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diff --git a/old/sweet10.txt b/old/sweet10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f1429a3 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/sweet10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3707 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of In the Sweet Dry and Dry +by Christopher Morley and Bart Haley + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before distributing this or any other +Project Gutenberg file. + +We encourage you to keep this file, exactly as it is, on your +own disk, thereby keeping an electronic path open for future +readers. Please do not remove this. + +This header should be the first thing seen when anyone starts to +view the etext. 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Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.10/04/01*END* + + + + +Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +IN THE SWEET DRY AND DRY + +BY CHRISTOPHER MORLEY AND BART HALEY + +ILLUSTRATED BY GLUYAS WILLIAMS + +DEDICATED TO G. K. CHESTERTON + +MOST DELIGHTFUL OF MODERN DECANTERBURY PILGRIMS + + + + + +FOREWORD + +As far as this book is concerned, the public may Take It, or the +public may Let It Alone. But the authors feel it their duty to say +that no deductions as to their own private habits are to be made +from the story here offered. With its composition they have +beguiled the moments of the valley of the shadow. + +Acknowledgement should be made to the Evening Public Ledger of +Philadelphia for permission to reprint the ditty included in +Chapter VI. + +The public will forgive this being only a brief preface, for at +the moment of writing the time is short. Wishing you a Merry +Abstinence, and looking forward to meeting you some day in Europe, + +CHRISTOPHER MORLEY, BART HALEY. + +Philadelphia, Ten minutes before Midnight, June 30, 1919. + + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS + + I. MYSTERY OF THE UNEXPECTED JULEP + II. THE HOUSE ON CARAWAY STREET + III. INCIDENT OF THE GOOSEBERRY BOMBS + IV. THE GREAT WAR BEGINS + V. THE TREACHERY OF MISS CHUFF + VI. DEPARTED SPIRITS + VII. THE DECANTERBURY PILGRIMS +VIII. WITH BENEFIT OF CLERGY + IX. THE ELECTION + X. E PLURIBUS UNUM + XI. IT'S A LONG WORM THAT HAS NO TURNING + + + + + +IN THE SWEET DRY AND DRY + + + + + +CHAPTER I + +MYSTERY OF THE UNEXPECTED JULEP + + +Dunraven Bleak, the managing editor of The Evening Balloon, sat +at his desk in the center of the local-room, under a furious cone +of electric light. It was six o'clock of a warm summer afternoon: +he was filling his pipe and turning over the pages of the Final +edition of the paper, which had just come up from the press-room. +After the turmoil of the day the room had quieted, most of the +reporters had left, and the shaded lamps shone upon empty tables +and a floor strewn ankle-deep with papers. Nearby sat the city +editor, checking over the list of assignments for the next +morning. From an adjoining kennel issued occasional deep groans +and a strong whiff of savage shag tobacco, blown outward by the +droning gust of an electric fan. These proved that the cartoonist +(a man whose sprightly drawings were born to an obbligato of +vehement blasphemy) was at work within. + +Mr. Bleak was just beginning to recuperate from the incessant +vigilance of the day's work. There was an unconscious pathos in +his lean, desiccated figure as he rose and crossed the room to the +green glass drinking-fountain. After the custom of experienced +newspapermen, he rapidly twirled a makeshift cup out of a sheet of +copy paper. He poured himself a draught of clear but rather tepid +water, and drank it without noticeable relish. His lifted head +betrayed only the automatic thankfulness of the domestic fowl. +There had been a time when six o'clock meant something better than +a paper goblet of lukewarm filtration. + +He sat down at his desk again. He had loaded his pipe sedulously +with an extra fine blend which he kept in his desk drawer for +smoking during rare moments of relaxation when he had leisure to +savor it. As he reached for a match he was meditating a genial +remark to the city editor, when he discovered that there was only +one tandsticker in the box. He struck it, and the blazing head +flew off upon the cream-colored thigh of his Palm Beach suit. His +naturally placid temper, undermined by thirty years of newspaper +work and two years of prohibition, flamed up also. With a loud +scream of rage and a curse against Sweden, he leaped to his feet +and shook the glowing cinder from his person. Facing him he found +a stranger who had entered the room quietly and unobserved. + +This was a huge man, clad in a sober uniform of gray cloth, with +silver buttons and silver braid. A Sam Browne belt of wide blue +leather marched across his extensive diagonal in a gentle curve. +The band of his vizored military cap showed the initials C.P.H. in +silver embroidery. His face, broad and clean-shaven, shone with a +lustre which was partly warmth and partly simple friendliness. +Save for a certain humility of bearing, he might have been taken +for the liveried door-man of a moving-picture theater or exclusive +millinery shop. + +In one hand he carried a very large black leather suit-case. + +"Is this Mr. Bleak?" he asked politely. + +"Yes," said the editor, in surprise. His secret surmise was that +some one had died and left him a legacy which would enable him to +retire from newspaper work. (This is the unacknowledged dream that +haunts many journalists.) Mr. Bleak was wondering whether this was +the way in which legacies were announced. + +The man in the gray uniform set the bag down with great care on +the large flat desk. He drew out a key and unlocked it. Before +opening it he looked round the room. The city editor and three +reporters were watching curiously. A shy gayety twinkled in his +clear blue eyes. + +"Mr. Bleak," he said, "you and these other gentlemen present are +men of discretion--?" + +Bleak made a gesture of reassurance. + +The other leaned over the suit-case and lifted the lid. + +The bag was divided into several compartments. In one, the +startled editor beheld a nest of tall glasses; in another, a +number of interesting flasks lying in a porcelain container among +chipped ice. In the lid was an array of straws, napkins, a flat +tray labeled CLOVES, and a bunch of what looked uncommonly like +mint leaves. Mr. Bleak did not speak, but his pulse was +disorderly. + +The man in gray drew out five tumblers and placed them on the +desk. Rapidly several bottles caught the light: there was a +gesture of pouring, a clink of ice, and beneath the spellbound +gaze of the watchers the glasses fumed and bubbled with a volatile +potion. A glass mixing rod tinkled in the thin crystal shells, and +the man of mystery deftly thrust a clump of foliage into each. A +well known fragrance exhaled upon the tobacco-thickened air. + +"Shades of the Grail!" cried Bleak. "Mint julep!" + +The visitor bowed and pushed the glasses forward. "With the +compliments of the Corporation," he said. + +The city editor sprang to his feet. Sagely cynical, he suspected a +ruse. + +"It's a plant!" he exclaimed. "Don't touch it! It's a trick on the +part of the Department of Justice, trying to get us into trouble." + +Bleak gazed angrily at the stranger. If this was indeed a federal +stratagem, what an intolerably cruel one! In front of him the +glasses sparkled alluringly: a delicate mist gathered on their +ice-chilled curves: a pungent sweetness wavered in his nostrils. + +"See here!" he blurted with shrill excitement. "Are you a damned +government agent? If so, take your poison and get out." + +The tall stranger in his impressive uniform stood erect and +unabashed. With affectionate care he gave the tumblers a final +musical stir. + +"O ye of little faith!" he said calmly. The sadness of the +misunderstood idealist grieved his features. "Have you forgotten +the miracle of Cana?" From his pocket he took a card and laid it +on the desk. + +Bleak seized it. It said: + +THE CORPORATION FOR THE PERPETUATION OF HAPPINESS + +1316 Caraway Street + +Virgil Quimbleton, Associate Director + +He stared at the pasteboard, stupefied, and handed it to the city +editor. + +Meanwhile the three reporters had drawn near. Light-hearted and +irresponsible souls, unoppressed by the embittered suspicion of +their superiors, they nosed the floating aroma with candid +hilarity. + +"The breath of Eden!" said one. + +"It's a warm evening," remarked another, with seeming irrelevance. + +The face of Virgil Quimbleton, the man in gray, relaxed again at +these marks of honest appreciation. He waved an encouraging arm +over the crystals. "With the compliments of the Corporation," he +repeated. + +Bleak and the city editor looked again at the card, and at each +other. They scanned the face of their mysterious benefactor. +Bleak's hand went out to the nearest glass. He raised it to his +lips. An almost-forgotten formula recurred to him. "Down the rat- +hole!" he cried, and tilted his arm. The others followed suit, and +the associate director watched them with a glow of perfect +altruism. + +The glasses were still in air when the cartoonist emerged from his +room. "Holy cat!" he cried in amazement. "What's going on?" He +seized one of the empty vessels and sniffed it. + +"Treason!" he exclaimed. "Who's been robbing the mint?" + +"Maybe you can have one too," said Bleak, and turned to where +Quimbleton had been standing. But the mysterious visitor had leff +the room. + +"You're too late, Bill," said the city editor genially. "There was +a kind of Messiah here, but he's gone. Tough luck." + +"Say, boss," suggested one of the reporters. "There's a story in +this. May I interview that guy?" + +Bleak picked up the card and put it in his pocket. A heavenly +warmth pervaded his mental fabric. "A story?" he said. "Forget it! +This is no story. It's a legend of the dear dead past. I'll cover +this assignment myself." + +He borrowed a match and lit his pipe. Then he put on his coat and +hat and left the office. + +It was remarked by faithful readers of the Balloon that the next +day's cartoon was one of the least successful in the history of +that brilliant newspaper. + + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE HOUSE ON CARAWAY STREET + + +After telephoning to his wife that he would not be home for +supper, Bleak set out for Caraway Street. He was in that exuberant +mood discernible in commuters unexpectedly spending an evening in +town. Instead of hurrying out to the suburbs on the 6:17 train, to +mow the lawn and admire the fireflies, here he was watching the +more dazzling fireflies of the city--the electric signs which were +already bulbed wanly against the rich orange of the falling sun. +He puffed his pipe lustily and with a jaunty condescension watched +the crowds thronging the drugstores for their dram of ice-cream +soda. In his bosom the secret julep tingled radiantly. At that +hour of the evening the shining bustle of the central streets was +drawing the life of the city to itself. In the residential by-ways +through which his route took him the pavements were nearly +deserted. A delicious sense of extravagant adventure possessed +him. As a newspaper man, he did not feel at all sure that he was +on the threshold of a printable "story"; but as a connoisseur of +juleps he felt that very possibly he was on the threshold of +another drink. Passing a line of billboards, he noticed a brightly +colored poster advertising a brand of collars. In sheer light- +heartedness he drew a soft pencil from his waistcoat and adorned +the comely young man on the collar poster with a heavy mustache. + +Caraway Street, with which he had not previously been familiar, +proved to be a quaint little channel of old brick houses, leading +into the bonfire of the summer sunset. There was nothing to +distinguish number 1316 from its neighbors. He rang the bell, and +there ensued a rapid clicking in the lock, indicating that the +latch had been released by some one within. He pushed the door +open, and entered. + +He had a curious sensation of having stepped into an old Flemish +painting. The hall in which he stood was cool and rather dark, +though a bright refraction of light tossed from some upper window +upon a tall mirror filled the shadow with broken spangles. Through +an open doorway at the rear was the green glimmer of a garden. In +front of him was a mahogany sideboard. On its polished top lay two +books, a box of cigars, and a cut glass decanter surrounded by +several glasses. In the decanter was a pale yellow fluid which +held a beam of light. The house was completely silent. + +Somewhat abashed, he removed his hat and stood irresolute, +expecting some greeting. But nothing happened. On a rack against +the wall he saw a gray uniform coat like that which Mr. Quimbleton +had worn in the Balloon office, and a similar gray cap with the +silver monogram. He glanced at the books. One was The Rubaiyat of +Omar Khayyam, the other was a Bible, open at the second chapter of +John. He was looking curiously at the decanter when a voice +startled him. + +"Dandelion wine!" it said. "Will you have a glass?" + +He turned and saw an old gentleman with profuse white hair and +beard tottering into the hall. + +"Glad to see you, Mr. Bleak," said the latter. "I was expecting +you." + +"You are very kind," said the editor. "I fear you have the +advantage of me--I was told that Walt Whitman died in 1892--" + +"Nonsense!" wheezed the other with a senile chuckle. He +straightened, ripped off his silver fringes, and appeared as the +stalwart Quimbleton himself. + +"Forgive my precautions," he said. "I am surrounded by spies. I +have to be careful. Should some of my enemies learn that old Mr. +Monkbones of Caraway Street is the same as Virgil Quimbleton of +the Happiness Corporation, my life wouldn't be worth--well, a +glass of gooseberry brandy. Speaking of that, Have a little of the +dandelion wine." He pointed to the decanter. + +Bleak poured himself a glass, and watched his host carefully +resume the hoary wig and whiskers. They passed into the garden, a +quiet green enclosure surrounded by brick walls and bright with +hollyhocks and other flowers. It was overlooked by a quaint jumble +of rear gables, tall chimneys and white-shuttered dormer windows. + +"Do you play croquet?" asked Quimbleton, showing a neat pattern of +white hoops fixed in the shaven turf. "If so, we must have a game +after supper. It's very agreeable as a quiet relaxation." + +Mr. Bleak was still trying to get his bearings. To see this robust +creature gravely counterfeiting the posture of extreme old age was +almost too much for his gravity. There was a bizarre absurdity in +the solemn way Quimbleton beamed out from his frosty and +fraudulent shrubbery. Something in the air of the garden, also, +seemed to push Bleak toward laughter. He had that sensation which +we have all experienced--an unaccountable desire to roar with +mirth, for no very definite cause. He bit his lip, and sought +rigorously for decorum. + +"Upon my soul," he said, "This is the most fragrant garden I ever +smelt. What is that delicious odor in the air, that faint perfume--?" + +"That subtle sweetness?" said Quimbleton, with unexpected +drollery. + +"Exactly," said Bleak. "That abounding and pervasive aroma--" + +"That delicate bouquet--?" + +"Quite so, that breath of myrrh--" + +"That balmy exhalation--?" + +Bleak wondered if this was a game. He tried valiantly to continue. +"Precisely," he said, "That quintessence of--" + +He could coerce himself no longer, and burst into a yell of +laughter. + +"Hush!" said Quimbleton, nervously. "Some one may be watching us. +But the fragrance of the garden is something I am rather proud of. +You see, I water the flowers with champagne." + +"With champagne!" echoed Bleak. "Good heavens, man, you'll get +penal servitude." + +"Nonsense!" said Quimbleton. "The Eighteenth Amendment says that +intoxicating liquors may not be manufactured, sold or transported +FOR BEVERAGE PURPOSES. Nothing is said about using them to +irrigate the garden. I have a friend who makes this champagne +himself and gives me some of it for my rose-beds. If you spray the +flowers with it, and then walk round and inhale them, you get +quite a genial reaction. I do it principally to annoy Bishop +Chuff. You see, he lives next door." + +"Bishop Chuff of the Pan-Antis?" + +"Yes," said Quimbleton--"but don't shout! His garden adjoins this. +He has a periscope that overlooks my quarters. That's why I have +to wear this disguise in the garden. I think he's getting a bit +suspicious. I manage to cause him a good deal of suffering with +the fizz fumes from my garden. Jolly idea, isn't it?" + +Bleak was aghast at the temerity of the man. Bishop Chuff, the +fanatical leader of the Anti-Everything League--jocosely known as +the Pan-Antis--was the most feared man in America. It was he whose +untiring organization had forced prohibition through the +legislatures of forty States--had closed the golf links on +Sundays--had made it a misdemeanor to be found laughing in public. +And here was this daring Quimbleton, living at the very sill of +the lion's den. + +"By means of my disguise," whispered Quimbleton, "I was able to +make a pleasant impression on the Bishop. One evening I went to +call on him. I took the precaution to eat a green persimmon +beforehand, which distorted my features into such a malignant +contraction of pessimism and misanthropy that I quite won his +heart. He accepted an invitation to play croquet with me. That +afternoon I prepared the garden with a deluge of champagne. The +golden drops sparkled on every rose-petal: the lawn was drenched +with it. After playing one round the Bishop was gloriously +inflamed. He had to be carried home, roaring the most unseemly +ditties. Since then, as I say, he has grown (I fear) a trifle +suspicious. But let us have a bite of supper." + +More than once, as they sat under a thickly leafy grape arbor in +the quiet green enclosure, Bleak had to pinch himself to confirm +the witness of his senses. A table was delicately spread with an +agreeable repast of cold salmon, asparagus salad, fruits, jellies, +and whipped creams. The flagon of dandelion vintage played its due +part in the repast, and Mr. Bleak began to entertain a new respect +for this common flower of which he had been unduly inappreciative. +Although the trellis screened them from observation, Quimbleton +seemed ill at ease. He kept an alert gaze roving about him, and +spoke only in whispers. Once, when a bird lighted in the foliage +behind them, causing a sudden stir among the leaves, his shaggy +beard whirled round with every symptom of panic. Little by little +this apprehension began to infect the journalist also. At first he +had hardly restrained his mirth at the sight of this burly athlete +framed in the bush of Santa Claus. Now he began to wonder whether +his escapade had been consummated at too great a risk. + +That old-fashioned quarter of the city was incredibly still. As +the light ebbed slowly, and broad blue shadows crept across the +patch of turf, they sat in a silence broken only by the wiry cheep +of sparrows and the distant moan of trolley cars. The arrows of +the decumbent sun gilded the ripening grapes above them. Suddenly +there were two loud bangs and a vicious whistle sang through the +arbor. Broken twigs eddied down upon the table cloth. + +"Spotted mackerel!" cried Bleak. "Is some one shooting at us?" + +Quimbleton reappeared presently from under the table. "All +serene," he said. "We're safe now. That was only Chuff. Every +night about this time he comes out on his back gallery and enjoys +a little sharp-shooting. He's a very good shot, and picks off the +grapes that have ripened during the day. There were only two that +were really purple this evening, so now we can go ahead. Unless he +should send over a raiding party, we're all right." + +The editor solaced himself with another beaker of the dandelion +wine and they finished their meal in thoughtful silence. + +"Mr. Bleak," said the other at last, "it was something more than +mere desire to give you a pleasant surprise that led me to your +office this afternoon. Have you leisure to listen? Good! Please +try one of these cigars. If, while I am talking, you should hear +any one moving in the garden, just tap quietly on the table. Tell +me, have you, before to-day, ever heard of the Corporation for the +Perpetuation of Happiness?" + +"Never," replied Bleak, kindling a magnifico of remarkably rich, +mild flavor. + +"That is as I expected," rejoined Quimbleton. "We have campaigned +incognito, partly by choice and partly (let me be candid) by +necessity. But the time is come when we shall have to appear in +the open. The last great struggle is on, and it can no longer be +conducted in the dark. In the course of my remarks I may be +tempted to forget our present perils. I beg of you, if you hear +any sounds that seem suspicious, to notify me instantly." + +"Pardon me," said Bleak, a little uneasily; "it was my intention +to catch the 9.30 train for Mandrake Park." + +The fantastic cascade of false white hair wagged gravely in the +dusk. + +"My dear sir," said Quimbleton solemnly, "I fancy you are to be +gratified by a far higher destiny than catching the 9.30. Do me +the honor of filling your glass. But be careful not to clink the +decanter against the tumbler. There is every probability that +vigilant ears are on the alert." + +There was a brief silence, and Bleak wondered (a trifle wildly) if +he were dreaming. The cigar on the opposite side of the little +table glowed rosily several times, and then Quimbleton's voice +resumed, in a deep undertone. + +"It is necessary to tell you," he said, "that the Corporation was +founded a number of years ago, long before the events of the fatal +year 1919 and the Eighteenth Amendment to the Constitution. The +incident of this afternoon may have caused you to think that what +is vulgarly called booze is the chief preoccupation of our +society. That is not so. We were organized at first simply to +bring merriment and good cheer into the lives of those who have +found the vexations of modern life too trying. In our early days +we carried on an excellent (though unsystematic) guerilla warfare +against human suffering. + +"In this (let me admit it frankly) we were to a great degree +selfish. As you are aware, the essence of humor is surprise: we +found a delicious humor in our campaign of surprising woebegone +humanity in moments of crisis. For instance, we used to picket the +railway terminals to console commuters who had just missed their +trains. We found it uproariously funny to approach a perspiring +suburbanite, who had missed the train (let us say) to Mandrake +Park, and to press upon him, with the compliments of the +Corporation, some consolatory souvenir--a box of cigars, perhaps, +or a basket of rare fruit. Housewives, groaning over their endless +routine of bathing the baby, ordering the meals, sweeping the +floors and so on, would be amazed by the sudden appearance of one +of our deputies, in the service uniform of gray and silver, +equipped with vacuum cleaner and electric baby-washing machine, to +take over the domestic chores for one day. The troubles of lovers +were under our special care. We saw how much anguish is caused by +the passion of jealousy. Many an engaged damsel, tempted to mild +escapade in some perfumed conservatory, found her heart chilled by +the stern eye of a uniformed C.P.H. agent lurking behind a potted +hydrangea. We hired bands of urchins to make faces at evil old men +who plate-glass themselves in the windows of clubs. Many a +husband, wondering desperately which hat or which tie to select, +has been surprised by the appearance of one of our staff at his +elbow, tactfully pointing out which article would best harmonize +with his complexion and station in life. Ladies who insisted on +overpowdering their noses were quietly waylaid by one of our +matrons, and the excess of rice-dust removed. A whole shipload of +people who persisted in eating onions were gathered (without any +publicity) into a concentration camp, and in company with several +popular comedians, deported to a coral atoll. I could enumerate +thousands of such instances. For several years we worked in this +unassuming way, trying to add to the sum of human happiness." + +Quimbleton's white beard shone with a pinkish brightness as he +inhaled heavily on his cigar. + +"Now, Mr. Bleak," he went on, "I come to you because we need your +help. We can no longer maintain a light-hearted sniping campaign +on the enemies of human happiness. This is a death struggle. You +are aware that Chuff and his legions are planning a tremendous +parade for to-morrow. You know that it will be the most startling +demonstration of its kind ever arranged. One hundred thousand pan- +antis will parade on the Boulevard, with a hundred brass bands, +led by the Bishop himself on his coal black horse. Do you know the +purpose of the parade?" + +"In a general way," said Bleak, "I suppose it is to give publicity +to the prohibition cause." + +"They have kept their malign scheme entirely secret," said +Quimbleton. "You, as a newspaper man, should know it. Does the +(so-called) cause of prohibition require publicity? Nonsense! +Prohibition is already in effect. The purpose of the parade is to +undermine the splendid work our Corporation has been doing for the +past two years. As soon as the fatal amendment was passed we set +to work to teach people how to brew beverages of their own, in +their own homes. As you know, very delicious wine may be made from +almost every vegetable and fruit. Potatoes, tomatoes, rhubarb, +currants, blackberries, gooseberries, raisins, apples--all these +are susceptible of fermentation, transforming their juices into +desirable vintages. We specialized on such beverages. We printed +and distributed millions of recipes. Chuff countered by passing +laws that no printed recipes could circulate through the mails. We +had motion pictures filmed, showing the eager public how to +perform these simple and cheering processes. Chuff thereupon had +motion pictures banned. He would abolish the principle of +fermentation itself if he could. + +"We composed a little song-recipe for dandelion wine, sending +thousands of minstrels to sing it about the country until the +people should memorize it. Now Chuff threatens to forbid singing +and the memorizing of poetry. At this moment he has fifty thousand +zealots working in the countryside collecting and burning +dandelion seeds so as to reduce the crop next spring. + +"The purpose of his parade to-morrow is devastating in its +simplicity. Having learned that wine may be made from +gooseberries, he proposes (as a first step) to abolish them +altogether. This is to be the Nineteenth Amendment to the +Constitution. No gooseberries shall be grown upon the soil of the +United States, or imported from abroad. Raisins too, since it is +said that one raisin in a bottle of grape juice can cause it to +bubble in illicit fashion, are to be put in the category of deadly +weapons. Any one found carrying a concealed raisin will go before +a firing squad. And Chuff threatens to abolish all vegetables of +every kind if necessary." + +Bleak sat in horrified silence. + +"There is another aspect of the matter," said Quimbleton, "that +touches your profession very closely. Bishop Chuff is greatly +annoyed at the persistent use of the printing press to issue +clandestine vinous recipes. He solemnly threatens, if this +continues, to abolish the printing press. This is to be the +Twentieth Amendment. No printing press shall be used in the +territory of the United States. Any man found with a printing +press concealed about his person shall be sentenced to life +imprisonment. Even the Congressional Record is to be written +entirely by hand." + +The editor was unable to speak. He reached for the decanter, but +found it empty. + +"Very well then," said Quimbleton. "The facts are before you. I +suppose The Evening Balloon has made its customary enterprising +preparations to report the big parade?" + +"Why, yes," said Bleak. "Three photographers and three of our most +brilliant reporters have been assigned to cover the event. One of +the stories, dealing with pathetic incidents of the procession, +has already been written--cases of women swooning in the vast +throng, and so on. The Balloon is always first," he added, by +force of habit. + +"I want you to discard all your plans for describing the parade," +said Quimbleton. "I am about to give you the greatest scoop in the +history of journalism. The procession will break up in confusion. +All that will be necessary to say can be said in half a dozen +lines, which I will give you now. I suggest that you print them on +your front page in the largest possible type." + +From his pocket he took a sheet of paper, neatly folded, and +handed it across the table. + +"What on earth do you mean?" asked Bleak. "How can you know what +will happen?" + +"The Corporation has spoken," said his host. "Let us go indoors, +where you can read what I have written." + +In a small handsomely appointed library Bleak opened the paper. It +was a sheet of official stationery and read as follows:-- + + THE CORPORATION FOR THE PERPETUATION OF HAPPINESS + +Cable Address: Hapcorp + +Virgil Quimbleton, Associate Director + +1316 Caraway Street + +Owing to the intoxication of Bishop Chuff, the projected parade of +the Pan-Antis broke up in confusion. Federal Home for Inebriates +at Cana, N.J., reopened after two years' vacation. + +"Is this straight stuff?" asked Bleak tremulously. + +"My right hand upon it," cried Quimbleton, tearing off his beard +in his earnestness. + +"Then good-night!" said Bleak. "I must get back to the office." + + + + + +CHAPTER III + +INCIDENT OF THE GOOSEBERRY BOMBS + + +The day of the great parade dawned dazzling and clear, with every +promise of heat. From the first blue of morning, while the streets +were still cool and marble front steps moist from housemaids' +sluicings, crowds of Bishop Chuff's marchers came pouring into the +city. At the prearranged mobilization points, where bands were +stationed to keep the throngs amused until the immense procession +could be ranged in line, the press was terrific. Every trolley, +every suburban train, every jitney, was crammed with the pan- +antis, clad in white, carrying the buttons, ribbons and banners +that had been prepared for this great occasion. DOWN WITH +GOOSEBERRIES, THE NEW MENACE! was the terrifying legend printed on +these emblems. + +The Boulevard had been roped off by the police by eight o'clock, +and the pavements were swarming with citizens, many of whom had +camped there all night in order to witness this tremendous +spectacle. As the sun surged pitilessly higher, the temperature +became painful. The asphalt streets grew soft under the twingeing +feet of the Pan-Antis, and waves of heat radiation shimmered along +the vista of the magnificent highway. To keep themselves cheerful +the legions of Chuff sang their new Gooseberry Anthem, written by +Miss Theodolinda Chuff (the Bishop's daughter) to the air of +"Marching Through Georgia." The rousing strains rose in unison +from thousands of earnest throats. The majesty of the song cannot +be comprehended unless the reader will permit himself to hum to +the familiar tune:-- + + Root up every gooseberry where Satan winks + his eye-- + We will make the sinful earth a credit by and + by: + Europe may be stubborn, but we'll legislate her + dry, + And then we'll tackle the planets. + + Chorus: + + Hurrah! Hurrah! We're anti-everything-- + Hurrah! Hurrah! An end to joy we sing: + Come let's make life doleful and then + death will lose its sting, + Happiness is only a habit! + + Come then, all ye citizens, and join our stern + Verein: + We're the ones that put the crimp in whiskey, + beer and wine; + Booze is gone and soon we'll make tobacco fall + in line, + And then we'll tackle the planets. + + Chorus: + + Hurrah! Hurrah! We're anti-everything-- + Hurrah! Hurrah! An end to joy we sing: + Come let's make life doleful and then + death will lose its sting, + Happiness is only a habit! + + We'll abolish every fruit attempting to ferment-- + We will alter Nature's laws and teach her to + repent: + Let the fatal gooseberry proceed where cocktails + went, + And then we'll tackle the planets. + + Chorus as before. + +From the beginning of the day, however, it became apparent that +there was a concerted movement under way to heckle the Pan-Antis. +As the Gooseberry Anthem came to an end a number of men were +observed on the skyline of a tall building, wig-wagging with +flags. All eyes were turned aloft, and much speculation ensued +among the waiting thousands as to the meaning of the signals. Then +a cry of anger burst from one of the section leaders, who was +acquainted with the Morse code. The flags were spelling WHAT A DAY +FOR A DRINK! All down the Boulevard the white and gold banners +tossed in anger. To those above, the mass of agitated chuffs +looked like a field of daisies in a wind. + +Shortly afterward the familiar buzz of airplane motors was heard, +and three silver-gray machines came coasting above the channel of +the Boulevard. They flew low, and it was easy to read the initials +C.P.H. painted on the nether surface of their wings. Over the +front ranks of the parade (which was beginning to fall in line) +they executed a series of fantastic twirls. Then, as though at a +concerted signal, they dropped a cloud of paper slips which came +eddying down through the sunlight. The chuffs scrambled for them, +wondering. A sullen murmur rose when the messages were read. They +ran thus:-- + + TO MAKE GOOSEBERRY WINE + + (Paste This in Your Hat), + + Ten quarts of gooseberries, thoroughly + crushed; + Over these, five quarts of water are flushed. + Twice round the clock let the fluid remain, + Then through a sieve the blithe mixture you + strain, + Adding some sugar (not less than ten pound) + And stirring it carefully, round and around. + + To the pulp of the fruit that remains in the + sieve + A gallon of pure filtered water you give: + This you let stand for a dozen of hours, + Then add to the other to strengthen its powers. + Shut up the whole for the space of a day + And it will ferment in a riotous way. + + When you see by the froth that the fluid grows + thicker + You, should skim it (with glee) for it's turning + to liquor! + While it ferments, please continue to skim: + At the end, you may murmur the Bartender's + Hymn. + This makes a booze that is potent enough-- + Seal in a hogshead--and hide it from Chuff! + + Corporation for the + Perpetuation of Happiness. + +The Pan-Antis were still muttering furiously over this daring act +of defiance when a shrill bugle-call pealed down the avenue. +Bishop Chuff rode out into the middle of the street on his famous +coal-black charger, John Barleycorn. There was a long hush. Then, +with a wave of his hand, he gave the signal. One hundred bands +burst into the somber and clanging strains of "The Face on the +Bar-Room Floor." The great parade had begun. + +From a house-top farther up the street Dunraven Bleak watched them +come. He had taken Quimbleton's word seriously, and with his usual +enterprise had rented a roof overlooking the Boulevard, on which +several members of the Balloon staff were prepared to deal with +any startling events that might occur. A battery of telephones had +been installed on the house-top; Bleak himself sat with apparatus +clamped to his head like an operator at central. Two reporters +were busy with paper and pencil; the cartoonist sat on the +cornice, with legs swinging above two hundred feet of space, +sketching the prodigious scene. The young lady editor of the +Woman's Page was there, with opera glasses, noting down the "among +those present." + +It was an awe-inspiring spectacle. Between sidewalks jammed with +silent and morose citizens, the Pan-Antis passed like a conquering +army. The terrible Bishop, the man who had put military discipline +into the ranks of his mighty organization, rode his horse as the +Kaiser would have liked to ride entering Paris. His small, bitter, +fanatical face wore a deeply carved sneer. His great black beard +flapped in the breeze, and he sang as he rode. Behind him came +huge floats depicting in startling tableaux the hideous menace of +the gooseberry. Bands blared and crashed. Then, rank on rank, as +far as eye could see, followed the zealots in their garments of +white. Each one, it was noticed, carried a neat knapsack. Huge +tractors rumbled along, groaning beneath a tonnage of tracts which +were shot into the watching crowd by pneumatic guns. Banners +whipped and fluttered. + +The sound of shrill chanting vibrated in the blazing air like a +visible wave of power. These were conquerors of a nation, and they +knew it. A former bartender, standing in the front of the crowd, +caught Chuff's merciless gaze, wavered, and swooned. A retired +distiller, sitting in the window of the Brass Rail Club, fell dead +of apoplexy. + +Bleak trembled with nervousness. Had Quimbleton hoaxed him? What +could halt this mighty pageant now? He was about to telephone to +his city editor to go ahead with the one o'clock edition as +originally planned. ... + +From the sky came a roar of engines that drowned for a moment the +thundering echoes of the parade. The three gray planes, which had +been circling far above, swooped down almost to a level with the +tops of the buildings. One of these, a huge two-seated bomber, +passed directly over Bleak's head. He craned upward, and caught a +glimpse of what he thought at first was a white pennant trailing +over the bulwark of the cockpit. A snowy shag of whiskers came +tossing down through the air and fell in his lap. It was +Quimbleton's beard, torn from its moorings by the tug of wind- +pressure. Bleak thrust it quickly in his pocket. As the great +plane passed over the head of the parade, flying dangerously low, +every face save that of the iron-willed Bishop was turned upward. +But even in their curiosity the rigid discipline of the Pan-Antis +prevailed. Now they were singing, to the tune of "The Old Gray +Mare," + + Old John Barleycorn, he ain't what he used + to be + AIN'T WHAT HE USED TO BE-- + AIN'T WHAT HE USED TO BE! + Old John Barleycorn, he ain't what he used + to be, + Many a year ago. + +The great volume of gusty sound, hurled aloft by these thousands +of sky-pointing mouths, created an air-pocket in which the bombing +plane tilted dangerously. For a moment, Bleak, who was watching +the plane, thought it was going to careen into a tail-spin and +crash down fatally. Then he saw Quimbleton, still recognizable by +an adhering shred of whisker, lean over the side of the fuselage. + +A small dark object dropped through the air, fell with a loud POP +on the street a few yards in front of the Bishop. A faint green +vapor arose, misting for a moment the proud figures of Chuff and +his horse. At the same instant the other two planes, throbbing +down the line of the parade, discharged a rain of similar +projectiles along the vacant strip of paving between the marching +chuffs and the police-lined curb. An eddying emerald fume filled +the street, drifting with the brisk air down through all the ranks +of the procession. There were shouts and screams; the clanging +bands squawked discordantly. + +"Holy cat!" shouted the cartoonist--"Poison gas!" + +"Nix!" said Bleak, revealing Quimbleton's secret in his +excitement. "Gooseberry bombs. Every chuff that inhales it will be +properly soused. Oh, boy, some story! Look at the Bish! He's got a +snootful already--his face has turned black!" + +"The whole crowd has turned black," said the cartoonist, almost +falling off his perch in a frantic effort to see more clearly +through the olive haze that filled the street. + +It was true. Above the thousands of white figures, as they emerged +from the intoxicating cloud-bank of gooseberry gas, grinned +ghastly, inhuman, blackened faces, with staring goggle eyes. The +Bishop was most frightful of all. His horse was prancing and +swaying wildly, and the Bishop's transformed features were +diabolic. His whole profile had altered, seemed black and +shapeless as the face of a tadpole. The amazing truth burst upon +Bleak. Chuff and his paraders were wearing gas-masks. These were +what they had carried in their knapsacks. Indomitable Chuff, who +had foreseen everything! + +"Poor Quimbleton," said Bleak. "This will break his heart!" + +"His neck too, I fancy," said one of the others, pointing to the +sky, and indeed one of the three planes was seen falling +tragically to earth behind the tower of the City Hall. + +The cloud of gas was rapidly drifting off down the Boulevard, and +through the exhilarating and delicious fog the Pan-Antis waved +their defiant banners unscathed. The progress of the parade, +however, was halted by the behavior of the Bishop's horse, for +which no mask had been provided. The noble animal, under this +sudden and extraordinary stimulus, was almost human in its +actions. At first it stood, whinneying sharply, and pawing the air +with one forefoot--as though feeling for the brass rail, as one of +Bleak's companions said. It raised its head proudly, with open +mouth and expanded nostrils. Then, dashing off across the broad +street, it seemed eager to climb a lamp-post, and only the fierce +restraint of the Bishop held it in. One of the chuffs (perhaps +only lukewarm in loyalty), ran up and offered to give his mask to +the horse, but was sternly motioned back to the ranks by the +infuriated leader, who was wildly wrestling to gain control of the +exuberant animal. At last the horse solved the problem by lying +down in the street, on top of the Bishop, and going to sleep. An +ambulance, marked Federal Home for Inebriates, Cana, N.J., dashed +up with shrilling gong. This had been arranged by Quimbleton, who +had wired a requisition for an ambulance to remove one intoxicated +bishop. As the Bishop was quite in command of his faculties, the +horse, after some delay, was hoisted into the ambulance instead. +The Bishop was given a dusting, and the parade proceeded. The +self-control of the police alone averted prolonged and frightful +disorder, for when the conduct of the horse was observed thousands +of spectators fought desperately to get through the ropes and out +into the fumes that still lingered in wisps and whorls of green +vapor. Others tore off their coats and attempted to bag a few +cubic inches of the gas in these garments. But the police, with a +devotion to duty that was beyond praise, kept the mob in check and +themselves bore the brunt of the lingering acid. Only one man, who +leaped from an office-window with an improvised parachute, really +succeeded in getting into the middle of the Boulevard, and he +refused to be ejected on the ground that he was chief of the +street-cleaning department. This department, by the way, was given +a remarkable illustration of the fine public spirit of the +citizens, for by three o'clock in the afternoon two hundred +thousand applications had been received from those eager to act as +volunteer street-cleaners and help scour the Boulevard after the +passage of the great parade. + + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE GREAT WAR BEGINS + + +As the echoes of the parade died away, public excitement was +roused to fever by the discovery that evening of an infernal +machine in the City Hall. Leaning against one of the great marble +pillars in the lobby of the building, a gleaming object (looking +very much like a four-inch shrapnel shell) was found by a vigilant +patrolman. To his horror he found it to be one of the much- +dreaded thermos bottles. Experts from the Bureau of Rumbustibles +were summoned, and the bomb was carefully analyzed. Much to the +disappointment of the chief inspector, the devilish ingredients of +the explosive had been spoiled by immersion in a pail of water, so +his examination was purely theoretical; but it was plain that the +leading component of this hellish mixture had been nothing less +than gin, animated by a fuse of lemon-peel. If the cylinder had +exploded, unquestionably every occupant of the City Hall would +have been intoxicated. + +The conduct of the municipal officials in this crisis was +extremely courageous. No one knew whether other articles of this +kind might not be concealed about the building, but the Mayor and +councilmen refused to go home, and even assisted in the search for +possible bombs. Secret service men were called from Washington, +and went into consultation with Bishop Chuff. It was a night of +uproar. A reign of terror was freely predicted, and many prominent +citizens sat up until after midnight on the chance of discovering +similar explosives concealed about their premises. + +The morning papers rallied rapidly to the cause of threatened +civilization. The Daily Circumspect declared, editorially:-- + +The alcoholsheviks have at last thrown down the gauntlet. The news +that the ginarchists have placed a ginfernal machine in the very +shrine of law and order is tantamount to a declaration of war upon +sobriety as a whole. A canister of forbidden design, filled with +the deadliest gingredients, was found in the corridor leading to +the bureau of marriage licenses in the City Hall. There must have +been something more than accident in its discovery just in this +spot. Men of thoughtful temper will do well to heed the symbolism +of this incident. Plainly not only the constitution of the United +States is to be made a quaffing-stock, but the very sanctity of +the marriage bond is assailed. To this form of terrorism there is +but one answer. + +In the meantime, Quimbleton had disappeared. The house on Caraway +Street was broken into by the police, but except for the grape +arbor and a great quantity of empty bottles in the cellar, no clue +was found. Apparently, however, the vanished ginarchist (for so +Chuff called him) had been writing poetry before his departure. +The following rather inscrutable doggerel was found scrawled on a +piece of paper:-- + + When Death doth reap + And Chuff is sickled, + He will not keep: + He was never pickled. + + For Bishop Chuff + This is ill cheer: + That Time will force him + To the bier. + + And when he stands + On his last legs + Then Death will drain him + To the dregs. + + So when Chuff croaks + Bury him on a high hill-- + For he's a hoax + Et praeterea nihil! + +But Bishop Chuff was not the man to take these insults tamely. His +first act was to call together the legislature of the State in +special session, and the following act was rushed through: + +AN ACT + +Severing relations with Nature, and amending the principles and +processes of the same in so far as they contravene the +Constitution of the United States and the tenets of the Pan-Antis: + +WHEREAS, in accordance with the Declaration of Gindependence, it +may become necessary for a people to dissolve the alcoholic bands +which have connected them with one another and to assume among the +powers of the earth the sobriety to which the laws of pessimism +entitle them, a decent disrespect to the opinions of drinkers +requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to +drouth. + +WHEREAS we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are +created sober, and are endowed with certain inalienable rights, +such as Life, Grievances, and the Pursuit of Other People's +Happiness. Whenever any form of amusement becomes destructive of +these ends, it is the right of the Pan-Antis to abolish it. +Prudence, indeed, will dictate that beverages long established +should not be abolished for light and transient causes. But when +it is evident that Nature herself is in conspiracy against the +Constitution of the United States, and that millions of so-called +human beings have found in forbidden tipples a cause for mirth and +merriment, it is time to call a halt to malt, and have no parley +with barley. + +WHEREAS it has frequently and regrettably been evidenced that +Nature is a sot at heart, by reason of her deplorably lax morals. +Painful as it is to make the admission, there are many of her +apparently innocent fruits and plants that are susceptible, by the +unlawful processes of fermentation and effervescence, of +transformation into alcoholic liquid. Science tells us that this +abominable form of activity to which Nature is privy is in reality +a form of decomposition or putrefaction; but willful men will +hardly be restrained by science in their illicit pursuit of +frivolity. + +WHEREAS Nature (hereinafter referred to as The Enemy) has been +guilty of repeated ruptures of the Constitution of the United +States, having permitted the juice of apples to ferment into +cider, having encouraged seditious effervescence on the part of +gooseberries, currants, raisins, grapes and similar conspirators; +having fomented outrageous yeastiness in hops, malt, rye, barley +and other grains and fodders, + +THEREFORE be it enacted, and it hereby is, that all relations with +the Enemy are hereby and henceforward suspended; and any citizen +of the United States having commerce with Nature, or giving her +aid and comfort or encouragement in her atrocious alcoholshevik +designs on human dignity, be, and hereby is, guilty of treason and +lese-sobriety. + +BE IT ALSO enacted, and it hereby is, that the principle of +fermentation is forbidden in the territory of the United States; +and all plants, herbs, legumes, vegetables, fruits and foliage +showing themselves capable of producing effervescent juices or +liquids in which bubbles and gases rise to the top be, and hereby +are, confiscated, eradicated and removed from the surface of the +soil. And all the laws of Nature inconsistent with the principle +of this Act be and hereby are repealed and rendered null and +inconclusive. + +IT IS HOPED that this suspension of relations with Nature will +operate as a sharp rebuke, and bring her to reason. It is not the +sense of this Act to withhold from the Enemy all hope of a future +reconciliation, should she cast off the habits that have made her +a menace. We have no quarrel with Nature as a whole. But there is +a certain misguided clique, the dandelions and gooseberries and +other irresponsible plants, which must be humiliated. We do not +presume to suggest to Nature any alteration or modification of her +necessary institutions. But who can claim that the principle of +fermentation, which she has arrogated to herself, is necessary to +her health and happiness? This Intolerable Thing, of which Nature +has shown us the ugly mug, this menace of combined intrigue and +force, must be crushed, with proud punctilio. + +AND FOR THE strict enforcement of this Act, the Pan-Antis are +authorized and empowered to organize expeditionary forces, by +recruitment or (if necessary) by conscription and draft, to +proceed into the territory of the enemy, lay waste and ravage all +dandelions, gooseberries and other unlawful plants. Until this is +accomplished Nature shall be and hereby is declared a barred zone, +in which civilians and non-combatants pass at their own peril; and +all citizens not serving with the expeditionary forces shall +remain within city and village limits until the territory of +Nature is made safe for sobriety. + +This document, having been signed by the Governor, became law, and +thousands of people who were about to leave town for their +vacation were held up at the railway stations. Nature was declared +under martial law. There were many who held that the Act, while +admirable in principle, did not go far enough in practice. For +instance, it was argued, the detestable principle of fermentation +was due in great part to the influence of the sun upon vegetable +matter; and it was suggested that this heavenly body should be +abolished. Others, pointing out that this was a matter that would +take some time, advanced the theory that large tracts of open +country should be shielded from the sun's rays by vast tents or +awnings. Bishop Chuff, with his customary perspicacity, made it +plain that one of the chief causes of temptation was hot weather, +which causes immoderate thirst. In order to lessen the amount of +thirst in the population he suggested that it might be feasible to +shift the axis of the earth, so that the climate of the United +States would become perceptibly cooler and the torrid zone would +be transferred to the area of the North Pole. This would have the +supreme advantage of melting all the northern ice-cap and +providing the temperate belts with a new supply of fresh water. It +would be quite easy (the Bishop insisted) to tilt the earth on its +axis if everything heavy on the surface of the United States were +moved up to Hudson's Bay. Accordingly he began to make +arrangements to have the complete files of the Congressional +Record moved to the far north in endless freight trains. + +Dunraven Bleak, a good deal exhausted by his efforts to keep all +these matters carefully reported in the columns of the Evening +Balloon, was ready to take his vacation. As a newspaper man he was +able to get a passport to go into the country, on the pretext of +observing the movements of the troops of the Pan-Antis, who were +vigorously attacking the dandelion fields and gooseberry +vineyards. He had already sent his wife and children down to the +seashore, in the last refugee train which had left the city before +Nature was declared outlaw. + +It was a hot morning, and having wound up his work at the office +he was sitting in a small lunchroom having a shrimp salad sandwich +and a glass of milk. The street outside was thronged with great +motor ambulances rumbling in from the suburbs, carrying the wilted +remains of berries and fruits which had been dug up by the furious +legions of Chuff. These were hastily transported to the municipal +cannery where they were made into jams and preserves with all +possible speed, before fermentation could set in. Bleak saw them +pass with saddened eyes. + +A beautiful gray motor car drew up at the curb, and honked +vigorously. The proprietor of the lunchroom, thinking that +possibly the chauffeur wanted some sandwiches, left the cash +register and crossed the pavement eagerly. Every eye in the +restaurant was turned upon the glittering limousine, whose panels +of dove-throat gray shone with a steely lustre. In a moment the +proprietor returned with a large basket and a small folded paper, +looking puzzled. He glanced about the room, and approached Bleak. + +"I guess you're the guy," he said, and handed the editor a note on +which was scrawled in pencil + +TO THE MAN WITH A PENETRATING GAZE WHO HAS JUST SPILLED SOME +SHRIMP SALAD ON HIS PALM BEACH TROUSERS + +Bleak, after removing the shrimp, opened the paper. Inside he read + +PLEASE BRING TWO DOZEN RYE-TONGUE SANDWICHES AND AS MUCH SHRIMP +SALAD AS THE BASKET WILL HOLD. AM FAMISHED. + +QUIMBLETON. + +He looked at the restaurateur in surprise. + +"The lady said you were to get the grub and put it in this +basket," said the latter. + +"The lady?" inquired Bleak. + +"The dame in the car," said Isidor, owner of the Busy Wasp +Lunchroom. + +Bleak obeyed orders. He filled the basket with tongue sandwiches +and a huge platter of shrimp salad, paid the check, and carried +the burden to the door of the motor. + +At the wheel sat a damsel of extraordinary beauty. The massive +proportions of the enormous car only accentuated the perfection of +her streamline figure. Her chassis was admirable; she was +upholstered in a sports suit of fawn-colored whipcord; and her +sherry-brown eyes were unmodified by any dimming devices. Before +Bleak could say anything she cried eagerly, "Get in, Mr. Bleak! +I've been looking for you everywhere. What a happy moment this +is!" + +Bleak handed in the basket. "Quimbleton--" he began. + +"I know," she said. "I'm taking you to him. Poor fellow, he is in +great peril. Get in, please." + +By the time Bleak was in the seat beside her, the car was already +in motion. + +"You have your passport?" she said, steering through the tangled +traffic. + +"Yes," he said. He could not help stealing a sidelong glance at +this bewitching creature. Her dainty and vivacious face, just now +a trifle sunburnt, was fixed resolutely upon the vehicles ahead. +On the rim of the big steering wheel her small gloved hands gave +an impression of great capability. Bleak thought that her profile +seemed oddly familiar. + +"Haven't I seen you before?" he said. + +"Very possibly. Your newspaper printed my picture the other day, +with some rather uncomplimentary remarks." + +Bleak was nonplussed. + +"Very stupid of me," he said, "but I don't seem to recall--" + +"I am Miss Chuff," she said calmly. + +The editor's brain staggered. + +"Miss Theodolinda Chuff?" he said, in amazement. He recalled some +satirical editorials the Balloon had printed concerning the +activities of the Chuffs, and wondered if he were being kidnaped +for court-martial by the Pan-Antis. Evidently the use of +Quimbleton's name had been a ruse. + +"It was unfair of you to make use of Quimbleton's name to get me +into your hands," he said angrily. + +Miss Chuff turned a momentary gaze of amusement upon him, as they +passed a large tractor drawing several truckloads of gooseberry +plants. + +"You don't understand," she said demurely. "You may remember that +Mr. Quimbleton's card gave his name as associate director of the +Happiness Corporation?" + +"Yes," said Bleak. + +"I am the Director," she said. + +"YOU? But how can that be? Why, your father--" + +"That's just why. Any one who had to live with Father would be +sure to take the opposite side. He's a Pan-Anti. I'm a Pan-Pro. +Those poems I have written for him were merely a form of +camouflage. Besides, they were so absurd they were sure to do harm +to the cause. That's why I wrote them. I'll explain it all to you +a little later." + +At this moment they were held up by an armed guard of chuffs, +stationed at the city limits. These saluted respectfully on seeing +the Bishop's daughter, but examined Bleak's passport with care. +Then the car passed on into the suburbs. + +As they neared the fields of actual battle, Bleak was able to see +something of the embittered nature of the conflict. In the hot +white sunlight of the summer morning platoons of Pan-Antis could +be seen marching across the fields, going up from the rest centers +to the firing line. In one place a shallow trench had been dug, +from which the chuffs were firing upon a blackberry hedge at long +range. One by one the unprincipled berries were being picked off +by expert marksmen. The dusty highway was stained with ghastly +rivulets and dribbles of scarlet juices. At a crossroads they came +upon a group of chuffs who had shown themselves to be +conscientious objectors: these were being escorted to an +internment camp where they would be horribly punished by +confinement to lecture rooms with Chautauqua lecturers. War is +always cruel, and even non-combatants did not escape. In the heat +of combat, the neutrality of an orchard of plum trees had been +violated, and wagonloads of the innocent fruit were being carried +away into slavery and worse than death. A young apple tree was +standing in front of a firing squad, and Bleak closed his eyes +rather than watch the tragic spectacle. The apples were all green, +and too young to ferment, but the chuffs were ruthless once their +passions were roused. + +They passed through the battle zone, and into a strip of country +where pine woods flourished on a sandy soil. The fragrant breath +of sun-warmed balsam came down about them, and Miss Chuff let out +the motor as though to escape from the scene of carnage they had +just witnessed. + +"Whither are we bound?" asked the editor, with pardonable +curiosity, as their tires hummed over a smooth road. + +"Cana, New Jersey," said Miss Chuff, "where poor Quimbleton is in +hiding. He is in very sore straits. He narrowly escaped capture +after the parade the other day. I managed to get him smuggled out +of the city in the same ambulance that carried Father's horse. The +horse was drunk and Quim was sober. Wasn't that an irony of fate? +But I promised to tell you how I became associated with the +Happiness Corporation." + + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE TREACHERY OF MISS CHUFF + + +My story," said Miss Chuff, as the car slid along the road, "is +rich in pathos. My father, as you can imagine, is an impossible +man to live with. My poor mother was taken to an asylum years ago. +Her malady takes a curious form: she is never violent, but spends +all her time in poring over books, magazines and papers. Every +time she finds the word HUSBAND in print she crosses it out with +blue pencil. + +"From my earliest days I was accustomed to hear very little else +but talk about liquor. The fairy tales that most children are +allowed to enjoy merely as stories were explained to me by my +father as allegories bearing upon the sinister seductions of +drink. Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf, for instance, became a +symbol of young womanhood pursued by the devouring Bronx cocktail. +The princess from whose mouth came toads and snakes was (of +course) a princess under the influence of creme de menthe. +Cinderella was a young girl who had been brought low by taking a +dash of brandy in her soup. Every dragon, with which good fairy +tales are liberally provided, was the Demon Rum. It is really +amazing what stirring prohibition propaganda fairy tales contain +if you know how to interpret them. + +"All this kind of palaver naturally roused my childish curiosity +as to the subject of intoxicants. But, like a docile daughter, I +fell into the career marked out for me by my father. I became a +militant for the Pan-Antis. I distributed tracts by the million; I +wrote a little poem on the idea that the gates of hell are +swinging doors with slats. I can honestly say that I never felt +any real hankering for liquor until it was prohibited altogether. +That is a curious feature of human nature, that as soon as you +forbid a thing it becomes irresistibly alluring. You remember the +story of Mrs. Bluebeard. + +"It occurred to me, after booze had gone, that it was a sad thing +that I, Bishop Chuff's daughter, who was devoting my life to the +prohibition cause, should have not the slightest knowledge of the +nature of this hideous evil we had been pursuing. I brooded over +this a great deal, and fell into a melancholy state. The thought +came to me, there must be some virtue in drink, or why would so +many people have stubbornly contested its abolition? It would be +too long a story to tell you all the details, but it was at that +time that I first became aware of my psychic gift." + +"Your psychic gift?" queried Bleak, wondering. + +She turned her bright beer-brown eyes upon him gravely. "Yes," she +said, "I am an alcoholic medium. It is the latest and most +superior form of spiritualism. By gazing upon crystal-- +particularly upon an empty tumbler--I am able to throw myself +into a trance in which I can communicate with departed spirits. A +good drink does not die, you know: its soul hovers radiantly on +the twentieth plane, and through the occult power of a medium +those who loved it in life can get in touch with it once more. +Through these trances of mine I have been privileged to put many +bereaved ones in communication with their dear departed spirits. +To hear the table-rappings and the shouts of ecstasy you would +perceive that a great deal of the anguish of separation is +assuaged." + +"Do you often have these trances?" said Bleak, with a certain +wistfulness. + +"They are not hard to induce," she said. "All that is necessary +for a seance is a round table, preferably of some highly polished +brown wood, a brass rail for the worshipers to put their feet on, +and an empty tumbler to concentrate the power of yearning. If +those present all wish hard enough there is sure to be a +successful reunion with the Beyond." + +"But surely," said the fascinated editor, "surely not any--well, +actual MATERIALIZATION?" + +"Oh, no; but the communion of souls produces quite sufficient +results. You see, so many fine spirits passed over at once, +suddenly, on that First of July, that the twentieth plane is quite +thronged with them, and they are just as eager to come back as +their friends could be to welcome them. One good yearn deserves +another, as we say. The only time when these seances fail is when +some inharmonious soul is present--some personality not completely +EN RAPPORT with the spirit of the gathering. I remember, for +instance, an occasion when a gentleman from Kentucky had most +ardently desired to get into communication with the astrals of +some mint juleps he had loved very deeply in life. Everything +seemed propitious, but though I struggled hard I simply could not +get the julep spirit to descend to our mortal plane. Finally I +made inquiry and found that one of the guests was a root-beer +manufacturer. Of course you may say that was petty jealousy on the +side of the departed, but even these vanished spirits have their +human phases." + +She was silent for a moment. + +"You can imagine," she said, "what a perplexity I was in when I +discovered these hitherto unsuspected powers in myself. Was I +justified in putting them to use, for the good of humanity? And +wasn't there a certain pathetic significance in the fact that I, +the daughter of the man who had done so much to put these poor +lonely spirits into the Beyond, should be made their sole channel +of reunion with their bereaved and sorrowing adorers? In all his +harangues, I had never heard my Father attack anything but the +actual DRINKING of liquor. This form of communication seemed to me +to solve so many problems. And it was in this way that I first met +Virgil." + +"Virgil?" said Bleak, absent-mindedly, for he was wondering +whether he might be privileged to attend one of these seances. + +"Virgil Quimbleton," she said. "In the early days of my trances I +was much haunted by the spirit of a certain cocktail--blended, I +believe, of champagne and angostura--which insisted that it would +be inconsolable until it could get in contact with Quimbleton and +reassure him as to the certainty of its existence beyond mortal +bars. The deep affection and old comradeship evidently cherished +between Quimbleton and this cocktail was very touching, and I was +more than happy to be able to effect their reunion. It was for +this reason that Quimbleton, under a careful disguise, came to +live next door to us on Caraway Street. I would go out into the +garden and have a trance; Quimbleton, poor bereaved fellow, would +sit by me in the dusk and revel with the spirit of his dear +comrade. This common bond soon ripened into Jove, and we became +betrothed." + +She stripped off one of her gloves and showed Bleak a beautiful +amethyst ring. + +"This is my engagement ring," she said. "It's a very precious +symbol, for Quimbleton explained to me that the amethyst is a +talisman against drunkenness. I looked it up in the dictionary, +and found that he was right. As long as I wear this ring the +departed spirits have no ill effect upon me. But I sometimes +wonder," she added with a sigh, "whether Virgil really loves me +for myself, or only as a kind of swinging door into the spirit +world." + +The car was now approaching an open belt of country. Behind them +lay the dark line of pine woods; far off, across a wide shimmer of +sun and sandy fields sweetened by purple clover; and flowering +grasses, was a blue ribbon of sea. But even in this remote shelf +of New Jersey the implacable hand of Chuff was at work. From a +meadow near by they saw an observation balloon going up and the +windlass unwinding its cable. A huge paraboloid breath-detector +(or breathoscope) was stationed on a low ridge. This terribly +ingenious machine, which had just been invented by the pan-antis, +records the vibrations of any alcoholic breath within five miles, +and indicates on a sensitive dial the exact direction and distance +of the breath. It was only too evident that the search for +Quimbleton was going forward with fierce system. In the shelter of +an old barn they heard a cork-popping machine-gun going off +rapidly. This was one of the most atrocious ruses employed by the +chuffs in their search for conscientious drinkers. The gun fires +no projectile, but produces a pleasant detonation like the swift +and repeated drawing of corks. Set up in the neighborhood of any +bottle-habited man, it will invariably lure him into an approach. +Near it was an ice-tinkling device, used for the same purposes of +stratagem. + +"Poor Virgil!" said Miss Chuff with a sigh. "I'm afraid he has had +a grievous ordeal. We must run carefully now, so as not to give +him away." + +Fortunately Miss Chuff's presence at the wheel, and Bleak's +credentials as war correspondent, enabled them to pass several +scouting parties of chuff uhlans without suspicion. In this way +they neared the extensive grounds surrounding the Federal Home for +Inebriates, Cana, N. J. This magnificent Gothic building, already +showing some signs of decay from two years of vacancy, stands on a +slight eminence among what the real estate agents call "old +shade," with a fine and carefully calculated view over one of the +largest bodies of undrinkable fluid known to man, the Atlantic +Ocean. + +The car turned into a narrow sandy road skirting one side of the +walled park. This byway was completely screened from outside +observation by the high bulwark of the Home and by thick masses of +rhododendron shrubbery. At a bend in the road Miss Chuff halted +the motor, and motioned Bleak to descend. + +"Now we will look for the persecuted patriot," she said. + +Bleak took charge of the basket of food, and Miss Chuff drew a +small rope ladder from a locker under the driver's seat. This she +threw deftly up to the top of the wall, hooking it upon the iron +spikes. Bleak politely ascended first, and they scaled the wall, +dropping down into a tangle of underbrush. + +"I left him in here somewhere," said the girl, as they set off +along a narrow path. "This was obviously the best place to hide, +as, except for Father's horse, the Home hasn't had an inmate for +two years. There was some talk of Father making this the +headquarters of the Great General Strafe in this campaign, but I +don't believe they have done so yet." + +"Hush!" said Bleak. "What is that I hear?" + +A dull, regular, recurrent sound, a sort of rasping sigh, stole +through the thickets. They both listened in some agitation. + +"Sounds a little like an airplane, with one engine missing," said +Bleak. + +"Can it be the sea, the surf breaking on the sand?" asked Miss +Chuff. + +This seemed probable, and they accepted it as such; but as they +pushed on through the tangle of saplings and bushes the sound +seemed to localize itself on their left. Bleak peeped cautiously +through a leafy screen, and then beckoned the girl to his side. +They looked down into a warm sandy hollow, overgrown and sheltered +by a large rhododendron with knotted branches and dry, shiny +leaves. Curled up on the sand bank, in the unconsciously pathetic +posture of sheer exhaustion, lay Quimbleton, asleep. A droning +snore buzzed heavily from where he lay. + +"Poor Virgil!" said Miss Chuff. "How tired he looks." + +He did, indeed. The gray and silver uniform was ragged and soil- +stained; his boots were white with dust; his face was unshaved, +though a razor lay beside him, and it seemed that he had been +trying to strop it on his Sam Browne belt. His pipe, filled but +unlit, had fallen from his weary fingers; beside him was an empty +match-box and tragic evidence of a number of unsuccessful attempts +to get fire from a Swedish tandsticker. Crumpled under the elbow +of the indomitable idealist was a much-thumbed copy of The +Bartender's Benefactor, or How to Mix 1001 Drinks, in which he had +been seeking imaginary solace when he fell asleep. Near his head +ticked a pocket alarm clock, which they found set to gong at two +o'clock. + +"It seems a shame to wake him," said Theodolinda. Her brown eyes +liquefied and effervesced with tenderness, until (as Bleak thought +to himself) they were quite the color of brandy and soda, without +too much soda. + +The sleeper stirred, and a radiant smile passed over his +unconscious features--a smile of pure and heavenly beatitude. + +"Say when, Jerry," he murmured. + +"He's dreaming!" cried Theodolinda. "See, his soul is far away!" + +"Two years away," said Bleak enviously. "Let him go to it while we +reconnoiter. I believe in the Prevention of Cruelty to Sleep. He +didn't intend to wake up just yet, you can see by the alarm +clock." + +"That's a good idea," she agreed. "I'd like to find out whether +we're in any immediate danger of pursuit." + +They set the basket of food beside Quimbleton, and carefully moved +on through the strip of young trees until they neared the broad +lawns that surround the Home for Inebriates. Miss Chuff, spying +delicately through a leafy chink, gave a cry of alarm. + +"Heavens!" she said. "The place is full of people!" + +To their amazement, they saw the white banner of the Pan-Antis +floating on one of the towers of the building, and the grounds +about the Home blackened with a moving throng. Though they were +too far distant to discern any details of the crowd, it was plain +(from the curious to-and-fro of the gathering, like the seething +of an ant-hill) that its units were imbued with some strong +emotion. At that distance it might have been anger, or fear, or +(more appropriate to the surroundings) drink. + +They hurried back to Quimbleton's hiding place, and found him +already sitting up and attacking the shrimp salad. Bleak +courteously averted his eyes from the affectionate embrace of the +lovers. + +"Bless your heart for this grub," said Quimbleton to Bleak. "As +soon as I smelt that shrimp salad I woke up. Do you know, I +haven't eaten for two days." + +"Oh Virgil!" cried Theodolinda, "what does this mean--all the +crowd round the Home? Mr. Bleak and I looked up there, and the +place is simply packed. You can't stay undiscovered long with all +those people around. Who are they, anyway?" + +Quimbleton had to delay his reply until deglutition had mastered a +bulky consignment of shrimp. His large, resolute face, while +somewhat marred by hardships, showed no trace of panic. + +"I know all about it," he said. "It is the latest step on the +route of all evil taken by that fanatical person whom I shall +presently call father-in-law. He is not content with arresting +people found drinking. This morning they began to seize people who +THINK about drinking. Any one who is guilty of thinking, in an +affirmative way, about liquor, is to be interned in the Federal +Home for a course in mental healing." + +"But how can they tell?" asked Bleak, nervously. + +"I don't know," said Quimbleton. "Perhaps they have a kind of +Third Degree, flash a seidel of beer on you suddenly, and if you +make an involuntary gesture of pleasure, you're convicted. Perhaps +they've invented an instrument that tells what you think about. +Perhaps they just arrest you on suspicion. At any rate all the +folks who have been thinking about booze are being collected and +sent over here. I know because I've seen most of my friends +arriving all morning. I suppose they'll get me next. I don't much +care as long as I've had something to eat." + +"Virgil, dear," said Miss Chuff, "you MUSTN'T give up hope now, +after being so brave. You know I'll stand by you to the end--to +the very dregs." + +"If only I had some disguise," said Quimbleton sadly, "it wouldn't +be so bad. But I must confess that these breath detectors and +other unscrupulous instruments they use have rather unnerved me." + +Bleak suddenly remembered, and thrust his hand in his hip-pocket. +He pulled out the hank of white beard that had floated down from +the airplane a few days before. It was much crumpled, but intact. + +"Good man!" cried Quimbleton. "My jolly old beard!" He clapped it +onto his face and beamed hopefully. "Now, if there were some way +of getting rid of this tell-tale uniform--" + +They discussed this problem at some length, sitting in the +sheltered bowl of sand, while Quimbleton finished his lunch. +Bleak's suggestion of stitching together a sort of Robinson Crusoe +suit of rhododendron leaves did not meet Quimbleton's approval. + +"No Robinson trousseau for me," he said. "I thought of pasting +together the leaves of The Bartender's Benefactor, but I'm afraid +that would be rather damning. No, I don't see what to do." + +"I have it!" said Theodolinda, gleefully. "I've got a sewing kit +in the car--we'll unrip the upholstery and I can stitch you up a +suit in no time. At least it will be better than the C. P. H. get- +up, which would take you in front of a firing squad if it were +seen." + +This seemed a good idea. Bleak volunteered to escort Miss Chuff +back to the car and help her rip the covers off the cushions. This +was done, and they carried back to Quimbleton's hiding place many +yards of pale lilac colored twill (or whatever it is) and a flask +of iced tea. In spite of distant sounds of warfare, the time +passed pleasantly enough. Miss Chuff cut out and stitched +assiduously; Quimbleton and Bleak, under her directions, sewed on +the buttons snipped from the uniform. Birds twittered in the +greenery about them, and they all felt something of the elation of +a picnic when the garments were done and Quimbleton retired to a +neighboring copse to make the change. The other two were too +seriously concerned for his welfare to laugh when they saw him. + +"Splendid!" cried Bleak. "Now you can lie down in Miss Chuff's car +and if any one looks in they'll just think you're part of the +furnishings." + +"And I think we'd better get back to the car without delay," said +Theodolinda. "I'd like to get you out of this danger zone as soon +as possible." + +They hastened back to the wall, scaled it with the rope ladder-- +and stared in dismay. The car had gone. They could see it far down +the road, guarded by a group of Pan-Antis. A cordon of the enemy +had been thrown completely round the Home and escape was +impossible. Worse still, the treachery of Miss Chuff must have +been discovered, and they trembled to think what retaliation the +Bishop might devise. + +In this moment of crisis Quimbleton regained his customary +hardihood. Quilted in his lilac garments, with the white hedge of +beard tossing in the breeze, he looked the dashing leader. + +"There's only one thing to do," he said. "We're surrounded in this +place. We must go to the Home, make common cause with the +prisoners there, and lead them in a sudden sally of escape." + + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +DEPARTED SPIRITS + + +If Bishop Chuff desired to make people stop thinking about +alcohol, his plan of seizing them and shutting them up in the +grounds of the Federal Home at Cana was a quaint way of attaining +this purpose. For all the victims, who had been suddenly arrested +in the course of their daily concerns, accused (before a rum-head +court martial) of harboring illicit alcoholic desires, and driven +over to Cana in crowded motor-trucks, now had very little else to +brood about. In the golden light and fragrance of a summer +afternoon, here they were surrounded by all the apparatus to +restrain alcoholic excess, and not even the slightest exhilaration +of spirit to justify the depressing scene. It was annoying to see +frequent notices such as: This Entrance for Brandy-Topers; or +Vodka Patients in This Ward; or Inmates Must Not Bite Off the +Door-Knobs. It seemed carrying a jest too far when these citizens, +most of whom had not even smelt a drink in two years, found +themselves billeted into padded cells and confronted by rows of +strait-jackets. Moreover, the Home had lain unused for many +months: it was dusty, dilapidated, and of a moldy savor. Some of +the unwilling visitors, finding that the grounds included a strip +of sandy beach, took their ordeal with reasonable philosophy. +"Since we are to be slaves," they said, "at least let's have some +serf bathing." And donning (with a shudder) the rather gruesome +padded bathing suits they found in the lockers, they went off for +a swim. Others, of a humorous turn, derived a certain rudimentary +amusement in studying the garden marked Reserved for Patients with +Insane Delusions, where they found a very excellent relief-model +of the battleground of the Marne, laid out by a former inmate who +had imagined himself to be General Joffre. But most of them stood +about in groups, talking bitterly. + +Quimbleton, therefore, found a receptive audience for his +Spartacus scheme of organizing this band of downtrodden victims +into a fighting force. He gathered them into the dining-hall of +the Home and addressed them in spirited language. + +"My friends" (he said), "unaccustomed as I am to public speaking, +I feel it my duty to administer a few remarks on the subject of +our present situation. + +"And the first thought that comes to my mind, candidly, is this, +that we must give Bishop Chuff credit for a quality we never +imagined him to possess. That quality, gentlemen, is a sense of +humor. I hear some dissent; and yet it seems to me to be somewhat +humorous that this gathering, composed of men who were accustomed, +in the good old days, to carry their liquor like gentlemen, should +now, when they have been cold sober for two years, be incarcerated +in this humiliating place, surrounded by the morbid relics of +those weaker souls who found their grog too strong for them. + +"I say therefore that we must give Bishop Chuff credit for a sense +of humor. It makes him all the more deadly enemy. Yet I think we +will have the laugh on him yet, in a manner I shall presently +describe. For the Bishop has what may be denominated a single- +tract mind. He undoubtedly imagines that we will submit tamely to +this outrage. He has surrounded us with guards. He expects us to +be meek. In my experience, the meek inherit the dearth. Let us not +be meek!" + +There was a shout of applause, and Quimbleton's salient of horse- +hair beard waved triumphantly as he gathered strength. His burly +figure in the lilac upholstering dominated the audience. He went +on: + +"And what is our crime? That we have nourished, in the privacy of +our own intellects, treasonable thoughts or desires concerning +alcohol! Gentlemen, it is the first principle of common law that a +man cannot be indicted for thinking a crime. There must be some +overt act, some evidence of illegal intention. Can a man be +deprived of freedom for carrying concealed thoughts? If so, we +might as well abolish the human mind itself. Which Bishop Chuff +and his flunkeys would gladly do, I doubt not, for they themselves +would lose nothing thereby." + +Vigorous clapping greeted this sally. + +"Now, gentlemen," cried Quimbleton, "though we follow a lost +cause, and even though the gooseberry and the raisin and the apple +be doomed, let us see it through with gallantry! The enemy has +mobilized dreadful engines of war against us. Let us retort in +kind. He has tanks in the field--let us retort with tankards. They +tell me there is a warship in the offing, to shell us into +submission. Very well: if he has gobs, let us retort with goblets. +If he has deacons, let us parry him with decanters. Chuff has put +us here under the pretext of being drunk. Very well: then let us +BE drunk. Let us go down in our cups, not in our saucers. Where +there's a swill, there's a way! Let us be sot in our ways," he +added, sotto voce. + +Terrific uproar followed this fine outburst. Quimbleton had to +calm the frenzy by gesturing for silence. + +"I hear some natural queries," he said. "Some one asks 'How?' To +this I shall presently explain 'Here's how.' Bear with me a +moment. + +"My friends, it would be idle for us to attempt the great task +before us relying merely on ourselves. In such great crises it is +necessary to call upon a Higher Power for strength and succor. +This is no mere brawl, no haphazard scuffle: it is the battle- +ground--if I were jocosely minded I might say it is the bottle- +ground--of a great principle. If, gentlemen, I wished to harrow +your souls, I would ask you to hark back in memory to the fine old +days when brave men and lovely women sat down at the same table +with a glass of wine, or a mug of ale, and no one thought any the +worse. I would ask you to remember the color of the wine in the +goblet, how it caught the light, how merrily it twinkled with +beaded bubbles winking at the brim, as some poet has observed. If +I wanted to harrow you, gentlemen, I would recall to you little +tables, little round tables, set out under the trees on the lawn +of some country inn, where the enchanting music of harp and fiddle +twangled on the summer air, where great bowls of punch chimed +gently as the lumps of ice knocked on the thin crystal. The little +tables were spread tinder the trees, and then, later on, perhaps, +the customers were spread under the tables.--I would ask you to +recall the manly seidel of dark beer as you knew it, the bitter +chill of it as it went down, the simple felicity it induced in the +care-burdened mind. I could quote to you poet after poet who has +nourished his song upon honest malt liquor. I need only think of +Mr. Masefield, who has put these manly words in the mouth of his +pirate mate: + + Oh some are fond of Spanish wine, and some + are fond of French, + And some'll swallow tea and stuff fit only for + a wench, + But I'm for right Jamaica till I roll beneath the + bench! + + Oh some are fond of fiddles and a song well + sung, + And some are all for music for to lilt upon the + tongue; + But mouths were made for tankards, and for + sucking at the bung!" + +This apparently artless oratory was beginning to have its effect. +Loud huzzas filled the hall. These touching words had evoked +wistful memories hidden deep in every heart. Old wounds were +reopened and bled afresh. + +Again Quimbleton had to call for silence. + +"I will recite to you," he said, "a ditty that I have composed +myself. It is called A Chanty of Departed Spirits." + +In a voice tremulous with emotion he began: + + The earth is grown puny and pallid, + The earth is grown gouty and gray, + For whiskey no longer is valid + And wine has been voted away-- + As for beer, we no longer will swill it + In riotous rollicking spree; + The little hot dogs in the skillet + Will have to be sluiced down with tea. + + O ales that were creamy like lather! + O beers that were foamy like suds! + O fizz that I loved like a father! + O fie on the drinks that are duds! + I sat by the doors that were slatted + And the stuff had a surf like the sea-- + No vintage was anywhere vatted + Too strong for ventripotent me! + + I wallowed in waves that were tidal, + But yet I was never unmoored; + And after the twentieth seidel + My syllables still were assured. + I never was forced to cut cable + And drift upon perilous shores, + To get home I was perfectly able, + Erect, or at least on all fours. + + Although I was often some swiller, + I never was fuddled or blowsed; + My hand was still firm on the tiller, + No matter how deep I caroused; + But now they have put an embargo + On jazz-juice that tingles the spine, + + We can't even cozen a cargo + Of harmless old gooseberry wine! + + But no legislation can daunt us: + The drinks that we knew never die: + Their spirits will come back to haunt us + And whimper and hover near by. + The spookists insist that communion + Exists with the souls that we lose-- + And so we may count on reunion + With all that's immortal of Booze. + + Those spirits we loved have departed + To some psychical twentieth plane; + But still we will not be downhearted, + We'll soon greet our loved ones again-- + To lighten our drouth and our tedium + Whenever our moments would sag, + We'll call in a spiritist medium + And go on a psychical jag! + +As the frenzy of cheering died away, Quimbleton's face took on the +glow of simple benignance that Bleak had first observed at the +time of the julep incident in the Balloon office. The flush of a +warm, impulsive idealism over-spread his genial features. It was +the face of one who deeply loved his fellow-men. + +"My friends," he said, "now I am able to say, in all sincerity, +Here's How. I have great honor in presenting to you my betrothed +fiancee, Miss Theodolinda Chuff. Do not be startled by the name, +gentlemen. Miss Chuff, the daughter of our arch-enemy, is wholly +in sympathy with us. She is the possessor (happily for us) of +extraordinary psychic powers. I have persuaded her to demonstrate +them for our benefit. If you will follow my instructions +implicitly, you will have the good fortune of witnessing an +alcoholic seance." + +Miss Chuff, very pale, but obviously glad to put her spiritual +gift at the disposal of her lover, was escorted to the platform by +Bleak. The editor had been coached beforehand by Quimbleton as to +the routine of the seance. + +"The first requirement," said Quimbleton to the awe-struck +gathering, "is to put yourselves in the proper frame of mind. For +that purpose I will ask you all to stand up, placing one foot on +the rung of a chair. Kindly imagine yourselves standing with one +foot on a brass rail. You will then summon to mind, with all +possible accuracy and vividness, the scenes of some bar-room which +was once dear to you. I will also ask you to concentrate your +mental faculties upon some beverage which was once your favorite. +Please rehearse in imagination the entire ritual which was once so +familiar, from the inquiring look of the bartender down to the +final clang of the cash-register. A visualization of the old free +lunch counter is also advisable. All these details will assist the +medium to trance herself." + +Bleak in the meantime had carried a small table on the platform, +and placed an empty glass upon it. Miss Chuff sat down at this +table, and gazed intently at the glass. Quimbleton produced a +white apron from somewhere, and tied it round his burly form. With +Bleak playing the role of customer he then went through a +pantomime of serving imaginary drinks. His representation of the +now vanished type of the bartender was so admirably realistic that +it brought tears to the eyes of more than one in the gathering. +The editor, with appropriate countenance and gesture, dramatized +the motions of ordering, drinking, and paying for his invisible +refreshment. His pantomime was also accurate and satisfying, +evidently based upon seasoned experience. The argument as to who +should pay, the gesture conveying the generous sentiment "This +one's on me," the spinning of a coin on the bar, the raising of +the elbow, the final toss that dispatched the fluid--all these +were done to the life. The audience followed suit with a will. A +whispering rustle ran through the dingy hall as each man murmured +his favorite catchwords. "Give it a name," "Set 'em up again," +"Here's luck," and such archaic phrases were faintly audible. Miss +Chuff kept her gaze fastened on the empty tumbler. + +Suddenly her rigid pose relaxed. She drooped forward in her chair, +with her head sunk and hands limp. Tenderly and reverently +Quimbleton bent over her. Then, his face shining with triumph, he +spoke to the hushed watchers. + +"She is in the trance," he said. "Gentlemen, her happy soul is in +touch with the departed spirits. What'll you have? Don't all speak +at once." + +Fifty-nine, in hushed voices, petitioned for a Bronx. Quimbleton +turned to the unconscious girl. + +"Fifty-nine devotees," he said, "ask that the spirit of the Bronx +cocktail vouchsafe his presence among us." + +Miss Chuff's slender figure stiffened again. Her hand went out to +the glass beside her, and raised it to her lips. Some of the more +eagerly credulous afterwards asserted that they had seen a cloudy +yellow liquid appear in the vessel, but it is not improbable that +the wish was father to the vision. At any rate, the fifty-nine +suppliants experienced at that instant a gush of sweet coolness +down their throats, and the unmistakable subsequent tingle. They +gazed at each other with a wild surmise. + +"How about another?" said one in a thrilling whisper. + +"Take your turn," said Quimbleton. "Who's next?" + +One hundred and fifty-three nominated Scotch whiskey. The order +was filled without a slip. Quimbleton's face beamed above his +beard like a full-blown rose. "Magnificent!" he whispered to +Bleak, both of them having partaken in the second round. "If this +keeps on we'll have a charge of the tight brigade." + +The next round was ninety-five Jack Rose cocktails, but the +audience was beginning to get out of hand. Those who had not yet +been served grew restive. They saw their companions with +brightened eyes and beaming faces, comparing notes as to this +delicious revival of old sensations. In the impatience of some and +the jubilation of others, the psychic concentration flagged a +little. Then, just as Quimbleton was about to ask for the fourth +round, the unforgiveable happened. Some one at the back shouted, +"A glass of buttermilk!" + +Miss Chuff shuddered, quivered, and opened her eyes with a tragic +gasp. She slipped from the chair, and fell exhausted to the floor. +Bleak ran to pick her up. Quimbleton screamed out an oath. + +"The spell is broken!" he roared. "There's a spy in the room!" + +At that instant a battalion of armed chuffs burst into the hall. +They carried a huge hose, and in ten seconds a six-inch stream of +cold water was being poured upon the bewildered psychic tipplers. +Quimbleton and Bleak, seizing the girl's helpless form, escaped by +a door at the back of the platform. + +"Heaven help us," cried Bleak, distraught. "What shall we do? This +means the firing squad unless we can escape." + +Theodolinda feebly opened her eyes. + +"O horrible," she murmured. "The spirit of buttermilk--I saw him-- +he threatened me--" + +"The horse!" cried Quimbleton, with fierce energy. "The Bishop's +horse--in the stable!" + +They ran wildly to the rear quarters of the Home, where they found +the Bishop's famous charger whinneying in his stall. All three +leaped upon his back. In the confusion, amid the screams of the +tortured inmates and the cruel cries of the invading chuffs, they +made good their escape. + +Every one of the wretched inmates captured at the psychic carouse +was immediately sentenced to six months' hard listening on the +Chautauqua circuit. But even during this brutal punishment their +memories returned with tenderest reminiscence to the experience of +that afternoon. As one of them said, "it was a real treat." And +although Quimbleton had plainly stated the relation in which he +stood to Theodolinda Chuff, she had no less than two hundred and +ten proposals of marriage, by mail, from those who had attended +the seance. + + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE DECANTERBURY PILGRIMS + + +Through a dreary waste of devastated country a little group of +refugees plodded in silence. All about them lay fields and +orchards which had been torn and uprooted as though by some +unbelievable whirlwind. At a watering trough along the road they +halted, facing the sign: + + COMPULSORY DRINKING STATION + + Adults, 1 quart + Children, 1 pint + + THIRST FORBIDDEN BETWEEN HERE AND THE NEXT STATION + +Under the eye of an armed chuff, who watched them suspiciously, +the wretched wanderers drank the water in silence, but without +enthusiasm. Then they shuffled on down the road. + +At the front of the small procession a slender girl, in a much- +stained sports suit, rode on a tall black horse. Beside the horse +trudged a bulky man in a grotesque garb of dirty lavender +quilting. A matted whisk of coarse beard drooped from his chin, +but his blue eyes burned brightly in his sunburnt face. Over his +shoulder he carried a six foot length of brass railing, a small +folding table, and a shabby knapsack. + +Behind the horse limped a lean, dyspeptic-colored individual in a +Palm Beach suit that would have been a social death-warrant on the +shining sands of its name-place. There is no form of sartorialism +that takes on such utter humility as a Palm Beach suit gone wrong. +This particular vestment was spotted with ink, with mud, with +fruit-juices, with every kind of stain; it was punctured with +perforations that might have been due to fallen tobacco tinder. +The individual within this travesty of clothing was painfully +propelling a wheelbarrow, in which rode (not without complaint) a +substantial woman and a baby. An older child trailed from the Palm +Beach coat-tail. + +These jovial vagabonds, as the reader will have suspected, were no +other than Theodolinda Chuff, Virgil Quimbleton, and the family of +Bleaks. + +Affairs had gone steadily from bad to worse. After the incident-- +or, as some blasphemously called it, the miracle--at Cana, Bishop +Chuff had commenced ruthless warfare. Enraged beyond control by +the perfidy of his daughter, he had sent out the armies of the +Pan-Antis to wreak vengeance on every human enterprise that could +be suspected of complicity in the matter of fermentation. Not only +had the countryside been laid waste, but the printing press had +been abolished and all publishing trades were now a thing of the +past. This, of course, had thrown Dunraven Bleak out of a job. He +had retrieved his wife and children from the seashore, and in +company with Quimbleton and Miss Chuff, and the noble and faithful +horse John Barleycorn, they had led a nomad existence for weeks, +flying from bands of pursuing chuffs, and bravely preaching their +illicit gospel of good cheer in the face of terrible dangers. + +The girl, who was indeed the Jeanne d'Arc of their cause, was +their sole means of subsistence. It was her psychic powers that +made it possible for them, in a furtive way, to give their little +entertainments. Their method was, on reaching a village where +there were no chuff troops, to distribute certain handbills which +Bleak had been able to get printed by stealth. These read thus: + +THE SIX QUIMBLETONS or The Decanterbury Pilgrims In Their Artistic +Revival Of Old and Entertaining Customs, Tableaux Vivants Vanished +Arts, Folklore Games and Conjuring Tricks Such as The Drinking of +Healths, Toasts, Nosepainting, The Lifted Elbow, Let's Match For +It, Say When, Light or Dark? and This One's On Me. COMMUNION WITH +DEPARTED SPIRITS Please Do Not Leave Before the Hat Goes Round + +Having taken their station in some not too prominent place, Bleak +would mount the wheelbarrow and play Coming Through the Rye on a +jew's-harp. This, his sole musical accomplishment, was exceedingly +distasteful to him: all his training had been in the anonymity of +a newspaper office, and he felt his public humiliation bitterly. + +When a crowd had gathered, Quimbleton would ascend the barrow and +make a brief speech (of a highly inflammatory and treasonable +nature) after which he would set up the small table and the brass +rail, produce a white apron and a tumbler from his knapsack, and +introduce Theodolinda for an alcoholic trance. It was found that +the public entered into the spirit of these seances with great +gusto, and often the collection taken up was gratifyingly large. +However, the life was hazardous in the extreme, and they were in +perpetual danger of meeting secret service agents. It was only by +repeated private trances of their own that they were able to keep +up their morale. + +Reaching a bend in the way, where a grove of trees cast a grateful +shade, the Decanterbury Pilgrims halted to rest. Quimbleton helped +Theodolinda down from her horse, and they all sat sadly by the +roadside. + +"Theo," said Quimbleton, as he wiped his brow, "do you think, +dear, that if I set up the table you could give us a little +trance? Upon my soul, I am nearly done in." + +"Darling Virgil," said Theodolinda, "I really can't do it. You +know I've given you four trances already this morning, and you +have communed with the soul of Wurzburger at least a dozen times. +Then, as you know, I have put Mr. Bleak in touch with a julep six +or seven times. All that takes it out of me dreadfully. I really +must consider my art a bit: I don't want to be a mere psychic +bartender, a clairvoyant distiller." + +"You are quite right, dear girl," said Quimbleton remorsefully. +"But I couldn't help thinking how agreeable a psychical seidel of +dark beer would be just now. You are our little Jeanne Dark, you +know," he added, with an atrocious attempt at pleasantry. + +"That's all very well," said Bleak (who preferred julep to beer), +"but if we don't look out Miss Chuff will go into a permanent +trance. I've noticed it has been harder and harder to bring her +back from these states of suspended sobriety. You know, if we +crowd these phantasms of the grape upon her too fast, she might +pass over altogether, and stay behind the bar for good. We are +deeply indebted to Miss Chuff for her adorable willingness to act +as a kind of bunghole into the spirit world, but we don't want her +to slip through the hole and evaporate." + +"Safety thirst!" cried Quimbleton, raising his loved one to his +lips. + +"We can't go on like this indefinitely," continued Bleak. "I don't +mind being a mountebank, but mountebanks don't pay much interest. +I'd rather be a safe deposit somewhere out of Chuff's reach. +There's too much drama in this way of living." + +"I can stand the drama as long as I get the drams," said the +unrepentant Quimbleton. + +"Well, _I_ won't stand it!" exclaimed Mrs. Bleak, shrilly. "Look +what your insane schemes have brought us to! You and my husband +seem to find comfort in your psychical toping, but I don't notice +any psychical millinery being draped about for Miss Chuff or +myself. And look at the children! They're simply in rags. If you +really loved Miss Chuff I should think you'd be ashamed to use her +as a spiritual demijohn! You've alienated her from her father, and +reduced my husband from managing editor of a leading paper to +managing jew's-harpist of a gang of psychic bootleggers." She +burst into angry tears. + +Quimbleton groaned, and turned a ghastly fade upon Bleak. + +"It's quite true," he said. + +In the excitement Miss Chuff had turned very pale. + +"Virgil," she said faintly, "I believe I feel a trance coming on." + +"Great grief!" cried the harassed leader. "Not now, my darling! I +think I see some troops in the distance. Quick, try to concentrate +your mind on lemonade, on buttermilk, on beef tea!" + +Happily this crisis passed. Theodolinda had presence of mind +enough to pull out a little photograph of her father from some +secret hiding place, and by putting her mind on it shook off the +dominion of the other world. + +Quimbleton spoke with anguished remorse. + +"Mrs. Bleak is right. I've been trying to hide it from myself, but +I can do so no longer. This monkey business--what we might call +this gorilla warfare--must stop. We will only land in front of a +firing squad. I have only one idea, which I have been saving in +case all else failed." + +The Bleaks were too discouraged to comment, but Theodolinda smiled +bravely. + +"Virgil dear," she said, "your ideas are always so original. What +is it?" + +Quimbleton stood up, unconsciously putting one foot on the +portable brass rail which rested on its six-inch legs by the +roadside. His tired eyes shone anew with characteristic +enthusiasm. It was plain that he imagined himself before a large +and sympathetic audience. + +"My friends," he said, "the secret of eloquence is to know your +facts--or, as the all-powerful Chuff would amend it, to know your +tracts. One fact, I think I may say, is plain. The jig is up, or +(more literally), the jag is up. I can see now that alcohol will +never be more than a memory. Principalities and powers are in +league against us. If the malt has lost its favor, wherewith shall +it be malted?" + +He paused a moment, as though expecting a little applause, and +Theodolinda murmured an encouraging "Here, here." + +With rekindled eye he resumed. + +"Alcohol, I say, will never be more than a memory. Yet even a +memory must be kept alive. The great tradition must not die. For +the very sake of antiquarian accuracy, for the instruction of +posterity, some exact record must be kept of the influence of +alcohol upon the human soul. How can this be preserved? Not in +books, not in the dead mummies of a museum. No, not in dead +mummies, indeed, but in living rummies. That brings me to my great +idea, which I have long cherished. + +"I propose, my dear friends, that in some appropriate shrine, +surrounded by all the authentic trappings and utensils, some +chosen individual be maintained at the public charge, to exhibit +for the contemplation of a drouthing world the immortal flame of +intoxication. He will be known, without soft concealments, as the +Perpetual Souse. In his little bar, served by austere attendants, +he will be kept in a state of gentle exhilaration. Nothing gross, +nothing unseemly, I insist! In that state of sweetly glowing mind +and heart, in that ineffable blossoming of all the nobler +qualities of human dignity, this priest of alcohol will represent +and perpetuate the virtues of the grape. Booze, in the general +sense, will have gone West, but ah how fair and ruddy a sunset +will it have in the person of this its vicar! There he will live, +visited, studied, revered, a living memorial. There he will live, +perpetually in a mellow fume of bliss, trailing clouds of glory, +as if--as some poet says, + + As if his whole vocation + Were endless intoxication. + +And now, my friends--not to weary you with the minor details of +this far-reaching proposal--let me come to the point. For so +gravely responsible a post, for an office so representative of the +ideals and ambitions of millions, the choice cannot be cast +haphazard. The choice must fall upon one qualified, confirmed, +consecrated to this end. This deeply significant office must be +conferred by the people themselves. It must be conferred by +popular election. Candidates must be nominated, must stump the +country explaining their qualifications. And let me say that, upon +looking over the whole field, I see one man, who by the jury of +his peers--or shall I say by the jury of his beers?--is supremely +fitted for this post. It is my intention to nominate Mr. Dunraven +Bleak for the office of Perpetual Souse." + +There was a moment of complete silence while his hearers +considered the vast scope of this remarkable suggestion. It is +only fair to say that Mr. Bleak's face had at first lighted up, +but then he glanced at his wife and his countenance grew pinched. +He spoke hastily: + +"A very generous thought, my dear fellow; but I feel that you +would be far more competent for this form of public service than I +could hope to be." + +"Your modesty does you credit," replied Quimbleton, "but you +forget that owing to my relation with Miss Chuff I shall happily +be precluded from the necessity of entering public life for this +purpose." + +"And what, pray," said Mrs. Bleak with distinct asperity, "is to +become of me and the children if Mr. Bleak is elected to this +preposterous office?" + +"I was coming to that," said Quimbleton eagerly. "It would be +arranged, of course, that the Perpetual Souse would be granted a +liberal salary for his family expenses; you and your delightful +children would be maintained at the public expense in a suitable +bungalow nearby, with a private family entrance into the official +cellars. Your rank, of course, would be that of Perpetual Spouse." + +"My good Quimbleton," said Bleak, somewhat bitterly, "this is a +fascinating vision indeed, but how can it be accomplished? How +would you ever get such a scheme accepted by Bishop Chuff, who +will never forgive you for kidnaping his daughter? You are +building bar-rooms in Spain, my dear chap; you are blowing mere +soap-bubbles." + +"And why not?" cried his friend. "Bishop Chuff has called me a +soap-box orator. At any rate, a man who stands upon a soap-box is +nearer heaven by several inches than the man who stands upon the +ground." + +Theodolinda's face sparkled with the impact of an idea. + +"Come," she said, "it's not impossible after all. I have a +thought. We'll offer Father an armistice and talk things over with +him. He doesn't know what straits we're in, and maybe we can bring +him to terms. He was very badly scared by those gooseberry bombs, +and maybe we can bluff him into a concession." + +"If we had had any luck," said Quimbleton, "we would have blown +him into a concussion. But anyway, that's a bonny scheme. We'll +grant him a truce. Bleak, you're a newspaper man, just get hold of +the United Press and let them know the armistice is signed." + +Bleak smiled wanly at the thrust. + +"All right," he said. "Let's go. But what's your idea, Miss Chuff? +We must have something to base negotiations on." + +"Wait and see," she cried gayly. "We'll talk it over as we go +along." + +Mrs. Bleak aroused her children, who had fallen asleep, and +climbed back into the wheelbarrow. + +"I don't know that I approve of that scheme of making Dunraven the +Perpetual Souse," she remarked. "I can imagine what my poor mother +would say about it if she were living. She came of fine old +Kentucky stock, and it would humiliate her deeply to know to what +a level we had been reduced." + +"My dear Mrs. Bleak," said Quimbleton, as he hoisted his betrothed +into the saddle and the pilgrims began to move, "I know of a great +deal of good old Kentucky stock that has had a far worse fate than +that in these tragic years." + + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +WITH BENEFIT OF CLERGY + + +Through the sullen streets of the terrorized city Miss Chuff, +Quimbleton and Bleak proceeded toward the great building where the +Pan-Antis had their headquarters. They had left Mrs. Bleak, the +children and the horse at a quiet soda-fountain in the suburbs. +After repeated application over the wireless telephone, the +terrible Bishop--the Prohibishop, as Quimbleton called him--had +agreed to grant them an audience, and had accorded them safe- +conduct through the chuff troops. Even so, their progress was +difficult. Every few hundred yards they were halted and subjected +to curt inquiry. Men and women who had heard of their gallant +struggle against fearful odds pressed forward in an attempt to +seize their hands, to embrace and applaud them, but these +evidences of enthusiasm were sternly repressed by the chuffs. + +Bleak was frankly nervous as they approached the Chuff Building. + +"What line of talk are we going to adopt?" he asked. + +"Like any self-respecting line," replied Quimbleton, "Ours will be +the shortest distance between two points. The first point is that +we want to obtain something from Chuff. The second is that we have +some information to give him which will be of immense value to +him. This we shall hold over him as a club, to force him to +concede what we want." + +"And what is this club?" asked Bleak, somewhat suspicious of his +friend's sanguine disposition. + +"The admirable plan," said Quimbleton, "is Theodolinda's idea. She +knows her father better than we do. She says that his passion is +for prohibiting things. He thinks he has now prohibited everything +possible. We are in a position to tell him something that still +remains unprohibited. His eagerness to know what that may be will +make him yield to our request." + +Bleak pondered gloomily. As far as he could recall, the +Prohibition Government had overlooked nothing. The quaint part of +it was that some of its prohibitions, carried to their logical +extreme, had curiously overleaped their mark. For instance, +finding it impossible to enforce the laws against playing games on +Sundays, the Government had concluded that the only way to make +the Sabbath utterly immaculate was to abolish it altogether, which +was done. Other laws, probably based upon genuine zeal for human +welfare, had resulted in odd evasions or legal fictions. For +instance, people were forbidden to miss trains. The penalty for +missing a train was ten days' hard labor splitting infinitives in +the government tract-factory. Rather than impose this harsh +punishment on any one, good-hearted engineers would permit their +trains to loiter about the stations until they felt certain no +other passengers would turn up. Consequently no trains were ever +on time, and the Government was forced to do away with time +entirely. Another thing that was abolished was hot weather. It had +been found too tedious to tilt the axis of the earth, therefore +all the thermometers were re-scaled. When the temperature was +really 96 degrees, the mercury registered only 70 degrees, and +every one was saying how jolly cool it was for the time of year. +This, of course, was careless, for there was no such thing as time +or year, but still people kept on saying it. Bleak was thinking +over these matters when he suddenly recalled that it was forbidden +to remember things as they had been under the old regime. He +pulled himself up with a start. In order to make his mind a blank +he tried to imagine himself about to write a leading editorial for +the Balloon. This was so successful that he did not come to earth +again until they stood in the ante-room--or as Quimbleton called +it, the anti-room--of the Bishop. + +"Who is to be spokesman?" he said apprehensively, gazing with +distaste at the angular females who were pecking at typewriters. +"It would be unseemly for me to present my own claims in this +project. Quimbleton, you are the one--you have the gift of the +tongue." + +"I would rather have the gift of the bung," whispered Quimbleton +resolutely as they were ushered into the inner sanctum. + +The dreaded Bishop sat at an immense ebony flat-topped desk. The +room was furnished like his mind, that is to say, sparsely, and +without any southern exposure. A peculiarly terrifying feature of +the scene was that the top of the desk was completely bare, not a +single paper lay on it. Remembering his own desk in the newspaper +office, Bleak felt that this was unnatural and monstrous. He +noticed a breathoscope on the mantelpiece, with its sensitive +needle trembling on the scaled dial which read thus:-- + +As he watched the indicator oscillate rapidly on the dial, and +finally subside uncertainly at zero, he thanked heaven that they +had indulged in no psychic grogs that day. + +The Bishop's black beard foamed downward upon the desk like a +gloomy cataract. Quimbleton for a moment was almost abashed, and +regretted that he had not thought to whitewash his own dingy +thicket. + +Bishop Chuff's piercing and cruel gaze stabbed all three. He +ignored Theodolinda with contempt. His disdain was so complete +that (as the unhappy girl said afterward) he seemed more like a +younger brother than a father. There were no chairs: they were +forced to stand. In a small mirror fastened to the edge of his +desk the sneering potentate could note the dial-reading of the +instrument without turning. He watched the reflected needle +flicker and come to rest. + +"So, Mr. Quimbleton," he said, in a harsh and untuned voice, "You +come comparatively sober. Strange that you should choose to be +unintoxicated when you face the greatest ordeal of your life." + +The savage irony of this angered Quimbleton. + +"One touch of liquor makes the whole world kin," he said. "I +assure you I have no desire to claim kinship with your bitter and +intolerant soul." + +"Ah?" said the Bishop, with mock politeness. "You relieve me +greatly. I had thought you desired to claim me as father-in-law." + +"Oh, Parent!" cried Theodolinda; "How can you be so cruel? Sarcasm +is such a low form of humor." + +"I am not trying to be humorous," said the Bishop grimly. "You, +who were once the apple of my eye, are now only an apple of +discord. You, whom I considered such a promising child, are now a +breach of promise. You have sucked my blood. You are a Vampire." + +"The Vampire on whom the sun never sets," whispered Quimbleton to +the terrified girl, encouraging her as she shrank against him. + +"This is no time for jest," said the Bishop angrily. "You said you +had a matter of vital import to lay before me. Make haste. And +remember that you are here only on sufferance. I shall be +pitiless. I shall scourge the evil principle you represent from +the face of the earth." + +"We do not fear your threats," said Quimbleton stoutly. "We are +not alarmed by your frown." + +He was, greatly, but he was sparring for time to put his thoughts +in order. He started to say "Uneasy lies the head that wears a +frown," which was an aphorism of his own he thought highly of, but +Theodolinda checked him. She knew that her father detested puns. +It was perhaps his only virtue. + +"Bishop Chuff," said Quimbleton, "perhaps you are not aware of the +strength and tenacity of the sentiment we represent. I assure you +that if you underestimate the power of the millions of thirsty +mouths that speak through us, you will rue the consequences. +Trouble is brewing--" + +"Neither trouble, nor anything else, is brewing nowadays," said +the terrible Bishop. + +Theodolinda saw that Quimbleton was losing ground by his +incorrigible habit of talking before he said anything. She broke +in impetuously, and explained the plan for the Perpetual Souse. +Her father listened to the end with his cold, forbidding gaze, +while the sensitive needle of the recording instrument on the +mantel danced and wagged in agitation. + +"So this is your scheme, is it?" he said. "Abandoned offspring, +you deserve the gallows." + +"Wait a moment," said Quimbleton. "Now comes the other side of the +argument. If you grant us this concession we in turn will put you +in possession of a magnificent idea. You think that you have +prohibited everything. Your vetoes cumber the earth. But there is +still one thing you have forgotten to prohibit." + +"What is it?" said the Bishop coldly. His hard face was unmoved, +but his eyes brightened a trifle. + +"There is one thing you have forgotten to prohibit," said +Quimbleton solemnly. "I can hardly conceive how it escaped you. +The one thing that harasses human beings over the whole civilized +world. The one thing which, if you were to abolish it, would make +your name, foul as that now is, blessed in the ears of men. Oh, +the joy of still having something to prohibit! The unmixed bliss +and high privilege of the vetoing function! I envy you, from my +heart, in still having something to forbid." + +The Bishop stirred uneasily in his chair. "What is it?" he said. + +Quimbleton watched him with a steady and slightly annoying smile. + +"I like to dwell in imagination upon your surprise when you +realize what you have overlooked. It seems so simple! To abolish, +prohibit, banish, and remove, at one swoop, the chief +preoccupation of mankind! The simple and high-minded felicity of +still having something prohibitable subject to your omnipotent +legislation! But there, I dare say I am wrong. Probably you are +weary of prohibiting things." + +Quimbleton made a motion to his companions as though to leave the +room. The Bishop leaped to his feet, with curiously mingled anger +and eagerness on his face. "Stop!" he cried. "You can't mean +laughter? I abolished that some weeks ago. I don't believe there +is anything left--" + +"How quaint it is," said Quimbleton (as though talking to +himself), "that it is always the plainly obvious that eludes! But, +of course, the reason you have not abolished this matter before is +that to do so would wholly alter and undermine the habits of the +race. Nothing would be the same as before. I daresay a good deal +of misery would be caused in the long run, who knows? Ah well, it +seems a pity you forgot it--" + +"Hell's bells!" roared the Bishop, bringing his fist down on the +desk with fury--"What is it? Let me get at it!" + +"I should be sorry to marry into a profane family," was +Quimbleton's reply, moving toward the door. + +The Bishop chewed the end of his beard with a crunching sound. +This unpleasant gesture caused a tingle to pass along Bleak's +sensitive spine, already strained to painful nervous tension. The +office of the Perpetual Souse hung in the balance. + +"Look here," said Bishop Chuff, "If I let you have your way about +the--the Permanent Exhibit, will you tell me what it is I have +forgotten to prohibit?" + +"With pleasure," said Quimbleton. "Will you put it down in black +and white, please?" + +He secured the Bishop's signature to a document giving +instructions for the necessary legislation to be passed. Folding +the precious paper in his pocket, Quimbleton faced the black- +browed Bishop. He held Theodolinda by the hand. + +"I am sorry," he said, "that I should have forgotten to bring a +ring with me. If I had done so, you might have married us here and +now. At least you will not refuse us your blessing?" + +"Blessings have been abolished," said Chuff in a voice of +exasperation. "Now inform me what it is that I have forgotten to +condemn." + +"Work!" cried Quimbleton, and the three ran hastily from the room. + + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE ELECTION + + +In the days following Quimbleton's coup Chuff was in seclusion. It +was rumored that he was ill; it was rumored that the sounds of +breaking furniture had been heard by the neighbors on Caraway +Street. But at any rate the Bishop lived up to his word. Orders +over his signature went to Congress, and vast sums of money were +appropriated immediately for + +The establishment and maintenance of a national park with suitable +buildings and appurtenances wherein might be maintained an elected +individual in a state of freedom, with access to alcoholic +beverages, in order that successive generations might view for +themselves the devastating effects of alcohol upon the human +system. + +No political campaign was ever contested with more zeal and zest +than that which led up to the election of the Perpetual Souse. +Life had grown rather dreary under the innumerable prohibitions of +the Chuff regime, and the citizens welcomed the excitement of the +campaign as a notable diversion. Quimbleton appointed himself +chairman of the committee to nominate Bleak, and the editor +(acting under his friend's instructions) had hardly begun to deny +vigorously that he had any intention of being a candidate before +he found himself plunged into a bewildering vortex of meetings, +speeches, and confessions of faith. Marching clubs, properly +outfitted with two-quart silk tiles and frock coats, were spatting +their way plumply down the Boulevard. Torchlight processions +tinted the night; ward picnics strewed the shells of hard-boiled +eggs on the lawns of suburban amusement parks, while Bleak, very +ill at ease, was kissing adhesive babies and autographing tissue +napkins and smiling horribly as he whirled about with the +grandmothers in the agony of the carrousel. More than once, +reeling with the endless circuit of a painted merry-go-round +charger, the perplexed candidate became so confused that he kissed +the paper napkin and autographed the baby. + +He found Quimbleton a stern ringleader. Virgil was not satisfied +with the old-fashioned method of stumping the country from the +taff-rail of a Pullman car, and insisted on strapping Bleak into +the cockpit of a biplane and flying him from city to city. They +would land in some central square, and the candidate, deafened and +half-frozen, would stammer a few halting remarks. He felt it +rather keenly that Quimbleton looked down on his lack of +oratorical gift, and it was a frequent humiliation that when words +did not prosper on his tongue his impatient pilot would turn on +the motors and zoom off into space in the very middle of a +sentence. + +Nevertheless, the campaign went famously. Bleak had one +considerable advantage in being comparatively unknown. He had +never permitted himself the luxury of making enemies: except for a +few ex-reporters who had once worked on the Balloon he had not a +foe in the world. Quimbleton had been eager to import a covey of +gunmen from other cities, but when these arrived there was really +nothing for them to do. They were glad to accept jobs from Bishop +Chuff, and were well paid for waylaying and sniping the few grapes +and apples that had escaped previous pogroms. + +There was only one plank in Bleak's modest platform, but he walked +it so happily that it began to look like a gangplank leading onto +the Ship of State. He expressed his doctrine very agreeably in his +speech accepting the party nomination; though credit should be +given to Theodolinda, who had assisted him by a little private +seance before he addressed the convention. + +"Ladies and gentlemen," he said (looking as he spoke at one of the +handbills announcing his candidacy for the dignity of mouthpiece +of the nation)--"I issue dodgers, but I never dodge the issue. I +can Take It or Let It Alone, but frankly, I prefer to Take It. I +hope I speak modestly: yet candor insists that both by past +training and present inclination I feel myself fitted to deal with +the problems of this exalted office. If elected to this high place +of trust I shall regard myself solely as the servant of the +public, solely as the representative of your sovereign will. As I +raise the glass or peel the lemon, I shall not act in any +individual capacity. My own good cheer (I beg you to believe) will +be my last thought. I shall remember, in every gesture and every +gulp, that my thirst is in reality the Thirst of a Nation, +delegated to me by ballot; that my laughter and song (if things +should go so far) are truly the mirth and music of a proud people +expressing themselves through me. I shall be at all times +accessible to my fellow-men, solicitous to hear their counsel and +command. Believing (as I do) in moderation, yet I should not dream +of permitting private sentiment to interfere with public interest +when more violent measures should seem desirable. + +"I like to think, my fellow-citizens, that you have conferred this +nomination upon me not wholly at random. I like to think that I am +only expressing your thought when I say that many drinkers have +been the worst enemies of the cause we all hold dear. The +alcoholshevik and the I.W.W.--the I Wallow in Wine faction--have +done much to discredit the old bland Jeffersonian toper who +carried tippling to the level of a fine art. I have no patience +with the doctrine of complete immersion. Ever since I was first +admitted to the bar I have deplored the conduct of those violent +and vulgar revelers who have brought discredit upon the loveliest, +most delicate art known to man. Now, at last, by supreme wisdom, +drinking is to be elevated to the dignity of a career. I like to +think that I express your sentiment when I say that drinking is +too precious, too subtle, too fragile a function to be entrusted +to the common crowd. Therefore I heartily applaud your admirable +intention of entrusting it entirely to me, and look forward with +profound satisfaction to the privilege of enshrining and +perpetuating in my own person the genial traditions that have +clustered round the institution of Liquor. If elected, I shall +endeavor to carry on the fine old rituals and pass them down +unimpaired to the next incumbent. I shall endeavor to make duty a +pleasure, and pleasure a duty. I shall remind myself that I am +only performing the service to humanity that each one of you would +willingly render if you were in my place. + +"My fellow-citizens, I thank you for your amiable confidence, and +am happy to accept the nomination." + +There were some who criticized this speech on the ground that it +was too academic. It was remembered that Mr. Bleak had at one time +been a school-teacher, and his opponents were quick to raise the +cry "What can a schoolmaster know about liquor?" It was said that +Mr. Bleak was too scholarly, too aloof, too cold-blooded: that his +interest in booze was merely philosophical, that he would be +incompetent to deal with the practical problems of actual +drinking: that he would surround himself with drinks that would be +mere puppets, subservient entirely to his own purposes. The +adherents of Jerry Purplevein, the nominee of the other party, +made haste to assert that Bleak was not a drinker at all but was a +tool of the Chuff machine. Jerry was a former bartender who had +been pining away in the ice-cream cone business. Huge banners +appeared across the streets, showing highly colored pictures of +Mr. Purplevein plying his original profession, with the legend: + + RALLY ROUND THE FLAGON + + VOTE FOR + + PURPLEVEIN + + THE PRACTICAL MAN + +One of the exciting features of the campaign was the sudden +appearance of a Woman's Party, which launched an ably-conducted +boom for a Woman Souse and nominated Miss Cynthia Absinthe as its +candidate. The idea of having a woman elected to this responsible +office was disconcerting to many citizens, but Miss Absinthe's +record (as outlined by her publicity headquarters) compelled +respect. She was reputed to have been a passionate and tumultuous +consumer of sloe gin, and thousands of women in white bartenders' +coats marched with banners announcing: + + ABSINTHE MAKES THE HEART GROW FONDER VOTE FOR CYNTHIA + + and + + OUR SLOGAN IS SLOE GIN + +For a while there was quite a probability that the male vote would +be so split by Bleak and Purplevein that Miss Absinthe would come +in ahead. But at the height of the campaign she was found in a +pharmacy drinking a maple nut foam. After this her cause declined +rapidly, and even her most ardent partisans admitted that she +would never be more than an Intermittent Souse. + +Purplevein's followers, in their desperate efforts to discredit +Bleak, overplayed their hand (as "practical politicians" always +do). The sagacious Quimbleton outmaneuvered them at every turn. +Moderate drinkers rallied round Bleak. Moreover, the Bleak party +had an irresistible assistant in the person of Miss Chuff, who put +her trances unreservedly at Dunraven's disposal. In this way +Quimbleton was able to produce his candidate before a monster mass +meeting at the Opera House in a state of becoming exhilaration. +This forever put an end to the rumor that Bleak was not a +practical man. Miss Chuff also campaigned strenuously among the +women, where Purplevein (being a bachelor) was at a disadvantage. +"Vote for Bleak," cried Miss Chuff--"He has a wife to help him." +Purplevein's argument that the office of Perpetual Souse should be +an entirely stag affair fell dead before Theodolinda's glowing +description of the Hostess House which Mrs. Bleak would conduct +next door to the little temple which was to be erected by the +government for the successful candidate. + +Despite the exhaustion of the campaign, Bleak stood it well. +Quimbleton, knowing the disastrous effects of over-confidence, +kept his man at fighting edge by a little judicious pessimism now +and then, and rumors of the popularity of Purplevein among the +hard drinkers. Day after day Quimbleton and Miss Chuff, after a +little psychic communing, would prop the editor among cushions in +the big gray limousine and spin him about the city and suburbs to +bow, smile, say a few automatic words and pass on. Over the car +floated a big banner with the words: Let Bleak Do Your Drinking +For You: He Knows How. The unhappy Purplevein, who had to do his +electioneering in a state of chill sobriety, was aghast to see the +beaming and gently flushed face of his rival radiating cheer. At +the eleventh hour he tried to change his tactics and plastered the +billboards with immense posters: + + BLEAK DOESN'T NEED THE JOB--HE'S SOUSED ALREADY + +This line of argument might perhaps have been powerful if adopted +earlier, but by that time the agreeable vision of Bleak's ascetic +features wreathed in a faintly spiritual benignance was already +firmly fixed in the public imagination. The little celluloid +button showing his transfigured and endearing smile was worn on +millions of lapels. As one walked down the street one met that +little badge hundreds of times, and the mere repetition of the +tenderly exhilarated face seemed to many a citizen a beautiful and +significant thing. Men are altruistic at heart. They saw that +Bleak would make of this high office a richly eloquent and +appealing stewardship. They were reconciled to their own +abstinence in the thought that the dreams and desires of their own +hearts would be so nobly fulfilled by him. Alcohol was gone +forever, and perhaps it was as well. They themselves were +conscious of having abused its sacred powers. But now, in the +person of this chosen representative, all that was lovely and +laughable in the old customs would be consecrated and enshrined +forever. Men who had known Bleak in the days of his employment on +the Balloon recollected that even during the cares and efforts of +his profession little incidents had occurred that might have shown +(had they been shrewd enough to notice) how faithfully he was +preparing himself for the great responsibility destiny held +concealed. + +The day of the election was declared a national festival. The +Chuff government, a good deal startled by the universal +seriousness and enthusiasm shown in the enrollment at the +primaries, was disposed (in secret) to regard the office of +Perpetual Souse as a helpful compromise on a vexed question. The +war against Nature had been only partially successful: indeed the +chuff chief-of-staff declared that Nature had not learned her +lesson yet, and that some irreconcilable berries and fruits were +still waging a guerilla fermentation, thus rupturing the armistice +terms. The countryside had been ravaged, all the Chautauqua +lecturers were hoarse, industry was at a standstill, misery and +despair were widespread. Even the indomitable Chuff himself was a +little nonplussed. Better (he thought) one man indubitably, +decorously, publicly, and legally drunk, than millions of citizens +privily attempting to cajole raisins and apples into illicit +sprightliness. + +The citizens went to the polls in a mood of exalted self-denial. +They knew that they were voting away their own rights, but they +also knew that their private ideals would be more than realized in +the legalized frenzy of their representative. Bleak, appearing on +the balcony of his hotel, smiled affectionately on the loyal faces +that cheered him from below. He was deeply moved. To Quimbleton +(who was supporting him from behind) he said: "Their generosity is +wonderful. I shall try to be worthy of their confidence. I hope I +may have strength to put into practice the frustrated desires of +these noble people." + +The result of the polling was to be announced by a searchlight +from the City Hall. A white beam sweeping eastward would mean the +election of Purplevein. A white beam sweeping westward would mean +the triumph of Miss Absinthe. A steady red beam cast upward toward +the zenith would indicate the victory of Bleak. + +At ten o'clock that night a scream of cheers burst from millions +of people packed along the city streets. A clear, glowing shaft of +red light leaped upward into the sky. Dunraven Bleak had been +elected Perpetual Souse. + +Purplevein, who was rather a decent sort, hastened to Bleak's +hotel to offer his congratulations. Bleak, who was sitting quietly +with Mrs. Bleak, Quimbleton and Theodolinda, greeted him calmly. +Poor Purplevein was very much broken up, and Quimbleton and +Theodolinda, in the goodness of their hearts, arranged a quiet +little seance for his benefit. They all sat their drinking psychic +Three-Star in honor of the event. As Quimbleton said, helping +Purplevein back to his motor--"Hitch your flagon to a Star." + + + + + +CHAPTER X + +E PLURIBUS UNUM! + + +Virgil and Theodolinda were returning from their honeymoon, which +they had spent touring in Quimbleton's Spad plane. They had been +in South America most of the time, where they found charming hosts +eager to console them for the tragical developments in the +northern continent. + +It was a superb morning in early autumn when they were flying +homeward. Beneath them lay the green and level meadows of New +Jersey, and the dusky violet blue of the ocean shading to a +translucent olive where long ridges of foam crumbled upon pale +beaches. They turned inland, flying leisurely to admire the beauty +of the scene. The mounting sun spread a golden shimmer over woods +and corn-stubble. White roads ran like ribbons across the +landscape. Quimbleton glided gently downward, intending to skim +low over the treetops so that his bride might enjoy the rich +loveliness of the view. + +Suddenly the great plane dipped sharply, tilted, and very nearly +fell into a side-slip. Quimbleton was just able to pull her up +again and climbed steeply to a safer altitude. He looked at his +dashboard dials and indicators with a puzzled face. "Very queer," +he said to Theodolinda through the speaking tube, "the air here +has very little carrying power. It seems extraordinarily thin. You +might think we were flying in a partial vacuum." + +From the behavior of the plane it was evident that some curious +atmospheric condition was prevailing. There seemed to be a large +hole or pocket in the air, and in spite of his best efforts the +pilot was unable to get on even wing. Finally, fearing to lapse +into a tail spin, he planed down to make a landing. Beneath them +was a beautiful green lawn surrounded by groves of trees. In the +middle of this lawn they struck gently, taxied across the smooth +turf, and came to a stop beneath a splendid oak. Quimbleton +assisted his wife to get out, and they sat down for a few minutes' +rest under the tree. + +"What a heavenly spot!" cried Theodolinda, "I wonder where we +are?" + +"Somewhere in New Jersey," said her husband. "I don't understand +what was the matter with the air. It didn't act according to +Hoyle." + +They gazed about them in some surprise at the opulent beauty of +the scene. It seemed to be a kind of park, laid out in lawns, +gardens and shrubbery, with groves of old trees here and there. A +little artificial lake twinkled in a hollow. + +They happened to be gazing upward when a small round ball of tawny +color fell from the tree. It was a robin. Folded solidly for +sleep, he fell unresisting by the flutter of a wing, turning over +and over gently until he struck the turf with the tiniest of soft +thuds. He bounced slightly, rolled a little distance, and settled +motionless in the grass. + +Quimbleton, amazed, stooped over the fallen bird, supposing it to +be dead. Without lifting it from the ground he withdrew its head +from under its wing. The bright eye unlidded and gazed at him +sleepily. Then the bird closed its eye with a certain weary +resignation, put its head back under its wing, and relaxed +comfortably in the grass. + +Quimbleton was no very acute student of nature, but this seemed +very odd to him. And then, examining the lower limbs of the tree, +he uttered an exclamation. He swung himself up into the oak and +shook one of the branches. Five other birds plopped comfortably +into the grass and rested as easily as the first. He examined them +one by one. They were all sound asleep. + +"Most amazing!" he said. "My dear, we will have to take up nature +study. I am really ashamed of my ignorance. I always thought that +owls were the only birds that slept by day." + +Theodolinda was looking at the five small bodies. She raised one +of them gently, and sniffed gingerly. + +"Virgil," she said solemnly, "this is not mere slumber. These +birds are drunk!" + +Quimbleton was about to speak when a grasshopper went by like an +airplane, zooming in a twenty-foot leap. A bee sagged along +heavily in an irregular zig-zag, and a caterpillar, more agile and +purposeful than any caterpillar they had ever seen, staggered +swiftly across a carpet of moss. + +The same thought struck them simultaneously, and at that moment +Theodolinda noticed a small white signboard affixed to a tree- +trunk in the grove. They ran to it, and saw in neat lettering: + + TO THE PERPETUAL SOUSE, ONE MILE + +"Bless me!" cried Quimbleton. "What a stroke of luck! You know old +Bleak wrote us when we were in Rio that he had been installed in +his temple, but he didn't say where it was. Let's toddle up and +have a look at him. That's why the bus acted so queerly. No +wonder: we were probably flying in alcohol vapor." + +They walked through the grove and emerged upon a lawn that sloped +gently upward. At the brow stood a beautiful little temple of +Greek architecture. As they approached they read, carved into the +marble architrave: + + AEDES TEMULENTI PERPETUI + E PLURIBUS UNUM + +The little porch, under the marble columns, was cool and shady. A +signboard said: Visiting Hours, Noon to Midnight. Quimbleton +looked at his watch. "It's not noon yet," he said, "but as we're +old friends I dare say he'll be willing to see us." + +Pushing through a slatted swinging door of beautifully carved +bronze, they found themselves in a charmingly furnished reference +library. There were lounges and deep leather chairs, and ash trays +for smokers. Quimbleton, who was something of a bookworm, ran his +eye along the shelves. "A very neat idea," he said. "They have +collected a little library of all the standard works on drink. +This should be of great value to future historians and +researchers." + +Through another swinging door they found the central shrine. + +It was circular in shape, illuminated through a clear skylight. +Under the rotunda was a low, broad marble counter, surmounted by a +gleaming mirror and a noble array of bottles, flasks, decanters, +goblets and glasses of every size. The pale yellow of white wines, +the ruby of claret, the tawny brown of port, the green and violet +and rose of various liqueurs, sparkled in their appointed vessels. +In front of this altar stood a three-foot mahogany bar, with its +scrolled rim and diminutive brass rail, all complete. A red velvet +cord hung from brass posts separated it from the open floor. + +A series of mural paintings, in the vivid coloring and superb +technique of Maxfield Parrish, adorned the walls of the room. They +portrayed the history of Alcohol from the dawn of time down to the +summer of 1919. A space for one more painting was left blank, and +Mr. and Mrs. Quimbleton concluded that the artist was still at +work upon the final panel. + +An attendant in white was polishing glasses behind the tiny bar. +He was an elderly man with a pink clean-shaven face and the +initials P. S. were embroidered on the collar of his starched +jacket. There was an air of evident pride in his bearing as he +listened to their exclamations of admiration. + +"Your first visit, sir?" he said. + +"Yes," said Quimbleton. "I must confess I had no idea it would be +as fine as this. What time does Mr. Bleak get in?" + +"He usually opens up with a nip of Scotch about eleven-thirty," +said the bartender. "Just so as to get up a little circulation +before opening time. He's got a hard afternoon before him to-day," +he added. + +"How do you mean?" said Quimbleton. + +"One of the excursion trains coming. The railroad runs cheap +excursions here three days a week, and the crowds is enormous. +When there's a bunch like that there's always a lot wants Mr. +Bleak to take some special drink they used to be partial to, just +to recall old times. Of course, being what you might call a +servant of the public, he doesn't like not to oblige. But I doubt +whether he's got the constitution to stand it long. The other day +the Mint Julep Veterans of Kentucky held a memorial day here, and +Mr. Bleak had to sink fifteen juleps to satisfy them. I tell him +not to push himself too far, but he's still pretty new at the job. +He likes to go over the top every day." + +"Your face is very familiar," said Theodolinda. "Where have we +seen you before?" + +"I wondered if you'd recognize me," said the bartender. "I've +shaved off my mustache. I'm Jerry Purplevein. When I was turned +down in that election I thought this would be the next best thing. +As a matter of fact, it's better. I don't really care for the +stuff; I just like to see it around. Miss Absinthe felt the same +way. She's head stewardess up to the Hostess House." + +"It seems to me I used to see you somewhere in New York," said +Quimbleton. + +"I was head bar at the Hotel Pennsylvania," said Jerry. "We had +the finest bar in the world, had only been running a couple of +months when prohibition come in. They turned it into a soda +fountain. Ah, that was a tragedy! But this is a grand job. +Government service, you see: sure pay, tony surroundings, and what +you might call steady custom. Mr. Bleak is as nice a gentleman to +mix 'em for as I ever see." + +"But what is this for?" asked Theodolinda, pointing to a beautiful +marble cash register. "Surely Mr. Bleak doesn't have to BUY his +drinks?" + +"No, ma'am," said Jerry, "but he likes to have 'em rung up same as +customary. He says it makes it seem more natural. Here he is now!" + +Jerry flew to attention behind the three-foot bar, and they turned +to see their friend enter through the bronze swinging doors. + +"Well, well!" cried Bleak. "This is a delightful surprise!" + +He was dressed in a lounging suit of fine texture, and while he +seemed a little thinner and paler, and his eyes a little weary, he +was in excellent spirits. + +"Come," he said, "you're just in time for a bite of lunch. Jerry, +what's on the counter to-day?" + +Jerry bustled proudly over to the free-lunch counter, whipped off +the steam-covers, and disclosed a fragrant joint of corned beef +nestling among cabbages and boiled potatoes. With the delight of +the true artist he seized a long narrow carving knife, gave it a +few passes along a steel, and sliced off generous portions of the +beef onto plates bearing the P. S. monogram. This they +supplemented with other selections from the liberally supplied +free-lunch counter. Soft, crumbling orange cheese, pickles, smoked +sardines, chopped liver, olives, pretzels--all the now-forgotten +appetizers were laid out on broad silver platters. + +"I wish I could offer you a drink," said Bleak, "but as you know, +it would be unconstitutional. With your permission, I shall have +to have something. My office hours begin shortly, and some one +might come in." + +He took up his station at the little bar behind the velvet cord, +and slid his left foot onto the miniature rail. Jerry, with the +air of an artist about to resume work on his favorite masterpiece, +stood expectant. + +"A little Scotch, Jerry," said Bleak. + +In the manner reminiscent of an elder day Jerry wiped away +imaginary moisture from the mahogany with a deft circular movement +of a white cloth. Turning to the gleaming pyramid of glassware, he +set out the decanter of whiskey, a small empty glass, and a twin +glass two-thirds full of water. His motions were elaborately +careless and automatic, but he was plainly bursting with joy to be +undergoing such expert and affectionate scrutiny. + +Bleak poured out three fingers of whiskey, and held up the baby +tumbler. + +"Here's to the happy couple!" he cried, and drank it in one swift, +practiced gesture. He then swallowed about a tablespoonful of the +water. Jerry removed the utensils, again wiped the immaculate bar, +and rang the cashless cash-register. The Perpetual Souse smiled +happily. + +"That's how it's done," he said. "Do you remember?" + +"We're just back from South America," said Quimbleton. + +"Some of the boys from the old Balloon office were in here the +other day," said Bleak. "I'm afraid it was rather too much for +them--in an emotional way, I mean. I tossed off a few for their +benefit, and one of them--the cartoonist he used to be, perhaps +you remember him--fainted with excitement." + +"Well, how do you like the job?" said Quimbleton. + +Bleak did not answer this directly. Making an apology to Jerry and +promising to be back in a few minutes, he escorted his visitors +round the temple and gave them some of the picture postcards of +himself that were sold to souvenir hunters at five cents each. He +showed them the cafeteria for the convenience of visitors, the +Hostess House (where they found Mrs. Bleak comfortably installed), +the ice-making machinery, the private brewery, and the motor-truck +used to transport supplies. In a corner of the garden they found +the children playing. + +"It's a good thing the children enjoy playing with empty bottles," +said Bleak. "It's getting to be quite a problem to know what to do +with them. I'm using some of them to make a path across the lawn, +bury them bottom up, you know. + +"But you ask how I like it? I would never admit it before Jerry, +because the good fellow expects more of me than I am able to +fulfill, but as a matter of fact this is hardly a one-man job. +There ought to be at least seven of us, each to go on duty one day +a week. No--you see, being a kind of government museum, I don't +even get Sundays off because lots of people can only get here that +day. Next after Mount Vernon and Independence Hall, I get more +visitors than any other national shrine. And almost all of them +expect me to have a go at their favorite drink while they're +watching me. Being what you might call the most public spirited +man in the country, I have to oblige them as much as possible. But +I doubt whether I shall be a candidate for reelection. + +"I think the government has rather overestimated my capacity," he +continued. "They import a shipload of stuff from abroad every +month, and send an auditor here to check over my empties. I've +been hard put to it to get away with all the stuff. I've had to +fall back on your old plan of using wine to irrigate the garden. +It's had rather a dissipating effect on the birds and insects, +though. Really, you ought to spend an evening here some time. The +birds sing all night long: they have to sleep it off in the +morning. A robin with a hang-over is one of the funniest things in +the world." + +"We saw one!" cried Theodolinda. "He was more than hanging over-- +he had fallen right off!" + +"There's a butterfly here," said Bleak--"Rather a friend of mine, +who can give a bumble bee the knock-out after he gets his drop of +rum. I've seen him chase a wasp all over the lot." + +From the temple came the sound of chimes striking twelve, and down +in the valley they heard the whistle of a train. + +"There's the excursion train leaving Souse Junction," said Bleak. +"I must get back to the bar!" + +They returned to the shrine, and Bleak entered his little +enclosure. + +"Jerry," he said, "the crowd will soon be here. I must get busy. +What do you recommend?" + +"Better stick to the Scotch," said Jerry, and put the decanter on +the mahogany. Bleak drank two slugs hastily, and turned to his +friends with an almost wistful air. + +"Come again and stay longer," he said. "I see so many strangers, I +get homesick for a friendly face." He called Quimbleton aside. +"Does Mrs. Quimbleton keep up her trances?" he whispered. + +"Not recently," said Virgil. "You see, in South America there was +no necessity--but when we get settled--" + +"You are a lucky fellow," whispered Bleak. "All the enjoyment +without any of the formalities!" And he added aloud, grasping +their hands, "Next time, come in the evening. A man in my line of +work is hardly at his best before nightfall." + +As they walked back to the plane, Mr. and Mrs. Quimbleton saw the +excursionists, a thousand or so, hastening through the park on +foot and in huge sight-seeing cars where men with megaphones were +roaring comments. One group of pedestrians bore a large banner +lettered EGG NOG MEMORIAL ASSOCIATION OF CAMDEN, N. J. + +"Poor Mr. Bleak!" said Theodolinda. "On top of all that Scotch!" + +When they took the air again they circled over the temple at a +safe height. They could see the crowd gathered densely round the +little white columns. Virgil shut off the motor for a moment, and +even at that distance they could hear the sound of cheers. + + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +IT'S A LONG WORM THAT HAS NO TURNING + + +Bishop Chuff sat sourly in his office and sighed for more worlds +to canker. Round the room stood the tall filing cases containing +card indexes of prohibited offences, and he looked gloomily over +the crowded drawers in the vain hope of finding something that had +been overlooked. He pulled out a drawer at random--Schedule K-36, +Minor Social Offenses--and ran his embittered eye over a card. It +was marked Conversational Felonies, and began thus: + + Arguing + Blandishing + Buffoonery + Contradicting + Demurring + Ejaculating + Exaggerating + Facetiousness + Giggling + Hemming and Hawing + Implying + Insisting + Jesting + +Each item also referred to another card on which the penalty was +noted and legal test cases summarized. + +"No," he brooded, "there is nothing left." + +Even the most loyal of the Bishop's Staff admitted that he was far +from well, and it was decided that he ought to take a vacation. He +himself concurred in this, and as the home resorts were no longer +places of mirth and glee, he determined to go to Europe. This +would have the added advantage of enabling him to spend some time +conferring with prohibition leaders abroad as to ways and means of +converting Europe to his schemes of reform. Everyone in the office +showed genuine unselfishness in making plans for the Bishop's +vacation, and he was urged to stay away as long as he felt he +could be spared. Europe, too, was much excited over the prospect +of his coming, and the British prime minister was questioned on +the subject in the House of Commons. For his entertainment on the +voyage a set of twelve beautiful folio volumes, bound in black +morocco, were prepared. They contained a digest of prohibition +legislation which Chuff had been instrumental in having put on the +statutes. For the first time in years the Bishop was cheered as he +passed about the streets, and he realized that he had never known +how popular he was until it was announced that he was going away. + +But still he was not content. One morning, not long before the +date set for his sailing, he sat gloomily at his desk. He was +engaged in making his will, and had found to his secret bitterness +that after bequeathing a few personal trinkets to the office staff +there was really no one to whom he could leave the bulk of his +misfortune. Theodolinda, of course, he had quite cut off from his +estate. He only knew that she was living somewhere with the +degraded Quimbleton, carrying on a little psychic tavern which no +laws could reach, in a state of criminal happiness. + +From the street, far beneath his open window, he heard the clamor +of a police patrol and leaned eagerly over the sill in the hope of +seeing something that would cheer his black mood. But it was only +a man being arrested for leaning against a lamp-post--a rather +common offence at that time, for most of the normal occupations of +the citizens had been prohibited, and they mooned about the +highways in a state of listless discontent. But then, farther down +the channel of the street, he saw something that caught his eye. A +group of people were marching with flags and signs toward the +railway station. SATURDAY SCHOOL PICNIC TO SOUSE TEMPLE, he read +on a banner. He noticed that in spite of all the laws against +smiling in public, these people bore a look of suppressed +merriment. They were obviously out for a good time. A sudden +thought struck him. + +That afternoon, in impenetrable disguise, the Bishop paid his +first visit to the Temple of Dunraven Bleak. + +The next morning, when his subordinates came to see him about the +final plans for his departure, they were horrified to find him +sitting at his desk wearing in the recesses of his beard what +would have been called (on any other man) a smile. + +"I have changed my mind," he said. "I am not going away." + +They cried out in amazement, and pointed out to him how sorely in +need of relaxation he was. + +"I am planning relaxation," he said, and that was all they could +get out of him. + +Later in the day a confidential messenger was dispatched to the +private printing press of the Chuff Organization, bearing the text +of a poster which was found broadcast over the whole country a few +days later. It ran thus: + +AT THE NEXT ELECTION + +For Perpetual Souse + +VOTE FOR CHUFF + +The People's Friend + + + +THE END + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of In the Sweet Dry and Dry +by Christopher Morley and Bart Haley + diff --git a/old/sweet10.zip b/old/sweet10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2d83fe0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/sweet10.zip |