diff options
Diffstat (limited to '42710-8.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 42710-8.txt | 4381 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 4381 deletions
diff --git a/42710-8.txt b/42710-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1f7b625..0000000 --- a/42710-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4381 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Bizarre, by Lawton Mackall - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Bizarre - -Author: Lawton Mackall - -Illustrator: Lauren Scott - -Release Date: May 13, 2013 [EBook #42710] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIZARRE *** - - - - -Produced by Neville Allen, Chris Curnow and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - -BIZARRE - - - - -BY THE SAME AUTHOR - -SCRAMBLED EGGS - -[Illustration: _His symphony depicted the sorrows of Russia, the height -of the steppes, and the agonies of indigestion._] - - - - -BIZARRE - -By - -LAWTON MACKALL - -With 26 Drawings -By LAUREN STOUT - -[Illustration] - -NEW YORK - -LIEBER & LEWIS - -1922 - - - - -Copyright 1922 -By LIEBER & LEWIS - - -PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - - - - -_To my favorite poet_ - -VIRGINIA WOODS MACKALL - - - - -_The author thanks_ LIFE, JUDGE, THE CENTURY, THE QUILL, THE NEW YORK -TIMES, THE LITERARY REVIEW, _and_ THE NEW YORK TRIBUNE _for kind -permission to include in this volume certain contributions to those -publications. He hopes he has remembered to ask such permission in each -case._ - - - - -PREFACE - - -As good form requires that an author mention in his preface the persons -to whom he is chiefly indebted, I take this opportunity of stating that -during the preparation of this book I became appreciably indebted to Dr. -Warren S. Holder, my dentist, Mr. William Vroom, my tailor, Mr. M. -Tesshow, my stationer and tobacconist, and Messrs. Acker, Merrall & -Condit, my grocers. - -Although these gentlemen neither "corrected the proofs" of my book nor -"saw it through the press," nor allowed me access to rare documents and -family letters, nor treated me to intimate accounts of their fathers and -great uncles as they knew them; though they did none of these customary -things, nevertheless I became decidedly their debtor--and still am. - -Indeed, without their stimulus this book might never have been written. - -L. M. - - - - -_ENCLOSED PLEASE FIND_ - -WHAT-NOTS - - - Unsolicited Personal Adornments - - Shelf Culture - - Portable Pigeonholes - - Simile - - The Beatified Race - - Jouez Balle - - The Art of Packing - - Agriculture Indoors - - Snowy Bosoms - - Interior Desperation - - The Writing on the Screen - - Musique Glacée - - The Care of the Husband - - Terminology of Tardiness - - Oppressors of the Meek - - Putting Pedagogy Across - - Coaching From the Sidelines - - Fast and Loose - - Primrose Pathology - - Fightier Than the Sword - - Enlightment - - Holiday Misgivings - - All, All Are Gone - - My Museum - - On Chairs--and off - - -MINIMS - - The Night of the Fleece - - Black Jitney - - Light Breakfast - - The Man Opposite - - Lucy the Literary Agent - - The Creeping Fingers - - The Man With the Hose - - -JANGLES - - Those Symphony Concert Programs - - How to Know the Instruments - - Notes on Pianos - - The Life Drama of a Musical Critic - - The Survival of the Fattest - - - - -WHAT-NOTS - - - - -UNSOLICITED PERSONAL ADORNMENTS - - -[Illustration: Decorative letter "H"] - -Have you ever, on returning home from a round of calls, discovered upon your -coat a large, obtrusive spot? - -Stricken with horror, you wonder how long it has been there. Did you -have this adjunct when you appeared before your wealthy aunt? That -severe female has never quite approved of you, and now this will finish -you as far as she is concerned. Did you exhibit yourself thus disgraced -at the Brumleighs'? You recollect that the maid eyed you queerly when -she opened the door, and that Mrs. B. had frequent recourse to her -lorgnettes. Then, too, both the Greens and the Worthingtons seemed a -little stiffer than usual. - -How did you acquire it, anyhow? It looks and feels like ice cream of a -very rich quality; ice cream that has drippled merrily in leaps and -bounds. But you had no ice cream today. Neither did you talk to anyone -who was having ice cream. - -Perhaps you have been struck by ice cream, just as people are struck by -lightning. The weather does such peculiar things nowadays. - -I have a gray suit that is a constant prey to spots. Its frail color--a -sickly, betwixt-and-between shade, chosen in haste and repented of at -leisure--puts it utterly at their mercy. And they flock to it. - -Things sticky and glutinous pounce avidly upon it; nor is its seat -reserved from paints and varnishes. Sauces afflict it. Oils take -advantage of its helplessness. Grass bedizens it with garish green. - -I try my best to protect it--but what can I do? What am I against so -many? While I am rescuing my left elbow from the machinations of a -passing dish, I unwittingly suffer my right cuff to be enticed by the -gravy in my plate. As I walk discreetly in the middle of the sidewalk, -an automobile out in the street salutes me with a volley of mud. - -And the most notable spots happen mysteriously. They appear out of the -air, as it were, like the pictures that frost makes on window panes. I -submit the phenomenon of their strange origin to the scientific world as -an instance of spontaneous generation. - -This spotability of my gray suit is surpassed only by the achievements -of my blue serge. (I shall not here discuss my English tweeds, nor my -Scotch cheviots, nor the braided cutaway and the lounge suit that I had -made for me in Bond Street, for fear the reader might divine that I -never possessed those garments.) This suit is not a victim to spots--it -deliberately invites them. It is a connoisseur, a discriminating -collector. - -Scorning such vulgarities as paint and pitch, it seeks the exotic, the -outré--amazing stickinesses, bewildering viscosities, undreamed of -goos. - -Although delighting in intricacy of design and delicate nuances of -shading, it prefers durability to all other qualities. Some of its -antiques--particularly a brownish white one, resembling an octopus, over -the front pocket--have stood the test of time and clothes brushes. - -On three occasions this remarkable collection has been almost entirely -destroyed by benzine, but each time the principal specimens have -survived intact. These cleanings divide the history of the suit into -four epochs. - -Spots of the fourth (or present) epoch are of small consequence; spots -of the third and second epochs are more interesting; while spots which -antedate the first great deluge are quite rare. Among these last are the -octopus and other gems of the collection. - -Once, when I had become exceedingly irked at having to go about clad in -pseudo-tapestry, I handed the suit over to a desperado of a ladies' and -gents' tailor--a man who had the reputation of being capable of getting -anything out of anything or anybody--and besought him to raze the -frescoes. - -He attacked them after the manner customary to cleaners; that is to -say, he drove out the spots with smells. Only, he used smells that were -nothing short of brutal. The rout was complete. - -When he brought the suit to my room on Saturday night, I could hardly -believe my eyes. Being forced, however, to believe my nose, I hastily -opened the window. I could understand why the spots had departed. I even -felt sorry for them. - -Not daring to put the suit away, for fear of contaminating the rest of -my apparel, I hung it over the back of a chair by the window. - -But the incoming breeze, instead of carrying the aroma away, wafted it -directly toward me. It was certainly strong. It fairly assaulted the -nostrils. One good whiff of that vicious chemical was almost enough to -make you dizzy. - -It treated me as if I were a spot. - -I picked up a book and tried to read, but could not concentrate my -attention. - -The spot-destroyer was continually interrupting. My head was spinning so -that I could hardly see. - -I realized that the life of a spot was not a happy one. - -Thinking that smoking might help, I was about to light a cigarette when -I remembered reading in the papers of people who struck matches in -fume-filled rooms and then were blown blocks and blocks without knowing -what hit them. So I gave that up, and sat a while dejected. - -Then another scary thought came into my mind. What if I should be -asphyxiated? I pictured myself being found dead in bed, having been -extinct for hours and hours, and the mournfulness of it broke me all up. - -Overcome with emotion and spot-destroyer, I gathered a few things into a -suitcase and went out to spend the night at a hotel. - -When I returned to my room on the following evening the aroma had gone, -and the rays of the setting sun, illuminating the old blue suit as it -hung there on the back of the chair, showed me a host of familiar -faces--particularly that of an especially offensive brownish-white -octopus over the pocket. They had come back every one; not a design was -missing. - - - - -SHELF CULTURE - - -[Illustration: Decorative letter "A"] - -"A man of education and refinement like you needs books befitting your -culture--your place in the world," said my visitor. He spoke as though -he were a revered friend of the family. But actually he was not just -that. I had never seen him before. He was honoring me with a call at my -room on Freshman Row. - -I had come to college to get in touch with Belles-Lettres, and, lo, -Belles-Lettres were seeking me out! Recognition had come far sooner than -I had hoped. - -To appreciate what I felt, you must know that Belles-Lettres' -ambassador was no ordinary person. He had the clothes of a clubman, the -benignity of a clergyman, and the dignity of an undertaker. There was -scholarliness in the droop of the pinch glasses on his aquiline nose and -as he talked he kept lifting his curiously arched eyebrows in a manner -that fascinated the beholder. - -From the subject of my culture in its broader aspects he progressed by -easy gradations to my culture in its relation to the works of Hawthorne -and Irving, the two authors indispensable to a man of discerning taste, -the authors whose writings constituted the logical nucleus of the -well-bred student's library. He was happy to be able to tell me of the -rare opportunity that now lay in my grasp of acquiring the immortal and -exhilarating works of _both_ these masters at one and the same time--in -one and the same set. - -The urgency of my need for Hawthorne and Irving being thus established -beyond the shadow of a hesitance, the only thing for me to decide fairly -and squarely was whether they should come to me in blue half-morocco or -in red buckram. The splendid showing that either set would make in my -bookcase was attested by the accordion-plaited binding sample which at -the proper moment he produced and unfolded. Nearly a yard of titled -book-backs! - -I signed on the dotted line and accepted his congratulations, while he -accepted my two dollar deposit. - -About a week later the box arrived. Eagerly I lifted forth the magic -volumes which were to put me on a new intellectual plane. Somehow the -bindings seemed to need breaking in. They creaked and cracked at the -hinges and the pages clung together in little groups clannishly. The -gluing of the backs was queer, yet casual. The "hand" that had tinted -the "elegant colored frontispieces" was evidently a heavy one. - -No matter: Hawthorne and Irving were mine. I had been taken into the -higher circles of culture. - -That very evening I plunged into "Mosses from an Old Manse." I stuck at -it. Each day I balanced my morning's Shredded Wheat with Hawthorne -Mosses at night, till the entire volume had been systematically -consumed. Then, having created my new literary universe, I rested. - -Today no one can stump me on Mosses. Mention the Old Manse to me and my -whole manner changes. My face lights up with intelligence. My eyes -sparkle. My nostrils dilate like those of an old fire engine horse at -the clang of an alarm gong. Yes, right this minute I can give you moss -for moss. - -If only I had gone on and read all the other volumes of the set.... Who -knows? I might now be dean of a college or a second Dr. Frank Crane. -Alas, I continued to rest on my Mosses, arguing sophistically with my -conscience that these books, the nucleus of my ultimate library, were -precious possessions not necessarily for immediate perusal. Time-defying -classics like Hawthorne and Irving would keep and be equally enjoyable -years hence, if not more so; in fact, it would be almost extravagant to -use them all up in the beginning. So it was tacitly decided that we -three--Nathaniel, Washington, and I (the first two in red buckram, the -latter in invisible yet palpable Freshman green)--should grow old -together. - -The fourth member of our little group, he who had introduced us, had -dropped out. I neither saw nor heard from him again. It would seem that -he worked like lightning, striking in the same place only once. Not so -his firm, however. They struck me by mail each month with awful -iteration. - -But before a year had passed there descended upon me another emissary of -intellectualism. This personage expounded to me the doctrine of the De -Luxe. I learned that an edition of any author, no matter how reputable -that author may be, was mere dross if published for the public at large. -Only as a subscriber, possessing a numbered set of a limited edition, -could one obtain the quintessence of literature. _Fiat de lux._ Let -there be e-lite. - -The fact that this prophet of almost-vellum exclusiveness was physically -a fat and florid Irishman whom a wiser man than I might have mistaken -for a saloon keeper in his Sunday clothes, did not hamper his spirit. -Enthrallingly yet confidentially he discoursed on Selected Literature -for the Serene Few. I could be one of those Serene Few. - -I could. I did. I signed. - -In his display room, to which this rotund spider lured me, I examined, -enraptured, sets of all the leading _de luxe_ writers. There was Pepys -with pasted labels, Smollett and Fielding with special illustrations, -twelve volumes of the World's Best Oratory, a bobtailed set of -Stevenson, the inevitable Plutarch in fool morocco that was very like -shellacked paper, and many more. But the _magnum opus_ of them all was a -green buckram affair in thirty tall tomes calling itself "The -Bibliophile Library of Literature, Art and Rare Manuscripts." To -emphasize the word Art in the title there was, as an adjunct, a -three-foot portfolio of reproductions from paintings. Here was something -that cast Hawthorne and Irving into the shade. It was world-wide, -wonderful. (Later I came to know it as the "Hash"!) - -As in a trance, I said yes to the "Bibliophile Library," to the Great -Orations, to the much-shorter R. L. S. Later I took on a few more. - -My finances grew groggy. Indeed, Europe's difficulties over paying her -war indebtedness are as naught in comparison. Then at last the miracle -happened: the book concern mislaid their record of my indiscretions--and -all scowls ceased. - -For three years. Then rediscovery. Collectors, collectors, -collectors--not the sort that A. Edward Newton writes about. They came -faster than I could insult them. Litigation. Cash compromise. Formal -return of books. - -Such is the story of "My Life With Great Authors; or, The Horrors of -Dunning Street." - -But I shall not allow it to "take its place among the successful -biographies and intimate journals of the season." Distinctly not. It is -for the _élite_ alone. It is to be published on sugar-cured oilskin, the -edition to be limited to two numbered copies--one for me and one for the -ashcan. - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -PORTABLE PIGEONHOLES - - -Aside from a few unimportant physical distinctions, the chief difference -between man and woman is that his pockets are in his clothes, whereas -her solitary one dangles fitfully from her hand. Man is girded about -with these little repositories for the safekeeping of his belongings; -while woman, less interested in conservation than in cosmetics, holds -her booty ever accessible, so as to be able at any moment to dispose of -$3.98 or powder her nose. The ding of her husband's cash register and -the click of her dangle bag mark the systole and diastole of married -life. - -Man delights in multiplicity of pockets. He must have clusters of them, -layers of them, pockets within pockets. Otherwise his search for -anything he has hidden on his person would be uninterestingly simple. -Fancy, for example, the monotony of traveling, if, at the call "All -tickets, please!" there were but a single pocket to excavate. And how -difficult it would be, when riding on a street car, for one to put up an -appearance of searching madly for his purse while he allowed his -companion to pay the fare. - -The instinct for stowing away things in pockets, manifested in childhood -by a proneness for smuggling home from parties such contraband as -strawberry tarts and layer-cake with soft icing, continues throughout -life. But as one grows older the reason for these caches is less and -less obvious. The delectable but adhesive loot in the boy's pocket is -soon separated (as much as possible) from the lining, and devoured in -rapture; but the dry accumulations of the middle-aged man, such as -useless ticket stubs, old newspaper clippings, business cards thrust -upon him by salesmen or accepted absentmindedly when handed to him on -the street, unposted letters which he promised three days ago to drop -into the first mail box--all these lie buried and forgotten until -resurrected on suit-pressing day. He secretes them with the infatuation -of a dog interring bones. Only, unlike the sagacious hound, instead of -getting rid of them by this process, he merely turns them into -encumbrances. - -A pocket that has long suffered from congestion will sometimes take -matters into its own hands and empty itself. Without bothering to give -any warning of its intention, it acquires a hole in one corner and then -quietly disposes of its contents. In this way small but useful change -departs, in company with your latch-key, via your trouser leg. And your -unfortunate fountain pen, let down suddenly as though by the springing -of a trapdoor, falls clear to the bottom of the inside of your waist -coat, where it lies prostrate, gasping out its last spurt of ink. - -There is a treacherous kind of pocket, inhabiting a vertical slit in the -side of an overcoat, that simulates openness when it is actually closed; -so that the unwary owner, imagining himself to be putting a thing into a -safe nook, is really poking it through a hole and dropping it upon the -ground. - -The average tailor has an unpleasant sense of humor. He allows you -fifteen pockets, and then proceeds to fit your suit so closely that not -a single one of them can be used. Unless you take the precaution of -stuffing each pocket with cotton batting when he tries the suit on you, -he will systematically take in all seams and buttons, in such a way that -a post-card inserted in the breast-pocket would be sufficient wadding to -throw the entire coat out of shape. (Perhaps he goes on the assumption -that when you have paid his bill you won't have anything left to put -there.) Every pocket is a latent distortion--put something into it and -you have a swelling, a tumor. Utilize your hip pocket as an oasis and -you have a bustle. - -These cares and tribulations are, as we stated at the beginning of this -treatise, the lot of man alone. For woman, while accepting the -responsibility of the vote, has thus far avoided the responsibility of -the pocket--preferring to let her husband be a walking warehouse for -two. It is her method of maintaining him in subjection. If she, too, -were bepocketed, she could not keep him on the jump picking up things -she has dropped and trotting back for things she has left behind. Nor, -if she were not in the habit of making him dutifully store her gloves, -fan, handkerchief, etc., on his person, could she put him in the wrong -by taking him to task for forgetting to return them. - -No, woman is too wise. She talks very blandly about equality, but so far -the only representative of her sex to wear a real pocket is the female -kangaroo. - - - - -SIMILE - - -Mortimer was as bold as orange-and-pink hosiery, and Simile was as -elusive as a cake of castile soap. When, at the appointed hour, he -repaired to her house, as punctual as a bill collector, she tried, like -a street-car conductor, to put him off. - -But his mind, like the face of a cutie, was made up. Becoming as -eloquent as a man in a telephone booth which you are waiting to use, he -said: "Simile, I love you!" - -Her lips quivered like a ford, but the look in her eyes was as far away -as Brooklyn. - -"Ah, marry me" he pleaded, his voice sounding as hollow as a campaign -pledge, "--or I shall be as wretched as porous custard." - -He edged nearer to her, till he was almost as close as the air in the -subway. He gazed anxiously at her face, the way a person in a taxicab -gazes at the face of the meter. Her skin was smooth as a confidence man -and clear as boarding-house soup. He put his arm about her slender -waist, which was slim as a librarian's salary. - -Yielding suddenly, like a treacherous garter, she murmured, in a voice -as soft as stale crackers, while tears rushed to her eyes like shoppers -to a bargain counter, "I am yours". And she clung to him like barbed -wire. - -A thrill of joy went through Mortimer like a highwayman. "Ah!" he cried. -"Then I am as happy as a coincidence!" - - - - -THE BEATIFIED RACE - - -It is wrong to assert that our fiction magazines have lost their power -to inspire, to uplift. High romance and whole-hearted cheerfulness have -not deserted them. These qualities have merely migrated to the -advertising pages. The morbid, unpleasant fiction is only a short -interlude between the innocent joys of Nabiscos and fireless cookers, -and the wholesomeness of Mellin's Food. After sin and adulteration comes -99-44/100 per cent pure. - -The people in the advertisements help us to forget those in the stories. -These pictured endorsers display a generosity that I have not met with -elsewhere. They offer me, a total stranger to them, the most delicious -refreshments, costly gifts in silverware, whole suites of furniture; -they make me aware of "long-felt" wants; they volunteer to teach me -Spanish or osteopathy or plumbing in ten lessons; they propose to send -me immediately a portable house in many pieces, or a new lease of life -in many doses. They take a most personal interest in me, enquiring -sympathetically, "Are you bilious?" - -Here, I confess, I sometimes feel embarrassed. When my old family doctor -asks me, in the privacy of his office, questions of this sort, I am -prepared to answer them; but when, as I am turning over the pages of a -magazine at a public news-stand, someone bobs out from behind a -respectful soap advertisement and accosts me brusquely with, "How is -your liver?" or "Are you bowlegged?"--I feel positively uncomfortable. - -This forwardness, due to the bad influence of the fiction characters, -is, I regret to say, a trait of some of the women. (How sad it is that -editors should wilfully allow them to be contaminated! I have seen a -little Campbell Soup girl of quite a tender age, placed on the same page -with a heroine whose only topic of conversation was _unmoral love_.) -Luxuriant creatures, as unabashed as they are beautiful, invite my -approval of their stays, and make disclosures of the most sensational -kind. All of this may be in accordance with the modern ideas of -frankness, may be part of the sex-education campaign--but somehow I -can't get used to it. I am still old-fashioned enough to believe that -woman's place is in the home, especially when she is undressing. - -However, while the behavior of these people toward me is occasionally a -bit disconcerting, their deportment toward each other is uniformly -admirable. In their own sphere they lead model lives. - -Their family devotion, for example, is a treat to behold. Just see Mama -and Papa and Susie and Marian and little Jack, all seated around the -dining-table! From their happy smiles it is easy to tell that they love -each other and Jell-O. After dinner, dear kind Papa will not bury -himself in the evening paper, as selfish, inconsiderate papas do--he -will give Mama and the good, rosy-cheeked children each a stick of -Spearmint. Then all the family will gather 'round the fire in peaceful -attitudes and listen to the phonograph, which protects the atmosphere of -their home; and Susie will sit on the arm of Papa's chair and fondly -compare their Holeproofs. - -Later, when Susie's bright young man, dressed in a nobby Kuppenheimer -suit, comes to win her heart with a box of Huyler's, Mama whom Papa -still adores because her complexion is youthified with Pompeiian, will -take Marian and little Jack upstairs and show her maternal tenderness by -teaching them how to make Colgate's Dental Cream lie flat on a -Pro-phy-lac-tic. They learn gladly, for they love Mama and wear garters -and union suits just like hers. - -Even more remarkable than the family devotion of these people is their -supreme capability. They never do anything without brilliant success. -Papa can, whenever he feels the inclination, build a launch, or become a -magnetic speaker, or earn eighty dollars a week in his spare time, or -evolve a thriving chicken farm from two eggs. When he goes fishing, you -see him in the act of reeling in a six-pound trout; when he goes duck -hunting, you see him casually bringing down a bird with each barrel; and -when he plays billiards, you see him, in a backhand position and a -Donchester shirt, executing a shot that would make the reputation of -even a professional. - -Look at him now, seated at his desk in his office, directing a great -business, without the least worry or effort. See the respect on his -employes' faces! At this very moment he is concluding a deal that -involves millions. And yet how calm he is! All because he wears B. V. -D.'s. - -In short, the race of endorsers, produced by the eugenics of -advertising, is not subject to the ills that ordinary flesh is heir to. -They are the heroes of the present age, deified, like Greek Orion, in -the realms of "space"--long-legged, serene, divinely handsome. We, poor -mortals, humbly try to imitate them, and lay our wealth at their -shrines, as did the Ancients at the altars of their gods. Our Ceres is -Aunt Jemima; our Mercury is Phoebe Snow; our Adonis is the Arrow Collar -youth; our Venus is the Physical Culture lady; and our Romulus and Remus -are the Gold Dust Twins. - - - - -JOUEZ BALLE! - -[Illustration: _Le plus grand tournoyeur sud-patte._] - -New and better ideas of child education are steadily making their way. -Nearly every one now acknowledges that the school room should be -primarily a place of entertainment, that the true vocation of the -teacher is to amuse in an instructive manner, and that study is really a -scientific form of play. Also, it is quite generally admitted that -methods which involve mental effort on the part of the child are not to -be tolerated. - -So much progress has already been made. But now there has just appeared -a book which bids fair to carry the educational advance as far ahead -again. This book, entitled "A Baseball Primer of French," substitutes -for the conventional pedantry of conjugations, syntax, etc., a vivid -account in French of an imaginary world's series. Any boy who studies it -will understand it instinctively; for if the foreign text prove obscure, -he has only to read the English translation underneath. - -The author, Speed Stevens--who, it may be remembered, was captain of -his college nine,--shows a profound knowledge of baseball. Indeed, it is -on account of his ability as athletic coach that he holds his position -of instructor in French at Croton. - -The following extract gives an inkling of the rare pedagogical value of -the book: - - Dans le dixième point, avec deux hommes - - In the tenth period, with two men - - sur bases et un sorti, Harburg éventa. Alors - - on bases and one out, Harburg fanned. Then - - Bill le Rosseur ramassa sa chauve-souris et - - Bill the Walloper picked up his bat and - - marcha à grands pas à l'assiette. Hank - - strode to the plate. Hank - - Harrigan, vrai à ses lauriers de plus grand - - Harrigan, true to his laurels as the greatest - - vivant tournoyeur sud-patte, partit avec un - - living southpaw twirler, started off with a - - tirer-dedans qui faisait zip-zip, entaillant une - - zipping in-shoot, scoring a - - frappe. Le suivant fut un bal. Dugan, au - - strike. The next a ball. Dugan, on - - premier, descendit avec son bras et vola la - - first went down with his arm and stole - - deuxième base, mais Brown fut mis en dehors - - second base, but Brown was put out - - au troisième. Alors la cruche mis en dessus - - at third. Then the pitcher put over - - un bal saliveux: frappe deux. Puis, vinrent - - a spit-ball: strike two. Then came - - encore deux bals. Le comte était maintenant - - two more balls. The count was now - - trois à deux, et les éventails s'asseyaient sans haleine. - - three to two, and the fans sat breathless. - - Bill assomma une longue mouche qui tomba - - Bill knocked out a long fly which fell - - volaille. Il suiva celle-ci avec une volaille - - foul. He followed this with a pop - - poppeuse, qui l'aurait fini n'eut été un - - fly, that would have finished him, - - manchon stupide de la part de l'attrappeur. - - but for a stupid muff by the catcher. - - Harrigan devenait grincé, et Cathaway, - - Harrigan was becoming rattled, and Cathaway, - - voiturant de la ligne de côté, lui criait, "Bras - - coaching from the side-line, yelled at him, "Glass - - de verre! Il monte! Il monte!" La - - arm! He's going up! He's going up!" The - - cruche envoya une goutte facile; Bill débarqua - - pitcher sent an easy drop; Bill landed - - là-dessus carrément, le menant par-dessus la - - on it squarely, driving it over the - - tête de l'arrête-court, loin dans le champ - - short-stop's head, far into left - - gauche. C'était un oiseau d'une frappe. Dugan - - field. It was a bird of a hit. Dugan - - entailla, et puis Bill, gaiement circlant les - - scored, and then Bill, gaily circling the - - sacs, glissa sauf chez soi, pendant que les - - bags, slid safe home, as the - - blanchisseurs allaient sauvages. - - bleachers went wild. - - - - -THE ART OF PACKING - - -_With a Disquisition on the Science of Rooting for What You Have Packed_ - -[Illustration: Decorative letter "A"] - -A traveler is a person who escorts baggage. He may think he is taking a -trip for business or pleasure, but, whether he be journeying from -Brooklyn to Hoboken with one trunk, or touring Europe with a bevy of -handbags, his real occupation consists in chaperoning impedimenta. - -There is something almost touching about the way in which he looks after -his little flock--seeing that they are properly tagged, counting them -anxiously to be sure that none are missing, defending them from the -cruelty of expressmen, pleading for them at the feet of customs -inspectors. He has care for the humblest satchel. If it be lost he will -set down three full suitcases and seek after it until he finds it. - -Not that he is actually _fond_ of his luggage. But he has packed it and -brought it with him, and therefore he is under obligation to it; is -responsible for its well-being. - -He knows in his heart that many of the clothes he has brought will never -be worn, and that most of the books he has stowed away--dry looking -volumes which he long ago decided he ought to read but which somehow he -has never got 'round to--will not be opened. Nevertheless, he has these -things with him, and it is his duty to cherish them and see them safely -back home again. - -As he unpacks his belongings at the first stop, he wonders what his -state of mind could have been when he packed them. Why had he deemed his -shaving brush _de trop_? And why, oh why, had he abandoned his faithful -slippers? Had he imagined that two left-hand rubbers constituted a -pair? Five hats and caps are all very nice, but why did he put in only -four handkerchiefs? And even an array of fifty-seven neckties affords -poor consolation for the total absence of socks. As for the -bathing-suit, the morning tub would be the only place where he could use -that, and even there it would hardly seem appropriate. - -Anybody with the price of a ticket can travel from one city to another, -but it takes a real genius to pack a trunk. The art must be practiced in -its purity; there must be no mixing of the pancake (or roll-'em-up) -style with the flapjack (or spread-'em-out-flat) style. Such eclecticism -is pernicious. - -Considered from another point of view, packing is a fascinating game. -You put all sorts of objects in a trunk, the baggage man churns them -thoroughly, and then you take them out again and try to guess what they -are. You meet with a hundred different surprises. For instance, you -never would have dreamed that a derby hat could turn inside out, or that -a single suit could acquire ninety-three separate and distinct creases, -or that a book could swallow a mirror and have indigestion from it, or -that a bottle of ink inside seven wrappings could break and assert -itself over a pile of shirts and a month's supply of collars. - -But the great paradox of packing is that a trunk is always full when you -close it and always three-quarters empty when you open it. The trunk -that nothing but violent stamping will shut is the very trunk that, a -few hours later, bounces your possessions about like beans in a rattle; -so that when you lift the lid again you find them huddled forlornly in a -corner, exhausted and battered from their shuttle-istics. - -Another peculiarity is that nothing that you want is where you think it -is. The garment that you clearly remember putting in the right-hand -front corner of the top tray is sure to turn up at last in the opposite -part of the bottom. Indeed, sooner will the Sphinx give up her secret -than the trunk give up the thing you are looking for. To dig up _de -profundis_ a shoehorn that you need is a more remarkable achievement -than to unearth a new Pompeii. - -Rooting is a science. Suppose, for instance, you wish to locate a pair -of scissors without disturbing the general order. You begin by -classifying the scissors in your mind, in order that you may calculate -their position in the trunk. You consider them with reference to the -following scheme of arrangement, which you recite as if you were an -elevator boy in a department store: - - 1. _Main Tray._ Shirts, collars, hats, handkerchiefs, _and_ toilet - articles. - - 2. _Mezzanine Tray._ Dress clothes, neckwear, art goods, _and_ - bric-a-brac. - - 3. _Basement._ Shoes, hardware, suits, underwear, books, medicines, - _and_ sporting goods. - -Concluding, after due deliberation, that the scissors are equally -appropriate to all of these, you start in on the main tray, sliding your -palms around the edge as though you were easing ice-cream out of a mold. - - No scissors. - -You delve deeper, using the back of your hand as a plow-share. - - No scissors. - -Refusing to be baffled, you leave no garment unturned. - - No scissors. - -Growing a trifle impatient, you take out the main tray and tackle the -mezzanine. This will be a simple matter, because it is so shallow that -you have only to feel around the edges. - - No scissors. - -Perhaps they got shaken into the middle. You burrow there, making -considerable work for the clothes-presser. - - No scissors. - -Now you are genuinely angry. You toss the mezzanine upon the arms of a -chair. It is a rocking-chair, and it slides the tray gently forward and -deposits it face downward on the floor. - -Pretending to ignore this, you plunge both arms into the basement so -violently that the lid unclicks and gives you a cowardly blow on the -back of the head. - -You rise up and vow that this your chattel shall flout you no longer. -Seizing it fiercely, you turn it upside down--you dump its contents -about the room. - - No scissors! - -Then there steals into your mind a vision of the above-mentioned cutlery -lying on a chiffonier in a room hundreds of miles away--and the -realization that they are probably lying there still. - - - - -AGRICULTURE INDOORS - -[Illustration] - -The usual package of seeds has not arrived. Is the Hon. ----, my -Representative in Congress, neglecting me? The uncertainty appals. - -Year after year this eminent legislator has favored me with floral -tributes in kernel form, so that I have come to think of them as my -inalienable rights as a constituent. True, as is the case with the -thousands of other voters in this urban district which he represents, I -have no facilities for horticulture. Living in a New York apartment -seven stories up and unequipped with arable soil (the nondescript -substance which deposits on my window sills from outshaken mops above -would scarcely qualify as loam), I have been at a loss as to what -disposition to make of said seeds. - -"My dear friend," writes the benevolent legislator, "I am inclosing a -list issued by the Department of Agriculture showing bulletins available -for free distribution, which contain very valuable information for all -classes of readers." And he invites me to choose any six, by number, -that he may promptly send them to me. - -Only six! To select that limited allotment from so alluring a galaxy is -difficult, not to say bewildering. - -No. 73 catches my eye--"Fly Traps and Their Operation." I simply must -have that one. It seems to promise an insight into the mysteries of -oratory. Perhaps it may enable me the better to appreciate my M. C. - -Nor can I hope to live a rounded life if I fail to assimilate No. 940, -"Common White Grubs," and No. 920, "Milk Goats," and No. 788, "The -Windbreak as a Farm Asset." - -That makes four already; to which I must certainly add the kindly No. -1105, "Care of Mature Fowls," and the arrestingly realistic No. 1085, -"Hog Lice and Hog Mange." - -Thus my six choices are used up, and I am but at the threshold of this -new world of knowledge that lies tantalizingly before me. What of No. -685, celebrating that splendidly uncompromising American growth, "The -Native Persimmon," and the intriguingly cryptic Nos. 515 and 1143, -revealing the secrets of "Vetches" and "Lespedeza as a Forage Crop"? -Surely this coveted information should not be withheld from me. - -Why should I be deprived of the privilege of reading aloud to my family -No. 762, "False Cinch Bug--Measures for Control," and No. 1127, "Peanut -Growing for Profit," and No. 948, "The Rag-Doll Seed Tester"? If such -romances were available for every one there would be less senseless -gadding about on the part of our young folks. Let the flapper fill her -mind, not her flask, with No. 767, "Goose Raising," or No. 757, -"Commercial Varieties of Alfalfa." And let her heed the warning against -short skirts in No. 1135, "The Beef Calf." - -It has been said that there is in America insufficient appreciation of -architecture. Ah, true, my friends. Let the multitude con No. 438, "Hog -Houses," and, as examples of chaste suppression of meaningless -ornamentation, Nos. 966 and 682--"A Simple Hog-Breeding Crate" and -"Simple Trap Nest for Poultry." - -Included in this invaluable list are to be found not only the frankly -practical but also the vividly dramatic. Offsetting such everyday but -significant matters as No. 1189, "The Handling of Spinach for Shipment"; -No. 1153, "Cowpea Utilization"; No. 1161, "Dodder," and No. 978, -"Barnyard Manure in Eastern Pennsylvania," there are offered imagination -stirring themes like No. 835, "How to Detect Outbreaks of Insects"; No. -874, "Swine Management," and No. 1003 (one that should be especially -prized by the impecunious), "How to Control Billbugs." - -Until I read this list I had no idea that spiritualism had entomological -phases which Conan Doyle seems to have overlooked. Again and again there -is mention of strange creatures and their psychic "controls": No. 1074, -"The Bean Ladybird and Its Control"; No. 1060, "Harlequin Cabbage Bug -and Its Control"; No. 897, "Fleas and Their Control," and No. 975 -(presumably throwing light upon the immigration problem), "The Control -of European Foulbrood." - -More comprehensible to me are the following. Anent home life and pets: -No. 1014, "Wintering Bees in Cellars"; No. 1104, "Book Lice," and No. -846, "Tobacco Beetle and How to Prevent Loss." (Does one keep the beetle -on a leash, I wonder?) Bolshevism: No. 1054, "The Loco Weed." Chambers -of Commerce, Get-Together Clubs, etc.: No. 993, "Cooperative Bull -Associations." Prohibitionists: No. 1220, "Insect and Fungus Enemies of -the Grape." - -All in all, there are at least thirty bulletins which every citizen of -this metropolis needs to make him an intelligent voter. And my M. C. -allows me but six! - -"My allotment being limited," he explains. But why should his allotment -be thus limited? Since he grants that the bulletins are indispensable to -my enlightenment, it is not for him to apologize, but to see that I am -fully supplied with them. To protest that the Department of Agriculture -cramps his largess is no excuse, for does not almighty Congress rule the -Department of Agriculture and run it in the interests of the People and -not for the sake of a lot of rubes? No; let him spur the department to -greater efforts, press the presses to greater output. - -When my little son looks up into my eyes and asks, "Daddy, tell me about -the flat-headed apple tree borer," am I to answer him: - -"Sorry, my boy, but Bulletin No. 1065 was denied me by a niggardly -government?" - -My M. C. will not have done his complete duty till every home in this -city boasts a five-foot shelf of bulletins and the head of every family -can gather his dear ones about the radiator in the evening with a -cheery: - -"Ah! now we take up No. 956, 'The Spotted Garden Slug.' Every one who -pays strict attention gets a hollyhock seed." - -Only then will the true function of government be realized. - - * * * * * - -Meanwhile.... - -The seeds have come! - - - - -SNOWY BOSOMS - - -At the risk of seeming churlish, a veritable outcast from society, I -confess that I have no great fondness for snowy bosoms. I realize that -they are generally considered beautiful, and that their virgin whiteness -is the embodiment of unyielding purity; and yet I cannot but prefer the -more comfortable _negligée_ shirt. - -If only they could be soft-boiled. I would so appreciate a three-minute -one. (I know it would sit better on the stomach.) The white could be -firm enough to hold together, and yet not so much so as to require a -knife to break into it. - -Gala chemises that approached this ideal did appear several seasons ago. -Their frontispieces were encrusted with a swarm of very young tucks, -which rendered them quite docile. But these gentle, easy-going garments, -with their pliant pleats and amenable button holes, could not survive. -They were, alas, too soft. They lacked the stoicism of starch. They -could not hold their own against the sterner-fibred armored breastworks. - -And so we men of today when we go to perform our evening devotions to -the ladies have upon us the same old white plague. - -I might find some consolation in the fact that my aversion to it is -shared by all laundries. Yes, the laundry is my avenger. With -Machiavellian guile it invites shirts, seeks them, welcomes them, -professes a yearning passion for them; and then subtly destroys them in -secret. Commit an insufferable new stud-smasher to a laundry and note -the fate that overtakes it. See what happens to its bold front. A week -later it will be brought back to you with its spirit quite broken, and -its tail between its sleeves, and held in subjection by a squad of -menacing pins. - -The moment you rend the veil of wax paper with which they have -discreetly concealed its destitution, you are amazed to find how it has -aged in one short week. It has become like the sear and yellow leaf. -There are crow's feet at the corners of its buttonholes. It is so weak -that they have had to send it on a paste-board stretcher to keep it -from going all to pieces. - -Your erstwhile festive buckler now looks more like the bosom of -Abraham. - - - - -INTERIOR DESPERATION - - -It is easy nowadays to get advice on how to arrange your home. The -Woman's Page in any newspaper will tell you just how your living-room -ought to look, just how your hallway may be beautified, and just how -your kitchen may be transformed into a scientific laboratory. Scores of -books by experts on the subject undertake to instruct you how to change -your home from a place to live in to a work of art. - -Realizing that my abode needed a little toning-up along modern æsthetic -lines, I consulted a book called "The Dwelling Beautiful," which I had -been informed would give me just the help I needed. "It is not necessary -that your furniture, rugs, hangings, and pictures be _expensive_," says -the author, reassuringly. "The only essential is that they be beautiful -in themselves and in restful accord with each other." - -Pray, gentle writer, did you ever see my belongings? Did you ever see -the marble-and-walnut parlor table that Aunt Jessamine gave me; or the -streakily-stained Mission piano, with mottled glass panels and gew-gawy -candle-brackets, that my wife won in the guessing contest and is -therefore inordinately proud of; or the case of stuffed birds which -Uncle Lemuel left me in his will? How am I to make these things -"beautiful in themselves and in restful accord with each other?" - -The truth is, none of our furnishings are gregarious. From the green rug -whose acrid hue assaults every other color in the room, to the -wonderfully and fearfully made "ornamental" lamp, each thing is what the -advertisement writers would call "_different_." Rabid in their -nonconformity, how am I to make a happy family of them? - -The main feud is between our heirlooms and our wedding presents--the -former being atrocities in oak, walnut and plush of the Victorian era, -and the latter, present-day garishnesses; so that the general effect -might be likened to a colon: one period on top of another. - -The author of "The Dwelling Beautiful" would probably suggest that I -get rid of some of these incumbrances. The lamentable fact is that I -_can't_. My relatives would disown me. For my whole family -connection--not to mention my wife's (about which much might be -said)--takes upon itself to police my belongings. Every visit of a -relative, even the casual call of my most distant cousin, means a -critical inspection, a careful stock-taking of heirlooms and wedding -presents. - -A person who gives you anything as a wedding present never forgets it. -His taste may be erratic, but his memory is inexorable. Because a thing -happened to catch his fancy in an off-moment, it is anchored in your -home forever. And the feeling of self-appreciation for his generosity, -which he experiences whenever he beholds his gift in after years, -prevents him from admitting, even to himself, that he was out of his -mind when he bought it. Hence, you are doomed to be its perpetual -curator, with the obligation to display it prominently, so that whenever -he chooses to enter your house he may see it and claim it with his eye. - -An heirloom is still worse. Each one that you have in your possession -might have gone to somebody else, and that somebody else feels that he -or she would have appreciated it more than you do. Nevertheless, for you -to disburden yourself of a single heirloom by presenting it to the -person who coveted it most, would be to precipitate a family crisis. - -Take, for instance, that case of stuffed birds. Every time Uncle -Lemuel's daughter sees it she tells me how much it always meant to her, -and how the old house seems empty without it. Yet whenever I offer to -make her a present of it she bursts into tears, and sobs that her dear -father wanted me to have it, because I had once told him I liked birds, -and that therefore she would be the last person in the world to deprive -me of it. - -So, along with all the rest of the harmony-killers, I am saddled for -life with this ornithological incubus. It is true, as Cousin Ophelia -says, that I like birds; but my fondness for them does not continue -after they are defunct and stuffed; neither does it include _owls_, -whether alive or dead, and there are no less than three owls in that -cabinet--gloomy, dusty, evil-looking fowls, their big yellow glass eyes -wide open and staring. I'll wager they had their eyes closed when Uncle -Lemuel shot them. He never was much of a sport. - -Be that as it may, these lugubrious specimens are on my hands. I kept -them in the living-room till I couldn't stand them there any longer. -(Strangers would ask me how I happened to take up taxidermy.) Then I -removed them to the dining-room, where they promptly took away my -appetite. Transferred subsequently to the nursery, they caused Mamma's -Pet to go into convulsions of terror. I offered the cook an increase in -wages if she would take the cursed things into _her_ room; she -threatened to leave. I made a pathetic appeal to my wife to take them -into hers; she reminded me coolly that Uncle Lemuel was _my_ uncle. Now -they are in _my_ room, in the corner where I used to keep my favorite -chair. - -But something tells me that they may not endure there forever. I am a -mild-dispositioned man, long-suffering, and tractable; but that cabinet -of birds is too much. - -Some day you may see clouds of smoke pouring out of my windows and -fire-engines pulling up at my door. If you do, don't feel sorry for me -or censure me. A burning need will be satisfied. It will be a case of -sponsored combustion. - - - - -THE WRITING ON THE SCREEN - - -Being interested in human nature in all its manifestations, I have -lately made a study of handwriting as it is shown in the moving -pictures. I undertook this research because I had been given to -understand that chirography, when scientifically analyzed, revealed -every nuance of human character; and because the personages in -moving-pictures, being intensely dramatic, could not fail to have -striking individualities as penmen. - -Let me give some of the interesting examples which I found. Here, for -instance, is a confidential communication from a great financier to one -of his associates: - - Dear Buggenheim, - - Buy 30,000 shares of B V D immediately We must foil Stockfeller if - it takes our last million - - J P Mormon - -Observe in what a firm, steady hand this is written. It shows that the -great financier can be cool even in a crisis. No wonder he is -successful. He always looks ahead; he never crosses a T until he comes -to it. Clear-visioned he is; his I's have their specks on straight. Such -a man will go far without being missed. - -The next specimen is a letter written by the dashing young hero to the -heroine. It reads: - - Dear Bosnia - - I love you madly. Your father despises me because I am poor but - honest. Elope with me at midnight in my racing machine. - - Beverly - -Stanch and dependable. His passion is intense, yet he is too loyal to -betray it. Note the uncompromising uprightness of his L's. You just -can't help trusting him, because, as he says, he hasn't any money. - -Here is a letter penned by a wayward wife. Fraught with tense emotion, -it is indeed a moving human document. She writes: - - Dear Bertram: - - I am leaving you tonight for ever. Try to understand--and forgive - me. My hand trembles so that I can scarcely write. I hope you will - be happy. Goodbye! - - Arnica. - -What a wealth of sorrow this handwriting displays! Poor, unfortunate -woman, tearful and yet volatile! Her M's are bowed with grief, and yet -they have an arch look. Out of touching deference to her first love she -makes a desperate effort to be neat; she is not willing that her -husband's last memento of her should be a sloppy one. Even when about to -commit a sin, she still retains that refinement of nature which he has -always reverenced, that indescribable feminine delicacy which was wont -to reveal itself in such little acts as shrinking visibly at the touch -of unclean overshoes. - -There are innumerable other examples which might be cited, handwritings -of every conceivable kind; but the endless variety of them would merely -tend to bewilder. Therefore I shall give only two more and without -extended comment; for, indeed, their characteristics jut out quite -protuberantly. - -The little six-year-old child raises her face wistfully from her piece -of angel food and scrawls: - - Dear Daddy: - - Mama and me wish you would come home. - - Melba. - -Truly a revelation of the artistic nature. In contrast to this, let us -examine what Jimmie the Dope, escaped convict, scribbles to his -confederate: - - Steve: - - Be there wit yer tools at one o'clock tonight ready to do the job. - But look out fer that Italian named Isaac McTavish, he's a - "stool-pigeon" - - Jimmie. - -This particular specimen has a tragic interest for us. It demonstrates -the failure of our modern institutions. Here is a man forced by society -into a felon's trade who was capable of earning an honest living as an -instructor in penmanship. - - - - -MUSIQUE GLACÉE - - -[Illustration] - -Of all strivers after the Ideal none have so kindly a method as the -architects responsible for those pleasing structures termed French -pastry. Whatever they create is delicate, delectable, imbued with -sweetness. Putting aside the thought of future fame, these gentle -artificers devote their labor to works as perishable as they are -exquisite: meringues, sculptured in ambrosial stucco, that melt to -nothing; roseate cakelets of which the crimson splendor endures no -longer than a sunset; kisses that are all too brief; tarts which, frail -as flowers, succumb quickly to hunger in the dessert. These crust -craftsmen pour forth richness as song-birds do, creating rapture for but -a precious moment. If ordinary architecture is "frozen music," then -surely this Gallic refinement of it is "_musique glacée_." - -There are many styles, ranging from Perpendicular Gothic to Powdered -Rococo--so many, in fact, that one could scarcely hope to masticate them -all at a single sitting. (Two or three is the most I have ever been able -to account for.) Yet each style, if found in its purity, merits -attention as an embodiment of good taste. For even the humblest cream -puff, despite the looseness of its design and the unpretentiousness of -its exterior, has an interior well worth investigating. - -Perhaps the most important landmark in all the realm of pastry is the -tradition-hallowed and chocolate-roofed éclair, whose long nave affords -sanctuary for whipped cream or custard. (Not necessarily -_chocolate_-roofed, however: the eaves may be tinged instead with a soft -patina of _café au lait_.) This mellow-hued pile, eminently edible, is -cherished by multitudes of devotees. - -Another structure beautiful in ruin is the massive patty that serves as -donjon-keep for oysters. Upon its crumbling ramparts parsley has found -root, and encircling its fissured base is a broad moat of gravy. Gaunt, -sugarless; no oyster can hope to escape. - -An equally notable tower is the stately white charlotte russe. Its -impenetrable wall of cardboard, re-enforced inside with a doughty -thickness of cake, rises sheer from the glacis of the plate and -terminates in crenelated battlements over the edge of which hang masses -of cream, ready for the invader. Upon the topmost pinnacle is posted a -sentinel cherry. - -Of contrastingly mild aspect are the various crisp terraces--those -luxuriant Hanging Gardens, where fruits of every sort are spread out in -gorgeous profusion: rows of gold-gleaming apricots; neat hedges of -orange plugs; happy pears and orderly better-halves of peaches; a bed of -sugar-fed strawberries, each tucked in snugly; grapes chaliced in fluted -pie crust; jocund apple chips and banana checkers, cuddled cosily slice -against slice. Truly a paradise in pastry! - -And there are a host of other fair shapes: the pantheon-like Kossuth -cake, beneath the low dome of which is a votive offering of cream; the -amazing custard skyscraper, with its innumerable floors, no walls, and -gaily iced roof; the Byzantine _baba au rhum_, inlaid with tutti-frutti -mosaics and steeped in subtle enchantment; and countless others--fanes, -kiosks, minarets, pavilions, reliquaries of jam--baffling description or -digestion. - -Frail, ephemeral, created with no thought of permanence; and yet we -should hardly enjoy them more if they were built of everlasting marble. -The craftsmen who design them, scorning personal glory, do not sign -their works. For theirs is the true æsthetic spirit, so rare in this -commercial age. Their handiwork faithfully bears out the precept "Tart -for Tart's Sake." - - - - -THE CARE OF THE HUSBAND - - -The average young wife is regrettably inexperienced in the matter of -husbands. Unless it has been her fortune to have a wise mother or a -divorce, she is likely to be quite ignorant of how to care for and train -the "big stranger" who comes into her life. Therefore these precepts of -friendly counsel may not seem to the matrimonial novice altogether -amiss. The advice I would give is simple (in the fullest sense of the -word); so that after the young wife has had a few husbands, she can -dispense with it, if not sooner. - -_Feeding._--This is the most important problem a wife has to face. The -husband must be made to feel that he is well fed. Otherwise he will not -be contented and docile. - -During the first week after marriage, when he is still quite infantile -and tender to the point of mushiness, he may be fed from the hand or -spoon. This method will be found especially satisfactory in cases where -the husband shows symptoms of sickly sentimentality. - -Throughout the entire first month he will be so demanding of care, so -bewildered by the strange new world in which he finds himself, as to be -barely able to maintain sanity; in short, he will be so soso that she -will have to prepare all the food herself, or at least make him think -she does. - -But later a change of diet will be found necessary. He will demand -scientifically prepared foods. If the change is managed in the right -way, it can be accomplished with only slight upset to his disposition. -Simply alter the feeding formula so that the total quantity is lessened -and the proportion of sugar and burnt materials is increased. It will -soon take effect. In a day or two he will say, with a worried look, -"Darling, I'm afraid the cooking is too much for you." And you know what -he really means. After that the transition to avowedly professional -cooking will be quite painless. - -_Outings and Play._--During the first few months the husband will not -need many outings. He will be happy and contented if allowed to romp -about the house. Such toys as hammers, picture wire, curtain rods, -etc., will keep him occupied. - -Later, however, there will come a period of restlessness. Then you must -take him out more and more, and let him run and play with other -husbands--after you have made sure, of course, that they are good, -well-behaved husbands. The companionship of these innocent sports will -tend to make him one himself. - -When, as time goes by, he reaches the stage where he begins to take -notice, the wife must be very careful, for he is highly impressionable. -At this time a wife will do well to look out for her husband herself, -instead of entrusting him to some empty-headed girl, whom she may not -really know at all. If he needs amusement let her divert him with -brightly-colored silks and baubles which she wears and he pays for. Let -her take him to see the pretty theater, and show him the beautiful -mountains and the big blue ocean, and tell him fairy stories about -economy, and teach him to draw nice big cheques in his little cheque -book. - -Discipline cannot begin too early. The husband must be taught that he -can only have the things that his wife decides are best for him, and -that no protesting on his part will do any good. If he proves fretful, -chide him by threatening to go live with your mother. If, after that, he -is still unruly, threaten to have your mother come live with you. - -In this way he will soon learn to mind. Indeed, before long you will be -able to show him off before company with the assurance that he will -behave just as you have trained him to; and you will have the -satisfaction of hearing your friends declare he does you credit. - -_Awakening his mind._--This is one of the chief duties and -responsibilities of wifehood. It cannot be shirked. For while no husband -is expected to know anything at marriage (the fact that he got married -attests that), he is expected a year or so later to look intelligent -when the lady next to him at dinner discusses Coué and Scriabine, and to -know that Gauguin is not something to be got from a bootlegger. For him -not to know these things would be a reflection on his home training, or, -in other words, his wife. She will be considered negligent unless she -has instilled into his rudimentary mind a smattering of whatever is -accounted smart. For every wife is judged by the way she brings up her -husband. - - Note.--If in the above treatise I have borrowed from the learned - doctors who have written concerning the Care of the Baby, I am - sorry; for I see no prospect of ever being able to pay them back. - Even this small note of mine will be discounted. - - - - -TERMINOLOGY OF TARDINESS - - -Our late demented newspapers are in a plight. They are no longer -afflicted with a shortage of paper, but they are still cramped by a -dearth of names for their afternoon editions. All the stand-by titles -have been exhausted. By midday the "Home Edition," "Night Edition," and -"Special Extra" have come and gone, and there is still the whole -afternoon with nothing left to tempt the tired business man but various -grades of "Finals." New nomenclature is needed, names that will stir the -imagination and summon the cents. - -Desirous of doing what I can toward alleviating this distressing -situation, I venture to suggest the following schedule: - - 8 A. M.--Late Edition--_One star_ - - 9 A. M.--Extremely Late Edition--_Two stars_ - - 10 A. M.--Inexcusably Late Edition--_Three stars_ - - 11 A. M.--Hopelessly Late Edition--_One constellation_ - - 12 M.--Midnight Edition--_Two constellations_ - - 1 P. M.--Tomorrow Morning Edition--_Group of planets_ - - 2 P. M.--Tomorrow Afternoon Edition--_Complete solar system_ - - 3 P. M.--Day-After-Tomorrow Edition--_Comet_ - - 4 P. M.--Next-Week Edition--_Large comet_ - - 5 P. M.--Next-Month Edition--_Unusually large comet_ - - 6 P. M.--Next-Year Edition--_Complete zodiac_ - - 7 P. M.--Special Doomsday Extra--_Milky way and nebulae_ - - - - -OPPRESSORS OF THE MEEK - -I am not afraid of bloated bondholders. I suspect that they are just -humans like myself, only that they have money. - -But I am afraid of their servants. _They_ are not human. No one ever saw -them eat or sleep or smile. - -My millionaire host may overlook the fact that I am using the salad-fork -for the fish; not so his English butler. This austere personage takes -note of my error in silence, and, when the salad course arrives, steals -up behind me like Nemesis, and lays by my plate the fork that correct -form demands. I feel chastened. - -[Illustration: _My host may overlook the fact that I am using the salad -fork for fish; not so his English butler._] - -His eye is always upon me. I can't even take a sip of water without his -calling attention to it by stealthily refilling my glass. - -If he didn't watch me so closely when I am helping myself, I wouldn't be -so nervous. As it is, my hand trembles under his grueling stare. Just at -the critical moment when my tongful of asparagus, conveyed like a hot -coal, is poised in mid-air between the serving-dish and my plate, I -flinch, and there is a green-and-white avalanche. I make a frantic slap -at it as it falls, and by good luck it lands on the plate. To be sure, -some of the stalks are craning their necks perilously over the edge, but -that is a small matter compared with what might have happened. I rake -them into the middle of the plate, sit gasping at the thought of my -narrow escape. - -There is an awkward pause. The bon mot I was about to utter apropos of -an opera I had never heard has left my mind entirely. I can't think of -anything to say. Finally, in desperation, I remark idiotically to the -dowager at my left, "I love asparagus; don't you?" - -The next time he passes a dish, I lose my nerve. I lift my hand to help -myself, and then, as I catch his eye, draw back, shaking my head. No, I -won't take any chances. - -After that I keep to a strict diet, eating only the things that appear -on my plate when it is put down in front of me. If the plate arrives -naked and empty, naked and empty it remains, even though the course -consist of my favorite delicacy. I suffer the pangs of Tantalus. - -Alligator-pear salad--more to be desired than gold, yea, than much fine -gold--is offered to me. I covet it. Everything gastronomic in my nature -craves it, but cowardly fear restrains me (it looks slippery), and I -refuse it. I could almost weep. - -As the dinner proceeds and my modified hunger-strike continues, I begin -to regain confidence. I feel that my abstemiousness, implying as it does -a jaded palate and an aristocratic indigestion, is highly fashionable. I -fancy that in refusing ambrosia I am showing a godlike superiority. - -I expand with self-assurance. Just watch me startle these plutocrats -with my scorn of their costly food. I'll make myself the lion of the -evening. - -"May I help you to shortcake, sir?" asks a low, ironically respectful -voice. - -My pride collapses. The butler has seen through me to the cowardice in -my heart. From his lofty pinnacle he stoops to succor me. But I rebel. - -"I'll help myself, thank you," I retort, for I am on my mettle now, and -boldly prize off a towering segment of the dessert. Would _I_ let a -menial reveal to the whole table that I was afraid to help myself? -Never! Why, I'd sooner-- - -Dizzily the creamy thing totters, keels over, and falls with a sickening -flop, a mushy sound, as of the impact of a wet sponge. Juicy red berries -gambol hither and thither. - -For a moment the shortcake lies helplessly on its side like a jellyfish -that the tide has left. But only for a moment; for a wrecking-crew, made -up of the butler and his assistant, comes hurrying on the scene. With -emergency plate and scraper they remove the debris, while I turn purple -and clutch at my collar for air. Then, after a mortifying amount of -crumb-gleaning and cream-mopping, they spread a napkin before me in the -presence of my swell friends, as if to shield the cloth from further -depredations. I draw back to allow them to put it there, and in so doing -squash a hidden strawberry against my waistcoat. As a final humiliation, -a fresh piece of shortcake is brought to me _already on a plate_. - -If there is anything more formidable than an English butler, it is an -English valet. Somebody else's valet, I mean; for I suppose that if a -person had one long enough, he could get so that he wouldn't be afraid -of him. But as for a perfectly strange English valet! - -"Your key, please, sir," demands Hawkins upon my arrival at my friend's -summer palace. He bows slightly. - -"What key?" I ask uneasily. - -"The key to your traveling-bag, sir." - -I am just stopping overnight on my way home from a house party in the -woods, and all my spare raiment is soiled and bedraggled. - -"So I can unpack your things, sir," threatens the Great Mogul. - -"Never mind, thank you," I stammer. "I've lost the key." - -"Very good, sir," he replies and goes. - -But not permanently. When I return to my room at midnight, elated over -having trounced my host in countless games of billiards, I am met at the -door by my oppressor. In his hand is a small object. - -"I fetched a locksmith out from the city, sir, and 'ad 'im make this -for you, sir. It fits quite correctly, sir." - -And one glance about the room--from the snaggle-tooth comb on the -dresser to the frayed pajamas the mussiness of which no festive laying -out can hide--makes me aware of my utter ignominy. - -Since when I have confined my week-end visiting exclusively to lumber -camps. - - - - -PUTTING PEDAGOGY ACROSS - - -There is much well-meaning propaganda in progress for the preservation -of professors. Alumni are appealed to, bankers are buttonholed, and in -every college club the diagram showing the Big Game play by play has -been replaced by a dial showing how many millions have been garnered to -date for the fund; all this in order that the saying "Live and learn" -may be reversible as "Be learned and yet live." - -Wouldn't it be more humane (instead of giving the professors money, to -which they are not accustomed) to teach them how to "sell" themselves? -Today every one is paid according to how completely the public or the -plutocrats are "sold" on him. Only salesmanship can save the scholars. - -The time is ripe for some gilt-edged grad such as Morton K. Mung, -President of the Newark Noodle Corporation, to announce, when stalked by -the subscription squad: "No, gentlemen of the Adopt a Professor -Committee, your suggestion that by donating seven cents a day I keep an -instructor in paleontology from starvation, or be godfather to an -authority on Sanscrit at eight cents, strikes me as impractical. With -the cost of living rising again, next year they will want nine and ten -cents--and you see the position that would put us in. - -"No, gentlemen, I'll do better. I'll solve this situation once for all -by loaning my general sales manager, Mr. Blat, to dear old Weehawken for -two months, and he will give the members of the Faculty the same -tutoring course he gives the men we send out on the road. Within a year -after they leave his hands these same profs you've mentioned will be -writing 'Success Through Sanscrit' and 'How I made My Pile with -Paleontology' for the _American Magazine_." - -At the conclusion of this loyal speech the committee would give a long -cheer and depart checkless but with a new vision. - -And, sure enough, the pale pedagogues would emerge from Mr. Blat's -snappy seminar simply exuding system. They would possess the Power to -Meet Men, the Personality that Wins. Laboratory recluses would burst -forth primed to impress with Bigger Biology--Contains More Bunk. - -The Sanscrit savant, formerly threadbare, but now a nifty dresser, would -immediately hop a train for New York and breeze into the office of Hugh -G. Wads, senior member of Wads & Wads and Chairman of the Trustees of -Weehawken University. - -"Good morning, Mr. Wads," he would say aggressively. "I've come here -this morning to talk Vedas." - -"Vedas? I don't get you. Never heard of such a stock. It isn't listed on -the big board, and if it's traded in on the Curb, the dealings must be -pretty small. Besides, I thought you were a professor at Weehawken." - -"Right. I am a professor, if you choose to put it that way. Technically, -though, I'm a promoter, and my proposition is VEDAS (Trade mark -copyrighted 2000 B. C.)." - -"Vedas? I still don't get you." - -"Ah, that is precisely why I am here. I was sure you would want to -know--Cigar?--Well, Vedas are the wisdom songs of India. Mellowed by -forty centuries in the parchment. One hundred per cent Hindu. Classy yet -conservative; noble yet nobby. You know what caste is among the -Brahmins?--well, that's how exclusive these are!" - -"Indeed." - -"Yes, and I'm offering them for immediate delivery to students." - -"But how does this concern me?" - -"I was just getting to that. This is a proposition which requires -considerable capital for its development. At the present time only seven -students have asked for Vedas, yet I have estimated that the supply of -Vedas now mellowing out in India is enough for at least 180,000 -students. Which means that if we created the demand--why, think of the -business we could do! When you come right down to it, a Veda, when -presented in the right way, can be as catchy as a Kewpie." - -"Hm. How much money would you need to start with?" - -"Fifty thousand dollars. Besides my salary, which would be $15,000 -outright, plus a bonus of one and one-half cents per Veda per student, -there would be the cost of advertising in the college catalogue, the -conducting of a circularizing campaign to a selected list of student -prospects and the publication of a promotion organ to be entitled 'India -Ink.' Then, too, of course, I would have to have a commission on gross -tuition receipts and text book sales and an ample expense account for -entertaining in the class-room and in my home. Now will you kindly put -your name here on the dotted line?" - -"Before I guarantee you all this money, tell me one thing. What is the -real value of these Vedas?" - -"They are the quaint quintessence of conservatism, and will occupy -youthful minds menaced by modernism." - -"I'll sign." - -Succored by the science of salesmanship, any professor would be able to -achieve affluence. Fortunes would rise from footnotes; and there would -be big money made in bibliography. - - - - -COACHING FROM THE SIDE-LINES - - -[Illustration] - -Thanks to the roadside advertisements, driving a car has become as easy -as playing a pianola. You just watch the instructions that appear along -the edge, and regulate your levers and pedals accordingly. Thus, when -you see: - - DANGEROUS CURVE - - SOUND RASPON - ---you reach instinctively for the button of your electric horn. Later, -seeing: - - SHARP DESCENT - - APPLY EUREKA NON-SLIP-ABLE BRAKE - ---you comply gracefully. A mere twist of the wrist or dislocation of -the ankle does the trick. - -He that reads may run. Any man who has ever watched an organist pull out -stops and push them in again can become a motor virtuoso. Any woman -accustomed to following instructions in cutting out a dress pattern, can -grasp the idea as easily as, when told to, she grasps the lever which -operates BINGO'S NORTHPOLEAN RADIATOR COOLER. It is so simple that it is -imbecile. - -Every peculiarity of the route is heralded. All its little -irregularities, its deviations from straightness, its bad declines and -sudden uppishnesses, even the small faults which an easy-going person -would overlook, are held up sternly in warning. - - GUSTY CORNER - - RAISE BREEZ-O EXTENSION WIND-SHIELD - - SANDY STRETCH - - SPRAY GEARS WITH ANTI-GRIT - - PUDDLES - - APPLY SPLASHOL EMERGENCY MUD-GUARD - - RAILROAD CROSSING - - PUT EAR TO LOCOMOTIVE DETECTAPHONE - - DANGEROUS BOULDER - - BEFORE RAMMING THIS MAKE SURE ACHILLES COLLISION BUFFER IS - PROPERLY ADJUSTED - - VILLAGE SPEED TRAP - - APPLY BACKFIRE WITH READY CONSTABLE EXTERMINATOR - -Occasionally, as a relief from the faults of the road, its favorable -points are dwelt on. Thus, - - MOUNTAIN VIEW - - ENJOY IT THROUGH AUTO-FLEX NON-REFRACTORY GOGGLES - -In general, however, the emphasis is upon the perils of the way, as-- - - ONLY 1 MILE TO HOTEL SOAKUM - -(Here no specific instructions are given, it being understood that the -accessory involved is one's pocketbook and that the directions are: -"OPEN ALL THE WAY.") - -The system has one drawback. The signs never fail, yet there is such a -thing as trusting them too implicity. I knew a man who, as the result of -trying to obey seven signs telling him to "BE SURE TO DINE AT" as many -different inns, stripped the lining of his esophagus. And I knew of -another man--a timid, earnest, nervous old gentleman--who depended on -signs so completely that one day, at a dangerous part of the road, being -suddenly confronted with the command: - - USE PLEXO - -he fell into a panic. "Plexo, plexo!" he muttered in bewilderment. -"Where _is_ the plexo lever? I can't find the plexo button! Something -terrible will happen unless I find it." - -It did. As, with trembling fingers, he fumbled through the entire outfit -of attachments, he forgot to steer, and unluckily ran off the edge of a -precipice; so that he did not live to learn that plexo was a massage -cream. - - - - -FAST AND LOOSE - - -[Illustration: Decorative letter "T"] - -There is no constancy so affecting as that of a faithful button. Friends -may be devoted; yet they seek your company partly for the pleasure of -it. Dogs may show the uttermost fidelity; but you feed them. But the -attachment of buttons is without taint of self: it is pure, spontaneous. - -This loyalty is the more remarkable when you consider how empty their -lives are. The outlook through their buttonholes is but a narrow one. -Their daily labor, a mere mechanical buttoning into and out of an -uncongenial flap, is deadeningly monotonous. (I have seldom known a -button whose heart was really in its work.) In surroundings so little -adapted to the building up of character, they display a stanchness that -is akin to stoicism. Indeed, many a button will stick doggedly to an old -weatherbeaten garment long after the perfidious nap has fled. - -There are, unfortunately, buttons wanting in probity, deceitful buttons -that pretend to be strongly attached to you when detained by but a -single thread, irresponsible buttons that fly off at a tangent, immodest -buttons (of the cloth-covered variety) that disrobe in public. But -deliberately vicious buttons are rare. The fact is, few buttons would go -to the bad, were it not for the heartless indifference of their owners. -Too often a headstrong young button, that might easily have been saved -had it been brought up short the moment it showed signs of looseness, is -allowed to reach the end of its rope, fall, and be utterly lost. - -And the dereliction of one may mean the ruin of its family. I was told -of a sad case, once, where an entire clan of brown buttons, dwelling -happily together on the front of a coat and waistcoat--polished, -distinctive buttons they were, not be matched anywhere--were cruelly -banished, because of a single erring member. - -While to neglect buttons is most reprehensible, there is such a thing as -showing them too much indulgence. For buttons must not be coddled: when -toyed with, they droop. - -Tender-hearted women, actuated by sympathy and not realizing the -consequences of what they were doing, have been known to _pamper_ -buttons. Because a button has a pleasant, open countenance, one of these -misguided persons will support it on her costume in idleness. She may -even surround herself with a retinue of glittering sycophants that never -knew a buttonhole--great saucerlike hangers-on, lolling on their stems; -brazen braggadocios, flashing with insolent militarism; and puny silken -pettinesses, mere pills of buttons. Often I have been shocked to see a -swarm of these drones perched indolently on the show part of a garment -while, underneath, a squadron of industrious hooks and eyes grappled -with the work to be done. - -Such sights are, to thoughtful people, almost as depressing as the -massacre of helpless shirt buttons by a baleful flatiron. Are buttons to -become effete? Will they, in the course of generations of _dolce far -niente_, lose their stamina? The signs are ominous. - - - - -THE PRIMROSE PATHOLOGY - - -[Illustration] - -I am laying an ego. With the assistance of a soako-analyst I am -overhauling my instincts, liberating my innate masterfulness. Just wait -till you see my rebuilt personality. - -It's wonderful what the right soako-analyst can do to your complexes and -your finances. My soako is a woman, of course. Male soakos are best for -feminine mind-patients; but any man who needs to have his psychic self -revamped should hand over his unconscious to a sympathetic lady soako. -The attunement is lovelier. She can more understandingly separate him -from his inhibitions and his dollars. - -My soako and I, we have talks by the hour. At fifty dollars per. We talk -about criminals and insane people and how everybody's crazy if they only -knew it. She explains how that dream I had after eating that stringy -Welch rarebit--that dream about throwing the size twelve overshoes at -the canary--proves that I secretly desire to murder Uncle Alfred and -elope with Mary Garden. If I could just commit that homicide and meet -Mary, these annoying conflicts would clear and leave my unconscious as -serenely blank as my conscious. So far, Uncle and Mary are still having -it out atavistically in my foreconscious. I must eat some more Welch -rarebit. - -Before I went to this nerve therapeutist I had fears. But she has cured -me. She is all nerve. I thought there were some things one could not -mention to a lady. I thought that when visiting a lady, even by -appointment (office hours: 9--5) one could hardly make certain allusions -without incurring a "Sir! Leave this house instantly and never let me -hear your conversation again!" - -But now that I have been initiated into the New Freedom, I know that the -automatic prehensile response is another fifty on my bill. - -So I am learning, progressing. A new mental day is breaking and so is my -bank account. The dun is near. - -But when I get my mind--what'll I do with it? - -I think I'll become a soako myself and take in lady patients. - - - - -FIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD - - -[Illustration: Decorative letter "T"] - -This world would be a far different place if there were peace among -pens. As it is, however, every pen wears a drop of ink on its shoulder. - -Not even the tender ministrations of chamois cloth will soothe its -savage heart. It is deaf to sweet reasonableness. Returning drunk from -the inkwell, it will smutch the hand that fed it, cast blots upon the -fairest names, and ravish virgin sheets of paper. And when you try to -force it to a more civilized way of behaving, you discover it has its -points crossed. - -A pen thus divided against itself will not write. There must be freedom -for the black fluid. There must be perfect harmony--two prongs with but -a single point, two parts that meet as one. Disunion is a sign of -weakness. - -I had a pen once whose prongs became estranged. They were egoists: each -followed his individual bent, and was determined to make his own mark in -his own field. For the sake of appearances, they took their meals of ink -together, but immediately afterward, when pressure was brought to bear -upon them, they separated. Yet when one of them, striving too hard after -originality, broke under the strain, his widow was left desolate. - -More domestic in an old-fashioned way is that staunch, blunt family, the -Stubbs. They are firm and substantial sort of pens. By people who -dislike them they are called phlegmatic, stodgy, close, stiffnibbed; and -it must be admitted, they do lack the sprightliness of the Sharps; but, -after all, these unyielding puritans, with their heavy touch, are more -trustworthy than their acute but volatile cousins. For temperament in a -pen finds vent in sudden splutterings. - -The difference in their natures is evidenced by the way they meet -obstacles. The Stubbs, plodding along doggedly, overcome all hazards in -the paper; whereas the Sharps, tripping nonchalantly, come to grief at -the first bunker, and before they get started again, waste several -strokes and gouge the course. And when the Sharps attempt to run the -gauntlet of expensive linen stationery (the higher the price, the higher -the ridges), they get held up at every cable crossing. But there is a -kind of paper--smooth, slippery, insidious--that prompts both the Sharps -and the Stubbs to evil ways. They know they are doing wrong, however; -for they are ashamed, and conceal their tracks, rendering all tracing -impossible. - -It is a great pity that pens are not more consistent about their ink -giving. One moment they are stingy, and the next lavish. Perhaps this -may be due to absent-mindedness. - -Beginning a letter to a crabbed old relative, you say to your pen, "Give -me a little ink for 'Dear Uncle Jonathan.'" - -It ignores the request. You urge again. Still it is thinking of -something else. "Here, wake up, now!" (You shake it violently.) "Give me -some ink!" - -"Why, certainly," it replies effusively. "Take a blot." - -And "Dear Uncle Jonathan" is buried with deep mourning. - -Haphazard as their outgivings appear to be, I have a theory that they -are in reality quite logical; for I have noticed that _pens spend most -ink on things that are worth most_. Thus, a pen that would grudge to -disburse a single minim on a cheap sheet of a pad, will gladly expend -all it has upon a costly embroidered tablecloth. And it finds the -flyleaf of a handsome book (which if separate from the volume it would -regard as a mere scrap of paper) amazingly absorbing. If it take a fancy -to something large and sumptuous, such as an oriental rug, and yet not -have on hand sufficient ink for such an outlay, it will appropriate it -with a deposit of spot splash. - -However little aptitude a pen may have for writing, it is sure to -display rare skill as a fisherman. In the most unpromising inkwell it -will catch deep sea monsters that astound you. It will spear great -flounders of blotting paper and wriggly eels of string. It will drag up -from the bottom wreckage of forgotten times, prehistoric flora and -fauna--an antique rubber band, a female tress (perhaps of some ink-nymph -long dead or discharged), a tack bent with age, a perfectly preserved -shoe button, a less perfectly preserved mummy of a fly. - -The perseverance of this follower of Izaak Walton is admirable. It will -cast patiently again and again without a single dribble, and then, all -at once, it will come struggling triumphantly to the surface with a -whale of a June bug it has harpooned. Whereupon, as is the custom with -fishermen who write, it will make a grand splurge of its catch on paper. - -In order to prevent such piscatorial dippiness, pen fanciers have bred -the _fountain_ species, the latest variety of which is self-spilling. -Pens of this artificially produced species are very nervous. They have -to be handled with extreme care. For example, if one of them is held -upside down, all the ink runs to its head, and there is danger of a -hemorrhage. Its digestive system is poor: it regurgitates and bubbles at -the mouth. The least thing upsets its stomach. If you forget to put its -cap on, even in mild weather, it contracts a serious congestion of the -throat; with the result that the next letter you write proves dry-point -etching. - -Taken all in all, pens have a great deal to answer for. The record they -have left on the pages of history is a black one. Many a person who has -sat down to write something bright and optimistic, has been so -disillusioned and embittered by his pen, that he has ended by hacking a -hymn of hate or drooling a dirge of despair. Which accounts for most of -the world's harsh diplomacy and morbid literature. - -Even this essay was originally intended to be cheerful. - - - - -ENLIGHTENMENT - - -At last I have found out the awful truth about humanity. I never even -suspected it. Till last evening I went along my way cheerfully, blindly, -never guessing that my fellow-men were steeped in evil. - -But now I know. My eyes have been opened. For last night I went to one -of those enlightening film dramas that reveal life as it is. It was -called "Her Blackest Sin," and it comprised nine reels of terrible -truth. - -It was one of those fine moral sermons to which every mother ought to -take her son, and every niece ought to take her uncle, and every -stepaunt ought to take her Pekingese. - -I only wish my daughter could have seen it; but as I haven't any -daughter, she couldn't have. - -[Illustration: _She never really intended to become steeped in sin: she -was scenarioed into it_.] - -This drama shows how a handsome but thoughtless woman may sink in sin -without ever meaning to. Yes, the strange and pitiful part about it is -that she really never intended to be a fallen, crime-seared creature. -She sins witlessly: she is scenarioed into it. Perhaps she is too -anxious to please. She appears at wild cabarets and wears gowns that are -cut to the quick, not because she desires to of her own accord, but -because it is expected of her by the audience. Lack of firmness leads to -her undoing: she is first pliant, then supple, then sinuous. She -displays too little backbone, and too much. - -Poor woman, what chance has she amid so many dress suits? Only too late -does she learn that stiff bosoms cover none but hard hearts, and that -there is no gleam so sinister as that of a silk hat, covering as it does -baldness of the baldest sort. - -Innocent at first, hardly a reel passes before she begins to stop and -work her face, just the way the villains stop and work their faces. (Of -course, being still a modest woman, she does this only in the privacy of -a close-up.) By the seventh reel even her high-minded husband has become -afflicted with the taint, and is stopping and working _his_ face. - -And so the drama progresses, growing blacker and more enlightening every -minute. I can't be too grateful to the producers of this film for the -unflinching way in which they accepted the responsibility of my -innocence and warned me. If they had not, I should probably have gone to -the end of my days without ever knowing that people were at bottom only -smiling criminals. - -But now, thank goodness, I'm warned and on my guard. I'm posted on sin. -When a man comes up to me and shakes my hand, I'll know he's a hawk -looking for a home to break up; and when a woman smiles at me, I'll know -she's a vampire. - -They won't catch _me_! I'll just watch them surreptitiously when they -are off their guard until I see them working their faces, and _then_ -I'll have them! - -For now I am an expert on evil. That film showed me the thrilling -seductions of a life of vice; so that if I am ever confronted by them I -shall be able to recognize them at once and say how do you do. And at -the end there was one of those solemn moral warnings, such as everybody -thinks everybody else is supposed to need; so in future I shall know -what to avoid in _that_ line. - -And this entire transformation of my life cost me only thirty-three -cents. - - - - -HOLIDAY MISGIVINGS - - -[Illustration] - -When, on Christmas night, I take a private view of the collection of -presents I have received, I realize that I am a much misunderstood -person. - -I sit down sadly and wonder what I could have done to create such an -impression. Is there something _queer_ about me? If so, then wouldn't it -have been more tactful, more kind, to have come to me and told me of it, -instead of thus brutally proclaiming it to the world? But that is the -way people are: they will serenely _assume_ things they wouldn't have -the face to mention. - -Those morbid socks!--half hose and half a disease. The loom that made -them must have been degenerate. It is plain that they were never -intended to be put on, because the paste-board document that lurks in -the bottom of the box declares they are "guaranteed against any sort of -wear." And these were esteemed suitable associates for my feet! - -I have no recollection of sniffling, in public; yet here are nine dozen -handkerchiefs, an outfit for someone with chronic coryza. As for the -assemblage of pocketbooks, purses, wallets, coin holders, etc., I only -hope that after I have paid my holiday bills there will be enough money -left to half-way fill the pocketbook I have already. - -But the crowd that seems most oppressive is that of the calendars. Am I -really so absent-minded as to require seven engagement pads? Am I so lax -about settling my accounts that my butcher and grocer and milkman feel -called upon to supply me the means of knowing what day of the month it -is? - -Anything may pass for a calendar, so long as it complies with the law by -having a little batch of months attached to the bottom like an -appendix:--a snapshot of Cousin Gertrude's baby (oh, the deuce! I -suppose I was expected to give that kid something for Christmas!); a -pastoral chromo, entitled "Shearing the Lambs," sent me by a firm of -brokers; a picture of a child in a nightie saying its prayers, with the -compliments of the Schweinler Beef Packing Co.; a hand-tinted but feebly -glued print of Paul and Virginia, inscribed, "Jones and Bergfeldt, -Plumbers." - -One calendar, consisting of a sheaf of large placards, each purporting -to exhibit a specimen of female beauty, is so throttled by its silken -cord that when February 1st arrives and I attempt to give one of the -beauties the flop-over in order that I may gaze on the next for a while, -the situation proves too tense. The eyelet suddenly splits into an -outlet, and the jilted maiden, cast off by her sisters, collapses upon -the floor. - -All of which is most distressing; but no more so than the notion that -women seem to have of what a man likes. I shall never forget the pair -of slippers that Aunt Josephine bestowed upon me last year. They were -what are technically known as _mules_, but in reality they were a couple -of long rafts, each with an arching toe-cabin that would have -accommodated both feet. The low racing sterns extended so far aft of my -heels that the latter stood almost amidships. - -Navigation was difficult. They kept running afoul of each other; so that -I would suddenly find my starboard foot partly on the port slipper and -mostly on the floor. Sometimes one of them would dart ahead several -lengths and capsize, obliging me to turn skipper. No matter how -earnestly I lifted their bows, their sterns always dragged. A landsman -would have said that my progress resembled pumping a rhapsody on a -pianola, or skiing in the Alps. - -The unreasonableness of these mules reached a climax one morning while I -was visiting the Cholmondeley-Browdens. I encountered my hostess -unexpectedly as I was returning from my bath. In the excitement of the -moment, both slippers bolted, one of them performing a spectacular -flip-flap, and the other skidding through the balustrade of the stairway -and landing below in a globe of goldfish; while I made my escape in a -state of pedal nudity. - -As for the neckties I have received--truly, Love is blind! - - - - -ALL, ALL ARE GONE, THE OLD FAMILIAR FAÇADES - - -Nowadays when it is hard for the casual observer to distinguish -Somebody's Mother from Somebody's Jazz Baby, it is not to be wondered at -that houses as well as humans are disguising their age. Victorian -brownstone mansions that later sank to boarding-house seediness now -renew their youth as the "Rubens Studios" or "Haddon Chambers"; drab -office buildings, yielding to a sudden access of sand, take on new -complexions as talcumy white as those of the flappers passing by. - -He would be a tactless and cruel man who would say, "I know when that -one's corner stone was laid." Or, "My great uncle knew that one when it -was only three stories high." Or, "It didn't have that cornice until its -gables began to fall off." Or, "You ought to have seen the stoop it had -before they put in the steel braces." - -Beauty doctoring to buildings must have become quite an art. It takes -skill to know how to eliminate the dark lines under tired window sills, -lift the sagging balconies, reduce protuberant bay windows. Only a -trained chisel can remove a superfluous ornament in a way that will -guarantee against its reappearance. - -We are shocked, though, at the brazenly commercial character that -certain sedate houses have taken on in the giddier part of town. -Buildings that were formerly quiet residences, keeping themselves -retiringly back from the bustle, and modestly shielding themselves with -brown balustrades, now shamelessly come forward as close to the line as -they dare, meeting the idle stroller half-way, not with lowered shades, -but with broad plate-glass assurance, and even displaying scandalous -lingerie. - -We cannot but feel that buildings thus bedizened in the effort to keep -from being neglected, will not command the same reverence that used to -be inspired by the mossy old manse or the messy old mill. Theirs is -hardly the Age of Innocence. - -Would the old home seem as homely to you, after it had been exterior -decorated? Would it be as dear? - -Oh, much dearer!--as the real estate agent will tell you, or your own -broker. - - - - -MY MUSEUM - - -[Illustration] - -I called her Plury. That is to say, I would speak of her by that -endearing appellation when she was running along smoothly and seldom -missing in either cylinder. Her real name, however, was E. Pluribus -Unum. - -You see, I had wanted an automobile, but found that no single make was -within my means. So I bought Plury--just as a person who cannot afford -beef, veal, chicken, turkey, lamb or pork, orders hash. Individually -Fords, Buicks, Overlands, Peerlesses, Simplexes, Pierce-Arrows, etc., -were too expensive for me; but collectively, combined in the form of -second-hand Plury, I could afford them all, at $132.50. - -Plury was a cosmopolitan. Her rear axle was Italian, her steering-wheel -was French, her magneto was Austrian, and her mudguards were Belgian. It -was hard to maintain her neutrality. For example, a German cogwheel that -clutched with an English one--scarred veterans, both of them--kept the -gear box in a constant state of friction. (When such international -clashes occurred, it was always difficult to find out which one had -started the trouble.) Then, too, among the American-made parts there was -much jealousy between those that had come from rival factories. The -tires were of four different makes, each boasting a surface specially -patented against skidding; but each strove so hard to shove the other -three into the gutter, that all four cavorted about the road in a most -unseemly fashion. - -Many were the heartburnings, the incompatibilities of temperament, of -the parts thus yoked together. Whenever these dissentions brought -matters to a standstill, I would have to get out and apply the -monkey-wrench of peace. - -Plury was hardly a _noble_ car in either appearance or speed, yet I was -genuinely fond of her. Her lamps had a wistful look--a look as innocent -and helpless as that with which poached eggs gaze up at you before they -die. As for her slowness, that made little difference; because her -speedometer, geared presumably for a racing car, exaggerated. And, after -all, what is speed but a number on a dial? While I saw "71" registered -there I was not disturbed by the fact that bicyclists were passing me. - -I admired her pluck. She would chunk along stoically, accepting other -people's dust without complaint, when in a condition of health that -would have prostrated any other machine. (Thoroughbreds do not show the -greatest endurance.) Bravely she would drag herself home, after a hard -afternoon's work, with a leak in her radiator and congestion in all her -bearings. - -I used to practice vivisection on her, taking her apart and putting her -together in new ways. It was a fascinating kind of solitaire, solving -the problem of what to do on rainy Sundays. In a few hours' time I could -shuffle the parts and deal out an entirely new model. Under my care -Plury changed her shape with ultrafashionable frequency. A model that I -was particularly interested in trying out was number nine (_i. e._, the -eighth transformation). This was such a daring rearrangement that it -seemed too wonderful to be true. But it worked, and thrillingly. In this -form Plury exceeded all her previous speed records. The speedometer dial -registered 87, and a swarm of gnats had hard work keeping up with us. - -Proceeding at this reckless pace, we approached a hilly curve marked -"DANGER: DRIVE SLOWLY." I changed gear. The cogs emitted a grating, -crunching sound, as of quartz in a stone-crusher, and then subsided. I -got out to view their death grapple. - -But I had no sooner set foot upon the ground than the roar of an -infuriated claxon startled me so that I leaped clear aside into the -ditch. In that instant a huge Fiat, armed with a brazen fender, swung -around the curve and rammed Plury in the radiator. - -Plury _splattered_ like a charlotte russe hit by a sledgehammer. The -road and neighboring fields were full of her. - -The liveried chauffeur of the Fiat got out and began to brush the dust -from the front of his car. A frightened fat man picked himself up from -the floor of the tonneau and called to me, "Are you badly hurt?" - -"No," I replied. "I'm all right, I think." - -"Good!" he said, in a tone of great relief. "Then let's settle the -damages at once, for I don't want this thing to get into the papers." -With a shaky hand he drew out a checkbook. "What was the value of your -car?" - -I hesitated. - -"Would you consider _five thousand_ sufficient indemnity to close the -whole matter--personal injuries, property damages, and everything?" - -I considered it! - -And after he had gone, I fondly stooped and kissed Plury's tin remains. - - - - -ON CHAIRS--AND OFF - - -[Illustration] - -AS a person who frequently sits, I should like to know why there are so -many uncomfortable chairs. Why is it that people who are apparently mild -and kind-hearted will foster in their homes, at their very firesides, -chairs of the most insidious cruelty? Why will dear old ladies cherish -these household monsters, festooning them with ribbons and fancywork? - -Of course I realize that every chair represents some furniture-maker's -theory of beauty and comfort, that every lump, ridge, and crook is -supposed to have its aesthetic or anatomic reason; what I object to is -being tortured for heresy just because I am physically unable to agree -with these theories. An innocent-looking willow rocker that stands -invitingly on my aunt's veranda is built on the assumption that the -human back is in the shape of an S. Perhaps the Apollo Belvedere may -have a back like that; but not I. Mine, sitting in that rocker, feels -more like the Dying Gladiator's. - -I am fond of Nature and I have the greatest respect for her, but my joy -in things sylvan does not extend to rustic chairs. As parlor editions of -the woodpile they are certainly ingenious, but their surface, which -resembles that of a corduroy road, is hardly adapted to sitting -purposes. Then, too, there are always a few nails in evidence. And I can -never resist picking at the loose shreds of bark on the arms, with the -result that, before I know it, I am sure to skin quite a large place, -and then feel mortified. - -The city cousin of the rustic chair is the high-backed carved seat. -This has a lion's head that catches you at the nape of the neck, and a -couple of scrolls for your shoulder-blades. The seat itself is a huge -slab of wood that feels like adamant. This chair looks best against the -wall, and the fact that it weighs about fifty pounds is one reason why -it generally stays there. - -Another massive chair is the Morris. It indeed took the imagination of a -poet to conceive of sitting on a folding-bed that was only half folded. -When I get into one of these contrivances its bedlike quality makes me -so drowsy that I almost fall asleep, yet its chair-like quality keeps me -awake--with the result that I remain in a semi-comatose condition, from -which I rouse myself occasionally to climb out and shift the rod to -another notch. - -A variety that is not to be relied on--much less, sat on--is the -loop-the-loop species, which is found in cheap restaurants and at -amateur theatricals. This consists of a four-legged tambourine, backed -by two loops of wood, the outer one in the shape of a Moorish arch and -the inner one in the shape of a tennis racket. Exactly half of these -chairs in existence have racks under them to hold your hat and gloves, -whereas the other half have no such racks; so that exactly half the -times I sit on one of these chairs and put my hat and gloves under the -seat those articles fall disconcertingly to the floor. - -A kind of rocker much in vogue is a medley of young banisters, a sort of -improvisation on a turning-lathe. When new this chair emits a peculiar -creaking sound. In the course of a few weeks it loosens up till quite -supple, so that, in rocking, the various rods perform a complicated -piston motion. This process continues till gradually the chair reaches -the stage where at every rock it comes apart and puts itself together -again--or almost together. - -Best-parlor chairs run to extremes of fatness and leanness. They are -either pampered, slender, gilded things--mere wisps of chairs--that -offer a most precarious support, or fat, puffy, tufted affairs, satin -feather-beds on sticks--no, not feather-beds, either, for they have -twanging springs that tune up every time you sit on them. The colors of -this latter variety may be endured in winter, but when summer comes it -is necessary to suppress them with linen slips. - -One interesting species, the elevated rocker, is nearly extinct. This -curious chair, able to skid on rollers like any other, has a little -rocking department upstairs, so that it can wobble to and fro on its -track without doing the least harm in the world. - -I could speak of the personal idiosyncrasies of chairs, such as the -trick some of them have of shedding their castors at the slightest -provocation; I could tell of the rocker that insisted on sidling away -from a reading-lamp; or the chair that, while not supposed to be a -rocker at all, teetered diagonally on its northeast and southwest -legs--but the chair I am now sitting on has given me such a cramp that I -shall have to get up and take a walk. - - - - -MINIMS - - - - -THE NIGHT OF THE FLEECE - - -Wimley was the mildest man living. Consequently, when Molly said, in her -most decisive tone, "Nonsense! I won't hear of your going back tonight, -before you've even seen our new tennis-court," he realized that he would -have to stay over the week-end. - -Not that he didn't want to, in one way; for he liked Molly, and admired -the way she bossed the servants and ran the house for her mother. Then, -too, the weather, which seemed to be growing hotter every minute, would -be far more endurable out here in Avondale Manor than in the city. What -troubled him was the fact that he had not brought a handbag. - -"I'll lend you some of Father's things," she went on. "It will be no -bother at all." - -When the evening drew to a close and bed-ward migration began, he was -shown to the guest-room. - -"I hope you will find everything all right," said his hostess as she bid -him good night. - -He replied that he was sure he would. Then he opened the door. The heat -met him like a solid wall. Throwing off his coat, he went to the two -windows to see if they could really be open. Yes, they were; but the -thick fly-screening kept out any air that might have desired to enter. -He glanced at the bed. There was something blue and white lying folded -on it. As he drew nearer, he could see that this something was fuzzy. -Picking it up, he discovered it to be a pair of woolen pajamas. Horrors! -Not even in the bitterest winter could his skin endure the feel of wool. -He wondered if Molly's father ever really wore such things. Perhaps his -wife had given them to him, and perhaps that was why the old gentleman -was staying so long in South America. - -Midnight found Wimley still looking the pajamas squarely in the fuzz. An -awful thought was in his mind: What would Molly and her mother think of -him if they found them unrumpled and therefore unused? - -He slid one leg into the proper section: the flannel drew like a mild -mustard-plaster. Then he pulled on the other: he was engulfed. A -hippopotamus would have felt comfortable in them at the north pole. - -He drew the fuzzy cord several feet before he tied it, then put on the -ulster. It had a huge pocket, capable of containing a tablecloth, that -hung over the spot where his appendix would have been if he had been -internally left-handed. Noting that his feet had disappeared, he turned -up the bottoms of the trousers four times, so that each ankle was neatly -encircled with a doughnut-shaped buffer. - -Then, after throwing back all the covers, he snapped out the light and -got into bed. It had one of those patent soft mattresses that, sinking -in, hold the body in bas-relief. He rolled and floundered on the thing, -but at every flounder he sank deeper. It was a quicksand of a bed. - -He recalled Victor Hugo's account of the unfortunate traveler who -perished in just such a way: how first his feet disappeared, then his -knees, then his waist, till at last there was nothing but a waving hand, -and then that went. - -He was just preparing to wave when his attention was distracted by the -realization that his whole body was tingling with the heat. He seized -the jacket by the middle button and pumped it in and out, trying to pump -in some cool air. There was none to pump. Gasping for breath, he crawled -to a window. Still no air. - -He decided to remove the fly-screening. There was a little groove in the -side of the frame where you were supposed to put in your fingers and -pull. He put in his fingers and pulled. Nothing happened. Then he did so -again, considerably harder, and the screen went sailing out of the -window. He leaned out just in time to see it crash upon a row of potted -plants. His heart stood still. Had any one heard the noise? He listened -for several minutes in agonizing suspense. - -Here at the window it was a little cooler than in the bed. Why not -emulate the Japanese and sleep on the floor? Splendid! No more squashy, -clinging mattress for him! Fetching a pillow, he stretched out in true -oriental style. - -Quite right, the floor did not sink or yield in any manner. It even gave -prominence to certain bony places which the bed had kindly overlooked. -Resisting the thick woolen anklets, it complicated the disposal of his -lower limbs. Finally, however, a gentle sleep "slid into his soul." - -But about an hour later the slippery thing slid out again at the mere -announcement by a rooster that dawn had arrived. Other roosters, wishing -to remove all doubts on the subject, repeated with emphasis that joyous -day was at hand. Then a large fly buzzed in through the window to say -good morning. It perched sociably on his left temple, and began rubbing -its two front legs together in a jovial manner. - -But Wimley was in no mood for holding a levee. He brushed the fly away. -It executed a boomerang trajectory, lit again on the same spot, and -began rubbing its legs as before. He brushed it away again. It perched -again in exactly the same spot. He was indignant: was _he_ to be at the -mercy of a miserable little _fly_? It seemed he was. - -He got up and paced the floor. Happening to catch a glimpse of his face -in the mirror, he beheld a flourishing crop of black bristles. His -whiskers stood ready to be harvested, and his faithful razor was fifty -miles away! Panic seized him. He thought of the window-screen -catastrophe, of the quicksand bed, of the hard floor; his heart sank. -But when he thought of a day in those whiskers, another night in those -pajamas, and then _tomorrow's_ whiskers, he felt that instant flight was -the only thing possible. - -Hastily he pulled on his clothes, which felt sticky and moldy and spoke -eloquently of yesterday's dust and heat. Then he opened the door and -peered out into the hall. No one was in sight; but other doors were -open, and out of one of these came a rumbling snore. Could it be -Molly's? This ominous sound was more than he could bear; he retreated. - -Back in the room once more, he tiptoed over to the screenless window to -see what his chances would be in that quarter. Ah, there, close by, was -a vine-covered trellis that reached down to the ground! With palpitating -heart he swung himself over to it. It oscillated slightly as it -received his weight. - -The thorny crimson rambler was decidedly cloying. He no sooner succeeded -in detaching himself from one twig, than two more just like it whipped -out and hooked him. He reached down with his right foot--down, -down--where the devil was that next cross-piece? At last he found it, -together with about a dozen new thorns. But when he started to bring -down his left foot, the twigs from above insisted on escorting him to -the lower perch; so that he was now in the clutches of the thorns of -both levels. His coat tails had soared to the middle of his back, and -his side pockets were nestling under his armpits. The air was full of -perfume and profanity. - -[Illustration: _The air was full of perfume and profanity_.] - -All at once there was a crack and a tear, and something gave way. The -next instant he and the vine were descending rapidly in each other's -embrace. - -A clump of lofty hollyhocks suffered martyrdom in breaking his fall. -They gave their sap to save him and complete the ruin of his clothes. -Disentangling himself from the wreckage, he dashed off down the nearest -path, under arbors and pergolas, around sun-dials and summer-houses, -past marble seats with mottos that spoke of rest; till, just as he -thought he had reached the edge of the labyrinth, he found himself at -the end of a blind alley. In front of him was a dribbling fountain, a -vapid-faced female clad in dew and idiotically pouring water out of a -parlor ornament. On the pedestal was carved, "A garden is a lovesome -spot, God wot." A brown measuring-worm was measuring the lady for -garments she needed but would never wear. And the water dribbled and -dribbled. - -But Wimley wasn't thirsty. Striding over a row of conch-shells and -broad-jumping a plot of geraniums, he made for a six-foot hedge that -appeared to be the boundary of the garden. A desperate spring, followed -by a frantic scramble, brought him to the top of it. He wriggled there -like a bareback rider on a bucking porcupine. - -_Ping!_ sounded a tennis-racket close beside him. Lifting his face from -the foliage, he beheld Molly enjoying an early morning game with her -thirteen-year-old brother. - -"My advantage!" she called as she raised her racket to serve. But -catching an astonished look on the boy's face, she stopped short and -glanced at the hedge. "A tramp!" she exclaimed, moving toward the spot. - -The would-be fugitive struggled to tumble back on the other side. His -head and one shoulder disappeared from view. - -"Grab him! Don't let him get away!" she cried excitedly. - -The boy did so, seizing one foot while she seized the other. - -Then, from the depths of the foliage came a voice as shy and as -plaintive as that of the hermit thrush, murmuring, "It's Wimley!" - - - - -BLACK JITNEY - -THE AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF A FORD - -(_A twentieth-century revision of "Black Beauty"_) - -[Illustration] - -The first thing I can remember was being shoveled out of a great -incubator, called a factory, along with several hundred brothers and -sisters. All the men in that factory wore diamond shirt-studs. - -While I was wondering at this, an old motor-truck named Mercury said to -me with feeling: - -"Ah, if all the workmen in the world could be as well off as the ones -here, there would be no more poverty, and no people so poor as to have -to ride in fords!" - -I was loaded on a freight-car and carried many, many miles. The car -jolted so terribly that I should have gone all to pieces had I not been -built for jarring. None of the train-crew showed me any sympathy. They -were wicked men, and used language that frequently sent a tinkle of -shame to my mudguards. I did not then know, as I do now, that the -purest-minded automobile has to endure all its life words and tones of -the most shocking sort. - -My first master was a careful and conscientious man. He had a large -garage full of fords, and he always kept a sharp eye on the door to make -sure that nobody who walked out carried off one of us. - -One day a man came in with a twenty-dollar bill that he wanted changed. - -"Sorry," said my master, "but all I have in my cash-drawer is $2.69. -I'll have to give you the rest in fords." - -Whereupon he handed him me and one of my brothers and three extra tires, -which just made up the amount. - -This new master, whose name was Mr. Pious, was very good and humane. He -drove me with a gentle foot, and he would say to his children: "Be kind -to Black Jitney. Never scratch him or bend him." The chubby little -fellows grew so fond of me that before long they would trot sturdily -beside me. - -Their mother, however, was a cold, imperious woman. She cared nothing -for the feelings of a ford. She would drive me at a heartless pace till -my radiator was parched with thirst and my gears fairly cried out for -oil. Speed was her one desire, and naturally _I_ could not satisfy her. -Even when I ran so fast that the effort made me shake from top to tires -and I was in danger of losing my lamps, she would call me "ice-wagon" -and "rattle-trap" and other cruel names, and refer unkindly to the fact -that she could count the palings of the fences that we passed. Finally, -this hard-hearted woman prevailed upon her husband to sell me and buy a -big sixteen-cylinder Pope-Gregory. This car, as I afterward learned, was -so vicious that the very first time she took it out for an airing it -assaulted three helpless chickens and a pig. - -My next master was a young man whose private life was such as no -well-brought-up automobile could have approved of. Every evening, after -he had kept me in the garage all day long fuming with impatience and -spilled gasolene, he would make me carry him for hours and hours with -some young woman who ought to have known better. - -What sights and sounds I had to endure--I who had always kept the -strictest decorum! Worst of all, his deplorable conduct began to affect -me. I found myself thinking thoughts which I had never permitted to -enter my mind before, and looking with more interest than I should at -seductive, satin-trimmed limousines. My morality was in danger of -skidding. - -One evening while my master was dining with a young woman at a roadside -inn I was left to wait in the adjoining garage. But I was not alone; for -close beside me stood a little French landaulet, the most immorally -alluring car I had ever seen. Her lines were exquisitely shapely; she -was a goddess on wheels. - -"Good evening," she sparked enticingly. "Aren't you the car that stood -next to me at the country club last Thursday night?" - -There was a daredevil gleam in her lamps which set my carbureter -a-splutter. - -"Yes," I answered, infatuated. - -"I knew you, even though you tried to hide your name. Wasn't it -lovely--just us two in the moonlight, touching tires!" - -A quiver ran through me. I knew that unless I could back out in a hurry, -I was lost. I tried hastily to reverse; she had me completely -short-circuited. - -Heaven knows what might have happened had not my master entered at that -moment and saved me. The instant he laid hold of my crank I gave vent to -my pent-up emotions in a way that nearly burst my muffler; and when he -pressed down the pedal, I fairly leaped through the door in flight. - -As it was, I was seething with nervousness. My motor throbbed so -violently that I could hardly hold still while the young woman climbed -into her seat. - -Off we sped down a dark and narrow road. I had no control over myself, -and neither did the people I was carrying seem to have control over me -or over themselves. - -All at once my left fore tire exploded violently, veering me aside into -a mile-post. My master and the young woman landed in a clump of bushes, -but _I_ was maimed for life. Bad example and bad association had ruined -me. Many an innocent, unsophisticated car is thus driven to destruction -all because its owner fails to live up to his moral responsibility. - -I lay there all the rest of the night, while my gasolene ebbed away drop -by drop. In the morning some men came out from the city and dragged me -in. They performed a most painful operation on me, amputating various -shattered members and grafting on several feet of tin. - -Then, before I was really convalescent, I was sold to a new master. This -person was a harsh-speaking, unfeeling man, who cared for nothing but -money. He drove up and down the streets all day, inviting people to get -in and ride; and when they did get in, he forced each one of them to -surrender a nickel. - -He was very cruel to me. Instead of showing any consideration for my -broken health, he would say openly, "Well, I'll get what use I can out -of this one, and then buy another." Not once did he ever throw a blanket -over my hood in cold weather or steady my slipping wheels with chains. -He was so penurious that whenever he drove me through a crowded street, -he would shut off my gasolene, and make me run on what I could breathe -in from the exhausts of other cars. - -Wretched indeed is the old age of an automobile. Bereft of the beauty it -had when it was a new model, it declines into squalid neglect. No amount -of painting and enameling can restore its youthful bloom. - -One day this master was driving me through an amusement park when I -broke down completely. He got out, and prodded me brutally in the -magneto. I had not the strength to budge. - -He grew very angry, and the people in the tonneau demanded their money -back. A crowd of idlers gathered to witness my humiliation. - -Becoming purple in the face, my master nearly twisted my crank off. He -heaped upon me the most insulting and unjust imprecations, as though it -were my fault that my health was gone, even making distressing -insinuations as to my ancestry. Words failing him, he fell to belaboring -me with a hammer and monkey-wrench. - -The spectators looked on with indifference. Some of them even urged him -maliciously to the attack. - -"I'd _sell_ the thing for fifty cents!" he exclaimed, with a shocking -oath. - -Suddenly an elderly, kindly-faced man pushed his way forward through the -crowd. "I'll give you that for it," he said. "Only stop battering it!" - -My master left off hitting me. He looked surlily at the speaker and then -at the crowd. - -"You can have it," he said between his teeth. - -Hot tears of gratitude dropped from my cylinders as my deliverer pushed -me to his nearby home. From that moment to this I have never known -anything but happiness. - -For my dear old master is a retired gas-fitter whose hobby is landscape -gardening. Relieving me of my tired wheels, he has pastured me in the -center of his front yard and planted me full of geraniums. I am lovingly -taken care of. My kind master waters me regularly and curries me with a -trowel. My working days are over. But what makes me happiest is the -knowledge that I can never be sold. - - - - -LIGHT BREAKFAST - - -[Illustration] - -"Henry dear," said Mrs. Brush gently, without raising her pretty head -from the pillow, "it's nearly half-past eight." - -"What!" exclaimed her husband, sitting up vehemently and staring at the -clock. "Where is Maria? She's supposed to be here by seven, isn't she?" - -"Perhaps she didn't come today." - -"That good-for-nothing darky! I'll go and investigate." Plunging -energetically into his bath-robe and slippers, he sallied forth on a -tour of the apartment. - -No Maria sweeping in the hall; no Maria straightening up the living-room -or library; no Maria dusting in the dining-room; no Maria preparing -breakfast in the kitchen. - -"How provoking!" sighed Mrs. Brush. - -"Provoking? I call it outrageous." - -"Yes; I'm sorry, dear, that this will make you late to your office." - -"Oh, I'm not bothered about _that_, for I've just put through some new -efficiency systems which enable me to accomplish a tremendous amount of -work in a very short time. What I can't stand is having that darky -_impose_ on us." - -"But, dearest, maybe she's sick." - -"Then she could have sent us word by telephone. No; she's taking -advantage of the fact that you are young and inexperienced. But she'll -be sorry for it. I'll discharge her myself." - -"Now, please don't get excited, dear. If you discharged her, it might -be days and days before we could get another." - -"That wouldn't make any difference. We'd simply take our meals out. -Except breakfast, of course. _I'd_ get that." - -"You?" - -"Yes. We'll start this morning. If you'll attend to the dusting--later -in the day, I mean--I'll bring you your coffee before you get up, just -as you're used to having it." - -"But, Henry--" - -"It won't be any trouble at all. Nothing is, no matter how unfamiliar it -may be to you, if you go at it intelligently, scientifically." When Mr. -Brush was obsessed with an idea, it was useless to oppose him. The best -policy was to let it take its course. "As I have often told you," he -continued, "housekeeping could be greatly simplified if you women would -only--" - -Seeing that he was about to launch into a homily on efficiency, such as -she had heard him deliver at least twenty times in the three months she -had been married to him, she said: - -"If you're going to get breakfast, hadn't you better hurry and take your -bath?" - -"That's so," he admitted. Shuffling briskly to the bathroom, he was soon -foaming at the mouth with tooth-paste. - -There was a loud buzzing sound from the direction of the kitchen. - -"Henry!" called Mrs. Brush, "there goes the dumb-waiter. Shall I answer -it?" - -"No; I'll ho," he replied pastily out of the corner of his mouth. Still -busily agitating his tooth-brush, so as not to waste any time, he -paddled to the dumb-waiter and called: "He'o! Whash you wa'?" - -"Garbage!" replied a gruff voice. A rattling of ropes announced that the -car was on its way. - -Mr. Brush opened the "sanitary garbage closet," and, screwing up his -face and tooth-brush, seized something that was mighty unlike a rose. He -held the pail out at arm's-length as he carried it to the dumb-waiter. - -_Buzz, buzz, buzz_, went the buzzer. - -"Huh?" gurgled Mr. Brush, nervously swallowing a generous amount of -tooth-paste. - -"Garbage!" repeated the voice. - -Mr. Brush looked helplessly at the can on the dumb-waiter and then at -his incapacitated hands. - -"Put your garbage on!" roared the voice. - -Mr. Brush sputtered; then, extracting the tooth-brush with the fourth -and fifth knuckles of his left hand, he shouted back indignantly: - -"I 'id!" - -"Then why didn't you _say_ so?" And down went the dumb-waiter with a -jerk. - -Mr. Brush returned to the bathroom. As he was in the midst of shaving, -the buzzer sounded again. This time he was on the alert and ready for -any argument. Leaving his razor, but not his lather, he hurried back to -the kitchen in a combative mood. - -"What do you want?" he yelled defiantly as he opened the door of the -dumb-waiter. There was no answer; but facing him on the shelf of the car -stood his empty pail, silent, stolid, indifferent to his bravado. He -snatched it off and returned to his ablutions. - -On account of the extreme lateness of the hour, he decided to finish off -with a quick shower-bath, first hot and then cold. Just as he removed -his last garment, the buzzer sounded again. - -"Aw, go ahead and buzz!" he said between his teeth. - -As he stepped into the hot downpour, the door-bell rang. - -"Whoever that is can wait." - -But apparently the person in question had no desire to do so, for the -bell sounded again and again. To complete the symphony, the telephone -chimed in with its merry tune. - -"Gwendolyn!" called Mr. Brush, distractedly amid the roar of waters. - -But she, having fallen into a pleasant doze while waiting for her -breakfast, did not hear him. The bells and buzzer had by this time -settled into a sustained chord like that of the whistles at New-year's. - -Bounding out of the tub to the mat, Mr. Brush wrapped his form, which -still glistened with pearly drops, in his bath-robe, and slip slopped -frigidly down the hall. - -"Hello!" he cried, snatching off the telephone-receiver. "No, this is -_not_ Schmittberger the butcher!" Then he darted to the front door. -Opening it, he found the postman waiting with a letter. - -"Two cents due, please." - -The buzzer continued its heavy droning, and the telephone started up -again. - -"Two cents, two cents," repeated Mr. Brush in befuddlement. - -The postman stared. - -"Two cents; yes, two cents," reiterated Mr. Brush, groping immodestly -for pockets where there were none. - -"You said that before." - -"Oh, excuse me! I'll get it right off. Now, where did I put that purse? -Let me think." But thinking in the neighborhood of that telephone was an -impossibility. He would have to quiet the thing. So, clapping the -receiver to his ear, he protested, "Hello! hello!" - -"Will you _kindly_ give me Schmittberger's butcher shop?" - -"Good grief!" he exclaimed, letting the receiver fall. It swung by its -tail, pendulum-wise, barking infuriated clicks. - -Mr. Brush staggered to the bedroom. With reeling brain, he ransacked all -his chiffonier drawers for the purse which was lying in plain view on -top. By the time he had discovered it and started back to the door, the -buzzer in the kitchen was having delirium tremens. Floundering to the -spot, he gasped: - -"What do you want?" - -"Ice!" was the husky reply. - -"All right, I'll send it down. No, I mean, you send it up." - -As the dumb-waiter rose, the temperature fell, and Mr. Brush soon found -himself in the presence of a beautiful blue berg. With chattering teeth, -he reached forward and drew it to him. The door of the dumb-waiter -closed automatically, and he was left alone in the kitchen with the -iceberg in his arms. - -How to open the ice-box was a problem. After attempting unsuccessfully -to cajole the catch by fondling it with the corner of the berg, he tried -nudging it with his elbow. It would not take the hint. Indeed, it -refused utterly to move until he got down on his knees before it and -rubbed it with his shoulder. - -Finally, however, the door opened, disclosing a rival berg, attended by -a throng of bottles, siphons, and butter-crocks. A cold, inhospitable -crowd they were, resenting any intrusion. - -Thus rebuffed, Mr. Brush, who felt as though he were being frozen and -cauterized at the same time, deposited the berg upon the cover of the -wash-tubs. It coasted forward, threatening an avalanche. Clutching it at -the brink, he paused, and wondered what he would do next. - -The door-bell saved him the trouble of deciding. He had entirely -forgotten the postman! Setting the berg upon a chair, he scurried out, -and offered him a dollar bill, chattering apologies for the delay. - -"Haven't you anything smaller?" asked the postman, impatiently. - -"N-no, I d-don't think so." - -"Then why did you keep me here all this time? I'll have to come back -later." - -He started off. - -"Stop! Wait a moment! I'd rather make you a present of the ninety-eight -cents. Oh, glory! that'll have to be gone through with all over again!" - -Discouraged and shivering, he leaned against the side of the doorway. In -so doing, his eye fell upon a collection of objects that had been -deposited in front of the sill--the morning newspaper, a bottle of -milk, one of cream, and a bag containing a long loaf of bread. He -stooped over and gathered them up carefully one by one. Just as he had -stowed away the newspaper under one arm and gripped the bag with his -left hand and the two bottles with his right, the chilliness in him -culminated in a sneeze, and everything fell. - -Both bottles smashed. Landing just on the sill, they distributed their -contents impartially outside and inside. - -Finding that the proportion of the flood that the bread and the -newspaper were able to sop up was small, though they did what they -could, Mr. Brush hastily procured a bucket and rag from the kitchen, -where the ice was indulging in a flood of its own, and set to work -mopping. As he sprawled out into the hallway, gingerly squeezing out -ragfuls of cream and broken glass, the door opposite was opened and a -handsome woman appeared, attired in fashionable street dress. She looked -him straight in the eye. - -Mr. Brush clasped his bath-robe to him, made a frenzied recoil, slammed -the door, and collapsed into the pool of milk. - -"Henry dear, is breakfast nearly ready?" called his loving wife. - -Enraged and dripping, he leaped up with sudden strength, and started for -the bedroom, spluttering incoherent expostulations as he went. - -At that moment there was heard the sound of a latch-key, and a grinning -black face appeared. - -"Good mawnin', sah. Somefin' seems to be spilt heah." - -Fetching a large cloth, she set to work with easy dexterity. - -Mr. Brush, fascinated, watched the lake disappear. - -"You bes' get dress', sah. Ah'll have yo' breakfas' ready in a couple o' -minutes." - -"Thank Heaven you're here, Maria!" he said fervently. "I was almost -afraid you weren't coming." - - - - -THE MAN OPPOSITE - - -Mildred congratulated herself on having conquered her timidity. She had -come all the way down-town by herself, had looked through several stores -until she found just the curtains she wanted; and now, ready to return -home, she got on the 'bus as calmly as though she had been a New Yorker -and a married woman all her life. - -It being the rush hour of the afternoon, the conveyance was quite -crowded. Mildred thought at first that she would have to sit on the -backward-facing bench up front, which she disliked; but luckily she -found a place on one of the seats opposite it. A moment later even the -less-desirable bench was occupied. - -The person who took the place on it directly facing her was a tall, dark -man of about forty, with piercing black eyes and an aquiline nose. -Mildred kept encountering his glance. There was something about it that -disturbed her. She flushed a little. - -His face seemed vaguely, uncomfortably familiar. Where had she seen him -before? She was sure he wasn't anyone who had waited on her in a shop, -nor any of the tradesmen who came to the door of her apartment: he -looked too much the man of the world for that. Neither was he one of the -few friends of her husband whom she had had a chance to meet. She could -not place him. Happiness, and the absorption that goes with it, had made -her oblivious of outside things. - -Whoever he was, his glances rendered her more and more ill at ease. She -looked out of the window, she looked up at the advertisements, she -looked down at her lap. No use: she could _feel_ his gaze. - -In vain did she reason with herself that he was not staring at her -intentionally, but was merely directing his eyes straight ahead of him, -as anyone might do. No; not even the protecting presence of the other -passengers could reassure her. She felt almost as though she and the -hawk-like stranger were alone in the conveyance. - -Several times she thought of getting out and taking another 'bus. But -the evening was growing dark, and she might have to wait a long while in -a part of town she knew nothing about. And suppose he should get off -after her! - -The blocks seemed hours apart, the halts at corners interminable. -Passengers got out in twos and threes. _He_ stayed. - -Looking down at her hands, which nervously fingered the chain of her -reticule, Mildred hoped and prayed he would go. But he did not. - -The people who had shared the bench with him had moved to forward-facing -seats as soon as any were vacant. He remained where he was. - -It seemed she had seen that face somewhere--behind her, following her. - -This recollection threw her into such a fit of trembling that she let -fall her handkerchief. Before she could recover it, he bent forward with -a quick swooping motion, seized it in his long fingers, and held it out -to her. She took it trembling, hardly able to murmur, "Thank you." - -He appeared about to speak. - -Mildred rose in terror and retreated hastily to a place several seats -back, across the aisle. - -What would he do? Would he follow her? Were his eyes still fixed upon -her? She dared not look; but a reflection in the window pane increased -her fears. - -Street after street went by. The last other passenger got off. Still he -stayed. Mildred's furtive observations via the reflecting window pane -never found him looking out to ascertain what part of town it was. -Gradually she was forced to the sickening conviction that he was -watching, not for any particular street, but to see where she would get -off. - -As her corner approached, she rang the bell. He rose. She moved quickly -to the door. He followed her, smiling presumingly. - -As she stepped down from the platform, her knees were so weak that she -almost fell. Her heart pounded. Instead of running, as her terror -prompted her to, she could with difficulty maintain a panting walk. - -The man followed--not hurrying, but relentlessly, like an animal that is -sure of its prey. - -When she entered the doorway of the apartment house, he was barely ten -yards behind her. She knew he would turn in also. He did. - -If only she could get into the elevator and escape before he arrived! - -The car was at one of the upper floors. She rang desperately until it -appeared. The instant the iron door slid back, she flung herself in, -gasping: - -"Quick! Take me up quickly!" - -"Yes, miss," replied the startled but drowsy elevator boy--as a tall -form passed in after her. Mildred shrank into a corner, quivering. - -"Fou'th flo'," announced the boy. - -She sprang out. As she staggered totteringly down the dim corridor, she -heard the man step out of the car. - -Her latch key! Her latch key! She fumbled frantically in her handbag; -then groped for the lock. - -The man drew nearer. - -She was helpless, cornered at the end of a dark hallway. Almost -hysterical she let the key fall and closed her eyes. - -At that moment the door opposite was unlocked briskly, and a lusty young -voice inside yelled: "Hello, Pappa!" - - - - -LUCY THE LITERARY AGENT - - -[Illustration] - -"I know you will agree with me," said Lucy, "that these stories by Perth -Dewar are quite remarkable, quite the most distinctive things of the -kind that have been done in years, and that your readers will like them -immensely." - -Ethridge the Editor said nothing. It was unwise to contradict her; for -of all the personal-touch literary agents, Lucy was the -personal-touchiest. So he let her run on and on, trusting that -eventually she would run down. Also she wasn't bad looking--in her -aggressive way. - -"You've read them?" she queried suddenly. - -"Why, certainly," he lied, glancing with studied casualness at the -Reader's Report slip attached to the blue manuscript cover. - -Ethridge never read anything he could possibly avoid reading. He was one -of those successful editors who edit by belonging to the best clubs and -attending the right teas. Mere perusal of manuscripts was not -particularly in his line. - -The Report slip said: "Costume stories of Holland in the 17th Century. -Only moderately well done. Not suitable for this magazine." - -"Who is this Dewar person, anyhow?" asked Ethridge defensively. - -"You mean to say you haven't heard of him? Why, my dear Mr. Ethridge! -Dewar is a man of independent means--lives on his estate down in -Maryland and writes stories between fox hunts. Enormously gifted." - -She failed to add, however, that Dewar had offered to let her keep any -money she received for the stories--provided she could get them -printed. - -Resting her white elbows on Ethridge's desk and eyeing him with -calculating coyness, Lucy knew that he had not read the stories. She -would make him wonder if she knew he hadn't. - -"What do you yourself honestly think of them, Mr. Ethridge? Candidly, -now. You're always so delightfully frank with me, Mr. Ethridge. That's -why it's such a pleasure to deal with you. How did they strike you?" - -"Really, Miss Leech, I don't see how in our magazine we could -possibly--" - -"Now, Mr. Ethridge!" She held up a reproving finger, laughing roguishly. -"But what's the use of our trying to discuss imaginative literature here -in your busy office with the telephone ringing every moment--or -threatening to ring--and your discouragingly pretty blonde -secretary--the minx!--popping in continually to see if we're behaving!" - -Ethridge smiled complacently. Why be an ogre? - -"I tell you what. Let's have supper at my studio this evening," -continued Lucy. "It'll be so much more satisfactory to discuss things -sensibly, without interruption." - -So he did, and they did. - -At breakfast it was finally decided that the series by Perth Dewar -should consist of ten stories, including four still to be written. - -Ethridge salved his conscience by resolving secretly that they should -all be published in the back of the book. - -In due course of time the first story appeared. It contained a mean -reference to the Knights of Pythias, or Mormonism, or a former -Vice-President of the United States, or something; for which reason the -issue containing it was suppressed. - -Whereupon the buried issue became a Living Issue. The intelligentsia -rushed to the rescue with highbrow hue and cry. Round robins were -circulated. Newspaper columnists got sarcastic. Liberal cliques -chittered. Perth Dewar became suddenly significant. - -The issue containing the second story was sold out the day it appeared. - -By the time the third one was out, Professor Lion Whelps, of Yale, -proved in an article in the Sunday _Times_, that Dewar's attitude toward -women was like Turgeniev's, and Professor Brando Methuseleh, of -Columbia, discovered he had cadences. Sinclair Lewis inserted a mention -of him in the forty-ninth edition of "Babbitt." Nine British novelists -hurried over to lecture on him. - -And Ethridge? - -He was made. In acknowledgement of his peerless editorial acumen that -could discern true genius at a glance, the directors of the magazine -doubled his salary and gave him a bonus to keep him from being coaxed -away by the "Saturday Evening Pictorial." - -And Lucy? - -Ethridge married her to keep her quiet. - - - - -THE CREEPING FINGERS - - -[Illustration: Decorative letter "M"] - -Mrs. Whoffin's figure resembled that of the punch-bowl behind which she -was standing: it was broad and squat, with a slight tapering at the -base. And her mind was like the punch: sweetish and characterless, with -scrappy rinds of things floating about in it. Each guest who presented a -cup received the same dipperful and the same set of remarks. - -"Good evening. I'm _so_ glad you could come! I just love hearing -ghost-stories, don't you? See that log over there?" She pointed to a -huge gray hulk that lay at the side of the open fireplace. "That's _real -driftwood_, and it ought to give just the right kind of light. I found -it myself on the beach, and had the gardener bring it home in a -wheelbarrow. Look, it's all honeycombed with age." - -A tall, serious-looking young man stepped forward and extended his -glass. He knew that that was the way to please her, and she was the -woman who he hoped and feared would be his mother-in-law. - -She beamed. - -"Do have another, Mr. Carson." - -He did; for he was in a desperate mood. He was to leave for the city on -the early morning train, and this evening would be his last chance to -propose to Polly for several months. Somehow, despite his best efforts, -the psychological moment had never arrived. - -Just then Polly sailed into the room, fresh and rosy, in a flutter of -white muslin. He put down the glass and hurried over to her. - -"Good evening, Polly," he said in an ardent undertone. "Couldn't you -slip away from this crowd and take a stroll on the beach?" - -"No, George; I'm hostess tonight." She shook her head, including some -airy little curls, which seemed to make light of her refusal. "We are -all to gather around the hearth and listen to the stories." Then she -added teasingly, "Besides, it is in your honor that mother is giving -this party." - -"Yes; she's very kind, I'm sure," he said awkwardly. - -"Think of all the trouble she has taken over that log!" - -Carson faced her with squared jaw. - -"Listen to me, Polly. There is something serious I want to talk to you -about. Before I leave you, I--" - -"Polly," called Mrs. Whoffin, "isn't it time to begin?" - -"Perhaps it is," she answered innocently. "What do you think, George?" - -"I think the story-telling might as well begin at once," he said -stiffly. - -A few minutes later all lights were turned out. The score of young -people had settled themselves about the room in comfortable attitudes, -some on chairs and sofas, some on cushions on the floor, while in the -midst of them sat the narrator, a girl of eighteen, who affected a deep -morbidity. Gazing into the fire, she began her tale as though she were -in a trance. - -Carson sulkily picked his way after Polly toward a seat beside the -hearth. Just as he was reaching it, he tripped over something bulky. - -"Why, that's my log!" exclaimed Mrs. Whoffin, from the back of the room. -"Dear! dear! Why hasn't anyone put it on the fire?" The story waited -while Mrs. Whoffin scurried forward and personally supervised the -placing of the log upon the andirons, and then sat down beside the -hearth opposite Polly. - -"Do go on!" cried several voices. "You stopped in the most exciting -part." - -The narrator, looking daggers at Mrs. Whoffin, paused long enough to -show that she didn't _have_ to go on unless she wanted to, and then -resumed her tale: - -"Suddenly, as he lay there in the haunted room, on the very bed where -the old man had been murdered, he felt an invisible hand on the -bedclothes." - -Mrs. Whoffin shuddered, and a large black ant peered out of a hole in -the log to see what was going on. - -"Then he felt a second hand more terrifying than the first." - -Beholding his home in flames, the ant rushed back indoors to spread the -alarm. Along the highways of the interior he sped, a second Paul Revere, -rousing the sleeping insects, of which there were many. - -"Oh!" groaned Mrs. Whoffin. - -The exodus of Paul's friends proceeded in orderly fashion. "Larvæ and -eggs first," was their order. Carrying their infants upon their backs, -they filed out of the subway openings in steady processions. - -"The hands clutched the covers just above his feet. Fear paralyzed him -so that he could neither move nor cry out." - -A party of refugees applied to Mrs. Whoffin for shelter. She was so -absorbed in the story that she did not see them. - -"Then the fingers began to creep up and up, up and up. His flesh tingled -with horror." - -Mrs. Whoffin quivered like an aspen leaf. She breathed hard, her eyes -nearly popping. Other people began to feel creepy. - -"They clutched his knee, and--" - -Mrs. Whoffin uttered a piercing shriek, and clasped her knee with both -hands. She was invaded. Then Polly screamed, and Carson began to slap -himself on various parts of the anatomy. There was a general panic. -Girls squealed and, clambering frantically upon chairs, shook out their -lifted skirts; young men stamped about wildly, mashing ants and people's -toes in equal numbers. Mrs. Whoffin, tormented from head to foot, -galloped in circles, moaning, "Oh mercy! Oh mercy!" - -"Save me, George!" cried Polly, clinging to his arm. - -"Yes, darling!" he answered fervently. If the ants had been raging -bulls, he would have saved her from them; but they were ants, and their -ways were devious. He hesitated, slapping himself thoughtfully. - -"Turn on the lights!" yelled some one. - -"No! Don't!" screamed half a dozen shrill voices. - -"Save me!" repeated Polly, distractedly. "I can't stand this any longer! -I'll perish!" - -Struck with a swift inspiration, he caught her up in his arms and -started for the door. She made no resistance. Out of the room he -carried her, then through the front hall, and down the front steps. - -Half-way down the walk she asked: - -"Where are you taking me?" - -"To the ocean." - -"Why, you clever boy!" - -People sitting on the verandas of neighboring cottages saw in he -moonlight a sight that electrified them with horror. A powerful looking -maniac, with a helpless woman in his arms, strode across the beach and -began to wade out into the water. Hoping to save her, they ran to the -shore and put out in boats and canoes. - -"Oh," sighed the victim, blissfully, as Carson let her down into the -water, "it feels so cool--and _quiet_!" - -"Polly!" - -"George!" - -"Row harder, Doctor!" cried the steersman of the nearest boat. "He's -trying to strangle her!" - - - - -THE MAN WITH THE HOSE - - -A feeling of elation is like a feeling of alcohol. Under its stimulus a -person may do the most brilliant things--and also the most grotesque. - -It was just this feeling that took hold of Jack Carrington when the -senior member of the firm invited him to dine at his apartment on the -following evening and meet "Mrs. Stockbridge and my daughter." During -all the rest of the day the young -college-man-learning-how-to-work-in-an-office fairly walked on air, and -that night, in his hall bedroom, he went through a sort of -dress-rehearsal of the rôle he hoped to play on the great occasion, -resuscitating and donning his evening clothes to make sure that they -looked as well as they did when he led the commencement prom six months -before, and marshaling all the bons mots he could recollect, in order -that his supply of "extempore" witticisms might be adequate. - -Still buoyed up by this feeling of elation, Carrington presented -himself next evening at the door of the sumptuous apartment-house where -the boss lived, gave his name to one of the liveried grandees in -attendance, and was shown up to E 4, a gorgeous duplex suite half as -large as a house, and renting for twice as much. - -Everything went off splendidly. The boss unbent to a surprising degree, -Mrs. Stockbridge was most cordial, and the daughter proved to be a -fascinator. What was more, Carrington surpassed himself as a social -light. He told several funny stories with considerable éclat; and -inspired by the thrill of the occasion, even thought up one or two -_original_ ones that surprised him as much as they impressed his hosts. -When, later in the evening, he played bridge as the daughter's partner, -he had a rush of hearts and aces to the hand. He made slams big and -little at such a rate that Miss Stockbridge complimented him upon his -skill. Consequently, when, after two victorious rubbers, he bid his -hosts good night and noted from their effusiveness that he had made a -very favorable impression, it was no wonder that he already pictured -himself a member of the firm and the boss's son-in-law. - -As the door of the apartment closed behind him, he heaved a sigh of -triumph. He felt like shouting or doing something violent. Tingling with -pride, he strutted down the hallway toward the elevator. - -A shining brass fire-nozzle, jutting out provokingly from a coil of -hose, attracted his attention. It looked so like the head of some absurd -animal that he couldn't help poking his finger into its mouth as he went -by. His finger stuck. - -Facing the nozzle squarely and taking hold of it with his free left -hand, he pulled more carefully. Still it stuck. The finger was beginning -to swell and turn red. He tugged it harder, with no result. - -Concluding that lubrication was necessary, he leaned over and licked it, -acquiring a strong brass taste upon his tongue. Then he pulled hard. -More swelling. - -By this time he was in a perspiration of misery. He paused and tried to -think clearly, but his mind, which had scintillated all evening, was -now a blur. His first lucid thought was that he must unscrew the nozzle -from the hose. Why, of course! How simple! But when he tried turning the -coupling of the hose, the nozzle insisted on turning with it, and his -imprisoned finger was averse to revolving. - -Lapsing again into rueful speculation, he tried desperately to devise -some means of regaining his liberty. Why not go ring the elevator bell? -No; that was around the bend of the corridor, and his tether probably -would not reach that far; and, besides, it would be awful to have to -explain his plight to a liveried dignitary like the one who had convoyed -him up. And suppose the elevator should arrive full of plutocrats coming -home from the opera, or high-strung women who would shriek when they saw -him with the fire-hose? - -No, that could never be risked. He must think of something else. A -little olive-oil would probably do the trick, but how could he get it? -If he had thought of that at first and gone right back and asked for it, -it wouldn't have been so bad; but now, after nearly half an hour, his -hosts were probably in bed. No, it was too late to ring their door-bell -now. - -Suddenly an ingenious idea occurred to him: he would turn on the water -and _squirt_ his finger out! Splendid! He reached up and turned the -wheel. It made a mournful creaking sound, but no water came through the -coil of hose. "It must be shut off downstairs," he thought. - -Thanks to the incessant sting of his finger and the maddening -exasperation of the predicament he was in, Carrington was nearly -frantic. - -"Oh," he exclaimed, "I'll have to disturb them for that oil sooner or -later, so I'd better do it right off." - -With that he started for the boss's door, trailing the hose after him. -His heart thumped as he rang the bell. Standing in close to the wall, he -kept the nozzle behind his back, thinking it better to explain before -displaying his appendage. - -There was a sound of slippered feet, and, from the opposite direction, a -sound of slipping hose. The door was unlocked, and the remainder of the -canvas-and-rubber coil that had kept back the water unrolled down upon -the floor. - -"Who's there?" growled Mr. Stockbridge, arrayed in a bath-robe and -squinting out into the dimly lighted corridor without his glasses. - -Mortification seemed to paralyze Carrington's speech. Bringing the -nozzle forward abjectly, so that Mr. Stockbridge could see his plight, -he faltered: - -"I--" - -At that moment his finger was shot like a bullet from a gun, and the -ensuing stream of water caught Mr. Stockbridge squarely in the throat. - -Simultaneously, a supreme inspiration came to Carrington. - -"I'm a _fireman_," he cried in a disguised voice. "Wake your family at -once!" - -Whereupon, as Mr. Stockbridge rushed back into the apartment, -Carrington, dropping the hose, made a thrilling rescue of himself down -the stairway, and darted into the street before the drowsy dignitary in -the vestibule could raise his head. - - - - -JANGLES - - - - -THOSE SYMPHONY CONCERT PROGRAMS - - -_METROPOLITAN SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA_ - -OTTO CULMBACHER, _Conductor_ - -FELICE ELEFANTINE, _Soloiste of the evening_ - - - I. GASTRONOMIC SYMPHONY--_Kovik-Bordunov_ - - (a) Allegretti - (b) Pistachio - (c) Chianti - (d) Risotto, con aglio - - II. LARGHETTO _Culmbacher_ - - III. ARIA FROM "IL CAMPANILE" _Gondola_ - (SIGNORINA ELEFANTINE) - -(_The Hardwood Piano is used_) - - * * * * * - -CRITICAL COMMENTS ON THE NUMBERS - -I. _Gastronomic Symphony_. It is not certain when Ptior Kovik-Bordunov -was born. His parents, being thrifty peasants, put him in a basket and -left him on the steppes of Russia. Adopted by a Russian Princess, named -Caviar Vodka, he was raised as if he had been her own dog. His early -musical inclination was so pronounced that he was sent to the Warsaw -Conservatory, where he served three terms. Soon after being released -from this institution he wrote "Samovar," the opera that made him -famous. "Samovar" so pleased the Czar that young Bordunov was given a -pension and a bath. But alas! either his sudden success or the bath so -affected his mind, that from that time on the authorities were obliged -to keep him in confinement. The above symphony was written on the walls -of his cell, from which it was transcribed after his suicide. It depicts -the blight of all his hopes, the sorrows of Russia, the drowning of his -fiancée, the height of the steppes, and the agonies of indigestion. - -The Allegretti opens with an arabesque tone-poem of somber sweetness, -under which strange and varied delights are hidden. Then comes the minor -Pistachio, weirdly oriental in color. This is followed by the -tempestuous and maddening Chianti. Last of all comes the terrible -Risotto, con aglio. Here we have an example of the insight of genius! By -itself, the Risotto con aglio would be almost mild; but coming as it -does on top of the Allegretti, the Pistachio, and the Chianti, it is -bound to produce a truly tragic finale. - -II. _Larghetto_. This étude is by the conductor. (He thought this would -be a good place to work it in, the orchestra and audience being -powerless to restrain him.) - -Herr Otto Fédor Ivan Culmbacher was born of noble parents in Hofbräu, -Silesia. He was discovered and imported to America by the brilliant -patronesses of the Metropolitan Symphony Society. - -A larghetto is a little largo--one without a handel. A composer writes a -larghetto when he feels something like writing a largo but isn't, on the -whole, quite up to it. - -III. _Aria from "Il Campanile."_ This opera, though well known in -Budapest and South America, is practically unknown in the United States. -The aria, "O belli spaghetti," is so vocally exacting that to sing its -bird-like notes a prima donna should diet for weeks on bird seed. Here -are the words--which are repeated fourteen times in the course of the -aria. - -THE ITALIAN THE TRANSLATION - -O belli spaghetti, Had I the wings of a dove, - -O bianchi confetti. I would fly, I would fly to my love. - -Bananni, bananni, I would fly, I would fly, - -E tutti frutti-- Through the sky, through the sky, - -O bianchi confetti! I would fly, I would fly to my love! - -(_She waddles off_) - - - - -HOW TO KNOW THE INSTRUMENTS - - (Editor's Note.--The following observations, if carefully studied, - will enable the intelligent concertgoer to tell the difference - between an orchestra and a dress circle.) - - -The principal instrument in music is the violin. This instrument is held -fast under the performer's double chin and then tickled in the gut with -a strand of horse hair until it cries out. Which cruel treatment reacts -on its disposition, so that, as the little violin grows up into a -'cello, it becomes gloomy and morose; and when, after a life of nagging, -it reaches old age as a crabbed double bass and is relegated to the back -of the orchestra, it spends its resentment in querulous grumbling. - -Further from the conductor than the violins, and, consequently, more -intermittent in their playing, are the Tootle family. Grandfather -Tootle, the bassoon, spends his time in dozing: all you can hear from -him is an occasional snore. Mrs. Tootle, the flute, is of a romantic -turn of mind, doting on moonlight and warbling birds and babbling -brooks. She prides herself on her limpid utterance, and admonishes her -little son Piccolo not to talk through his nose like Cousin Oboe Tootle. -Her husband, the bass clarinet, takes himself very seriously--and no -wonder, for to him falls the unpleasant duty of announcing bad news, -such as that the hero has just died, or that the act is only half over. - -Quite remote from the conductor are the mysterious somethings that live -in kettle-drums. What they are no one knows; but a watchful keeper bends -over and listens to them, and whenever, despite his constant -cork-screwing, they show signs of aggressiveness, he beats them into -submission with a brace of bottle-mops. If this is not sufficient, he -calls in an assistant, who cows them with the roar of a whanging Chinese -stewpan. - -Somewhat nearer the conductor, but yet far enough away to be able to -resist his authority until threatened with his stick, are the horns, the -most vehement members of the orchestra. A blast from them, besides -waking up the audience, always means something. For example, the martial -sound of a trumpet heralds the approach of a conqueror or a -scissors-grinder. - -The old-fashioned hunting horn, from which the modern orchestral horn is -descended, was very simple indeed. In those days every one was supposed -to wind his horn, instead of buying it already wound, as we do now. - -Yet the modern pretzelized horn is still adapted for hunting purposes. -Take as large a horn as you can conveniently carry (a 42-centimetre tuba -is preferable) and stand under a tree, with the muzzle pointing up at -the bird you desire to hunt. Then play "Silver Threads Among the Gold" -for two hours and ten minutes, and the bird will fall lifeless into the -horn. - - - - -NOTES ON PIANOS - - -[Illustration] - -A piano is an instrument with eighty-eight keys and twenty installments. -You play on the keys and pay on the installments--the latter being by -far the more difficult performance. If you do not play in time, you are -called down by your critics; if you do not pay on time, you are called -on by your collectors. - -The keys are arranged in two rows--short, fat blondes in front, and -tall, skinny brunettes behind. There are three pedals (one for each -foot, and one for good measure): the damper pedal (or muffler cut-out), -which puts an end to conversation; the sostenuto pedal, which helps the -piano sustain what it has to sustain; and the soft pedal, which is -seldom used, and then only by request. - -There are two kinds of pianos--uprights and prostrates. Uprights are -used in homes where there is standing room only. Prostrates are used in -concert halls--virtuosi prefer them, because they can hit a piano much -harder when it is down. The upright piano is frequently pitched in A -flat. It remains there till pitched out by the neighbors. - -An advantage that this piano possesses is that it keeps the player's -back turned to his hearers, which is a great saving to his feelings. -Another advantage is that the top serves as a mantelpiece annex; -bric-a-brac that won't stand heat but will stand noise is put there. -Anything is appropriate--cupids, shepherdesses, brass bowls, painted -vases. The only requirement for a place on this repository is that the -object be able to make some buzzing, twanging, wheezing, or humming -sound when the strings are struck. - -Prostrates are built for endurance. Their black finish bespeaks the hard -life they lead. - -A conflict between one of these indestructible pianos and an -irresistible pianist is called a recital. A non-combatant lifts the lid, -and the fight begins. FIRST ROUND: _Nocturne_. (Merely warming up.) -SECOND ROUND: _Etude_. (Livelier, but not much heavy hitting.) THIRD -ROUND: _Scherzo_. (Considerably hotter; fighting in close.) FOURTH -ROUND: _Appassionato_. (Real slugging.) FIFTH ROUND: _Rhapsodie_. (Piano -receives fearful punishment. Knocked out in final cadenza, but pianist -sprains wrist.) - -In learning to play the piano, the first thing to acquire is a good -touch, or tread (as it is properly called). Unfortunately, there is a -divergence of opinion among authorities as to what a good tread consists -in; the famous dictum of Prof. Biffski, of Moscow Conservatory, that you -should hammer the hammers, being offset by the equally famous assertion -of Hieronimus Dudelsack, the noted Viennese pedagogue, that you should -not strike the ivories at all, but massage, or knead them. Herr -Dudelsack and his eminent pupils maintain that his tread is the only -normal one, that it has the naturalness of a cat's walking on the -keyboard. But the astute Russian insinuates that it produces tangled -chords and scales that are short-weight. - -But these methods have been rendered obsolete by the heel-and-toe -technique of the playerpiano. This wonderful instrument, impregnating -the feet with melody and rhythm, has given rise to the modern dances. -For a person who makes a habit of playing the pianola simply _has_ to -toddle the music out of his ankles. - -Even more remarkable is the way in which the piano-footy has simplified -musical composition. The masters of the past had to toil away painfully -with pen and ink; whereas the composer of today can attain the same -results with a roll of paper and a ticket-punch. Judging from the -progress we have made and are still making, it is safe to predict that -the composer of the future will use a shotgun. - - - - -THE LIFE-DRAMA OF A MUSICAL CRITIC - -IN FOUR CLIPPINGS - - -_I. ADOLESCENCE_ - -From the Centerville "Clarion": - -LOCAL TALENT MAKES SPLENDID SHOWING - -The concert held last evening in Masonic Hall was a great success. It -certainly showed what Centerville could do in a musical line. From the -opening duet, played by Miss Violet and Miss Nancy Stubbs, to the very -end of the program, the audience seemed to thoroughly enjoy every -number. But the feature of the evening was the singing by Mr. Harry -Bowers of "Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep." This noble song gave the -popular young druggist an opportunity to display his remarkable low -notes. Another person deserving of special mention was Miss Helen Smith, -who, attractively dressed in pink and carrying a bouquet of fresh -flowers, rendered "The Rosary" with great effect. All in all, the -concert was a great event, and a considerable amount of money was raised -toward the new fire-engine. - - ABRAHAM LINCOLN SIMPSON, - Music and Art Critic. - -[Illustration] - - -_II. EFFERVESCENCE_ - -From the "New York Chronicle": - -GOTHAM ORCHESTRA PLAYS SCHNITZEL - -Warmth of Oriental Color - -Adolf Schnitzel's symphonic poem "Aus Bengalien," which was admirably -performed last evening by the Gotham Symphony Orchestra, shows a -masterly understanding of the folk-music of India. The Bengalese have -from the earliest times been noted for their proficience in the arts. -Their principal instrument is the _bimbam_, an elongated drum, played -upon with any convenient article, such as an elephant's tusk or the bone -of an ancestor. When struck at one end, it emits the sound _bim_; when -struck at the other, a clear-toned _bam_ is produced: hence its curious -name. The following melody, known as the "War-Song of Prince Brahmadan," -gives one an idea of the capacity of this instrument: - - Bim-bim-bam, bim-bam-bim. - -The chorus is also characteristic: - - Bim, bim! - -At the religious ceremonies of the Bengalese, the Futrib, or high -priest, plays upon a peculiar one-toned flute, producing an effect of -awe and mystery, as this hymn to the sun-god aptly illustrates: - - Too--oo--t! - Toot, toot-a-toot, toot-a-toot, toot; - Too--oo--t! - -With this wealth of material to draw from, Schnitzel has constructed a -work that is nearly perfect in form. Beginning with a soft -_bim-bam-bim_, which is followed by a sinister _toot, toot_, he works up -to a climax of marvelous contrapuntal ingenuity, in which the two themes -are combined thus: - - Bim, toot, bam, toot-a-toot, - -Truly the apotheosis of Bengal! - -A. L. S. - - -_III. ACQUIESCENCE_ - -From the "New York Chronicle": - -"WASHINGTON" REPEATED - -Last night was a brilliant one at the opera. "Washington," the new -American music-drama, was given for the second time, with the same cast -as before. - -Among those who attended the performance were Mrs. Pierpont Astorbilt, -who wore pale nesserole garnished with soufflée; Mr. and Mrs. -Plantagenet Carter, the latter in an exquisite creation of blanc-mange; -and Mrs. Sibley Harwood-Stevens, in gray limousine, air-cooled with -insertion. - -Mrs. Reginald Carrington's guests were Lord and Lady Shrewby and the Duc -de Vaurien. The latter wore a black dress-suit and a white shirt. - -Mrs. Gaybird was present for the first time since the death of her -husband. She wore her skirt at half-mast. - -(_Unsigned_) - - -_IV. SENESCENCE_ - -[Illustration] - -From the New York "Evening Spot": - -BASSOON CONCERT A RELIEF FROM MODERNISM - -BY A. LINCOLN SIMPSON - -New York is suffering from a plethora of concerts. The fact that the -halls are generally crowded is no excuse for giving so many -performances. It is unfair to the critics. - -Yesterday afternoon, at the concert of the Gotham Symphony Society -Ludwig Käse played that great German master-work, the Leberwurst bassoon -concerto in F-flat major, opus posthumous. ("Posthumous" does not in -this case have its usual meaning of written after the defunction of the -composer's brain: it refers to the fact that Leberwurst did not live to -publish the work, as his audience lynched him when he played it from -manuscript.) This concerto, dedicated to the composer's patron, the deaf -old Duke of Pretzelheim, bears the title of "Spring," and this vernal -quality was admirably brought out by Herr Käse, particularly in the -movement representing influenza. Indeed, it was impossible to hear his -sublime sniffulations without being moved to profound coughing. - -François Grisé's "Gingerbread Suite," scored for viola, piccolo, -trombone, and celesta, might have been interesting had it been more of a -novelty; but, since it had been heard in New York five times within four -years, its performance on this occasion was a mistake. - -The program included also a symphonic rhapsody on cow-boy melodies. As -this is by an obscure native composer and has never been heard before, -there is nothing to say about it. - -[Illustration: _Even people sitting behind pillars can enjoy her._] - - - - -THE SURVIVAL OF THE FATTEST - - -There is no lightweight championship in opera. Stars of the first -magnitude are of very considerable magnitude--300 pounds and up. In this -class are the expensive prima donnas and heroic tenors (the term -"heroic" referring to their efforts to move about the stage). The second -magnitude--250 to 299 pounds--includes "jilted beauty" mezzo-sopranos -and "hated rival" baritones. The third magnitude (of which no one takes -any notice)--under 250 pounds--is made up of "confidante" contraltos and -"noble father" bassos. - -Thus, it will readily be seen that fat and fame are synonymous. For, in -navigating the high C's, latitude is far more important than longitude. - -Italian opera was made possible by the discovery of spaghetti, the -serpentine food that produces coloratura tissue. A few miles of this -swallowed daily will keep the palate _leggiero_ and the figure -_larghissimo_. - -In like manner, beer is responsible for the national opera of Germany. -Who would have heard of Wagner if Pilsener had never been invented? -Where could Wagner have found his massive Brunhildes, his slow-dying -Tristans? - -Here lies the secret of the failure of our national music drama--we have -spaghetti opera and beer opera, but no opera built on an American food. -Emaciated from a diet of pebbly cereals and grape juice, our art still -awaits the invention of the great American fattener. - -For fat constitutes the wonder of opera. When a diva who looks like a -hippo surprises us by singing like a canary--_that_ is something -remarkable. When a languid mass of blubber, for whom the very act of -standing would seem a supreme accomplishment, displays the lung energy -of a steam calliope and the vocal endurance of a peanut-stand -whistle--we are astonished, overcome. - -And fat robs the tragic ending of its depression. The sight of a -normally-built woman expiring of heartbreak, or any other favorite -operatic death, would be most distressing; but the spectacle of a -four-hundred pound consumptive, on a thickly-padded canvas-and-steel -rock, breathing forth her everlasting last, like a moping walrus on a -cake of ice--such a spectacle does not disturb us in the least, for we -realize that all she needs is a fan. - -Indeed, the fattest never die. After a prima donna is no longer able to -manoeuver over the operatic stage, she toddles along the carpet of the -concert platform, tugging her train like a double-expansion -freight-engine, while the audience applauds from sheer amazement. She is -an immense success--even people sitting behind posts can see her. - -Thin singers perish and are forgotten (there never were any, anyhow); -but the gloriously fat ones sing on forever. When Judgment Day comes and -the angel blows his trumpet, he will have to toot it with Wagnerian fury -plus Straussian blatancy if he hopes to be heard above the aigretted and -tiaraed dodos who are still on the yell. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Bizarre, by Lawton Mackall - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIZARRE *** - -***** This file should be named 42710-8.txt or 42710-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/7/1/42710/ - -Produced by Neville Allen, Chris Curnow and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at - www.gutenberg.org/license. - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 -North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email -contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the -Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |