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diff --git a/31851.txt b/31851.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fb35549 --- /dev/null +++ b/31851.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9112 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of McClure's Magazine, Vol. XXXI, No. 4, +August 1908, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: McClure's Magazine, Vol. XXXI, No. 4, August 1908 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: April 1, 2010 [EBook #31851] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MCCLURE'S MAGAZINE, AUGUST 1908 *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Katherine Ward, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + +McCLURE'S MAGAZINE + +VOL. XXXI AUGUST, 1908 No. 4 + + +_Copyright, 1908, by The S. S. McClure Co. All rights reserved_ + + +Table of Contents + + PAGE + A DISCLOSURE OF THE SECRET POLICIES OF RUSSIA. By General + Kuropatkin. 363 + TALKS WITH BISMARCK. By Carl Schurz. 367 + THE FOREHANDED COLQUHOUNS. By Margaret Wilson. 378 + LAST YEARS WITH HENRY IRVING. By Ellen Terry. 386 + THE LOST MOTHER. By Blanche M. Kelly. 399 + PATSY MORAN. THE BOOK AND ITS COVERS. By Arthur Sullivan + Hoffman. 401 + ARCTIC COLOR. By Sterling Heilig. 411 + THE TAVERN. By Willa Sibert Cather. 419 + A STORY OF HATE. By Gertrude Hall. 420 + HIS NEED OF MIS' SIMONS. By Lucy Pratt. 432 + PROHIBITION AND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY. By Hugo Muensterberg. 438 + THE MOVING FINGER WRITES. By Marie Belloc Lowndes. 445 + A BUNK-HOUSE AND SOME BUNK-HOUSE MEN. By Alexander Irvine. 455 + THE KING OF THE BABOONS. By Perceval Gibbon. 467 + ONE HUNDRED CHRISTIAN SCIENCE CURES. By Richard C. Cabot 472 + SOUTH STREET. By Francis E. Falkenbury. 476 + THE INABILITY TO INTERFERE. By Mary Heaton Vorse. 477 + PROHIBITION AND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY. By Dr. Muensterberg. 482 + + +Illustrations + + General Alexei Nicholaevitch Kuropatkin 363 + Kaiser Wilhelm I 369 + Prince Otto Von Bismarck 372 + Count Hellmuth Von Moltke 373 + The Chancellor's Palace on the Wilhelmstrasse 374 + The Battle of Koeniggraetz 374 + Emperor Napoleon III 376 + "Jane and Selina ... Looked at Patient and Nurse with + Disapproving Gloom" 378 + "She Could Not Help Seeing That Selina Found Some Strange + Pleasure in all These Incidents of a Last Illness" 382 + Ellen Terry as Kniertje in "The Good Hope" 387 + John Singer Sargent 388 + Sir Edward Burne-Jones 388 + Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth 389 + Peggy, Madame Sans-Gene, Madame Sans-Gene, Cordelia 390 + Imogen, Lucy Ashton, Catherine Duval, Lucy Ashton 390 + Cardinal Wolsey, Lady Macbeth, Guinevere, Thomas Becket 391 + Nancy Oldfield, Hermione, Alice-Sit-by-the-Fire, Lady Cicely, + Wayneflete 391 + Miss Ellen Terry 392 + Sir Henry Irving 392 + Ellen Terry as Queen Katherine in Henry VIII 395 + The Book and Its Covers 401 + "Pardon Me," He Said, "But What Are You Doing That for?" 402 + "Ye'd Better Be Usin' Your Brains to Walk With, and Not + Strainin' Thim Like That" 407 + Midnight in the Kara Sea 411 + "The Country of the Dead"--A Study of the Kara Sea in August 413 + Samoyed Love of Color 414 + Painting of a Sledge Set Upon End for the Night, With Skins and + Meat Hung Upon It So as to Be Out of Reach of the Dogs 415 + A Study Made in Nova Zembla at the Time of the Complete Eclipse + of the Sun, July 27, 1896 416 + Painting of a Church Built by M. Seberjakow 417 + In the Midnight Sunshine 418 + His Need of Mis' Simons 432 + 'I Couldn' Git 'Long 'Thout Yer Noways, Could I?' She Say 433 + 'She Keep on A-Readin', an' I Keep on A-Wukkin' on de Paff' 434 + 'It's Time Fer You ter Go to Baid, Ain't It, 'Zekiel?' She Say 435 + ''Tain' Gwine Nobody Else Git--Fru--Dat--Do',' She Say 436 + The Bunk-House 459 + One Night the Graf Was Prevailed Upon to Tell His Story 461 + The Sitting-Room of the Bismarck 462 + I Noticed a Profile Silhouetted against the Window 463 + St. Francis of the Bunk-House 464 + They Sat on Their Rumps Outside the Circle of Kafirs 467 + + + + +EDITORIAL ANNOUNCEMENT + +FIVE ARTICLES + +A DISCLOSURE OF THE SECRET POLICIES OF RUSSIA + +BY GENERAL KUROPATKIN + + +Once in a generation the intimate and vital secrets of a great nation +may be made public through one of the little circle of men to whom +they are entrusted; but rarely, if ever, till the men are dead, and +the times are entirely changed. Beginning next month, McCLURE'S +MAGAZINE will present to the reading world a striking exception to +this rule. It will print for the first time a frank and startling +official revelation of the present political plans and purposes of +Russia--the great nation whose guarded and secret movements have been +the concern of modern European civilization for two centuries. + +[Illustration: GENERAL ALEXEI NICHOLAEVITCH KUROPATKIN] + +General Kuropatkin--Minister of War and later Commander-in-Chief +of the Russian forces in the great and disastrous Manchurian +campaign--became a target for abuse at the close of the Russo-Japanese +War. He returned to St. Petersburg and constructed, from the +official material accessible to him, an elaborate history of the +war, and a detailed statement of the condition, purposes, and +development of the Russian Empire. Documents and dispatches endorsed +"Strictly Confidential," matters involving the highest officials, +information obviously intended for no eyes but those of the +innermost government circles, are laid forth with the utmost abandon +in this work. No sooner had it been completed, than it was +confiscated by the government. Its manuscript has never been allowed +to pass out of the custody of the Czar's closest advisers. + +An authentic copy of this came into the hands of McCLURE'S MAGAZINE +this spring; it is not essential and obviously would not be wise to +state just how. George Kennan, the well-known student of Russian +affairs, now has it in his possession and is engaged in translating +and arranging material taken from it for magazine publication. A +series of five or six articles, constructed from Kuropatkin's 600,000 +words, will be issued in McCLURE'S, beginning next month. These will +contain astonishing revelations concerning matters of great +international importance, and accusations that are audacious to the +point of recklessness. + + +LETTERS TO THE CZAR + +Remarkable among these are the letters to the Czar. Kuropatkin's +correspondence with him is given in detail, documents which naturally +would not appear within fifty or a hundred years from the time when +they were written. And upon the letters and reports of the General +appear the comments and marginal notes of the Emperor. The war was +forced against the will of the sovereign and the advice of the War +Department. It was ended, Kuropatkin shows, when Russia was just +beginning to discipline and dispose her great forces, because of the +lack of courage and firmness in the Czar. + +Japan certainly would have been crushed, says Kuropatkin, if war had +continued. At the time of the Treaty at Portsmouth, the military +struggle, from Russia's standpoint, had only begun. She was then +receiving ammunition and supplies properly for the first time; her men +were becoming disciplined soldiers; and the railroad, whose service +had increased from three to fourteen military trains a day, had now, +at last, brought the Russian forces into the distant field. For the +first time, just when treaty negotiations were begun, Russia had more +soldiers in her army than Japan. There were a million men, well +equipped and abundantly supplied, under General Linevitch, who +succeeded General Kuropatkin as Commander-in-Chief; and he was about +to take the offensive when peace was declared. + +Beyond the individual conflict General Kuropatkin shows the Russian +nation, a huge, unformed giant, groping along its great borders in +every direction to find the sea. + +"Can an Empire," he asks, "with such a tremendous population, be +satisfied with its existing frontiers, cut off from free access to the +sea on all sides?" + + +RUSSIA'S SECRET NATIONAL PROGRAM + +There are in existence in the secret archives of the government, +Kuropatkin's work discloses, documents containing the definite program +of Russia, fixed by headquarters years ago, for its future growth and +aggrandizement. Results of campaigns and diplomacy are checked up +according to this great program, and decade after decade Russia is +working secretly and quietly to carry it out. The Japanese War +constituted a great mistake in the development of this national plan. + +During the twentieth century, says Kuropatkin, Russia will lose no +fewer than two million men in war, and will place in the field not +fewer than five million. No matter how peaceful and purely defensive +her attitude may be, she will be forced into war along her endless +borders by the conflict with other national interests and the age-long +unsatisfied necessity of her population to reach the sea. + +Russia will furnish in this century the advance guard of an inevitable +conflict between the white and yellow races. For within a hundred +years there must be a great struggle in Asia between the Christian and +non-Christian nations. To prepare for this, an understanding between +Russia and England is essential for humanity. Kuropatkin deals with +this necessity at length; and the future relations of Russia with +Japan and China are treated with an impressive grasp. + +His exposition of the sensitive and dangerous situation on the +Empire's western border contains matters of consequence to the whole +world. The relations he discloses, between Russia, on the one hand, +and Austria and Germany on the other, are important in the extreme. +Within a fortnight these two latter countries could throw two million +men across the Russian frontier, and a war would result much more +colossal than that just finished with Japan. + + +KUROPATKIN'S FORTY YEARS OF SERVICE + +General Kuropatkin has had an education and a career which eminently +qualify him as a judge and critic of the Russian nation. For forty +years, as an active member of its military establishment, he has +watched its development, from the viewpoint of important posts in St. +Petersburg, Turkey, Central Asia, and the far East. + +Kuropatkin was born in 1848 and was educated in the Palovski +Military School and the Nikolaiefski Academy of the general staff +in St. Petersburg. From there he went at once into the army, and, at +the early age of twenty, took part in the march of the Russian +expeditionary force to the central Asian city of Samarkand. He won +distinction in the long and difficult march of General Skobeleff's +army to Khokand. In 1875 he acted as Russia's diplomatic agent in +Chitral, and a year or two later he headed an embassy to Kashgar and +concluded a treaty with Yakub Bek. + +When the Russo-Turkish War broke out in 1877, he became General +Skobeleff's chief of staff and took part in the battle of Loftcha and +in many of the attacks on Plevna. While forcing the passage of the +Balkans with Skobeleff's army, on the 25th of December, 1877 (O.S.), +he was so severely wounded that he had to leave the theater of war and +return to St. Petersburg. There, as soon as he recovered, he was put +in charge of the Asiatic Department of the Russian General Staff, and, +at the same time, was made adjunct-professor of military statistics in +the Nikolaiefski Military Academy. In 1879 the rank of General was +conferred upon him and he was appointed to command the Turkestan rifle +brigade in Central Asia. In 1880 he led a Russian expeditionary force +to Kuldja, and when the trouble with the Chinese there had been +adjusted, he was ordered to organize and equip a special force in the +Amu Daria district and march to the assistance of General Skobeleff in +the Akhal-Tekhinski oasis. After conducting this force across seven +hundred versts of nearly waterless desert, he joined General Skobeleff +in front of the Turkoman fortress of Geok Tepe, and in the assault +upon that famous stronghold, a few weeks later, he led the principal +storming column. After the Turkomen had been subdued, he returned to +European Russia, and during the next eight years served on the General +Staff in St. Petersburg, where he was entrusted with important +strategic work. In 1890 he was made Lieutenant-General and was sent to +govern the trans-Caspian region and to command the troops there +stationed. + +He occupied this position six or eight years, and then, shortly after +his return to St. Petersburg, was appointed Minister of War. In +1902, while still holding the war portfolio, he was promoted to +Adjutant-General; in 1903 he visited Japan and made the acquaintance +of its political and military leaders; and in 1904, when hostilities +began in the Far East, he took command of the Russian armies in +Manchuria under the general direction of Viceroy Alexeieff. +Besides, he has written and published three important books. + +No man perhaps, is better equipped, by education and experience, to +explain Russia's plans and movements in Asia; to tell the true story +of the Japanese war. And probably never, at least in this generation, +has an international matter of this magnitude been treated with such +frankness by a person so thoroughly and eminently qualified to discuss +it. + + + + +TALKS WITH BISMARCK + +BY CARL SCHURZ + +ILLUSTRATED WITH PHOTOGRAPHS + + +In the autumn of 1867 my family went to Wiesbaden, where my wife was +to spend some time on account of her health, and I joined them there +about Christmas time for a few weeks. Great changes had taken place in +Germany since that dark December night in 1861 when I rushed through +the country from the Belgian frontier to Hamburg on my way from Spain +to America. The period of stupid reaction after the collapse of the +revolutionary movements of 1848 was over. King Frederick William IV. +of Prussia, who had been so deeply convinced and arduous an upholder +of the divine right of kings, had died a helpless lunatic. King +William I., afterwards Emperor William I., his brother and successor, +also a believer in that divine right, but not to the extent of +believing as well in the divine inspiration of kings--in other words, +a man of good sense and capable of recognizing the superior ability of +others--had found in Bismarck a minister of commanding genius. The +sweeping victory of Prussia over Austria in 1866 had resulted in the +establishment of the North German Confederacy under Prussian hegemony, +which was considered a stepping-stone to the unification of all +Germany as a constitutional empire. Several of the revolutionists of +1848 now sat in the Reichstag of the North German Confederacy, and one +of the ablest of them, Lothar Bucher, was Bismarck's confidential +counsellor. The nation was elated with hope, and there was a liberal +wind blowing even in the sphere of the government. + +I did not doubt that under these circumstances I might venture into +Germany without danger of being seriously molested; yet, as my +personal case was technically not covered by any of the several +amnesties which had been proclaimed in Prussia from time to time, I +thought that some subordinate officer, either construing his duty with +the strictness of a thorough Prussian, or wishing to distinguish +himself by a conspicuous display of official watchfulness, might give +me annoyance. I did not, indeed, entertain the slightest apprehension +as to my safety, but I might have become involved in sensational +proceedings, which would have been extremely distasteful to me, as +well as unwelcome to the government. I therefore wrote to Mr. George +Bancroft, the American Minister at Berlin, requesting him if possible +to inform himself privately whether the Prussian government had any +objection to my visiting Germany for a few weeks, and to let me have +his answer at Bremerhaven upon the arrival there of the steamer on +which I had taken passage. My intention was, in case the answer were +unfavorable, to sail at once from Bremen to England and to meet my +family there. Mr. Bancroft very kindly complied with my request, and +assured me in his letter which I found at Bremerhaven that the +Prussian government not only had no objection to my visiting Germany, +but that I should be welcome. + +After having spent Christmas with my family in Wiesbaden, I went to +Berlin. I wrote a note to Lothar Bucher, whom I had last seen sixteen +years before as a fellow refugee in London, and whom I wished very +much to meet again. Bucher answered promptly that he would be glad +indeed to see me again, and asked if I would not like to make the +acquaintance of "the Minister" (Bismarck), who had expressed a wish to +have a talk with me. I replied, of course, that I should be happy, +etc., whereupon I received within an hour an invitation from Count +Bismarck himself (he was then only a count) to visit him at eight +o'clock that same evening at the Chancellor's palace on the +Wilhelmstrasse. Promptly at the appointed hour I was announced to him, +and he received me at the door of a room of moderate size, the table +and some of the furniture of which were covered with books and +papers,--evidently his working cabinet. There I beheld the great man +whose name was filling the world--tall, erect, and broad-shouldered, +and on those Atlas shoulders that massive head which everybody knows +from pictures--the whole figure making the impression of something +colossal--then at the age of fifty-three, in the fulness of physical +and mental vigor. + +He was dressed in a General's undress uniform, unbuttoned. His +features, which evidently could look very stern when he wished, were +lighted up with a friendly smile. He stretched out his hand and gave +me a vigorous grasp. "Glad you have come," he said, in a voice which +appeared rather high-keyed, issuing from so huge a form, but of +pleasing timbre. + +"I think I must have seen you before," was his first remark, while we +were still standing up facing one another. "It was some time in the +early fifties on a railway train from Frankfort to Berlin. There was a +young man sitting opposite me who, from some picture of you which I +had seen in a pictorial paper, I thought might be you." + +I replied that this could not be, since at that period I was not in +Germany. "Besides," I added--a little impudently perhaps--"would you +not have had me arrested as a malefactor?" + +"Oh," he exclaimed, with a good, natural laugh, "you mistake me. I +would not have done such a thing. You mean on account of that Kinkel +affair? Oh, no! I rather liked that. And if it were not that it would +be highly improper for His Majesty's minister and the Chancellor of +the North German Confederacy, I should like to go with you to Spandau +and have you tell me the whole story on the spot. Now let us sit +down." + +He pointed out to me an easy-chair close to his own and then uncorked +a bottle which stood, with two glasses, on a tray at his elbow. "You +are a Rhinelander," he said, "and I know you will relish this." We +touched glasses, and I found the wine indeed very excellent. + +"You smoke, of course," he continued, "and here are some good Havanas. +I used to be very fond of them, but I have a sort of superstitious +belief that every person is permitted to smoke only a certain number +of cigars in his life, and no more. I am afraid I have exhausted my +allowance, and now I take to the pipe." With a lighted strip of paper, +called in German "Fidibus," he put the tobacco in the porcelain bowl +of his long German student pipe in full blast, and presently he blew +forth huge clouds of smoke. + +This done, he comfortably leaned back in his chair and said: "Now tell +me, as an American Republican and a Forty-eighter of the revolutionary +kind, how the present condition of Germany strikes you. I would not +ask you that question," he added, "if you were a privy counsellor (a +Geheimrath), for I know what he would answer. But you will tell me +what you really think." + + +_Bismarck's Sarcastic Humor_ + +I replied that I had been in the country only a few weeks and had +received only superficial impressions, but that I had become sensible +of a general atmosphere of newly inspired national ambition and a +confident hope for the development of more liberal political +institutions. I had found only a few old fogies in Nassau and a banker +in Frankfort who seemed to be in a disappointed and depressed state of +mind. Bismarck laughed heartily. The disgruntled Nassauers, he said, +had probably been some sort of purveyors to the late ducal court, and +he would wager that the Frankfort banker was either a member of one of +the old patrician families, who thought they were the highest nobility +in all the land, or a money-maker complaining that Frankfort was no +longer, as it had been, the financial center of southern Germany. Here +Bismarck gave full reign to his sarcastic humor. He had spent years in +Frankfort as the representative of the defunct "Bundestag," and had no +end of funny anecdotes about the aristocratic pretensions of the +patrician burghers of that ancient free city, and about their lofty +wrath at the incorporation of that commonwealth in the Prussian +monarchy. + + +_Forcing the War with Austria_ + +Then he began to tell me about the great difficulties he had been +obliged to overcome in bringing about the decisive struggle with +Austria. One of the most serious of these difficulties, as he said, +consisted in the scrupulous hesitancy of old King William to consent +to anything that seemed to be in any sense unconstitutional or not in +harmony with the strictest notion of good faith. In our conversation +Bismarck constantly called the king "der alte Herr"--"the old +gentleman," or, as it might also have been translated, "the old +master." One moment he would speak of the old gentleman with something +like sentimental tenderness, and then again in a tone of familiar +freedom which smacked of anything but reverential respect. He told me +anecdotes about him which made me stare, for at the moment I could not +help remembering that I was listening to the prime minister of the +crown, to whom I was an entire stranger and who knew nothing of my +discretion or sense of responsibility. + +[Illustration: KAISER WILHELM I + +FROM THE PAINTING BY GUSTAV RICHTER +_Photographed by the Berlin Photographic Co._] + +As if we had been confidential chums all our lives, he gave me, with +apparently the completest abandon and exuberant vivacity, inside views +of the famous "conflict" period between the crown and the Prussian +parliament, when, seeing the war with Austria inevitably coming, he +had, without legislative authorization, spent millions upon millions +of the public funds upon the army in preparation for the great +crisis; how the liberal majority of the chambers, and an indignant +public opinion which did not recognize the great object of national +unification in view, had fiercely risen up against that arbitrary +stretch of power; how the king himself had recoiled from such a breach +of the constitution; how the king had apprehended a new revolution +which might cost each of them his head--which would possibly have come +about if they had failed in the Austrian war; how then he had +"desperately used his spurs to make the noble old horse clear the +ditch and take the risk"; and how, the victory having been won, on +their return from the war they were received by the people with the +most jubilant acclamations instead of having their heads cut off, +which had pleased the old gentleman immensely and taught him a lesson +as to his reckless prime minister. + +It was not the cautious and conservative spirit of the king alone that +he had occasionally to overcome. Still more was he clogged and not +seldom exasperated by what he called the stupid old bureaucracy, which +had to be got out of its accustomed ruts whenever anything new and +bold was to be done. He fairly bubbled over with humorous anecdotes, +evidently relishing, himself, his droll descriptions of the antiquated +"Geheimrath" (privy counsellor), as he stared with his bleared eyes +wide open, whenever anything unusual was proposed, seeing nothing but +insuperable difficulties before him and then exhausting his whole +ingenuity in finding the best sort of red tape with which to strangle +the project. His patience tried to the utmost, he, the minister would +then go to the king and tell him that such and such a rusty official +could no longer be got along with and must necessarily give place to a +more efficient person; whereupon the "old gentleman," melting with +pity, would say, "Oh, he has so long been a faithful servant of the +State, would it not be cruel to cast him aside like a squeezed-out +orange?--no, I cannot do it." "And there," said Bismarck, "there we +are." + +I ventured to suggest that an offer to resign on his part, if he could +not have his way, might make the king less tender of his inefficient +friends in high places. "Oh," said Bismarck with a laugh, "I have +tried that so often, too often, perhaps, to make it impressive! What +do you think happens when I offer my resignation? My old gentleman +begins to sob and cry--he actually sheds tears, and says, 'Now you +want to leave me too?' Now when I see him shed tears, what in the +world can I do then?" So he went on for a while, from one funny +anecdote to another and from one satirical description to another. + + +_Bismarck's Test of Von Moltke_ + +Bismarck then came back to the Austrian war and told me much about the +diplomatic fencing which led up to it. With evident gusto he related +story after story, showing how his diplomatic adversaries at that +critical period had been like puppets in his hands, and how he had +managed the German princes as they grouped themselves on one side or +the other. Then he came to speak of the battle of Koeniggraetz, and +especially of that "anxious moment" in it before the arrival of the +Crown Prince in the rear of the Austrians, when some Prussian attacks +had failed and there were signs of disorder among the repulsed +troops. + +"It was an anxious moment," said Bismarck, "a moment on the decision +of which the fate of empire depended. What would have become of us if +we had lost that battle? Squadrons of cavalry, all mixed up, hussars, +dragoons, uhlans, were streaming by the spot where the king, Moltke, +and myself stood, and although we had calculated that the Crown Prince +might long have appeared behind the Austrian rear, no sign of the +Crown Prince! Things began to look ominous. I confess I felt not a +little nervous. I looked at Moltke, who sat quietly on his horse and +did not seem to be disturbed by what was going on around us. I thought +I would test whether he was really as calm as he appeared. I rode up +to him and asked him whether I might offer him a cigar, since I +noticed he was not smoking. He replied that he would be glad if I had +one to spare. I presented to him my open case in which there were only +two cigars, one a very good Havana, and the other of rather poor +quality. Moltke looked at them and even handled them with great +attention, in order to ascertain their relative value, and then with +slow deliberation chose the Havana. 'Very good,' he said composedly. +This reassured me very much. I thought, If Moltke can bestow so much +time and attention upon the choice between two cigars, things cannot +be very bad. Indeed, a few minutes later we heard the Crown Prince's +guns, we observed unsteady and confused movements on the Austrian +positions, and the battle was won." + +I said that we in America who had followed the course of events with +intense interest were rather surprised, at the time, that the +conclusion of peace followed the battle of Koeniggraetz so quickly and +that Prussia did not take greater advantage of her victory. Bismarck +replied that the speedy conclusion of peace had been a great surprise +to many people, but that he thought it was the best thing he had ever +done, and that he had accomplished it against the desire of the king +and of the military party, who were greatly elated by that splendid +triumph of the Prussian arms and thought that so great and so +successful an effort should have a greater reward. Sound statesmanship +required that the Austrian Empire, the existence of which was +necessary for Europe, should not be reduced to a mere wreck; that it +should be made a friend and, as a friend, not too powerless; that what +Prussia had gone to war for was the leadership of Germany, and that +this leadership in Germany would not have been fortified, but rather +weakened, by the acquisition from Austria of populations which would +not have fitted into the Prussian scheme. + +Besides, the Chancellor thought that, the success of the Prussians +having been so decisive, it was wise to avoid further sacrifices and +risks. The cholera had made its appearance among the troops, and so +long as the war lasted there would have been danger of French +intervention. He had successfully fought off that French intervention, +he said, by all sorts of diplomatic manoeuvres, some of which he +narrated to me in detail. But Louis Napoleon had become very restless +at the growth of Prussian power and prestige, and he would, probably, +not have hesitated to put in his hand, had not the French army been so +weakened by his foolish Mexican adventure. But now, when the main +Prussian army was marching farther and farther away from the Rhine and +had suffered serious losses, and was threatened by malignant disease, +he might have felt encouraged by these circumstances to do what he +would have liked to do all the time. + +"That would have created a new situation," said Bismarck. "But to meet +that situation, I should have had a shot in my locker which, perhaps, +will surprise you when I mention it." + +I was indeed curious. "What would have been the effect," said +Bismarck, "if under those circumstances I had appealed to the national +feeling of the whole people by proclaiming the constitution of the +German Empire made at Frankfort in 1848 and 1849?" + +"I think it would have electrified the whole country and created a +German nation," I replied. "But would you really have adopted that +great orphan left by the revolution of 1848?" + +"Why not?" said the Chancellor. "True, that constitution contained +some features very objectionable to me. But, after all, it was not so +very far from what I am aiming at now. But whether the old gentleman +would have adopted it is doubtful. Still, with Napoleon at the gates, +he might have taken that jump too. But," he added, "we shall have +that war with France anyhow." + + +"_War with France in Two Years_" + +I expressed my surprise at this prediction,--a prediction all the more +surprising to me when I again recalled that the great statesman, +carrying on his shoulders such tremendous responsibilities, was +talking to an entire stranger,--and his tone grew quite serious, +grave, almost solemn, as he said: "Do not believe that I love war. I +have seen enough of war to abhor it profoundly. The terrible scenes I +have witnessed will never cease to haunt my mind. I shall never +consent to a war that is avoidable, much less seek it. But this war +with France will surely come. It will be forced upon us by the French +Emperor. I see that clearly." + +Then he went on to explain how the situation of an "adventurer on a +throne," such as Louis Napoleon, was different from that of a +legitimate sovereign, like the King of Prussia. "I know," said he with +a smile, "you do not believe in such a thing as the divine right of +kings. But many people do, especially in Prussia--perhaps not as many +as did before 1848, but even now more than you think. People are +attracted to the dynasty by traditional loyalty. A King of Prussia may +make mistakes or suffer misfortunes, or even humiliations, but that +traditional loyalty will not give way. But the adventurer on the +throne has no such traditional sentiment behind him. His security +depends upon personal prestige, and that prestige upon sensational +effects which must follow one another in rather rapid succession to +remain fresh and satisfactory to the ambition, or the pride, or, if +you will, the vanity of the people--especially to such a people as the +French. + +"Now, Louis Napoleon has lost much of his prestige by two things--the +Mexican adventure, which was an astounding blunder, a fantastic folly +on his part; and then by permitting Prussia to become so great without +obtaining some sort of 'compensation' in the way of an acquisition of +territory that might have been made to appear to the French people as +a brilliant achievement of his diplomacy. It was well known that he +wanted such a compensation, and tried for it, and was manoeuvered out +of it by me without his knowledge of what was happening to him. He is +well aware that thus he has lost much of his prestige, more than he +can afford, and that such a loss, unless soon repaired, may become +dangerous to his tenure as emperor. He will, therefore, as soon as he +thinks that his army is in good fighting condition, again make an +effort to recover that prestige which is so vital to him, by using +some pretext for picking a quarrel with us. I do not think he is +personally eager for that war, I think he would rather avoid it, but +the precariousness of his situation will drive him to it. My +calculation is that the crisis will come in about two years. We have +to be ready, of course, and we are. We shall win, and the result will +be just the contrary of what Napoleon aims at--the total unification +of Germany outside of Austria, and probably Napoleon's downfall." + +[Illustration: PRINCE OTTO VON BISMARCK + +FROM THE PAINTING BY FRANZ VON LENBACH +_Photographed by the Berlin Photographic Co._] + +This was said in January, 1868. The war between France and Prussia and +her allies broke out in July, 1870, and the foundation of the German +Empire and the downfall of Napoleon were the results. No prediction +was ever more shrewdly made and more accurately and amply fulfilled. + +[Illustration: COUNT HELLMUTH VON MOLTKE + +FROM THE PAINTING BY FRANZ VON LENBACH +_Photographed by the Berlin Photographic Co._] + +I have introduced here Bismarck as speaking in the first person. I did +this to present the substance of what he said to me in a succinct +form. But this does not pretend to portray the manner in which he said +it--the bubbling vivacity of his talk, now and then interspersed with +French or English phrases; the lightning flashes of his wit +scintillating around the subjects of his remarks and sometimes +illuminating, as with a search-light, a public character, or an event, +or a situation; his laugh, now contageously genial, and then grimly +sarcastic; the rapid transitions from jovial, sportive humor to +touching pathos; the evident pleasure taken by the narrator in his +tale; the dashing, rattling rapidity with which that tale would at +times rush on; and behind all this that tremendous personality--the +picturesque embodiment of a power greater than any king's--a veritable +Atlas carrying upon his shoulders the destinies of a great nation. +There was a strange fascination in the presence of the giant who +appeared so peculiarly grand and yet so human. + +[Illustration: THE CHANCELLOR'S PALACE ON THE WILHELMSTRASSE WHERE CARL +SCHURZ VISITED BISMARCK IN 1878. + +_Photographed by the Berlin Photographic Co._] + +While he was still speaking with unabated animation I looked at the +clock opposite me and was astounded when I found that midnight was +long behind us. I rose in alarm and begged the Chancellor's pardon for +having intruded so long upon his time. "Oh," said the Chancellor, "I +am used to late hours, and we have not talked yet about America. +However, you have a right to be tired. But you must come again. You +must dine with me. Can you do so to-morrow? I have invited a +commission on the Penal Code--mostly dull old jurists, I suppose--but +I may find some one among them fit to be your neighbor at the table +and to entertain you." + +I gladly accepted the invitation and found myself the next evening in +a large company of serious and learned-looking gentlemen, each one of +whom was adorned with one or more decorations. I was the only person +in the room who had none, and several of the guests seemed to eye me +with some curiosity, when Bismarck in a loud voice presented me to the +Countess as "General Carl Schurz from the United States of America." +Some of the gentlemen looked somewhat surprised, but I at once became +a person of interest, and many introductions followed. At the table I +had a judge from Cologne for my neighbor, who had enough of the +Rhenish temperament to be cheerful company. The dinner was a very +rapid affair--lasting hardly three quarters of an hour, certainly not +more. + +[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF KOeNIGGRAeTZ--FROM THE PAINTING BY GEORG +BLEISTREW + +THE DECISIVE BATTLE OF THE SEVEN WEEKS' WAR, BY WHICH PRUSSIA BECAME THE +LEADING POLITICAL AND MILITARY POWER IN GERMANY. IN THE CENTER OF THE +PICTURE IS SHOWN KING WILLIAM, SURROUNDED BY BISMARCK, VON MOLTKE, AND +THE MEMBERS OF HIS STAFF. + +_Photographed by the Berlin Photographic Co._] + +Before the smokers could have got half through with their cigars, the +Minister of Justice, who seemed to act as mentor and guide to the +gentlemen of the Penal Code Commission, took leave of the host, which +was accepted by the whole company as a signal to depart. I followed +their example, but the Chancellor said: "Wait a moment. Why should you +stand in that crowd struggling for your overcoat? Let us sit down and +have a glass of Apollinaris." We sat down by a small round table, a +bottle of Apollinaris water was brought, and he began at once to ply +me with questions about America. + +[Illustration: EMPEROR NAPOLEON III WHOM BISMARCK CALLED "THE ADVENTURER +ON THE THRONE," AND WHOSE DOWNFALL HE PREDICTED IN A CONVERSATION WITH +CARL SCHURZ TWO YEARS BEFORE SEDAN] + +He was greatly interested in the struggle going on between President +Johnson and the Republican majority in Congress, which was then +approaching its final crisis. He said that he looked upon that +struggle as a test of the strength of the conservative element in our +political fabric. Would the impeachment of the President, and, if he +were found guilty, his deposition from office, lead to any further +conflicts dangerous to the public peace and order? I replied that I +was convinced it would not; the executive power would simply pass from +the hands of one man to the hands of another, according to the +constitution and laws of the country, without any resistance on the +part of anybody; and on the other hand, if President Johnson were +acquitted, there would be general submission to the verdict as a +matter of course, although popular excitement stirred up by the matter +would run very high throughout the country. + +The Chancellor was too polite to tell me point-blank that he had grave +doubts as to all this, but he would at least not let me believe that +he thought as I did. He smilingly asked me whether I was still as +firmly convinced a republican as I had been before I went to America +and studied republicanism from the inside; and when I assured him that +I was, and that, although I had in personal experience found the +republic not as lovely as my youthful enthusiasm had pictured it to my +imagination, but much more practical in its general beneficence to the +great masses of the people, and much more conservative in its +tendencies than I had imagined, he said that he supposed our +impressions or views with regard to such things were largely owing to +temperament, or education, or traditional ways of thinking. + +"I am not a democrat," he went on, "and cannot be. I was born an +aristocrat and brought up an aristocrat. To tell you the truth, there +was something in me that made me instinctively sympathize with the +slaveholders, as the aristocratic party, in your Civil War. But," he +added with earnest emphasis, "this vague sympathy did not in the least +affect my views as to the policy to be followed by our government with +regard to the United States. Prussia, notwithstanding her monarchical +and aristocratic sympathies, is, and will steadily be by tradition, as +well as by thoroughly understood interest, the firm friend of your +republic. You may always count upon that." + +He asked me a great many questions concerning the political and social +conditions in the United States. Again and again he wondered how +society could be kept in tolerable order where the powers of the +government were so narrowly restricted and where there was so little +reverence for the constituted or "ordained" authorities. With a hearty +laugh, in which there seemed to be a suggestion of assent, he received +my remark that the American people would hardly have become the +self-reliant, energetic, progressive people they were, had there been +a privy-counsellor or a police captain standing at every mud-puddle in +America to keep people from stepping into it. And he seemed to be much +struck when I brought out the apparent paradox that in a democracy +with little government things might go badly in detail but well on the +whole, while in a monarchy with much and omni-present government +things might go very pleasingly in detail but poorly on the whole. He +saw that with such views I was an incurable democrat; but would not, +he asked, the real test of our democratic institutions come when, +after the disappearance of the exceptional opportunities springing +from our wonderful natural resources which were in a certain sense +common property, our political struggles became, as they surely would +become, struggles between the poor and the rich, between the few who +have, and the many who want? Here we entered upon a wide field of +conjecture. + +The conversation then turned to international relations, and +especially public opinion in America concerning Germany. Did the +Americans sympathize with German endeavors towards national unity?--I +thought that so far as any feeling with regard to German unity existed +in America, it was sympathetic; among the German-Americans it was +warmly so.--Did Louis Napoleon, the emperor of the French, enjoy any +popularity in America?--He did not enjoy the respect of the people at +large and was rather unpopular except with a comparatively small +number of snobs who would feel themselves exalted by an introduction +at his court.--There would, then, in case of a war between Germany and +France, be no likelihood of American sympathy running in favor of +Louis Napoleon?--There would not, unless Germany forced war on France +for decidedly unjust cause. + +Throughout our conversation Bismarck repeatedly expressed his pleasure +at the friendly relations existing between him and the German +Liberals, some of whom had been prominent in the revolutionary +troubles of 1848. He mentioned several of my old friends, Bucher, +Kapp, and others, who, having returned to Germany, felt themselves +quite at home under the new conditions and had found their way open to +public positions and activities of distinction and influence, in +harmony with their principles. As he repeated this, or something like +it, in a manner apt to command my attention, I might have taken it as +a suggestion inviting me to do likewise. But I thought it best not to +say anything in response. + +Our conversation had throughout been so animated that time had slipped +by us unaware, and it was again long past midnight when I left. My old +friends of 1848 whom I met in Berlin were of course very curious to +know what the great man of the time might have had to say to me, and I +thought I could without being indiscreet communicate to them how +highly pleased he had expressed himself with the harmonious +cooperation between him and them for common ends. Some of them thought +that Bismarck's conversion to liberal principles was really sincere. +Others were less sanguine, believing as they did that he was indeed +sincere and earnest in his endeavor to create a united German empire +under Prussian leadership; that he would carry on a gay flirtation +with the Liberals so long as he thought that he could thus best +further his object, but that his true autocratic nature would assert +itself again and he would throw his temporarily assumed Liberalism +overboard as soon as he felt that he did not need its support any +longer, and especially when he found it to stand in the way of his +will. + + + + +THE FOREHANDED COLQUHOUNS + +BY MARGARET WILSON + +ILLUSTRATIONS BY A. E. CEDERQUIST + + +I + +"Perhaps I'm too old to be wearing such things, but I love bright +colors, and there's not a bit of use denying it." + +Mary Ann gathered one end of the fancy tartan into a handful, and +looked approvingly at its soft, heavy folds. + +"Particularly at this time of year. It's warming to the blood on a +cold autumn day just to see a dress like this on the street. I +always did like a good rich tartan. It becomes me, too. Look, +Selina'n'Jane." + +She held the dress material against one cheek, and her sisters +looked--but somehow failed to see what a pleasing picture she made. +She had just come in from shopping and had not yet removed her hat, +and its trimming of foliage repeated the colors of her face--autumnal +tints of red and bronze and healthy yellow. She, the eldest of the +family and the only unmarried one, was forty-five, but she was rosy +and fat and matronly, while her sisters were pinched and anemic. They +were old maids by nature, she by chance. + +"It becomes you well enough, but under the circumstances," Jane said, +exchanging glances with Selina, "it seems a pity to buy all these +things." + +Mary Ann opened her eyes wide. + +"Circumstances? What circumstances? It's no more than I buy every +fall," protested the puzzled Mary Ann. "The flowered piece is for a +morning wrapper, the tartan's for a street suit, and the blue-gray's a +company dress." + +Jane and Selina again exchanged glances, and Selina nodded. + +"You never did seem to look ahead, Mary Ann," said Jane, thus +encouraged. "I don't believe you realize that an attack of bronchitis +is serious at Ma's age. I wouldn't have got _all_ my clothes colored. +It's never any harm to have _one_ black dress." + +Mary Ann gasped. + +"Good gracious!" was all she said. + +"Well, Mary Ann," said Selina, coming to Jane's rescue, "there's not a +particle of use shutting your eyes to plain facts. Ma's in a serious +condition, and if anything happens to her, what'll you do with all +that stuff? You may dye the blue, but that tartan won't take a good +black." + +"Why," Mary Ann said, recovering speech, "Ma has bronchitis at the +beginning of cold weather every year. She'll be downstairs in a week +or two, the same as she always is." + +"I hope so, Mary Ann. I hope, when next she comes down, it won't be +feet first. But we're told to prepare for the worst while we hope for +the best," said Jane solemnly, imagining that she was quoting +scripture. "You and Ma act as if there was nothing to prepare for. To +see you, sitting by her sick-bed, reading trashy love-stories out of +the magazines, and both of you as much interested!--it gives me a +creepy feeling." + +"When my poor husband lay in his last illness," sighed Selina, "he was +only too willing to be flattered into the belief that he was going to +get well, but I wouldn't let him deceive himself, and it's a comfort +to me now I didn't. I had everything ready but my crape when he died. +I didn't have to depend on the neighbors for a dress for the funeral, +as I've known some do." + +"Many a time I've lent, but never borrowed," Jane boasted. + +"And of course, never laying off widow's weeds, I'm ready for whatever +comes." Selina stroked her tarletan cuffs complacently, yet modestly +withal, as if not wishing to make others feel too keenly the +difference in their position. + +[Illustration: "JANE AND SELINA ... LOOKED AT PATIENT AND NURSE WITH +DISAPPROVING GLOOM"] + +Mary Ann gathered the dress goods together and threw them in a heap on +the sofa. "There, I'm sorry I showed them to you," she cried; "you've +got me almost turned against them. I declare, I'd be melancholy in +two minutes more. Now you listen to me, Selina'n'Jane. There's no need +to worry about Ma's preparations for the next world; she's not +thinking of leaving this world yet, and there's no reason why she +should. The day you two go away, she'll be standing at the gate to say +good-by to you, just the same as she always is. You see if she's not, +Selina'n'Jane." + +She left the room with something as like a flounce as her figure would +permit. Stealing softly into the half-darkened bedroom at the head of +the stairs, she stood looking down at the sleeping woman in the bed. +The indignant moisture in her eyes turned to a mist of tenderness that +blotted out the sight until a few drops formed and fell. + +She was too unsuspicious to observe an unsleeplike flickering of the +eyelids. She turned to tiptoe out of the room again. There was a quick +peep, a look of relief, a husky whisper, "Is that you, Mary Ann?" + +"Well now, I never did see anything like the regular way you wake up +at medicine time," Mary Ann said, opening the shutters and consulting +her watch. "Anybody'd think you had an alarm inside of you to go off +at the right time." + +She administered the dose and then went on with a cheerful monologue. +She had got into this habit in the sick-room, because her mother hated +silence and had to save her own voice. + +"What kept me so long was that everybody I met wanted to stop me and +ask how you were. Everybody seemed pleased to hear you were getting +along so nicely. Mrs. Dowling said Dr. Corbett told her you were the +most satisfactory patient he had, because you always did everything he +told you and always got well." + +The sick woman smiled up at her. She had a smile that came and went +easily, and Mary Ann had become skilful in the art of conducting a +conversation in such a way that it served as well as words. + +"And Caroline Sibbet said to tell you she was counting on going with +us to the reception to the minister, and she didn't believe she'd go +at all unless you were well by then." + +It was a wistful smile now. + +"So I told her she needn't be afraid, you'd be there." + +A smile of appeal, as if to ask, "Do you really think so?" + +Mary Ann gave her a puzzled glance. Something was wrong. + +"Of course you'll be well by then, dearie. You heard what the doctor +said to-day--that you might go back to having your cup of tea again +to-morrow. That's always the first sign you're getting well, then you +get leave to sit up. A week sitting up in your room, a week going +downstairs----" Mary Ann began to check off the weeks on her fingers, +but her mother interrupted. + +"Was that Jane the doctor was talking to so long in the hall to-day?" + +"Let me see. No, that was Selina." + +"What was he saying to her?" + +"He was saying every blessed thing that he's said to me since you took +sick, and that I've repeated over again to her. But you know how it is +with those two, Ma. I believe they think there's some kind of magic in +the marriage ceremony that gives a woman sense--they don't give me +credit for a speck. When Selina told me she was going to speak to the +doctor herself to-day, says she, 'You know that it stands to reason, +Mary Ann, that you can't be as experienced as one that has been a wife +five years and a widow seven'; and then Jane seemed to think it was +being cast up to her that she wasn't a widow, so she speaks up real +snappy, 'Nor one that's brought up a family of four boys,' and then +Selina _she_ looked mad." Mary Ann went off into a peal of laughter at +the remembrance. + +"Jane told me he said at my age the heart was weak and there was +always more or less danger." + +"He always says that after he's told what good sound lungs you have, +and what steady progress you're making, and how he'd rather pass you +for insurance than most women half your age. It means we're not to be +too reckless, all the same." + +"She says if I _should_ recover from this attack----" + +"Sakes alive! Did she come over all that with you too? 'If you should +recover from this attack, you'd better sell the house and visit round +among your married children?' Visit round as much as you like, Ma, but +have a house of your own to come back to; that's my advice." + +"She said you wouldn't want to keep up a house after you were left +alone----" + +Mary Ann threw up her hands. "No wonder Selina'n'Jane are thin--they +wear the flesh off their bones providing for the future. They're born +Colquhouns. I'm glad I take after your side of the family. Do you know +what Selina told me, Ma? The preserves she put up this year won't have +to be touched till winter after next. She has enough to last her over +two years. 'Land sakes!' I said, 'what do you want to eat stale jam +for, when you might have fresh?' The two get competing which will be +furthest ahead in their work; from the way they talk, I shouldn't +wonder if before long their fall house-cleaning would be done in the +spring. It makes me think of what Pa used to tell about his uncle +Alick Colquhoun--how he was earlier and earlier with the milking, till +at last the evening milking was done in the morning, and the morning's +was done the night before. Then there was Eva Meldrum; you remember +she had all her marriage outfit ready before she was asked--sheets, +tablecloths, and everything. As soon as Fred Healey proposed, she got +right to work with the final preparations, and when she found herself +left with nothing else to do--she just sat down and wrote out notes of +thanks for the wedding gifts, leaving blanks for the names of the +articles. I laughed till I was sore when she told me. 'You're a +Colquhoun,' I said, 'though you do only get it from your grandma; +you're a Colquhoun by nature if not by name.' You know I always say it +comes from having such a name. It's enough to make an anxious streak +in the family, having to spell it, one generation after another." + +Mary Ann laughed so heartily that the sound reached her sisters, who +wondered what "Ma'n'Mary Ann" were at now. And still the little cloud +lingered, and the smile only flitted waveringly. + +"I called at the library, Ma, and brought home the magazine. Now we'll +find out for sure whether Lady Geraldine marries the earl--I don't +believe but what she's in love with the private secretary." + +"Did you do the shopping?" her mother whispered. + +"Yes, and if you feel rested with your sleep, I'll show you what I +got. Mr. Merrill opened out such a heap of pretty things, I didn't +hardly know what to take. I was thinking, Ma, it wouldn't be a bad +idea to have Miss Adams in to sew, the first week you're downstairs, +when we've got to be in the house anyway." + +At this moment Jane and Selina came into the room to see what the +sounds of merriment meant. They looked at patient and nurse with +disapproving gloom. Jane settled herself at once to her knitting; +Selina, who never worked in the afternoon when she was wearing her +widow's collar and cuffs, sat regarding her mother with an expression +of grieved wonder. Mrs. Colquhoun was uncomfortably conscious of being +judged by something in her own child of other heritage than hers--one +of the strangest sensations a parent can have. + +"You'd ought to be kept quiet, Ma," Selina said, after a prolonged +scrutiny. "If you had any suitable book in the house, I'd read to you. +There was one my poor husband used to listen to by the hour in his +last illness--'Preparations for the Final Journey.'" + +"I'm going to run down and fetch that stuff I bought to-day to show it +to Ma and get her opinion," Mary Ann interrupted, and a minute later +she was standing by the bed with the three dress lengths piled in +confusion upon her arms. To the woman in the bed it was as if an angel +looked out from over a tumbled rainbow and smiled a message of hope to +her from the sky. + +"Take an end of this tartan, will you, Jane, and stand off a little +with it. There, I knew you'd like it, Ma. I said so to Mr. Merrill the +minute he showed it to me. That flowered piece? That's for a morning +wrapper. I know it's gay, but somehow, after the flowers are all over, +I do hanker after gay colors. In summer I don't feel to want them so +much on my back when I can have them in the garden. The gray-blue's +for a company dress. I'll have it made up in time for the reception to +the new minister. You'll need a dress for that too, Ma. We'll get +samples as soon as you're well enough to choose. It was between this +and a shot silk, but I thought this was more becoming at my age. To +tell the truth," confessed Mary Ann with a laugh, "I'd rather have had +it than this, and more than either I'd love to have bought a dress off +a piece of crimson velvet Mr. Merrill had just got in." + +She rested an elbow on her knee and sank the length of a forefinger in +her plump cheek. + +"When I was a little girl," she ruminated, "I was awfully fond of the +rose-in-campin' that grew in our garden at home--you mind it, mother; +mullein pink, some call it. I used to say to myself that if ever I +could get what clothes I liked, I'd have a dress as near like that as +I could find. Well, there I was to-day looking at the very thing, the +same color, the same downy look, and all, and money enough in my purse +to buy it. Of course I know it would be silly. But don't it seem a +pity that the things we dream of having some day--when the day comes, +we don't want 'em? I feel somehow as if I'm cheating that little girl +that wished for the dress like a rose-in-campin'." + +She began to fold the dress pieces thoughtfully. "Made up handsomely +with a train," she said, half to herself, "and worn on suitable +occasions, it wouldn't seem so silly, either. I believe I'll have that +crimson velvet yet," she concluded, with a laughing toss of the head. +Her mother looked from the bright materials to the bright face above +them. + +"She would never have gone and bought all these colors just after the +doctor said I wasn't going to get well," she thought, and turned over +and fell into a real sleep. The last had been feigned--to escape +Jane's disquieting remarks and to ponder their significance. + + +II + +Mary Ann's prophecy was fulfilled. Her mother stood beside her at the +garden gate when Jane and Selina drove away, her glances up and down +the sunny street evincing all a convalescent's freshened interest in +the outside world. The two faces were alike and yet unlike. The joy of +living was in both; but a little uncertainty, a little appeal in the +older woman's told that with her it depended to some degree upon the +steadier flow of animal spirits in the younger. + +Jane and Selina turned for a last look at the portly figures and +waving handkerchiefs. + +"Who would think to look at them," said Jane, "that Ma had only just +returned from the jaws of death! It ought to be a warning to them. +Some day she'll go off in one of those attacks." + +"Ma'n'Mary Ann are as like as two peas," said Selina. "They're +Maberlys. There never was a Maberly yet that knew how to look ahead. I +declare, it gave me the shivers to see these two plunging right out of +a sick-bed into colors and fashions the way they did. Ma'd ought to +listen to us and sell her house and live round with her married +children; at her age she'd ought to be some place where sickness and +death are treated in a serious way." + +Upon this point Mrs. Colquhoun was firm. She could never go back to +life on a farm again, she said; "living in town was _living_." But she +compromised by agreeing to devote the whole of the next summer to +visiting her married children. + +That was a long summer to Mary Ann. There was something wanting in all +the small accustomed pleasures of her simple life, until the middle of +August came, and the time set for her mother's return was within +counting distance. Then her spirits rose higher with every hour. As a +toper would celebrate his happiness at the saloon, she went to Mr. +Merrill's dry-goods shop, and after a revel in that part of it where +color most ran riot, she bought new chintz covering for the parlor +furniture, a chrysanthemum pattern in various shades of fawn and +glowing crimson. + +The next step was to plan a reception to welcome her mother home and +exhibit the new covering. Then a mighty idea struck her--this was the +opportunity for the crimson velvet dress! + +"I mayn't never have as good an excuse for it again," she said to the +sewing-girl, "and it's the one thing needed to make everything +complete. Me in that crimson and Ma in the fawn silk she had made when +the Reverend Mr. Ellis came will be a perfect match for the +furniture." + +She patted the sofa back with affectionate pride. + +"It does make you feel good to have anything new," she said, sighing +contentedly. "_Anything_, I don't care if it's only a kitchen +stove-lifter. But this!--There are an awful lot of things in the world +do make you feel good; aren't there, Miss Adams? I mean common things, +like putting on dry stockings when your feet are wet, or reading in +bed, or sitting in a shady spot on a hot summer's day, with a muslin +dress on--yes, or even eating your tea, if you happen to be feeling +hungry and have something particularly nice," added this cheerful +materialist. + +The crimson velvet dress was being fitted for the last time when a +letter was handed to Mary Ann. Her spectacles were downstairs, so she +asked the sewing-girl to read it. + +"'My dear aunt,'" Miss Adams began, "'Grandma took cold in church a +week ago last Sunday and has been laid up----'" + +There was a quick rustling of the velvet train. Mary Ann was vanishing +into the clothes-closet. In a moment she reappeared with a small +valise in her hand, and Miss Adams saw in her face what no one had +ever seen there before--the shadow of a fear that hovered always on +the outer edge of her happy existence and now stood close by her side. +Mary Ann might be nine-tenths Maberly, but the other tenth was +Colquhoun, after all. + +"Put a dress into it, please," she said, handing the valise to Miss +Adams. "No, I won't wait to take this off--I've a waterproof that will +cover it all up. Pin the train up with safety pins--never mind if it +does make pin-holes--I've just ten minutes to catch the train. _A week +ago Sunday!_ Oh, why didn't they let me know before?" + +When she alighted from the train at the flag station, she was +clutching the waterproof close at the neck. She held it in the same +unconscious grasp when she entered Jane's big farm-house, by way of +the kitchen. Selina was there, making a linseed poultice, and the odor +was mingled with another which she knew afterwards to be the odor of +black dye. + +[Illustration: "_SHE COULD NOT HELP SEEING THAT SELINA FOUND SOME STRANGE +PLEASURE IN ALL THESE INCIDENTS OF A LAST ILLNESS_"] + +In her mother's bedroom the same acid odor was in the air, and Jane +was sitting at the window with a piece of black sewing in her hands. +Jane's husband and John Maberly were standing at the foot of the bed, +silent and melancholy, looking as awkward as men always do in a +sick-room; Jane's stern gloom was tinged with a condescending pity +for beings so out of place. Mary Ann saw them all at the first glance. +Then she forgot everything; she was snuggling down against the bed, +making the little, tender, glad, sorry sounds a mother makes when she +has been separated from her baby. + +When she lifted her head the men were leaving the room, John's face +working. Selina was there with the poultice. She took it from her. One +look into her mother's face had been enough. From that moment she +seemed to be holding her back by sheer force of will from the edge +over which she was slipping. + +There was no merry gossip and laughter now, there were no love +stories, no monologues with pauses for smiles. Mary Ann felt that a +careless word or look would be enough to loosen that frail hold on +life. When the doctor came, he found his patient in charge of a stout +woman in a fresh linen dress, whose self-command was so perfect that +he did not waste many words in softening the opinion for which she +followed him to the door. + +"Your mother's age is against her," he said. "The bronchitis in itself +is not alarming, but her heart is weak, and I fear you must not expect +her recovery." + +He knew at once that she refused to accept his verdict, though she +only said, "I'd like to telegraph for our doctor at home, if you don't +mind." + +When Dr. Corbett came, he confirmed the opinion. + +"The bronchitis is no worse than usual," he added, "the treatment has +been the same; but she seems to have lost her grip." + +"There's no reason why she shouldn't catch a hold of it again," said +poor Mary Ann, choking down her agony with the thought that she must +return immediately to her mother's room. + +"I don't quite understand it," the doctor said, with a questioning +look. "The nursing--that's been good? Dr. Black tells me so." + +"Yes, Jane and Selina are both good nurses, better'n what I am, if it +wasn't that Ma's used to me." + +"And there's no obstacle to her recovery that you know of?" Mary Ann +shook her head. "Well, Miss Mary Ann, we must just conclude that it's +the natural wearing out of a good machine. And we'll do what we can." + +When Mary Ann went back to her mother's room, she found her a little +roused from the stupor in which she had been lying. The visit of her +own doctor, the accustomed tendance, had touched some spring that set +old wheels running. With the clairvoyance love so often gives to the +sick-nurse, Mary Ann knew that she had something to say to her. + +She sat by the bed and waited. A fluttering whisper came at last. + +"Did you see Jane's hands?" + +Mary Ann's mind, seeking desperately for a clue, flashed from the +stains on her sister's hands, which she had vaguely set down to black +currant jelly, to the acid smell in the kitchen--to the black +sewing--to the forgotten shock of a year ago. + +"They asked me where I'd like to lie--beside Pa or in the cemetery in +town." + +"It's their forehandedness, Ma. I never did know such a forehanded +pair. Talk about meeting trouble half way--Selina'n'Jane don't wait +for it to start out at all." + +"Selina read out of the paper that bronchitis was nearly always fatal +after seventy." + +"Well, now, what will those papers say next? Do you know what I read +out of our own _Advertiser_ the other day? That every woman over +thirty has had at least one offer of marriage. Now, that's a lie, for +I never had an offer in my life. I'm kind of glad I didn't, Ma, for I +suppose I'd have took it; and you and me do have an awfully good time +together, don't we?" + +But her mother was not listening now; it had been a flash merely of +the old self. Mary Ann looked around the room until she found Jane's +lap-board with a pile of black sewing on it. She gathered up the +carefully pressed pieces and poked them roughly in between a large +clothes cupboard and the wall. + +"There!" she said to herself, "it will be a while before they find +that, and when they do they can call it Mary Ann's flighty way of +redding up a room." + +She heard her sisters whispering in the hall and went out to them. +Selina was tying her bonnet-strings. + +"I'm going home to do a lot of cooking," she said in an important +undertone. "John's wrote to Ma's relatives in Iowa, and some of them's +sure to come." + +Mary Ann looked into the wrinkled face; the past weeks had added new +lines of genuine grief to it, yet she could not help seeing that +Selina found some strange pleasure in all these incidents of a last +illness. The words she had meant to say seemed futile. She was turning +to go into her mother's room again when an idea came to her. + +"Don't go yet," she said. "I want to show you two something." + +She went into her bedroom and returned in a few minutes with the +crimson dress over her arm. + +"I was getting it fitted when the news of Ma's sickness came, and I +just put a waterproof over it. The seams have got a little ravelled. I +thought maybe you two would help me top-sew them." + +"Mary Ann----!" + +"You're so much cleverer than me with the needle. I was having it made +for--for--" Mary Ann could not trust her voice to tell what she had +been having it made for--"for an occasion. It won't be needed now as +soon as I expected, but you know, Selina'n'Jane, you always say +yourselves there's nothing like taking time by the forelock." + +"Mary Ann----" + +"A few hours would finish it up if we all got at it. Oh, there's Ma +coughing. I must run and get the pail of water and hot brick to steam +up the room." + +She threw the dress into her sister's hands and was gone. They stood +looking at each other across it. + +"_Poor_ Mary Ann!" + +"She talked about an occasion. I don't know more'n one kind of +occasion people get dresses like this for. Can she mean----?" + +"At her age? Nonsense!" + +"Dr. Corbett appears to think a pile of her. He's a widower----" + +"Now you speak of it, Selina, he does look at her in an admiring sort +of way. If there was anything of that kind in prospect--and of course +she'd lay off black sooner----" + +The sun came out and streamed through the high window upon the dress +in their hands. It was like a drink of wine to look at it. + +"There's no denying it's a handsome thing," Jane said. "It does seem a +pity to have the edges ravel. We might finish it, anyway, and sew it +up in a bag with camphor." + +Through the gray languor that overlay Mrs. Colquhoun's consciousness, +glints of crimson began to find their way. Now the spot of color was +disappearing under Mary Ann's white apron; now it was in Jane's +stained hands; now it was passing from Jane to Selina. + +Then she heard Dr. Corbett say, as he handed Mary Ann a small parcel, +"It's the first sewing-silk I ever bought, Miss Mary Ann, and I don't +know whether it's a good match, but it's crimson, anyhow, Merrill gave +me his word for that"; and when Mary Ann made a warning gesture +towards the bed, the faint stirring of interest almost amounted to +curiosity. + +"What did he mean?" she asked, after the doctor had gone. Mary Ann +bent down to catch the husky whisper. "The silk--what is it for?" + +"You're a little stronger to-day, aren't you, Ma? I've a secret I +meant to keep till you were well; but there! Wait till I get back and +I'll tell you." + +Mrs. Colquhoun let her eyelids close and forgot all about it. When she +opened them again, Mary Ann stood before her arrayed in the velvet +dress. The radiant vision seemed part of the train of visions that had +been passing before her closed eyes; but this stayed, and the smiling +creases of the cheeks were substantial and firm. + +Then Mary Ann fell on her knees beside the bed and made a crimson +frame of her arms for the nightcapped head on the pillow. + +"I'm not a bit of good at keeping a secret, Ma. Jane and Selina and me +have just finished it, but you weren't to know anything about it till +you got home. It was to be a surprise. And there's new covering on the +parlor furniture, a handsome flower pattern, all fawn and crimson, +like our dresses, and we're going to have a home-coming party. I don't +want to be impatient, but I _wish_ you'd hurry up and get well." + +Mrs. Colquhoun was gazing into her daughter's eyes. + +"Do you really think I'm going to get well, Mary Ann?" she asked, and +the wistfulness of old desire revived was in the feeble voice. + +"Of course you're going to get well, dearie. Why shouldn't you?" + +"It seemed kind of settled I wasn't--and it's so upsetting to stay +when you're expected to go. I didn't care much." + +She put up her hand weakly and stroked the velvet. + +"But now--if you think so--perhaps----" + +At his next visit Dr. Corbett said, "Your mother's caught her grip +again, Miss Mary Ann," and Dr. Black added heartily, "And if you'll +only tell us _how_ you did it, Miss Mary Ann, you'll be putting +dollars in our pockets." + +But the cunning of love, with all its turnings and twistings, is only +half-conscious--the rest is instinct. + +"I don't know that there's anything to tell, doctor," Mary Ann said +slowly, wiping away a tear. "Only you might just keep a watch out and +see that none of your patients are being hurried out of the world by +the preparations for their own mourning. That's what was happening to +Ma." + + + + +LAST YEARS WITH HENRY IRVING + +BY ELLEN TERRY + +ILLUSTRATED WITH PHOTOGRAPHS + +_Copyright, 1908, by Ellen Terry (Mrs. Carew)_ + + +Perhaps Henry Irving and I might have gone on with Shakespeare to the +end of the chapter if he had not been in such a hurry to produce +"Macbeth." + +We ought to have done "As You Like It" in 1888, or "The Tempest." +Henry thought of both these plays. He was much attracted by the part +of Caliban in "The Tempest," but, he said, "the young lovers are +everything, and where are we going to find them?" He would have played +Touchstone in "As You Like It," not Jacques, because Touchstone is in +the vital part of the play. + +He might have delayed both "Macbeth" and "Henry VIII." He ought to +have added to his list of Shakespearian productions "Julius Caesar," +"King John," "As You Like It," "Antony and Cleopatra," "Richard II.," +and "Timon of Athens." There were reasons "against," of course. In +"Julius Caesar" he wanted to play Brutus. "That's the part for the +actor," he said, "because it needs acting. But the actor-manager's +part is Antony. Antony scores all along the line. Now when the actor +and actor-manager fight in a play, and when there is no part for you +in it, I think it's wiser to leave it alone." + +Every one knows when luck first began to turn against Henry Irving. It +was in 1896, when he revived "Richard III." On the first night he went +home, slipped on the stairs in Grafton Street, broke a bone in his +knee, aggravated the hurt by walking, and had to close the theatre. It +was that year, too, that his general health began to fail. For the ten +years preceding his death he carried on an indomitable struggle +against ill-health. Lungs and heart alike were weak. Only the spirit +in that frail body remained as strong as ever. Nothing could bend it, +much less break it. + +But I have not come to that sad time yet. + + +"_Macbeth_" + +"We all know when we do our best," said Henry once. "We are the only +people who know." Yet he thought he did better in "Macbeth" than in +"Hamlet!" + +Was he right, after all? + +[Illustration: ELLEN TERRY AS KNIERTJE IN "THE GOOD HOPE" + +TAKEN ON THE BEACH AT SWANSEA, WALES, IN 1906, BY EDWARD CRAIG + +"WE HAVE TO PAY DEAR FOR THE FISH" + +_From the collection of H. McM. Painter_] + +His _view_ of Macbeth, though attacked and derided and put to shame in +many quarters, is as clear to me as the sunlight itself. To me it +seems as stupid to quarrel with the conception as to deny the nose on +one's face. But the carrying out of the conception was unequal. +Henry's imagination was sometimes his worst enemy. When I think of his +Macbeth, I remember him most distinctly in the last act, after the +battle, when he looked like a great famished wolf, weak with the +weakness of a giant exhausted, spent as one whose exertions have been +ten times as great as those of commoner men of rougher fibre and +coarser strength. + +"Of all men else I have avoided thee." + +Once more he suggested, as he only could suggest, the power of fate. +Destiny seemed to hang over him, and he knew that there was no hope, +no mercy. + + +_The "Macbeth" Rehearsals_ + +[Illustration: JOHN SINGER SARGENT + +FROM A PORTRAIT PAINTED BY HIMSELF IN 1892 AND PRESENTED BY HIM TO THE +NATIONAL ACADEMY OF DESIGN] + +The rehearsals for "Macbeth" were very exhausting, but they were +splendid to watch. In this play Henry brought his manipulation of +crowds to perfection. My acting edition of the play is riddled with +rough sketches by him of different groups. Artists to whom I have +shown them have been astonished by the spirited impressionism of +these sketches. For his "purpose" Henry seems to have been able to +do anything, even to drawing and composing music. Sir Arthur +Sullivan's music at first did not quite please him. He walked up and +down the stage humming and showing the composer what he was going +to do at certain situations. Sullivan with wonderful quickness and +open-mindedness caught his meaning at once. + +"Much better than mine, Irving,--much better--I'll rough it out at +once!" + +[Illustration: SIR EDWARD BURNE-JONES + +FROM THE PAINTING BY GEORGE FREDERICK WATTS +_By courtesy of G. P. Putnam's Sons_] + +When the orchestra played the new version based on that humming of +Henry's, it was exactly what he wanted! + +Knowing what a task I had before me, I began to get anxious and +worried about "Lady Mac." Henry wrote me such a nice letter about +this: + + "To-night, if possible, the last act. I want to get these great + multitudinous scenes over and then we can attack _our_ scenes.... + Your sensitiveness is so acute that you must suffer sometimes. You + are not like anybody else--you see things with such lightning + quickness and unerring instinct that dull fools like myself grow + irritable and impatient sometimes. I feel confused when I'm + thinking of one thing, and disturbed by another. That's all. But I + do feel very sorry afterwards when I don't seem to heed what I so + much value.... + + "I think things are going well, considering the time we've been at + it, but I see so much that is wanting that it seems almost + impossible to get through properly. 'To-night commence Matthias. + If you sleep, you are lost!'"[*] + + [*] A quotation from "The Bells." + +[Illustration: ELLEN TERRY AS LADY MACBETH + +FROM THE PAINTING BY SARGENT, IN THE TATE GALLERY, LONDON] + +At this time we were able to be of the right use to each other. Henry +could never have worked with a very strong woman. I should have +deteriorated in partnership with a weaker man whose ends were less +fine, whose motives were less pure. I had the taste and artistic +knowledge that his upbringing had not developed in him. For years he +did things to please me. Later on I gave up asking him. In "King +Lear" Mrs. Nettleship made him a most beautiful cloak, but he insisted +on wearing a brilliant purple velvet cloak with "glits" all over it +which spoiled his beautiful make-up and his beautiful acting. Poor +Mrs. Nettle was almost in tears. + +"I'll never make you anything again," she said. "Never!" + +[Illustration: PEGGY, MADAME SANS-GENE, MADAME SANS-GENE, CORDELIA + +_Copyrighted by Window and Grove_ +_From the collection of Miss_] + + +_Sargent Paints Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth_ + +One of Mrs. Nettle's greatest triumphs was my Lady Macbeth dress, +which she carried out from Mrs. Comyns Carr's design. I am glad to +think it is immortalized in Sargent's picture. From the first I knew +that picture was going to be splendid. In my diary for 1888 I was +always writing about it: + + "The picture of me is nearly finished and I think it magnificent. + The green and blue of the dress is splendid, and the expression as + Lady Macbeth holds the crown over her head is quite wonderful." + + "Sargent's 'Lady Macbeth' in the New Gallery is a great success. + The picture is the sensation of the year. Of course opinions + differ about it, but there are dense crowds round it day after + day. There is talk of putting it on an exhibition by itself." + +Since then it has gone over nearly the whole of Europe, and now is +resting for life at the Tate Gallery. Sargent suggested by this +picture all that I should have liked to be able to convey in my acting +as Lady Macbeth. Of Sargent's portrait of Henry Irving, I wrote in my +dairy: + + "Everybody hates Sargent's head of Henry. Henry also. I like it, + but not altogether. I think it perfectly wonderfully painted and + like him, only not at his best by any means. There sat Henry and + there by his side the picture, and I could scarce tell one from + t'other. Henry looked white, with tired eyes, and holes in his + cheeks, and bored to death! And there was the picture with white + face, tired eyes, holes in the cheeks, and boredom in every line. + Sargent tried to paint his smile and gave it up." + +[Illustration: IMOGEN, LUCY ASHTON, CATHERINE DUVAL, LUCY ASHTON + +_Copyrighted by Window and Grove_] + +Sargent said to me, I remember, upon Henry Irving's first visit to +the studio to see the "Macbeth" picture of me, "What a saint!" This to +my mind promised well--that Sargent should see _that_ side of Henry so +swiftly. So then I never left off asking Henry Irving to sit to +Sargent, who wanted to paint him into the bargain, and said to me +continually, "What a head!" + +[Illustration: CARDINAL WOLSEY, LADY MACBETH, GUINEVERE, THOMAS BECKET + +_Terry and Miss Frances Johnson_ +_Copyrighted by Window and Grove and by W. & D. Downey_] + +Again from my diary: + + "Sargent's picture is almost finished, and it is really splendid. + Burne-Jones yesterday suggested two or three alterations about the + colour, which Sargent immediately adopted, but Burne-Jones raves + about the picture. + + "It (Macbeth) is a most tremendous success, and the last three + days' advanced booking has been greater than ever was known, even + at the Lyceum. Yes, it is a success, and I am a success, which + amazes me, for never did I think I should be let down so easily. + Some people hate me in it; some, Henry among them, think it my + best part, and the critics differ, and discuss it hotly, which in + itself is my best success of all! Those who don't like me in it + are those who don't want and don't like to read it fresh from + Shakespeare, and who hold by the 'fiend' reading of the + character.... One of the best things ever written on the subject, + I think, is the essay of J. Comyns Carr. That is as hotly + discussed as the new Lady Mac--all the best people agreeing with + it. Oh dear! It is an exciting time!" + +[Illustration: NANCY OLDFIELD, HERMIONE, ALICE-SIT-BY-THE-FIRE, LADY +CICELY, WAYNEFLETE + +_Copyrighted by Window and Grove_] + +From a letter I wrote to my daughter who was in Germany at the time: + + "I wish you could see my dresses. They are superb, especially the + first one: green beetles in it, and such a cloak! The photographs + give no idea of it at all, for it is in colour that it is so + splendid. The dark red hair is fine. The whole thing is + Rossetti--rich stained-glass effects. I play some of it well, but + of course I don't do what I want to do yet. Meanwhile I shall not + budge an inch in the reading of it, for that I know is right. Oh, + it's fun, but it's precious hard work, for I by no means make her + a gentle lovable woman' as some of 'em say. That's all pickles. + She was nothing of the sort, although she was _not_ a fiend, and + _did_ love her husband. I have to what is vulgarly called 'sweat + at it,' each night." + + +_Burne-Jones at "Macbeth"_ + +[Illustration: MISS ELLEN TERRY + +FROM A PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN ON HER LAST TOUR IN AMERICA +_Copyrighted, 1907 by Helen Lohman_] + +The few people who liked my Lady Macbeth, liked it very much. I hope I +am not vain to quote this letter from Lady Pollock: + + "... Burne-Jones has been with me this afternoon: he was at + 'Macbeth' last night, and you filled his whole soul with your + beauty and your poetry.... He says you were a great Scandinavian + queen, that your presence, your voice, your movement, made a + marvelously poetic harmony, that your dress was grandly imagined + and grandly worn--and that he cannot criticise--he can only + remember." + +[Illustration: SIR HENRY IRVING + +FROM A PORTRAIT GIVEN BY HIM TO MISS EVELYN SMALLEY IN 1896] + +But Burne-Jones by this time had become one of our most ardent +admirers, and was prejudiced in my favour because my acting appealed +to his _eye_. Still the drama is for the eye as well as for the ear +and the mind. + + +"_The Dead Heart_" + +Very early I learned that one had best be ambitious merely to please +oneself in one's work a little--quietly I coupled with this the +reflection that one "gets nothing for nothing, and damned little for +sixpence!" + +Here I was in the very noonday of my life, fresh from Lady Macbeth and +still young enough to play Rosalind, suddenly called upon to play a +rather uninteresting mother in "The Dead Heart." However, my son Teddy +made his first appearance in it, and had such a big success that I +soon forgot that for me the play was rather "small beer." + +It had been done before, of course, by Benjamin Webster and George +Vining. Henry engaged Bancroft for the Abbe, a part of quite as much +importance as his own. It was only a melodrama, but Henry could always +invest a melodrama with life, beauty, interest, mystery, by his +methods of production. + + "I'm full of French Revolution," he wrote to me when he was + preparing the play for rehearsal, "and could pass an examination. + In our play at the taking of the Bastille, we must have a starving + crowd--hungry, eager, cadaverous faces. If that can be well + carried out, the effect will be very terrible, and the contrast to + the other crowd (the red and fat crowd--the blood-gorged ones who + look as if they'd been all drinking wine--_red_ wine, as Dickens + says) would be striking.... It's tiresome stuff to read, because + it depends so much on situations. I have been touching the book + up, though, and improved it here and there, I think. + + "A letter this morning from the illustrious ---- offering me his + prompt book to look at.... I think I shall borrow the treasure, + why not? Of course he will say that he has produced the play and + all that sort of thing, but what does that matter, if one can + only get one hint out of it? + + "The longer we live, the more we see that if we only do our own + work thoroughly well, we can be independent of everything else or + anything that may be said.... + + "I see in Landry a great deal of Manette--that same vacant gaze + into years gone by when he crouched in his dungeon nursing his + wrongs.... + + "I shall send you another book soon to put any of your alterations + and additions in--I've added a lot of little things with a few + lines for you--very good, I think, though I say it as shouldn't--I + know you'll laugh! They are perhaps not startlingly original, but + better than the original, anyhow! Here they are--last act! + + "'Ah, Robert, pity me. By the recollections of our youth, I + implore you to save my boy! (_Now_ for 'em!) + + "'If my voice recalls a tone that ever fell sweetly upon your ear, + have pity on me! If the past is not a blank, if you once loved, + have pity on me!' (Bravo!) + + "Now I call that very good, and if the 'If' and the 'pity's' don't + bring down the house, well it's a pity! I pity the pittites. + + "... I've just been copying out my part in an account book--a + little more handy to put into one's pocket. It's really very + short, but difficult to act, though, and so is yours. I like this + 'piling up' sort of acting, and I am sure you will, when you play + the part. It's restful. 'The Bells' is that sort of thing." + +The crafty old Henry! All this was to put me in conceit with my part! + +[Illustration: "ELLEN TERRY AS QUEEN KATHERINE IN HENRY VIII" + +THE PART PLAYED BY HER AT STRATFORD-UPON-AVON IN 1902 +_Copyrighted by Window and Grove_] + + +_A Letter From Burne-Jones_ + +Many people put me in conceit with my son, including dear Burne-Jones, +with his splendid gift of impulsive enthusiasm: + + "The Grange, West Kensington, W. + + "Sunday. + + "Most dear Lady: + + "I thought all went wonderfully last night--and no sign could I + see of hitch or difficulty--and as for your boy, he looked a + lovely little gentleman--and in his cups was perfect, not + overdoing by the least touch a part always perilously easy to + overdo. I too had the impertinence to be a bit nervous for you + about him--but not when he appeared--so altogether I was quite + happy. + + "... Irving was very noble--I thought I had never seen his face + so beatified before--no, that isn't the word, and to hunt for + the right one would be so like judicious criticism that I + won't--exalted and splendid it was--and you were you--YOU--and so + all was well. I rather wanted more shouting and distant roar in + the Bastille scene--since the walls fell, like Jericho, by noise, + a good, dreadful growl always going on would have helped, I + thought--and that was the only point where I missed anything. + + "And I was very glad you got your boy back again and that Mr. + Irving was ready to have his head cut off for you, so it had what + I call a good ending, and I am in bright spirits to-day, and + ever, + + "Your real friend, + + "E. B. J. + + "I would come and growl gladly." + +There were terrible strikes all over England when we were playing "The +Dead Heart." I could not help sympathising with the strikers; yet +reading all about the French Revolution as I did then, I can't +understand how the French nation can be proud of it when one +remembers how they butchered their own great men, the leaders of +the movement--Camille Desmoulins, Danton, Robespierre, and the +others. My man is Camille Desmoulins. I just love him. + + +"_Ravenswood_" + +Plays adapted from novels are always unsatisfactory. A whole story +cannot be conveyed in three hours, and every reader of the story looks +for something not in the play. Wills took from "The Vicar of +Wakefield" an episode and did it right well, but there was no +_episode_ in "The Bride of Lammermoor" for Merivale to take. He tried +to traverse the whole ground and failed. But he gave me some lovely +things to do in Lucy Ashton. I had to lose my poor wits, as in +Ophelia, in the last act, and with hardly a word to say I was able to +make an effect. The love scene at the well I did nicely, too. + +Seymour Lucas designed splendid dresses for this play. My "Ravenswood" +riding dress set a fashion in ladies' coats for quite a long time. +Mine was copied by Mr. Lucas from a leather coat of Lord Mohun. He is +said to have had it on when he was killed. At any rate there was a +large stab in the back of the coat, and a blood-stain. + + +"_Nance Oldfield_" + +This was my first speculation in play-buying! I saw it acted and +thought I could do something with it. Henry would not buy it, so I +did. He let me do it first in front of a revival of "The Corsican +Brothers," in 1891. It was a great success, although my son and I did +not know a word on the first night and had our parts written out and +pinned all over the furniture! Dear old Mr. Howe wrote to me that +Teddy's performance was "more than creditable; it was exceedingly good +and full of character, and with your own charming performance, the +piece was a great success." Since 1891 I must have played "Nance +Oldfield" hundreds of times, but I never had an Alexander Oldworthy so +good as my own son, although such talented young actors as Martin +Harvey, Laurence Irving, and, more recently, Harcourt Williams, have +all played it with me. + + +"_Henry VIII._" + +Henry's pride as Cardinal Wolsey seemed to eat him. How wonderful he +looked (though not fat and self-indulgent like the pictures of the +real Wolsey) in his flame-coloured robes! He had the silk dyed +specially by the dyers to the Cardinals' College in Rome. Seymour +Lucas designed the clothes. It was a magnificent production, but not +very interesting to me. I played Katherine much better ten years later +at Stratford-on-Avon at the Shakespeare Memorial Festival. I was +stronger then, and more mature. This letter from Burne-Jones about +"Henry VIII." and Henry Irving is delightful. I will not keep it to +myself any longer: + + "My dear Lady, + + "We went last night to the play (at my Theatre) to see 'Henry + VIII.' Margaret and Mackail and I. It was delicious to go out + again and see mankind, after such evil days. How kind they were to + me no words can say--I went in at a private door and then into a + cosy box and back the same way, swiftly, and am marvellously the + better for the adventure. No you, alas! + + "I have written to Mr. Irving just to thank him for his great + kindness in making the path of pleasure so easy, for I go + tremblingly at present. But I could not say to him what I thought + of the Cardinal--a sort of shame keeps one from saying to an + artist what one thinks of his work--but to you I can say how nobly + he warmed up the story of the old religion to my exacting mind in + that impersonation. I shall think always of dying monarchy in his + Charles--and always of dying hierarchy in his Wolsey. How + Protestant and dull all grew when that noble type had gone! + + "I can't go to Church till red cardinals come back (and may they + be of exactly that red), nor to Court till trumpets and banners + come back--nor to evening parties till the dances are like that + dance. What a lovely young Queen has been found. But there was no + you.... Perhaps it was as well. I couldn't have you slighted even + in a play, and put aside. When I go back to see you as I soon + will, it will be easier. Mr. Irving let me know you would not act; + and proposed that I should go later on--wasn't that like him? So I + sat with my children and was right happy, and as usual the streets + looked dirty and all the people muddy and black as we came away. + Please not to answer this stuff. + + "Ever yours aff'ly, + + "E. B. J. + + "I wish that Cardinal could have been made Pope, and sat with his + foot on the Earl of Surrey's neck. Also I wish to be a Cardinal, + but then I sometimes want to be a pirate. We can't have all we + want. + + "Your boy was very kind--I thought the race of young men who are + polite and attentive to old fading ones had passed away with + antique pageants--but it isn't so." + +When the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire gave the famous fancy-dress +ball at Devonshire House, they attended it in the robes which had +appealed so strongly to Burne-Jones's imaginative eye. I was told by +one who was present at this ball that, as the Cardinal swept up the +staircase, his long train held magnificently over his arm, a sudden +wave of reality seemed to sweep upstairs with him, and reduce to the +pettiest make-believe all the aristocratic masquerade that surrounded +him. + +I renewed my acquaintance with "Henry VIII" in 1902, when I played +Queen Katherine for Mr. Benson during the Shakespeare Memorial +performances in April. I was pretty miserable at the time--the +Lyceum reign was dying, and taking an unconscionably long time +about it, which made the position all the more difficult. Henry +Irving was reviving "Faust"--a wise step, as it had been his +biggest "money-maker"--and it was a question whether I could play +Margaret. There are some young parts that the actress can still +play when she is no longer young: Beatrice, Portia, and many others +come to mind. But I think that when the character is that of a young +girl, the betrayal of whose innocence is the main theme of the play, +no amount of skill on the part of the actress can make up for the loss +of youth. + +Suggestions were thrown out to me (not by Henry Irving, but by others +concerned) that, although I was too old for Margaret, I might play +_Martha_! Well! well! I didn't quite see _that_. So I redeemed a +promise given in jest at the Lyceum to Frank Benson twenty years +earlier, and went off to Stratford-upon-Avon to play in "Henry VIII." + +I played Katherine on Shakespeare's Birthday--such a lovely day, +bright and sunny and warm. The performance went finely--and I made a +little speech afterwards which was quite a success. + +During these pleasant days at Stratford, I went about in between the +performances of "Henry VIII," which was, I think, given three times a +week for three weeks, seeing the lovely country and lovely friends who +live there. A visit to Broadway and to beautiful Madame de Navarro +(Mary Anderson), was particularly delightful. To see her looking so +handsome, robust, fresh, so happy in her beautiful home, gave me the +keenest pleasure. I also went to Stanways, the Elchos' home--a +fascinating place. Lady Elcho showed me all over it, and she was not +the least lovely thing in it. + +In Stratford I was rebuked by the permanent inhabitants for being kind +to a little boy in professionally ragged clothing who made me, as he +has made hundreds of others, listen to a long made-up history of +Stratford-on-Avon, Shakespeare, "The Merchant of Venice," "Julius +Caesar," and other things--the most hopeless mix! The inhabitants +assured me that the boy was a little rascal, who begged and extorted +money from visitors by worrying them with his recitation until they +paid him to leave them alone. + +Long before I knew that the child was such a reprobate, I had given +him a pass to the gallery and a Temple Shakespeare! I derived such +pleasure from his version of the "Mercy" speech from the "Merchant of +Venice" that I still think he was ill-paid! + + The quality of mercy is not strange + It droppeth as _the_ gentle rain from 'Eaven + Upon _the_ place beneath; it is twicet bless. + It blesseth in that gives and in that takes + It is in the mightiest--in the mightiest + It becomes the throned monuk better than its crownd. + It's an appribute to God inself + It is in the thorny 'earts of Kings + But not in the fit and dread of kings. + +I asked the boy what he meant to be when he was a man. He answered +with decision: "A reciterer." + +I also asked him what he liked best in the play. + +"When the blind went up and down and you smiled," he replied--surely a +naive compliment to my way of "taking a call!" Further pressed, he +volunteered: "When you lay on the bed and died to please the angels." + + +_Other Plays_ + +I had exactly ten years more with Henry Irving after "Henry VIII." +During that time we did "King Lear," "Becket," "King Arthur," +"Cymbeline," "Madame Sans-Gene," "Peter the Great," and "The Medicine +Man," I feel too near to these productions to write about them. But a +time will come. The first night of "Cymbeline" I felt almost dead. +Nothing seemed right. "Everything is so slow, so slow," I wrote in my +diary. "I don't feel a bit inspired, only dull and hide-bound." Yet +Imogen was, I think, the _only_ inspired performance of these later +years. On the first night of "Sans-Gene" I acted _courageously_ and +fairly well. Everyone seemed to be delighted. The old Duke of +Cambridge patted, or rather, _thumped_ me on the shoulder and said +kindly: "Ah, my dear, _you_ can act!" Henry quite effaced me in his +wonderful sketch of Napoleon. "It seems to me some nights," I wrote in +my diary at the time, "as if I were watching Napoleon trying to +imitate H. I., and I find myself immensely interested and amused in +the watching." + +"The Medicine Man" was, in my opinion, our only _quite_ unworthy +production and I wrote in my diary: "If 'Manfred' and a few such plays +are to succeed this, I simply must do something else." + +But I did not! I stayed on, as everyone knows, when the Lyceum as a +personal enterprise of Henry's was no more, when the farcical Lyceum +Syndicate took over the theatre. I played a wretched part in +"Robespierre," and refused L12,000 to go to America with Henry in +"Dante." + +In these days Henry Irving was a changed man. He gave the whole thing +up--as a producer, I mean. As an actor he worked as faithfully as +ever. Henley's stoical lines might have been written of him as he was +in those last days: + + Out of the night that covers me + Black as the pit from pole to pole + I thank whatever gods may be + For my unconquerable soul. + + In the fell clutch of circumstance + I have not winced nor cried aloud. + Under the bludgeonings of chance + My head is bloody but unbow'd. + +Henry Irving did not treat me badly. I did not treat him badly. He +revived "Faust" and produced "Dante." I would have liked to stay with +him to the end of the chapter, but I could not act in either of these +plays. But we never quarrelled. Our long partnership dissolved +naturally. It was all very sad, but it could not be helped. + + + + +THE LOST MOTHER + +BY BLANCHE M. KELLY + +DECORATIONS BY LESTER RALPH + + ... among the rocks one of the sea women combing her long hair, + and if he can creep up to her unbeknownst, and steal away from her + her "cubuleen driuth," which is a kind of small cap the merrows do + be wearing, she can never go back under the sea any more at all, + but must follow his bidding while ever he has it in his keeping. + + + O Scarlet hunter, riding past, + O hunter, do not ride so fast, + But tell me where's my mother?-- + "Nay, child, why dost thou ask of me? + Safe by the hearth should mothers be, + And thine like any other." + --While I was playing on the floor + Deep in a hollow near the door + I found a shining cap laid by. + My mother gave a piercing cry, + And snatched it up and fled away.... + Though I have sought her all the day, + I cannot find my mother.-- + + --O woman with the milking stool, + Standing among the grasses cool, + Hast thou not seen my mother?-- + "What like is thy mother, lad?" + --A striped petticoat she had, + Her snooded hair is soft as silk, + She's whiter in the face than milk, + My lost, sweet mother!-- + "I saw a poor mad thing go down + By yonder highway to the town, + I saw none other. + But, oh, her hair was streaming wild, + Sure, frenzy was upon her, child, + And she was not thy mother." + + --O friar, in thy long rough gown, + Say in what corner of the town + I'll find my mother.-- + "What is thy mother's name, poor boy?" + --My father always called her Joy.-- + "It hath the ring of Heathenesse, + But to all creatures in distress + Lord Christ is Brother. + In the church-yard an hour ago + I saw a witch-girl crouching low, + But oh, she fell to weeping sore + For that she feared the cross I wore. + I'll dry thy tears and lead thee home, + Good mothers have no wish to roam." + --Nay, I must find my mother.-- + + --O fisher, coming in from sea, + Lay by the oar and answer me, + O hast thou seen my mother?-- + "Nay, but I saw, upon my life, + 'Mong yonder rocks a merrow wife + With long locks gleaming in the sun. + She saw the billows shoreward run, + She heard the splashing of my oar, + Wildly she glanced along the shore, + She flung her foam-white arms on high, + She cried a weird and wailing cry, + And leaped and vanished in the sea. + I crossed the brow and breast of me, + And thanked the Maker of my life + That I've a christened maid to wife." + + + + +PATSY MORAN + +THE BOOK AND ITS COVERS + +[Illustration] + +BY ARTHUR SULLIVAN HOFFMAN + +ILLUSTRATIONS BY MAITLAND THOMAS + + +"Adventure, is it?" said Patsy, pushing his empty glass away from him. +"What happened me last night would be makin' a adventure seem like +grass growin' in a cimitery!" + +From the other side of the table, in their own particular corner of +the back room at Devinsky's Place on the Upper East Side, Tim regarded +his friend with characteristic stolidity and replied with a grunt of +interrogatory interest. Patsy seldom needed urging in the matter of +talking about himself. + +"It all come of Mike O'Hara's owin' me three dollars," he continued. +"Sure, the good heart of me keeps me brains busy rescuin' me from +trouble. Mike is after keepin' a boat-house over on the North River +near Spuytendivil, and seein' no other way I wint up to see him early +last evenin' and took wan of his boats out for five hours, though it's +me hates floatin' about in a bunch of boards and workin' to do it. + +"Twas me intention to work up the river with the tide and thin cheat +O'Hara by gittin' out and settin' on the shore. Which I done, tyin' me +boat to wan of thim skinny little private docks over on the Jersey +shore beyant Fort Lee. And thin, Tim, it come on me to climb clear up +thim Palisades, which was amazin' unnatural and the first of the queer +things that happened me the night. + +"It was hard climbin' by a path what was mostly growed up with vines, +and whin I come to the top they wasn't anny too much daylight left to +me, and the place was lonely as a Dimmycrat. They was lights over +across the river in New York--och, but thim lights was far off!--but +Jersey was just wan hunk of nuthin', with some ghosty trees in the +front of it. Excipt for a tug or a ferry whistlin' now and thin, they +was niver a sound but the hummin' of ivry wan of all the mosquities +that iver was, barrin' thim as was tryin' was they a chanct to kiss +each other by borin' through me from both sides at wanct. + +"It was no place for usin' up boat-rint, but me shoes was full of +gravel and, seein' the ruins of a house a bit off, I wint over to it +to set down and take thim off comfortable. It's the fine large house +it must 'a' been wanct, but they'd been a fire in it, and 'twas only +the walls of it was standin', with wan big second-story room stickin' +up big and darkish in a corner of it. Raymimber that wan second-story +room in your mind. It was all a bit creepy-like, and I wint at me +shoes in a hurry. + +"I had the both of thim off and shakin' thim, rubbin' me sock-feet +together to keep some of thim mosquities away, whin all to wanct I +heard something walkin'. Just as I was, I turned mesilf to stone, with +me feet up off the ground and a empty shoe held out in the air afore +me in each hand, balancin' mesilf wonderful. + +"The steps come nearer. 'They ain't anny ghost makes that much noise,' +I says, niver losin' me nerve or movin' a inch annywheres. 'Though ye +can't niver tell about ghosts.' And just thin a little man come +strollin' round the corner of a wall and stood lookin' at me. It +wasn't so dark yet but what I could be makin' out what little they was +of him, and if iver wan of thim dudes in the newspaper funny-pictures +come to life, here he was, only thim funny-pictures must 'a' been +drawed by ammyteurs. I misdoubted was he real, but if he was, they was +money on him, and if they was money on him, it would come off of him +easy-like, and I could be namin' the man would spend it. Thin I +raymimbered I was still holdin' up me shoes and me feet, like I was +settin' on the point of a church-steeple, for his mouth was hangin' +open like I was the first wan he iver seen, and belike I was. + +"'Pardon me,' he says, 'but why do ye do that?' says he, singin' it +off like a Englishman. + +"'Whisht!' I says, not thinkin' of anny answer yet and cursin' the +stone for bein' so hard. + +"'But, me good man,' says he, payin' no attention, '_why_ are ye +holdin' thim shoes up in the air?' + +"'Whisht!' says I. 'Why not?' + +"'Why not?' says he, gaspin'. + +"'Ye said "why" the other time,' I says. 'Which do ye mean?' + +"'Which what?' says he, weak-like. + +"'Either wan of thim,' says I; 'sure, all what's is the same to me. +But run along with ye now and don't be disturbin' me; it's workin' a +charm I am. Unless ye would be helpin' me hold these shoes steady,' I +adds enticin', bein' wishful of gittin' him close enough to grab him. + +"'Hold thim shoes steady?' says he. + +"'Hold thim shoes steady,' says I. + +"'A charm?' says he. + +"'Yis,' says I, 'a charm. And would ye mind not usin' me own +conversation over ag'in so soon, sor? I've heard tell 'twas bad luck, +and annyways, it's nervous it's makin' me.' + +"'Do you _have_ to set that way?' says he, comin' closer. + +"'Indeed and I do,' I says, 'though it's mortal wearin'. But whin ye +are makin'--' and just there I makes a grab at him. But, och, +blathers, if his brains was slow, his feet was quick, and away he +wint, me after him, divil-racketty. + +"Thim ruins was right on the edge of the Palisades, and 'twas me +endeavor to keep him atween me and the cliff so he couldn't make for +the open. Up and down we wint, scramblin', running and crawlin', first +to wan ind of thim crumblin' walls and thin back ag'in to the other, +me always hemmin' him in and headin' him off, but niver quite catchin' +him, and thim piles of loose brick hurtin' me sock-feet cruel, me +havin' dropped me shoes whin I tried to grab him. They wasn't much +light left, but all to wanct I saw him goin' right up in the air, and +whin I come up he was just climbin' over the edge of that wan +second-story room. Faith, for a minute I was thinkin' he _was_ a +ghost, but he hadn't no more than landed whin he begun draggin' up +after him a long board with slats nailed to it what some boys must 'a' +left there for a ladder. Me hand just missed the ind of it, me foot +slippin' on top a pile of bricks and rollin' me down over the sharp +corners of thim. + +"I wint all round that second-story room, mostly crawlin'--och, me +poor feet, it was perishin' with the pain of thim I was!--but niver a +way of gittin' up to him, and him likely to drop down on the off side +and run like a rabbit if I took me attention off him. So I wint +scramblin' back where I'd be atween him and the road and set down on a +pile of bricks. He'd been layin' flat on his stommick, gittin' his +wind back in him, but prisintly he clumb up on his knees and throwed a +brick at me. + +"'Ye young gomeral,' I says, 'if ye do that ag'in, I'll shoot a hole +in ye!' + +"He wint behind a bit of brick wall and throwed another. If iver I go +annywheres ag'in without a gun, may the divil fly away with me! So I +wint behind a bit of wall mesilf. And there he was. + +[Illustration: "PARDON ME," HE SAID, "BUT WHAT ARE YOU DOING THAT FOR?"] + +"Of course, I was ragin', and I begun tossin' bricks back at him. +Hiven knows they was enough of thim! Whin he'd throwed about twinty, +doin' no harm with thim, thim little arms of his wore out, and I kept +just enough of thim goin' to make him nervous-like without hurtin' +him, wonderin' in between would it be safe to go after me poor shoes +and could I git thim on if I did, me feet bein' swelled surprisin'. +Sure, the little spalpeen owed me ivrything he had about him! + +"All to wanct a grand idea come to me. I would kidnap me little +gintleman and hold him for wan of thim ransoms! 'Sure,' I says to +mesilf, 'they're kidnappin' boys all the time, and it's the tidy sum a +grown man would be bringin' me, though it's the little wan he is and +part wore out.' + +"'I say, sor,' I calls up to him, polite, from behind me wall, and +droppin' a whole brick closer to him than common, 'wouldn't it be +after bein' more pleasant for ye to come down willin',' I says, 'than +to have wan of thim bricks search the head of ye for brains and turn +the corpse over to me? To say nothin' of the mosquities,' I says. + +"'They niver bite me,' he says, trembly-like, from behind his bit of a +wall. + +"'Holy Saints,' I says, 'that's queer! Are ye as bad as that?' + +"'What do ye want of me annyways?' says he, still trembly. + +"'Well,' I says, ''twas me intention to rob ye, but now--' And thin I +stopped to listen to him keepin' quiet and worryin'. 'But now,' says I +prisintly, 'I'm goin' to kidnap ye and inform your friends ye'll be +killed entirely if they don't sind me five thousand dollars +immediate.' + +"'Oh!' says he, like I'd said I was goin' to give him something he +wanted. 'Oh,' says he, 'I'll be right down. Just wait till I find me +hat.' + +"Och, it took me breath away to have him so willin', but I could hear +him scramblin' round up there, and prisintly I seen him at a hole in +the wall, and he begun lettin' down his ladder and losin' no time over +it. + +"'I'll just be takin' anny sticks of things ye have,' I says, frindly, +whin he come down to me, and, findin' the flat side of two bricks for +me poor feet, I wint through him careful and religious. So help me, +they was only elivin dollars and twinty cents and niver the sign of a +watch! He might as well been some wan that earned his own livin'. + +"'Look here,' says he, maybe feelin' sort of hurt himsilf, 'ye said +five thousand. Why not make it ten?' + +"'What?' says I, gaspin'. + +"'Why not make it ten?' says he. + +"'Arrah,' says I, 'are ye wantin' me to feed ye till me grandchilder +can be collectin' of it? Ten thousand, indeed! Ye ought to be thankful +ye ain't marked down to forty-nine-fifty.' + +"'Oh, well,' he says, careless, 'it's none of my business. But where +do ye take me?' + +"Now I'd been thinkin' of a old warehouse near Mike O'Hara's dock +with a fine cellar in it and no wan nosin' round, but it's mesilf is +too knowledgeable to be tellin' ivrything that's in me head, even if +they was time for it. 'We'll be gittin' me shoes first,' I says, 'and +thin we'll be climbin' down to me boat and cross the river,' I says, +'where they ain't room for so manny mosquities.' + +"All right,' says he, cheerful, 'though I don't mind thim anny, as I +told ye a bit gone. Come along afore it gits too dark.' + +"Was they iver the like of that, and him bein' kidnapped! 'Faith, +maybe it's a bluff he's workin',' thinks I, 'though divil the wan of +me knows why he'd be workin' it.' And whin I'd took him to where I'd +dropped me shoes--oh, wirra, how bad the walkin' was!--I let go of him +entirely whilst I was crammin' thim two feet of mine into thim, to see +would he run ag'in, but keepin' me arm handy to a brick to throw +through him whin he tried it. Och, he niver made a move, and the more +chanct I give him, the peaceabler he stood there waitin' for me. It +was most unsettlin'. + +'We'll be goin' down the cliff now,' says I, takin' off me suspinders +and tyin' wan ind of thim in a hard knot around the scrawny little +neck of him to hold him by. + +"'Do ye always tie thim up that way?' says he. + +"'Yis, sor,' I says; 'thim suspinders has kidnapped nine men, divil a +wan less,' I says. + +"'I hope they was nice people,' says he. + +"'And why do ye hope that?' I says. + +"'Why not?' says he, gintle-like. + +"'Don't ye git gay, sor,' says I, 'and don't be goin' so fast whin +it's so steep-like. Faith, it's you is bein' kidnapped, not mesilf.' + +"'Yis,' says he, 'I raymimber that.' + +"'Oh, ye do?' says I. 'Ye'd better be usin' your brains to walk with +instid of strainin' thim like that. Here! That ain't the way!' I yells +at him as we come to where a side path turned off. And with that me +poor feet slipped on some loose stones, and I would 'a' jerked the +head off him but for the suspinders stretchin'. + +"'Guh!' says he, which was about what ye'd expect from him whin he +talked without stoppin' to think it up aforehand. And thin says he: +'Here, me good man, ye'd better be fixin' this. The rope's comin' +loose.' + +"'I near dropped the suspinders entirely. 'Holy hiven,' I says to +mesilf, 'he must think we're playin' he was Queen of the May, and me +wantin' to quit and go home! Bedad, they's something behind all this!' +But I tied him up ag'in and we wint on down, with me thinkin' till the +roots of me hair was twisted, tryin' to find was they anny explanation +of him, and him stumblin' along in the dark and askin' me quistions, +happy and continted. + +"Whin we come to the bottom I says 'whoa' to him, till I could see +they was no wan hangin' round, and thin we wint down where I'd left me +boat. Divil the lie I'm tellin' ye, some wan had took it! + +"'Is it gone?' says he. + +"'Mother of hiven, is it _here_?' says I, irritated at the empty head +of him. + +"'No,' says he. + +"'Thin where is it?' I says. + +"'Gone,' says he. + +"'Right,' says I, 'and ye guessed it without puttin' yoursilf greatly +about. It shows what thinkin' would do for ye if ye was to try it.' + +"'What are we goin' to do now?' says he, bleatin' sorrowful like a +sheep. + +"'Look here, sor,' I says, drawin' with me finger in the sand, the +moon havin' come up so we could see a bit; 'here is wan side of the +river, and we're on it,' I says, 'and here is the other side, and we +ain't, but we wish we was. What's the answer, and how manny sides is +they to the river? Come along with me and figure it out to yoursilf,' +I says. 'I'm goin' to see is they a chanct to steal somewan ilse's +boat,' I says, pullin' him after me by the suspinders. + +"But sure, wan half thim jersey omadhawns must spind all their time +arrangin' to keep the other half from stealin' boats off thim, for +what boats they was was chained up with enough iron to sink thim, and +me with only me knife for the patent locks. Kidnappin' is easy whin ye +have a place to kidnap thim to, but they ain't no money in settin' +down with a man annywheres ye find him and tellin' him ye've got his +tab and will his frinds give ye all their money. + +"'Let's climb up the Palisades ag'in and take the trolley to the +ferry,' says he. + +"'The saints in glory be among us! Is it a lunytic ye think I am to +take ye where ye can git help and have me arrested by openin' your +mouth but wanct?' + +"'Well,' says he, excusin' himsilf, 'thin what?' + +"'Twinty years,' says I, 'and lucky at that.' + +"'I mean,' says he, 'what are we goin' to do, thin?' + +"'"We"?' says I, fair losin' me timper, '"we"? Arrah, and whose doin' +this kidnappin', annyways? Ye'll be collectin' money off me next for +takin' me home! Ain't ye niver been kidnapped afore?' + +"'No,' says he, 'this is the first time.' + +"'Yis,' I says, 'and it was gittin' dark whin I took ye.' + +"'Well,' says he, peaceable and irritatin', 'what are we goin' to +do?' + +"'We're goin' to drown ye, if ye ask me that ag'in!' I says, bein' +beyont mesilf entirely. And thin all to wanct it come to me I might be +tryin' the trolley after all, and tellin' the people he was a crazy +man I was takin' home, if he begun talkin'. Sure, wan look at him +would convince thim he'd been a lunytic afore he was took so bad. And +this way I could be takin' him to me own place on the East Side instid +of to the warehouse near O'Hara. It was a fool plan, but most plans is +fool wans, and what ilse could I be doin' with him? + +"'I'd been considerin' the trolley mesilf,' I says, 'and I'm thinkin' +we'll take it and go over on the 130th Street ferry, but if ye make +wan peep to annywan, it's me will kill ye on the spot. Do ye mind +that!' I says to him, ferocious. + +"'Oh,' says he, 'ye don't need to talk to me like that,' he says. 'I +wasn't goin' to say annything or make ye anny trouble.' + +"'Oh, ye wasn't?' I says to him. 'Ye're a liar,' I says to mesilf, 'ye +was, and they's something queerer about ye than ye look, which is +sayin' a good deal.' But I give the suspinders a jerk, and we wint on +down the shore to a easier path up thim Palisades, it bein' no long +walk from the top to the trolley. What worried me worst was him bein' +so cheerful. It might 'a' been from him not havin' sinse enough to be +anny other way, only whin it was plain robbin' he'd thought I was +after he'd been scared healthy and satisfyin' entirely. It was the +kidnappin' soothed him, bad scran to him, and it was fair uneasy I was +in the heart of me, almost suspectin' they were brains in him +somewheres. + +"Well, maybe they was and maybe they wasn't, I dunno, and maybe +'twas something worse than that. 'And the mosquities won't bite him,' +I says to mesilf. 'If mosquities was humans, 'twould be easy of +understandin', but a mosquity ain't got annything in his head +exciptin' teeth, and thim Jersey wans will bite whativer it is if it +don't bite thim first. Sure, they's times whin dumb beasts can be +teachin' anny of us, and thim mosquities is after havin' their own +reasons. And do ye mind,' I wint on to mesilf, 'how he wint up that +ladder like he was floatin' on air?' Faith, I think I was half +believin' him a ghost, excipt for his neck feelin' a bit solid +whin I pulled on the suspinders. + +"Whin we come to the top, and the wind was back in him ag'in, I says: +'And what might your name be, sor?' + +"'Courtney Delevan Schwartz,' says he, lively as a grig. + +"'Is your father livin'?' I says. + +"'Why, yis,' he says, 'he's Charles B. Schwartz.' + +"'I've niver met him,' I says. 'Will he want ye back?' + +"'Why, of course,' says he, 'I'm the only wan he's got.' + +"'Well,' I says, 'even Teddy would be givin' him a special license for +not havin' anny more. Can he be raisin' the five thousand?' + +"'Don't ye know who Charles B. Schwartz is?' says he, surprised-like. +'The Pittsburg multi-millionaire and railroad man?' + +"'Git along with ye!' I says. 'Don't ye think I know ye wouldn't be +breathin' it if they was that much money in the family?' + +"'I told ye to make it ten instid of five,' he says. + +"'Tare and ages!' I says. 'Don't ye know that ain't no way to act whin +ye're bein' kidnapped? Ye've got all mixed up about it, sor. Ye ought +to be runnin' the price down instid of tryin' to make me charge your +poor father twict as much as ye ain't worth, ye blamed handless +gossoon. And don't be walkin' so fast like ye couldn't wait to be +locked up. It ain't you gits the five thousand, annyways.' + +"'Excuse me,' says he. 'But me father won't be mindin' the other five, +and the price will be lookin' a bit cheap whin it gits in the +papers.' + +"'Bedad, if ye're valuin' yoursilf like that, it's a blessin' it ain't +you sets the price on a bushel of good potaties, what is worth +something.' + +"'Hold on,' says he, sudden, 'I hear somewan on the road we're comin' +to. We'd better wait till they git past.' + +"Och, did ye iver hear the like of that? Think of him warnin' me from +his chanct to yell for help! It left me feelin' fair uneasy, even whin +the wagon had gone on down the road. 'Sure,' I thinks, 'if they is +anny humans as foolish as that, they wouldn't be let run loose. And +annyways, he ain't got enough brains to be a real lunytic, God help +him. Yit maybe he is--they ain't nothin' as different as lunytics.' + +"'"The night has a thousand eyes,"' says he just thin, goin' right +along with the suspinders tight on his neck, '"the day but wan"--do ye +know that?' he says. 'I just happened to think of it.' + +"'Faith, no wan would think of it anny other way,' I says, catchin' up +with him and smellin' his breath, but it was Prohibition. 'Where do ye +see thim eyes?' I asks him, bein' sure he was crazy now. + +"'Why, up there,' says he, pointin' straight up in the air. + +"'Niver mind, niver mind,' I says, soothin', and fearin' he would be +took worse. 'They won't hurt ye anny.' + +"'Hurt me?' says he. + +"'Not a bit,' says I. 'We'll be turnin' to the right here,' I says. + +"'But what I meant by thim eyes--' says he. + +"'Don't think about thim anny more,' I says. 'It ain't good for ye.' + +"He stopped and turned round, laughin', the silly fool, though it was +no time for it. 'Ye think I'm crazy, don't ye, me frind?' he says. + +"'Me?' says I. + +"'No, me,' says he, cheerful. 'I was just playin' a joke on ye,' he +says. 'The Irish likes thim, don't they?' + +"'Divil a bit,' I says. 'Thin what are ye if ye ain't?' I asks him. + +"'I might ask ye, after your own manner of sayin' things, Which am I +if I ain't what?' says he, all to wanct talkin' like a man who knew +his ways about. 'But I'll be tellin' ye wan thing I ain't, and that's +crazy.' + +"It was like hearin' a baby all to wanct begin talkin' like a old man. +Nothin' could 'a' surprised me like him showin' they was brains in +him. I knowed immediate it was no lunytic he was after bein'. 'Thin +what _are_ ye?' I says, weak-like. + +"'Ah, me frind,' says he, 'who's doin' this kidnappin'--you or me? +Come on, now; thim cars runs half a hour apart.' + +"Arrah, the anger rose in me at the owdaciousness of him, and I took +me oath to git him to the East Side even if he become twins. But, +bein' a thinkin' man, the unsettlement of me mind was ten times worse +over him showin' signs of brains in him. If he could grow thim manny +brains in half a hour, they was no tellin' how much sinse he might +have by mornin'. 'But sure,' thinks I, 'thin he's worth more than what +I priced him, for they may be some wan can be usin' him for +something.' + +"'I'll make it eight thousand, sor,' I says to him. + +"'Thank ye, me good man,' says he, resumin' his old way of talkin'. +'Hurry up! I hear a car comin'.' + +"Thin we run for it, and the suspinders jerkin' out of me hands, the +little spalpeen showed me the heels of him, me cursin' after him +amazin'. All to wanct me foot caught in a root, and down I wint, fair +knockin' me daffy. By the time I'd begun seein' straight ag'in, he was +wavin' his arms in the middle of the track, with the head-light +shinin' on him and the car comin' to a stop. + +"I seen at wanct that, even could I hold the car by yellin', he would +have time to tell thim all his troubles, and like as not they'd beat +me life out afore I could tell thim about him bein' crazy, and they +wouldn't believe it annyways. It was gone he was and good riddance. + +[Illustration: "YE'D BETTER BE USIN' YOUR BRAINS TO WALK WITH, AND NOT +STRAININ' THIM LIKE THAT"] + +"'Come on!' he hollers. 'They're waitin' for ye!' + +"And hiven help me, they was, and him standin' there lookin' worried +over me delay and sayin' nothin' to annybody! For wanct in me life I +didn't stop to think--faith, I was within wan of payin' dear for it +later--and the next I knew I was climbin' in the car, with him helpin' +me up, me bein' still a bit dizzy. + +"'I'm sorry,' says he, blowin' for wind, whin we was in a seat +togither, 'but I lost thim suspinders.' + +"'Niver mind thim, niver mind _thim_,' I says, watchin' ivry minute to +see would he be callin' on the other passengers. 'Wait till I git me +breath!' + +"But he niver paid thim others anny attention whativer, and pretty +soon I begun wishin' he would. Sure, if he was thinkin' of worse than +bein' rescued and havin' me handed over to the polayce, thin thim cold +chills runnin' up and down me back wasn't doin' it for nothin'. +'Nonsinse,' I says to mesilf, summonin' back me manhood, 'I misdoubt +if he knows what he is doin'. And annyways, he seems to be comin' +along with me all right, bad cess to him, and it's me will be showin' +him what it is to be dealin' with a strong man and a brainy wan. + +"'A few quistions, if ye please,' I says to him, commandin'. 'And be +prompt with thim!' + +"'Yis,' says he, turnin' to me from lookin' out the windy and tryin' +to look like he'd been intelligent whin he was a lad. + +"'Where does your father, Charles B. Schwartz, live at?' says I. + +"'Ye can address him at the Aldorf, but he lives in Pittsburg,' says +he. + +"'We'll pass over that last, Courtney,' says I; 'I'm not askin' ye for +the fam'ly skeletons. Ye say he likes ye?' + +"'Oh, yis,' he says, 'we're chums, the two of us. It's this way,' says +he; 'the old man says that while I can't help him anny in his +business, I'm interistin' to him, bein' different from ivry wan ilse +he iver met.' + +"'God bless the old gintleman!' I says. + +"'Yis,' says he, 'he says it's excitin' to see what I'm going to spend +his money on next.' + +"'Now they ain't anny use in pretendin' to be so rich,' I interrupts +him, irritated, 'and you with but eliven dollars and twinty cints on +the whole of ye!' + +"'I don't carry it all with me,' says he. + +"'No,' says I, 'ye don't carry all of annything with ye,' I says. + +"'Would ye believe me if I said I was poor?' says he. + +"'Divil a bit,' says I. + +"'But then what do ye----' + +"'Go on with your story,' I says to him severe, 'and don't be wastin' +time on foolishness.' + +"'Well,' says he, 'me father's been a bit sore on me lately, sayin' +I'm not livin' up to me repytation with him, but just spendin' money +on stars and bars, like annywan ilse, and managin' to dodge the +stripes. Do ye see the joke?' he says, stoppin'. + +"'No,' says I, 'but it wouldn't be anny the better for me seein' it. +What's the ind of the fairy-tale?' I says. + +"'The joke's about flags,' says he. 'Well,' he says, 'me old man bet +me I'd used up all the new ways of spendin' what he earned, and I took +the bet. If I sind him in the bill for something I niver tried before, +thin he doubles me allowance for six months. If I don't do it inside +of wan week, thin he cuts me allowance in half,' he says. 'And I ain't +allowed just to find something new in the shops and buy it.' + +"'I ain't niver heard a better,' says I. 'Who wrote it?' + +"'But don't ye see?' he says. 'That's why I want to be kidnapped--to +win me bet! They's money in it for both of us, me good man.' + +"'Och,' says I, 'tell me but this wan thing,' I says, disgusted, +layin' me finger right on wan of the manny weak places in what he'd +been handin' me, '_why_ did ye want to make it ten thousand instid of +five, whin five would 'a' won your bet just as easy-like? Answer me +_that_!' I says. + +"'Well,' says he, fidgittin' in his seat, 'well, you see--oh, I was +just wantin' to rub it in on the old man,' he says, stammerin'. + +"'I'm glad I met ye,' I says; 'ye're the most bedivel'd and +all-amazin' liar I iver seen. If ye iver meet Mr. Roosevelt, he'll +choke to death tryin' to describe ye.' + +"'Yis,' he says, 'I guess ye caught me. It does sound a bit queer whin +I come to think about it. But I'll tell ye what I'll do,' says he, +brightenin' up sudden-like, 'I'll take it all back!' + +"So help me, it was too much for anny man! Whativer he was, I give him +up. And him settin' there lookin' at me like he was twelve years old! +Me brains was in a prespiration from tryin' to put a label on him, but +no sooner was they findin' a explanation of him than he goes to work +and proves thim wrong entirely. They might as well been a omelette in +me head. It was queer doin's, but what it was behind thim no wan could +be tellin'. 'This is me last kidnappin',' says I to mesilf. 'I want +something easy on me nerves like burglin', and I wish I was safe on +the East Side with me little human conundrum, bad scran to him, and +what is he smilin' to himsilf about now?' thinks I. + +"'Do ye want to know what I'm smilin' about?' says he right thin. + +"'Yis, sor,' says I, feeble, 'if ye don't mind sayin''--me heart +nearly pantin' itsilf to death. 'Holy saints!' thinks I, 'is the +little divil wan of thim mind-readers, or is he the divil himsilf?' + +"'Well,' says he, pleasant, the car startin' on thim bed-spring curves +down to the ferry, 'I've been thinkin' that whin you and me has got +through with each other,' he says, lookin' at me with thim fish-eyes +in a way that raised the goose-flesh on me, 'I'll be tryin' this +kidnappin' business mesilf. You like it pretty well, don't ye?' + +"'They ain't nothin' like it,' I says, thankin' God it was the truth. +And just thin the car stopped in front of the ferry. + +"'See here, me man,' says he, as we was gittin' off, 'if me frinds +can't be raisin' the eight thousand, we can be makin' it five ag'in, +and if they can't be findin' that much, would ye be willin' to let me +loose long enough to kidnap some wan ilse and pay ye?' + +"'Oh,' thinks I, 'so _that's_ what ye've been drivin' at! But thin,' +says me second thoughts, 'why has he been tellin' me--' We was walkin' +in the door of the ferry, and I grabs hold of his arm, fair burstin' +with rage, bein' nervous from what I'd been through: 'Ye scut,' I +says, 'didn't ye say your father was rollin' in money?' + +"'Yis,' says he, calm and pleasant, 'but I took all that back. +I ain't got anny father now. Ye'll have to be payin' for the +ferry-tickets,' he says. + +"It was the ind of me last hope, and me knees wint weak under me. I'd +been thinkin' I'd found out wan thing about him annyways, and now I +couldn't even raymimber what it was, excipt that it was wrong. Whin I +begun thinkin' ag'in, we was on the ferry-boat, the two of us, and him +so cheerful it brung the tears to me eyes and made me nervouser than +I'd been yit. Thin me wits come to me assistance, and I seen what was +the sinsible thing to be doin' with the nasty little divil. 'Rich or +poor,' I says to mesilf, 'rich or poor, drunk or sober, intilligent or +what he looks like, lunytic or no lunytic, divil, ghost, sleep-walker, +or plain human, whativer he is or ain't, or all of thim togither, I +want no more of him!' + +"Divil the lie I'm tellin' ye, no sooner was thim words in me mind +than he ups and walks off from me like he'd heard me thinkin' and +begins talkin' to a stranger man lookin' over the edge of the boat! +Faith, the hair was crawlin' round on top me head. + +"I was startin' for the other ind of the boat, but it come over me +strong to slip up behind thim and listen was he plannin' anny +divilment against me with the other man. Och, it was a hard thing to +bring mesilf to, but whativer ilse I am, I'm not after bein' anny +coward. + +"Bedad, they was but talkin' of thim new tunnels under the river, and +him not even mentionin' he was bein' kidnapped! Wirra, wirra, and +afore I was half way down the boat, he come runnin' after me excusin' +himsilf for leavin' me, and the rist of the way over he talked tunnels +to me, sociable and entertainin', till I could feel thim runnin' all +through me. + +"They was no chanct to slip away from him in the crowd gittin' off, +but whin we come to thim freight tracks just outside the ferry-house, +the gates begun droppin' for a train, and, waitin' till the last +minute, I sprung from him to git across and let the train come atween +us, with him held back by it while I was disappearin' into the whole +of New York. So help me, the little omadhawn, like as not readin' ivry +thought in me head, grabbed me back and spoiled it all, neat plan as +it was. + +"'Ye might 'a' been killed and ruined the kidnappin'!' he says, +anxious like he was me own mother. + +"'Don't let me catch ye hangin' back that way a'gin!' I says, +pretendin' I was uncommon mad, which I was. 'Whin that big gomach of a +train is gone,' I says, 'see that ye stick close by me and try no +foolishness. We're goin' to take the subway to where we git off,' says +I, meanin' to dodge him at the subway and grab a surface car to +whereiver it wint. 'Come along now, and be quick with ye.' + +"But they wasn't no chanct to dodge him, and inside of ten minutes the +two of us was settin' side by side in a subway car like both of us +wanted to. He was gittin' cheerfuller ivry minute, and the cheerfuller +he got, the more I fell to wishin' I'd niver seen the likes of him. He +didn't look like anny human annyhow, and I begun prayin' the saints he +wasn't, for if he _was_, thin they wasn't _anny_ answer to him. 'Tare +and ages!' the thought come to me sudden, 'he's a detective, he is, +and may the divil dance on the skinny back of him till they's snow a +foot deep where the both of thim belongs! Sure, it's all plain now, +ivrything he's been doin', and why wasn't I thinkin' of it whin I +begun this kidnappin'--may I niver hear the word ag'in and bad scran +to it!' + +"And thin, at the next station, in come a polayceman siven foot long +and set down across the aisle within reachin' distance of his arm, and +he niver made a sign beyond glancin' at him whin he come in! 'Thin he +ain't,' I says to mesilf, sinkin' back in me seat. 'Ivrything they is +he ain't, and anny wan of thim would be makin' me feel better. If he +follows me clear home, I _will_ kidnap him, whether I want him or not, +but if they's wan breath left in me body I'll escape from him afore +that,' I goes on to mesilf, tryin' to think what I ate for supper and +hopin' maybe it was all wan of thim nightmares. + +"It was but the beginnin' of me troubles. At the next station I tried +to slip from him by pretindin' to ask the guard something and jump out +just afore the doors was closed, but nothin' would do but he must be +askin' the guard something himsilf. Wan of us asked if it was a +express we was on and the other asked if it wasn't, and thin we set +down ag'in togither. Whin we come to our station, I endivored to lose +him wanct more, whin we was walkin' crosstown I tried it ag'in, and in +Central Park I tried it twict. I might as well tried to dodge a ghost +what was hauntin' me. And him cheerfuller than iver and not seemin' to +notice annything! + +"'Look here, sor,' I says, whin he was pretty well into the East Side, +feelin' I could stand no more of it, 'I've been thinkin' it over, and +me conscience is hurtin' me. Ye niver did me no wrong, and here I am +kidnappin' ye. It ain't right, sor, and I'm goin' to give ye your +liberty and let ye go without chargin' ye annything.' + +"'Why,' says he, 'I don't want to git away!' he says, his voice +growin' sorrowful. + +"'That ain't got annything to do with it, sor, askin' your pardon,' I +says; 'it's me conscience, and they ain't anny use arguin' with a +man's conscience whin its dander is up. I've got to let ye go, sor,' +I says, 'and ye can do it now. I'll turn me back.' + +"'No, no,' says he, 'I know what ye're thinkin', but----' + +"'Yis, I know ye do, sor,' I says, thim queer mind-readin' ways of his +comin' over me ag'in, 'but for God's sake don't tell me!' I says. +'Don't tell me, sor. I'll believe ye without that, sor, and I know +what it was already mesilf annyways, and I wasn't thinkin' annything, +besides, and not meanin' a word of it,' I goes on, beyond mesilf +entirely, all the queer ways of him risin' up before me, and the +mosquities not bitin' him, me nerves givin' out at last from all +they'd been through. + +"Just thin he turned thim fish-eyes of his on to me, niver sayin' a +word, and put out wan hand, soft-like, to lay it on me, and I give wan +jump and was off down the street, runnin' as I niver run afore. And +him after me and gainin', the divil snatch him, if he ain't the divil +himsilf. + +"What people they was on the street--praise be, they was but few at +that hour--comminced chasin' me, too, but 'twas but wan long block to +Devinsky's, here, and I come in that side door like I was a +autymobile, near drownin' Peter Casey in the beer he was carryin'. By +good luck Micky Doyle and Big McCarthy was drinkin' at the bar, and I +yells at thim: 'Stop thim, for the love of hiven! They're tryin' to +kidnap me!' and I wint out the front door like they was a thousand +divils clutchin' at me. + +"And the boys did it, may the blessin' of hiven shine on thim, but wan +of thim fools what was helpin' chase me give that little spalpeen me +name, and this day has been a curse to me from worryin' over what may +happen me yit, though it's proud I should be over frustratin' the +nefarious plans of him." + +Tim merely grunted. A tough-looking waiter entered through the +swinging door, approached the table where the two were sitting, and +tossed a dainty envelope in front of Patsy, with the announcement +that a messenger had brought it. It was addressed to "Patsy Moran, +Esq., Care of Devinsky's Place." Patsy opened it with nervous fingers, +and a newspaper clipping fell out upon the table, displaying the +unprepossessing features of a young man over the words: "Courtney +Schwartz, son of multi-Millionaire Chas. B. Schwartz, of Pittsburg." + +A gasp from Patsy, another grunt from Tim, and the two of them seized +the letter with a common impulse, Tim's stolidity shaken for once. +There was dead silence while the two pairs of eyes followed the +straggling words of what was written there: + + "My dear Mr. Moran: + + "The enclosed clipping will convince you that I gave you my real + name, and that my father is abundantly able to pay ransoms. All I + told you about that bet may also be true, but as I took that story + back, I really can't say now whether it is or not. It doesn't + sound so, does it? + + "It may be, on the other hand, that I merely figured out in the + beginning that you were the kind I could get so rattled you would + let me go before I got through with you. If that is true, it + worked, didn't it? But maybe it isn't true. + + "If neither one of these things is true, what is? + + "In any case, you lost $8,000 of the easiest money that ever + happened. Why not have tied me up somewhere till you got a boat, + or, after getting me as far as you did, why not have taken me the + rest of the way? + + "But I bear you no grudge. I am sure no one but you could make + being kidnapped so amusing. It was great. I am exceedingly sorry, + however, that I lost your suspenders. Please accept, in their + place, the eleven dollars you have already taken from me. Would + enclose more, but feel that the experience alone was worth a + fortune to you. You needed the practice. You were right, though, + in refusing to set my ransom at $10,000, for in that case you + would now be out $2,000 more of easy money. + + "Life would be far easier, wouldn't it, if we could judge a book + by its covers? + + "Very truly yours, + + "Courtney Delevan Schwartz. + + "P.S.--It may interest you to know that before I came down from my + roost in those ruins, I concealed my watch and $840 under some of + the bricks you threw at me. I found them there this morning. + + "C. D. S." + + + + +ARCTIC COLOR + +THE ADVENTUROUS EXPEDITIONS OF ALEXANDER BORISSOFF, THE PAINTER OF THE +FAR NORTH + +BY STERLING HEILIG + +ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PAINTINGS BY ALEXANDER BORISSOFF + +[Illustration: "MIDNIGHT IN THE KARA SEA" + +IN THE POSSESSION OF THE FRENCH GOVERNMENT] + + +About twenty-five years ago, the Grand Duke Vladimir of Russia, making +a journey into the northern part of the Empire, chanced to visit the +lonely Solovetski Monastery on the shores of the White Sea. Among the +sacred painters of this monastery he found a young peasant who had +been sent there by his parents as a boy of fifteen. Duke Vladimir, +struck with his talent, shipped him off to St. Petersburg to study in +the Imperial Academy of Fine Arts. The young Russian peasant was +Alexander Borissoff, the adventurous painter whose work in the last +few years has made the wonderful color scheme of the Arctic Circle for +the first time accessible to the eyes of the world. + +His early years on the edge of the Arctic fired the imagination of the +youth, and directed the course of his whole future life. While he was +still a student he made a trip to England. "There," he says, "an idea +that had long been shaping itself in my brain took hold of me. The +polar regions fascinated me. My forefathers, I knew, hunted bears at +Spitzbergen; and as a boy I had heard all about the Arctic. I wanted +to see and paint that wonderful country. Travelers would write that +the Arctic nights were magnificent; but I wanted to give the colors +and lights themselves." + + +_Borissoff Becomes a Samoyed_ + +Borissoff shipped on a Russian boat from Newcastle for the Murman +Coast--Russian territory adjoining Norway--and from there sailed to +Nova Zembla. On the frozen island of the Arctic Sea, living among the +wandering Samoyed tribes, he began to paint under such conditions as +certainly no artist has ever painted before. It was the make-shift +expedition of a buoyantly adventurous and rough-bred young artist, +better furnished with canvases and brushes than with clothing, +instruments, and stores. He practically became a Samoyed; he adapted +himself to the tribal laws with good-natured tact, helping out the +native commissariat by shooting white partridges, wild geese, and +Arctic bear. He studied reindeer breeding; he took native baths in +steam-tents and ice-water; he attended weddings, funerals, and pagan +rites. Wherever the tribe traveled, he followed; and everywhere he +painted. + +The movements of the Samoyed depend largely on the habits of the +reindeer. "In autumn the reindeer seeks the wooded zone," says +Borissoff. "He cannot stand the tremendous snowstorms that whirl in +the tundra; and he must live on lichen from the trunks and boughs of +fir-trees, or feed on the shoots of birch and willows, when the frozen +soil prevents him from browsing moss under the snow. But no sooner +does he sniff the polar spring, than he longs irresistibly to gallop +to the north to the open air of the Arctic, where there are no +tiresome gnats, no intolerable wasps to lay their larvae in his skin +and cause him torment." + +The Samoyed keeps in this migrating animal's wake; and it was in one +of these migrations north that Borissoff first saw what he calls the +Realms of Death. + + +_Painting in a Temperature of 30 deg. Below Zero_ + +"The curious thing was that I found all as I had imagined it," he +says. "The knowledge of the icebergs and the snow seemed to have been +born in me. Vast stretches of glaciers with their yawning chasms of +death, icebergs mountain-high--I greeted them as old friends. Living +on native rations and enduring the most bitter cold, I made +landscapes--or rather, icescapes--in the open, with a temperature of +30 degrees below zero. + +"Sometimes it was impossible to paint. Even the turpentine froze. The +paint congealed in lumps, whilst the hairs of the brushes snapped off +like brittle glass. I had to put on fur gloves to hold a brush, and +work with swift, energetic strokes--as the rough appearance of some of +my paintings bears evidence." + +All of Borissoff's paintings were done in the ice zone beyond the 70th +parallel of north latitude, in the district between Archangel and the +Yalmal Peninsula. He never tires of telling of the peculiar +color-tones of this region, and the curious psychological effects of +its distance, silence, and isolation. Living amid its singular light +phenomena, where the spring-time snow turns pink against blue +icebergs, and the boggy midsummer tundra swims in a sea of orange-red +against a sky of aquamarine, even the Samoyed becomes a color +worshiper. + +"Why does that man sit in a scarlet cloak on rose-colored snow against +a solid background of dark blue?" I asked, examining one of +Borissoff's paintings. + +"The deep blue is an iceberg," he laughed. "Yes, and the snow is +really that color--by reflection. The man is a Samoyed who +bartered everything he owned--reindeer, walrus, ivory, dogs, and +sledges--to an adventurous dealer from the nearest settlements for +a robe of scarlet woolen stuff. Then, in his scarlet cloak, he +wandered about in the sunlight for ten days, in an ecstatic trance, +silent, good-for-nothing, living on his family, drunk with the glory +of that scarlet garment!" + + +_Traveling With a Woman Scout_ + +The man was Danillo, the brother-in-law of Ireena, a woman scout of +whom Borissoff speaks frequently in his reminiscences, and whose +wonderful gift of "seeing" by atmospheric signs the country beyond the +horizon and divining where the trails lay gave her a position of +peculiar dignity among her tribesfolk. This woman was their sole and +undisputed guide through the monotonous flat wastes of snow. Among the +last of the pagans of Europe woman's place is certainly higher than it +is supposed to have been before the dawn of Christianity. A woman like +Ireena may hold the tribal-family together; revive courage in dire +surroundings; decide momentous debates as to reindeer-speculation; +practise medicine and surgery; withstand the redoubtable devils of +blizzard and thaw; serve the bad Siadey in his bloody sanctuary; and +even dare the unmentionable good god's isolating stretches of white +cold, to serve an inquisitive painter from the South. + +It was Ireena and Danillo who took Borissoff to the last pagan shrines +of Europe, never visited before by a European. + +"In the background," says Borissoff, "one sees mountains of floating +icebergs of tremendous dimensions, prevented from approaching the +coast by submarine reefs. Here, on the edge of the Arctic, are the +cliffs containing the Holy Place, reached only after a terrible +journey over icy rocks and fearful ravines, through riverbeds stuffed +with snow, up snowy slopes in intricate zig-zags, where the reindeer +floundered and protested." + + +_Borissoff's Pilgrimage to the Last Pagan Shrines of Europe_ + +[Illustration: "THE COUNTRY OF THE DEAD"--A STUDY OF THE KARA SEA IN +AUGUST] + +Three versts' distance from the shrine, they stopped on the threshold +of the Samoyed Mecca. Borissoff stumbled over huge mounds of idols +heaped between cliffs, one of them so great that forty sledges could +not have removed the idols. He passed mountains of deer-skulls, +antlers, and skulls of polar bears; and heaps of rusty axes, knives, +chains, fragments of anchors, harpoons, and parts of rifles brought as +offerings over weary leagues. The Samoyeds often drive here from a +thousand miles away, stop at the threshold of this dwelling-place of +the supreme Idol-God of the polar regions, and, killing a domestic +deer as the least sacrifice, besprinkle the shrine with its blood. + +[Illustration: "SAMOYED LOVE OF COLOR" + +IN THE POSSESSION OF THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND] + +"People who naively believe that the Samoyeds are no longer heathen +are greatly mistaken," says Borissoff. "Notwithstanding their being +nominally Christians, they still worship their Hyes and Siadeys no +less fervently than in old times. Recent bloodstains on the idols +testified to recent visits; but it was only when we were about to take +our departure that I learned that this was not the chief shrine at +all!" + +Borissoff insisting, Ireena reluctantly guided him to it, three or +four versts down the coast, to the east. + +"Now we passed far greater mounds of axes, knives, and other valuable +offerings," he says. "The idols stood like an army around two enormous +elevated, round clay altars at the very top of the mountain, cut off +by a deep chasm bridged by a stone archway; but the number of bones +was less than I had expected to find." + +Ireena explained. + +"This is the dwelling-place of Hye, the god, not that of Siadey, the +devil," she said. "Hye wants for sacrifice the head of a human being +or of a white bear, or at least of a wild deer. Now that white bears +are harder to kill and wild deer are scarcer, it's no good for people +to come here--unless in great stress. But Siadey takes anything, even +domestic deer!" + +"In great stress" had a grim significance. One of the skulls was +obviously that of a man of Aryan race. + +Further on they came on one of the sledges habitually used by the +Samoyeds for the conveyance of their gods. Opening its box, Borissoff +found two human-shaped idols, one of wood and the other of stone, and +the images of a bear and a wolf in wood. These must have been brought +out of the tundra by some sorceress, to keep real bears and wolves +from some locality. As long as these objects remained at Hye's shrine, +there would be no danger to the pious offerer's herds. Near by lay +another curiosity. It was a piece of boulder wrapped up in red cloth. +It was "sickness," removed from the tundra, beyond the sea, so as +never to return to the dwellers of the Tchoom! + +Borissoff lived with the Samoyeds until he had painted up all his +canvases. Returning to civilization, he was immediately welcomed by +enthusiastic amateurs. The sale of seventy-five pictures _en bloc_ to +M. Tretiakoff, of Moscow, put him on his feet financially. Count Witte +took an interest in his work. The Grand Duke Vladimir remembered that +he had been the first to appreciate the painter's possibilities; and +the Tsar told him to go ahead with another expedition, offering to +defray most of the expenses. + + +_An Ill-Fated Expedition_ + +So, with the zoologist Timofeieff, and the chemist Filipoff, he soon +started on a veritable white man's expedition, with a smart cutter, +the "Metchka," a portable dwelling-house, kerosene stoves, scientific +instruments, photographic apparatus, guns, ammunition, books, +clothing, trading-stores, and food delicacies in abundance. Yet, by a +strange irony of fate, the well-stocked little expedition was +destined to suffer perils and privations such as Borissoff had never +dreamed of among his Samoyeds. + +They set up their portable dwelling-house on the edge of the Nova +Zembla tundra off the Strait of Matochkin Shar, transporting its parts +and furnishings by dog-sledge. By the time this was accomplished, the +"Metchka" had arrived in the Strait; and they started on a voyage into +the Kara Sea. Their object was to distribute materials and provisions +along the extreme northeastern coast of Nova Zembla during the fall, +and to return to their house to spend the winter. In the spring they +hoped to make an early start in sledges along the route of their +supplies. + + +_The Abandonment of the Ship_ + +"It was in navigating the Sea of Kara that we encountered our first +acute peril," says Borissoff. "The further north we got, the more +numerous were icebergs. Often our small ship was wedged in tight +between walls of ice that threatened to crush us. + +"We decided to turn back; but it was too late. Winter was closing in +earlier than we had anticipated; and the broken ice about us was +becoming a solid field. After two weeks' battle, we had to surrender. +Nature had captured us. We were being carried off into regions of +certain death. Our only escape lay in abandoning our ship, and +attempting to regain the coast by journeying across the dreadful sea +of ice on foot. Gathering what provisions we could carry, our party of +nine, including the five sailors, set out with but little expectation +of ever reaching land." + +Everything was put into three canoes, to be pulled along the edges of +ice-banks by nine men and some twenty dogs. Soon the free water froze +tight; and they had to drag the boats over the ice. The wind made this +too difficult. The canoes were abandoned; and the most necessary +supplies were placed on sledges made of skis. With the snow up to +their waists, they plodded on--until they discovered that they were on +a drifting island of ice! + + +_Drifting Out to Sea on Floes of Ice_ + +"We noticed that the ice a little way in front of us was flying at a +terrible speed toward the north, while we seemed to be standing still; +but this was merely an optical illusion--the ice in front of us was +standing still, for it was shore-ice, while we were being carried at a +giddy pace out to sea! + +"Our only salvation was to reach the stationary shore-ice. The edge of +the moving floe was grinding it into a devilish porridge. Immense +blocks, weighing tens of thousands of tons, were whirled round, leaped +out of the sea, climbed on each other, rearing on high, groaning and +roaring, and plunging and vanishing!" + +[Illustration: PAINTING OF A SLEDGE SET UPON END FOR THE NIGHT, WITH +SKINS AND MEAT HUNG UPON IT SO AS TO BE OUT OF REACH OF THE DOGS] + +They made the crossing and dragged on inland for three days. A gentle +breeze was blowing. Borissoff heard a suspicious plash of water. + +"It was horrible to believe our ears. We climbed a hummock; and +there our eyes assured us that another channel of water really +separated us from firm land! The floe began breaking up. The solid +ground failed beneath us. Our feet were sucked into yielding +quicksands of snow and splintered ice. We threw ourselves flat to +distribute our weight and clutched the larger lumps. We lost our +kerosene stove, the tray for lighting fires on, some of our +cartridges, and most of our instruments. The sleeping-bags, fur +coats, and other remnants of our supplies we managed to save." + +The despairing howls of their lost dogs cut them to the heart. The men +lost courage. Borissoff and the two scientific men had to threaten the +others with revolvers; and a tragedy on the ice was imminent, when +they found themselves being carried into an extensive bay surrounded +by lofty cliffs. On an iceberg they discovered brackish water. Later +it gave them unbearable thirst, until the men cried: "Oh, God, for one +small cup of warm water, to die in peace!" + + +_Making a Fire with Seal Fat_ + +Borissoff killed a seal and implored them to be patient while he made +a fire with its oily fat to melt snow for drinking--a trick he had +learned among the Samoyeds. Ravenously eating the liver, lights, +kidneys, and brains raw, they began cutting the necessary pieces of +fat. Borissoff would take a tiny log of firewood, cut it small, pour +kerosene over it, rub it with fat, and light it. This had to be done +in a tea-tin. They put fat on the fire. It burned splendidly. One +small stick warmed the kettle; and the famished men were soon drinking +lukewarm cocoa. During their further wanderings from floe to floe, +they carried with them the embers of wood and treasured every little +piece of rag and paper "to keep the lamp of our life burning as long +as we should have seal fat. The wood embers seemed capable of burning +for ever, provided there was enough fat!" + +They grew attached to particular floes on which they had built +shelters. But the sleeping-bags were becoming unendurable, the fur +rubbed off, the leather wet and clammy, like the skin of a putrefying +carcass. They had almost got to lying in the sleeping-bags by day, +when a Samoyed declared he smelt the smoke of a native encampment. A +sailor thought he heard the barking of dogs; but they paid no +attention, for the howls of their own poor beasts, wandering aimlessly +on the floes, often came to them. After drinking tea, they rose up and +prepared to make some effort. + + +_The Party Rescued by Samoyeds_ + +It grew lighter. There was something moving on the shore. It could not +be merely birds! They let off a gun. Two shots answered. Lines of tiny +black dots advanced toward them. They were Samoyed dog-sledges. "And +fancy what a stroke of luck!" says Borissoff; "they were old friends +of mine, with whom I had lived on my first sojourn in the tundra!" + +[Illustration: A STUDY MADE IN NOVA ZEMBLA AT THE TIME OF THE COMPLETE +ECLIPSE OF THE SUN, JULY 27, 1896] + +Brought finally to shore by the natives, they rejoiced childishly at +its contact. Here was solid land! Here were real stones! "Strange +phenomenon," says Borissoff, "an hour before, we had scarcely been +able to lift our weary feet. Now we wanted to leap, dance, laugh, cry, +pray, and run about aimlessly! Timofeieff and I took two rifles and +went along the shore northward. We ploughed through the snow, why and +whither we did not know. We could not sit still. Then, when we +returned to the snug tents, we ate boiled reindeer meat, drank hot +tea, and lay down to sleep twenty-seven hours without once waking!" +The land journey back to their portable house was accomplished in +dog-sledges. + +[Illustration: PAINTING OF A CHURCH BUILT BY M. SEBERJAKOW] + +The three months' night was passed amid comfortable surroundings. They +shot the white bear. They read, dreamed, told stories, and played +cards interminably. They received continual visits from delighted +natives, come on perilous pilgrimages to the magic European house, +with its lavish food novelties, its devil-boxes that talked, sang, and +played music. + +When the three months' day came again, they made a great sledge +expedition north to the Straits of Tchekin, called The Unknown and the +Bear Straits. Borissoff, as usual, made quantities of paintings. He +named one enormous glacier after Count Witte. + +"One morning I went out to paint it, shining like silver in the +sunlight. I had scarcely finished making the rough sketch," he tells, +"when a noise of shuffling and deep breathing attracted my attention. +Glancing round, I saw to my horror the shaggy white body of a great +polar bear within ten feet of my back. He had been watching me paint. +Now, taking my fright for hostility, he lost interest in art and +advanced toward me, with a paw uplifted. Springing back, I snatched my +rifle, crying: 'Oshkai! Oshkai!' hoping that my companions might hear. +Dropping on one knee, I fired; but the bullet only caused the great +bear to roar and dash toward me. I fired again. The shot was more +effective. It slowed his progress. Then three shots rang from behind +an icy boulder; for my companions had heard and come to my rescue, and +I was saved." + +Good luck, however, could not stay with the expedition. First, their +best dogs went mad, not from hydrophobia, but from the strange craze +of the ice, which affects men and dogs alike. Then food failed. The +remaining dogs starved, though they killed their few reindeer to feed +both themselves and the dogs. When nothing remained to kill, they were +glad to eat the refuse of their previous camps. Amid hair-breadth +escapes, suffering from starvation and exhaustion, they wandered back +on foot to their portable house, where the arrival of the Russian +military transport-ship, the "Pakhtoosoff," ended their courageous +preparations for a second wintering. Leaving the house and its stores +to their faithful Samoyeds and carefully packing Borissoff's three +hundred paintings, they steamed back to civilization. + + +_Borissoff's Revelation of Arctic Color_ + +When Borissoff arrived at St. Petersburg, the Tsar sent for him. His +impression of the Emperor was of "a quiet gentleman who takes a keen +delight in art." The Empress, herself a painter of portraits, was +immensely interested; and the first exhibition of the paintings took +place in the White Salon of the Winter Palace. Other exhibitions +followed in other capitals of Europe. In Berlin, the exhibit was +patronized by the German Empress; in Munich, by the Prince Regent. In +Paris the French Government bought "In the Kara Sea"; while in London +the court set pointed the way to all good Englishmen to their +exhibition at the Grafton Galleries. + +The extraordinary thing about the paintings is, of course, their +revelation of the colors of the frozen world of the polar circle. In a +region which our ignorant imagination shrouds in dull sepia tones, +Borissoff reveals lights that we never dreamed to be on land or sea. +There is an effect of strange, mysterious brilliancy in one of his +largest canvases, entitled "In the Kingdom of Death." Dark icebergs +tower above the open sea; while through heavy purple-black clouds, +melting to blue and mauve, break lines of lurid red light from the +August sunrise, that throw an orange-red glow along steely, blue-black +waters. + +"Midnight in the Kara Sea"--selected by the French Government's +experts as Borissoff's most extraordinary production--shows a sky of +glowing orange, and floes of ice drifting on black waters. An +unearthly yellow-green light illumines the deep blue shadows of "A +Polar Winter Night." Two polar bears stand in a great expanse of snow; +the moon's rays fall across rocks and project their outline in black +shade. The snow is wonderfully rendered--thick, soft, and glistening, +after a recent fall. + +"Looking for the Reindeer--Evening" shows a snowy landscape with a +firmament of yellow. In "The Cold Became More Severe" gray plains are +seen beneath a sky of clear apricot. "A Halting Place" has a dark +blue-gray sky, brown-gray ice, a belt of snow, and a range of hills +with patches of brown rock showing beneath the snow. Two polar bears +lying dead on the ice in front are admirably done; and the whole +picture is full of stern romance. The romantic quality of Borissoff's +best pictures comes, in part, from the fact that he makes us +understand that people live in these awful places--or have lived! + +Such is the suggestion of "The Last Survivor." It shows a desolate +shore where, after an exceptionally severe winter, a band of poor +hunters had perished. Reverently the survivors had interred their +dying comrades--until the last man died! A solitary white fox +surrounded by a few bleaching bones is the central feature of the +haunting picture. + +[Illustration: "IN THE MIDNIGHT SUNSHINE"] + +For the most part, the pictures are small canvases, depicting +glaciers, icebergs, snowdrifts, coast scenes, and the tundra in its +ever-varying color-aspects, winter and midsummer, spring and autumn, +with its Samoyeds, their tents, boats, sledges, reindeer, dogs, and +foxes. Every imaginable atmospheric effect is given, from the +wonderful glow of the midnight sun, to raw, hanging fog that can be +well-nigh felt. Of the splendid richness of these effects and, quite +as much, their baffling gradations, the painter never tires of +telling. "One beauty of this strange nature," he says, "is the +extraordinarily soft variety of tones, that can only be compared to +the reflections of precious stones. And God preserve the artist from +trying to follow conventional ideas as to tones and effects that may +have happened to strike him as universal in the past! Offended nature +will elude him. It is only by divesting oneself of prejudice that one +can render these wonderful harmonies." + + + + +THE TAVERN + +BY WILLA SIBERT CATHER + + + In the tavern of my heart + Many a one has sat before, + Drunk red wine and sung a stave, + And, departing, come no more. + When the night was cold without + And the ravens croaked of storm, + They have sat them at my hearth, + Telling me my house was warm. + + As the lute and cup went round, + They have rhymed me well in lay;-- + When the hunt was on at morn, + Each, departing, went his way. + On the walls, in compliment, + Some would scrawl a verse or two, + Some have hung a willow branch, + Or a wreath of corn flowers blue. + + Ah! my friend, when thou dost go, + Leave no wreath of flowers for me; + Not pale daffodils nor rue, + Violets nor rosemary. + Spill the wine upon the lamps, + Tread the fire, and bar the door; + So defile the wretched place + None will come, forevermore. + + _From "April Twilights."_ + + + + +A STORY OF HATE + +BY GERTRUDE HALL + + +I + +At one end of the village stood a century-old house, infinitely seemly +in line and proportion, in color unblemished white. A hint of the +manorial, if not the temple-like, it owed to a front of broad stairs +and fluted columns, upholding a pediment which over-hung the +ground-floor window-doors and shadowed the windows of the upper story. +An equal dignity and rather serious beauty belonged to the arrangement +of the surrounding garden. Year after year, the same plants bloomed +there, the sort, mostly, we call old-fashioned. A reverence for +ancestral predilections determined the colors and fragrances to be +enjoyed to-day; but as these fairly accorded with the present owners', +the garden remained a true expression of the house's inhabitants. + +At the other end of the village, overlooking the main street, stood a +new house, fruit of what seemed now and then to some one the most +singularly successful research in vulgar ugliness. But to a large +proportion of the villagers it embodied the last word of splendor: it +had, on the face of it, cost enormously, and necessarily met the +tastes of many, from the fact that it offered some specimen of every +style the one who planned it had admired in any dwelling ever seen by +her: turrets, balconies, projecting windows, a Renaissance roof, acres +of verandah, and, ornamenting all, as lace might a lady's garment, +numberless yards of intricate wooden openwork. It had originally been +painted in three colors, but one day, no one divined at what +prompting, a gang of workmen was seen overlaying the rich buff, +russet, and green, with white, and the house stood forth among its +trees no longer utterly condemnable to the more fastidious, but +clothed in such redeeming grace as we might find in a person who with +every fault had yet some quality of candor. Pyramidal masses of +hydrangea flanked the entrance-door and spread in opaline patches upon +the lawn; a round of ornamental water, with a central statue and a +border of sea-conchs, supported the green pads of lilies,--the pink +variety. The estate was bounded on the street by a fence of wrought +iron,--more ponderous lace, in this case black. + +In these two houses lived two women who frankly could not bear +each other. We had nearly said two beautiful women, but the one +impressed rather by charm than any unusual felicity of form, and the +other, strikingly effective, "stunning," as she was frequently +described, displeased almost as many as she pleased. Yet each of +them had heard herself called beautiful often enough to have +assumed the bearing and outlook upon life of a beautiful woman: there +was something positive in the claim of each that her will should be +given weight. We have said they hated each other: but each fair +bosom harbored a very different sentiment from the other. Celia +Compton, the charming, who lived in the peaceful ancient house, +hated Judith Bray, the red-blooded beauty for whom had been built +the architectural monstrosity on the main street, merely as one +hates smoke in the eyes, a grating sound, or shudders at the +thought of flannel against the teeth. But Judith lay awake in the +night, unable to sleep for hating Celia Compton so, and would +hardly have suffered more from stabs with a knife than she did from +the recapitulation of what she called the slights put upon her by +Celia. She turned hot and cold at the recollection, and clenched +her hands while she devised sanguinary methods of getting even with +her. When the sane light of day returned, these must be dropped: for +Celia's offences were, after all, such as can hardly be visited with +vengeance; they could not even be defined. But Judith had a +companion, a poor relative whom she had taken to live with her, an +insignificant, homely, middle-aged-looking young woman called Jess, +who understood without definition, and with whom she could enlarge +upon the subject of Miss Compton without concern for being precise +as to facts or just as to assumptions,--true only to her dislike, +and correct in her sense of the dislike felt for her by Celia. It +was with this Jess she planned some of the crude impertinences by +which she endeavored to retaliate upon her enemy. + +When Celia, at the death of her father, the Egyptologist, whose +obituary notice thrust aside the daily news by an ample column, had +decided to come back and spend her summers in the grandparents' house +where much of her childhood had been spent, she had looked forward +with infinite affection to this return to the tenderly remembered old +village which she had not seen for half a dozen years. The vision of +it, always in apple-blossom time, had used often to interpose between +her and yellow reaches of the Nile. She had been informed, no doubt, +in letters, of innovations at home, but had read, as became evident +afterwards, without bringing home to herself the meaning of these +communications, for it was with a shock she at last beheld them. There +had been in the village, as the image of it lived in her brain, one +modest store to which you went for everything. It was kept by a good, +simple man whose wife and children as often as he waited upon the +customers: all people with whom you in good country fashion talked +over the affairs of the country-side, crops, church-festival, change +of minister. In place of this now stood a large, showy building called +the Emporium. One Matthew Bray, from outside, had bought out the widow +of the old store-keeper, and enlarged the business as you might see. +From all over the county people came to trade there. There was no +longer the necessity to go by rail to the city to shop: here were +dress-stuffs, trimmings, fashion-books, a millinery department. In +reality the thing was not ill done, since it perfectly met a need, but +Celia stared at it in helpless grief, hurt as by hearing a familiar +melody bawled out of tune. Then she was driven past the new house--it +was still tri-colored--and her mind was made up about the Brays. + +She loved many of the village people, with whom she had stood from +infancy in the simplest cordial relations. It hurt a little to +discover their pleasure in these changes, the mean ambitions, as it +seemed to Celia, which they were developing. She found it difficult to +be just, and pardon as natural their satisfaction in the growing +material prosperity brought about by the influx of people drawn by the +Emporium. The widow of the old store-keeper, upon the strength of it, +had opened an Ice-Cream Room. They loved the increased liveliness, +too. Celia could not blame them: her winters were lively, while theirs +were dull enough. But she came here for rest, the village of her love +had been ideally sleepy. Now it was spoiled for her. It hurt her, +too, like a needle-point of neuralgia, to observe, as she fancied, a +new tone among the younger people. Were those really attempts at style +and dash and smartness she witnessed in the children of good old Asah +and Jerusha Brown? Heart-sick, if she allowed herself to consider the +spreading of a leaven which would in time unfit the place for her +habitation, she lived more secluded than had been her habit while +there in former days. The old house was easily sufficient to itself in +the matter of society. The family made but a small group, but friends +of Celia's from the outside world succeeded each other in the +enjoyment of the Comptons' hospitality, of an elegance as simple as it +was graceful. + +She had half suspected what pernicious admiration must be at the root +of the degeneracy she perceived among the village girls, when one +day--this was soon after her return--she saw Judith Bray. It was in +the Emporium, for, no matter how much you hate an Emporium, if there +is not the least thread-and-needle store beside, you may be forced to +patronize it. The attendant, matching embroidery-silks for her, bent +to say: "That across the aisle is Miss Bray." Celia looked. + +For some time she had been aware of a strong feminine voice exchanging +witticisms with the clerk, but had paid no attention. She saw a +handsome brunette, of what she called to herself, as she thought +Judith over on the way home, a crude sort of primitive beauty, as if +that superb body and face had been kneaded with profusion of coarse +materials and not carefully finished off: large yet quick dark eyes, a +black abundance of hair, features of an indescribably triumphant cast. +The physical exuberance clearly expressed in the young woman's color +and molding seemed condensed in a voice and laugh whose chime cut +ringingly through all contending sounds. She was dressed with +conspicuous elegance, according to her own idea, which the community +accepted from her. If one discarded all standards, this solid +prize-fruit was certainly good to look at. Celia granted so much, but +did not for the fraction of an instant relinquish her standards. +Personally, she could no more relish that presence than a perfume or a +flavor too pronounced; it may be doubted whether that particular +perfume and flavor would have been to her taste in the weakest +dilution. + +While she was thus in the act of stealing glances, Judith abruptly +swung round. The clerk, showing off the last importation of +dress-fabrics, had whispered to her, "That just behind you is Miss +Compton," and Judith, breathless with interest, turned her full +bright eye upon the one who, in Judith's own words, had been "the most +important person socially" until she came. + +"She looks just as I thought she would," she said low to the clerk; +and she contrived to find herself near the door when Celia was +leaving, and, smiling an assured smile, she said, "I am so glad to see +you back, Miss Compton. I have heard so much about you, I feel as if +you were already an old acquaintance. I wish you would come and see +me. I suppose we are still new-comers to you, so according to the ways +here it would be your place to call first, wouldn't it, though I +shouldn't mind a bit coming first, if you say so...." + +Celia, flushing at the intolerable offensiveness to her of this, +replied in a low soft voice that she was at present not going out at +all, and with a bow of the most finished perfection passed forth. It +had been so well done that Judith, who felt snubbed at the moment, +rejected, upon consideration, the idea of a repulse, and the year +after, when Miss Compton was out of mourning, sent her an invitation. +Celia declined it in a note which contained not one discoverable +prickle, but yet had about it an atmosphere that seemed to numb +Judith's hand which held it. To the most critical examination, +however, it showed nothing that was not completely civil, and the +unwary Judith permitted herself to act upon the verdict of her brain, +and again, and at intervals again, made overtures to Celia, of whom +she had from the first glance fallen into the most extravagant +admiration. It was her native conceit which prevented her for such a +long time from reaching the certainty that a closer acquaintance with +her was not desired. For what reason?... How could such a thing be?... +She was in her proper esteem so beyond question as desirable an +acquaintance as any person could have. And she was attracted by Celia +as she had never been by woman or man before. Though she was far from +being so humble as to wish herself in any wise altered to resemble +her, it was the difference between them, no doubt, which gave such +fascination for her to Celia's every way of being, her coolness, +restraint, that personal pride so quiet it had the face almost of +modesty, and her manner! her air!... Covering the house with white +paint was, however, the only tribute of imitation Judith ever paid +her, and it was not conscious: she had merely looked at the white +house so much that she judged the paint on her own house to have +become, with wear, more glaring. + +It was during the third summer that Judith compassed her desire of +standing within the portals of the Compton house. Celia, sitting with +her mother and brother and their visitors in the shadow of the Dorian +pillars, in the idleness of a warm afternoon, saw Judith's carriage +approach, and--instead of passing, stop. Judith, in splendid array, +descended and came forward. Celia, wondering, arose. When the ordinary +formalities had been dispatched, Celia ushered Miss Bray into the long +museum-like sitting-room, with the odor of strange old far-away +things. Judith, while she spoke, could not keep her eyes from roving. +She said, and a simple-minded, rich delight in what she had to say, +and felt herself able to do, pierced through her expressions: "I +understand, Miss Compton, that you don't like the idea of a line of +electric cars running through our village and down to the lake. Some +one said so. You think it would spoil the looks of the old street and +bring a lot of rough Sunday people. I wanted to hear it directly from +you, to be quite sure, for it really, when all is said, you know, +depends upon my father, and my father--" she laughed with roguish +audacity--"does exactly what I want him to. It's true he's set his +heart on the line--it's progress, in his way of looking. But if you +don't want it, there shan't be any car-line. Isn't it fun? There's a +town-hall and select-men, and all that, but it really depends upon us +two. My Dad will do anything I say, and I'll do anything you say. +There!... You've only got to speak...." + +Celia had felt herself growing pale with the sheer force of antipathy. +Her nervous hands were so near trembling, she reached to a jade cup +and took from it a string of curious blue beads with which to keep +them occupied. She replied in precisely modulated tones; "You are +mistaken in believing I care--beyond a certain point. I had rather +there were electric cars than--than certain other things. Personally, +it can affect me very little--since I believe we shall soon cease +altogether coming here for the summer." + +Judith, the dense, went away charmed with her call. She had loitered a +little while on the porch, in chatter with the company, and been +escorted to her carriage by the brother. She was amply discussed after +her departure, she and her errand; the brother and the other man, as +far as circumstances permitted, wedging in good words for her, with +half-ironical good-humor. + +The small, withered gentlewoman in the rocking-chair said, "I fear you +will be obliged to call upon her, Celia, after all." + +Celia somberly raged. "Is one to be forced to know people whom it +gives one goose-flesh to hear mentioned? The Brays have made me feel +as if boiled cabbage were reeking from every house in the village, and +I am to associate with them quite as with people I like? Voluntary +intercourse should signify, after all, some degree of regard, and I am +to pretend--No! I will not admit the legitimacy of any tyranny which +could so coerce me! I will be civil to her every time my bad luck +throws us together, but seek her out I will not." + +At the last of the season, nevertheless, Mrs. Compton's card and +Celia's were left at the Brays', their call falling upon a day when +Judith was far from home, to the knowledge of every soul in the place, +Judith truly believed. Celia left on the day after, with the +comfortable sense of having done her duty and deserved the crumb of +favor vouchsafed her by fate. + +She supposed, when she came back the following year, that her relation +with the Brays was now definitely established: one formal call from +each party during the season. But the first time she met Judith, she +perceived instantly that all was changed. She knew she had made an +enemy. How the revulsion had come about was never clear: whether owing +to the mere ripening of age--Judith was now twenty-four or -five, +Celia five or six years older--or the souring of a despised +prepossession, or the intimacy with Jess, which began at about this +time. Celia's punctilious bow met the response of as much petty +rudeness as could be concentrated into a lifting of the chin and a +stare. "Very well," she said to herself stonily, "if you prefer it so, +it is by far the most agreeable to me." + +It was not, altogether; that is, not all the time. We are seldom of a +piece, and a part of Celia was chafed, and now and then saddened, by +the sense of having brought about anything so unbeautiful as this +hate. She could not at all moments clear her conscience of blame, and +had pangs of regret--too honest with herself, however, not to know +that if all were still to do, she should do the same. For another part +of Celia, child of a worldly clan, felt itself eminently justified. +One must keep the two worlds distinct in practice: Brethren before our +Maker, we yet play the social game according to its rules. After the +first, she relegated the matter to a high shelf. She had not made much +case of Judith's friendship, she made scarcely more of her enmity. Her +life was full of other interests, and, as she mingled less and less +with the village, the reminder of Judith's sentiments toward her +hardly recurred often enough to constitute an element in her +consciousness. The truth is that as Judith dropped out of her +existence in the character of one who could interfere with it, she +disliked her less. Sometimes the flushed face with its assumed +haughtiness, "cutting her dead," (Celia, with some idea, perhaps, of +doing for her part a Christian's duty, continued to bow as if unaware +of the insult intended her) smote her with a sense of pity at the evil +passions hardening that really beautiful face. The Comptons' idea that +they might have to give up the village as a summering place was +forgotten. When a little chafed by some noisy exhibition of the Brays' +vulgarity, Celia used to say to herself hopefully that no doubt Judith +would in time marry and go to live elsewhere. She would have been +amazed to discover that she was herself directly concerned with +Judith's singleness. Judith, the very type of whose charms proclaimed +her passionate temperament, had never among her adorers seen one she +was sure would have been felt good enough for Celia. There was a story +passed along in confidence--how things which the persons concerned in +them never breathe come to be generally known is a mystery--that Celia +would never marry, because the one she should have married, renounced +on account of some deadly habit of a drug, was off somewhere at the +other end of the world, fighting his weakness, or, there were those +who said, having given up the fight. Judith, hearing this long before, +had considered the circumstances with an aching sympathy, mingled with +awe. She knew she could never have done it. If she had cared for the +man,--the most brilliant man before, and now the most unhappy,--she +pictured him handsome as a hero of Byron's,--she would have had to +cling to him and go down into the depths together. But spinsterhood +had acquired an effect of fineness for her from the study of Celia, +with the destruction of her happiness so perfectly concealed that one +could detect it by no sign, unless that air of detachment, sometimes, +and distance and fatigue, were an expression of it. In her latter mood +Judith chose savagely to despise Celia for her defection from her +lover; at the same time she lent small ear to love-proffers, absorbed +in a different passion. For the hatred of Celia, who did not think of +her once a week, was grown to a passion. + +It was at this time hardly a matter of resolve that Celia did not +think of Judith, unless some vision obtruded itself of her, driving +past with Jess, whose little sallow face--owing its effect of +malignity perhaps to a defect of the eyes, of which one never could +quite ascertain the nature--was so well fitted to set off the proud +bloom of hers. A strain of magnificence had developed in her: she was +perpetually organizing festivities, picnics, water-parties, +lawn-parties: her garden could be seen a mile away at night, +festooned with Chinese lanterns, while the village band played among +the trees, and the contingent of the village people which she had +formed into "her set" ate ices on her verandah. Effluvia of these +doings drifted necessarily to the Comptons. + +But in time Celia began finding herself subjected to small occasional +pin-pricks of annoyance at things reported to her as having been said +by Judith. They were repeated without malicious intention, mostly as +being funny. The village dressmaker, who sometimes sewed for Celia, +was employed as well by Judith. It might almost have been supposed +part of this woman's business to tell the village news while, as was +the custom, one sat and sewed with her. Celia expected it as much as +that she should bring her thimble and wax. Miss Greene was one of her +oldest village associations, a "character" she was called, and was a +privileged and much-quoted person. She felt a whole-souled allegiance +to the Comptons, but no less to the new-comer, Judith Bray, who had +been lavish to her as to everybody. She "did not know as the one +interfered with the other." When she liked a person, the bent of her +disposition was to tell her everything, but particularly whatever in +the most distant way had reference to her. + +She said to Celia one day, without ceasing to push her gathering +needle, "You know who Judy Bray thinks you like?... in looks?... Well, +you never would guess it! Not 'cause there ain't nothin' in it, though +... for after you've been told, you'll see it at once. She says she +can never see Beech--Beechnut, your dog, you know--without it makes +her think of you." + +Celia felt an inward start. The dog had been given her by some one +very dear, and she saw at once by what perhaps unconscious association +of ideas it was probable the animal had been selected for her. Some +vague resemblance unmistakably existed between herself and the +red-haired setter, with his delicate long face and air at once noble +and mournful. She felt no inclination to resent the comparison in +itself, though she knew it had been meant ill-naturedly; but she +chafed under the sense of the power possessed by the first-comer to +belittle one at pleasure, if it be only in words. + +The remark might have passed from her mind, as originating in +Judith's, but for an event forming a complement to it. Walking down +the main street with Beech, she came, as she approached the Emporium, +in sight of a bull-dog, hideous enough surely to take a first +prize--bow-legged, goggle-eyed, crooked-toothed, a stranger in the +village, where no dog had ever happened before who constituted a real +danger to Beech. He was decorated with a spiked collar and a +splashing cherry ribbon bow. Hurriedly Celia got her hand upon her +dog's collar and drew him to the other side of the road. The bull-dog +sat upon the top step of the Emporium stoop, sleepily blinking in the +sun, a goodly beast of his sort, in his loose soft coat of brindled +plush, but to Celia more hateful than Cerberus. "Whose is that brute?" +she asked a boy lounging near the village horse-trough, and heard what +she had expected, for she had not failed to notice Judith's cart in +waiting near the Emporium door. A flame of real hatred shot up within +her and burned earnestly for a moment. Those who have not a dog cannot +conceive the sensitiveness of the spot in their master's heart +reserved for them. The contemplation of this constant menace +henceforth to Beech, with the alternative of a confinement he had +never known, generated in Celia desires almost murderous toward the +heavy-jawed antagonist, over there. She seized the full reach of +Judith's clumsy attempt at _esprit_: Having pointed out the likeness +between Beech and his mistress, she had procured a pet resembling +herself, as it was her humour to suppose she appeared in the eyes of +Celia. She had succeeded this time to the extent of her intention in +embittering existence to Celia. A nervous fear lest there should be an +encounter between the proud, gentle Beech and that ruffian--the report +reached her that his facetious name was Punch--destroyed all possible +enjoyment of walks even in the remotest by-paths and woods, for, +supposing Judith to maintain this dog for her annoyance, what sense of +bounds or fairness would constrain her? + +A long time passed, however, without sign of the enemy in her remoter +walks; and she had come to feel secure once more and let her dog range +along unleashed, when one day, nothing being further from her +thoughts, Beech's voice came to her ear, tangled in quarrel with +another, and her heart told her that the event so dreaded was upon +them. She ran, with shaking knees, and saw at a glance the worst she +had feared. Celia was not a coward, but a certain permanent sense of +the physical means at her command compelled her to stand helpless, +crying out and beating the air with her hands. Judith, appearing upon +the scene a moment later, white with fright, too, plunged at the +fighters, and having by force of rage and fury of muscle got mastery +over her dog, was with one hand belaboring his big head, while with +the other twisted in his collar she shook and choked him. She stopped, +suddenly without strength, and looked over at Celia, who, trembling +from head to foot, was clinging to Beech. As their glances met, +concentrated indignation shot from Celia's eyes. "I hope you are +satisfied!" she said. + +Judith, after a moment's pause, which appeared owing to amazement, +flourished in the air, for Celia to see, a bitten and bleeding hand, +and said in her harsh, impudent laugh, "I hope _you_ are!" while yet +Celia could not fail to remark that pain or some other emotion was +forcing tears into her eyes. Too angry to be in the least moved by +them, she turned away. + +It was only in recollection that she did grudging justice to +Judith's conduct; but the initial wrong and the whole blame of the +occurrence being so signally hers, she felt under no obligation of +acknowledgement. What became of Punch she never inquired. He was +not seen again in those latitudes. The injury received, however, +was of a kind which the tender mistress of Beech was not likely to +remit, and the remembrance of it went to intensify the effect of +scorn with which upon another occasion she met an impulsive tender of +Judith's, prompted by penitence.... And after that there was no +more question between the women of anything but hate to the extent +of their respective capacities. + +The reinforcement of ill-will in this case arose from a question of so +innocent and fragile a thing as wild orchids. Celia alone in all the +country-side knew where any were to be found. Her grandmother had +taken her as a child to the solitary place in the woods, and it had +been her fancy to preserve the secret, but for one exception or two. +The donor of Beech had visited the fairy recess with her, and the odor +of it now had power to evoke past words and scenes almost more than +anything left of that poor romance. The thoughts she had there thought +first seemed year after year to be still lying in wait for her there. +It was her habit to gather the flowers with discretion and reverence, +distributing them as if they had been so much gold. Any wild orchid +seen in a village sitting-room was sure to be noticed with the remark, +"I see you've had a call from Miss Compton," and it seemed agreed that +one should expect them only from her hand. Celia, seeking the hushed +green haunt one summer morning, her head as always on those +pilgrimages lost in its old dream, upon reaching the dell where her +eyes looked for sparks of pink against the lace of ferns, was startled +by the sight of Judith, solid and ample. One hand grasped a bunch of +orchids, the other was still busily harvesting. What she saw in +Celia's face as Celia recognized her, Judith alone could tell. But +instead of anything their immediately preceding intercourse could have +led Celia to look for, Judith went to her quickly, and, holding out +the flowers for her to take, blurted forth, "It's a burning shame!... +Of course they belong to you, and I'd no business...." But Celia +looked at her with eyes of judgment, and, with a gesture of utter +rejection, turned. Judith scattered her nosegay angrily upon the +earth, and the two women, as fast as ever they could, widened the +distance between them. + +After that, each according to her nature entertained her aversion. In +Celia the act consisted in as perfect an exclusion from her thoughts +of the other, now altogether outside the pale of consideration, as her +will could compass. She refused to be concerned with such ugliness, or +have her life vulgarized by the sentiments which befitted it. In +Judith it formed an undercurrent of excitement, never quite below +consciousness, and at the root of many an action of hers which from +the surface would have seemed to have no relation with it. Other +factors in Judith's life there were combining with her sense of +Celia's disesteem and her revolt against it and requital of hatred, to +give her character a touch of lawlessness in its audacity; her wealth, +her power over her father, her ascendency over the imaginations of the +plain villagers. It was finally felt that she believed everything +permitted to her, and an occasional exaggeration in hard, hare-brained +boldness made a beginning of division in opinion about her among those +whom her generosity and good-humor had first made all alike her +adherents. From time to time inevitably the rivals crossed each +other's path, when Celia's superiority was confirmed to her by the +cold freedom of mind she could maintain under the test, while Judith's +tortures were manifest in the loud fool she made of herself, with the +cheap drama of her flashing eye and imperial attitudes. + +Thus, while weeks grew to months and months to years, under the genial +light of day and the beauty of the nights, amid innocent occupations +and simple pleasures and natural relations satisfying to the heart, +the two carried about, with as little fear as if it had been some such +thing as Judith's diminutive pet alligator brought home from the +South, or the diamond snake with which Celia fastened her lace, the +sentiment destined to find its termination in such tragic horror. + + +II + +Celia, after a round of visits, had come late this year to their +country-house. Miss Greene, called in to make shorter a walking-skirt +for country rambles, as she stitched, told the news, according to +her wont. She had discovered that she was more acceptable to +Celia when she left the Brays out of her conversation, just as she +was more acceptable to Judith when she turned it upon the Comptons. +As this diminished her immediate store of topics while at the +Comptons--village doings were so inwoven with the Brays' affairs--Miss +Greene felt obliged to extend the radius which her reports took in. + +"You ever drive over Quarryville way these days?" After an interval of +silence, long for her, she thus started a new subject. + +"I haven't driven there for a long time. Do you think it a pretty +road? I have never cared for it." + +"No, no more do I. It ain't tree-sy, nor yet there ain't nothin' much +to see of any sort. But Miss Goodrich she drove over there this summer +early, she's got a relative livin' over there, and--Did you ever +notice between this and there a little tumble-down farm-house jest a +little mite off the road? I don't believe there's more'n half a dozen +houses between here and Quarryville, so you must have seen it, though +perhaps you never took no particular notice. Tell you what you might +remember it by. It's got an oleander-tree in a box near the door in +the front yard. The man and woman who live there come from some furrin +place and are most as black as colored people. They've been there a +long time, five or six years, I guess, and have got a vegetable-garden +and a corn-patch. I guess you never took no notice. Well, Miss +Goodrich, drivin' past on her way home from visitin' her relative, +stopped there jest by chance--I forgit now whether a rain-storm come +up or she wanted a drink o' water--but there in that 'most black +woman's house she see the fairest boy-baby she says she ever set eyes +on. Then she began askin' questions, and the woman owned 'twarn't +hers, and it come out, not all at once, but gradually, for Miss +Goodrich she was interested, that when that baby was nothin' but a few +weeks old, a well-dressed lady, she might have been fifty or so, +brought him to her in the carry-all from the depot, and said would she +keep him and bring him up as her own, and here was a sum o' money and +there to be the end o' the whole thing. You can't rightly tell how +much she give her, the woman don't let on, and as she don't talk much +English, it's sort o' hard gettin' things out o' her. But I shouldn't +wonder if it had been somethin' like a thousand dollars. I guess it +was as much as that, for she was a fashionable-lookin' lady. And from +that day to this not a word nor a sign further, and the woman ain't no +more idea than you or me who the lady was or whose child she's got. +But she ain't any children of her own, nor ever has had, and he's a +purty little fellow, and she don't seem to mind the care of him any +more 'n if he was her own. The lady never left any name to call him +by,--she jest wanted to wash her hands of him, that's clear +enough,--and the woman calls him Larry, 'cause she thinks that's one +of our names. But it's queer, ain't it, the whole thing? If it wasn't +so far I'd drive over myself, jest out o' curiosity. I sh'ld think +you'd like to, Miss Ceely. Things like that, that sounds as if they +come out of a story-book, is in your line, I sh'ld jedge." + +Celia remembered afterwards, marvelling, how small hand she had had in +the incidents which brought her to the place where a treacherous fate +lay in wait for her. It seemed to her that her will had been at every +step counter to the direction she finally must take. + +It was a friend on a visit to her, who, when in the afternoon they +hesitated in the choice of a drive, proposed Quarryville. Celia, +though in the least degree repelled, could find no reason for setting +aside the suggestion. But she regretted--yet again without good +reason, as she argued with herself--having permitted just the sort of +person this gifted and charming Mary Havens could not help being, to +be present at her trying-on with Miss Greene. They had no difficulty +in recognizing the house. The oleander stood beside the door-step in +the rough front yard, where common flowers and flourishing weeds made +about an even mixture. Among them toddled a child in a faded pink +slip. As Celia reined in the horse that they might pass slowly, Mary +Havens, before Celia knew what she intended, jumped out, and Celia saw +her in a moment more, down in the tall grass, scrutinizing the child's +face, and heard her foolish, eager chatter at him. Celia waited, with +a misleading effect of patience, looking off at the meadows on the +other side, in an unaccountable distaste, till she became aware of +Mary trying to find footing for the child in front of her knees. + +"Look at him!" Mary said to her in an impressed tone, "Isn't he +_different_?" + +Celia, in the supposition that any baby lifted off his feet by a +stranger would scream, had braced her nerves for the shock. But as she +looked at the child, she ceased to think of that, her displeasure with +Mary dispersed. + +He was a being after her own heart, that was all,--exactly after +her own heart. She had not the general love of children common in +women, which seemed proof that this one who so captured her fancy +must have about him something extraordinary. He was so fair that +the sun to which he was indiscriminately exposed could not prevail +against his firm, uniform, healthy whiteness. He was large for his +small age,--for though he could walk, it was plain he could not yet +talk, or else he did not regard language as necessary, for not by +one sound did he depart from his self-possessed dumbness. The soilure +of the earth upon it could not make his splendid little face funny. A +straight-limbed, strong, calm, fearless, and somewhat solemn baby, +noble in size, noble in the whole effect of him, with just a touch +of something which melted the heart in his wide, sweet, steady, +unsmiling eyes and the drooping arch of his lip. We have described +him as he appeared to Celia. + +"He looks like a king," she breathed, "or like a prophet!" + +"That's just it--I couldn't define it. Think--think of rejecting a +creature like that! Why--if he had been mine----" + +Celia was not listening. She had taken in hers one of his little +strong, firm, white hands, beautiful in shape, in texture surpassing, +and, quite absorbed in him, pressing it as earnestly as if she entered +into a compact with him, was saying over to him just "Larry ... Larry +..." in her voice itself a communication and a caress. + +After a little he wearied of these women, and turned his back upon +them to look at their horse. They became aware of a woman not far from +the carriage-step, clothed in the nondescript dark cotton dress of a +poor farmer's wife, a once bright kerchief around her neck. She was +swart in color, with straight, good features, severer in expression +than were her brown eyes, which suggested possibilities of kindness +when need should arise. She smiled deferentially and said nothing. It +might easily be supposed that English was not her tongue. Miss Havens +fell upon her with questions, which Celia cut short by hurrying their +departure. + +But the thought of Larry would not leave her, and it brought +disturbance almost, making her feel, as she had never felt, a +loneliness in her life, an emptiness. The appeal he had made to her +was beyond anything she had imagined of her nature; the sense of him +haunted her, his image passed before her ten times an hour, a heroic +yet divinely innocent little figure, possessing indescribable +affinities with her deepest soul, or, if this were infatuated +imagination, fulfilling at the very least her every taste. + +When Miss Havens had left, not before, she returned to see him, alone. +And after that, at intervals growing more frequent, she went, sinking +deeper, as she found, in attachment to this child, instead of +recovering from her unaccountable fancy, as it had seemed not quite +impossible one might. + +A drop of bitter it was to her, as when in blowing bubbles one gets a +taste of soapwater, to realize after a time that her interest in Larry +had become a subject of discussion in the village. Even some +perversion of her remark that he looked like a small predestined +Knight of the Grail came back to her ears, with the effect of a +humorous sally. It was almost enough to make one resolve not to see +him any more. Such a thought, however, could be but momentary: her new +love had too strong a hold on her, and she was grown philosophical, +she believed, where village gossip was concerned. + +Dimly there formed in the background of her mind the thought that +sometime, if certain matters could be arranged, she might make herself +responsible for Larry's future. She had no idea of forsaking him, +ever; but he was happy, for the present, and well cared for where he +was. The woman was kind to him, and she was a person of natural good +sense. Celia could see him as often as she pleased; in a manner +already she directed his small affairs. The subsidized Cape Verde +Islander bathed and kept him clean and observed hygienic practices, to +her full of mystery. Closely as her heart was involved, a perfect +prudence restrained Celia: there certainly was no occasion for haste +in coming to any determination, and the thought lurked within vague +undergrowths of her mind that perhaps time would bring forth some +effect of taint in this fruit of strange parentage, which the present +superbly triumphed over. + +It was after an absence from him of perhaps a week, that, coming upon +Larry as he played among the weeds, she spied upon the ground near him +a toy of the richest and gaudiest. The sight of it gave her heart a +sharp pang before her brain had framed the smallest theory of it. She +had taken Larry upon her arm--his weight did but charm her; holding +him, she went about the house calling for Julia, the foster-mother. +She was not to be found, though the doors were open. Celia sat down +with Larry upon the door-step and took up the dazzling puppet, a male +doll with a squeak. She turned it about, sniffing it with faint, +jealous dislike, as if by some emanation from it to divine whence it +came, what it meant. Unenlightened, she at last, though without hope, +asked the baby, "Who gave it to you, Larry?" He only put out his hand +for it masterfully, fumbled its satins, waved it up and down in the +air, and cast it far. + +Celia derived from the woman, returning by and by from the field, that +the doll was the gift of Judith Bray. The woman did not know the young +lady's name, but her broken and laborious description was perfectly +illuminating to Celia. According to the woman's story, Judith had +been there three times within the week, bringing extravagant gifts for +Larry, over whom she screamed with admiration and whom she fondled as +if she would eat him. Celia felt ice hardening about her heart. That +day she spoke decisively to Julia of her intention to take Larry off +her hands. When she had understood, Julia unexpectedly gave evidence +of satisfaction; explaining that this would be for them a desired +thing: her husband had been wishing for some time to move away from +there and go to a factory-town, where the child would be a hindrance. +Celia remembered the money the couple were supposed to have received, +for the care of Larry; the man had no doubt some plan of outlay for +his little capital; her scheme and theirs fell into accord. Celia +impressed it upon Julia before leaving that Larry was from that moment +forth to be regarded as hers, her property. She proposed to fetch him +as soon as suitable preparations could be made, after which Julia and +her husband, delivered for good and all from the burden and expense of +him, would be free to go where they were more likely to make their +fortunes than here. + +With grave, peculiar tenderness, Celia, before leaving, took up the +baby and searched his little face, looked deep into his eyes, which +told her of his mysterious little soul no more than before. She knew +it was like trying to force open a shut flower. "Whatever happens +now, dear," she said to him, though without audible words, "we two +go together. All that happens to you, happens to me. If you are in +the future to be bad or afflicted, I am to be unhappy. But I will +never repent, remembering the glory of you now." She wondered, +seriously, at so beautiful a thing being permitted to live. She +kissed him many more times than she usually did, upon his eyes, his +cheeks, his forehead,--he was royally passive under kissing--and +having left him, almost as if something had warned her, she went back +and pressed him to her a last time. As she started the horse, she +held up a finger to Julia at the gate, in reminder of their agreement; +Julia smiled back her good trustworthy smile. + +Celia had expected to meet with objections at home; they were more +obstinate than she had looked for. But Celia was sure of her way where +only her relatives' prejudices were opposed as a barrier. She had the +whip-hand of an exceptional devotion from them, fairly earned, no +doubt. In this case she was able to allay some anxieties, some +difficulties she over-rode; all were surprised at the willingness she +displayed to make a genuine sacrifice of interests. There was +conducted a quiet, polite domestic campaign, at the closing of which +she was granted unconditionally, with whatever grim forewarnings, an +open field in which to make her life's mistake. + +A little out of conceit with the whole matter, from the weariness of +this contending--impressed, too, in spite of herself, with the +pertinence of some of the objections which had been made, but staunch +in her main purpose, she at last set forth to fetch Larry. As she +passed the Brays' house, a sickly surge of resentment rose from her +momentary general disaccord with the world, and beat against the +windows that were Judith's, for it had been she who indirectly +precipitated this adoption: without her and the indefinable pollution +of her caresses, all being allowed to come to its ripeness naturally, +there would not have been this effect of strain and muffled discord in +bringing home the son-elect. Judith's windows were shuttered; her gay, +long-fringed hammocks taken in. Celia had heard that she was gone +unexpectedly early this year. + +But why--why were the windows of the grey farm-house closed and +shuttered too? What could be the meaning of that? Celia could hardly +believe her eyes. Never once had she seen them closed. And the +door was closed, and the garden empty, and the clothes-line gone, the +oleander gone. She remained for a time without getting out of the +carriage, staring in puzzlement over at the house. It was like +something in a dream. When she got out, she found that her knees +were unsteady, and wondered at it, because she as yet felt little +but a futile effort of the brain to find some common explanation +of these circumstances, which only superficially, of course, seemed +so unnatural. Why should not Julia for once in her life have gone on a +visit, or a jaunt, or an errand? It was a long knowledge of all the +conditions which made this surmise insufficient. Celia fumbled +with a shutter and got it open. She made blinders with her hands and +peered in. Then her heart sank away, as if one should suddenly find +by the touch that a person one supposed alive was dead. It was a house +from which the inmates plainly had moved away. She made the circuit +of the house, examining things. All told the same story, no +possibility of deceiving oneself. They had gone. Celia went to the +gate and seated herself upon a stone facing the house, and stared at +it. She felt no pain. Indeed, something said within her, in the tone +she took discussing things sometimes, when she was drawing from a +worldly philosophy: "Well, it simplifies matters." The solution first +to present itself satisfied her. The same who had placed Larry there +had come for him. Perhaps they had got wind of the proposed +adoption,--Julia was deeper than had been suspected,--and in +order that the darkness they evidently sought should be ensured past +all doubt, they had prevailed upon the foster-parent to leave, like +the Arabs. No house was so near that she might to any purpose have +made inquiry, if she had cared to do that. But, as has been said, she +was satisfied. What had happened seemed to her obvious and what, +had she been a little wiser, she would have been prepared for. As +she rose, she laughed, or did something more or less like it, and +said aloud for the crows to hear: "What a fool I was to suppose that +anything I cared so much about could go right!" She got into her +phaeton and drove back. She said to them at home, and the hard sadness +setting her features was in its effect vindictive, "You see, you are +to have your wish, after all." To make investigation did not even +later enter her mind. She would not grant to her persecuting fate +the joy of beholding her tortured with suspenses or uncertainties. She +was persuaded of the worst. Her heart told her it was finished with +that dream. + +After that she tried to make the best of her position, to keep her +mind fixed upon the advantages of her defeat. But the persistent image +of Larry, the memory of his thousand ways of being dear and The Only, +with the thought of never seeing him again or knowing anything further +about him, made her struggle for an ordinary exterior at moments more +than difficult. She came to learn the measure of the cheated feminine +tenderness which, denied any natural channel, had fastened so hungrily +upon that child of strangers, when it was thrown back useless upon her +heart. She selected finally, to dwell upon, the best of all the +possibilities: that among the people who had claimed him back--of fine +race, if he resembled them--he would find all for the absence of which +he had been pitied: the tender love of parents, the opportunities of a +privileged life. She agreed that his case would be better than if he +had been left to her. But after she had by arguments persuaded +herself, when by her own logic she had reason for rejoicing, there +closed down upon her a melancholy such as she had at intervals in her +life suffered from before. The experience was like going into a +tunnel, of which nothing could avail to lighten the darkness until by +the grace of God one came out at the other side of the hill. There was +no fighting it off by reason, no discovering an adequate cause for it, +no foreseeing the moment of its end. One endured it like a prolonged +bad dream, wherein the magnified affections shake one in one's +helplessness at their will. At such times all that had ever been pain, +disappointment, defeat, however long recovered from, came again to +perfect life in memory, while all that had been happy, diminished to +insignificant proportions, retreated out of sight. "Why do I feel like +this?" Celia could still ask herself by daylight, and repeat, +"Everything is all right." But in the night time the power of the +thing was complete. + +She had at last, after some three days of such nerve-sickness, taken +something to assist sleep. But the small hours found her, in spite of +all, awake and staring into the dark, with her troubled mind harping +upon the same chords. She sat up in bed, old sorrows bleeding +afresh with the new; she took her confused head between her hands, +and was voicing the unreconcilement of millions before her and to +follow: "Why is everything I love made into an instrument to punish +me? What have I done? Why all this senseless pain and calamity to +me? Why to me one after the other two losses such as, coming singly +in a life, would be enough to darken the sun? Are you, stupid +blind Fate, weaving a pattern in which the same design must repeat +itself? For is it justice that twice I should have the thing my heart +had grown around taken from me, and not in the terrible legitimate +way of death, but just placed out of reach and sight, while I +torture myself with wondering what may be happening to make the +beloved suffer?... Oh, Larry, why ... why this dismay inseparable from +the thought of you?" The torture of the visions of Larry which, +spite of her shuddering repudiation, would obtrude themselves, was +such now that even in her morbid mood she recognized something +disproportionate in it, and had clear-sightedness to attribute it to +a reaction from the narcotic. She tried to get herself more +normally awake. She strained her eyes to see the figures upon her +watch, and a sort of patience fell upon her, ascertaining that in +an hour or so it would begin to be day, by the light of which the +worst never appears quite so unendurable. She felt cold now, and +drawing up her quilt went through the forlorn mockery of composing +herself to sleep. + +Perhaps for a moment without knowing it she dozed, for when the +barking of Beech, who slept in the laundry, roused her with a start, +it was certainly lighter, she could distinguish the vine-branches +against her window. The muffled bark of lugubrious timbre came again +and again, deadened by distance and doors. The shock of the first +outburst--her heart had seemed to roll over--had plunged Celia into +what we call, when children suffer it, a fit of the horrors. +Twitching, she sat up again, and receiving from Beech's voice, as his +angry barks multiplied, a message of warning, she kept her eyes +instinctively fixed upon the square of light. + +She slept on the ground-floor, and a garden-walk passed under her +window. A figure now darkened it. It could hardly be said that she was +frightened, she seemed to have turned to stone. Some one tapped, then +stood peering in and making signs. As she did not stir, the tapping +was repeated, urgent and more urgent. She arose and with less +astonishment than seemed explicable, recognized Judith Bray, who +whispered gaspingly, "Let me in, let me in--you must!" At this point +was entered by Celia a quite different phase of sensation. Now that +there seemed to be something to do, a call upon her for she as yet did +not know what, her nerve got back its tensest steadiness, her mind its +calm,--she was the effective daughter of a long line of effective +people. + +She had signed the auroral intruder to a side-entrance, the furthest +from the sleepers in the house, and when they had tiptoed back to her +own chamber and noiselessly closed its door, she re-entered her bed, +being conscious in an undercurrent fashion of cold. As her eyes +consulted Judith, the livid atmosphere in which her bad dreams had +been enacting themselves through the night was shot with sanguine. +Judith's face prepared the mind for revelations which should smother. +That touch of excess which, however expressed, had always been an +element in the repugnance with which she inspired Celia, showed itself +now in a haggardness beyond all one could conceive a person achieving +in the brief space since the girl had been seen at the gate of her +garden jesting with the passers. She was bareheaded; the wide hood of +a travelling-cape, which had perhaps replaced her hat, lay back, and +her blown hair made a great wreath to her bloodless face. Her +breathing spoke of a merciless excitement driving her heart. + +Celia sat up and clasped her knees with cramped fingers, pale with the +gray pallor of the dawn, in which her long coppery hair was just +beginning to glimmer a little--with the gilt picture-frames, and the +griffins of the candlesticks, and the like. "Well?" she said. + +"Oh, I don't know how to tell you!" broke forth Judith, and the manner +of this first utterance exposed shockingly the fact that here stood +that sickening anomaly, a Judith clean emptied of spirit, pride, or +courage: "How shall I tell you?" + +"Hush!... Speak lower!" + +"Oh, who cares?... I have brought him back to you----" + +"You have brought back whom?" Celia inquired in blank wonder, "You +have brought back--No, no, you don't mean--What? You never can mean +_Larry_?" + +"I do.... For pity's sake _wait_ till I've told you...." + +"Then it was _you_ who took him away?..." + +"Yes, it was.... And now I've got him dead on my hands!" + +Celia's understanding could not at once fully grasp this which was +offered, and she remained open-mouthed and mute. + +"Of course it was I took him. Do you mean you didn't even suspect +me?... When I found you meant to have him, I couldn't let you, that's +all. You had been so mortally mean.... But that wasn't the whole. I +could see all you saw in him, too. I was just as crazy about him as +you. And when I heard you were going to adopt him, the thought came in +a flash, 'Why shouldn't I?' as long as I meant never to marry. And it +seemed a great lark, a good one on you, just lifting him away like +that. I paid a good price, I can tell you. But what does all that +matter now?... We were going to drive him to Jess's home in the +country--Jess said she knew all about babies--and then, after a time, +he was to reappear here as an orphan I'd adopted. You would recognize +him, of course, but what could you do?... When I think of the +light-hearted way I went into this thing, I could kill myself.... But +it's going to kill me, anyhow. Oh, you shouldn't have treated me +so.... I have a heart, too! But what do you care?... I did care about +him, though. I did. I did. You can't hate me as much as if I hadn't +truly cared. That little fellow had got a sort of hold on me nothing +has ever had. You should have seen him when we left, all in laces and +embroideries, like a little fairy prince. And he seemed all right. We +stopped the first night at a country hotel, and Jess and I gave him +his bath and fed him, just as nice.... We drove all the next day. He +seemed interested in the things we passed. The night after that we +were at a hotel again. I thought something wasn't quite usual with +him, but Jess said it was all right, and wouldn't hear of my calling +in a doctor. And suddenly, in the middle of the night, when we were +both asleep, I was wakened by a sound, and I don't know what was +wrong--he was struggling, he seemed to be choking, and after just the +shortest time he was still, and anyone could see how it was. We were +so frightened we didn't know what to do. We didn't dare call anybody, +and Jess got so scared thinking all sorts of things which might +happen, how we might be called to account before the law, that, will +you believe it, she wouldn't stay with me a second longer. She put on +her things and the instant it was light off she started for her home. +Then--I can never tell you how I did it. I dressed him and wrapped +him up and wound my veil around his head, and I asked for my carriage, +and I haven't stopped since, except to feed and water the horse----" + +"Do you mean ..." gasped Celia. + +"Yes.... Outside...." + +Celia pressed her drained face to her knees and beat the bedclothes +with her hands. + +"That's the way I feel, too," said Judith, with a dizzy movement of +her hand across her forehead, "I want to scream aloud till I go mad." + +Celia was moaning into the covers. + +"Stop, stop, you poor thing!" Judith's breath caught in her +throat, and her hand travelled tremblingly toward Celia's shoulder, +"Oh, I know--I know how you feel! Don't.... Don't!... you poor +thing. I've been and done it, haven't I.... There was no one--no one +like him, nor ever will be again. A human flower, wasn't he?... And +why I should come here to the one I've hurt most and who must hate me +worst, I don't know.... I suppose it's the way criminals give +themselves up. Unless it's because, as I've hated you so, and had good +reason to, and you've known it, I felt you would understand better +than the others. Then, you've got brains, you can tell me what to +do. After driving those millions of miles with that poor angel like +lead upon my arm, I haven't an idea in my head beside ... I'm afraid +to go to my father--" She shivered. "He's been sick of my pranks +for some time. You will stand by me, Celia Compton, just for the +first?... I could have been devoted to you, if you had let me.... +You know I was never anything but a soft-hearted fool--and now to +have upon my soul the responsibility of this ghastliness...." + +Celia had got up, and with the dainty carefulness forming part in her +of that second nature which stands us in stead when the directing +faculties are dazed, was fastening up her hair. + +"First," she said, "we shall have to call my brother. Then go to your +father." + +At these words, which could be interpreted as a promise of assistance, +Judith laid down her head, and let tears at last have their way with +her. In floods, more and more uncontrolled they came. Celia stood over +her, but even a racking compassion could not make her touch the +heaving figure. "The fault was more mine than yours," she said, with +dry lips and inexpressive voice, like that of an oracle, or a sleeper +speaking. "In the bottom of my heart I must have always known that the +blame of our silly feud was with me. With a word I could have set +everything right. What are you?... A leaf in your own passions. But I +know what I am about, and do what I do deliberately. + +"And with a heart just a little larger ... but now, as you say, +between us, we've done it. But you need not blame yourself as much as +me.... Come. You must go outside and remain with ... with him, while I +explain to my brother. In a moment it will be sunrise." + +As Judith's strength and command over her will seemed now to have +forsaken her, Celia helped her to her feet and guided her out of the +house. It was a shock, turning the corner, to find the carriage +directly at hand, high upon the lawn. The pearl-grey carriage-rug lay +massed upon the seat. + +The sweet daylight brightening over all the familiar things had its +moment of trying to convince that the strange and terrible must be +unreal. Only, there upon the carriage-seat lay the proof that the past +belief was true. Celia stood, her eyes held by it, a chill from it +stealing congealingly upon her. And as at the sight, with the horror, +the sorrowfulness of it all smote her directly upon the heart,--and +the sense, at last fully brought home, of the ruin of the most +adorable thing the earth had given her to know wrung from her a +scalding quintessence of tears,--her eyes closed against the image +that would form of what the grey folds concealed, and her figure +swayed. Judith, beside her, had been struggling to screw her nerve to +the point where it might be subjected once more to the strain that had +broken it down; but at the sight in accusing daylight of the burden +which must be taken up again, her whole being recoiled with such +violence that her head jerked convulsively back and her hand reached +out for something steadying--and the two women, in a common anguish +before their work, clung to each other for support. + + + + +HIS NEED OF MIS' SIMONS + +BY LUCY PRATT + +ILLUSTRATIONS BY FREDERIC DORR STEELE + +[Illustration] + + +"Jes look, Miss No'th! Looker w'at's comin' down de road!" + +Miss North turned her head inquiringly, and Ezekiel continued to +comment enthusiastically. + +"It's ole Arch'bal' Smiff," he declared, with lively appreciation, +though in the near distance Archibald failed to look as aged as +Ezekiel might have led one to expect. "Yas'm, 'tis; dat's ole +Arch'bal' Smiff. Now, w'at dey-all doin' 'im dat-a-way fer? Look, Miss +No'th! Dey's jes a-_chasin'_ 'im down de road!" + +Miss North stopped a moment and glanced back at the rapidly +approaching Archibald. + +"They are probably just chasing him for fun, aren't they?" she began +reassuringly. + +"'Tain' no fun ter git w'ite men chasin' after yer dat-a-way," +objected Ezekiel. + +There were excited shouts from the passing, jostling runners, and +Archibald turned and cast a momentary exalted, half-dramatic smile on +Miss North. + +"They are just in fun, you see. Come, Ezekiel, I want you to go on +with me, and bring back some books that I order; will you?" + +"Yas'm--yas'm, I'll go on wid yer, Miss No'th; but look like ole w'ite +men's gwine ketch 'im, too, doan't it?" + +"Catch him? No. Why should they want to catch him?" + +"Cert'nly make me think 'bout de time dey-all come a-chasin' af' Jonah +w'en I'se ter Mis' Simons'. An' I reckon, ef 'tain' been fer Mis' +Simons, dey'd 'a' ketch 'im, too. But Mis' Simons she jes 'ntirely +dis'range dey plans." + +"How did she do that?" questioned Miss North, suddenly interested. + +"W'y, she jes _done_ it," explained Ezekiel, explicitly. + +"I see; but--how? Did Jonah get into some--some trouble?" + +"Ya'as, ma'am! An' he jes did!" assured Ezekiel dramatically; "but +Mis' Simons she jes completely dis'range de whul plan. W'y, yer see, +it wuz dat ve'y day de Cap'n went off ter de ho'se fair, an' lef' 'er +all 'lone wid jes me an' Sarah an' Marg'ret an'--an'--well, he _would_ +'a' lef' 'er wid Jonah, too, but, yer see, Mis' Simons she foun' she's +'blige sen' Jonah on a r'al 'mportant erran'. 'Twuz 'long 'bout free +o'clock in de evenin', an' I wuz in de gyarden a-waterin' de yaller +lily-baid, an' Jonah he wuz a-hoein' on de li'l' paff where cut 'roun' +siden de baid, w'en Mis' Simons step up an' say, 'Jonah,' she say, 'I +want yer ter stop a-hoein' an' do a erran' fer me,' she say. + +"'Yas'm,' Jonah answer 'er. Yer see, Jonah think a awful heap o' Mis' +Simons, an' allays seem ter wanter do jes like she ax 'im ter. Co'se, +ef he ain't wanter, w'y, I s'pose he'd 'a' did it jes same anyway, but +he jes natchelly is wanter. So, 'Yas'm,' he say, an' Mis' Simons +'mence tellin' 'im all 'bout it. She look up in de sky ez she's +talkin', too, at de sun, where's shinin' righ' down stret inter de +yaller lilies, an' she say: 'Co'se yer'll be back 'fo' dark, Jonah; +doan' be no longer'n yer's _'blige_ ter, 'cuz we _wants_ yer back 'fo' +dark.' + +"An' Jonah smile at 'er an' say he'll go 'long right smart, an' Mis' +Simons smile back at 'im an' say, well, not ter kill 'isself 'bout it; +an' den Jonah he lef' us dere siden de lily-baid, an' de sun a-shinin' +down jes same. + +"''Zekiel,' Mis' Simons 'mence after w'ile, an' 'er voice soun' kine +o' slow an' dreamin' like. ''Zekiel, does yer s'pose yer'll ever git +ter be 's good a man 's Jonah?' + +"'Wha'm?' I say, kine o' s'prise w'en she ax me right out ez plain's +dat. 'Yas'm, I s'pose I is, Mis' Simons,' I say. + +"She look at me r'al quick an' laf, same way I seen 'er do ser many +times befo'. + +"'I doubt it,' she say, still a-smilin'; 'I doubt it, 'Zekiel.' + +"Well, co'se I ain' know jes 'zackly w'at she mean talkin' dat-a-way, +but look 'mos' like she think I _ain't_ ser good's Jonah is, an', +anyway, I ain't r'ally like way she spoke, so, 'Yas'm,' I say, 'I +reckon I _kin_ be jes ez good's Jonah!' I say, an'--an' I didn' 'mence +ter cry, nudder, but--but I 'mence hoein' on de li'l' paff, an' +waterin' de yaller lilies, twell Mis' Simons pat me light 'n' sof' on +de haid--kine o' laffin', too. + +"'W'y, yes, co'se, 'Zekiel,' she say, '_co'se_ yer's gwine be ez +good's Jonah! An' I jes reckon yer'll be 'blige tek 'is place now +twell he gits back, too! W'y--w'y, I couldn' git 'long 'thout yer +noways, could I, 'Zekiel?' She ben' down while she's talkin' an' pick +a yaller lily f'um de baid. 'Jes see it ketch de sun!' she say. +'Doan't it look like gole a-shinin'! Doan't yer reckon I better tek a +whul bunch ter Mis' Myers, 'Zekiel?' she say. 'She's sick, yer +know--po' Mis' Myers!' + +"'Yas'm,' I answer 'er, an' 'mence pickin' de bunch fer 'er. + +[Illustration: "'I COULDN' GIT 'LONG 'THOUT YER NOWAYS, COULD I?' SHE +SAY"] + +"'An' you'll tek cyare o' de place w'ile I'se gone, won't yer, +'Zekiel? I kin trus' yer jes same's I kin Jonah, cyan't I? Ya'as, +co'se. I ain' gwine be gone ve'y long, nudder,' she say; 'jes long +'nough ter give Mis' Myers de flowers, an' talk a li'l', or p'r'aps +read a li'l'--' an' same time she's tellin' me 'bout it she 'mence +walkin' off down de paff. + +"Praesen'ly she turn 'roun' ag'in, an' I kin see 'er tekkin' one o' de +lilies f'um de bunch an' puttin' it in 'er dress. Den she put 'er hand +up to 'er haid quick, like she's thought o' sump'n' she oughter +'membered 'fo'. + +"''Zekiel!' she say. An' I run up to 'er fas' 's I could. + +"''Zekiel, tell Jonah I--I forgot!' she whisper to me, an' she look +r'al w'ite an' strange. 'Tell 'im--no--' an' she seem ter change 'er +mine, 'no, I ain' gwine, after all. I'll wait yere twell he comes.' + +"Co'se I ain' know w'at 'tis Mis' Simons 'membered 'bout ser quick, +an' I ain't r'ally wanter ax 'er, nudder; so I jes stood dere +a-lookin' after 'er w'ile she walk off ter de li'l' arbor in de +gyarden an' se' down on de seat. She look kine o' lonesome, too, +a-settin' dere all 'lone, an' I start gwine after 'er ter ax 'er +w'at's de matter. But time I gotten dere I didn' r'ally like ter +trouble 'er, so I jes stood dere quiet by de do', a-lookin' in. + +"'Well, 'Zekiel,' she 'mence praesen'ly, 'did yer want sump'n'?' + +"'No'm,' I say, kine o' wishin' I ain't come, 'no'm, but I'se studyin' +a li'l' 'bout yer, Mis' Simons--an' wonderin' did sump'n'--frighten +yer?' + +"She smile den, an' hel' out 'er han'. + +"'No, no, my chile,' she say, lookin' mo' like she useter 'gin, +''tain' nuthin' frighten me; I'se jes thinkin' 'bout sump'n'--I +oughter 'membered 'fo'. 'Twuz ve'y thoughtless o' me--ter fergit!' she +say low like to 'erself. Den, ''Zekiel,' she 'mence ag'in, ''ow long +does yer reckon it's gwine tek Jonah ter git back?' + +"'I dunno'm, Mis' Simons,' I say, 'but I reckon he'll be back right +soon now, too.' + +"'_Couldn'_ tek 'im mo'n a hour, could it?' she ask, jes ez ef I +knowed all 'bout it. + +"'No'm,' I say, 'couldn' tek 'im mo'n a hour.' + +[Illustration: "'SHE KEEP ON A-READIN', AN' I KEEP ON A-WUKKIN' ON DE +PAFF'"] + +"She look up r'al bright at me den, an' praesen'ly look down at de +flowers in 'er han'. + +"'I reckon _you'll_ be 'blige tek 'em ter Mis' Myers, won't yer, +'Zekiel?' she 'mence. But she stop quick 'gin, lookin' same way she +did 'fo', w'en she put 'er han' up to 'er haid. + +"'No!' she say, 'doan't yer go outen de yard ter-day, 'Zekiel! Yer +won't go 'way ter-day, will yer, 'Zekiel?' + +"'W'y, no'm,' I say, wonderin' w'at she mean; 'no'm, I ain' gwine 'way +'n' leave yer, Mis' Simons.' + +"She smile ag'in, an' lay down de flowers, an' den she tuk up a book +where's layin' on de seat. + +"'Dat's a good li'l' boy,' she say; 'now go 'n' hoe de weeds outen de +gyarden paff, same way Jonah's doin' 'fo' he went.' + +"So I went back ter de paff by de lilies, an' start in ter wuk right +smart. But, co'se, eve'y li'l' w'ile I 'range ter git jes enough time +ter look at Mis' Simons, too, a-settin' in de arbor wid 'er book; an' +praesen'ly 'mence ter look like she's 'mos' forgotten where she's at, +she's a-readin' ser hard. Mus' 'a' been mo'n a hour sence Jonah went +'way, too, but she keep on a-readin', an' I keep on a-wukkin' on de +paff, jes wukkin' 'long same's befo', twell bime-by I'se jes 'blige +se' down an' res' a li'l' myself. But Mis' Simons she ain't look up +'tall. An' after I 'mence ter feel kine o' rested an' mo' like wuk, +w'y, co'se I got up an' start in hoein' ag'in, an' dere's Mis' Simons +still a-settin' dere readin' jes same's befo'! De sun's gittin' kine +o' low, too, an' look like she gwine git cotch in de dark ef she ain' +cyarful, so I drap my hoe in de grass an' step 'long up ter de li'l +arbor an' se' down on de step. Mis' Simons kine o' start-like w'en she +seen me, an' put down 'er book an' raise 'er han's up slow 'n' +sleepy-like to 'er eyes. + +"'Wat time is it, 'Zekiel?' she say. + +"De clock wuz strikin' six, time I drap my hoe down in de grass, so I +tole 'er 'bout it. + +"'Six!' she say, a-jumpin' off 'er seat. 'Six er-clock! An' ain' Jonah +come? Ain't he come _yit_, 'Zekiel?' + +"'No'm, he ain't,' I say, 'cuz he _ain't_, so w'at else _is_ it I kin +say? 'No'm, he _ain't_,' I say. + +"'An' he's been gone long 'nough to've gone free times at leas'!' she +whisper un'er 'er bref. 'Oh, w'at is I done! Jonah, _Jonah_, w'y +_doan't_ yer come back!' + +"'I reckon he'll be back right soon now,' I say, 'cuz cert'nly make me +feel bad ter see Mis' Simons look dat-a-way. 'Doan't yer reckon he +will?' I say. + +"But she jes shuk 'er haid awful sad 'n' slow-like. + +"'I'se 'fraid--I'se 'fraid sump'n's 'appen to 'im, 'Zekiel,' she +answer. 'I--I sent 'im de ve'y place--where it's awful trouble--gwine +on ter-day! I sent 'im, 'Zekiel, 'thout--'thout 'memberin' w'at I +knowed!' + +"Well, I ain't r'ally know 'ow ter answer 'er dat time, so I jes didn' +make no 'sponse 'tall. + +"'Come,' she say, 'we mus' go in de house, 'Zekiel; it's gittin' +dark.' + +"It seem awful long after we's in de house, an' praesen'ly, it's sech +a warm evenin', Mis' Simons went out on de po'ch. But she mus' 'a' +feel kine o' strange 'n' lonesome, too, 'cuz praesen'ly she ax Sarah +'n' Marg'ret won't dey come out 'n' set dere fer a li'l' w'ile. + +"'It's time fer you ter go ter baid, ain't it, 'Zekiel?' she say; an' +I jes start ter tell 'er, 'No'm, I doan' reckon 'tis,' w'en it come de +stranges' noise out dere in de yard. Look like somebody's runnin' ser +fas' he cyan't sca'cely breve, an' all time comin' right 'long fru de +grass todes de steps. + +"'Mis' Simons, Mis' Simons!' somebody whisper, awful hoarse an' +strange-like. An' _w'at_ yer s'pose? W'y, it's jes _Jo_-nah, a-tearin' +right 'long up de steps! + +"'Lemme go in, Mis' Simons! Please lemme go in!' he keep on +whisperin', like he cyan't sea'cely breve. 'Dey's after me, Mis' +Simons! Dey's gwine git me! An' yer knows I ain't done a _thing to +'em_, Mis' Simons! Oh, w'at's dey a-chasin' me fer? I--I ain' _done a +thing_!' + +"Yas'm, dat's jes de way he talk, an' 'mos' look like he's gwine fall +right down, too, twell Mis' Simons tuk hole uv 'is arm, kine o' +shekkin' 'im, like, an' turn 'roun' ter de do'. + +"'Go in, Jonah! Quick!' she say. 'Cuz dey's voices an' folks a-runnin' +an' holl'in' right dere in de yard. She seem ter jes push 'im in an' +shet de do'; an' den she stan' up, lookin' ser stret 'n' w'ite-like, +didn' look r'ally _like_ Mis' Simons. + +"''Tain' gwine nobody else git--fru--dat-do',' she say, ser low +couldn' nobody sca'cely hyeah it; an' den, oh, 'twuz jes awful! Dey +all come a-knockin' up 'ginst de steps, an' a-holl'in' an' a-pushin', +an' some uv 'em laffin' an' some uv 'em cursin', an' all uv 'em +holl'in' 'bout de nigger, an' tellin' Mis' Simons ter bring out de +nigger! + +"An' w'at yer s'pose? Mis' Simons she jes stan' dere same's ever, +a-lookin' down on 'em wid 'er back ter de do'. + +[Illustration: "'IT'S TIME FER YOU TER GO TO BAID, AIN'T IT, 'ZEKIEL?' +SHE SAY"] + +"'Bring 'im out!' dey keep on a-holl'in'. 'Bring 'im out!' + +"An' 'er face look all w'ite an' dazzlin' in de light, an' 'er voice +come low an' kine o' shekkin' like. 'No,' she say, 'I cert'nly is not +gwine--bring 'im out,' she say. Yas'm, dat's jes de 'sponse she make. +An' den dey all 'mence holl'in' ag'in 'bout crim'nal 'n'--'n' +murd'rer, an' sayin' does she want 'em ter go in _af_-ter 'im, an' +buntin' up 'ginst de steps ag'in, an' jostlin' an' pushin', twell Mis' +Simons kine o' step forrad a li'l', still a-lookin' down at 'em. + +"'Ain't yer 'shame!' she say. '_Oh--ain't--yer--'shame_!' An' I +'clare, ez she stood dere, seem like I ain' nuver seed 'er eyes look +ser clare 'n' burnin'-like, ner 'er face ser dazzlin' w'ite. + +"'He's jes ez innercent uv any crime--ez I is,' she say. 'I knows it, +'cuz I knows 'im,' she say; 'an'--you knows it! Ef yer doan't--it's +'cuz yer doan't cyare 'nough 'bout it--ter--fine--out.' + +"It's one r'al big man where seem ter be kine o' mekkin' all de res' +uv 'em do jes like he done, an' fum de ve'y time Mis' Simons 'mence +ter speak he jes stood dere a-lookin' at 'er like he cyan't move ner +holler. + +"'Yer--doan't cyare 'nough 'bout it--ter--fine out!' she say; 'an' den +_dis_ yere's de kine o' thing yer do! Oh, it's de kine o' thing we's +'blige answer fer--eve'y day!' An' she stop, kine o' gaspin' like, ter +ketch 'er bref. + +"Well, de ve'y same time she stop, de big man turn 'roun' awful quick +'n' look off r'al sudden at de road an' den he look at de res' where's +cursin' 'n' laffin'----" + +"Ezekiel!" interrupted Miss North in a sharp whisper, catching at his +arm. Then her hand dropped, and she looked around her. + +"Don't you see, Ezekiel?" she went on naturally. "We are almost there. +And--wait, Ezekiel; stay right here; don't hurry so. Wait, stay close +to me! There seems to be--some trouble." + +"It's Arch'bal', Miss No'th!" he began, his voice rising excitedly. +"Dey's cotch 'im! I tole yer dey's gwine cotch 'im, Miss No'th! Look, +Miss No'th!" + +Just then a big negro broke in on the scene, and suddenly Archibald +was at large again, dashing through the noisy crowd in one direction, +while the big negro ran in another. In the confusion that followed, +Miss North put her hand out for Ezekiel, to find that he was not +there, while Ezekiel, looking distractedly for Miss North, found +himself pushed on in the crowd of jostling, swearing men. + +"Oh, look out!" he gasped; "yer's pushin' me! Yer--yer's steppin' on +me! _Oh, turn me loose!_" + +"Get out o' yere!" a coarse voice called in his ear, "You'll get +killed, an' good riddance if you do!" + +He felt them closing in over him, while he slipped to the ground--tramping +on over him, pushing, tramping on, while, a limp, wounded little heap, he +tried to raise his head, and felt it knock back again in the dust. + +"Mis'--Mis' Simons--wouldn' nuver 'a' let yer--done me--dat-a-way!" he +whispered vaguely. He raised his head again, feeling confusedly for it +as he sat up, gazing stupidly around. Then he pulled himself to his +feet and limped aimlessly around in a circle. + +"Where's I gwine?" he mumbled. "_Mis' Simons!_ ... Mis' Simons--wouldn' +nuver 'a' let yer--done me--dat-a-way!" He stumbled off across the +side-walk into the grass, unheeded by a still confused, noisy crowd. +In the grass he still stumbled on. + +"Mis' Simons--wouldn' nuver 'a' let yer--'a' let yer--done me--" As he +slipped down again into the grass, his eyes closed. + +[Illustration: "''TAIN' GWINE NOBODY ELSE GIT--FRU--DAT--DO',' SHE SAY"] + +A crowd of angry, excited men seemed to be still before him--but Mrs. +Simons stood with her back to the door, looking down at them with +a white face. From a step beside her he seemed to be still looking +up at her, while her low, vibrating voice seemed to be still +echoing--echoing: + +"Oh, aren't you ashamed of yourselves! _Aren't--you--ashamed!_" + +With their reckless, brutish faces flickering before him again, he +thought he was watching only her--watching--while her low voice went +vibrating on--till they turned from her, swearing and laughing! And +then she was stretching out her white hand, catching at one of the +pillars, while she slipped down--down beside him on the step--and her +arms fell around him helplessly. + +"You'll--take--care of me!" she cried faintly, "won't you--Ezekiel!" + +"Yas'm," came a broken whisper from the grass, "I'll tek cyare o' yer, +Mis' Simons!" + +But there was another low voice which he did not understand, and his +eyes opened wide, looking up vacantly at Miss North. + +"Ezekiel! Have you--have you--been hurt? Oh, Ezekiel----" + +"Yas'm, I reckon I is, Mis' Simons, jes a li'l'," he mumbled, +struggling painfully to his feet; "but I'll--tek cyare o' yer--I'll +tek cyare o' yer, Mis' Simons!" + + * * * * * + +The next morning he sat in his seat at school, watching Miss North +with large, absent eyes. + +"You ought not to have come this morning, Ezekiel," she began gently, +as her eyes rested on his thin, wistful little face; "I don't think +you ought to stay." + +"Yas'm, I oughter stay, Miss No'th," he assured her, with a faint +smile. His eyes wandered to the window. + +"Did dey ketch 'im?" he questioned suddenly. "Did dey ketch Arch'bal', +Miss No'th?" + +"No," she answered, a sudden hot color rising up in her cheeks. +"Archibald's gone away; they can't find him. But he--he needn't have. +They found out it was a mistake; he wasn't the one they wanted." + +"Mis' Simons oughter 'a' been yere--ain't she?" he went on dreamily. +"She wouldn' nuver 'a' let 'em--done 'im--dat-a-way! Would she, Miss +No'th?" + +"No!" she answered, her voice startling him out of his dream, while +the color deepened painfully in her cheeks. "Remember always, +Ezekiel, she _wouldn't_ have let them! And remember"--her voice +softened--"she's your friend, because--she's of the best!" Miss +North's eyes wandered dreamily now, and she seemed to have forgotten +her audience. "Remember, there are always the others, too--the +coarse and the brutal, who are only _glad of an excuse_--and they +can stamp their whole people--very coarsely. But remember, Ezekiel," +her eyes gazed fixedly ahead, "it isn't the fault of the best ones; +it's the fault of the worst--who always snatch at an excuse--and +who will--just as long as they're allowed." + +Her eyes fell on Ezekiel again, who was looking at her in wide +perplexity. + +"What is it, Ezekiel?" she smiled. "Oh, yes, I was just saying--about +Mrs. Simons--she was always _very_ good to you, wasn't she, Ezekiel?" + +"Yas'm, Mis' Simons cert'nly wuz good ter me." Again it was Ezekiel's +eyes that dreamed with languid, velvety moistness. + +"Remember--that she's--one of the best, Ezekiel!" + +"Yas'm," came the gentle response; "couldn' be nobuddy no better'n--Mis' +Simons!" + + + + +PROHIBITION AND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY + +BY HUGO MUeNSTERBERG + + +If a German stands up to talk about prohibition, he might just as well +sit down at once, for every one in America, of course, knows +beforehand what he is going to say. Worse, every one knows also +exactly why he is so anxious to say it: how can he help being on the +wrong side of this question? And especially if he has been a student +in Germany, he will have brought the drinking habit along with him +from the Fatherland, together with his cigar smoking and card playing +and duelling. If a poor man relies on his five quarts of heavy Munich +beer a day, how can he ever feel happy if he is threatened with no +license in his town and with no beer in his stein? Yet my case seems +slightly different. I never in my life played cards, I never fought a +duel, and when the other day in a large women's college, after an +address and a reception, the lady president wanted to comfort me and +suggested that I go into the next room and smoke a cigar, I told her +frankly that I could do it if it were the rule in her college, but +that it would be my first cigar. With beer it is different: Last +winter in traveling I was for some days the guest of an Episcopal +clergyman, who, anticipating the visit of a German, had set up a +bottle of excellent beer as a welcome, and we drank together the +larger part of the bottle--but I think that is my only case in late +years. When I had to attend a Students' "Commers," I was always +protected by the thick mug through which no one could discover that +the contents never became less during the evening. I live most +comfortably in a pleasant temperance town which will, I hope, vote +no-license year by year as long as freshmen stroll over the old +Harvard Yard. And although I have become pretty much Americanized, I +have never drunk a cocktail. + +The problem of prohibition, thus, does not affect my thirst, but it +greatly interests my scientific conscience; not as a German, but as a +psychologist I feel impelled to add a word to the discussion which is +suddenly reverberating over the whole country. But is it really a +discussion which we hear? Is it not rather a one-sided denunciation of +alcohol, repeated a million times with louder and louder voice, an +outcry ever swelling in its vehemence? On the other side there may be +the protests of the distillers and brewers and wine-growers and +bottle-makers and saloon-keepers, and perhaps some timid declarations +of thirsty societies--but such protests do not count, since they have +all the earmarks of selfishness; they are ruled out, and no one +listens, just as no one would consult the thieves if a new statute +against pickpockets were planned. So far as the really disinterested +public is concerned, the discussion is essentially one-sided. If +serious men like Cardinal Gibbons raise their voices in a warning +against prohibition, they are denounced and overborne, and no one +cares to imitate them. + + +_The Fundamental Evil of American Public Opinion_ + +It has been seldom indeed that the fundamental evil of American public +opinion has come out so clearly; namely, that no one dares to be on +the unpopular side; just as in fashion and social life, every one +wants to be "in it." No problem has in America a fair hearing as soon +as one side has become the fashion of mind. Only the cranks come out +with an unbalanced, exaggerated opposition and thus really help the +cause they want to fight against. The well-balanced thinkers keep +quiet and simply look on while the movement rushes forward, waiting +quietly for the reaction which sets in from the inner absurdity of +every social extreme. The result is too often an hysterical zig-zag +movement, where fearlessness might have found a middle way of steady +progress. There must be indeed a possible middle way between the evil +of the present saloon and the not lesser evil of a future national +prohibition; yet if this one-sidedness of discussion goes on, it is +not difficult to foresee, after the legislative experiences of the +last year, that the hysterical movement will not stop until +prohibition is proclaimed from every state-house between the Atlantic +and the Pacific. + +Exaggerated denunciation of the prohibition movement is, of course, +ineffective. Whoever simply takes sides with the saloon-keeper and his +clientele--yes, whoever is blind to the colossal harm which alcohol +has brought and is now bringing to the whole country--is unfit to be +heard by those who have the healthy and sound development of the +nation at heart. The evils which are connected with the drinking habit +are gigantic; thousands of lives and many more thousands of households +are the victims every year; disease and poverty and crime grow up +where alcohol drenches the soil. To deny it means to ignore the +teachings of medicine and economics and criminology. + +But is this undeniable fact really a proof of the wisdom of +prohibition? The railroads of the United States injured last year more +than one hundred thousand persons and put out seven thousand hopeful +lives; does any sane man argue that we ought to abolish railroads? The +stock exchange has brought in the last year economic misery to +uncounted homes, but even at the height of the panic no one wanted to +destroy the market for industrial stocks. How much crime and disaster +and disease and ruin have come into the lives of American youth +through women, and yet who doubts that women are the blessing of the +whole national life? To say that certain evils come from a certain +source suggests only to fools the hasty annihilation of the source +before studying whether greater evils might not result from its +destruction, and without asking whether the evils might not be +reduced, and the good from the same source remain untouched and +untampered with. Even if a hollow tooth aches, the modern dentist does +not think of pulling it; that would be the remedy of the clumsy +village barber. The evils of drink exist, and to neglect their cure +would be criminal, but to rush on to the conclusion that every +vineyard ought therefore to be devastated is unworthy of the logic of +a self-governing nation. The other side has first to show its case. + + +"_Better England Free Than England Sober?_" + +This does not mean that every argument of the other side is valid. In +most of the public protestations, especially from the Middle West, far +too much is made of the claim that all the Puritanic laws and the +whole prohibitionist movement are an interference with personal +liberty. It is an old argument, indeed, "Better England free than +England sober." For public meetings it is just the kind of protest +which resounds well and rolls on nobly. We are at once in the midst of +the "most sacred" rights. Who desires that America, the idol of +those who seek freedom from the tyranny of the Old World, shall +trample on the right of personal liberty? And yet those hundreds +of singing-societies which have joined in this outburst of moral +indignation have forgotten that every law is a limitation of personal +liberty. The demand of the nation must limit the demands of the +individual, even if it is not the neighbor, but the actor himself who +is directly hurt. No one wants to see the lottery or gambling-houses +or the free sale of morphine and cocaine permitted, or slavery, even +though a man were to offer himself for sale, or polygamy, even though +all wives should consent. To prevent temptation toward ruinous +activities is truly the State's best right, and no injury to personal +liberty. The German reflects gladly how much more the German State +apparently intrudes upon personal freedom: for instance, in its +splendid State insurance for old age and accidents. + +To be sure, from this German viewpoint it is hard to understand why +the right of the State to subordinate personal wishes to national ones +should not carry with it a duty to make compensation. To him the +actions of some Southern States appear simply as the confiscation of +property. When, as has happened, a captain of industry erects, for +instance, a most costly brewery, and the State in the following year +prohibits the sale of beer, turning the large, new establishment into +a huge, useless ruin, without giving the slightest compensation, the +foreigner stands aghast, wondering if to-morrow a party which believes +in the State ownership of railroads may not prohibit railroading by +private companies without any payment to the present owners. + +Yet the political aspect does not concern the social psychologist. I +abstract from it as from many others. There is, indeed, no limit to +the problems which ought to be studied most seriously before such a +gigantic revolution is organized. The physician may ask whether and +when alcohol is real medicine, and the physiologist may study whether +it is a food and whether it is rightly taken as helpful to nutrition; +but this is not our problem. The theologians may quarrel as to whether +the Bible praises the wine or condemns the drinker, whether Christ +really turned water into that which we call wine, and whether +Christianity as such stands for abstinence. It is matter for the +economist to ask what will become of the hundred thousands of men who +are working to-day in the breweries and related industries. A labor +union claims that "over half a million men would be thrown out of +employment by general prohibition, who, with their families, would +make an army of a million human beings robbed of their means of +existence." And the economist, again, may consider what it might mean +to take out the license taxes from the city budgets and the hundreds +of millions of internal revenue from the budget of the whole country. +It is claimed that the brewers, maltsters, and distillers pay out for +natural and manufactured products, for labor, transportation, etc., +seven hundred million dollars annually; that their aggregate +investments foot up to more than three thousand millions; and that +their taxes contribute three hundred and fifty millions every year to +the public treasuries. Can the country afford to ruin an industry of +such magnitude? Such weighty problems cannot be solved in the Carrie +Nation style: yet they are not ours here. + + +_The Lonely Drinker of the Temperance Town_ + +Nearer to our psychological interest comes the well-known war-cry, +"Prohibition does not prohibit." It is too late in the day to need to +prove it by statistics: every one knows it. No one has traveled in +prohibition States who has not seen the sickening sight of drunkards +of the worst order. The drug-stores are turned into very remunerative +bars, and through hidden channels whiskey and gin flood the community. +The figures of the United States Commissioner of Internal Revenue tell +the story publicly. In a license State like Massachusetts, there +exists one retail liquor dealer for every 525 of population; in a +prohibition State like Kansas, one for every 366. But the secret story +is much more alarming. What is the effect? As far as the health of the +nation and its mental training in self-control and in regulation of +desires are concerned, the result must be dangerous, because, on the +whole, it eliminates the mild beverages in favor of the strong drinks +and substitutes lonely drinking for drinking in social company. Both +are psychologically and physiologically a turn to the worse. It is not +the mild beer and light wine which are secretly imported; it is much +easier to transport and hide whiskey and rum, with their strong +alcoholic power and stronger effect on the nerve-cells of the brain. +And of all forms of drinking none is more ruinous than the solitary +drink, as soon as the feeling of repugnance has been overcome; there +is no limit and no inhibition. If I look back over the last years, in +which I often studied the effects of suggestion and hypnotism on +habitual drinkers, I do not hesitate to say that it was in most cases +an easy thing to cure the social drinker of the large cities, but very +hard to break the lonely drinker of the temperance town. Of course, +prohibition reduces somewhat the whole quantity of consumption, but it +withdraws the stimulant, in most cases, where it would do the least +harm and intensifies the harm to the organism where it is most +dangerous. + + +_Our Greatest Danger--Disregard for Law_ + +But man is not only a nervous system. Prohibition forced by a majority +on an unwilling minority will always remain a living source of the +spirit of disregard for law. Yet, "unwilling" minority is too weak an +epithet; the question is of a minority which considers the arbitrary +rule undemocratic, absurd, immoral, and which really believes that it +is justified in finding a way around a contemptible law. + +Judges know how rapidly the value of the oath sinks in courts where +violation of the prohibition laws is a frequent charge, and how +habitual perjury becomes tolerated by respected people. The city +politicians know still better how closely blackmail and corruption +hang together, in the social psychology, with the enforcement of laws +that strike against the beliefs and traditions of wider circles. The +public service becomes degraded, the public conscience becomes dulled. +And can there be any doubt that disregard of law is the most dangerous +psychological factor in our present-day American civilization? It is +not lynch law which is the worst; the crimes against life are twenty +times more frequent than in Europe, and as for the evils of commercial +life which have raised the wrath of the whole well-meaning nation in +late years, has not disregard of law been their real source? In a +popular melodrama the sheriff says solemnly: "I stand here for the +law"; and when the other shouts in reply, "I stand for common sense!" +night after night the public breaks out into jubilant applause. To +foster this immoral negligence of law by fabricating hasty, +ill-considered laws in a hysterical mood, laws which almost tempt +toward a training in violation of them, is surely a dangerous +experiment in social psychology. + + +_Are We About to Prohibit Meat and Tea?_ + +Hasty and hysterical that kind of law-making is indeed. Within a few +years, during which the situation itself has not been changed, during +which no new discoveries have proved the right or necessity, during +which no experts have reached common results, the wave has swollen +to a devastating flood. Who let it loose? Were the psychologists +asked to decide, or the physicians, or the physiologists, or the +sociologists, or any one who has studied the problem as a whole with +professional knowledge? Certainly not: their commissions have hardly +ever proposed total abstinence. Of course, those who rush on mean the +best as they see it; they want to make better men; but can a +nation ever hope to reach private morality by law and thus to +exclude all private lying and greediness and envy and ingratitude +and temper and unfairness just as well as intemperance? Such unclear +and vague mixing of purposes always characterizes hysterical +legislation. A sober contemplator must ask himself: What is it to +lead to if well-meaning, short-sighted dilettantes can force +legislation on questions which demand the most serious expert study? + +There is growing throughout the land to-day a conviction--which has +its core of truth--that many people eat too much meat; and not a few +see a remedy in vegetarianism and Fletcherism. If this prejudice +swells in a similar way, the time may come when one State after the +other will declare slaughtering illegal, confiscate the meat-packing +houses, and prohibit the poisonous consumption of beef and the killing +of any creature that can look on us with eyes. Other groups are +fighting coffee and tea, and we may finally land in nuts and salads. +Yes, according to this line of legislative wisdom, there is no reason +for prohibiting only alcohol. Do I go far beyond the facts in +asserting that in certain States the same women and men who are +publicly against every use of alcohol are also opposed to the "drugs" +of the physicians and speak of them privately as poisons? Not the +Christian Scientists only--in intellectual Boston thousands of +educated women speak of drugs and nervine as belonging to a medieval +civilization which they have outgrown. The same national logic may +thus lead us to laws which will prohibit every physician from using +the resources of the drug-store--if they have not all simply to go +over to osteopathy. + + +_A Spring Flood of Emotional Legislation_ + +The question of the liquor trade and temperance--which is so widely +different from a hasty prohibition--has engaged the minds of all times +and of all nations, and is studied everywhere to-day with the means of +modern science. But this spring flood of prohibition legislation which +has overrun the States shows few signs of deeper connection with +serious study and fewer signs of profit from the experiments of the +past. When the Chinese government made laws against intemperance about +eleven hundred years before Christ, it can hardly have gone more +hastily to work than the members of this movement of the twentieth +century after Christ. It is unworthy of women and men who want to +stand for sobriety to allow themselves to become intoxicated with +hysterical outcries, when a gigantic national question is to be +solved, a question which can never be solved until it is solved +rightly. A wrong decision must necessarily lead to a social reaction +which can easily wipe out every previous gain. + +Progress is to be hoped for only from the most careful analysis of all +the factors of this problem; yet, instead, the nation leaves it to the +unthinking, emotional part of the population. In the years of the +silver agitation it was a matter of admiration to any foreigner, the +wonderful seriousness with which large crowds listened in a hundred +towns, evening after evening, to long hours of difficult technical +discussion on currency; sixteen to one was really discussed by the +whole nation, and arguments were arrayed against arguments before a +decision was reached. Is it necessary that the opposite method be +taken as soon as this problem is touched--a question far more complex +and difficult than the silver question, and of far more import to the +moral habits and the development of the nation? When leading scholars +bring real arguments on both sides of the problem, their work is +buried in archives, and no one is moved to action. But when a Chicago +minister hangs the American flag over his pulpit, fastens a large +patch of black color on it, declares that the patch stands for the +liquor evil which smirches the country, denounces wildly the men who +spend for whiskey the money which ought to buy medicine for sick +children, and then madly tears the black cloth from the stars and +stripes and grinds it under his heel--then thousands rush out as +excited as if they had heard a convincing argument. And this +superficiality is the more repellent because every glimpse below the +surface shows an abundance of cant and hypocrisy and search for cheap +fame and sensationalism and still more selfish motives mingled with +the whole movement; even the agitation itself, with its threats of +ruin, borders too often on graft and blackmail and thus helps to +debauch the public life. + + +_Alcohol and the Brain_ + +Those who seriously study, not merely the one or the other symptom, +but the whole situation, can hardly doubt that the demand of true +civilization is for temperance and not for abstinence, and that +complete prohibition must in the long run work against real +temperance. But nothing is more characteristic of the hysterical +caprice of the masses than the constant neglect of this distinction. +Even the smallest dose of alcohol is for them nothing but evil, and +triumphantly they seize on isolated statements of physiologists who +acknowledge that every dose of alcohol has a certain influence on the +brain. This is at once given the turn that every glass of beer or wine +"muddles" the brain and is therefore a sin against the freedom of +man. + +Certainly every glass of beer has an influence on the cells of the +brain and on the mind; so has every cup of tea or coffee, every bit of +work and every amusement, every printed page and every spoken word. Is +it certain that the influence is harmful because an overdose of the +same stimulants is surely poisonous? Boiling water is most dangerous +for the body on account of its strong heat: is a bath in lukewarm +water therefore also harmful? To climb Mount Blanc would overtax my +heart: is it therefore inadvisable for me to climb the two flights to +my laboratory? Of course, under certain conditions it might be wise to +take account of the slightest influences. Without being harmful, they +might be unsuited to a certain mental purpose. If I were to take a +glass of beer now in the morning, I should certainly be unable to +write the next page of this essay with the same ease; the ideas would +flow more slowly. But does that indicate that I did wrong in taking +last night, after a hard day's fatiguing work, a glass of sherry and a +glass of champagne at a merry dinner-party, after which nothing but +light conversation and music were planned for the rest of the evening? +Of course, alcohol before serious intellectual work disturbs me; but +hearing a hurdy-gurdy in the street or thinking of the happy news +which a letter has just brought to me, or feeling angry over any +incident, disturbs me just as much. It is all the same kind of +interference; the brain centers which I used for my intellectual +effort are for a while inhibited and thus unfit for the work which I +have in hand. When the slight anger has evaporated, when the +pleasurable excitement has subsided, when the music is over, I can +gather my thoughts again, and it is arbitrary to claim that the short +blockade of ideas was dangerous, and that I ought to have avoided the +music or the pleasure or the wine. + +Of course, if we consider, for instance, the prevention of crime, we +ought not to forget that some even of these slight inhibitions may +facilitate a rash, vehement deed and check cool deliberation. In times +of social excitement, therefore, alcohol ought to be reduced. But +again this same effect, as far as the temperate use of alcohol is in +question, may result from many other sources of social unrest. The +real danger begins everywhere with intemperance: that is, with a lack +of that self-discipline which is not learned but lost under the outer +force of prohibition. + + +_The Case Psychologically_ + +Psychologically the case stands thus: alcohol has indeed an inhibitory +influence on mind and body. The feeling of excitement, the greater +ease of motor impulse, the feeling of strength and joy, the forgetting +of sorrow and pain--all are at bottom the result of inhibition; +impulses are let free because the checking centers are inhibited. But +it is absurd to claim from the start that all this is bad and harmful, +as if the word inhibition meant destruction and lasting damage. +Harmful it is, bodily and socially, when these changes become +exaggerated, when they are projected into such dimensions that vital +interests, the care for family and honor and duty are paralyzed; but +in the inhibition itself lies no danger. There is not the slightest +act of attention which does not involve such inhibition. If I read in +my study, the mere attention to my book will inhibit the ticking of +the clock in my room and the noise from the street, and no one will +call it harmful. As soon as my attention increases, and I read with +such passion that I forget my engagements with friends and my duties +in my office, I become ridiculous and contemptible. But the fact that +the unbalanced attention makes me by its exaggerated inhibition quite +unfit for my duties, is no proof that the slight inhibition produced +by attentive reading ought to be avoided. + +The inhibition by alcohol, too, may have in the right place its very +desirable purpose, and no one ought to be terrified by such +physiological statements, even if inhibition is called a partial +paralysis. Yes, it is partial paralysis, but no education, no art, no +politics, no religion, is possible without such partial paralysis. +What else are hope and belief and enjoyment and enthusiasm but a +re-enforcement of certain mental states, with corresponding +inhibition--that is, paralysis--of the opposite ideas? If a moderate +use of alcohol can help in this most useful blockade, it is an ally +and not an enemy. If wine can overcome and suppress the consciousness +of the little miseries and of the drudgery of life, and thus set free +and re-enforce the unchecked enthusiasm for the dominant ideas, if +wine can make one forget the frictions and pains and give again the +feeling of unity and frictionless power--by all means let us use this +helper to civilization. It was a well-known philosopher who coupled +Christianity and alcohol as the two great means of mankind to set us +free from pain. But nature provided mankind with other means of +inhibition; sleep is still more radical, and every fatigue works in +the same direction; to inhibit means to help and to prepare for +action. + +And are those who fancy that every brain alteration is an evil really +aware how other influences of our civilization hammer on the +neurones and injure our mental powers far beyond the effects of a +moderate use of alcohol? The vulgar rag-time music, the gambling of +the speculators, the sensationalism of the yellow press, the poker +playing of the men and the bridge playing of the women, the +mysticism and superstition of the new fancy churches, the hysterics +of the baseball games, the fascination of murder cases, the noise +on the Fourth of July and on the three hundred and sixty-four other +days of the year, the wild chase for success; all are poison for the +brain and mind. They make the nervous system and the will endlessly +more unfit for the duties of the day than a glass of lager beer on +a hot summer's evening. + + +_Drying up a Nation Emotionally_ + +What would result if prohibition should really prohibit, and all the +inhibitions which a mild use of beer and wine promise to the brain +really be lost? The psychological outcome would be twofold: certain +effects of alcohol which serve civilization would be lost; and, on the +other hand, much more harmful substitutions would set in. To begin +with: the nation would lose its chief means of recreation after work. +We know to-day too well that physical exercise and sport is not real +rest for the exhausted brain-cells. The American masses work hard +throughout the day. The sharp physical and mental labor, the constant +hurry and drudgery produce a state of tension and irritation which +demands before the night's sleep some dulling inhibition if a +dangerous unrest is not to set in. Alcohol relieves that daily tension +most directly. + +Not less important would be the loss on the emotional side. Emotional +desire for a life in beauty would yield to the triviality of +usefulness. Puritanism has held back the real American spirit of +artistic creation in fine arts and music and drama: prohibition +without substitutes would crush still more the esthetic spirit in the +brain of man and would make beauty still more the domain of women. Her +more responsive physiological constitution does not need the +artificial paralysis of the inhibiting centers. The mind of the +average woman shows that lower degree of checking power which small +alcoholic doses produce in the average man. But just therefore she and +men of the female type cannot carry on alone the work of the nation. A +national life without the artificial inhibitions of the restraining +centers becomes for the large masses a matter of mere practical +calculation and righteous dulness. Truly the German, the Frenchman, +the Italian who enjoys his glass of light wine and then wanders joyful +and elated to the masterpieces of the opera, serves humanity better +than the New Englander who drinks his ice-water and sits satisfied at +the vaudeville show, world-far from real art. Better America inspired +than America sober. Can we forget that in almost all parts of the +globe even religious life began with intoxication cults? God Indra was +in the wine for the Hindus and Dionysius for the Greeks. It is the +optimistic exuberance of life, the emotional inspiration, which +alcohol brought into the dulness of human days, and the history of +culture shows it on every page. + +But with the emotion dries up the will. Mere righteousness needs no +stimulation. But the American nation would never have achieved its +world work if the attitude of resignation had been its national trait. +Those pioneers who opened the land and awoke to life its resources +were men who longed for excitement, for the intensity of life, for +vividness of experience. The nation would not be loyal to its +tradition if it were not to foster this desire of intense experience: +the moderate use of alcohol is both training in such intensified +conscious experience and training in the control and discipline of +such states. The nation needs both, and as the child learns to prepare +for the work of life by plays and games, so man is schooling himself +for the active and effective life by the temperate use of exciting +beverages which playingly awake those vivid feelings of success. The +scholar and the minister and a thousand other individuals may not need +this training, but the millions, the masses, cannot prepare themselves +for a national career of effectiveness if this opportunity is taken +from their lives. History shows it abundantly. + +To be sure, all this is but half true, because, as we said, the +individual, and finally the nation, may seek substitutes, may +satisfy the craving for emotional excitement, for will elation, for +intense experience, by other means than the oldest and most widely +scattered. Zealotism in religious belief, tyranny and cruelty, +sexual over-indulgence and perversion, gambling and betting, mysticism +and superstition, recklessness and adventurousness, and, above all, +senseless crimes have always been the psychological means of +overcoming the emptiness and monotony of an unstimulated life. They +produce, just like alcohol, that partial paralysis and create intense +experiences. They thus take hold of the masses, so long as the +social mind is not entirely dried up, with the necessity of a +psychological law. There is no more dangerous state for a healthy, +strong nation than mental monotony in the life of the masses. +Catholic countries play to the imagination at least through the +religion, monarchic countries have their own picturesqueness and +color, America under prohibition pushes the masses into gambling and +reckless excitements and sexual disorder and money-crazes and +criminal explosions of the mind. + + +_The Temperance Experiment in Mohammedanism_ + +Has not history experimented sufficiently? Prohibitionist stump +speakers may tell us that their cause means the hitherto unheard-of +progress of civilization; the United States, after abolishing +slavery for mankind, is called on to end also the tyranny of alcohol +under which humanity has suffered for ages. But are there not two +hundred millions of Moslems who are obedient to Mohammed's law, +that wine drinking is sinful? What is the outcome? Of course, it is +not inspiring to hear the boast of the Moslems that the Christians +bring whiskey to Africa and bestialize the natives, while the +Mohammedans fight alcohol. But aside from this, their life goes on in +slavery and polygamy and semi-civilization. All the strong nations, +all those whose contributions were of lasting value to the progress +of mankind, have profited from the help of artificial stimulation and +intoxicants. + +But every strong nation remained also conscious of the dangers and +evils which result from intemperance. On the whole, history shows that +intemperance and abstinence alike work against the highest interests +of civilization; temperance alone offers the most favorable +psychological conditions for the highest cultural achievement. +Intemperance mostly precedes the strongest periods in the life of a +nation and follows them again as soon as decay has set in. Temperance, +that is, sufficient use of intoxicants to secure emotional inspiration +and volitional intensity, together with sufficient training in +self-discipline to avoid their evils, always introduced the fullest +blossoming of national greatness. Instinctively the American nation as +a whole is evidently striving for such temperance, but a hysterical +minority has at present succeeded in exaggerating the movement and in +transforming it into its caricature, prohibition. The final result, of +course, will be temperance, since the American nation will not +ultimately allow itself to become an emasculated nation of dyspeptic +ice-water drinkers without inspiration and energy, or permit vulgar +amusements, reckless stock-gambling, sensationalism, adultery, +burglary, and murder to furnish the excitement which the nerves of a +healthy nation need. + + +_The Securing of Temperance_ + +How temperance can be secured, the experiences of the older nations +with a similar psychological type of national mind ought to be +decisive. First of all, the beverages of strongly alcoholic nature +ought to be fought by those of light alcoholic effect. The whiskey of +the laborers must be fought by light healthy beer and perhaps by light +American wines. Further, a systematic education in self-control must +set in; the drunkard must not be tolerated under any circumstances. +Above all, the social habits in the sphere of drinking must be +entirely reshaped. They belong to a period where the Puritan spirit +considered beer and wine as sinful and relegated them to regions +hidden from decent eyes. The American saloon is the most disgusting +product of such narrowness; its dangers for politics and law, health +and economics, are alarming. The saloon must disappear and can be made +to disappear perhaps by higher license taxation and many other means. +And with it must disappear the bar and the habit of drinking standing +and of mutual treating. The restaurant alone, with the hotel and the +club, is the fit public place where guests sitting at tables may have +beer and wine with their meals or after meals,--and all controlled by +laws which absolutely forbid the sale of intoxicants to certain groups +of persons, to children, to inebriates, and so on. As long as drinking +means to the imagination of a considerable well-meaning minority of +the nation the present-day repulsive life of saloons and bars, the +minority will find it easy to terrorize and to whip into line the +whole country. But if those relics of a narrow time disappear and +customs grow which spread the spirit of geniality and friendly social +intercourse over the foaming cup, the spell will be broken. Instead of +being tyrannized over by short-sighted fanatics on the one side and +corrupt saloon-keepers on the other, the nation will proceed with the +unanimous sympathy of the best citizens to firm temperance laws which +the sound instinct of the masses will really respect. Training in +self-control as against recklessness, training in harmless hilarity +and social enjoyment as against mere vulgar excitement and rag-time +pleasures, training in respect for law as against living under +hysterical rules which cannot be executed and which invite blackmail, +corruption, and habitual disregard of laws--these are indeed the most +needed influences on the social mind of the country. + + + + +THE MOVING FINGER WRITES + +BY MARIE BELLOC LOWNDES + + +I + + "... _and having writ, + Moves on; nor all your Piety nor Wit + Can lure it back to cancel half a Line, + Nor all your Tears wash out a word of it._" + +"About that letter of your uncle's? I take it you have no one to +suggest?" + +Thomas Carden glanced anxiously at the son in whom he had so great a +confidence, and who was the secret pride of his eyes, the only love of +his austere, hard-working life. + +The two were a great contrast to one another. The older man was short +and slight, with the delicate, refined, spiritual face so often seen +in the provincial man of business belonging to that disappearing +generation of Englishmen who found time to cultivate the things of the +mind as well as the material interests of life; a contrast, indeed, to +the tall, singularly handsome, alert-looking man whom he had just +addressed, and whose perfect physical condition made him appear +somewhat younger than his thirty-two years. + +And yet, in spite or perhaps because of this contrast between them, +the two were bound in the closest, if not exactly in the most +confidential, ties of affection. And, as a matter of course, they were +partners in the great metal-broking business of Josh. Carden, Thomas +Carden and Son, which had been built up by three generations of +astute, self-respecting citizens of Birmingham. + +It was Easter Monday, and the two men were lingering over breakfast, +in a way they seldom allowed themselves time to do on ordinary +week-days, in the finely proportioned, book-lined dining-room of one +of those spacious old houses which remain to prove that the suburb of +Edgbaston was still country a hundred years ago. + +Theodore Carden looked across the table meditatively. He had almost +forgotten his uncle's letter, for, since that letter had been read and +cursorily discussed, he and his father had been talking of a matter +infinitely more important to them both. The matter in question was the +son's recent engagement and coming marriage, a marriage which was a +source of true satisfaction to the older man. His father's unselfish +joy in the good thing which had befallen him touched Theodore Carden +keenly, for the niche occupied in most men's minds by their intimate +feminine circle was filled in that of the young man by the diminutive +figure of the senior partner of Carden and Son. + +As is perhaps more often the case than those who despise human nature +believe, men sometimes have the grace to reverence and admire those +qualities in which they know themselves to be deficient. Such a man +was the younger Carden. To-day the depths had been stirred, and he let +his mind dwell with a certain sense of shame and self-rebuke on his +own and his father's ideals of human conduct. Even as a schoolboy, +Theodore had come to realize how much more he knew of the ugly side of +life than did his father. But then, old Mr. Carden was quite +exceptional; he knew nothing--or so, at least, his son believed, and +loved him for it--of the temptations, conflicts, victories, and falls +of the average sensual man. Theodore's father had been engaged, at +twenty, to a girl of his own age whom he had not been able to marry +till twelve years later; she had left him a widower with this one +child after five years of married life; and Thomas Carden, as he had +himself once told his son in a moment of unwonted confidence, had been +absolutely faithful to her before the marriage and since her death. + +The woman--many people would have said the very fortunate young +woman--who was so soon to become Mrs. Theodore Carden would not +possess such a husband as Thomas Carden had been to his wife. And yet, +in his heart, Theodore was well aware that the gentle girl he loved +would probably be a happier woman than his own mother had been, for +he, unlike his father, in his dealings with the other sex could call +up at will that facile and yet rather rare gift of tenderness which +women, so life had taught him, value far more than the deeper, +inarticulate love.... + +Carden came back to the prosaic question of his uncle's letter with a +distinct effort. "Have I any one to suggest?" he echoed. "I have no +one to suggest, father. I know, of course, exactly the sort of man +Uncle Barrett is looking for; he's asking us to find him the perfect +clerk every man of business has sought for at some time or other. If I +were you, I should write and tell him that the man he wants us to find +never has to look outside England for a job, and, what is more, would +rather be a clerk here--if he's any sense--than a partner in New +Zealand!" + +A smile quivered for a moment over the young man's shrewd face; his +uncle was evidently seeking such a man as he was himself, but such +men, so Theodore Carden was able to tell himself without undue +conceit, were not likely to go into voluntary exile, even for the +bribe of eventual partnership in a flourishing business. + +There was a pause, and then again the older man broke the silence with +something entirely irrelevant to the subject which was filling the +minds of his son and himself. + +"You haven't looked at the _Post_ this morning? There's nothing in it. +Dearth of real news is, I suppose, responsible for this?" and he +pointed, frowning as he spoke, to a column on the middle page headed, +"The Garvice Mystery. New Developments." + +Again a shrewd, good-humoured smile quivered on his son's firm mouth. +"In these days newspapers have to follow, not lead, the public taste. +Very few people are honestly as indifferent as you are, father, to +that sort of story. Now, even I, who never met poor old Garvice, +cannot help wondering how he came by his death; and yet you, who knew +the man----" + +"I knew him," said the other with a touch of impatience, "as I know, +and as you know, dozens of our fellow-townsmen." + +"Never mind; you, at any rate, can put a face to the man's name; and +yet the question as to whether he was or was not poisoned by his wife +is one of indifference to you! Now I submit that in this indifference +you are really a little--" he hesitated for a word, but found that +none so well expressed his thought as that which had first risen to +his lips--"peculiar, father." + +"Am I?" said Thomas Carden slowly; "am I so, Theodore? Nay, nay, I +deny that I am indifferent! Lane"--Major Lane was at that time Head +Constable of Birmingham, and a life-long friend of the speaker--"Lane +was quite full of it last night. He insisted on telling me all the +details of the affair, and what shocked me, my boy, was not so much +the question which, of course, occupied Lane--that is, as to whether +that unhappy young woman poisoned her husband or not--but the whole +state of things which he disclosed about them. Lane told me certain +facts concerning Garvice, who, as you truly say, I have known, in a +sense, for years, which I should not have thought possible of any +man--vile things, which should have prevented his thinking of +marriage, especially of marriage with a young wife." + +Theodore Carden remained silent; he never discussed unsavory subjects +with his father. Moreover, he had no liking for Major Lane, though he +regarded him with considerable respect, and even with a feeling of +gratitude. Some years before, the Head Constable had helped the young +man out of a serious scrape, the one real scrape--so Carden was +complaisantly able to assure himself--engendered by his systematic +pursuit of women. Even now he could not recall, without wincing, the +interview he had had on that occasion with his father's friend. During +that interview Carden had felt himself thoroughly condemned, and even +despised, by the older man, and he had been made to feel that it was +only for the sake of his father--his high-minded, unsuspicious +father--that he was being saved from the public exposure of a +peculiarly sordid divorce suit. + +But it was in all sincerity that the young man now felt indignant with +Major Lane for having distressed such a delicately spiritual soul as +was Thomas Carden with the hidden details of the Garvice story. After +all, what interested the public was not the question of Garvice's +moral character, but whether a gently nurtured and attractive woman +had carried through a sinister and ingenious crime, which, but for a +mere accident, would have utterly defied detection. + +Theodore Carden got up from the breakfast table and walked over to a +circular bay-window which commanded charming views of the wide, +sloping garden, interspersed with the streams and tiny ponds which +gave the house its name of Watermead, and which enabled old Mr. Carden +to indulge himself with especial ease in his hobby of water +gardening. + +Standing there, the young man began wondering what he should do with +himself this early spring day. His fiancee had just left the quiet +lodgings which she and her mother, a clergyman's widow, had occupied +in Birmingham during the last few weeks, to pay visits to relatives in +the South. The thought of going to any of the neighbouring houses, +where he knew himself to be sure of a warm welcome, and where the news +of his engagement would be received with boisterous congratulations, +tempered in some cases with an underlying touch of regret and +astonishment, filled him with repugnance. The girl he had chosen to be +his wife was absolutely different from the women who had hitherto +attracted him; he reverenced as well as loved her, and hitherto +Theodore Carden had never found reverence to be in any sense a +corollary of passion. + +The last few days had brought a great change in his life, and one +which he meant should be permanent; and yet, in spite or perhaps +because of this, as he stood staring with absent eyes into his +father's charming garden, he found his mind dwelling persistently on +the only one of his many amorous adventures which had left a deep, an +enduring, and, it must be admitted, a most delightful mark on the +tablets of his memory. + +The whole thing was still so vivid to him that half-involuntarily he +turned round and looked down the long room to where his old father was +sitting. How amazed, above all, how shocked and indignant the man for +whom he had so great an affection and respect would feel, if he knew +the picture which was now floating before his son's retrospective +vision! + + * * * * * + +What had happened had been briefly this: One day in the previous +October, Carden had taken his seat in the afternoon express which +stops at Birmingham on its way from the north to Euston, or rather, +having taken a leisurely survey of the train, which was, as he quickly +noted, agreeably empty, he had indicated to the porter carrying his +bag a carriage in which sat, alone, a singularly pretty woman. + +As he afterwards had the delight of telling her, and, as he now +reminded himself with a retrospective thrill of feeling, he had +experienced, when his eyes first met those of the fair traveller, that +incommunicable sensation, part physical, part mental, which your +genuine Lothario, if an intelligent man, always welcomes with +quickening pulse as the foretaste of special zest to be attached to a +coming pursuit. + +Carden's instinct as to such delicate questions had seldom played him +false; never less so than on this occasion, for, within an hour, he +and the lovely stranger had reached that delightful stage of intimacy +in which each feels that he and she, while still having much to learn +about the other, are on the verge of a complete understanding. + +During the journey of between two and three hours, his travelling +companion had told him a great deal more about herself than he had +chosen to reveal concerning his own life and affairs; he learned, for +instance, that she was the young wife of an old man, and that the old +man was exceedingly jealous. Further, that she found the life she was +compelled to lead "horribly boring," and that a widowed cousin, who +lived near London, and from whom she had "expectations," formed a +convenient excuse for occasional absences from home. + +Concerning three matters of fact, however, she completely withheld her +confidence, both then, in those first delicious hours of their +acquaintance, and even later, when their friendship--well, why not say +friendship? for Carden had felt a very strong liking as well as an +over-mastering attraction toward this Undine-like creature--had become +much closer. The first and second facts which she kept closely hidden, +for reasons which should perhaps have been obvious, were her +surname--she confided to him that her Christian name was Pansy--and +her husband's profession. The third, about which she might surely have +been less reticent, was the name of the town where she lived and from +which she appeared to be travelling that day. + +The actual incidents of that eventful October journey had become, to a +certain extent, blurred in Theodore Carden's memory, but what had +followed was still extraordinarily vivid, and to-day, on this holiday +morning, standing idly looking out of the window, he allowed his mind +a certain retrospective licence. + +From whom, so he now asked himself, had first come the suggestion that +there should be no parting at Euston between himself and the strange, +elemental woman he had found so full of unforced fascination and +disarming charm? The answer soon came echoing down the corridors of +memory: from himself, of course--but then, and even now the memory +brought with it shamefaced triumph, he remembered her quick +acquiescence, as free, as unashamed, as joyous as that of a spoilt +child acclaiming an unlooked-for treat. + +And, after all, what harm had there been in the whole halcyon +adventure--what injury had it caused to any human being? Carden put +the husband, the fatuous old man who had had the incredible folly to +marry a girl thirty-five years younger than himself, out of court. +Pansy, light-hearted, conscienceless Pansy--he always thought of her +with a touch of easy tenderness--had run no risk of detection, for, as +he had early discovered, she knew no one in London, with the solitary +exception of the old cousin who lived in Upper Norwood. As for his own +business acquaintances, he might, of course, have been seen by any of +them taking about this singularly attractive woman, for the two went +constantly to the theatre, and daily to one or other of the great +restaurants. But what then? Excepting that she was quieter in manner, +far better dressed, and incomparably prettier, Pansy might have been +the wife or sister of any one of his own large circle of relations, +that great Carden clan who held their heads so high in the business +world of the Midlands. + +Nay, nay, no risk had been run, and no one had been a penny the worse! +Indeed, on looking back, Theodore Carden could tell himself that it +had been a perfect, a flawless episode, and perhaps after all it was +well that there had been no attempt at a repetition. And yet? And yet +the young man, especially during the first few weeks which had +followed that sequence of enchanting days, had often felt piqued, even +a little surprised, that the heroine of this amazing experience had +not taken advantage of his earnest entreaty that she would give him +the chance of meeting her again. He had left it to her to be +mysterious; as for himself, he had seen no reason why he should +conceal from her either his name or his business address. + +Many men, doubtless, would not have been so frank, but Theodore +Carden, too wise in feminine lore to claim an infallible knowledge of +women, never remembered having made a mistake as to the moral social +standing of a new feminine acquaintance. During the few days they had +been together, everything had gone to prove that Pansy was no +masquerader from that under-world whose denizens always filled him +with a sensation of mingled aversion and pity. He could not doubt--he +never had doubted--that what she had chosen to tell him about herself +and her private affairs was substantially true. No man, having heard +her speak of it, could fail to understand her instinctive repulsion +from the old husband to whom she had sold herself into bondage; and as +human, if not perhaps quite as worthy of sympathy, was her restless +longing for freedom to lead the pleasant life led by those of her more +fortunate contemporaries whose doings were weekly chronicled in the +society papers which seemed to form her only reading. + +Once only had Carden felt for his entrancing companion the slightest +touch of repugnance. He had taken her to a play in which a child +played an important part, and she had suddenly so spoken as to make +him realise with a shock of surprise that she was the mother of +children! Yet the little remark made by her, "I wonder how my little +girls are getting on," had been very natural and even womanly. Then, +in answer to a muttered word or two on his part, she had explained +that she preferred not to have news of her children when she was +absent from home, since it only worried her; even when staying with +the old cousin at Upper Norwood, she made a point of being completely +free of all possible home troubles. Hearing this gentle, placid +explanation of her lack of maternal anxiety, Carden had put up his +hand to his face to hide a smile; he had not been mistaken; Pansy was +indeed the thorough-going little hedonist he had taken her to be. +Still, it was difficult, even rather disturbing, to think of her as a +mother, and as the mother of daughters. + +Yet how deep an impression this unmoral, apparently soulless woman had +made on his mind and on his emotional memory! Even now, when he had no +desire, and, above all, must not allow himself to have any desire, +ever to see her again, Theodore Carden felt almost as keenly as he had +done during the period of their brief intimacy a morbid curiosity to +know where she lived and had her being. + + * * * * * + +It was late in the afternoon of the same day. Theodore Carden had just +come in from a long walk, and, as he passed through the circular hall +round which Watermead was built, he heard the low sound of voices, +those of his father and some other man, issuing from the square +drawing-room always occupied by the father and son on such idle days +as these. He stayed his steps, realized that the visitor was Major +Lane, and then made up his mind to go up and change, instead of going +straight in to his father, as he would have done had the latter been +alone. + +As he came down again, and crossed the now lighted hall, he met the +parlourmaid, an elderly woman who had been in Thomas Carden's service +ever since his wife's death. + +"I wonder if I can take in the lamps now, Mr. Theodore? It's getting +so dark, sir." + +There was a troubled sound in her voice, and the young man stopped and +looked at her with some surprise. "Of course you can, Jane," he said +quickly, "why not? Why haven't you taken them in before?" + +"I did go in with them half an hour ago, sir, but the master told me +to take them out again. There's firelight, to be sure, and it's only +Major Lane in there, but he's been here since three o'clock, and +master's not had his tea yet. I suppose they thought they'd wait till +you came in." + +"Oh! well, if my father prefers to sit in the dark, and to put off tea +till he can have my company, you had better wait till I ring, and then +bring in the lamps and the tea together." He spoke with his usual +light good-nature, and then passed on, and so into the room which was +the only apartment in the large old house clearly associated in his +mind with the graceful, visionary figure of his young mother. + +Thomas Carden and the Head Constable were sitting in the twilight, one +on each side of the fireplace, and when the young man came in they +both stirred perceptibly and abruptly stopped speaking. + +Theodore came forward and stood on the hearth-rug. + +"May Jane bring in the lamps, father?" + +"Yes, yes, I suppose so." + +And the lamps were brought in. Then came the tea-tray, placed by Jane +on a large table several paces from the fire. Very deliberately, and +asking no questions as to milk or sugar, for well he knew the tastes +of his father and of his father's friend, he poured out two cups of +tea, and, turning, advanced, a cup balanced in each steady hand. + +But halfway across the room he stopped for a moment, arrested by the +sound of his father's voice: + +"Theo, my boy, I want to ask you something." This mode of address had +become of late years a little unusual, and there was something in +Thomas Carden's accents which struck his son as significant, even as +rather solemn. + +"Yes, father?" + +"Did you not tell me this morning that you had never met Garvice?" + +The one onlooker, hatchet-faced Major Lane, suddenly leaned a little +forward. He was astonished at his old friend's extraordinary and +uncalled-for courage, and it was with an effort, with the feeling that +he was bracing himself to see something terrible take place, that he +looked straight at the tall, fine-looking man who had now advanced +into the circle of light thrown by the tall Argand lamps. + +But Theodore Carden appeared quite unmoved, nay, more, quite +unconcerned by his father's question. + +"Yes," he said, "of course I told you so. I suppose I knew the old +fellow by sight, but I certainly was never introduced to him. Are +there any new developments?" He turned to Major Lane with a certain +curiosity, and then quite composedly handed him the cup of tea he held +in his right hand. + +"Well, yes," answered the other coldly, "there are. We arrested Mrs. +Garvice this morning." + +"That seems rather a strong step to have taken, unless new evidence +has turned up since Saturday," said Theodore thoughtfully. + +"Such new evidence has come to hand since Saturday," observed Major +Lane significantly. + +There was a pause, and again Thomas Carden addressed his son with that +strange touch of solemnity, and again Major Lane, with some inward +wincing, stared fixedly at the young man now standing, a stalwart, +debonair figure, between himself and his old friend. + +"Can you assure me--can you assure us both--that you never met Mrs. +Garvice?" + +Carden looked down at his father with a puzzled expression. "Of +course, I can't assure you of anything of the kind," he said, still +speaking quite placidly. "I may have met her somewhere or other, but I +can't remember having done so; and I think I should have remembered +it, both because the name is an uncommon one, and because"--he turned +to Major Lane--"isn't she said to be an extraordinarily pretty +woman?" + +As the last words were being uttered, an odd thing happened. Thomas +Carden suddenly dropped the cup he was holding in his hand; it rang +against the brass fender and broke in several pieces, while the spoon +went clattering into the fireplace. + +"Father!" exclaimed Theodore, and then quickly he added, "Don't +trouble to do that," for the old man was stooping over the rug and +fumbling with the broken pieces. But Thomas Carden shook his head; it +was evident that he was, for the moment, physically incapable of +speech. + +A great fear came into the son's mind; he turned to Major Lane and +muttered in an urgent, agonised whisper, "Is it--can it be a seizure? +Hadn't I better go and try to find Dr. Curle?" But the other, with a +dubious expression on his face, shook his head. "No," he said; "it's +nothing of the kind. Your father's getting older, Carden, as we all +are, and I've had to speak to him to-day about a very disagreeable +matter." He looked fixedly, probingly, at the young man, but again +Theodore showed no sign of having understood. "I think it's thoroughly +upset him." The speaker hesitated, and then added: "I daresay he'll +tell you about it; in any case, I'd better go now and come back later. +If you can spare me half an hour this evening, I should like to have a +talk with you." + +During the last few moments Major Lane had made up his mind to take a +certain course, even to run a certain risk, and that not for the first +time that day, for he had already set his own intimate knowledge of +the life-long friend whose condition now wrung him with pity against +what was, perhaps, his official duty. + +Some two hours before, the Head Constable had entered the house, where +he had been so constantly and so hospitably entertained, with the firm +conviction that Theodore Carden had been the catspaw of a clever, +unscrupulous woman; in fact, that there had come a repetition, but a +hundred times more serious, of that now half-forgotten entanglement +which had so nearly brought Carden to grief some seven or eight years +before. Once more he had come prepared to do his best to save his +friend's son, so far as might be possible, from the consequences of +his folly. + +But now? Ah, now, the experienced, alert official had to admit to +himself that the incidents of the last ten minutes had completely +altered his view of the matter. He realised that in any case Theodore +Carden was no fool; for the first time that day the terrible suspicion +came into Major Lane's mind that the man before him might, after all, +be more closely connected with the Garvice mystery than had seemed +possible. + +Never, during his long connection with crime, had the Head Constable +come across as good an actor, as cool a liar, as he now knew this +young man of business to be. Well, he would give Carden one more +chance to tell the truth; Theodore was devoted to his father, so much +was certainly true, and perhaps his father would be able to make him +understand the gravity of the case. Major Lane felt bitterly sorry +that he had come first to the old man--but, then, he had so completely +believed in the "scrape" theory; and now he hardly knew what to +believe! + +The old man, still sitting by the fire, had caught a few of the +muttered words, and before Major Lane could leave the room Thomas +Carden had risen from his chair, his face paler, perhaps, than usual, +but once more his collected, dignified self. "Stay," he said firmly; +"having gone so far, I think we should now thresh the matter out." + +He walked over to where his son and his friend were standing, and he +put his hand on the older man's arm. "Perhaps I cannot expect you, +Lane, to be convinced, as I, of course, have been convinced, by my +son's denials. It is, as I told you this afternoon, either a plot on +the part of some one who bears a grudge against us, or else--what I +think more likely--there are two men in this great town each bearing +the name of Theodore Carden. But I appreciate, I deeply appreciate, +the generous kindness which made you come and warn us of this +impending calamity; but you need not fear that we shall fail to meet +it with a complete answer." + +"Father! Major Lane! What do you mean?" For the first time a feeling +of misgiving swept over Theodore Carden's mind. Without waiting for an +answer, he led the way back to the fireplace and, deliberately drawing +forward a chair, motioned to Major Lane to sit down likewise. + +"Now then," he said, speaking with considerable authority and +decision, "I think I have a right to ask what this is all about. In +what way are we, my father and myself, concerned in the Garvice +affair? For my part, Major Lane, I can assure you, and that, if you +wish it, on oath, that I did not know Mr. Garvice, and, to the best of +my belief, I have never seen, still less spoken to, Mrs. Garvice----" + +"If that be indeed so," said the man whom he addressed, and who, for +the first time, was beginning to feel himself shaken in his belief, +nay, in his absolute knowledge, that the young man was perjuring +himself, "can you, and will you, explain these letters?" and he drew +out of his pocket a folded sheet of foolscap. + +Carden bent forward eagerly; there was no doubt, so the Head Constable +admitted to himself, as to his eagerness to be brought face to face +with the accusation--and yet, at that moment, a strong misgiving came +over Major Lane. Was it right, was it humane, to subject him to this +terrible test, and that, too, before his old father? Whatever the +young man's past relation to Mrs. Garvice, nay, whatever his +connection might be with the crime which Major Lane believed to have +been committed, Carden was certainly ignorant of the existence of +these terrible, these damnatory documents, and they constituted so far +the only proof that Carden had been lying when he denied any knowledge +of Mrs. Garvice. But then, alas! they constituted an irrefutable +proof. + +With a sudden movement Major Lane withdrew his right hand, that which +held the piece of paper: "Stop a moment, Carden; do you really wish +this discussion to take place before your father? I wonder if you +remember--" he paused, and then went on firmly--"an interview you and +I had many years ago?" + +For the first time Theodore Carden's whole manner changed; a look of +fear, even of guilt, came over his strong, intelligent face. + +"Father," he said imploringly, "I beg you not to listen to Major Lane. +He is alluding to a matter which he gave me his word--his word of +honour--should never be mentioned to any one, least of all to you"; +then, turning with an angry gesture to the Head Constable, "Was that +not so?" he asked imperiously. + +"Yes, I admit that by making this allusion I have broken my word, but +good God! man, this is no passing scrape that we have to consider now; +to-morrow morning all Birmingham will be ringing with your name--with +your father's name, Theodore--for by some damnable mischance the +papers have got hold of the letters in question. I did my best, but I +found I was powerless." He turned and deliberately looked away, as he +added in a low, hesitating voice: "And now, once more I ask you +whether we had better not delay this painful discussion until you and +I are alone?" + +"No!" cried Carden, now thoroughly roused, "certainly not! You have +chosen to come and tell my father something about me, and I insist +that you tell me here, and at once, what it is of which I am +accused." + +He instinctively looked at his father for support, and received it in +full measure, for at once the old man spoke. "Yes, Lane, I think my +son is right; there's no use in making any more mystery about the +matter. I'm sure that the letters you have brought to show Theodore +will puzzle him as much as they have me, and that he will be able to +assure you that he has no clue either to their contents or to their +writer." + +Very slowly, with a feeling of genuine grief and shame for the man who +seemed to feel neither sorrow nor shame, Major Lane held out the +folded paper, and then again, in very pity, he looked away as his old +friend's son eagerly unrolled the piece of foolscap, placing it close +under the lampshade in order that he might thoroughly master its +contents. + +As Theodore Carden completed the trifling action, that of unrolling +the piece of paper which was to solve the mystery, he noted, with a +curious feeling of relief, that the documents (or were they letters?) +regarded by the Head Constable as so damnatory, were but two, the +first of some length, the second consisting of a very few lines, both +copied in the fair round hand of Major Lane's confidential clerk. + +And then, with no premonitory warning, Carden became the victim of a +curious physical illusion. Staring down at the long piece of blue +paper, he found that he was only able to master the signature, in both +cases the same, with which each letter terminated. Sometimes only one +word, one name--that of _Pansy_--stood out clearly, and then again he +seemed only to see the other word, the other name--that of _Garvice_. +The two names appeared to play hide-and-seek with one another, to leap +out alternately and smite his eyes, pressing and printing themselves +upon his brain. + +At last, while he was still staring silently, obstinately, at the +black lines dancing before him, he heard the words, and they seemed to +be coming from a long way off, "Theodore! Oh, my boy, what is the +matter?" and then Major Lane's voice, full of rather angry concern, +"Rouse yourself, Carden, you are frightening your father." + +"Am I?" he said dully, "I mustn't do that"; then, handing back the +sheet of foolscap to the Head Constable, he said hoarsely, "I can't +make them out. Will you read them to me?" And Major Lane, in +passionless accents, read aloud the two letters which he already +almost knew by heart: + + 6, Lightwood Place, January, 28th. + + You told me to write to you if ever I was in real trouble and + thought you could help me. Oh, Theo, darling, I am in great + trouble, and life, especially since that happy time--you know when + I mean--is more wretched than ever. You used to say I was + extraordinarily pretty, I wonder if you would say so now, for I am + simply ill--worn out with worry. He--you know who--has found out + something; such a little insignificant thing; and since then he + makes my life unbearable with his stupid jealousy. It isn't as if + he knew about you and me, that would be something real to grumble + at, wouldn't it, darling? Sometimes I feel tempted to tell him all + about it. How he would stare! He is incapable of understanding + anything romantic. However, I'm in no mood for laughing now. He's + got a woman in to watch me, but luckily I've quite got her to be + on my side, though of course I haven't told her anything about my + private affairs. + + Will you meet me one day this week, to-morrow if you can, at No. + 15, Calthorpe Street? Four o'clock is the safest time for me. + Between the two small shops you will see a swing door with "Madame + Paula, Milliner," on it; push it open and go straight upstairs. On + the first landing you will see a door with "Gone out, enquire + upstairs," on it. Push up the door knob (don't try to turn it) and + walk in. The room will be empty, but you will see a door leading + to a back room; push _up_ the knob and there--there you will find + your poor little Pansy, fainting with joy at seeing her big strong + Theo again. + + Send me a postcard, saying "Mrs. Garvice can be fitted on (day you + select)." If posted before eleven, it will reach me in time. Of + course, I'm running a risk in meeting you _here_, so near my home, + but I _must_ see you, for I have a great favour to ask you, Theo, + and I dare not propose going away even for one day. + + PANSY GARVICE. + +Major Lane paused a moment, then went on: + + Theo, I wrote to you ten days ago, but I have had no answer. I am + dreadfully worried; I know you are in Birmingham, for I saw your + name in a paper before I wrote to you. I have gone through such + terrible days waiting for the postcard I asked you to send me. + Write, if only to say you don't want to hear again of poor + miserable + + PANSY GARVICE. + +"I suppose you will now admit that you know who wrote these letters?" +asked Major Lane sternly. + +"Yes--at least I suppose they were written by Mrs. Garvice." Carden +spoke with a touch of impatience. The question seemed to him to be, on +the part of his father's old friend, a piece of useless cruelty. + +"And can you suggest to whom they were written, if not to yourself?" + +"No, of course not; I do not doubt that they were written to me," and +this time his face was ravaged with a horror and despair to which the +other two men had, as yet, no clue. "And yet," Carden added, a touch +of surprise in his voice, "I never saw these letters--they never +reached me." + +"But, of course, you received others?" Major Lane spoke with a certain +eagerness; then, as the young man seemed to hesitate, he added +hastily: "Nay, nay, say nothing that might, incriminate yourself." + +"But, indeed--indeed I have never received a letter from her--that +perhaps is why I did not know the handwriting." + +"Theodore!" cried his father sharply, "think what you are saying! What +you've been shown are only copies--surely you understood that? What +Lane has just shown you are copies of letters which purport to have +been addressed to you, but which were intercepted on their way to the +post--is that not so?" and he turned to the Head Constable. + +"Yes," said Major Lane; then he added, very deliberately: "The +originals of these two letters, which were bought for a large sum from +Mrs. Garvice's companion, evidently the woman referred to in the first +letter, are now in the hands of the news editor of the _Birmingham +Dispatch_. I was shown them as a great favour"--a grim smile +distorted, for a moment, the Head Constable's narrow jaw. "I did my +best--for your father's sake, Carden--to frighten these people into +giving them up; I even tried to persuade them to hold them over, but +it was no good. I was told that no Birmingham paper had ever had such +a--'scoop,' I believe, was the word used. You and your father are so +well known in this city"--and again Theodore Carden marvelled at the +cruelty of the man. + +Thomas Carden broke in with a touch of impatience: "But nothing else +has been found, my boy! Lane should tell you that the whole theory of +your having known Mrs. Garvice rests on these two letters--which never +reached you." + +Father and son seemed suddenly to have changed places. The old man +spoke in a strong, self-confident tone, but the other, his grey face +supported on his hands, was staring fixedly into the fire. + +"Yes," said Major Lane, more kindly, "I ought perhaps to tell you, +Carden, that within an hour of my being shown these letters I had Mrs. +Garvice's house once more searched, and nothing was found connecting +you with the woman, excepting, I am sorry to say, this";--and he held +out an envelope on which was written in Theodore Carden's clear +handwriting the young man's name and business address. "Now I should +like you to tell me, if you don't mind doing so, where, when, and how +this name and address came to be written?" + +"Yes, I will certainly tell you." Carden spoke collectedly; he was +beginning to realise the practical outcome of the conversation. "I +wrote that address about the middle of last October, in London, at +Mansell's Hotel in Pall Mall East." + +"The poor fellow's going to make a clean breast of it at last"; so +thought Major Lane with a strange feeling of relief, for on the flap +of the envelope, which he had kept carefully turned down, was stamped +"Mansell's Hotel." + +It was in a considerate, almost kindly tone, that the Head Constable +next spoke. "And now, Carden, I beg you, for your own sake, to tell +me the truth. Perhaps I ought to inform you, before you say anything, +that, according to our theory, Mrs. Garvice was certainly assisted in +procuring the drug with which, I firmly believe, she slowly +poisoned her husband. As yet we have no clue as to the person who +helped her, but we have ascertained that for the last two months, in +fact from about the date of the first letter addressed to you, a man +did purchase minute quantities of this drug at Birmingham, at +Wolverhampton, and at Walsall. Now, mind you, I do not, I never have, +suspected you of having any hand in that, but I fear you'll have to +face the ordeal of being confronted with the various chemists, of +whom two declare most positively that they can identify the man who +brought them the prescription which obtained him the drug in +question." + +While Major Lane was speaking, Theodore Carden had to a certain extent +regained his self-possession; here, at least, he stood on firm ground. +"Of course, I am prepared to face anything of the kind that may be +necessary." He added almost inaudibly; "I have brought it on myself." +Then he turned, his whole voice altering and softening: "Father, +perhaps you would not mind my asking Major Lane to go into the library +with me? I should prefer to see him alone." + + +II + + "_And the wild regrets, and the bloody sweats, + None knew so well as I: + For he who lives more lives than one + More deaths than one must die._" + +And then the days dragged on, a week of days, each containing full +measure of bitter humiliation; full measure also of feverish suspense +and anxiety, for Theodore Carden did not find it quite so easy as he +had thought it would be to clear himself of this serious and yet +preposterous accusation of complicity in the murder. But Major Lane +was surprised at the courage and composure with which the young man +faced the ordeal of confrontation with the various men, any one of +whom, through a simple mistake or nervous lapse of memory, might +compel his presence, if not in the dock, then as a witness at the +coming murder trial. + +But at last that ordeal was over, for, as a matter of fact, none of +those brought face to face with him in the sordid promiscuity of such +scenes singled out Theodore Carden as resembling the mysterious +individual who had almost certainly provided Mrs. Garvice with the +means wherewith to poison her husband. So it was that suspicion became +gradually directed to quite another quarter; that is, towards an +accountant in Garvice's employment, who had been socially welcomed at +his house. But of this man no trace had as yet been found. + +It was after the need for active defence had passed away that the +hours began to drag heavily with Theodore Carden; and yet, at the end +of each long day, the unhappy man would have given much in order to +recall the daylight hours.... The moment twilight fell Carden was +haunted, physically and mentally possessed, by the presence of the +woman he had known at once so little and so well, that is, of her he +now knew to be Pansy Garvice. + +Especially terrible were the solitary evenings of those days when his +father had been away, performing the task of breaking so much of the +truth as could be told to the girl to whom his son had been engaged. + +As each afternoon drew in, Carden found himself compelled to remain +more or less concealed in the rooms which overlooked the garden of +Watermead. For, with the approach of night, the suburban road in front +of the fine old house was filled by an ever coming and going crowd of +bat-like men and women, eager to gaze with morbid curiosity at the +dwelling of the man who had undoubtedly been, if not Mrs. Garvice's +accomplice--that, to the annoyance of the sensation-mongers, seemed +decidedly open to question--then, her favoured lover. + +But to these shameful and grotesque happenings Theodore Carden gave +scarce a thought, for it was when he found himself alone in the +drawing-room or library that his solitude would become stealthily +invaded by an invisible and impalpable wraith. So disorganised had +become his nerves, so pitiable the state of his body and mind, that +constantly he seemed conscious of a faint, sweet odour, that of wood +violets, a scent closely associated in his thoughts with Pansy +Garvice, with the woman whom he now knew to be a murderess. He came at +last to long for a tangible delusion, for the sight of a bodily shape +which he could tell himself was certainly not there. But no such +relief was vouchsafed him; and yet once, when sitting in the +drawing-room, trying to read a book, he had felt a rounded cheek laid +suddenly to his; a curl of silken, scented hair had touched his +neck.... + +Terrifying as was the peopled solitude of his evenings, Carden dreaded +their close, for at night, during the whole of each long night, the +woman from whom he now felt so awful a repulsion held him prisoner. +From the fleeting doze of utter exhaustion he would be awakened by +feeling the pressure of Pansy's soft, slender arms about his neck; +they would wind themselves round his shuddering body, enclosing him +slowly, inexorably, till he felt as if he must surely die under their +gyves-like pressure. Again--and this, perhaps, was what he learned to +dread in an especial degree--he would be suddenly roused by Pansy's +liquid, laughing voice, whispering things of horror in his ear; it was +then, and then only, that he found courage to speak, courage to assure +her, and to assure himself, that he was in no sense her accomplice, +that he had had naught to do with old Garvice's death; but then there +would come answer, in the eager tones he remembered so well, and the +awful words found unwilling echo in his heart: "Yes, yes, indeed you +helped!" + + * * * * * + +And now the last day, or rather the last night, had come, for the next +morning Theodore Carden was to leave Birmingham, he hoped for ever, +for New Zealand. + +The few people he had been compelled to see had been strangely kind; +quiet and gentle, as folk, no doubt, feel bound to be when in the +presence of one condemned. As for Major Lane, he was stretching--no +one knew it better than Carden himself--a great point in allowing the +young man to leave England before the Garvice trial. + +During those last days, even during those last hours, Theodore +deliberately prevented himself from allowing his mind to dwell on his +father. He did not know how much the latter had been told, and he had +no wish to know. A wall of silence had arisen between the two who had +always been so much, nay, in a sense, everything, to one another. Each +feared to give way to any emotion, and yet the son knew only too well, +and was ashamed of the knowledge, with what relief he would part from +his father. There had been a moment when Major Lane had intimated his +belief that the two would go away and make a new life together, but +Theodore Carden had put aside the idea with rough decision. Perhaps +when he was far away, on the other side of the world, the former +relations of close love and sympathy, if not of confidence, might be +reestablished between his father and himself, but this, he felt sure, +would never be while they remained face to face. + +And now he was lying wide awake in the darkness, in the pretty, +peaceful room which had once been his nursery, and where he had spent +his happy holidays as a schoolboy. His brain remained abnormally +active, but physically he was oppressed by a great weariness; +to-night, for the first time, Carden felt the loathsome wraith which +haunted him, if not less near, then less malicious, less watchful than +usual, above all, less eager to assert her power.... Yet, even so, he +lay very still, fearing to move lest he should once more feel about +his body the clinging, enveloping touch he dreaded with so great a +dread. + + * * * * * + +And then, quite suddenly, there came a strange lightening of his +heart. A space of time seemed to have sped by, and Carden, by some +mysterious mental process, knew that he was still near home, and not, +as would have been natural, in New Zealand. Nay, more, he realised +that the unfamiliar place in which he now found himself was Winson +Green Gaol, a place which, as a child, he had been taught to think of +with fear, fear mingled with a certain sense of mystery and +excitement. + +Theodore had not thought of the old local prison for years, but now he +knew that he and his father were together there, in a small cell +lighted by one candle. The wall of silence, raised on both sides by +shame and pain, had broken down, but, alas! too late; for, again in +some curious inexplicable way, the young man was aware that he lay +under sentence of death, and that he was to be hanged early in the +morning of which the dawn was even now breaking. + +Now, strange to say, this knowledge caused him, personally, but little +uneasiness, but on his father's account he felt infinitely distressed, +and he found himself bending his whole mind to comfort and sustain the +old man. Thus, he heard a voice, which he knew to be his own, saying +in an argumentative tone, "I assure you, father, that an extraordinary +amount of nonsense is talked nowadays concerning--well, the death +penalty. Is it possible that you do not realise that I am escaping a +much worse fate--that of having to live on? I wish, dear dad, that I +could persuade you of the truth of this." + +"If only," muttered the old man in response, "if only, my boy, I could +bear it for you"; and Carden saw that his father's face was scared +with an awful look of terror and agony. + +"But, indeed, father, you do not understand. Believe me, I am not +afraid--it will not be so bad, after all. So do not--pray, pray, +father, do not be so distressed." + + * * * * * + +And then with a great start Theodore Carden awoke--awoke to see the +small, spare figure of that same dear father, clothed in the long, +old-fashioned linen night-shirt of another day, standing by his +bed-side. + +The old man held a candle in his hand, and was gazing down at his only +child with an expression of unutterable woe and grief. "I will try--I +am trying, my boy, not to be unreasonably distressed," he said. + +Theodore Carden sat up in bed. Since this awful thing had come on him +he had never, even for an instant, forgotten self, but now he saw that +his sufferings were small compared with those he had brought on the +man into whose face he was gazing with red-rimmed, sunken eyes. For a +moment the wild thought came to him that he might try to explain, to +justify himself, to prove to his father that in this matter he had but +done as others do, and that the punishment was intolerably heavier +than the crime; but then, looking up and meeting Thomas Carden's +perplexed, questioning eyes, he felt a great rush of shame and horror, +not only of himself, but of all those who look at life as he himself +had always looked at it; for the first time, he understood the +mysterious necessity, as well as the beauty, of abnegation, of +renunciation. + +"Father," he said, "listen. I will not go away alone; I was mad to +think of such a thing. We will go together, you and I,--Lane has told +me that such has been your wish,--and then perhaps some day we will +come back together." + +After this, for the first time for many nights, Theodore Carden fell +into a dreamless sleep. + + + + +A BUNK-HOUSE AND SOME BUNK-HOUSE MEN + +BY ALEXANDER IRVINE + +ILLUSTRATIONS BY F. C. YOHN + + +About fifteen years ago I was appointed spiritual adviser to the +Diocese of the Bowery and Chatham Square. This strange whirlpool of +humanity presents a problem of more than ordinary proportions to the +policeman or the missionary. The Bowery is a mile of American life in +which the nations of the earth meet for excitement and change. There +is a business aspect of it which is permanent, but the many-colored +throng surging up and down its side-walks all day and all night is +ephemeral. It is the place for the homeless, for the out of kilter, +for the rudderless wrecks who drift. Its fifty or more lodging-houses +are filled with men whose only home is the six-by-ten room in which +they sleep. + +A block from Chatham Square I found a resort which I at once made a +base of operations for my campaign. It was a bunk-house, a big +five-story rear tenement at No. 9 Mulberry Street. The entrance to it +was a slit in the front block--a long, deep, narrow alley, then, as +now, indescribably filthy. Over the iron gate at the entrance was the +name of the house and the price of some of the beds. "Bismarck" was +the name; the lodgers used to call it "Hotel de Bismarck." The lower +floors were filled with ten- and twelve-cent bed-cots; the upper +floors were bunk dormitories. A bunk is a strip of canvas. For seven +cents a night the lodger gained admission to the dormitory. Once +there, he might stretch himself on the bunk, or he might take +advantage of the floor. Of the three hundred guests, more than half +were accommodated on canvas or on the floor. + +The covering on the ten-cent bed was changed once a month; if a man +wanted toilet accommodations, he paid for them elsewhere. The Bismarck +never had a bath, nor a wash-basin. + +A ten- or twelve-cent guest had a wardrobe; it was seldom used, but it +was there. At the head of each cot stood this tall, narrow receptacle +for the clothing and valuables of the guests, but in the old days wise +guests slept in their clothes. I have known of unsuspecting wayfarers +who deposited their belongings in the wardrobe, locked it, and hid the +key under the pillow, and next morning had to wrap themselves in +newspapers or in a borrowed sheet until they could reach a junk-store. +The key was safe, but the wardrobe and contents had disappeared. + +On the second floor was the sitting-room. There was a stove for winter +months, and against the wall on four sides of the room were built +benches. There was but one chair in the room; that was the clerk's. +The walls were whitewashed; the windows were covered most of the time +with cobwebs and dirt, and the floor was littered with rubbish. + +The clerk was a quiet man by the name of Allen. He had a bouncer named +McBriarty--his nickname was "Gar." The bouncer had an understudy who +was called Frank--"Big Frank." The house was owned at that time by a +banker named Barsotti. + + +_The Gathering of the Men who Were_ + +Every afternoon, winter and summer, about five o'clock, the men began +to gather about the little iron gate, and as Big Frank swung it back, +they filed through the slit in single file and ascended the stairs. + +Ten-cent men registered. Bunk-men threw down a nickel and two cents +and became guests at large. Guests who registered were handed a chunk +of wood too large to enter an ordinary pocket; attached to the wood +was the key of the wardrobe. A small discount was made on a week's +lodging paid in advance, but few took advantage of it, for nobody ever +expected to stay a week; some had been there for years, but they paid +each night as they entered, for they expected each night to be their +last. Old customers looked into each other's faces at evening with a +glance which meant: "Hello! back again?" + +I saw a woman there once. She came to look for a son, and sat by the +door, scanning the faces as they passed her. Over a hundred men +lingered around the sitting-room that night. At least a score of them +repassed her, just to get a glimpse of her face, in which, though it +was that of a stranger, many of them retraced their steps back over +life's jagged roadway. They asked the clerk questions that needed no +answer, just to get near for a moment. They tiptoed across the floor; +they spoke in whispers; and they indignantly hustled several +half-drunken lodgers out of the room. Her anxious face set them all +thinking; it created an atmosphere in which those men of life's +undertow grew tender and kind. + +I tabulated, by the aid of the clerk, the ages, nationalities, and +occupations of one hundred of them. Fifty were German, twenty Irish, +sixteen native Americans; the rest were from the ends of the earth. +Each of them gave an occupation; there were barbers, tinkers, +teamsters, tailors, waiters, laborers, longshoremen, painters, +paper-hangers, and scissors-grinders. One man put "banker" opposite +his name. This led to an extra inquiry. + +"Of course," he said, "I am for the time being down and out; but +banking is my business." + +Their trades were of the past--their vitality had oozed out, their +grip on life was relaxed; if it ever tightened again, the first result +of it would be another grade of surroundings. + +In order to find out how they got a living, I followed some of these +men through the maelstrom of city life. I found some distributing +circulars. Others sold pencils, matches, laces. They lounged around +saloons, sticking their dirty fists into the free-lunch dishes. They +played lame, sick, halt, blind; they panhandled on the streets and +alleys--especially the alleys, where they fared best. A dozen or more +attended the ferries, waiting for a chance to carry baggage. They were +unfit for hard work--they would not die. + +Twelve cents a day kept most of them. When they didn't manage seven +cents for a bunk, they "carried the banner"--walked the streets or +stood in a "dead-house" saloon, where there are no seats and where a +man must stand. Many of them, when worsted completely, would "hit the +bread-line," after midnight, not so much for the bread as for a place +to stand where they would be immune from the policeman's club. + +Despite some plain lessons to the contrary, I believed most of them +to be victims of laziness; but in a single year twelve of them dropped +on the floor dead: to these I gave the benefit of the doubt. + + +"_The Hardest Work Is No Work at All_" + +One Sunday night I told a hundred men in the Bismarck that the reason +they had no work was, that they were loafers and didn't want work. +This was in accordance with my theory--the prevailing theory--that +poverty is the child of sin, that lack of work is the fruit of +shiftlessness. I offered to change clothes with any man in the house, +and to go out in the world and show him how to get a job. The +challenge was accepted instantly--by an Irishman. + +I wisely changed the article of agreement regarding clothes; I got up +my own outfit! Next morning, at half-past five, I met Tim, the man who +had accepted the challenge, and we proceeded to the labor-market. + +From the "want" columns of the morning papers we selected a few bits +of labor bait. We ran them down, failed to find anything, and turned +to the shops and factories on the West Side. The answers were +monotonous. "Full up," they said, or a card at the door or gate +announced that the firm had a "full complement." I felt like a +mendicant. I found myself begging for work in a subservient tone and +manner. In one place, I remember, I said, "For God's sake." The +superintendent laughed and waved us away. + +"The harrudest work, for sure, is no worruk at all, at all!" said my +companion, by way of sympathy. + +It was mid-afternoon; I was growing desperate with my sense of +failure, and at this point I launched a scheme which had been growing +in my mind for hours. + +"Keep close to me now, Tim," I said, and I led him into a drug-store +at the corner of Grand Street and the Bowery. + +"Sir," I said to the clerk, "you are not accustomed to giving credit, +I know; but perhaps you might suspend your rule for once and trust a +stranger for a very small sum?" + +"What is't?" asked the clerk, with something of a sneer. + +"I am hungry and thirsty. I have looked for work since five o'clock, +and have utterly failed to find it. Now I have a scheme; I know it +will work. Oxalic acid eats away rust. If I had five cents' worth, I +could make a dollar an hour--I know I could." + +The clerk listened and looked. He was good enough to say that I didn't +talk like a bum, though I looked like one. He inquired anxiously if I +was "off my hook." At last he said: "By ----! I've been on the Bowery +a long time, and haven't been sold once. If you're a skin-game man, +I'll throw up my job!" I got the acid. + +Then I played the same game in a tailor-shop for rags and in a +hardware store for some polishing-paste. The stock cost fifteen +cents--on credit. + +There used to be a big dry-goods store on the east side of Chatham +Square. It had two immense brass signs. + +"Nawthin' doin'," said the man, when I applied for the job of cleaning +them. Nevertheless, I cleaned and polished a square foot of one big +sign. The boss looked at it, and then at Tim and me. + +"I'll clean both for a dime," I said. + +"Well, go ahead," he said. The Cleaning Company went from store to +store until we had enough money for our bills, a meal, and a surplus +in the treasury. + +As we sat down to dinner at "Beefsteak John's," I handed Tim the +surplus, and rather impatiently probed for his acknowledgment of my +victory. I had made good, and wanted all that was due me. + +"What do you think of it, Tim?" I asked, with an air of satisfaction +and confidence. + +"Shure, ye're a janyus, yer Honor; no doubt av that at all, at all; +but----" + +"Go on!" I said. + +"I was jist switherin', yer Honor, what a wontherful thing ut is that +a man kin always hev worruk whin he invints ut!" + +"Well, that's worth knowing," I said disappointedly. "Did you learn +anything else?" + +"Well, it takes to do that thrick what most av us hevn't got; ut takes +brains, sor--ut takes brains!" + +"Why don't you have brains, then?" + +He looked dumbly at me, and hung his head. + +"I dunno--I dunno," he muttered. + +The men at the Bismarck needed no urging to attend the meeting the +following Sunday. Grogan had told his story; they were anxious to hear +mine. The room was crowded to suffocation. They stood on the benches; +they sat on the window-sills--everywhere; from all directions, the +eyes of that dull, heavy human mass were penetrating me. + +I was frank and explicit in my analysis of the experiment. I had no +idea that Grogan would speak, but he did, and his speech was pointed. + +"Whin ye talk religion, mister," he said, "ye're O.K.; but whin ye say +we're lazy hobos, all av us, ye're spakin' round the rim av yer hat!" + +Grogan made the crowd laugh when he told them how I had been turned +away from shops and factories. + +"Some av us poor divils hev done that same," he said, "fur weeks--until, +begobs, we wisht we wur dead or hung or anythin'!" + +I was about to close the meeting, when an old man known as "Judge" +shuffled out to the front and asked permission to speak. He was a man +of education whom I had not hitherto been able to engage in +conversation. + +The Judge administered a scathing rebuke, closing with a touch of +humor, which was lost on the crowd. I stood there in the midst of a +handful of friends, who mingled their pity with indignation. I took +what belonged to me, and thanked the old man. The experiment exploded +some of my theories and sent me to the school of facts. + + +_Graf von "Habenichts"_ + +Nothing in the life of the bunk-house was more noticeable than the way +men of intelligence grouped themselves together. Besides the Judge, +there was an ex-Parliamentarian, an ex-lawyer, an ex-soldier of +Victoria, and a German Graf. I named them the "Ex-Club." Every morning +they separated as though forever. Every night they returned, and +looked at one another in surprise. + +At election-time both political parties had access to the register, +and every lodger was the recipient of two letters. Between elections a +letter was always a matter of sensational interest; it lay on the +clerk's table, waiting to be claimed, and every lodger inspected it as +he passed. Scores of men who never expected a letter would pick it up, +handle it in a wistful and affectionate manner, and regretfully lay it +down again. I have often wished I could analyze the thoughts of these +men as they handled tenderly these rare visitors conducted by Uncle +Sam into the bunk-house of Blind Alley. + +It was a big letter with red seals and an aristocratic monogram that +first drew attention to a new-comer who had signed himself "Hans +Schwanen." "One-eyed Dutchy" had whispered to some of his friends that +the recipient of the letter was a real German Graf. + +He was about sixty years of age, short, rotund, corpulent. His head +was bullet-shaped and set well down on his shoulders. His clothes were +baggy and threadbare, his linen soiled and shabby. He had blue eyes, +harsh red hair, and a florid complexion. When he arrived, he brought +three valises. Everybody wondered what he could have in them. + +The bouncer was consumed with a desire to examine the contents, and, +as bouncer and general floor-manager of the house, expected that they +would naturally be placed under his care. When, however, it was +announced that the new-comer had engaged One-eyed Dutchy as his valet, +the bouncer swore and said "he might go to ----." + +There was something peculiar and mysterious in a ten-cent guest of the +Bismarck hiring a valet. "Habenichts" kept aloof from the crowd. He +had no friends, and would permit no one to establish any intercourse +with him. + +Dutchy informed an intimate friend that the Graf received a check from +Germany every three months. While it lasted, it was the valet's duty +to order, pay for, and keep a record of all food and refreshment. When +the bouncer told me of these things, I tried very hard to persuade the +Graf to dine at my house; but he declined without even the formality +of thanks. After a few months the revenue of the mysterious stranger +dried up. One-eyed Dutchy was discharged. + +A snow-storm found the old Graf with an attack of rheumatism, and +helpless. Then he was forced to relinquish his ten-cent cot and move +upstairs to a seven-cent bunk. When he was able to get out again, he +came back, dragging up the rickety old stairs a scissors-grinder. +Several of the guests offered a hand, but he spurned them all, and +stuck to his job until he got it up. + +Another snow-storm brought back his rheumatism; he got permission to +sit indoors. The old wheel lay idle in the corner; he was hungry, and +his pipe had been empty for a day and a night, but still he sat bolt +upright, in pain, alone, with starvation staring him in the face. The +third day of his involuntary fast he got a letter. It contained a +one-dollar bill. The sender was watching at a safe distance, and he +recorded that the Graf's puzzled look almost developed into a smile. +He gathered himself together and hobbled out to a near-by German +saloon. Next day came the first sign of surrender. He accepted a +commission to take a census of the house. This at least helped to thaw +him out, but it didn't last long. + +Because his rheumatism prevented him from pushing his wheel through +the streets, I secured him a corner in a locksmith's basement. He had +not been there many weeks when he disappeared. The locksmith told a +story which seemed scarcely credible. He said the old Graf had sold +his wheel and given the proceeds to an Irishwoman to help defray the +funeral expenses of her child. + +Some months later, Allen, the clerk, got a postal-card from One-eyed +Dutchy. He was on the Island, and the Graf and he were working +together on the ash gang. I helped to get him off the Island--at his +own urgent solicitation. I myself considered him much better off where +he was. + +When the Graf returned to the bunk-house, every one who had ever seen +him noted a wonderful change. He no longer lived in a shell. He had +become human, and took an interest in what was going on. One night, +when a few of the Ex-Club were exchanging reminiscences, he was +prevailed upon to tell his story. He asked us to keep it a secret for +ten years. The time is up, and I am the only one of that group alive. + + +_The Tale of the Old German Noble_ + +"In 1849 it was; my brother and I students were in Heidelberg. Then +broke out the Revolution. Two years less of age was I, so to him was +due my father's title and most of the estate. 'What is revolution?' +five of us students asked. 'We know not; we will study,' we all said, +and we did. For King and fatherland our study make us jealous, but my +brother was not so. + +"'I am revolutionist!' he says, and we are mad to make him different. + +"'The King is one,' he said, 'and the people are many, and they are +oppressed.' + +"I hate my brother, and curse him, till in our room he weeps for +sorrow. I curse him until he leaves. + +"By and by in the barricades he finds himself fighting against the +King. In the fight the rebels are defeated and my brother escapes. +Many are condemned and shot. Not knowing my heart, my mother writes to +me that my brother is at home. + +"I lie in my bed, thinking--thinking. Many students have been shot for +treason. Love of King and fatherland, and desire to be Graf, are two +thoughts in my heart. + +"I inform. My brother is arrested, and in fortress is he put to be +shot. + +"Four of us students of patriotism go to see. My heart sinks to see my +brother, so white is he and fearless. His eyes are bright like fire, +and he stands so cool and straight. + +"'I have nothing but love,' he says; 'I love the cause of truth and +justice. To kill me is not to kill the truth; where you spill my blood +will revolution grow, as flowers grow by water. I forgive.' + +"Then he sees me. 'Hans!' he says, 'Hans!' He holds out his arms. 'I +want to kiss my brother,' he says. The general he says, 'All right.' + +"But I love the King. 'No! I have no brother! I will not a traitor +kiss!' + +"My Gott! how my brother looks! He looks already dead--so full of +sorrow is he. + +"A sharp crack of guns! They chill my heart, and down dead falls my +brother. + +"I go away, outside glad, but in my heart I feel burn the fires of +hell. Father and mother in one year die for sorrow. Then I am Graf. + +"I desire to be of society, but society will not--it is cold. Guests +do not come to my table. Servants do not stay. They tell that they +hear my mother weep for sorrow in the night. I laugh at them, but in +my heart I know them true. Peasants in the village hide from me as I +come to them. + +"But my mind is worse. Every night I hear the crack of the rifles--the +sound of the volley that was my brother's death. Soldiers I get, men +of the devil-dare kind, to stay with me. They do not come back; they +tell that they hear tramp, tramp, tramp of soldiers' feet. + +"One night, with the soldiers, I take much wine, for I say, 'I shall +be drunk and not hear the guns at night.' + +"We drink in our noble hall. Heavy doors are chained, windows barred, +draperies close arranged, and the great lamp burns dim. We drink, we +sing, we curse God und das Gesindel. 'We ourselves,' we say, 'are +gods.' + +"Then creeps close the hour for the guns. My tongue is fast and cannot +move; my brow is wet, and frozen is my blood. + +"Boom! go the guns; then thunder shakes the castle, lightning flashes +through draperies, and I fall as dead. + +[Illustration: THE BUNK-HOUSE] + +"Was I in a dream? I know not. I did not believe in God; I did not +believe in heaven or in hell; yet do I see my past life go past me in +pictures--pictures of light in frames of fire: Two boys, first,--Max, +my brother, and I,--playing as children; then my mother, weeping for +great sorrow; then the black walls of the great fortress--my brother +with arms outstretched. Again my blood is frozen, again creeps my +skin, and I hear the volley and see him fall to death. I fear. I +scream loud that I love the King, but in my ear comes a voice like +iron--'Liar!' A little girl then, with hair so golden, comes and wipes +the stain of blood from my brow. I see her plain. + +"Then I awake. I am alone; the light is out; blood is on my face. I am +paralyzed with fear, so I cannot stand. When I can walk, I leave, for +I think maybe that only in Germany do I hear the guns. For twenty +years I live in Spain. Still do I hear the guns. + +"I go to France, but yet every night at the same hour freezes my blood +and I hear the death volley. + +"I come to America, which I have hated, yet never a night is missed. +It is at the same hour. What I hate comes to me. Whatever I fear is +mine. To run away from something is for me to meet it. My estate is +gone; money I have not. I sink like a man in a quicksand, down, down, +down. I come here. Lower I cannot." + +"One day in the Bend, where das Gesindel live, I see the little +girl--she of the golden hair, who wiped my stain away. + +"But she is dead. I know for sure the face. What it means I know not. +Again I fall as dead. + +"I have one thing in the world left--only one; it is my scissors-grinder. +I sell it and give all the money to bury her. It is the first--it is the +only good I ever did. Then, an outcast, I go out into the world where no +pity is. I sit me down in a dark alley; strange is my heart, and new. + +"It is time for the guns--yet is my blood warm! I wait. The volley +comes not! + +"The hour is past! + +"'My Gott! My Gott!' I say. 'Can this be true?' I wait one, two, three +minutes; it comes not. I scream for joy--I scream loud! I feel an iron +hand on me. I am put in prison. Yet is the prison filled with +light--yet am I in heaven. The guns are silent." + +One day a big letter with several patches of red sealing-wax and an +aristocratic monogram arrived at the bunk-house. + +Nearly two hundred men handled it and stood around until the Graf +arrived. Every one felt a personal interest in the contents. It was +"One-eyed Dutchy" who handed it to the owner, and stood there watching +out of his single eye the face of his former master. The old man +smiled as he folded the letter and put it into his pocket, saying as +he did so: "By next ship I leave for Hamburg to take life up where I +laid it down." + + +_A Statesman Under a Cloud_ + +I was sitting on the bench near the door in the bunk-house one day at +twilight, when I noticed a profile silhouetted against the window. I +had seen only one profile like that in my life, and that was when I +was a boy. + +I moved closer. The man sat like a statue. His face was very pale, and +he was gazing vacantly at the walls in the rear of the building. + +Finally I went over and sat down beside him. + +"Good evening," he said quietly, in answer to my salutation. + +I looked into his face--a face I knew when a boy, a face familiar to +the law-makers of Victoria for a quarter century. + +I called him by name. At the sound of his own name his paleness turned +to an ashy yellow. + +"In Heaven's name," I said, "what are you doing here?" + +He looked at me with an expression of excruciating pain on his face, +and said: + +"I have traveled some thousands of miles in order to be alone; if you +have any kindness, any pity, leave me." + +"Pardon me," I said, "for intruding." + +That night the Ex-Club invited him to take part in their deliberations. +He refused, and his manner showed that he considered the invitation +an insult. + +I had known this man as a brilliant orator, a religious leader, the +champion of a sect. In a city across the sea I had sat as a +bare-legged boy on an upturned barrel, part of an immense crowd, +listening to the flow of his oratory. Next day he left the bunk-house. +Some weeks afterward I found him on a curbstone, preaching to whoever +of the pedestrians would listen. + +At the close of his address I introduced myself again. He took me to +his new lodging, and I put the questions that filled my mind. For +answer, he gave me the House of Commons Blue Book, which explained the +charge hanging over him. Almost daily, for weeks, I heard him on his +knees proclaim his innocence of the unmentionable crime with which he +was charged. After some weeks of daily association, he said to me: "I +believe you are sent of God to guide me, and I am prepared to take +your advice." + +My advice was ready. He turned pale as I told him to pack his trunk +and take the next ship for England. + +"Face the storm like a man!" I urged, and he said: + +"It will kill me, but I will do it." + +He did it, and it swept him to prison, to shame, and to oblivion. + + +_A St. Francis of the Bunk-house_ + +One Sunday afternoon I was going through the dormitories, calling the +lodgers to prayer. On one of the ten-cent cots an old white-haired man +was reading a life of Buffalo Bill. His face was marred by a scar over +one of the eyes. He spoke gently and with a pronounced Irish accent. + +[Illustration: "ONE NIGHT THE GRAF WAS PREVAILED UPON TO TELL HIS STORY"] + +"I am an Episcopalian," he said, when I invited him below to the +meeting. + +"We have all denominations," I assured him. Everybody in the +bunk-house had a connection, more or less remote, with some sect. + +"Say," said the bouncer, concerning the old man, "dat ol' duffer's got +de angel goods on him O.K." + +[Illustration: THE SITTING-ROOM OF THE BISMARCK] + +His name was Edward Dowling. He was a gentleman. He had soldiered +under Sir Colin Campbell and Sir Henry Havelock in India. Later he +owned a ranch in the West. Then an accident deprived him of the use of +an eye, and he spent all he had in trying to preserve his sight. +Homeless and penniless on the streets of New York, he had learned to +do tinkering and the mending of umbrellas. + +In his poverty he drifted to the bunk-house. + +The following Sunday, at our meeting, he had an awakening which +reminded me of the account of Paul's conversion on the way to +Damascus. It revolutionized his mental processes, and he began to give +outward expression to his new-found inner joy. + +He would buy some stale bread overnight, and early in the morning he +would make coffee on the bunk-house stove in a quart tomato-can. Each +man, before he left the place, had a bite of stale bread and at least +a mouthful of warm coffee. Then they would uncover their heads while +the old man asked God to bless them for the day. + +He tinkered for a living, but his vocation became the conversion of +men. From these small beginnings in quiet evangelism, he branched out +into work of the same kind among the tenements. He mended pots, +kettles, and pans, and charged for the job a chapter in the Bible. I +came on him suddenly one morning in an alley. Snow was on the ground, +and he was reading a chapter with his face close to a broken pane. It +appeared he had done some soldering for an Irishwoman, and asked the +privilege of reading to her. + +"Begorra," she said, "the house isn't fit to read the Holy Book in, +but if yez w'u'dn't mind reading through the window, I'll take the +rags out." + +So she took the bundle out of the broken pane, and Dowling bent over +and read his chapter. + +When the Rev. John Hopkins Dennison took charge of the old Church of +Sea and Land, he established a sort of latter-day monastery in the old +square tower, and there Brother Dowling had a cell, where he lived +and worked among the poor for many years. + +In an escapade with two other soldiers in the Sepoy rebellion, Dowling +had looted the palace of a raja. In the act of burying several canes +filled with diamonds, one of the three was shot dead. Dowling and the +other escaped. One day on the Bowery, forty years afterward, a man +laid his hand on Dowling's shoulder and asked him what he did with the +loot. It was the other man. + +"What did _you_ do with it?" Dowling asked. Each had lived in the +belief that the other had got away with it. + +The tinker-preacher was very much stirred up over this. He wrote +at once to the governor-general of India, told the whole story, +and offered to come out and locate the stolen booty. Money was +appropriated to pay his passage, but the old man was going on another +journey. He wrote a full description of the place and transaction, +and then lay down in the tower of the old church and died. + + +_"Doc," our Volunteer Organist_ + +"Say, Bub," said Gar, the bouncer, to me one day, "what ungodly hour +of the mornin' d'ye git up?" + +"At the godly hour of necessity," I replied. + +"Wal, I hev a pal I want ter interjooce to ye at six." + +I met the bouncer and his "pal" at the corner of Broome Street and the +Bowery next morning at the appointed hour. + +"Dat's Doc!" said Gar, as he clapped his hand on his friend's head. + +His friend bowed low and in faultless English said: "I am more than +pleased to meet you." + +"I can give ye a pointer on Doc," the big fellow continued. "If ye tuk +a peaner t' th' top av a mountain an' let her go down the side sorter +ez she pleases, 'e cud pick up the remains an' put thim together so's +ye w'u'dn't know they'd been apart. Yes, sir; that's no song an' +dance, an' 'e c'u'd play any chune iver invented on it." + +[Illustration: "I NOTICED A PROFILE SILHOUETTED AGAINST THE WINDOW"] + +"Doc" laughed and made some explanations. They had a wheezy old organ +in Halloran's dive, and Doc kept it in repair and played occasionally +for them. Doc had a Rip Van Winkle look. His hair hung down his back, +and his clothes were threadbare and green with age. His shoes were +tied to his feet with wire, and stockings he had none. He was a +New-Englander, and had studied medicine until his sheep-skin was +almost in his hand. Then Doc slipped a cog and went down, down, down, +until he landed at Halloran's dive. For twelve years he had been +selling penny song-sheets on the streets and in saloons. He was +usually in rags, but a score of the wildest inhabitants of that awful +dive told me that Doc was their "good angel." He could play the songs +of their childhood, he was kind and gentle, and men couldn't be vulgar +in his presence. + +I saw in Doc an unusual man, and was able to persuade him to go home +with me. In a week he was a new man, clothed and in his right mind. He +became librarian of a big church library, and our volunteer organist +at all the Sunday meetings. + +After two years of uninterrupted service as librarian, during which +time Doc had been of great service in the bunk-house, I lost him. Five +years later, crossing Brooklyn Bridge on a car, I passed Doc, who was +walking in the same direction. At the end of the bridge, I planted +myself in front of him. "Doc," I said, "you will never get away from +me again!" I took him to New Haven, where he has been janitor of a +hall in Yale University ever since. + + +_Gar, Bouncer of the Bismarck_ + +I have mentioned Gar, or Garfield, bouncer of the Bismarck. A strong, +primitive man, he is worth a chapter in himself. When I met him +first, I was scrubbing. Before I came, the Bismarck floor, like the +Bismarck linen, was cleaned once a month. Having made the house my +headquarters, I took some pride in it. I got permission to scrub +that floor mid-month, and, dressed in a suitable outfit, I proceeded +with the job. I hadn't gone far when a tall, gaunt form lurched into +the room. + +"Hello," he grunted. + +"Hello," I said, as I paused for a moment. + +"What's up?" he asked. + +"You haven't seen me before, have you?" I asked. + +"Don't know ye from a hole in the ground!" + +"Well, I'm the missionary, and as there's a vital connection between +soap and salvation, I'm making a beginning on the floor. When I finish +this, I'll try my hand on you." + +He laughed a hoarse, guttural laugh, and said: + +"Don't git bug-house, boss; ye'd wind up jest whar ye've begun!" + +[Illustration: ST. FRANCIS OF THE BUNK-HOUSE] + +He had several names; his real name was Brady. In the bunk-house +they called him "Gar." He was bull-necked, bullet-headed, tall, +round-shouldered, stooped. The story of a hard life was in his +face. He had been in the army, but they couldn't drill him. They +couldn't even get rid of his stoop. He must have looked like a +gorilla with a gun. In the Bismarck, he became the terror of the +lesser breeds--the king by right of conquest. + +Gar was a challenge to me, for I saw in him something wild, untamed, +and, perhaps, untamable. I resolved to dispute with my own methods his +mastery of the place. Such was his power over the other men that, +could I only conquer him, the rest would be easy. I concentrated on +Gar. + +It was virgin soil. He was ignorant of the vocabulary of religion. +This was the more amazing because he had spent fifteen or twenty years +in prisons. His special difficulty, I found, was intemperance. My +first task was to cure him of that. + +One night, as he approached his bunk, he found me stretched out on the +next one. + +"Well, I'll be----," he said. + +"What's the matter, Gar?" + +"Dat's what I ask youse. What's wrong with your machinery? Have ye +been rejooced to the ranks, or has Gawd bounced ye?" + +I went up close and whispered in his ear: + +"Look here, old man, I'm glued to you; night, noon, and day, I'm going +to eat, sleep, loaf, work, and play with you until every shred of your +miserable soul belongs to God." + +He laughed loud enough to wake every man in the dormitory. + +"Sonny," he said, "I'll give ye three nights, and if ye haven't lost +yer little goat be dat time, I'll set up de drinks fur all hands at +Halloran's." + +Then Gar set out to make good in the role of a prophet. At first he +tried to disgust me. He kept up a rapid fire of the most vulgar +profanity. That night he started several fights, and put the light out +in the dormitory. The men, yelling for light, ran about, smashing +every one in their way. When things quieted down, he asked me how I +liked the entertainment. I complained that it was tame. + +"Gee!" he said, "youse must 'a' been a barker at Coney!" + +I kept him sober for a week; then he went back to his cups, and in a +frenzy he nearly killed a bartender. I found him hiding in a +rag-picker's basement. It appeared that the man had used the name of +Christ in a vile connection, and Gar became a champion of the +Nazarene. + +"Hangin'," said Gar, "is too dead easy fur d' sucker what keeps cool +when Jesus's insulted. Dat's d' fust time I ever soaked a guy on +account of religion, an', b'jiminy, I'm tickled t' death over it." + +When Gar squared himself again, he began a wholesale house-cleaning in +the bunk-house. He persuaded the management to make several outlays, +and he gave himself to the work. We installed a book-case and books, +and Gar himself selected some chromos to hang around. Over a dent in +the wall, made by a chair with which he had tried to kill a man, he +hung this motto: "Let Brotherly Love Continue." + +For ten years Gar struggled to be master of himself. He spent some +years in a soldiers' home, but it was against his principles to die in +such a tame institution. He wound up where he had spent his strange +career--in Chatham Square. + +A bunk-house man--old and half blind--was crossing the street, and +roaring down on him came a Third Avenue car. It was Gar's one +opportunity, and, with a spring, he pushed the old fellow on his face +out of danger, but the wheels pinned Gar to the rails. + +"I kin tell ye, boys," he said to the few friends who lingered around +his cot at the close, "I'll do no simperin' around God wid hard-luck +stories; I'll take what's comin' an' vamoose to m' place--whether up +or down." + +There was a slight pressure of the big hands, then they became limp +and cold. + +The bouncer was dead. + + + + +THE KING OF THE BABOONS + +BY PERCEVAL GIBBON + +ILLUSTRATION BY EUGENE HIGGINS + +[Illustration: "THEY SAT ON THEIR RUMPS OUTSIDE THE CIRCLE OF KAFIRS"] + + +The old yellow-fanged dog-baboon that was chained to a post in the +yard had a dangerous trick of throwing stones. He would seize a piece +of rock in two hands, stand erect and whirl round on his heels till +momentum was obtained, and then let go. The missile would fly like a +bullet, and woe betide any one who stood in its way! The performance +precluded any kind of aim,--the stone was hurled off at any chance +tangent,--and it was bad luck rather than any kind of malice that +guided one three-pound boulder through the window, across the kitchen, +and into a portrait of Judas de Beer which hung on the wall not half a +dozen feet from the slumbering Vrouw Grobelaar. + +She bounced from her chair and ballooned to the door with a silent, +swift agility most surprising to see in a lady of her generous build, +and not a sound did she utter. She was of good veldt-bred fighting +stock, which never cried out till it was hurt, and there was even +something of compassion in her face as Frikkie jumped from the stoop +with a twelve-foot thong in his hand. After all, it was the baboon +that suffered most, if his yells were any index to his feelings. +Frikkie could smudge a fly ten feet off with just a flick of his whip, +and all the tender parts of the accomplished animal came in for +ruthless attention. + +"He ought to be shot," was Frikkie's remark as he coiled up the thong, +at the end of the discipline. "A baboon is past teaching if he has bad +habits. He is more like a man than a beast." + +The Vrouw Grobelaar seated herself in the stoop-chair which by common +consent was reserved for her use, and shook her head. + +"Baboons are uncanny things," she answered slowly. "When you shoot +them, you can never be quite sure how much murder there is in it. The +old story is that some of them have souls and some not; and it is +quite certain that they can talk when they will. You have heard them +crying in the night sometimes. Well, you ask a Kafir what that means. +Ask an old wise Kafir, not a young one that has forgotten the wisdom +of the black people and learned only the foolishness of the white." + +"What does it mean, Tante?" It was I who put the question. Katje, too, +seemed curious. + +The old lady eyed me gloomily. + +"If you were a landed Boer instead of a kind of schoolmaster," she +replied witheringly, "you would not need to ask such a question. But I +will tell you. A baboon may be wicked,--look at that one showing his +teeth and cursing!--but he is not blind nor a fool. He runs about on +the hills, and steals and fights and scratches, and all the time he +has all the knowledge and twice the strength of a man, if it were not +for the tail behind him and the hair on his body. So it is natural +that sometimes he should be grieved to be such a mean thing as a +baboon, when he could be a useful kind of man if the men would let +him. And at nights, particularly, when their troop is in laager and +the young ones are on watch among the high rocks, it comes home to the +best of them, and they sob and weep like young widows, pretending that +they have pains inside, so that the others shall not feel offended and +turn on them. Any one may hear them in the kloofs on a windless night, +and, I can tell you, the sound of their sorrow is pitiful." + +Katje threw out a suggestion to console them with buckshot, and the +Vrouw Grobelaar nodded meaningly. + +"To hate baboons is well enough in the wife of a burgher," she said +sweetly. "I am glad to see there is so much fitness and wifeliness +about you, since you will naturally spend all your life on farms." + +Katje's flush was a distress-signal. First blood to the Vrouw. + +"Baboons," continued the old lady, "are among a farmer's worst +enemies; they steal and destroy and menace all the year around. But, +for all that, there are many farmers who will not shoot or trap them. +And these, you will notice, are always farmers of a ripe age and sense +shaped by experience. _They_ know, you may be sure. My stepsister's +first husband, Shadrach van Guelder, shot at baboons once, and was so +frightened afterwards that he was afraid to be alone in the dark." + +There was a story toward, and no one moved. + +"There were many Kafirs on his farm, which you have not seen," pursued +the Vrouw Grobelaar, adjusting her voice to narrative pitch. "It was +on the fringe of the Drakensberg, and many spurs of hill, divided by +deep kloofs like gashes, descended on to it. So plenty of water came +down, and the cattle were held from straying by the rocks, on one side +at any rate. The Kafirs had their kraals dotted all about the land; +and as they were of the kind that work, my stepsister's husband +suffered them to remain and grow their little patches of mealies, +while they worked for him in between. He was, of course, a cattle +Boer, as all of our family have always been, but here were so many +Kafirs to be had for nothing that he soon commenced to plow great +spaces of land and sow valuable crops. There was every prospect that +we would make very much money out of that farm; for corn always sells, +even when cattle are going for only seven pounds apiece, and Shadrach +van Guelder was very cheerful about it. + +"But when a farmer weighs an ungrown crop, you will always find that +there is something or other he does not take into account. He tells +off the weather and the land and the Kafirs and the water on his +fingers, and forgets to bend down his thumb to represent God--or +something. Shadrach van Guelder lifted up his eyes to the hills from +whence came the water, but it was not until the green corn was six +inches high that he saw that there came with it baboons--armies and +republics of them; more baboons than he had thought to exist. They +swooped down on his sprouting lands, and rioted, ate, and rooted, +trampled and wantoned, with that kind of bouncing devilishness that +not even a Kafir can correctly imitate. In one night they undid all +his work on five sown morgen of fat land, and with the first wink of +the sun in the east they were back again in their kopjes, leaving +devastation and foulness wherever they passed. + +"It was my stepsister's husband that stood on one leg and cursed like +a Jew. He was wrathful as a Hollander that has been drinking water, +and what did not help to make him content was the fact that hardly +anything would avail to protect his lands. Once the baboons had tasted +the sweetness of the young corn, they would come again and again, +camping in the kloofs overhead as long as anything remained for them, +like a deaf guest. But, for all that, he had no notion of leaving them +to plunder at their ease. The least one can do with an unwelcome +visitor is to make him uncomfortable; and he sent to certain kraals on +the farm for two old Kafirs he had remarked who had the appearance of +cunning old men. + +"They came and squatted before him, squirming and shuffling, as Kafirs +do when a white man talks to them. One was quite a common kind of +Kafir, gone a little gray with age, a tuft of white wool on his chin +and little patches of it here and there on his head. But the other was +a small, twisted, yellow man, with no hair at all, and eyes like +little blots of fire on a charred stick; and his arms were so long and +gnarled and lean that he had a bestial look, like a laborious animal. + +"'The baboons have killed the crop on the lower lands,' said Shadrach, +smacking his leg with his sjambok. 'If they are not checked, they will +destroy all the corn on this farm. What is the way to go about it?' + +"The little yellow man was biting his lips and turning a straw in his +hands, and gave no answer; but the other spoke. + +"'I am from Shangaanland,' he said, 'and there, when the baboons +plague us, we have a way with them, a good way.' + +"He sneered sideways at his yellow companion as he spoke, and the look +which the latter returned to him was a thing to shrink from. + +"'What is this way?' demanded Shadrach. + +"'You must trap a baboon,' explained the old Kafir,--'a leading +baboon, for choice, who has a lot to say in the government of the +troop; and then you must skin him, and let him go again. The others +will travel miles and miles as soon as they see him, and never come +back again.' + +"'It makes me sick to think of it,' said Shadrach. 'Surely you know +some other way of scaring them?' + +"The old Kafir shook his head slowly, but the yellow man ceased to +smile and play with the straw, and spoke: + +"'I do not believe in that way, baas. A Shangaan baboon'--he grinned +at his companion--'is more easily frightened than those of the +Drakensberg. I am of the bushmen, and I know. If you flay one of those +up yonder, the others will make war, and where one came before, ten +will come every night. A baboon is not a fat, lazy Kafir; one must be +careful with him!' + +"'How would _you_ drive them away, then?' asked Shadrach. + +"The yellow man shuffled his hands in the dust, squatting on his +heels. There, there! See--the baboon in the yard is doing the very +same thing! + +"'If I were the baas,' said the yellow man, 'I would turn out the +young men to walk round the fields at night, with buckets to hit with +sticks, and make a noise. And I--well, I am of the bushmen.' He +scratched himself and smiled emptily. + +"'Yes, yes?' demanded Shadrach. He knew the wonderful ways of the +bushmen with some animals. + +"'I do not know if anything can be done,' said the yellow man, 'but, +if the baas is willing, I can go up to the rocks and try.' + +"'How?' + +"But he could tell nothing. None of these wizards that have charms to +subdue the beasts can tell you anything about it. A Hottentot will +smell the air and say what cattle are near, but if you bid him tell +you how he does it, he giggles like a fool and is ashamed. + +"'I do not know if anything can be done,' the yellow man repeated. 'I +cannot promise the baas, but I can try.' + +"'Well, try, then,' ordered Shadrach, and went away to make the +necessary arrangements to have the young Kafirs in the fields that +night. + +"They did as he bade, and the noise was loathsome--enough to frighten +anything with an ear in its head. The Kafirs did not relish the watch +in the dark at first, but when they found that their work was only to +thump buckets and howl, they came to do it with zest, and roared and +banged till you would have thought a judgment must descend on them. +The baboons heard it, sure enough, and came down, after a while, to +see what was going on. They sat on their rumps outside the circle of +Kafirs, as quiet as people in a church, and watched the niggers +drumming and capering as though it were a show for their amusement. +Then they went back, leaving the crops untouched, but pulling all the +huts in one kraal to pieces as they passed. It was the kraal of the +old white-tufted Shangaan, as Shadrach learned afterwards. + +"Shadrach was pleased that the row had saved his corn, and next day he +gave the twisted man a lump of tobacco. The man tucked it into his +cheek and smiled, wrinkling his nose and looking at the ground. + +"'Did you get speech of the baboons last night among the rocks?' +Shadrach asked. + +"The other shook his head, grinning. 'I am old,' he said. 'They pay no +attention to me, but I will try again. Perhaps, before long, they will +listen.' + +"'When they do that,' said Shadrach, 'you shall have five pounds of +tobacco and five bottles of dop.' + +"The man was squatting on his heels all this time at Shadrach's feet, +and his hard fingers, like claws, were picking at the ground. Now he +put out a hand and began fingering the laces of the farmer's shoes +with a quick, fluttering movement that Shadrach saw with a spasm of +terror. It was so exactly the trick of a baboon, so entirely a thing +animal and unhuman. + +"'You are more than a baboon yourself,' he said. 'Let go of my leg. +Let go, I say! Curse you, get away--get away from me!' + +"The creature had caught his ankle with both hands, the fingers, hard +and shovel-ended, pressing into his flesh. + +"'Let go!' cried Shadrach, and struck at the man with his sjambok. + +"The man bounded on all fours to evade the blow, but it took him in +the flank, and he was human--or Kafir--again in a moment, and rubbed +himself and whimpered quite naturally. + +"'Let me see no more of your baboon tricks,' stormed Shadrach, the +more angry because he had been frightened. 'Keep them for your friends +among the rocks. And now, be off to your kraal.' + +"That night again the Kafirs drummed all about the green corn, and +sang in chorus the song which the mountain Kafirs sing when the new +moon shows like a paring from a finger-nail of gold. It is a long and +very loud song, with stamping of feet every minute, and again the +baboons came down to see and listen. The Kafirs saw them, many +hundreds of humped black shapes, and sang the louder, while the crowd +of beasts grew ever denser as fresh parties came down and joined it. +It was opposite the rocks on which they sat that the singing-men +collected, roaring their long verses and clattering on the buckets, +doubtless not without some intention to jeer at and flout the baffled +baboons that watched them in such a silence. It was drooping now to +the pit of night, and things were barely seen as shapes, when from +higher up the line, where the guardians of the crops were sparser, +there came a discord of shrieks. + +"'The baboons are through the line!' they cried; and it was on that +instant that the great watching army of apes came leaping in a charge +on the main force of the Kafirs. Oh, but that was a wild, a haunting +thing! Great, bull-headed dog-baboons, with naked fangs and clutching +hands alert for murder; bounding mothers of squealing litters that led +their young in a dash to the fight; terrible, lean old bitches that +made for the men when others went for the corn,--they swooped like a +flood of horror on the aghast Kafirs, biting, tearing, bounding +through the air like uncouth birds; and in one second the throng of +the Kafirs melted before them, and they were amid the corn. + +"Eight men they killed by rending, and of the others, some sixty, +there was not one but had his wound--some bite to the bone, some gash +where iron fingers had clutched and torn their way through skin and +flesh. When they came to Shadrach and woke him wearily, with the +breathless timidity of beaten men, it was already too late to go with +a gun to the corn-lands. The baboons had contented themselves with +small plunder after their victory, and withdrew orderly to the hills; +and, even as Shadrach came to the door of the homestead, he saw the +last of their marshaled line, black against the sky, moving swiftly +towards the kloofs. + +"He flung out his hands like a man in despair, with never a word to +ease his heart, and then the old Shangaan Kafir stood up before him. +He had the upper part of his right arm bitten to the bone and worried, +and now he cast back the blanket from his shoulder and held out the +quivering wound to his master. + +"'It was the chief of the baboons that gave me this,' he said, 'and he +is a baboon only in the night. He came through the ranks of them, +bounding like a boulder on a steep hillside, and it was for me that +his teeth were bared. So, when he hung by his teeth to my arm and tore +and snarled, I drew my nails across his back, that the baas should +know the truth.' + +"'What is this madness?' cried Shadrach. + +"'No madness, but simple deviltry,' answered the Shangaan, and there +came a murmur of support from the Kafirs about him. 'The leader of the +baboons is Naqua, and it was he who taught them the trick they played +us to-night.' + +"'Naqua?' repeated Shadrach, feeling cold and weak. + +"'The bushman,' explained the old man; 'the yellow man with the long, +lean arms who gave false counsel to the baas.' + +"'It is true,' came the chorus of the Kafirs; 'it is true. We saw +it.' + +"Shadrach pulled himself together and raised a hand to the lintel of +the door to steady himself. + +"'Fetch me Naqua!' he ordered, and a pair of them went upon that +errand. But they came back empty: Naqua was not at his hut, and none +had news of him. + +"Shadrach dismissed the Kafirs to patch their wounds, and at sun-up he +went down to the lands where the eight dead Kafirs still lay amid the +corn, to see what traces remained of the night's work. He had hoped to +find a clue in the tracks, but the feet of the Kafirs and the baboons +were so mingled that the ground was dumb, and on the grass there +remained, of course, no sign of the baboons' return. He was no fool, +my stepsister's first husband, and since a wild and belly-quaking tale +was the only one that offered, he was not ready to cast it aside till +a better one were found. At any rate, it was against Naqua that his +preparations were directed. + +"He had seven guns in his house for which ammunition could be found, +and from among all the Kafirs on the land he chose a half-dozen Zulus, +who, as you know, will always rather fight than eat. These were only +too ready to face the baboons again, since they were to have guns in +their hands; and a kind of ambush was devised. They were to lie amid +the corn so as to command the flank of the beasts, and Shadrach was to +lie in the middle of them, and would give the signal when to commence +firing by a shot from his own rifle. There was built, too, a pile of +brushwood lying on straw soaked in oil, and this one of them was to +put a light to as soon as the shooting began. + +"It was dark when they took their places, and then commenced a long +and anxious watch amid the corn, when every bush that creaked was an +alarm, and every small beast of the veldt that squealed set hearts to +thumping. From where he lay on his stomach, with his rifle before him, +Shadrach could see the line or ridge of rocks over which the baboons +must come, dark against a sky only just less dark; and, with his eyes +fixed on this, he waited. Afterwards he said that it was not the +baboons he waited for, but the yellow man Naqua, and he had in his +head an idea that all the evil and pain that ever was, and all the sin +to be, had a home in that bushman. So a man hates an enemy. + +"They came at last. Five of them were suddenly seen on the top of the +rocks, standing erect and peering round for a trap; but Shadrach and +his men lay very still, and soon one of these scouts gave a call, and +then was heard the pat! pat! of hard feet as the body of them came up. +There was not light enough to tell one from another, except by size, +and as they trooped down amid the corn, Shadrach lay with his finger +throbbing on his trigger, peering among them. But he could see nothing +except the mass of their bodies, and, waiting till the main part of +them was past him, so that he could have a shot at them as they came +back, should it happen that they retired at once, he thrust forward +his rifle, aimed into the brown, and fired. + +"Almost in the same instant the rifles of the Zulus spoke, and a +crackle of shots ran up and down their line. Then there was a flare of +light as the bonfire was lit, and they could see the army of baboons +in a fuss of panic dashing to and fro. They fired again and again into +the tangle of them, and the beasts commenced to scatter and flee, and +Shadrach and his men rose to their full height and shot faster, and +the hairy army vanished into the darkness, defeated. + +"There was a guffaw of laughter from the Zulus, but, ere it was +finished, a shout from Shadrach brought their rifles leaping up again. +The baboons were coming back: a line of them was breaking from the +darkness beyond the range of the fire, racing in great leaps towards +the men. As they came into the light they were a sight to terrify a +host, all big tuskers, and charging without a sound. Shadrach, aiming +by instinct only, dropped two as they came, and the next instant they +were upon him. He heard the grunt of the Zulu next him as a huge beast +leaped against his chest and bore him down, and there were screams +from another. Then something heavy and swift drove at him like a +bullet, and he clubbed his rifle. As the beast flew, with hands and +feet drawn in for the grapple, he hewed at it with the butt and +smashed it to the ground. The stock struck on bone, and he felt it +crush and fail, and there was the thing at his feet. + +"How they broke the charge, with what a frenzy of battle they drove +the baboons from them, none of the four who spoke again could ever +tell; but it must have been very soon after Shadrach clubbed his rifle +that the beasts wavered, were beaten, and fled screaming, and the +farmer found himself leaning on his weapon, and a great Zulu, shining +with sweat, talking to him. + +"'Never have I had such a fight,' the Zulu was saying, 'and never may +I hope for such another! The baas is a great chief; I watched him.' + +"Something was picking at Shadrach's boots, and he drew back with a +shudder from the form that lay at his feet. + +"'Bring a stick from the fire,' he ordered. 'I want to see this--this +baboon.' + +"As the man went, he ran a cartridge into the breech of his rifle, +and, when the burning stick was brought, he turned over the body with +his foot. + +"A yellow face mowed up at him, and pale-yellow eyes sparkled dully. + +"'Tck!' clicked the Zulu, in surprise. 'It is the bushman Naqua. No, +baas,' as Shadrach cocked his rifle, 'do not shoot him. Keep him and +chain him to a post; he will like that less.' + +"'I shoot!' answered Shadrach, and shattered the evil grin that +gleamed in the face on the ground with a quick shot. + +"And, as I told you, my stepsister's first husband, Shadrach van +Guelder, was afraid to be alone in the dark after that night," +concluded the Vrouw Grobelaar. "It is ill shooting baboons, Frikkie." + +"I'm not afraid," retorted Frikkie; and the baboon in the yard rattled +his chain and cursed shrilly. + + + + +ONE HUNDRED CHRISTIAN SCIENCE CURES + +BY RICHARD C. CABOT, M.D. + + +What are we to think of the miraculous cures reported in Christian +Science "experience meetings" and in the columns of the Christian +Science journals? Are we to consider them as genuine and accurate +records of fact, or are we to reject them as fabrications? + +It would be easy to deal with the subject by driving Christian +Scientists into a corner and logically refuting their claims; for if +it is true, as stated on page 120 of "Science and Health," that +"health is not a condition of matter but of mind, _nor can the +material senses bear reliable testimony on this subject_," of course +"the material senses" cannot be trusted when they testify that cancer, +consumption, broken bones, or locomotor ataxia have been cured by +Christian Science. There is no such thing as the diagnosis of these +diseases without reliance on the testimony of "the material senses." + +But although it is easy thus to refute the Christian Scientists, such +refutation satisfies no one and proves nothing except their logical +bankruptcy. The victory over their weak-kneed theory is a barren one, +for is it not notorious that people's practice may be better than +their theory? Skill in logic and in the accurate statement of one's +principles may be very slight, and yet the successful application of +these misstated or absurd principles may be a fact and a blessing. + +I shall therefore undertake to examine and to discuss Christian +Science cures, not from the point of view of logic or consistency, but +by a study of the written testimonials and of my own experience gained +in the attempt to verify the claims of those who pronounce themselves +cured. + +Some years ago I followed up, so far as was possible through personal +interviews and through letters, all the Christian Science "cures" of +which I could hear any details in or near Boston. Within a short time +I have returned to the subject and studied one hundred of the cases +recorded in the recent volumes of the _Christian Science Journal_ +under the caption, "Testimonies from the Field." Putting together this +evidence and comparing it with my experience regarding the accuracy of +my own patients' statements about their own diseases, past and +present, my conclusions are, first, that most Christian Science cures +are probably genuine; but, second, that they are not the cures of +organic diseases. + +In my own personal researches into Christian Science "cures," I have +never found one in which there was any good evidence that cancer, +consumption, or any other organic disease had been arrested or +banished. The diagnosis was usually either made by the patient himself +or was an interpretation at second or third hand of what a doctor was +supposed to have said. + +As I have followed up the reported cures of "cancer" and other +malignant tumors, I have found either that they were not tumors at +all, or that they were assumed to be malignant without any microscopic +examination. In other words, the diagnosis was never based upon any +proper evidence. + +I have never seen any reason to believe that lies were told by the +persons concerned. Their claims were the result of mistake or +intellectual mistiness, and not of intentional deception. The cures no +doubt took place as they asserted, but they were not cures of organic +disease. + +Now, before going further, something must be said in explanation of +the terms "organic" and "functional" which I shall use throughout this +paper. By organic disease is meant one that causes serious, perhaps +permanent deterioration of the tissues of the body; by functional +disease is meant one due to a perverted action of approximately normal +organs. Functional diseases are no more imaginary than an ungovernable +temper or a balky horse is imaginary. They are often the source of +acute and long-continued suffering; indeed, I believe that there is no +class of diseases that gives rise to so much keen suffering; but still +they do not seriously damage the organs and tissues of the body. +Organic disease, on the other hand, may run its course accompanied by +much less suffering, but the destruction of tissue is serious, +perhaps irreparable. + +The sharpness of this distinction between organic and functional +troubles is somewhat blurred by the fact that a functional or nervous +affection, such as insomnia, may lead, both directly and through loss +of appetite, to a loss of weight or to a considerable deterioration in +the body tissues. Here we have what might be called _organic disease +produced by functional disease_, and such organic disease as this is +often cured by Christian Science or by some more rational method of +mental healing. We must also recognize the fact that there are a few +rare diseases which we cannot certainly assign either to the organic +or the functional class. Yet, despite these reservations, the +distinction which the words indicate is still a clear one in the vast +majority of cases. + + +_Analysis of 100 "Cures"_ + +Having made this definition of terms, I will go on to present herewith +a table in which I have analyzed one hundred consecutive "testimonies" +from the _Christian Science Journal_. I have grouped these cases in +four classes: + +First, seventy-two cases in which I find, on careful study, reasonably +good evidence for the diagnosis of functional or nervous disorder. + +Second, seven cases of what appears to be organic disease. + +Third, eleven cases very difficult to class, but probably belonging in +the functional group. + +Fourth, ten cases, regarding the diagnosis of which no reasonable +conjecture can be made. + +These cases, arranged in the first three groups, are as follows: + + GROUP I--FUNCTIONAL OR NERVOUS DISORDERS. + + "Nervous trouble" 17 cases + "Trouble with eyes" 12 cases + "Kidney and bladder trouble" 7 cases + "An abnormal growth" 5 cases + "Stomach trouble" 4 cases + "Lung trouble" 4 cases + "Rheumatism" 3 cases + Drug habit 3 cases + Tobacco habit 2 cases + Alcoholism 2 cases + "Asthmatic trouble" 2 cases + "Irritable disposition" 1 case + "The blues" 1 case + Headache 1 case + "Hardening of the spine" 1 case + "Spinal trouble" 1 case + "Weak back" 1 case + "Sciatic trouble" 1 case + "Chest and throat trouble" 1 case + "Blindness" 1 case + "Bowel trouble" 1 case + "Heart trouble" 1 case + + Total 72 cases + + + GROUP II--APPARENTLY ORGANIC DISEASES. + + "Tuberculosis of bowels" 1 case + "Seventeen bruises, cuts and breaks" 1 case + Insanity 1 case + Locomotor ataxia 1 case + Loose elbow-joint 1 case + Necrosis of the jaw 1 case + Rupture 1 case + + Total 7 cases + + + GROUP III--PROBABLY FUNCTIONAL DISORDERS. + + "Lost use of the right limb" 1 case + "What seemed to be a malignant sore on the + face" 1 case + "Strangely obstinate malady of 20 years' + standing" 1 case + "An incurable disease" 1 case + "Serious abdominal trouble" 1 case + "Lung, spinal and hip trouble" (wore dark + glasses 20 years) 1 case + "Catarrhal, bowel and rheumatic trouble" 1 case + "Internal disorder of 15 years' standing" 1 case + "Heart, ovarian, and serious nervous + troubles" (8 years) 1 case + "Debility, constipation, gout, piles, and + prolapsus" 1 case + "Bright's disease, liver and lung complaint, + and other ailments too numerous to + mention" 1 case + + Total 11 cases + +Of the second group, that of cases of apparently organic disease, the +case of insanity was taken out of an insane asylum by Christian +Science friends, but apparently is still insane; the diseased jaw +slowly recovered, as such cases sometimes do, without any treatment. +The same is very possibly true of the case of tuberculosis of the +bowels (peritoneum), though the diagnosis is not certain. The cuts, +bruises, and breaks healed rather slowly under ordinary surgical +treatment in a hospital. Of the locomotor ataxia, the rupture, and the +loose elbow-joint, nothing more can be said without knowing whether +the diagnoses were correct--a point on which no opinion can be formed, +owing to the scantiness of the facts recorded. + +_Unreliability of "Home-Made Diagnoses"_ + +In the analyses of these cases I am guided by my experience with +the diagnoses naively given by patients entering my office for +treatment--diagnoses based either upon their own unguided observation +or upon what they suppose their own physician to have said to them. +In such instances there is no possible motive for deception or for +exaggeration; the patient is saying exactly what he believes; and +yet, I have rarely found his statement to be even approximately +correct. For example, when a patient comes to me with the statement +that he has "kidney and bladder trouble," I generally find both +the kidneys and the bladder sound. The patient has pain in his back +in the region where he supposes his kidneys to be; he interprets +his symptoms in the light of what he has read in the newspaper +advertisements and what he has been told by his kind friends, and +arrives at what is (to his mind) a perfectly solid conclusion. He +has no doubts of the diagnosis, states it as a fact, and asks only +for treatment. + +So it is with patients coming for "spinal trouble," "hardening of the +spine," "inflammation of the spine," or "spinal meningitis." They +almost always turn out, on careful examination, to be suffering from +some form of nervous prostration. In the interpretation of their +sufferings and in the names which they attach to them they have been +guided quite innocently by hearsay. + +Similarly when patients come to me for what they call "heart trouble" +and turn out on examination to be suffering from pain in the left side +of the chest without any heart trouble at all, I accuse them of no +deception but only of incapacity for the accurate appreciation of the +value of evidence. + +Certain other statements recur very often in the histories given in +all good faith by patients, whether in the doctor's office or in a +Christian Science experience meeting. I will quote some of these: + +"I have had a great many doctors, and each has made a different +diagnosis." + +"I am suffering from a complication of diseases, Bright's disease, +liver and lung complaint, and other ailments too numerous to +mention." + +"I have had a great many operations performed on me." + +Experience shows us that when a person has had many doctors, many +diagnoses, many "diseases," or many operations, he usually turns out +to be suffering from nervous prostration or some other form of +functional nervous trouble. For these troubles are just those which +most often puzzle the physician, leading him to change his diagnosis +and the patient to change his doctor very frequently. Again, it is +just these functional nervous disorders which, affecting as they do +every part of the body and every organ, give rise to the false idea of +"many diseases"--an idea based on the patient's multitudinous +sufferings. + +Organic disease often runs its course accompanied by very little +suffering, or with a very definite localization of the malady in one +part of the body. The patient with a genuine complication of diseases +does not often live to tell the story in a doctor's office or in a +Christian Science experience meeting. In the majority of the reported +cases the complication is in the patient's mind, not in his diseases. + +For a similar reason the patient who has had "many operations" is +usually one whose (nervous) sufferings are so manifold and so various +that physicians are driven to seek relief by one measure after +another, and finally by a variety of surgical procedures. + +It is a striking fact that, as one listens to the recital of +Christian Science "cures," one hears little or nothing of the great +common organic diseases, such as arterio-sclerosis, phthisis, +appendicitis--and still less of the common acute diseases, such as +pneumonia, malaria, apoplexy. Chronic nervous (that is, mental) +disease is the Christian Scientist's stock in trade. + + +_Similarity of Christian Science Testimony_ + +No one can study the printed records of Christian Science cures +without noting a remarkable similarity running through many hundreds +of them, a similarity in style, in phraseology, and in the general +structure of the letters. + +For example, Mrs. Eddy's name was mentioned _within five lines of the +end_ in fifty-six out of seventy-five letters which I have recently +examined. I have excluded here all cases in which Mrs. Eddy's name was +mentioned earlier in the letter. It seems hardly likely that all these +writers would spontaneously bring in the name of their leader +precisely in this position in the letter. + +In twelve out of seventy-five letters the rather unusual phrase +_materia medica_ occurs. + +The price of treatment under Christian Science and under the previous +medical care is mentioned in a large proportion of these letters. + +Not one of these letters mentions the name of any doctor connected at +any time with the case. From personal experience with similar stories +heard from my own patients and from the lips of Christian Scientists, +I know that doctors' names are usually mentioned. It seems unlikely +that in one hundred consecutive testimonies the physicians' names +should have been spontaneously omitted. + +For these reasons one cannot help believing either that these letters +have been liberally edited, or that their writers have been much +influenced by reading or hearing of similar cases. This does not +necessarily imply any charge of intentional deception, but weakens +very considerably their value as evidence. + + +_"Natural Selection" in the Christian Science Clinic_ + +The persistence of Christian Scientists in the belief that they can +cure organic disease, a belief which I consider genuine in the +majority of cases, is probably due to the following reason: By a +curious process of "natural selection," a patient suffering from +organic disease rarely consults a Christian Scientist, just as he +rarely consults an osteopath. Being ignorant of diagnosis, the +Christian Scientist is not aware of this fact and supposes that he is +treating, not a selected group of cases of functional disease, but all +disease. This mistake is all the more natural because the Christian +Scientist, with the natural credulity of the half-educated, accepts +the patient's own diagnosis at its face value or trusts the hearsay +report of what some doctor is supposed to have said. + +The same interesting process of "natural selection" accounts for the +fact that Christian Scientists are so rarely the cause of death to +those whom they treat. It is undoubtedly true that deaths occasionally +occur (for example, from diphtheria) which are directly traceable to +the fatal inactivity and ignorance of a Christian Scientist. But such +deaths are in my opinion rare. They are pretty sure to give rise to +newspaper notoriety and so to become widely known, yet one does not +hear of many such in the course of a year, for common sense steers the +great majority of sufferers from organic disease away from the parlors +of the Christian Scientist. + + +"_Doctors Who Flood the World with Disease_" + +It is impossible to study the evidence for and against the so-called +Christian Science cures without crossing the track of many an +incapable doctor. Indeed, there can be no candid criticism of +Christian Science methods that does not involve also an arraignment of +existing medical methods. It is not difficult to perceive, as one +studies the testimonies recorded in the _Christian Science Journal_, +that many patients have been driven into Christian Science by a +multitude of shifting and mistaken diagnoses, by the gross abuse of +drugs, especially of morphine, and by the total neglect of rational +psychotherapy on the part of many physicians. No doubt these causes +account only for a certain fraction of the desertions to Christian +Science. There are many patients who have so little patience and so +much credulity that they desert their doctors for no good reason +whatever; but I believe that these cases are in the minority, and that +the success of the Christian Science movement is due largely to the +ignorance and narrow-mindedness of a certain proportion of the medical +profession. + +I can see some foundation even for such an exaggerated charge as that +the doctors "are flooding the world with disease"--a favorite +expression of Mrs. Eddy's. No one who has seen much of the nervous or +hysterical affections following railway accidents and of the methods +not infrequently used, not only by lawyers, but by doctors, to make +the sufferers believe that they are sicker than they really are, can +deny that there is some truth in Mrs. Eddy's charge. Even in her +irrational denunciations of hygiene, one cannot help seeing some grain +of truth when one reads or hears of the multitude of petty prudences +and "old womanish" superstitions not infrequently exploited by school +teachers, parents, and teachers of physical culture, under the name of +"hygiene." + + +_The Classic Methods Used by Christian Science_ + +Believing, then, as I do, that most Christian Science cures are +genuine--genuine cures of functional disease--the question arises +whether the special methods of mental healing employed by Christian +Scientists differ from other methods of mental healing, such as are +employed by the best neurologists, both in this country and in +Europe. + +Of the classical methods of psychotherapeutics, namely, explanation, +education, psychoanalysis, encouragement, suggestion, rest-cure and +work-cure, the Christian Scientists use chiefly suggestion, education, +and work-cure, though each of these methods is colored and shaped by +the peculiar doctrines of the sect. + +The quack who sells magic handkerchiefs supposed to be endowed with +miraculous healing powers by the touch of his sacred hand, the priests +who exploit the "healing springs" at Lourdes, and the doctor who gives +a bread pill or a highly diluted homeopathic drug, may cure a patient +by what is known as "suggestion," that is, by producing in the patient +a strong belief that he will get well. Christian Science suggestion +takes the form of "silent treatment" and "absent treatment," in which +the patient is influenced by the auto-suggestions of health which the +silent pressure of the "practitioner" or the knowledge of the "absent +treatment" leads him to make. + +Christian Science education consists in the reading of "Science and +Health," of the Bible, as interpreted by Mrs. Eddy (after Quimby), and +of the teachings received at the hands of Christian Science +practitioners. Although there is much that is false and harmful in the +education thus received, I believe that a good many warped minds do +find in it the corrective twist which they need--just as a certain +type of crooked spine may be helped by a violent twist in the other +direction. + +Work-cure is, I think, the sanest and most helpful part of Christian +Science, as of all other types of psychotherapy. The Christian +Scientists do set idle people to work and turn inverted attention +outward upon the world. This is a great service--the greatest, I +think, that can be done to a human being. By setting their patients to +the work of healing and teaching others, Christian Scientists have +wisely availed themselves of the greatest healing power on earth. + +I believe that suggestion, education, and work-cure can be used in far +safer and saner ways by physicians, social workers, and teachers or +clergymen properly trained for the work than by the Christian +Scientists. Heretofore these last have held the field of psychotherapy +largely without competition. American physicians have confined +themselves mostly to physical and chemical methods (diet, drugs, and +surgery), which have a place in the cure of functional disease, but +not, I think, the chief place. + +Now that scientific psychotherapy is being taken up by physicians, +social workers, and educators (including the clergy), not instead of, +but in conjunction with physical and chemical treatment, I think it is +reasonable to expect that Christian Science will have to stick closer +to the truth if it is to hold its ground in competition. + + + + +SOUTH STREET + +BY FRANCIS E. FALKENBURY + + + As I came down to the long street by the water, the sea-ships + drooped their masts like ladies bowing, + Curtseying friendly in a manner olden, + Shrouds and sails in silken sunlight flowing, + Gleaming and shimmering from silvern into golden, + With the sea-winds through the sunlit spaces blowing. + + As I came down to South Street by the glimmering, tossing water, the + sweet wind blew, oh, softly, sweetly blew + O'er the lean, black docks piled high with curious bales, + Odorous casks, and bundles, of foreign goods, + And all the long ships with their fair, tall sails, + Lading the winey air with the spices of alien woods. + + As I came down by the winding streets to the wondrous green + sea-water, the sounds along the water-front were tuned to fine + accord; + I heard the racket of the halliards slapping, + Along the bare poles stabbing up aloft; + I saw loose men, their garments ever flapping, + Lounging a-row along each ruined wooden stair: + Their untamed faces in the golden sun were soft, + But their hard, bright eyes were wild, and in the sun's soft flare + Nothing they saw but sounding seas and the crash of ravening wind; + Nothing but furious struggle with toil that never would end. + The call of mine ancient sea was clamoring through their blood; + Ah, they all felt that call, but nothing they understood, + As I came down by the winding streets to South Street by the water. + + As I came down to South Street by the soft sea-water, I saw long + ships, their mast-heads ever bowing: + Sweet slender maids in clinging gowns of golden, + Curtseying stately in a fashion olden, + Bowing sweetly--each a king's fair daughter-- + To me, their millionth, millionth lover, + I, the seventh son of the old sea-rover, + As I came down to South Street by the myriad moving water. + + + + +THE INABILITY TO INTERFERE + +BY MARY HEATON VORSE + + +To myself I could be articulate enough about it. Indeed, I held long +conversations about it, mainly in the darkness of the night, with my +bolder self, who advised me so cleverly and who told me all the +tactful things and all the forceful things that I ought on occasion to +say. Then there came, with that other self, a conversation which +settled things. It went something in this way: + +"You have let things go far enough." + +"Yes," I admitted guiltily, "I know it." + +"It's time you took a stand." + +"I know it," I again admitted forlornly. + +"Why don't you do it then?" sternly asked the bolder self. He could +afford to be bold, it wasn't he who had the talking to do. "Why don't +you explain to Felicia the way you feel about it and how it looks and +all about it----" + +This time it was myself who grew bold. I said: + +"You great ass! Do you think I'm going to let you make me make Felicia +cry?" + +"Better have her cry," grumbled the other self, "than let her expose +herself unthinking to--well, all sorts of things." (One would have +thought to hear him that Monty Saunders was the measles!) + +We were silent a while, and in my imagination I saw again the +distressing spectacle of Felicia weeping. I suppose there is no man +who has been married a year who has not made his Felicia cry. + +You cannot explain how the terrible thing came about. It may be you +had a moment of surface impatience. Generally it's something less +definite than that--a bit of chaff at an untimely moment, an +indiscreet question put forth in a spirit of the friendliest +curiosity. + +"Why," for instance you may have said, "isn't dinner ready?" + +You didn't mind its not being ready in the least, but, not being used +to having dinners of your own, you were amused and interested to know +the cause of its lateness. And there before your eyes the unbelievable +has happened, Felicia is in tears, and it is your fault. + +You are like a landsman who has pulled an innocent-looking plug out of +the bottom of a boat and sees it fill and founder before his eyes; you +feel like a man who lights a match and lo! his house is in flames; +with such horror and bewilderment does the sight of a weeping Felicia +fill you. Guilt and bewilderment struggle with one another, as her +mouth quivers pitifully and her eyes fill with slow tears. She turns +away to battle with them, and, instead of holding your tongue, you +choose from among all the silly, inadequate things there are in the +world to say, "What's the matter, dear?" + +"I--I--left--a book in--my room," answers Felicia, and she pushes past +you and goes out of the door, and, though you don't know it at the +time, she is as bewildered as you are. + +You walk up and down the floor two or three times, you open the door +and shut it, finally you can't stand it any longer, you must find out +how Felicia does. You go up to your room, and there on the bed is what +is left of the gallant, saucy Felicia you know. It is a crumpled +little heap, and you can see only a knot of disordered hair and +shaking shoulders, and as if this wasn't bad enough, there is added +the sound of muffled sobs. You go up to her and put a beseeching hand +on her shoulder. + +"Felicia," you implore. Then from the depths of the pillow come the +broken words: + +"Go--away--go--away--and--leave--me--alone." Nor is the tone all +anguish, anger finds its place there as well, and this bewilders you +still more. You could not know, of course, that Felicia is angry at +you for having seen her cry. + +"I can't go away and leave you like this," you say. + +The shoulders shake still harder, the sobs are louder, for sympathy is +hard to bear in such moments of humiliation--but this too you find out +later. + +You walk across the room, helplessly, hopelessly. You murmur forth +apologies, though you don't know for what you are apologizing, and +words of endearment and of sympathy, though you can't tell what it is +you are sympathetic about. You would do anything, abase yourself to +any degree, to stop the noise of sobbing which is slowly sapping your +manhood. + +You stand looking down on poor Felicia--what _is_ the matter with her? +What has happened? + +"I don't believe you can be well, my darling," you are fool enough to +say. Inside you your other self is grumbling: + +"Well, I'm hanged if _I_ understand women!" + +If only she would stop; she must have been crying ten minutes, and you +have aged years. If only you understood why, how much easier it would +be! The only thing you do understand is that whatever you say and +whatever you do, or whether it's sympathy or silence, it's wrong. + +There is a knock on the door. + +"Dinner is served," says a voice, and you (feeling like a quitter, but +you can't stand the sight of her any longer) say: + +"Felicia, I'm going down. I don't seem to be doing you any good----" + +Felicia raises her head. + +"You're not!" says she spitefully. They're the first words she has +spoken since she pleaded with you in agonized tones to "let her be." + +Then, as you sit down to the mockery of oysters and soup, anger rises +in you. What creatures women are! Hasn't a man a right to ask why +dinner isn't ready in his own house without the sky falling? You look +at your watch; more than half an hour late. Well, why wasn't it ready? +Why? When a man comes home tired from the office, he has a right to +expect his dinner to be ready. Yes, by Jove! and a right to ask "Why?" +and a right, too, to expect a cheerful, pleasant wife! What struck +Felicia, anyway? and in spite of your anger, pity sweeps over you for +poor little Felicia crying upstairs, and you rise and go to the door, +angry and distressed, while your inner self tells you pity is unmanly. +You feel abused and bruised; how scenes take it out of one, you think +resentfully, and just here you pause, for there are footsteps on the +stairs. It can't be Felicia, you think. But it is Felicia, who comes +into the room, beautifully dressed. Why, she must have got up and +dressed, tears and all, the instant you left the room! She comes in +gallantly, carrying the powder on her nose with effrontery, denying +her eyes, which still show the ravages of tears, by the gay smile on +her lips; and as dinner progresses, excellent, and with Felicia all as +natural and gay as possible, you wonder more than ever what the devil +it was all about anyway. But at night, as you ponder it over again, +you get a certain blurred vision of what it meant. You are too young +in marriage to put it into words, but you have an intuition that +marriage, after all, is a very new country for Felicia, full of a +thousand details you know nothing about, whose A, B, C she must learn +slowly and painfully--and all alone, there is no one to help her. You +can't. She's got to grape her way about by herself in this unfamiliar +land. All you can do is to be very, very considerate and very, very +careful not to make her cry. + +But hang it all, if she's going to cry every time you ask if dinner is +ready, how are you going to help making her? And all at once the +vision of how careful you have got to be makes you feel bowed down +with care. You will never, you are sure, speak another natural word in +her presence. Who would have believed she would cry so easily? How +awful to consider you made her! Then you hear Felicia give a little +breath of a sigh, like a child which has sobbed itself to sleep. + +"Felicia," you say impulsively, "I was a brute." + +"I was a goose," she protests, "an awful little goose," and deep down +in your heart you agree with her, though you declare again it was your +fault, and you have an uneasy feeling that she is at one with you +about your being a brute, and you fall asleep at last thinking that +things never again can have the same glamour between you two, that +somehow Felicia's tears have cried away the bloom of marriage. But in +the morning you wake up and wonder what it was you thought had +happened, for nothing has--things haven't changed. You merely resolve +that you will try to understand, mere man that you are, the finer +creature the Lord has trusted you with. But oh, why can't women be +reasonable? + + * * * * * + +This scene flitted through my mind as the silence fell between my two +selves; the other one of me brooded over my inertia in the matter in +hand. At last he broke the silence and my awful vision of Felicia in +tears with: + +"A man ought, you know, to look after his young wife. He shouldn't let +her make herself conspicuous with men, especially with a silly young +ass. It isn't being jealous," he concluded virtuously. + +"Oh, no, we're not jealous," I agreed eagerly. + +"You must speak to her." + +"I can't." + +"Why?" he demanded. And then it came out. Why? It had been staring me +in the face all along. I had known why, but I had shirked, as long as +I could, putting my confession of weakness into words. If I had never +seen Felicia cry, it would have been different. I might have talked +to her as man to man, but now: + +"I can't, because it's impossible for me to interfere with Felicia." + +I told him. There it was. It was constitutionally impossible for me to +interfere, in words anyway. It was like a sense lacking, but there +where my Felicia-preventing faculties should have been there was a +blank. + +"Do you mean you would let her do anything?" + +"Anything," I assented. + +"Let her drift from you and not reach out your hand for her?" + +"I couldn't raise my hand," I confessed sadly. There it was. I +couldn't do the disagreeable task known as "bringing her to her +senses." If Felicia couldn't feel that I didn't like what she did, I +couldn't, for the life of me, or even the life of Felicia, open my +mouth. And I believe there are a great many men like me in the world, +and more women, too. A certain kind of pain makes us dumb. A certain +pride freezes back the words that would come. The men of us have +perhaps seen our Felicias cry. And there's no use saying afterwards, +Why didn't you tell me? What, after all, is the use of words, when +it's written all over you in the very set of your coat that you're +hurt? + +So now it was all settled. There was no use in my lying awake at night +any longer while my other self tickled his vanity by making up +admonitory conversations with Felicia, that went this way: + +"Felicia," I was to say tenderly yet seriously, "I have something I +want to talk over with you." + +Felicia would be impressed by my manner, and even a little frightened, +and she would murmur: + +"Yes?" expectantly, meekly. + +"Felicia," I was to continue, "I do not want you to think I am blaming +you. I am blaming myself for letting things go so far, for not +explaining things to you before; you are young, you do not understand +the world." + +"That is true," Felicia would reply with adorable meekness, as she +lifted questioning eyes to mine. Then I was to sit down beside her and +taking both her hands in mine: + +"Dear," I was to continue, "when a young girl has received as much +attention as you have, it is natural for her to imagine that after she +is married men can go on courting her as they did before. But this is +not true. A man's devotion, especially the devotion of an insolent, +useless pup of a young ass like Saunders" (it slipped out in spite of +ourselves, and we put the blue pencil through it, supplying "a fellow +like Saunders") "has a very different meaning when given to a young +girl than to a young married woman. You do not dream this, I know. I +have every confidence in you, dear, and I am speaking now purely to +save you from an unpleasant scene as well as to stop malicious +tongues." + +At this Felicia would keep silent, contemplating the abyss pointed out +to her. Indeed, my words have so impressed her that my heart smites +me, but better she should learn from me than in some other way. + +"May a married woman have no friends then?" she cries at last. + +"All she likes of _friends_," I am to say with a touch of severity. +"But she should take care not to make herself conspicuous with any one +man. For you know, Felicia, you have been making yourself conspicuous. +At the Jarvis week-end party you talked to no one else; last night you +sat an hour in a secluded corner with him. You walk with him, and he +sends you violets. I have no feeling about Saunders, of course. I +merely see these things as the world sees them. Only I know how +innocent you are, that you are accepting these attentions as simply as +you would have before you were married, but, O Felicia, the world does +not know that! Already they are putting you down as a married flirt; +already they are wondering what I am about to let things go on so, and +as for Saunders, his attentions to you are an insult." + +"You should have told me before," Felicia murmurs. "You should have +told me!" + +Just then the maid would of course bring a card. Felicia would glance +at it, her brows arch themselves with displeasure. + +"Tell Mr. Saunders I am not at home," she would say haughtily. + +You see, according to that other self, it was all as easy as rolling +off a log. The trouble with him is that he has no practical knowledge +of the world; but at the moment of telling, he would put the glamour +of his ideas over me. It seemed too seductively easy, and it was hard +for me to point out to him that, excellent and satisfactory as this +conversation was, it had the fatal defect of not being the way Felicia +and I talked. This didn't impress him at all; he merely invented +another conversation which didn't put Felicia in nearly as pleasing a +light, but gave me scope for firmness and dignity. I appeared really +very well in the face of her perverseness. Proud of myself, I was to +end by saying, without anger, but with decision: + +"And, Felicia, if you can find no way of stopping this objectionable +young man's attentions, I _can_!" + +Now all these pleasant plays of fancy were ended forever by my +acknowledging my weakness. + +Felicia is fond of saying, "Men differ, but all husbands are alike." I +think she believes this to be an epigram. But O, Felicia, all husbands +are not alike; there are those who can take care of their wives, and +those who can't,--those who can say the word in time, and those who +must sit back weakly silent, morosely sucking their paws while their +wives burn their fingers. + +Well, after all, I thought, perhaps it was better so. There would be +negative benefits. This way, at least, I shouldn't make Felicia cry. I +wouldn't say anything I should be sorry for afterwards, if I said +nothing. I had only to sit pusillanimously quiet until Saunders was +guilty of some impertinence, then there would be no more Saunders. I +ground my teeth and thanked God I was not jealous. + +But I was soon undeceived if I thought that things were going along as +they had been. First there came a little, tiny, malformed, wordless +doubt, which I strangled as it was born; then a suspicion I wouldn't +see. I closed my eyes. In my loyalty I lied even to myself, but my +bolder self in his inexorable fashion made me look at it at last. + +"Felicia," he asserted, "is keeping something from you. Felicia is +unhappy about something." + +It was true, I couldn't deny it, I had ever so many proofs: + +(1) I had caught Felicia watching me with melancholy, speculative +eyes. When I asked her what was the matter, she replied "Nothing." + +(2) She had bursts of feverish unnatural gaiety. + +(3) She didn't look well. + +(4) Several times she started to tell me something, but decided not +to. + +(5) She had moments of unwonted affection for me, I thought, as if she +were trying to make up to me for something. + +Then came, more serious and more conclusive than anything else: + +(6) I waked up in the night and was sure I heard Felicia crying softly +and cautiously. As I moved, the sobs stopped and Felicia feigned a +deep sleep. + +So for a week a secret walked between us. We put out our hands toward +each other, and its invisible presence kept them from meeting. We felt +the constraint as of a third person always with us, and that third +person was the Secret. We asked mute, unintelligible questions of each +other. + +A less subtle mind than my own would have put it crudely that things +were strained and uncomfortable at home. + +Meantime, if the Secret sneaked around us, silent, malignant, +invisible, Monty Saunders, for this was his horrid name, was obvious +in every way. It seemed to me that his loud laugh rang perpetually +through my house, that Felicia was always coming in or going out with +him, that wherever we went he was already waiting for us, and that all +the time he was engaged in eating up our happiness, Felicia's and +mine, as fast as ever he could. + +I believe now that his ubiquitousness was partly due to my excited +imagination. + +This, as I have said, was the situation for one week after I had +acknowledged my Constitutional Inability to Interfere--and on the +eighth evening Felicia and I were to go to a large studio dance. I +dressed with all the groans common, I believe, to the male animal out +of temper. I interspersed my dressing with such remarks as: + +"Felicia, I wish you would have them change the laundry man, this +waistcoat's beastly." + +I spoiled three ties in tying, I was sceptical of my clothes having +been pressed, while Felicia proceeded unerringly, even with a certain +pleasure, through the intricacies of her own toilet, looking more +disturbingly lovely every minute. + +Finally she remarked contemplatively: + +"How do you suppose you ever got dressed in time for anything before +you were married?" which was insulting, for I had only asked where two +things were. + +She put her head back through the door to say to me with an +impertinent grin: + +"Your hat, you know, is in its box on the shelf where it always is," +and she looked so pretty that an unreasonable desire arose in me to +kill Monty Saunders, and I thought how terrible it must be to feel +jealous, if one could feel as I did when one was only sore and sorry. + +I mention this episode only to throw in greater relief what happened +later that evening. + +For later that evening a gay little person in fluffy green clothes +danced inside the circles of our lives, and before she passed out she +had cleared up the mist which encompassed us, unloosed my tongue, and +softened Felicia's heart, and all without being so much as aware of +our existence. + +Felicia and Lydia Massingbyrd and Cecilia Bennett and I were all +sitting together on a commodious window-seat watching the dancers. It +was significant of the uncomfortable state of our affairs that Felicia +and I only recovered our gaiety and our naturalness toward each other +when we had some one to serve as buffer between us; I was talking and +laughing with the best, while deep down within me my other self +gloomed, fairly smacking his lips over his dismalness, "How little do +Felicia and Lydia dream of the trouble gnawing our vitals," when out +of the midst of our chaff and gossip popped a word that hit me square +in the solar plexus. + +"Look," said Lydia, "how well the little woman in green dances. She +has danced all the evening with the same man." And my little fairy +godmother in fluffy green flew past us, as gay and young and happy a +little person as I had seen in a month of Sundays. She was so buoyant +and pretty that she did one good to see, and my foolish inner self had +made a romance about her and the good-looking young fellow, her +partner of a whole evening, before little Cecilia Bennett had time to +say primly: + +"That is Mrs. So-and-So." + +"And that is not, I take it, Mr. So-and-So?" Lydia remarked. + +"Mr. So-and-So is the big, red-haired man talking with the woman in +white lace," replied Cecilia, while disapproval fairly oozed from +her. + +"So there you are, and every one is satisfied," Lydia brushed it aside +lightly. + +"That is how we look to outsiders!" croaked my other self. + +Then little Cecilia Bennett piped up virtuously, "Even if I didn't +love my wife any longer, I should look after her! Until I was engaged, +I was _never_ allowed to dance a whole evening with one man----" + +And as we laughed, she went on with some warmth: + +"I don't care, I think a man ought to take care of his wife; don't +you, Felicia?" + +"And a little child shall lead us," sententiously remarked my inner +self. But Felicia only said flippantly: + +"If I acted badly, I should expect to be beaten." + +"Well," said Cecilia, also flippantly, following with disapproving +eyes the little person in green, who danced happily by us (it is +Cecilia's first season, and such spectacles make her cynical), "Bobby +will never beat you, Felicia, however much you need it. Bobby's too +kind. He would not even have beaten Lydia!" + +"Wouldn't you beat me, no matter what I did?" Felicia appealed to me. +Then for one second my heart stopped and then raced on again, for the +fantastic explanation of her question that came to me was that this +was one of the things she had been trying to ask me; that perhaps she +had wanted me to beat her and storm and take on, and that I had failed +her. + +"No, Felicia," I replied sadly, "I shall never beat you." I thought +she looked disappointed. I wondered if I had really found a light in +the darkness that had surrounded us. + +Meantime the little lady and her companion had sat down, and in that +crowded place they were talking as eagerly and unconsciously as if +they had been all alone in the Garden of Eden. + +"I hate an ostrich," remarked Lydia. + +"Her husband doesn't see her, anyway," said Felicia lightly; but there +was an edge of bitterness in her voice; and again I wondered if +through all our meaningless talk Felicia was signalling to me in a +cipher code of her own invention. + +"Perhaps he does see just the same, perhaps he cares, and can't find +the words to tell her in," I ventured. + +"She may," Felicia speculated, "be keeping on and on, just waiting +for the word from him. She may not be able to stop all by herself--she +may have no way of stopping herself." The corners of her mouth +drooped. I felt she had told me all--everything that had saddened +her, all the things she had tried to say and couldn't. For few of us +can stop all of ourselves, there must be some warning voice to call +"halt" to each of us, and I had been leaving it to Monty Saunders' +first impertinence. Now I had to tell her I was unable to do +anything else. + +"He may have tried and tried to tell her and found that he couldn't. +He may have found he was constitutionally unable to interfere," I told +her. + +"It seems so easy to me," Felicia murmured, "to say 'I'm jealous'--just +two little words like that----" + +And the dull other fellow inside me had kept me awake nights inventing +long-winded lectures for me, when all I needed to say was two little +words. But a groan burst from him, and he made me say it. + +"But, O Felicia," my unwilling lips repeated, "those two words are the +hardest words in the whole language." For by the light of Felicia's +words I had found him out, the hypocrite. He had been jealous all +along. + +Felicia looked at me with curiosity. + +"I suppose they would be hard words to say if one really felt them," +she said comprehendingly. + +"But I'm not jealous!" I longed to shout, but before we could say +anything further, Monty Saunders and a girl danced past us. + +"So you brought it off?" said Lydia, looking after the receding pair. + +"How did you know?" Felicia demanded. + +"He told her," explained little Cecilia Bennett, "when Lydia asked him +how you could stand him around so much, he told her you were helping +him out with Mildred--telling him what to do and keeping his courage +up. He told me, too," pursued Cecilia, with the importance one +naturally feels when one is in the thick of the battle of life. "He +says it's awful to see a proposal before you, and the only way really +is to stumble on it before you know you've made up your mind." + +"Poor boy," remarked Lydia. "I should find Mildred formidable myself. +Six feet and muscle!" + +"Poor boy!" Felicia exclaimed resentfully. "Poor tattle-tale, going +around telling everybody when he made me promise not to tell a soul. +That's the last time I keep a secret." + +That is all the others heard Felicia say, but to me her words meant +golden music, and they told me a hundred different things; they healed +my wounds, they dispelled the clouds from my soul; but, above all the +tumult of my heart, I shouted down to that stupid inner fellow words +of self-congratulation, of how well, how wisely, temperately, I had +acted throughout, and I thanked Heaven that I was constitutionally +unable to make a fool of myself, whatever evil counsellors lodged in +the house I call my "self." But, Felicia, a word from you would have +put forty hours more of sound sleep between me and old age! And what +business, after all, had Felicia "helping out" that silly boy? A +married woman has her home and her husband to think about--besides +Felicia is too pretty--and that I was right is abundantly shown by the +first thing Felicia said to me in the carriage. + +"The idiot," she confessed, "told me before he went off to propose to +Mildred that he didn't care whether she accepted him or not!" And I +only held Felicia's hand very tight. + +"I didn't think," Felicia went on in a wan little voice, "that you +cared." + +There was something she wanted me to answer very much, and not being +quite sure what it was, I still kept silence--not wanting to say the +wrong thing. + +"_I'm_ not proud anyway," she went on bravely. "Couldn't you say them +just once--the words that are so hard to say?" + +"Oh, I was, Felicia," I cried, "awfully jealous!" And I knew, now that +it was all over, that I had never spoken a truer word. Felicia +breathed a long sigh. + +"I hoped you were," she said. + +"Couldn't you _see_?" I asked. + +"Not until you told me," she answered, always in her meek little +voice, as meek and submissive as ever it was in the conversations I +invented. "I hoped you might be, but you never _said_ anything." + +"There you are," said my other self, as smug and satisfied as if he +had done nothing but advise that all along, "there are some things you +have to tell women in words to make them happy--it won't do to act +them." + +And for once I believe he was right. + + + + +EDITORIAL + +DR. MUeNSTERBERG ON PROHIBITION AND SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY + + +McClure's Magazine, in this number, publishes an article by Dr. Hugo +Muensterberg entitled "Prohibition and Social Psychology." It presents +this essay with the full knowledge that it will meet with strong +criticism. But it finds ample justification for doing so in the fact +that Dr. Muensterberg brings to this age-long problem a viewpoint which +is really new; the contribution of one of the most recent of sciences +to a discussion whose chief current arguments were old in the time of +Confucius. + +The last word concerning the alcohol question will certainly be said +by modern science. Experiments concerning the physical effect of that +stimulant, conducted in the exact and dispassionate modern spirit, +have been in progress for years--practically all, by the way, reaching +the result that the direct effect of alcohol is injurious to the +healthy human body. Now the inquiries of social psychology open a new +field for debate. + +Does society, in its still crudely developed condition, demand and +always secure a stimulant of some kind? If so, are the stimulants it +obtains in default of alcohol more harmful, broadly considered, than +is alcohol itself? These questions are novel and striking ones; and +Dr. Muensterberg brings to their discussion perhaps the highest skill +available for his view of the subject. + +It is unnecessary to say that, by presenting this view, McClure's +Magazine does not therefore endorse it. And it is still more +unnecessary to say that the opinions and conclusions of Dr. +Muensterberg do not need the endorsement of any publication or +individual to make them of general interest and consequence to the +American public. + + * * * * * + + +Transcriber Notes + +The Table of Contents and the List of Illustrations were added by the +transcriber. Hyphenation and quotation marks changed to standardize +usage. All other original punctuation and spelling preserved as +written. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of McClure's Magazine, Vol. XXXI, No. 4, +August 1908, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MCCLURE'S MAGAZINE, AUGUST 1908 *** + +***** This file should be named 31851.txt or 31851.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/8/5/31851/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Katherine Ward, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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