzo hastened to say: - -"Oh, Rosannah, unsay those words! There is some dreadful mystery here, -some hideous mistake. I am utterly earnest and sincere when I say I -never said anything about any song. I would not hurt you for the whole -world . . . . Rosannah, dear speak to me, won't you?" - -There was a pause; then Alonzo heard the girl's sobbings retreating, and -knew she had gone from the telephone. He rose with a heavy sigh, and -hastened from the room, saying to himself, "I will ransack the charity -missions and the haunts of the poor for my mother. She will persuade her -that I never meant to wound her." - -A minute later the Reverend was crouching over the telephone like a cat -that knoweth the ways of the prey. He had not very many minutes to wait. -A soft, repentant voice, tremulous with tears, said: - -"Alonzo, dear, I have been wrong. You could not have said so cruel a -thing. It must have been some one who imitated your voice in malice or -in jest." - -The Reverend coldly answered, in Alonzo's tones: - -"You have said all was over between us. So let it be. I spurn your -proffered repentance, and despise it!" - -Then he departed, radiant with fiendish triumph, to return no more with -his imaginary telephonic invention forever. - -Four hours afterward Alonzo arrived with his mother from her favorite -haunts of poverty and vice. They summoned the San Francisco household; -but there was no reply. They waited, and continued to wait, upon the -voiceless telephone. - -At length, when it was sunset in San Francisco, and three hours and a -half after dark in Eastport, an answer to the oft-repeated cry of -"Rosannah!" - -But, alas, it was Aunt Susan's voice that spake. She said: - -"I have been out all day; just got in. I will go and find her." - -The watchers waited two minutes--five minutes--ten minutes. Then came -these fatal words, in a frightened tone: - -"She is gone, and her baggage with her. To visit another friend, she -told the servants. But I found this note on the table in her room. -Listen: 'I am gone; seek not to trace me out; my heart is broken; you -will never see me more. Tell him I shall always think of him when I sing -my poor "Sweet By-and-by," but never of the unkind words he said about -it.' That is her note. Alonzo, Alonzo, what does it mean? What has -happened?" - -But Alonzo sat white and cold as the dead. His mother threw back the -velvet curtains and opened a window. The cold air refreshed the -sufferer, and he told his aunt his dismal story. Meantime his mother was -inspecting a card which had disclosed itself upon the floor when she cast -the curtains back. It read, "Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley, San Francisco." - -"The miscreant!" shouted Alonzo, and rushed forth to seek the false -Reverend and destroy him; for the card explained everything, since in the -course of the lovers' mutual confessions they had told each other all -about all the sweethearts they had ever had, and thrown no end of mud at -their failings and foibles for lovers always do that. It has a -fascination that ranks next after billing and cooing. - - -IV - -During the next two months many things happened. It had early transpired -that Rosannah, poor suffering orphan, had neither returned to her -grandmother in Portland, Oregon, nor sent any word to her save a -duplicate of the woeful note she had left in the mansion on Telegraph -Hill. Whosoever was sheltering her--if she was still alive--had been -persuaded not to betray her whereabouts, without doubt; for all efforts -to find trace of her had failed. - -Did Alonzo give her up? Not he. He said to himself, "She will sing that -sweet song when she is sad; I shall find her." So he took his carpet- -sack and a portable telephone, and shook the snow of his native city from -his arctics, and went forth into the world. He wandered far and wide and -in many states. Time and again, strangers were astounded to see a -wasted, pale, and woe-worn man laboriously climb a telegraph-pole in -wintry and lonely places, perch sadly there an hour, with his ear at a -little box, then come sighing down, and wander wearily away. Sometimes -they shot at him, as peasants do at aeronauts, thinking him mad and -dangerous. Thus his clothes were much shredded by bullets and his person -grievously lacerated. But he bore it all patiently. - -In the beginning of his pilgrimage he used often to say, "Ah, if I could -but hear the 'Sweet By-and-by'!" But toward the end of it he used to -shed tears of anguish and say, "Ah, if I could but hear something else!" - -Thus a month and three weeks drifted by, and at last some humane people -seized him and confined him in a private mad-house in New York. He made -no moan, for his strength was all gone, and with it all heart and all -hope. The superintendent, in pity, gave up his own comfortable parlor -and bedchamber to him and nursed him with affectionate devotion. - -At the end of a week the patient was able to leave his bed for the first -time. He was lying, comfortably pillowed, on a sofa, listening to the -plaintive Miserere of the bleak March winds and the muffled sound of -tramping feet in the street below for it was about six in the evening, -and New York was going home from work. He had a bright fire and the -added cheer of a couple of student-lamps. So it was warm and snug -within, though bleak and raw without; it was light and bright within, -though outside it was as dark and dreary as if the world had been lit -with Hartford gas. Alonzo smiled feebly to think how his loving vagaries -had made him a maniac in the eyes of the world, and was proceeding to -pursue his line of thought further, when a faint, sweet strain, the very -ghost of sound, so remote and attenuated it seemed, struck upon his ear. -His pulses stood still; he listened with parted lips and bated breath. -The song flowed on he waiting, listening, rising slowly and unconsciously -from his recumbent position. At last he exclaimed: - -"It is! it is she! Oh, the divine hated notes!" - -He dragged himself eagerly to the corner whence the sounds proceeded, -tore aside a curtain, and discovered a telephone. He bent over, and as -the last note died away he burst forthwith the exclamation: - -"Oh, thank Heaven, found at last! Speak tome, Rosannah, dearest! The -cruel mystery has been unraveled; it was the villain Burley who mimicked -my voice and wounded you with insolent speech!" - -There was a breathless pause, a waiting age to Alonzo; then a faint sound -came, framing itself into language: - -"Oh, say those precious words again, Alonzo!" - -"They are the truth, the veritable truth, my Rosannah, and you shall have -the proof, ample and abundant proof!" - -"Oh; Alonzo, stay by me! Leave me not for a moment! Let me feel that -you are near me! Tell me we shall never be parted more! Oh, this happy -hour, this blessed hour, this memorable hour!" - -"We will make record of it, my Rosannah; every year, as this dear hour -chimes from the clock, we will celebrate it with thanksgivings, all the -years of our life." - -"We will, we will, Alonzo!" - -"Four minutes after six, in the evening, my Rosannah, shall henceforth--" - -"Twenty-three minutes after twelve, afternoon shall--" - -"Why; Rosannah, darling, where are you?" - -"In Honolulu, Sandwich Islands. And where are you? Stay by me; do not -leave me for a moment. I cannot bear it. Are you at home?" - -"No, dear, I am in New York--a patient in the doctor's hands." - -An agonizing shriek came buzzing to Alonzo's ear, like the sharp buzzing -of a hurt gnat; it lost power in traveling five thousand miles. Alonzo -hastened to say: - -"Calm--yourself, my child. It is nothing. Already I am getting well -under the sweet healing of your presence. Rosannah?" - -"Yes, Alonzo? Oh, how you terrified me! Say on." - -"Name the happy day, Rosannah!" - -There was a little pause. Then a diffident small voice replied, -"I blush--but it is with pleasure, it is with happiness. Would--would -you like to have it soon?" - -"This very night, Rosannah! Oh, let us risk no more delays. Let it be -now!--this very night, this very moment!" - -"Oh, you impatient creature! I have nobody here but my good old uncle, -a missionary for a generation, and now retired from service--nobody but -him and his wife. I would so dearly like it if your mother and your Aunt -Susan--" - -"Our mother and our Aunt Susan, my Rosannah." - -"Yes, our mother and our Aunt Susan--I am content to word it so if it -pleases you; I would so like to have them present." - -"So would I. Suppose you telegraph Aunt Susan. How long would it take -her to come?" - -"The steamer leaves San Francisco day after tomorrow. The passage is -eight days. She would be here the 31st of March." - -"Then name the 1st of April; do, Rosannah, dear." - -"Mercy, it would make us April fools, Alonzo!" - -"So we be the happiest ones that that day's suit looks down upon in the -whole broad expanse of the globe, why need we care? Call it the 1st of -April, dear." - -"Then the 1st of April at shall be, with all my heart!" - -"Oh, happiness! Name the hour, too, Rosannah." - -"I like the morning, it is so blithe. Will eight in the morning do, -Alonzo?" - -"The loveliest hour in the day--since it will make you mine." - -There was a feeble but frantic sound for some little time, as if -wool-upped, disembodied spirits were exchanging kisses; then Rosannah -said, "Excuse me just a moment, dear; I have an appointment, and am -called to meet it." - -The young girl sought a large parlor and took her place at a window which -looked out upon a beautiful scene. To the left one could view the -charming Nuuana Valley, fringed with its ruddy flush of tropical flowers -and its plumed and graceful cocoa palms; its rising foothills clothed in -the shining green of lemon, citron, and orange groves; its storied -precipice beyond, where the first Kamehameha drove his defeated foes over -to their destruction, a spot that had forgotten its grim history, no -doubt, for now it was smiling, as almost always at noonday, under the -glowing arches of a succession of rainbows. In front of the window one -could see the quaint town, and here and there a picturesque group of -dusky natives, enjoying the blistering weather; and far to the right lay -the restless ocean, tossing its white mane in the sunshine. - -Rosannah stood there, in her filmy white raiment, fanning her flushed and -heated face, waiting. A Kanaka boy, clothed in a damaged blue necktie -and part of a silk hat, thrust his head in at the door, and announced, -"'Frisco haole!" - -"Show him in," said the girl, straightening herself up and assuming a -meaning dignity. Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley entered, clad from head to -heel in dazzling snow--that is to say, in the lightest and whitest of -Irish linen. He moved eagerly forward, but the girl made a gesture and -gave him a look which checked him suddenly. She said, coldly, "I am -here, as I promised. I believed your assertions, I yielded to your -importune lies, and said I would name the day. I name the 1st of April- --eight in the morning. NOW GO!" - -"Oh, my dearest, if the gratitude of a lifetime--" - -"Not a word. Spare me all sight of you, all communication with you, -until that hour. No-no supplications; I will have it so." - -When he was gone, she sank exhausted in a chair, for the long siege of -troubles she had undergone had wasted her strength. Presently she said, -"What a narrow escape! If the hour appointed had been an hour earlier ---Oh, horror, what an escape I have made! And to think I had come to -imagine I was loving this beguiling, this truthless, this treacherous -monster! Oh, he shall repent his villainy!" - -Let us now draw this history to a close, for little more needs to be -told. On the 2d of the ensuing April, the Honolulu Advertiser contained -this notice: - - MARRIED.--In this city, by telephone, yesterday morning,--at eight - o'clock, by Rev. Nathan Hays, assisted by Rev. Nathaniel Davis, of - New York, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence, of Eastport, Maine, U. S., and - Miss Rosannah Ethelton, of Portland, Oregon, U. S. Mrs. Susan - Howland, of San Francisco, a friend of the bride, was present, she - being the guest of the Rev. Mr. Hays and wife, uncle and aunt of the - bride. Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley, of San Francisco, was also - present but did not remain till the conclusion of the marriage - service. Captain Hawthorne's beautiful yacht, tastefully decorated, - was in waiting, and the happy bride and her friends immediately - departed on a bridal trip to Lahaina and Haleakala. - -The New York papers of the same date contained this notice: - - MARRIED.--In this city, yesterday, by telephone, at half-past two in - the morning, by Rev. Nathaniel Davis, assisted by Rev. Nathan Hays, - of Honolulu, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence, of Eastport, Maine, and Miss - Rosannah Ethelton, of Portland, Oregon. The parents and several - friends of the bridegroom were present, and enjoyed a sumptuous - breakfast and much festivity until nearly sunrise, and then departed - on a bridal trip to the Aquarium, the bridegroom's state of health - not admitting of a more extended journey. - -Toward the close of that memorable day Mr. and Mrs. Alonzo Fitz Clarence -were buried in sweet converse concerning the pleasures of their several -bridal tours, when suddenly the young wife exclaimed: "Oh, Lonny, I -forgot! I did what I said I would." - -"Did you, dear?" - -"Indeed, I did. I made him the April fool! And I told him so, too! -Ah, it was a charming surprise! There he stood, sweltering in a black -dress-suit, with the mercury leaking out of the top of the thermometer, -waiting to be married. You should have seen the look he gave when I -whispered it in his ear. Ah, his wickedness cost me many a heartache and -many a tear, but the score was all squared up, then. So the vengeful -feeling went right out of my heart, and I begged him to stay, and said I -forgave him everything. But he wouldn't. He said he would live to be -avenged; said he would make our lives a curse to us. But he can't, can -he, dear?" - -"Never in this world, my Rosannah!" - -Aunt Susan, the Oregonian grandmother, and the young couple and their -Eastport parents, are all happy at this writing, and likely to remain so. -Aunt Susan brought the bride from the islands, accompanied her across our -continent, and had the happiness of witnessing the rapturous meeting -between an adoring husband and wife who had never seen each other until -that moment. - -A word about the wretched Burley, whose wicked machinations came so near -wrecking the hearts and lives of our poor young friends, will be -sufficient. In a murderous attempt to seize a crippled and helpless -artisan who he fancied had done him some small offense, he fell into a -caldron of boiling oil and expired before he could be extinguished. - - - - - - -ON THE DECAY OF THE ART OF LYING - -ESSAY, FOR DISCUSSION, READ AT A MEETING OF THE HISTORICAL AND -ANTIQUARIAN CLUB OF HARTFORD, AND OFFERED FOR THE THIRTY-DOLLAR PRIZE. -NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.--[Did not take the prize] - -Observe, I do not mean to suggest that the custom of lying has suffered -any decay or interruption--no, for the Lie, as a Virtue, a Principle, is -eternal; the Lie, as a recreation, a solace, a refuge in time of need, -the fourth Grace, the tenth Muse, man's best and surest friend, is -immortal, and cannot perish from the earth while this Club remains. My -complaint simply concerns the decay of the art of lying. No high-minded -man, no man of right feeling, can contemplate the lumbering and slovenly -lying of the present day without grieving to see a noble art so -prostituted. In this veteran presence I naturally enter upon this scheme -with diffidence; it is like an old maid trying to teach nursery matters -to the mothers in Israel. It would not become me to criticize you, -gentlemen, who are nearly all my elders--and my superiors, in this thing- --and so, if I should here and there seem to do it, I trust it will in -most cases be more in a spirit of admiration than of fault-finding; -indeed, if this finest of the fine arts had everywhere received the -attention, encouragement, and conscientious practice and development -which this Club has devoted to it I should not need to utter this lament -or shed a single tear. I do not say this to flatter: I say it in a -spirit of just and appreciative recognition. - -[It had been my intention, at this point, to mention names and give -illustrative specimens, but indications observable about me admonished me -to beware of particulars and confine myself to generalities.] - -No fact is more firmly established than that lying is a necessity of our -circumstances--the deduction that it is then a Virtue goes without -saying. No virtue can reach its highest usefulness without careful and -diligent cultivation--therefore, it goes without saying that this one -ought to be taught in the public schools--at the fireside--even in the -newspapers. What chance has the ignorant, uncultivated liar against the -educated expert? What chance have I against Mr. Per-- against a lawyer? -Judicious lying is what the world needs. I sometimes think it were even -better and safer not to lie at all than to lie injudiciously. An -awkward, unscientific lie is often as ineffectual as the truth. - -Now let us see what the philosophers say. Note that venerable proverb: -Children and fools always speak the truth. The deduction is plain ---adults and wise persons never speak it. Parkman, the historian, says, -"The principle of truth may itself be carried into an absurdity." In -another place in the same chapter he says, "The saying is old that truth -should not be spoken at all times; and those whom a sick conscience -worries into habitual violation of the maxim are imbeciles and -nuisances." It is strong language, but true. None of us could live with -an habitual truth-teller; but, thank goodness, none of us has to. An -habitual truth-teller is simply an impossible creature; he does not -exist; he never has existed. Of course there are people who think they -never lie, but it is not so--and this ignorance is one of the very things -that shame our so-called civilization. Everybody lies--every day; every -hour; awake; asleep; in his dreams; in his joy; in his mourning; if he -keeps his tongue still, his hands, his feet, his eyes, his attitude, will -convey deception--and purposely. Even in sermons--but that is a -platitude. - -In a far country where I once lived the ladies used to go around paying -calls, under the humane and kindly pretense of wanting to see each other; -and when they returned home, they would cry out with a glad voice, -saying, "We made sixteen calls and found fourteen of them out"--not -meaning that they found out anything against the fourteen--no, that was -only a colloquial phrase to signify that they were not at home--and their -manner of saying it--expressed their lively satisfaction in that fact. -Now, their pretense of wanting to see the fourteen--and the other two -whom they had been less lucky with--was that commonest and mildest form -of lying which is sufficiently described as a deflection from the truth. -Is it justifiable? Most certainly. It is beautiful, it is noble; for -its object is, not to reap profit, but to convey a pleasure to the -sixteen. The iron-souled truth-monger would plainly manifest, or even -utter the fact, that he didn't want to see those people--and he would be -an ass, and inflict a totally unnecessary pain. And next, those ladies -in that far country--but never mind, they had a thousand pleasant ways of -lying, that grew out of gentle impulses, and were a credit to their -intelligence and at honor to their hearts. Let the particulars go. - -The men in that far country were liars; every one. Their mere howdy-do -was a lie, because they didn't care how you did, except they were -undertakers. To the ordinary inquirer you lied in return; for you made -no conscientious diagnosis of your case, but answered at random, and -usually missed it considerably. You lied to the undertaker, and said -your health was failing--a wholly commendable lie, since it cost you -nothing and pleased the other man. If a stranger called and interrupted -you, you said with your hearty tongue, "I'm glad to see you," and said -with your heartier soul, "I wish you were with the cannibals and it was -dinner-time." When he went, you said regretfully, "Must you go?" and -followed it with a "Call again"; but you did no harm, for you did not -deceive anybody nor inflict any hurt, whereas the truth would have made -you both unhappy. - -I think that all this courteous lying is a sweet and loving art, and -should be cultivated, The highest perfection of politeness is only a -beautiful edifice, built, from the base to the dome, of graceful and -gilded forms of charitable and unselfish lying. - -What I bemoan is the growing prevalence of the brutal truth. Let us do -what we can to eradicate it. An injurious truth has no merit over an -injurious lie. Neither should ever be uttered. The man who speaks an -injurious truth, lest his soul be not saved if he do otherwise, should -reflect that that sort of a soul is not strictly worth saving. The man -who tells a lie to help a poor devil out of trouble is one of whom the -angels doubtless say, "Lo, here is an heroic soul who casts his own -welfare into jeopardy to succor his neighbor's; let us exalt this -magnanimous liar." - -An injurious lie is an uncommendable thing; and so, also, and in the same -degree, is an injurious truth--a fact which is recognized by the law of -libel. - -Among other common lies, we have the silent lie the deception which one -conveys by simply keeping still and concealing the truth. Many obstinate -truth-mongers indulge in this dissipation, imagining that if they speak -no lie, they lie not at all. In that far country where I once lived, -there was a lovely spirit, a lady whose impulses were always high and -pure, and whose character answered to them. One day I was there at -dinner, and remarked, in a general way, that we are all liars. She was -amazed, and said, "Not all!" It was before "Pinafore's" time so I did -not make the response which would naturally follow in our day, but -frankly said, "Yes, all--we are all liars; there are no exceptions." -She looked almost offended, and said, "Why, do you include me?" -"Certainly," I said, "I think you even rank as an expert." She said, -"'Sh!--'sh! the children!" - -So the subject was changed in deference to the children's presence, and -we went on talking about other things. But as soon as the young people -were out of the way, the lady came warmly back to the matter and said, -"I have made it the rule of my life to never tell a lie; and I have never -departed from it in a single instance." I said, "I don't mean the least -harm or disrespect, but really you have been lying like smoke ever since -I've been sitting here. It has caused me a good deal of pain, because I -am not used to it." She required of me an instance--just a single -instance. So I said: - -"Well, here is the unfilled duplicate of the blank which the Oakland -hospital people sent to you by the hand of the sick-nurse when she came -here to nurse your little nephew through his dangerous illness. This -blank asks all manner of questions as to the conduct of that sick-nurse: -'Did she ever sleep on her watch? Did she ever forget to give the -medicine?' and so forth and so on. You are warned to be very careful and -explicit in your answers, for the welfare of the service requires that -the nurses be promptly fined or otherwise punished for derelictions. -You told me you were perfectly delighted with that nurse--that she had a -thousand perfections and only one fault: you found you never could depend -on her wrapping Johnny up half sufficiently while he waited in a chilly -chair for her to rearrange the warm bed. You filled up the duplicate of -this paper, and sent it back to the hospital by the hand of the nurse. -How did you answer this question--'Was the nurse at any time guilty of a -negligence which was likely to result in the patient's taking cold?' -Come--everything is decided by a bet here in California: ten dollars to -ten cents you lied when you answered that question." She said, "I -didn't; I left it blank!" "Just so--you have told a silent lie; you have -left it to be inferred that you had no fault to find in that matter." -She said, "Oh, was that a lie? And how could I mention her one single -fault, and she so good?--it would have been cruel." I said, "One ought -always to lie when one can do good by it; your impulse was right, but, -your judgment was crude; this comes of unintelligent practice. Now -observe the result of this inexpert deflection of yours. You know Mr. -Jones's Willie is lying very low with scarlet fever; well, your -recommendation was so enthusiastic that that girl is there nursing him, -and the worn-out family have all been trustingly sound asleep for the -last fourteen hours, leaving their darling with full confidence in those -fatal hands, because you, like young George Washington, have a reputa-- -However, if you are not going to have anything to do, I will come around -to-morrow and we'll attend the funeral together, for, of course, you'll -naturally feel a peculiar interest in Willie's case--as personal a one, -in fact, as the undertaker." - -But that was all lost. Before I was half-way through she was in a -carriage and making thirty miles an hour toward the Jones mansion to save -what was left of Willie and tell all she knew about the deadly nurse. -All of which was unnecessary, as Willie wasn't sick; I had been lying -myself. But that same day, all the same, she sent a line to the hospital -which filled up the neglected blank, and stated the facts, too, in the -squarest possible manner. - -Now, you see, this lady's fault was not in lying, but only in lying -injudiciously. She should have told the, truth, there, and made it up to -the nurse with a fraudulent compliment further along in the paper. She -could have said, "In one respect the sick-nurse is perfection--when she -is on watch, she never snores." Almost any little pleasant lie would -have taken the sting out of that troublesome but necessary expression of -the truth. - -Lying is universal we all do it; we all must do it. Therefore, the wise -thing is for us diligently to train ourselves to lie thoughtfully, -judiciously; to lie with a good object, and not an evil one; to lie for -others' advantage, and not our own; to lie healingly, charitably, -humanely, not cruelly, hurtfully, maliciously; to lie gracefully and -graciously, not awkwardly and clumsily; to lie firmly, frankly, squarely, -with head erect, not haltingly, tortuously, with pusillanimous mien, as -being ashamed of our high calling. Then shall we be rid of the rank and -pestilent truth that is rotting the land; then shall we be great and good -and beautiful, and worthy dwellers in a world where even benign Nature -habitually lies, except when she promises execrable weather. Then--But -I am but a new and feeble student in this gracious art; I can not -instruct this Club. - -Joking aside, I think there is much need of wise examination into what -sorts of lies are best and wholesomest to be indulged, seeing we must all -lie and do all lie, and what sorts it may be best to avoid--and this is a -thing which I feel I can confidently put into the hands of this -experienced Club--a ripe body, who may be termed, in this regard, and -without undue flattery, Old Masters. - - - - - - -ABOUT MAGNANIMOUS-INCIDENT LITERATURE - -All my life, from boyhood up, I have had the habit of reading a certain -set of anecdotes, written in the quaint vein of The World's ingenious -Fabulist, for the lesson they taught me and the pleasure they gave me. -They lay always convenient to my hand, and whenever I thought meanly of -my kind I turned to them, and they banished that sentiment; whenever I -felt myself to be selfish, sordid, and ignoble I turned to them, and they -told me what to do to win back my self-respect. Many times I wished that -the charming anecdotes had not stopped with their happy climaxes, but had -continued the pleasing history of the several benefactors and -beneficiaries. This wish rose in my breast so persistently that at last -I determined to satisfy it by seeking out the sequels of those anecdotes -myself. So I set about it, and after great labor and tedious research -accomplished my task. I will lay the result before you, giving you each -anecdote in its turn, and following it with its sequel as I gathered it -through my investigations. - - - THE GRATEFUL POODLE - -One day a benevolent physician (who had read the books) having found a -stray poodle suffering from a broken leg, conveyed the poor creature to -his home, and after setting and bandaging the injured limb gave the -little outcast its liberty again, and thought no more about the matter. -But how great was his surprise, upon opening his door one morning, some -days later, to find the grateful poodle patiently waiting there, and in -its company another stray dog, one of whose legs, by some accident, had -been broken. The kind physician at once relieved the distressed animal, -nor did he forget to admire the inscrutable goodness and mercy of God, -who had been willing to use so humble an instrument as the poor outcast -poodle for the inculcating of, etc., etc., etc. - - - SEQUEL - -The next morning the benevolent physician found the two dogs, beaming -with gratitude, waiting at his door, and with them two other -dogs-cripples. The cripples were speedily healed, and the four went -their way, leaving the benevolent physician more overcome by pious wonder -than ever. The day passed, the morning came. There at the door sat now -the four reconstructed dogs, and with them four others requiring -reconstruction. This day also passed, and another morning came; and now -sixteen dogs, eight of them newly crippled, occupied the sidewalk, and -the people were going around. By noon the broken legs were all set, but -the pious wonder in the good physician's breast was beginning to get -mixed with involuntary profanity. The sun rose once more, and exhibited -thirty-two dogs, sixteen of them with broken legs, occupying the sidewalk -and half of the street; the human spectators took up the rest of the -room. The cries of the wounded, the songs of the healed brutes, and the -comments of the onlooking citizens made great and inspiring cheer, but -traffic was interrupted in that street. The good physician hired a -couple of assistant surgeons and got through his benevolent work before -dark, first taking the precaution to cancel his church-membership, so -that he might express himself with the latitude which the case required. - -But some things have their limits. When once more the morning dawned, -and the good physician looked out upon a massed and far-reaching -multitude of clamorous and beseeching dogs, he said, "I might as well -acknowledge it, I have been fooled by the books; they only tell the -pretty part of the story, and then stop. Fetch me the shotgun; this -thing has gone along far enough." - -He issued forth with his weapon, and chanced to step upon the tail of the -original poodle, who promptly bit him in the leg. Now the great and good -work which this poodle had been engaged in had engendered in him such a -mighty and augmenting enthusiasm as to turn his weak head at last and -drive him mad. A month later, when the benevolent physician lay in the -death-throes of hydrophobia, he called his weeping friends about him, and -said: - -"Beware of the books. They tell but half of the story. Whenever a poor -wretch asks you for help, and you feel a doubt as to what result may flow -from your benevolence, give yourself the benefit of the doubt and kill -the applicant." - -And so saying he turned his face to the wall and gave up the ghost. - - - - THE BENEVOLENT AUTHOR - -A poor and young literary beginner had tried in vain to get his -manuscripts accepted. At last, when the horrors of starvation were -staring him in the face, he laid his sad case before a celebrated author, -beseeching his counsel and assistance. This generous man immediately put -aside his own matters and proceeded to peruse one of the despised -manuscripts. Having completed his kindly task, he shook the poor young -man cordially by the hand, saying, "I perceive merit in this; come again -to me on Monday." At the time specified, the celebrated author, with a -sweet smile, but saying nothing, spread open a magazine which was damp -from the press. What was the poor young man's astonishment to discover -upon the printed page his own article. "How can I ever," said he, -falling upon his knees and bursting into tears, "testify my gratitude for -this noble conduct!" - -The celebrated author was the renowned Snodgrass; the poor young beginner -thus rescued from obscurity and starvation was the afterward equally -renowned Snagsby. Let this pleasing incident admonish us to turn a -charitable ear to all beginners that need help. - - SEQUEL - -The next week Snagsby was back with five rejected manuscripts. The -celebrated author was a little surprised, because in the books the young -struggler had needed but one lift, apparently. However, he plowed -through these papers, removing unnecessary flowers and digging up some -acres of adjective stumps, and then succeeded in getting two of the -articles accepted. - -A week or so drifted by, and the grateful Snagsby arrived with another -cargo. The celebrated author had felt a mighty glow of satisfaction -within himself the first time he had successfully befriended the poor -young struggler, and had compared himself with the generous people in the -books with high gratification; but he was beginning to suspect now that -he had struck upon something fresh in the noble-episode line. His -enthusiasm took a chill. Still, he could not bear to repulse this -struggling young author, who clung to him with such pretty simplicity and -trustfulness. - -Well, the upshot of it all was that the celebrated author presently found -himself permanently freighted with the poor young beginner. All his mild -efforts to unload this cargo went for nothing. He had to give daily -counsel, daily encouragement; he had to keep on procuring magazine -acceptances, and then revamping the manuscripts to make them presentable. -When the young aspirant got a start at last, he rode into sudden fame by -describing the celebrated author's private life with such a caustic humor -and such minuteness of blistering detail that the book sold a prodigious -edition, and broke the celebrated author's heart with mortification. -With his latest gasp he said, "Alas, the books deceived me; they do not -tell the whole story. Beware of the struggling young author, my friends. -Whom God sees fit to starve, let not man presumptuously rescue to his own -undoing." - - - - THE GRATEFUL HUSBAND - -One day a lady was driving through the principal street of a great city -with her little boy, when the horses took fright and dashed madly away, -hurling the coachman from his box and leaving the occupants of the -carnage paralyzed with terror. But a brave youth who was driving a -grocery-wagon threw himself before the plunging animals, and succeeded in -arresting their flight at the peril of his own.--[This is probably a -misprint.--M. T.]--The grateful lady took his number, and upon arriving -at her home she related the heroic act to her husband (who had read the -books), who listened with streaming eyes to the moving recital, and who, -after returning thanks, in conjunction with his restored loved ones, to -Him who suffereth not even a sparrow to fall to the ground unnoticed, -sent for the brave young person, and, placing a check for five hundred -dollars in his hand, said, "Take this as a reward for your noble act, -William Ferguson, and if ever you shall need a, friend, remember that -Thompson McSpadden has a grateful heart." Let us learn from this that -a good deed cannot fail to benefit the doer, however humble he may be. - - SEQUEL - -William Ferguson called the next week and asked Mr. McSpadden to use his -influence to get him a higher employment, he feeling capable of better -things than driving a grocer's wagon. Mr. McSpadden got him an -underclerkship at a good salary. - -Presently William Ferguson's mother fell sick, and William--Well, to cut -the story short, Mr. McSpadden consented to take her into his house. -Before long she yearned for the society of her younger children; so Mary -and Julia were admitted also, and little Jimmy, their brother. Jimmy had -a pocket knife, and he wandered into the drawing-room with it one day, -alone, and reduced ten thousand dollars' worth of furniture to an -indeterminable value in rather less than three-quarters of an hour. -A day or two later he fell down-stairs and broke his neck, and seventeen -of his family's relatives came to the house to attend the funeral. This -made them acquainted, and they kept the kitchen occupied after that, and -likewise kept the McSpaddens busy hunting-up situations of various sorts -for them, and hunting up more when they wore these out. The old woman -drank a good deal and swore a good deal; but the grateful McSpaddens knew -it was their duty to reform her, considering what her son had done for -them, so they clave nobly to their generous task. William came often and -got decreasing sums of money, and asked for higher and more lucrative -employments--which the grateful McSpadden more or less promptly procured -for him. McSpadden consented also, after some demur, to fit William for -college; but when the first vacation came and the hero requested to be -sent to Europe for his health, the persecuted McSpadden rose against the -tyrant and revolted. He plainly and squarely refused. William -Ferguson's mother was so astounded that she let her gin-bottle drop, and -her profane lips refused to do their office. When she recovered she said -in a half-gasp, "Is this your gratitude? Where would your wife and boy -be now, but for my son?" - -William said, "Is this your gratitude? Did I save your wife's life or -not? Tell me that!" - -Seven relations swarmed in from the kitchen and each said, "And this is -his gratitude!" - -William's sisters stared, bewildered, and said, "And this is his grat--" -but were interrupted by their mother, who burst into tears and exclaimed, - -"To think that my sainted little Jimmy threw away his life in the service -of such a reptile!" - -Then the pluck of the revolutionary McSpadden rose to the occasion, and -he replied with fervor, "Out of my house, the whole beggarly tribe of -you! I was beguiled by the books, but shall never be beguiled again ---once is sufficient for me." And turning to William he shouted, "Yes, -you did save my, wife's life, and the next man that does it shall die in -his tracks!" - - -Not being a clergyman, I place my text at the end of my sermon instead of -at the beginning. Here it is, from Mr. Noah Brooks's Recollections of -President Lincoln in Scribners Monthly: - - J. H. Hackett, in his part of Falstaff, was an actor who gave Mr. - Lincoln great delight. With his usual desire to signify to others - his sense of obligation, Mr. Lincoln wrote a genial little note to - the actor expressing his pleasure at witnessing his performance. - Mr. Hackett, in reply, sent a book of some sort; perhaps it was one - of his own authorship. He also wrote several notes to the - President. One night, quite late, when the episode had passed out - of my mind, I went to the white House in answer to a message. - Passing into the President's office, I noticed, to my surprise, - Hackett sitting in the anteroom as if waiting for an audience. The - President asked me if any one was outside. On being told, he said, - half sadly, "Oh, I can't see him, I can't see him; I was in hopes he - had gone away." Then he added, "Now this just illustrates the - difficulty of having pleasant friends and acquaintances in this - place. You know how I liked Hackett as an actor, and how I wrote to - tell him so. He sent me that book, and there I thought the matter - would end. He is a master of his place in the profession, I - suppose, and well fixed in it; but just because we had a little - friendly correspondence, such as any two men might have, he wants - something. What do you suppose he wants?" I could not guess, and - Mr. Lincoln added, "well, he wants to be consul to London. Oh, - dear!" - -I will observe, in conclusion, that the William Ferguson incident -occurred, and within my personal knowledge--though I have changed the -nature of the details, to keep William from recognizing himself in it. - -All the readers of this article have in some sweet and gushing hour of -their lives played the role of Magnanimous-Incident hero. I wish I knew -how many there are among them who are willing to talk about that episode -and like to be reminded of the consequences that flowed from it. - - - - - - -PUNCH, BROTHERS, PUNCH - -Will the reader please to cast his eye over the following lines, and see -if he can discover anything harmful in them? - - Conductor, when you receive a fare, - Punch in the presence of the passenjare! - A blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, - A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, - A pink trip slip for a three-cent, fare, - Punch in the presence of the passenjare! - - CHORUS - - Punch, brothers! punch with care! - Punch in the presence of the passenjare! - - -I came across these jingling rhymes in a newspaper, a little while ago, -and read them a couple of times. They took instant and entire possession -of me. All through breakfast they went waltzing through my brain; and -when, at last, I rolled up my napkin, I could not tell whether I had -eaten anything or not. I had carefully laid out my day's work the day -before--thrilling tragedy in the novel which I am writing. I went to my -den to begin my deed of blood. I took up my pen, but all I could get it -to say was, "Punch in the presence of the passenjare." I fought hard for -an hour, but it was useless. My head kept humming, "A blue trip slip for -an eight-cent fare, a buff trip slip for a six-cent fare," and so on and -so on, without peace or respite. The day's work was ruined--I could see -that plainly enough. I gave up and drifted down-town, and presently -discovered that my feet were keeping time to that relentless jingle. -When I could stand it no longer I altered my step. But it did no good; -those rhymes accommodated themselves to the new step and went on -harassing me just as before. I returned home, and suffered all the -afternoon; suffered all through an unconscious and unrefreshing dinner; -suffered, and cried, and jingled all through the evening; went to bed and -rolled, tossed, and jingled right along, the same as ever; got up at -midnight frantic, and tried to read; but there was nothing visible upon -the whirling page except "Punch! punch in the presence of the -passenjare." By sunrise I was out of my mind, and everybody marveled and -was distressed at the idiotic burden of my ravings--"'Punch! oh, punch! -punch in the presence of the passenjare!" - -Two days later, on Saturday morning, I arose, a tottering wreck, and went -forth to fulfil an engagement with a valued friend, the Rev. Mr.------, -to walk to the Talcott Tower, ten miles distant. He stared at me, but -asked no questions. We started. Mr.------talked, talked, talked as is -his wont. I said nothing; I heard nothing. At the end of a mile, -Mr.------ said "Mark, are you sick? I never saw a man look so haggard -and worn and absent-minded. Say something, do!" - -Drearily, without enthusiasm, I said: "Punch brothers, punch with care! -Punch in the presence o the passenjare!" - -My friend eyed me blankly, looked perplexed, they said: - -"I do not think I get your drift, Mark. Then does not seem to be any -relevancy in what you have said, certainly nothing sad; and yet--maybe it -was the way you said the words--I never heard anything that sounded so -pathetic. What is--" - -But I heard no more. I was already far away with my pitiless, -heartbreaking "blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, buff trip slip for -a six-cent fare, pink trip slip for a three-cent fare; punch in the -presence of the passenjare." I do not know what occurred during the -other nine miles. However, all of a sudden Mr.------ laid his hand on my -shoulder and shouted: - -"Oh, wake up! wake up! wake up! Don't sleep all day! Here we are at -the Tower, man! I have talked myself deaf and dumb and blind, and never -got a response. Just look at this magnificent autumn landscape! Look at -it! look at it! Feast your eye on it! You have traveled; you have seen -boaster landscapes elsewhere. Come, now, deliver an honest opinion. -What do you say to this?" - -I sighed wearily; and murmured: - -"A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent -fare, punch in the presence of the passenjare." - -Rev. Mr. ------ stood there, very grave, full of concern, apparently, and -looked long at me; then he said: - -"Mark, there is something about this that I cannot understand. Those are -about the same words you said before; there does not seem to be anything -in them, and yet they nearly break my heart when you say them. Punch in -the--how is it they go?" - -I began at the beginning and repeated all the lines. - -My friend's face lighted with interest. He said: - -"Why, what a captivating jingle it is! It is almost music. It flows -along so nicely. I have nearly caught the rhymes myself. Say them over -just once more, and then I'll have them, sure." - -I said them over. Then Mr.------ said them. He made one little -mistake, which I corrected. The next time and the next he got them -right. Now a great burden seemed to tumble from my shoulders. That -torturing jingle departed out of my brain, and a grateful sense of rest -and peace descended upon me. I was light-hearted enough to sing; and I -did sing for half an hour, straight along, as we went jogging homeward. -Then my freed tongue found blessed speech again, and the pent talk of -many a weary hour began to gush and flow. It flowed on and on, joyously, -jubilantly, until the fountain was empty and dry. As I wrung my friend's -hand at parting, I said: - -"Haven't we had a royal good time! But now I remember, you haven't said -a word for two hours. Come, come, out with something!" - -The Rev. Mr.------ turned a lack-luster eye upon me, drew a deep sigh, -and said, without animation, without apparent consciousness: - -"Punch, brothers, punch with care! Punch in the presence of the -passenjare!" - -A pang shot through me as I said to myself, "Poor fellow, poor fellow! -he has got it, now." - -I did not see Mr.------ for two or three days after that. Then, on -Tuesday evening, he staggered into my presence and sank dejectedly into a -seat. He was pale, worn; he was a wreck. He lifted his faded eyes to my -face and said: - -"Ah, Mark, it was a ruinous investment that I made in those heartless -rhymes. They have ridden me like a nightmare, day and night, hour after -hour, to this very moment. Since I saw you I have suffered the torments -of the lost. Saturday evening I had a sudden call, by telegraph, and -took the night train for Boston. The occasion was the death of a valued -old friend who had requested that I should preach his funeral sermon. -I took my seat in the cars and set myself to framing the discourse. But -I never got beyond the opening paragraph; for then the train started and -the car-wheels began their 'clack, clack-clack-clack-clack! clack-clack! ---clack-clack-clack!' and right away those odious rhymes fitted -themselves to that accompaniment. For an hour I sat there and set a -syllable of those rhymes to every separate and distinct clack the -car-wheels made. Why, I was as fagged out, then, as if I had been -chopping wood all day. My skull was splitting with headache. It seemed -to me that I must go mad if I sat there any longer; so I undressed and -went to bed. I stretched myself out in my berth, and--well, you know -what the result was. The thing went right along, just the same. -'Clack-clack clack, a blue trip slip, clack-clack-clack, for an eight -cent fare; clack-clack-clack, a buff trip slip, clack clack-clack, for a -six-cent fare, and so on, and so on, and so on punch in the presence of -the passenjare!' Sleep? Not a single wink! I was almost a lunatic when -I got to Boston. Don't ask me about the funeral. I did the best I -could, but every solemn individual sentence was meshed and tangled and -woven in and out with 'Punch, brothers, punch with care, punch in the -presence of the passenjare.' And the most distressing thing was that my -delivery dropped into the undulating rhythm of those pulsing rhymes, and -I could actually catch absent-minded people nodding time to the swing of -it with their stupid heads. And, Mark, you may believe it or not, but -before I got through the entire assemblage were placidly bobbing their -heads in solemn unison, mourners, undertaker, and all. The moment I had -finished, I fled to the anteroom in a state bordering on frenzy. Of -course it would be my luck to find a sorrowing and aged maiden aunt of -the deceased there, who had arrived from Springfield too late to get into -the church. She began to sob, and said: - -"'Oh, oh, he is gone, he is gone, and I didn't see him before he died!' - -"'Yes!' I said, 'he is gone, he is gone, he is gone--oh, will this -suffering never cease!' - -"'You loved him, then! Oh, you too loved him!' - -"'Loved him! Loved who?' - -"'Why, my poor George! my poor nephew!' - -"'Oh--him! Yes--oh, yes, yes. Certainly--certainly. Punch--punch--oh, -this misery will kill me!' - -"'Bless you! bless you, sir, for these sweet words! I, too, suffer in -this dear loss. Were you present during his last moments?' - -"'Yes. I--whose last moments?' - -"'His. The dear departed's.' - -"'Yes! Oh, yes--yes--yes! I suppose so, I think so, I don't know! Oh, -certainly--I was there I was there!' - -"'Oh, what a privilege! what a precious privilege! And his last words- --oh, tell me, tell me his last words! What did he say?' - -"'He said--he said-oh, my head, my head, my head! He said--he said--he -never said anything but Punch, punch, punch in the presence of the -passenjare! Oh, leave me, madam! In the name of all that is generous, -leave me to my madness, my misery, my despair! --a buff trip slip for a -six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent fare--endu--rance can no -fur--ther go!--PUNCH in the presence of the passenjare!" - -My friend's hopeless eyes rested upon mine a pregnant minute, and then he -said impressively: - -"Mark, you do not say anything. You do not offer me any hope. But, ah -me, it is just as well--it is just as well. You could not do me any -good. The time has long gone by when words could comfort me. Something -tells me that my tongue is doomed to wag forever to the jigger of that -remorseless jingle, There--there it is coming on me again: a blue trip -slip for an eight-cent fare, a buff trip slip for a--" - -Thus murmuring faint and fainter, my friend sank into a peaceful trance -and forgot his sufferings in a blessed respite. - -How did I finally save him from an asylum? I took him to a neighboring -university and made him discharge the burden of his persecuting rhymes -into the eager ears of the poor, unthinking students. How is it with -them, now? The result is too sad to tell. Why did I write this article? -It was for a worthy, even a noble, purpose. It was to warn you, reader, -if you should came across those merciless rhymes, to avoid them--avoid -them as you would a pestilence. - - - - - - -THE GREAT REVOLUTION IN PITCAIRN - -Let me refresh the reader's memory a little. Nearly a hundred years ago -the crew of the British ship bounty mutinied, set the captain and his -officers adrift upon the open sea, took possession of the ship, and -sailed southward. They procured wives for themselves among the natives -of Tahiti, then proceeded to a lonely little rock in mid-Pacific, called -Pitcairn's Island, wrecked the vessel, stripped her of everything that -might be useful to a new colony, and established themselves on shore. -Pitcairn's is so far removed from the track of commerce that it was many -years before another vessel touched there. It had always been considered -an uninhabited island; so when a ship did at last drop its anchor there, -in 1808, the captain was greatly surprised to find the place peopled. -Although the mutineers had fought among themselves, and gradually killed -each other off until only two or three of the original stock remained, -these tragedies had not occurred before a number of children had been -born; so in 1808 the island had a population of twenty-seven persons. -John Adams, the chief mutineer, still survived, and was to live many -years yet, as governor and patriarch of the flock. From being mutineer -and homicide, he had turned Christian and teacher, and his nation of -twenty-seven persons was now the purest and devoutest in Christendom. -Adams had long ago hoisted the British flag and constituted his island an -appanage of the British crown. - -To-day the population numbers ninety persons--sixteen men, nineteen -women, twenty-five boys, and thirty girls--all descendants of the -mutineers, all bearing the family names of those mutineers, and all -speaking English, and English only. The island stands high up out of the -sea, and has precipitous walls. It is about three-quarters of a mile -long, and in places is as much as half a mile wide. Such arable land as -it affords is held by the several families, according to a division made -many years ago. There is some live stock--goats, pigs, chickens, and -cats; but no dogs, and no large animals. There is one church-building -used also as a capitol, a schoolhouse, and a public library. The title -of the governor has been, for a generation or two, "Magistrate and Chief -Ruler, in subordination to her Majesty the Queen of Great Britain." It -was his province to make the laws, as well as execute them. His office -was elective; everybody over seventeen years old had a vote--no matter -about the sex. - -The sole occupations of the people were farming and fishing; their sole -recreation, religious services. There has never been a shop in the -island, nor any money. The habits and dress of the people have always -been primitive, and their laws simple to puerility. They have lived in a -deep Sabbath tranquillity, far from the world and its ambitions and -vexations, and neither knowing nor caring what was going on in the mighty -empires that lie beyond their limitless ocean solitudes. Once in three -or four years a ship touched there, moved them with aged news of bloody -battles, devastating epidemics, fallen thrones, and ruined dynasties, -then traded them some soap and flannel for some yams and breadfruit, and -sailed away, leaving them to retire into their peaceful dreams and pious -dissipations once more. - -On the 8th of last September, Admiral de Horsey, commander-in-chief of -the British fleet in the Pacific, visited Pitcairn's Island, and speaks -as follows in his official report to the admiralty: - - They have beans, carrots, turnips, cabbages, and a little maize; - pineapples, fig trees, custard-apples, and oranges; lemons, and - cocoanuts. Clothing is obtained alone from passing ships, in barter - for refreshments. There are no springs on the island, but as it - rains generally once a month they have plenty of water, although at - times in former years they have suffered from drought. No alcoholic - liquors, except for medicinal purposes, are used, and a drunkard is - unknown.... - - The necessary articles required by the islanders are best shown by - those we furnished in barter for refreshments: namely, flannel, - serge, drill, half-boots, combs, tobacco, and soap. They also stand - much in need of maps and slates for their school, and tools of any - kind are most acceptable. I caused them to be supplied from the - public stores with a Union jack: for display on the arrival of - ships, and a pit-saw, of which they were greatly in need. This, I - trust, will meet the approval of their lordships. If the munificent - people of England were only aware of the wants of this most - deserving little colony, they would not long go unsupplied.... - - Divine service is held every Sunday at 10.30 A.M. and at 3 P.M., - in the house built and used by John Adams for that purpose until he - died in 1829. It is conducted strictly in accordance with the - liturgy of the Church of England, by Mr. Simon Young, their selected - pastor, who is much respected. A Bible class is held every - Wednesday, when all who conveniently can attend. There is also a - general meeting for prayer on the first Friday in every month. - Family prayers are said in every house the first thing in the - morning and the last thing in the evening, and no food is partaken - of without asking God's blessing before and afterward. Of these - islanders' religious attributes no one can speak without deep - respect. A people whose greatest pleasure and privilege is to - commune in prayer with their God, and to join in hymns of praise, - and who are, moreover, cheerful, diligent, and probably freer from - vice than any other community, need no priest among them. - -Now I come to a sentence in the admiral's report which he dropped -carelessly from his pen, no doubt, and never gave the matter a second -thought. He little imagined what a freight of tragic prophecy it bore! -This is the sentence: - - One stranger, an American, has settled on the island--a doubtful - acquisition. - -A doubtful acquisition, indeed! Captain Ormsby, in the American ship -Hornet, touched at Pitcairn's nearly four months after the admiral's -visit, and from the facts which he gathered there we now know all about -that American. Let us put these facts together in historical form. The -American's name was Butterworth Stavely. As soon as he had become well -acquainted with all the people--and this took but a few days, of course ---he began to ingratiate himself with them by all the arts he could -command. He became exceedingly popular, and much looked up to; for one -of the first things he did was to forsake his worldly way of life, and -throw all his energies into religion. He was always reading his Bible, -or praying, or singing hymns, or asking blessings. In prayer, no one had -such "liberty" as he, no one could pray so long or so well. - -At last, when he considered the time to be ripe, he began secretly to sow -the seeds of discontent among the people. It was his deliberate purpose, -from the beginning, to subvert the government, but of course he kept that -to himself for a time. He used different arts with different -individuals. He awakened dissatisfaction in one quarter by calling -attention to the shortness of the Sunday services; he argued that there -should be three three-hour services on Sunday instead of only two. Many -had secretly held this opinion before; they now privately banded -themselves into a party to work for it. He showed certain of the women -that they were not allowed sufficient voice in the prayer-meetings; thus -another party was formed. No weapon was beneath his notice; he even -descended to the children, and awoke discontent in their breasts -because--as he discovered for them--they had not enough Sunday-school. -This created a third party. - -Now, as the chief of these parties, he found himself the strongest power -in the community. So he proceeded to his next move-a no less important -one than the impeachment of the chief magistrate, James Russell Nickoy; -a man of character and ability, and possessed of great wealth, he being -the owner of a house with a parlor to it, three acres and a half of yam- -land, and the only boat in Pitcairn's, a whaleboat; and, most -unfortunately, a pretext for this impeachment offered itself at just the -right time. - -One of the earliest and most precious laws of the island was the law -against trespass. It was held in great reverence, and was regarded as -the palladium of the people's liberties. About thirty years ago an -important case came before the courts under this law, in this wise: a -chicken belonging to Elizabeth Young (aged, at that time, fifty-eight, -a daughter of John Mills, one of the mutineers of the Bounty) trespassed -upon the grounds of Thursday October Christian (aged twenty-nine, a -grandson of Fletcher Christian, one of the mutineers). Christian killed -the chicken. According to the law, Christian could keep the chicken; or, -if he preferred, he could restore its remains to the owner and receive -damages in "produce" to an amount equivalent to the waste and injury -wrought by the trespasser. The court records set forth that "the said -Christian aforesaid did deliver the aforesaid remains to the said Eliza -beth Young, and did demand one bushel of yams in satisfaction of the -damage done." But Elizabeth Young considered the demand exorbitant; the -parties could not agree; therefore Christian brought suit in the courts. -He lost his case in the justice's court; at least, he was awarded only a -half-peck of yams, which he considered insufficient, and in the nature of -a defeat. He appealed. The case lingered several years in an ascending -grade of courts, and always resulted in decrees sustaining the original -verdict; and finally the thing got into the supreme court, and there it -stuck for twenty years. But last summer, even the supreme court managed -to arrive at a decision at last. Once more the original verdict was -sustained. Christian then said he was satisfied; but Stavely was -present, and whispered to him and to his lawyer, suggesting, "as a mere -form," that the original law be exhibited, in order to make sure that it -still existed. It seemed an odd idea, but an ingenious one. So the -demand was made. A messenger was sent to the magistrate's house; he -presently returned with the tidings that it had disappeared from among -the state archives. - -The court now pronounced its late decision void, since it had been made -under a law which had no actual existence. - -Great excitement ensued immediately. The news swept abroad over the -whole island that the palladium of the public liberties was lost--maybe -treasonably destroyed. Within thirty minutes almost the entire nation -were in the court-room--that is to say, the church. The impeachment of -the chief magistrate followed, upon Stavely's motion. The accused met -his misfortune with the dignity which became his great office. He did -not plead, or even argue; he offered the simple defense that he had not -meddled with the missing law; that he had kept the state archives in the -same candle-box that had been used as their depository from the -beginning; and that he was innocent of the removal or destruction of the -lost document. - -But nothing could save him; he was found guilty of misprision of treason, -and degraded from his office, and all his property was confiscated. - -The lamest part of the whole shameful matter was the reason suggested by -his enemies for his destruction of the law, to wit: that he did it to -favor Christian, because Christian was his cousin! Whereas Stavely was -the only individual in the entire nation who was not his cousin. The -reader must remember that all these people are the descendants of half a -dozen men; that the first children intermarried together and bore -grandchildren to the mutineers; that these grandchildren intermarried; -after them, great and great-great-grandchildren intermarried; so that to- -day everybody is blood kin to everybody. Moreover, the relationships are -wonderfully, even astoundingly, mixed up and complicated. A stranger, -for instance, says to an islander: - -"You speak of that young woman as your cousin; a while ago you called her -your aunt." - -"Well, she is my aunt, and my cousin, too. And also my stepsister, my -niece, my fourth cousin, my thirty-third cousin, my forty-second cousin, -my great-aunt, my grandmother, my widowed sister-in-law--and next week -she will be my wife." - -So the charge of nepotism against the chief magistrate was weak. But no -matter; weak or strong, it suited Stavely. Stavely was immediately -elected to the vacant magistracy, and, oozing reform from every pore, he -went vigorously to work. In no long time religious services raged -everywhere and unceasingly. By command, the second prayer of the Sunday -morning service, which had customarily endured some thirty-five or forty -minutes, and had pleaded for the world, first by continent and then by -national and tribal detail, was extended to an hour and a half, and made -to include supplications in behalf of the possible peoples in the several -planets. Everybody was pleased with this; everybody said, "Now this is -something like." By command, the usual three-hour sermons were doubled -in length. The nation came in a body to testify their gratitude to the -new magistrate. The old law forbidding cooking on the Sabbath was -extended to the prohibition of eating, also. By command, Sunday-school -was privileged to spread over into the week. The joy of all classes was -complete. In one short month the new magistrate had become the people's -idol! - -The time was ripe for this man's next move. He began, cautiously at -first, to poison the public mind against England. He took the chief -citizens aside, one by one, and conversed with them on this topic. -Presently he grew bolder, and spoke out. He said the nation owed it to -itself, to its honor, to its great traditions, to rise in its might and -throw off "this galling English yoke." - -But the simple islanders answered: - -"We had not noticed that it galled. How does it gall? England sends a -ship once in three or four years to give us soap and clothing, and things -which we sorely need and gratefully receive; but she never troubles us; -she lets us go our own way." - -"She lets you go your own way! So slaves have felt and spoken in all the -ages! This speech shows how fallen you are, how base, how brutalized you -have become, under this grinding tyranny! What! has all manly pride -forsaken you? Is liberty nothing? Are you content to be a mere -appendage to a foreign and hateful sovereignty, when you might rise up -and take your rightful place in the august family of nations, great, -free, enlightened, independent, the minion of no sceptered master, but -the arbiter of your own destiny, and a voice and a power in decreeing the -destinies of your sister-sovereignties of the world?" - -Speeches like this produced an effect by and by. Citizens began to feel -the English yoke; they did not know exactly how or whereabouts they felt -it, but they were perfectly certain they did feel it. They got to -grumbling a good deal, and chafing under their chains, and longing for -relief and release. They presently fell to hating the English flag, that -sign and symbol of their nation's degradation; they ceased to glance up -at it as they passed the capitol, but averted their eyes and grated their -teeth; and one morning, when it was found trampled into the mud at the -foot of the staff, they left it there, and no man put his hand to it to -hoist it again. A certain thing which was sure to happen sooner or later -happened now. Some of the chief citizens went to the magistrate by -night, and said: - -"We can endure this hated tyranny no longer. How can we cast it off?" - -"By a coup d'etat." - -"How?" - -"A coup d'etat. It is like this: everything is got ready, and at the -appointed moment I, as the official head of the nation, publicly and -solemnly proclaim its independence, and absolve it from allegiance to any -and all other powers whatsoever." - -"That sounds simple and easy. We can do that right away. Then what will -be the next thing to do?" - -"Seize all the defenses and public properties of all kinds, establish -martial law, put the army and navy on a war footing, and proclaim the -empire!" - -This fine program dazzled these innocents. They said: - -"This is grand--this is splendid; but will not England resist?" - -"Let her. This rock is a Gibraltar." - -"True. But about the empire? Do we need an empire and an emperor?" - -"What you need, my friends, is unification. Look at Germany; look at -Italy. They are unified. Unification is the thing. It makes living -dear. That constitutes progress. We must have a standing army and a -navy. Taxes follow, as a matter of course. All these things summed up -make grandeur. With unification and grandeur, what more can you want? -Very well--only the empire can confer these boons." - -So on the 8th day of December Pitcairn's Island was proclaimed a free and -independent nation; and on the same day the solemn coronation of -Butterworth I, Emperor of Pitcairn's Island, took place, amid great -rejoicings and festivities. The entire nation, with the exception of -fourteen persons, mainly little children, marched past the throne in -single file, with banners and music, the procession being upward of -ninety feet long; and some said it was as much as three-quarters of a -minute passing a given point. Nothing like it had ever been seen in the -history of the island before. Public enthusiasm was measureless. - -Now straightway imperial reforms began. Orders of nobility were -instituted. A minister of the navy was appointed, and the whale-boat put -in commission. A minister of war was created, and ordered to proceed at -once with the formation of a standing army. A first lord of the treasury -was named, and commanded to get up a taxation scheme, and also open -negotiations for treaties, offensive, defensive, and commercial, with -foreign powers. Some generals and admirals were appointed; also some -chamberlains, some equerries in waiting, and some lords of the -bedchamber. - -At this point all the material was used up. The Grand Duke of Galilee, -minister of war, complained that all the sixteen grown men in the empire -had been given great offices, and consequently would not consent to serve -in the ranks; wherefore his standing army was at a standstill. The -Marquis of Ararat, minister of the navy, made a similar complaint. He -said he was willing to steer the whale-boat himself, but he must have -somebody to man her. - -The emperor did the best he could in the circumstances: he took all the -boys above the age of ten years away from their mothers, and pressed them -into the army, thus constructing a corps of seventeen privates, officered -by one lieutenant-general and two major-generals. This pleased the -minister of war, but procured the enmity of all the mothers in the land; -for they said their precious ones must now find bloody graves in the -fields of war, and he would be answerable for it. Some of the more -heartbroken and unappeasable among them lay constantly wait for the -emperor and threw yams at him, unmindful of the body-guard. - -On account of the extreme scarcity of material, it was found necessary to -require the Duke of Bethany postmaster-general, to pull stroke-oar in the -navy and thus sit in the rear of a noble of lower degree namely, Viscount -Canaan, lord justice of the common pleas. This turned the Duke of -Bethany into tolerably open malcontent and a secret conspirator--a thing -which the emperor foresaw, but could not help. - -Things went from bad to worse. The emperor raised Nancy Peters to the -peerage on one day, and married her the next, notwithstanding, for -reasons of state, the cabinet had strenuously advised him to marry -Emmeline, eldest daughter of the Archbishop of Bethlehem. This caused -trouble in a powerful quarter--the church. The new empress secured the -support and friendship of two-thirds of the thirty-six grown women in the -nation by absorbing them into her court as maids of honor; but this made -deadly enemies of the remaining twelve. The families of the maids of -honor soon began to rebel, because there was nobody at home to keep -house. The twelve snubbed women refused to enter the imperial kitchen as -servants; so the empress had to require the Countess of Jericho and other -great court dames to fetch water, sweep the palace, and perform other -menial and equally distasteful services. This made bad blood in that -department. - -Everybody fell to complaining that the taxes levied for the support of -the army, the navy, and the rest of the imperial establishment were -intolerably burdensome, and were reducing the nation to beggary. The -emperor's reply--"Look--Look at Germany; look at Italy. Are you better -than they? and haven't you unification?"---did not satisfy them. They -said, "People can't eat unification, and we are starving. Agriculture -has ceased. Everybody is in the army, everybody is in the navy, -everybody is in the public service, standing around in a uniform, with -nothing whatever to do, nothing to eat, and nobody to till the fields--" - -"Look at Germany; look at Italy. It is the same there. Such is -unification, and there's no other way to get it--no other way to keep it -after you've got it," said the poor emperor always. - -But the grumblers only replied, "We can't stand the taxes--we can't stand -them." - -Now right on top of this the cabinet reported a national debt amounting -to upward of forty-five dollars--half a dollar to every individual in the -nation. And they proposed to fund something. They had heard that this -was always done in such emergencies. They proposed duties on exports; -also on imports. And they wanted to issue bonds; also paper money, -redeemable in yams and cabbages in fifty years. They said the pay of the -army and of the navy and of the whole governmental machine was far in -arrears, and unless something was done, and done immediately, national -bankruptcy must ensue, and possibly insurrection and revolution. The -emperor at once resolved upon a high-handed measure, and one of a nature -never before heard of in Pitcairn's Island. He went in state to the -church on Sunday morning, with the army at his back, and commanded the -minister of the treasury to take up a collection. - -That was the feather that broke the camel's back. First one citizen, and -then another, rose and refused to submit to this unheard-of outrage ---and each refusal was followed by the immediate confiscation of the -malcontent's property. This vigor soon stopped the refusals, and the -collection proceeded amid a sullen and ominous silence. As the emperor -withdrew with the troops, he said, "I will teach you who is master here." -Several persons shouted, "Down with unification!" They were at once -arrested and torn from the arms of their weeping friends by the soldiery. - -But in the mean time, as any prophet might have foreseen, a Social -Democrat had been developed. As the emperor stepped into the gilded -imperial wheelbarrow at the church door, the social democrat stabbed at -him fifteen or sixteen times with a harpoon, but fortunately with such a -peculiarly social democratic unprecision of aim as to do no damage. - -That very night the convulsion came. The nation rose as one man--though -forty-nine of the revolutionists were of the other sex. The infantry -threw down their pitchforks; the artillery cast aside their cocoanuts; -the navy revolted; the emperor was seized, and bound hand and foot in his -palace. He was very much depressed. He said: - -"I freed you from a grinding tyranny; I lifted yon up out of your -degradation, and made you a nation among nations; I gave you a strong, -compact, centralized government; and, more than all, I gave you the -blessing of blessings--unification. I have done all this, and my reward -is hatred, insult, and these bonds. Take me; do with me as you will. -I here resign my crown and all my dignities, and gladly do I release -myself from their too heavy burden. For your sake I took them up; for -your sake I lay them down. The imperial jewel is no more; now bruise and -defile as ye will the useless setting." - -By a unanimous voice the people condemned the ex-emperor and the social -democrat to perpetual banishment from church services, or to perpetual -labor as galley-slaves in the whale-boat--whichever they might prefer. -The next day the nation assembled again, and rehoisted the British flag, -reinstated the British tyranny, reduced the nobility to the condition of -commoners again, and then straightway turned their diligent attention to -the weeding of the ruined and neglected yam patches, and the -rehabilitation of the old useful industries and the old healing and -solacing pieties. The ex-emperor restored the lost trespass law, and -explained that he had stolen it not to injure any one, but to further his -political projects. Therefore the nation gave the late chief magistrate -his office again, and also his alienated Property. - -Upon reflection, the ex-emperor and the social democrat chose perpetual -banishment from religious services in preference to perpetual labor as -galley slaves "with perpetual religious services," as they phrased it; -wherefore the people believed that the poor fellows' troubles had -unseated their reason, and so they judged it best to confine them for the -present. Which they did. - -Such is the history of Pitcairn's "doubtful acquisition." - - - - - - -THE CANVASSER'S TALE - -Poor, sad-eyed stranger! There was that about his humble mien, his tired -look, his decayed-gentility clothes, that almost reached the mustard, -seed of charity that still remained, remote and lonely, in the empty -vastness of my heart, notwithstanding I observed a portfolio under his -arm, and said to myself, Behold, Providence hath delivered his servant -into the hands of another canvasser. - -Well, these people always get one interested. Before I well knew how it -came about, this one was telling me his history, and I was all attention -and sympathy. He told it something like this: - -My parents died, alas, when I was a little, sinless child. My uncle -Ithuriel took me to his heart and reared me as his own. He was my only -relative in the wide world; but he was good and rich and generous. He -reared me in the lap of luxury. I knew no want that money could satisfy. - -In the fullness of time I was graduated, and went with two of my -servants--my chamberlain and my valet--to travel in foreign countries. -During four years I flitted upon careless wing amid the beauteous gardens -of the distant strand, if you will permit this form of speech in one -whose tongue was ever attuned to poesy; and indeed I so speak with -confidence, as one unto his kind, for I perceive by your eyes that you -too, sir, are gifted with the divine inflation. In those far lands I -reveled in the ambrosial food that fructifies the soul, the mind, the -heart. But of all things, that which most appealed to my inborn esthetic -taste was the prevailing custom there, among the rich, of making -collections of elegant and costly rarities, dainty objets de vertu, and -in an evil hour I tried to uplift my uncle Ithuriel to a plane of -sympathy with this exquisite employment. - -I wrote and told him of one gentleman's vast collection of shells; -another's noble collection of meerschaum pipes; another's elevating and -refining collection of undecipherable autographs; another's priceless -collection of old china; another's enchanting collection of postage- -stamps--and so forth and so on. Soon my letters yielded fruit. My uncle -began to look about for something to make a collection of. You may know, -perhaps, how fleetly a taste like this dilates. His soon became a raging -fever, though I knew it not. He began to neglect his great pork -business; presently he wholly retired and turned an elegant leisure into -a rabid search for curious things. His wealth was vast, and he spared it -not. First he tried cow-bells. He made a collection which filled five -large salons, and comprehended all the different sorts of cow-bells that -ever had been contrived, save one. That one--an antique, and the only -specimen extant--was possessed by another collector. My uncle offered -enormous sums for it, but the gentleman would not sell. Doubtless you -know what necessarily resulted. A true collector attaches no value to -a collection that is not complete. His great heart breaks, he sells his -hoard, he turns his mind to some field that seems unoccupied. - -Thus did my uncle. He next tried brickbats. After piling up a vast and -intensely interesting collection, the former difficulty supervened; his -great heart broke again; he sold out his soul's idol to the retired -brewer who possessed the missing brick. Then he tried flint hatchets and -other implements of Primeval Man, but by and by discovered that the -factory where they were made was supplying other collectors as well as -himself. He tried Aztec inscriptions and stuffed whales--another -failure, after incredible labor and expense. When his collection seemed -at last perfect, a stuffed whale arrived from Greenland and an Aztec -inscription from the Cundurango regions of Central America that made all -former specimens insignificant. My uncle hastened to secure these noble -gems. He got the stuffed whale, but another collector got the -inscription. A real Cundurango, as possibly you know, is a possession of -such supreme value that, when once a collector gets it, he will rather -part with his family than with it. So my uncle sold out, and saw his -darlings go forth, never more to return; and his coal-black hair turned -white as snow in a single night. - -Now he waited, and thought. He knew another disappointment might kill -him. He was resolved that he would choose things next time that no other -man was collecting. He carefully made up his mind, and once more entered -the field-this time to make a collection of echoes. - -"Of what?" said I. - -Echoes, sir. His first purchase was an echo in Georgia that repeated -four times; his next was a six-repeater in Maryland; his next was a -thirteen-repeater in Maine; his next was a nine-repeater in Kansas; his -next was a twelve-repeater in Tennessee, which he got cheap, so to speak, -because it was out of repair, a portion of the crag which reflected it -having tumbled down. He believed he could repair it at a cost of a few -thousand dollars, and, by increasing the elevation with masonry, treble -the repeating capacity; but the architect who undertook the job had never -built an echo before, and so he utterly spoiled this one. Before he -meddled with it, it used to talk back like a mother-in-law, but now it -was only fit for the deaf-and-dumb asylum. Well, next he bought a lot of -cheap little double-barreled echoes, scattered around over various states -and territories; he got them at twenty per cent. off by taking the lot. -Next he bought a perfect Gatling-gun of an echo in Oregon, and it cost a -fortune, I can tell you. You may know, sir, that in the echo market the -scale of prices is cumulative, like the carat-scale in diamonds; in fact, -the same phraseology is used. A single-carat echo is worth but ten -dollars over and above the value of the land it is on; a two-carat or -double-barreled echo is worth thirty dollars; a five-carat is worth nine -hundred and fifty; a ten-carat is worth thirteen thousand. My uncle's -Oregon-echo, which he called the Great Pitt Echo, was a twenty-two carat -gem, and cost two hundred and sixteen thousand dollars--they threw the -land in, for it was four hundred miles from a settlement. - -Well, in the mean time my path was a path of roses. I was the accepted -suitor of the only and lovely daughter of an English earl, and was -beloved to distraction. In that dear presence I swam in seas of bliss. -The family were content, for it was known that I was sole heir to an -uncle held to be worth five millions of dollars. However, none of us -knew that my uncle had become a collector, at least in anything more than -a small way, for esthetic amusement. - -Now gathered the clouds above my unconscious head. That divine echo, -since known throughout the world as the Great Koh-i-noor, or Mountain of -Repetitions, was discovered. It was a sixty-five carat gem. You could -utter a word and it would talk back at you for fifteen minutes, when the -day was otherwise quiet. But behold, another fact came to light at the -same time: another echo-collector was in the field. The two rushed to -make the peerless purchase. The property consisted of a couple of small -hills with a shallow swale between, out yonder among the back settlements -of New York State. Both men arrived on the ground at the same time, and -neither knew the other was there. The echo was not all owned by one man; -a person by the name of Williamson Bolivar Jarvis owned the east hill, -and a person by the name of Harbison J. Bledso owned the west hill; the -swale between was the dividing-line. So while my uncle was buying -Jarvis's hill for three million two hundred and eighty-five thousand -dollars, the other party was buying Bledso's hill for a shade over three -million. - -Now, do you perceive the natural result? Why, the noblest collection of -echoes on earth was forever and ever incomplete, since it possessed but -the one-half of the king echo of the universe. Neither man was content -with this divided ownership, yet neither would sell to the other. There -were jawings, bickerings, heart-burnings. And at last that other -collector, with a malignity which only a collector can ever feel toward a -man and a brother, proceeded to cut down his hill! - -You see, as long as he could not have the echo, he was resolved that -nobody should have it. He would remove his hill, and then there would be -nothing to reflect my uncle's echo. My uncle remonstrated with him, but -the man said, "I own one end of this echo; I choose to kill my end; you -must take care of your own end yourself." - -Well, my uncle got an injunction put an him. The other man appealed and -fought it in a higher court. They carried it on up, clear to the Supreme -Court of the United States. It made no end of trouble there. Two of the -judges believed that an echo was personal property, because it was -impalpable to sight and touch, and yet was purchasable, salable, and -consequently taxable; two others believed that an echo was real estate, -because it was manifestly attached to the land, and was not removable -from place to place; other of the judges contended that an echo was not -property at all. - -It was finally decided that the echo was property; that the hills were -property; that the two men were separate and independent owners of the -two hills, but tenants in common in the echo; therefore defendant was at -full liberty to cut down his hill, since it belonged solely to him, but -must give bonds in three million dollars as indemnity for damages which -might result to my uncle's half of the echo. This decision also debarred -my uncle from using defendant's hill to reflect his part of the echo, -without defendant's consent; he must use only his own hill; if his part -of the echo would not go, under these circumstances, it was sad, of -course, but the court could find no remedy. The court also debarred -defendant from using my uncle's hill to reflect his end of the echo, -without consent. You see the grand result! Neither man would give -consent, and so that astonishing and most noble echo had to cease from -its great powers; and since that day that magnificent property is tied up -and unsalable. - -A week before my wedding-day, while I was still swimming in bliss and the -nobility were gathering from far and near to honor our espousals, came -news of my uncle's death, and also a copy of his will, making me his sole -heir. He was gone; alas, my dear benefactor was no more. The thought -surcharges my heart even at this remote day. I handed the will to the -earl; I could not read it for the blinding tears. The earl read it; then -he sternly said, "Sir, do you call this wealth?--but doubtless you do in -your inflated country. Sir, you are left sole heir to a vast collection -of echoes--if a thing can be called a collection that is scattered far -and wide over the huge length and breadth of the American continent; sir, -this is not all; you are head and ears in debt; there is not an echo in -the lot but has a mortgage on it; sir, I am not a hard man, but I must -look to my child's interest; if you had but one echo which you could -honestly call your own, if you had but one echo which was free from -incumbrance, so that you could retire to it with my child, and by humble, -painstaking industry cultivate and improve it, and thus wrest from it a -maintenance, I would not say you nay; but I cannot marry my child to a -beggar. Leave his side, my darling; go, sir, take your mortgage-ridden -echoes and quit my sight forever." - -My noble Celestine clung to me in tears, with loving arms, and swore she -would willingly, nay gladly, marry me, though I had not an echo in the -world. But it could not be. We were torn asunder, she to pine and die -within the twelvemonth, I to toil life's long journey sad and alone, -praying daily, hourly, for that release which shall join us together -again in that dear realm where the wicked cease from troubling and the -weary are at rest. Now, sir, if you will be so kind as to look at these -maps and plans in my portfolio, I am sure I can sell you an echo for less -money than any man in the trade. Now this one, which cost my uncle ten -dollars, thirty years ago, and is one of the sweetest things in Texas, I -will let you have for-- - -"Let me interrupt you," I said. "My friend, I have not had a moment's -respite from canvassers this day. I have bought a sewing-machine which I -did not want; I have bought a map which is mistaken in all its details; -I have bought a clock which will not go; I have bought a moth poison -which the moths prefer to any other beverage; I have bought no end of -useless inventions, and now I have had enough of this foolishness. -I would not have one of your echoes if you were even to give it to me. -I would not let it stay on the place. I always hate a man that tries to -sell me echoes. You see this gun? Now take your collection and move on; -let us not have bloodshed." - -But he only smiled a sad, sweet smile, and got out some more diagrams. -You know the result perfectly well, because you know that when you have -once opened the door to a canvasser, the trouble is done and you have got -to suffer defeat. - -I compromised with this man at the end of an intolerable hour. I bought -two double-barreled echoes in good condition, and he threw in another, -which he said was not salable because it only spoke German. He said, -"She was a perfect polyglot once, but somehow her palate got down." - - - - - - -AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN INTERVIEWER - -The nervous, dapper, "peart" young man took the chair I offered him, and -said he was connected with the Daily Thunderstorm, and added: - -"Hoping it's no harm, I've come to interview you." - -"Come to what?" - -"Interview you." - -"Ah! I see. Yes--yes. Um! Yes--yes." - -I was not feeling bright that morning. Indeed, my powers seemed a bit -under a cloud. However, I went to the bookcase, and when I had been -looking six or seven minutes I found I was obliged to refer to the young -man. I said: - -"How do you spell it?" - -"Spell what?" - -"Interview." - -"Oh, my goodness! what do you want to spell it for?" - -"I don't want to spell it; I want to see what it means." - -"Well, this is astonishing, I must say. I can tell you what it means, if -you--if you--" - -"Oh, all right! That will answer, and much obliged to you, too." - -"In, in, ter, ter, inter--" - -"Then you spell it with an h" - -Why certainly!" - -"Oh, that is what took me so long." - -"Why, my dear sir, what did you propose to spell it with?" - -"Well, I--I--hardly know. I had the Unabridged, and I was ciphering -around in the back end, hoping I might tree her among the pictures. -But it's a very old edition." - -"Why, my friend, they wouldn't have a picture of it in even the latest -e--- My dear sir, I beg your pardon, I mean no harm in the world, but you -do not look as--as--intelligent as I had expected you would. No harm-- -I mean no harm at all." - -"Oh, don't mention it! It has often been said, and by people who would -not flatter and who could have no inducement to flatter, that I am quite -remarkable in that way. Yes--yes; they always speak of it with rapture." - -"I can easily imagine it. But about this interview. You know it is the -custom, now, to interview any man who has become notorious." - -"Indeed, I had not heard of it before. It must be very interesting. -What do you do it with?" - -"Ah, well--well--well--this is disheartening. It ought to be done with a -club in some cases; but customarily it consists in the interviewer asking -questions and the interviewed answering them. It is all the rage now. -Will you let me ask you certain questions calculated to bring out the -salient points of your public and private history?" - -"Oh, with pleasure--with pleasure. I have a very bad memory, but I hope -you will not mind that. That is to say, it is an irregular memory-- -singularly irregular. Sometimes it goes in a gallop, and then again it -will be as much as a fortnight passing a given point. This is a great -grief to me." - -"Oh, it is no matter, so you will try to do the best you can." - -"I will. I will put my whole mind on it." - -"Thanks. Are you ready to begin?" - -"Ready." - -Q. How old are you? - -A. Nineteen, in June. - -Q. Indeed. I would have taken you to be thirty-five or six. Where were -you born? - -A. In Missouri. - -Q. When did you begin to write? - -A. In 1836. - -Q. Why, how could that be, if you are only nineteen now? - -A. I don't know. It does seem curious, somehow. - -Q. It does, indeed. Whom do you consider the most remarkable man you -ever met? - -A. Aaron Burr. - -Q. But you never could have met Aaron Burr, if you are only nineteen -years! - -A. Now, if you know more about me than I do, what do you ask me for? - -Q. Well, it was only a suggestion; nothing more. How did you happen to -meet Burr? - -A. Well, I happened to be at his funeral one day, and he asked me to -make less noise, and-- - -Q. But, good heavens! if you were at his funeral, he must have been -dead, and if he was dead how could he care whether you made a noise or -not? - -A. I don't know. He was always a particular kind of a man that way. - -Q. Still, I don't understand it at all, You say he spoke to you, and -that he was dead. - -A. I didn't say he was dead. - -Q. But wasn't he dead? - -A. Well, some said he was, some said he wasn't. - -Q. What did you think? - -A. Oh, it was none of my business! It wasn't any of my funeral. - -Q. Did you--However, we can never get this matter straight. Let me ask -about something else. What was the date of your birth? - -A. Monday, October 31, 1693. - -Q. What! Impossible! That would make you a hundred and eighty years -old. How do you account for that? - -A. I don't account for it at all. - -Q. But you said at first you were only nineteen, and now you make -yourself out to be one hundred and eighty. It is an awful discrepancy. - -A. Why, have you noticed that? (Shaking hands.) Many a time it has -seemed to me like a discrepancy, but somehow I couldn't make up my mind. -How quick you notice a thing! - -Q. Thank you for the compliment, as far as it goes. Had you, or have -you, any brothers or sisters? - -A. Eh! I--I--I think so--yes--but I don't remember. - -Q. Well, that is the most extraordinary statement I ever heard! - -A. Why, what makes you think that? - -Q. How could I think otherwise? Why, look here! Who is this a picture -of on the wall? Isn't that a brother of yours? - -A. Oh, yes, yes, yes! Now you remind me of it; that was a brother of -mine. That's William--Bill we called him. Poor old Bill! - -Q. Why? Is he dead, then? - -A. Ah! well, I suppose so. We never could tell. There was a great -mystery about it. - -Q. That is sad, very sad. He disappeared, then? - -A. Well, yes, in a sort of general way. We buried him. - -Q. Buried him! Buried him, without knowing whether he was dead or not? - -A. Oh, no! Not that. He was dead enough. - -Q. Well, I confess that I can't understand this. If you buried him, and -you knew he was dead - -A. No! no! We only thought he was. - -Q. Oh, I see! He came to life again? - -A. I bet he didn't. - -Q. Well, I never heard anything like this. Somebody was dead. Somebody -was buried. Now, where was the mystery? - -A. Ah! that's just it! That's it exactly. You see, we were twins-- -defunct--and I--and we got mixed in the bathtub when we were only two -weeks old, and one of us was drowned. But we didn't know which. Some -think it was Bill. Some think it was me. - -Q. Well, that is remarkable. What do you think? - -A. Goodness knows! I would give whole worlds to know. This solemn, -this awful mystery has cast a gloom over my whole life. But I will tell -you a secret now, which I never have revealed to any creature before. -One of us had a peculiar mark--a large mole on the back of his left hand; -that was me. That child was the one that was drowned! - -Q. Very well, then, I don't see that there is any mystery about it, -after all. - -A. You don't? Well, I do. Anyway, I don't see how they could ever have -been such a blundering lot as to go and bury the wrong child. But, 'sh! ---don't mention it where the family can hear of it. Heaven knows they -have heartbreaking troubles enough without adding this. - -Q. Well, I believe I have got material enough for the present, and I am -very much obliged to you for the pains you have taken. But I was a good -deal interested in that account of Aaron Burr's funeral. Would you mind -telling me what particular circumstance it was that made you think Burr -was such a remarkable man? - -A. Oh! it was a mere trifle! Not one man in fifty would have noticed -it at all. When the sermon was over, and the procession all ready to -start for the cemetery, and the body all arranged nice in the hearse, he -said he wanted to take a last look at the scenery, and so he got up and -rode with the driver. - -Then the young man reverently withdrew. He was very pleasant company, -and I was sorry to see him go. - - - - - - -PARIS NOTES - ---[Crowded out of "A Tramp Abroad" to make room for more vital -statistics.--M. T.] - -The Parisian travels but little, he knows no language but his own, reads -no literature but his own, and consequently he is pretty narrow and -pretty self-sufficient. However, let us not be too sweeping; there are -Frenchmen who know languages not their own: these are the waiters. Among -the rest, they know English; that is, they know it on the European plan-- -which is to say, they can speak it, but can't understand it. They easily -make themselves understood, but it is next to impossible to word an -English sentence in such away as to enable them to comprehend it. They -think they comprehend it; they pretend they do; but they don't. Here is -a conversation which I had with one of these beings; I wrote it down at -the time, in order to have it exactly correct. - -I. These are fine oranges. Where are they grown? - -He. More? Yes, I will bring them. - -I. No, do not bring any more; I only want to know where they are from -where they are raised. - -He. Yes? (with imperturbable mien and rising inflection.) - -I. Yes. Can you tell me what country they are from? - -He. Yes? (blandly, with rising inflection.) - -I. (disheartened). They are very nice. - -He. Good night. (Bows, and retires, quite satisfied with himself.) - -That young man could have become a good English scholar by taking the -right sort of pains, but he was French, and wouldn't do that. How -different is the case with our people; they utilize every means that -offers. There are some alleged French Protestants in Paris, and they -built a nice little church on one of the great avenues that lead away -from the Arch of Triumph, and proposed to listen to the correct thing, -preached in the correct way, there, in their precious French tongue, and -be happy. But their little game does not succeed. Our people are always -there ahead of them Sundays, and take up all the room. When the minister -gets up to preach, he finds his house full of devout foreigners, each -ready and waiting, with his little book in his hand--a morocco-bound -Testament, apparently. But only apparently; it is Mr. Bellows's -admirable and exhaustive little French-English dictionary, which in look -and binding and size is just like a Testament and those, people are there -to study French. The building has been nicknamed "The Church of the -Gratis French Lesson." - -These students probably acquire more language than general information, -for I am told that a French sermon is like a French speech--it never -names a historical event, but only the date of it; if you are not up in -dates, you get left. A French speech is something like this: - - Comrades, citizens, brothers, noble parts of the only sublime and - perfect nation, let us not forget that the 21st January cast off our - chains; that the 10th August relieved us of the shameful presence of - foreign spies; that the 5th September was its own justification - before heaven and humanity; that the 18th Brumaire contained the - seeds of its own punishment; that the 14th July was the mighty voice - of liberty proclaiming the resurrection, the new day, and inviting - the oppressed peoples of the earth to look upon the divine face of - France and live; and let us here record our everlasting curse - against the man of the 2d December, and declare in thunder tones, - the native tones of France, that but for him there had been no 17th - March in history, no 12th October, no 19th January, no 22d April, - no 16th November, no 30th September, no 2d July, no 14th February, - no 29th June, no 15th August, no 31st May--that but for him, France - the pure, the grand, the peerless, had had a serene and vacant - almanac today! - -I have heard of one French sermon which closed in this odd yet eloquent -way: - - My hearers, we have sad cause to remember the man of the 13th - January. The results of the vast crime of the 13th January have - been in just proportion to the magnitude of the set itself. But for - it there had been no 30 November--sorrowful spectacle! The grisly - deed of the 16th June had not been done but for it, nor had the man - of the 16th June known existence; to it alone the 3d September was - due, also the fatal 12th October. Shall we, then, be grateful for - the 13th January, with its freight of death for you and me and all - that breathe? Yes, my friends, for it gave us also that which had - never come but for it, and it atone--the blessed 25th December. - -It may be well enough to explain, though in the case of many of my -readers this will hardly be necessary. The man of the 13th January is -Adam; the crime of that date was the eating of the apple; the sorrowful -spectacle of the 30th November was the expulsion from Eden; the grisly -deed of the 16th June was the murder of Abel; the act of the 3d September -was the beginning of the journey to the land of Nod; the 12th day of -October, the last mountain-tops disappeared under the flood. When you go -to church in France, you want to take your almanac with you--annotated. - - - - - - -LEGEND OF SAGENFELD, IN GERMANY - -[Left out of "A Tramp Abroad" because its authenticity seemed doubtful, -and could not at that time be proved.--M. T.] - -More than a thousand years ago this small district was a kingdom ---a little bit of a kingdom, a sort of dainty little toy kingdom, as one -might say. It was far removed from the jealousies, strifes, and turmoils -of that old warlike day, and so its life was a simple life, its people a -gentle and guileless race; it lay always in a deep dream of peace, a soft -Sabbath tranquillity; there was no malice, there was no envy, there was -no ambition, consequently there were no heart-burnings, there was no -unhappiness in the land. - -In the course of time the old king died and his little son Hubert came to -the throne. The people's love for him grew daily; he was so good and so -pure and so noble, that by and by his love became a passion, almost a -worship. Now at his birth the soothsayers had diligently studied the -stars and found something written in that shining book to this effect: - - In Hubert's fourteenth year a pregnant event will happen; the animal - whose singing shall sound sweetest in Hubert's ear shall save - Hubert's life. So long as the king and the nation shall honor this - animal's race for this good deed, the ancient dynasty shall not fail - of an heir, nor the nation know war or pestilence or poverty. But - beware an erring choice! - -All through the king's thirteenth year but one thing was talked of by the -soothsayers, the statesmen, the little parliament, and the general -people. That one thing was this: How is the last sentence of the -prophecy to be understood? What goes before seems to mean that the -saving animal will choose itself at the proper time; but the closing -sentence seems to mean that the king must choose beforehand, and say what -singer among the animals pleases him best, and that if he choose wisely -the chosen animal will save his life, his dynasty, his people, but that -if he should make "an erring choice"--beware! - -By the end of the year there were as many opinions about this matter as -there had been in the beginning; but a majority of the wise and the -simple were agreed that the safest plan would be for the little king to -make choice beforehand, and the earlier the better. So an edict was sent -forth commanding all persons who owned singing creatures to bring them to -the great hall of the palace in the morning of the first day of the new -year. This command was obeyed. When everything was in readiness for the -trial, the king made his solemn entry with the great officers of the -crown, all clothed in their robes of state. The king mounted his golden -throne and prepared to give judgment. But he presently said: - -"These creatures all sing at once; the noise is unendurable; no one can -choose in such a turmoil. Take them all away, and bring back one at a -time." - -This was done. One sweet warbler after another charmed the young king's -ear and was removed to make way for another candidate. The precious -minutes slipped by; among so many bewitching songsters he found it hard -to choose, and all the harder because the promised penalty for an error -was so terrible that it unsettled his judgment and made him afraid to -trust his own ears. He grew nervous and his face showed distress. His -ministers saw this, for they never took their eyes from him a moment. -Now they began to say in their hearts: - -"He has lost courage--the cool head is gone--he will err--he and his -dynasty and his people are doomed!" - -At the end of an hour the king sat silent awhile, and then said: - -"Bring back the linnet." - -The linnet trilled forth her jubilant music. In the midst of it the king -was about to uplift his scepter in sign of choice, but checked himself -and said: - -"But let us be sure. Bring back the thrush; let them sing together." - -The thrush was brought, and the two birds poured out their marvels of -song together. The king wavered, then his inclination began to settle -and strengthen--one could see it in his countenance. Hope budded in the -hearts of the old ministers, their pulses began to beat quicker, the -scepter began to rise slowly, when: There was a hideous interruption! -It was a sound like this--just at the door: - -"Waw . . . he! waw . . . he! waw-he!-waw -he!-waw-he!" - -Everybody was sorely startled--and enraged at himself for showing it. - -The next instant the dearest, sweetest, prettiest little peasant-maid of -nine years came tripping in, her brown eyes glowing with childish -eagerness; but when she saw that august company and those angry faces she -stopped and hung her head and put her poor coarse apron to her eyes. -Nobody gave her welcome, none pitied her. Presently she looked up -timidly through her tears, and said: - -"My lord the king, I pray you pardon me, for I meant no wrong. I have no -father and no mother, but I have a goat and a donkey, and they are all in -all to me. My goat gives me the sweetest milk, and when my dear good -donkey brays it seems to me there is no music like to it. So when my -lord the king's jester said the sweetest singer among all the animals -should save the crown and nation, and moved me to bring him here--" - -All the court burst into a rude laugh, and the child fled away crying, -without trying to finish her speech. The chief minister gave a private -order that she and her disastrous donkey be flogged beyond the precincts -of the palace and commanded to come within them no more. - -Then the trial of the birds was resumed. The two birds sang their best, -but the scepter lay motionless in the king's hand. Hope died slowly out -in the breasts of all. An hour went by; two hours, still no decision. -The day waned to its close, and the waiting multitudes outside the palace -grew crazed with anxiety and apprehension. The twilight came on, the -shadows fell deeper and deeper. The king and his court could no longer -see each other's faces. No one spoke--none called for lights. The great -trial had been made; it had failed; each and all wished to hide their -faces from the light and cover up their deep trouble in their own hearts. - -Finally-hark! A rich, full strain of the divinest melody streamed forth -from a remote part of the hall the nightingale's voice! - -"Up!" shouted the king, "let all the bells make proclamation to the -people, for the choice is made and we have not erred. King, dynasty, -and nation are saved. From henceforth let the nightingale be honored -throughout the land forever. And publish it among all the people that -whosoever shall insult a nightingale, or injure it, shall suffer death. -The king hath spoken." - -All that little world was drunk with joy. The castle and the city blazed -with bonfires all night long, the people danced and drank and sang; and -the triumphant clamor of the bells never ceased. - -From that day the nightingale was a sacred bird. Its song was heard in -every house; the poets wrote its praises; the painters painted it; its -sculptured image adorned every arch and turret and fountain and public -building. It was even taken into the king's councils; and no grave -matter of state was decided until the soothsayers had laid the thing -before the state nightingale and translated to the ministry what it was -that the bird had sung about it. - - -II - -The young king was very fond of the chase. When the summer was come he -rode forth with hawk and hound, one day, in a brilliant company of his -nobles. He got separated from them by and by, in a great forest, and -took what he imagined a neat cut, to find them again; but it was a -mistake. He rode on and on, hopefully at first, but with sinking courage -finally. Twilight came on, and still he was plunging through a lonely -and unknown land. Then came a catastrophe. In the dim light he forced -his horse through a tangled thicket overhanging a steep and rocky -declivity. When horse and rider reached the bottom, the former had a -broken neck and the latter a broken leg. The poor little king lay there -suffering agonies of pain, and each hour seemed a long month to him. -He kept his ear strained to heat any sound that might promise hope of -rescue; but he heard no voice, no sound of horn or bay of hound. So at -last he gave up all hope, and said, "Let death come, four come it must." - -Just then the deep, sweet song of a nightingale swept across the still -wastes of the night. - -"Saved!" the king said. "Saved! It is the sacred bird, and the prophecy -is come true. The gods themselves protected me from error in the -choice." - -He could hardly contain his joy; he could not word his gratitude. Every -few moments, now he thought he caught the sound of approaching succor. -But each time it was a disappointment; no succor came. The dull hours -drifted on. Still no help came--but still the sacred bird sang on. He -began to have misgivings about his choice, but he stifled them. Toward -dawn the bird ceased. The morning came, and with it thirst and hunger; -but no succor. The day waxed and waned. At last the king cursed the -nightingale. - -Immediately the song of the thrush came from out the wood. The king said -in his heart, "This was the true-bird--my choice was false--succor will -come now." - -But it did not come. Then he lay many hours insensible. When he came to -himself, a linnet was singing. He listened-with apathy. His faith was -gone. "These birds," he said, "can bring no help; I and my house and my -people are doomed." He turned him about to die; for he was grown very -feeble from hunger and thirst and suffering, and felt that his end was -near. In truth, he wanted to die, and be released from pain. For long -hours he lay without thought or feeling or motion. Then his senses -returned. The dawn of the third morning was breaking. Ah, the world -seemed very beautiful to those worn eyes. Suddenly a great longing to -live rose up in the lad's heart, and from his soul welled a deep and -fervent prayer that Heaven would have mercy upon him and let him see his -home and his friends once more. In that instant a soft, a faint, a far- -off sound, but oh, how inexpressibly sweet to his waiting ear, came -floating out of the distance: - -"Waw . . . he! waw . . . he! waw-he!--waw-he!--waw-he!" - -"That, oh, that song is sweeter, a thousand times sweeter than the voice -of the nightingale, thrush, or linnet, for it brings not mere hope, but -certainty of succor; and now, indeed, am I saved! The sacred singer has -chosen itself, as the oracle intended; the prophecy is fulfilled, and my -life, my house, and my people are redeemed. The ass shall be sacred from -this day!" - -The divine music grew nearer and nearer, stronger and stronger and ever -sweeter and sweeter to the perishing sufferer's ear. Down the declivity -the docile little donkey wandered, cropping herbage and singing as he -went; and when at last he saw the dead horse and the wounded king, he -came and snuffed at them with simple and marveling curiosity. The king -petted him, and he knelt down as had been his wont when his little -mistress desired to mount. With great labor and pain the lad drew -himself upon the creature's back, and held himself there by aid of the -generous ears. The ass went singing forth from the place and carried the -king to the little peasant-maid's hut. She gave him her pallet for a -bed, refreshed him with goat's milk, and then flew to tell the great news -to the first scouting-party of searchers she might meet. - -The king got well. His first act was to proclaim the sacredness and -inviolability of the ass; his second was to add this particular ass to -his cabinet and make him chief minister of the crown; his third was to -have all the statues and effigies of nightingales throughout his kingdom -destroyed, and replaced by statues and effigies of the sacred donkey; -and, his fourth was to announce that when the little peasant maid should -reach her fifteenth year he would make her his queen and he kept his -word. - -Such is the legend. This explains why the moldering image of the ass -adorns all these old crumbling walls and arches; and it explains why, -during many centuries, an ass was always the chief minister in that royal -cabinet, just as is still the case in most cabinets to this day; and it -also explains why, in that little kingdom, during many centuries, all -great poems, all great speeches, all great books, all public solemnities, -and all royal proclamations, always began with these stirring words: - -"Waw . . . he! waw . . , he!--waw he! Waw-he!" - - - - - - -SPEECH ON THE BABIES - -AT THE BANQUET, IN CHICAGO, GIVEN BY THE ARMY OF THE TENNESSEE TO THEIR -FIRST COMMANDER, GENERAL U. S. GRANT, NOVEMBER, 1879 - - The fifteenth regular toast was "The Babies--as they comfort us in - our sorrows, let us not forget them in our festivities." - -I like that. We have not all had the good for tune to be ladies. We -have not all been generals, or poets, or statesmen; but when the toast -works down to the babies, we stand on common ground. It is a shame that -for a thousand years the world's banquets have utterly ignored the baby, -as if he didn't amount to anything. If you will stop and think a minute ---if you will go back fifty or one hundred years to your early married -life and recontemplate your first baby--you will remember that he -amounted to a great deal, and even something over. You soldiers all know -that when the little fellow arrived at family, headquarters you had to -hand in your resignation. He took entire command. You became his -lackey, his mere body servant, and you had to stand around, too. He was -not a commander who made allowances far time, distance, weather, or -anything else. You had to execute his order whether it was possible or -mot. And there was only one form of marching in his manual of tactics, -and that was the double-quick. He treated you with every sort of -insolence and disrespect, and the bravest of you didn't dare to say a -word. You could face the death-storm at Donelson and Vicksburg, and give -back blow for blow; but when he clawed your whiskers, and pulled your -hair, and twisted your nose, you had to take it. When the thunders of -war were sounding in your ears you set your faces toward the batteries, -and advanced with steady tread; but when he turned on the terrors of his -war-whoop you advanced in the other direction, and mighty glad of the -chance, too. When he called for soothing-syrup, did you venture to throw -out any side remarks about certain services being unbecoming an officer -and a gentleman? No. You got up and got it. When he ordered his pap- -bottle and it was not warm, did you talk back? Not you. You went to -work and warmed it. You even descended so far in your menial office as -to take a suck at that warm, insipid stuff yourself, to see if it was -right--three parts water to one of milk, a touch of sugar to modify the -colic, and a drop of peppermint to kill those hiccoughs. I can taste -that stuff yet. And how many things you learned as you went along! -Sentimental young folks still take stock in that beautiful old saying -that when the baby smiles in his sleep, it is because the angels are -whispering to him. Very pretty, but too thin--simply wind on the -stomach, my friends. If the baby proposed to take a walk at his usual -hour, two o'clock in the morning, didn't you rise up promptly and remark, -with a mental addition which would not improve a Sunday-school book much, -that that was the very thing you were about to propose yourself? Oh! -you were under good discipline, and as you went fluttering up and down -the room in your undress uniform, you not only prattled undignified baby- -talk, but even tuned up your martial voices and tried to sing!--" Rock-a- -by baby in the treetop," for instance. What a spectacle for an Army of -the Tennessee! And what an affliction for the neighbors, too; for it is -not everybody within a mile around that likes military music at three in -the morning: And when you had been keeping this sort of thing up two or -three hours, and your little velvet-head intimated that nothing suited -him like exercise and noise, what did you do? ["Go on!"] You simply went -on until you dropped in the last ditch. The idea that a baby doesn't -amount to anything! Why, one baby is just a house and a front yard full -by itself. One baby can furnish more business than you and your whole -Interior Department can attend to. He is enterprising, irrepressible, -brimful of lawless activities. Do what you please, you can't make him -stay on the reservation. Sufficient unto the day is one baby. As long -as you are in your right mind don't you ever pray for twins. Twins -amount to a permanent riot. And there ain't any real difference between -triplets and an insurrection. - -Yes, it was high time for a toast-master to recognize the importance of -the babies. Think what is in store for the present crop! Fifty years -from now we shall all be dead, I trust, and then this flag, if it still -survive (and let us hope it may), will be floating over a Republic -numbering 200,000,000 souls, according to the settled laws of our -increase. Our present schooner of State will have grown into a political -leviathan--a Great Eastern. The cradled babies of to-day will be on -deck. Let them be well trained, for we are going to leave a big contract -on their hands. Among the three or four million cradles now rocking in -the land are some which this nation would preserve for ages as sacred -things, if we could know which ones they are. In one of them cradles the -unconscious Farragut of the future is at this moment teething--think of -it!--and putting in a world of dead earnest, unarticulated, but perfectly -justifiable profanity over it, too. In another the future renowned -astronomer is blinking at the shining Milky Way with but a languid -interest--poor little chap!--and wondering what has become of that other -one they call the wet-nurse. In another the future great historian is -lying--and doubtless will continue to lie until his earthly mission is -ended. In another the future President is busying himself with no -profounder problem of state than what the mischief has become of his hair -so early; and in a mighty array of other cradles there are now some -60,000 future office-seekers, getting ready to furnish him occasion to -grapple with that same old problem a second time. And in still one more -cradle, somewhere under the flag, the future illustrious commander-in- -chief of the American armies is so little burdened with his approaching -grandeurs and responsibilities as to be giving his whole strategic mind -at this moment to trying to find out some way to get his big toe into his -mouth--an achievement which, meaning no disrespect, the illustrious guest -of this evening turned his entire attention to some fifty-six years ago; -and if the child is but a prophecy of the man, there are mighty few who -will doubt that he succeeded. - - - - - - -SPEECH ON THE WEATHER - -AT THE NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY'S SEVENTY-FIRST ANNUAL DINNER, NEW YORK CITY - - The next toast was: "The Oldest Inhabitant--The Weather of New - England." - - Who can lose it and forget it? - Who can have it and regret it? - - Be interposes 'twixt us Twain. - Merchant of Venice. - - To this Samuel L. Clemens (Mark Twain) replied as follows:-- - - -I reverently believe that the Maker who made us all makes everything in -New England but the weather. I don't know who makes that, but I think it -must be raw apprentices in the weather-clerk's factory who experiment and -learn how, in New England, for board and clothes, and then are promoted -to make weather for countries that require a good article, and will take -their custom elsewhere if they don't get it. There is a sumptuous -variety about the New England weather that compels the stranger's -admiration--and regret. The weather is always doing something there; -always attending strictly to business; always getting up new designs and -trying them on the people to see how they will go. But it gets through -more business in spring than in any other season. In the spring I have -counted one hundred and thirty-six different kinds of weather inside of -four-and-twenty hours. It was I that made the fame and fortune of that -man that had that marvelous collection of weather on exhibition at the -Centennial, that so astounded the foreigners. He was going to travel all -over the world and get specimens from all the climes. I said, "Don't you -do it; you come to New England on a favorable spring day." I told him -what we could do in the way of style, variety, and quantity. Well, he -came and he made his collection in four days. As to variety, why, he -confessed that he got hundreds of kinds of weather that he had never -heard of before. And as to quantity--well, after he had picked out and -discarded all that was blemished in any way, he not only had weather -enough, but weather to spare; weather to hire out; weather to sell; to -deposit; weather to invest; weather to give to the poor. The people of -New England are by nature patient and forbearing, but there are some -things which they will not stand. Every year they kill a lot of poets -for writing about "Beautiful Spring." These are generally casual -visitors, who bring their notions of spring from somewhere else, and -cannot, of course, know how the natives feel about spring. And so the -first thing they know the opportunity to inquire how they feel has -permanently gone by. Old Probabilities has a mighty reputation for -accurate prophecy, and thoroughly well deserves it. You take up the -paper and observe how crisply and confidently he checks off what to-day's -weather is going to be on the Pacific, down South, in the Middle States, -in the Wisconsin region. See him sail along in the joy and pride of his -power till he gets to New England, and then see-his tail drop. He -doesn't know what the weather is going to be in New England. Well, he -mulls over it, and by and by he gets out something about like this: -Probable northeast to southwest minds, varying to the southward and -westward and eastward, and points between, high and low barometer -swapping around from place to place; probable areas of rain, snow, hail, -and drought, succeeded or preceded by earthquakes, with thunder and -lightning. Then he jots down this postscript from his wandering mind, to -cover accidents: "But it is possible that the program may be wholly -changed in the mean time." Yes, one of the brightest gems in the New -England weather is the dazzling uncertainty of it. There is only one -thing certain about it: you are certain there is going to be plenty of -it--a perfect grand review; but you never can tell which end of the -procession is going to move first. You fix up for the drought; you leave -your umbrella in the house and sally out, and two to one you get drowned. -You make up your mind that the earthquake is due; you stand from under, -and take hold of something to steady yourself, and the first thing you -know you get struck by lightning. These are great disappointments; but -they can't be helped. The lightning there is peculiar; it is so -convincing, that when it strikes a thing it doesn't leave enough of that -thing behind for you to tell whether--Well, you'd think it was something -valuable, and a Congressman had been there. And the thunder. When the -thunder begins to merely tune up and scrape and saw, and key up the -instruments for the performance, strangers say, "Why, what awful thunder -you have here!" But when the baton is raised and the real concert -begins, you'll find that stranger down in the cellar with his head in the -ash-barrel. Now as to the size of the weather in New England lengthways, -I mean. It is utterly disproportioned to the size of that little -country. Half the time, when it is packed as full as it can stick, you -will see that New England weather sticking out beyond the edges and -projecting around hundreds and hundreds of miles over the neighboring -states. She can't hold a tenth part of her weather. You can see cracks -all about where she has strained herself trying to do it. I could speak -volumes about the inhuman perversity of the New England weather, but I -will give but a single specimen. I like to hear rain on a tin roof. -So I covered part of my roof with tin, with an eye to that luxury. Well, -sir, do you think it ever rains on that tin? No, sir; skips it every -time. Mind, in this speech I have been trying merely to do honor to the -New England weather--no language could do it justice. But, after all, -there is at least one or two things about that weather (or, if you -please, effects produced, by it) which we residents would not like to -part with. If we hadn't our bewitching autumn foliage, we should still -have to credit the weather with one feature which compensates for all its -bullying vagaries the ice-storm: when a leafless tree is clothed with ice -from the bottom to the top--ice that is as bright and clear as crystal; -when every bough and twig is strung with ice-beads, frozen dewdrops, and -the whole tree sparkles cold and white, like the Shah of Persia's diamond -plume. Then the wind waves the branches and the sun comes out and turns -all those myriads of beads and drops to prisms that glow and burn and -flash with all manner of colored fires, which change and change again -with inconceivable rapidity from blue to red, from red to green, and -green to gold--the tree becomes a spraying fountain, a very explosion of -dazzling jewels; and it stands there the acme, the climax, the supremest -possibility in art or nature, of bewildering, intoxicating, intolerable -magnificence. One cannot make the words too strong. - - - - - - -CONCERNING THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE - ---[Being part of a chapter which was crowded out of "A Tramp Abroad."-- -M.T.] - -There was as Englishman in our compartment, and he complimented me on-- -on what? But you would never guess. He complimented me on my English. -He said Americans in general did not speak the English language as -correctly as I did. I said I was obliged to him for his compliment, -since I knew he meant it for one, but that I was not fairly entitled to -it, for I did not speak English at all--I only spoke American. - -He laughed, and said it was a distinction without a difference. I said -no, the difference was not prodigious, but still it was considerable. -We fell into a friendly dispute over the matter. I put my case as well -as I could, and said: - -"The languages were identical several generations ago, but our changed -conditions and the spread of our people far to the south and far to the -west have made many alterations in our pronunciation, and have introduced -new words among us and changed the meanings of many old ones. English -people talk through their noses; we do not. We say know, English people -say nao; we say cow, the Briton says kaow; we--" - -"Oh, come! that is pure Yankee; everybody knows that." - -"Yes, it is pure Yankee; that is true. One cannot hear it in America -outside of the little corner called New England, which is Yankee land. -The English themselves planted it there, two hundred and fifty years ago, -and there it remains; it has never spread. But England talks through her -nose yet; the Londoner and the backwoods New-Englander pronounce 'know' -and 'cow' alike, and then the Briton unconsciously satirizes himself by -making fun of the Yankee's pronunciation." - -We argued this point at some length; nobody won; but no matter, the fact -remains Englishmen say nao and kaow for "know" and "cow," and that is -what the rustic inhabitant of a very small section of America does. - -"You conferred your 'a' upon New England, too, and there it remains; it -has not traveled out of the narrow limits of those six little states in -all these two hundred and fifty years. All England uses it, New -England's small population-say four millions-use it, but we have forty- -five millions who do not use it. You say 'glahs of wawtah,' so does New -England; at least, New England says 'glahs.' America at large flattens -the 'a', and says 'glass of water.' These sounds are pleasanter than -yours; you may think they are not right--well, in English they are not -right, but 'American' they are. You say 'flahsk' and 'bahsket,' and -'jackahss'; we say 'flask,' 'basket,' 'jackass'--sounding the 'a' as it -is in 'tallow,' 'fallow,' and so on. 'Up to as late as 1847 Mr. -Webster's Dictionary had the impudence to still pronounce 'basket' -bahsket, when he knew that outside of his little New England all America -shortened the 'a' and paid no attention to his English broadening of it. -However, it called itself an English Dictionary, so it was proper enough -that it should stick to English forms, perhaps. It still calls itself an -English Dictionary today, but it has quietly ceased to pronounce 'basket' -as if it were spelt 'bahsket.' In the American language the 'h' is -respected; the 'h' is not dropped or added improperly." - -"The same is the case in England--I mean among the educated classes, of -course." - -"Yes, that is true; but a nation's language is a very large matter. -It is not simply a manner of speech obtaining among the educated handful; -the manner obtaining among the vast uneducated multitude must be -considered also. Your uneducated masses speak English, you will not deny -that; our uneducated masses speak American it won't be fair for you to -deny that, for you can see, yourself, that when your stable-boy says, -'It isn't the 'unting that 'urts the 'orse, but the 'ammer, 'ammer, -'ammer on the 'ard 'ighway,' and our stable-boy makes the same remark -without suffocating a single h, these two people are manifestly talking -two different languages. But if the signs are to be trusted, even your -educated classes used to drop the 'h.' They say humble, now, and heroic, -and historic etc., but I judge that they used to drop those h's because -your writers still keep up the fashion of patting an before those words -instead of a. This is what Mr. Darwin might call a 'rudimentary' sign -that as an was justifiable once, and useful when your educated classes -used to say 'umble, and 'eroic, and 'istorical. Correct writers of the -American language do not put an before three words." - -The English gentleman had something to say upon this matter, but never -mind what he said--I'm not arguing his case. I have him at a -disadvantage, now. I proceeded: - -"In England you encourage an orator by exclaiming, 'H'yaah! h'yaah!' -We pronounce it heer in some sections, 'h'yer' in others, and so on; but -our whites do not say 'h'yaah,' pronouncing the a's like the a in ah. -I have heard English ladies say 'don't you'--making two separate and -distinct words of it; your Mr. Burnand has satirized it. But we always -say 'dontchu.' This is much better. Your ladies say, 'Oh, it's oful -nice!' Ours say, 'Oh, it's awful nice!' We say, 'Four hundred,' you say -'For'--as in the word or. Your clergymen speak of 'the Lawd,' ours of -'the Lord'; yours speak of 'the gawds of the heathen,' ours of 'the gods -of the heathen.' When you are exhausted, you say you are 'knocked up.' -We don't. When you say you will do a thing 'directly,' you mean -'immediately'; in the American language--generally speaking--the word -signifies 'after a little.' When you say 'clever,' you mean 'capable'; -with us the word used to mean 'accommodating,' but I don't know what it -means now. Your word 'stout' means 'fleshy'; our word 'stout' usually -means 'strong.' Your words 'gentleman' and 'lady' have a very restricted -meaning; with us they include the barmaid, butcher, burglar, harlot, and -horse-thief. You say, 'I haven't got any stockings on,' 'I haven't got -any memory,' 'I haven't got any money in my purse; we usually say, 'I -haven't any stockings on,' 'I haven't any memory!' 'I haven't any money -in my purse.' You say 'out of window'; we always put in a the. If one -asks 'How old is that man?' the Briton answers, 'He will be about forty'; -in the American language we should say, 'He is about forty.' However, -I won't tire you, sir; but if I wanted to, I could pile up differences -here until I not only convinced you that English and American are -separate languages, but that when I speak my native tongue in its utmost -purity an Englishman can't understand me at all." - -"I don't wish to flatter you, but it is about all I can do to understand -you now." - -That was a very pretty compliment, and it put us on the pleasantest terms -directly--I use the word in the English sense. - -[Later--1882. Esthetes in many of our schools are now beginning to teach -the pupils to broaden the 'a,' and to say "don't you," in the elegant -foreign way.] - - - - - - -ROGERS - -This Man Rogers happened upon me and introduced himself at the town -of -----, in the South of England, where I stayed awhile. His stepfather -had married a distant relative of mine who was afterward hanged; and so -he seemed to think a blood relationship existed between us. He came in -every day and sat down and talked. Of all the bland, serene human -curiosities I ever saw, I think he was the chiefest. He desired to look -at my new chimney-pot hat. I was very willing, for I thought he would -notice the name of the great Oxford Street hatter in it, and respect me -accordingly. But he turned it about with a sort of grave compassion, -pointed out two or three blemishes, and said that I, being so recently -arrived, could not be expected to know where to supply myself. Said he -would send me the address of his hatter. Then he said, "Pardon me," and -proceeded to cut a neat circle of red tissue paper; daintily notched the -edges of it; took the mucilage and pasted it in my hat so as to cover the -manufacturer's name. He said, "No one will know now where you got it. -I will send you a hat-tip of my hatter, and you can paste it over this -tissue circle." It was the calmest, coolest thing--I never admired a man -so much in my life. Mind, he did this while his own hat sat offensively -near our noses, on the table--an ancient extinguisher of the "slouch" -pattern, limp and shapeless with age, discolored by vicissitudes of the -weather, and banded by an equator of bear's grease that had stewed -through. - -Another time he examined my coat. I had no terrors, for over my tailor's -door was the legend, "By Special Appointment Tailor to H. R. H. the -Prince of Wales," etc. I did not know at the time that the most of the -tailor shops had the same sign out, and that whereas it takes nine -tailors to make an ordinary man, it takes a hundred and fifty to make a -prince. He was full of compassion for my coat. Wrote down the address -of his tailor for me. Did not tell me to mention my nom de plume and the -tailor would put his best work on my garment, as complimentary people -sometimes do, but said his tailor would hardly trouble himself for an -unknown person (unknown person, when I thought I was so celebrated in -England!--that was the cruelest cut), but cautioned me to mention his -name, and it would be all right. Thinking to be facetious, I said: - -"But he might sit up all night and injure his health." - -"Well, let him," said Rogers; "I've done enough for him, for him to show -some appreciation of it." - -I might as well have tried to disconcert a mummy with my facetiousness. -Said Rogers: "I get all my coats there--they're the only coats fit to be -seen in." - -I made one more attempt. I said, "I wish you had brought one with you-- -I would like to look at it." - -"Bless your heart, haven't I got one on?--this article is Morgan's make." - -I examined it. The coat had been bought ready-made, of a Chatham Street -Jew, without any question--about 1848. It probably cost four dollars -when it was new. It was ripped, it was frayed, it was napless and -greasy. I could not resist showing him where it was ripped. It so -affected him that I was almost sorry I had done it. First he seemed -plunged into a bottomless abyss of grief. Then he roused himself, made a -feint with his hands as if waving off the pity of a nation, and said-- -with what seemed to me a manufactured emotion--"No matter; no matter; -don't mind me; do not bother about it. I can get another." - -When he was thoroughly restored, so that he could examine the rip and -command his feelings, he said, ah, now he understood it--his servant must -have done it while dressing him that morning. - -His servant! There was something awe-inspiring in effrontery like this. - -Nearly every day he interested himself in some article of my clothing. -One would hardly have expected this sort of infatuation in a man who -always wore the same suit, and it a suit that seemed coeval with the -Conquest. - -It was an unworthy ambition, perhaps, but I did wish I could make this -man admire something about me or something I did--you would have felt the -same way. I saw my opportunity: I was about to return to London, and had -"listed" my soiled linen for the, wash. It made quite au imposing -mountain in the corner of the room--fifty-four pieces. I hoped he would -fancy it was the accumulation of a single week. I took up the wash-list, -as if to see that it was all right, and then tossed it on the table, with -pretended forgetfulness. Sure enough, he took it. up and ran his eye -along down to the grand total. Then he said, "You get off easy," and -laid it down again. - -His gloves were the saddest ruin, but he told me where I could get some -like them. His shoes would hardly hold walnuts without leaking, but he -liked to put his feet up on the mantelpiece and contemplate them. -He wore a dim glass breastpin, which he called a "morphylitic diamond"-- -whatever that may mean--and said only two of them had ever been found ---the Emperor of China had the other one. - -Afterward, in London, it was a pleasure to me to see this fantastic -vagabond come marching into the lobby of the hotel in his grand-ducal -way, for he always had some new imaginary grandeur to develop--there was -nothing stale about him but his clothes. If he addressed me when -strangers were about, he always raised his voice a little and called me -"Sir Richard," or "General," or "Your Lordship"--and when people began to -stare and look deferential, he would fall to inquiring in a casual way -why I disappointed the Duke of Argyll the night before; and then remind -me of our engagement at the Duke of Westminster's for the following day. -I think that for the time being these things were realities to him. He -once came and invited me to go with him and spend the evening with the -Earl of Warwick at his town house. I said I had received no formal -invitation. He said that that was of no consequence, the Earl had no -formalities for him or his friends. I asked if I could go just as I was. -He said no, that would hardly do; evening dress was requisite at night in -any gentleman's house. He said he would wait while I dressed, and then -we would go to his apartments and I could take a bottle of champagne and -a cigar while he dressed. I was very willing to see how this enterprise -would turn out, so I dressed, and we started to his lodgings. He said if -I didn't mind we would walk. So we tramped some four miles through the -mud and fog, and finally found his "apartments"; they consisted of a -single room over a barber's shop in a back street. Two chairs, a small -table, an ancient valise, a wash-basin and pitcher (both on the floor in -a corner), an unmade bed, a fragment of a looking-glass, and a flower- -pot, with a perishing little rose geranium in it, which he called a -century plant, and said it had not bloomed now for upward of two -centuries--given to him by the late Lord Palmerston (been offered a -prodigious sum for it)--these were the contents of the room. Also a -brass candlestick and a part of a candle. Rogers lit the candle, and -told me to sit down and make myself at home. He said he hoped I was -thirsty, because he would surprise my palate with an article of champagne -that seldom got into a commoner's system; or would I prefer sherry, or -port? Said he had port in bottles that were swathed in stratified -cobwebs, every stratum representing a generation. And as for his cigars- --well, I should judge of them myself. Then he put his head out at the -door and called: - -"Sackville!" No answer. - -"Hi-Sackville!" No answer. - -"Now what the devil can have become of that butler? I never allow a -servant to--Oh, confound that idiot, he's got the keys. Can't get into -the other rooms without the keys." - -(I was just wondering at his intrepidity in still keeping up the delusion -of the champagne, and trying to imagine how he was going to get out of -the difficulty.) - -Now he stopped calling Sackville and began to call "Anglesy." But -Anglesy didn't come. He said, "This is the second time that that equerry -has been absent without leave. To-morrow I'll discharge him." Now he -began to whoop for "Thomas," but Thomas didn't answer. Then for -"Theodore," but no Theodore replied. - -"Well, I give it up," said Rogers. "The servants never expect me at this -hour, and so they're all off on a lark. Might get along without the -equerry and the page, but can't have any wine or cigars without the -butler, and can't dress without my valet." - -I offered to help him dress, but he would not hear of it; and besides, he -said he would not feel comfortable unless dressed by a practised hand. -However, he finally concluded that he was such old friends with the Earl -that it would not make any difference how he was dressed. So we took a -cab, he gave the driver some directions, and we started. By and by we -stopped before a large house and got out. I never had seen this man with -a collar on. He now stepped under a lamp and got a venerable paper -collar out of his coat pocket, along with a hoary cravat, and put them -on. He ascended the stoop, and entered. Presently he reappeared, -descended rapidly, and said: - -"Come-quick!" - -We hurried away, and turned the corner. - -"Now we're safe," he said, and took off his collar and cravat and -returned them to his pocket. - -"Made a mighty narrow escape," said he. - -"How?" said I. - -"B' George, the Countess was there!" - -"Well, what of that?--don't she know you?" - -"Know me? Absolutely worships me. I just did happen to catch a glimpse -of her before she saw me--and out I shot. Haven't seen her for two -months--to rush in on her without any warning might have been fatal. -She could not have stood it. I didn't know she was in town--thought she -was at the castle. Let me lean on you--just a moment--there; now I am -better--thank you; thank you ever so much. Lord bless me, what an -escape!" - -So I never got to call on the Earl, after all. But I marked the house -for future reference. It proved to be an ordinary family hotel, with -about a thousand plebeians roosting in it. - -In most things Rogers was by no means a fool. In some things it was -plain enough that he was a fool, but he certainly did not know it. -He was in the "deadest" earnest in these matters. He died at sea, last -summer, as the "Earl of Ramsgate." - - - - -End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Alonzo Fitz and Others, -by Mark Twain - diff --git a/old/mtlaf11.zip b/old/mtlaf11.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 9f81886..0000000 --- a/old/mtlaf11.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/mtlaf12.txt b/old/mtlaf12.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 239101a..0000000 --- a/old/mtlaf12.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3735 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg Etext of Alonzo Fitz and Other Stories, by Twain -#45 in our series by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) - -Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the -copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing -this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. - -This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project -Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the -header without written permission. - -Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the -eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is -important information about your specific rights and restrictions in -how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a -donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. - - -**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** - -**EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** - -*****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers***** - - -Title: Alonzo Fitz and Other Stories - -Author: Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) - -Release Date: April, 2002 [EBook #3184] -[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] -[This file was first posted on February 6, 2001] -[This file was last updated on November 14, 2002] - -Edition: 12 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - - - - - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALONZO FITZ AND OTHER STORIES *** - - - -This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> -Extensive proofing of this file was done by Trevor Carlson - - - - - -ALONZO FITZ AND OTHER STORIES - -by Mark Twain - - - -CONTENTS OF THIS VOLUME: - -THE LOVES OF ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON -ON THE DECAY OF THE ART OF LYING -ABOUT MAGNANIMOUS-INCIDENT LITERATURE - THE GRATEFUL POODLE - THE BENEVOLENT AUTHOR - THE GRATEFUL HUSBAND -PUNCH, BROTHERS, PUNCH -THE GREAT REVOLUTION IN PITCAIRN -THE CANVASSER'S TALE -AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN INTERVIEWER -PARIS NOTES -LEGEND OF SAGENFELD, IN GERMANY -SPEECH ON THE BABIES -SPEECH ON THE WEATHER -CONCERNING THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE -ROGERS - - - - -THE LOVES OF ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON - - -It was well along in the forenoon of a bitter winter's day. The town of -Eastport, in the state of Maine, lay buried under a deep snow that was -newly fallen. The customary bustle in the streets was wanting. One -could look long distances down them and see nothing but a dead-white -emptiness, with silence to match. Of course I do not mean that you could -see the silence--no, you could only hear it. The sidewalks were merely -long, deep ditches, with steep snow walls on either side. Here and there -you might hear the faint, far scrape of a wooden shovel, and if you were -quick enough you might catch a glimpse of a distant black figure stooping -and disappearing in one of those ditches, and reappearing the next moment -with a motion which you would know meant the heaving out of a shovelful -of snow. But you needed to be quick, for that black figure would not -linger, but would soon drop that shovel and scud for the house, thrashing -itself with its arms to warm them. Yes, it was too venomously cold for -snow-shovelers or anybody else to stay out long. - -Presently the sky darkened; then the wind rose and began to blow in -fitful, vigorous gusts, which sent clouds of powdery snow aloft, and -straight ahead, and everywhere. Under the impulse of one of these gusts, -great white drifts banked themselves like graves across the streets; a -moment later another gust shifted them around the other way, driving a -fine spray of snow from their sharp crests, as the gale drives the spume -flakes from wave-crests at sea; a third gust swept that place as clean as -your hand, if it saw fit. This was fooling, this was play; but each and -all of the gusts dumped some snow into the sidewalk ditches, for that was -business. - -Alonzo Fitz Clarence was sitting in his snug and elegant little parlor, -in a lovely blue silk dressing-gown, with cuffs and facings of crimson -satin, elaborately quilted. The remains of his breakfast were before -him, and the dainty and costly little table service added a harmonious -charm to the grace, beauty, and richness of the fixed appointments of the -room. A cheery fire was blazing on the hearth. - -A furious gust of wind shook the windows, and a great wave of snow washed -against them with a drenching sound, so to speak. The handsome young -bachelor murmured: - -"That means, no going out to-day. Well, I am content. But what to do -for company? Mother is well enough, Aunt Susan is well enough; but -these, like the poor, I have with me always. On so grim a day as this, -one needs a new interest, a fresh element, to whet the dull edge of -captivity. That was very neatly said, but it doesn't mean anything. -One doesn't want the edge of captivity sharpened up, you know, but just -the reverse." - -He glanced at his pretty French mantel-clock. - -"That clock's wrong again. That clock hardly ever knows what time it is; -and when it does know, it lies about it--which amounts to the same thing. -Alfred!" - -There was no answer. - -"Alfred! . . . Good servant, but as uncertain as the clock." - -Alonzo touched an electric bell button in the wall. He waited a moment, -then touched it again; waited a few moments more, and said: - -"Battery out of order, no doubt. But now that I have started, I will -find out what time it is." He stepped to a speaking-tube in the wall, -blew its whistle, and called, "Mother!" and repeated it twice. - -"Well, that's no use. Mother's battery is out of order, too. Can't -raise anybody down-stairs--that is plain." - -He sat down at a rosewood desk, leaned his chin on the left-hand edge of -it and spoke, as if to the floor: "Aunt Susan!" - -A low, pleasant voice answered, "Is that you, Alonzo?' - -"Yes. I'm too lazy and comfortable to go downstairs; I am in extremity, -and I can't seem to scare up any help." - -"Dear me, what is the matter?" - -"Matter enough, I can tell you!" - -"Oh, don't keep me in suspense, dear! What is it?" - -"I want to know what time it is." - -"You abominable boy, what a turn you did give me! Is that all?" - -"All--on my honor. Calm yourself. Tell me the time, and receive my -blessing." - -"Just five minutes after nine. No charge--keep your blessing." - -"Thanks. It wouldn't have impoverished me, aunty, nor so enriched you -that you could live without other means." - -He got up, murmuring, "Just five minutes after nine," and faced his -clock. "Ah," said he, "you are doing better than usual. You are only -thirty-four minutes wrong. Let me see . . . let me see. . . . -Thirty-three and twenty-one are fifty-four; four times fifty-four are two -hundred and thirty-six. One off, leaves two hundred and thirty-five. -That's right." - -He turned the hands of his clock forward till they marked twenty-five -minutes to one, and said, "Now see if you can't keep right for a while ---else I'll raffle you!" - -He sat down at the desk again, and said, "Aunt Susan!" - -"Yes, dear." - -"Had breakfast?" - -"Yes, indeed, an hour ago." - -"Busy?" - -"No--except sewing. Why?" - -"Got any company?" - -"No, but I expect some at half past nine." - -"I wish I did. I'm lonesome. I want to talk to somebody." - -"Very well, talk to me." - -"But this is very private." - -"Don't be afraid--talk right along, there's nobody here but me." - -"I hardly know whether to venture or not, but--" - -"But what? Oh, don't stop there! You know you can trust me, Alonzo--you -know, you can." - -"I feel it, aunt, but this is very serious. It affects me deeply--me, -and all the family---even the whole community." - -"Oh, Alonzo, tell me! I will never breathe a word of it. What is it?" - -"Aunt, if I might dare--" - -"Oh, please go on! I love you, and feel for you. Tell me all. -Confide in me. What is it?" - -"The weather!" - -"Plague take the weather! I don't see how you can have the heart to -serve me so, Lon." - -"There, there, aunty dear, I'm sorry; I am, on my honor. I won't do it -again. Do you forgive me?" - -"Yes, since you seem so sincere about it, though I know I oughtn't to. -You will fool me again as soon as I have forgotten this time." - -"No, I won't, honor bright. But such weather, oh, such weather! You've -got to keep your spirits up artificially. It is snowy, and blowy, and -gusty, and bitter cold! How is the weather with you?" - -"Warm and rainy and melancholy. The mourners go about the streets with -their umbrellas running streams from the end of every whalebone. There's -an elevated double pavement of umbrellas, stretching down the sides of -the streets as far as I can see. I've got a fire for cheerfulness, and -the windows open to keep cool. But it is vain, it is useless: nothing -comes in but the balmy breath of December, with its burden of mocking -odors from the flowers that possess the realm outside, and rejoice in -their lawless profusion whilst the spirit of man is low, and flaunt their -gaudy splendors in his face while his soul is clothed in sackcloth and -ashes and his heart breaketh." - -Alonzo opened his lips to say, "You ought to print that, and get it -framed," but checked himself, for he heard his aunt speaking to some one -else. He went and stood at the window and looked out upon the wintry -prospect. The storm was driving the snow before it more furiously than -ever; window-shutters were slamming and banging; a forlorn dog, with -bowed head and tail withdrawn from service, was pressing his quaking body -against a windward wall for shelter and protection; a young girl was -plowing knee-deep through the drifts, with her face turned from the -blast, and the cape of her waterproof blowing straight rearward over her -head. Alonzo shuddered, and said with a sigh, "Better the slop, and the -sultry rain, and even the insolent flowers, than this!" - -He turned from the window, moved a step, and stopped in a listening -attitude. The faint, sweet notes of a familiar song caught his ear. He -remained there, with his head unconsciously bent forward, drinking in the -melody, stirring neither hand nor foot, hardly breathing. There was a -blemish in the execution of the song, but to Alonzo it seemed an added -charm instead of a defect. This blemish consisted of a marked flatting -of the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh notes of the refrain or -chorus of the piece. When the music ended, Alonzo drew a deep breath, -and said, "Ah, I never have heard 'In the Sweet By-and-by' sung like that -before!" - -He stepped quickly to the desk, listened a moment, and said in a guarded, -confidential voice, "Aunty, who is this divine singer?" - -"She is the company I was expecting. Stays with me a month or two. -I will introduce you. Miss--" - -"For goodness' sake, wait a moment, Aunt Susan! You never stop to think -what you are about!" - -He flew to his bedchamber, and returned in a moment perceptibly changed -in his outward appearance, and remarking, snappishly: - -"Hang it, she would have introduced me to this angel in that sky-blue -dressing-gown with red-hot lapels! Women never think, when they get -a-going." - -He hastened and stood by the desk, and said eagerly, "Now, Aunty, I am -ready," and fell to smiling and bowing with all the persuasiveness and -elegance that were in him. - -"Very well. Miss Rosannah Ethelton, let me introduce to you my favorite -nephew, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence. There! You are both good people, and -I like you; so I am going to trust you together while I attend to a few -household affairs. Sit down, Rosannah; sit down, Alonzo. Good-by; I -sha'n't be gone long." - -Alonzo had been bowing and smiling all the while, and motioning imaginary -young ladies to sit down in imaginary chairs, but now he took a seat -himself, mentally saying, "Oh, this is luck! Let the winds blow now, and -the snow drive, and the heavens frown! Little I care!" - -While these young people chat themselves into an acquaintanceship, let us -take the liberty of inspecting the sweeter and fairer of the two. She -sat alone, at her graceful ease, in a richly furnished apartment which -was manifestly the private parlor of a refined and sensible lady, -if signs and symbols may go for anything. For instance, by a low, -comfortable chair stood a dainty, top-heavy workstand, whose summit was a -fancifully embroidered shallow basket, with varicolored crewels, and -other strings and odds and ends protruding from under the gaping lid and -hanging down in negligent profusion. On the floor lay bright shreds of -Turkey red, Prussian blue, and kindred fabrics, bits of ribbon, a spool -or two, a pair of scissors, and a roll or so of tinted silken stuffs. -On a luxurious sofa, upholstered with some sort of soft Indian goods -wrought in black and gold threads interwebbed with other threads not so -pronounced in color, lay a great square of coarse white stuff, upon whose -surface a rich bouquet of flowers was growing, under the deft cultivation -of the crochet-needle. The household cat was asleep on this work of art. -In a bay-window stood an easel with an unfinished picture on it, and a -palette and brushes on a chair beside it. There were books everywhere: -Robertson's Sermons, Tennyson, Moody and Sankey, Hawthorne, Rab and His -Friends, cook-books, prayer-books, pattern-books--and books about all -kinds of odious and exasperating pottery, of course. There was a piano, -with a deck-load of music, and more in a tender. There was a great -plenty of pictures on the walls, on the shelves of the mantelpiece, and -around generally; where coigns of vantage offered were statuettes, and -quaint and pretty gimcracks, and rare and costly specimens of peculiarly -devilish china. The bay-window gave upon a garden that was ablaze with -foreign and domestic flowers and flowering shrubs. - -But the sweet young girl was the daintiest thing these premises, within -or without, could offer for contemplation: delicately chiseled features, -of Grecian cast; her complexion the pure snow of a japonica that is -receiving a faint reflected enrichment from some scarlet neighbor of the -garden; great, soft blue eyes fringed with long, curving lashes; an -expression made up of the trustfulness of a child and the gentleness of -a fawn; a beautiful head crowned with its own prodigal gold; a lithe and -rounded figure, whose every attitude and movement was instinct with -native grace. - -Her dress and adornment were marked by that exquisite harmony that can -come only of a fine natural taste perfected by culture. Her gown was of -a simple magenta tulle, cut bias, traversed by three rows of light-blue -flounces, with the selvage edges turned up with ashes-of-roses chenille; -overdress of dark bay tarlatan with scarlet satin lambrequins; corn- -colored polonaise, en zanier, looped with mother-of-pearl buttons and -silver cord, and hauled aft and made fast by buff velvet lashings; basque -of lavender reps, picked out with valenciennes; low neck, short sleeves; -maroon velvet necktie edged with delicate pink silk; inside handkerchief -of some simple three-ply ingrain fabric of a soft saffron tint; coral -bracelets and locket-chain; coiffure of forget-me-nots and lilies-of-the --valley massed around a noble calla. - -This was all; yet even in this subdued attire she was divinely beautiful. -Then what must she have been when adorned for the festival or the ball? - -All this time she had been busily chatting with Alonzo, unconscious of -our inspection. The minutes still sped, and still she talked. But by -and by she happened to look up, and saw the clock. A crimson blush sent -its rich flood through her cheeks, and she exclaimed: - -"There, good-by, Mr. Fitz Clarence; I must go now!" - -She sprang from her chair with such haste that she hardly heard the young -man's answering good-by. She stood radiant, graceful, beautiful, and -gazed, wondering, upon the accusing clock. Presently her pouting lips -parted, and she said: - -"Five minutes after eleven! Nearly two hours, and it did not seem twenty -minutes! Oh, dear, what will he think of me!" - -At the self-same moment Alonzo was staring at his clock. And presently -he said: - -"Twenty-five minutes to three! Nearly two hours, and I didn't believe it -was two minutes! Is it possible that this clock is humbugging again? -Miss Ethelton! Just one moment, please. Are you there yet?" - -"Yes, but be quick; I'm going right away." - -"Would you be so kind as to tell me what time it is?" - -The girl blushed again, murmured to herself, "It's right down cruel of -him to ask me!" and then spoke up and answered with admirably -counterfeited unconcern, "Five minutes after eleven." - -"Oh, thank you! You have to go, now, have you?" - -"I'm sorry." - -No reply. - -"Miss Ethelton!" - -"Well?" - -"You you're there yet, ain't you?" - -"Yes; but please hurry. What did you want to say?" - -"Well, I--well, nothing in particular. It's very lonesome here. It's -asking a great deal, I know, but would you mind talking with me again by -and by--that is, if it will not trouble you too much?" - -"I don't know but I'll think about it. I'll try." - -"Oh, thanks! Miss Ethelton! . . . Ah, me, she's gone, and here are -the black clouds and the whirling snow and the raging winds come again! -But she said good-by. She didn't say good morning, she said good-by! -. . . The clock was right, after all. What a lightning-winged -two hours it was!" - -He sat down, and gazed dreamily into his fire for a while, then heaved a -sigh and said: - -"How wonderful it is! Two little hours ago I was a free man, and now my -heart's in San Francisco!" - -About that time Rosannah Ethelton, propped in the window-seat of her -bedchamber, book in hand, was gazing vacantly out over the rainy seas -that washed the Golden Gate, and whispering to herself, "How different he -is from poor Burley, with his empty head and his single little antic -talent of mimicry!" - - -II - -Four weeks later Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley was entertaining a gay -luncheon company, in a sumptuous drawing-room on Telegraph Hill, with -some capital imitations of the voices and gestures of certain popular -actors and San Franciscan literary people and Bonanza grandees. He was -elegantly upholstered, and was a handsome fellow, barring a trifling cast -in his eye. He seemed very jovial, but nevertheless he kept his eye on -the door with an expectant and uneasy watchfulness. By and by a nobby -lackey appeared, and delivered a message to the mistress, who nodded her -head understandingly. That seemed to settle the thing for Mr. Burley; -his vivacity decreased little by little, and a dejected look began to -creep into one of his eyes and a sinister one into the other. - -The rest of the company departed in due time, leaving him with the -mistress, to whom he said: - -"There is no longer any question about it. She avoids me. She -continually excuses herself. If I could see her, if I could speak to her -only a moment, but this suspense--" - -"Perhaps her seeming avoidance is mere accident, Mr. Burley. Go to the -small drawing-room up-stairs and amuse yourself a moment. I will -despatch a household order that is on my mind, and then I will go to her -room. Without doubt she will be persuaded to see you." - -Mr. Burley went up-stairs, intending to go to the small drawing-room, but -as he was passing "Aunt Susan's" private parlor, the door of which stood -slightly ajar, he heard a joyous laugh which he recognized; so without -knock or announcement he stepped confidently in. But before he could -make his presence known he heard words that harrowed up his soul and -chilled his young blood, he heard a voice say: - -"Darling, it has come!" - -Then he heard Rosannah Ethelton, whose back was toward him, say: - -"So has yours, dearest!" - -He saw her bowed form bend lower; he heard her kiss something--not merely -once, but again and again! His soul raged within him. The heartbreaking -conversation went on: - -"Rosannah, I knew you must be beautiful, but this is dazzling, this is -blinding, this is intoxicating!" - -"Alonzo, it is such happiness to hear you say it. I know it is not true, -but I am so grateful to have you think it is, nevertheless! I knew you -must have a noble face, but the grace and majesty of the reality beggar -the poor creation of my fancy." - -Burley heard that rattling shower of kisses again. - -"Thank you, my Rosannah! The photograph flatters me, but you must not -allow yourself to think of that. Sweetheart?" - -"Yes, Alonzo." - -"I am so happy, Rosannah." - -"Oh, Alonzo, none that have gone before me knew what love was, none that -come after me will ever know what happiness is. I float in a gorgeous -cloud land, a boundless firmament of enchanted and bewildering ecstasy!" - -"Oh, my Rosannah! for you are mine, are you not?" - -"Wholly, oh, wholly yours, Alonzo, now and forever! All the day long, -and all through my nightly dreams, one song sings itself, and its sweet -burden is, 'Alonzo Fitz Clarence, Alonzo Fitz Clarence, Eastport, state -of Maine!'" - -"Curse him, I've got his address, anyway!" roared Burley, inwardly, and -rushed from the place. - -Just behind the unconscious Alonzo stood his mother, a picture of -astonishment. She was so muffled from head to heel in furs that nothing -of herself was visible but her eyes and nose. She was a good allegory of -winter, for she was powdered all over with snow. - -Behind the unconscious Rosannah stood "Aunt Susan," another picture of -astonishment. She was a good allegory of summer, for she was lightly -clad, and was vigorously cooling the perspiration on her face with a fan. - -Both of these women had tears of joy in their eyes. - -"Soho!" exclaimed Mrs. Fitz Clarence, "this explains why nobody has been -able to drag you out of your room for six weeks, Alonzo!" - -"So ho!" exclaimed Aunt Susan, "this explains why you have been a hermit -for the past six weeks, Rosannah!" - -The young couple were on their feet in an instant, abashed, and standing -like detected dealers in stolen goods awaiting judge Lynch's doom. - -"Bless you, my son! I am happy in your happiness. Come to your mother's -arms, Alonzo!" - -"Bless you, Rosannah, for my dear nephew's sake! Come to my arms!" - -Then was there a mingling of hearts and of tears of rejoicing on -Telegraph Hill and in Eastport Square. - -Servants were called by the elders, in both places. Unto one was given -the order, "Pile this fire high, with hickory wood, and bring me a -roasting-hot lemonade." - -Unto the other was given the order, "Put out this fire, and bring me two -palm-leaf fans and a pitcher of ice-water." - -Then the young people were dismissed, and the elders sat down to talk the -sweet surprise over and make the wedding plans. - -Some minutes before this Mr. Burley rushed from the mansion on Telegraph -Hill without meeting or taking formal leave of anybody. He hissed -through his teeth, in unconscious imitation of a popular favorite in -melodrama, "Him shall she never wed! I have sworn it! Ere great Nature -shall have doffed her winter's ermine to don the emerald gauds of spring, -she shall be mine!" - - -III - -Two weeks later. Every few hours, during same three or four days, a very -prim and devout-looking Episcopal clergyman, with a cast in his eye, had -visited Alonzo. According to his card, he was the Rev. Melton Hargrave, -of Cincinnati. He said he had retired from the ministry on account of -his health. If he had said on account of ill-health, he would probably -have erred, to judge by his wholesome looks and firm build. He was the -inventor of an improvement in telephones, and hoped to make his bread by -selling the privilege of using it. "At present," he continued, "a man -may go and tap a telegraph wire which is conveying a song or a concert -from one state to another, and he can attach his private telephone and -steal a hearing of that music as it passes along. My invention will stop -all that." - -"Well," answered Alonzo, "if the owner of the music could not miss what -was stolen, why should he care?" - -"He shouldn't care," said the Reverend. - -"Well?" said Alonzo, inquiringly. - -"Suppose," replied the Reverend, "suppose that, instead of music that was -passing along and being stolen, the burden of the wire was loving -endearments of the most private and sacred nature?" - -Alonzo shuddered from head to heel. "Sir, it is a priceless invention," -said he; "I must have it at any cost." - -But the invention was delayed somewhere on the road from Cincinnati, most -unaccountably. The impatient Alonzo could hardly wait. The thought of -Rosannah's sweet words being shared with him by some ribald thief was -galling to him. The Reverend came frequently and lamented the delay, and -told of measures he had taken to hurry things up. This was some little -comfort to Alonzo. - -One forenoon the Reverend ascended the stairs and knocked at Alonzo's -door. There was no response. He entered, glanced eagerly around, -closed the door softly, then ran to the telephone. The exquisitely soft -and remote strains of the "Sweet By-and-by" came floating through the -instrument. The singer was flatting, as usual, the five notes that -follow the first two in the chorus, when the Reverend interrupted her -with this word, in a voice which was an exact imitation of Alonzo's, with -just the faintest flavor of impatience added: - -"Sweetheart?" - -"Yes, Alonzo?" - -"Please don't sing that any more this week--try something modern." - -The agile step that goes with a happy heart was heard on the stairs, and -the Reverend, smiling diabolically, sought sudden refuge behind the heavy -folds of the velvet windowcurtains. Alonzo entered and flew to the -telephone. Said he: - -"Rosannah, dear, shall we sing something together?" - -"Something modern?" asked she, with sarcastic bitterness. - -"Yes, if you prefer." - -"Sing it yourself, if you like!" - -This snappishness amazed and wounded the young man. He said: - -"Rosarmah, that was not like you." - -"I suppose it becomes me as much as your very polite speech became you, -Mr. Fitz Clarence." - -"Mister Fitz Clarence! Rosannah, there was nothing impolite about my -speech." - -"Oh, indeed! Of course, then, I misunderstood you, and I most humbly beg -your pardon, ha-ha-ha! No doubt you said, 'Don't sing it any more -to-day.'" - -"Sing what any more to-day?" - -"The song you mentioned, of course, How very obtuse we are, all of a -sudden!" - -"I never mentioned any song." - -"Oh, you didn't?" - -"No, I didn't!" - -"I am compelled to remark that you did." - -"And I am obliged to reiterate that I didn't." - -"A second rudeness! That is sufficient, sir. I will never forgive you. -All is over between us." - -Then came a muffled sound of crying. Alonzo hastened to say: - -"Oh, Rosannah, unsay those words! There is some dreadful mystery here, -some hideous mistake. I am utterly earnest and sincere when I say I -never said anything about any song. I would not hurt you for the whole -world . . . . Rosannah, dear speak to me, won't you?" - -There was a pause; then Alonzo heard the girl's sobbings retreating, and -knew she had gone from the telephone. He rose with a heavy sigh, and -hastened from the room, saying to himself, "I will ransack the charity -missions and the haunts of the poor for my mother. She will persuade her -that I never meant to wound her." - -A minute later the Reverend was crouching over the telephone like a cat -that knoweth the ways of the prey. He had not very many minutes to wait. -A soft, repentant voice, tremulous with tears, said: - -"Alonzo, dear, I have been wrong. You could not have said so cruel a -thing. It must have been some one who imitated your voice in malice or -in jest." - -The Reverend coldly answered, in Alonzo's tones: - -"You have said all was over between us. So let it be. I spurn your -proffered repentance, and despise it!" - -Then he departed, radiant with fiendish triumph, to return no more with -his imaginary telephonic invention forever. - -Four hours afterward Alonzo arrived with his mother from her favorite -haunts of poverty and vice. They summoned the San Francisco household; -but there was no reply. They waited, and continued to wait, upon the -voiceless telephone. - -At length, when it was sunset in San Francisco, and three hours and a -half after dark in Eastport, an answer to the oft-repeated cry of -"Rosannah!" - -But, alas, it was Aunt Susan's voice that spake. She said: - -"I have been out all day; just got in. I will go and find her." - -The watchers waited two minutes--five minutes--ten minutes. Then came -these fatal words, in a frightened tone: - -"She is gone, and her baggage with her. To visit another friend, she -told the servants. But I found this note on the table in her room. -Listen: 'I am gone; seek not to trace me out; my heart is broken; you -will never see me more. Tell him I shall always think of him when I sing -my poor "Sweet By-and-by," but never of the unkind words he said about -it.' That is her note. Alonzo, Alonzo, what does it mean? What has -happened?" - -But Alonzo sat white and cold as the dead. His mother threw back the -velvet curtains and opened a window. The cold air refreshed the -sufferer, and he told his aunt his dismal story. Meantime his mother was -inspecting a card which had disclosed itself upon the floor when she cast -the curtains back. It read, "Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley, San Francisco." - -"The miscreant!" shouted Alonzo, and rushed forth to seek the false -Reverend and destroy him; for the card explained everything, since in the -course of the lovers' mutual confessions they had told each other all -about all the sweethearts they had ever had, and thrown no end of mud at -their failings and foibles for lovers always do that. It has a -fascination that ranks next after billing and cooing. - - -IV - -During the next two months many things happened. It had early transpired -that Rosannah, poor suffering orphan, had neither returned to her -grandmother in Portland, Oregon, nor sent any word to her save a -duplicate of the woeful note she had left in the mansion on Telegraph -Hill. Whosoever was sheltering her--if she was still alive--had been -persuaded not to betray her whereabouts, without doubt; for all efforts -to find trace of her had failed. - -Did Alonzo give her up? Not he. He said to himself, "She will sing that -sweet song when she is sad; I shall find her." So he took his carpet- -sack and a portable telephone, and shook the snow of his native city from -his arctics, and went forth into the world. He wandered far and wide and -in many states. Time and again, strangers were astounded to see a -wasted, pale, and woe-worn man laboriously climb a telegraph-pole in -wintry and lonely places, perch sadly there an hour, with his ear at a -little box, then come sighing down, and wander wearily away. Sometimes -they shot at him, as peasants do at aeronauts, thinking him mad and -dangerous. Thus his clothes were much shredded by bullets and his person -grievously lacerated. But he bore it all patiently. - -In the beginning of his pilgrimage he used often to say, "Ah, if I could -but hear the 'Sweet By-and-by'!" But toward the end of it he used to -shed tears of anguish and say, "Ah, if I could but hear something else!" - -Thus a month and three weeks drifted by, and at last some humane people -seized him and confined him in a private mad-house in New York. He made -no moan, for his strength was all gone, and with it all heart and all -hope. The superintendent, in pity, gave up his own comfortable parlor -and bedchamber to him and nursed him with affectionate devotion. - -At the end of a week the patient was able to leave his bed for the first -time. He was lying, comfortably pillowed, on a sofa, listening to the -plaintive Miserere of the bleak March winds and the muffled sound of -tramping feet in the street below for it was about six in the evening, -and New York was going home from work. He had a bright fire and the -added cheer of a couple of student-lamps. So it was warm and snug -within, though bleak and raw without; it was light and bright within, -though outside it was as dark and dreary as if the world had been lit -with Hartford gas. Alonzo smiled feebly to think how his loving vagaries -had made him a maniac in the eyes of the world, and was proceeding to -pursue his line of thought further, when a faint, sweet strain, the very -ghost of sound, so remote and attenuated it seemed, struck upon his ear. -His pulses stood still; he listened with parted lips and bated breath. -The song flowed on--he waiting, listening, rising slowly and unconsciously -from his recumbent position. At last he exclaimed: - -"It is! it is she! Oh, the divine hated notes!" - -He dragged himself eagerly to the corner whence the sounds proceeded, -tore aside a curtain, and discovered a telephone. He bent over, and as -the last note died away he burst forthwith the exclamation: - -"Oh, thank Heaven, found at last! Speak tome, Rosannah, dearest! The -cruel mystery has been unraveled; it was the villain Burley who mimicked -my voice and wounded you with insolent speech!" - -There was a breathless pause, a waiting age to Alonzo; then a faint sound -came, framing itself into language: - -"Oh, say those precious words again, Alonzo!" - -"They are the truth, the veritable truth, my Rosannah, and you shall have -the proof, ample and abundant proof!" - -"Oh; Alonzo, stay by me! Leave me not for a moment! Let me feel that -you are near me! Tell me we shall never be parted more! Oh, this happy -hour, this blessed hour, this memorable hour!" - -"We will make record of it, my Rosannah; every year, as this dear hour -chimes from the clock, we will celebrate it with thanksgivings, all the -years of our life." - -"We will, we will, Alonzo!" - -"Four minutes after six, in the evening, my Rosannah, shall henceforth--" - -"Twenty-three minutes after twelve, afternoon shall--" - -"Why; Rosannah, darling, where are you?" - -"In Honolulu, Sandwich Islands. And where are you? Stay by me; do not -leave me for a moment. I cannot bear it. Are you at home?" - -"No, dear, I am in New York--a patient in the doctor's hands." - -An agonizing shriek came buzzing to Alonzo's ear, like the sharp buzzing -of a hurt gnat; it lost power in traveling five thousand miles. Alonzo -hastened to say: - -"Calm yourself, my child. It is nothing. Already I am getting well -under the sweet healing of your presence. Rosannah?" - -"Yes, Alonzo? Oh, how you terrified me! Say on." - -"Name the happy day, Rosannah!" - -There was a little pause. Then a diffident small voice replied, -"I blush--but it is with pleasure, it is with happiness. Would--would -you like to have it soon?" - -"This very night, Rosannah! Oh, let us risk no more delays. Let it be -now!--this very night, this very moment!" - -"Oh, you impatient creature! I have nobody here but my good old uncle, -a missionary for a generation, and now retired from service--nobody but -him and his wife. I would so dearly like it if your mother and your Aunt -Susan--" - -"Our mother and our Aunt Susan, my Rosannah." - -"Yes, our mother and our Aunt Susan--I am content to word it so if it -pleases you; I would so like to have them present." - -"So would I. Suppose you telegraph Aunt Susan. How long would it take -her to come?" - -"The steamer leaves San Francisco day after tomorrow. The passage is -eight days. She would be here the 31st of March." - -"Then name the 1st of April; do, Rosannah, dear." - -"Mercy, it would make us April fools, Alonzo!" - -"So we be the happiest ones that that day's suit looks down upon in the -whole broad expanse of the globe, why need we care? Call it the 1st of -April, dear." - -"Then the 1st of April at shall be, with all my heart!" - -"Oh, happiness! Name the hour, too, Rosannah." - -"I like the morning, it is so blithe. Will eight in the morning do, -Alonzo?" - -"The loveliest hour in the day--since it will make you mine." - -There was a feeble but frantic sound for some little time, as if -wool-upped, disembodied spirits were exchanging kisses; then Rosannah -said, "Excuse me just a moment, dear; I have an appointment, and am -called to meet it." - -The young girl sought a large parlor and took her place at a window which -looked out upon a beautiful scene. To the left one could view the -charming Nuuana Valley, fringed with its ruddy flush of tropical flowers -and its plumed and graceful cocoa palms; its rising foothills clothed in -the shining green of lemon, citron, and orange groves; its storied -precipice beyond, where the first Kamehameha drove his defeated foes over -to their destruction, a spot that had forgotten its grim history, no -doubt, for now it was smiling, as almost always at noonday, under the -glowing arches of a succession of rainbows. In front of the window one -could see the quaint town, and here and there a picturesque group of -dusky natives, enjoying the blistering weather; and far to the right lay -the restless ocean, tossing its white mane in the sunshine. - -Rosannah stood there, in her filmy white raiment, fanning her flushed and -heated face, waiting. A Kanaka boy, clothed in a damaged blue necktie -and part of a silk hat, thrust his head in at the door, and announced, -"'Frisco haole!" - -"Show him in," said the girl, straightening herself up and assuming a -meaning dignity. Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley entered, clad from head to -heel in dazzling snow--that is to say, in the lightest and whitest of -Irish linen. He moved eagerly forward, but the girl made a gesture and -gave him a look which checked him suddenly. She said, coldly, "I am -here, as I promised. I believed your assertions, I yielded to your -importune lies, and said I would name the day. I name the 1st of April- --eight in the morning. NOW GO!" - -"Oh, my dearest, if the gratitude of a lifetime--" - -"Not a word. Spare me all sight of you, all communication with you, -until that hour. No--no supplications; I will have it so." - -When he was gone, she sank exhausted in a chair, for the long siege of -troubles she had undergone had wasted her strength. Presently she said, -"What a narrow escape! If the hour appointed had been an hour earlier ---Oh, horror, what an escape I have made! And to think I had come to -imagine I was loving this beguiling, this truthless, this treacherous -monster! Oh, he shall repent his villainy!" - -Let us now draw this history to a close, for little more needs to be -told. On the 2d of the ensuing April, the Honolulu Advertiser contained -this notice: - - MARRIED.--In this city, by telephone, yesterday morning,--at eight - o'clock, by Rev. Nathan Hays, assisted by Rev. Nathaniel Davis, of - New York, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence, of Eastport, Maine, U. S., and - Miss Rosannah Ethelton, of Portland, Oregon, U. S. Mrs. Susan - Howland, of San Francisco, a friend of the bride, was present, she - being the guest of the Rev. Mr. Hays and wife, uncle and aunt of the - bride. Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley, of San Francisco, was also - present but did not remain till the conclusion of the marriage - service. Captain Hawthorne's beautiful yacht, tastefully decorated, - was in waiting, and the happy bride and her friends immediately - departed on a bridal trip to Lahaina and Haleakala. - -The New York papers of the same date contained this notice: - - MARRIED.--In this city, yesterday, by telephone, at half-past two in - the morning, by Rev. Nathaniel Davis, assisted by Rev. Nathan Hays, - of Honolulu, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence, of Eastport, Maine, and Miss - Rosannah Ethelton, of Portland, Oregon. The parents and several - friends of the bridegroom were present, and enjoyed a sumptuous - breakfast and much festivity until nearly sunrise, and then departed - on a bridal trip to the Aquarium, the bridegroom's state of health - not admitting of a more extended journey. - -Toward the close of that memorable day Mr. and Mrs. Alonzo Fitz Clarence -were buried in sweet converse concerning the pleasures of their several -bridal tours, when suddenly the young wife exclaimed: "Oh, Lonny, I -forgot! I did what I said I would." - -"Did you, dear?" - -"Indeed, I did. I made him the April fool! And I told him so, too! -Ah, it was a charming surprise! There he stood, sweltering in a black -dress-suit, with the mercury leaking out of the top of the thermometer, -waiting to be married. You should have seen the look he gave when I -whispered it in his ear. Ah, his wickedness cost me many a heartache and -many a tear, but the score was all squared up, then. So the vengeful -feeling went right out of my heart, and I begged him to stay, and said I -forgave him everything. But he wouldn't. He said he would live to be -avenged; said he would make our lives a curse to us. But he can't, can -he, dear?" - -"Never in this world, my Rosannah!" - -Aunt Susan, the Oregonian grandmother, and the young couple and their -Eastport parents, are all happy at this writing, and likely to remain so. -Aunt Susan brought the bride from the islands, accompanied her across our -continent, and had the happiness of witnessing the rapturous meeting -between an adoring husband and wife who had never seen each other until -that moment. - -A word about the wretched Burley, whose wicked machinations came so near -wrecking the hearts and lives of our poor young friends, will be -sufficient. In a murderous attempt to seize a crippled and helpless -artisan who he fancied had done him some small offense, he fell into a -caldron of boiling oil and expired before he could be extinguished. - - - - - - -ON THE DECAY OF THE ART OF LYING - -ESSAY, FOR DISCUSSION, READ AT A MEETING OF THE HISTORICAL AND -ANTIQUARIAN CLUB OF HARTFORD, AND OFFERED FOR THE THIRTY-DOLLAR PRIZE. -NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.--[Did not take the prize] - -Observe, I do not mean to suggest that the custom of lying has suffered -any decay or interruption--no, for the Lie, as a Virtue, a Principle, is -eternal; the Lie, as a recreation, a solace, a refuge in time of need, -the fourth Grace, the tenth Muse, man's best and surest friend, is -immortal, and cannot perish from the earth while this Club remains. My -complaint simply concerns the decay of the art of lying. No high-minded -man, no man of right feeling, can contemplate the lumbering and slovenly -lying of the present day without grieving to see a noble art so -prostituted. In this veteran presence I naturally enter upon this scheme -with diffidence; it is like an old maid trying to teach nursery matters -to the mothers in Israel. It would not become me to criticize you, -gentlemen, who are nearly all my elders--and my superiors, in this thing- --and so, if I should here and there seem to do it, I trust it will in -most cases be more in a spirit of admiration than of fault-finding; -indeed, if this finest of the fine arts had everywhere received the -attention, encouragement, and conscientious practice and development -which this Club has devoted to it I should not need to utter this lament -or shed a single tear. I do not say this to flatter: I say it in a -spirit of just and appreciative recognition. - -[It had been my intention, at this point, to mention names and give -illustrative specimens, but indications observable about me admonished me -to beware of particulars and confine myself to generalities.] - -No fact is more firmly established than that lying is a necessity of our -circumstances--the deduction that it is then a Virtue goes without -saying. No virtue can reach its highest usefulness without careful and -diligent cultivation--therefore, it goes without saying that this one -ought to be taught in the public schools--at the fireside--even in the -newspapers. What chance has the ignorant, uncultivated liar against the -educated expert? What chance have I against Mr. Per-- against a lawyer? -Judicious lying is what the world needs. I sometimes think it were even -better and safer not to lie at all than to lie injudiciously. An -awkward, unscientific lie is often as ineffectual as the truth. - -Now let us see what the philosophers say. Note that venerable proverb: -Children and fools always speak the truth. The deduction is plain ---adults and wise persons never speak it. Parkman, the historian, says, -"The principle of truth may itself be carried into an absurdity." In -another place in the same chapter he says, "The saying is old that truth -should not be spoken at all times; and those whom a sick conscience -worries into habitual violation of the maxim are imbeciles and -nuisances." It is strong language, but true. None of us could live with -an habitual truth-teller; but, thank goodness, none of us has to. An -habitual truth-teller is simply an impossible creature; he does not -exist; he never has existed. Of course there are people who think they -never lie, but it is not so--and this ignorance is one of the very things -that shame our so-called civilization. Everybody lies--every day; every -hour; awake; asleep; in his dreams; in his joy; in his mourning; if he -keeps his tongue still, his hands, his feet, his eyes, his attitude, will -convey deception--and purposely. Even in sermons--but that is a -platitude. - -In a far country where I once lived the ladies used to go around paying -calls, under the humane and kindly pretense of wanting to see each other; -and when they returned home, they would cry out with a glad voice, -saying, "We made sixteen calls and found fourteen of them out"--not -meaning that they found out anything against the fourteen--no, that was -only a colloquial phrase to signify that they were not at home--and their -manner of saying it--expressed their lively satisfaction in that fact. -Now, their pretense of wanting to see the fourteen--and the other two -whom they had been less lucky with--was that commonest and mildest form -of lying which is sufficiently described as a deflection from the truth. -Is it justifiable? Most certainly. It is beautiful, it is noble; for -its object is, not to reap profit, but to convey a pleasure to the -sixteen. The iron-souled truth-monger would plainly manifest, or even -utter the fact, that he didn't want to see those people--and he would be -an ass, and inflict a totally unnecessary pain. And next, those ladies -in that far country--but never mind, they had a thousand pleasant ways of -lying, that grew out of gentle impulses, and were a credit to their -intelligence and at honor to their hearts. Let the particulars go. - -The men in that far country were liars; every one. Their mere howdy-do -was a lie, because they didn't care how you did, except they were -undertakers. To the ordinary inquirer you lied in return; for you made -no conscientious diagnosis of your case, but answered at random, and -usually missed it considerably. You lied to the undertaker, and said -your health was failing--a wholly commendable lie, since it cost you -nothing and pleased the other man. If a stranger called and interrupted -you, you said with your hearty tongue, "I'm glad to see you," and said -with your heartier soul, "I wish you were with the cannibals and it was -dinner-time." When he went, you said regretfully, "Must you go?" and -followed it with a "Call again"; but you did no harm, for you did not -deceive anybody nor inflict any hurt, whereas the truth would have made -you both unhappy. - -I think that all this courteous lying is a sweet and loving art, and -should be cultivated. The highest perfection of politeness is only a -beautiful edifice, built, from the base to the dome, of graceful and -gilded forms of charitable and unselfish lying. - -What I bemoan is the growing prevalence of the brutal truth. Let us do -what we can to eradicate it. An injurious truth has no merit over an -injurious lie. Neither should ever be uttered. The man who speaks an -injurious truth, lest his soul be not saved if he do otherwise, should -reflect that that sort of a soul is not strictly worth saving. The man -who tells a lie to help a poor devil out of trouble is one of whom the -angels doubtless say, "Lo, here is an heroic soul who casts his own -welfare into jeopardy to succor his neighbor's; let us exalt this -magnanimous liar." - -An injurious lie is an uncommendable thing; and so, also, and in the same -degree, is an injurious truth--a fact which is recognized by the law of -libel. - -Among other common lies, we have the silent lie, the deception which one -conveys by simply keeping still and concealing the truth. Many obstinate -truth-mongers indulge in this dissipation, imagining that if they speak -no lie, they lie not at all. In that far country where I once lived, -there was a lovely spirit, a lady whose impulses were always high and -pure, and whose character answered to them. One day I was there at -dinner, and remarked, in a general way, that we are all liars. She was -amazed, and said, "Not all!" It was before "Pinafore's" time so I did -not make the response which would naturally follow in our day, but -frankly said, "Yes, all--we are all liars; there are no exceptions." -She looked almost offended, and said, "Why, do you include me?" -"Certainly," I said, "I think you even rank as an expert." She said, -"'Sh!--'sh! the children!" - -So the subject was changed in deference to the children's presence, and -we went on talking about other things. But as soon as the young people -were out of the way, the lady came warmly back to the matter and said, -"I have made it the rule of my life to never tell a lie; and I have never -departed from it in a single instance." I said, "I don't mean the least -harm or disrespect, but really you have been lying like smoke ever since -I've been sitting here. It has caused me a good deal of pain, because I -am not used to it." She required of me an instance--just a single -instance. So I said: - -"Well, here is the unfilled duplicate of the blank which the Oakland -hospital people sent to you by the hand of the sick-nurse when she came -here to nurse your little nephew through his dangerous illness. This -blank asks all manner of questions as to the conduct of that sick-nurse: -'Did she ever sleep on her watch? Did she ever forget to give the -medicine?' and so forth and so on. You are warned to be very careful and -explicit in your answers, for the welfare of the service requires that -the nurses be promptly fined or otherwise punished for derelictions. -You told me you were perfectly delighted with that nurse--that she had a -thousand perfections and only one fault: you found you never could depend -on her wrapping Johnny up half sufficiently while he waited in a chilly -chair for her to rearrange the warm bed. You filled up the duplicate of -this paper, and sent it back to the hospital by the hand of the nurse. -How did you answer this question--'Was the nurse at any time guilty of a -negligence which was likely to result in the patient's taking cold?' -Come--everything is decided by a bet here in California: ten dollars to -ten cents you lied when you answered that question." She said, "I -didn't; I left it blank!" "Just so--you have told a silent lie; you have -left it to be inferred that you had no fault to find in that matter." -She said, "Oh, was that a lie? And how could I mention her one single -fault, and she so good?--it would have been cruel." I said, "One ought -always to lie when one can do good by it; your impulse was right, but, -your judgment was crude; this comes of unintelligent practice. Now -observe the result of this inexpert deflection of yours. You know Mr. -Jones's Willie is lying very low with scarlet fever; well, your -recommendation was so enthusiastic that that girl is there nursing him, -and the worn-out family have all been trustingly sound asleep for the -last fourteen hours, leaving their darling with full confidence in those -fatal hands, because you, like young George Washington, have a reputa-- -However, if you are not going to have anything to do, I will come around -to-morrow and we'll attend the funeral together, for, of course, you'll -naturally feel a peculiar interest in Willie's case--as personal a one, -in fact, as the undertaker." - -But that was all lost. Before I was half-way through she was in a -carriage and making thirty miles an hour toward the Jones mansion to save -what was left of Willie and tell all she knew about the deadly nurse. -All of which was unnecessary, as Willie wasn't sick; I had been lying -myself. But that same day, all the same, she sent a line to the hospital -which filled up the neglected blank, and stated the facts, too, in the -squarest possible manner. - -Now, you see, this lady's fault was not in lying, but only in lying -injudiciously. She should have told the truth there, and made it up to -the nurse with a fraudulent compliment further along in the paper. She -could have said, "In one respect the sick-nurse is perfection--when she -is on watch, she never snores." Almost any little pleasant lie would -have taken the sting out of that troublesome but necessary expression of -the truth. - -Lying is universal we all do it; we all must do it. Therefore, the wise -thing is for us diligently to train ourselves to lie thoughtfully, -judiciously; to lie with a good object, and not an evil one; to lie for -others' advantage, and not our own; to lie healingly, charitably, -humanely, not cruelly, hurtfully, maliciously; to lie gracefully and -graciously, not awkwardly and clumsily; to lie firmly, frankly, squarely, -with head erect, not haltingly, tortuously, with pusillanimous mien, as -being ashamed of our high calling. Then shall we be rid of the rank and -pestilent truth that is rotting the land; then shall we be great and good -and beautiful, and worthy dwellers in a world where even benign Nature -habitually lies, except when she promises execrable weather. Then--but -I am but a new and feeble student in this gracious art; I can not -instruct this Club. - -Joking aside, I think there is much need of wise examination into what -sorts of lies are best and wholesomest to be indulged, seeing we must all -lie and do all lie, and what sorts it may be best to avoid--and this is a -thing which I feel I can confidently put into the hands of this -experienced Club--a ripe body, who may be termed, in this regard, and -without undue flattery, Old Masters. - - - - - - -ABOUT MAGNANIMOUS-INCIDENT LITERATURE - -All my life, from boyhood up, I have had the habit of reading a certain -set of anecdotes, written in the quaint vein of The World's ingenious -Fabulist, for the lesson they taught me and the pleasure they gave me. -They lay always convenient to my hand, and whenever I thought meanly of -my kind I turned to them, and they banished that sentiment; whenever I -felt myself to be selfish, sordid, and ignoble I turned to them, and they -told me what to do to win back my self-respect. Many times I wished that -the charming anecdotes had not stopped with their happy climaxes, but had -continued the pleasing history of the several benefactors and -beneficiaries. This wish rose in my breast so persistently that at last -I determined to satisfy it by seeking out the sequels of those anecdotes -myself. So I set about it, and after great labor and tedious research -accomplished my task. I will lay the result before you, giving you each -anecdote in its turn, and following it with its sequel as I gathered it -through my investigations. - - - THE GRATEFUL POODLE - -One day a benevolent physician (who had read the books) having found a -stray poodle suffering from a broken leg, conveyed the poor creature to -his home, and after setting and bandaging the injured limb gave the -little outcast its liberty again, and thought no more about the matter. -But how great was his surprise, upon opening his door one morning, some -days later, to find the grateful poodle patiently waiting there, and in -its company another stray dog, one of whose legs, by some accident, had -been broken. The kind physician at once relieved the distressed animal, -nor did he forget to admire the inscrutable goodness and mercy of God, -who had been willing to use so humble an instrument as the poor outcast -poodle for the inculcating of, etc., etc., etc. - - - SEQUEL - -The next morning the benevolent physician found the two dogs, beaming -with gratitude, waiting at his door, and with them two other -dogs-cripples. The cripples were speedily healed, and the four went -their way, leaving the benevolent physician more overcome by pious wonder -than ever. The day passed, the morning came. There at the door sat now -the four reconstructed dogs, and with them four others requiring -reconstruction. This day also passed, and another morning came; and now -sixteen dogs, eight of them newly crippled, occupied the sidewalk, and -the people were going around. By noon the broken legs were all set, but -the pious wonder in the good physician's breast was beginning to get -mixed with involuntary profanity. The sun rose once more, and exhibited -thirty-two dogs, sixteen of them with broken legs, occupying the sidewalk -and half of the street; the human spectators took up the rest of the -room. The cries of the wounded, the songs of the healed brutes, and the -comments of the onlooking citizens made great and inspiring cheer, but -traffic was interrupted in that street. The good physician hired a -couple of assistant surgeons and got through his benevolent work before -dark, first taking the precaution to cancel his church-membership, so -that he might express himself with the latitude which the case required. - -But some things have their limits. When once more the morning dawned, -and the good physician looked out upon a massed and far-reaching -multitude of clamorous and beseeching dogs, he said, "I might as well -acknowledge it, I have been fooled by the books; they only tell the -pretty part of the story, and then stop. Fetch me the shotgun; this -thing has gone along far enough." - -He issued forth with his weapon, and chanced to step upon the tail of the -original poodle, who promptly bit him in the leg. Now the great and good -work which this poodle had been engaged in had engendered in him such a -mighty and augmenting enthusiasm as to turn his weak head at last and -drive him mad. A month later, when the benevolent physician lay in the -death-throes of hydrophobia, he called his weeping friends about him, and -said: - -"Beware of the books. They tell but half of the story. Whenever a poor -wretch asks you for help, and you feel a doubt as to what result may flow -from your benevolence, give yourself the benefit of the doubt and kill -the applicant." - -And so saying he turned his face to the wall and gave up the ghost. - - - - THE BENEVOLENT AUTHOR - -A poor and young literary beginner had tried in vain to get his -manuscripts accepted. At last, when the horrors of starvation were -staring him in the face, he laid his sad case before a celebrated author, -beseeching his counsel and assistance. This generous man immediately put -aside his own matters and proceeded to peruse one of the despised -manuscripts. Having completed his kindly task, he shook the poor young -man cordially by the hand, saying, "I perceive merit in this; come again -to me on Monday." At the time specified, the celebrated author, with a -sweet smile, but saying nothing, spread open a magazine which was damp -from the press. What was the poor young man's astonishment to discover -upon the printed page his own article. "How can I ever," said he, -falling upon his knees and bursting into tears, "testify my gratitude for -this noble conduct!" - -The celebrated author was the renowned Snodgrass; the poor young beginner -thus rescued from obscurity and starvation was the afterward equally -renowned Snagsby. Let this pleasing incident admonish us to turn a -charitable ear to all beginners that need help. - - SEQUEL - -The next week Snagsby was back with five rejected manuscripts. The -celebrated author was a little surprised, because in the books the young -struggler had needed but one lift, apparently. However, he plowed -through these papers, removing unnecessary flowers and digging up some -acres of adjective stumps, and then succeeded in getting two of the -articles accepted. - -A week or so drifted by, and the grateful Snagsby arrived with another -cargo. The celebrated author had felt a mighty glow of satisfaction -within himself the first time he had successfully befriended the poor -young struggler, and had compared himself with the generous people in the -books with high gratification; but he was beginning to suspect now that -he had struck upon something fresh in the noble-episode line. His -enthusiasm took a chill. Still, he could not bear to repulse this -struggling young author, who clung to him with such pretty simplicity and -trustfulness. - -Well, the upshot of it all was that the celebrated author presently found -himself permanently freighted with the poor young beginner. All his mild -efforts to unload this cargo went for nothing. He had to give daily -counsel, daily encouragement; he had to keep on procuring magazine -acceptances, and then revamping the manuscripts to make them presentable. -When the young aspirant got a start at last, he rode into sudden fame by -describing the celebrated author's private life with such a caustic humor -and such minuteness of blistering detail that the book sold a prodigious -edition, and broke the celebrated author's heart with mortification. -With his latest gasp he said, "Alas, the books deceived me; they do not -tell the whole story. Beware of the struggling young author, my friends. -Whom God sees fit to starve, let not man presumptuously rescue to his own -undoing." - - - - THE GRATEFUL HUSBAND - -One day a lady was driving through the principal street of a great city -with her little boy, when the horses took fright and dashed madly away, -hurling the coachman from his box and leaving the occupants of the -carnage paralyzed with terror. But a brave youth who was driving a -grocery-wagon threw himself before the plunging animals, and succeeded in -arresting their flight at the peril of his own.--[This is probably a -misprint.--M. T.]--The grateful lady took his number, and upon arriving -at her home she related the heroic act to her husband (who had read the -books), who listened with streaming eyes to the moving recital, and who, -after returning thanks, in conjunction with his restored loved ones, to -Him who suffereth not even a sparrow to fall to the ground unnoticed, -sent for the brave young person, and, placing a check for five hundred -dollars in his hand, said, "Take this as a reward for your noble act, -William Ferguson, and if ever you shall need a friend, remember that -Thompson McSpadden has a grateful heart." Let us learn from this that -a good deed cannot fail to benefit the doer, however humble he may be. - - SEQUEL - -William Ferguson called the next week and asked Mr. McSpadden to use his -influence to get him a higher employment, he feeling capable of better -things than driving a grocer's wagon. Mr. McSpadden got him an -underclerkship at a good salary. - -Presently William Ferguson's mother fell sick, and William--Well, to cut -the story short, Mr. McSpadden consented to take her into his house. -Before long she yearned for the society of her younger children; so Mary -and Julia were admitted also, and little Jimmy, their brother. Jimmy had -a pocket knife, and he wandered into the drawing-room with it one day, -alone, and reduced ten thousand dollars' worth of furniture to an -indeterminable value in rather less than three-quarters of an hour. -A day or two later he fell down-stairs and broke his neck, and seventeen -of his family's relatives came to the house to attend the funeral. This -made them acquainted, and they kept the kitchen occupied after that, and -likewise kept the McSpaddens busy hunting-up situations of various sorts -for them, and hunting up more when they wore these out. The old woman -drank a good deal and swore a good deal; but the grateful McSpaddens knew -it was their duty to reform her, considering what her son had done for -them, so they clave nobly to their generous task. William came often and -got decreasing sums of money, and asked for higher and more lucrative -employments--which the grateful McSpadden more or less promptly procured -for him. McSpadden consented also, after some demur, to fit William for -college; but when the first vacation came and the hero requested to be -sent to Europe for his health, the persecuted McSpadden rose against the -tyrant and revolted. He plainly and squarely refused. William -Ferguson's mother was so astounded that she let her gin-bottle drop, and -her profane lips refused to do their office. When she recovered she said -in a half-gasp, "Is this your gratitude? Where would your wife and boy -be now, but for my son?" - -William said, "Is this your gratitude? Did I save your wife's life or -not? Tell me that!" - -Seven relations swarmed in from the kitchen and each said, "And this is -his gratitude!" - -William's sisters stared, bewildered, and said, "And this is his grat--" -but were interrupted by their mother, who burst into tears and exclaimed, - -"To think that my sainted little Jimmy threw away his life in the service -of such a reptile!" - -Then the pluck of the revolutionary McSpadden rose to the occasion, and -he replied with fervor, "Out of my house, the whole beggarly tribe of -you! I was beguiled by the books, but shall never be beguiled again ---once is sufficient for me." And turning to William he shouted, "Yes, -you did save my, wife's life, and the next man that does it shall die in -his tracks!" - - -Not being a clergyman, I place my text at the end of my sermon instead of -at the beginning. Here it is, from Mr. Noah Brooks's Recollections of -President Lincoln in Scribners Monthly: - - J. H. Hackett, in his part of Falstaff, was an actor who gave Mr. - Lincoln great delight. With his usual desire to signify to others - his sense of obligation, Mr. Lincoln wrote a genial little note to - the actor expressing his pleasure at witnessing his performance. - Mr. Hackett, in reply, sent a book of some sort; perhaps it was one - of his own authorship. He also wrote several notes to the - President. One night, quite late, when the episode had passed out - of my mind, I went to the white House in answer to a message. - Passing into the President's office, I noticed, to my surprise, - Hackett sitting in the anteroom as if waiting for an audience. The - President asked me if any one was outside. On being told, he said, - half sadly, "Oh, I can't see him, I can't see him; I was in hopes he - had gone away." Then he added, "Now this just illustrates the - difficulty of having pleasant friends and acquaintances in this - place. You know how I liked Hackett as an actor, and how I wrote to - tell him so. He sent me that book, and there I thought the matter - would end. He is a master of his place in the profession, I - suppose, and well fixed in it; but just because we had a little - friendly correspondence, such as any two men might have, he wants - something. What do you suppose he wants?" I could not guess, and - Mr. Lincoln added, "well, he wants to be consul to London. Oh, - dear!" - -I will observe, in conclusion, that the William Ferguson incident -occurred, and within my personal knowledge--though I have changed the -nature of the details, to keep William from recognizing himself in it. - -All the readers of this article have in some sweet and gushing hour of -their lives played the role of Magnanimous-Incident hero. I wish I knew -how many there are among them who are willing to talk about that episode -and like to be reminded of the consequences that flowed from it. - - - - - - -PUNCH, BROTHERS, PUNCH - -Will the reader please to cast his eye over the following lines, and see -if he can discover anything harmful in them? - - Conductor, when you receive a fare, - Punch in the presence of the passenjare! - A blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, - A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, - A pink trip slip for a three-cent fare, - Punch in the presence of the passenjare! - - CHORUS - - Punch, brothers! punch with care! - Punch in the presence of the passenjare! - - -I came across these jingling rhymes in a newspaper, a little while ago, -and read them a couple of times. They took instant and entire possession -of me. All through breakfast they went waltzing through my brain; and -when, at last, I rolled up my napkin, I could not tell whether I had -eaten anything or not. I had carefully laid out my day's work the day -before--thrilling tragedy in the novel which I am writing. I went to my -den to begin my deed of blood. I took up my pen, but all I could get it -to say was, "Punch in the presence of the passenjare." I fought hard for -an hour, but it was useless. My head kept humming, "A blue trip slip for -an eight-cent fare, a buff trip slip for a six-cent fare," and so on and -so on, without peace or respite. The day's work was ruined--I could see -that plainly enough. I gave up and drifted down-town, and presently -discovered that my feet were keeping time to that relentless jingle. -When I could stand it no longer I altered my step. But it did no good; -those rhymes accommodated themselves to the new step and went on -harassing me just as before. I returned home, and suffered all the -afternoon; suffered all through an unconscious and unrefreshing dinner; -suffered, and cried, and jingled all through the evening; went to bed and -rolled, tossed, and jingled right along, the same as ever; got up at -midnight frantic, and tried to read; but there was nothing visible upon -the whirling page except "Punch! punch in the presence of the -passenjare." By sunrise I was out of my mind, and everybody marveled and -was distressed at the idiotic burden of my ravings--"Punch! oh, punch! -punch in the presence of the passenjare!" - -Two days later, on Saturday morning, I arose, a tottering wreck, and went -forth to fulfil an engagement with a valued friend, the Rev. Mr.------, -to walk to the Talcott Tower, ten miles distant. He stared at me, but -asked no questions. We started. Mr.------ talked, talked, talked as is -his wont. I said nothing; I heard nothing. At the end of a mile, -Mr.------ said "Mark, are you sick? I never saw a man look so haggard -and worn and absent-minded. Say something, do!" - -Drearily, without enthusiasm, I said: "Punch brothers, punch with care! -Punch in the presence of the passenjare!" - -My friend eyed me blankly, looked perplexed, they said: - -"I do not think I get your drift, Mark. Then does not seem to be any -relevancy in what you have said, certainly nothing sad; and yet--maybe it -was the way you said the words--I never heard anything that sounded so -pathetic. What is--" - -But I heard no more. I was already far away with my pitiless, -heartbreaking "blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, buff trip slip for -a six-cent fare, pink trip slip for a three-cent fare; punch in the -presence of the passenjare." I do not know what occurred during the -other nine miles. However, all of a sudden Mr.------ laid his hand on my -shoulder and shouted: - -"Oh, wake up! wake up! wake up! Don't sleep all day! Here we are at -the Tower, man! I have talked myself deaf and dumb and blind, and never -got a response. Just look at this magnificent autumn landscape! Look at -it! look at it! Feast your eye on it! You have traveled; you have seen -boaster landscapes elsewhere. Come, now, deliver an honest opinion. -What do you say to this?" - -I sighed wearily; and murmured: - -"A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent -fare, punch in the presence of the passenjare." - -Rev. Mr. ------ stood there, very grave, full of concern, apparently, and -looked long at me; then he said: - -"Mark, there is something about this that I cannot understand. Those are -about the same words you said before; there does not seem to be anything -in them, and yet they nearly break my heart when you say them. Punch in -the--how is it they go?" - -I began at the beginning and repeated all the lines. - -My friend's face lighted with interest. He said: - -"Why, what a captivating jingle it is! It is almost music. It flows -along so nicely. I have nearly caught the rhymes myself. Say them over -just once more, and then I'll have them, sure." - -I said them over. Then Mr. ------ said them. He made one little -mistake, which I corrected. The next time and the next he got them -right. Now a great burden seemed to tumble from my shoulders. That -torturing jingle departed out of my brain, and a grateful sense of rest -and peace descended upon me. I was light-hearted enough to sing; and I -did sing for half an hour, straight along, as we went jogging homeward. -Then my freed tongue found blessed speech again, and the pent talk of -many a weary hour began to gush and flow. It flowed on and on, joyously, -jubilantly, until the fountain was empty and dry. As I wrung my friend's -hand at parting, I said: - -"Haven't we had a royal good time! But now I remember, you haven't said -a word for two hours. Come, come, out with something!" - -The Rev. Mr.------ turned a lack-luster eye upon me, drew a deep sigh, -and said, without animation, without apparent consciousness: - -"Punch, brothers, punch with care! Punch in the presence of the -passenjare!" - -A pang shot through me as I said to myself, "Poor fellow, poor fellow! -he has got it, now." - -I did not see Mr.------ for two or three days after that. Then, on -Tuesday evening, he staggered into my presence and sank dejectedly into a -seat. He was pale, worn; he was a wreck. He lifted his faded eyes to my -face and said: - -"Ah, Mark, it was a ruinous investment that I made in those heartless -rhymes. They have ridden me like a nightmare, day and night, hour after -hour, to this very moment. Since I saw you I have suffered the torments -of the lost. Saturday evening I had a sudden call, by telegraph, and -took the night train for Boston. The occasion was the death of a valued -old friend who had requested that I should preach his funeral sermon. -I took my seat in the cars and set myself to framing the discourse. But -I never got beyond the opening paragraph; for then the train started and -the car-wheels began their 'clack, clack-clack-clack-clack! clack-clack! ---clack-clack-clack!' and right away those odious rhymes fitted -themselves to that accompaniment. For an hour I sat there and set a -syllable of those rhymes to every separate and distinct clack the -car-wheels made. Why, I was as fagged out, then, as if I had been -chopping wood all day. My skull was splitting with headache. It seemed -to me that I must go mad if I sat there any longer; so I undressed and -went to bed. I stretched myself out in my berth, and--well, you know -what the result was. The thing went right along, just the same. -'Clack-clack clack, a blue trip slip, clack-clack-clack, for an eight -cent fare; clack-clack-clack, a buff trip slip, clack clack-clack, for a -six-cent fare, and so on, and so on, and so on punch in the presence of -the passenjare!' Sleep? Not a single wink! I was almost a lunatic when -I got to Boston. Don't ask me about the funeral. I did the best I -could, but every solemn individual sentence was meshed and tangled and -woven in and out with 'Punch, brothers, punch with care, punch in the -presence of the passenjare.' And the most distressing thing was that my -delivery dropped into the undulating rhythm of those pulsing rhymes, and -I could actually catch absent-minded people nodding time to the swing of -it with their stupid heads. And, Mark, you may believe it or not, but -before I got through the entire assemblage were placidly bobbing their -heads in solemn unison, mourners, undertaker, and all. The moment I had -finished, I fled to the anteroom in a state bordering on frenzy. Of -course it would be my luck to find a sorrowing and aged maiden aunt of -the deceased there, who had arrived from Springfield too late to get into -the church. She began to sob, and said: - -"'Oh, oh, he is gone, he is gone, and I didn't see him before he died!' - -"'Yes!' I said, 'he is gone, he is gone, he is gone--oh, will this -suffering never cease!' - -"'You loved him, then! Oh, you too loved him!' - -"'Loved him! Loved who?' - -"'Why, my poor George! my poor nephew!' - -"'Oh--him! Yes--oh, yes, yes. Certainly--certainly. Punch--punch--oh, -this misery will kill me!' - -"'Bless you! bless you, sir, for these sweet words! I, too, suffer in -this dear loss. Were you present during his last moments?' - -"'Yes. I--whose last moments?' - -"'His. The dear departed's.' - -"'Yes! Oh, yes--yes--yes! I suppose so, I think so, I don't know! Oh, -certainly--I was there I was there!' - -"'Oh, what a privilege! what a precious privilege! And his last words- --oh, tell me, tell me his last words! What did he say?' - -"'He said--he said--oh, my head, my head, my head! He said--he said--he -never said anything but Punch, punch, punch in the presence of the -passenjare! Oh, leave me, madam! In the name of all that is generous, -leave me to my madness, my misery, my despair!--a buff trip slip for a -six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent fare--endu--rance can no -fur--ther go!--PUNCH in the presence of the passenjare!" - -My friend's hopeless eyes rested upon mine a pregnant minute, and then he -said impressively: - -"Mark, you do not say anything. You do not offer me any hope. But, ah -me, it is just as well--it is just as well. You could not do me any -good. The time has long gone by when words could comfort me. Something -tells me that my tongue is doomed to wag forever to the jigger of that -remorseless jingle. There--there it is coming on me again: a blue trip -slip for an eight-cent fare, a buff trip slip for a--" - -Thus murmuring faint and fainter, my friend sank into a peaceful trance -and forgot his sufferings in a blessed respite. - -How did I finally save him from an asylum? I took him to a neighboring -university and made him discharge the burden of his persecuting rhymes -into the eager ears of the poor, unthinking students. How is it with -them, now? The result is too sad to tell. Why did I write this article? -It was for a worthy, even a noble, purpose. It was to warn you, reader, -if you should came across those merciless rhymes, to avoid them--avoid -them as you would a pestilence. - - - - - - -THE GREAT REVOLUTION IN PITCAIRN - -Let me refresh the reader's memory a little. Nearly a hundred years ago -the crew of the British ship Bounty mutinied, set the captain and his -officers adrift upon the open sea, took possession of the ship, and -sailed southward. They procured wives for themselves among the natives -of Tahiti, then proceeded to a lonely little rock in mid-Pacific, called -Pitcairn's Island, wrecked the vessel, stripped her of everything that -might be useful to a new colony, and established themselves on shore. -Pitcairn's is so far removed from the track of commerce that it was many -years before another vessel touched there. It had always been considered -an uninhabited island; so when a ship did at last drop its anchor there, -in 1808, the captain was greatly surprised to find the place peopled. -Although the mutineers had fought among themselves, and gradually killed -each other off until only two or three of the original stock remained, -these tragedies had not occurred before a number of children had been -born; so in 1808 the island had a population of twenty-seven persons. -John Adams, the chief mutineer, still survived, and was to live many -years yet, as governor and patriarch of the flock. From being mutineer -and homicide, he had turned Christian and teacher, and his nation of -twenty-seven persons was now the purest and devoutest in Christendom. -Adams had long ago hoisted the British flag and constituted his island an -appanage of the British crown. - -To-day the population numbers ninety persons--sixteen men, nineteen -women, twenty-five boys, and thirty girls--all descendants of the -mutineers, all bearing the family names of those mutineers, and all -speaking English, and English only. The island stands high up out of the -sea, and has precipitous walls. It is about three-quarters of a mile -long, and in places is as much as half a mile wide. Such arable land as -it affords is held by the several families, according to a division made -many years ago. There is some live stock--goats, pigs, chickens, and -cats; but no dogs, and no large animals. There is one church-building -used also as a capitol, a schoolhouse, and a public library. The title -of the governor has been, for a generation or two, "Magistrate and Chief -Ruler, in subordination to her Majesty the Queen of Great Britain." It -was his province to make the laws, as well as execute them. His office -was elective; everybody over seventeen years old had a vote--no matter -about the sex. - -The sole occupations of the people were farming and fishing; their sole -recreation, religious services. There has never been a shop in the -island, nor any money. The habits and dress of the people have always -been primitive, and their laws simple to puerility. They have lived in a -deep Sabbath tranquillity, far from the world and its ambitions and -vexations, and neither knowing nor caring what was going on in the mighty -empires that lie beyond their limitless ocean solitudes. Once in three -or four years a ship touched there, moved them with aged news of bloody -battles, devastating epidemics, fallen thrones, and ruined dynasties, -then traded them some soap and flannel for some yams and breadfruit, and -sailed away, leaving them to retire into their peaceful dreams and pious -dissipations once more. - -On the 8th of last September, Admiral de Horsey, commander-in-chief of -the British fleet in the Pacific, visited Pitcairn's Island, and speaks -as follows in his official report to the admiralty: - - They have beans, carrots, turnips, cabbages, and a little maize; - pineapples, fig trees, custard-apples, and oranges; lemons, and - cocoanuts. Clothing is obtained alone from passing ships, in barter - for refreshments. There are no springs on the island, but as it - rains generally once a month they have plenty of water, although at - times in former years they have suffered from drought. No alcoholic - liquors, except for medicinal purposes, are used, and a drunkard is - unknown.... - - The necessary articles required by the islanders are best shown by - those we furnished in barter for refreshments: namely, flannel, - serge, drill, half-boots, combs, tobacco, and soap. They also stand - much in need of maps and slates for their school, and tools of any - kind are most acceptable. I caused them to be supplied from the - public stores with a Union jack: for display on the arrival of - ships, and a pit-saw, of which they were greatly in need. This, I - trust, will meet the approval of their lordships. If the munificent - people of England were only aware of the wants of this most - deserving little colony, they would not long go unsupplied.... - - Divine service is held every Sunday at 10.30 A.M. and at 3 P.M., - in the house built and used by John Adams for that purpose until he - died in 1829. It is conducted strictly in accordance with the - liturgy of the Church of England, by Mr. Simon Young, their selected - pastor, who is much respected. A Bible class is held every - Wednesday, when all who conveniently can attend. There is also a - general meeting for prayer on the first Friday in every month. - Family prayers are said in every house the first thing in the - morning and the last thing in the evening, and no food is partaken - of without asking God's blessing before and afterward. Of these - islanders' religious attributes no one can speak without deep - respect. A people whose greatest pleasure and privilege is to - commune in prayer with their God, and to join in hymns of praise, - and who are, moreover, cheerful, diligent, and probably freer from - vice than any other community, need no priest among them. - -Now I come to a sentence in the admiral's report which he dropped -carelessly from his pen, no doubt, and never gave the matter a second -thought. He little imagined what a freight of tragic prophecy it bore! -This is the sentence: - - One stranger, an American, has settled on the island--a doubtful - acquisition. - -A doubtful acquisition, indeed! Captain Ormsby, in the American ship -Hornet, touched at Pitcairn's nearly four months after the admiral's -visit, and from the facts which he gathered there we now know all about -that American. Let us put these facts together in historical form. The -American's name was Butterworth Stavely. As soon as he had become well -acquainted with all the people--and this took but a few days, of course ---he began to ingratiate himself with them by all the arts he could -command. He became exceedingly popular, and much looked up to; for one -of the first things he did was to forsake his worldly way of life, and -throw all his energies into religion. He was always reading his Bible, -or praying, or singing hymns, or asking blessings. In prayer, no one had -such "liberty" as he, no one could pray so long or so well. - -At last, when he considered the time to be ripe, he began secretly to sow -the seeds of discontent among the people. It was his deliberate purpose, -from the beginning, to subvert the government, but of course he kept that -to himself for a time. He used different arts with different -individuals. He awakened dissatisfaction in one quarter by calling -attention to the shortness of the Sunday services; he argued that there -should be three three-hour services on Sunday instead of only two. Many -had secretly held this opinion before; they now privately banded -themselves into a party to work for it. He showed certain of the women -that they were not allowed sufficient voice in the prayer-meetings; thus -another party was formed. No weapon was beneath his notice; he even -descended to the children, and awoke discontent in their breasts -because--as he discovered for them--they had not enough Sunday-school. -This created a third party. - -Now, as the chief of these parties, he found himself the strongest power -in the community. So he proceeded to his next move--a no less important -one than the impeachment of the chief magistrate, James Russell Nickoy; -a man of character and ability, and possessed of great wealth, he being -the owner of a house with a parlor to it, three acres and a half of yam- -land, and the only boat in Pitcairn's, a whaleboat; and, most -unfortunately, a pretext for this impeachment offered itself at just the -right time. - -One of the earliest and most precious laws of the island was the law -against trespass. It was held in great reverence, and was regarded as -the palladium of the people's liberties. About thirty years ago an -important case came before the courts under this law, in this wise: a -chicken belonging to Elizabeth Young (aged, at that time, fifty-eight, -a daughter of John Mills, one of the mutineers of the Bounty) trespassed -upon the grounds of Thursday October Christian (aged twenty-nine, a -grandson of Fletcher Christian, one of the mutineers). Christian killed -the chicken. According to the law, Christian could keep the chicken; or, -if he preferred, he could restore its remains to the owner and receive -damages in "produce" to an amount equivalent to the waste and injury -wrought by the trespasser. The court records set forth that "the said -Christian aforesaid did deliver the aforesaid remains to the said Eliza -beth Young, and did demand one bushel of yams in satisfaction of the -damage done." But Elizabeth Young considered the demand exorbitant; the -parties could not agree; therefore Christian brought suit in the courts. -He lost his case in the justice's court; at least, he was awarded only a -half-peck of yams, which he considered insufficient, and in the nature of -a defeat. He appealed. The case lingered several years in an ascending -grade of courts, and always resulted in decrees sustaining the original -verdict; and finally the thing got into the supreme court, and there it -stuck for twenty years. But last summer, even the supreme court managed -to arrive at a decision at last. Once more the original verdict was -sustained. Christian then said he was satisfied; but Stavely was -present, and whispered to him and to his lawyer, suggesting, "as a mere -form," that the original law be exhibited, in order to make sure that it -still existed. It seemed an odd idea, but an ingenious one. So the -demand was made. A messenger was sent to the magistrate's house; he -presently returned with the tidings that it had disappeared from among -the state archives. - -The court now pronounced its late decision void, since it had been made -under a law which had no actual existence. - -Great excitement ensued immediately. The news swept abroad over the -whole island that the palladium of the public liberties was lost--maybe -treasonably destroyed. Within thirty minutes almost the entire nation -were in the court-room--that is to say, the church. The impeachment of -the chief magistrate followed, upon Stavely's motion. The accused met -his misfortune with the dignity which became his great office. He did -not plead, or even argue; he offered the simple defense that he had not -meddled with the missing law; that he had kept the state archives in the -same candle-box that had been used as their depository from the -beginning; and that he was innocent of the removal or destruction of the -lost document. - -But nothing could save him; he was found guilty of misprision of treason, -and degraded from his office, and all his property was confiscated. - -The lamest part of the whole shameful matter was the reason suggested by -his enemies for his destruction of the law, to wit: that he did it to -favor Christian, because Christian was his cousin! Whereas Stavely was -the only individual in the entire nation who was not his cousin. The -reader must remember that all these people are the descendants of half a -dozen men; that the first children intermarried together and bore -grandchildren to the mutineers; that these grandchildren intermarried; -after them, great and great-great-grandchildren intermarried; so that to- -day everybody is blood kin to everybody. Moreover, the relationships are -wonderfully, even astoundingly, mixed up and complicated. A stranger, -for instance, says to an islander: - -"You speak of that young woman as your cousin; a while ago you called her -your aunt." - -"Well, she is my aunt, and my cousin, too. And also my stepsister, my -niece, my fourth cousin, my thirty-third cousin, my forty-second cousin, -my great-aunt, my grandmother, my widowed sister-in-law--and next week -she will be my wife." - -So the charge of nepotism against the chief magistrate was weak. But no -matter; weak or strong, it suited Stavely. Stavely was immediately -elected to the vacant magistracy, and, oozing reform from every pore, he -went vigorously to work. In no long time religious services raged -everywhere and unceasingly. By command, the second prayer of the Sunday -morning service, which had customarily endured some thirty-five or forty -minutes, and had pleaded for the world, first by continent and then by -national and tribal detail, was extended to an hour and a half, and made -to include supplications in behalf of the possible peoples in the several -planets. Everybody was pleased with this; everybody said, "Now this is -something like." By command, the usual three-hour sermons were doubled -in length. The nation came in a body to testify their gratitude to the -new magistrate. The old law forbidding cooking on the Sabbath was -extended to the prohibition of eating, also. By command, Sunday-school -was privileged to spread over into the week. The joy of all classes was -complete. In one short month the new magistrate had become the people's -idol! - -The time was ripe for this man's next move. He began, cautiously at -first, to poison the public mind against England. He took the chief -citizens aside, one by one, and conversed with them on this topic. -Presently he grew bolder, and spoke out. He said the nation owed it to -itself, to its honor, to its great traditions, to rise in its might and -throw off "this galling English yoke." - -But the simple islanders answered: - -"We had not noticed that it galled. How does it gall? England sends a -ship once in three or four years to give us soap and clothing, and things -which we sorely need and gratefully receive; but she never troubles us; -she lets us go our own way." - -"She lets you go your own way! So slaves have felt and spoken in all the -ages! This speech shows how fallen you are, how base, how brutalized you -have become, under this grinding tyranny! What! has all manly pride -forsaken you? Is liberty nothing? Are you content to be a mere -appendage to a foreign and hateful sovereignty, when you might rise up -and take your rightful place in the august family of nations, great, -free, enlightened, independent, the minion of no sceptered master, but -the arbiter of your own destiny, and a voice and a power in decreeing the -destinies of your sister-sovereignties of the world?" - -Speeches like this produced an effect by and by. Citizens began to feel -the English yoke; they did not know exactly how or whereabouts they felt -it, but they were perfectly certain they did feel it. They got to -grumbling a good deal, and chafing under their chains, and longing for -relief and release. They presently fell to hating the English flag, that -sign and symbol of their nation's degradation; they ceased to glance up -at it as they passed the capitol, but averted their eyes and grated their -teeth; and one morning, when it was found trampled into the mud at the -foot of the staff, they left it there, and no man put his hand to it to -hoist it again. A certain thing which was sure to happen sooner or later -happened now. Some of the chief citizens went to the magistrate by -night, and said: - -"We can endure this hated tyranny no longer. How can we cast it off?" - -"By a coup d'etat." - -"How?" - -"A coup d'etat. It is like this: everything is got ready, and at the -appointed moment I, as the official head of the nation, publicly and -solemnly proclaim its independence, and absolve it from allegiance to any -and all other powers whatsoever." - -"That sounds simple and easy. We can do that right away. Then what will -be the next thing to do?" - -"Seize all the defenses and public properties of all kinds, establish -martial law, put the army and navy on a war footing, and proclaim the -empire!" - -This fine program dazzled these innocents. They said: - -"This is grand--this is splendid; but will not England resist?" - -"Let her. This rock is a Gibraltar." - -"True. But about the empire? Do we need an empire and an emperor?" - -"What you need, my friends, is unification. Look at Germany; look at -Italy. They are unified. Unification is the thing. It makes living -dear. That constitutes progress. We must have a standing army and a -navy. Taxes follow, as a matter of course. All these things summed up -make grandeur. With unification and grandeur, what more can you want? -Very well--only the empire can confer these boons." - -So on the 8th day of December Pitcairn's Island was proclaimed a free and -independent nation; and on the same day the solemn coronation of -Butterworth I, Emperor of Pitcairn's Island, took place, amid great -rejoicings and festivities. The entire nation, with the exception of -fourteen persons, mainly little children, marched past the throne in -single file, with banners and music, the procession being upward of -ninety feet long; and some said it was as much as three-quarters of a -minute passing a given point. Nothing like it had ever been seen in the -history of the island before. Public enthusiasm was measureless. - -Now straightway imperial reforms began. Orders of nobility were -instituted. A minister of the navy was appointed, and the whale-boat put -in commission. A minister of war was created, and ordered to proceed at -once with the formation of a standing army. A first lord of the treasury -was named, and commanded to get up a taxation scheme, and also open -negotiations for treaties, offensive, defensive, and commercial, with -foreign powers. Some generals and admirals were appointed; also some -chamberlains, some equerries in waiting, and some lords of the -bedchamber. - -At this point all the material was used up. The Grand Duke of Galilee, -minister of war, complained that all the sixteen grown men in the empire -had been given great offices, and consequently would not consent to serve -in the ranks; wherefore his standing army was at a standstill. The -Marquis of Ararat, minister of the navy, made a similar complaint. He -said he was willing to steer the whale-boat himself, but he must have -somebody to man her. - -The emperor did the best he could in the circumstances: he took all the -boys above the age of ten years away from their mothers, and pressed them -into the army, thus constructing a corps of seventeen privates, officered -by one lieutenant-general and two major-generals. This pleased the -minister of war, but procured the enmity of all the mothers in the land; -for they said their precious ones must now find bloody graves in the -fields of war, and he would be answerable for it. Some of the more -heartbroken and unappeasable among them lay constantly wait for the -emperor and threw yams at him, unmindful of the body-guard. - -On account of the extreme scarcity of material, it was found necessary to -require the Duke of Bethany postmaster-general, to pull stroke-oar in the -navy and thus sit in the rear of a noble of lower degree namely, Viscount -Canaan, lord justice of the common pleas. This turned the Duke of -Bethany into tolerably open malcontent and a secret conspirator--a thing -which the emperor foresaw, but could not help. - -Things went from bad to worse. The emperor raised Nancy Peters to the -peerage on one day, and married her the next, notwithstanding, for -reasons of state, the cabinet had strenuously advised him to marry -Emmeline, eldest daughter of the Archbishop of Bethlehem. This caused -trouble in a powerful quarter--the church. The new empress secured the -support and friendship of two-thirds of the thirty-six grown women in the -nation by absorbing them into her court as maids of honor; but this made -deadly enemies of the remaining twelve. The families of the maids of -honor soon began to rebel, because there was nobody at home to keep -house. The twelve snubbed women refused to enter the imperial kitchen as -servants; so the empress had to require the Countess of Jericho and other -great court dames to fetch water, sweep the palace, and perform other -menial and equally distasteful services. This made bad blood in that -department. - -Everybody fell to complaining that the taxes levied for the support of -the army, the navy, and the rest of the imperial establishment were -intolerably burdensome, and were reducing the nation to beggary. The -emperor's reply--"Look--Look at Germany; look at Italy. Are you better -than they? and haven't you unification?"---did not satisfy them. They -said, "People can't eat unification, and we are starving. Agriculture -has ceased. Everybody is in the army, everybody is in the navy, -everybody is in the public service, standing around in a uniform, with -nothing whatever to do, nothing to eat, and nobody to till the fields--" - -"Look at Germany; look at Italy. It is the same there. Such is -unification, and there's no other way to get it--no other way to keep it -after you've got it," said the poor emperor always. - -But the grumblers only replied, "We can't stand the taxes--we can't stand -them." - -Now right on top of this the cabinet reported a national debt amounting -to upward of forty-five dollars--half a dollar to every individual in the -nation. And they proposed to fund something. They had heard that this -was always done in such emergencies. They proposed duties on exports; -also on imports. And they wanted to issue bonds; also paper money, -redeemable in yams and cabbages in fifty years. They said the pay of the -army and of the navy and of the whole governmental machine was far in -arrears, and unless something was done, and done immediately, national -bankruptcy must ensue, and possibly insurrection and revolution. The -emperor at once resolved upon a high-handed measure, and one of a nature -never before heard of in Pitcairn's Island. He went in state to the -church on Sunday morning, with the army at his back, and commanded the -minister of the treasury to take up a collection. - -That was the feather that broke the camel's back. First one citizen, and -then another, rose and refused to submit to this unheard-of outrage ---and each refusal was followed by the immediate confiscation of the -malcontent's property. This vigor soon stopped the refusals, and the -collection proceeded amid a sullen and ominous silence. As the emperor -withdrew with the troops, he said, "I will teach you who is master here." -Several persons shouted, "Down with unification!" They were at once -arrested and torn from the arms of their weeping friends by the soldiery. - -But in the mean time, as any prophet might have foreseen, a Social -Democrat had been developed. As the emperor stepped into the gilded -imperial wheelbarrow at the church door, the social democrat stabbed at -him fifteen or sixteen times with a harpoon, but fortunately with such a -peculiarly social democratic unprecision of aim as to do no damage. - -That very night the convulsion came. The nation rose as one man--though -forty-nine of the revolutionists were of the other sex. The infantry -threw down their pitchforks; the artillery cast aside their cocoanuts; -the navy revolted; the emperor was seized, and bound hand and foot in his -palace. He was very much depressed. He said: - -"I freed you from a grinding tyranny; I lifted yon up out of your -degradation, and made you a nation among nations; I gave you a strong, -compact, centralized government; and, more than all, I gave you the -blessing of blessings--unification. I have done all this, and my reward -is hatred, insult, and these bonds. Take me; do with me as you will. -I here resign my crown and all my dignities, and gladly do I release -myself from their too heavy burden. For your sake I took them up; for -your sake I lay them down. The imperial jewel is no more; now bruise and -defile as ye will the useless setting." - -By a unanimous voice the people condemned the ex-emperor and the social -democrat to perpetual banishment from church services, or to perpetual -labor as galley-slaves in the whale-boat--whichever they might prefer. -The next day the nation assembled again, and rehoisted the British flag, -reinstated the British tyranny, reduced the nobility to the condition of -commoners again, and then straightway turned their diligent attention to -the weeding of the ruined and neglected yam patches, and the -rehabilitation of the old useful industries and the old healing and -solacing pieties. The ex-emperor restored the lost trespass law, and -explained that he had stolen it not to injure any one, but to further his -political projects. Therefore the nation gave the late chief magistrate -his office again, and also his alienated Property. - -Upon reflection, the ex-emperor and the social democrat chose perpetual -banishment from religious services in preference to perpetual labor as -galley slaves "with perpetual religious services," as they phrased it; -wherefore the people believed that the poor fellows' troubles had -unseated their reason, and so they judged it best to confine them for the -present. Which they did. - -Such is the history of Pitcairn's "doubtful acquisition." - - - - - - -THE CANVASSER'S TALE - -Poor, sad-eyed stranger! There was that about his humble mien, his tired -look, his decayed-gentility clothes, that almost reached the mustard, -seed of charity that still remained, remote and lonely, in the empty -vastness of my heart, notwithstanding I observed a portfolio under his -arm, and said to myself, Behold, Providence hath delivered his servant -into the hands of another canvasser. - -Well, these people always get one interested. Before I well knew how it -came about, this one was telling me his history, and I was all attention -and sympathy. He told it something like this: - -My parents died, alas, when I was a little, sinless child. My uncle -Ithuriel took me to his heart and reared me as his own. He was my only -relative in the wide world; but he was good and rich and generous. He -reared me in the lap of luxury. I knew no want that money could satisfy. - -In the fullness of time I was graduated, and went with two of my -servants--my chamberlain and my valet--to travel in foreign countries. -During four years I flitted upon careless wing amid the beauteous gardens -of the distant strand, if you will permit this form of speech in one -whose tongue was ever attuned to poesy; and indeed I so speak with -confidence, as one unto his kind, for I perceive by your eyes that you -too, sir, are gifted with the divine inflation. In those far lands I -reveled in the ambrosial food that fructifies the soul, the mind, the -heart. But of all things, that which most appealed to my inborn esthetic -taste was the prevailing custom there, among the rich, of making -collections of elegant and costly rarities, dainty objets de vertu, and -in an evil hour I tried to uplift my uncle Ithuriel to a plane of -sympathy with this exquisite employment. - -I wrote and told him of one gentleman's vast collection of shells; -another's noble collection of meerschaum pipes; another's elevating and -refining collection of undecipherable autographs; another's priceless -collection of old china; another's enchanting collection of postage- -stamps--and so forth and so on. Soon my letters yielded fruit. My uncle -began to look about for something to make a collection of. You may know, -perhaps, how fleetly a taste like this dilates. His soon became a raging -fever, though I knew it not. He began to neglect his great pork -business; presently he wholly retired and turned an elegant leisure into -a rabid search for curious things. His wealth was vast, and he spared it -not. First he tried cow-bells. He made a collection which filled five -large salons, and comprehended all the different sorts of cow-bells that -ever had been contrived, save one. That one--an antique, and the only -specimen extant--was possessed by another collector. My uncle offered -enormous sums for it, but the gentleman would not sell. Doubtless you -know what necessarily resulted. A true collector attaches no value to -a collection that is not complete. His great heart breaks, he sells his -hoard, he turns his mind to some field that seems unoccupied. - -Thus did my uncle. He next tried brickbats. After piling up a vast and -intensely interesting collection, the former difficulty supervened; his -great heart broke again; he sold out his soul's idol to the retired -brewer who possessed the missing brick. Then he tried flint hatchets and -other implements of Primeval Man, but by and by discovered that the -factory where they were made was supplying other collectors as well as -himself. He tried Aztec inscriptions and stuffed whales--another -failure, after incredible labor and expense. When his collection seemed -at last perfect, a stuffed whale arrived from Greenland and an Aztec -inscription from the Cundurango regions of Central America that made all -former specimens insignificant. My uncle hastened to secure these noble -gems. He got the stuffed whale, but another collector got the -inscription. A real Cundurango, as possibly you know, is a possession of -such supreme value that, when once a collector gets it, he will rather -part with his family than with it. So my uncle sold out, and saw his -darlings go forth, never more to return; and his coal-black hair turned -white as snow in a single night. - -Now he waited, and thought. He knew another disappointment might kill -him. He was resolved that he would choose things next time that no other -man was collecting. He carefully made up his mind, and once more entered -the field-this time to make a collection of echoes. - -"Of what?" said I. - -Echoes, sir. His first purchase was an echo in Georgia that repeated -four times; his next was a six-repeater in Maryland; his next was a -thirteen-repeater in Maine; his next was a nine-repeater in Kansas; his -next was a twelve-repeater in Tennessee, which he got cheap, so to speak, -because it was out of repair, a portion of the crag which reflected it -having tumbled down. He believed he could repair it at a cost of a few -thousand dollars, and, by increasing the elevation with masonry, treble -the repeating capacity; but the architect who undertook the job had never -built an echo before, and so he utterly spoiled this one. Before he -meddled with it, it used to talk back like a mother-in-law, but now it -was only fit for the deaf-and-dumb asylum. Well, next he bought a lot of -cheap little double-barreled echoes, scattered around over various states -and territories; he got them at twenty per cent. off by taking the lot. -Next he bought a perfect Gatling-gun of an echo in Oregon, and it cost a -fortune, I can tell you. You may know, sir, that in the echo market the -scale of prices is cumulative, like the carat-scale in diamonds; in fact, -the same phraseology is used. A single-carat echo is worth but ten -dollars over and above the value of the land it is on; a two-carat or -double-barreled echo is worth thirty dollars; a five-carat is worth nine -hundred and fifty; a ten-carat is worth thirteen thousand. My uncle's -Oregon-echo, which he called the Great Pitt Echo, was a twenty-two carat -gem, and cost two hundred and sixteen thousand dollars--they threw the -land in, for it was four hundred miles from a settlement. - -Well, in the mean time my path was a path of roses. I was the accepted -suitor of the only and lovely daughter of an English earl, and was -beloved to distraction. In that dear presence I swam in seas of bliss. -The family were content, for it was known that I was sole heir to an -uncle held to be worth five millions of dollars. However, none of us -knew that my uncle had become a collector, at least in anything more than -a small way, for esthetic amusement. - -Now gathered the clouds above my unconscious head. That divine echo, -since known throughout the world as the Great Koh-i-noor, or Mountain of -Repetitions, was discovered. It was a sixty-five carat gem. You could -utter a word and it would talk back at you for fifteen minutes, when the -day was otherwise quiet. But behold, another fact came to light at the -same time: another echo-collector was in the field. The two rushed to -make the peerless purchase. The property consisted of a couple of small -hills with a shallow swale between, out yonder among the back settlements -of New York State. Both men arrived on the ground at the same time, and -neither knew the other was there. The echo was not all owned by one man; -a person by the name of Williamson Bolivar Jarvis owned the east hill, -and a person by the name of Harbison J. Bledso owned the west hill; the -swale between was the dividing-line. So while my uncle was buying -Jarvis's hill for three million two hundred and eighty-five thousand -dollars, the other party was buying Bledso's hill for a shade over three -million. - -Now, do you perceive the natural result? Why, the noblest collection of -echoes on earth was forever and ever incomplete, since it possessed but -the one-half of the king echo of the universe. Neither man was content -with this divided ownership, yet neither would sell to the other. There -were jawings, bickerings, heart-burnings. And at last that other -collector, with a malignity which only a collector can ever feel toward a -man and a brother, proceeded to cut down his hill! - -You see, as long as he could not have the echo, he was resolved that -nobody should have it. He would remove his hill, and then there would be -nothing to reflect my uncle's echo. My uncle remonstrated with him, but -the man said, "I own one end of this echo; I choose to kill my end; you -must take care of your own end yourself." - -Well, my uncle got an injunction put an him. The other man appealed and -fought it in a higher court. They carried it on up, clear to the Supreme -Court of the United States. It made no end of trouble there. Two of the -judges believed that an echo was personal property, because it was -impalpable to sight and touch, and yet was purchasable, salable, and -consequently taxable; two others believed that an echo was real estate, -because it was manifestly attached to the land, and was not removable -from place to place; other of the judges contended that an echo was not -property at all. - -It was finally decided that the echo was property; that the hills were -property; that the two men were separate and independent owners of the -two hills, but tenants in common in the echo; therefore defendant was at -full liberty to cut down his hill, since it belonged solely to him, but -must give bonds in three million dollars as indemnity for damages which -might result to my uncle's half of the echo. This decision also debarred -my uncle from using defendant's hill to reflect his part of the echo, -without defendant's consent; he must use only his own hill; if his part -of the echo would not go, under these circumstances, it was sad, of -course, but the court could find no remedy. The court also debarred -defendant from using my uncle's hill to reflect his end of the echo, -without consent. You see the grand result! Neither man would give -consent, and so that astonishing and most noble echo had to cease from -its great powers; and since that day that magnificent property is tied up -and unsalable. - -A week before my wedding-day, while I was still swimming in bliss and the -nobility were gathering from far and near to honor our espousals, came -news of my uncle's death, and also a copy of his will, making me his sole -heir. He was gone; alas, my dear benefactor was no more. The thought -surcharges my heart even at this remote day. I handed the will to the -earl; I could not read it for the blinding tears. The earl read it; then -he sternly said, "Sir, do you call this wealth?--but doubtless you do in -your inflated country. Sir, you are left sole heir to a vast collection -of echoes--if a thing can be called a collection that is scattered far -and wide over the huge length and breadth of the American continent; sir, -this is not all; you are head and ears in debt; there is not an echo in -the lot but has a mortgage on it; sir, I am not a hard man, but I must -look to my child's interest; if you had but one echo which you could -honestly call your own, if you had but one echo which was free from -incumbrance, so that you could retire to it with my child, and by humble, -painstaking industry cultivate and improve it, and thus wrest from it a -maintenance, I would not say you nay; but I cannot marry my child to a -beggar. Leave his side, my darling; go, sir, take your mortgage-ridden -echoes and quit my sight forever." - -My noble Celestine clung to me in tears, with loving arms, and swore she -would willingly, nay gladly, marry me, though I had not an echo in the -world. But it could not be. We were torn asunder, she to pine and die -within the twelvemonth, I to toil life's long journey sad and alone, -praying daily, hourly, for that release which shall join us together -again in that dear realm where the wicked cease from troubling and the -weary are at rest. Now, sir, if you will be so kind as to look at these -maps and plans in my portfolio, I am sure I can sell you an echo for less -money than any man in the trade. Now this one, which cost my uncle ten -dollars, thirty years ago, and is one of the sweetest things in Texas, I -will let you have for-- - -"Let me interrupt you," I said. "My friend, I have not had a moment's -respite from canvassers this day. I have bought a sewing-machine which I -did not want; I have bought a map which is mistaken in all its details; -I have bought a clock which will not go; I have bought a moth poison -which the moths prefer to any other beverage; I have bought no end of -useless inventions, and now I have had enough of this foolishness. -I would not have one of your echoes if you were even to give it to me. -I would not let it stay on the place. I always hate a man that tries to -sell me echoes. You see this gun? Now take your collection and move on; -let us not have bloodshed." - -But he only smiled a sad, sweet smile, and got out some more diagrams. -You know the result perfectly well, because you know that when you have -once opened the door to a canvasser, the trouble is done and you have got -to suffer defeat. - -I compromised with this man at the end of an intolerable hour. I bought -two double-barreled echoes in good condition, and he threw in another, -which he said was not salable because it only spoke German. He said, -"She was a perfect polyglot once, but somehow her palate got down." - - - - - - -AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN INTERVIEWER - -The nervous, dapper, "peart" young man took the chair I offered him, and -said he was connected with the Daily Thunderstorm, and added: - -"Hoping it's no harm, I've come to interview you." - -"Come to what?" - -"Interview you." - -"Ah! I see. Yes--yes. Um! Yes--yes." - -I was not feeling bright that morning. Indeed, my powers seemed a bit -under a cloud. However, I went to the bookcase, and when I had been -looking six or seven minutes I found I was obliged to refer to the young -man. I said: - -"How do you spell it?" - -"Spell what?" - -"Interview." - -"Oh, my goodness! what do you want to spell it for?" - -"I don't want to spell it; I want to see what it means." - -"Well, this is astonishing, I must say. I can tell you what it means, if -you--if you--" - -"Oh, all right! That will answer, and much obliged to you, too." - -"In, in, ter, ter, inter--" - -"Then you spell it with an h" - -Why certainly!" - -"Oh, that is what took me so long." - -"Why, my dear sir, what did you propose to spell it with?" - -"Well, I--I--hardly know. I had the Unabridged, and I was ciphering -around in the back end, hoping I might tree her among the pictures. -But it's a very old edition." - -"Why, my friend, they wouldn't have a picture of it in even the latest -e--- My dear sir, I beg your pardon, I mean no harm in the world, but you -do not look as--as--intelligent as I had expected you would. No harm-- -I mean no harm at all." - -"Oh, don't mention it! It has often been said, and by people who would -not flatter and who could have no inducement to flatter, that I am quite -remarkable in that way. Yes--yes; they always speak of it with rapture." - -"I can easily imagine it. But about this interview. You know it is the -custom, now, to interview any man who has become notorious." - -"Indeed, I had not heard of it before. It must be very interesting. -What do you do it with?" - -"Ah, well--well--well--this is disheartening. It ought to be done with a -club in some cases; but customarily it consists in the interviewer asking -questions and the interviewed answering them. It is all the rage now. -Will you let me ask you certain questions calculated to bring out the -salient points of your public and private history?" - -"Oh, with pleasure--with pleasure. I have a very bad memory, but I hope -you will not mind that. That is to say, it is an irregular memory-- -singularly irregular. Sometimes it goes in a gallop, and then again it -will be as much as a fortnight passing a given point. This is a great -grief to me." - -"Oh, it is no matter, so you will try to do the best you can." - -"I will. I will put my whole mind on it." - -"Thanks. Are you ready to begin?" - -"Ready." - -Q. How old are you? - -A. Nineteen, in June. - -Q. Indeed. I would have taken you to be thirty-five or six. Where were -you born? - -A. In Missouri. - -Q. When did you begin to write? - -A. In 1836. - -Q. Why, how could that be, if you are only nineteen now? - -A. I don't know. It does seem curious, somehow. - -Q. It does, indeed. Whom do you consider the most remarkable man you -ever met? - -A. Aaron Burr. - -Q. But you never could have met Aaron Burr, if you are only nineteen -years! - -A. Now, if you know more about me than I do, what do you ask me for? - -Q. Well, it was only a suggestion; nothing more. How did you happen to -meet Burr? - -A. Well, I happened to be at his funeral one day, and he asked me to -make less noise, and-- - -Q. But, good heavens! if you were at his funeral, he must have been -dead, and if he was dead how could he care whether you made a noise or -not? - -A. I don't know. He was always a particular kind of a man that way. - -Q. Still, I don't understand it at all, You say he spoke to you, and -that he was dead. - -A. I didn't say he was dead. - -Q. But wasn't he dead? - -A. Well, some said he was, some said he wasn't. - -Q. What did you think? - -A. Oh, it was none of my business! It wasn't any of my funeral. - -Q. Did you--However, we can never get this matter straight. Let me ask -about something else. What was the date of your birth? - -A. Monday, October 31, 1693. - -Q. What! Impossible! That would make you a hundred and eighty years -old. How do you account for that? - -A. I don't account for it at all. - -Q. But you said at first you were only nineteen, and now you make -yourself out to be one hundred and eighty. It is an awful discrepancy. - -A. Why, have you noticed that? (Shaking hands.) Many a time it has -seemed to me like a discrepancy, but somehow I couldn't make up my mind. -How quick you notice a thing! - -Q. Thank you for the compliment, as far as it goes. Had you, or have -you, any brothers or sisters? - -A. Eh! I--I--I think so--yes--but I don't remember. - -Q. Well, that is the most extraordinary statement I ever heard! - -A. Why, what makes you think that? - -Q. How could I think otherwise? Why, look here! Who is this a picture -of on the wall? Isn't that a brother of yours? - -A. Oh, yes, yes, yes! Now you remind me of it; that was a brother of -mine. That's William--Bill we called him. Poor old Bill! - -Q. Why? Is he dead, then? - -A. Ah! well, I suppose so. We never could tell. There was a great -mystery about it. - -Q. That is sad, very sad. He disappeared, then? - -A. Well, yes, in a sort of general way. We buried him. - -Q. Buried him! Buried him, without knowing whether he was dead or not? - -A. Oh, no! Not that. He was dead enough. - -Q. Well, I confess that I can't understand this. If you buried him, and -you knew he was dead - -A. No! no! We only thought he was. - -Q. Oh, I see! He came to life again? - -A. I bet he didn't. - -Q. Well, I never heard anything like this. Somebody was dead. Somebody -was buried. Now, where was the mystery? - -A. Ah! that's just it! That's it exactly. You see, we were twins-- -defunct--and I--and we got mixed in the bathtub when we were only two -weeks old, and one of us was drowned. But we didn't know which. Some -think it was Bill. Some think it was me. - -Q. Well, that is remarkable. What do you think? - -A. Goodness knows! I would give whole worlds to know. This solemn, -this awful mystery has cast a gloom over my whole life. But I will tell -you a secret now, which I never have revealed to any creature before. -One of us had a peculiar mark--a large mole on the back of his left hand; -that was me. That child was the one that was drowned! - -Q. Very well, then, I don't see that there is any mystery about it, -after all. - -A. You don't? Well, I do. Anyway, I don't see how they could ever have -been such a blundering lot as to go and bury the wrong child. But, 'sh! ---don't mention it where the family can hear of it. Heaven knows they -have heartbreaking troubles enough without adding this. - -Q. Well, I believe I have got material enough for the present, and I am -very much obliged to you for the pains you have taken. But I was a good -deal interested in that account of Aaron Burr's funeral. Would you mind -telling me what particular circumstance it was that made you think Burr -was such a remarkable man? - -A. Oh! it was a mere trifle! Not one man in fifty would have noticed -it at all. When the sermon was over, and the procession all ready to -start for the cemetery, and the body all arranged nice in the hearse, he -said he wanted to take a last look at the scenery, and so he got up and -rode with the driver. - -Then the young man reverently withdrew. He was very pleasant company, -and I was sorry to see him go. - - - - - - -PARIS NOTES - ---[Crowded out of "A Tramp Abroad" to make room for more vital -statistics.--M. T.] - -The Parisian travels but little, he knows no language but his own, reads -no literature but his own, and consequently he is pretty narrow and -pretty self-sufficient. However, let us not be too sweeping; there are -Frenchmen who know languages not their own: these are the waiters. Among -the rest, they know English; that is, they know it on the European plan-- -which is to say, they can speak it, but can't understand it. They easily -make themselves understood, but it is next to impossible to word an -English sentence in such away as to enable them to comprehend it. They -think they comprehend it; they pretend they do; but they don't. Here is -a conversation which I had with one of these beings; I wrote it down at -the time, in order to have it exactly correct. - -I. These are fine oranges. Where are they grown? - -He. More? Yes, I will bring them. - -I. No, do not bring any more; I only want to know where they are from -where they are raised. - -He. Yes? (with imperturbable mien and rising inflection.) - -I. Yes. Can you tell me what country they are from? - -He. Yes? (blandly, with rising inflection.) - -I. (disheartened). They are very nice. - -He. Good night. (Bows, and retires, quite satisfied with himself.) - -That young man could have become a good English scholar by taking the -right sort of pains, but he was French, and wouldn't do that. How -different is the case with our people; they utilize every means that -offers. There are some alleged French Protestants in Paris, and they -built a nice little church on one of the great avenues that lead away -from the Arch of Triumph, and proposed to listen to the correct thing, -preached in the correct way, there, in their precious French tongue, and -be happy. But their little game does not succeed. Our people are always -there ahead of them Sundays, and take up all the room. When the minister -gets up to preach, he finds his house full of devout foreigners, each -ready and waiting, with his little book in his hand--a morocco-bound -Testament, apparently. But only apparently; it is Mr. Bellows's -admirable and exhaustive little French-English dictionary, which in look -and binding and size is just like a Testament and those people are there -to study French. The building has been nicknamed "The Church of the -Gratis French Lesson." - -These students probably acquire more language than general information, -for I am told that a French sermon is like a French speech--it never -names a historical event, but only the date of it; if you are not up in -dates, you get left. A French speech is something like this: - - Comrades, citizens, brothers, noble parts of the only sublime and - perfect nation, let us not forget that the 21st January cast off our - chains; that the 10th August relieved us of the shameful presence of - foreign spies; that the 5th September was its own justification - before heaven and humanity; that the 18th Brumaire contained the - seeds of its own punishment; that the 14th July was the mighty voice - of liberty proclaiming the resurrection, the new day, and inviting - the oppressed peoples of the earth to look upon the divine face of - France and live; and let us here record our everlasting curse - against the man of the 2d December, and declare in thunder tones, - the native tones of France, that but for him there had been no 17th - March in history, no 12th October, no 19th January, no 22d April, - no 16th November, no 30th September, no 2d July, no 14th February, - no 29th June, no 15th August, no 31st May--that but for him, France - the pure, the grand, the peerless, had had a serene and vacant - almanac today! - -I have heard of one French sermon which closed in this odd yet eloquent -way: - - My hearers, we have sad cause to remember the man of the 13th - January. The results of the vast crime of the 13th January have - been in just proportion to the magnitude of the set itself. But for - it there had been no 30 November--sorrowful spectacle! The grisly - deed of the 16th June had not been done but for it, nor had the man - of the 16th June known existence; to it alone the 3d September was - due, also the fatal 12th October. Shall we, then, be grateful for - the 13th January, with its freight of death for you and me and all - that breathe? Yes, my friends, for it gave us also that which had - never come but for it, and it atone--the blessed 25th December. - -It may be well enough to explain, though in the case of many of my -readers this will hardly be necessary. The man of the 13th January is -Adam; the crime of that date was the eating of the apple; the sorrowful -spectacle of the 30th November was the expulsion from Eden; the grisly -deed of the 16th June was the murder of Abel; the act of the 3d September -was the beginning of the journey to the land of Nod; the 12th day of -October, the last mountain-tops disappeared under the flood. When you go -to church in France, you want to take your almanac with you--annotated. - - - - - - -LEGEND OF SAGENFELD, IN GERMANY - ---[Left out of "A Tramp Abroad" because its authenticity seemed doubtful, -and could not at that time be proved.--M. T.] - - -More than a thousand years ago this small district was a kingdom ---a little bit of a kingdom, a sort of dainty little toy kingdom, as one -might say. It was far removed from the jealousies, strifes, and turmoils -of that old warlike day, and so its life was a simple life, its people a -gentle and guileless race; it lay always in a deep dream of peace, a soft -Sabbath tranquillity; there was no malice, there was no envy, there was -no ambition, consequently there were no heart-burnings, there was no -unhappiness in the land. - -In the course of time the old king died and his little son Hubert came to -the throne. The people's love for him grew daily; he was so good and so -pure and so noble, that by and by his love became a passion, almost a -worship. Now at his birth the soothsayers had diligently studied the -stars and found something written in that shining book to this effect: - - In Hubert's fourteenth year a pregnant event will happen; the animal - whose singing shall sound sweetest in Hubert's ear shall save - Hubert's life. So long as the king and the nation shall honor this - animal's race for this good deed, the ancient dynasty shall not fail - of an heir, nor the nation know war or pestilence or poverty. But - beware an erring choice! - -All through the king's thirteenth year but one thing was talked of by the -soothsayers, the statesmen, the little parliament, and the general -people. That one thing was this: How is the last sentence of the -prophecy to be understood? What goes before seems to mean that the -saving animal will choose itself at the proper time; but the closing -sentence seems to mean that the king must choose beforehand, and say what -singer among the animals pleases him best, and that if he choose wisely -the chosen animal will save his life, his dynasty, his people, but that -if he should make "an erring choice"--beware! - -By the end of the year there were as many opinions about this matter as -there had been in the beginning; but a majority of the wise and the -simple were agreed that the safest plan would be for the little king to -make choice beforehand, and the earlier the better. So an edict was sent -forth commanding all persons who owned singing creatures to bring them to -the great hall of the palace in the morning of the first day of the new -year. This command was obeyed. When everything was in readiness for the -trial, the king made his solemn entry with the great officers of the -crown, all clothed in their robes of state. The king mounted his golden -throne and prepared to give judgment. But he presently said: - -"These creatures all sing at once; the noise is unendurable; no one can -choose in such a turmoil. Take them all away, and bring back one at a -time." - -This was done. One sweet warbler after another charmed the young king's -ear and was removed to make way for another candidate. The precious -minutes slipped by; among so many bewitching songsters he found it hard -to choose, and all the harder because the promised penalty for an error -was so terrible that it unsettled his judgment and made him afraid to -trust his own ears. He grew nervous and his face showed distress. His -ministers saw this, for they never took their eyes from him a moment. -Now they began to say in their hearts: - -"He has lost courage--the cool head is gone--he will err--he and his -dynasty and his people are doomed!" - -At the end of an hour the king sat silent awhile, and then said: - -"Bring back the linnet." - -The linnet trilled forth her jubilant music. In the midst of it the king -was about to uplift his scepter in sign of choice, but checked himself -and said: - -"But let us be sure. Bring back the thrush; let them sing together." - -The thrush was brought, and the two birds poured out their marvels of -song together. The king wavered, then his inclination began to settle -and strengthen--one could see it in his countenance. Hope budded in the -hearts of the old ministers, their pulses began to beat quicker, the -scepter began to rise slowly, when: There was a hideous interruption! -It was a sound like this--just at the door: - -"Waw . . . he! waw . . . he! waw-he!-waw -he!-waw-he!" - -Everybody was sorely startled--and enraged at himself for showing it. - -The next instant the dearest, sweetest, prettiest little peasant-maid of -nine years came tripping in, her brown eyes glowing with childish -eagerness; but when she saw that august company and those angry faces she -stopped and hung her head and put her poor coarse apron to her eyes. -Nobody gave her welcome, none pitied her. Presently she looked up -timidly through her tears, and said: - -"My lord the king, I pray you pardon me, for I meant no wrong. I have no -father and no mother, but I have a goat and a donkey, and they are all in -all to me. My goat gives me the sweetest milk, and when my dear good -donkey brays it seems to me there is no music like to it. So when my -lord the king's jester said the sweetest singer among all the animals -should save the crown and nation, and moved me to bring him here--" - -All the court burst into a rude laugh, and the child fled away crying, -without trying to finish her speech. The chief minister gave a private -order that she and her disastrous donkey be flogged beyond the precincts -of the palace and commanded to come within them no more. - -Then the trial of the birds was resumed. The two birds sang their best, -but the scepter lay motionless in the king's hand. Hope died slowly out -in the breasts of all. An hour went by; two hours, still no decision. -The day waned to its close, and the waiting multitudes outside the palace -grew crazed with anxiety and apprehension. The twilight came on, the -shadows fell deeper and deeper. The king and his court could no longer -see each other's faces. No one spoke--none called for lights. The great -trial had been made; it had failed; each and all wished to hide their -faces from the light and cover up their deep trouble in their own hearts. - -Finally-hark! A rich, full strain of the divinest melody streamed forth -from a remote part of the hall the nightingale's voice! - -"Up!" shouted the king, "let all the bells make proclamation to the -people, for the choice is made and we have not erred. King, dynasty, -and nation are saved. From henceforth let the nightingale be honored -throughout the land forever. And publish it among all the people that -whosoever shall insult a nightingale, or injure it, shall suffer death. -The king hath spoken." - -All that little world was drunk with joy. The castle and the city blazed -with bonfires all night long, the people danced and drank and sang; and -the triumphant clamor of the bells never ceased. - -From that day the nightingale was a sacred bird. Its song was heard in -every house; the poets wrote its praises; the painters painted it; its -sculptured image adorned every arch and turret and fountain and public -building. It was even taken into the king's councils; and no grave -matter of state was decided until the soothsayers had laid the thing -before the state nightingale and translated to the ministry what it was -that the bird had sung about it. - - -II - -The young king was very fond of the chase. When the summer was come he -rode forth with hawk and hound, one day, in a brilliant company of his -nobles. He got separated from them by and by, in a great forest, and -took what he imagined a neat cut, to find them again; but it was a -mistake. He rode on and on, hopefully at first, but with sinking courage -finally. Twilight came on, and still he was plunging through a lonely -and unknown land. Then came a catastrophe. In the dim light he forced -his horse through a tangled thicket overhanging a steep and rocky -declivity. When horse and rider reached the bottom, the former had a -broken neck and the latter a broken leg. The poor little king lay there -suffering agonies of pain, and each hour seemed a long month to him. -He kept his ear strained to heat any sound that might promise hope of -rescue; but he heard no voice, no sound of horn or bay of hound. So at -last he gave up all hope, and said, "Let death come, for come it must." - -Just then the deep, sweet song of a nightingale swept across the still -wastes of the night. - -"Saved!" the king said. "Saved! It is the sacred bird, and the prophecy -is come true. The gods themselves protected me from error in the -choice." - -He could hardly contain his joy; he could not word his gratitude. Every -few moments, now he thought he caught the sound of approaching succor. -But each time it was a disappointment; no succor came. The dull hours -drifted on. Still no help came--but still the sacred bird sang on. He -began to have misgivings about his choice, but he stifled them. Toward -dawn the bird ceased. The morning came, and with it thirst and hunger; -but no succor. The day waxed and waned. At last the king cursed the -nightingale. - -Immediately the song of the thrush came from out the wood. The king said -in his heart, "This was the true-bird--my choice was false--succor will -come now." - -But it did not come. Then he lay many hours insensible. When he came to -himself, a linnet was singing. He listened with apathy. His faith was -gone. "These birds," he said, "can bring no help; I and my house and my -people are doomed." He turned him about to die; for he was grown very -feeble from hunger and thirst and suffering, and felt that his end was -near. In truth, he wanted to die, and be released from pain. For long -hours he lay without thought or feeling or motion. Then his senses -returned. The dawn of the third morning was breaking. Ah, the world -seemed very beautiful to those worn eyes. Suddenly a great longing to -live rose up in the lad's heart, and from his soul welled a deep and -fervent prayer that Heaven would have mercy upon him and let him see his -home and his friends once more. In that instant a soft, a faint, a far- -off sound, but oh, how inexpressibly sweet to his waiting ear, came -floating out of the distance: - -"Waw . . . he! waw . . . he! waw-he!--waw-he!--waw-he!" - -"That, oh, that song is sweeter, a thousand times sweeter than the voice -of the nightingale, thrush, or linnet, for it brings not mere hope, but -certainty of succor; and now, indeed, am I saved! The sacred singer has -chosen itself, as the oracle intended; the prophecy is fulfilled, and my -life, my house, and my people are redeemed. The ass shall be sacred from -this day!" - -The divine music grew nearer and nearer, stronger and stronger and ever -sweeter and sweeter to the perishing sufferer's ear. Down the declivity -the docile little donkey wandered, cropping herbage and singing as he -went; and when at last he saw the dead horse and the wounded king, he -came and snuffed at them with simple and marveling curiosity. The king -petted him, and he knelt down as had been his wont when his little -mistress desired to mount. With great labor and pain the lad drew -himself upon the creature's back, and held himself there by aid of the -generous ears. The ass went singing forth from the place and carried the -king to the little peasant-maid's hut. She gave him her pallet for a -bed, refreshed him with goat's milk, and then flew to tell the great news -to the first scouting-party of searchers she might meet. - -The king got well. His first act was to proclaim the sacredness and -inviolability of the ass; his second was to add this particular ass to -his cabinet and make him chief minister of the crown; his third was to -have all the statues and effigies of nightingales throughout his kingdom -destroyed, and replaced by statues and effigies of the sacred donkey; -and, his fourth was to announce that when the little peasant maid should -reach her fifteenth year he would make her his queen and he kept his -word. - -Such is the legend. This explains why the moldering image of the ass -adorns all these old crumbling walls and arches; and it explains why, -during many centuries, an ass was always the chief minister in that royal -cabinet, just as is still the case in most cabinets to this day; and it -also explains why, in that little kingdom, during many centuries, all -great poems, all great speeches, all great books, all public solemnities, -and all royal proclamations, always began with these stirring words: - -"Waw . . . he! waw . . . he!--waw he! Waw-he!" - - - - - - -SPEECH ON THE BABIES - -AT THE BANQUET, IN CHICAGO, GIVEN BY THE ARMY OF THE TENNESSEE TO THEIR -FIRST COMMANDER, GENERAL U. S. GRANT, NOVEMBER, 1879 - - The fifteenth regular toast was "The Babies--as they comfort us in - our sorrows, let us not forget them in our festivities." - -I like that. We have not all had the good fortune to be ladies. We -have not all been generals, or poets, or statesmen; but when the toast -works down to the babies, we stand on common ground. It is a shame that -for a thousand years the world's banquets have utterly ignored the baby, -as if he didn't amount to anything. If you will stop and think a minute ---if you will go back fifty or one hundred years to your early married -life and recontemplate your first baby--you will remember that he -amounted to a great deal, and even something over. You soldiers all know -that when the little fellow arrived at family headquarters you had to -hand in your resignation. He took entire command. You became his -lackey, his mere body servant, and you had to stand around, too. He was -not a commander who made allowances for time, distance, weather, or -anything else. You had to execute his order whether it was possible or -not. And there was only one form of marching in his manual of tactics, -and that was the double-quick. He treated you with every sort of -insolence and disrespect, and the bravest of you didn't dare to say a -word. You could face the death-storm at Donelson and Vicksburg, and give -back blow for blow; but when he clawed your whiskers, and pulled your -hair, and twisted your nose, you had to take it. When the thunders of -war were sounding in your ears you set your faces toward the batteries, -and advanced with steady tread; but when he turned on the terrors of his -war-whoop you advanced in the other direction, and mighty glad of the -chance, too. When he called for soothing-syrup, did you venture to throw -out any side remarks about certain services being unbecoming an officer -and a gentleman? No. You got up and got it. When he ordered his pap- -bottle and it was not warm, did you talk back? Not you. You went to -work and warmed it. You even descended so far in your menial office as -to take a suck at that warm, insipid stuff yourself, to see if it was -right--three parts water to one of milk, a touch of sugar to modify the -colic, and a drop of peppermint to kill those hiccoughs. I can taste -that stuff yet. And how many things you learned as you went along! -Sentimental young folks still take stock in that beautiful old saying -that when the baby smiles in his sleep, it is because the angels are -whispering to him. Very pretty, but too thin--simply wind on the -stomach, my friends. If the baby proposed to take a walk at his usual -hour, two o'clock in the morning, didn't you rise up promptly and remark, -with a mental addition which would not improve a Sunday-school book much, -that that was the very thing you were about to propose yourself? Oh! -you were under good discipline, and as you went fluttering up and down -the room in your undress uniform, you not only prattled undignified baby- -talk, but even tuned up your martial voices and tried to sing!--"Rock-a- -by baby in the treetop," for instance. What a spectacle for an Army of -the Tennessee! And what an affliction for the neighbors, too; for it is -not everybody within a mile around that likes military music at three in -the morning. And when you had been keeping this sort of thing up two or -three hours, and your little velvet-head intimated that nothing suited -him like exercise and noise, what did you do? ["Go on!"] You simply went -on until you dropped in the last ditch. The idea that a baby doesn't -amount to anything! Why, one baby is just a house and a front yard full -by itself. One baby can furnish more business than you and your whole -Interior Department can attend to. He is enterprising, irrepressible, -brimful of lawless activities. Do what you please, you can't make him -stay on the reservation. Sufficient unto the day is one baby. As long -as you are in your right mind don't you ever pray for twins. Twins -amount to a permanent riot. And there ain't any real difference between -triplets and an insurrection. - -Yes, it was high time for a toast-master to recognize the importance of -the babies. Think what is in store for the present crop! Fifty years -from now we shall all be dead, I trust, and then this flag, if it still -survive (and let us hope it may), will be floating over a Republic -numbering 200,000,000 souls, according to the settled laws of our -increase. Our present schooner of State will have grown into a political -leviathan--a Great Eastern. The cradled babies of to-day will be on -deck. Let them be well trained, for we are going to leave a big contract -on their hands. Among the three or four million cradles now rocking in -the land are some which this nation would preserve for ages as sacred -things, if we could know which ones they are. In one of them cradles the -unconscious Farragut of the future is at this moment teething--think of -it!--and putting in a world of dead earnest, unarticulated, but perfectly -justifiable profanity over it, too. In another the future renowned -astronomer is blinking at the shining Milky Way with but a languid -interest--poor little chap!--and wondering what has become of that other -one they call the wet-nurse. In another the future great historian is -lying--and doubtless will continue to lie until his earthly mission is -ended. In another the future President is busying himself with no -profounder problem of state than what the mischief has become of his hair -so early; and in a mighty array of other cradles there are now some -60,000 future office-seekers, getting ready to furnish him occasion to -grapple with that same old problem a second time. And in still one more -cradle, somewhere under the flag, the future illustrious commander-in- -chief of the American armies is so little burdened with his approaching -grandeurs and responsibilities as to be giving his whole strategic mind -at this moment to trying to find out some way to get his big toe into his -mouth--an achievement which, meaning no disrespect, the illustrious guest -of this evening turned his entire attention to some fifty-six years ago; -and if the child is but a prophecy of the man, there are mighty few who -will doubt that he succeeded. - - - - - - -SPEECH ON THE WEATHER - -AT THE NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY'S SEVENTY-FIRST ANNUAL DINNER, NEW YORK CITY - - The next toast was: "The Oldest Inhabitant--The Weather of New - England." - - Who can lose it and forget it? - Who can have it and regret it? - - Be interposes 'twixt us Twain. - Merchant of Venice. - - To this Samuel L. Clemens (Mark Twain) replied as follows:-- - - -I reverently believe that the Maker who made us all makes everything in -New England but the weather. I don't know who makes that, but I think it -must be raw apprentices in the weather-clerk's factory who experiment and -learn how, in New England, for board and clothes, and then are promoted -to make weather for countries that require a good article, and will take -their custom elsewhere if they don't get it. There is a sumptuous -variety about the New England weather that compels the stranger's -admiration--and regret. The weather is always doing something there; -always attending strictly to business; always getting up new designs and -trying them on the people to see how they will go. But it gets through -more business in spring than in any other season. In the spring I have -counted one hundred and thirty-six different kinds of weather inside of -four-and-twenty hours. It was I that made the fame and fortune of that -man that had that marvelous collection of weather on exhibition at the -Centennial, that so astounded the foreigners. He was going to travel all -over the world and get specimens from all the climes. I said, "Don't you -do it; you come to New England on a favorable spring day." I told him -what we could do in the way of style, variety, and quantity. Well, he -came and he made his collection in four days. As to variety, why, he -confessed that he got hundreds of kinds of weather that he had never -heard of before. And as to quantity--well, after he had picked out and -discarded all that was blemished in any way, he not only had weather -enough, but weather to spare; weather to hire out; weather to sell; to -deposit; weather to invest; weather to give to the poor. The people of -New England are by nature patient and forbearing, but there are some -things which they will not stand. Every year they kill a lot of poets -for writing about "Beautiful Spring." These are generally casual -visitors, who bring their notions of spring from somewhere else, and -cannot, of course, know how the natives feel about spring. And so the -first thing they know the opportunity to inquire how they feel has -permanently gone by. Old Probabilities has a mighty reputation for -accurate prophecy, and thoroughly well deserves it. You take up the -paper and observe how crisply and confidently he checks off what to-day's -weather is going to be on the Pacific, down South, in the Middle States, -in the Wisconsin region. See him sail along in the joy and pride of his -power till he gets to New England, and then see his tail drop. He -doesn't know what the weather is going to be in New England. Well, he -mulls over it, and by and by he gets out something about like this: -Probable northeast to southwest minds, varying to the southward and -westward and eastward, and points between, high and low barometer -swapping around from place to place; probable areas of rain, snow, hail, -and drought, succeeded or preceded by earthquakes, with thunder and -lightning. Then he jots down this postscript from his wandering mind, to -cover accidents: "But it is possible that the program may be wholly -changed in the mean time." Yes, one of the brightest gems in the New -England weather is the dazzling uncertainty of it. There is only one -thing certain about it: you are certain there is going to be plenty of -it--a perfect grand review; but you never can tell which end of the -procession is going to move first. You fix up for the drought; you leave -your umbrella in the house and sally out, and two to one you get drowned. -You make up your mind that the earthquake is due; you stand from under, -and take hold of something to steady yourself, and the first thing you -know you get struck by lightning. These are great disappointments; but -they can't be helped. The lightning there is peculiar; it is so -convincing, that when it strikes a thing it doesn't leave enough of that -thing behind for you to tell whether--Well, you'd think it was something -valuable, and a Congressman had been there. And the thunder. When the -thunder begins to merely tune up and scrape and saw, and key up the -instruments for the performance, strangers say, "Why, what awful thunder -you have here!" But when the baton is raised and the real concert -begins, you'll find that stranger down in the cellar with his head in the -ash-barrel. Now as to the size of the weather in New England lengthways, -I mean. It is utterly disproportioned to the size of that little -country. Half the time, when it is packed as full as it can stick, you -will see that New England weather sticking out beyond the edges and -projecting around hundreds and hundreds of miles over the neighboring -states. She can't hold a tenth part of her weather. You can see cracks -all about where she has strained herself trying to do it. I could speak -volumes about the inhuman perversity of the New England weather, but I -will give but a single specimen. I like to hear rain on a tin roof. -So I covered part of my roof with tin, with an eye to that luxury. Well, -sir, do you think it ever rains on that tin? No, sir; skips it every -time. Mind, in this speech I have been trying merely to do honor to the -New England weather--no language could do it justice. But, after all, -there is at least one or two things about that weather (or, if you -please, effects produced, by it) which we residents would not like to -part with. If we hadn't our bewitching autumn foliage, we should still -have to credit the weather with one feature which compensates for all its -bullying vagaries--the ice-storm: when a leafless tree is clothed with ice -from the bottom to the top--ice that is as bright and clear as crystal; -when every bough and twig is strung with ice-beads, frozen dewdrops, and -the whole tree sparkles cold and white, like the Shah of Persia's diamond -plume. Then the wind waves the branches and the sun comes out and turns -all those myriads of beads and drops to prisms that glow and burn and -flash with all manner of colored fires, which change and change again -with inconceivable rapidity from blue to red, from red to green, and -green to gold--the tree becomes a spraying fountain, a very explosion of -dazzling jewels; and it stands there the acme, the climax, the supremest -possibility in art or nature, of bewildering, intoxicating, intolerable -magnificence. One cannot make the words too strong. - - - - - - -CONCERNING THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE - ---[Being part of a chapter which was crowded out of "A Tramp Abroad."-- -M.T.] - -There was as Englishman in our compartment, and he complimented me on-- -on what? But you would never guess. He complimented me on my English. -He said Americans in general did not speak the English language as -correctly as I did. I said I was obliged to him for his compliment, -since I knew he meant it for one, but that I was not fairly entitled to -it, for I did not speak English at all--I only spoke American. - -He laughed, and said it was a distinction without a difference. I said -no, the difference was not prodigious, but still it was considerable. -We fell into a friendly dispute over the matter. I put my case as well -as I could, and said: - -"The languages were identical several generations ago, but our changed -conditions and the spread of our people far to the south and far to the -west have made many alterations in our pronunciation, and have introduced -new words among us and changed the meanings of many old ones. English -people talk through their noses; we do not. We say know, English people -say nao; we say cow, the Briton says kaow; we--" - -"Oh, come! that is pure Yankee; everybody knows that." - -"Yes, it is pure Yankee; that is true. One cannot hear it in America -outside of the little corner called New England, which is Yankee land. -The English themselves planted it there, two hundred and fifty years ago, -and there it remains; it has never spread. But England talks through her -nose yet; the Londoner and the backwoods New-Englander pronounce 'know' -and 'cow' alike, and then the Briton unconsciously satirizes himself by -making fun of the Yankee's pronunciation." - -We argued this point at some length; nobody won; but no matter, the fact -remains Englishmen say nao and kaow for "know" and "cow," and that is -what the rustic inhabitant of a very small section of America does. - -"You conferred your 'a' upon New England, too, and there it remains; it -has not traveled out of the narrow limits of those six little states in -all these two hundred and fifty years. All England uses it, New -England's small population--say four millions--use it, but we have forty- -five millions who do not use it. You say 'glahs of wawtah,' so does New -England; at least, New England says 'glahs.' America at large flattens -the 'a', and says 'glass of water.' These sounds are pleasanter than -yours; you may think they are not right--well, in English they are not -right, but 'American' they are. You say 'flahsk' and 'bahsket,' and -'jackahss'; we say 'flask,' 'basket,' 'jackass'--sounding the 'a' as it -is in 'tallow,' 'fallow,' and so on. Up to as late as 1847 Mr. -Webster's Dictionary had the impudence to still pronounce 'basket' -bahsket, when he knew that outside of his little New England all America -shortened the 'a' and paid no attention to his English broadening of it. -However, it called itself an English Dictionary, so it was proper enough -that it should stick to English forms, perhaps. It still calls itself an -English Dictionary today, but it has quietly ceased to pronounce 'basket' -as if it were spelt 'bahsket.' In the American language the 'h' is -respected; the 'h' is not dropped or added improperly." - -"The same is the case in England--I mean among the educated classes, of -course." - -"Yes, that is true; but a nation's language is a very large matter. -It is not simply a manner of speech obtaining among the educated handful; -the manner obtaining among the vast uneducated multitude must be -considered also. Your uneducated masses speak English, you will not deny -that; our uneducated masses speak American it won't be fair for you to -deny that, for you can see, yourself, that when your stable-boy says, -'It isn't the 'unting that 'urts the 'orse, but the 'ammer, 'ammer, -'ammer on the 'ard 'ighway,' and our stable-boy makes the same remark -without suffocating a single h, these two people are manifestly talking -two different languages. But if the signs are to be trusted, even your -educated classes used to drop the 'h.' They say humble, now, and heroic, -and historic etc., but I judge that they used to drop those h's because -your writers still keep up the fashion of patting an before those words -instead of a. This is what Mr. Darwin might call a 'rudimentary' sign -that as an was justifiable once, and useful when your educated classes -used to say 'umble, and 'eroic, and 'istorical. Correct writers of the -American language do not put an before three words." - -The English gentleman had something to say upon this matter, but never -mind what he said--I'm not arguing his case. I have him at a -disadvantage, now. I proceeded: - -"In England you encourage an orator by exclaiming, 'H'yaah! h'yaah!' -We pronounce it heer in some sections, 'h'yer' in others, and so on; but -our whites do not say 'h'yaah,' pronouncing the a's like the a in ah. -I have heard English ladies say 'don't you'--making two separate and -distinct words of it; your Mr. Burnand has satirized it. But we always -say 'dontchu.' This is much better. Your ladies say, 'Oh, it's oful -nice!' Ours say, 'Oh, it's awful nice!' We say, 'Four hundred,' you say -'For'--as in the word or. Your clergymen speak of 'the Lawd,' ours of -'the Lord'; yours speak of 'the gawds of the heathen,' ours of 'the gods -of the heathen.' When you are exhausted, you say you are 'knocked up.' -We don't. When you say you will do a thing 'directly,' you mean -'immediately'; in the American language--generally speaking--the word -signifies 'after a little.' When you say 'clever,' you mean 'capable'; -with us the word used to mean 'accommodating,' but I don't know what it -means now. Your word 'stout' means 'fleshy'; our word 'stout' usually -means 'strong.' Your words 'gentleman' and 'lady' have a very restricted -meaning; with us they include the barmaid, butcher, burglar, harlot, and -horse-thief. You say, 'I haven't got any stockings on,' 'I haven't got -any memory,' 'I haven't got any money in my purse; we usually say, 'I -haven't any stockings on,' 'I haven't any memory!' 'I haven't any money -in my purse.' You say 'out of window'; we always put in a the. If one -asks 'How old is that man?' the Briton answers, 'He will be about forty'; -in the American language we should say, 'He is about forty.' However, -I won't tire you, sir; but if I wanted to, I could pile up differences -here until I not only convinced you that English and American are -separate languages, but that when I speak my native tongue in its utmost -purity an Englishman can't understand me at all." - -"I don't wish to flatter you, but it is about all I can do to understand -you now." - -That was a very pretty compliment, and it put us on the pleasantest terms -directly--I use the word in the English sense. - -[Later--1882. Esthetes in many of our schools are now beginning to teach -the pupils to broaden the 'a,' and to say "don't you," in the elegant -foreign way.] - - - - - - -ROGERS - -This Man Rogers happened upon me and introduced himself at the town -of -----, in the South of England, where I stayed awhile. His stepfather -had married a distant relative of mine who was afterward hanged; and so -he seemed to think a blood relationship existed between us. He came in -every day and sat down and talked. Of all the bland, serene human -curiosities I ever saw, I think he was the chiefest. He desired to look -at my new chimney-pot hat. I was very willing, for I thought he would -notice the name of the great Oxford Street hatter in it, and respect me -accordingly. But he turned it about with a sort of grave compassion, -pointed out two or three blemishes, and said that I, being so recently -arrived, could not be expected to know where to supply myself. Said he -would send me the address of his hatter. Then he said, "Pardon me," and -proceeded to cut a neat circle of red tissue paper; daintily notched the -edges of it; took the mucilage and pasted it in my hat so as to cover the -manufacturer's name. He said, "No one will know now where you got it. -I will send you a hat-tip of my hatter, and you can paste it over this -tissue circle." It was the calmest, coolest thing--I never admired a man -so much in my life. Mind, he did this while his own hat sat offensively -near our noses, on the table--an ancient extinguisher of the "slouch" -pattern, limp and shapeless with age, discolored by vicissitudes of the -weather, and banded by an equator of bear's grease that had stewed -through. - -Another time he examined my coat. I had no terrors, for over my tailor's -door was the legend, "By Special Appointment Tailor to H. R. H. the -Prince of Wales," etc. I did not know at the time that the most of the -tailor shops had the same sign out, and that whereas it takes nine -tailors to make an ordinary man, it takes a hundred and fifty to make a -prince. He was full of compassion for my coat. Wrote down the address -of his tailor for me. Did not tell me to mention my nom de plume and the -tailor would put his best work on my garment, as complimentary people -sometimes do, but said his tailor would hardly trouble himself for an -unknown person (unknown person, when I thought I was so celebrated in -England!--that was the cruelest cut), but cautioned me to mention his -name, and it would be all right. Thinking to be facetious, I said: - -"But he might sit up all night and injure his health." - -"Well, let him," said Rogers; "I've done enough for him, for him to show -some appreciation of it." - -I might as well have tried to disconcert a mummy with my facetiousness. -Said Rogers: "I get all my coats there--they're the only coats fit to be -seen in." - -I made one more attempt. I said, "I wish you had brought one with you-- -I would like to look at it." - -"Bless your heart, haven't I got one on?--this article is Morgan's make." - -I examined it. The coat had been bought ready-made, of a Chatham Street -Jew, without any question--about 1848. It probably cost four dollars -when it was new. It was ripped, it was frayed, it was napless and -greasy. I could not resist showing him where it was ripped. It so -affected him that I was almost sorry I had done it. First he seemed -plunged into a bottomless abyss of grief. Then he roused himself, made a -feint with his hands as if waving off the pity of a nation, and said-- -with what seemed to me a manufactured emotion--"No matter; no matter; -don't mind me; do not bother about it. I can get another." - -When he was thoroughly restored, so that he could examine the rip and -command his feelings, he said, ah, now he understood it--his servant must -have done it while dressing him that morning. - -His servant! There was something awe-inspiring in effrontery like this. - -Nearly every day he interested himself in some article of my clothing. -One would hardly have expected this sort of infatuation in a man who -always wore the same suit, and it a suit that seemed coeval with the -Conquest. - -It was an unworthy ambition, perhaps, but I did wish I could make this -man admire something about me or something I did--you would have felt the -same way. I saw my opportunity: I was about to return to London, and had -"listed" my soiled linen for the wash. It made quite an imposing -mountain in the corner of the room--fifty-four pieces. I hoped he would -fancy it was the accumulation of a single week. I took up the wash-list, -as if to see that it was all right, and then tossed it on the table, with -pretended forgetfulness. Sure enough, he took it up and ran his eye -along down to the grand total. Then he said, "You get off easy," and -laid it down again. - -His gloves were the saddest ruin, but he told me where I could get some -like them. His shoes would hardly hold walnuts without leaking, but he -liked to put his feet up on the mantelpiece and contemplate them. -He wore a dim glass breastpin, which he called a "morphylitic diamond"-- -whatever that may mean--and said only two of them had ever been found ---the Emperor of China had the other one. - -Afterward, in London, it was a pleasure to me to see this fantastic -vagabond come marching into the lobby of the hotel in his grand-ducal -way, for he always had some new imaginary grandeur to develop--there was -nothing stale about him but his clothes. If he addressed me when -strangers were about, he always raised his voice a little and called me -"Sir Richard," or "General," or "Your Lordship"--and when people began to -stare and look deferential, he would fall to inquiring in a casual way -why I disappointed the Duke of Argyll the night before; and then remind -me of our engagement at the Duke of Westminster's for the following day. -I think that for the time being these things were realities to him. He -once came and invited me to go with him and spend the evening with the -Earl of Warwick at his town house. I said I had received no formal -invitation. He said that that was of no consequence, the Earl had no -formalities for him or his friends. I asked if I could go just as I was. -He said no, that would hardly do; evening dress was requisite at night in -any gentleman's house. He said he would wait while I dressed, and then -we would go to his apartments and I could take a bottle of champagne and -a cigar while he dressed. I was very willing to see how this enterprise -would turn out, so I dressed, and we started to his lodgings. He said if -I didn't mind we would walk. So we tramped some four miles through the -mud and fog, and finally found his "apartments"; they consisted of a -single room over a barber's shop in a back street. Two chairs, a small -table, an ancient valise, a wash-basin and pitcher (both on the floor in -a corner), an unmade bed, a fragment of a looking-glass, and a flower- -pot, with a perishing little rose geranium in it, which he called a -century plant, and said it had not bloomed now for upward of two -centuries--given to him by the late Lord Palmerston (been offered a -prodigious sum for it)--these were the contents of the room. Also a -brass candlestick and a part of a candle. Rogers lit the candle, and -told me to sit down and make myself at home. He said he hoped I was -thirsty, because he would surprise my palate with an article of champagne -that seldom got into a commoner's system; or would I prefer sherry, or -port? Said he had port in bottles that were swathed in stratified -cobwebs, every stratum representing a generation. And as for his cigars- --well, I should judge of them myself. Then he put his head out at the -door and called: - -"Sackville!" No answer. - -"Hi-Sackville!" No answer. - -"Now what the devil can have become of that butler? I never allow a -servant to--Oh, confound that idiot, he's got the keys. Can't get into -the other rooms without the keys." - -(I was just wondering at his intrepidity in still keeping up the delusion -of the champagne, and trying to imagine how he was going to get out of -the difficulty.) - -Now he stopped calling Sackville and began to call "Anglesy." But -Anglesy didn't come. He said, "This is the second time that that equerry -has been absent without leave. To-morrow I'll discharge him." Now he -began to whoop for "Thomas," but Thomas didn't answer. Then for -"Theodore," but no Theodore replied. - -"Well, I give it up," said Rogers. "The servants never expect me at this -hour, and so they're all off on a lark. Might get along without the -equerry and the page, but can't have any wine or cigars without the -butler, and can't dress without my valet." - -I offered to help him dress, but he would not hear of it; and besides, he -said he would not feel comfortable unless dressed by a practised hand. -However, he finally concluded that he was such old friends with the Earl -that it would not make any difference how he was dressed. So we took a -cab, he gave the driver some directions, and we started. By and by we -stopped before a large house and got out. I never had seen this man with -a collar on. He now stepped under a lamp and got a venerable paper -collar out of his coat pocket, along with a hoary cravat, and put them -on. He ascended the stoop, and entered. Presently he reappeared, -descended rapidly, and said: - -"Come--quick!" - -We hurried away, and turned the corner. - -"Now we're safe," he said, and took off his collar and cravat and -returned them to his pocket. - -"Made a mighty narrow escape," said he. - -"How?" said I. - -"B' George, the Countess was there!" - -"Well, what of that?--don't she know you?" - -"Know me? Absolutely worships me. I just did happen to catch a glimpse -of her before she saw me--and out I shot. Haven't seen her for two -months--to rush in on her without any warning might have been fatal. -She could not have stood it. I didn't know she was in town--thought she -was at the castle. Let me lean on you--just a moment--there; now I am -better--thank you; thank you ever so much. Lord bless me, what an -escape!" - -So I never got to call on the Earl, after all. But I marked the house -for future reference. It proved to be an ordinary family hotel, with -about a thousand plebeians roosting in it. - -In most things Rogers was by no means a fool. In some things it was -plain enough that he was a fool, but he certainly did not know it. -He was in the "deadest" earnest in these matters. He died at sea, last -summer, as the "Earl of Ramsgate." - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALONZO FITZ AND OTHERS, TWAIN *** - -********* This file should be named mtlaf12.txt or mtlaf12.zip ********* - -Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, mtlaf13.txt -VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, mtlaf12a.txt - -This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> -Extensive proofing of this file was done by Trevor Carlson - -Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US -unless a copyright notice is included. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Alonzo Fitz and Other Stories - -Author: Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) - - -Release Date: August 19, 2006 [EBook #3184] -Last Updated: February 24, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALONZO FITZ AND OTHER STORIES *** - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - -ALONZO FITZ - -AND OTHER STORIES - - -by Mark Twain - - -Contents: - -THE LOVES OF ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON - -ON THE DECAY OF THE ART OF LYING - -ABOUT MAGNANIMOUS-INCIDENT LITERATURE - -PUNCH, BROTHERS, PUNCH - -THE GREAT REVOLUTION IN PITCAIRN - -THE CANVASSER'S TALE - -AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN INTERVIEWER - -PARIS NOTES - -LEGEND OF SAGENFELD, IN GERMANY - -SPEECH ON THE BABIES - -SPEECH ON THE WEATHER - -CONCERNING THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE - -ROGERS - - - - - -THE LOVES OF ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON - -It was well along in the forenoon of a bitter winter's day. The town of -Eastport, in the state of Maine, lay buried under a deep snow that was -newly fallen. The customary bustle in the streets was wanting. One -could look long distances down them and see nothing but a dead-white -emptiness, with silence to match. Of course I do not mean that you could -see the silence--no, you could only hear it. The sidewalks were merely -long, deep ditches, with steep snow walls on either side. Here and there -you might hear the faint, far scrape of a wooden shovel, and if you -were quick enough you might catch a glimpse of a distant black figure -stooping and disappearing in one of those ditches, and reappearing the -next moment with a motion which you would know meant the heaving out of -a shovelful of snow. But you needed to be quick, for that black figure -would not linger, but would soon drop that shovel and scud for the -house, thrashing itself with its arms to warm them. Yes, it was too -venomously cold for snow-shovelers or anybody else to stay out long. - -Presently the sky darkened; then the wind rose and began to blow in -fitful, vigorous gusts, which sent clouds of powdery snow aloft, and -straight ahead, and everywhere. Under the impulse of one of these gusts, -great white drifts banked themselves like graves across the streets; a -moment later another gust shifted them around the other way, driving a -fine spray of snow from their sharp crests, as the gale drives the spume -flakes from wave-crests at sea; a third gust swept that place as clean -as your hand, if it saw fit. This was fooling, this was play; but each -and all of the gusts dumped some snow into the sidewalk ditches, for -that was business. - -Alonzo Fitz Clarence was sitting in his snug and elegant little parlor, -in a lovely blue silk dressing-gown, with cuffs and facings of crimson -satin, elaborately quilted. The remains of his breakfast were before -him, and the dainty and costly little table service added a harmonious -charm to the grace, beauty, and richness of the fixed appointments of -the room. A cheery fire was blazing on the hearth. - -A furious gust of wind shook the windows, and a great wave of snow -washed against them with a drenching sound, so to speak. The handsome -young bachelor murmured: - -“That means, no going out to-day. Well, I am content. But what to do for -company? Mother is well enough, Aunt Susan is well enough; but these, -like the poor, I have with me always. On so grim a day as this, -one needs a new interest, a fresh element, to whet the dull edge of -captivity. That was very neatly said, but it doesn't mean anything. One -doesn't want the edge of captivity sharpened up, you know, but just the -reverse.” - -He glanced at his pretty French mantel-clock. - -“That clock's wrong again. That clock hardly ever knows what time it -is; and when it does know, it lies about it--which amounts to the same -thing. Alfred!” - -There was no answer. - -“Alfred!... Good servant, but as uncertain as the clock.” - -Alonzo touched an electric bell button in the wall. He waited a moment, -then touched it again; waited a few moments more, and said: - -“Battery out of order, no doubt. But now that I have started, I will -find out what time it is.” He stepped to a speaking-tube in the wall, -blew its whistle, and called, “Mother!” and repeated it twice. - -“Well, that's no use. Mother's battery is out of order, too. Can't raise -anybody down-stairs--that is plain.” - -He sat down at a rosewood desk, leaned his chin on the left-hand edge of -it and spoke, as if to the floor: “Aunt Susan!” - -A low, pleasant voice answered, “Is that you, Alonzo?' - -“Yes. I'm too lazy and comfortable to go downstairs; I am in extremity, -and I can't seem to scare up any help.” - -“Dear me, what is the matter?” - -“Matter enough, I can tell you!” - -“Oh, don't keep me in suspense, dear! What is it?” - -“I want to know what time it is.” - -“You abominable boy, what a turn you did give me! Is that all?” - -“All--on my honor. Calm yourself. Tell me the time, and receive my -blessing.” - -“Just five minutes after nine. No charge--keep your blessing.” - -“Thanks. It wouldn't have impoverished me, aunty, nor so enriched you -that you could live without other means.” - -He got up, murmuring, “Just five minutes after nine,” and faced his -clock. “Ah,” said he, “you are doing better than usual. You are only -thirty-four minutes wrong. Let me see... let me see.... Thirty-three -and twenty-one are fifty-four; four times fifty-four are two hundred and -thirty-six. One off, leaves two hundred and thirty-five. That's right.” - -He turned the hands of his clock forward till they marked twenty-five -minutes to one, and said, “Now see if you can't keep right for a -while--else I'll raffle you!” - -He sat down at the desk again, and said, “Aunt Susan!” - -“Yes, dear.” - -“Had breakfast?” - -“Yes, indeed, an hour ago.” - -“Busy?” - -“No--except sewing. Why?” - -“Got any company?” - -“No, but I expect some at half past nine.” - -“I wish I did. I'm lonesome. I want to talk to somebody.” - -“Very well, talk to me.” - -“But this is very private.” - -“Don't be afraid--talk right along, there's nobody here but me.” - -“I hardly know whether to venture or not, but--” - -“But what? Oh, don't stop there! You know you can trust me, Alonzo--you -know, you can.” - -“I feel it, aunt, but this is very serious. It affects me deeply--me, -and all the family---even the whole community.” - -“Oh, Alonzo, tell me! I will never breathe a word of it. What is it?” - -“Aunt, if I might dare--” - -“Oh, please go on! I love you, and feel for you. Tell me all. Confide in -me. What is it?” - -“The weather!” - -“Plague take the weather! I don't see how you can have the heart to -serve me so, Lon.” - -“There, there, aunty dear, I'm sorry; I am, on my honor. I won't do it -again. Do you forgive me?” - -“Yes, since you seem so sincere about it, though I know I oughtn't to. -You will fool me again as soon as I have forgotten this time.” - -“No, I won't, honor bright. But such weather, oh, such weather! You've -got to keep your spirits up artificially. It is snowy, and blowy, and -gusty, and bitter cold! How is the weather with you?” - -“Warm and rainy and melancholy. The mourners go about the streets with -their umbrellas running streams from the end of every whalebone. There's -an elevated double pavement of umbrellas, stretching down the sides of -the streets as far as I can see. I've got a fire for cheerfulness, and -the windows open to keep cool. But it is vain, it is useless: nothing -comes in but the balmy breath of December, with its burden of mocking -odors from the flowers that possess the realm outside, and rejoice in -their lawless profusion whilst the spirit of man is low, and flaunt -their gaudy splendors in his face while his soul is clothed in sackcloth -and ashes and his heart breaketh.” - -Alonzo opened his lips to say, “You ought to print that, and get it -framed,” but checked himself, for he heard his aunt speaking to some -one else. He went and stood at the window and looked out upon the wintry -prospect. The storm was driving the snow before it more furiously than -ever; window-shutters were slamming and banging; a forlorn dog, with -bowed head and tail withdrawn from service, was pressing his quaking -body against a windward wall for shelter and protection; a young girl -was plowing knee-deep through the drifts, with her face turned from the -blast, and the cape of her waterproof blowing straight rearward over her -head. Alonzo shuddered, and said with a sigh, “Better the slop, and the -sultry rain, and even the insolent flowers, than this!” - -He turned from the window, moved a step, and stopped in a listening -attitude. The faint, sweet notes of a familiar song caught his ear. He -remained there, with his head unconsciously bent forward, drinking in -the melody, stirring neither hand nor foot, hardly breathing. There was -a blemish in the execution of the song, but to Alonzo it seemed an added -charm instead of a defect. This blemish consisted of a marked flatting -of the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh notes of the refrain or -chorus of the piece. When the music ended, Alonzo drew a deep breath, -and said, “Ah, I never have heard 'In the Sweet By-and-by' sung like -that before!” - -He stepped quickly to the desk, listened a moment, and said in a -guarded, confidential voice, “Aunty, who is this divine singer?” - -“She is the company I was expecting. Stays with me a month or two. I -will introduce you. Miss--” - -“For goodness' sake, wait a moment, Aunt Susan! You never stop to think -what you are about!” - -He flew to his bedchamber, and returned in a moment perceptibly changed -in his outward appearance, and remarking, snappishly: - -“Hang it, she would have introduced me to this angel in that sky-blue -dressing-gown with red-hot lapels! Women never think, when they get -a-going.” - -He hastened and stood by the desk, and said eagerly, “Now, Aunty, I am -ready,” and fell to smiling and bowing with all the persuasiveness and -elegance that were in him. - -“Very well. Miss Rosannah Ethelton, let me introduce to you my favorite -nephew, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence. There! You are both good people, and -I like you; so I am going to trust you together while I attend to a -few household affairs. Sit down, Rosannah; sit down, Alonzo. Good-by; I -sha'n't be gone long.” - -Alonzo had been bowing and smiling all the while, and motioning -imaginary young ladies to sit down in imaginary chairs, but now he took -a seat himself, mentally saying, “Oh, this is luck! Let the winds blow -now, and the snow drive, and the heavens frown! Little I care!” - -While these young people chat themselves into an acquaintanceship, let -us take the liberty of inspecting the sweeter and fairer of the two. She -sat alone, at her graceful ease, in a richly furnished apartment which -was manifestly the private parlor of a refined and sensible lady, -if signs and symbols may go for anything. For instance, by a low, -comfortable chair stood a dainty, top-heavy workstand, whose summit was -a fancifully embroidered shallow basket, with varicolored crewels, and -other strings and odds and ends protruding from under the gaping lid and -hanging down in negligent profusion. On the floor lay bright shreds of -Turkey red, Prussian blue, and kindred fabrics, bits of ribbon, a spool -or two, a pair of scissors, and a roll or so of tinted silken stuffs. -On a luxurious sofa, upholstered with some sort of soft Indian goods -wrought in black and gold threads interwebbed with other threads not -so pronounced in color, lay a great square of coarse white stuff, upon -whose surface a rich bouquet of flowers was growing, under the deft -cultivation of the crochet-needle. The household cat was asleep on this -work of art. In a bay-window stood an easel with an unfinished picture -on it, and a palette and brushes on a chair beside it. There were books -everywhere: Robertson's Sermons, Tennyson, Moody and Sankey, Hawthorne, -Rab and His Friends, cook-books, prayer-books, pattern-books--and books -about all kinds of odious and exasperating pottery, of course. There was -a piano, with a deck-load of music, and more in a tender. There was -a great plenty of pictures on the walls, on the shelves of the -mantelpiece, and around generally; where coigns of vantage offered -were statuettes, and quaint and pretty gimcracks, and rare and costly -specimens of peculiarly devilish china. The bay-window gave upon a -garden that was ablaze with foreign and domestic flowers and flowering -shrubs. - -But the sweet young girl was the daintiest thing these premises, within -or without, could offer for contemplation: delicately chiseled features, -of Grecian cast; her complexion the pure snow of a japonica that is -receiving a faint reflected enrichment from some scarlet neighbor of -the garden; great, soft blue eyes fringed with long, curving lashes; an -expression made up of the trustfulness of a child and the gentleness of -a fawn; a beautiful head crowned with its own prodigal gold; a lithe -and rounded figure, whose every attitude and movement was instinct with -native grace. - -Her dress and adornment were marked by that exquisite harmony that can -come only of a fine natural taste perfected by culture. Her gown was of -a simple magenta tulle, cut bias, traversed by three rows of light-blue -flounces, with the selvage edges turned up with ashes-of-roses -chenille; overdress of dark bay tarlatan with scarlet satin lambrequins; -corn-colored polonaise, en panier, looped with mother-of-pearl buttons -and silver cord, and hauled aft and made fast by buff velvet lashings; -basque of lavender reps, picked out with valenciennes; low neck, short -sleeves; maroon velvet necktie edged with delicate pink silk; inside -handkerchief of some simple three-ply ingrain fabric of a soft saffron -tint; coral bracelets and locket-chain; coiffure of forget-me-nots and -lilies-of-the-valley massed around a noble calla. - -This was all; yet even in this subdued attire she was divinely -beautiful. Then what must she have been when adorned for the festival or -the ball? - -All this time she had been busily chatting with Alonzo, unconscious of -our inspection. The minutes still sped, and still she talked. But by and -by she happened to look up, and saw the clock. A crimson blush sent its -rich flood through her cheeks, and she exclaimed: - -“There, good-by, Mr. Fitz Clarence; I must go now!” - -She sprang from her chair with such haste that she hardly heard the -young man's answering good-by. She stood radiant, graceful, beautiful, -and gazed, wondering, upon the accusing clock. Presently her pouting -lips parted, and she said: - -“Five minutes after eleven! Nearly two hours, and it did not seem twenty -minutes! Oh, dear, what will he think of me!” - -At the self-same moment Alonzo was staring at his clock. And presently -he said: - -“Twenty-five minutes to three! Nearly two hours, and I didn't believe -it was two minutes! Is it possible that this clock is humbugging again? -Miss Ethelton! Just one moment, please. Are you there yet?” - -“Yes, but be quick; I'm going right away.” - -“Would you be so kind as to tell me what time it is?” - -The girl blushed again, murmured to herself, “It's right down cruel -of him to ask me!” and then spoke up and answered with admirably -counterfeited unconcern, “Five minutes after eleven.” - -“Oh, thank you! You have to go, now, have you?” - -“I'm sorry.” - -No reply. - -“Miss Ethelton!” - -“Well?” - -“You--you're there yet, ain't you?” - -“Yes; but please hurry. What did you want to say?” - -“Well, I--well, nothing in particular. It's very lonesome here. It's -asking a great deal, I know, but would you mind talking with me again by -and by--that is, if it will not trouble you too much?” - -“I don't know but I'll think about it. I'll try.” - -“Oh, thanks! Miss Ethelton!... Ah, me, she's gone, and here are the -black clouds and the whirling snow and the raging winds come again! But -she said good-by. She didn't say good morning, she said good-by! ... The -clock was right, after all. What a lightning-winged two hours it was!” - -He sat down, and gazed dreamily into his fire for a while, then heaved a -sigh and said: - -“How wonderful it is! Two little hours ago I was a free man, and now my -heart's in San Francisco!” - -About that time Rosannah Ethelton, propped in the window-seat of her -bedchamber, book in hand, was gazing vacantly out over the rainy seas -that washed the Golden Gate, and whispering to herself, “How different -he is from poor Burley, with his empty head and his single little antic -talent of mimicry!” - -II - -Four weeks later Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley was entertaining a gay -luncheon company, in a sumptuous drawing-room on Telegraph Hill, with -some capital imitations of the voices and gestures of certain popular -actors and San Franciscan literary people and Bonanza grandees. He was -elegantly upholstered, and was a handsome fellow, barring a trifling -cast in his eye. He seemed very jovial, but nevertheless he kept his eye -on the door with an expectant and uneasy watchfulness. By and by a nobby -lackey appeared, and delivered a message to the mistress, who nodded her -head understandingly. That seemed to settle the thing for Mr. Burley; -his vivacity decreased little by little, and a dejected look began to -creep into one of his eyes and a sinister one into the other. - -The rest of the company departed in due time, leaving him with the -mistress, to whom he said: - -“There is no longer any question about it. She avoids me. She -continually excuses herself. If I could see her, if I could speak to her -only a moment--but this suspense--” - -“Perhaps her seeming avoidance is mere accident, Mr. Burley. Go to -the small drawing-room up-stairs and amuse yourself a moment. I will -despatch a household order that is on my mind, and then I will go to her -room. Without doubt she will be persuaded to see you.” - -Mr. Burley went up-stairs, intending to go to the small drawing-room, -but as he was passing “Aunt Susan's” private parlor, the door of which -stood slightly ajar, he heard a joyous laugh which he recognized; so -without knock or announcement he stepped confidently in. But before he -could make his presence known he heard words that harrowed up his soul -and chilled his young blood, he heard a voice say: - -“Darling, it has come!” - -Then he heard Rosannah Ethelton, whose back was toward him, say: - -“So has yours, dearest!” - -He saw her bowed form bend lower; he heard her kiss something--not -merely once, but again and again! His soul raged within him. The -heartbreaking conversation went on: - -“Rosannah, I knew you must be beautiful, but this is dazzling, this is -blinding, this is intoxicating!” - -“Alonzo, it is such happiness to hear you say it. I know it is not true, -but I am so grateful to have you think it is, nevertheless! I knew you -must have a noble face, but the grace and majesty of the reality beggar -the poor creation of my fancy.” - -Burley heard that rattling shower of kisses again. - -“Thank you, my Rosannah! The photograph flatters me, but you must not -allow yourself to think of that. Sweetheart?” - -“Yes, Alonzo.” - -“I am so happy, Rosannah.” - -“Oh, Alonzo, none that have gone before me knew what love was, none that -come after me will ever know what happiness is. I float in a gorgeous -cloud land, a boundless firmament of enchanted and bewildering ecstasy!” - -“Oh, my Rosannah!--for you are mine, are you not?” - -“Wholly, oh, wholly yours, Alonzo, now and forever! All the day long, -and all through my nightly dreams, one song sings itself, and its sweet -burden is, 'Alonzo Fitz Clarence, Alonzo Fitz Clarence, Eastport, state -of Maine!'” - -“Curse him, I've got his address, anyway!” roared Burley, inwardly, and -rushed from the place. - -Just behind the unconscious Alonzo stood his mother, a picture of -astonishment. She was so muffled from head to heel in furs that nothing -of herself was visible but her eyes and nose. She was a good allegory of -winter, for she was powdered all over with snow. - -Behind the unconscious Rosannah stood “Aunt Susan,” another picture of -astonishment. She was a good allegory of summer, for she was lightly -clad, and was vigorously cooling the perspiration on her face with a -fan. - -Both of these women had tears of joy in their eyes. - -“Soho!” exclaimed Mrs. Fitz Clarence, “this explains why nobody has been -able to drag you out of your room for six weeks, Alonzo!” - -“So ho!” exclaimed Aunt Susan, “this explains why you have been a hermit -for the past six weeks, Rosannah!” - -The young couple were on their feet in an instant, abashed, and standing -like detected dealers in stolen goods awaiting judge Lynch's doom. - -“Bless you, my son! I am happy in your happiness. Come to your mother's -arms, Alonzo!” - -“Bless you, Rosannah, for my dear nephew's sake! Come to my arms!” - -Then was there a mingling of hearts and of tears of rejoicing on -Telegraph Hill and in Eastport Square. - -Servants were called by the elders, in both places. Unto one was given -the order, “Pile this fire high, with hickory wood, and bring me a -roasting-hot lemonade.” - -Unto the other was given the order, “Put out this fire, and bring me two -palm-leaf fans and a pitcher of ice-water.” - -Then the young people were dismissed, and the elders sat down to talk -the sweet surprise over and make the wedding plans. - -Some minutes before this Mr. Burley rushed from the mansion on Telegraph -Hill without meeting or taking formal leave of anybody. He hissed -through his teeth, in unconscious imitation of a popular favorite in -melodrama, “Him shall she never wed! I have sworn it! Ere great Nature -shall have doffed her winter's ermine to don the emerald gauds of -spring, she shall be mine!” - -III - -Two weeks later. Every few hours, during same three or four days, a very -prim and devout-looking Episcopal clergyman, with a cast in his eye, had -visited Alonzo. According to his card, he was the Rev. Melton Hargrave, -of Cincinnati. He said he had retired from the ministry on account of -his health. If he had said on account of ill-health, he would probably -have erred, to judge by his wholesome looks and firm build. He was the -inventor of an improvement in telephones, and hoped to make his bread -by selling the privilege of using it. “At present,” he continued, “a man -may go and tap a telegraph wire which is conveying a song or a concert -from one state to another, and he can attach his private telephone and -steal a hearing of that music as it passes along. My invention will stop -all that.” - -“Well,” answered Alonzo, “if the owner of the music could not miss what -was stolen, why should he care?” - -“He shouldn't care,” said the Reverend. - -“Well?” said Alonzo, inquiringly. - -“Suppose,” replied the Reverend, “suppose that, instead of music that -was passing along and being stolen, the burden of the wire was loving -endearments of the most private and sacred nature?” - -Alonzo shuddered from head to heel. “Sir, it is a priceless invention,” - said he; “I must have it at any cost.” - -But the invention was delayed somewhere on the road from Cincinnati, -most unaccountably. The impatient Alonzo could hardly wait. The thought -of Rosannah's sweet words being shared with him by some ribald thief was -galling to him. The Reverend came frequently and lamented the delay, and -told of measures he had taken to hurry things up. This was some little -comfort to Alonzo. - -One forenoon the Reverend ascended the stairs and knocked at Alonzo's -door. There was no response. He entered, glanced eagerly around, closed -the door softly, then ran to the telephone. The exquisitely soft and -remote strains of the “Sweet By-and-by” came floating through the -instrument. The singer was flatting, as usual, the five notes that -follow the first two in the chorus, when the Reverend interrupted her -with this word, in a voice which was an exact imitation of Alonzo's, -with just the faintest flavor of impatience added: - -“Sweetheart?” - -“Yes, Alonzo?” - -“Please don't sing that any more this week--try something modern.” - -The agile step that goes with a happy heart was heard on the stairs, -and the Reverend, smiling diabolically, sought sudden refuge behind the -heavy folds of the velvet window-curtains. Alonzo entered and flew to -the telephone. Said he: - -“Rosannah, dear, shall we sing something together?” - -“Something modern?” asked she, with sarcastic bitterness. - -“Yes, if you prefer.” - -“Sing it yourself, if you like!” - -This snappishness amazed and wounded the young man. He said: - -“Rosannah, that was not like you.” - -“I suppose it becomes me as much as your very polite speech became you, -Mr. Fitz Clarence.” - -“Mister Fitz Clarence! Rosannah, there was nothing impolite about my -speech.” - -“Oh, indeed! Of course, then, I misunderstood you, and I most humbly -beg your pardon, ha-ha-ha! No doubt you said, 'Don't sing it any more -to-day.'” - -“Sing what any more to-day?” - -“The song you mentioned, of course, How very obtuse we are, all of a -sudden!” - -“I never mentioned any song.” - -“Oh, you didn't?” - -“No, I didn't!” - -“I am compelled to remark that you did.” - -“And I am obliged to reiterate that I didn't.” - -“A second rudeness! That is sufficient, sir. I will never forgive you. -All is over between us.” - -Then came a muffled sound of crying. Alonzo hastened to say: - -“Oh, Rosannah, unsay those words! There is some dreadful mystery here, -some hideous mistake. I am utterly earnest and sincere when I say I -never said anything about any song. I would not hurt you for the whole -world.... Rosannah, dear speak to me, won't you?” - -There was a pause; then Alonzo heard the girl's sobbings retreating, -and knew she had gone from the telephone. He rose with a heavy sigh, and -hastened from the room, saying to himself, “I will ransack the charity -missions and the haunts of the poor for my mother. She will persuade her -that I never meant to wound her.” - -A minute later the Reverend was crouching over the telephone like a cat -that knoweth the ways of the prey. He had not very many minutes to wait. -A soft, repentant voice, tremulous with tears, said: - -“Alonzo, dear, I have been wrong. You could not have said so cruel a -thing. It must have been some one who imitated your voice in malice or -in jest.” - -The Reverend coldly answered, in Alonzo's tones: - -“You have said all was over between us. So let it be. I spurn your -proffered repentance, and despise it!” - -Then he departed, radiant with fiendish triumph, to return no more with -his imaginary telephonic invention forever. - -Four hours afterward Alonzo arrived with his mother from her favorite -haunts of poverty and vice. They summoned the San Francisco household; -but there was no reply. They waited, and continued to wait, upon the -voiceless telephone. - -At length, when it was sunset in San Francisco, and three hours and -a half after dark in Eastport, an answer to the oft-repeated cry of -“Rosannah!” - -But, alas, it was Aunt Susan's voice that spake. She said: - -“I have been out all day; just got in. I will go and find her.” - -The watchers waited two minutes--five minutes--ten minutes. Then came -these fatal words, in a frightened tone: - -“She is gone, and her baggage with her. To visit another friend, she -told the servants. But I found this note on the table in her room. -Listen: 'I am gone; seek not to trace me out; my heart is broken; you -will never see me more. Tell him I shall always think of him when I sing -my poor “Sweet By-and-by,” but never of the unkind words he said about -it.' That is her note. Alonzo, Alonzo, what does it mean? What has -happened?” - -But Alonzo sat white and cold as the dead. His mother threw back -the velvet curtains and opened a window. The cold air refreshed the -sufferer, and he told his aunt his dismal story. Meantime his mother -was inspecting a card which had disclosed itself upon the floor when -she cast the curtains back. It read, “Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley, San -Francisco.” - -“The miscreant!” shouted Alonzo, and rushed forth to seek the false -Reverend and destroy him; for the card explained everything, since in -the course of the lovers' mutual confessions they had told each other -all about all the sweethearts they had ever had, and thrown no end of -mud at their failings and foibles for lovers always do that. It has a -fascination that ranks next after billing and cooing. - -IV - -During the next two months many things happened. It had early transpired -that Rosannah, poor suffering orphan, had neither returned to her -grandmother in Portland, Oregon, nor sent any word to her save a -duplicate of the woeful note she had left in the mansion on Telegraph -Hill. Whosoever was sheltering her--if she was still alive--had been -persuaded not to betray her whereabouts, without doubt; for all efforts -to find trace of her had failed. - -Did Alonzo give her up? Not he. He said to himself, “She will sing -that sweet song when she is sad; I shall find her.” So he took his -carpet-sack and a portable telephone, and shook the snow of his native -city from his arctics, and went forth into the world. He wandered far -and wide and in many states. Time and again, strangers were astounded to -see a wasted, pale, and woe-worn man laboriously climb a telegraph-pole -in wintry and lonely places, perch sadly there an hour, with his ear at -a little box, then come sighing down, and wander wearily away. Sometimes -they shot at him, as peasants do at aeronauts, thinking him mad and -dangerous. Thus his clothes were much shredded by bullets and his person -grievously lacerated. But he bore it all patiently. - -In the beginning of his pilgrimage he used often to say, “Ah, if I could -but hear the 'Sweet By-and-by'!” But toward the end of it he used to -shed tears of anguish and say, “Ah, if I could but hear something else!” - -Thus a month and three weeks drifted by, and at last some humane people -seized him and confined him in a private mad-house in New York. He made -no moan, for his strength was all gone, and with it all heart and all -hope. The superintendent, in pity, gave up his own comfortable parlor -and bedchamber to him and nursed him with affectionate devotion. - -At the end of a week the patient was able to leave his bed for the first -time. He was lying, comfortably pillowed, on a sofa, listening to the -plaintive Miserere of the bleak March winds and the muffled sound of -tramping feet in the street below for it was about six in the evening, -and New York was going home from work. He had a bright fire and the -added cheer of a couple of student-lamps. So it was warm and snug -within, though bleak and raw without; it was light and bright within, -though outside it was as dark and dreary as if the world had been lit -with Hartford gas. Alonzo smiled feebly to think how his loving vagaries -had made him a maniac in the eyes of the world, and was proceeding to -pursue his line of thought further, when a faint, sweet strain, the very -ghost of sound, so remote and attenuated it seemed, struck upon his ear. -His pulses stood still; he listened with parted lips and bated -breath. The song flowed on--he waiting, listening, rising slowly and -unconsciously from his recumbent position. At last he exclaimed: - -“It is! it is she! Oh, the divine hated notes!” - -He dragged himself eagerly to the corner whence the sounds proceeded, -tore aside a curtain, and discovered a telephone. He bent over, and as -the last note died away he burst forthwith the exclamation: - -“Oh, thank Heaven, found at last! Speak to me, Rosannah, dearest! The -cruel mystery has been unraveled; it was the villain Burley who mimicked -my voice and wounded you with insolent speech!” - -There was a breathless pause, a waiting age to Alonzo; then a faint -sound came, framing itself into language: - -“Oh, say those precious words again, Alonzo!” - -“They are the truth, the veritable truth, my Rosannah, and you shall -have the proof, ample and abundant proof!” - -“Oh; Alonzo, stay by me! Leave me not for a moment! Let me feel that you -are near me! Tell me we shall never be parted more! Oh, this happy hour, -this blessed hour, this memorable hour!” - -“We will make record of it, my Rosannah; every year, as this dear hour -chimes from the clock, we will celebrate it with thanksgivings, all the -years of our life.” - -“We will, we will, Alonzo!” - -“Four minutes after six, in the evening, my Rosannah, shall -henceforth--” - -“Twenty-three minutes after twelve, afternoon shall--” - -“Why; Rosannah, darling, where are you?” - -“In Honolulu, Sandwich Islands. And where are you? Stay by me; do not -leave me for a moment. I cannot bear it. Are you at home?” - -“No, dear, I am in New York--a patient in the doctor's hands.” - -An agonizing shriek came buzzing to Alonzo's ear, like the sharp buzzing -of a hurt gnat; it lost power in traveling five thousand miles. Alonzo -hastened to say: - -“Calm yourself, my child. It is nothing. Already I am getting well under -the sweet healing of your presence. Rosannah?” - -“Yes, Alonzo? Oh, how you terrified me! Say on.” - -“Name the happy day, Rosannah!” - -There was a little pause. Then a diffident small voice replied, “I -blush--but it is with pleasure, it is with happiness. Would--would you -like to have it soon?” - -“This very night, Rosannah! Oh, let us risk no more delays. Let it be -now!--this very night, this very moment!” - -“Oh, you impatient creature! I have nobody here but my good old uncle, -a missionary for a generation, and now retired from service--nobody but -him and his wife. I would so dearly like it if your mother and your Aunt -Susan--” - -“Our mother and our Aunt Susan, my Rosannah.” - -“Yes, our mother and our Aunt Susan--I am content to word it so if it -pleases you; I would so like to have them present.” - -“So would I. Suppose you telegraph Aunt Susan. How long would it take -her to come?” - -“The steamer leaves San Francisco day after tomorrow. The passage is -eight days. She would be here the 31st of March.” - -“Then name the 1st of April; do, Rosannah, dear.” - -“Mercy, it would make us April fools, Alonzo!” - -“So we be the happiest ones that that day's suit looks down upon in the -whole broad expanse of the globe, why need we care? Call it the 1st of -April, dear.” - -“Then the 1st of April at shall be, with all my heart!” - -“Oh, happiness! Name the hour, too, Rosannah.” - -“I like the morning, it is so blithe. Will eight in the morning do, -Alonzo?” - -“The loveliest hour in the day--since it will make you mine.” - -There was a feeble but frantic sound for some little time, as if -wool-lipped, disembodied spirits were exchanging kisses; then Rosannah -said, “Excuse me just a moment, dear; I have an appointment, and am -called to meet it.” - -The young girl sought a large parlor and took her place at a window -which looked out upon a beautiful scene. To the left one could view the -charming Nuuana Valley, fringed with its ruddy flush of tropical flowers -and its plumed and graceful cocoa palms; its rising foothills clothed -in the shining green of lemon, citron, and orange groves; its storied -precipice beyond, where the first Kamehameha drove his defeated foes -over to their destruction, a spot that had forgotten its grim history, -no doubt, for now it was smiling, as almost always at noonday, under the -glowing arches of a succession of rainbows. In front of the window one -could see the quaint town, and here and there a picturesque group of -dusky natives, enjoying the blistering weather; and far to the right lay -the restless ocean, tossing its white mane in the sunshine. - -Rosannah stood there, in her filmy white raiment, fanning her flushed -and heated face, waiting. A Kanaka boy, clothed in a damaged blue -necktie and part of a silk hat, thrust his head in at the door, and -announced, “'Frisco haole!” - -“Show him in,” said the girl, straightening herself up and assuming a -meaning dignity. Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley entered, clad from head to -heel in dazzling snow--that is to say, in the lightest and whitest of -Irish linen. He moved eagerly forward, but the girl made a gesture and -gave him a look which checked him suddenly. She said, coldly, “I am -here, as I promised. I believed your assertions, I yielded to your -importune lies, and said I would name the day. I name the 1st of -April--eight in the morning. NOW GO!” - -“Oh, my dearest, if the gratitude of a lifetime--” - -“Not a word. Spare me all sight of you, all communication with you, -until that hour. No--no supplications; I will have it so.” - -When he was gone, she sank exhausted in a chair, for the long siege of -troubles she had undergone had wasted her strength. Presently she -said, “What a narrow escape! If the hour appointed had been an hour -earlier--Oh, horror, what an escape I have made! And to think I had come -to imagine I was loving this beguiling, this truthless, this treacherous -monster! Oh, he shall repent his villainy!” - -Let us now draw this history to a close, for little more needs to be -told. On the 2d of the ensuing April, the Honolulu Advertiser contained -this notice: - - MARRIED.--In this city, by telephone, yesterday morning,--at eight - o'clock, by Rev. Nathan Hays, assisted by Rev. Nathaniel Davis, of - New York, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence, of Eastport, Maine, U. S., and - Miss Rosannah Ethelton, of Portland, Oregon, U. S. Mrs. Susan - Howland, of San Francisco, a friend of the bride, was present, she - being the guest of the Rev. Mr. Hays and wife, uncle and aunt of the - bride. Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley, of San Francisco, was also - present but did not remain till the conclusion of the marriage - service. Captain Hawthorne's beautiful yacht, tastefully decorated, - was in waiting, and the happy bride and her friends immediately - departed on a bridal trip to Lahaina and Haleakala. - -The New York papers of the same date contained this notice: - - MARRIED.--In this city, yesterday, by telephone, at half-past two in - the morning, by Rev. Nathaniel Davis, assisted by Rev. Nathan Hays, - of Honolulu, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence, of Eastport, Maine, and Miss - Rosannah Ethelton, of Portland, Oregon. The parents and several - friends of the bridegroom were present, and enjoyed a sumptuous - breakfast and much festivity until nearly sunrise, and then departed - on a bridal trip to the Aquarium, the bridegroom's state of health - not admitting of a more extended journey. - -Toward the close of that memorable day Mr. and Mrs. Alonzo Fitz Clarence -were buried in sweet converse concerning the pleasures of their several -bridal tours, when suddenly the young wife exclaimed: “Oh, Lonny, I -forgot! I did what I said I would.” - -“Did you, dear?” - -“Indeed, I did. I made him the April fool! And I told him so, too! -Ah, it was a charming surprise! There he stood, sweltering in a black -dress-suit, with the mercury leaking out of the top of the thermometer, -waiting to be married. You should have seen the look he gave when I -whispered it in his ear. Ah, his wickedness cost me many a heartache -and many a tear, but the score was all squared up, then. So the vengeful -feeling went right out of my heart, and I begged him to stay, and said -I forgave him everything. But he wouldn't. He said he would live to be -avenged; said he would make our lives a curse to us. But he can't, can -he, dear?” - -“Never in this world, my Rosannah!” - -Aunt Susan, the Oregonian grandmother, and the young couple and their -Eastport parents, are all happy at this writing, and likely to remain -so. Aunt Susan brought the bride from the islands, accompanied her -across our continent, and had the happiness of witnessing the rapturous -meeting between an adoring husband and wife who had never seen each -other until that moment. - -A word about the wretched Burley, whose wicked machinations came so -near wrecking the hearts and lives of our poor young friends, will be -sufficient. In a murderous attempt to seize a crippled and helpless -artisan who he fancied had done him some small offense, he fell into a -caldron of boiling oil and expired before he could be extinguished. - - - - -ON THE DECAY OF THE ART OF LYING - -ESSAY, FOR DISCUSSION, READ AT A MEETING OF THE HISTORICAL AND -ANTIQUARIAN CLUB OF HARTFORD, AND OFFERED FOR THE THIRTY-DOLLAR PRIZE. -NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.--[Did not take the prize] - -Observe, I do not mean to suggest that the custom of lying has suffered -any decay or interruption--no, for the Lie, as a Virtue, a Principle, is -eternal; the Lie, as a recreation, a solace, a refuge in time of need, -the fourth Grace, the tenth Muse, man's best and surest friend, is -immortal, and cannot perish from the earth while this Club remains. My -complaint simply concerns the decay of the art of lying. No high-minded -man, no man of right feeling, can contemplate the lumbering and -slovenly lying of the present day without grieving to see a noble art so -prostituted. In this veteran presence I naturally enter upon this scheme -with diffidence; it is like an old maid trying to teach nursery matters -to the mothers in Israel. It would not become me to criticize you, -gentlemen, who are nearly all my elders--and my superiors, in this -thing--and so, if I should here and there seem to do it, I trust it will -in most cases be more in a spirit of admiration than of fault-finding; -indeed, if this finest of the fine arts had everywhere received the -attention, encouragement, and conscientious practice and development -which this Club has devoted to it I should not need to utter this lament -or shed a single tear. I do not say this to flatter: I say it in a -spirit of just and appreciative recognition. - -[It had been my intention, at this point, to mention names and give -illustrative specimens, but indications observable about me admonished -me to beware of particulars and confine myself to generalities.] - -No fact is more firmly established than that lying is a necessity of -our circumstances--the deduction that it is then a Virtue goes without -saying. No virtue can reach its highest usefulness without careful and -diligent cultivation--therefore, it goes without saying that this one -ought to be taught in the public schools--at the fireside--even in the -newspapers. What chance has the ignorant, uncultivated liar against the -educated expert? What chance have I against Mr. Per-- against a lawyer? -Judicious lying is what the world needs. I sometimes think it were -even better and safer not to lie at all than to lie injudiciously. An -awkward, unscientific lie is often as ineffectual as the truth. - -Now let us see what the philosophers say. Note that venerable -proverb: Children and fools always speak the truth. The deduction is -plain--adults and wise persons never speak it. Parkman, the historian, -says, “The principle of truth may itself be carried into an absurdity.” - In another place in the same chapter he says, “The saying is old -that truth should not be spoken at all times; and those whom a sick -conscience worries into habitual violation of the maxim are imbeciles -and nuisances.” It is strong language, but true. None of us could live -with an habitual truth-teller; but, thank goodness, none of us has to. -An habitual truth-teller is simply an impossible creature; he does not -exist; he never has existed. Of course there are people who think they -never lie, but it is not so--and this ignorance is one of the very -things that shame our so-called civilization. Everybody lies--every day; -every hour; awake; asleep; in his dreams; in his joy; in his mourning; -if he keeps his tongue still, his hands, his feet, his eyes, his -attitude, will convey deception--and purposely. Even in sermons--but -that is a platitude. - -In a far country where I once lived the ladies used to go around paying -calls, under the humane and kindly pretense of wanting to see each -other; and when they returned home, they would cry out with a glad -voice, saying, “We made sixteen calls and found fourteen of them -out”--not meaning that they found out anything against the fourteen--no, -that was only a colloquial phrase to signify that they were not at -home--and their manner of saying it--expressed their lively satisfaction -in that fact. Now, their pretense of wanting to see the fourteen--and -the other two whom they had been less lucky with--was that commonest and -mildest form of lying which is sufficiently described as a deflection -from the truth. Is it justifiable? Most certainly. It is beautiful, -it is noble; for its object is, not to reap profit, but to convey a -pleasure to the sixteen. The iron-souled truth-monger would plainly -manifest, or even utter the fact, that he didn't want to see those -people--and he would be an ass, and inflict a totally unnecessary pain. -And next, those ladies in that far country--but never mind, they had a -thousand pleasant ways of lying, that grew out of gentle impulses, and -were a credit to their intelligence and an honor to their hearts. Let -the particulars go. - -The men in that far country were liars; every one. Their mere howdy-do -was a lie, because they didn't care how you did, except they were -undertakers. To the ordinary inquirer you lied in return; for you made -no conscientious diagnosis of your case, but answered at random, and -usually missed it considerably. You lied to the undertaker, and said -your health was failing--a wholly commendable lie, since it cost you -nothing and pleased the other man. If a stranger called and interrupted -you, you said with your hearty tongue, “I'm glad to see you,” and said -with your heartier soul, “I wish you were with the cannibals and it was -dinner-time.” When he went, you said regretfully, “Must you go?” and -followed it with a “Call again”; but you did no harm, for you did not -deceive anybody nor inflict any hurt, whereas the truth would have made -you both unhappy. - -I think that all this courteous lying is a sweet and loving art, and -should be cultivated. The highest perfection of politeness is only a -beautiful edifice, built, from the base to the dome, of graceful and -gilded forms of charitable and unselfish lying. - -What I bemoan is the growing prevalence of the brutal truth. Let us do -what we can to eradicate it. An injurious truth has no merit over an -injurious lie. Neither should ever be uttered. The man who speaks an -injurious truth, lest his soul be not saved if he do otherwise, should -reflect that that sort of a soul is not strictly worth saving. The man -who tells a lie to help a poor devil out of trouble is one of whom the -angels doubtless say, “Lo, here is an heroic soul who casts his own -welfare into jeopardy to succor his neighbor's; let us exalt this -magnanimous liar.” - -An injurious lie is an uncommendable thing; and so, also, and in the -same degree, is an injurious truth--a fact which is recognized by the -law of libel. - -Among other common lies, we have the silent lie--the deception which one -conveys by simply keeping still and concealing the truth. Many obstinate -truth-mongers indulge in this dissipation, imagining that if they speak -no lie, they lie not at all. In that far country where I once lived, -there was a lovely spirit, a lady whose impulses were always high and -pure, and whose character answered to them. One day I was there at -dinner, and remarked, in a general way, that we are all liars. She was -amazed, and said, “Not all!” It was before “Pinafore's” time so I did -not make the response which would naturally follow in our day, but -frankly said, “Yes, all--we are all liars; there are no exceptions.” She -looked almost offended, and said, “Why, do you include me?” “Certainly,” - I said, “I think you even rank as an expert.” She said, “'Sh!--'sh! the -children!” - -So the subject was changed in deference to the children's presence, and -we went on talking about other things. But as soon as the young people -were out of the way, the lady came warmly back to the matter and said, -“I have made it the rule of my life to never tell a lie; and I have -never departed from it in a single instance.” I said, “I don't mean the -least harm or disrespect, but really you have been lying like smoke -ever since I've been sitting here. It has caused me a good deal of pain, -because I am not used to it.” She required of me an instance--just a -single instance. So I said:-- - -“Well, here is the unfilled duplicate of the blank which the Oakland -hospital people sent to you by the hand of the sick-nurse when she came -here to nurse your little nephew through his dangerous illness. This -blank asks all manner of questions as to the conduct of that sick-nurse: -'Did she ever sleep on her watch? Did she ever forget to give the -medicine?' and so forth and so on. You are warned to be very careful and -explicit in your answers, for the welfare of the service requires that -the nurses be promptly fined or otherwise punished for derelictions. -You told me you were perfectly delighted with that nurse--that she had -a thousand perfections and only one fault: you found you never could -depend on her wrapping Johnny up half sufficiently while he waited in -a chilly chair for her to rearrange the warm bed. You filled up the -duplicate of this paper, and sent it back to the hospital by the hand of -the nurse. How did you answer this question--'Was the nurse at any -time guilty of a negligence which was likely to result in the patient's -taking cold?' Come--everything is decided by a bet here in California: -ten dollars to ten cents you lied when you answered that question.” She -said, “I didn't; I left it blank!” “Just so--you have told a silent lie; -you have left it to be inferred that you had no fault to find in that -matter.” She said, “Oh, was that a lie? And how could I mention her one -single fault, and she so good?--it would have been cruel.” I said, “One -ought always to lie when one can do good by it; your impulse was right, -but, your judgment was crude; this comes of unintelligent practice. Now -observe the result of this inexpert deflection of yours. You know -Mr. Jones's Willie is lying very low with scarlet fever; well, your -recommendation was so enthusiastic that that girl is there nursing him, -and the worn-out family have all been trustingly sound asleep for the -last fourteen hours, leaving their darling with full confidence in -those fatal hands, because you, like young George Washington, have a -reputa--However, if you are not going to have anything to do, I will -come around to-morrow and we'll attend the funeral together, for, of -course, you'll naturally feel a peculiar interest in Willie's case--as -personal a one, in fact, as the undertaker.” - -But that was all lost. Before I was half-way through she was in a -carriage and making thirty miles an hour toward the Jones mansion to -save what was left of Willie and tell all she knew about the deadly -nurse. All of which was unnecessary, as Willie wasn't sick; I had been -lying myself. But that same day, all the same, she sent a line to the -hospital which filled up the neglected blank, and stated the facts, too, -in the squarest possible manner. - -Now, you see, this lady's fault was not in lying, but only in lying -injudiciously. She should have told the truth there, and made it up to -the nurse with a fraudulent compliment further along in the paper. She -could have said, “In one respect the sick-nurse is perfection--when she -is on watch, she never snores.” Almost any little pleasant lie would -have taken the sting out of that troublesome but necessary expression of -the truth. - -Lying is universal--we all do it; we all must do it. Therefore, the -wise thing is for us diligently to train ourselves to lie thoughtfully, -judiciously; to lie with a good object, and not an evil one; to lie -for others' advantage, and not our own; to lie healingly, charitably, -humanely, not cruelly, hurtfully, maliciously; to lie gracefully -and graciously, not awkwardly and clumsily; to lie firmly, frankly, -squarely, with head erect, not haltingly, tortuously, with pusillanimous -mien, as being ashamed of our high calling. Then shall we be rid of -the rank and pestilent truth that is rotting the land; then shall we be -great and good and beautiful, and worthy dwellers in a world where -even benign Nature habitually lies, except when she promises execrable -weather. Then--but I am but a new and feeble student in this gracious -art; I can not instruct this Club. - -Joking aside, I think there is much need of wise examination into what -sorts of lies are best and wholesomest to be indulged, seeing we must -all lie and do all lie, and what sorts it may be best to avoid--and this -is a thing which I feel I can confidently put into the hands of this -experienced Club--a ripe body, who may be termed, in this regard, and -without undue flattery, Old Masters. - - - - -ABOUT MAGNANIMOUS-INCIDENT LITERATURE - -All my life, from boyhood up, I have had the habit of reading a certain -set of anecdotes, written in the quaint vein of The World's ingenious -Fabulist, for the lesson they taught me and the pleasure they gave me. -They lay always convenient to my hand, and whenever I thought meanly of -my kind I turned to them, and they banished that sentiment; whenever -I felt myself to be selfish, sordid, and ignoble I turned to them, and -they told me what to do to win back my self-respect. Many times I wished -that the charming anecdotes had not stopped with their happy climaxes, -but had continued the pleasing history of the several benefactors and -beneficiaries. This wish rose in my breast so persistently that at last -I determined to satisfy it by seeking out the sequels of those anecdotes -myself. So I set about it, and after great labor and tedious research -accomplished my task. I will lay the result before you, giving you each -anecdote in its turn, and following it with its sequel as I gathered it -through my investigations. - - THE GRATEFUL POODLE - -One day a benevolent physician (who had read the books) having found a -stray poodle suffering from a broken leg, conveyed the poor creature -to his home, and after setting and bandaging the injured limb gave the -little outcast its liberty again, and thought no more about the matter. -But how great was his surprise, upon opening his door one morning, some -days later, to find the grateful poodle patiently waiting there, and in -its company another stray dog, one of whose legs, by some accident, had -been broken. The kind physician at once relieved the distressed animal, -nor did he forget to admire the inscrutable goodness and mercy of God, -who had been willing to use so humble an instrument as the poor outcast -poodle for the inculcating of, etc., etc., etc. - - SEQUEL - -The next morning the benevolent physician found the two dogs, -beaming with gratitude, waiting at his door, and with them two other -dogs-cripples. The cripples were speedily healed, and the four went -their way, leaving the benevolent physician more overcome by pious -wonder than ever. The day passed, the morning came. There at the door -sat now the four reconstructed dogs, and with them four others requiring -reconstruction. This day also passed, and another morning came; and now -sixteen dogs, eight of them newly crippled, occupied the sidewalk, and -the people were going around. By noon the broken legs were all set, but -the pious wonder in the good physician's breast was beginning to get -mixed with involuntary profanity. The sun rose once more, and exhibited -thirty-two dogs, sixteen of them with broken legs, occupying the -sidewalk and half of the street; the human spectators took up the rest -of the room. The cries of the wounded, the songs of the healed brutes, -and the comments of the onlooking citizens made great and inspiring -cheer, but traffic was interrupted in that street. The good physician -hired a couple of assistant surgeons and got through his benevolent -work before dark, first taking the precaution to cancel his -church membership, so that he might express himself with the latitude -which the case required. - -But some things have their limits. When once more the morning dawned, -and the good physician looked out upon a massed and far-reaching -multitude of clamorous and beseeching dogs, he said, “I might as well -acknowledge it, I have been fooled by the books; they only tell the -pretty part of the story, and then stop. Fetch me the shotgun; this -thing has gone along far enough.” - -He issued forth with his weapon, and chanced to step upon the tail of -the original poodle, who promptly bit him in the leg. Now the great and -good work which this poodle had been engaged in had engendered in him -such a mighty and augmenting enthusiasm as to turn his weak head at last -and drive him mad. A month later, when the benevolent physician lay in -the death-throes of hydrophobia, he called his weeping friends about -him, and said:-- - -“Beware of the books. They tell but half of the story. Whenever a poor -wretch asks you for help, and you feel a doubt as to what result may -flow from your benevolence, give yourself the benefit of the doubt and -kill the applicant.” - -And so saying he turned his face to the wall and gave up the ghost. - - THE BENEVOLENT AUTHOR - -A poor and young literary beginner had tried in vain to get his -manuscripts accepted. At last, when the horrors of starvation were -staring him in the face, he laid his sad case before a celebrated -author, beseeching his counsel and assistance. This generous man -immediately put aside his own matters and proceeded to peruse one of -the despised manuscripts. Having completed his kindly task, he shook the -poor young man cordially by the hand, saying, “I perceive merit in -this; come again to me on Monday.” At the time specified, the celebrated -author, with a sweet smile, but saying nothing, spread open a -magazine which was damp from the press. What was the poor young man's -astonishment to discover upon the printed page his own article. “How -can I ever,” said he, falling upon his knees and bursting into tears, -“testify my gratitude for this noble conduct!” - -The celebrated author was the renowned Snodgrass; the poor young -beginner thus rescued from obscurity and starvation was the afterward -equally renowned Snagsby. Let this pleasing incident admonish us to turn -a charitable ear to all beginners that need help. - - SEQUEL - -The next week Snagsby was back with five rejected manuscripts. The -celebrated author was a little surprised, because in the books the -young struggler had needed but one lift, apparently. However, he plowed -through these papers, removing unnecessary flowers and digging up some -acres of adjective-stumps, and then succeeded in getting two of the -articles accepted. - -A week or so drifted by, and the grateful Snagsby arrived with another -cargo. The celebrated author had felt a mighty glow of satisfaction -within himself the first time he had successfully befriended the poor -young struggler, and had compared himself with the generous people in -the books with high gratification; but he was beginning to suspect now -that he had struck upon something fresh in the noble-episode line. -His enthusiasm took a chill. Still, he could not bear to repulse this -struggling young author, who clung to him with such pretty simplicity -and trustfulness. - -Well, the upshot of it all was that the celebrated author presently -found himself permanently freighted with the poor young beginner. All -his mild efforts to unload this cargo went for nothing. He had to give -daily counsel, daily encouragement; he had to keep on procuring -magazine acceptances, and then revamping the manuscripts to make them -presentable. When the young aspirant got a start at last, he rode into -sudden fame by describing the celebrated author's private life with such -a caustic humor and such minuteness of blistering detail that the book -sold a prodigious edition, and broke the celebrated author's heart with -mortification. With his latest gasp he said, “Alas, the books deceived -me; they do not tell the whole story. Beware of the struggling -young author, my friends. Whom God sees fit to starve, let not man -presumptuously rescue to his own undoing.” - - THE GRATEFUL HUSBAND - -One day a lady was driving through the principal street of a great city -with her little boy, when the horses took fright and dashed madly away, -hurling the coachman from his box and leaving the occupants of the -carnage paralyzed with terror. But a brave youth who was driving a -grocery-wagon threw himself before the plunging animals, and succeeded -in arresting their flight at the peril of his own.--[This is probably a -misprint.--M. T.]--The grateful lady took his number, and upon arriving -at her home she related the heroic act to her husband (who had read the -books), who listened with streaming eyes to the moving recital, and who, -after returning thanks, in conjunction with his restored loved ones, to -Him who suffereth not even a sparrow to fall to the ground unnoticed, -sent for the brave young person, and, placing a check for five hundred -dollars in his hand, said, “Take this as a reward for your noble act, -William Ferguson, and if ever you shall need a friend, remember that -Thompson McSpadden has a grateful heart.” Let us learn from this that a -good deed cannot fail to benefit the doer, however humble he may be. - - SEQUEL - -William Ferguson called the next week and asked Mr. McSpadden to use his -influence to get him a higher employment, he feeling capable of -better things than driving a grocer's wagon. Mr. McSpadden got him an -under-clerkship at a good salary. - -Presently William Ferguson's mother fell sick, and William--Well, to -cut the story short, Mr. McSpadden consented to take her into his house. -Before long she yearned for the society of her younger children; so Mary -and Julia were admitted also, and little Jimmy, their brother. Jimmy had -a pocket knife, and he wandered into the drawing-room with it one -day, alone, and reduced ten thousand dollars' worth of furniture to an -indeterminable value in rather less than three-quarters of an hour. A -day or two later he fell down-stairs and broke his neck, and seventeen -of his family's relatives came to the house to attend the funeral. This -made them acquainted, and they kept the kitchen occupied after that, and -likewise kept the McSpaddens busy hunting up situations of various sorts -for them, and hunting up more when they wore these out. The old woman -drank a good deal and swore a good deal; but the grateful McSpaddens -knew it was their duty to reform her, considering what her son had done -for them, so they clave nobly to their generous task. William came -often and got decreasing sums of money, and asked for higher and -more lucrative employments--which the grateful McSpadden more or less -promptly procured for him. McSpadden consented also, after some demur, -to fit William for college; but when the first vacation came and the -hero requested to be sent to Europe for his health, the persecuted -McSpadden rose against the tyrant and revolted. He plainly and squarely -refused. William Ferguson's mother was so astounded that she let her -gin-bottle drop, and her profane lips refused to do their office. When -she recovered she said in a half-gasp, “Is this your gratitude? Where -would your wife and boy be now, but for my son?” - -William said, “Is this your gratitude? Did I save your wife's life or -not? Tell me that!” - -Seven relations swarmed in from the kitchen and each said, “And this is -his gratitude!” - -William's sisters stared, bewildered, and said, “And this is his -grat--” but were interrupted by their mother, who burst into tears and -exclaimed, - -“To think that my sainted little Jimmy threw away his life in the -service of such a reptile!” - -Then the pluck of the revolutionary McSpadden rose to the occasion, and -he replied with fervor, “Out of my house, the whole beggarly tribe -of you! I was beguiled by the books, but shall never be beguiled -again--once is sufficient for me.” And turning to William he shouted, -“Yes, you did save my wife's life, and the next man that does it shall -die in his tracks!” - -Not being a clergyman, I place my text at the end of my sermon instead -of at the beginning. Here it is, from Mr. Noah Brooks's Recollections of -President Lincoln in “Scribners Monthly”: - - J. H. Hackett, in his part of Falstaff, was an actor who gave Mr. - Lincoln great delight. With his usual desire to signify to others - his sense of obligation, Mr. Lincoln wrote a genial little note to - the actor expressing his pleasure at witnessing his performance. - Mr. Hackett, in reply, sent a book of some sort; perhaps it was one - of his own authorship. He also wrote several notes to the - President. One night, quite late, when the episode had passed out - of my mind, I went to the White House in answer to a message. - Passing into the President's office, I noticed, to my surprise, - Hackett sitting in the anteroom as if waiting for an audience. The - President asked me if any one was outside. On being told, he said, - half sadly, “Oh, I can't see him, I can't see him; I was in hopes he - had gone away.” Then he added, “Now this just illustrates the - difficulty of having pleasant friends and acquaintances in this - place. You know how I liked Hackett as an actor, and how I wrote to - tell him so. He sent me that book, and there I thought the matter - would end. He is a master of his place in the profession, I - suppose, and well fixed in it; but just because we had a little - friendly correspondence, such as any two men might have, he wants - something. What do you suppose he wants?” I could not guess, and - Mr. Lincoln added, “well, he wants to be consul to London. Oh, - dear!” - -I will observe, in conclusion, that the William Ferguson incident -occurred, and within my personal knowledge--though I have changed the -nature of the details, to keep William from recognizing himself in it. - -All the readers of this article have in some sweet and gushing hour of -their lives played the role of Magnanimous-Incident hero. I wish I knew -how many there are among them who are willing to talk about that episode -and like to be reminded of the consequences that flowed from it. - - - - -PUNCH, BROTHERS, PUNCH - -Will the reader please to cast his eye over the following lines, and see -if he can discover anything harmful in them? - - Conductor, when you receive a fare, - Punch in the presence of the passenjare! - A blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, - A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, - A pink trip slip for a three-cent fare, - Punch in the presence of the passenjare! - - CHORUS - - Punch, brothers! punch with care! - Punch in the presence of the passenjare! - -I came across these jingling rhymes in a newspaper, a little while ago, -and read them a couple of times. They took instant and entire possession -of me. All through breakfast they went waltzing through my brain; and -when, at last, I rolled up my napkin, I could not tell whether I had -eaten anything or not. I had carefully laid out my day's work the day -before--thrilling tragedy in the novel which I am writing. I went to my -den to begin my deed of blood. I took up my pen, but all I could get it -to say was, “Punch in the presence of the passenjare.” I fought hard for -an hour, but it was useless. My head kept humming, “A blue trip slip for -an eight-cent fare, a buff trip slip for a six-cent fare,” and so on and -so on, without peace or respite. The day's work was ruined--I could -see that plainly enough. I gave up and drifted down-town, and presently -discovered that my feet were keeping time to that relentless jingle. -When I could stand it no longer I altered my step. But it did no -good; those rhymes accommodated themselves to the new step and went -on harassing me just as before. I returned home, and suffered all the -afternoon; suffered all through an unconscious and unrefreshing dinner; -suffered, and cried, and jingled all through the evening; went to bed -and rolled, tossed, and jingled right along, the same as ever; got up at -midnight frantic, and tried to read; but there was nothing visible -upon the whirling page except “Punch! punch in the presence of the -passenjare.” By sunrise I was out of my mind, and everybody marveled and -was distressed at the idiotic burden of my ravings--“Punch! oh, punch! -punch in the presence of the passenjare!” - -Two days later, on Saturday morning, I arose, a tottering wreck, and -went forth to fulfil an engagement with a valued friend, the Rev. -Mr.------, to walk to the Talcott Tower, ten miles distant. He stared at -me, but asked no questions. We started. Mr.------ talked, talked, talked -as is his wont. I said nothing; I heard nothing. At the end of a mile, -Mr.------ said “Mark, are you sick? I never saw a man look so haggard -and worn and absent-minded. Say something, do!” - -Drearily, without enthusiasm, I said: “Punch brothers, punch with care! -Punch in the presence of the passenjare!” - -My friend eyed me blankly, looked perplexed, then said: - -“I do not think I get your drift, Mark. There does not seem to be any -relevancy in what you have said, certainly nothing sad; and yet--maybe -it was the way you said the words--I never heard anything that sounded -so pathetic. What is--” - -But I heard no more. I was already far away with my pitiless, -heartbreaking “blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, buff trip slip -for a six-cent fare, pink trip slip for a three-cent fare; punch in -the presence of the passenjare.” I do not know what occurred during the -other nine miles. However, all of a sudden Mr.------ laid his hand on my -shoulder and shouted:-- - -“Oh, wake up! wake up! wake up! Don't sleep all day! Here we are at the -Tower, man! I have talked myself deaf and dumb and blind, and never got -a response. Just look at this magnificent autumn landscape! Look at -it! look at it! Feast your eye on it! You have traveled; you have seen -boasted landscapes elsewhere. Come, now, deliver an honest opinion. What -do you say to this?” - -I sighed wearily; and murmured:-- - -“A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent -fare, punch in the presence of the passenjare.” - -Rev. Mr. ------ stood there, very grave, full of concern, apparently, -and looked long at me; then he said:-- - -“Mark, there is something about this that I cannot understand. Those are -about the same words you said before; there does not seem to be anything -in them, and yet they nearly break my heart when you say them. Punch in -the--how is it they go?” - -I began at the beginning and repeated all the lines. - -My friend's face lighted with interest. He said:-- - -“Why, what a captivating jingle it is! It is almost music. It flows -along so nicely. I have nearly caught the rhymes myself. Say them over -just once more, and then I'll have them, sure.” - -I said them over. Then Mr. ------ said them. He made one little mistake, -which I corrected. The next time and the next he got them right. Now a -great burden seemed to tumble from my shoulders. That torturing jingle -departed out of my brain, and a grateful sense of rest and peace -descended upon me. I was light-hearted enough to sing; and I did sing -for half an hour, straight along, as we went jogging homeward. Then my -freed tongue found blessed speech again, and the pent talk of many -a weary hour began to gush and flow. It flowed on and on, joyously, -jubilantly, until the fountain was empty and dry. As I wrung my friend's -hand at parting, I said:-- - -“Haven't we had a royal good time! But now I remember, you haven't said -a word for two hours. Come, come, out with something!” - -The Rev. Mr.------ turned a lack-lustre eye upon me, drew a deep sigh, -and said, without animation, without apparent consciousness: - -“Punch, brothers, punch with care! Punch in the presence of the -passenjare!” - -A pang shot through me as I said to myself, “Poor fellow, poor fellow! -he has got it, now.” - -I did not see Mr.------ for two or three days after that. Then, on -Tuesday evening, he staggered into my presence and sank dejectedly into -a seat. He was pale, worn; he was a wreck. He lifted his faded eyes to -my face and said:-- - -“Ah, Mark, it was a ruinous investment that I made in those heartless -rhymes. They have ridden me like a nightmare, day and night, hour after -hour, to this very moment. Since I saw you I have suffered the torments -of the lost. Saturday evening I had a sudden call, by telegraph, and -took the night train for Boston. The occasion was the death of a valued -old friend who had requested that I should preach his funeral sermon. I -took my seat in the cars and set myself to framing the discourse. But I -never got beyond the opening paragraph; for then the train started -and the car-wheels began their 'clack, clack-clack-clack-clack! -clack-clack!--clack-clack-clack!' and right away those odious rhymes -fitted themselves to that accompaniment. For an hour I sat there and -set a syllable of those rhymes to every separate and distinct clack -the car-wheels made. Why, I was as fagged out, then, as if I had been -chopping wood all day. My skull was splitting with headache. It seemed -to me that I must go mad if I sat there any longer; so I undressed and -went to bed. I stretched myself out in my berth, and--well, you -know what the result was. The thing went right along, just the same. -'Clack-clack clack, a blue trip slip, clack-clack-clack, for an -eight-cent fare; clack-clack-clack, a buff trip slip, clack clack-clack, for a -six-cent fare, and so on, and so on, and so on punch in the presence of -the passenjare!' Sleep? Not a single wink! I was almost a lunatic when -I got to Boston. Don't ask me about the funeral. I did the best I could, -but every solemn individual sentence was meshed and tangled and woven in -and out with 'Punch, brothers, punch with care, punch in the presence -of the passenjare.' And the most distressing thing was that my delivery -dropped into the undulating rhythm of those pulsing rhymes, and I could -actually catch absent-minded people nodding time to the swing of it with -their stupid heads. And, Mark, you may believe it or not, but before I -got through the entire assemblage were placidly bobbing their heads in -solemn unison, mourners, undertaker, and all. The moment I had finished, -I fled to the anteroom in a state bordering on frenzy. Of course -it would be my luck to find a sorrowing and aged maiden aunt of the -deceased there, who had arrived from Springfield too late to get into -the church. She began to sob, and said:-- - -“'Oh, oh, he is gone, he is gone, and I didn't see him before he died!' - -“'Yes!' I said, 'he is gone, he is gone, he is gone--oh, will this -suffering never cease!' - -“'You loved him, then! Oh, you too loved him!' - -“'Loved him! Loved who?' - -“'Why, my poor George! my poor nephew!' - -“'Oh--him! Yes--oh, yes, yes. Certainly--certainly. Punch--punch--oh, -this misery will kill me!' - -“'Bless you! bless you, sir, for these sweet words! I, too, suffer in -this dear loss. Were you present during his last moments?' - -“'Yes. I--whose last moments?' - -“'His. The dear departed's.' - -“'Yes! Oh, yes--yes--yes! I suppose so, I think so, I don't know! Oh, -certainly--I was there--I was there!' - -“'Oh, what a privilege! what a precious privilege! And his last -words--oh, tell me, tell me his last words! What did he say?' - -“'He said--he said--oh, my head, my head, my head! He said--he said--he -never said anything but Punch, punch, punch in the presence of the -passenjare! Oh, leave me, madam! In the name of all that is generous, -leave me to my madness, my misery, my despair!--a buff trip slip for a -six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent fare--endu--rance can -no fur--ther go!--PUNCH in the presence of the passenjare!” - -My friend's hopeless eyes rested upon mine a pregnant minute, and then -he said impressively:-- - -“Mark, you do not say anything. You do not offer me any hope. But, ah -me, it is just as well--it is just as well. You could not do me any -good. The time has long gone by when words could comfort me. Something -tells me that my tongue is doomed to wag forever to the jigger of that -remorseless jingle. There--there it is coming on me again: a blue trip -slip for an eight-cent fare, a buff trip slip for a--” - -Thus murmuring faint and fainter, my friend sank into a peaceful trance -and forgot his sufferings in a blessed respite. - -How did I finally save him from an asylum? I took him to a neighboring -university and made him discharge the burden of his persecuting rhymes -into the eager ears of the poor, unthinking students. How is it with -them, now? The result is too sad to tell. Why did I write this article? -It was for a worthy, even a noble, purpose. It was to warn you, reader, -if you should came across those merciless rhymes, to avoid them--avoid -them as you would a pestilence! - - - - -THE GREAT REVOLUTION IN PITCAIRN - -Let me refresh the reader's memory a little. Nearly a hundred years ago -the crew of the British ship Bounty mutinied, set the captain and his -officers adrift upon the open sea, took possession of the ship, and -sailed southward. They procured wives for themselves among the natives -of Tahiti, then proceeded to a lonely little rock in mid-Pacific, called -Pitcairn's Island, wrecked the vessel, stripped her of everything that -might be useful to a new colony, and established themselves on shore. -Pitcairn's is so far removed from the track of commerce that it was many -years before another vessel touched there. It had always been considered -an uninhabited island; so when a ship did at last drop its anchor there, -in 1808, the captain was greatly surprised to find the place peopled. -Although the mutineers had fought among themselves, and gradually killed -each other off until only two or three of the original stock remained, -these tragedies had not occurred before a number of children had been -born; so in 1808 the island had a population of twenty-seven persons. -John Adams, the chief mutineer, still survived, and was to live many -years yet, as governor and patriarch of the flock. From being mutineer -and homicide, he had turned Christian and teacher, and his nation of -twenty-seven persons was now the purest and devoutest in Christendom. -Adams had long ago hoisted the British flag and constituted his island -an appanage of the British crown. - -To-day the population numbers ninety persons--sixteen men, nineteen -women, twenty-five boys, and thirty girls--all descendants of the -mutineers, all bearing the family names of those mutineers, and all -speaking English, and English only. The island stands high up out of -the sea, and has precipitous walls. It is about three-quarters of a mile -long, and in places is as much as half a mile wide. Such arable land as -it affords is held by the several families, according to a division made -many years ago. There is some live stock--goats, pigs, chickens, and -cats; but no dogs, and no large animals. There is one church building -used also as a capitol, a schoolhouse, and a public library. The title -of the governor has been, for a generation or two, “Magistrate and Chief -Ruler, in subordination to her Majesty the Queen of Great Britain.” It -was his province to make the laws, as well as execute them. His office -was elective; everybody over seventeen years old had a vote--no matter -about the sex. - -The sole occupations of the people were farming and fishing; their -sole recreation, religious services. There has never been a shop in the -island, nor any money. The habits and dress of the people have always -been primitive, and their laws simple to puerility. They have lived in -a deep Sabbath tranquillity, far from the world and its ambitions and -vexations, and neither knowing nor caring what was going on in the -mighty empires that lie beyond their limitless ocean solitudes. Once in -three or four years a ship touched there, moved them with aged news -of bloody battles, devastating epidemics, fallen thrones, and ruined -dynasties, then traded them some soap and flannel for some yams and -breadfruit, and sailed away, leaving them to retire into their peaceful -dreams and pious dissipations once more. - -On the 8th of last September, Admiral de Horsey, commander-in-chief of -the British fleet in the Pacific, visited Pitcairn's Island, and speaks -as follows in his official report to the admiralty:-- - - They have beans, carrots, turnips, cabbages, and a little maize; - pineapples, fig-trees, custard-apples, and oranges; lemons, and - cocoa-nuts. Clothing is obtained alone from passing ships, in barter - for refreshments. There are no springs on the island, but as it - rains generally once a month they have plenty of water, although at - times in former years they have suffered from drought. No alcoholic - liquors, except for medicinal purposes, are used, and a drunkard is - unknown.... - - The necessary articles required by the islanders are best shown by - those we furnished in barter for refreshments: namely, flannel, - serge, drill, half-boots, combs, tobacco, and soap. They also stand - much in need of maps and slates for their school, and tools of any - kind are most acceptable. I caused them to be supplied from the - public stores with a Union jack for display on the arrival of - ships, and a pit-saw, of which they were greatly in need. This, I - trust, will meet the approval of their lordships. If the munificent - people of England were only aware of the wants of this most - deserving little colony, they would not long go unsupplied.... - - Divine service is held every Sunday at 10.30 A.M. and at 3 P.M., - in the house built and used by John Adams for that purpose until he - died in 1829. It is conducted strictly in accordance with the - liturgy of the Church of England, by Mr. Simon Young, their selected - pastor, who is much respected. A Bible class is held every - Wednesday, when all who conveniently can, attend. There is also a - general meeting for prayer on the first Friday in every month. - Family prayers are said in every house the first thing in the - morning and the last thing in the evening, and no food is partaken - of without asking God's blessing before and afterward. Of these - islanders' religious attributes no one can speak without deep - respect. A people whose greatest pleasure and privilege is to - commune in prayer with their God, and to join in hymns of praise, - and who are, moreover, cheerful, diligent, and probably freer from - vice than any other community, need no priest among them. - -Now I come to a sentence in the admiral's report which he dropped -carelessly from his pen, no doubt, and never gave the matter a second -thought. He little imagined what a freight of tragic prophecy it bore! -This is the sentence:-- - - One stranger, an American, has settled on the island--a doubtful - acquisition. - -A doubtful acquisition, indeed! Captain Ormsby, in the American ship -Hornet, touched at Pitcairn's nearly four months after the admiral's -visit, and from the facts which he gathered there we now know all about -that American. Let us put these facts together in historical form. The -American's name was Butterworth Stavely. As soon as he had become -well acquainted with all the people--and this took but a few days, of -course--he began to ingratiate himself with them by all the arts he -could command. He became exceedingly popular, and much looked up to; for -one of the first things he did was to forsake his worldly way of life, -and throw all his energies into religion. He was always reading his -Bible, or praying, or singing hymns, or asking blessings. In prayer, no -one had such “liberty” as he, no one could pray so long or so well. - -At last, when he considered the time to be ripe, he began secretly to -sow the seeds of discontent among the people. It was his deliberate -purpose, from the beginning, to subvert the government, but of course he -kept that to himself for a time. He used different arts with different -individuals. He awakened dissatisfaction in one quarter by calling -attention to the shortness of the Sunday services; he argued that there -should be three three-hour services on Sunday instead of only two. -Many had secretly held this opinion before; they now privately banded -themselves into a party to work for it. He showed certain of the women -that they were not allowed sufficient voice in the prayer-meetings; -thus another party was formed. No weapon was beneath his notice; he -even descended to the children, and awoke discontent in their breasts -because--as he discovered for them--they had not enough Sunday-school. -This created a third party. - -Now, as the chief of these parties, he found himself the strongest power -in the community. So he proceeded to his next move--a no less important -one than the impeachment of the chief magistrate, James Russell Nickoy; -a man of character and ability, and possessed of great wealth, he being -the owner of a house with a parlor to it, three acres and a half of -yam land, and the only boat in Pitcairn's, a whaleboat; and, most -unfortunately, a pretext for this impeachment offered itself at just the -right time. - -One of the earliest and most precious laws of the island was the law -against trespass. It was held in great reverence, and was regarded -as the palladium of the people's liberties. About thirty years ago an -important case came before the courts under this law, in this wise: a -chicken belonging to Elizabeth Young (aged, at that time, fifty-eight, -a daughter of John Mills, one of the mutineers of the Bounty) trespassed -upon the grounds of Thursday October Christian (aged twenty-nine, a -grandson of Fletcher Christian, one of the mutineers). Christian killed -the chicken. According to the law, Christian could keep the chicken; or, -if he preferred, he could restore its remains to the owner and receive -damages in “produce” to an amount equivalent to the waste and injury -wrought by the trespasser. The court records set forth that “the said -Christian aforesaid did deliver the aforesaid remains to the said -Elizabeth Young, and did demand one bushel of yams in satisfaction of the -damage done.” But Elizabeth Young considered the demand exorbitant; the -parties could not agree; therefore Christian brought suit in the courts. -He lost his case in the justice's court; at least, he was awarded only -a half-peck of yams, which he considered insufficient, and in the -nature of a defeat. He appealed. The case lingered several years in an -ascending grade of courts, and always resulted in decrees sustaining the -original verdict; and finally the thing got into the supreme court, and -there it stuck for twenty years. But last summer, even the supreme court -managed to arrive at a decision at last. Once more the original verdict -was sustained. Christian then said he was satisfied; but Stavely was -present, and whispered to him and to his lawyer, suggesting, “as a mere -form,” that the original law be exhibited, in order to make sure that -it still existed. It seemed an odd idea, but an ingenious one. So the -demand was made. A messenger was sent to the magistrate's house; he -presently returned with the tidings that it had disappeared from among -the state archives. - -The court now pronounced its late decision void, since it had been made -under a law which had no actual existence. - -Great excitement ensued immediately. The news swept abroad over the -whole island that the palladium of the public liberties was lost--maybe -treasonably destroyed. Within thirty minutes almost the entire nation -were in the court-room--that is to say, the church. The impeachment of -the chief magistrate followed, upon Stavely's motion. The accused met -his misfortune with the dignity which became his great office. He did -not plead, or even argue; he offered the simple defense that he had not -meddled with the missing law; that he had kept the state archives in -the same candle-box that had been used as their depository from the -beginning; and that he was innocent of the removal or destruction of the -lost document. - -But nothing could save him; he was found guilty of misprision of -treason, and degraded from his office, and all his property was -confiscated. - -The lamest part of the whole shameful matter was the reason suggested -by his enemies for his destruction of the law, to wit: that he did it to -favor Christian, because Christian was his cousin! Whereas Stavely was -the only individual in the entire nation who was not his cousin. The -reader must remember that all these people are the descendants of half -a dozen men; that the first children intermarried together and bore -grandchildren to the mutineers; that these grandchildren intermarried; -after them, great and great-great-grandchildren intermarried; so that -to-day everybody is blood kin to everybody. Moreover, the relationships -are wonderfully, even astoundingly, mixed up and complicated. A -stranger, for instance, says to an islander:-- - -“You speak of that young woman as your cousin; a while ago you called -her your aunt.” - -“Well, she is my aunt, and my cousin, too. And also my stepsister, my -niece, my fourth cousin, my thirty-third cousin, my forty-second cousin, -my great-aunt, my grandmother, my widowed sister-in-law--and next week -she will be my wife.” - -So the charge of nepotism against the chief magistrate was weak. But -no matter; weak or strong, it suited Stavely. Stavely was immediately -elected to the vacant magistracy, and, oozing reform from every pore, -he went vigorously to work. In no long time religious services raged -everywhere and unceasingly. By command, the second prayer of the Sunday -morning service, which had customarily endured some thirty-five or forty -minutes, and had pleaded for the world, first by continent and then by -national and tribal detail, was extended to an hour and a half, and -made to include supplications in behalf of the possible peoples in the -several planets. Everybody was pleased with this; everybody said, “Now -this is something like.” By command, the usual three-hour sermons were -doubled in length. The nation came in a body to testify their gratitude -to the new magistrate. The old law forbidding cooking on the Sabbath was -extended to the prohibition of eating, also. By command, Sunday-school -was privileged to spread over into the week. The joy of all classes was -complete. In one short month the new magistrate had become the people's -idol! - -The time was ripe for this man's next move. He began, cautiously at -first, to poison the public mind against England. He took the chief -citizens aside, one by one, and conversed with them on this topic. -Presently he grew bolder, and spoke out. He said the nation owed it to -itself, to its honor, to its great traditions, to rise in its might and -throw off “this galling English yoke.” - -But the simple islanders answered: - -“We had not noticed that it galled. How does it gall? England sends -a ship once in three or four years to give us soap and clothing, and -things which we sorely need and gratefully receive; but she never -troubles us; she lets us go our own way.” - -“She lets you go your own way! So slaves have felt and spoken in all the -ages! This speech shows how fallen you are, how base, how brutalized -you have become, under this grinding tyranny! What! has all manly pride -forsaken you? Is liberty nothing? Are you content to be a mere appendage -to a foreign and hateful sovereignty, when you might rise up and take -your rightful place in the august family of nations, great, free, -enlightened, independent, the minion of no sceptered master, but the -arbiter of your own destiny, and a voice and a power in decreeing the -destinies of your sister-sovereignties of the world?” - -Speeches like this produced an effect by-and-by. Citizens began to feel -the English yoke; they did not know exactly how or whereabouts they -felt it, but they were perfectly certain they did feel it. They got to -grumbling a good deal, and chafing under their chains, and longing for -relief and release. They presently fell to hating the English flag, that -sign and symbol of their nation's degradation; they ceased to glance -up at it as they passed the capitol, but averted their eyes and grated -their teeth; and one morning, when it was found trampled into the mud at -the foot of the staff, they left it there, and no man put his hand to -it to hoist it again. A certain thing which was sure to happen sooner or -later happened now. Some of the chief citizens went to the magistrate by -night, and said:-- - -“We can endure this hated tyranny no longer. How can we cast it off?” - -“By a coup d'etat.” - -“How?” - -“A coup d'etat. It is like this: everything is got ready, and at the -appointed moment I, as the official head of the nation, publicly and -solemnly proclaim its independence, and absolve it from allegiance to -any and all other powers whatsoever.” - -“That sounds simple and easy. We can do that right away. Then what will -be the next thing to do?” - -“Seize all the defenses and public properties of all kinds, establish -martial law, put the army and navy on a war footing, and proclaim the -empire!” - -This fine program dazzled these innocents. They said:-- - -“This is grand--this is splendid; but will not England resist?” - -“Let her. This rock is a Gibraltar.” - -“True. But about the empire? Do we need an empire and an emperor?” - -“What you need, my friends, is unification. Look at Germany; look at -Italy. They are unified. Unification is the thing. It makes living dear. -That constitutes progress. We must have a standing army and a navy. -Taxes follow, as a matter of course. All these things summed up make -grandeur. With unification and grandeur, what more can you want? Very -well--only the empire can confer these boons.” - -So on the 8th day of December Pitcairn's Island was proclaimed a free -and independent nation; and on the same day the solemn coronation of -Butterworth I, Emperor of Pitcairn's Island, took place, amid great -rejoicings and festivities. The entire nation, with the exception of -fourteen persons, mainly little children, marched past the throne in -single file, with banners and music, the procession being upward of -ninety feet long; and some said it was as much as three-quarters of a -minute passing a given point. Nothing like it had ever been seen in the -history of the island before. Public enthusiasm was measureless. - -Now straightway imperial reforms began. Orders of nobility were -instituted. A minister of the navy was appointed, and the whale-boat put -in commission. A minister of war was created, and ordered to proceed at -once with the formation of a standing army. A first lord of the treasury -was named, and commanded to get up a taxation scheme, and also open -negotiations for treaties, offensive, defensive, and commercial, with -foreign powers. Some generals and admirals were appointed; also -some chamberlains, some equerries in waiting, and some lords of the -bedchamber. - -At this point all the material was used up. The Grand Duke of Galilee, -minister of war, complained that all the sixteen grown men in the empire -had been given great offices, and consequently would not consent to -serve in the ranks; wherefore his standing army was at a stand-still. The -Marquis of Ararat, minister of the navy, made a similar complaint. He -said he was willing to steer the whale-boat himself, but he must have -somebody to man her. - -The emperor did the best he could in the circumstances: he took all the -boys above the age of ten years away from their mothers, and pressed -them into the army, thus constructing a corps of seventeen privates, -officered by one lieutenant-general and two major-generals. This pleased -the minister of war, but procured the enmity of all the mothers in the -land; for they said their precious ones must now find bloody graves in -the fields of war, and he would be answerable for it. Some of the more -heartbroken and unappeasable among them lay constantly wait for the -emperor and threw yams at him, unmindful of the body-guard. - -On account of the extreme scarcity of material, it was found necessary -to require the Duke of Bethany postmaster-general, to pull stroke-oar -in the navy and thus sit in the rear of a noble of lower degree namely, -Viscount Canaan, lord-justice of the common pleas. This turned the Duke -of Bethany into tolerably open malcontent and a secret conspirator--a -thing which the emperor foresaw, but could not help. - -Things went from bad to worse. The emperor raised Nancy Peters to the -peerage on one day, and married her the next, notwithstanding, for -reasons of state, the cabinet had strenuously advised him to marry -Emmeline, eldest daughter of the Archbishop of Bethlehem. This caused -trouble in a powerful quarter--the church. The new empress secured the -support and friendship of two-thirds of the thirty-six grown women in -the nation by absorbing them into her court as maids of honor; but this -made deadly enemies of the remaining twelve. The families of the maids -of honor soon began to rebel, because there was nobody at home to keep -house. The twelve snubbed women refused to enter the imperial kitchen -as servants; so the empress had to require the Countess of Jericho and -other great court dames to fetch water, sweep the palace, and perform -other menial and equally distasteful services. This made bad blood in -that department. - -Everybody fell to complaining that the taxes levied for the support -of the army, the navy, and the rest of the imperial establishment were -intolerably burdensome, and were reducing the nation to beggary. The -emperor's reply--“Look--Look at Germany; look at Italy. Are you better -than they? and haven't you unification?”---did not satisfy them. They -said, “People can't eat unification, and we are starving. Agriculture -has ceased. Everybody is in the army, everybody is in the navy, -everybody is in the public service, standing around in a uniform, with -nothing whatever to do, nothing to eat, and nobody to till the fields--” - -“Look at Germany; look at Italy. It is the same there. Such is -unification, and there's no other way to get it--no other way to keep it -after you've got it,” said the poor emperor always. - -But the grumblers only replied, “We can't stand the taxes--we can't -stand them.” - -Now right on top of this the cabinet reported a national debt amounting -to upward of forty-five dollars--half a dollar to every individual in -the nation. And they proposed to fund something. They had heard that -this was always done in such emergencies. They proposed duties on -exports; also on imports. And they wanted to issue bonds; also paper -money, redeemable in yams and cabbages in fifty years. They said the pay -of the army and of the navy and of the whole governmental machine was -far in arrears, and unless something was done, and done immediately, -national bankruptcy must ensue, and possibly insurrection and -revolution. The emperor at once resolved upon a high-handed measure, and -one of a nature never before heard of in Pitcairn's Island. He went in -state to the church on Sunday morning, with the army at his back, and -commanded the minister of the treasury to take up a collection. - -That was the feather that broke the camel's back. First one citizen, and -then another, rose and refused to submit to this unheard-of outrage--and -each refusal was followed by the immediate confiscation of the -malcontent's property. This vigor soon stopped the refusals, and the -collection proceeded amid a sullen and ominous silence. As the emperor -withdrew with the troops, he said, “I will teach you who is master -here.” Several persons shouted, “Down with unification!” They were at -once arrested and torn from the arms of their weeping friends by the -soldiery. - -But in the mean time, as any prophet might have foreseen, a Social -Democrat had been developed. As the emperor stepped into the gilded -imperial wheelbarrow at the church door, the social democrat stabbed at -him fifteen or sixteen times with a harpoon, but fortunately with such a -peculiarly social democratic unprecision of aim as to do no damage. - -That very night the convulsion came. The nation rose as one man--though -forty-nine of the revolutionists were of the other sex. The infantry -threw down their pitchforks; the artillery cast aside their cocoa-nuts; -the navy revolted; the emperor was seized, and bound hand and foot in -his palace. He was very much depressed. He said:-- - -“I freed you from a grinding tyranny; I lifted you up out of your -degradation, and made you a nation among nations; I gave you a strong, -compact, centralized government; and, more than all, I gave you the -blessing of blessings--unification. I have done all this, and my reward -is hatred, insult, and these bonds. Take me; do with me as you will. -I here resign my crown and all my dignities, and gladly do I release -myself from their too heavy burden. For your sake I took them up; for -your sake I lay them down. The imperial jewel is no more; now bruise and -defile as ye will the useless setting.” - -By a unanimous voice the people condemned the ex-emperor and the social -democrat to perpetual banishment from church services, or to perpetual -labor as galley-slaves in the whale-boat--whichever they might prefer. -The next day the nation assembled again, and rehoisted the British flag, -reinstated the British tyranny, reduced the nobility to the condition of -commoners again, and then straightway turned their diligent attention -to the weeding of the ruined and neglected yam patches, and the -rehabilitation of the old useful industries and the old healing and -solacing pieties. The ex-emperor restored the lost trespass law, and -explained that he had stolen it--not to injure any one, but to further -his political projects. Therefore the nation gave the late chief -magistrate his office again, and also his alienated Property. - -Upon reflection, the ex-emperor and the social democrat chose perpetual -banishment from religious services in preference to perpetual labor as -galley-slaves “with perpetual religious services,” as they phrased -it; wherefore the people believed that the poor fellows' troubles had -unseated their reason, and so they judged it best to confine them for -the present. Which they did. - -Such is the history of Pitcairn's “doubtful acquisition.” - - - - -THE CANVASSER'S TALE - -Poor, sad-eyed stranger! There was that about his humble mien, his tired -look, his decayed-gentility clothes, that almost reached the -mustard-seed of charity that still remained, remote and lonely, in the -empty vastness of my heart, notwithstanding I observed a portfolio under -his arm, and said to myself, Behold, Providence hath delivered his -servant into the hands of another canvasser. - -Well, these people always get one interested. Before I well knew how it -came about, this one was telling me his history, and I was all attention -and sympathy. He told it something like this:-- - -My parents died, alas, when I was a little, sinless child. My uncle -Ithuriel took me to his heart and reared me as his own. He was my only -relative in the wide world; but he was good and rich and generous. He -reared me in the lap of luxury. I knew no want that money could satisfy. - -In the fullness of time I was graduated, and went with two of my -servants--my chamberlain and my valet--to travel in foreign countries. -During four years I flitted upon careless wing amid the beauteous -gardens of the distant strand, if you will permit this form of speech in -one whose tongue was ever attuned to poesy; and indeed I so speak with -confidence, as one unto his kind, for I perceive by your eyes that you -too, sir, are gifted with the divine inflation. In those far lands I -reveled in the ambrosial food that fructifies the soul, the mind, the -heart. But of all things, that which most appealed to my inborn esthetic -taste was the prevailing custom there, among the rich, of making -collections of elegant and costly rarities, dainty objets de vertu, -and in an evil hour I tried to uplift my uncle Ithuriel to a plane of -sympathy with this exquisite employment. - -I wrote and told him of one gentleman's vast collection of shells; -another's noble collection of meerschaum pipes; another's elevating and -refining collection of undecipherable autographs; another's -priceless collection of old china; another's enchanting collection of -postage-stamps--and so forth and so on. Soon my letters yielded fruit. -My uncle began to look about for something to make a collection of. -You may know, perhaps, how fleetly a taste like this dilates. His soon -became a raging fever, though I knew it not. He began to neglect his -great pork business; presently he wholly retired and turned an elegant -leisure into a rabid search for curious things. His wealth was vast, and -he spared it not. First he tried cow-bells. He made a collection which -filled five large salons, and comprehended all the different sorts of -cow-bells that ever had been contrived, save one. That one--an antique, -and the only specimen extant--was possessed by another collector. My -uncle offered enormous sums for it, but the gentleman would not sell. -Doubtless you know what necessarily resulted. A true collector attaches -no value to a collection that is not complete. His great heart -breaks, he sells his hoard, he turns his mind to some field that seems -unoccupied. - -Thus did my uncle. He next tried brickbats. After piling up a vast and -intensely interesting collection, the former difficulty supervened; -his great heart broke again; he sold out his soul's idol to the retired -brewer who possessed the missing brick. Then he tried flint hatchets -and other implements of Primeval Man, but by and by discovered that the -factory where they were made was supplying other collectors as well -as himself. He tried Aztec inscriptions and stuffed whales--another -failure, after incredible labor and expense. When his collection seemed -at last perfect, a stuffed whale arrived from Greenland and an Aztec -inscription from the Cundurango regions of Central America that made all -former specimens insignificant. My uncle hastened to secure these -noble gems. He got the stuffed whale, but another collector got the -inscription. A real Cundurango, as possibly you know, is a possession of -such supreme value that, when once a collector gets it, he will rather -part with his family than with it. So my uncle sold out, and saw his -darlings go forth, never more to return; and his coal-black hair turned -white as snow in a single night. - -Now he waited, and thought. He knew another disappointment might kill -him. He was resolved that he would choose things next time that no other -man was collecting. He carefully made up his mind, and once more entered -the field-this time to make a collection of echoes. - -“Of what?” said I. - -Echoes, sir. His first purchase was an echo in Georgia that repeated -four times; his next was a six-repeater in Maryland; his next was a -thirteen-repeater in Maine; his next was a nine-repeater in Kansas; -his next was a twelve-repeater in Tennessee, which he got cheap, so -to speak, because it was out of repair, a portion of the crag which -reflected it having tumbled down. He believed he could repair it at a -cost of a few thousand dollars, and, by increasing the elevation with -masonry, treble the repeating capacity; but the architect who undertook -the job had never built an echo before, and so he utterly spoiled -this one. Before he meddled with it, it used to talk back like a -mother-in-law, but now it was only fit for the deaf-and-dumb asylum. -Well, next he bought a lot of cheap little double-barreled echoes, -scattered around over various states and territories; he got them -at twenty per cent. off by taking the lot. Next he bought a perfect -Gatling-gun of an echo in Oregon, and it cost a fortune, I can tell -you. You may know, sir, that in the echo market the scale of prices -is cumulative, like the carat-scale in diamonds; in fact, the same -phraseology is used. A single-carat echo is worth but ten dollars over -and above the value of the land it is on; a two-carat or double-barreled -echo is worth thirty dollars; a five-carat is worth nine hundred and -fifty; a ten-carat is worth thirteen thousand. My uncle's Oregon-echo, -which he called the Great Pitt Echo, was a twenty-two carat gem, and -cost two hundred and sixteen thousand dollars--they threw the land in, -for it was four hundred miles from a settlement. - -Well, in the mean time my path was a path of roses. I was the accepted -suitor of the only and lovely daughter of an English earl, and was -beloved to distraction. In that dear presence I swam in seas of bliss. -The family were content, for it was known that I was sole heir to an -uncle held to be worth five millions of dollars. However, none of us -knew that my uncle had become a collector, at least in anything more -than a small way, for esthetic amusement. - -Now gathered the clouds above my unconscious head. That divine echo, -since known throughout the world as the Great Koh-i-noor, or Mountain -of Repetitions, was discovered. It was a sixty-five carat gem. You could -utter a word and it would talk back at you for fifteen minutes, when the -day was otherwise quiet. But behold, another fact came to light at the -same time: another echo-collector was in the field. The two rushed to -make the peerless purchase. The property consisted of a couple of -small hills with a shallow swale between, out yonder among the back -settlements of New York State. Both men arrived on the ground at the -same time, and neither knew the other was there. The echo was not all -owned by one man; a person by the name of Williamson Bolivar Jarvis -owned the east hill, and a person by the name of Harbison J. Bledso -owned the west hill; the swale between was the dividing-line. So while -my uncle was buying Jarvis's hill for three million two hundred and -eighty-five thousand dollars, the other party was buying Bledso's hill -for a shade over three million. - -Now, do you perceive the natural result? Why, the noblest collection of -echoes on earth was forever and ever incomplete, since it possessed but -the one-half of the king echo of the universe. Neither man was content -with this divided ownership, yet neither would sell to the other. -There were jawings, bickerings, heart-burnings. And at last that other -collector, with a malignity which only a collector can ever feel toward -a man and a brother, proceeded to cut down his hill! - -You see, as long as he could not have the echo, he was resolved that -nobody should have it. He would remove his hill, and then there would be -nothing to reflect my uncle's echo. My uncle remonstrated with him, but -the man said, “I own one end of this echo; I choose to kill my end; you -must take care of your own end yourself.” - -Well, my uncle got an injunction put on him. The other man appealed and -fought it in a higher court. They carried it on up, clear to the Supreme -Court of the United States. It made no end of trouble there. Two of -the judges believed that an echo was personal property, because it was -impalpable to sight and touch, and yet was purchasable, salable, and -consequently taxable; two others believed that an echo was real estate, -because it was manifestly attached to the land, and was not removable -from place to place; other of the judges contended that an echo was not -property at all. - -It was finally decided that the echo was property; that the hills were -property; that the two men were separate and independent owners of the -two hills, but tenants in common in the echo; therefore defendant was at -full liberty to cut down his hill, since it belonged solely to him, but -must give bonds in three million dollars as indemnity for damages which -might result to my uncle's half of the echo. This decision also debarred -my uncle from using defendant's hill to reflect his part of the echo, -without defendant's consent; he must use only his own hill; if his part -of the echo would not go, under these circumstances, it was sad, of -course, but the court could find no remedy. The court also debarred -defendant from using my uncle's hill to reflect his end of the echo, -without consent. You see the grand result! Neither man would give -consent, and so that astonishing and most noble echo had to cease from -its great powers; and since that day that magnificent property is tied -up and unsalable. - -A week before my wedding-day, while I was still swimming in bliss and -the nobility were gathering from far and near to honor our espousals, -came news of my uncle's death, and also a copy of his will, making me -his sole heir. He was gone; alas, my dear benefactor was no more. The -thought surcharges my heart even at this remote day. I handed the will -to the earl; I could not read it for the blinding tears. The earl read -it; then he sternly said, “Sir, do you call this wealth?--but doubtless -you do in your inflated country. Sir, you are left sole heir to a vast -collection of echoes--if a thing can be called a collection that is -scattered far and wide over the huge length and breadth of the American -continent; sir, this is not all; you are head and ears in debt; there -is not an echo in the lot but has a mortgage on it; sir, I am not a hard -man, but I must look to my child's interest; if you had but one echo -which you could honestly call your own, if you had but one echo which -was free from incumbrance, so that you could retire to it with my child, -and by humble, painstaking industry cultivate and improve it, and thus -wrest from it a maintenance, I would not say you nay; but I cannot marry -my child to a beggar. Leave his side, my darling; go, sir, take your -mortgage-ridden echoes and quit my sight forever.” - -My noble Celestine clung to me in tears, with loving arms, and swore she -would willingly, nay gladly, marry me, though I had not an echo in the -world. But it could not be. We were torn asunder, she to pine and die -within the twelvemonth, I to toil life's long journey sad and alone, -praying daily, hourly, for that release which shall join us together -again in that dear realm where the wicked cease from troubling and the -weary are at rest. Now, sir, if you will be so kind as to look at these -maps and plans in my portfolio, I am sure I can sell you an echo for -less money than any man in the trade. Now this one, which cost my uncle -ten dollars, thirty years ago, and is one of the sweetest things in -Texas, I will let you have for-- - -“Let me interrupt you,” I said. “My friend, I have not had a moment's -respite from canvassers this day. I have bought a sewing-machine which I -did not want; I have bought a map which is mistaken in all its details; -I have bought a clock which will not go; I have bought a moth poison -which the moths prefer to any other beverage; I have bought no end of -useless inventions, and now I have had enough of this foolishness. I -would not have one of your echoes if you were even to give it to me. I -would not let it stay on the place. I always hate a man that tries to -sell me echoes. You see this gun? Now take your collection and move on; -let us not have bloodshed.” - -But he only smiled a sad, sweet smile, and got out some more diagrams. -You know the result perfectly well, because you know that when you have -once opened the door to a canvasser, the trouble is done and you have -got to suffer defeat. - -I compromised with this man at the end of an intolerable hour. I bought -two double-barreled echoes in good condition, and he threw in another, -which he said was not salable because it only spoke German. He said, -“She was a perfect polyglot once, but somehow her palate got down.” - - - - -AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN INTERVIEWER - -The nervous, dapper, “peart” young man took the chair I offered him, and -said he was connected with the Daily Thunderstorm, and added: - -“Hoping it's no harm, I've come to interview you.” - -“Come to what?” - -“Interview you.” - -“Ah! I see. Yes--yes. Um! Yes--yes.” - -I was not feeling bright that morning. Indeed, my powers seemed a bit -under a cloud. However, I went to the bookcase, and when I had been -looking six or seven minutes I found I was obliged to refer to the young -man. I said:-- - -“How do you spell it?” - -“Spell what?” - -“Interview.” - -“Oh, my goodness! what do you want to spell it for?” - -“I don't want to spell it; I want to see what it means.” - -“Well, this is astonishing, I must say. I can tell you what it means, if -you--if you--” - -“Oh, all right! That will answer, and much obliged to you, too.” - -“In, in, ter, ter, inter--” - -“Then you spell it with an I?” - -“Why certainly!” - -“Oh, that is what took me so long.” - -“Why, my dear sir, what did you propose to spell it with?” - -“Well, I--I--hardly know. I had the Unabridged, and I was ciphering -around in the back end, hoping I might tree her among the pictures. But -it's a very old edition.” - -“Why, my friend, they wouldn't have a picture of it in even the latest -e---- My dear sir, I beg your pardon, I mean no harm in the world, but -you do not look as--as--intelligent as I had expected you would. No -harm--I mean no harm at all.” - -“Oh, don't mention it! It has often been said, and by people who would -not flatter and who could have no inducement to flatter, that I am quite -remarkable in that way. Yes--yes; they always speak of it with rapture.” - -“I can easily imagine it. But about this interview. You know it is the -custom, now, to interview any man who has become notorious.” - -“Indeed, I had not heard of it before. It must be very interesting. What -do you do it with?” - -“Ah, well--well--well--this is disheartening. It ought to be done with -a club in some cases; but customarily it consists in the interviewer -asking questions and the interviewed answering them. It is all the rage -now. Will you let me ask you certain questions calculated to bring out -the salient points of your public and private history?” - -“Oh, with pleasure--with pleasure. I have a very bad memory, but I -hope you will not mind that. That is to say, it is an irregular -memory--singularly irregular. Sometimes it goes in a gallop, and then -again it will be as much as a fortnight passing a given point. This is a -great grief to me.” - -“Oh, it is no matter, so you will try to do the best you can.” - -“I will. I will put my whole mind on it.” - -“Thanks. Are you ready to begin?” - -“Ready.” - -Q. How old are you? - -A. Nineteen, in June. - -Q. Indeed. I would have taken you to be thirty-five or six. Where were -you born? - -A. In Missouri. - -Q. When did you begin to write? - -A. In 1836. - -Q. Why, how could that be, if you are only nineteen now? - -A. I don't know. It does seem curious, somehow. - -Q. It does, indeed. Whom do you consider the most remarkable man you -ever met? - -A. Aaron Burr. - -Q. But you never could have met Aaron Burr, if you are only nineteen -years!-- - -A. Now, if you know more about me than I do, what do you ask me for? - -Q. Well, it was only a suggestion; nothing more. How did you happen to -meet Burr? - -A. Well, I happened to be at his funeral one day, and he asked me to -make less noise, and-- - -Q. But, good heavens! if you were at his funeral, he must have been -dead, and if he was dead how could he care whether you made a noise or -not? - -A. I don't know. He was always a particular kind of a man that way. - -Q. Still, I don't understand it at all. You say he spoke to you, and -that he was dead. - -A. I didn't say he was dead. - -Q. But wasn't he dead? - -A. Well, some said he was, some said he wasn't. - -Q. What did you think? - -A. Oh, it was none of my business! It wasn't any of my funeral. - -Q. Did you--However, we can never get this matter straight. Let me ask -about something else. What was the date of your birth? - -A. Monday, October 31, 1693. - -Q. What! Impossible! That would make you a hundred and eighty years old. -How do you account for that? - -A. I don't account for it at all. - -Q. But you said at first you were only nineteen, and now you make -yourself out to be one hundred and eighty. It is an awful discrepancy. - -A. Why, have you noticed that? (Shaking hands.) Many a time it has -seemed to me like a discrepancy, but somehow I couldn't make up my mind. -How quick you notice a thing! - -Q. Thank you for the compliment, as far as it goes. Had you, or have -you, any brothers or sisters? - -A. Eh! I--I--I think so--yes--but I don't remember. - -Q. Well, that is the most extraordinary statement I ever heard! - -A. Why, what makes you think that? - -Q. How could I think otherwise? Why, look here! Who is this a picture of -on the wall? Isn't that a brother of yours? - -A. Oh, yes, yes, yes! Now you remind me of it; that was a brother of -mine. That's William--Bill we called him. Poor old Bill! - -Q. Why? Is he dead, then? - -A. Ah! well, I suppose so. We never could tell. There was a great -mystery about it. - -Q. That is sad, very sad. He disappeared, then? - -A. Well, yes, in a sort of general way. We buried him-- - -Q. Buried him! Buried him, without knowing whether he was dead or not? - -A. Oh, no! Not that. He was dead enough. - -Q. Well, I confess that I can't understand this. If you buried him, and -you knew he was dead. - -A. No! no! We only thought he was. - -Q. Oh, I see! He came to life again? - -A. I bet he didn't. - -Q. Well, I never heard anything like this. Somebody was dead. Somebody -was buried. Now, where was the mystery? - -A. Ah! that's just it! That's it exactly. You see, we were -twins--defunct and I--and we got mixed in the bathtub when we were only -two weeks old, and one of us was drowned. But we didn't know which. Some -think it was Bill. Some think it was me. - -Q. Well, that is remarkable. What do you think? - -A. Goodness knows! I would give whole worlds to know. This solemn, this -awful mystery has cast a gloom over my whole life. But I will tell you -a secret now, which I never have revealed to any creature before. One of -us had a peculiar mark--a large mole on the back of his left hand; that -was me. That child was the one that was drowned! - -Q. Very well, then, I don't see that there is any mystery about it, -after all. - -A. You don't? Well, I do. Anyway, I don't see how they could ever have -been such a blundering lot as to go and bury the wrong child. But, -'sh!--don't mention it where the family can hear of it. Heaven knows -they have heartbreaking troubles enough without adding this. - -Q. Well, I believe I have got material enough for the present, and I am -very much obliged to you for the pains you have taken. But I was a good -deal interested in that account of Aaron Burr's funeral. Would you mind -telling me what particular circumstance it was that made you think Burr -was such a remarkable man? - -A. Oh! it was a mere trifle! Not one man in fifty would have noticed it -at all. When the sermon was over, and the procession all ready to start -for the cemetery, and the body all arranged nice in the hearse, he said -he wanted to take a last look at the scenery, and so he got up and rode -with the driver. - -Then the young man reverently withdrew. He was very pleasant company, -and I was sorry to see him go. - - - - -PARIS NOTES - - [Crowded out of “A Tramp Abroad” to make room for more - vital statistics.--M. T.] - -The Parisian travels but little, he knows no language but his own, reads -no literature but his own, and consequently he is pretty narrow and -pretty self-sufficient. However, let us not be too sweeping; there are -Frenchmen who know languages not their own: these are the waiters. -Among the rest, they know English; that is, they know it on the European -plan--which is to say, they can speak it, but can't understand it. They -easily make themselves understood, but it is next to impossible to word -an English sentence in such a way as to enable them to comprehend it. -They think they comprehend it; they pretend they do; but they don't. -Here is a conversation which I had with one of these beings; I wrote it -down at the time, in order to have it exactly correct. - -I. These are fine oranges. Where are they grown? - -He. More? Yes, I will bring them. - -I. No, do not bring any more; I only want to know where they are -from--where they are raised. - -He. Yes? (with imperturbable mien and rising inflection.) - -I. Yes. Can you tell me what country they are from? - -He. Yes? (blandly, with rising inflection.) - -I. (disheartened). They are very nice. - -He. Good night. (Bows, and retires, quite satisfied with himself.) - -That young man could have become a good English scholar by taking -the right sort of pains, but he was French, and wouldn't do that. How -different is the case with our people; they utilize every means that -offers. There are some alleged French Protestants in Paris, and they -built a nice little church on one of the great avenues that lead away -from the Arch of Triumph, and proposed to listen to the correct thing, -preached in the correct way, there, in their precious French tongue, and -be happy. But their little game does not succeed. Our people are always -there ahead of them Sundays, and take up all the room. When the minister -gets up to preach, he finds his house full of devout foreigners, each -ready and waiting, with his little book in his hand--a morocco-bound -Testament, apparently. But only apparently; it is Mr. Bellows's -admirable and exhaustive little French-English dictionary, which in look -and binding and size is just like a Testament and those people are there -to study French. The building has been nicknamed “The Church of the -Gratis French Lesson.” - -These students probably acquire more language than general information, -for I am told that a French sermon is like a French speech--it never -names a historical event, but only the date of it; if you are not up in -dates, you get left. A French speech is something like this: - - Comrades, citizens, brothers, noble parts of the only sublime and - perfect nation, let us not forget that the 21st January cast off our - chains; that the 10th August relieved us of the shameful presence of - foreign spies; that the 5th September was its own justification - before heaven and humanity; that the 18th Brumaire contained the - seeds of its own punishment; that the 14th July was the mighty voice - of liberty proclaiming the resurrection, the new day, and inviting - the oppressed peoples of the earth to look upon the divine face of - France and live; and let us here record our everlasting curse - against the man of the 2d December, and declare in thunder tones, - the native tones of France, that but for him there had been no 17th - March in history, no 12th October, no 19th January, no 22d April, - no 16th November, no 30th September, no 2d July, no 14th February, - no 29th June, no 15th August, no 31st May--that but for him, France - the pure, the grand, the peerless, had had a serene and vacant - almanac to-day! - -I have heard of one French sermon which closed in this odd yet eloquent -way: - - My hearers, we have sad cause to remember the man of the 13th - January. The results of the vast crime of the 13th January have - been in just proportion to the magnitude of the set itself. But for - it there had been no 30 November--sorrowful spectacle! The grisly - deed of the 16th June had not been done but for it, nor had the man - of the 16th June known existence; to it alone the 3d September was - due, also the fatal 12th October. Shall we, then, be grateful for - the 13th January, with its freight of death for you and me and all - that breathe? Yes, my friends, for it gave us also that which had - never come but for it, and it alone--the blessed 25th December. - -It may be well enough to explain, though in the case of many of my -readers this will hardly be necessary. The man of the 13th January is -Adam; the crime of that date was the eating of the apple; the sorrowful -spectacle of the 30th November was the expulsion from Eden; the -grisly deed of the 16th June was the murder of Abel; the act of the 3d -September was the beginning of the journey to the land of Nod; the 12th -day of October, the last mountain-tops disappeared under the flood. -When you go to church in France, you want to take your almanac with -you--annotated. - - - - -LEGEND OF SAGENFELD, IN GERMANY - - [Left out of “A Tramp Abroad” because its authenticity seemed - doubtful, and could not at that time be proved.--M. T.] - - -More than a thousand years ago this small district was a kingdom--a -little bit of a kingdom, a sort of dainty little toy kingdom, as one -might say. It was far removed from the jealousies, strifes, and turmoils -of that old warlike day, and so its life was a simple life, its people -a gentle and guileless race; it lay always in a deep dream of peace, a -soft Sabbath tranquillity; there was no malice, there was no envy, there -was no ambition, consequently there were no heart-burnings, there was no -unhappiness in the land. - -In the course of time the old king died and his little son Hubert came -to the throne. The people's love for him grew daily; he was so good and -so pure and so noble, that by and by his love became a passion, almost -a worship. Now at his birth the soothsayers had diligently studied the -stars and found something written in that shining book to this effect: - - In Hubert's fourteenth year a pregnant event will happen; the animal - whose singing shall sound sweetest in Hubert's ear shall save - Hubert's life. So long as the king and the nation shall honor this - animal's race for this good deed, the ancient dynasty shall not fail - of an heir, nor the nation know war or pestilence or poverty. But - beware an erring choice! - -All through the king's thirteenth year but one thing was talked of by -the soothsayers, the statesmen, the little parliament, and the general -people. That one thing was this: How is the last sentence of the -prophecy to be understood? What goes before seems to mean that the -saving animal will choose itself at the proper time; but the closing -sentence seems to mean that the king must choose beforehand, and say -what singer among the animals pleases him best, and that if he choose -wisely the chosen animal will save his life, his dynasty, his people, -but that if he should make “an erring choice”--beware! - -By the end of the year there were as many opinions about this matter -as there had been in the beginning; but a majority of the wise and the -simple were agreed that the safest plan would be for the little king to -make choice beforehand, and the earlier the better. So an edict was sent -forth commanding all persons who owned singing creatures to bring them -to the great hall of the palace in the morning of the first day of the -new year. This command was obeyed. When everything was in readiness for -the trial, the king made his solemn entry with the great officers of the -crown, all clothed in their robes of state. The king mounted his golden -throne and prepared to give judgment. But he presently said:-- - -“These creatures all sing at once; the noise is unendurable; no one can -choose in such a turmoil. Take them all away, and bring back one at a -time.” - -This was done. One sweet warbler after another charmed the young king's -ear and was removed to make way for another candidate. The precious -minutes slipped by; among so many bewitching songsters he found it hard -to choose, and all the harder because the promised penalty for an error -was so terrible that it unsettled his judgment and made him afraid to -trust his own ears. He grew nervous and his face showed distress. His -ministers saw this, for they never took their eyes from him a moment. -Now they began to say in their hearts: - -“He has lost courage--the cool head is gone--he will err--he and his -dynasty and his people are doomed!” - -At the end of an hour the king sat silent awhile, and then said:-- - -“Bring back the linnet.” - -The linnet trilled forth her jubilant music. In the midst of it the king -was about to uplift his scepter in sign of choice, but checked himself -and said:-- - -“But let us be sure. Bring back the thrush; let them sing together.” - -The thrush was brought, and the two birds poured out their marvels of -song together. The king wavered, then his inclination began to settle -and strengthen--one could see it in his countenance. Hope budded in the -hearts of the old ministers, their pulses began to beat quicker, the -scepter began to rise slowly, when: There was a hideous interruption! It -was a sound like this--just at the door: - -“Waw... he! waw... he! waw-he!-waw he!-waw-he!” - -Everybody was sorely startled--and enraged at himself for showing it. - -The next instant the dearest, sweetest, prettiest little peasant-maid -of nine years came tripping in, her brown eyes glowing with childish -eagerness; but when she saw that august company and those angry faces -she stopped and hung her head and put her poor coarse apron to her -eyes. Nobody gave her welcome, none pitied her. Presently she looked up -timidly through her tears, and said:-- - -“My lord the king, I pray you pardon me, for I meant no wrong. I have no -father and no mother, but I have a goat and a donkey, and they are all -in all to me. My goat gives me the sweetest milk, and when my dear good -donkey brays it seems to me there is no music like to it. So when my -lord the king's jester said the sweetest singer among all the animals -should save the crown and nation, and moved me to bring him here--” - -All the court burst into a rude laugh, and the child fled away crying, -without trying to finish her speech. The chief minister gave a private -order that she and her disastrous donkey be flogged beyond the precincts -of the palace and commanded to come within them no more. - -Then the trial of the birds was resumed. The two birds sang their best, -but the scepter lay motionless in the king's hand. Hope died slowly out -in the breasts of all. An hour went by; two hours, still no decision. -The day waned to its close, and the waiting multitudes outside the -palace grew crazed with anxiety and apprehension. The twilight came -on, the shadows fell deeper and deeper. The king and his court could no -longer see each other's faces. No one spoke--none called for lights. The -great trial had been made; it had failed; each and all wished to hide -their faces from the light and cover up their deep trouble in their own -hearts. - -Finally-hark! A rich, full strain of the divinest melody streamed forth -from a remote part of the hall--the nightingale's voice! - -“Up!” shouted the king, “let all the bells make proclamation to the -people, for the choice is made and we have not erred. King, dynasty, -and nation are saved. From henceforth let the nightingale be honored -throughout the land forever. And publish it among all the people that -whosoever shall insult a nightingale, or injure it, shall suffer death. -The king hath spoken.” - -All that little world was drunk with joy. The castle and the city blazed -with bonfires all night long, the people danced and drank and sang; and -the triumphant clamor of the bells never ceased. - -From that day the nightingale was a sacred bird. Its song was heard in -every house; the poets wrote its praises; the painters painted it; its -sculptured image adorned every arch and turret and fountain and public -building. It was even taken into the king's councils; and no grave -matter of state was decided until the soothsayers had laid the thing -before the state nightingale and translated to the ministry what it was -that the bird had sung about it. - -II - -The young king was very fond of the chase. When the summer was come he -rode forth with hawk and hound, one day, in a brilliant company of his -nobles. He got separated from them by and by, in a great forest, and -took what he imagined a near cut, to find them again; but it was a -mistake. He rode on and on, hopefully at first, but with sinking courage -finally. Twilight came on, and still he was plunging through a lonely -and unknown land. Then came a catastrophe. In the dim light he forced -his horse through a tangled thicket overhanging a steep and rocky -declivity. When horse and rider reached the bottom, the former had a -broken neck and the latter a broken leg. The poor little king lay there -suffering agonies of pain, and each hour seemed a long month to him. -He kept his ear strained to hear any sound that might promise hope of -rescue; but he heard no voice, no sound of horn or bay of hound. So at -last he gave up all hope, and said, “Let death come, for come it must.” - -Just then the deep, sweet song of a nightingale swept across the still -wastes of the night. - -“Saved!” the king said. “Saved! It is the sacred bird, and the prophecy -is come true. The gods themselves protected me from error in the -choice.” - -He could hardly contain his joy; he could not word his gratitude. Every -few moments now he thought he caught the sound of approaching succor. -But each time it was a disappointment; no succor came. The dull hours -drifted on. Still no help came--but still the sacred bird sang on. He -began to have misgivings about his choice, but he stifled them. Toward -dawn the bird ceased. The morning came, and with it thirst and hunger; -but no succor. The day waxed and waned. At last the king cursed the -nightingale. - -Immediately the song of the thrush came from out the wood. The king said -in his heart, “This was the true-bird--my choice was false--succor will -come now.” - -But it did not come. Then he lay many hours insensible. When he came to -himself, a linnet was singing. He listened with apathy. His faith was -gone. “These birds,” he said, “can bring no help; I and my house and my -people are doomed.” He turned him about to die; for he was grown very -feeble from hunger and thirst and suffering, and felt that his end was -near. In truth, he wanted to die, and be released from pain. For long -hours he lay without thought or feeling or motion. Then his senses -returned. The dawn of the third morning was breaking. Ah, the world -seemed very beautiful to those worn eyes. Suddenly a great longing to -live rose up in the lad's heart, and from his soul welled a deep and -fervent prayer that Heaven would have mercy upon him and let him see -his home and his friends once more. In that instant a soft, a faint, a -far-off sound, but oh, how inexpressibly sweet to his waiting ear, came -floating out of the distance: - -“Waw... he! waw... he! Waw-he!--waw-he!--waw-he!” - -“That, oh, that song is sweeter, a thousand times sweeter than the voice -of the nightingale, thrush, or linnet, for it brings not mere hope, but -certainty of succor; and now, indeed, am I saved! The sacred singer has -chosen itself, as the oracle intended; the prophecy is fulfilled, and my -life, my house, and my people are redeemed. The ass shall be sacred from -this day!” - -The divine music grew nearer and nearer, stronger--and stronger and ever -sweeter and sweeter to the perishing sufferer's ear. Down the declivity -the docile little donkey wandered, cropping herbage and singing as he -went; and when at last he saw the dead horse and the wounded king, he -came and snuffed at them with simple and marveling curiosity. The king -petted him, and he knelt down as had been his wont when his little -mistress desired to mount. With great labor and pain the lad drew -himself upon the creature's back, and held himself there by aid of the -generous ears. The ass went singing forth from the place and carried -the king to the little peasant-maid's hut. She gave him her pallet for -a bed, refreshed him with goat's milk, and then flew to tell the great -news to the first scouting-party of searchers she might meet. - -The king got well. His first act was to proclaim the sacredness and -inviolability of the ass; his second was to add this particular ass to -his cabinet and make him chief minister of the crown; his third was to -have all the statues and effigies of nightingales throughout his kingdom -destroyed, and replaced by statues and effigies of the sacred donkey; -and, his fourth was to announce that when the little peasant maid should -reach her fifteenth year he would make her his queen and he kept his -word. - -Such is the legend. This explains why the moldering image of the ass -adorns all these old crumbling walls and arches; and it explains why, -during many centuries, an ass was always the chief minister in that -royal cabinet, just as is still the case in most cabinets to this day; -and it also explains why, in that little kingdom, during many centuries, -all great poems, all great speeches, all great books, all public -solemnities, and all royal proclamations, always began with these -stirring words: - -“Waw... he! waw... he!--waw he! Waw-he!” - - - - -SPEECH ON THE BABIES - -AT THE BANQUET, IN CHICAGO, GIVEN BY THE ARMY OF THE TENNESSEE TO THEIR -FIRST COMMANDER, GENERAL U. S. GRANT, NOVEMBER, 1879 - - The fifteenth regular toast was “The Babies--as they comfort us in - our sorrows, let us not forget them in our festivities.” - -I like that. We have not all had the good fortune to be ladies. We have -not all been generals, or poets, or statesmen; but when the toast works -down to the babies, we stand on common ground. It is a shame that for a -thousand years the world's banquets have utterly ignored the baby, as -if he didn't amount to anything. If you will stop and think a minute--if -you will go back fifty or one hundred years to your early married life -and recontemplate your first baby--you will remember that he amounted to -a great deal, and even something over. You soldiers all know that when -the little fellow arrived at family headquarters you had to hand in your -resignation. He took entire command. You became his lackey, his mere -body-servant, and you had to stand around, too. He was not a commander -who made allowances for time, distance, weather, or anything else. You -had to execute his order whether it was possible or not. And there was -only one form of marching in his manual of tactics, and that was -the double-quick. He treated you with every sort of insolence and -disrespect, and the bravest of you didn't dare to say a word. You could -face the death-storm at Donelson and Vicksburg, and give back blow -for blow; but when he clawed your whiskers, and pulled your hair, and -twisted your nose, you had to take it. When the thunders of war were -sounding in your ears you set your faces toward the batteries, and -advanced with steady tread; but when he turned on the terrors of his -war-whoop you advanced in the other direction, and mighty glad of the -chance, too. When he called for soothing-syrup, did you venture to throw -out any side remarks about certain services being unbecoming an -officer and a gentleman? No. You got up and got it. When he ordered his -pap-bottle and it was not warm, did you talk back? Not you. You went to -work and warmed it. You even descended so far in your menial office as -to take a suck at that warm, insipid stuff yourself, to see if it was -right--three parts water to one of milk, a touch of sugar to modify the -colic, and a drop of peppermint to kill those hiccoughs. I can taste -that stuff yet. And how many things you learned as you went along! -Sentimental young folks still take stock in that beautiful old saying -that when the baby smiles in his sleep, it is because the angels -are whispering to him. Very pretty, but too thin--simply wind on the -stomach, my friends. If the baby proposed to take a walk at his usual -hour, two o'clock in the morning, didn't you rise up promptly and -remark, with a mental addition which would not improve a Sunday-school -book much, that that was the very thing you were about to propose -yourself? Oh! you were under good discipline, and as you went fluttering -up and down the room in your undress uniform, you not only prattled -undignified baby-talk, but even tuned up your martial voices and -tried to sing!--“Rock-a-by baby in the treetop,” for instance. What a -spectacle for an Army of the Tennessee! And what an affliction for the -neighbors, too; for it is not everybody within a mile around that likes -military music at three in the morning. And when you had been keeping -this sort of thing up two or three hours, and your little velvet-head -intimated that nothing suited him like exercise and noise, what did you -do? [“Go on!”] You simply went on until you dropped in the last ditch. -The idea that a baby doesn't amount to anything! Why, one baby is just -a house and a front yard full by itself. One baby can furnish more -business than you and your whole Interior Department can attend to. He -is enterprising, irrepressible, brimful of lawless activities. Do what -you please, you can't make him stay on the reservation. Sufficient unto -the day is one baby. As long as you are in your right mind don't you -ever pray for twins. Twins amount to a permanent riot. And there ain't -any real difference between triplets and an insurrection. - -Yes, it was high time for a toast-master to recognize the importance -of the babies. Think what is in store for the present crop! Fifty years -from now we shall all be dead, I trust, and then this flag, if it still -survive (and let us hope it may), will be floating over a Republic -numbering 200,000,000 souls, according to the settled laws of our -increase. Our present schooner of State will have grown into a political -leviathan--a Great Eastern. The cradled babies of to-day will be on -deck. Let them be well trained, for we are going to leave a big contract -on their hands. Among the three or four million cradles now rocking in -the land are some which this nation would preserve for ages as sacred -things, if we could know which ones they are. In one of those cradles the -unconscious Farragut of the future is at this moment teething--think -of it!--and putting in a world of dead earnest, unarticulated, but -perfectly justifiable profanity over it, too. In another the future -renowned astronomer is blinking at the shining Milky Way with but a -languid interest--poor little chap!--and wondering what has become of -that other one they call the wet-nurse. In another the future great -historian is lying--and doubtless will continue to lie until his earthly -mission is ended. In another the future President is busying himself -with no profounder problem of state than what the mischief has become of -his hair so early; and in a mighty array of other cradles there are now -some 60,000 future office-seekers, getting ready to furnish him occasion -to grapple with that same old problem a second time. And in still -one more cradle, somewhere under the flag, the future illustrious -commander-in-chief of the American armies is so little burdened with -his approaching grandeurs and responsibilities as to be giving his whole -strategic mind at this moment to trying to find out some way to get his -big toe into his mouth--an achievement which, meaning no disrespect, the -illustrious guest of this evening turned his entire attention to some -fifty-six years ago; and if the child is but a prophecy of the man, -there are mighty few who will doubt that he succeeded. - - - - -SPEECH ON THE WEATHER - -AT THE NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY'S SEVENTY-FIRST ANNUAL DINNER, NEW YORK CITY - - The next toast was: “The Oldest Inhabitant--The Weather of New - England.” - - Who can lose it and forget it? - Who can have it and regret it? - - Be interposer 'twixt us Twain. - - Merchant of Venice. - - To this Samuel L. Clemens (Mark Twain) replied as follows:-- - -I reverently believe that the Maker who made us all makes everything in -New England but the weather. I don't know who makes that, but I think -it must be raw apprentices in the weather-clerk's factory who experiment -and learn how, in New England, for board and clothes, and then are -promoted to make weather for countries that require a good article, -and will take their custom elsewhere if they don't get it. There is -a sumptuous variety about the New England weather that compels the -stranger's admiration--and regret. The weather is always doing something -there; always attending strictly to business; always getting up new -designs and trying them on the people to see how they will go. But it -gets through more business in spring than in any other season. In the -spring I have counted one hundred and thirty-six different kinds of -weather inside of four-and-twenty hours. It was I that made the fame -and fortune of that man that had that marvelous collection of weather on -exhibition at the Centennial, that so astounded the foreigners. He -was going to travel all over the world and get specimens from all the -climes. I said, “Don't you do it; you come to New England on a favorable -spring day.” I told him what we could do in the way of style, variety, -and quantity. Well, he came and he made his collection in four days. As -to variety, why, he confessed that he got hundreds of kinds of weather -that he had never heard of before. And as to quantity--well, after he -had picked out and discarded all that was blemished in any way, he not -only had weather enough, but weather to spare; weather to hire out; -weather to sell; to deposit; weather to invest; weather to give to the -poor. The people of New England are by nature patient and forbearing, -but there are some things which they will not stand. Every year they -kill a lot of poets for writing about “Beautiful Spring.” These are -generally casual visitors, who bring their notions of spring from -somewhere else, and cannot, of course, know how the natives feel about -spring. And so the first thing they know the opportunity to inquire -how they feel has permanently gone by. Old Probabilities has a mighty -reputation for accurate prophecy, and thoroughly well deserves it. You -take up the paper and observe how crisply and confidently he checks off -what to-day's weather is going to be on the Pacific, down South, in the -Middle States, in the Wisconsin region. See him sail along in the joy -and pride of his power till he gets to New England, and then see his -tail drop. He doesn't know what the weather is going to be in New -England. Well, he mulls over it, and by and by he gets out something -about like this: Probable northeast to southwest winds, varying to the -southward and westward and eastward, and points between, high and low -barometer swapping around from place to place; probable areas of rain, -snow, hail, and drought, succeeded or preceded by earthquakes, with -thunder and lightning. Then he jots down this postscript from his -wandering mind, to cover accidents: “But it is possible that the program -may be wholly changed in the mean time.” Yes, one of the brightest gems -in the New England weather is the dazzling uncertainty of it. There is -only one thing certain about it: you are certain there is going to be -plenty of it--a perfect grand review; but you never can tell which end -of the procession is going to move first. You fix up for the drought; -you leave your umbrella in the house and sally out, and two to one you -get drowned. You make up your mind that the earthquake is due; you stand -from under, and take hold of something to steady yourself, and the -first thing you know you get struck by lightning. These are great -disappointments; but they can't be helped. The lightning there is -peculiar; it is so convincing, that when it strikes a thing it doesn't -leave enough of that thing behind for you to tell whether--Well, you'd -think it was something valuable, and a Congressman had been there. And -the thunder. When the thunder begins to merely tune up and scrape and -saw, and key up the instruments for the performance, strangers say, -“Why, what awful thunder you have here!” But when the baton is raised -and the real concert begins, you'll find that stranger down in the -cellar with his head in the ash-barrel. Now as to the size of the -weather in New England lengthways, I mean. It is utterly disproportioned -to the size of that little country. Half the time, when it is packed as -full as it can stick, you will see that New England weather sticking out -beyond the edges and projecting around hundreds and hundreds of miles -over the neighboring states. She can't hold a tenth part of her weather. -You can see cracks all about where she has strained herself trying to -do it. I could speak volumes about the inhuman perversity of the New -England weather, but I will give but a single specimen. I like to hear -rain on a tin roof. So I covered part of my roof with tin, with an eye -to that luxury. Well, sir, do you think it ever rains on that tin? No, -sir; skips it every time. Mind, in this speech I have been trying merely -to do honor to the New England weather--no language could do it justice. -But, after all, there is at least one or two things about that weather -(or, if you please, effects produced, by it) which we residents would -not like to part with. If we hadn't our bewitching autumn foliage, -we should still have to credit the weather with one feature which -compensates for all its bullying vagaries--the ice-storm: when a -leafless tree is clothed with ice from the bottom to the top--ice that -is as bright and clear as crystal; when every bough and twig is strung -with ice-beads, frozen dewdrops, and the whole tree sparkles cold and -white, like the Shah of Persia's diamond plume. Then the wind waves the -branches and the sun comes out and turns all those myriads of beads and -drops to prisms that glow and burn and flash with all manner of colored -fires, which change and change again with inconceivable rapidity from -blue to red, from red to green, and green to gold--the tree becomes a -spraying fountain, a very explosion of dazzling jewels; and it stands -there the acme, the climax, the supremest possibility in art or nature, -of bewildering, intoxicating, intolerable magnificence. One cannot make -the words too strong. - - - - -CONCERNING THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE -- - -[Being part of a chapter which was - crowded out of “A Tramp Abroad.”--M.T.] - - -There was as Englishman in our compartment, and he complimented me -on--on what? But you would never guess. He complimented me on my -English. He said Americans in general did not speak the English language -as correctly as I did. I said I was obliged to him for his compliment, -since I knew he meant it for one, but that I was not fairly entitled to -it, for I did not speak English at all--I only spoke American. - -He laughed, and said it was a distinction without a difference. I said -no, the difference was not prodigious, but still it was considerable. We -fell into a friendly dispute over the matter. I put my case as well as I -could, and said:-- - -“The languages were identical several generations ago, but our changed -conditions and the spread of our people far to the south and far to -the west have made many alterations in our pronunciation, and have -introduced new words among us and changed the meanings of many old ones. -English people talk through their noses; we do not. We say know, English -people say nao; we say cow, the Briton says kaow; we--” - -“Oh, come! that is pure Yankee; everybody knows that.” - -“Yes, it is pure Yankee; that is true. One cannot hear it in America -outside of the little corner called New England, which is Yankee land. -The English themselves planted it there, two hundred and fifty years -ago, and there it remains; it has never spread. But England talks -through her nose yet; the Londoner and the backwoods New-Englander -pronounce 'know' and 'cow' alike, and then the Briton unconsciously -satirizes himself by making fun of the Yankee's pronunciation.” - -We argued this point at some length; nobody won; but no matter, the fact -remains Englishmen say nao and kaow for “know” and “cow,” and that is -what the rustic inhabitant of a very small section of America does. - -“You conferred your 'a' upon New England, too, and there it remains; it -has not traveled out of the narrow limits of those six little states -in all these two hundred and fifty years. All England uses it, New -England's small population--say four millions--use it, but we have -forty-five millions who do not use it. You say 'glahs of wawtah,' so -does New England; at least, New England says 'glahs.' America at large -flattens the 'a', and says 'glass of water.' These sounds are pleasanter -than yours; you may think they are not right--well, in English they are -not right, but in 'American' they are. You say 'flahsk' and 'bahsket,' and -'jackahss'; we say 'flask,' 'basket,' 'jackass'--sounding the 'a' as it -is in 'tallow,' 'fallow,' and so on. Up to as late as 1847 Mr. Webster's -Dictionary had the impudence to still pronounce 'basket' bahsket, when -he knew that outside of his little New England all America shortened the -'a' and paid no attention to his English broadening of it. However, it -called itself an English Dictionary, so it was proper enough that it -should stick to English forms, perhaps. It still calls itself an English -Dictionary today, but it has quietly ceased to pronounce 'basket' as if -it were spelt 'bahsket.' In the American language the 'h' is respected; -the 'h' is not dropped or added improperly.” - -“The same is the case in England--I mean among the educated classes, of -course.” - -“Yes, that is true; but a nation's language is a very large matter. It -is not simply a manner of speech obtaining among the educated handful; -the manner obtaining among the vast uneducated multitude must be -considered also. Your uneducated masses speak English, you will not deny -that; our uneducated masses speak American it won't be fair for you to -deny that, for you can see, yourself, that when your stable-boy says, -'It isn't the 'unting that 'urts the 'orse, but the 'ammer, 'ammer, -'ammer on the 'ard 'ighway,' and our stable-boy makes the same remark -without suffocating a single h, these two people are manifestly talking -two different languages. But if the signs are to be trusted, even your -educated classes used to drop the 'h.' They say humble, now, and heroic, -and historic etc., but I judge that they used to drop those h's because -your writers still keep up the fashion of putting an AN before those words -instead of A. This is what Mr. Darwin might call a 'rudimentary' sign -that as an was justifiable once, and useful when your educated classes -used to say 'umble, and 'eroic, and 'istorical. Correct writers of the -American language do not put an before those words.” - -The English gentleman had something to say upon this matter, but -never mind what he said--I'm not arguing his case. I have him at a -disadvantage, now. I proceeded: - -“In England you encourage an orator by exclaiming, 'H'yaah! h'yaah!' We -pronounce it heer in some sections, 'h'yer' in others, and so on; but -our whites do not say 'h'yaah,' pronouncing the a's like the a in ah. -I have heard English ladies say 'don't you'--making two separate and -distinct words of it; your Mr. Burnand has satirized it. But we always -say 'dontchu.' This is much better. Your ladies say, 'Oh, it's oful -nice!' Ours say, 'Oh, it's awful nice!' We say, 'Four hundred,' you say -'For'--as in the word or. Your clergymen speak of 'the Lawd,' ours of -'the Lord'; yours speak of 'the gawds of the heathen,' ours of 'the gods -of the heathen.' When you are exhausted, you say you are 'knocked -up.' We don't. When you say you will do a thing 'directly,' you mean -'immediately'; in the American language--generally speaking--the word -signifies 'after a little.' When you say 'clever,' you mean 'capable'; -with us the word used to mean 'accommodating,' but I don't know what it -means now. Your word 'stout' means 'fleshy'; our word 'stout' usually -means 'strong.' Your words 'gentleman' and 'lady' have a very restricted -meaning; with us they include the barmaid, butcher, burglar, harlot, and -horse-thief. You say, 'I haven't got any stockings on,' 'I haven't got -any memory,' 'I haven't got any money in my purse; we usually say, 'I -haven't any stockings on,' 'I haven't any memory!' 'I haven't any money -in my purse.' You say 'out of window'; we always put in a the. If -one asks 'How old is that man?' the Briton answers, 'He will be about -forty'; in the American language we should say, 'He is about forty.' -However, I won't tire you, sir; but if I wanted to, I could pile -up differences here until I not only convinced you that English and -American are separate languages, but that when I speak my native tongue -in its utmost purity an Englishman can't understand me at all.” - -“I don't wish to flatter you, but it is about all I can do to understand -you now.” - -That was a very pretty compliment, and it put us on the pleasantest -terms directly--I use the word in the English sense. - -[Later--1882. Esthetes in many of our schools are now beginning to teach -the pupils to broaden the 'a,' and to say “don't you,” in the elegant -foreign way.] - - - - -ROGERS - -This Man Rogers happened upon me and introduced himself at the town of ------, in the South of England, where I stayed awhile. His stepfather -had married a distant relative of mine who was afterward hanged; and so -he seemed to think a blood relationship existed between us. He came -in every day and sat down and talked. Of all the bland, serene human -curiosities I ever saw, I think he was the chiefest. He desired to look -at my new chimney-pot hat. I was very willing, for I thought he would -notice the name of the great Oxford Street hatter in it, and respect -me accordingly. But he turned it about with a sort of grave compassion, -pointed out two or three blemishes, and said that I, being so recently -arrived, could not be expected to know where to supply myself. Said he -would send me the address of his hatter. Then he said, “Pardon me,” and -proceeded to cut a neat circle of red tissue paper; daintily notched the -edges of it; took the mucilage and pasted it in my hat so as to cover -the manufacturer's name. He said, “No one will know now where you got -it. I will send you a hat-tip of my hatter, and you can paste it over -this tissue circle.” It was the calmest, coolest thing--I never admired -a man so much in my life. Mind, he did this while his own hat sat -offensively near our noses, on the table--an ancient extinguisher of -the “slouch” pattern, limp and shapeless with age, discolored by -vicissitudes of the weather, and banded by an equator of bear's grease -that had stewed through. - -Another time he examined my coat. I had no terrors, for over my tailor's -door was the legend, “By Special Appointment Tailor to H. R. H. the -Prince of Wales,” etc. I did not know at the time that the most of -the tailor shops had the same sign out, and that whereas it takes nine -tailors to make an ordinary man, it takes a hundred and fifty to make a -prince. He was full of compassion for my coat. Wrote down the address -of his tailor for me. Did not tell me to mention my nom de plume and the -tailor would put his best work on my garment, as complimentary people -sometimes do, but said his tailor would hardly trouble himself for an -unknown person (unknown person, when I thought I was so celebrated in -England!--that was the cruelest cut), but cautioned me to mention his -name, and it would be all right. Thinking to be facetious, I said:-- - -“But he might sit up all night and injure his health.” - -“Well, let him,” said Rogers; “I've done enough for him, for him to show -some appreciation of it.” - -I might as well have tried to disconcert a mummy with my facetiousness. -Said Rogers: “I get all my coats there--they're the only coats fit to be -seen in.” - -I made one more attempt. I said, “I wish you had brought one with you--I -would like to look at it.” - -“Bless your heart, haven't I got one on?--this article is Morgan's -make.” - -I examined it. The coat had been bought ready-made, of a Chatham Street -Jew, without any question--about 1848. It probably cost four dollars -when it was new. It was ripped, it was frayed, it was napless and -greasy. I could not resist showing him where it was ripped. It so -affected him that I was almost sorry I had done it. First he seemed -plunged into a bottomless abyss of grief. Then he roused himself, made -a feint with his hands as if waving off the pity of a nation, and -said--with what seemed to me a manufactured emotion--“No matter; no -matter; don't mind me; do not bother about it. I can get another.” - -When he was thoroughly restored, so that he could examine the rip and -command his feelings, he said, ah, now he understood it--his servant -must have done it while dressing him that morning. - -His servant! There was something awe-inspiring in effrontery like this. - -Nearly every day he interested himself in some article of my clothing. -One would hardly have expected this sort of infatuation in a man who -always wore the same suit, and it a suit that seemed coeval with the -Conquest. - -It was an unworthy ambition, perhaps, but I did wish I could make this -man admire something about me or something I did--you would have felt -the same way. I saw my opportunity: I was about to return to London, -and had “listed” my soiled linen for the wash. It made quite an imposing -mountain in the corner of the room--fifty-four pieces. I hoped he would -fancy it was the accumulation of a single week. I took up the wash-list, -as if to see that it was all right, and then tossed it on the table, -with pretended forgetfulness. Sure enough, he took it up and ran his -eye along down to the grand total. Then he said, “You get off easy,” and -laid it down again. - -His gloves were the saddest ruin, but he told me where I could get some -like them. His shoes would hardly hold walnuts without leaking, but he -liked to put his feet up on the mantelpiece and contemplate them. -He wore a dim glass breastpin, which he called a “morphylitic -diamond”--whatever that may mean--and said only two of them had ever -been found--the Emperor of China had the other one. - -Afterward, in London, it was a pleasure to me to see this fantastic -vagabond come marching into the lobby of the hotel in his grand-ducal -way, for he always had some new imaginary grandeur to develop--there -was nothing stale about him but his clothes. If he addressed me when -strangers were about, he always raised his voice a little and called me -“Sir Richard,” or “General,” or “Your Lordship”--and when people began -to stare and look deferential, he would fall to inquiring in a casual -way why I disappointed the Duke of Argyll the night before; and then -remind me of our engagement at the Duke of Westminster's for the -following day. I think that for the time being these things were -realities to him. He once came and invited me to go with him and spend -the evening with the Earl of Warwick at his town house. I said I had -received no formal invitation. He said that that was of no consequence, -the Earl had no formalities for him or his friends. I asked if I could -go just as I was. He said no, that would hardly do; evening dress was -requisite at night in any gentleman's house. He said he would wait while -I dressed, and then we would go to his apartments and I could take a -bottle of champagne and a cigar while he dressed. I was very willing to -see how this enterprise would turn out, so I dressed, and we started to -his lodgings. He said if I didn't mind we would walk. So we tramped some -four miles through the mud and fog, and finally found his “apartments”; -they consisted of a single room over a barber's shop in a back street. -Two chairs, a small table, an ancient valise, a wash-basin and pitcher -(both on the floor in a corner), an unmade bed, a fragment of a -looking-glass, and a flower-pot, with a perishing little rose geranium -in it, which he called a century plant, and said it had not bloomed now -for upward of two centuries--given to him by the late Lord -Palmerston--(been offered a prodigious sum for it)--these were -the contents of the room. Also a brass candlestick and a part of a -candle. Rogers lit the candle, and told me to sit down and make myself -at home. He said he hoped I was thirsty, because he would surprise my -palate with an article of champagne that seldom got into a commoner's -system; or would I prefer sherry, or port? Said he had port in bottles -that were swathed in stratified cobwebs, every stratum representing a -generation. And as for his cigars--well, I should judge of them -myself. Then he put his head out at the door and called: - -“Sackville!” No answer. - -“Hi-Sackville!” No answer. - -“Now what the devil can have become of that butler? I never allow a -servant to--Oh, confound that idiot, he's got the keys. Can't get into -the other rooms without the keys.” - -(I was just wondering at his intrepidity in still keeping up the -delusion of the champagne, and trying to imagine how he was going to get -out of the difficulty.) - -Now he stopped calling Sackville and began to call “Anglesy.” But -Anglesy didn't come. He said, “This is the second time that that equerry -has been absent without leave. To-morrow I'll discharge him.” Now -he began to whoop for “Thomas,” but Thomas didn't answer. Then for -“Theodore,” but no Theodore replied. - -“Well, I give it up,” said Rogers. “The servants never expect me at -this hour, and so they're all off on a lark. Might get along without -the equerry and the page, but can't have any wine or cigars without the -butler, and can't dress without my valet.” - -I offered to help him dress, but he would not hear of it; and besides, -he said he would not feel comfortable unless dressed by a practised -hand. However, he finally concluded that he was such old friends with -the Earl that it would not make any difference how he was dressed. So we -took a cab, he gave the driver some directions, and we started. By and -by we stopped before a large house and got out. I never had seen this -man with a collar on. He now stepped under a lamp and got a venerable -paper collar out of his coat pocket, along with a hoary cravat, and put -them on. He ascended the stoop, and entered. Presently he reappeared, -descended rapidly, and said: - -“Come--quick!” - -We hurried away, and turned the corner. - -“Now we're safe,” he said, and took off his collar and cravat and -returned them to his pocket. - -“Made a mighty narrow escape,” said he. - -“How?” said I. - -“B' George, the Countess was there!” - -“Well, what of that?--don't she know you?” - -“Know me? Absolutely worships me. I just did happen to catch a glimpse -of her before she saw me--and out I shot. Haven't seen her for two -months--to rush in on her without any warning might have been fatal. She -could not have stood it. I didn't know she was in town--thought she -was at the castle. Let me lean on you--just a moment--there; now I -am better--thank you; thank you ever so much. Lord bless me, what an -escape!” - -So I never got to call on the Earl, after all. But I marked the house -for future reference. It proved to be an ordinary family hotel, with -about a thousand plebeians roosting in it. - -In most things Rogers was by no means a fool. In some things it was -plain enough that he was a fool, but he certainly did not know it. He -was in the “deadest” earnest in these matters. He died at sea, last -summer, as the “Earl of Ramsgate.” - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Alonzo Fitz and Other Stories -by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALONZO FITZ AND OTHER STORIES *** - -***** This file should be named 3184-0.txt or 3184-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/8/3184/ - -Produced by David Widger - -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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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: Alonzo Fitz and Other Stories - -Author: Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) - - -Release Date: August 19, 2006 [EBook #3184] -Last Updated: February 24, 2018 - - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALONZO FITZ AND OTHER STORIES *** - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - -</pre> - - <h1> - ALONZO FITZ - </h1> - <h2> - AND OTHER STORIES - </h2> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <h2> - by Mark Twain - </h2> - <p> - <br /><br /> <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <blockquote> - <p class="toc"> - <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE LOVES OF ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH - ETHELTON </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> ON THE DECAY OF THE ART OF LYING </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> ABOUT MAGNANIMOUS-INCIDENT LITERATURE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> PUNCH, BROTHERS, PUNCH </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> THE GREAT REVOLUTION IN PITCAIRN </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> THE CANVASSER'S TALE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN INTERVIEWER </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> PARIS NOTES </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> LEGEND OF SAGENFELD, IN GERMANY </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> SPEECH ON THE BABIES </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> SPEECH ON THE WEATHER </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> CONCERNING THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> ROGERS </a> - </p> - </blockquote> - <p> - <br /> <br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - THE LOVES OF ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON - </h2> - <p> - It was well along in the forenoon of a bitter winter's day. The town of - Eastport, in the state of Maine, lay buried under a deep snow that was - newly fallen. The customary bustle in the streets was wanting. One could - look long distances down them and see nothing but a dead-white emptiness, - with silence to match. Of course I do not mean that you could see the - silence—no, you could only hear it. The sidewalks were merely long, - deep ditches, with steep snow walls on either side. Here and there you - might hear the faint, far scrape of a wooden shovel, and if you were quick - enough you might catch a glimpse of a distant black figure stooping and - disappearing in one of those ditches, and reappearing the next moment with - a motion which you would know meant the heaving out of a shovelful of - snow. But you needed to be quick, for that black figure would not linger, - but would soon drop that shovel and scud for the house, thrashing itself - with its arms to warm them. Yes, it was too venomously cold for - snow-shovelers or anybody else to stay out long. - </p> - <p> - Presently the sky darkened; then the wind rose and began to blow in - fitful, vigorous gusts, which sent clouds of powdery snow aloft, and - straight ahead, and everywhere. Under the impulse of one of these gusts, - great white drifts banked themselves like graves across the streets; a - moment later another gust shifted them around the other way, driving a - fine spray of snow from their sharp crests, as the gale drives the spume - flakes from wave-crests at sea; a third gust swept that place as clean as - your hand, if it saw fit. This was fooling, this was play; but each and - all of the gusts dumped some snow into the sidewalk ditches, for that was - business. - </p> - <p> - Alonzo Fitz Clarence was sitting in his snug and elegant little parlor, in - a lovely blue silk dressing-gown, with cuffs and facings of crimson satin, - elaborately quilted. The remains of his breakfast were before him, and the - dainty and costly little table service added a harmonious charm to the - grace, beauty, and richness of the fixed appointments of the room. A - cheery fire was blazing on the hearth. - </p> - <p> - A furious gust of wind shook the windows, and a great wave of snow washed - against them with a drenching sound, so to speak. The handsome young - bachelor murmured: - </p> - <p> - “That means, no going out to-day. Well, I am content. But what to do for - company? Mother is well enough, Aunt Susan is well enough; but these, like - the poor, I have with me always. On so grim a day as this, one needs a new - interest, a fresh element, to whet the dull edge of captivity. That was - very neatly said, but it doesn't mean anything. One doesn't want the edge - of captivity sharpened up, you know, but just the reverse.” - </p> - <p> - He glanced at his pretty French mantel-clock. - </p> - <p> - “That clock's wrong again. That clock hardly ever knows what time it is; - and when it does know, it lies about it—which amounts to the same - thing. Alfred!” - </p> - <p> - There was no answer. - </p> - <p> - “Alfred!... Good servant, but as uncertain as the clock.” - </p> - <p> - Alonzo touched an electric bell button in the wall. He waited a moment, - then touched it again; waited a few moments more, and said: - </p> - <p> - “Battery out of order, no doubt. But now that I have started, I will find - out what time it is.” He stepped to a speaking-tube in the wall, blew its - whistle, and called, “Mother!” and repeated it twice. - </p> - <p> - “Well, that's no use. Mother's battery is out of order, too. Can't raise - anybody down-stairs—that is plain.” - </p> - <p> - He sat down at a rosewood desk, leaned his chin on the left-hand edge of - it and spoke, as if to the floor: “Aunt Susan!” - </p> - <p> - A low, pleasant voice answered, “Is that you, Alonzo?' - </p> - <p> - “Yes. I'm too lazy and comfortable to go downstairs; I am in extremity, - and I can't seem to scare up any help.” - </p> - <p> - “Dear me, what is the matter?” - </p> - <p> - “Matter enough, I can tell you!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, don't keep me in suspense, dear! What is it?” - </p> - <p> - “I want to know what time it is.” - </p> - <p> - “You abominable boy, what a turn you did give me! Is that all?” - </p> - <p> - “All—on my honor. Calm yourself. Tell me the time, and receive my - blessing.” - </p> - <p> - “Just five minutes after nine. No charge—keep your blessing.” - </p> - <p> - “Thanks. It wouldn't have impoverished me, aunty, nor so enriched you that - you could live without other means.” - </p> - <p> - He got up, murmuring, “Just five minutes after nine,” and faced his clock. - “Ah,” said he, “you are doing better than usual. You are only thirty-four - minutes wrong. Let me see... let me see.... Thirty-three and twenty-one - are fifty-four; four times fifty-four are two hundred and thirty-six. One - off, leaves two hundred and thirty-five. That's right.” - </p> - <p> - He turned the hands of his clock forward till they marked twenty-five - minutes to one, and said, “Now see if you can't keep right for a while—else - I'll raffle you!” - </p> - <p> - He sat down at the desk again, and said, “Aunt Susan!” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, dear.” - </p> - <p> - “Had breakfast?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, indeed, an hour ago.” - </p> - <p> - “Busy?” - </p> - <p> - “No—except sewing. Why?” - </p> - <p> - “Got any company?” - </p> - <p> - “No, but I expect some at half past nine.” - </p> - <p> - “I wish I did. I'm lonesome. I want to talk to somebody.” - </p> - <p> - “Very well, talk to me.” - </p> - <p> - “But this is very private.” - </p> - <p> - “Don't be afraid—talk right along, there's nobody here but me.” - </p> - <p> - “I hardly know whether to venture or not, but—” - </p> - <p> - “But what? Oh, don't stop there! You know you can trust me, Alonzo—you - know, you can.” - </p> - <p> - “I feel it, aunt, but this is very serious. It affects me deeply—me, - and all the family—-even the whole community.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Alonzo, tell me! I will never breathe a word of it. What is it?” - </p> - <p> - “Aunt, if I might dare—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, please go on! I love you, and feel for you. Tell me all. Confide in - me. What is it?” - </p> - <p> - “The weather!” - </p> - <p> - “Plague take the weather! I don't see how you can have the heart to serve - me so, Lon.” - </p> - <p> - “There, there, aunty dear, I'm sorry; I am, on my honor. I won't do it - again. Do you forgive me?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, since you seem so sincere about it, though I know I oughtn't to. You - will fool me again as soon as I have forgotten this time.” - </p> - <p> - “No, I won't, honor bright. But such weather, oh, such weather! You've got - to keep your spirits up artificially. It is snowy, and blowy, and gusty, - and bitter cold! How is the weather with you?” - </p> - <p> - “Warm and rainy and melancholy. The mourners go about the streets with - their umbrellas running streams from the end of every whalebone. There's - an elevated double pavement of umbrellas, stretching down the sides of the - streets as far as I can see. I've got a fire for cheerfulness, and the - windows open to keep cool. But it is vain, it is useless: nothing comes in - but the balmy breath of December, with its burden of mocking odors from - the flowers that possess the realm outside, and rejoice in their lawless - profusion whilst the spirit of man is low, and flaunt their gaudy - splendors in his face while his soul is clothed in sackcloth and ashes and - his heart breaketh.” - </p> - <p> - Alonzo opened his lips to say, “You ought to print that, and get it - framed,” but checked himself, for he heard his aunt speaking to some one - else. He went and stood at the window and looked out upon the wintry - prospect. The storm was driving the snow before it more furiously than - ever; window-shutters were slamming and banging; a forlorn dog, with bowed - head and tail withdrawn from service, was pressing his quaking body - against a windward wall for shelter and protection; a young girl was - plowing knee-deep through the drifts, with her face turned from the blast, - and the cape of her waterproof blowing straight rearward over her head. - Alonzo shuddered, and said with a sigh, “Better the slop, and the sultry - rain, and even the insolent flowers, than this!” - </p> - <p> - He turned from the window, moved a step, and stopped in a listening - attitude. The faint, sweet notes of a familiar song caught his ear. He - remained there, with his head unconsciously bent forward, drinking in the - melody, stirring neither hand nor foot, hardly breathing. There was a - blemish in the execution of the song, but to Alonzo it seemed an added - charm instead of a defect. This blemish consisted of a marked flatting of - the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh notes of the refrain or - chorus of the piece. When the music ended, Alonzo drew a deep breath, and - said, “Ah, I never have heard 'In the Sweet By-and-by' sung like that - before!” - </p> - <p> - He stepped quickly to the desk, listened a moment, and said in a guarded, - confidential voice, “Aunty, who is this divine singer?” - </p> - <p> - “She is the company I was expecting. Stays with me a month or two. I will - introduce you. Miss—” - </p> - <p> - “For goodness' sake, wait a moment, Aunt Susan! You never stop to think - what you are about!” - </p> - <p> - He flew to his bedchamber, and returned in a moment perceptibly changed in - his outward appearance, and remarking, snappishly: - </p> - <p> - “Hang it, she would have introduced me to this angel in that sky-blue - dressing-gown with red-hot lapels! Women never think, when they get - a-going.” - </p> - <p> - He hastened and stood by the desk, and said eagerly, “Now, Aunty, I am - ready,” and fell to smiling and bowing with all the persuasiveness and - elegance that were in him. - </p> - <p> - “Very well. Miss Rosannah Ethelton, let me introduce to you my favorite - nephew, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence. There! You are both good people, and I - like you; so I am going to trust you together while I attend to a few - household affairs. Sit down, Rosannah; sit down, Alonzo. Good-by; I - sha'n't be gone long.” - </p> - <p> - Alonzo had been bowing and smiling all the while, and motioning imaginary - young ladies to sit down in imaginary chairs, but now he took a seat - himself, mentally saying, “Oh, this is luck! Let the winds blow now, and - the snow drive, and the heavens frown! Little I care!” - </p> - <p> - While these young people chat themselves into an acquaintanceship, let us - take the liberty of inspecting the sweeter and fairer of the two. She sat - alone, at her graceful ease, in a richly furnished apartment which was - manifestly the private parlor of a refined and sensible lady, if signs and - symbols may go for anything. For instance, by a low, comfortable chair - stood a dainty, top-heavy workstand, whose summit was a fancifully - embroidered shallow basket, with varicolored crewels, and other strings - and odds and ends protruding from under the gaping lid and hanging down in - negligent profusion. On the floor lay bright shreds of Turkey red, - Prussian blue, and kindred fabrics, bits of ribbon, a spool or two, a pair - of scissors, and a roll or so of tinted silken stuffs. On a luxurious - sofa, upholstered with some sort of soft Indian goods wrought in black and - gold threads interwebbed with other threads not so pronounced in color, - lay a great square of coarse white stuff, upon whose surface a rich - bouquet of flowers was growing, under the deft cultivation of the - crochet-needle. The household cat was asleep on this work of art. In a - bay-window stood an easel with an unfinished picture on it, and a palette - and brushes on a chair beside it. There were books everywhere: Robertson's - Sermons, Tennyson, Moody and Sankey, Hawthorne, Rab and His Friends, - cook-books, prayer-books, pattern-books—and books about all kinds of - odious and exasperating pottery, of course. There was a piano, with a - deck-load of music, and more in a tender. There was a great plenty of - pictures on the walls, on the shelves of the mantelpiece, and around - generally; where coigns of vantage offered were statuettes, and quaint and - pretty gimcracks, and rare and costly specimens of peculiarly devilish - china. The bay-window gave upon a garden that was ablaze with foreign and - domestic flowers and flowering shrubs. - </p> - <p> - But the sweet young girl was the daintiest thing these premises, within or - without, could offer for contemplation: delicately chiseled features, of - Grecian cast; her complexion the pure snow of a japonica that is receiving - a faint reflected enrichment from some scarlet neighbor of the garden; - great, soft blue eyes fringed with long, curving lashes; an expression - made up of the trustfulness of a child and the gentleness of a fawn; a - beautiful head crowned with its own prodigal gold; a lithe and rounded - figure, whose every attitude and movement was instinct with native grace. - </p> - <p> - Her dress and adornment were marked by that exquisite harmony that can - come only of a fine natural taste perfected by culture. Her gown was of a - simple magenta tulle, cut bias, traversed by three rows of light-blue - flounces, with the selvage edges turned up with ashes-of-roses chenille; - overdress of dark bay tarlatan with scarlet satin lambrequins; - corn-colored polonaise, en panier, looped with mother-of-pearl buttons and - silver cord, and hauled aft and made fast by buff velvet lashings; basque - of lavender reps, picked out with valenciennes; low neck, short sleeves; - maroon velvet necktie edged with delicate pink silk; inside handkerchief - of some simple three-ply ingrain fabric of a soft saffron tint; coral - bracelets and locket-chain; coiffure of forget-me-nots and - lilies-of-the-valley massed around a noble calla. - </p> - <p> - This was all; yet even in this subdued attire she was divinely beautiful. - Then what must she have been when adorned for the festival or the ball? - </p> - <p> - All this time she had been busily chatting with Alonzo, unconscious of our - inspection. The minutes still sped, and still she talked. But by and by - she happened to look up, and saw the clock. A crimson blush sent its rich - flood through her cheeks, and she exclaimed: - </p> - <p> - “There, good-by, Mr. Fitz Clarence; I must go now!” - </p> - <p> - She sprang from her chair with such haste that she hardly heard the young - man's answering good-by. She stood radiant, graceful, beautiful, and - gazed, wondering, upon the accusing clock. Presently her pouting lips - parted, and she said: - </p> - <p> - “Five minutes after eleven! Nearly two hours, and it did not seem twenty - minutes! Oh, dear, what will he think of me!” - </p> - <p> - At the self-same moment Alonzo was staring at his clock. And presently he - said: - </p> - <p> - “Twenty-five minutes to three! Nearly two hours, and I didn't believe it - was two minutes! Is it possible that this clock is humbugging again? Miss - Ethelton! Just one moment, please. Are you there yet?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, but be quick; I'm going right away.” - </p> - <p> - “Would you be so kind as to tell me what time it is?” - </p> - <p> - The girl blushed again, murmured to herself, “It's right down cruel of him - to ask me!” and then spoke up and answered with admirably counterfeited - unconcern, “Five minutes after eleven.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, thank you! You have to go, now, have you?” - </p> - <p> - “I'm sorry.” - </p> - <p> - No reply. - </p> - <p> - “Miss Ethelton!” - </p> - <p> - “Well?” - </p> - <p> - “You—you're there yet, ain't you?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes; but please hurry. What did you want to say?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I—well, nothing in particular. It's very lonesome here. It's - asking a great deal, I know, but would you mind talking with me again by - and by—that is, if it will not trouble you too much?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't know but I'll think about it. I'll try.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, thanks! Miss Ethelton!... Ah, me, she's gone, and here are the black - clouds and the whirling snow and the raging winds come again! But she said - good-by. She didn't say good morning, she said good-by! ... The clock was - right, after all. What a lightning-winged two hours it was!” - </p> - <p> - He sat down, and gazed dreamily into his fire for a while, then heaved a - sigh and said: - </p> - <p> - “How wonderful it is! Two little hours ago I was a free man, and now my - heart's in San Francisco!” - </p> - <p> - About that time Rosannah Ethelton, propped in the window-seat of her - bedchamber, book in hand, was gazing vacantly out over the rainy seas that - washed the Golden Gate, and whispering to herself, “How different he is - from poor Burley, with his empty head and his single little antic talent - of mimicry!” - </p> - <p> - II - </p> - <p> - Four weeks later Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley was entertaining a gay - luncheon company, in a sumptuous drawing-room on Telegraph Hill, with some - capital imitations of the voices and gestures of certain popular actors - and San Franciscan literary people and Bonanza grandees. He was elegantly - upholstered, and was a handsome fellow, barring a trifling cast in his - eye. He seemed very jovial, but nevertheless he kept his eye on the door - with an expectant and uneasy watchfulness. By and by a nobby lackey - appeared, and delivered a message to the mistress, who nodded her head - understandingly. That seemed to settle the thing for Mr. Burley; his - vivacity decreased little by little, and a dejected look began to creep - into one of his eyes and a sinister one into the other. - </p> - <p> - The rest of the company departed in due time, leaving him with the - mistress, to whom he said: - </p> - <p> - “There is no longer any question about it. She avoids me. She continually - excuses herself. If I could see her, if I could speak to her only a moment—but - this suspense—” - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps her seeming avoidance is mere accident, Mr. Burley. Go to the - small drawing-room up-stairs and amuse yourself a moment. I will despatch - a household order that is on my mind, and then I will go to her room. - Without doubt she will be persuaded to see you.” - </p> - <p> - Mr. Burley went up-stairs, intending to go to the small drawing-room, but - as he was passing “Aunt Susan's” private parlor, the door of which stood - slightly ajar, he heard a joyous laugh which he recognized; so without - knock or announcement he stepped confidently in. But before he could make - his presence known he heard words that harrowed up his soul and chilled - his young blood, he heard a voice say: - </p> - <p> - “Darling, it has come!” - </p> - <p> - Then he heard Rosannah Ethelton, whose back was toward him, say: - </p> - <p> - “So has yours, dearest!” - </p> - <p> - He saw her bowed form bend lower; he heard her kiss something—not - merely once, but again and again! His soul raged within him. The - heartbreaking conversation went on: - </p> - <p> - “Rosannah, I knew you must be beautiful, but this is dazzling, this is - blinding, this is intoxicating!” - </p> - <p> - “Alonzo, it is such happiness to hear you say it. I know it is not true, - but I am so grateful to have you think it is, nevertheless! I knew you - must have a noble face, but the grace and majesty of the reality beggar - the poor creation of my fancy.” - </p> - <p> - Burley heard that rattling shower of kisses again. - </p> - <p> - “Thank you, my Rosannah! The photograph flatters me, but you must not - allow yourself to think of that. Sweetheart?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Alonzo.” - </p> - <p> - “I am so happy, Rosannah.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Alonzo, none that have gone before me knew what love was, none that - come after me will ever know what happiness is. I float in a gorgeous - cloud land, a boundless firmament of enchanted and bewildering ecstasy!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, my Rosannah!—for you are mine, are you not?” - </p> - <p> - “Wholly, oh, wholly yours, Alonzo, now and forever! All the day long, and - all through my nightly dreams, one song sings itself, and its sweet burden - is, 'Alonzo Fitz Clarence, Alonzo Fitz Clarence, Eastport, state of - Maine!'” - </p> - <p> - “Curse him, I've got his address, anyway!” roared Burley, inwardly, and - rushed from the place. - </p> - <p> - Just behind the unconscious Alonzo stood his mother, a picture of - astonishment. She was so muffled from head to heel in furs that nothing of - herself was visible but her eyes and nose. She was a good allegory of - winter, for she was powdered all over with snow. - </p> - <p> - Behind the unconscious Rosannah stood “Aunt Susan,” another picture of - astonishment. She was a good allegory of summer, for she was lightly clad, - and was vigorously cooling the perspiration on her face with a fan. - </p> - <p> - Both of these women had tears of joy in their eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Soho!” exclaimed Mrs. Fitz Clarence, “this explains why nobody has been - able to drag you out of your room for six weeks, Alonzo!” - </p> - <p> - “So ho!” exclaimed Aunt Susan, “this explains why you have been a hermit - for the past six weeks, Rosannah!” - </p> - <p> - The young couple were on their feet in an instant, abashed, and standing - like detected dealers in stolen goods awaiting judge Lynch's doom. - </p> - <p> - “Bless you, my son! I am happy in your happiness. Come to your mother's - arms, Alonzo!” - </p> - <p> - “Bless you, Rosannah, for my dear nephew's sake! Come to my arms!” - </p> - <p> - Then was there a mingling of hearts and of tears of rejoicing on Telegraph - Hill and in Eastport Square. - </p> - <p> - Servants were called by the elders, in both places. Unto one was given the - order, “Pile this fire high, with hickory wood, and bring me a - roasting-hot lemonade.” - </p> - <p> - Unto the other was given the order, “Put out this fire, and bring me two - palm-leaf fans and a pitcher of ice-water.” - </p> - <p> - Then the young people were dismissed, and the elders sat down to talk the - sweet surprise over and make the wedding plans. - </p> - <p> - Some minutes before this Mr. Burley rushed from the mansion on Telegraph - Hill without meeting or taking formal leave of anybody. He hissed through - his teeth, in unconscious imitation of a popular favorite in melodrama, - “Him shall she never wed! I have sworn it! Ere great Nature shall have - doffed her winter's ermine to don the emerald gauds of spring, she shall - be mine!” - </p> - <p> - III - </p> - <p> - Two weeks later. Every few hours, during same three or four days, a very - prim and devout-looking Episcopal clergyman, with a cast in his eye, had - visited Alonzo. According to his card, he was the Rev. Melton Hargrave, of - Cincinnati. He said he had retired from the ministry on account of his - health. If he had said on account of ill-health, he would probably have - erred, to judge by his wholesome looks and firm build. He was the inventor - of an improvement in telephones, and hoped to make his bread by selling - the privilege of using it. “At present,” he continued, “a man may go and - tap a telegraph wire which is conveying a song or a concert from one state - to another, and he can attach his private telephone and steal a hearing of - that music as it passes along. My invention will stop all that.” - </p> - <p> - “Well,” answered Alonzo, “if the owner of the music could not miss what - was stolen, why should he care?” - </p> - <p> - “He shouldn't care,” said the Reverend. - </p> - <p> - “Well?” said Alonzo, inquiringly. - </p> - <p> - “Suppose,” replied the Reverend, “suppose that, instead of music that was - passing along and being stolen, the burden of the wire was loving - endearments of the most private and sacred nature?” - </p> - <p> - Alonzo shuddered from head to heel. “Sir, it is a priceless invention,” - said he; “I must have it at any cost.” - </p> - <p> - But the invention was delayed somewhere on the road from Cincinnati, most - unaccountably. The impatient Alonzo could hardly wait. The thought of - Rosannah's sweet words being shared with him by some ribald thief was - galling to him. The Reverend came frequently and lamented the delay, and - told of measures he had taken to hurry things up. This was some little - comfort to Alonzo. - </p> - <p> - One forenoon the Reverend ascended the stairs and knocked at Alonzo's - door. There was no response. He entered, glanced eagerly around, closed - the door softly, then ran to the telephone. The exquisitely soft and - remote strains of the “Sweet By-and-by” came floating through the - instrument. The singer was flatting, as usual, the five notes that follow - the first two in the chorus, when the Reverend interrupted her with this - word, in a voice which was an exact imitation of Alonzo's, with just the - faintest flavor of impatience added: - </p> - <p> - “Sweetheart?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Alonzo?” - </p> - <p> - “Please don't sing that any more this week—try something modern.” - </p> - <p> - The agile step that goes with a happy heart was heard on the stairs, and - the Reverend, smiling diabolically, sought sudden refuge behind the heavy - folds of the velvet window-curtains. Alonzo entered and flew to the - telephone. Said he: - </p> - <p> - “Rosannah, dear, shall we sing something together?” - </p> - <p> - “Something modern?” asked she, with sarcastic bitterness. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, if you prefer.” - </p> - <p> - “Sing it yourself, if you like!” - </p> - <p> - This snappishness amazed and wounded the young man. He said: - </p> - <p> - “Rosannah, that was not like you.” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose it becomes me as much as your very polite speech became you, - Mr. Fitz Clarence.” - </p> - <p> - “Mister Fitz Clarence! Rosannah, there was nothing impolite about my - speech.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, indeed! Of course, then, I misunderstood you, and I most humbly beg - your pardon, ha-ha-ha! No doubt you said, 'Don't sing it any more - to-day.'” - </p> - <p> - “Sing what any more to-day?” - </p> - <p> - “The song you mentioned, of course, How very obtuse we are, all of a - sudden!” - </p> - <p> - “I never mentioned any song.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you didn't?” - </p> - <p> - “No, I didn't!” - </p> - <p> - “I am compelled to remark that you did.” - </p> - <p> - “And I am obliged to reiterate that I didn't.” - </p> - <p> - “A second rudeness! That is sufficient, sir. I will never forgive you. All - is over between us.” - </p> - <p> - Then came a muffled sound of crying. Alonzo hastened to say: - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Rosannah, unsay those words! There is some dreadful mystery here, - some hideous mistake. I am utterly earnest and sincere when I say I never - said anything about any song. I would not hurt you for the whole world.... - Rosannah, dear speak to me, won't you?” - </p> - <p> - There was a pause; then Alonzo heard the girl's sobbings retreating, and - knew she had gone from the telephone. He rose with a heavy sigh, and - hastened from the room, saying to himself, “I will ransack the charity - missions and the haunts of the poor for my mother. She will persuade her - that I never meant to wound her.” - </p> - <p> - A minute later the Reverend was crouching over the telephone like a cat - that knoweth the ways of the prey. He had not very many minutes to wait. A - soft, repentant voice, tremulous with tears, said: - </p> - <p> - “Alonzo, dear, I have been wrong. You could not have said so cruel a - thing. It must have been some one who imitated your voice in malice or in - jest.” - </p> - <p> - The Reverend coldly answered, in Alonzo's tones: - </p> - <p> - “You have said all was over between us. So let it be. I spurn your - proffered repentance, and despise it!” - </p> - <p> - Then he departed, radiant with fiendish triumph, to return no more with - his imaginary telephonic invention forever. - </p> - <p> - Four hours afterward Alonzo arrived with his mother from her favorite - haunts of poverty and vice. They summoned the San Francisco household; but - there was no reply. They waited, and continued to wait, upon the voiceless - telephone. - </p> - <p> - At length, when it was sunset in San Francisco, and three hours and a half - after dark in Eastport, an answer to the oft-repeated cry of “Rosannah!” - </p> - <p> - But, alas, it was Aunt Susan's voice that spake. She said: - </p> - <p> - “I have been out all day; just got in. I will go and find her.” - </p> - <p> - The watchers waited two minutes—five minutes—ten minutes. Then - came these fatal words, in a frightened tone: - </p> - <p> - “She is gone, and her baggage with her. To visit another friend, she told - the servants. But I found this note on the table in her room. Listen: 'I - am gone; seek not to trace me out; my heart is broken; you will never see - me more. Tell him I shall always think of him when I sing my poor “Sweet - By-and-by,” but never of the unkind words he said about it.' That is her - note. Alonzo, Alonzo, what does it mean? What has happened?” - </p> - <p> - But Alonzo sat white and cold as the dead. His mother threw back the - velvet curtains and opened a window. The cold air refreshed the sufferer, - and he told his aunt his dismal story. Meantime his mother was inspecting - a card which had disclosed itself upon the floor when she cast the - curtains back. It read, “Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley, San Francisco.” - </p> - <p> - “The miscreant!” shouted Alonzo, and rushed forth to seek the false - Reverend and destroy him; for the card explained everything, since in the - course of the lovers' mutual confessions they had told each other all - about all the sweethearts they had ever had, and thrown no end of mud at - their failings and foibles for lovers always do that. It has a fascination - that ranks next after billing and cooing. - </p> - <p> - IV - </p> - <p> - During the next two months many things happened. It had early transpired - that Rosannah, poor suffering orphan, had neither returned to her - grandmother in Portland, Oregon, nor sent any word to her save a duplicate - of the woeful note she had left in the mansion on Telegraph Hill. - Whosoever was sheltering her—if she was still alive—had been - persuaded not to betray her whereabouts, without doubt; for all efforts to - find trace of her had failed. - </p> - <p> - Did Alonzo give her up? Not he. He said to himself, “She will sing that - sweet song when she is sad; I shall find her.” So he took his carpet-sack - and a portable telephone, and shook the snow of his native city from his - arctics, and went forth into the world. He wandered far and wide and in - many states. Time and again, strangers were astounded to see a wasted, - pale, and woe-worn man laboriously climb a telegraph-pole in wintry and - lonely places, perch sadly there an hour, with his ear at a little box, - then come sighing down, and wander wearily away. Sometimes they shot at - him, as peasants do at aeronauts, thinking him mad and dangerous. Thus his - clothes were much shredded by bullets and his person grievously lacerated. - But he bore it all patiently. - </p> - <p> - In the beginning of his pilgrimage he used often to say, “Ah, if I could - but hear the 'Sweet By-and-by'!” But toward the end of it he used to shed - tears of anguish and say, “Ah, if I could but hear something else!” - </p> - <p> - Thus a month and three weeks drifted by, and at last some humane people - seized him and confined him in a private mad-house in New York. He made no - moan, for his strength was all gone, and with it all heart and all hope. - The superintendent, in pity, gave up his own comfortable parlor and - bedchamber to him and nursed him with affectionate devotion. - </p> - <p> - At the end of a week the patient was able to leave his bed for the first - time. He was lying, comfortably pillowed, on a sofa, listening to the - plaintive Miserere of the bleak March winds and the muffled sound of - tramping feet in the street below for it was about six in the evening, and - New York was going home from work. He had a bright fire and the added - cheer of a couple of student-lamps. So it was warm and snug within, though - bleak and raw without; it was light and bright within, though outside it - was as dark and dreary as if the world had been lit with Hartford gas. - Alonzo smiled feebly to think how his loving vagaries had made him a - maniac in the eyes of the world, and was proceeding to pursue his line of - thought further, when a faint, sweet strain, the very ghost of sound, so - remote and attenuated it seemed, struck upon his ear. His pulses stood - still; he listened with parted lips and bated breath. The song flowed on—he - waiting, listening, rising slowly and unconsciously from his recumbent - position. At last he exclaimed: - </p> - <p> - “It is! it is she! Oh, the divine hated notes!” - </p> - <p> - He dragged himself eagerly to the corner whence the sounds proceeded, tore - aside a curtain, and discovered a telephone. He bent over, and as the last - note died away he burst forthwith the exclamation: - </p> - <p> - “Oh, thank Heaven, found at last! Speak to me, Rosannah, dearest! The - cruel mystery has been unraveled; it was the villain Burley who mimicked - my voice and wounded you with insolent speech!” - </p> - <p> - There was a breathless pause, a waiting age to Alonzo; then a faint sound - came, framing itself into language: - </p> - <p> - “Oh, say those precious words again, Alonzo!” - </p> - <p> - “They are the truth, the veritable truth, my Rosannah, and you shall have - the proof, ample and abundant proof!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh; Alonzo, stay by me! Leave me not for a moment! Let me feel that you - are near me! Tell me we shall never be parted more! Oh, this happy hour, - this blessed hour, this memorable hour!” - </p> - <p> - “We will make record of it, my Rosannah; every year, as this dear hour - chimes from the clock, we will celebrate it with thanksgivings, all the - years of our life.” - </p> - <p> - “We will, we will, Alonzo!” - </p> - <p> - “Four minutes after six, in the evening, my Rosannah, shall henceforth—” - </p> - <p> - “Twenty-three minutes after twelve, afternoon shall—” - </p> - <p> - “Why; Rosannah, darling, where are you?” - </p> - <p> - “In Honolulu, Sandwich Islands. And where are you? Stay by me; do not - leave me for a moment. I cannot bear it. Are you at home?” - </p> - <p> - “No, dear, I am in New York—a patient in the doctor's hands.” - </p> - <p> - An agonizing shriek came buzzing to Alonzo's ear, like the sharp buzzing - of a hurt gnat; it lost power in traveling five thousand miles. Alonzo - hastened to say: - </p> - <p> - “Calm yourself, my child. It is nothing. Already I am getting well under - the sweet healing of your presence. Rosannah?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Alonzo? Oh, how you terrified me! Say on.” - </p> - <p> - “Name the happy day, Rosannah!” - </p> - <p> - There was a little pause. Then a diffident small voice replied, “I blush—but - it is with pleasure, it is with happiness. Would—would you like to - have it soon?” - </p> - <p> - “This very night, Rosannah! Oh, let us risk no more delays. Let it be now!—this - very night, this very moment!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you impatient creature! I have nobody here but my good old uncle, a - missionary for a generation, and now retired from service—nobody but - him and his wife. I would so dearly like it if your mother and your Aunt - Susan—” - </p> - <p> - “Our mother and our Aunt Susan, my Rosannah.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, our mother and our Aunt Susan—I am content to word it so if it - pleases you; I would so like to have them present.” - </p> - <p> - “So would I. Suppose you telegraph Aunt Susan. How long would it take her - to come?” - </p> - <p> - “The steamer leaves San Francisco day after tomorrow. The passage is eight - days. She would be here the 31st of March.” - </p> - <p> - “Then name the 1st of April; do, Rosannah, dear.” - </p> - <p> - “Mercy, it would make us April fools, Alonzo!” - </p> - <p> - “So we be the happiest ones that that day's suit looks down upon in the - whole broad expanse of the globe, why need we care? Call it the 1st of - April, dear.” - </p> - <p> - “Then the 1st of April at shall be, with all my heart!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, happiness! Name the hour, too, Rosannah.” - </p> - <p> - “I like the morning, it is so blithe. Will eight in the morning do, - Alonzo?” - </p> - <p> - “The loveliest hour in the day—since it will make you mine.” - </p> - <p> - There was a feeble but frantic sound for some little time, as if - wool-lipped, disembodied spirits were exchanging kisses; then Rosannah - said, “Excuse me just a moment, dear; I have an appointment, and am called - to meet it.” - </p> - <p> - The young girl sought a large parlor and took her place at a window which - looked out upon a beautiful scene. To the left one could view the charming - Nuuana Valley, fringed with its ruddy flush of tropical flowers and its - plumed and graceful cocoa palms; its rising foothills clothed in the - shining green of lemon, citron, and orange groves; its storied precipice - beyond, where the first Kamehameha drove his defeated foes over to their - destruction, a spot that had forgotten its grim history, no doubt, for now - it was smiling, as almost always at noonday, under the glowing arches of a - succession of rainbows. In front of the window one could see the quaint - town, and here and there a picturesque group of dusky natives, enjoying - the blistering weather; and far to the right lay the restless ocean, - tossing its white mane in the sunshine. - </p> - <p> - Rosannah stood there, in her filmy white raiment, fanning her flushed and - heated face, waiting. A Kanaka boy, clothed in a damaged blue necktie and - part of a silk hat, thrust his head in at the door, and announced, - “'Frisco haole!” - </p> - <p> - “Show him in,” said the girl, straightening herself up and assuming a - meaning dignity. Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley entered, clad from head to - heel in dazzling snow—that is to say, in the lightest and whitest of - Irish linen. He moved eagerly forward, but the girl made a gesture and - gave him a look which checked him suddenly. She said, coldly, “I am here, - as I promised. I believed your assertions, I yielded to your importune - lies, and said I would name the day. I name the 1st of April—eight - in the morning. NOW GO!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, my dearest, if the gratitude of a lifetime—” - </p> - <p> - “Not a word. Spare me all sight of you, all communication with you, until - that hour. No—no supplications; I will have it so.” - </p> - <p> - When he was gone, she sank exhausted in a chair, for the long siege of - troubles she had undergone had wasted her strength. Presently she said, - “What a narrow escape! If the hour appointed had been an hour earlier—Oh, - horror, what an escape I have made! And to think I had come to imagine I - was loving this beguiling, this truthless, this treacherous monster! Oh, - he shall repent his villainy!” - </p> - <p> - Let us now draw this history to a close, for little more needs to be told. - On the 2d of the ensuing April, the Honolulu Advertiser contained this - notice: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - MARRIED.—In this city, by telephone, yesterday morning,—at eight - o'clock, by Rev. Nathan Hays, assisted by Rev. Nathaniel Davis, of - New York, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence, of Eastport, Maine, U. S., and - Miss Rosannah Ethelton, of Portland, Oregon, U. S. Mrs. Susan - Howland, of San Francisco, a friend of the bride, was present, she - being the guest of the Rev. Mr. Hays and wife, uncle and aunt of the - bride. Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley, of San Francisco, was also - present but did not remain till the conclusion of the marriage - service. Captain Hawthorne's beautiful yacht, tastefully decorated, - was in waiting, and the happy bride and her friends immediately - departed on a bridal trip to Lahaina and Haleakala. -</pre> - <p> - The New York papers of the same date contained this notice: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - MARRIED.—In this city, yesterday, by telephone, at half-past two in - the morning, by Rev. Nathaniel Davis, assisted by Rev. Nathan Hays, - of Honolulu, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence, of Eastport, Maine, and Miss - Rosannah Ethelton, of Portland, Oregon. The parents and several - friends of the bridegroom were present, and enjoyed a sumptuous - breakfast and much festivity until nearly sunrise, and then departed - on a bridal trip to the Aquarium, the bridegroom's state of health - not admitting of a more extended journey. -</pre> - <p> - Toward the close of that memorable day Mr. and Mrs. Alonzo Fitz Clarence - were buried in sweet converse concerning the pleasures of their several - bridal tours, when suddenly the young wife exclaimed: “Oh, Lonny, I - forgot! I did what I said I would.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you, dear?” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, I did. I made him the April fool! And I told him so, too! Ah, it - was a charming surprise! There he stood, sweltering in a black dress-suit, - with the mercury leaking out of the top of the thermometer, waiting to be - married. You should have seen the look he gave when I whispered it in his - ear. Ah, his wickedness cost me many a heartache and many a tear, but the - score was all squared up, then. So the vengeful feeling went right out of - my heart, and I begged him to stay, and said I forgave him everything. But - he wouldn't. He said he would live to be avenged; said he would make our - lives a curse to us. But he can't, can he, dear?” - </p> - <p> - “Never in this world, my Rosannah!” - </p> - <p> - Aunt Susan, the Oregonian grandmother, and the young couple and their - Eastport parents, are all happy at this writing, and likely to remain so. - Aunt Susan brought the bride from the islands, accompanied her across our - continent, and had the happiness of witnessing the rapturous meeting - between an adoring husband and wife who had never seen each other until - that moment. - </p> - <p> - A word about the wretched Burley, whose wicked machinations came so near - wrecking the hearts and lives of our poor young friends, will be - sufficient. In a murderous attempt to seize a crippled and helpless - artisan who he fancied had done him some small offense, he fell into a - caldron of boiling oil and expired before he could be extinguished. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - ON THE DECAY OF THE ART OF LYING - </h2> - <p> - ESSAY, FOR DISCUSSION, READ AT A MEETING OF THE HISTORICAL AND ANTIQUARIAN - CLUB OF HARTFORD, AND OFFERED FOR THE THIRTY-DOLLAR PRIZE. NOW FIRST - PUBLISHED.—[Did not take the prize] - </p> - <p> - Observe, I do not mean to suggest that the custom of lying has suffered - any decay or interruption—no, for the Lie, as a Virtue, a Principle, - is eternal; the Lie, as a recreation, a solace, a refuge in time of need, - the fourth Grace, the tenth Muse, man's best and surest friend, is - immortal, and cannot perish from the earth while this Club remains. My - complaint simply concerns the decay of the art of lying. No high-minded - man, no man of right feeling, can contemplate the lumbering and slovenly - lying of the present day without grieving to see a noble art so - prostituted. In this veteran presence I naturally enter upon this scheme - with diffidence; it is like an old maid trying to teach nursery matters to - the mothers in Israel. It would not become me to criticize you, gentlemen, - who are nearly all my elders—and my superiors, in this thing—and - so, if I should here and there seem to do it, I trust it will in most - cases be more in a spirit of admiration than of fault-finding; indeed, if - this finest of the fine arts had everywhere received the attention, - encouragement, and conscientious practice and development which this Club - has devoted to it I should not need to utter this lament or shed a single - tear. I do not say this to flatter: I say it in a spirit of just and - appreciative recognition. - </p> - <p> - [It had been my intention, at this point, to mention names and give - illustrative specimens, but indications observable about me admonished me - to beware of particulars and confine myself to generalities.] - </p> - <p> - No fact is more firmly established than that lying is a necessity of our - circumstances—the deduction that it is then a Virtue goes without - saying. No virtue can reach its highest usefulness without careful and - diligent cultivation—therefore, it goes without saying that this one - ought to be taught in the public schools—at the fireside—even - in the newspapers. What chance has the ignorant, uncultivated liar against - the educated expert? What chance have I against Mr. Per— against a - lawyer? Judicious lying is what the world needs. I sometimes think it were - even better and safer not to lie at all than to lie injudiciously. An - awkward, unscientific lie is often as ineffectual as the truth. - </p> - <p> - Now let us see what the philosophers say. Note that venerable proverb: - Children and fools always speak the truth. The deduction is plain—adults - and wise persons never speak it. Parkman, the historian, says, “The - principle of truth may itself be carried into an absurdity.” In another - place in the same chapter he says, “The saying is old that truth should - not be spoken at all times; and those whom a sick conscience worries into - habitual violation of the maxim are imbeciles and nuisances.” It is strong - language, but true. None of us could live with an habitual truth-teller; - but, thank goodness, none of us has to. An habitual truth-teller is simply - an impossible creature; he does not exist; he never has existed. Of course - there are people who think they never lie, but it is not so—and this - ignorance is one of the very things that shame our so-called civilization. - Everybody lies—every day; every hour; awake; asleep; in his dreams; - in his joy; in his mourning; if he keeps his tongue still, his hands, his - feet, his eyes, his attitude, will convey deception—and purposely. - Even in sermons—but that is a platitude. - </p> - <p> - In a far country where I once lived the ladies used to go around paying - calls, under the humane and kindly pretense of wanting to see each other; - and when they returned home, they would cry out with a glad voice, saying, - “We made sixteen calls and found fourteen of them out”—not meaning - that they found out anything against the fourteen—no, that was only - a colloquial phrase to signify that they were not at home—and their - manner of saying it—expressed their lively satisfaction in that - fact. Now, their pretense of wanting to see the fourteen—and the - other two whom they had been less lucky with—was that commonest and - mildest form of lying which is sufficiently described as a deflection from - the truth. Is it justifiable? Most certainly. It is beautiful, it is - noble; for its object is, not to reap profit, but to convey a pleasure to - the sixteen. The iron-souled truth-monger would plainly manifest, or even - utter the fact, that he didn't want to see those people—and he would - be an ass, and inflict a totally unnecessary pain. And next, those ladies - in that far country—but never mind, they had a thousand pleasant - ways of lying, that grew out of gentle impulses, and were a credit to - their intelligence and an honor to their hearts. Let the particulars go. - </p> - <p> - The men in that far country were liars; every one. Their mere howdy-do was - a lie, because they didn't care how you did, except they were undertakers. - To the ordinary inquirer you lied in return; for you made no conscientious - diagnosis of your case, but answered at random, and usually missed it - considerably. You lied to the undertaker, and said your health was failing—a - wholly commendable lie, since it cost you nothing and pleased the other - man. If a stranger called and interrupted you, you said with your hearty - tongue, “I'm glad to see you,” and said with your heartier soul, “I wish - you were with the cannibals and it was dinner-time.” When he went, you - said regretfully, “Must you go?” and followed it with a “Call again”; but - you did no harm, for you did not deceive anybody nor inflict any hurt, - whereas the truth would have made you both unhappy. - </p> - <p> - I think that all this courteous lying is a sweet and loving art, and - should be cultivated. The highest perfection of politeness is only a - beautiful edifice, built, from the base to the dome, of graceful and - gilded forms of charitable and unselfish lying. - </p> - <p> - What I bemoan is the growing prevalence of the brutal truth. Let us do - what we can to eradicate it. An injurious truth has no merit over an - injurious lie. Neither should ever be uttered. The man who speaks an - injurious truth, lest his soul be not saved if he do otherwise, should - reflect that that sort of a soul is not strictly worth saving. The man who - tells a lie to help a poor devil out of trouble is one of whom the angels - doubtless say, “Lo, here is an heroic soul who casts his own welfare into - jeopardy to succor his neighbor's; let us exalt this magnanimous liar.” - </p> - <p> - An injurious lie is an uncommendable thing; and so, also, and in the same - degree, is an injurious truth—a fact which is recognized by the law - of libel. - </p> - <p> - Among other common lies, we have the silent lie—the deception which - one conveys by simply keeping still and concealing the truth. Many - obstinate truth-mongers indulge in this dissipation, imagining that if - they speak no lie, they lie not at all. In that far country where I once - lived, there was a lovely spirit, a lady whose impulses were always high - and pure, and whose character answered to them. One day I was there at - dinner, and remarked, in a general way, that we are all liars. She was - amazed, and said, “Not all!” It was before “Pinafore's” time so I did not - make the response which would naturally follow in our day, but frankly - said, “Yes, all—we are all liars; there are no exceptions.” She - looked almost offended, and said, “Why, do you include me?” “Certainly,” I - said, “I think you even rank as an expert.” She said, “'Sh!—'sh! the - children!” - </p> - <p> - So the subject was changed in deference to the children's presence, and we - went on talking about other things. But as soon as the young people were - out of the way, the lady came warmly back to the matter and said, “I have - made it the rule of my life to never tell a lie; and I have never departed - from it in a single instance.” I said, “I don't mean the least harm or - disrespect, but really you have been lying like smoke ever since I've been - sitting here. It has caused me a good deal of pain, because I am not used - to it.” She required of me an instance—just a single instance. So I - said:— - </p> - <p> - “Well, here is the unfilled duplicate of the blank which the Oakland - hospital people sent to you by the hand of the sick-nurse when she came - here to nurse your little nephew through his dangerous illness. This blank - asks all manner of questions as to the conduct of that sick-nurse: 'Did - she ever sleep on her watch? Did she ever forget to give the medicine?' - and so forth and so on. You are warned to be very careful and explicit in - your answers, for the welfare of the service requires that the nurses be - promptly fined or otherwise punished for derelictions. You told me you - were perfectly delighted with that nurse—that she had a thousand - perfections and only one fault: you found you never could depend on her - wrapping Johnny up half sufficiently while he waited in a chilly chair for - her to rearrange the warm bed. You filled up the duplicate of this paper, - and sent it back to the hospital by the hand of the nurse. How did you - answer this question—'Was the nurse at any time guilty of a - negligence which was likely to result in the patient's taking cold?' Come—everything - is decided by a bet here in California: ten dollars to ten cents you lied - when you answered that question.” She said, “I didn't; I left it blank!” - “Just so—you have told a silent lie; you have left it to be inferred - that you had no fault to find in that matter.” She said, “Oh, was that a - lie? And how could I mention her one single fault, and she so good?—it - would have been cruel.” I said, “One ought always to lie when one can do - good by it; your impulse was right, but, your judgment was crude; this - comes of unintelligent practice. Now observe the result of this inexpert - deflection of yours. You know Mr. Jones's Willie is lying very low with - scarlet fever; well, your recommendation was so enthusiastic that that - girl is there nursing him, and the worn-out family have all been - trustingly sound asleep for the last fourteen hours, leaving their darling - with full confidence in those fatal hands, because you, like young George - Washington, have a reputa—However, if you are not going to have - anything to do, I will come around to-morrow and we'll attend the funeral - together, for, of course, you'll naturally feel a peculiar interest in - Willie's case—as personal a one, in fact, as the undertaker.” - </p> - <p> - But that was all lost. Before I was half-way through she was in a carriage - and making thirty miles an hour toward the Jones mansion to save what was - left of Willie and tell all she knew about the deadly nurse. All of which - was unnecessary, as Willie wasn't sick; I had been lying myself. But that - same day, all the same, she sent a line to the hospital which filled up - the neglected blank, and stated the facts, too, in the squarest possible - manner. - </p> - <p> - Now, you see, this lady's fault was not in lying, but only in lying - injudiciously. She should have told the truth there, and made it up to the - nurse with a fraudulent compliment further along in the paper. She could - have said, “In one respect the sick-nurse is perfection—when she is - on watch, she never snores.” Almost any little pleasant lie would have - taken the sting out of that troublesome but necessary expression of the - truth. - </p> - <p> - Lying is universal—we all do it; we all must do it. Therefore, the - wise thing is for us diligently to train ourselves to lie thoughtfully, - judiciously; to lie with a good object, and not an evil one; to lie for - others' advantage, and not our own; to lie healingly, charitably, - humanely, not cruelly, hurtfully, maliciously; to lie gracefully and - graciously, not awkwardly and clumsily; to lie firmly, frankly, squarely, - with head erect, not haltingly, tortuously, with pusillanimous mien, as - being ashamed of our high calling. Then shall we be rid of the rank and - pestilent truth that is rotting the land; then shall we be great and good - and beautiful, and worthy dwellers in a world where even benign Nature - habitually lies, except when she promises execrable weather. Then—but - I am but a new and feeble student in this gracious art; I can not instruct - this Club. - </p> - <p> - Joking aside, I think there is much need of wise examination into what - sorts of lies are best and wholesomest to be indulged, seeing we must all - lie and do all lie, and what sorts it may be best to avoid—and this - is a thing which I feel I can confidently put into the hands of this - experienced Club—a ripe body, who may be termed, in this regard, and - without undue flattery, Old Masters. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - ABOUT MAGNANIMOUS-INCIDENT LITERATURE - </h2> - <p> - All my life, from boyhood up, I have had the habit of reading a certain - set of anecdotes, written in the quaint vein of The World's ingenious - Fabulist, for the lesson they taught me and the pleasure they gave me. - They lay always convenient to my hand, and whenever I thought meanly of my - kind I turned to them, and they banished that sentiment; whenever I felt - myself to be selfish, sordid, and ignoble I turned to them, and they told - me what to do to win back my self-respect. Many times I wished that the - charming anecdotes had not stopped with their happy climaxes, but had - continued the pleasing history of the several benefactors and - beneficiaries. This wish rose in my breast so persistently that at last I - determined to satisfy it by seeking out the sequels of those anecdotes - myself. So I set about it, and after great labor and tedious research - accomplished my task. I will lay the result before you, giving you each - anecdote in its turn, and following it with its sequel as I gathered it - through my investigations. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - THE GRATEFUL POODLE -</pre> - <p> - One day a benevolent physician (who had read the books) having found a - stray poodle suffering from a broken leg, conveyed the poor creature to - his home, and after setting and bandaging the injured limb gave the little - outcast its liberty again, and thought no more about the matter. But how - great was his surprise, upon opening his door one morning, some days - later, to find the grateful poodle patiently waiting there, and in its - company another stray dog, one of whose legs, by some accident, had been - broken. The kind physician at once relieved the distressed animal, nor did - he forget to admire the inscrutable goodness and mercy of God, who had - been willing to use so humble an instrument as the poor outcast poodle for - the inculcating of, etc., etc., etc. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - SEQUEL -</pre> - <p> - The next morning the benevolent physician found the two dogs, beaming with - gratitude, waiting at his door, and with them two other dogs-cripples. The - cripples were speedily healed, and the four went their way, leaving the - benevolent physician more overcome by pious wonder than ever. The day - passed, the morning came. There at the door sat now the four reconstructed - dogs, and with them four others requiring reconstruction. This day also - passed, and another morning came; and now sixteen dogs, eight of them - newly crippled, occupied the sidewalk, and the people were going around. - By noon the broken legs were all set, but the pious wonder in the good - physician's breast was beginning to get mixed with involuntary profanity. - The sun rose once more, and exhibited thirty-two dogs, sixteen of them - with broken legs, occupying the sidewalk and half of the street; the human - spectators took up the rest of the room. The cries of the wounded, the - songs of the healed brutes, and the comments of the onlooking citizens - made great and inspiring cheer, but traffic was interrupted in that - street. The good physician hired a couple of assistant surgeons and got - through his benevolent work before dark, first taking the precaution to - cancel his church membership, so that he might express himself with the - latitude which the case required. - </p> - <p> - But some things have their limits. When once more the morning dawned, and - the good physician looked out upon a massed and far-reaching multitude of - clamorous and beseeching dogs, he said, “I might as well acknowledge it, I - have been fooled by the books; they only tell the pretty part of the - story, and then stop. Fetch me the shotgun; this thing has gone along far - enough.” - </p> - <p> - He issued forth with his weapon, and chanced to step upon the tail of the - original poodle, who promptly bit him in the leg. Now the great and good - work which this poodle had been engaged in had engendered in him such a - mighty and augmenting enthusiasm as to turn his weak head at last and - drive him mad. A month later, when the benevolent physician lay in the - death-throes of hydrophobia, he called his weeping friends about him, and - said:— - </p> - <p> - “Beware of the books. They tell but half of the story. Whenever a poor - wretch asks you for help, and you feel a doubt as to what result may flow - from your benevolence, give yourself the benefit of the doubt and kill the - applicant.” - </p> - <p> - And so saying he turned his face to the wall and gave up the ghost. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - THE BENEVOLENT AUTHOR -</pre> - <p> - A poor and young literary beginner had tried in vain to get his - manuscripts accepted. At last, when the horrors of starvation were staring - him in the face, he laid his sad case before a celebrated author, - beseeching his counsel and assistance. This generous man immediately put - aside his own matters and proceeded to peruse one of the despised - manuscripts. Having completed his kindly task, he shook the poor young man - cordially by the hand, saying, “I perceive merit in this; come again to me - on Monday.” At the time specified, the celebrated author, with a sweet - smile, but saying nothing, spread open a magazine which was damp from the - press. What was the poor young man's astonishment to discover upon the - printed page his own article. “How can I ever,” said he, falling upon his - knees and bursting into tears, “testify my gratitude for this noble - conduct!” - </p> - <p> - The celebrated author was the renowned Snodgrass; the poor young beginner - thus rescued from obscurity and starvation was the afterward equally - renowned Snagsby. Let this pleasing incident admonish us to turn a - charitable ear to all beginners that need help. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - SEQUEL -</pre> - <p> - The next week Snagsby was back with five rejected manuscripts. The - celebrated author was a little surprised, because in the books the young - struggler had needed but one lift, apparently. However, he plowed through - these papers, removing unnecessary flowers and digging up some acres of - adjective-stumps, and then succeeded in getting two of the articles - accepted. - </p> - <p> - A week or so drifted by, and the grateful Snagsby arrived with another - cargo. The celebrated author had felt a mighty glow of satisfaction within - himself the first time he had successfully befriended the poor young - struggler, and had compared himself with the generous people in the books - with high gratification; but he was beginning to suspect now that he had - struck upon something fresh in the noble-episode line. His enthusiasm took - a chill. Still, he could not bear to repulse this struggling young author, - who clung to him with such pretty simplicity and trustfulness. - </p> - <p> - Well, the upshot of it all was that the celebrated author presently found - himself permanently freighted with the poor young beginner. All his mild - efforts to unload this cargo went for nothing. He had to give daily - counsel, daily encouragement; he had to keep on procuring magazine - acceptances, and then revamping the manuscripts to make them presentable. - When the young aspirant got a start at last, he rode into sudden fame by - describing the celebrated author's private life with such a caustic humor - and such minuteness of blistering detail that the book sold a prodigious - edition, and broke the celebrated author's heart with mortification. With - his latest gasp he said, “Alas, the books deceived me; they do not tell - the whole story. Beware of the struggling young author, my friends. Whom - God sees fit to starve, let not man presumptuously rescue to his own - undoing.” - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - THE GRATEFUL HUSBAND -</pre> - <p> - One day a lady was driving through the principal street of a great city - with her little boy, when the horses took fright and dashed madly away, - hurling the coachman from his box and leaving the occupants of the carnage - paralyzed with terror. But a brave youth who was driving a grocery-wagon - threw himself before the plunging animals, and succeeded in arresting - their flight at the peril of his own.—[This is probably a misprint.—M. - T.]—The grateful lady took his number, and upon arriving at her home - she related the heroic act to her husband (who had read the books), who - listened with streaming eyes to the moving recital, and who, after - returning thanks, in conjunction with his restored loved ones, to Him who - suffereth not even a sparrow to fall to the ground unnoticed, sent for the - brave young person, and, placing a check for five hundred dollars in his - hand, said, “Take this as a reward for your noble act, William Ferguson, - and if ever you shall need a friend, remember that Thompson McSpadden has - a grateful heart.” Let us learn from this that a good deed cannot fail to - benefit the doer, however humble he may be. - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - SEQUEL -</pre> - <p> - William Ferguson called the next week and asked Mr. McSpadden to use his - influence to get him a higher employment, he feeling capable of better - things than driving a grocer's wagon. Mr. McSpadden got him an - under-clerkship at a good salary. - </p> - <p> - Presently William Ferguson's mother fell sick, and William—Well, to - cut the story short, Mr. McSpadden consented to take her into his house. - Before long she yearned for the society of her younger children; so Mary - and Julia were admitted also, and little Jimmy, their brother. Jimmy had a - pocket knife, and he wandered into the drawing-room with it one day, - alone, and reduced ten thousand dollars' worth of furniture to an - indeterminable value in rather less than three-quarters of an hour. A day - or two later he fell down-stairs and broke his neck, and seventeen of his - family's relatives came to the house to attend the funeral. This made them - acquainted, and they kept the kitchen occupied after that, and likewise - kept the McSpaddens busy hunting up situations of various sorts for them, - and hunting up more when they wore these out. The old woman drank a good - deal and swore a good deal; but the grateful McSpaddens knew it was their - duty to reform her, considering what her son had done for them, so they - clave nobly to their generous task. William came often and got decreasing - sums of money, and asked for higher and more lucrative employments—which - the grateful McSpadden more or less promptly procured for him. McSpadden - consented also, after some demur, to fit William for college; but when the - first vacation came and the hero requested to be sent to Europe for his - health, the persecuted McSpadden rose against the tyrant and revolted. He - plainly and squarely refused. William Ferguson's mother was so astounded - that she let her gin-bottle drop, and her profane lips refused to do their - office. When she recovered she said in a half-gasp, “Is this your - gratitude? Where would your wife and boy be now, but for my son?” - </p> - <p> - William said, “Is this your gratitude? Did I save your wife's life or not? - Tell me that!” - </p> - <p> - Seven relations swarmed in from the kitchen and each said, “And this is - his gratitude!” - </p> - <p> - William's sisters stared, bewildered, and said, “And this is his grat—” - but were interrupted by their mother, who burst into tears and exclaimed, - </p> - <p> - “To think that my sainted little Jimmy threw away his life in the service - of such a reptile!” - </p> - <p> - Then the pluck of the revolutionary McSpadden rose to the occasion, and he - replied with fervor, “Out of my house, the whole beggarly tribe of you! I - was beguiled by the books, but shall never be beguiled again—once is - sufficient for me.” And turning to William he shouted, “Yes, you did save - my wife's life, and the next man that does it shall die in his tracks!” - </p> - <p> - Not being a clergyman, I place my text at the end of my sermon instead of - at the beginning. Here it is, from Mr. Noah Brooks's Recollections of - President Lincoln in “Scribners Monthly”: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - J. H. Hackett, in his part of Falstaff, was an actor who gave Mr. - Lincoln great delight. With his usual desire to signify to others - his sense of obligation, Mr. Lincoln wrote a genial little note to - the actor expressing his pleasure at witnessing his performance. - Mr. Hackett, in reply, sent a book of some sort; perhaps it was one - of his own authorship. He also wrote several notes to the - President. One night, quite late, when the episode had passed out - of my mind, I went to the White House in answer to a message. - Passing into the President's office, I noticed, to my surprise, - Hackett sitting in the anteroom as if waiting for an audience. The - President asked me if any one was outside. On being told, he said, - half sadly, “Oh, I can't see him, I can't see him; I was in hopes he - had gone away.” Then he added, “Now this just illustrates the - difficulty of having pleasant friends and acquaintances in this - place. You know how I liked Hackett as an actor, and how I wrote to - tell him so. He sent me that book, and there I thought the matter - would end. He is a master of his place in the profession, I - suppose, and well fixed in it; but just because we had a little - friendly correspondence, such as any two men might have, he wants - something. What do you suppose he wants?” I could not guess, and - Mr. Lincoln added, “well, he wants to be consul to London. Oh, - dear!” - </pre> - <p> - I will observe, in conclusion, that the William Ferguson incident - occurred, and within my personal knowledge—though I have changed the - nature of the details, to keep William from recognizing himself in it. - </p> - <p> - All the readers of this article have in some sweet and gushing hour of - their lives played the role of Magnanimous-Incident hero. I wish I knew - how many there are among them who are willing to talk about that episode - and like to be reminded of the consequences that flowed from it. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - PUNCH, BROTHERS, PUNCH - </h2> - <p> - Will the reader please to cast his eye over the following lines, and see - if he can discover anything harmful in them? - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Conductor, when you receive a fare, - Punch in the presence of the passenjare! - A blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, - A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, - A pink trip slip for a three-cent fare, - Punch in the presence of the passenjare! - - CHORUS - - Punch, brothers! punch with care! - Punch in the presence of the passenjare! -</pre> - <p> - I came across these jingling rhymes in a newspaper, a little while ago, - and read them a couple of times. They took instant and entire possession - of me. All through breakfast they went waltzing through my brain; and - when, at last, I rolled up my napkin, I could not tell whether I had eaten - anything or not. I had carefully laid out my day's work the day before—thrilling - tragedy in the novel which I am writing. I went to my den to begin my deed - of blood. I took up my pen, but all I could get it to say was, “Punch in - the presence of the passenjare.” I fought hard for an hour, but it was - useless. My head kept humming, “A blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, a - buff trip slip for a six-cent fare,” and so on and so on, without peace or - respite. The day's work was ruined—I could see that plainly enough. - I gave up and drifted down-town, and presently discovered that my feet - were keeping time to that relentless jingle. When I could stand it no - longer I altered my step. But it did no good; those rhymes accommodated - themselves to the new step and went on harassing me just as before. I - returned home, and suffered all the afternoon; suffered all through an - unconscious and unrefreshing dinner; suffered, and cried, and jingled all - through the evening; went to bed and rolled, tossed, and jingled right - along, the same as ever; got up at midnight frantic, and tried to read; - but there was nothing visible upon the whirling page except “Punch! punch - in the presence of the passenjare.” By sunrise I was out of my mind, and - everybody marveled and was distressed at the idiotic burden of my ravings—“Punch! - oh, punch! punch in the presence of the passenjare!” - </p> - <p> - Two days later, on Saturday morning, I arose, a tottering wreck, and went - forth to fulfil an engagement with a valued friend, the Rev. Mr.———, - to walk to the Talcott Tower, ten miles distant. He stared at me, but - asked no questions. We started. Mr.——— talked, talked, - talked as is his wont. I said nothing; I heard nothing. At the end of a - mile, Mr.——— said “Mark, are you sick? I never saw a man - look so haggard and worn and absent-minded. Say something, do!” - </p> - <p> - Drearily, without enthusiasm, I said: “Punch brothers, punch with care! - Punch in the presence of the passenjare!” - </p> - <p> - My friend eyed me blankly, looked perplexed, then said: - </p> - <p> - “I do not think I get your drift, Mark. There does not seem to be any - relevancy in what you have said, certainly nothing sad; and yet—maybe - it was the way you said the words—I never heard anything that - sounded so pathetic. What is—” - </p> - <p> - But I heard no more. I was already far away with my pitiless, - heartbreaking “blue trip slip for an eight-cent fare, buff trip slip for a - six-cent fare, pink trip slip for a three-cent fare; punch in the presence - of the passenjare.” I do not know what occurred during the other nine - miles. However, all of a sudden Mr.——— laid his hand on - my shoulder and shouted:— - </p> - <p> - “Oh, wake up! wake up! wake up! Don't sleep all day! Here we are at the - Tower, man! I have talked myself deaf and dumb and blind, and never got a - response. Just look at this magnificent autumn landscape! Look at it! look - at it! Feast your eye on it! You have traveled; you have seen boasted - landscapes elsewhere. Come, now, deliver an honest opinion. What do you - say to this?” - </p> - <p> - I sighed wearily; and murmured:— - </p> - <p> - “A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent - fare, punch in the presence of the passenjare.” - </p> - <p> - Rev. Mr. ——— stood there, very grave, full of concern, - apparently, and looked long at me; then he said:— - </p> - <p> - “Mark, there is something about this that I cannot understand. Those are - about the same words you said before; there does not seem to be anything - in them, and yet they nearly break my heart when you say them. Punch in - the—how is it they go?” - </p> - <p> - I began at the beginning and repeated all the lines. - </p> - <p> - My friend's face lighted with interest. He said:— - </p> - <p> - “Why, what a captivating jingle it is! It is almost music. It flows along - so nicely. I have nearly caught the rhymes myself. Say them over just once - more, and then I'll have them, sure.” - </p> - <p> - I said them over. Then Mr. ——— said them. He made one - little mistake, which I corrected. The next time and the next he got them - right. Now a great burden seemed to tumble from my shoulders. That - torturing jingle departed out of my brain, and a grateful sense of rest - and peace descended upon me. I was light-hearted enough to sing; and I did - sing for half an hour, straight along, as we went jogging homeward. Then - my freed tongue found blessed speech again, and the pent talk of many a - weary hour began to gush and flow. It flowed on and on, joyously, - jubilantly, until the fountain was empty and dry. As I wrung my friend's - hand at parting, I said:— - </p> - <p> - “Haven't we had a royal good time! But now I remember, you haven't said a - word for two hours. Come, come, out with something!” - </p> - <p> - The Rev. Mr.——— turned a lack-lustre eye upon me, drew a - deep sigh, and said, without animation, without apparent consciousness: - </p> - <p> - “Punch, brothers, punch with care! Punch in the presence of the - passenjare!” - </p> - <p> - A pang shot through me as I said to myself, “Poor fellow, poor fellow! he - has got it, now.” - </p> - <p> - I did not see Mr.——— for two or three days after that. - Then, on Tuesday evening, he staggered into my presence and sank - dejectedly into a seat. He was pale, worn; he was a wreck. He lifted his - faded eyes to my face and said:— - </p> - <p> - “Ah, Mark, it was a ruinous investment that I made in those heartless - rhymes. They have ridden me like a nightmare, day and night, hour after - hour, to this very moment. Since I saw you I have suffered the torments of - the lost. Saturday evening I had a sudden call, by telegraph, and took the - night train for Boston. The occasion was the death of a valued old friend - who had requested that I should preach his funeral sermon. I took my seat - in the cars and set myself to framing the discourse. But I never got - beyond the opening paragraph; for then the train started and the - car-wheels began their 'clack, clack-clack-clack-clack! clack-clack!—clack-clack-clack!' - and right away those odious rhymes fitted themselves to that - accompaniment. For an hour I sat there and set a syllable of those rhymes - to every separate and distinct clack the car-wheels made. Why, I was as - fagged out, then, as if I had been chopping wood all day. My skull was - splitting with headache. It seemed to me that I must go mad if I sat there - any longer; so I undressed and went to bed. I stretched myself out in my - berth, and—well, you know what the result was. The thing went right - along, just the same. 'Clack-clack clack, a blue trip slip, - clack-clack-clack, for an eight-cent fare; clack-clack-clack, a buff trip - slip, clack clack-clack, for a six-cent fare, and so on, and so on, and so - on punch in the presence of the passenjare!' Sleep? Not a single wink! I - was almost a lunatic when I got to Boston. Don't ask me about the funeral. - I did the best I could, but every solemn individual sentence was meshed - and tangled and woven in and out with 'Punch, brothers, punch with care, - punch in the presence of the passenjare.' And the most distressing thing - was that my delivery dropped into the undulating rhythm of those pulsing - rhymes, and I could actually catch absent-minded people nodding time to - the swing of it with their stupid heads. And, Mark, you may believe it or - not, but before I got through the entire assemblage were placidly bobbing - their heads in solemn unison, mourners, undertaker, and all. The moment I - had finished, I fled to the anteroom in a state bordering on frenzy. Of - course it would be my luck to find a sorrowing and aged maiden aunt of the - deceased there, who had arrived from Springfield too late to get into the - church. She began to sob, and said:— - </p> - <p> - “'Oh, oh, he is gone, he is gone, and I didn't see him before he died!' - </p> - <p> - “'Yes!' I said, 'he is gone, he is gone, he is gone—oh, will this - suffering never cease!' - </p> - <p> - “'You loved him, then! Oh, you too loved him!' - </p> - <p> - “'Loved him! Loved who?' - </p> - <p> - “'Why, my poor George! my poor nephew!' - </p> - <p> - “'Oh—him! Yes—oh, yes, yes. Certainly—certainly. Punch—punch—oh, - this misery will kill me!' - </p> - <p> - “'Bless you! bless you, sir, for these sweet words! I, too, suffer in this - dear loss. Were you present during his last moments?' - </p> - <p> - “'Yes. I—whose last moments?' - </p> - <p> - “'His. The dear departed's.' - </p> - <p> - “'Yes! Oh, yes—yes—yes! I suppose so, I think so, I don't - know! Oh, certainly—I was there—I was there!' - </p> - <p> - “'Oh, what a privilege! what a precious privilege! And his last words—oh, - tell me, tell me his last words! What did he say?' - </p> - <p> - “'He said—he said—oh, my head, my head, my head! He said—he - said—he never said anything but Punch, punch, punch in the presence - of the passenjare! Oh, leave me, madam! In the name of all that is - generous, leave me to my madness, my misery, my despair!—a buff trip - slip for a six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent fare—endu—rance - can no fur—ther go!—PUNCH in the presence of the passenjare!” - </p> - <p> - My friend's hopeless eyes rested upon mine a pregnant minute, and then he - said impressively:— - </p> - <p> - “Mark, you do not say anything. You do not offer me any hope. But, ah me, - it is just as well—it is just as well. You could not do me any good. - The time has long gone by when words could comfort me. Something tells me - that my tongue is doomed to wag forever to the jigger of that remorseless - jingle. There—there it is coming on me again: a blue trip slip for - an eight-cent fare, a buff trip slip for a—” - </p> - <p> - Thus murmuring faint and fainter, my friend sank into a peaceful trance - and forgot his sufferings in a blessed respite. - </p> - <p> - How did I finally save him from an asylum? I took him to a neighboring - university and made him discharge the burden of his persecuting rhymes - into the eager ears of the poor, unthinking students. How is it with them, - now? The result is too sad to tell. Why did I write this article? It was - for a worthy, even a noble, purpose. It was to warn you, reader, if you - should came across those merciless rhymes, to avoid them—avoid them - as you would a pestilence! - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - THE GREAT REVOLUTION IN PITCAIRN - </h2> - <p> - Let me refresh the reader's memory a little. Nearly a hundred years ago - the crew of the British ship Bounty mutinied, set the captain and his - officers adrift upon the open sea, took possession of the ship, and sailed - southward. They procured wives for themselves among the natives of Tahiti, - then proceeded to a lonely little rock in mid-Pacific, called Pitcairn's - Island, wrecked the vessel, stripped her of everything that might be - useful to a new colony, and established themselves on shore. Pitcairn's is - so far removed from the track of commerce that it was many years before - another vessel touched there. It had always been considered an uninhabited - island; so when a ship did at last drop its anchor there, in 1808, the - captain was greatly surprised to find the place peopled. Although the - mutineers had fought among themselves, and gradually killed each other off - until only two or three of the original stock remained, these tragedies - had not occurred before a number of children had been born; so in 1808 the - island had a population of twenty-seven persons. John Adams, the chief - mutineer, still survived, and was to live many years yet, as governor and - patriarch of the flock. From being mutineer and homicide, he had turned - Christian and teacher, and his nation of twenty-seven persons was now the - purest and devoutest in Christendom. Adams had long ago hoisted the - British flag and constituted his island an appanage of the British crown. - </p> - <p> - To-day the population numbers ninety persons—sixteen men, nineteen - women, twenty-five boys, and thirty girls—all descendants of the - mutineers, all bearing the family names of those mutineers, and all - speaking English, and English only. The island stands high up out of the - sea, and has precipitous walls. It is about three-quarters of a mile long, - and in places is as much as half a mile wide. Such arable land as it - affords is held by the several families, according to a division made many - years ago. There is some live stock—goats, pigs, chickens, and cats; - but no dogs, and no large animals. There is one church building used also - as a capitol, a schoolhouse, and a public library. The title of the - governor has been, for a generation or two, “Magistrate and Chief Ruler, - in subordination to her Majesty the Queen of Great Britain.” It was his - province to make the laws, as well as execute them. His office was - elective; everybody over seventeen years old had a vote—no matter - about the sex. - </p> - <p> - The sole occupations of the people were farming and fishing; their sole - recreation, religious services. There has never been a shop in the island, - nor any money. The habits and dress of the people have always been - primitive, and their laws simple to puerility. They have lived in a deep - Sabbath tranquillity, far from the world and its ambitions and vexations, - and neither knowing nor caring what was going on in the mighty empires - that lie beyond their limitless ocean solitudes. Once in three or four - years a ship touched there, moved them with aged news of bloody battles, - devastating epidemics, fallen thrones, and ruined dynasties, then traded - them some soap and flannel for some yams and breadfruit, and sailed away, - leaving them to retire into their peaceful dreams and pious dissipations - once more. - </p> - <p> - On the 8th of last September, Admiral de Horsey, commander-in-chief of the - British fleet in the Pacific, visited Pitcairn's Island, and speaks as - follows in his official report to the admiralty:— - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - They have beans, carrots, turnips, cabbages, and a little maize; - pineapples, fig-trees, custard-apples, and oranges; lemons, and - cocoa-nuts. Clothing is obtained alone from passing ships, in barter - for refreshments. There are no springs on the island, but as it - rains generally once a month they have plenty of water, although at - times in former years they have suffered from drought. No alcoholic - liquors, except for medicinal purposes, are used, and a drunkard is - unknown.... - - The necessary articles required by the islanders are best shown by - those we furnished in barter for refreshments: namely, flannel, - serge, drill, half-boots, combs, tobacco, and soap. They also stand - much in need of maps and slates for their school, and tools of any - kind are most acceptable. I caused them to be supplied from the - public stores with a Union jack for display on the arrival of - ships, and a pit-saw, of which they were greatly in need. This, I - trust, will meet the approval of their lordships. If the munificent - people of England were only aware of the wants of this most - deserving little colony, they would not long go unsupplied.... - - Divine service is held every Sunday at 10.30 A.M. and at 3 P.M., - in the house built and used by John Adams for that purpose until he - died in 1829. It is conducted strictly in accordance with the - liturgy of the Church of England, by Mr. Simon Young, their selected - pastor, who is much respected. A Bible class is held every - Wednesday, when all who conveniently can, attend. There is also a - general meeting for prayer on the first Friday in every month. - Family prayers are said in every house the first thing in the - morning and the last thing in the evening, and no food is partaken - of without asking God's blessing before and afterward. Of these - islanders' religious attributes no one can speak without deep - respect. A people whose greatest pleasure and privilege is to - commune in prayer with their God, and to join in hymns of praise, - and who are, moreover, cheerful, diligent, and probably freer from - vice than any other community, need no priest among them. -</pre> - <p> - Now I come to a sentence in the admiral's report which he dropped - carelessly from his pen, no doubt, and never gave the matter a second - thought. He little imagined what a freight of tragic prophecy it bore! - This is the sentence:— - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - One stranger, an American, has settled on the island—a doubtful - acquisition. -</pre> - <p> - A doubtful acquisition, indeed! Captain Ormsby, in the American ship - Hornet, touched at Pitcairn's nearly four months after the admiral's - visit, and from the facts which he gathered there we now know all about - that American. Let us put these facts together in historical form. The - American's name was Butterworth Stavely. As soon as he had become well - acquainted with all the people—and this took but a few days, of - course—he began to ingratiate himself with them by all the arts he - could command. He became exceedingly popular, and much looked up to; for - one of the first things he did was to forsake his worldly way of life, and - throw all his energies into religion. He was always reading his Bible, or - praying, or singing hymns, or asking blessings. In prayer, no one had such - “liberty” as he, no one could pray so long or so well. - </p> - <p> - At last, when he considered the time to be ripe, he began secretly to sow - the seeds of discontent among the people. It was his deliberate purpose, - from the beginning, to subvert the government, but of course he kept that - to himself for a time. He used different arts with different individuals. - He awakened dissatisfaction in one quarter by calling attention to the - shortness of the Sunday services; he argued that there should be three - three-hour services on Sunday instead of only two. Many had secretly held - this opinion before; they now privately banded themselves into a party to - work for it. He showed certain of the women that they were not allowed - sufficient voice in the prayer-meetings; thus another party was formed. No - weapon was beneath his notice; he even descended to the children, and - awoke discontent in their breasts because—as he discovered for them—they - had not enough Sunday-school. This created a third party. - </p> - <p> - Now, as the chief of these parties, he found himself the strongest power - in the community. So he proceeded to his next move—a no less - important one than the impeachment of the chief magistrate, James Russell - Nickoy; a man of character and ability, and possessed of great wealth, he - being the owner of a house with a parlor to it, three acres and a half of - yam land, and the only boat in Pitcairn's, a whaleboat; and, most - unfortunately, a pretext for this impeachment offered itself at just the - right time. - </p> - <p> - One of the earliest and most precious laws of the island was the law - against trespass. It was held in great reverence, and was regarded as the - palladium of the people's liberties. About thirty years ago an important - case came before the courts under this law, in this wise: a chicken - belonging to Elizabeth Young (aged, at that time, fifty-eight, a daughter - of John Mills, one of the mutineers of the Bounty) trespassed upon the - grounds of Thursday October Christian (aged twenty-nine, a grandson of - Fletcher Christian, one of the mutineers). Christian killed the chicken. - According to the law, Christian could keep the chicken; or, if he - preferred, he could restore its remains to the owner and receive damages - in “produce” to an amount equivalent to the waste and injury wrought by - the trespasser. The court records set forth that “the said Christian - aforesaid did deliver the aforesaid remains to the said Elizabeth Young, - and did demand one bushel of yams in satisfaction of the damage done.” But - Elizabeth Young considered the demand exorbitant; the parties could not - agree; therefore Christian brought suit in the courts. He lost his case in - the justice's court; at least, he was awarded only a half-peck of yams, - which he considered insufficient, and in the nature of a defeat. He - appealed. The case lingered several years in an ascending grade of courts, - and always resulted in decrees sustaining the original verdict; and - finally the thing got into the supreme court, and there it stuck for - twenty years. But last summer, even the supreme court managed to arrive at - a decision at last. Once more the original verdict was sustained. - Christian then said he was satisfied; but Stavely was present, and - whispered to him and to his lawyer, suggesting, “as a mere form,” that the - original law be exhibited, in order to make sure that it still existed. It - seemed an odd idea, but an ingenious one. So the demand was made. A - messenger was sent to the magistrate's house; he presently returned with - the tidings that it had disappeared from among the state archives. - </p> - <p> - The court now pronounced its late decision void, since it had been made - under a law which had no actual existence. - </p> - <p> - Great excitement ensued immediately. The news swept abroad over the whole - island that the palladium of the public liberties was lost—maybe - treasonably destroyed. Within thirty minutes almost the entire nation were - in the court-room—that is to say, the church. The impeachment of the - chief magistrate followed, upon Stavely's motion. The accused met his - misfortune with the dignity which became his great office. He did not - plead, or even argue; he offered the simple defense that he had not - meddled with the missing law; that he had kept the state archives in the - same candle-box that had been used as their depository from the beginning; - and that he was innocent of the removal or destruction of the lost - document. - </p> - <p> - But nothing could save him; he was found guilty of misprision of treason, - and degraded from his office, and all his property was confiscated. - </p> - <p> - The lamest part of the whole shameful matter was the reason suggested by - his enemies for his destruction of the law, to wit: that he did it to - favor Christian, because Christian was his cousin! Whereas Stavely was the - only individual in the entire nation who was not his cousin. The reader - must remember that all these people are the descendants of half a dozen - men; that the first children intermarried together and bore grandchildren - to the mutineers; that these grandchildren intermarried; after them, great - and great-great-grandchildren intermarried; so that to-day everybody is - blood kin to everybody. Moreover, the relationships are wonderfully, even - astoundingly, mixed up and complicated. A stranger, for instance, says to - an islander:— - </p> - <p> - “You speak of that young woman as your cousin; a while ago you called her - your aunt.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, she is my aunt, and my cousin, too. And also my stepsister, my - niece, my fourth cousin, my thirty-third cousin, my forty-second cousin, - my great-aunt, my grandmother, my widowed sister-in-law—and next - week she will be my wife.” - </p> - <p> - So the charge of nepotism against the chief magistrate was weak. But no - matter; weak or strong, it suited Stavely. Stavely was immediately elected - to the vacant magistracy, and, oozing reform from every pore, he went - vigorously to work. In no long time religious services raged everywhere - and unceasingly. By command, the second prayer of the Sunday morning - service, which had customarily endured some thirty-five or forty minutes, - and had pleaded for the world, first by continent and then by national and - tribal detail, was extended to an hour and a half, and made to include - supplications in behalf of the possible peoples in the several planets. - Everybody was pleased with this; everybody said, “Now this is something - like.” By command, the usual three-hour sermons were doubled in length. - The nation came in a body to testify their gratitude to the new - magistrate. The old law forbidding cooking on the Sabbath was extended to - the prohibition of eating, also. By command, Sunday-school was privileged - to spread over into the week. The joy of all classes was complete. In one - short month the new magistrate had become the people's idol! - </p> - <p> - The time was ripe for this man's next move. He began, cautiously at first, - to poison the public mind against England. He took the chief citizens - aside, one by one, and conversed with them on this topic. Presently he - grew bolder, and spoke out. He said the nation owed it to itself, to its - honor, to its great traditions, to rise in its might and throw off “this - galling English yoke.” - </p> - <p> - But the simple islanders answered: - </p> - <p> - “We had not noticed that it galled. How does it gall? England sends a ship - once in three or four years to give us soap and clothing, and things which - we sorely need and gratefully receive; but she never troubles us; she lets - us go our own way.” - </p> - <p> - “She lets you go your own way! So slaves have felt and spoken in all the - ages! This speech shows how fallen you are, how base, how brutalized you - have become, under this grinding tyranny! What! has all manly pride - forsaken you? Is liberty nothing? Are you content to be a mere appendage - to a foreign and hateful sovereignty, when you might rise up and take your - rightful place in the august family of nations, great, free, enlightened, - independent, the minion of no sceptered master, but the arbiter of your - own destiny, and a voice and a power in decreeing the destinies of your - sister-sovereignties of the world?” - </p> - <p> - Speeches like this produced an effect by-and-by. Citizens began to feel - the English yoke; they did not know exactly how or whereabouts they felt - it, but they were perfectly certain they did feel it. They got to - grumbling a good deal, and chafing under their chains, and longing for - relief and release. They presently fell to hating the English flag, that - sign and symbol of their nation's degradation; they ceased to glance up at - it as they passed the capitol, but averted their eyes and grated their - teeth; and one morning, when it was found trampled into the mud at the - foot of the staff, they left it there, and no man put his hand to it to - hoist it again. A certain thing which was sure to happen sooner or later - happened now. Some of the chief citizens went to the magistrate by night, - and said:— - </p> - <p> - “We can endure this hated tyranny no longer. How can we cast it off?” - </p> - <p> - “By a coup d'etat.” - </p> - <p> - “How?” - </p> - <p> - “A coup d'etat. It is like this: everything is got ready, and at the - appointed moment I, as the official head of the nation, publicly and - solemnly proclaim its independence, and absolve it from allegiance to any - and all other powers whatsoever.” - </p> - <p> - “That sounds simple and easy. We can do that right away. Then what will be - the next thing to do?” - </p> - <p> - “Seize all the defenses and public properties of all kinds, establish - martial law, put the army and navy on a war footing, and proclaim the - empire!” - </p> - <p> - This fine program dazzled these innocents. They said:— - </p> - <p> - “This is grand—this is splendid; but will not England resist?” - </p> - <p> - “Let her. This rock is a Gibraltar.” - </p> - <p> - “True. But about the empire? Do we need an empire and an emperor?” - </p> - <p> - “What you need, my friends, is unification. Look at Germany; look at - Italy. They are unified. Unification is the thing. It makes living dear. - That constitutes progress. We must have a standing army and a navy. Taxes - follow, as a matter of course. All these things summed up make grandeur. - With unification and grandeur, what more can you want? Very well—only - the empire can confer these boons.” - </p> - <p> - So on the 8th day of December Pitcairn's Island was proclaimed a free and - independent nation; and on the same day the solemn coronation of - Butterworth I, Emperor of Pitcairn's Island, took place, amid great - rejoicings and festivities. The entire nation, with the exception of - fourteen persons, mainly little children, marched past the throne in - single file, with banners and music, the procession being upward of ninety - feet long; and some said it was as much as three-quarters of a minute - passing a given point. Nothing like it had ever been seen in the history - of the island before. Public enthusiasm was measureless. - </p> - <p> - Now straightway imperial reforms began. Orders of nobility were - instituted. A minister of the navy was appointed, and the whale-boat put - in commission. A minister of war was created, and ordered to proceed at - once with the formation of a standing army. A first lord of the treasury - was named, and commanded to get up a taxation scheme, and also open - negotiations for treaties, offensive, defensive, and commercial, with - foreign powers. Some generals and admirals were appointed; also some - chamberlains, some equerries in waiting, and some lords of the bedchamber. - </p> - <p> - At this point all the material was used up. The Grand Duke of Galilee, - minister of war, complained that all the sixteen grown men in the empire - had been given great offices, and consequently would not consent to serve - in the ranks; wherefore his standing army was at a stand-still. The - Marquis of Ararat, minister of the navy, made a similar complaint. He said - he was willing to steer the whale-boat himself, but he must have somebody - to man her. - </p> - <p> - The emperor did the best he could in the circumstances: he took all the - boys above the age of ten years away from their mothers, and pressed them - into the army, thus constructing a corps of seventeen privates, officered - by one lieutenant-general and two major-generals. This pleased the - minister of war, but procured the enmity of all the mothers in the land; - for they said their precious ones must now find bloody graves in the - fields of war, and he would be answerable for it. Some of the more - heartbroken and unappeasable among them lay constantly wait for the - emperor and threw yams at him, unmindful of the body-guard. - </p> - <p> - On account of the extreme scarcity of material, it was found necessary to - require the Duke of Bethany postmaster-general, to pull stroke-oar in the - navy and thus sit in the rear of a noble of lower degree namely, Viscount - Canaan, lord-justice of the common pleas. This turned the Duke of Bethany - into tolerably open malcontent and a secret conspirator—a thing - which the emperor foresaw, but could not help. - </p> - <p> - Things went from bad to worse. The emperor raised Nancy Peters to the - peerage on one day, and married her the next, notwithstanding, for reasons - of state, the cabinet had strenuously advised him to marry Emmeline, - eldest daughter of the Archbishop of Bethlehem. This caused trouble in a - powerful quarter—the church. The new empress secured the support and - friendship of two-thirds of the thirty-six grown women in the nation by - absorbing them into her court as maids of honor; but this made deadly - enemies of the remaining twelve. The families of the maids of honor soon - began to rebel, because there was nobody at home to keep house. The twelve - snubbed women refused to enter the imperial kitchen as servants; so the - empress had to require the Countess of Jericho and other great court dames - to fetch water, sweep the palace, and perform other menial and equally - distasteful services. This made bad blood in that department. - </p> - <p> - Everybody fell to complaining that the taxes levied for the support of the - army, the navy, and the rest of the imperial establishment were - intolerably burdensome, and were reducing the nation to beggary. The - emperor's reply—“Look—Look at Germany; look at Italy. Are you - better than they? and haven't you unification?”—-did not satisfy - them. They said, “People can't eat unification, and we are starving. - Agriculture has ceased. Everybody is in the army, everybody is in the - navy, everybody is in the public service, standing around in a uniform, - with nothing whatever to do, nothing to eat, and nobody to till the fields—” - </p> - <p> - “Look at Germany; look at Italy. It is the same there. Such is - unification, and there's no other way to get it—no other way to keep - it after you've got it,” said the poor emperor always. - </p> - <p> - But the grumblers only replied, “We can't stand the taxes—we can't - stand them.” - </p> - <p> - Now right on top of this the cabinet reported a national debt amounting to - upward of forty-five dollars—half a dollar to every individual in - the nation. And they proposed to fund something. They had heard that this - was always done in such emergencies. They proposed duties on exports; also - on imports. And they wanted to issue bonds; also paper money, redeemable - in yams and cabbages in fifty years. They said the pay of the army and of - the navy and of the whole governmental machine was far in arrears, and - unless something was done, and done immediately, national bankruptcy must - ensue, and possibly insurrection and revolution. The emperor at once - resolved upon a high-handed measure, and one of a nature never before - heard of in Pitcairn's Island. He went in state to the church on Sunday - morning, with the army at his back, and commanded the minister of the - treasury to take up a collection. - </p> - <p> - That was the feather that broke the camel's back. First one citizen, and - then another, rose and refused to submit to this unheard-of outrage—and - each refusal was followed by the immediate confiscation of the - malcontent's property. This vigor soon stopped the refusals, and the - collection proceeded amid a sullen and ominous silence. As the emperor - withdrew with the troops, he said, “I will teach you who is master here.” - Several persons shouted, “Down with unification!” They were at once - arrested and torn from the arms of their weeping friends by the soldiery. - </p> - <p> - But in the mean time, as any prophet might have foreseen, a Social - Democrat had been developed. As the emperor stepped into the gilded - imperial wheelbarrow at the church door, the social democrat stabbed at - him fifteen or sixteen times with a harpoon, but fortunately with such a - peculiarly social democratic unprecision of aim as to do no damage. - </p> - <p> - That very night the convulsion came. The nation rose as one man—though - forty-nine of the revolutionists were of the other sex. The infantry threw - down their pitchforks; the artillery cast aside their cocoa-nuts; the navy - revolted; the emperor was seized, and bound hand and foot in his palace. - He was very much depressed. He said:— - </p> - <p> - “I freed you from a grinding tyranny; I lifted you up out of your - degradation, and made you a nation among nations; I gave you a strong, - compact, centralized government; and, more than all, I gave you the - blessing of blessings—unification. I have done all this, and my - reward is hatred, insult, and these bonds. Take me; do with me as you - will. I here resign my crown and all my dignities, and gladly do I release - myself from their too heavy burden. For your sake I took them up; for your - sake I lay them down. The imperial jewel is no more; now bruise and defile - as ye will the useless setting.” - </p> - <p> - By a unanimous voice the people condemned the ex-emperor and the social - democrat to perpetual banishment from church services, or to perpetual - labor as galley-slaves in the whale-boat—whichever they might - prefer. The next day the nation assembled again, and rehoisted the British - flag, reinstated the British tyranny, reduced the nobility to the - condition of commoners again, and then straightway turned their diligent - attention to the weeding of the ruined and neglected yam patches, and the - rehabilitation of the old useful industries and the old healing and - solacing pieties. The ex-emperor restored the lost trespass law, and - explained that he had stolen it—not to injure any one, but to - further his political projects. Therefore the nation gave the late chief - magistrate his office again, and also his alienated Property. - </p> - <p> - Upon reflection, the ex-emperor and the social democrat chose perpetual - banishment from religious services in preference to perpetual labor as - galley-slaves “with perpetual religious services,” as they phrased it; - wherefore the people believed that the poor fellows' troubles had unseated - their reason, and so they judged it best to confine them for the present. - Which they did. - </p> - <p> - Such is the history of Pitcairn's “doubtful acquisition.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - THE CANVASSER'S TALE - </h2> - <p> - Poor, sad-eyed stranger! There was that about his humble mien, his tired - look, his decayed-gentility clothes, that almost reached the mustard-seed - of charity that still remained, remote and lonely, in the empty vastness - of my heart, notwithstanding I observed a portfolio under his arm, and - said to myself, Behold, Providence hath delivered his servant into the - hands of another canvasser. - </p> - <p> - Well, these people always get one interested. Before I well knew how it - came about, this one was telling me his history, and I was all attention - and sympathy. He told it something like this:— - </p> - <p> - My parents died, alas, when I was a little, sinless child. My uncle - Ithuriel took me to his heart and reared me as his own. He was my only - relative in the wide world; but he was good and rich and generous. He - reared me in the lap of luxury. I knew no want that money could satisfy. - </p> - <p> - In the fullness of time I was graduated, and went with two of my servants—my - chamberlain and my valet—to travel in foreign countries. During four - years I flitted upon careless wing amid the beauteous gardens of the - distant strand, if you will permit this form of speech in one whose tongue - was ever attuned to poesy; and indeed I so speak with confidence, as one - unto his kind, for I perceive by your eyes that you too, sir, are gifted - with the divine inflation. In those far lands I reveled in the ambrosial - food that fructifies the soul, the mind, the heart. But of all things, - that which most appealed to my inborn esthetic taste was the prevailing - custom there, among the rich, of making collections of elegant and costly - rarities, dainty objets de vertu, and in an evil hour I tried to uplift my - uncle Ithuriel to a plane of sympathy with this exquisite employment. - </p> - <p> - I wrote and told him of one gentleman's vast collection of shells; - another's noble collection of meerschaum pipes; another's elevating and - refining collection of undecipherable autographs; another's priceless - collection of old china; another's enchanting collection of postage-stamps—and - so forth and so on. Soon my letters yielded fruit. My uncle began to look - about for something to make a collection of. You may know, perhaps, how - fleetly a taste like this dilates. His soon became a raging fever, though - I knew it not. He began to neglect his great pork business; presently he - wholly retired and turned an elegant leisure into a rabid search for - curious things. His wealth was vast, and he spared it not. First he tried - cow-bells. He made a collection which filled five large salons, and - comprehended all the different sorts of cow-bells that ever had been - contrived, save one. That one—an antique, and the only specimen - extant—was possessed by another collector. My uncle offered enormous - sums for it, but the gentleman would not sell. Doubtless you know what - necessarily resulted. A true collector attaches no value to a collection - that is not complete. His great heart breaks, he sells his hoard, he turns - his mind to some field that seems unoccupied. - </p> - <p> - Thus did my uncle. He next tried brickbats. After piling up a vast and - intensely interesting collection, the former difficulty supervened; his - great heart broke again; he sold out his soul's idol to the retired brewer - who possessed the missing brick. Then he tried flint hatchets and other - implements of Primeval Man, but by and by discovered that the factory - where they were made was supplying other collectors as well as himself. He - tried Aztec inscriptions and stuffed whales—another failure, after - incredible labor and expense. When his collection seemed at last perfect, - a stuffed whale arrived from Greenland and an Aztec inscription from the - Cundurango regions of Central America that made all former specimens - insignificant. My uncle hastened to secure these noble gems. He got the - stuffed whale, but another collector got the inscription. A real - Cundurango, as possibly you know, is a possession of such supreme value - that, when once a collector gets it, he will rather part with his family - than with it. So my uncle sold out, and saw his darlings go forth, never - more to return; and his coal-black hair turned white as snow in a single - night. - </p> - <p> - Now he waited, and thought. He knew another disappointment might kill him. - He was resolved that he would choose things next time that no other man - was collecting. He carefully made up his mind, and once more entered the - field-this time to make a collection of echoes. - </p> - <p> - “Of what?” said I. - </p> - <p> - Echoes, sir. His first purchase was an echo in Georgia that repeated four - times; his next was a six-repeater in Maryland; his next was a - thirteen-repeater in Maine; his next was a nine-repeater in Kansas; his - next was a twelve-repeater in Tennessee, which he got cheap, so to speak, - because it was out of repair, a portion of the crag which reflected it - having tumbled down. He believed he could repair it at a cost of a few - thousand dollars, and, by increasing the elevation with masonry, treble - the repeating capacity; but the architect who undertook the job had never - built an echo before, and so he utterly spoiled this one. Before he - meddled with it, it used to talk back like a mother-in-law, but now it was - only fit for the deaf-and-dumb asylum. Well, next he bought a lot of cheap - little double-barreled echoes, scattered around over various states and - territories; he got them at twenty per cent. off by taking the lot. Next - he bought a perfect Gatling-gun of an echo in Oregon, and it cost a - fortune, I can tell you. You may know, sir, that in the echo market the - scale of prices is cumulative, like the carat-scale in diamonds; in fact, - the same phraseology is used. A single-carat echo is worth but ten dollars - over and above the value of the land it is on; a two-carat or - double-barreled echo is worth thirty dollars; a five-carat is worth nine - hundred and fifty; a ten-carat is worth thirteen thousand. My uncle's - Oregon-echo, which he called the Great Pitt Echo, was a twenty-two carat - gem, and cost two hundred and sixteen thousand dollars—they threw - the land in, for it was four hundred miles from a settlement. - </p> - <p> - Well, in the mean time my path was a path of roses. I was the accepted - suitor of the only and lovely daughter of an English earl, and was beloved - to distraction. In that dear presence I swam in seas of bliss. The family - were content, for it was known that I was sole heir to an uncle held to be - worth five millions of dollars. However, none of us knew that my uncle had - become a collector, at least in anything more than a small way, for - esthetic amusement. - </p> - <p> - Now gathered the clouds above my unconscious head. That divine echo, since - known throughout the world as the Great Koh-i-noor, or Mountain of - Repetitions, was discovered. It was a sixty-five carat gem. You could - utter a word and it would talk back at you for fifteen minutes, when the - day was otherwise quiet. But behold, another fact came to light at the - same time: another echo-collector was in the field. The two rushed to make - the peerless purchase. The property consisted of a couple of small hills - with a shallow swale between, out yonder among the back settlements of New - York State. Both men arrived on the ground at the same time, and neither - knew the other was there. The echo was not all owned by one man; a person - by the name of Williamson Bolivar Jarvis owned the east hill, and a person - by the name of Harbison J. Bledso owned the west hill; the swale between - was the dividing-line. So while my uncle was buying Jarvis's hill for - three million two hundred and eighty-five thousand dollars, the other - party was buying Bledso's hill for a shade over three million. - </p> - <p> - Now, do you perceive the natural result? Why, the noblest collection of - echoes on earth was forever and ever incomplete, since it possessed but - the one-half of the king echo of the universe. Neither man was content - with this divided ownership, yet neither would sell to the other. There - were jawings, bickerings, heart-burnings. And at last that other - collector, with a malignity which only a collector can ever feel toward a - man and a brother, proceeded to cut down his hill! - </p> - <p> - You see, as long as he could not have the echo, he was resolved that - nobody should have it. He would remove his hill, and then there would be - nothing to reflect my uncle's echo. My uncle remonstrated with him, but - the man said, “I own one end of this echo; I choose to kill my end; you - must take care of your own end yourself.” - </p> - <p> - Well, my uncle got an injunction put on him. The other man appealed and - fought it in a higher court. They carried it on up, clear to the Supreme - Court of the United States. It made no end of trouble there. Two of the - judges believed that an echo was personal property, because it was - impalpable to sight and touch, and yet was purchasable, salable, and - consequently taxable; two others believed that an echo was real estate, - because it was manifestly attached to the land, and was not removable from - place to place; other of the judges contended that an echo was not - property at all. - </p> - <p> - It was finally decided that the echo was property; that the hills were - property; that the two men were separate and independent owners of the two - hills, but tenants in common in the echo; therefore defendant was at full - liberty to cut down his hill, since it belonged solely to him, but must - give bonds in three million dollars as indemnity for damages which might - result to my uncle's half of the echo. This decision also debarred my - uncle from using defendant's hill to reflect his part of the echo, without - defendant's consent; he must use only his own hill; if his part of the - echo would not go, under these circumstances, it was sad, of course, but - the court could find no remedy. The court also debarred defendant from - using my uncle's hill to reflect his end of the echo, without consent. You - see the grand result! Neither man would give consent, and so that - astonishing and most noble echo had to cease from its great powers; and - since that day that magnificent property is tied up and unsalable. - </p> - <p> - A week before my wedding-day, while I was still swimming in bliss and the - nobility were gathering from far and near to honor our espousals, came - news of my uncle's death, and also a copy of his will, making me his sole - heir. He was gone; alas, my dear benefactor was no more. The thought - surcharges my heart even at this remote day. I handed the will to the - earl; I could not read it for the blinding tears. The earl read it; then - he sternly said, “Sir, do you call this wealth?—but doubtless you do - in your inflated country. Sir, you are left sole heir to a vast collection - of echoes—if a thing can be called a collection that is scattered - far and wide over the huge length and breadth of the American continent; - sir, this is not all; you are head and ears in debt; there is not an echo - in the lot but has a mortgage on it; sir, I am not a hard man, but I must - look to my child's interest; if you had but one echo which you could - honestly call your own, if you had but one echo which was free from - incumbrance, so that you could retire to it with my child, and by humble, - painstaking industry cultivate and improve it, and thus wrest from it a - maintenance, I would not say you nay; but I cannot marry my child to a - beggar. Leave his side, my darling; go, sir, take your mortgage-ridden - echoes and quit my sight forever.” - </p> - <p> - My noble Celestine clung to me in tears, with loving arms, and swore she - would willingly, nay gladly, marry me, though I had not an echo in the - world. But it could not be. We were torn asunder, she to pine and die - within the twelvemonth, I to toil life's long journey sad and alone, - praying daily, hourly, for that release which shall join us together again - in that dear realm where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are - at rest. Now, sir, if you will be so kind as to look at these maps and - plans in my portfolio, I am sure I can sell you an echo for less money - than any man in the trade. Now this one, which cost my uncle ten dollars, - thirty years ago, and is one of the sweetest things in Texas, I will let - you have for— - </p> - <p> - “Let me interrupt you,” I said. “My friend, I have not had a moment's - respite from canvassers this day. I have bought a sewing-machine which I - did not want; I have bought a map which is mistaken in all its details; I - have bought a clock which will not go; I have bought a moth poison which - the moths prefer to any other beverage; I have bought no end of useless - inventions, and now I have had enough of this foolishness. I would not - have one of your echoes if you were even to give it to me. I would not let - it stay on the place. I always hate a man that tries to sell me echoes. - You see this gun? Now take your collection and move on; let us not have - bloodshed.” - </p> - <p> - But he only smiled a sad, sweet smile, and got out some more diagrams. You - know the result perfectly well, because you know that when you have once - opened the door to a canvasser, the trouble is done and you have got to - suffer defeat. - </p> - <p> - I compromised with this man at the end of an intolerable hour. I bought - two double-barreled echoes in good condition, and he threw in another, - which he said was not salable because it only spoke German. He said, “She - was a perfect polyglot once, but somehow her palate got down.” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN INTERVIEWER - </h2> - <p> - The nervous, dapper, “peart” young man took the chair I offered him, and - said he was connected with the Daily Thunderstorm, and added: - </p> - <p> - “Hoping it's no harm, I've come to interview you.” - </p> - <p> - “Come to what?” - </p> - <p> - “Interview you.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah! I see. Yes—yes. Um! Yes—yes.” - </p> - <p> - I was not feeling bright that morning. Indeed, my powers seemed a bit - under a cloud. However, I went to the bookcase, and when I had been - looking six or seven minutes I found I was obliged to refer to the young - man. I said:— - </p> - <p> - “How do you spell it?” - </p> - <p> - “Spell what?” - </p> - <p> - “Interview.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, my goodness! what do you want to spell it for?” - </p> - <p> - “I don't want to spell it; I want to see what it means.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, this is astonishing, I must say. I can tell you what it means, if - you—if you—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, all right! That will answer, and much obliged to you, too.” - </p> - <p> - “In, in, ter, ter, inter—” - </p> - <p> - “Then you spell it with an I?” - </p> - <p> - “Why certainly!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, that is what took me so long.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, my dear sir, what did you propose to spell it with?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I—I—hardly know. I had the Unabridged, and I was - ciphering around in the back end, hoping I might tree her among the - pictures. But it's a very old edition.” - </p> - <p> - “Why, my friend, they wouldn't have a picture of it in even the latest e—— - My dear sir, I beg your pardon, I mean no harm in the world, but you do - not look as—as—intelligent as I had expected you would. No - harm—I mean no harm at all.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, don't mention it! It has often been said, and by people who would not - flatter and who could have no inducement to flatter, that I am quite - remarkable in that way. Yes—yes; they always speak of it with - rapture.” - </p> - <p> - “I can easily imagine it. But about this interview. You know it is the - custom, now, to interview any man who has become notorious.” - </p> - <p> - “Indeed, I had not heard of it before. It must be very interesting. What - do you do it with?” - </p> - <p> - “Ah, well—well—well—this is disheartening. It ought to - be done with a club in some cases; but customarily it consists in the - interviewer asking questions and the interviewed answering them. It is all - the rage now. Will you let me ask you certain questions calculated to - bring out the salient points of your public and private history?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, with pleasure—with pleasure. I have a very bad memory, but I - hope you will not mind that. That is to say, it is an irregular memory—singularly - irregular. Sometimes it goes in a gallop, and then again it will be as - much as a fortnight passing a given point. This is a great grief to me.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it is no matter, so you will try to do the best you can.” - </p> - <p> - “I will. I will put my whole mind on it.” - </p> - <p> - “Thanks. Are you ready to begin?” - </p> - <p> - “Ready.” - </p> - <p> - Q. How old are you? - </p> - <p> - A. Nineteen, in June. - </p> - <p> - Q. Indeed. I would have taken you to be thirty-five or six. Where were you - born? - </p> - <p> - A. In Missouri. - </p> - <p> - Q. When did you begin to write? - </p> - <p> - A. In 1836. - </p> - <p> - Q. Why, how could that be, if you are only nineteen now? - </p> - <p> - A. I don't know. It does seem curious, somehow. - </p> - <p> - Q. It does, indeed. Whom do you consider the most remarkable man you ever - met? - </p> - <p> - A. Aaron Burr. - </p> - <p> - Q. But you never could have met Aaron Burr, if you are only nineteen - years!— - </p> - <p> - A. Now, if you know more about me than I do, what do you ask me for? - </p> - <p> - Q. Well, it was only a suggestion; nothing more. How did you happen to - meet Burr? - </p> - <p> - A. Well, I happened to be at his funeral one day, and he asked me to make - less noise, and— - </p> - <p> - Q. But, good heavens! if you were at his funeral, he must have been dead, - and if he was dead how could he care whether you made a noise or not? - </p> - <p> - A. I don't know. He was always a particular kind of a man that way. - </p> - <p> - Q. Still, I don't understand it at all. You say he spoke to you, and that - he was dead. - </p> - <p> - A. I didn't say he was dead. - </p> - <p> - Q. But wasn't he dead? - </p> - <p> - A. Well, some said he was, some said he wasn't. - </p> - <p> - Q. What did you think? - </p> - <p> - A. Oh, it was none of my business! It wasn't any of my funeral. - </p> - <p> - Q. Did you—However, we can never get this matter straight. Let me - ask about something else. What was the date of your birth? - </p> - <p> - A. Monday, October 31, 1693. - </p> - <p> - Q. What! Impossible! That would make you a hundred and eighty years old. - How do you account for that? - </p> - <p> - A. I don't account for it at all. - </p> - <p> - Q. But you said at first you were only nineteen, and now you make yourself - out to be one hundred and eighty. It is an awful discrepancy. - </p> - <p> - A. Why, have you noticed that? (Shaking hands.) Many a time it has seemed - to me like a discrepancy, but somehow I couldn't make up my mind. How - quick you notice a thing! - </p> - <p> - Q. Thank you for the compliment, as far as it goes. Had you, or have you, - any brothers or sisters? - </p> - <p> - A. Eh! I—I—I think so—yes—but I don't remember. - </p> - <p> - Q. Well, that is the most extraordinary statement I ever heard! - </p> - <p> - A. Why, what makes you think that? - </p> - <p> - Q. How could I think otherwise? Why, look here! Who is this a picture of - on the wall? Isn't that a brother of yours? - </p> - <p> - A. Oh, yes, yes, yes! Now you remind me of it; that was a brother of mine. - That's William—Bill we called him. Poor old Bill! - </p> - <p> - Q. Why? Is he dead, then? - </p> - <p> - A. Ah! well, I suppose so. We never could tell. There was a great mystery - about it. - </p> - <p> - Q. That is sad, very sad. He disappeared, then? - </p> - <p> - A. Well, yes, in a sort of general way. We buried him— - </p> - <p> - Q. Buried him! Buried him, without knowing whether he was dead or not? - </p> - <p> - A. Oh, no! Not that. He was dead enough. - </p> - <p> - Q. Well, I confess that I can't understand this. If you buried him, and - you knew he was dead. - </p> - <p> - A. No! no! We only thought he was. - </p> - <p> - Q. Oh, I see! He came to life again? - </p> - <p> - A. I bet he didn't. - </p> - <p> - Q. Well, I never heard anything like this. Somebody was dead. Somebody was - buried. Now, where was the mystery? - </p> - <p> - A. Ah! that's just it! That's it exactly. You see, we were twins—defunct - and I—and we got mixed in the bathtub when we were only two weeks - old, and one of us was drowned. But we didn't know which. Some think it - was Bill. Some think it was me. - </p> - <p> - Q. Well, that is remarkable. What do you think? - </p> - <p> - A. Goodness knows! I would give whole worlds to know. This solemn, this - awful mystery has cast a gloom over my whole life. But I will tell you a - secret now, which I never have revealed to any creature before. One of us - had a peculiar mark—a large mole on the back of his left hand; that - was me. That child was the one that was drowned! - </p> - <p> - Q. Very well, then, I don't see that there is any mystery about it, after - all. - </p> - <p> - A. You don't? Well, I do. Anyway, I don't see how they could ever have - been such a blundering lot as to go and bury the wrong child. But, 'sh!—don't - mention it where the family can hear of it. Heaven knows they have - heartbreaking troubles enough without adding this. - </p> - <p> - Q. Well, I believe I have got material enough for the present, and I am - very much obliged to you for the pains you have taken. But I was a good - deal interested in that account of Aaron Burr's funeral. Would you mind - telling me what particular circumstance it was that made you think Burr - was such a remarkable man? - </p> - <p> - A. Oh! it was a mere trifle! Not one man in fifty would have noticed it at - all. When the sermon was over, and the procession all ready to start for - the cemetery, and the body all arranged nice in the hearse, he said he - wanted to take a last look at the scenery, and so he got up and rode with - the driver. - </p> - <p> - Then the young man reverently withdrew. He was very pleasant company, and - I was sorry to see him go. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - PARIS NOTES - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve">[Crowded out of “A Tramp Abroad” to make room for more - vital statistics.—M. T.]</pre> - <p> - The Parisian travels but little, he knows no language but his own, reads - no literature but his own, and consequently he is pretty narrow and pretty - self-sufficient. However, let us not be too sweeping; there are Frenchmen - who know languages not their own: these are the waiters. Among the rest, - they know English; that is, they know it on the European plan—which - is to say, they can speak it, but can't understand it. They easily make - themselves understood, but it is next to impossible to word an English - sentence in such a way as to enable them to comprehend it. They think they - comprehend it; they pretend they do; but they don't. Here is a - conversation which I had with one of these beings; I wrote it down at the - time, in order to have it exactly correct. - </p> - <p> - I. These are fine oranges. Where are they grown? - </p> - <p> - He. More? Yes, I will bring them. - </p> - <p> - I. No, do not bring any more; I only want to know where they are from—where - they are raised. - </p> - <p> - He. Yes? (with imperturbable mien and rising inflection.) - </p> - <p> - I. Yes. Can you tell me what country they are from? - </p> - <p> - He. Yes? (blandly, with rising inflection.) - </p> - <p> - I. (disheartened). They are very nice. - </p> - <p> - He. Good night. (Bows, and retires, quite satisfied with himself.) - </p> - <p> - That young man could have become a good English scholar by taking the - right sort of pains, but he was French, and wouldn't do that. How - different is the case with our people; they utilize every means that - offers. There are some alleged French Protestants in Paris, and they built - a nice little church on one of the great avenues that lead away from the - Arch of Triumph, and proposed to listen to the correct thing, preached in - the correct way, there, in their precious French tongue, and be happy. But - their little game does not succeed. Our people are always there ahead of - them Sundays, and take up all the room. When the minister gets up to - preach, he finds his house full of devout foreigners, each ready and - waiting, with his little book in his hand—a morocco-bound Testament, - apparently. But only apparently; it is Mr. Bellows's admirable and - exhaustive little French-English dictionary, which in look and binding and - size is just like a Testament and those people are there to study French. - The building has been nicknamed “The Church of the Gratis French Lesson.” - </p> - <p> - These students probably acquire more language than general information, - for I am told that a French sermon is like a French speech—it never - names a historical event, but only the date of it; if you are not up in - dates, you get left. A French speech is something like this: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - Comrades, citizens, brothers, noble parts of the only sublime and - perfect nation, let us not forget that the 21st January cast off our - chains; that the 10th August relieved us of the shameful presence of - foreign spies; that the 5th September was its own justification - before heaven and humanity; that the 18th Brumaire contained the - seeds of its own punishment; that the 14th July was the mighty voice - of liberty proclaiming the resurrection, the new day, and inviting - the oppressed peoples of the earth to look upon the divine face of - France and live; and let us here record our everlasting curse - against the man of the 2d December, and declare in thunder tones, - the native tones of France, that but for him there had been no 17th - March in history, no 12th October, no 19th January, no 22d April, - no 16th November, no 30th September, no 2d July, no 14th February, - no 29th June, no 15th August, no 31st May—that but for him, France - the pure, the grand, the peerless, had had a serene and vacant - almanac to-day! -</pre> - <p> - I have heard of one French sermon which closed in this odd yet eloquent - way: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - My hearers, we have sad cause to remember the man of the 13th - January. The results of the vast crime of the 13th January have - been in just proportion to the magnitude of the set itself. But for - it there had been no 30 November—sorrowful spectacle! The grisly - deed of the 16th June had not been done but for it, nor had the man - of the 16th June known existence; to it alone the 3d September was - due, also the fatal 12th October. Shall we, then, be grateful for - the 13th January, with its freight of death for you and me and all - that breathe? Yes, my friends, for it gave us also that which had - never come but for it, and it alone—the blessed 25th December. -</pre> - <p> - It may be well enough to explain, though in the case of many of my readers - this will hardly be necessary. The man of the 13th January is Adam; the - crime of that date was the eating of the apple; the sorrowful spectacle of - the 30th November was the expulsion from Eden; the grisly deed of the 16th - June was the murder of Abel; the act of the 3d September was the beginning - of the journey to the land of Nod; the 12th day of October, the last - mountain-tops disappeared under the flood. When you go to church in - France, you want to take your almanac with you—annotated. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - LEGEND OF SAGENFELD, IN GERMANY - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve">[Left out of “A Tramp Abroad” because its authenticity seemed - doubtful, and could not at that time be proved.—M. T.] -</pre> - <p> - More than a thousand years ago this small district was a kingdom—a - little bit of a kingdom, a sort of dainty little toy kingdom, as one might - say. It was far removed from the jealousies, strifes, and turmoils of that - old warlike day, and so its life was a simple life, its people a gentle - and guileless race; it lay always in a deep dream of peace, a soft Sabbath - tranquillity; there was no malice, there was no envy, there was no - ambition, consequently there were no heart-burnings, there was no - unhappiness in the land. - </p> - <p> - In the course of time the old king died and his little son Hubert came to - the throne. The people's love for him grew daily; he was so good and so - pure and so noble, that by and by his love became a passion, almost a - worship. Now at his birth the soothsayers had diligently studied the stars - and found something written in that shining book to this effect: - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - In Hubert's fourteenth year a pregnant event will happen; the animal - whose singing shall sound sweetest in Hubert's ear shall save - Hubert's life. So long as the king and the nation shall honor this - animal's race for this good deed, the ancient dynasty shall not fail - of an heir, nor the nation know war or pestilence or poverty. But - beware an erring choice! -</pre> - <p> - All through the king's thirteenth year but one thing was talked of by the - soothsayers, the statesmen, the little parliament, and the general people. - That one thing was this: How is the last sentence of the prophecy to be - understood? What goes before seems to mean that the saving animal will - choose itself at the proper time; but the closing sentence seems to mean - that the king must choose beforehand, and say what singer among the - animals pleases him best, and that if he choose wisely the chosen animal - will save his life, his dynasty, his people, but that if he should make - “an erring choice”—beware! - </p> - <p> - By the end of the year there were as many opinions about this matter as - there had been in the beginning; but a majority of the wise and the simple - were agreed that the safest plan would be for the little king to make - choice beforehand, and the earlier the better. So an edict was sent forth - commanding all persons who owned singing creatures to bring them to the - great hall of the palace in the morning of the first day of the new year. - This command was obeyed. When everything was in readiness for the trial, - the king made his solemn entry with the great officers of the crown, all - clothed in their robes of state. The king mounted his golden throne and - prepared to give judgment. But he presently said:— - </p> - <p> - “These creatures all sing at once; the noise is unendurable; no one can - choose in such a turmoil. Take them all away, and bring back one at a - time.” - </p> - <p> - This was done. One sweet warbler after another charmed the young king's - ear and was removed to make way for another candidate. The precious - minutes slipped by; among so many bewitching songsters he found it hard to - choose, and all the harder because the promised penalty for an error was - so terrible that it unsettled his judgment and made him afraid to trust - his own ears. He grew nervous and his face showed distress. His ministers - saw this, for they never took their eyes from him a moment. Now they began - to say in their hearts: - </p> - <p> - “He has lost courage—the cool head is gone—he will err—he - and his dynasty and his people are doomed!” - </p> - <p> - At the end of an hour the king sat silent awhile, and then said:— - </p> - <p> - “Bring back the linnet.” - </p> - <p> - The linnet trilled forth her jubilant music. In the midst of it the king - was about to uplift his scepter in sign of choice, but checked himself and - said:— - </p> - <p> - “But let us be sure. Bring back the thrush; let them sing together.” - </p> - <p> - The thrush was brought, and the two birds poured out their marvels of song - together. The king wavered, then his inclination began to settle and - strengthen—one could see it in his countenance. Hope budded in the - hearts of the old ministers, their pulses began to beat quicker, the - scepter began to rise slowly, when: There was a hideous interruption! It - was a sound like this—just at the door: - </p> - <p> - “Waw... he! waw... he! waw-he!-waw he!-waw-he!” - </p> - <p> - Everybody was sorely startled—and enraged at himself for showing it. - </p> - <p> - The next instant the dearest, sweetest, prettiest little peasant-maid of - nine years came tripping in, her brown eyes glowing with childish - eagerness; but when she saw that august company and those angry faces she - stopped and hung her head and put her poor coarse apron to her eyes. - Nobody gave her welcome, none pitied her. Presently she looked up timidly - through her tears, and said:— - </p> - <p> - “My lord the king, I pray you pardon me, for I meant no wrong. I have no - father and no mother, but I have a goat and a donkey, and they are all in - all to me. My goat gives me the sweetest milk, and when my dear good - donkey brays it seems to me there is no music like to it. So when my lord - the king's jester said the sweetest singer among all the animals should - save the crown and nation, and moved me to bring him here—” - </p> - <p> - All the court burst into a rude laugh, and the child fled away crying, - without trying to finish her speech. The chief minister gave a private - order that she and her disastrous donkey be flogged beyond the precincts - of the palace and commanded to come within them no more. - </p> - <p> - Then the trial of the birds was resumed. The two birds sang their best, - but the scepter lay motionless in the king's hand. Hope died slowly out in - the breasts of all. An hour went by; two hours, still no decision. The day - waned to its close, and the waiting multitudes outside the palace grew - crazed with anxiety and apprehension. The twilight came on, the shadows - fell deeper and deeper. The king and his court could no longer see each - other's faces. No one spoke—none called for lights. The great trial - had been made; it had failed; each and all wished to hide their faces from - the light and cover up their deep trouble in their own hearts. - </p> - <p> - Finally-hark! A rich, full strain of the divinest melody streamed forth - from a remote part of the hall—the nightingale's voice! - </p> - <p> - “Up!” shouted the king, “let all the bells make proclamation to the - people, for the choice is made and we have not erred. King, dynasty, and - nation are saved. From henceforth let the nightingale be honored - throughout the land forever. And publish it among all the people that - whosoever shall insult a nightingale, or injure it, shall suffer death. - The king hath spoken.” - </p> - <p> - All that little world was drunk with joy. The castle and the city blazed - with bonfires all night long, the people danced and drank and sang; and - the triumphant clamor of the bells never ceased. - </p> - <p> - From that day the nightingale was a sacred bird. Its song was heard in - every house; the poets wrote its praises; the painters painted it; its - sculptured image adorned every arch and turret and fountain and public - building. It was even taken into the king's councils; and no grave matter - of state was decided until the soothsayers had laid the thing before the - state nightingale and translated to the ministry what it was that the bird - had sung about it. - </p> - <p> - II - </p> - <p> - The young king was very fond of the chase. When the summer was come he - rode forth with hawk and hound, one day, in a brilliant company of his - nobles. He got separated from them by and by, in a great forest, and took - what he imagined a near cut, to find them again; but it was a mistake. He - rode on and on, hopefully at first, but with sinking courage finally. - Twilight came on, and still he was plunging through a lonely and unknown - land. Then came a catastrophe. In the dim light he forced his horse - through a tangled thicket overhanging a steep and rocky declivity. When - horse and rider reached the bottom, the former had a broken neck and the - latter a broken leg. The poor little king lay there suffering agonies of - pain, and each hour seemed a long month to him. He kept his ear strained - to hear any sound that might promise hope of rescue; but he heard no - voice, no sound of horn or bay of hound. So at last he gave up all hope, - and said, “Let death come, for come it must.” - </p> - <p> - Just then the deep, sweet song of a nightingale swept across the still - wastes of the night. - </p> - <p> - “Saved!” the king said. “Saved! It is the sacred bird, and the prophecy is - come true. The gods themselves protected me from error in the choice.” - </p> - <p> - He could hardly contain his joy; he could not word his gratitude. Every - few moments now he thought he caught the sound of approaching succor. But - each time it was a disappointment; no succor came. The dull hours drifted - on. Still no help came—but still the sacred bird sang on. He began - to have misgivings about his choice, but he stifled them. Toward dawn the - bird ceased. The morning came, and with it thirst and hunger; but no - succor. The day waxed and waned. At last the king cursed the nightingale. - </p> - <p> - Immediately the song of the thrush came from out the wood. The king said - in his heart, “This was the true-bird—my choice was false—succor - will come now.” - </p> - <p> - But it did not come. Then he lay many hours insensible. When he came to - himself, a linnet was singing. He listened with apathy. His faith was - gone. “These birds,” he said, “can bring no help; I and my house and my - people are doomed.” He turned him about to die; for he was grown very - feeble from hunger and thirst and suffering, and felt that his end was - near. In truth, he wanted to die, and be released from pain. For long - hours he lay without thought or feeling or motion. Then his senses - returned. The dawn of the third morning was breaking. Ah, the world seemed - very beautiful to those worn eyes. Suddenly a great longing to live rose - up in the lad's heart, and from his soul welled a deep and fervent prayer - that Heaven would have mercy upon him and let him see his home and his - friends once more. In that instant a soft, a faint, a far-off sound, but - oh, how inexpressibly sweet to his waiting ear, came floating out of the - distance: - </p> - <p> - “Waw... he! waw... he! Waw-he!—waw-he!—waw-he!” - </p> - <p> - “That, oh, that song is sweeter, a thousand times sweeter than the voice - of the nightingale, thrush, or linnet, for it brings not mere hope, but - certainty of succor; and now, indeed, am I saved! The sacred singer has - chosen itself, as the oracle intended; the prophecy is fulfilled, and my - life, my house, and my people are redeemed. The ass shall be sacred from - this day!” - </p> - <p> - The divine music grew nearer and nearer, stronger—and stronger and - ever sweeter and sweeter to the perishing sufferer's ear. Down the - declivity the docile little donkey wandered, cropping herbage and singing - as he went; and when at last he saw the dead horse and the wounded king, - he came and snuffed at them with simple and marveling curiosity. The king - petted him, and he knelt down as had been his wont when his little - mistress desired to mount. With great labor and pain the lad drew himself - upon the creature's back, and held himself there by aid of the generous - ears. The ass went singing forth from the place and carried the king to - the little peasant-maid's hut. She gave him her pallet for a bed, - refreshed him with goat's milk, and then flew to tell the great news to - the first scouting-party of searchers she might meet. - </p> - <p> - The king got well. His first act was to proclaim the sacredness and - inviolability of the ass; his second was to add this particular ass to his - cabinet and make him chief minister of the crown; his third was to have - all the statues and effigies of nightingales throughout his kingdom - destroyed, and replaced by statues and effigies of the sacred donkey; and, - his fourth was to announce that when the little peasant maid should reach - her fifteenth year he would make her his queen and he kept his word. - </p> - <p> - Such is the legend. This explains why the moldering image of the ass - adorns all these old crumbling walls and arches; and it explains why, - during many centuries, an ass was always the chief minister in that royal - cabinet, just as is still the case in most cabinets to this day; and it - also explains why, in that little kingdom, during many centuries, all - great poems, all great speeches, all great books, all public solemnities, - and all royal proclamations, always began with these stirring words: - </p> - <p> - “Waw... he! waw... he!—waw he! Waw-he!” - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - SPEECH ON THE BABIES - </h2> - <p> - AT THE BANQUET, IN CHICAGO, GIVEN BY THE ARMY OF THE TENNESSEE TO THEIR - FIRST COMMANDER, GENERAL U. S. GRANT, NOVEMBER, 1879 - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - The fifteenth regular toast was “The Babies—as they comfort us in - our sorrows, let us not forget them in our festivities.” - </pre> - <p> - I like that. We have not all had the good fortune to be ladies. We have - not all been generals, or poets, or statesmen; but when the toast works - down to the babies, we stand on common ground. It is a shame that for a - thousand years the world's banquets have utterly ignored the baby, as if - he didn't amount to anything. If you will stop and think a minute—if - you will go back fifty or one hundred years to your early married life and - recontemplate your first baby—you will remember that he amounted to - a great deal, and even something over. You soldiers all know that when the - little fellow arrived at family headquarters you had to hand in your - resignation. He took entire command. You became his lackey, his mere - body-servant, and you had to stand around, too. He was not a commander who - made allowances for time, distance, weather, or anything else. You had to - execute his order whether it was possible or not. And there was only one - form of marching in his manual of tactics, and that was the double-quick. - He treated you with every sort of insolence and disrespect, and the - bravest of you didn't dare to say a word. You could face the death-storm - at Donelson and Vicksburg, and give back blow for blow; but when he clawed - your whiskers, and pulled your hair, and twisted your nose, you had to - take it. When the thunders of war were sounding in your ears you set your - faces toward the batteries, and advanced with steady tread; but when he - turned on the terrors of his war-whoop you advanced in the other - direction, and mighty glad of the chance, too. When he called for - soothing-syrup, did you venture to throw out any side remarks about - certain services being unbecoming an officer and a gentleman? No. You got - up and got it. When he ordered his pap-bottle and it was not warm, did you - talk back? Not you. You went to work and warmed it. You even descended so - far in your menial office as to take a suck at that warm, insipid stuff - yourself, to see if it was right—three parts water to one of milk, a - touch of sugar to modify the colic, and a drop of peppermint to kill those - hiccoughs. I can taste that stuff yet. And how many things you learned as - you went along! Sentimental young folks still take stock in that beautiful - old saying that when the baby smiles in his sleep, it is because the - angels are whispering to him. Very pretty, but too thin—simply wind - on the stomach, my friends. If the baby proposed to take a walk at his - usual hour, two o'clock in the morning, didn't you rise up promptly and - remark, with a mental addition which would not improve a Sunday-school - book much, that that was the very thing you were about to propose - yourself? Oh! you were under good discipline, and as you went fluttering - up and down the room in your undress uniform, you not only prattled - undignified baby-talk, but even tuned up your martial voices and tried to - sing!—“Rock-a-by baby in the treetop,” for instance. What a - spectacle for an Army of the Tennessee! And what an affliction for the - neighbors, too; for it is not everybody within a mile around that likes - military music at three in the morning. And when you had been keeping this - sort of thing up two or three hours, and your little velvet-head intimated - that nothing suited him like exercise and noise, what did you do? [“Go - on!”] You simply went on until you dropped in the last ditch. The idea - that a baby doesn't amount to anything! Why, one baby is just a house and - a front yard full by itself. One baby can furnish more business than you - and your whole Interior Department can attend to. He is enterprising, - irrepressible, brimful of lawless activities. Do what you please, you - can't make him stay on the reservation. Sufficient unto the day is one - baby. As long as you are in your right mind don't you ever pray for twins. - Twins amount to a permanent riot. And there ain't any real difference - between triplets and an insurrection. - </p> - <p> - Yes, it was high time for a toast-master to recognize the importance of - the babies. Think what is in store for the present crop! Fifty years from - now we shall all be dead, I trust, and then this flag, if it still survive - (and let us hope it may), will be floating over a Republic numbering - 200,000,000 souls, according to the settled laws of our increase. Our - present schooner of State will have grown into a political leviathan—a - Great Eastern. The cradled babies of to-day will be on deck. Let them be - well trained, for we are going to leave a big contract on their hands. - Among the three or four million cradles now rocking in the land are some - which this nation would preserve for ages as sacred things, if we could - know which ones they are. In one of those cradles the unconscious Farragut - of the future is at this moment teething—think of it!—and - putting in a world of dead earnest, unarticulated, but perfectly - justifiable profanity over it, too. In another the future renowned - astronomer is blinking at the shining Milky Way with but a languid - interest—poor little chap!—and wondering what has become of - that other one they call the wet-nurse. In another the future great - historian is lying—and doubtless will continue to lie until his - earthly mission is ended. In another the future President is busying - himself with no profounder problem of state than what the mischief has - become of his hair so early; and in a mighty array of other cradles there - are now some 60,000 future office-seekers, getting ready to furnish him - occasion to grapple with that same old problem a second time. And in still - one more cradle, somewhere under the flag, the future illustrious - commander-in-chief of the American armies is so little burdened with his - approaching grandeurs and responsibilities as to be giving his whole - strategic mind at this moment to trying to find out some way to get his - big toe into his mouth—an achievement which, meaning no disrespect, - the illustrious guest of this evening turned his entire attention to some - fifty-six years ago; and if the child is but a prophecy of the man, there - are mighty few who will doubt that he succeeded. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - SPEECH ON THE WEATHER - </h2> - <h3> - AT THE NEW ENGLAND SOCIETY'S SEVENTY-FIRST ANNUAL DINNER, NEW YORK CITY - </h3> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - The next toast was: “The Oldest Inhabitant—The Weather of New - England.” - - Who can lose it and forget it? - Who can have it and regret it? - - Be interposer 'twixt us Twain. - - Merchant of Venice. - - To this Samuel L. Clemens (Mark Twain) replied as follows:— -</pre> - <p> - I reverently believe that the Maker who made us all makes everything in - New England but the weather. I don't know who makes that, but I think it - must be raw apprentices in the weather-clerk's factory who experiment and - learn how, in New England, for board and clothes, and then are promoted to - make weather for countries that require a good article, and will take - their custom elsewhere if they don't get it. There is a sumptuous variety - about the New England weather that compels the stranger's admiration—and - regret. The weather is always doing something there; always attending - strictly to business; always getting up new designs and trying them on the - people to see how they will go. But it gets through more business in - spring than in any other season. In the spring I have counted one hundred - and thirty-six different kinds of weather inside of four-and-twenty hours. - It was I that made the fame and fortune of that man that had that - marvelous collection of weather on exhibition at the Centennial, that so - astounded the foreigners. He was going to travel all over the world and - get specimens from all the climes. I said, “Don't you do it; you come to - New England on a favorable spring day.” I told him what we could do in the - way of style, variety, and quantity. Well, he came and he made his - collection in four days. As to variety, why, he confessed that he got - hundreds of kinds of weather that he had never heard of before. And as to - quantity—well, after he had picked out and discarded all that was - blemished in any way, he not only had weather enough, but weather to - spare; weather to hire out; weather to sell; to deposit; weather to - invest; weather to give to the poor. The people of New England are by - nature patient and forbearing, but there are some things which they will - not stand. Every year they kill a lot of poets for writing about - “Beautiful Spring.” These are generally casual visitors, who bring their - notions of spring from somewhere else, and cannot, of course, know how the - natives feel about spring. And so the first thing they know the - opportunity to inquire how they feel has permanently gone by. Old - Probabilities has a mighty reputation for accurate prophecy, and - thoroughly well deserves it. You take up the paper and observe how crisply - and confidently he checks off what to-day's weather is going to be on the - Pacific, down South, in the Middle States, in the Wisconsin region. See - him sail along in the joy and pride of his power till he gets to New - England, and then see his tail drop. He doesn't know what the weather is - going to be in New England. Well, he mulls over it, and by and by he gets - out something about like this: Probable northeast to southwest winds, - varying to the southward and westward and eastward, and points between, - high and low barometer swapping around from place to place; probable areas - of rain, snow, hail, and drought, succeeded or preceded by earthquakes, - with thunder and lightning. Then he jots down this postscript from his - wandering mind, to cover accidents: “But it is possible that the program - may be wholly changed in the mean time.” Yes, one of the brightest gems in - the New England weather is the dazzling uncertainty of it. There is only - one thing certain about it: you are certain there is going to be plenty of - it—a perfect grand review; but you never can tell which end of the - procession is going to move first. You fix up for the drought; you leave - your umbrella in the house and sally out, and two to one you get drowned. - You make up your mind that the earthquake is due; you stand from under, - and take hold of something to steady yourself, and the first thing you - know you get struck by lightning. These are great disappointments; but - they can't be helped. The lightning there is peculiar; it is so - convincing, that when it strikes a thing it doesn't leave enough of that - thing behind for you to tell whether—Well, you'd think it was - something valuable, and a Congressman had been there. And the thunder. - When the thunder begins to merely tune up and scrape and saw, and key up - the instruments for the performance, strangers say, “Why, what awful - thunder you have here!” But when the baton is raised and the real concert - begins, you'll find that stranger down in the cellar with his head in the - ash-barrel. Now as to the size of the weather in New England lengthways, I - mean. It is utterly disproportioned to the size of that little country. - Half the time, when it is packed as full as it can stick, you will see - that New England weather sticking out beyond the edges and projecting - around hundreds and hundreds of miles over the neighboring states. She - can't hold a tenth part of her weather. You can see cracks all about where - she has strained herself trying to do it. I could speak volumes about the - inhuman perversity of the New England weather, but I will give but a - single specimen. I like to hear rain on a tin roof. So I covered part of - my roof with tin, with an eye to that luxury. Well, sir, do you think it - ever rains on that tin? No, sir; skips it every time. Mind, in this speech - I have been trying merely to do honor to the New England weather—no - language could do it justice. But, after all, there is at least one or two - things about that weather (or, if you please, effects produced, by it) - which we residents would not like to part with. If we hadn't our - bewitching autumn foliage, we should still have to credit the weather with - one feature which compensates for all its bullying vagaries—the - ice-storm: when a leafless tree is clothed with ice from the bottom to the - top—ice that is as bright and clear as crystal; when every bough and - twig is strung with ice-beads, frozen dewdrops, and the whole tree - sparkles cold and white, like the Shah of Persia's diamond plume. Then the - wind waves the branches and the sun comes out and turns all those myriads - of beads and drops to prisms that glow and burn and flash with all manner - of colored fires, which change and change again with inconceivable - rapidity from blue to red, from red to green, and green to gold—the - tree becomes a spraying fountain, a very explosion of dazzling jewels; and - it stands there the acme, the climax, the supremest possibility in art or - nature, of bewildering, intoxicating, intolerable magnificence. One cannot - make the words too strong. - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CONCERNING THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE — - </h2> -<pre xml:space="preserve">[Being part of a chapter which was - crowded out of “A Tramp Abroad.”—M.T.] -</pre> - <p> - There was as Englishman in our compartment, and he complimented me on—on - what? But you would never guess. He complimented me on my English. He said - Americans in general did not speak the English language as correctly as I - did. I said I was obliged to him for his compliment, since I knew he meant - it for one, but that I was not fairly entitled to it, for I did not speak - English at all—I only spoke American. - </p> - <p> - He laughed, and said it was a distinction without a difference. I said no, - the difference was not prodigious, but still it was considerable. We fell - into a friendly dispute over the matter. I put my case as well as I could, - and said:— - </p> - <p> - “The languages were identical several generations ago, but our changed - conditions and the spread of our people far to the south and far to the - west have made many alterations in our pronunciation, and have introduced - new words among us and changed the meanings of many old ones. English - people talk through their noses; we do not. We say know, English people - say nao; we say cow, the Briton says kaow; we—” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, come! that is pure Yankee; everybody knows that.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, it is pure Yankee; that is true. One cannot hear it in America - outside of the little corner called New England, which is Yankee land. The - English themselves planted it there, two hundred and fifty years ago, and - there it remains; it has never spread. But England talks through her nose - yet; the Londoner and the backwoods New-Englander pronounce 'know' and - 'cow' alike, and then the Briton unconsciously satirizes himself by making - fun of the Yankee's pronunciation.” - </p> - <p> - We argued this point at some length; nobody won; but no matter, the fact - remains Englishmen say nao and kaow for “know” and “cow,” and that is what - the rustic inhabitant of a very small section of America does. - </p> - <p> - “You conferred your 'a' upon New England, too, and there it remains; it - has not traveled out of the narrow limits of those six little states in - all these two hundred and fifty years. All England uses it, New England's - small population—say four millions—use it, but we have - forty-five millions who do not use it. You say 'glahs of wawtah,' so does - New England; at least, New England says 'glahs.' America at large flattens - the 'a', and says 'glass of water.' These sounds are pleasanter than - yours; you may think they are not right—well, in English they are - not right, but in 'American' they are. You say 'flahsk' and 'bahsket,' and - 'jackahss'; we say 'flask,' 'basket,' 'jackass'—sounding the 'a' as - it is in 'tallow,' 'fallow,' and so on. Up to as late as 1847 Mr. - Webster's Dictionary had the impudence to still pronounce 'basket' - bahsket, when he knew that outside of his little New England all America - shortened the 'a' and paid no attention to his English broadening of it. - However, it called itself an English Dictionary, so it was proper enough - that it should stick to English forms, perhaps. It still calls itself an - English Dictionary today, but it has quietly ceased to pronounce 'basket' - as if it were spelt 'bahsket.' In the American language the 'h' is - respected; the 'h' is not dropped or added improperly.” - </p> - <p> - “The same is the case in England—I mean among the educated classes, - of course.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, that is true; but a nation's language is a very large matter. It is - not simply a manner of speech obtaining among the educated handful; the - manner obtaining among the vast uneducated multitude must be considered - also. Your uneducated masses speak English, you will not deny that; our - uneducated masses speak American it won't be fair for you to deny that, - for you can see, yourself, that when your stable-boy says, 'It isn't the - 'unting that 'urts the 'orse, but the 'ammer, 'ammer, 'ammer on the 'ard - 'ighway,' and our stable-boy makes the same remark without suffocating a - single h, these two people are manifestly talking two different languages. - But if the signs are to be trusted, even your educated classes used to - drop the 'h.' They say humble, now, and heroic, and historic etc., but I - judge that they used to drop those h's because your writers still keep up - the fashion of putting an AN before those words instead of A. This is what - Mr. Darwin might call a 'rudimentary' sign that as an was justifiable - once, and useful when your educated classes used to say 'umble, and - 'eroic, and 'istorical. Correct writers of the American language do not - put an before those words.” - </p> - <p> - The English gentleman had something to say upon this matter, but never - mind what he said—I'm not arguing his case. I have him at a - disadvantage, now. I proceeded: - </p> - <p> - “In England you encourage an orator by exclaiming, 'H'yaah! h'yaah!' We - pronounce it heer in some sections, 'h'yer' in others, and so on; but our - whites do not say 'h'yaah,' pronouncing the a's like the a in ah. I have - heard English ladies say 'don't you'—making two separate and - distinct words of it; your Mr. Burnand has satirized it. But we always say - 'dontchu.' This is much better. Your ladies say, 'Oh, it's oful nice!' - Ours say, 'Oh, it's awful nice!' We say, 'Four hundred,' you say 'For'—as - in the word or. Your clergymen speak of 'the Lawd,' ours of 'the Lord'; - yours speak of 'the gawds of the heathen,' ours of 'the gods of the - heathen.' When you are exhausted, you say you are 'knocked up.' We don't. - When you say you will do a thing 'directly,' you mean 'immediately'; in - the American language—generally speaking—the word signifies - 'after a little.' When you say 'clever,' you mean 'capable'; with us the - word used to mean 'accommodating,' but I don't know what it means now. - Your word 'stout' means 'fleshy'; our word 'stout' usually means 'strong.' - Your words 'gentleman' and 'lady' have a very restricted meaning; with us - they include the barmaid, butcher, burglar, harlot, and horse-thief. You - say, 'I haven't got any stockings on,' 'I haven't got any memory,' 'I - haven't got any money in my purse; we usually say, 'I haven't any - stockings on,' 'I haven't any memory!' 'I haven't any money in my purse.' - You say 'out of window'; we always put in a the. If one asks 'How old is - that man?' the Briton answers, 'He will be about forty'; in the American - language we should say, 'He is about forty.' However, I won't tire you, - sir; but if I wanted to, I could pile up differences here until I not only - convinced you that English and American are separate languages, but that - when I speak my native tongue in its utmost purity an Englishman can't - understand me at all.” - </p> - <p> - “I don't wish to flatter you, but it is about all I can do to understand - you now.” - </p> - <p> - That was a very pretty compliment, and it put us on the pleasantest terms - directly—I use the word in the English sense. - </p> - <p> - [Later—1882. Esthetes in many of our schools are now beginning to - teach the pupils to broaden the 'a,' and to say “don't you,” in the - elegant foreign way.] - </p> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> - <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - ROGERS - </h2> - <p> - This Man Rogers happened upon me and introduced himself at the town of - ——-, in the South of England, where I stayed awhile. His - stepfather had married a distant relative of mine who was afterward - hanged; and so he seemed to think a blood relationship existed between us. - He came in every day and sat down and talked. Of all the bland, serene - human curiosities I ever saw, I think he was the chiefest. He desired to - look at my new chimney-pot hat. I was very willing, for I thought he would - notice the name of the great Oxford Street hatter in it, and respect me - accordingly. But he turned it about with a sort of grave compassion, - pointed out two or three blemishes, and said that I, being so recently - arrived, could not be expected to know where to supply myself. Said he - would send me the address of his hatter. Then he said, “Pardon me,” and - proceeded to cut a neat circle of red tissue paper; daintily notched the - edges of it; took the mucilage and pasted it in my hat so as to cover the - manufacturer's name. He said, “No one will know now where you got it. I - will send you a hat-tip of my hatter, and you can paste it over this - tissue circle.” It was the calmest, coolest thing—I never admired a - man so much in my life. Mind, he did this while his own hat sat - offensively near our noses, on the table—an ancient extinguisher of - the “slouch” pattern, limp and shapeless with age, discolored by - vicissitudes of the weather, and banded by an equator of bear's grease - that had stewed through. - </p> - <p> - Another time he examined my coat. I had no terrors, for over my tailor's - door was the legend, “By Special Appointment Tailor to H. R. H. the Prince - of Wales,” etc. I did not know at the time that the most of the tailor - shops had the same sign out, and that whereas it takes nine tailors to - make an ordinary man, it takes a hundred and fifty to make a prince. He - was full of compassion for my coat. Wrote down the address of his tailor - for me. Did not tell me to mention my nom de plume and the tailor would - put his best work on my garment, as complimentary people sometimes do, but - said his tailor would hardly trouble himself for an unknown person - (unknown person, when I thought I was so celebrated in England!—that - was the cruelest cut), but cautioned me to mention his name, and it would - be all right. Thinking to be facetious, I said:— - </p> - <p> - “But he might sit up all night and injure his health.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, let him,” said Rogers; “I've done enough for him, for him to show - some appreciation of it.” - </p> - <p> - I might as well have tried to disconcert a mummy with my facetiousness. - Said Rogers: “I get all my coats there—they're the only coats fit to - be seen in.” - </p> - <p> - I made one more attempt. I said, “I wish you had brought one with you—I - would like to look at it.” - </p> - <p> - “Bless your heart, haven't I got one on?—this article is Morgan's - make.” - </p> - <p> - I examined it. The coat had been bought ready-made, of a Chatham Street - Jew, without any question—about 1848. It probably cost four dollars - when it was new. It was ripped, it was frayed, it was napless and greasy. - I could not resist showing him where it was ripped. It so affected him - that I was almost sorry I had done it. First he seemed plunged into a - bottomless abyss of grief. Then he roused himself, made a feint with his - hands as if waving off the pity of a nation, and said—with what - seemed to me a manufactured emotion—“No matter; no matter; don't - mind me; do not bother about it. I can get another.” - </p> - <p> - When he was thoroughly restored, so that he could examine the rip and - command his feelings, he said, ah, now he understood it—his servant - must have done it while dressing him that morning. - </p> - <p> - His servant! There was something awe-inspiring in effrontery like this. - </p> - <p> - Nearly every day he interested himself in some article of my clothing. One - would hardly have expected this sort of infatuation in a man who always - wore the same suit, and it a suit that seemed coeval with the Conquest. - </p> - <p> - It was an unworthy ambition, perhaps, but I did wish I could make this man - admire something about me or something I did—you would have felt the - same way. I saw my opportunity: I was about to return to London, and had - “listed” my soiled linen for the wash. It made quite an imposing mountain - in the corner of the room—fifty-four pieces. I hoped he would fancy - it was the accumulation of a single week. I took up the wash-list, as if - to see that it was all right, and then tossed it on the table, with - pretended forgetfulness. Sure enough, he took it up and ran his eye along - down to the grand total. Then he said, “You get off easy,” and laid it - down again. - </p> - <p> - His gloves were the saddest ruin, but he told me where I could get some - like them. His shoes would hardly hold walnuts without leaking, but he - liked to put his feet up on the mantelpiece and contemplate them. He wore - a dim glass breastpin, which he called a “morphylitic diamond”—whatever - that may mean—and said only two of them had ever been found—the - Emperor of China had the other one. - </p> - <p> - Afterward, in London, it was a pleasure to me to see this fantastic - vagabond come marching into the lobby of the hotel in his grand-ducal way, - for he always had some new imaginary grandeur to develop—there was - nothing stale about him but his clothes. If he addressed me when strangers - were about, he always raised his voice a little and called me “Sir - Richard,” or “General,” or “Your Lordship”—and when people began to - stare and look deferential, he would fall to inquiring in a casual way why - I disappointed the Duke of Argyll the night before; and then remind me of - our engagement at the Duke of Westminster's for the following day. I think - that for the time being these things were realities to him. He once came - and invited me to go with him and spend the evening with the Earl of - Warwick at his town house. I said I had received no formal invitation. He - said that that was of no consequence, the Earl had no formalities for him - or his friends. I asked if I could go just as I was. He said no, that - would hardly do; evening dress was requisite at night in any gentleman's - house. He said he would wait while I dressed, and then we would go to his - apartments and I could take a bottle of champagne and a cigar while he - dressed. I was very willing to see how this enterprise would turn out, so - I dressed, and we started to his lodgings. He said if I didn't mind we - would walk. So we tramped some four miles through the mud and fog, and - finally found his “apartments”; they consisted of a single room over a - barber's shop in a back street. Two chairs, a small table, an ancient - valise, a wash-basin and pitcher (both on the floor in a corner), an - unmade bed, a fragment of a looking-glass, and a flower-pot, with a - perishing little rose geranium in it, which he called a century plant, and - said it had not bloomed now for upward of two centuries—given to him - by the late Lord Palmerston—(been offered a prodigious sum for it)—these - were the contents of the room. Also a brass candlestick and a part of a - candle. Rogers lit the candle, and told me to sit down and make myself at - home. He said he hoped I was thirsty, because he would surprise my palate - with an article of champagne that seldom got into a commoner's system; or - would I prefer sherry, or port? Said he had port in bottles that were - swathed in stratified cobwebs, every stratum representing a generation. - And as for his cigars—well, I should judge of them myself. Then he - put his head out at the door and called: - </p> - <p> - “Sackville!” No answer. - </p> - <p> - “Hi-Sackville!” No answer. - </p> - <p> - “Now what the devil can have become of that butler? I never allow a - servant to—Oh, confound that idiot, he's got the keys. Can't get - into the other rooms without the keys.” - </p> - <p> - (I was just wondering at his intrepidity in still keeping up the delusion - of the champagne, and trying to imagine how he was going to get out of the - difficulty.) - </p> - <p> - Now he stopped calling Sackville and began to call “Anglesy.” But Anglesy - didn't come. He said, “This is the second time that that equerry has been - absent without leave. To-morrow I'll discharge him.” Now he began to whoop - for “Thomas,” but Thomas didn't answer. Then for “Theodore,” but no - Theodore replied. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I give it up,” said Rogers. “The servants never expect me at this - hour, and so they're all off on a lark. Might get along without the - equerry and the page, but can't have any wine or cigars without the - butler, and can't dress without my valet.” - </p> - <p> - I offered to help him dress, but he would not hear of it; and besides, he - said he would not feel comfortable unless dressed by a practised hand. - However, he finally concluded that he was such old friends with the Earl - that it would not make any difference how he was dressed. So we took a - cab, he gave the driver some directions, and we started. By and by we - stopped before a large house and got out. I never had seen this man with a - collar on. He now stepped under a lamp and got a venerable paper collar - out of his coat pocket, along with a hoary cravat, and put them on. He - ascended the stoop, and entered. Presently he reappeared, descended - rapidly, and said: - </p> - <p> - “Come—quick!” - </p> - <p> - We hurried away, and turned the corner. - </p> - <p> - “Now we're safe,” he said, and took off his collar and cravat and returned - them to his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “Made a mighty narrow escape,” said he. - </p> - <p> - “How?” said I. - </p> - <p> - “B' George, the Countess was there!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, what of that?—don't she know you?” - </p> - <p> - “Know me? Absolutely worships me. I just did happen to catch a glimpse of - her before she saw me—and out I shot. Haven't seen her for two - months—to rush in on her without any warning might have been fatal. - She could not have stood it. I didn't know she was in town—thought - she was at the castle. Let me lean on you—just a moment—there; - now I am better—thank you; thank you ever so much. Lord bless me, - what an escape!” - </p> - <p> - So I never got to call on the Earl, after all. But I marked the house for - future reference. It proved to be an ordinary family hotel, with about a - thousand plebeians roosting in it. - </p> - <p> - In most things Rogers was by no means a fool. In some things it was plain - enough that he was a fool, but he certainly did not know it. He was in the - “deadest” earnest in these matters. He died at sea, last summer, as the - “Earl of Ramsgate.” - </p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Alonzo Fitz and Other Stories -by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALONZO FITZ AND OTHER STORIES *** - -***** This file should be named 3184-h.htm or 3184-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/8/3184/ - -Produced by David Widger - - -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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