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diff --git a/49285-8.txt b/49285-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3228370..0000000 --- a/49285-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4711 +0,0 @@ - THE ROMANCE OF THE COMMONPLACE - - - - -This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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 -http://www.gutenberg.org/license. If you are not located in the United -States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are -located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Romance of the Commonplace -Author: Gelett Burgess -Release Date: June 25, 2015 [EBook #49285] -Language: English -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROMANCE OF THE COMMONPLACE -*** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - - - *THE ROMANCE OF - THE COMMONPLACE* - - - *Gelett Burgess* - - - -_Now things there are that, upon him who sees,_ -_A strong vocation lay; and strains there are_ -_That whoso hears shall hear for evermore._ - ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON - - - - Paul Elder and Morgan Shepard : : : San Francisco - - - - - _Copyright_, 1902 - by GELETT BURGESS - - _Entered at_ Stationer's Hall - _London_ - - - - PRINTED BY THE STANLEY-TAYLOR COMPANY, SAN FRANCISCO - - - - - To - My Sisters, Ella and Ann: - with whom - This Philosophy was Proven - - - - - *THE ROMANCE OF - THE COMMONPLACE* - - - *Contents* - -Introduction -April Essays -Getting Acquainted -Dining Out -The Uncharted Sea -The Art of Playing -The Use of Fools -Absolute Age -The Manual Blessing -The Deserted Island -The Sense of Humour -The Game of Correspondence -The Caste of the Articulate -The Tyranny of the Lares -Costume and Custom -Old Friends and New -A Defense of Slang -The Charms of Imperfection -"The Play's the Thing" -Living Alone -Cartomania -The Science of Flattery -Romance *en Route* -At the Edge of the World -The Diary Habit -The Perfect Go-between -Growing Up -A Pauper's Monologue -A Young Man's Fancy -Where is Bohemia? -The Bachelor's Advantage -The Confessions of an Ignoramus -A Music-Box Recital -A Plea for the Precious -Sub Rosa - - - - - *Introduction* - - -To let this book go from my hands without some one more personal note -than the didactic paragraphs of these essays contained, has been, I must -confess, a temptation too strong for me to resist. The observing reader -will note that I have so re-written my theses that none of them begins -with an "I" in big type, and though this preliminary chapter conforms to -the rule also, it is for typographic rather than for any more modest -reasons. Frankly, this page is by way of a flourish to my signature, -and is the very impertinence of vanity. - -But this little course of philosophy lays my character and temperament, -not to speak of my intellect, so bare that, finished and summed up for -the printer, I am all of a shiver with shame. My nonsense gave, I -conceit myself, no clue by which my real self might be discovered. My -fiction I have been held somewhat responsible for, but escape for the -story-teller is always easy. Even in poetry a man may so cloak himself -in metaphor that he may hope to be well enough disguised. But the essay -is the most compromising form of literature possible, and even such -filmy confidences and trivial gaieties as these write me down for what I -am. Were they even critical in character, I would have that best of -excuses, a difference of taste, but here I have had the audacity to -attempt a discussion of life itself, upon which every reader will -believe himself to be a competent critic. - -By a queer sequence of circumstances, the essays, begun in the _Lark_, -were continued in the _Queen_, and, if you have read these two papers, -you will know that one magazine is as remote in character from the other -as San Francisco is from London. But each has happened to fare far -afield in search of readers, and between them I may have converted some -few to my optimistic view of every-day incident. To educate the British -Matron and Young Person was, perhaps, no more difficult an undertaking -than to open the eyes of the California Native Son. The fogs that fall -over the Thames are not very different to the mists that drive in -through the Golden Gate, after all! - -Still, I would not have you think that these lessons were written with -my tongue in my cheek. I have made believe so long that now I am quite -sincere in my conviction that we can see pretty much whatever we look -for; which should prove the desirability of searching for amusement and -profit rather than for boredom and disillusion. - -We are in the day of homespun philosophy and hand-made dogma. A kind of -mental atavism has made science preposterous; modern astrologers and -palmists put old wine into new bottles, and the discussion of -Psychomachy bids fair to revolutionize the Eternal Feminine. And so I, -too, strike my attitude and apostrophize the Universe. As being, in -part, a wholesome reaction from the prevailing cult, I might call my -doctrine Pagan Science, for the type of my proselyte is the Bornese war -chief peripatetic on Broadway--the amused wonderer. But I shall not -begin all my nouns with capitals, for it is my aim to write of romance -with a small "r." Also my philosophy must not be thought a mere -_laissez faire_; it is an active, not a passive creed. We are here not -to be entertained, but to entertain ourselves. - -I might have called this book _A Guide Through Middle Age_, for it is -then that one needs enthusiasm the most. We stagger gaily through -Youth, and by the time Old Age has come we have usually found a -practicable working philosophy, but at forty one is likely to have a -bitter hour at times, especially if one is still single. Or, so they -tell me; I shall never confess to that status, and shall leap boldly -into a white beard. A kindly euphemism calls this horrid, half-way -stage one's Prime. I have here endeavoured to justify the usage, though -I am opposed by a thousand poets. - -If some of these essays seem but vaguely correlated to my major theme, -you must think of them as being mere illustrations or practical -solutions of the commonplace, solved by means of the theory I have -developed and iterated. It was hard, indeed, to know when to stop, but, -ragged as are my hints, I hope that in all essentials I have covered the -ground and formulated the main rules of the Game of Living. One does -not even have to be an expert to be able to do that! - - - - - *THE ROMANCE OF - THE COMMONPLACE* - - - *April Essays* - - -They were begun in the April of my life, and though it is now well into -mid-June, some of the glamour of the Spring yet inspires me, and I am -still a-wondering. I have tried every charm to preserve my youth, and a -drop of wine and a girl or two into the bargain, but the game is near -played out. - -But what boots marbles and tops when one is initiated into the mysteries -of billiards and chess? It has taken me all these years to find that -there is sport for every season, and the rules vary. To make a bold -play at life, then, without cheating (which is due only to a false -conception of the reward), and with the progress, rather than the -particular stage reached, in mind, is my aim. So I have tossed -overboard all my fears and regrets, and gone in for the higher problems -of maturity. - -Still, a few of the maxims I drew from my joys and sorrows in the few -calmer moments of reverie persist; and these all strengthen me in the -romantic view of life. A man must take his work or his art seriously, -and pursue it with a single intent; he must fix upon the realities first -of all, but there is room for imagination as well, and with this I have -savoured my duties, as one puts sauce to pudding. Enough has been -written upon the earnestness of motive, of sobriety and all the -catalogue of virtues usually dignified with capital initials. I own -allegiance to an empire beside all that--another Forest of Arden--the -tinkle of whose laughter is a permanent sustained accompaniment to the -more significant notes of man's sober industries. - -Must I be dubbed trifler then, because I make a game of life? Every man -of spirit and imagination must, I think, be a true sportsman. It is in -the blood of genius to love play for its own sake, and whether one uses -one's skill on thrones or women, swords or pens, gold or fame, the -game's the thing! Surely, it is not only the reward that makes it worth -while, it is the problem--the study of each step on the way, the -disentangling of the knotted cord of fate, the sequence and climax of -move after move, the logical grasp of what is to come upon the -chess-board. As it is in the great, then, may it not be in the small? -To one of fancy and poetic vision, mere size is an accident, a personal -element, a relative, not an absolute quality of things. The microscope -reveals wonders to the scientist, as great and as important as does the -telescope. To the poet, "a primrose by the river's brim" has the beauty -of the Infinite. And so nothing is commonplace, or to be taken for -granted. One needs only the fresh eye, the eagerness of interest, and -this Universe of workaday things which, with the animals, we get "for a -penny, plain," may be coloured with the twopence worth of mind by which -we are richer than they. - -We have all passed through that phase of art-appreciation in which -familiar objects are endowed with an extrinsic æsthetic value. The -realist discovers a new sensation in a heap of refuse, the impressionist -in the purple shadows of the hills. In weaker intellects the craving -for this dignifying of the obvious leads to the gilding of the -rolling-pin or the decalcomanie decoration of the bean-pot. With -something of each of these methods, I would practice upon every-day -affairs, and make them picturesque. - -This is, perhaps, a characteristically Oriental point of view of life. -Undoubtedly it is the Japanese pose, and it is well illustrated in their -art. What by Korin would be thought too insignificant for portrayal? -He had but to separate an object, or a group of objects, from its -environment and he beheld a design, with line, mass, colour and _notan_. -Art was to him not a question of subject, but of composition. He held -his frame before a tiny fragment of the visible world, any fragment, -indeed, and, placing that in its true position, not in regard to its -surroundings, but in regard to the frame, it became a pattern. May we -not, for our diversion, do thus with Life? If we hold up our frame, -disregarding the accidental shadows of tradition and establishment, we -may see bits of a new world. - -It is thus that the man from Mars would view our life and manners. -Unsophisticated, he would hold his frame in front of a man, and, cutting -him off from his family, his neighbours, his position in Society, he -would see a personage as real and as individual as "the Man with the -Glove," or "the Unknown Woman" is to us. He would bring an uncorrupted -eye and see strange pictures in the facts of our jaded routine. He -would see in accustomed meetings and actions hidden possibilities and -secret charms. He would witness this drab life of ours as a -bewilderingly endless romance. Nothing would be presupposed, nothing -foreseen, and each turn of the kaleidoscope would exhibit another of the -infinitely various permutations of human relationship. - -Such is the philosophy of youth. It denies the conventional postulates -of the Philistine. It will not accept the axioms of the unimaginative; -two and two may prove to make five, upon due investigation, seemingly -parallel cases may widely diverge, and the greater may not always -include the less, in this non-Euclidean Geometry of Life. It transmutes -the prose of living into the poetry of idealization, as love transmutes -the physical fact of osculation into the beatitude of a kiss. It makes -mysteries of well-known occurrences, and it turns accepted marvels into -simple truths, comprehensible and self-evident. - -Civilization refines and analyzes. It seeks the invisible rays of the -spectrum and delights in overtones, subtle vibrations and delicate -nuances of thought. So this neglected philosophy of enthusiasm also -gleans the neglected and forgotten mysteries of humanity. Its virtue is -in its economy; it wrings the last drop of sensation from experience. -Like modern processes of manufacture it produces good from what was -considered but waste and tailings. By a positive contribution to -happiness it refutes the charge of trifling, for in the practice of this -art one does but pick up what has been thrown away. All's fish that -comes to its net. - -But it is more than a science; it has more than an economic value for -happiness--it is a religion. The creed of hope bids one wonder and hope -and rejoice, it teaches us to listen for the whispered voice, to see the -spirit instead of the body of the facts of life. But it does more; it -is illuminating, and reveals a new conception of beauty. There is an -apocryphal legend of the Christ that tells how He with His disciples -were passing along a road, when they came upon the body of a dead dog. -Those with Him shrank from the pitiful sight with loathing, and drew -away. But Jesus went calmly up to the decaying flesh and leaning over -it, said gently, "How beautifully white are his teeth!" The customary -moral drawn from the story is one of gentleness and pity, the kindness -and charity of looking at the good, rather than the evil that is -present. But it has a more literal meaning, and teaches clearly the -lesson of beauty. - -For it has come to this: that even in our pleasures we are influenced by -prejudice and tradition. Some things are as empirically branded -beautiful or ugly, as others are declared right or wrong, and to this -dogma we conform. Korin, when he held his frame before a clothes-line -fluttering with damp garments, saw not only an interesting design, but a -beautiful one; yet the Monday's wash might be taken as something -typically vulgar and ugly to the common mind. - -We Anglo-Saxons have debased many facts of life, once rightly thought of -as exquisitely beautiful, into the category of the beast. Sexual passion -is the great example, but there are myriads of lesser things which, -viewed calmly, purely, as some strange god able to see clearly without -passion or prejudice, might view them, would take on lovely aspects. -When such situations approach the pathetic, as the sight of some forlorn -half-naked mother nursing her child on a doorstep, or the housemaid, -denied of the chance of seclusion, embracing her lover in the publicity -of the park, this diviner phase of common human nature is patent to the -casual observer. When they approach the comic, also, it is easier to -believe that every scene may have its complimentary phase, and the most -careless may read the joke between the lines. But much of the more -subtle delight of life escapes us, like the tree-toad in the oak, -because it is so much a part of its surroundings; its charm is of so -intrinsic a value that we do not notice it. We are used to finding our -beauty within gilt rectangles, set off from other things not so -denominated as especially worthy of regard; we expect it to be labelled -and highly coloured. - -Two things alone remain safe from this bias of custom--Love and Youth. -To the lover, the tying of a shoe-lace on his mistress's foot may be as -sacred a rite and may contain as much sentiment as the most impassioned -caress. To the child, the mud-pile has possibilities of infinite bliss. -To the one comes eternal beauty, to the other eternal mystery. And so, -to touch these forever, and to lose no intermediary sensation of charm, -whether it be humour, romance, pathos or inspiration, to be bound by -every link that connects Youth to Love, that was my April essay! - - - - - *Getting Acquainted* - - -Two lives moving in mysterious orbits are drawn together, and for an -instant, or maybe for ever after, whirl side by side. We call the -encounter an introduction, and we usually proceed to stifle the wonder -of it by impersonal talk of art, books or the drama. It is an every-day -affair and does not commonly stir the imagination. And yet to the -connoisseur in living the meeting may be an event as well as an episode. -He is a discoverer come to an unknown shore--it may be the margent of a -boundless sea or not, but of a certain it is swung by new tides and -currents to be adventured and plumbed. - -How can we, supercivilized out of almost all real emotion, develop the -potential charm of this first glimpse of a new personality? It is -guarded by conventionality; the shutters are down, the door is -barricaded; you may knock in vain with polite interrogations, and no one -appears at the window. Must we perforce set the house afire, smite or -shriek aloud to bring this stranger's soul to his eyes for one searching -gaze, face to face? The time is so short--we must greet, and pass on to -the next; we exchange easy commonplaces, and so the chance vanishes. -Why not defy custom and boldly snatch in that magic moment some -satisfactory taste of warm human intercourse? - -Curiously enough, this strangeness--this lack of background in new -acquaintances--is one of the freshest charms of meeting. Who would not -throw off all restraint and talk frankly with a man from the planet Mars -or Venus? Could we resurrect an inhabitant of Atlantis we could give -him our whole confidence--and even a South Sea Islander, were he -intelligent, might be our confessor. Where then shall we draw the line -of convention? Mars is some 140,000,000 miles away--San Francisco is -but 9,000--the ratio is inadequate but there is a guarantee of candour -in mere distance. May we not apply the same rule to nearer neighbours -and look upon them in this interesting light? - -There is no such stimulating instant possible for old friends for they -are bound by preconceived ideals of personality--they are pigeon-holed -as this or that--circumscribed by mutual duty and sacrifice; they must -reconcile present whims to past vagaries; they are held to strict -account of consistency with previous moods; but on our first meeting -with another we are free of all this constraint, and if we have courage -may meet soul to soul without reserves. We may confess unreliable -things in that moment, for there is no perspective of formulated opinion -into which the confidence must be fitted--the little secret is safe -alone in the new mind, and will not be held to intolerable account. We -may even for this once state a brutal truth, for we are unpledged to -distressing considerations. We may be in some few sacred thoughts more -intimate with a stranger than with an old friend. Such is the divine -franchise of this first sudden opportunity. No compact is yet sealed; -you must take me as you find me, like me or not, it matters little, -since it is for us to say whether or not we shall meet again. - -This play is, as Dickens says of melancholy, "one of the cheapest and -most accessible of luxuries," for the scene is always ready, set in the -nearest drawing-room. Every stranger has a possible fascination and -comes like a prince incognito. It is probably your own fault, not his, -if the disguise is not dropped during the first impetuous flurry of -talk. Children do these things better, making friends not inch by inch, -but by bold advances of genuine confidence, yet approaching each new -mystery with respect. So we, too, like the child, must dress these our -dolls, and put them into their first mental attitudes with sincerity and -trust before they will come to life. We must put much feeling into the -relation--giving and taking--so much that we cannot only confide our -tenderest spiritual aspirations, but invest trifles with unaccustomed -worth and significance. These are not impossible sensations even for -such accidental fellowship, for nothing is too unimportant to reveal -personality and orient one's point of view. But we must proceed from -the inside, outward--beginning with truths and thence to fancy. It is -the _apriori_ method; not deducing the character of your neighbour from -his visible idiosyncracies of taste and habit, but boldly inducing a new -conception, making him what you will, and varying the picture by -successive approximations as his words and actions modify your theory. - -No one is too dull for the experiment, as no mummy is too common to be -unwrapped. Granted only that he is newly found, so that you have -imagination, romance and sentiment on your palette, you may paint him as -you will. The colours may wash, but for the while he is your puppet and -must dance to your piping, if, indeed, you do not become his. - -There are those, of course, who will but cry "Oh!" and "Ah!" to your -essays--dolts with neither wits nor words nor worth, who take all and -give nothing; no one can set such damp stuff afire. Well, after all, -though you have unmasked, retreat is still possible. With how many -duller friends have you given your parole and cannot escape with honour! - -Indeed, it is not so desirable that we should always win, as that the -game itself be worth the playing. One must not expect to make a friend -at each introduction. To make the most of the minute in this way, then, -to strike while the iron is hot (and, better, to heat it yourself)--this -is the art of getting acquainted. It is the higher flirtation, not -dependent upon sex or temperament, but of many subtler dimensions, and -though it soon turns into the old familiar ruts, the first steps, made -picturesque by a common fancy, shall never lose their glamour, and one -shall remember to the very last how the first shots went home. - -But do not confound playing with playing a part. One may do all this -sincerely, honestly giving good coin, and that is the only game worth -while; for of a sudden it may wake into new beauty like a dream come -true, and you will find yourself in Arcady. No more fooling then, for -the real you is walking by my side, hand in hand. We shall not be sorry -either, shall we, that we hurried round the first corner into the -open--that we jumped a few hedges? Surely we have an infinite -friendship for our inaccessible goal, and though the first rush was -exhilarating, there are more inspiring heights beyond! - - - - - *Dining Out* - - -Why human beings are so fond of eating together and making a ceremonial -of the business it is hard to say. Man is almost the only animal who -prefers to consume his food in company with his kind, for even sheep and -cattle wander apart as they graze, seeking private delicacies. Early in -the morning, it is true, most cultivated persons are savages, preferring -to breakfast in seclusion and _dishabille_; lunch time finds them in a -slightly barbarous state, and they tolerate company; but by evening we -all become gregarious and social, and we resent the absence of an -expected companion at the table as of a course omitted. - -And so, whether we dine at home or abroad we call it a poor dinner where -we have good things only to eat. The dullest, most provincial hostess -has come to understand this, and each does what she can, in inviting -guests, to form partnerships or combinations sympathetic and enlivening. -There are, of course, always those impossibles, poor relations or -what-not, whom policy or politeness imperatively demands, and every -dinner-table is, in attempt at least, a conversational constellation of -stars of the first magnitude separated by lesser lights. - -From these fixed stars radiate flashes of talk, and supplementing this, -the laughter of the connecting circle should follow as punctually as -thunder upon lightning. The hostess, like a beneficent sun, kindles and -warms and sways her little system, while the servants revolve about the -table in their courses, like orderly planets. - -But we might push the allegory a step farther. Though the round of a -score of dinners may exhibit no more unusual a cosmogony than this, yet -at every thirty-third event, perhaps, we may encounter a comet! There -is no prognosticating his eccentric course; he comes and goes according -to a mysterious law, but wherever he appears, blazing with a new light, -foreign to all our conventions, he is a compelling attraction, drawing -the regular and steady orbs of fashion this way and that out of their -orbits, shifting their axes, and upsetting social tides and seasons. - -To such an innovator a dinner is given not for food but for pastime, and -it is a game of which he may change the rules as soon and as often as -they hamper his enjoyment. It matters little to him that he is dressed -for a feast of propriety. To him alone it is not a livery; he is not -the servant of custom. If it pleases him to settle a dispute out of -hand, he will send the butler for the dictionary while the discussion is -hot, or more likely go himself forthright. If he wishes to see a red -rose in the hair of his host's daughter over against him, he will whip -round two corners to her place, and adjust the decoration. And if it is -necessary to his thesis that you, his shocked or amused partner, help -him illustrate a Spanish _jerabe_, you too must up and help him in the -pantomime if you would not have such fine enthusiasm wasted for a -scruple. - -I knew one such once who retrieved an almost hopelessly misarranged -dinner by his generalship, usurping the power of the hostess herself. -The guests were distributed in a way to give the greatest possible -discomfort to the greatest number, though from stupidity rather than -from malice. Mr. Comet solved the problem at a glance. He rose before -the fish was served, with a wine-glass in one hand and his serviette in -the other. "The gentlemen," he announced, "will all kindly move to the -left four places." It was before the day of "progressive dinner -parties," and the scheme was new. The ladies gasped at his audacity, -but after this change of partners the function began to succeed. - -Your comet, then, must not only be a social anarchist but he must -convert the whole company, or he presents merely the sorry spectacle of -a man making a fool of himself, never a sight conducive to appetite or -to refined amusement, except perhaps to the cynic. He must be able to -swing the situation. He must believe, and convince others, that the -true object of a dinner is to amuse, and if it should take all of the -time devoted to the _entrée_ for him to show the pretty sculptress at -his right how to model an angel out of bread, his observing hostess -should feel no pang that he has neglected his brochette. After all, the -elaborate supervision of the _ménu_ was undertaken, any modern hostess -will acknowledge, only that, in the dire case her guests did not succeed -in amusing each other, they might at least have good things to eat. -Every dish untasted in the excitement of conversation, then, should be a -tribute to her higher skill in experiments with human chemistry. - -If she can catch no comet, however, she must be contented with lesser -meteoric wits who make up for real brilliancy by saying what they do say -quickly and spontaneously; with the punsters, in short, and such -hair-trigger intellects. Failing these, the last class above the -bores-positive are those well-meaning diners-out who load themselves -with stories for a dinner as a soldier goes into an engagement with a -belt full of cartridges. They may not get a chance for a shot very -often, but, given an opening, their fire is accurate and deadly till the -last round is gone, when they are at the mercy of a more inventive wit. -Yet even these welter-weights have their place at the table, for we must -have bread as well as wine. - -It was one of Lewis Carroll's pet fancies to have a dinner-table in the -shape of a ring, and half the guests seated inside upon a platform which -revolved slowly round the circle till each one had circumnavigated the -orbit and passed opposite every guest seated on the outside of the -table. But this would break up many of the little secret schemes for -which the modern dinner is planned, and many a young man would suddenly -find himself flirting with the wrong lady across the board. - -And this last hint carries me from the exoteric to the esoteric charms -of the dinner. Here, however, you must guess your own way; I dare not -tell you precisely what it means when Celestine shifts her glass from -left to right of her plate, nor what I answer when I raise my serviette -by one corner, for Celestine and I may dine with you some day, and you -may remember our little code. You would better not invite me anyway, -for, though I am no comet, yet I admit I would be mad enough to upset -the claret purposely rather than have nothing exciting happen! - - - - - *The Uncharted Sea* - - -Ay, there's the rub! If we could but forecast our dreams, who would -care to keep awake? In that, we are no further advanced than in the -times of Pythagoras; still clumsy, ignorant amateurs in this most -fascinating and mysterious game, played by every race and condition of -men under the moon. There are some, maybe, who do not dream, poor -half-made men and women, to whom a waking, literal prosaic life is the -whole of existence. They stay idly at home, while you and I take ship -upon the Unknown Sea and navigate uncharted waters every night. Then we -are poets, dunces, philosophers, clowns or madcaps of sorts in a secret -carnival, changing not only our costumes, but often our very selves, -doffing conscience, habit and taste, to play a new part at each -performance. - -If we could but manage this raree-show, and not be mere marionettes, -wired to the finger of the Magician, what tremendous adventures might we -not undertake! We have rare glimpses of the Lesser Mysteries, but the -inner secrets of that inconsequential empire are still undiscovered. -The revels confound us; we are whirled, intoxicated or drugged, into a -realm of confusion, and, out of touch with senses, reason and will, we -cannot quite keep our heads clear. How many of us have tried to "dream -true," like Peter Ibbetson, even to obeying the foolish formula he -described, lying, hands under head, foot upon foot, murmuring his magic -words? - -Try as we may, those of us who are true dreamers can never quite accept -the psychologist's explanation of dreams. Some cases may be easily -understood, perhaps, such as the pathological influence of a Welsh -rarebit, a superabundance of bed covers, or suggestive noises. We may -account, too, for those absurd visions that appear so often on -awakening, when one sense after another comes breaking into our -consciousness, and when the mind, summoned suddenly to construct some -reasonable relation between incongruous floating pictures, seizes upon -any explanation, however ridiculous. But of deeper dreams, dreams -logical or meaningful, dreams that recur or are shared by others, modern -science does not give any satisfactory theory, and we are forced, -willingly enough no doubt, to apply the hypotheses of mysticism. - -There are dreams, too, so progressive and educational that they seem to -involve a new science unknown in this workaday world. So many of us have -had experiences with levitation in our dream life that we are, so to -speak, a cult. I myself began by jumping, timing each spring with the -precise moment of alighting from a previous leap, profiting by the -rebound, and, after many experiments I am now able to float freely, even -accomplishing that most difficult of all feats, rising in the air by a -deliberate concentrated effort of will, even while lying on my back. -Yet all of us, jumpers, flyers or floaters, must wait till that -wonderful dream comes to us, after months maybe, to indulge in that most -exhilarating pastime. - -Children's dreams are (until they are cruelly undeceived) quite as real -as their waking moments, and it may be that we shall, in time, learn the -forgotten art from them. It is dependent, no doubt, upon their power of -visualizing imagined objects while their eyes are shut, but while still -awake; but this ability to call up the images of anything at will is as -soon lost as their belief in dreams. Though this habit fades and is -forgotten in the growing reality of our outward life, it may not be -impossible with practice to regain the proficiency, for at times of -great physical fatigue and mental exaltation the power comes back, often -intensified almost to the point of hallucination. If we could train our -imagination then, and learn to see pictures when our eyes are shut, -these might become more accurate and real, so that at the moment of -sinking into unconsciousness, as we lose hold on tangible things, the -vision would become one with the reality, and, still imagining and -creating, we might pass over the footlights and dream true. To most of -us there comes a recognizable moment when we know we are just at the -border of sleep; if we could then with our last effort of will keep -control of the moving pictures we might go wherever we wished. - -We might learn, too, to remember more of what happens in the night. We -usually give what has passed in dream no more than an indulgent smile, -and forget the strangeness of it all as soon as we are well awake. It -is as if we had hurriedly turned the pages of an illustrated book. We -recall, here and there, a few striking pictures, beautiful or comic, and -the volume is replaced upon the shelves not to be taken down till the -next evening. It is a book from which we learn little; its contents are -not even amusing to anyone else, who has as fanciful tales in his own -dreamland library. If we could, upon first awakening, impress our minds -with the reality of our dreams, we might be able to recall more and -more, and find that in spite of their incongruity there was some law -which governed their visitation and some meaning in their grotesque -patterns. - -To one who dreams frequently, bedtime cannot fail to be something to -look forward to, to hope and to prepare for with efforts to capture in -the net of sleep some beautiful dream. May we not, sometime, find the -proper bait, and lie down confident that we shall be duly enchanted in -some delightful way, according to our desires? Till then we must each -buy our nightly ticket in Sleep's lottery, and draw a blank or a prize, -as Morpheus wills. Some say that the most refreshing sleep is absolute -unconsciousness of time--that one should shut one's eyes, only to open -them in the morning, with the night all unaccounted for. But no true -dreamer will assent to this; he knows it is not so. I was told in my -youth, that if I turned the toes of my boots toward the bed, I should -have a nightmare. I confess I have never dared try it. But, rather -than not dream at all, I believe I should be tempted to hazard the -experiment. - - - - - *The Art of Playing* - - -Time was when we made our own toys; when a piece of twine, a spool, a -few nails and a bit of imagination could keep us busy and happy all day -long. There were no new-fangled iron toys "made in Germany," so -tiresome in their inevitable little routine of performance, so easily -got out of order, and so hard, metallic and realistic as to be hardly -worth the purchase. A penny would, indeed, buy some funny carved wooden -thing that aroused a half-hour's excitement, but it was never quite so -alluring as when in the front window of the toy-shop. Such queer -animals never became thoroughly acclimated to the nursery, and they lost -their lustre in a half-holiday. The things that gave permanent -satisfaction were home-made, crude and capable of transformation. A -railway train might, with a small effort of the fancy, become a ship or -a dragon. Are there such amateur toy-builders now, in this age when -everything is perfect and literal, when even a box of building-blocks -contains a book of plans to supply imaginative design to the modern -child? Indeed, many children are nowayears too lazy even to do their -own playing. I have heard of one who was used to sit on a chair and -order his nurse to align his ninepins and bowl them down for him! - -Perhaps one notices the lack of creative ability in children more in the -city where ready-made toys are cheap and accessible, than in the country -where the whole world is full of wonderful possibilities for entrancing -pastime. Nature is the universal playmate, perpetually parodying -herself in miniature for the benefit of those who love to amuse -themselves with her toys. Every brook is a little river, every pond an -unfathomable sea. She plants tiny forests of fern and raises -microscopic mountains in every sand-bank. Flowers and plants furnish -provender for Lilliputian groceries, the oak showers acorn cups; what -wonder we believe, as long as we can, in fairies? - -And yet, strange to say, it is the city more often than the country -child who feels the charm of these marvels. The freshness and the -strangeness breed a fascinated wonder; it is, after flagged pavements -and brick walls, almost too good to be true. The juvenile rustic is -more familiar with Nature. It is his business to know when the flowers -come, where berries ripen and birds nest. It is scarcely play to him, -it is a science to be applied to his personal profit. The woods and -rivulets are his familiar domain, to be forayed and hunted specifically -for gain. And this, though it is delightful, is not play. For him, -there is no glamour over the fields until long after, when his native -countryside has become inaccessible. - -Perhaps the art of playing is, after all, a matter more of temperament -than environment, for one sees, at times, good sport even in the city -streets, though it is rare nowadays. I had my own full share of it, for -my youth was an age of pure romance. My clan had its own code and its -own traditions. Every man of us had his suit of wooden armour, his -well-wrought weapons and his fiery steed. We were all for Scott. We had -our Order, small, but well up in the technique of feudal ways, facile in -sword-play, both with the thin, sinewy hard-pine rapier, and the huge, -two-handed, double-hiked battle-sword that should stand just as high as -one's head. On the brick sidewalks we tilted on velocipedes, full in -the view of the anxious passers-by. _Cap-à-pie_ in pine sheathed with -tin, with a shield blazoned with a tiger couchant, and inscribed with a -Latin motto out of the back of the dictionary, many a long red lance I -shivered, and many a wheel I broke. On Warren Avenue I did it, opposite -the church. What would I not give, now, to see such sights in -town!--instead, I watch little boys smoking cigarettes upon the street -corners, waiting for their girls. - -I knew a youngster, too, who organized in his town a postoffice -department, established letter-boxes and a regular service of boy -carriers. He drew and coloured the stamps himself--you will find them -in few collections, though they should have enormous value from their -rarity. Such games are consummate play, even though the sport goes awry -all too soon; it is too great to last! - -It is the older brother who should give finesse to such sport. Without -him, complications arise which accomplish at last the ruin of the game. -Many of us do not truly learn to play until it is too late to do so with -dignity, and to these, the appreciation of the young gives a fine excuse -for prolonging the diversion. We fancy we cannot, when grown up, play -imaginative games for the pure joy of it, as does the child; we think we -must have an ulterior motive. Yet the father, who whittles out a boat -for his son, often gets more delight than the child, who would far -rather do it himself, no matter how much more crudely accomplished. - -The theater is the typical play for grown-ups; the name itself, "play," -is significant of the unquenchable tendency of youth. And this reminds -me of a most amusing case where two grown-ups dared to be absolutely -ingenuous. It was upon a honeymoon, when if ever, adults have the right -to yield to juvenile impulses. As the groom was titled and the bride -fair, society took it ill that the two should retire to their country -house and deny access to all neighbours. One at last called, too -important to be denied admittance by the servants, and the astonished -visitor discovered the happy pair stretched over the dining-room table, -training flies whose wings had been clipped, to pull, in a harness of -threads, little paper wagons! This had been their absorbing occupation -for ten blissful days! - -An important element of play seems to be the doing of things in -miniature. See Stevenson, for instance, prone upon the floor, involved -in romantic campaigns, massing his troops of tin soldiers, occupying -strategic positions in hall and passage, skirmishing over the upstairs -"roads of the Third Class, impassable for artillery," intercepting -commissary trains labouring up from the Base of Operations in the -kitchen, deploying cavalry-screens upon the rug, and out-manoeuvering -the wily foe that defends the verandah, both being bound by the strict -treaties of the play. There is your ideal big brother, and the game of -toy soldiers is glorified into weeks of excitement! - -The Japanese, immortal children, carry the game of diminution to its -extreme. The dwarfed trees and the excruciating carved ivories are not -the only symptoms of this delightful disease; for the perfection of the -spirit of play one must see their miniature gardens, often the -life-employment of the owners. No matter how small the patch of ground -employed, every inch is perfect. Pebble by pebble, almost grain by -grain, the area is arranged, the tiny rivulet is guided between -carefully curved banks, wee bridges span the shores, little lanterns and -pagodas are artfully placed, plants and flowers are sown, trees planted, -fishes are domiciled, till the garden is a replica of Nature at her -best. Each view is a toy landscape, and without a scale, as seen in a -photograph, for instance, one might think it a garden of the gods. And -yet, there is a sort of play where one may use infinite distances, -macrocosms for microcosms, if one has the courage and the power of -visualization. These games are purely mental, feats of the imagination, -though not nearly so difficult as might be thought. I know a sober, -workaday lawyer, for instance, who combines the two methods with -extraordinary cleverness. His income is not derived solely from his -practice, I need hardly say. You will not catch him at his fascinating -diversion, for his table is strewn with books and papers, and his -playthings are not noticeable amongst the professional litter. - -I have known him to sit for hours gazing at the table, and, once in his -confidence--for there is a fraternity of players, and one must give the -grip and prove fellowship--he will tell you that he has shrunk to but an -inch in height, so that, to him, his desk seems to be some three hundred -feet long by a hundred feet wide, and its plateau is elevated some two -hundred feet above the floor; as high, that is, as a church. Assuming -that he has, by some miraculous means shrunk to one-fiftieth of his -stature, the size of everything visible is, of course, increased in a -like proportion. His diverting occupation, under this queer state of -things, is to explore his little domain, and exist as well as is -possible. What adventures has he not had! There was the terrific combat -with a cockroach as big as a dragon, which he finally slew with a broken -needle! There was the dust storm, when the care-taker swept, and the -huge snow crystals like white pie-plates, that came in when the window -was opened. He had an enormous difficulty in getting water from a glass -tumbler, and he broke his teeth upon the crystals of sugar that, as a -lawyer, he had been thoughtful enough to strew upon the table for the -benefit of himself as an Inchling. I believe he is now attempting to -escape to the floor by means of a spool of thread, if he cannot make up -his mind to risk a descent by means of a paper parachute. It is a world -of his own, as real to him as the child's toy paradise, a retreat immune -from the cares of his daily life, a never-tiring playground, with -perpetual discoveries possible. He, if any one, has discovered not only -the art of playing, but has applied the science as well! - - - - - *The Use of Fools* - - -What a dull world it would be if everyone were modest, discreet and -loyal to that conformity which is called good taste! if, in short, there -were no fools to keep us amused. What would divert us from the deadly -routine of seriousness? What toy scandal would we have to discuss at -dinner? What would leaven this workaday world of common-places, if -everyone were gifted with common sense? Is it not, when you stop to -think of it, a bit inconsiderate to discountenance buffoonery and to -resent innocently interesting impropriety? Should we not rather -encourage eccentricity with what flattering hypocrisies we may, so that -we shall never be at a loss for things to smile at and talk about? - -A fair sprinkling of fools in the world is as enlivening as a pinch of -salt in a loaf of bread. They give a relish to life, and flavour with a -brisk spicery of nonsense what would otherwise be oppressively flat. -Civilized existence, if it were always cooked up and served to us by -Mrs. Grundy herself, would be unpalatable enough; but luckily her -infallible recipes are not always carried out, and a few plums and -cloves get into her pudding. - -We may not care to play the part of public jesters ourselves, but the -least we can do is to be grateful to those who are willing to become -absurd for our benefit. Patronize them daintily, therefore, lest they -backslide into propriety; remember that there is such a thing as -enjoyment without ridicule. To make fun of a person to his face is a -brutal way of amusing one's self; be delicate and cunning, and keep your -laugh in your sleeve, lest you frighten away your game. - -But there will doubtless always be enough who are willing to play the -guy, whether we encourage or condemn. The fool is a persistent factor -in society, and yet the common misconception of his status and economic -function is silly and unfair. With the prig and the crank, the fool has -been reviled from time immemorial, and persecuted out of all reason. He -is protected by no legislation; your fool is always in season, and is -the target for universal contempt. Instead of this perpetual fusillade -of wits, there should be a "close season" for fools to allow them to -propagate and grow fearless, after which we could make game of them in -safety of a full supply. Since he is, in a way, the lubricator of the -wheels of life, a coiner of smiles, he should be carefully bred to give -the greatest possible amount of diversion. He should be trained like an -actor that his best points may be brought out; he should be paid a -salary or kept in livery to amuse the public, with no need or excuse for -sobriety. - -But, until the fool is properly appreciated and his place assured, we -must put up with the amateurs that haunt the street and drawing-room. It -is too much to hope for the sight of a zany every time we go out doors, -but, when we do encounter one, what a ray of sunshine gleams athwart our -strict fashions--poor sober dun slaves to style and custom! If we -chance upon a woman who dares perpetrate her own radical theories of -dress, who combines pink with red, or commits a gay indiscretion in -millinery, how superbly she is distinguished, for the moment, from the -ruck and swarm of victims to good taste! She is at once an event and a -portent. The afternoon is quaintly illuminated with a phenomenon, and -we scan with new interest and expectation the dull and sombre throng. - -How small a deviation from the mode, indeed, is necessary to provoke a -revivifying smile! Every such unconscious laughing-stock is a true -benefactor, ministering to our sense of superiority. Were we never to -see the freaks, we would not know how glorious is our own uncompromising -regularity. Truly, if we have sufficient conceit, every one in the -world, in a way of thinking, may be considered foolish relatively to our -own criterion. "All the world is queer except thee and me," said the -Quaker, "and even thee is a little queer!" - -Such praise of fools may seem extravagant or illogical, but if it is so, -it must be not because the fool is not helpful and stimulating in -society, but because, after all, he is not so easily identified as one -might suppose. Celestine tells me she never calls a man a fool, but -instead asks him why he does so,--and in this way she often learns -something. That is the most disagreeable trait of fools; often, upon -investigation, what appears to be genuine nonsense is but the consistent -carrying out of a clever and original idea, whose novelty alone excites -amusement. The fool thus cheats us of our due enjoyment by being in the -right. It seems dishonest of a fool to instruct; it is beside the mark, -and outside his proper sphere, and yet even Confucius is said to have -learned politeness from the impolite. To see one's own faults and -weaknesses caricatured spoils the laugh that should testify to the -folly. - -We cannot be sure, either, that the ass who amuses us by his eccentric -absurdities may not eventually cheat us of the final victory by proving -to be but the vanguard of a new custom to which we or our children must, -perforce, in time succumb, and fall into line with him far behind, only -then to count our present attitude foolish and old-fashioned. Let us -therefore laugh while we may, for your fool is but a chameleon who -refuses to change colour. What today is arrant silliness may tomorrow -be good horse-sense, wherefore it is wise to watch fools carefully when -you find them, lest the sport spoil overnight, and you yourself become -ridiculous, while the fool takes your place as the amused philosopher. - -The word "fad," they say, was derived from the initial letters of the -phrase "for a day." So we, the followers of the latest mode and mood, -are, it would seem, the true ephemera, and the fools who defy the local -custom are immortal. The fool is merely an anachronism. All inventors, -most poets, and some statesmen have been honoured with the title, since -we laugh chiefly at what we do not understand. There are more synonyms -for "fool" than for any other word in the language! - -So we must take our chances and smile at all and sundry, at men of one -idea, hobby riders, cranks, _poseurs_, managing mammas and antic youths, -blushing brides and fond parents, bounders, pedants, bigots and hens -with their heads cut off. Laugh at them, the character parts in the -comedy of life, for the show is amusing, but be not resentful if you -find the privilege of laughing is a common right, and you in your turn -become a victim. For, strange as it may seem, many of these actors may -be so foolish as to think you the fool yourself! - - - - - *Absolute Age* - - -When I was a child, I invented a game so simple and so passive, that its -enjoyment was permitted even on the rigorous Sundays of my youth. Upon -a slate I ruled vertical columns, and at the head of these I wrote: -"Men, women, boys, girls, babies, horses, dogs." Then, seated at a -window commanding the street, I made note of the passers-by, and as fast -as they appeared in sight I made a mark for each in the appropriate -column. The compilation of this petty census was a pleasing pastime, -and, moreover, it seemed to me that my categories were obviously -complete. There were, in my world, but men and women, boys, girls and -babies--what else, indeed? - -But this primary classification of sex and years did not satisfy me -long, and I discovered that my system must be amended if I would -segregate--mentally now--the various types I encountered. There were, -for instance, good persons and bad ones, men educated and ignorant, rich -and poor, and I superimposed upon my first list one after another of -these modifying conditions. But with a larger view of life these crude -distinctions overlapped and became confused, and I saw that the whole -system was but a rude makeshift. - -Yet until I could pigeon-hole a new acquaintance in my own mind and put -him with others of his kind I was never quite satisfied. Up to a certain -stage in development, what we are most struck with is the difference -between persons, but after the first intellectual climacteric we begin -to see resemblances, invisible before, that knit men of different aspect -together; and, that game of synthesis once begun, we must play it till -we die. Every new acquaintance is an element of our experience--a new -fact refuting or corroborating our theory of life, and, though we often -may put the case into a separate compartment and label the specimen -"unique," before long we shall probably have to reconsider the whole -collection and devise a new system of arrangement for the complex -characteristics of human nature. - -But what analysis can we adopt which shall prove universally -satisfactory? If we rank men according to mental, moral or spiritual -attributes, one quality is sure to contradict or affect the other, and -it is hard to decide which trait is paramount. Friendship is dependent -upon none of these things, and yet in our affections we recognize, -almost unconsciously, grades and qualities of attraction and kinship. -Of a bunch of letters at our breakfast plate, we are sure to open a -special one first or last, as the expectation of pleasure may decide. -We accept this nearness, this intimate relationship, without reasoning; -it is manifested in the first flash of recognition of the handwriting, -at sight of a photograph, at the sound of a voice or a name. Some are -indubitably of our own clan, and others, however their charm, or a -temporary passion, may blind us for a time, are foreigners, and speak -another language of the emotions. There are invisible groups of souls, -mysteriously related, and the tie is indissoluble. - -So I have come to adopt as the final classification what, for want of a -better term, I must call Absolute Age--age or condition, that is, not -relative, not dependent upon the year of one's birth. No one, surely, -has failed to observe children who seem to be older than their parents -in possibility of development. One knows that in a few years this child -will have caught up to and passed his father or mother in soundness of -judgment, in a sense of the relative importance of things, in the power -to distinguish sham, convention and prejudice from things of vital -import. This child is older in point of Absolute Age. When his soul -has served its juvenile apprenticeship in the world of the senses he -shall understand truths his parents never knew. - -This capacity for comprehending life does not seem to be dependent upon -actual definite experience with the world. The villager may have this -hidden wisdom as clearly as the man who has seen and done, who has -fought, loved and travelled far and well. The mystics hold that we have -all lived before, and that some have profited by their experiences in -former lives and have attained a fairer conception of the very truth. -But, though this illustrates what is meant by the term Absolute Age, it -is by no means necessary to accept such an explanation of the effects we -perceive. It is enough that we can definitely classify our friends by -their emotions and desires, and by their point of view on life. In -other words, some are philosophers and some are not. And even the -philosophers are of varying sects. Some have a keen, childlike -enthusiasm for the more obvious forms of excitement, for all that is new -and strange and marvellous, while others are incapable of being shocked, -surprised or embarrassed--they have poise, and prefer the part of -observer to that of actor in the game of life. - -And yet, too, there is a simplicity which comes from a greater Absolute -Age, a relish for real things that persists with enthusiasm. It is by -this simplicity one may distinguish the cult from those that are merely -_blasé_ or worldly wise. The joy in the taste of the fresh apple under -the tongue, or in the abandon of the child at play, in the strength of -youth and the grace of women,--this is a joy that does not fade; no, not -even for those who would not trouble to go to the window if the king -rode by! As a man can learn much by travel without losing his capacity -for enjoying his native town, so one can enjoy life intellectually to -the utmost without ever losing one's grasp on one's self, without being -intoxicated by excitement or blinded by egoism, and yet feel still the -clean, sane joys of youth to the last. - -We have come to our Absolute Age by different paths. If we are of the -same status, you and I, you may have learned one lesson and I another, -yet the sum of our experience is the same. We are akin spiritually, -although we have not had the same process of development. You, perhaps, -have fought down hate and I have conquered dishonesty, but we are calmer -and wiser, we think, than those whom we smile at quietly when we view -their eagerness for things that no longer concern us. We recognize, -too, that there are others to whose attainments our own powers are -infantile. But in either case the superiority is neither mental nor -moral nor spiritual--it is that mysterious inherent quality we call -"caste." - - - - - *The Manual Blessing* - - -Surely if there is one sharp, active sensation that, in this changeful -life of ours, we never tire of, never outgrow, it is in the satisfaction -of creative manual work. There is a conservation of pleasure as there -is a conservation of energy, and our taste is being continually -transmuted and evolved. One by one we outlive the joys of youth, the -delights of physical exercise, the zest of travel, the beatitude of -emotion, the singing raptures of love, passing from each to a more -mature appeal, a more refined appetite, a subtler demand of the -intellect or of the spirit. The familiar games lose their savour, the -dance gives way to the drama, travel to the calmer investigation of -homely miracles. We tire of seeing and begin to read, feasting -peacefully at the banquet of the arts that other men have spread. This -is, for many of us, what age means--a giving up of active for passive -pleasures when the old games lose their charm. - -But the joy of creation does not fade, for in that lies our divinity and -our claim to eternity. Each new product arouses the same thrill, the -same spiritual excitement, the same pride of victory, and yet, strangely -enough, though we think we work only for the final notch of -accomplishment, it is not the completion but the construction that holds -us entranced. Not the last stroke, but every stroke brings victory! It -is like the climbing of a mountain. Do we endure the toil merely for -the sake of the view at the summit? No, but for the primitive passion -of conflict, the inch-by-inch fight against odds, the heaping of -endeavour on endeavour, the continual measuring of what has been done -with what remains to do. The finishing climax is but the exclamation -point at the end of the sentence--most of the sensation has been used up -before we come to the full stop, and that point serves but to sum up our -emotion in a visible emblem of success. - -Many of us believe we are debarred from the exercise of this divine -birthright, the joy of creation. We have neither talent nor genius--not -even that variety which consists in the ability to take infinite pains. -Are we not mistaken in this? I think we may each have our share of the -immortal stimulus. - -To understand this, we must go back and back in the history of the race, -and there we shall find that this satisfaction, this sane and virile -delight in construction, was possible to the meanest member of the -tribe. Its enjoyment came chiefly in the exercise of a laborious -persistency in little things. The combination or addition of the -simplest elements achieved a positive pleasurable result. The neolithic -man chipped and chipped at his flint until the arrow-head was perfected, -and his joy, had he been able to analyze it, was not so much in the last -stroke as in every stroke. Not so much that he had himself with his own -hands made something, as that he had been making something of use and -beauty, and the possibility of that joy abiding with him as long as he -lived. The makers of ancient pottery repeated the same shapes and -designs, or, if their fancy soared, dared new inventions, but the -satisfaction was in the doing. The carvers and joiners of the Middle -Ages worked as amateurs in cottage and hovel, and in their work lay -their content; no tyranny could wrest from them this well-spring of -pleasure. Old age could but weaken the hand; I doubt if it could tame -the immemorial joy of creation. - -We cannot all be professional mechanics, for the division of labour has -cast our lot more and more with the workers in intellectual pursuits. -But we might make handicraft an avocation, if not a vocation, and that -regimen would help our digestion, perhaps, more than pepsin or a course -of the German baths. Were I a physician I should often recommend the -craft cure--a panacea for dyspepsia, ennui and nostalgia. - -Here is my modern health resort, my sanitorium for these most desperate -of diseases; a little hamlet of shops and tents on the foothills of the -Coast Range in California, where as you work you can look across a green -valley to the blue Pacific. Here in this new land nature calls fondly -to your soul, and you may turn to the primitive delights of living and -taste the tang of the dawn of civilization, fresh and wholesome as a -wild berry. - -Here, squatting on the bare sun-parched ground, with an Indian blanket -over his shoulders, is a corpulent banker with a flint hammer battering -a water-worn boulder. Thus, less than a hundred years ago, the Temecula -Indians hollowed out their stone mortars on this very mesa. Thus they -spent happy days, slept like bears, and were up with the birds, each -morn a day younger than yesterday. In this lodge of deerskins, where -the ground is spread with yellow poppies, sits an ex-secretary of -legation, who has known everything, seen everything, done everything but -this--to cut with a knife of shell strange patterns upon a circular horn -gorget. Finished, his wife might wear it with pride at the Court of St. -James, yet it is but the reproduction of a prehistoric ornament, its -figures smeared with ochre, cobalt and vermilion, and inlaid with lumps -of virgin copper by the mound-builders of the Mississippi Valley. In -this open shelter of bamboo, a trysting-place for meadow-larks and -song-sparrows, lies stretched upon the ground an East India -warehouseman, all his gout and lumbago forgotten in the rapturous -delight of printing a pattern of checquered stripes with a carved wooden -block upon a sheet of tapa which he himself--unaided, mind you--has -pounded from the fibrous bark of the paper mulberry. His strenuous -daughter, once world-worn and frozen, has left Nietsche, Brahms, and the -cult of the symbolists, to sit cross-legged and weave the woolly zigzags -of a Navajo blanket. It is the first thing she has made with her ten -fingers since she baked mud pies in the sun! Had she a scrap of mirror -in her bungalow she could now face it without mortification. An -open-air hand-loom is good for the complexion. - -But you need not journey to California. Rather make a pilgrimage to -your own south attic. If you do but construct cardboard model houses -with isinglass windows in your breakfast-room, you will perhaps find -that more diverting than collecting cameos or first editions. If you -can only compile a concordance to _Alice in Wonderland_ you may achieve -a hygienic and rejuvenative distraction. Can you cut, stamp, gild, -paint, lacquer and emboss a leather belt? Can you hammer jewelry out of -soft virgin silver? No? But you could, though, if you tried! Can you -forget the impositions of convention in the rapt glow of pride in sawing -and nailing together a wooden box? No matter how small it might be, how -leaky of joint or loose of cover, it would hold all your worries! - - - - - *The Deserted Island* - - -A friend of mine is curiously hampered by a limitation precluding him -from association with any one conversant with the details of the -manufacture of cold-drawn wire. To show that this self-imposed -abstinence may indicate a most charming devotion to an ideal, rarely -shown by the commonplace, is the object of this thesis, and that, too, -despite the fact that an indiscriminating extension of the same -principle would lead the radical to eschew the society of most of his -acquaintances, as well as bar out the whole domain of didactic -literature. - -When the day is done, and that entrancing hour is come for which some -spend many of their waking hours in anticipation, to those blessed with -fancy, the curtain of the dark arises, and within the theatre of the -Night are played strange comedies. To a select performance I invite all -uninitiated who have never enjoyed the drama of the Deserted Island--the -perfect and satisfactory employment for the minutes that elapse after -retiring and before the anchor is weighed and the voyage begun upon the -Sea of Dreams. - -There are undoubtedly more than I am aware of who are happy enough to -maintain deserted islands of their own--many more, perhaps, than would -confess to the possession. To some the history may be well under way; -they have long since discovered their island, and many improvements have -already been successfully completed. Others, more adventurous, -handicapped by stricter limitations and more meagre outfit, are still -struggling with the primal demands of food and shelter. But to those -whose imaginations have never put so far out to sea, and would welcome -this modest diversion, I advise an expedition of discovery and -exploration this very night. You have but to go to bed, close your -eyes, and after a few preliminaries you are there! - -Authorities differ as to the allowable equipment for the occupancy of -the sequestered territory. I myself hold that it is manifestly unfair -to be provided with tools of any kind; to have a knife, now, I would -call cheating. Surely the only legitimate beginning is to be vomited -upon the beach stark naked from the sea, after some fearsome shipwreck -in mid-ocean. Then, after years of occupancy, a man might taste the -pride of his own resources, unfettered by any legacy inherited from -civilization. Settle this point as you may, when the conditions of the -game are once understood, the whole history of Science is to be -re-enacted. - -I have a friend who arrived upon the scene in an open boat containing a -keg of water, a crowbar, a pruning-knife, a red silk handkerchief and a -woman's petticoat; and with these promiscuous accessories has, in the -course of years, transformed the place, which now boasts a stone castle, -entirely inhabitable. His island is about two miles long and a -half-mile wide--much too narrow for comfort, I assert; the proportions -should be about five miles by three, with one dominant hill from which -the whole territory may be surveyed. - -But the owner of the other island--he of the cold-drawn wire--boldly -asserts his right to a half-dozen labourers, presumably natives, and -with this force at his disposal he has done wonders with his fief. -Glass has been manufactured, fabrics woven, ore smelted and fine roads -constructed, so that there now remains nothing to be desired but -bicycles upon which he and his slaves may traverse the highways. But in -vain his unskilled assistants look to him for advice; rack his wits as -he may, he can devise no adequate system of making cold-drawn wire, and -he is beginning to lose caste with his followers. - -Now at first sight one might think it necessary for him only to consult -an encyclopedia, or to visit on iron mill, yet this course is strictly -barred out by the rules of the game, which compels one to use only such -information as comes naturally to hand--for one is likely to be cast -ashore upon a desert island at any moment, and it is then too late for -the research and education that has been before neglected. With any -ingenious fellow who has his own amateur ideas on the subject, one may, -of course, talk freely; for he may represent one of the more intelligent -of the natives; but all they who really know whereof they speak are to -be avoided. So the problem of the cold-drawn wire is still unsolved. - -I know of an artist, who, free on this enchanted spot, has turned his -energies to those diverting pursuits for which his studio leaves no -time, and he builds gigantic rock mosaics on the cliffs, selecting from -the many coloured boulders on the beach. Luxuries are his only -necessities even in his daily life, and the enormity of his trifling on -this holiday playground is a thing to wonder at. His art, so used to a -censorship of Nature, in his professional mimicries, here goes boldly -forth and so mends, prunes and patches the aspect of his island, that -the place is now, he says, absolutely perfect; a consummation not -altogether discreditable to a nude, near-sighted man, whose eye-glasses -were washed off before he arrived on the spot! - -But, taking the situation seriously, what will he be in the years to -come? By what gradations shall the lonely artist sink to low and lower -levels, abandoned by the stimulus of the outer world, the need for -advance, and the struggle for recognition? How soon would he lose the -desire to render, in the medium at hand, the lovely forms of nature -about him, the subtle tones of the earth and air, lapsing by stages into -ever cruder forms of expression, till the whole history of his -development had been reversed, and he became content with rude squares, -triangles and circles for his patterns, the barbarous effigies of the -human form, and the primary colours that satisfy the savage? - -And the sense of humour, too--that universal solvent of all our -miseries, the oil that lubricates the cumbrous machinery of life--how -soon would that go? Is it not, in the last analysis, dependent upon the -by-play of the social relationship of men? The inconsistencies of our -fellows must be first noticed before we can get the reflected light of -ridicule upon our own grotesque actions. It would soon be lost in such -a sojourn, our impatience would have no foil, we would take ourselves -more and more seriously until the end came upon that day when we had at -last forgotten how to laugh. - -But, after all, as this text of the hypothetical deserted island is -better fitted for a romance than for a sermon, we may leave such -forebodings and trace out only the rising curve of improvement. And so, -too, interesting as it might be to experience, we may leave aside the -moral speculations incident to the discussion of the case where the -place becomes occupied by a man and a woman. The possibilities of a -shipwreck in company are not for such a brief memoir as this; they offer -consideration too intimate for these discreet pages, and are best left -to the exclusion of a private audience. - -But choose your company carefully, I entreat you, if you are not soberly -minded to be shipwrecked alone. I know of persons with whom, were I cast -ashore, there could be no end not tragic, albeit these are highly -respectable and praiseworthy individuals, who never did any harm except -in that trick of manner by which we recognize the bore. I am often -inclined to test the merits of others by mentally permitting them a -short visit to my island, but the hazard is too great, and the thought -of the possibility of their footprints upon the sand unnerves me. - -Yet, to a distant islet of this fantastic archipelago I seriously -consider consigning certain impossible acquaintances, absolutely -intolerable personalities, whose probable fate, forced to endure each -other's society, interests me beyond words. Upon one side of this -far-away retreat rises a steep cliff overhanging the sea, and here I -behold in imagination one after another of these marooned unfortunates -pushed headlong over the slope, as, unable to support the society of his -companions, each has in turn, by some stratagem, lured his hated -accomplice in misery to the summit of the bluff. - -But of one island I have not yet spoken. I can get no description of it -save that it lies sleeping in the summer sun, washed by the sapphire -tides and fanned by the cool south winds, its olive slopes rising softly -from the beach, marked by a grove of fruit trees at the crest. More the -owner will not tell, for Celestine says there is no use for a deserted -island after it is charted; but by these signs I shall know the place, -and my trees are felled and my sails are plaited that shall yet bear me -over towards the southwest! - - - - - *The Sense of Humour* - - -Much as one may look through the small end of a telescope and find an -unique and intrinsic charm in the spectacle there offered, so to certain -eyes the whole visible universe is humorous. From the apparition of -this dignified little ball, rolling soberly through the starry field of -the firmament, to the unwarrantable gravity of a neighbour's straw hat, -macrocosm and microcosm may minister to the merriment of man. There is -more in heaven and earth than is dreamed of in the philosophy of the -Realist. - -It is one attribute of a man of parts that he shall have, in his mental -vision, what corresponds to the "accommodation" of his eye, a -flexibility of observation that enables him to adapt his mind to the -focus of humour. Myopia and strabismus we know; the dullard can point -their analogies in the mental optics, but for this other misunderstood -function we have no name; and yet, failing that, we have dignified it as -a sense apart--the sense of humour. But no form of lens has been -discovered to correct its aberration and transfer the message in -pleasurable terms to the lagging brain; and, unless we attempt hypnotism -as a last resort, the prosiest must go purblind for life, missing all -but the baldest jokes of existence. - -Is it not significant, that from the ancient terminology of leechcraft, -this word "humour" has survived in modern medicine, to be applied only -to the vitreous fluid of the eye? For humour is the medium through -which all the phenomena of human intercourse may be witnessed, and for -those normal minds that possess it, tints this world with a rare -colour--like that of the mysterious ultra-violet rays of the spectrum. -And indeed, to push further into modern science and speculation, perhaps -this ray does not undulate, but shoots forth undeviating as Truth -itself, like that from the Cathode Pole. Or, does it not strike our -mental retina from some secret Fourth Direction? - -But this is mere verbiage; similes, flattering to the elect, but -unconvincing to the uninitiate. Yet, as I am resolved that humour is -essentially a point of view, I would have a try at proselytizing for the -doctrine. For here is a religion ready made to my hand; I have but to -raise my voice and become its prophet. The seeds are all sown, the -Fraternity broods, hidden in hidden Chapters, guarding the Grand Hailing -Sign; who knows but that a spark might not touch off this seasoned fuel, -and the flame carry everything before it. O my readers, I give you the -Philosophy of Mirth, the Cult of Laughter! Yet it is an esoteric faith, -mind you, unattainable by the multitude. Not of the "Te-he! Papa's -dead!" school, nor of the giggling punster's are its devotees. No comic -weekly shall be its organ. It must be hymned not by the hoarse guffaw, -but in the quiet inward smile--and for its ritual, I submit the -invisible humour of the Commonplace. O Paradox! - -Brethren, from this flimsy pulpit, I assert with sincerity, that -everything on two legs (and most on four) sleeping or awake, bow-legged -or knock-kneed, has its humorous aspect. The curtain never falls on the -diversion. You will tell me, no doubt, that here I ride too hard. -Adam, you will say with reason, set aside in the beginning certain -animals for our perpetual amusement--to wit: the goose, the monkey, the -ostrich, the kangaroo, and, as a sublime afterthought--symbol of the -Eternal Feminine--the hen. Civilization, you may admit, has added to -these the goat--but, save in rare moods of insanity, as when the puppy -pursues the mad orbit of his tail, the sight of only the aforesaid -beasts makes for risibility. The cat, you will say, is never -ridiculous. But here again we must hark back to the major premise, -unrecognized though it be by the science of Æsthetic, that humour lies -in the point of view. If I could prove it by mere iteration it would go -without further saying that it is essentially subjective rather than -objective. Surely there is no humour in insensate nature, as there is -little enough in Art and Music. The bees, the trees, the fountains and -the mountains take themselves seriously enough, and though, according to -the minor poets, the fields and the brooks are at times moved to -laughter, it is from a vegetable, pointless joy of life. Through the -human wit alone, and that too rarely, the rays of thought are refracted -in the angle of mirth, and split into whimsical rays of complementary -sensations and contrasts. - -When we lay off the mantle of seriousness and relax the flexors and -extensors, if we are well fed, healthy, and of a peaceful mood and -capable of indolence, men and women, and even we ourselves, should -become to our view players on the stage of life. And what then is -comedy but tragedy seen backward or downside-up? It is the negative or -corollary of what is vital in this great game of life. The custom has -been, however, to give it a place apart and unrelated to the higher -unities, as the newspapers assign their witticisms to isolated columns. -Rather is it the subtle polarity induced by graver thought, the reading -between the lines of the page. And as, to the vigorous intellect, rest -does not come through inactivity so much as by a change of occupation, -the happy humourist is refreshed by the solace of impersonality. - -For, to the initiate, his own inconsistencies and indiscretions are no -less diverting than those of his associates, and should frequently give -rise to emotions that impel him to hurry into a corner and scream aloud -with mirth. It is ever the situation that is absurd, and never the -victim; and in this lies the secret of his ability to appreciate a farce -of which he himself is the hero. He must disincarnate himself as the -whim blows, and hang in the air, a god for the time, gazing with -amusement at the play of his own ridiculous failures. In some such way, -perhaps, do the curious turn over the patterned fabric, to discover, on -the reverse, the threads and stitches that explain the construction of -the design. - -This faculty, then, gives one the stamp of caste by which one may know -his brethren the world over, an Order of whose very existence many shall -never be aware, till, in some after life, some grinning god conducts -them to the verge of the heavens, and, leaning over a cloud, bids them -behold the spectacle of this little planet swarming with its absurdly -near-sighted denizens. - -_Ohé la Renaissance!_ for this is to be the Age of Humour. We travail -for the blithe rebirth of joy into the world. The Decadence, with its -morbid personalities and accursed analysis of exotic emotion, is over, -please God; yet we may adopt its methods and refine the simplicity of -primary impulse, thus increasing the whole sum of pleasure with the -delicate nuances that amplify the waves of feeling. Hark, O my reader! -Do you not hear them, rising like overtones and turning the melody into -a divine harmony? - - - - - *The Game of Correspondence* - - -The receipt of a letter is no longer the event it was in the old -stage-coach days; railways and the penny postage have robbed it of all -excitement. One expects now one's little pile of white, blue and green -envelopes beside one's plate at breakfast, along with one's toast and -coffee, and one tastes its contents as one opens the matutinal egg. We -have forgotten how to write interesting letters as we have forgotten how -to fold and wafer a sheet of foolscap or sharpen a quill. Some of our -missives are not even worth a cursory glance, many by no means deserve -an answer, and most are speedily forgotten in the columns of the morning -journal. - -Yet, at times, on red-letter days, we find one amongst the number which -demands epicurean perusal; it is not to be ripped open and devoured in -haste, it insists on privacy and attention. This has a flavour which the -salt of silence alone can bring out; a dash of interruption destroys its -exquisite delicacy. More than this, it must be answered while it is -still fresh and sparkling, after which, if it be of the true vintage, it -can afford still another sip to inspire your postscript. - -To your room then with this, and lock the door, or else save it for a -more impregnable leisure. Open it daintily and entertain it with -distinction and respect; efface any previous mood and hold yourself -passive to its enchantment. It is no love message, and need depend upon -no excited interest in the writer for its reception, for it has an -intrinsic merit; it is the work of an artist; it is a fascinating move -on the chess-board of the most alluring, most accessible game in the -world. - -Though the fire of such a letter need have neither the artificiality of -flirtation nor the intensity of love, yet it must both light and warm -the reader. It is not valuable for the news it brings, for if it be a -work of art the tidings it bears are not so important as the telling of -them. It must be sincere and alive, revealing and confessing, a letter -more from the writer than to the reader, as if it were written in face -of a mirror rather than before the photograph of the receiver; and yet -the communication must be spelled in the cypher of your friendship, to -which only you have the key. We have our separate languages, each with -the other, and there are emotions we cannot duplicate. This missive is -for you, and for you only, or it ranks with a business communication. -It is minted thought, invested, put out at loan for a time, bringing -back interest to stimulate new speculations. There are no superfluous -words, for the master strikes a clean sharp blow, forging his mood all -of a single piece, welding your whim to his, and, fusing his sentences, -there glows a spirit, a quality of style that bears no affectation; it -must not, of all things, become literary, it must be direct, not showing -signs of operose polish. It must be writ in the native dialect of the -heart. - -If it be a risk to write frankly, it is one that gains interest in the -same proportion; it makes the game the better sport. But after all, how -many letters, so fearfully burned, so carefully hid away, but what, in -after years, would seem innocuous? You are seduced by the moment, and -your mood seems, and impulses seem, dangerous, incendiary. You grow -perfervid in your indiscretion, not knowing that the whole world is -stirred by the same recklessness, and that each one is profoundly bored -by all save his own yearnings. Not many of our epistles will bear the -test of print on their own merit, expurgate them as you will; you need -only fear, rather, that the letter will grow dull even before it reaches -its destination. The best of them, moreover, are written in sympathetic -ink, and unless your correspondent has the proper reagent at hand, the -sheets will be empty or incomprehensible even to him. Answer speedily -as you may, too, it will be hard to overtake your correspondent's mood; -he has overburdened his mind, precipitated the solution, and is off to -another experiment by the time his stamp is affixed. But you must do -your best in return; reflect enough of his ray to show him he has shot -straight, and then flash your own colour back. - -There are virtues of omission and commission. It is not enough to -answer questions; one must not add the active annoyance of apology to -the passive offense of neglect. One must not hint at things untellable; -one must give the crisp satisfaction of confidences wholly shared. Who -has not received that dash of feminine inconsequence in the sentence, "I -have just written you two long letters, and have torn them both up"? -What letter could make up for such an exasperation? Your master -letter-writer does not fear to stop when he is done, either, and a blank -page at the end of the folio does not threaten his conscience. - -If one has not the commonplace view of things, and escapes the obvious, -it matters little whether one uses the telescope or the microscope. One -may deal with the abstract or concrete, discuss philosophy and systems, -or gild homely little common things till they shine and twinkle with -joy. Indeed, the perfect letter-writer must do both, and change from -the intensely subjective to the intensely objective point of view. He -must, as it were, look you in the eye and hold you by the hand. Two -masters whose letters have recently been printed may illustrate these -two different phases of expression, though each could do both as well. -And this first, from Browning's love letters, describes what the perfect -letter should be: - - "I persisted in not reading my letter in the presence of my - friend.... I kept the letter in my hand, and only read it with - those sapient ends of the fingers which the mesmerists make so - much ado about, and which really did seem to touch a little of - what was inside. Not _all_, however, happily for me! or my - friend would have seen in my eyes what _they_ did not see." - -To this, the twittering, delightful familiarities of Stevenson: - - "Two Sundays ago the sad word was brought that the sow was out - again; this time she had brought another in her flight. Moors - and I and Fanny were strolling up to the garden, and there by - the waterside we saw the black sow looking guilty. It seemed to - me beyond words; but Fanny's _cri du coeur_ was delicious. - 'G-r-r!' she cried; 'nobody loves you!'" - -It was the same art in big and little, for each stripped off pretense -and boldly revealed his moment's personality. - -And yet, and yet, a letter does not depend upon any artistic quality or -glib facility with words, for its interest. The one test of a letter is -that it must bring the writer close to your side. You must fasten your -mood on me, so that I shall be you for hours afterward. It sounds easy -enough, but it is the most difficult thing in the world, to be one's -self. "I long for you, I long for you so much that I thank God upon my -knees that you are not here!" There, now, is a letter that promises -well, but I dare not quote more of it, for the subject must be seen from -another side. - - - - - *The Caste of the Articulate* - - -Fair or unfair though it be, I have come to accept a letter as the final -test of the personality of a new acquaintance. Not of his or her -intellect or moral worth, perhaps, but the register of that rare power -which dominates all attributes--that peculiar aroma, flavour, _timbre_, -or colour which makes some of our friends eternally exceptional. "Who -dares classify him and label him, sins against the Holy Ghost; I, for -one, think I know him only inasmuch as I refuse to sum him up. I cannot -find his name in the dictionary; I cannot make a map of him; I cannot -write his epitaph." So writes Sonia of a friend with such a -personality, and you will see by this that Sonia herself is of the caste -of the Articulate. - -We are influenced first by sight, then by sound, and, lastly, by the -written word. "She spoke, and lo! her loveliness methought she damaged -with her tongue!" is the description of many a woman who appeals to the -eye alone. And in something the same way many who fascinate us with -their glamour while face to face, shock us by the dreary commonplaceness -of their letters. - -It would seem that an interesting person must inevitably write an -interesting letter,--indeed, that should be a part of the definition of -the term interesting. But many decent folk are gagged with constraint -and self-consciousness, and never seem to get free. - -"I wonder," says Little Sister, "whether these wordless folk may not, -after all, really feel much more deeply than we who write?" That is a -troublesome question, and in its very nature unanswerable, since the -witnesses are dumb. No doubt they feel more simply and unquestioningly, -for as soon as a thing is once said its opposite and contradictory side, -as true and as necessary, reacts upon us. But it seems to me that -expression does not so much depend upon any spiritual insight, or even -upon especial training, as it does upon the capacity for being one's -self frankly and simply. That is the only thing necessary to make the -humblest person interesting, and yet nothing is so difficult as to be -one's self in this wild, whirling world. - -Expression is but another name for revelation. Unless one is willing to -expose one's self like Lady Godiva, or protected only by such beauty and -sincerity as hers, one can go but a little way in the direction of -individuality. We must sacrifice ourselves at every turn, show good and -bad alike, and laugh at ourselves too. "Would that mine enemy might -write a book!" is no insignificant curse, and yet there are tepid, -colourless authors who might hazard it with safety; no one would ever -discover the element of personality. - -"After our quarrel I felt as if I had a pebble in my shoe all day," -Little Sister once wrote me. Let that be an example of the articulate -manner, for by such vivid and homely metaphors she strews her pages. -Did she reserve such phrases for her written words, I would feel bound -to claim for letter-writing the distinction of being an art of itself, -unrelated to any other faculty; but no, she talks in the same way--she -is herself every moment. "My temper is violent and sudden, but it soon -evaporates," she tells me; "it is like milk spilt on a hot stove." - -The inspiration which impels one so to illustrate an abstract statement -with a concrete example, illuminating and convincing, is a spark of the -divine fire of personality. This is the _crux_ of the articulate caste. -An ounce of illustration is worth a pound of proof. Rob poetry of -metaphor and it would be but prose; a simile, in verse, is usually -merely ornament. The true purpose of tropes, however, is more virile -and sustaining; they should reinforce logic, not decorate it. See how -agilely Perilla can compress the whole history of a flirtation into six -lines, defying the old saying that "there is nothing so difficult to -relight as a dead love." - - I thought I saw a stiffened form - A-lying in its shroud; - I looked again and saw it was - The love we once avowed. - "They told me you were dead!" I cried. - The corpse sat up and bowed! - - -When one has a few such acquaintances as these, books are superfluous. -Who would read a dead romance when one can have it warm and living, -vibrant, human, coming like instalments of a serial story, a perpetual -revelation of character! Many pride themselves upon their proficiency -in matter and many in manner,--there are those, even, who boast of mere -quantity, but your professional writer is usually cool and calm, if not -affected and pretentious. A letter, though, should be impregnate with -living fire--it should boil. It is a treat of exceptional human nature. -If the sentences be not spontaneous and unstudied the pleasure is lost. -One may write fiery nonsense, but one must mean it at the time. One's -mind must, as Sonia says, be hospitable, keep open house, and have the -knack of making one's friends at home, to throb with one's own delights -and despairs. One must give every mood open-handed, and mention nothing -one may not say outright with gusto. But it is not everyone who can -"bathe in rich, young feeling, and steep at day-dawning in green bedewed -grasses" like my little Sonia. If I were dead she could still strike -sparks out of me with her letters. - -"Oh, if you could only see my new hat! I've been sitting in fetish -worship half the evening, and I'll never dare tell how much I paid for -it. You never need be good-looking under such a hat as that, for no one -will ever see you!" Does not this quotation bring Little Sister very -near to you, and make her very human and real? Ah, Little Sister is not -afraid to be herself! She knows that she can do nothing better. "It's -a terrible handy thing to have a smashing adjective in your pocket," she -confesses. Little Sister has a good aim, too; she always hits my heart. -And yet she acknowledges that "there are days when letters are blankly -impossible." - -Such friends write the kind of letters that one keeps always, the kind -that can be re-read without skipping. It is their own talk, their own -lives, their own selves put up like fruit preserves of various flavours, -moods and colours, warranted not to turn or spoil. - -And as for the gagged, wordless folk, it is my opinion that too much -sensibility has been accredited to them. To any rich exotic nature -expression must come as a demand not to be refused. It is feeling -bubbling over into words. Other souls are compressed and silent; they -have the possibilities of the bud--something warm and inspiring may at -any time make them expand and free them from the constraint--but there -is not much perfume until the flower blooms. - - - - - *The Tyranny of the Lares* - - -No, I have never been tainted with a mania for collecting. It has never -particularly interested me, because I already happened to have two of a -kind, to possess a third. I prefer things to be different rather than -alike, and the few things I really care for I like for themselves alone, -and not because they are one of a family, set or series. - -But there are so few things to be envious of, even then! After one's -necessities are provided for, there are not many things worth -possessing, and fewer still worth the struggle of collecting. -Acquisition seems to rob most things of their intrinsic value, of the -extreme desirability they seemed to possess, and yet it does not follow -that the practice of collecting is not worth while. It is worth while -for itself, but not for the things collected. It is like hunting. The -enjoyment, to your true sportsman, does not depend entirely upon the -game that is bagged. If the hunter went out solely for the purpose of -obtaining food he would better go to the nearest poulterer. - -We have a habit of associating the idea of pleasure with the possession -of certain objects, and we fancy such pleasure is permanent. But in -nine cases out of ten the enjoyment is effervescent, and the thing must -be gazed at, touched and admired while the charm is new. Then only can -one feel the sharp joy of possession, and, even though its value remain -as an object of art, we must after that enjoy it impersonally; its -delight must be shared with other spectators. As far as the -satisfaction of ownership is concerned the thing is dead for us, and -though we would not give it up, our greed gilds it but cheaply, after -all. - -Of all things, pictures are most commonly regarded as giving pleasure. -A painting is universally regarded as a desirable possession of more or -less value, according to personal appreciation. In fact, most men would -say that a poor picture is better than none, since one of its recognized -functions is to fill a space on the wall. And yet how few pictures are -looked at once a day, or once a week. How many persons accept them only -as decoration, as spots on the wall, and pass them by, in their -familiarity, as unworthy of especial notice! - -But the collection of a multitude of things is no great oppression if -one is permanently installed; they pad out the comforts of life, they -create "atmosphere"; they fill up spaces in the house as small talk -fills up spaces in conversation. The first prospect of moving, however, -brings this horde of stupid, useless, dead things to life, and they -appear in their proper guise to strike terror into the heart of the -owner. Pictures that have never been regarded, curiosities that are -only curious, books that no longer feed the brain, and the thousand -little knickknacks that accumulate in one's domicile and multiply like -parasites--all the flotsam and jetsam of housekeeping must be -individually attended to, and rejected or preserved piecemeal. - -But that exciting decision! It is not till one has actually had the -courage to destroy some once prized possession that one feels the first -inspiring thrill of emancipation. Before, the Thing owned you; it had -to be protected in its useless life, kept intact with care and -attention. You were pledged to forestall dust, rust and pillage. If -you yourself selected it, it stood as a tangible evidence of your -culture, an ornament endorsed as art. The Thing forbade growth of taste -or judgment, it became a changeless reproach. If it were a gift, it -ruled you with a subtle tyranny, compelling your hypocrisy, enslaving -you by chains of your very good nature. But if you do not falter, in -one exquisite pang you are freed. The Thing is destroyed! Not given -away, not hidden or disguised, but murdered outright. It is your -sublime duty to yourself that demands the sacrifice. - -These horrid monsters once put out of your life, and all necessity for -their care annulled, you have so much more space for the few things -whose quality remains permanent. You will guard the entrance to your -domicile and jealously examine the qualifications of every article -admitted. You will ask, "Is it absolutely necessary?" If so, then let -it be as beautiful as possible, putting into its perfection of design -the expense and care formerly bestowed on a dozen trifles. You will use -gold instead of silver, linen instead of cotton, ivory in the place of -celluloid; in short, whatever you use intimately and continually, -whatever has a definite plausible excuse for existence, should be so -beautiful that there is no need for objects which are merely ornamental. - -It was so before machinery made everything possible, common and cheap; -it has been so with every primitive civilization. To the unspoiled -peasant, to all of sane and simple mind, ornaments have, in themselves, -no reason for being. Pictures are unnecessary, because the true -craftsman so elaborates and develops the constructive lines of his -architecture that the decoration is organic and inherent. The many -household utensils, vessels and implements of daily use were so -appropriately formed, so graceful and elegant in their simplicity, so -cunning of line, so quaint of form and pleasant of colour, that they -were objects of art, and there was no need for the extraneous display of -meaningless adornment. - -Once you are possessed with this idea you will suddenly become aware of -the tyranny of Things, and you will begin to dread becoming a slave to -mere possessions. You may still enjoy and admire the possessions of -others, but the ineffable bore of ownership will keep you content. The -responsibility of proprietorship will strike you with terror, gifts will -appal you, the opportunity of ridding yourself of one more unnecessary -thing will be welcomed as another stroke for freedom. Your friends' -houses will become your museums, and they the altruistic custodians, -allowing you the unalloyed sweets of appreciation with none of the -bitter responsibilities of possession. - -For you, if you are of my kind, and would be free to fly light, -flitting, gipsy fashion, wherever and whenever the whim calls, must not -be anchored to an establishment. We must know and love our few -possessions as a father knows his children. We must be able to pack -them all in one box and follow them foot-loose. This is the new order -of Friars Minor, modern Paulists who have renounced the possession of -things, and by that vow of disinheritance, parting with the paltry -delights of monopoly, have been given the roving privilege of the whole -world! - - - - - *Costume and Custom* - - -A friend of mine has reduced his habit of dress to a system. Dressing -has long been known to be a fine art, but this enthusiast's endeavour -has been to make it a science as well--to give his theories practical -application to the routine of daily life. To do this, he has given his -coats and jackets all Anglo-Saxon names. His frock is called Albert, -for instance, his morning coat Cedric, a grey tweed jacket, Arthur, and -so on. His waistcoats masquerade under more poetic pseudonyms. A white -piqué is known as Reginald, a spotted cashmere is Montmorency, and I -have seen this eccentric in a wonderful plaid vest hight Roulhac. His -trousers and pantaloons are distinguished by family names; I need only -mention such remarkable _aliases_ as Braghampton, a striped cheviot -garment, and a pair of tennis flannels denominated Smithers. His -terminology includes also appellations by which he describes his -neckwear--simple prefixes, such as "de" or "von" or "Mac" or "Fitz," -modifying the name of the waistcoat, and titles for his hats, varying -from a simple "Sir" for a brown bowler to "Prince" for a silk topper of -the season's block. - -Now, my mythical friend is not such a fool as you might think by this -description of his mania, for he is moved to this fantastic procedure by -a psychological theory. The gentleman is a private, if not a public, -benefactor, the joy of his friends and delight of his whole -acquaintance, for, never in the course of their experience, has he ever -appeared twice in exactly the same costume. It may differ from some -previous habilitation only by the tint of his gloves, but the change is -there with its subtile suggestion of newness. Indeed, this sartorial -dilettante prides himself, not so much upon the fact that his raiment is -never duplicated in combination, as that the changes are so slight as -not to be noticed without careful analysis. His maxim is that clothes -should not call attention to themselves either by their splendour or -their variety, but that the effect should be upon the emotions rather -than upon the eye. He holds that it should never be particularly -noticed whether a man dresses much or dresses well, but that the -impression should be of an immortal freshness, sustaining the confidence -of his friends that his garb shall have a pleasing note of composition. - -It is to accomplish this that he has adopted the mnemonic system by -which to remember his changing combinations. He has but to say to his -valet: "Muggins, this morning you may introduce Earl Edgar von Courtenay -Blenkinsopp," and his man, familiar with the nomenclature of the -wardrobe, will, after his master has been bathed, shaved and -breakfasted, clothe the artist accordingly in Panama hat, sack coat, -cheerful fawn waistcoat, a tender heliotrope scarf and pin-check -trousers. Or perhaps, looking over the calendar, the man may announce -that this fantastic Earl has already appeared at the club, in which case -a manipulation of the tie or waistcoat changes von Courtenay to -O'Anstruther. The Earl must not, according to the rules, appear twice -in his full complement of costume. His existence is but for a day, but -Anstruther, the merry corduroy vest, may become a part of many -personalities. - -So much for my friend Rigamarole, who does, if you like, carry his -principles to an extreme; but surely we owe it to our friends that our -clothes shall please. It is as necessary as that we should have clean -faces and proper nails. But, more than this, we owe it to ourselves -that we shall not be known by any hackneyed, unvarying garb. It need -not be taken for granted that we shall wear brown or blue, we should not -become identified with a special shape of collar. Servants must wear a -prescribed livery, priests must always appear clad in the cloth of their -office, and the soldier must be content with and proud of his uniform, -but free men are not forced to inflict a permanent visual impression -upon their fellows. He must follow the habit and style of the day, be of -his own class and period, and yet, besides, if he can, be himself always -characteristic, while always presenting a novel aspect. It is as -necessary for a man as for a woman, and, though the elements which he -may combine are fewer, they are capable of a certain kaleidoscopic -effect. - -Our time is cursed more than any other has been, perhaps, with hard and -fast rules for men's costume; and of all clothing, evening dress, in -which, in the old days, was granted the greatest freedom of choice, is -now subject to the most rigid prescription. We must all appear like -waiters at dinner, but daylight allows tiny licences. Perhaps our -garments are always darkest just before dawn, and the new century may -emancipate men's personal taste. So far, at least, we may go: a frock -coat does not compel a tie of any particular colour, and a morning coat -does not invariably forbid a certain subdued animation in the way of -waistcoats. We may already choose between at least three styles of -collar and yet be received at five o'clock, and coloured shirts are -making a hard fight to oust the white linen which has reigned for more -than half a hundred years. It takes no great wealth to take advantage -of these minor opportunities, nor need one be pronounced a fop if one -uses one's chances well. He is safest who wears only what the best -tailor has advised every other of his customers, but who cares for a -tailor's model? Who cares, I might add, to be safe? There is safety in -numbers, but who ever remembers or cares for the victims of such -commonplace discretion? We are men, not mice; why should our coats be -all of the same fashionable hue and of the same length of tail? - -But the times are changing, and we may look forward with confident hope -to the renascence of colour. Already we may see the signs of the change -that is approaching. God forbid that men should become the dandies of -the Regency, that we should ever ape the incredible or go without -pockets, but we may pray heartily for the wedding of Art and Reason. -Let us pray we shall no more wear cylinders or cap our skulls with -tight-fitting boxes! Meanwhile, I fear I must buy another necktie, for -my only one is well worn out. And Celestine swears she can recognize -that blue serge suit of mine, clear across the Park! - - - - - *Old Friends and New* - - -Old Friends, we say, are best, when some sudden disillusionment shakes -our faith in a new comrade. So indeed they are, yet I count many newly -made ties as stronger than those of my youth. "Keep close and hold my -hand; I am afraid, for an old friend is coming!" Celestine once -whispered to me while our love was young. How well I understood her -panic! She was swung by the conflicting emotions of loyalty and -oppression; her old friend had rights, but her new friend had -privileges. With me, a stranger, she was frankly herself; with him, a -familiar, she must be what he expected of her. - -How shall we arrange the order of precedence for the late and early -comers into our hearts? How shall we adjudicate their conflicting -claims? That is the problem to be answered by everyone who lives -widely, and who would not have writ upon his gravestone: "He made more -friends than he could keep!" Were one content to pass from flower to -flower it would be easy enough, but I would gather a full, fragrant and -harmonious bouquet for my delight. - -To one sensitively loyal, each new friend must at first sight seem to -come as a robber to steal a fragment of his heart from its rightful -owner. We say, "Make many acquaintances but few friends," we swear -undying devotion, and we promise to write every week; but, if we -practice this reserve, this fastidious partiality and this exclusive -attention, how shall we grow and increase in worth, and how shall the -Brotherhood of Man be brought about? - -We may think that each friend has his own place and is unique, -satisfying some especial part of our nature; each to be kept separate in -his niche, the saint to whom we turn for sympathy in those matters -wherein we have vowed him our confidences. We may satisfy our -consciences by giving to each the same number of candles, and by a -religious celebration of each Saint's day, keeping the calendar of our -devotions independent and exclusive, but this method does not make for -growth. It is our duty to help knit Society together, to modify -extremes, to transmit and transform affection. Surely there is love -enough for all, and the more we give the more we shall have to give to -our friends, whether they be old or new. - -Friendship is, however, a matter of caste. With just as many as share -our point of view or can understand it, who laugh at the things we laugh -at, who are tempted by our temptations and sin our sins, can we have a -divine fellowship. Through these to others outside of our ken, through -friend to friend's friend the tie passes that shall bind the whole world -together at last. - -Our set of friends is a solar system, a cluster of planets, that, -revolving about us, moves with the same trend through space and time. -Each member of the fraternity has its own aphelion and perihelion, -occultation and transit. Whether they are visible or invisible, we must -be sure that each in due season will return to the same relative -position and exert the same attraction, answering the law of gravity -that in true friendship keeps them in their orbits about us. But the -circles interlace, and in that is the possibility of keeping the unity -of our constellation of friends. Were the same comrades to accompany us -unceasingly we could not develop. There must be an intricate -complication of actions and reactions, and we must be affected by each -in turn and in combination. - -What is a parting from a friend but a departure in quest of new -experience? Each fresh meeting, therefore, should be the sharing of the -fruits that both have gathered, that each may profit by the -contribution. If you tell me of a book you have read, I am amused and -profited by the knowledge you bring me; shall I not be grateful to you -for what you bring from an interesting person? If every new friend -contributes to our development and enriches us by his personality, not -only are we the better for it ourselves, but more worth while to our -friends. It is not you as you are whom I love best, but you as you -shall be when, in due time, you have come to your perfect stature; -wherefore I shall not begrudge the loan of you to those who have set you -on the way. - -Though we may hold one friend paramount over all others, and admit him -to every phase of intimacy, there are minor confidences that are often -most possible with an entire stranger. Were we to meet a man of the -Sixteenth Century, what could we not tell such an impersonal questioner! -What would we care for the little mortifications that come between even -the best of friends? We could confess faults and embarrassments without -shame, we could share every hope and doubt without fear, for he would -regard us without bias or prejudice. He could scourge us with no whip -of conventional morality, and he would be able to judge any action of -itself, hampered by no code or creed. - -We had a game once, my sister and I, in which we agreed to look at each -other suddenly, newly, as if we had never met before. Frequently we -were able to catch a novel phase of character, and our sub-conscious -self, freed from the servitude of custom, bounded in a new emotion. -Could we, in this way, at times regard our friends, how much we might -learn! We fall into the habit of seeing what we look for, and we compel -old friends to live up to the preconception. Why not look at them, -occasionally, as strangers to be studied and learned? There are two -variable quantities in the equation of friendship, Yourself and Myself. -Nor is our relation itself fixed; it is alive and changing from hour to -hour. There is no such thing as an unalterable friendship, for both -parties to the affair are moving at different speeds, first one and then -the other ahead, giving a hand to be helped on and reaching back to -assist. Might we not, indeed, reverse the previous experiment and -regard any stranger as a blood relative, assuming a fraternity of -interest? We need only to be honest and kind. - -By these two processes we may keep old friends and make new ones; and -our conscience shall acquit us of disloyalty. When one enlarges one's -establishment, one does not decrease either the wages or the duties of -the servants before employed. The new members of the household have new -functions. More is given and more is received. But it is not so much -that one must give more as that one should give wisely and economically, -we must be generous in quality rather than in quantity; for, though -there is love enough to go round for all, there is not time enough for -most of us. We must clasp hands, give the message and pass on, trusting -to meet again on the journey, and come to the same inn at nightfall. - - - - - *A Defense of Slang* - - -Could Shakespeare come to Chicago and listen curiously to "the man in -the street," he would find himself more at home than in London. In the -mouths of messenger boys and clerks he would find the English language -used with all the freedom of unexpected metaphor and the plastic, -suggestive diction that was the privilege of the Elizabethan dramatists; -he would say, no doubt, that he had found a nation of poets. There was -hardly any such thing as slang in his day, for no graphic trope was too -virile or uncommon for acceptance, if its meaning were patent. His own -heroes (and heroines, too, for Rosalind's talk was as forcible in -figures of speech as any modern American's) often spoke what corresponds -to the slang of today. - -The word, indeed, needs precise definition, before we condemn all -unconventional talk with opprobrium. Slang has been called "poetry in -the rough," and it is not all coarse or vulgar. There is a prosaic as -well as a poetic license. The man in the street calls a charming girl, -for instance, a "daisy." Surely this is not inelegant, and such a -reference will be understood a century hence without a foot-note. -Slang, to prove adjuvant to our speech, which is growing more and more -rigid and conventional, should be terse; it should make for force and -clarity, without any sacrifice of beauty. Still, manner should befit -matter; the American "dude" is, perhaps, no more unpleasant a word than -the emasculated fop it described. The English "bounder" is too useful -an appellation to do without in London, and, were that meretricious -creature of pretence and fancy waistcoat more common in the United -States, the term would be welcomed to American slang with enthusiasm. -New York, alas, has already produced "cads," but no Yankee school would -ever tolerate a "fag." - -The mere substitution of a single synonymous term, however, is not -characteristic of American slang. Your Chicago messenger boy coins -metaphorical phrases with the facility of a primitive savage. A figure -of speech once started and come into popular acceptance changes from day -to day by paraphrase, and, so long as a trace of the original -significance is apparent, the personal variation is comprehensible, not -only to the masses, but generally to those whose purism eschews the use -of the common talk. Thus, to give "the glassy eye" became the -colloquial equivalent of receiving a cool reception. The man on the -street, inventive and jocose, does not stop at this. - -At his caprice it becomes giving "the frozen face" or even "the marble -heart." In the same way one may hear a garrulous person spoken of as -"talking to beat the band," an obvious metaphor; or, later, "to beat the -cars." - -The only parallel to this in England is the "rhyming slang" of the -costers, and the thieves' "patter." There a railway guard may be -facetiously termed a "Christmas card," and then abbreviated to "card" -alone, thence to permutations not easily traced. But English slang is, -for the most part, confined to the "masses," and is an incomprehensible -jargon to all else save those who make an especial study of the subject. -One may sit behind a bus driver from the Bank to Fulham, and understand -hardly a sentence of his colloquies and gibes at the passing fraternity, -but though the language of the trolley conductor of Chicago is as racy -and spirited, it needs less translation. The American will, it is true, -be enigmatic at times; you must put two and two together. You must -reduce his trope to its lowest terms, but common sense will simplify it. -It is not an empirical, arbitrary wit depending upon a music-hall song -for its origin. I was riding on a Broadway car one day when a -semi-intoxicated individual got on, and muttered unintelligibly, "Put me -off at Brphclwknd Street, please." I turned to the conductor and asked, -"What did he want?" The official smiled. "You can search me!" he said, -in denial of any possession of apprehension. - -Slang in America, then, is expression on trial; if it fits a hitherto -unfurnished want it achieves a certain acceptance. But it is a frothy -compound, and the bubbles break when the necessity of the hour is past, -so that much of it is evanescent. Some of the older inventions remain, -such as "bunco" and "lynch" and "chestnut," but whole phrases lose their -snap like uncorked champagne, though they give their stimulant at the -proper timely moment. Like the eggs of the codfish, one survives and -matures, while a million perish. The "observed of all observers" -(Ophelia's delicate slang, observe) was, yesterday, in New York "the -main Guy," a term whose appositeness would be easily understood in -London, where the fall of the Gunpowder Plot is still celebrated. -Later, in Chicago, according to George Ade, a modern authority, it -became the "main squeeze," and another permutation rendered the phrase -useless. It is this facility of change that makes most slang spoil in -crossing the Atlantic. On the other side, English slang is of so -esoteric an origin and reference, that no Yankee can translate or adopt -it. It is drop-forged and rigid, an empiric use of words to express -humour. What Englishman, indeed, could trace the derivation of "balmy -on the crumpet" as meaning what the American would term "dotty" or -"bug-house," unless he was actually present at the music hall where it -was first invented? - -We have at least three native languages to learn--the colloquial, the -literary prose, and the separate vocabulary of poetry. In America slang -makes a fourth, and it has come to be that we feel it as incongruous to -use slang on the printed page as it is to use "said he" or "she replied -with a smile" in conversation, and, except for a few poets, such words -as "haply," "welkin," or "beauteous" in prose. Yet Stevenson himself, -the purist who avoids foreign words, uses Scotch which nearly approaches -slang, for there is little difference between words of an unwritten -dialect and slang, such as "scrannel" and "widdershins"; while Wilkie -Collins writes "wyte," "wanion," "kittle," "gar," and "collop" in with -English sentences, as doubtless many questionable words of today will be -honoured in the future. - -Slang, the illegitimate sister of Poetry, makes with her a common cause -against the utilitarian economy of Prose. Both stand for lavish -luxuriance in trope and involution, for floriation and adornment of -thought. It is their boast to make two words grow where but one grew -before. Both garb themselves in metaphor, and the only complaint of the -captious can be that whereas Poetry follows the accepted style, Slang -dresses her thought to suit herself in fantastic and bizarre -caprices--that her whims are unstable and too often in bad taste. - -But this odium given to slang by superficial minds is undeserved. In -other days, before the language was crystallized into the verbiage and -idiom of the doctrinaire, prose, too, was untrammelled. A cursory -glance at the Elizabethan poets discloses a kinship with the rebellious -fancies of our modern common colloquial talk. For gargarism, scarab, -quodling, puckfist, scroyle, foist, pumpion, trindle-tale, comrogue, -pigsbones, and ding-dong, we may now read chump, scab, chaw, yap, fake, -bloke, pal, bad-actor, and so on. "She's a delicate dab-chick!" says -Ben Jonson; "she had all the component parts of a peach," says George -Ade. - -It will be seen that slang has two characteristics--humour and force. -Brevity is not always the soul of wit, for today we find amusement in -the euphuisms that, in the sixteenth century were taken in all -seriousness. The circumlocutions will drop speedily out of use, but the -more apt and adequate neologisms tend to improve literary style. For -every hundred times slang attributes a new meaning to an old word, it -creates once or twice a new word for an old meaning. Many hybrids will -grow, some flower and a few seed. So it is with slang. - -There is a "gentleman's slang," as Thackeray said, and there is the -impossible kind; but of the bulk of the American product, the worst to -be said of it usually is that it is homely and extravagant. None the -less is it a picturesque element that spices the language with -enthusiasm. It is antiseptic and prevents the decay of virility. -Literary style is but an individual, glorified slang. It is not -impossible for the artist; it went to its extreme in the abandon of Ben -Jonson, Webster, and Beaumont and Fletcher, but, as your Cockney would -say, "It does take a bit of doin'" nowadays. - - - - - *The Charms of Imperfection* - - -For a long time I have held a stubborn belief that I should admire and -aim at perfection. I admitted its impossibility, of course; I -attributed my friends' failure to achieve it as a charming evidence of -their humanity, but it seemed to me to be a thing most properly to be -desired. And yet, upon thinking it over, I was often astonished by the -discovery that most of my delights were caused by a divergence from this -ideal. "A sweete disorder in the dress kindleth in cloathes a -wantonness!" - -Now, is this because I am naturally perverse, and enjoy the bizarre, the -unique and the grotesque? Is it because of my frailty that I take a -dear delight in signs of our common humanity, in the petty faults and -foibles of the world? Or is it because I have misinterpreted this ideal -of perfection, and have thought it necessary or proper to worship a -conventional criterion? Celestine and I have been puckering our brows -for a week over the problem! - -We have learned, after a quarter of a century's experience with the -turning lathe and fret saw, to turn back for lasting joy to handmade -work. We delight in the minor irregularities of a carving, for -instance, recognizing that behind that slip of the tool there was a man -at work; a man with a soul, striving for expression. The dreary, -methodical uniformity of machine-made decoration and furniture wearies -our new enlightened taste. Mathematical accuracy and "spirit" seem to -be mutually exclusive, and we have been taught by the modern Æsthetic -almost to regard amateurishness as a sure proof of sincerity. We cannot -associate the abandon and naïve enthusiasm of the pre-Raphaelites with -the technical proficiency of the later Renascence, and Botticelli -stands, not only for the spirit dominating and shining through the -substance but, in a way, for the incompatibility of perfect idealization -with perfect execution. And yet this conflict troubles us. We feel -that the two should be wedded, so that the legitimate offspring might be -perfection; but when perfect technique is attained, as in a Japanese -carving, the result is almost as devoid of human feeling and warmth as a -machine-made product. - -We feel this instinctive choice of irregularity wherever we -turn--wherever, that is, we have to do with humanity or human -achievement. We do not, it is true, delight in the flaw in the diamond, -but elsewhere we are in perpetual conflict with nature, whose sole -object seems to be the obliteration of extremes and the ultimate -establishment of a happy medium of uniformity. We find perfection cold -and lifeless in the human face. I doubt if a woman has ever been loved -for an absolute regularity of feature; but how many, like little -Celestine, who acknowledges herself that her nose is too crooked, her -eyes too hazel, and her mouth too large, are bewilderingly charming on -that very account! These features go to make up an expression, which, -if it is not perfect, is certainly not to be accounted for by merely -adding up the items. It is a case where the whole is greater than the -sum of all its parts. We admire the anatomy and poise of the Greek -statues, but they are not humanly interesting. Indeed, they were never -meant to be, for they are divinities, and the symbols of an inaccessible -perfection. - -Still, while we speak of certain faults as being adorable (notably -feminine weaknesses), while we make the trite remark anent a man's "one -redeeming vice," while we shrink from natures too chaste, too aloof from -human temptation, too uncompromising, yet we must feel a pang of -conscience. We are not living up to our ideals. Is it the mere -reaction from the impositions of conventional morality? I think not. -It is a miscomprehension of the term perfection. - -The Buddhist believes in a process of spiritual evolution that, tending -ever toward perfection, finally reaches the state of Nirvana, where the -individual soul is merged into the Infinite. How can it be -differentiated from the universal spirit if it has attained all the -attributes of divinity? And that idea seems to be the basis of our -mistaken worship of perfection--a Nirvana where each thing, being -absolutely perfect, loses every distinguishing mark of character. But -is not our Christian, or even the Pagan, ideal higher than this? For -even the Greek gods, cold and exquisite as they were, had each his -individuality, his character, his separate function. Our conception of -Heaven, if it is ever formulated nowadays, has this differentiation of -individuality strongly accented; though the most orthodox may insist -that the spirits of the blessed are sanctified with perfection, yet he -does not hold it as a necessary dogma that they are therefore all alike, -and recast in a common mould. He still dares believe in that infinite -variety which Nature has taught us persists throughout the universe. - -This is the fundamental difference between the Oriental and the -Occidental point of view. We moderns stand for the supremacy of -character, an ineradicable distinction between human beings which -evolution and growth does not diminish, but develops. We believe, you -and I, that in a million æons we shall be as different one from the -other as we are now; that faults may be eradicated, weaknesses lose -their hold, but that our best parts will increase in virtue, not -approaching some theoretical standard, but always and forever nearing -that standard which is set for ourselves. - -We have grown out of our admiration for the "copper-plate hand" in -penmanship; we recognize the fact now, that we need not so much follow -the specimens in the copy-book as to make the best of what is -distinctive in our own style of writing. And this is a type of what our -conception of perfection, perhaps, should be. Everything should be -significant of character, should supplement it, translate it, explain -it. In the Japanese prints you will find almost every face with the -same meaningless expression, every feature calm, disguising every -symptom of individuality. It is the Oriental pose, the Oriental ideal -just mentioned. It is not considered proper to express either joy or -sorrow, and the perfection of poise is a sublime indifference. - -And I have a final idea that may, to a more subtile student of Æsthetic, -seem suggestive. In the beautiful parabola described by the mounting -and descending sky-rocket the upward and downward path are not quite -parallel. The stick does not drop vertically, although it continually -approaches that direction. In other words, the curve, constantly -approaching a straight line, is beautiful despite, and, indeed, perhaps -_because_ it never quite attains that rectilinear perfection and keeps -its distinctive character to the end. It is beautiful in its whole -progress, for that path defines the curve of the parabola. - - - - - *"The Play's the Thing"* - - -"Would you rather see a good play performed by poor actors, or a poor -play done by good actors?" asked Celestine. - -As a professor of the romantic view of life and a "ghost-seer," there is -but one answer to the question. "The play's the thing!" Acting is at -best a secondary art--an art, that is, of interpretation, though we as -critics judge it of itself alone. But, to an idealist, no play ever is, -or can be, perfectly performed. As we accept the conventions of stage -carpentry, impossible cottages, flat trees, "property" rocks, misfit -costumes and tinsel ornament, so we must gloss over the imperfections of -the players, and accept their struttings and mouthings as the fantastic -accessories of stage-land. No actor that ever lived ever acted -throughout a whole drama as a sane human being would act. We are used -to thinking the contrary, but the compression of time and space prevents -verisimilitude. A play is not supposed to simulate life except by an -established convention. Every art has its medium and its limitation. -It is indeed a limitation that makes art possible. In the drama the -limitation is the use of the time element. - -The play's the thing--we may read it from the book or have it recited -before the footlights, but the lasting delight is the charm of plot -that, with the frail assistance of the actor, finds its way to our -emotions. A good play done by poor actors, then, for me, if I must -choose between the two evils. - -Fancy creates; imagination constructs. The child, sporting ingenuously -with both these powers, dwells in a world of his own, either induced by -his mastering fiat, or remodelled nearer to his heart's desire from the -rags and fragments at hand. In his toy theatre alone is the perfect -play produced, for there imagination is stage manager, and has the hosts -of Wonderland in his cast. The child is the only perfect romanticist. -He has the keen, fresh eye upon nature; all is play, and the critical -faculty is not yet aroused. So in a way, too, was all primitive drama. -The audience at Shakespearean plays heard but noble poesies, saw but a -virile dream made partly visible, like a ghost beckoning away their -thoughts. So, even today, is the Chinese theatre, with its hundreds of -arbitrary conventions, its lack of scenery, and its artificial -eloquence. The veriest coolie knows that a painted face (a white nose, -stripes and crosses on the cheeks) does but portray a masked intention, -as if the actor bore a placard writ with the word "Villain." Forthwith, -all the rest is faery. The player does but lightly guide the rein, and -Pegasus soars free. - -So no play can be perfectly performed. We have created an artificial -standard of realism, and we say that Bernhardt, Duse and Coquelin -portray emotion with consummate art. It has been agreed by authorities -on Æsthetic that simulated passion surpasses in suggestive power real -emotion. The actor must not "lose himself in his part"--he must -maintain the objective relation. None the less, however, must we, as -audience, supply imagination to extend the play from art to life. From -a romantic point of view, such devotion to realism is unnecessary. We -are swayed by the wildest absurdities of melodrama, alike false to life -and false to art, and we accept the operas of Wagner, with all their -pasteboard dragons and bull-necked heroes belching forth technique, as -impressive stimuli to the imagination. Even through such crude means, -uplifted either by passionate brotherhood or upon the wings of song, we -are wafted far and fast. The play, oh! the play's the thing! - -For see! If you prefer the bad play performed by the good actors, why -not go to life itself? What else, indeed, _is_ life? It was the old -Duke in Lewis Carroll's "Sylvie and Bruno" who first pointed this out. -All the world's a stage where are performed the worst of badly -constructed plays--plays with neither unity nor sequence nor climax, but -performed with absolute perfection. Why waste your time cursing the -Adelphi, when, like the Duke, you can see the perfect art of the street? -The railway porter's dialect is still convincing. The fat woman with -her screaming children may enter at any minute, with her touches of -wonderful realism. If you go to the theatre for acting you go to the -wrong place! Watch the Font Neuf for the despairing suicide, lurk in -Whitechapel, visit in Mayfair, coquette with a Spaniard's sweetheart, or -rob a Jew, strike an Englishman, love an American girl, flirt with a -French countess, or watch a Samoan beauty at the salt pools catching -fish; but try not to find perfect acting behind a row of footlights! - -But if, after all, the play's the thing, it is as much a mistake to look -for real drama upon the street. There everything is incomplete and, for -the satisfaction of our æsthetic sense, we require the threads to be -brought together, and the pattern developed, the knots tied. Our -contemplation of life is usually analytic; we delight in discovering -motives, elementary passions, traits of character and human nature. Our -joy in art, on the other hand, arises from synthesis; we love to see -effect follow cause, and events march logically, passions work -themselves out, the triumph of virtue and justice. Life, as we see it, -is a series of photographs. The drama presents these successively as in -a biograph, with all the insignificant intermediary glimpses removed. -We hunger for the finished story, the poem with the envoy. For this -reason we have the drama and the novel. - -And now Celestine asks me, "Would you rather read a good story poorly -written than a poor story well written?" - -The question is as fair as the other, though not quite in the same case. -We may agree that acting is a secondary art, but literature has more -dignified claims to considerations. Here we are contemplating a wedding -of two arts, not the employment of one by another. One might as well -say, then, "Would you rather see a good man married to a bad woman or -the reverse?" It is the critic who attempts always to divorce the two. - -Yet, as in almost all marriage, where two arts work together one is -usually the more important. One may have one's preferences, but the -selection of that art which embodies an idea, rather than the one which -aims at an interpretation, marks the romanticist's point of view. One -art must be masculine, creative, and the other feminine and adorning. -The glory of the one is strength, of the other beauty. For me, then, the -manly choice. Give me the good story badly told, the fine song poorly -sung, the virile design clumsily carved, rather than the opposite cases. -The necessity of such a choice is not a mere whim of Celestine's; it is -a problem we are forced to confront every day. We must take sides. It -is not often, even from the Philistine's point of view, that we have the -good thing well done, while the poor thing badly done we have -everywhere. Between these limits of perfection and hopelessness, then, -lies our every-day world of art, and there continually we must make our -choice. - -If we could deal with abstractions, there would be no question at all, -and undoubtedly we would all prefer to enjoy the disincarnate ideal -rather than any incomplete embodiment, no matter how praiseworthy the -presentment. But few of us are good enough musicians to hear the music -in our mind's ear when we look over the score of an opera; few of us can -dream whole romances like Dumas, without putting pen to paper; few, -even, can long remember the blended glories of a sunset. We must have -some tangible sign to lure back memory and imagination, and if we -recognize the fact that such symbols are symbols merely, conventions -without intrinsic value as art, then we have the eyes of the child and -the romantic view of life. - -And lastly, Celestine leaned to me in her green kimono and said, "Would -you rather see a pretty girl in an ugly gown, or an ugly girl in a -pretty gown?" Ah, one does not need to hold the romantic view of life -to answer that question! - - - - - *Living Alone* - - -I have lived so long alone now, that it seems almost as if there were -two of me--one who goes out to see friends, transacts business and buys -things, and one who returns, dons more comfortable raiment, lights a -pipe, and dreams. One the world knows, the other no one knows but the -flies on the wall. - -I keep no pets, since these would enforce my keeping regular hours; the -only familiars I have, therefore, are my clock, my fire and my candles, -and how companionable these may become one does not know who does not -live alone. They owe me the debt of life, and repay it each in its own -way, faithfully and apparently willingly. I have a lamp, too; but a -lamp is a dull thing, especially when half-filled, and this one bores -me. I might count my typewriter, also, but she is too strenuous, and -she makes me too impatient by her inability to spell. Besides, the -clock, fire and candles may, with no great stretch of the imagination, -be readily conceived to have volition, and, once started, they -contribute not a little to relieving the tedium of living alone. - -My clock is always the same; it has no surprises. It may go a bit fast -or slow, but it has a maddeningly accurate conscience, and its fidelity -in ringing the eight-o'clock alarm proves it inhuman. Still, it lives -and moves, beating a sober accompaniment to my thoughts. Altogether, it -is not unlike a faithful, conscientious servant, never obtrusive, always -punctual and obedient, but with an unremitting devotion to orders that -is at times exasperating. Many a man has stood in fear and shame of his -valet, and so I look askance furtively with a suppressed curse when the -hands point to my bath, my luncheon, or my sortie into town. It would -be a relief, sometimes, if my clock stopped, were I not sure that it -would be my fault. - -But my fire is more feminine, full of moods and whims, ardent, domestic -and inspiring. Now, a fire, like a woman, should be something besides -beautiful, though in many houses the hearth is a mere accessory. It -should have other uses than to provide mere warmth, though this is often -its sole reason for being. Nor should it be a mere culinary necessity, -though I have known open fires to be kindled for that alone, and treated -as domestic servants. In my house the fire has all these functions and -more, for it is my friend and has consoled many lonely moments. It is a -mistress, full of unexpected fancies and vagaries. It has, too, a more -sacred quality, for it is an altar where I burn the incense of memory -and sacrifice to the gods of the future. It is both human and divine, a -tool and symbol at once. - -No one, I think, can know how much of all this a fire can be, who has -not himself laid, lighted and kindled and coaxed it, who has not -utilized its services and accepted its consolations. My fire is, -however, often a jealous mistress. She warms me and makes my heart -glad, but I dare not leave her side on a wintry day. I must keep well -within bounds, hold her hand or be chilled. I need but little urging! -I pull up my couch, take pencil and paper, and she twinkles and purrs by -my side, casting flickering glances at me as I work. - -Not till the flames die down and the coals glow soberly red do I find -the more practical pleasures of friendship and housewifely service. Now -my fire plays the part of cook, and, in her proper sphere, outdoes every -stove or range ever lighted. A little duck laid gently across the -grate, the kettle whistling with steam, and the coffee-pot ready--what -bachelor was ever attended by more charming handmaiden than I by my -little open fire? She will heat an iron or shaving-water as gracefully, -too, waiting upon me with a jocund willingness. No servant could be so -companionable. Still, she must be humoured as one must always humour a -woman. Try to drive her, or make her feel that she is but a slave, and -you shall see how quickly she resents it. There is a psychological -moment for broiling on an open fire, and postponement is fatal. It -takes a world of petting and poking to sooth her caprice when she is in -a blazing temper, but remember her sex, and she melts in a glow like a -mollified child. - -Kindling and lighting my fire is a ritual. I cannot go about it -thoughtlessly or without excitement. The birth of the first curling -flame inspires me, for the heart becomes an altar sacred to the -household gods. If the day offers the least plausible pretext for a -fire, I light one and sit down in worship. I resent a warm morning, -when economy struggles with desire. Luckily my studio is at the north -of the house, and, no matter if the sun is warm abroad, there is a cool -corner waiting where a fire needs no apology. The sun creeps in toward -noon and puts out the flames, but all the morning I enjoy the blaze. - -In the evening the fire becomes absolutely necessary, and provides both -heat and light, giving a new life of its own to the darkness of the -room. Then I become a Parsee, put on my sacerdotal robes (for such -lonely priestcraft requires costume), and fall into a reverie. For my -sacrifices, old letters feed the flames. They say that coal, in -burning, gives back the stored sunlight of past ages. What lost fires -burn, then, when love-letters go up in smoke to illumine for one brief, -last instant the shadows of memory! - -My candles partake of the nature of both clock and fire. They are to be -depended upon, when let alone, to burn just six hours, marking the time -like the ticking pendulum, but they give light and warmth, too, in their -own way, in gentle imitation of the fire. They also have moods--less -petulant than the fire's--but they require as little attention as the -clock. The fire seems immortal; though the coals fade into ashes, the -morning's resurrection seems to continue the same personality, and the -same flames seem to be incarnated--living again the same old life. But -the life of a candle seems visibly limited to a definite space of time, -and its end is clearly to be seen. In that aspect it seems more human -and lovable than the fire--a candle is more like a petted animal, whose -short life seems to lead to nothing beyond. We may put more coals on -the fire, and continue its existence indefinitely, but the candle is -doomed. Putting another one in the socket does not renew a previous -existence. But, if it is a short life, it is a merry one, and its -service is glad and generous. My little army of candles is constantly -being replenished. Like brave and loyal soldiers, they lay down their -lives gallantly in my cause, and new ones fill up the vacant ranks, -fighting the powers of darkness. - -This is my bachelor reverie. But high noon approaches, and my -metamorphosis is at hand. Now the sun has struck the fire-place with a -lance of light, and I, that other I, must rise, dress and out into the -world! - - - - - *Cartomania* - - -With something of the excitement Alice felt when she crawled through the -looking-glass, I used to pore over my atlas. Geography was for me a -pastime rather than a study. There was one page in the book where the -huge bulging expanse of the United States lay, and there, on the extreme -left hand of the vari-coloured patchwork of States and territories, was -the abode of romance and adventure--a long and narrow patch tinted pink, -curving with the Pacific Ocean, and ribbed with the fuzzy haschures of -the Sierra Nevada Mountains. This was the Ultima Thule of my dreams, -beyond which my sober-minded hopes dared not stray. - -Further on in the book I saw Europe, irregular with ragged peninsulas -and bays, Asia, vast and shapeless, with the great blue stretch of -Siberia atop, and the clumsy barren yellow triangle of Africa. But -these foreign countries were, to my young imagination, as inaccessible -as Fairyland; they did not properly come into the world of possibility. -They were as unreal as ghosts, remote as the Feudal Ages, and I put them -by with a sigh as hopeless. The world is a big place to the eyes of a -child, and all beyond his ken but names. How could I know that the end -of the century was even then whirling me toward wonders that even my -Arabian Magi would not have thought possible? But today, in this far -Western town, then but a semi-barbarous camp of gold miners, I have seen -an airship half-completed upon the stocks, and this morning, in my own -room, I rang up Celestine and talked with her over the wire a hundred -miles away! - -Maps were my favourite playgrounds, and so real were they that it almost -seemed that, with a sufficiently powerful microscope, I might see the -very inhabitants living their strangely costumed customs. There was a -black dot on my fascinating pink patch marked San Francisco, and now, -that dream come true, I try to see this city with the eyes of my -childhood, and wonder that I am really here. To get the strangeness of -the chance I have to think back and back till I see that map stretched -out before the boy, and follow his finger across the tiers of States -that run from the Atlantic to the Pacific. - -Everyone who has not travelled much must feel the excitement that maps -give when intently studied. No one has been everywhere, and for each -some unvisited spot must charm him with its romantic possibilities. But -there are certain cities almost universally enticing to the -imagination--the world's great meeting-places, where, if one but waits -long enough, one can find anybody. London, Cairo, Bombay, Hongkong, San -Francisco, New York--these are the jewels upon the girdle that surrounds -the globe. To know these places is to have lived to the full limit of -Anglo-Saxon privilege. - -But the true cartomaniac is not content with ready-made countries; he -must build his own lands. How many kingdoms and empires have I not -drawn from the tip of my pencil! Now, the achievement of a plausible -state is not so easy as it might appear. There is nothing so difficult -as to create, out of hand, an interesting coast line. Try and invent an -irregular shore that shall be convincing, and you will see how much more -cleverly Nature works than you. Here is where accident surpasses design. -Spill a puddle of coloured water on a sheet of paper and pound it with -your fist, and lo, an outline is produced which you could not excel in a -day's hard work with your pencil! - -The establishment of a boundary line, too, requires much thought in -order that your frontier interlocks well with your neighbours'. Your -rivers must be well studied, your mountains planned, and your cities -located according to the requirements of the game. You must name your -places, you must calculate your distances, and you must erase and -correct many times before you can rival the picturesque possibilities of -such a land as India, for instance, which, from the point of view of the -sentimental cartographer, is one of the most interesting of states. - -If such an effort is too difficult for the beginner, one might begin -with a country of which something is known, yet which never has been -charted. "Gulliver's Travels," for instance, contains information of -many lands that should be drawn to scale. Lilliput, Brobdingnag, -Laputa, and the land of horses would alone make a very interesting -atlas. The geography of Fairyland affords charming opportunities for -the draughtsman. For myself, I prefer the magical territory of the -Arthurian legends, and I have platted Sir Launcelot's Isle, with Joyous -Gard at the northern end, high over the sea. There is a pleasaunce, a -wood, a maze, and a wharf jutting out into a shallow, smiling water, -while the lists occupy a promontory to the south. - -Oh, the opportunities are many for the cartomaniac! Who has mapped -Utopia, Atlantis, Alice's Wonderland, or the countries of the Faerie -Queene? Who has reconstructed the plans of Troy? And there are other -allegorical lands, too, that should be mapped. I have had a try myself -at the modern "Bohemia," and have taken the liberty of shewing within -its much-maligned borders Arcady and the Forest of Arden. I have even -planned Millamours, the city of a thousand loves, and I am now -attempting to draw a map of the State of Literature in the year 1902. - -There are many celebrated edifices, too, that might be trifled with. I -have a friend, an architect, who has completed the Castle of Zenda, and -he is now occupied with Circe's palace, with a fine eye to the -decorative effect of the pig-pens. Think of laying out the gardens, -grottoes, and palaces of the Arabian Nights! Why has the Castle of -Otranto been neglected--and Udolpho, and Castle Dangerous, and the -Moated Grange? - -Many novelists, and, I think, most writers of pure romance, have played -this game. Stevenson, dreaming in his father's office, drew the map of -Treasure Island, and from that chart came forth, hint by hint, the -suggestions for his masterpiece. Maurice Hewlett drew a plat of the -ancient marches and forests where the Forest Lovers wandered, and it is -a pity he did not publish it in more detail. This is one of the -graphical solutions of story writing, a queer, anomalous method whereby -the symbol suggests the concept. The cheaper magazines often use old -cuts, and request some hack to write a story to fit the illustration. -But the map is an abstraction; its revelations are cabalistic, not -definite. A good map is a stage set for romantic fiction, ready for -anybody who can write or dream the play. - - - - - *The Science of Flattery* - - -Time was when people were less sophisticated and almost everybody could -be flattered. A compliment was the pinch of salt that could be placed -upon any bird's tail. But such game is scarcer now, and to capture one's -quarry one has to practice all the arts of modern social warfare. We -have, for instance, been taught to believe, time out of mind, that women -are especially susceptible to this saccharine process; that one had but -to make a pretty speech, and her conquest was assured. But what lady -nowadays can take a compliment without bridling? It is as much as a -man's reputation is worth to make a plain, straightforward statement of -approbation. He must veil his meaning so that it can be discovered only -by a roundabout reflection. Whether it be true or not, he is held -offensively responsible for the blush with which it is received. - -So, to be successful, one must be politic and tactful; one must adopt -the indirect method, and, above all, one must escape the obvious. To -say what has been said many times before defeats the very purpose, -whether it be good or evil, for which we flatter. The artist discards -the hackneyed compliment, and endeavours to place his arrow in a spot -that has never been hit before. He will compliment a poet upon his -drawings and a painter upon his verses. If a woman ordinarily plainly -dressed, has a single effective garment, does he compliment her upon -that particular costume? By no means. Subtilty demands that he flatter -her by pointing out some interesting feature in one of her common -frocks, without hinting that it is surprising to see her particularly -well clad. Such compliments have the flavour of novelty, and are -treasured up by the recipient, to be quoted long after the donor has -forgotten them. - -The tribute of unexpected praise is more grateful to a person than the -reward for which he works hardest and is most confident. It discovers to -him new and pleasing attributes. It has all the zest and relish that -the particular always has more than the general. And, besides, for the -person who happens to light upon some little favourite trick of -individuality, and to notice and to comment upon it, the reward is -great. Such a flatterer is, in the heart of the flattered one, throned -with the authority of discernment; he is considered forever after as a -critic of the first importance. Everyone has a hobby, an idiosyncrasy, -visible or invisible; it is the art of the flatterer to discover it, and -his science to use it to his own ends. - -Flattery is, however, an edged tool, and must be used with care. It is -not everyone who has the tact to decide at a glance just how much his -victim will stand. He may know enough, perhaps, to praise the author of -a successful book for some other one of his works which has not attained -a popular vogue; he may have the discretion to banter men about their -success with the opposite sex, and to accuse women of cleverness; but -for all that he may often misjudge his object, and give embarrassment if -not actual affront. For all such the safest weapon is the written word. - -This is the ambush from which your prey cannot escape. If a letter of -praise, of compliment, or even of deliberate flattery, is made decently -interesting, if it is not too grossly cloying even for private perusal, -it cannot fail to count. It has to be paid for by no blush, no awkward -moment, no painful conspicuous self-consciousness, no hypocritical -denial. It strikes an undefending victim, and brings him down without a -struggle. Such tributes of praise can be read and reread without -mortification. It is a sweet-smelling incense that burns perpetually -before the shrine of vanity. One compliment written down in black and -white is worth any number of spoken words, and the trouble that has been -taken to commit such praise to paper gives the offering an added -interest and importance. Anything that can be said can be written, from -the eulogy of a lady's slipper to the appreciation of a solo on the -harp. You may be sure that any unconventionality of manner will be -atoned for by the seduction of a honeyed manner. Stevenson, in his -playful "Decalogue for Gentlemen," set down as his first canon, "Thou -shalt not write an anonymous letter," but it cannot be doubted that he -would have excepted an unsigned note of admiration. - -The element of time, in flattery, too, is often disregarded. Few -would-be flatterers understand the increased influence of a compliment -deferred. It is again the same case of the misuse of the obvious. When -your friend's book appears, or his picture is displayed, there are -enough to compliment him on the spot, but your own sympathetic -endorsement, delayed a few months, or even iterated, comes to him when -he is least expecting the compliment. He is off his guard, and the shot -goes home. When I give Celestine a present she thanks me immediately, -of course, but that is not the last of it. In every third letter or so -I am reminded of her gratitude and my kindness. - -There is, however, a flattery of manner as well as one of matter. -Celestine, to whose wise counsels I am indebted for many a short cut in -the making of friends, once laid down for me the following rules for -dealing with women: - -First, be intellectual with pretty women. - -Second, be frivolous with intellectual women. - -Third, be serious and _empressé_ with young girls. - -Fourth, be saucy and impudent with old ladies. Call them by their first -names, if necessary. - -It goes without saying that such audacious methods require boldness and -sureness of touch, especially in the application of the fourth rule. -But even that, when attempted with spirit and assurance, has given -miraculous results. In a case where a woman's age is in question, -action speaks far louder than words. - -Perhaps the most successful method of flattery is that of the person who -makes the fewest compliments. To gain a name for brusqueness and -frankness is, in a way, to attain a reputation for sincerity. Whether -this is just or not, it is undoubtedly true that the occasional unlooked -for praise of such a person acquires an exaggerated importance and -worth. This system is similar to that of the billiard-player who goes -through the first half of his game wretchedly in order to surprise his -opponent with the dexterity of his shots later on. But it is an -amateurish ruse, and is soon discovered and discounted at its true -value. Yet in a way, too, it is justifiable, since unpleasant comments -are usually accepted as candid, while pleasant ones alone are suspected. - -There is a kind of conscious vanity to which flattery comes welcomely, -however patent the hyperboles may appear. To such persons, and there -are many, a certain amount of adulation oils the mental machine. They -do not believe all that is said, but prefer, on the whole, to be -surrounded by pleasant fictions rather than by unpleasant facts. They -prefer harmony to honesty, and, though the oil on the troubled waters of -life does not dispel the storm, it makes easier sailing. To others, -especially if they be creators in any art, compliments stimulate and -impel to their best endeavour. Many a man has achieved a masterpiece -chiefly because a woman declared him capable of it. - -The question of the object for which flattery is employed is here beside -the mark. It may be used or misused; it may be true or false of itself, -although, to be sure, the word flattery has attained an evil -significance and has come to stand for counterfeit approval. All that -has been said, however, applies to one as well as to the other. Even -when praise has the least foundation in fact, it may prove beneficial to -the person flattered, arousing a pride which creates the admired quality -that was wholly lacking. Thus I have known a man notorious for his -vulgarity stimulated to a very creditable politeness by the most -undeserved and insincere compliment upon his table manners. - -I have used the three testimonials of admiration as synonymous, but -Celestine says that praise is a rightful fee, a compliment is a tip, and -that flattery is bribery. - - - - - *Romance En Route* - - -How tired I am of the question, "How do you like London?" and "How do -you like New York?" "Would you rather live in San Francisco or Paris?" -Why, indeed, should I not like London, Kalamazoo, Patagonia, Bombay, or -any other place where live men and women walk the streets, eat, drink, -and are merry? How can I say whether El Dorado is better than Arcady, -or a square room more convenient than an oblong one? Every living place -has its own fascination, its mysteries, its characteristic delights. -Ask me, rather, if I can understand London, if I can catch the point of -view of the French _concierge_, if I comprehend the slang and bustle of -Chicago? Like them? Show me the town I cannot like! Know them? Ah, -that is different! - -This is the charm of travel--to keep up the feeling of strangeness to -the end, never to take things for granted or let them grow stale, to see -them always as though one had never seen them before. Then, and only -then, can we see things as they really are. When I become cosmopolitan, -world-old, _blasé_, when I think and speak in all languages, I shall fly -to some deserted island to study the last, most impenetrable -enigma--myself. - -But meanwhile, I can purchase romance retail, at the mere cost of a -railway ticket. I can close my eyes in one city, and wake next morning -in its mental antipode. Romance requires only a new point of view; it -is the art of getting fresh glimpses of the commonplace. One need not be -transported to the days of chivalry, one need not even travel; one need -only begin life anew every morning, and look out upon the world -unfamiliarly as the child does. One must be born a discoverer. Thus one -may keep youth, for the sport never loses colour. One game won or lost, -the next has an equal interest, though we use the same counters and the -same board. The combinations are always fresh. - -Still, though one may find this fountain of perpetual youth in one's -breakfast glass, the obvious conventional method is to go forth for the -adventure, and get this famed elixir at some foreign and well-advertised -spring. For this purpose tourists travel, taking part in a pilgrimage -of whose meaning and proper method they are wholly ignorant. In their -boxes and portmanteaus they pack, not hopes of mystery, faith in the -compelling marvels of the world, nor the wonder of strange sights; but -instead, fault-finding comparisons, and prejudice against all manners -not their own. They do not see, in the omnibus of London, the -automobile of Paris, the electric trolley of New York and the cable car -of San Francisco, the pregnant evidence of several points of view on -life, art and commerce, but they perceive only grotesque contrasts with -their own particular means of locomotion. They do not delight in the -incomprehensible hurly-burly of civilization that has produced the City -Man, the Bounder, the Coster, the Hoodlum, Hooligan and Sundowner, nor -do they attempt to solve the mystery or get the meat from such strange -shells. Instead, they see only the clerk at the lunch-counter bolting -his chops and half-pint, the incredible waistcoat of the pretentious -_blagueur_, or the buttons and "moke" of the ruffling D'Artagnan of the -Old Kent-road. - -So the tourist travels with his eyes shut, while the true traveller has -a lookout on life, keen for new sensations. To do things in Rome as the -Romans do, that is his motto. He must eat spaghetti with his fingers, -his rice and chopped suey with chop-sticks, or he fails of their subtle -relish. He calls no Western town crude or uncivilized, but he tries to -cultivate a taste for cocktails, that he may imbibe the native fire of -occidental enthusiasm. In the East he is an Oriental; he changes his -mind, his costume and his spectacles wherever he goes, and underneath -the little peculiarities of custom and environment, he finds the -essential realities of life. - -To taste all this fine, crisp flavour of living--not to write about it -or fit it to sociological theories, but to live it, understand it, be -it--this is the art of travel, the art of romance, the art of youth. -But there is no Baedeker to guide such a sentimental tourist through -such experiences as these. It takes a lively glance to recognize a man -disguised in a frock coat, and to find him blood brother to the -Esquimau! - -Well, there is a place in Utah on the Central Pacific Railroad called -Monotony. The settlement consists of a station, a water-tank, and a -corrugated iron bunk-house. The level horizon swings round a full -circle, enclosing a flat, arid waste, bisected by an unfenced line of -rails, straight as a stretched string. The population consists of a -telegraph operator, a foreman, and six section hands. Yet I dare say I -would like to stay there awhile, on the way, and perhaps I would taste -some charm that London never gave. I am not so sure that but that -before I took wing again I might not like it, in some respects, better -even than Paris. - - - - - *The Edge of the World* - - -To find the colonial or the provincial more cultured, better educated in -life and keenlier cognizant of the world's progress than the ordinary -metropolitan, is a common enough paradox. Class for class, the -outlander has more energy, greater sapience and a truer zest of -intellect than the citizen at the capital. By the outlander is not -meant, however, the mere suburban or rural inhabitant, but the dweller -at the outpost of civilization, the picket on the edge of the world. - -Let us grant that, in the gross, every new community must be crude--it -takes time to grow ivy over the walls, to soften the primary colours -into harmonious tones, to smooth off the rough edges,--but let us also -grant that, at all the back doorways of empire, in far-away corners of -the earth, are assembled little coteries of men and women who, by reason -of their very isolation, rather than despite it, have made themselves -cosmopolitan, catholic, eclectic, and stand ever ready to welcome, each -in his own polite dialect and idiom, the astonished traveller who thinks -he has left all that is great and good behind. - -This compensation is, indeed, a natural law. If we cut back half the -shoots of a shrub, the surviving sprouts will be more vigorous. The -deprivation of one sense renders the others more acute. Make it hard -for an ambitious lad to obtain an education, and, working alone by -candle-light, he will outstrip the student with greater advantages. So -it is with the colonial who realizes his poverty of artistic and -intellectual resources. He must, in self-defense and to compensate for -his isolation, make friends with the world at large, and his mental -vision, accustomed to long ranges of sight, becomes sharp and subtile. -To avoid the reproach of provincialism he studies the great centers of -thought and watches eagerly for the first signs of new growths in fads, -fashions, art and politics. It is for this reason that the British -colonial is more British than the Englishman at home. - -Plunged in the midst of the turmoil of every-day excitements, the -dwellers in great cities lose much of the true and fine significance of -things. A thousand enterprises are beginning, and amidst a myriad -essays the headway of yesterday's novelty is lost in the struggle of -today's agonists. The little, temporary, local success seems big with -import, and the slower development of more serious and permanent virtues -is ignored. Things are seen so closely that they are out of true -proportion, and they are seen through media of personality that diffract -and magnify. - -But the provincial, far from this complicated aspect of intellectual -life, gains greatly in perspective. Separated by great space, he is, in -a way, separated by time also, and he sees what another generation will -perhaps see in the history of today. For he watches not only literary -London, that tiniest and most garrulous of gossiping villages, but a -dozen other hives of thought as well, and from his very distance can the -more easily discern the first signs of pre-eminence. His ears are not -ringing with a myriad petty clamours, but he can hear, rising above the -multitudinous hum, the voice of those who sing clearest. The -connoisseur in art views a painting from across the hall--the lover of -music does not sit too close to the orchestra--and so the intelligent -looker-on at life does not come too often in familiar touch with the -aspirants for fame. Living, as one might say, upon a hill, the stranger -thus gets the range, volume and trend of human activities, and sees -their movements, like those of armies marching below him, though they -seem as ants, so far away. He can trace the direction of waves of -emotion that follow round the earth like tides of the sea. - -In every community, however small or remote, there are a few who delight -in this comprehensive view of things, who keep up with the times, and, -so far as their immediate neighbours are concerned, are ahead of the -prevailing mode. As the meteorologist, studying the reports from North, -South, East and West, can trace the progress of storm and wind, so these -intelligent observers can predict what will be talked about next, and -how soon the first murmurs will reach their shores. Their cosmic -laboratory is the club library table, with its journals and periodicals -from all over the world. - -The first hint of a new success in literature comes from the London -weeklies, and then, if the British opinion is corroborated by American -favour, the New York papers take up the note of praise, and one may -follow the progress of a novel's triumph across three thousand five -hundred miles of continent, or see the word pass from colony to colony, -over the whole empire. The Londoner sees but the bubbles at the -spring--the pioneer by the Pacific watches the course of a mighty stream -increasing in depth and width. Tomorrow, or in three months, the vogue -will reach his own town, and he will smile to see all tongues wag of the -latest literary success. - -So it is with art, so it is with fashions, with the drama and with every -fad and foible, from golf and Babism to the last song and catchword of -the music halls. The colonial is behind the times? What does it -matter! Are we not all behind the times of tomorrow? So long as we -cannot travel faster than the news, it makes little difference; and it -is wise, when we are in San Francisco, to do as the Franciscans do. It -is as bad to be ahead of the times as to be behind, and it is best to -follow the style of one's own locality, with a shrewd eye to one's -purchases for the future, buying what we can see must come into popular -favour. - -But does your metropolitan enjoy this complexity, this living in the -future? Not he! He cares nothing for the _vieux jeu_. For him, -ping-pong is dead or dying--he neither knows nor cares that it still -lives in the Occident, marching in glory ever towards the West, along -the old trail to fame. Of the last six successful books discussed over -his muffins, does he know which have been virile enough to survive -transplanting to other shores--which have emigrated and become -naturalized in the colonies? No! He is for the next little victory at -the tea tables of the elect! - -And yet, this afterglow, this subsequent invasion of new territory is -what brings enduring fame. Before the city election is substantiated, -the country must be heard from. The urban hears the solo voices of -adulation, the worship of those near and dear to celebrity, but the -great chorus that sweeps the hero up to Parnassus comes from a wider -stage. The army of invasion never comes home again to be hailed as -victor until it has encircled the globe. But it is the greater conquest -that the dweller at the outpost sees, at first like a cloud no bigger -than a man's hand, and it is his game to watch and await it. It is -better so. Waste no pity upon him at the edge of the world. For the -big game needs big men, and it is the boldest and most strenuous spirits -who push to Ultima Thule. The anæmic and neurotic do not emigrate; the -reddest blood has flowed in the veins of the pioneer ever since the -first migration. He does things, rather than talks of things others -have done--he knows life, even if he knows not Ibsen. Meet him in his -far-away home, and he holds your interest with an unlooked-for charm; -take him to the Elgin marbles and he will have and hold his own idea of -art unborrowed from text-books. He knows more of your city's history -than you do yourself; panic or the furor of a fashion cannot hypnotize -him. The importance of a celebrated name cannot embarrass him, for he -has met men unknown to fame who have lived as uncrowned kings. He has -seen cities rise from the plain. He has made the wilderness to blossom -like the rose; he has lived, not written epics. - -And in addition to gaining all this experience that trained the pioneers -of old, he has, while living at the confines of civilization, kept in -touch with the world, and has tasted the exhilarating flavour of the old -and new in one mouthful. For, in this century, distance is swept away -and no land is really isolate. The pioneer lives like a god above -distinctions of time, at once in the past, the present and the future. - - - - - *The Diary Habit* - - -For seven years I have kept my diary scrupulously, without missing a -day, and now, at the beginning of a new twelvemonth, I am wondering -whether I should maintain or renounce it. There are certain good -habits, it would seem, as hard to break as bad ones, and if the practice -of keeping a daily journal is a praiseworthy one, it derives no little -of its virtue from sheer inertia. The half-filled book tempts one on; -there is a pleasure in seeing the progress of the volume, leaf by leaf; -like sentimental misers, we hoard our store of memories. We end each -day with a definite statement of fact or fancy, and it grows harder and -harder to abstain from the self-enforced duty. Yet it is seldom a -pleasure, when one is fatigued with excitement or work, to transmit our -affairs to writing. Some, it is true, love it for its own sake, or as a -relief for pent-up emotions, but, in one way or another, most -autobiographical journalists consider the occupation as a prudent -depositor regards his frugal savings in the bank. Some time, somehow, -they think, these coined memories will prove useful. - -Does this time ever come, I wonder? For me it has not come yet, though -I still picture a late reflective age when I shall enjoy recalling the -past, and live again my old sensations. But life is more strenuous than -of yore, and even at seventy or eighty, nowadays, no one need consider -himself too old for a fresh, active interest in the world about him. -Your old gentleman of today does not sit in his own corner of the -fireplace and dote over the lost years; he reads the morning papers, and -insists upon going to the theatre with his nieces on wet evenings. Have -I, then, been laying up honey for a winter of discontent that shall -never come? - -Besides this distrust of my diaries, I am awakening after seven years to -the fact that, as autobiography, the books are strangely lacking in -interest. They are not convincing. I thought, as I did my clerkly -task, that I should always be I, but a cursory glance at these naïve -pages shows that they were written by a thousand different persons, no -one of whom speaks the language of the emotions as I know it today. It -is true, then, my diary has convinced me, that we do become different -persons every seven years. Here is written down rage, hate, delight, -affection and yearning, no word of which is comprehensible to me now; -they leave me quite cold. I am reading the adventures of some one else, -not my own. Who was it? I have forgotten the dialect of my youth. Ah, -indeed, the boy is father of the man! I will be indulgent, as a son -should, to paternal indiscretions! - -And yet, for the bare skeleton of my history, these volumes are useful -enough. The pages which, while still wet with ink and tears I -considered lyric essays, have fallen to a merely utilitarian value. I am -thankful, on that account, for them, and for the fact that my -bookkeeping was well systematized and indexed. As outward form goes, my -diaries are models of manner. So for those still under the -old-fashioned spell, who would adopt a plan of entry, let me describe -them. - -The especial event of each day, if the day held anything worthy of -remark or remembrance, was boldly noted at the top of the page over the -date. Whirring the leaves I catch many suggestive phrases: "_Dinner at -Mme. Qui Vive's_" (it was there I first tasted champagne), "_Henry -Irving_ in '_Macbeth_'" (but it was not the actor that made that night -famous--I took Kitty Carmine home in a hansom!), "Broke my arm" (or else -I would never have read Marlowe, I fear), and "Met Sally Reynard" (this -was an event, it seemed at that time, worthy of being chronicled in red -ink). So they go. They are the chapter headings in the book of my life. - -In the lower left-hand corner of each page I noted the receipt of -letters, the initials of the writers inscribed in little squares, and in -the opposite right-hand corner a complementary hieroglyph kept account -of every reply sent. So, by running over the pages I can note the fury -of my correspondence. (What an industrious scribbler "S.R." was to be -sure! I had not thought we went it quite so hard--and "K.C."--how often -she appears in the lower left, and how seldom in the lower right! I was -a brute, no doubt, and small wonder she married Flemingway!) - -Perpendicularly, along the inner margin, I wrote the names of those to -whom I had been introduced that day, and on a back page I kept a -chronological list of the same. (I met Kitty, it seems, on a -Friday--perhaps that accounts for our not hitting it off!) Most of -these are names, and nothing more, now, and it gives my heart a leap to -come across Sally in that list of nonentities. (To think that there was -ever a time when I did not know her!) - -Besides all this, the books are extra-illustrated in the most -significant manner. There is hardly a page that does not contain some -trifling memento; here, a theatre coupon pasted in, or a clipping from -the programme, an engraved card or a pencilled note; there a scrap of a -photograph worn out in my pocket-book, somebody's sketched profile, or, -at rare intervals, a wisp of some one's hair! (This reddish curl--was -it Kitty's or from Dora's brow? Oh, I remember, it was Myrtle gave it -me! No, I am wrong; I stole it from Nettie!) I pasted them in with -eager trembling fingers, but I regard them now without a tremour. There -are other pages being filled which interest me more. - -Occasionally I open a book, 1895 perhaps, and consult a date to be sure -that Millicent's birthday is on November 12th, or to determine just who -was at Kitty's coming-out dinner. Here is a diagram of the table with -the places of all the guests named. (So I sat beside Nora, did I? And -who was Nora? I have forgotten her name! _Now_ she is Mrs. Alfred -Fortunatus!) - -Sometimes I think it would be better to write up my diary in advance, to -fill in the year's pages with what I would like to do, and attempt to -live up to the prophecy. And yet I have had too many unforeseen -pleasures in my life for that. I would rather trust fate than -imagination. So, chiefly because I have kept the book for seven years, -I shall probably keep it seven years more. It gratifies my conceit to -chronicle my small happenings, and somehow, written down in fair script, -they seem important. And besides I am a bit anxious to see just how -many times a certain name, which has lately begun to make itself -prominent, will appear at the top of the pages. I promise to tell you -some time, if Celestine is willing! - - - - - *The Perfect Go-between* - - -Surely the modern invention that has done most to perpetuate Romance is -the telephone. The man that, however used to this machine, can take up -its ear-piece without a thrill of wonder has no soul. The locomotive, -the steamship, the automobile have but made travel a bit more rapid, -they have added no new element of mystery. Even the telegraph fails to -give any true feeling of surprise. It is no whit more wonderful than -that one, after writing a letter and slipping it into a red mail-box, -should be handed a reply by a strange, blue-clad gentleman, after many -days. A telegraphic despatch does not even hold the handwriting of the -sender; it is cold, colourless, metallic. - -But a machine that can bring your friend into the same room with you, at -a moment's notice, who can deny the poetry of such a victory over space -and time! Not until some genius invents a thought-transmitter shall a -more stupendous aid to Romance be discovered. For see! It is not only -one's friends that are caught in the net of telephone wires, one can -drag up a whole city full! I have but to sit down at my desk and call -up a number, and he or she must reply. True, I cannot force any one to -answer, but if I have the audacity and persistency, it will go hard if I -do not find some one who is willing to while away a leisure, inquisitive -moment in inconsequent conversation. - -It is my privilege to live in a telephone city where the habit is -extraordinarily developed. One out of every sixteen of the population -is connected to that most amiable of go-betweens, the Central Office. I -have the opportunity of investigating some thirty thousand souls at the -ridiculously cheap price of five cents per soul! Not only every -counting-house and shop, doctor's office and corner grocery has its -wire, but every residence with any claims to acquaintance. What Romance -gone to waste! For few, it seems, have imagination enough to embrace -such unlimited opportunities! - -This morning Sonia called me at 8:25, apologizing for her -kind-heartedness in letting me sleep when she knew I wished to work. -Think of that for an alarm clock--Sonia's voice, ten miles away! So I -am awakened by the telephone, I call by telephone, flirt by telephone, -shop, market and speculate over the same wire. We do not take long in -utilizing the latest invention here in this hurried land--the city is -ravaged by Telephonitis. One invites friends to dinner, one makes -appointments, one breaks the news of the death of a friend, one proposes -marriage--all by means of this little instrument. I know one lady who -has her machine connected by flexible wires so that she may talk in bed. -She need not be too strict in regard to dress for her interviews--no one -ever knows! I know two old men who while away long evenings together -playing chess, when the weather is too harsh to leave home. Beside each -board stands the faithful receiver; one has but to whisper "K.B. to Q.3" -or some such rigamarole into the nickel-plated "extension" and he has -checkmated his opponent across the Bay! - -With such common intercourse as this, many are the comedies of the -telephone. I have myself entertained a visitor with a diversion he will -not soon forget. The day he came I took him to my telephone and -introduced him in turn to a half-dozen ladies of my acquaintance, who -plied him with badinage. We set forth then on a tour of calls, and I -enjoyed his several attempts at identifying the voices he had heard over -the wire. It is not always easy to recognize a voice and remember it. -I remember an unfortunate experience of my own with two sisters which -brought a week's embarrassment, for the voices of members of one family -do have a marvellous similarity in the telephone, and if one is anxious -to call upon Fanny when Elizabeth is out, one must be very sure just -which sister one is speaking to when making an appointment. - -The necessity for such precaution has led some of my friends to adopt -telephone methods which must be extremely amusing to one who could hear -both sides of the conversation. In many houses the telephone is -situated in the hall, altogether too near the dining-room for any -confidential communication. If the questioner is careful he may so word -his inquiries that they may be answered by a mere "yes" or "no"; and -papa, smoking after dinner, is none the wiser. If the girl finds it -impossible to reply in unguarded terms, she has been known to say, -somewhat vaguely, "_Of course_," which conveys to the man at the other -end of the wire the fact that she is not alone. Some, too, have more -definite codes. Celestine has arranged with me that when she mentions -the "_Call_" it means the forenoon; the "_Chronicle_" stands for -afternoon, while by the "_Examiner_" I understand that she refers to the -evening. If, then, I ring her up and say, "When can you go walking -today? I want to be sure not to meet that fool Clubberly." Clubberly, -who is at her elbow, hears her reply sweetly, "Really! Yes, I saw it in -the "_Chronicle_"; and how is he to know what it is all about? Oh, he -could have his revenge easily enough, were he not an ass, for he might -be kissing Celestine (horrid thought) even as she is speaking, for all I -could know. - -With this romantic battery opposed to her, what chance has poor Mrs. -Grundy? What hard-hearted parent can successfully immure his daughter -while the copper wire strings out toward her proscribed lover? Here is -where love laughs at locksmiths. Were a dozen ineligibles forbidden the -house, the moment mamma's back is turned and she has gone out for her -round of calls, little daughter takes the telephone off the hook and, -presto! she has her room full of clandestine company! Does any rash -young man dare ring her up while her parents are near, she has but to -say, sweetly, "Oh, you have the wrong number!" and hang up. It is too -wonderful. You may lie by telephone, with a straight face, or you may -call a man a liar with impunity. If you have no answer ready to an -ardent impertinence, you need only say nothing and listen--he is -helpless; you need not speak unless you want to. Who made the first -telephone made mischief for a thousand years to come! - -_Rrrrrrrrrrng!!!!_ There is Celestine ringing me up now! Pardon me if I -leave you for a moment, for I think she is going to give me her answer -to a very important question. Tremendously important for me! Wish me -good luck! I hope no one will be listening! - - - - - *Growing Up* - - -When I asked Perilla how she first came to realize that she was growing -up, she said, "When I began of my own accord to wash my sticky fingers, -without waiting to be told." I believe she meant it literally, with no -moral significance that should make a parable of the statement. I hope -so, at least, for then by that test I cannot hope to have yet attained -the years of discretion. Little Sister says that she felt "growing -pains," but here is a figure of speech, surely. I suppose she means the -wonder of the passage from a great, wistful ignorance to a limited -knowledge; for the first part of the path of life is a very steep -up-grade. - -I myself can point to no one circumstance that revealed to me the vision -of the great march of time that is sweeping us on towards the goal. I -was for long like one who looks from the window of a railway carriage, -too busily engaged in watching the world fly past him to realize his own -motion. Neither long trousers nor razors awoke me from the -child-trance; I saw scorned infants master me by their inches; I heard -rumours of love and death and duty, but I was unmoved. It was a part of -the game of existence, and it seemed natural that persons should be -classified and remain in categories of old and young. I was a spectator -outside the merry-go-round. I was to be rich, of course; I had the mind -to dare and the will to do. I should be wise, too--why not? Sometimes I -should have memories, I thought, not knowing that I was even then living -away my life, and that this was an era to which I should look back and -deem important. - -All my reading, too, went to show that I was an amateur at living. -Things seemed really to happen in books, but not to me; there men were -swung in unknown furies, sensations were keen and impelling, and life -had the sharp sting of reality. My own emotions seemed insipid and -inadequate for a citizen of the world. Surely such minor escapades and -trivialities as mine were not worth considering. And so, when the storm -and stress came, I was ill-prepared, and at the first blow my pride went -down. Some devil, as in a dream, whispered in my ear that perhaps I -might not succeed after all, and it came to me as a summons that the -time had come to be out and doing. And I saw that the conquest of my -ambition would be achieved, not by the impetuous onslaught that should -carry all before it, but by the slow and tedious siege, laid with years -of waiting and working and watching. It was then, perhaps, though I did -not know it, that I began to grow up, and became a man. I opened my -eyes and looked about me; it was as if I had been landed fresh from the -country in the busy town, like the Sleeper Awakened. No more -field-faring and trapesing holidays under the blue sky; I must choose my -street and fight my way for it against the throng. - -It struck me with a sense of my inferiority that there was an absolute -quality of knowledge I had not mastered. Some of my classmates seemed -to know things, while I had but acquired information. They could swim; -I dared not go in over my head. They had convictions, I had only -opinions; it was the difference between the language of Frenchmen and -they who learn French. Here, I thought, was the final classification, -and I wrote myself down a witless neophyte in the world's mysteries. -For my whole education had been founded upon the value of the verity of -the straight line, and wisdom was my highest ideal. By this standard I -measured myself and my experience. I delighted in the beauty of -science, but of that other beauty which is its own excuse for being, I -did not know. I was as one who saw form without colour, or the outline -without the mass. I had not yet come to myself; I was a child yet, and -the result of my immediate environment--a mental chameleon. A few -generations of my austere ancestors impregnated my blood with their -stern virtues, and it still ran cold and tranquil in my veins. But -there were more remote and subtle influences behind me that must work -themselves out, and in some sub-stratum of consciousness the pure Greek -in me survived. - -And so it was Dianeme who brought me at last to the door of the temple, -and I saw with her eyes and heard with her ears, and the world grew -beautiful, an altogether fitting setting for her charms. And then I knew -in very truth that I had grown up; but yet, by a sublime miracle I had -in the same revelation recovered my youth--if, indeed, I had ever really -been young before! Now, succeed or fail as I might, life would always -be fair and interesting, for Dianeme was but one of a divine sisterhood, -and there were many degrees to be taken. So a kind of passion seized me -to know Life's different phases and find the secret of the whole; and -that mood, God willing, shall preserve my virginity to the end. - -So here I am, by the grace of Dianeme, on the true road to youth again, -not to that absolute unconcern of all but the present, that I once felt, -nor to the fool's paradise, where, Maida would have it, is the true -happiness--"the ability to fool one's self"--but to a kind of childlike -wonder at things (ah, Little Sister, may you never wander from it as I -did!) and the knowledge of what is really the most worth while. (And -you, Perilla, you need not pretend that you don't know, for the truth -flashes from your jest!) - -For this is the very blossom of my youth, the era of knowing, as that -was the era of being, and though there may come other dark days, as -there were before the bud burst into bloom, I have seen the beginning -and I know the law now, and I trust that the fruit of my life, the -doing, may be even more worth the while. And I shall perhaps find that -wisdom and beauty and goodness are but one thing, as the poets say--that -living is a continual growing up, and that age is only a youth that -knows why it is happy! - - - - - *A Pauper's Monologue* - - -Understand, I am not one of those who are always longing to be rich. I -do very well, ordinarily, in the shadow of prosperity, though there -comes upon me periodically the lust for gold, at which times the desire -to rush down-town and spend money indiscreetly must be obeyed. It is a -common symptom, paupers tell me, and carries with it its own remedy, -giving much the same relief that blood-letting did of old, if so be the -practice does not lead to a dangerous hemorrhage. I have my ups and -downs, like most unsalaried Bohemians, thin purse, thick purse, at -erratic intervals, but my spendthrift appetite is curiously independent -of these financial fluctuations. In fact, a miserly restraint is most -likely to seize me when my pocket is full, and I usually grow reckless -when it has no silver lining. - -There are few paupers among us who do not conceit themselves to be -artists at spending money, and believe the fit intelligence is most -wanting in those who have the means. I confess that I share their -convictions, having wasted much time in a study of the situation. Like -those planning a foreign tour, I have mapped out the golden road of -Opportunity, and know the itinerary by heart. And, without trespassing -the science of Economy, of which I am criminally ignorant (having been -somewhat prepossessed during my Sophomore courses), I submit there are -active and passive categories into which coupon-cutters may be -relegated. The symbol of your monied man is the cigar, involving a -destructive process, whether applied to food, raiment or ministry to the -senses. The greed of the collector is of the same flavour. It is the -difference between spending the money to see and to stage the play that -I mean. - -For why should an access of wealth so dull the brain that the battle -between the kings of hearts and spades seems more interesting than the -game with human knights and pawns? I have often been minded to write an -"Open Letter to Millionaires," and offer myself as a Master of their -Sports, to guide them through fields of untried sensation and novel -enterprises. I have my offers tabulated from an hundred dollars upward, -each involving the inception of activities whose ramifications would -provide diversion for years. There are twenty young men I know of in -this town who are waiting for such a chance. Why should I not be -elected to captain them? I promise you the rise and fall of stocks shall -not be more exciting than our rivalries. Indeed, brains are for sale at -absurd bargains today. Why not play them off against each other in a -game of Life? - -But these are dreams never to be realized. I am no promoter, and must -play the beggar's part. Yet I have often wondered how I would be -affected if these hopes came true, and if some capitalist, touched by my -appeal, seeing this good seed cast upon barren ground, opening his heart -and purse-strings, should present me with a modest fortune without -conditions. Could I assume the responsibility of gratitude and fly with -the load of obligation that I myself would assume? By all rules of -fiction, no! Yet if my conscience were seduced I might frame my mind to -accept debonairly and do my best. Tempt me not, millionaires, for this -is my week of longing, and my brain boils with adventurous desires. - -Yet, had I the ear of the benefactor, another mood would impel my -renunciation; for, against my will and interest, I am forced to -acknowledge that others are better fitted to be rich than I, who have -been a pauper all my life, and am not so unhappy in my misery. I know -some to whom wealth should come as a right, as has their beauty, and who -play an inconsistent part upon the stage of poverty. There is Dianeme, -who knows the names of all the roses, and can tell one etching from -another. She is so instinct with tact and taste that I feel quite -unworthy of affluence until she has been served. And there, too, is -Little Sister, who is in worse case, having once ridden on high wheels -and nestled against the padded comforts of life, now charioted by street -cars, with a motorman for a driver and a conductor for a footman. And -though it was her reverses that gave me chance to be her friend and -discover her worth, yet I fear I would put back my opportunity ten years -to give her the little luxuries she craves. She has acquired a relish -for the flesh-pots, poor Little Sister, and somehow the weakness becomes -her, as the habit of weeping fitted the eighteenth century ideals of -women. Two more pairs of silk stockings would reinstate her as a lady -complete. Not that anybody but Little Sister and her laundress would -ever see them, but they would give her a nourishing satisfaction that is -of itself worth while. - -Yet, again I wonder--if Little Sister grew rich, what would become of -me? I am told that the first pangs of the birth of Fortune are felt in -the unpleasant acquisition of new claimants to friendship, but I do not -believe this is so. I should myself fear to intrude, I am sure. There -would be so many new relations and obligations that I could not take the -friendship simply and naturally. I could make love to her by letter, -perhaps, but not in her carriage. I would miss the ungloved hand of -familiarity and enclose myself in starched formality, though I know the -pain in so doing would be mutual. For the pride of riches is as nothing -to the pride of poverty, and I am very, very poor! But surely Little -Sister must be rich again, even if I have to wait for the second table. - -And so I gracefully resign my claims to fortune, where I am so -outclassed, and make off into the open fields towards the Hills of Fame, -where the brougham of Opulence may not follow me, though I fare afoot. -For we do not get rich in my family; there is no uncle in Patagonia -whose death could benefit us, and the bag of diamonds, the hope of whose -discovery sustained my immature youth, no longer haunts my dreams. For -a long time yet I must deny myself the title of gentleman, forced as I -am to carry parcels "over three inches square," which I hear is the test -of fashionable caste. This is my last gasp. I shall be a man again -tomorrow, and if any millionaire is tempted by this appeal, he must make -haste. But I shall not be rung up from sleep tonight. It is the law of -society that Spend helps Save, and Save helps Scrimp, and Scrimp helps -Starve. - - - - - *A Young Man's Fancy* - - -Undoubtedly the most logical, though perhaps the least interesting, -method of opening the discussion of a thesis, is that employed by the -skillful carver who dissects his duck according to the natural divisions -of the subject and proceeds therewith analytically. This is the system -encouraged in academic courses and is said to enable any one to write -upon any subject. But such an essay is mighty hard reading; unless a -writer is so hungry for his theme that he forgets his manners and falls -to without ceremony the chances are that his efforts will receive scant -attention. And so I shyly speak of love. - -So few essayists write with a good appetite! And yet, see how I -restrain myself, and perforce adopt the conventional procedure, as one -too proud to betray his ravening hunger! I must be calm, I must be -polite--and you shall know only by my forgetfulness of the salt and my -attention to the bones of thought, how the game interests me. In -speaking of love, I must let my head guard my heart, too, for it is in -the endeavour to misunderstand women that we pass our most delightful -moments. They will not permit men to be too sure of them, and what you -learn from one, you must hide carefully from the next. So I begin my -fencing with a great feint of awkwardness, like a master with a -beginner, knowing well enough how likely to get into trouble is any one -who pretends innocence. - -For a long time I believed it all a conspiracy of the novelists, and -that love, so ideally depicted, was but a myth, kept alive by the craft, -to furnish a backbone for literary sensation. But there are undoubtedly -many bigoted believers in the theory of love. The women, however, who -admit that it is a lost art, complain piteously of the ineptitude of the -other sex. I confess that few men can satisfactorily acquit themselves -of the ordeal of courtship without some tuition, but, once having -acquired the rudiments of the profession, it seems inconsistent to taunt -them with the experiments of their apprenticeship. It is too much to -require a man to make a gallant wooing and then twit him with the -"promiscuousness" by which he won his facility. Yet, some, doubtless, -have learned also to defend themselves against this last accusation; it -is the test of the Passed Master. For the other, poor dolts, who never -see the opportunity for action, however adroitly presented, who speak -when they should hold tongue and leave undone all those things that they -ought to have done--the girls marry them, to be sure, but most of the -love-making is on the wrong side. There are more yawns than kisses; the -brutal question satisfies the yop, and he bungles through the -engagement, breaking doggedly through the crust of the acquaintance, -witless of the delightful perils of thin ice. - -And yet I think the subject might be mastered in four lessons with a -good teacher, so that a man of ordinary capacity could make good way for -himself. This is by no means a new theory; it is the foundation of many -a comedy of errors, this of Love with a Tutor. But go not to school of a -maid, for she will fool you to the top of your bent, nor to a married -woman either, but to a man like my younger brother here, no Lothario, -but one who can keep two steps ahead of any affair he enters. - -If a man be agile and daring, with sufficient ardour to assume the -offensive, having an audacious tongue and a wary eye with a fine sense -of congruity and tact, withal, if he can make love with a laugh and a -rhyme, as Cyrano fought, then 'tis a different matter, and he needs no -pilot to take his sweetheart over the bar and into the port. He must be -bold, but not too bold, carry a big spread of canvas, luff, reef and -tack her with no shuffling, cast the lead on the run, keeping in -soundings, and never lose headway when she comes about into a new mood. -He must bear a sensitive hand at the tiller, keep her close up to the -wind with no tremble in the leach of the sail, and gain advantage from -every tide and cross-current. Better dash against the reef than run -high and dry upon the shoal! - -It is a pity, is it not, to dissect love in such a fashion? I should -have my hero quite at the mercy of the gale of passion, and be swept -forward, he knows not how and cares not where; he should lose his wits -and take a mad delight in the fury of the storm, seeing no spot upon his -horizon. And yet I dare not be warmer, for sometime I may decide to -fall in love myself, and I would not have my chances wrecked by any -genuine confession of faith, set in type, to which She might refer, with -a beautiful taunt. No! it is better to phrase and verbalize; the -subject is too dear, and near done to its death already. I would but -suggest the cross-references, and, under a mien of the most atrocious -conceit, throw my female readers off their guard, leaving my fellow men -to read between the lines. - -For I hear that men do fall in love with women, and women fall in love -with loving. So be it. I have known girls, too, to take both vanilla -and strawberry in their soda-water, which proves them to be not -altogether simple in their tastes. The best of them will talk volubly -upon love in the abstract, while the average man (to which category I -hope I have the honour of not belonging) keeps his mouth closed on the -matter, with his tongue in his cheek, and his ideas, if he have any, -well hidden behind his words. - -So, if I avail myself of the feminine franchise, it must be done -cautiously, for many are the difficulties of the young man who would -love a girl today, and only a precious few of the old school of beaux -would understand the twentieth century's subtleties, even if all could -be explained. Many are the misfortunes in the Lover's Litany, from -which the modern maiden sighs, "Good Lord, deliver us!" A man must take -her in earnest, but he must by no means take himself too seriously; it -is proper to treat your passion cavalierly--indeed, he jests at scars -who has felt the most amorous darts, nowadays--but he must never make -himself or her ridiculous. He may take whimsical amusement in his own -conquest, but must beware "the little broken laugh that spoils a kiss." -And above all, mind you the _mise-en-scène_,--the stage must be set so -and so; the sun must not see what the moon sees. Sometimes you must -have your heart in your mouth, and sometimes on your sleeve, and oftener -she must have it herself. 'Tis very perplexing! - -The best a man can do, in this practical age, is to mean business, while -he is about it, and hold over as much for the next day as will not -interfere with his commerce elsewhere. The woman may take her romance -to bed, or keep it warm in the oven against his return, but he must be -out and down-town to earn his living as well as his loving, amongst -dollars and pounds and cent per cent, while she enjoys the traffic in -pure abstractions. And both must hide and manage as if it were a sin, -lest Mrs. Grundy undo them; they must snatch their kisses, as it were, -on horseback. Such are the victims of supercivilization! - -There was a time, the poets tell, when it was not so difficult, and a -man might wear a lady's scarf on his sleeve, and be proud of the badge. -It takes much more complicated machinery than that simple love to make -the world go round, nowadays--perhaps because it goes so much faster. -There was a time when an elopement might be picturesque and not -necessarily followed by divorce; but where now shall I find the -hard-hearted parent who shall justify the adventure? The modern mother -is too easy. She is like Mrs. Brown in the _Bab Ballads_--"a foolish, -weak but amiable old thing." She reposes a trust in her daughter that -does more credit to her affection than to her knowledge of human nature. - -But whoa! I believe I have forgotten my manners! I have insulted my -fellows, guyed the girls, and here I am on the high road to -disqualifying myself with the more respectable generation. So I shall -cease, but I will not apologize, for though I came to scoff, I shall not -remain to prey. I believe I am not more than half wrong after all. -There is love, and there is loving, and if you have followed me, you -know which is which. It was Rosalind who said, "Some Cupid kills with -arrows, some with traps!" How she would smile and sneer at this -verbiage! She knew a lover from a philanderer, she had her opinion of -the laggard and the butterfly rover, and she would no doubt say: "Cupid -hath clapped him on the shoulder, but I'll warrant him heart-whole!" - - - - - *Where is Bohemia?* - - -The name "Bohemian" was first used to describe the gypsies of that -nationality who appeared in France in the thirteenth century, but to us -the term has come to carry with it a wider significance than any -dependent upon that little kingdom in the north of Austria, and only a -few characteristic traits of those wandering vagabonds survive in those -who bear, whether in reproach or praise, the appellation "Bohemian." - -To take the world as one finds it, the bad with the good, making the -best of the present moment--to laugh at Fortune alike whether she be -generous or unkind--to spend freely when one has money, and to hope -gaily when one has none--to fleet the time carelessly, living for love -and art--this is the temper and spirit of the modern Bohemian in his -outward and visible aspect. It is a light and graceful philosophy, but -it is the Gospel of the Moment, this exoteric phase of the Bohemian -religion; and if, in some noble natures, it rises to a bold simplicity -and naturalness, it may also lend its butterfly precepts to some very -pretty vices and lovable faults, for in Bohemia one may find almost -every sin save that of Hypocrisy. - -Yet, if we were able without casuistry to divide misdeeds into two -categories, those subjective and objective in their direct -effects--separating those sins which hurt only the sinner from those -which act upon his fellows--the Bohemian would, perhaps, be found to -have fewer than most of this harsher, crueller sort. His faults are -more commonly those of self-indulgence, thoughtlessness, vanity and -procrastination, and these usually go hand-in-hand with generosity, love -and charity; for it is not enough to be one's self in Bohemia, one must -allow others to be themselves, as well. - -So much for the common definition of this much-used name. But no -English word can stand for long in its primary meaning. It must change -insensibly, growing from day to day, till it embraces the spirit as well -as the letter of the fact it expresses. The word "gentleman" has thus -grown with a secondary, spiritual significance; so has the word "prayer" -by the interpretation of a more liberal, far-reaching thought. So with -the name "Bohemian"--it has ranged beyond the vagrom, inconstant, -happy-go-lucky, devil-may-care, hand-to-mouth follower after pleasure, -and now under its banner may be found more serious enthusiasts who are -not afraid to offend smug respectability, and are in more or less open -revolt against convention, bigotry and prejudice. It is their bond that -they have forsworn allegiance to Mrs. Grundy. They dare be themselves -without pretentious, they make and keep their friends without -compromise. - -What, then, is it that makes this mythical empire of Bohemia unique, and -what is the charm of its mental fairyland? It is this: there are no -roads in all Bohemia! One must choose and find one's own path, be one's -own self, live one's own life. Whether one makes for the larger freedom -of the hills, or loses one's self in the sacred stillness of the forest, -the way is open to endeavour wherever one wills. Yet, though there is -no beaten track, there are still signs in the wilderness showing where -master minds have passed. Here is a broken jug beneath the bough, -snowed under with drifting rose petals, where one frail-souled dreamer -loitered on the way, and, with his Beloved, filled the cup that clears -Today of past regrets and future fears, singing out his heart in lovely -plaint. And here, along a higher trail, a few blazings in the forest -mark where another great Bohemian in this life exempt from public haunt -found tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones -and good in everything. - -Within Bohemia are many lesser states, and these I have roughly charted -on my travels, so that, though I may have left some precincts -unexplored, I know at least that these territories lying on my map are -veritable provinces of this land of freedom and sincerity. On the shore -of the magic Sea of Dreams, beyond whose horizon dances the Adventurous -Main, lies the Pays de la Jeunesse, the country of Youth and Romance, a -joyous plaisaunce free from care or caution, whose green, wide fields -lie bathed in glamorous sunshine. To the eastward lie the pleasant -groves of Arcady, the dreamland, home of love and poetry. Here in this -Greek paradise of rustic simplicity and joyous innocence and hope, has -lived every poet who has ever sung the lyric note, and here have -visited, for some brief space, all who have dreamed, all who have -longed, all who have loved. Here is the old joy of life made manifest -and abundant; here Mother Nature speaks most clearly to her children. -For the most, however, it is but a holiday country, and they who -discover it often pass, never to return, forgetting its glories and its -mysteries as they forget that lost country of their youth, counting it -all illusion. Yet some few come back to the Port of Peace to lose the -world again, renewing the immemorial enchantment. - -To the south, over the long procession of the hills, lies Vagabondia, -home of the gypsy and wanderer, who claims a wilder freedom beneath the -stars--outlawed or voluntary exile from all restraint. This country is -rocky and precipitate, full of dangers, a land of feverish unrest. - -One other district lies hidden and remote, locked in the central -fastnesses of Bohemia. Here is the Forest of Arden, whose greenwood -holds a noble fellowship, bound in truth and human simplicity. It is a -little golden world apart, and though it is the most secret, it is the -most accessible of refugees, so that there are never too many there, and -never too few. Here is spoken a universal language, Nature's own -speech, the native dialect of the heart. Men come and go from this -bright country, but once having been free of the wood, you are of the -Brotherhood and recognize your fellows by instinct, and know them, as -they know you, for what you are. - -Now, as Bohemia, unfortunately, is not an island, it has its neighbours -and its frontiers. To the west lies Philistia, arid, dry and flat, the -abode of shams, dogmas and sluggish creeds. Here stands Vanitas, -overlooking a great desert, walled in by custom, guarded by false pride. -It is but a step over the border, however, from Bohemia the true to that -false Debatable Ground whose affectations are more insincere even than -the shams of the real Philistia, and the youngster, questing the -hero-haunted country of his youth, chasing his phantoms, may go wide of -his reckoning, misled by the mockery of life made by these disguised -Philistines. In the City of Shams, hypocrites are content to assume the -virtues they have not, but here on the borders of Bohemia their vices -are all pretense as well! - -On the further boundary of Bohemia, also, hangs an unsavoury neighbour. -Here is a madder and more terrible domain, the land of lust and cruelty, -lawless and loveless, dwelling in endless war. To this fierce country -Vagabondia lies perilously near, and many a wanderer has crossed the -frontier to find himself, before he knew, within that evil land, where -freedom has become licence, and tolerance grown into Anarchy. - -Wide across all three empires stretch the Hills of Fame. In Philistia -men must be born great; there is no other distinction possible save that -of riches or inherited power. In Bohemia men achieve greatness, working -onward and upward, bringing their own great dreams to fulfillment; while -in Licentia, those only become great who have an infamous notoriety -thrust upon them by their own high crimes. - -We cannot all mount those heights from whose crest one may look over the -Sea of Care, past the Isle of Idleness to the Adventurous Main, but -there is joy enough on the lowland. Happy indeed is he who, in his -journey of life, has escaped the perils of that false Bohemia, crouching -on the frontier, and has found his way to the happy forest, met his own -people and drunk of the Fountain of Immortal Youth; for there is the -warm, beating, human heart of the True Bohemia! - - - - - *The Bachelor's Advantage* - - -There are enough who think "a young man married is a young man marred" -to cause the bachelor to hesitate before renouncing his liberties, and -to fight shy of entanglement as long as possible. If he writes down the -"pros" and "cons," like Robinson Crusoe, he will find he has many -advantages in his single state that must inevitably be forfeited when he -weds. - -It is not only that "when I was single my pockets would jingle, I would -I were single again"; it is not so much, either, that his play-day will -be over and he must "settle down," stop butterfly-lovering to and fro, -and gathering the roses as he goes, and have no haunting white face -sitting up for him at home to ask him why, and how, and where. This -licence, if he be a man of sentiment, he willingly foregoes for the -larger possibilities of satisfactory comradeship and sympathy. He can -pay double rent and taxes, too, without grumbling; take manfully the -shock of surprise when expenses jump with the new establishment; he may -be initiated in doctors' fees, and submit debonairly to a thousand -restrictions of time, place and opportunity. But more piquant than any -of these trials is the discovery that he has lost his old-time place and -privilege of welcome as a bachelor--that "come any time" hospitality of -his dearest friends. He is saddled with a secondary consideration. - -Try as he may, no young man can marry to please his whole acquaintance. -The world, for the most part, still looks with patronizing approval upon -a girl's wedding so long as she chooses or is chosen by a man not -hopelessly impossible. She has embraced an opportunity and usually her -mother cultivates a grateful fondness for the son-in-law. If he has a -scarcity of amiable traits she will even manufacture them for him, and -put them on the market with display. Not so the mother of the groom. -She analyses the bride with incisive dissection, and it is hardly -possible that any woman shall be found quite worthy to mate with her -son. It takes a woman to read women, she says, and the little wife has -to make a fight for each step of the road from condescension through -complaisance to compliment. - -The young man's friends, too, are exigent, and he soon finds that, -though the two have been made one in the sight of law and clergy, -society knows no such miraculous algebra. You may squeeze in an extra -chair at the dinner table for a desirable and "interesting young man," -but to include another lady, and that his wife, requires a tiresome -rearrangement. He does not come alone ordinarily, nor would he if -asked, and so he drops out of his little world and must set about the -creation of a new one. He may have had latch-key privileges at a dozen -houses, free to come night or morning, the recipient of many sudden -invitations for theatre, supper or country--but that is all over. It is -his turn to do the inviting. The table has been well turned when he -sits down to meat! - -Is it to be wondered at, then, that the bachelor is selfish? He escapes -lightly the lesson of compromise; his whole life is a training in -egoism, and he makes the most of his desirability, getting usually far -more than he gives. He is free to experiment in acquaintance though it -goes no farther than innocuous flirtation. He may make friendships for -himself and break them at will, lightly dodging the tie. There are -hundreds in every city who need go only where they wish, skipping even -"duty calls," sure of forgiveness. He may know men and women he cares -for, and, through the lack of experience in a life-long intimacy, he may -preserve many illusions as to women. If he has an income, or a -profession that demands no abode, he can wander "to and fro in the earth -and walk up and down in it" free as Satan. He travels the farthest who -travels alone. - -Still, this cannot go on forever, and his franchise wanes. With the -first pang of middle age Nature asserts her imperious demand for -permanent companionship. The "cons" grow heavier, and the "pros" more -attractive. He sees maid after maid of his younger fancy pass out of -the game without regret, but the first sight of the new generation -strikes him to the heart. He is "uncled" by more and more adopted -nephews and nieces, and the sight of their fresh eyes awakens the -immemorial longing in him. And then, suddenly, another "pro" comes upon -the list, an undeniable item of importance, throwing its influence so -heavily upon the side of marriage that no number of his foolish little -"cons" can ever balance the account. He is in love, and there is but one -definition for that state. It is the immediate, ravenous, compelling -desire for a wife. There is nothing for it but to renounce allegiance -to his old friends and become naturalized into a new citizenship. - -But though all over town the doors to which he cried "open sesame" bang -sullenly to shut him out, he does not notice it if that one portal lets -him in! - - - - - *The Confessions of an Ignoramus* - - -Musicians tell me that I am exceptionally fortunate. I know absolutely -nothing of music. It is not a bald, fathomless innocence, however. I -am not tone-deaf, for instance, and certain compositions please me; and, -knowing nothing, I have been treated with indulgent complaisance by the -profession, and amongst them I have the unique licence of being -privileged to like whatever I choose. It is no small distinction this, -nowadays, when one is nicely and strictly rated by his compliance to the -regnant mode, but I have to fight tooth and nail to defend my innocence. -I have determined that whatever happens, I will not be educated. - -For a while, once on a time, I hazarded my franchise of free speech and -weakly accepted the tutelage of a master, that I might at least gain a -familiarity with the catch-words of the musical fraternity. It was the -more reprehensible and foolish because I had already lost my virginity -in art circles by the same servility. Long ago I learned to phrase and -gesticulate at the picture galleries, and try as I may, I cannot forget -the formulas. I learned to stand with eyes half closed before a -painting, and waving my hand, murmur, "I like _this_ part, in here!" I -caught that knowing waggle of the right thumb, and prated of "modelling, -tricky work, atmosphere, composition, values," and such humbuggery. I -could say, straight-faced, and with a vicious, explosive gesture, "Oh, -it's good in colour, but it just lacks _that_, you know!" By Jove! I -was in it up to the ears before I knew it, and now my critiques are -retailed to the semi-elect as coming from one of the Cognoscenti. I -have learned the terminology of the craft so well that my very -instructors have forgotten my novitiate; but an art exhibition is a -horror to me, for I go bound by the tenure of hypocrisy and dare not -walk freely, forced to rattle my chains as I limp through the forbidden -pastures of delight--the candy box pictures and chromos that my soul -loves with that fierce first love that never dies. - -So I have learned to avoid the Pierian spring now, having escaped the -seductions of Euterpe by the merest chance. He is said to be a fool who -is caught twice by the same trick, and I write myself down a -worse-witted clown yet when I confess how far on the high-road to folly -I was before I jumped the fence of conventional parlance and broke for -the wide fields where lies my freedom. - -I had been led astray by practicing the non-committal remark, "Oh, what -_is_ that?" as soon as the piano keys cooled off from the startling -massage of the furious performer. I was bold. I even dared to be the -first to speak, and I threw ambiguous meanings into that well-known -exclamation, for I was assured it was always safe, whether it followed a -Moskowski mazurka hot from the blunt fingers of a Kansas City poor -relation, or a somnolent Chopinian prelude hypnotized by the evening -star. I learned that the statute of Absorbed Attention had expired, and -that the lifted eyebrow, the semi-concealed shrug, the overt smile -behind the performer's back, and the _ex post facto_ rescindment of all -these in one mucilaginous compliment, were now good taste. Bah! I -sickened of it all soon enough, for I had been piously brought up, and -my Puritan blood was anti-toxic to the corruptions of the musical -microbe. - -And so I have forgotten to speak of Grieg as a "mere sentimentalist" and -all the rest of the Pharisee's Phrase-book, thank God! I can hear the -"Mill in the Forest" and check up its verisimilitudes, item by item, -even as I have dared to renew my youth with Charles Dickens, and laugh, -cry, and grow hot and cold with Scott's marionettes. - -Yet, as I said, my innocence is not altogether empty. There is, indeed, -no such thing in life as absolute darkness; one's eyes revolt and hasten -to fill the vacuum by floating in sparks, dream-patterns, figures -whimsical and figures grotesque, shifting, clad in complimentary colors, -to appease the indignant cups and rods of the retina. And so my musical -ignorance is alive with a fey intelligence of its own. I have come at -last to an original conception of what is good and what is bad by its -mere psychological effect, as illogical as a woman's intuition, yet as -absolute and empirical as the test of acid and alkali by litmus. - -It has come to this, that I know now I shall never hear good music -again. When I was young the phrase "classical music" was still extant -(I come of the middle classes, where one calls a spade a spade), and -that variety of sound, "the most expensive of noises," was as -incomprehensible as was the training for its appreciation arduous; so -that beauty for its own sake was unknown, or lurked behind the -horizontal mountains of Truth that shut in the New England landscape. - -But as my knowledge and love of art grew, and I mingled with those that -spoke this foreign tongue of beauty, I had opportunity of hearing music, -the only music that was worth while to them, the music that endures and -lives, continually virile and creative. Curiously enough, and unhappily -for me, so long a stranger to such influences, I found that some -compositions spelled me with their subtlety, tranced me into revery, -while others awakened active feelings of amusement, surprise, or -scientific curiosity as to their construction; and so, ignorant of -technique and composition, harmony, and all the rules of the art, I have -gone back to the woman in me, and trust to her little ounce of instinct. - -When the vibrant chords, the sobbing pulsations and the mystical nuances -grow faint and die away as my dream mounts on the wings of an invisible -melody, leaving the sawing bows, the brazen curly horns, the discs, -cylinders, strings, keys, triangles, curves and tubes, with which -paraphernalia the magicians of the orchestra have bewitched me, far, -far, far below where I soar aloft, naked and alone in the secret spaces -of my soul,--I know (not then, but afterward) that the talisman has been -at work, and as the rhythm dies and I drop, drop to the world again and -turn to the trembling, wide-eyed girl at my left, and am roused by the -brutal applause that surges around me,--I know that this was music. But -I have not heard it. Alas! Shall I never hear it? - - - - - *A Music-Box Recital* - - -Hid secretly in my heart, I long had a passion for music-boxes. While I -was innocent of the ways of the world, and thought that Art, as some -think that Manners, had a ritual to which one must conform in order to -be considered a gentleman, I hid this low-born taste from my friends and -talked daintily of Brahms, his frozen music, of the architectural -sonata, and other things I did not understand. How musicians and -artists must have laughed at me when they saw my hands--square, -constructive palms, wilful thumbs and mechanical fingers! Music-box -hands! But though I had long ceased cutting stencils of other people's -thoughts and frescoing my own vanity therewith, I dared not confess to -John this wretchedly vulgar _penchant_ for the music-box of -Commerce--the small, varnished, brass and cedar affair, which is the -only instrument I can play. - -But at ten of the clock one night the yearning became so intense in me -that I burst the bonds of my discretion, and lo! at the first word John -fell heavily into my arms. He, too, cherished this unhallowed joy in -secret, and had long hidden this _tendresse_ behind a mask of propriety. -We dried our eyes, and were into overcoats and out on the street in a -single presto measure, set to a swift staccato march for the Bowery. We -must have a music-box apiece before we slept--we swore it in a great -forte oath! Prestissimo! but we were hungry for a good three-dollar -package of discord! It was none of these modern contrivances with -perforated discs and interchangeable tunes we were after; not the -penny-in-the-slot, beer saloon air-shaker nor the authropomorphic -Pianola; only the regulation old-fashioned Swiss instrument would serve, -the music-box of our youth, the wonderful, complicated little engine -with a cylinder bristling with pins that picked forth harmonies from the -soul of a steel comb, its melody limpid with treble accompaniments -lithely sustained at the small end, where the teeth are small and -active, with a picture of children skating on the cover top, and -beneath, under glass--oh! rapture!--the whirring wheels all in sight, -tempting the small, inquisitive finger of youth. - -After an incredible amount of discussion as to the relative merits of -the repertoires, we came to a decision and fled home, to abandon -ourselves to the distractions of our tiny orchestras. The boxes were so -full of music! They have been trying to empty themselves ever since, -but the magic purse seems inexhaustible. One night, in my idyllic -youth, a German band played all night long under my window; but now I -could carry the divine gift of music in my overcoat pocket! I was like -that Persian monarch for whom was made the first pair of shoes. "Your -Majesty," said his vizier, "now at last for you, indeed, is the whole -world covered with leather, as thou hast demanded!" O Allah! Now for -me was the whole world patrolled with German bands! They played "Say Au -Revoir, but not Good-bye" under my pillow; they gave me "Honey, my -Honey" as I ate my breakfast. - -Before the week was up we had learned every tune by heart, down to the -last grace-note in the accompaniment. We had learned, too, the sequence -of tunes, inevitable, unchanging as the laws of the Medes of old. Never -again shall I be able to hear "Sweet Marie" played without a shock that -it is not followed by the "Isabella Waltz!" Never again shall I hear -the end of "Honey, my Honey" without a tremble of nervous suspense till -comes the little _click!_ of the shooting cylinder, the apprehensive -pause, and then--hurrah! the first gay notes of "Sweet Marie!" - -But we could not long endure the perfect simplicity of the airs, and the -old touch of supercivilization led us on to attempt to vary and improve -the performance of our songs. It was John who discovered the virtue of -a few pillows stuffed on top of the machine, and he achieved immense -_con expressione_ effects by waving the box wildly in the air. I -contented myself with changing the angle of the fan-wheel so as to make -it play _allegro_; then one got so very much music in such a very little -while--surely a pardonable gluttony! Had my box been larger I might -have heard seven complete operas in an hour, like the old Duke in -"Sylvie and Bruno!" Yet, after all, it was versatility of quality, -rather than mere quantity, that should be the greatest victory, and we -set out on experiments in _timbre_. At last we found, John and I, that -by inserting a little paper cylinder under the glass, so as to press on -the keys, we could give Sousa the grip, as one might say, and he would -cough and wheeze in a way to amply discredit the statement that there is -no such thing as humour in music. A greater thickness of paper gives the -effect of a _duo_ with mandolin and banjo, and this was by far the most -successful of our variations. - -I should end as I began, I know, by a bit of maudlin philosophical -moralysis. I might, for instance, trace the resemblances in the musical -world and say that for me the conductor waving his baton is as one who -winds the key to a very human music-box, in which each tooth of the comb -is a living, vibrant human being. Or I might broach a flagon of -morality, forbye, and show how each one of us plays his little mental -tunes in a set routine, wound up by the Great Musician; what devils -stick their fingers into our works, and bid us play more fast or slow, -more loud, more low; what jests of Fate, who inserts her cacophonous -paper cylinder that we may wheeze through misfortunate obbligatos of -pain. - -But no! My forelegs are stuck in the bog of realism, and I shall not -budge from the literal presentation, for my little kingdom of delight -suffered a revolution! It was John's fault, for John had been affecting -a musical countess who gave afternoon talks on the "art of listening," -in a studio--dry molecular analyses of Kneisel Quartets and such like -verbiage. So he came home late one night, while a music-box was bowling -away merrily upon the couch with a one-pillow soft pedal. It was my -music-box, too! - -"Bah!" he swore, "your box phrases so abominably. It is so cold, so -restrained, so colourless! Hear mine, now--isn't that an excellent -_pianissimo_? There's polished technique! There's _chiaro scuro_! Oh, -listen to that 'Cat Came Back!' My machine is an artist; yours is a -mere _virtuoso_. Mine is a Joachim, a d'Albert; yours is a Musin, a de -Kontski. Get onto the smooth, suave _legato_ of this wonderful box! -Hear its virile octaves! Hark to those scales, like strings of -white-hot pearls dropping upon velvet!" He was moaning and tossing as -he snored these parodies. It was a nightmare, both for him and for me. -At four o'clock, in the first pink grey of the morning, I could endure -it no longer. I arose haggardly and threw the two music-boxes into the -fire! - - - - - *A Plea for the Precious* - - -Now if a youth as mad-headed as I, without bookishness or literary -education of any sort, with neither much of anything to say, nor much -desire to say anything--if such a charlatan would have his wares bought -and his words read, he must be antic beyond his contemporains (a shorter -word than the English equivalent, whereby I go forward one step in -brevity and back two in translation). He must pique curiosity and tempt -the reader on; he must pay a contango, which is, by the same token, a -premium paid for the privilege of deferring interest. He must in short, -be "precious," a quality essentially self-conscious. This has been at -times a popular pose in Letters, and when successful it is a -sufficiently amusing one, as poses go; but I name no names for the sake -of the others who fall between the stools of purpose and pretence--who -tie, as one might say, two one-legged beggars together and think they -have made a whole man. - -If I have lured you so far into the web of my vagary, pray come into my -parlour, too, and be hung for the whole sheep that you are, that I may -fleece you close with my sophistries before you go. I have but one toy -here to amuse you. I juggle idioms and balance phrases upon my pen, and -whether you laugh at me or with me, I care not, _moi_. But as seriously -as is possible (seriousness is not my present pose, I assure you), I -would I might wheedle some of your dogged, clogged, rugged, ragged, -fagged, foggy wits out of you, and constrain you to accept my pinchbeck -for true plate the while; for I have a little sense in my alloy, after -all, and you might go further and fare the worse than by my chatter. If -I dared I would jump boldly into my thesis, without apologies; but it so -happens that it is one that should be itself its own illustration. I -should convince you of its truth by its own garment of expression, -instead of depending upon my logical introductory presentation. But -this I fear to try. My pistols, I fear, are, as the Duchess of Malfi -might say, loaded with nothing but perfumes and kissing-comfits. - -Now that you are well a-muddled, and like to turn to a saner page, let -me button-hole you with one clean statement while you stand, gasping. -Indeed I fear that a dozen have fled already from my gibbering, and I -speak to but one sullen survivor, determined to collect his promised -interest. We know, then, the joy of colour, taste, sound and odour as -mere sensual gratifications, undiluted with significance. But, since I -seldom read, I have never seen the apology for the sensual pleasures of -diction, pure and simple in its essence. Swinburne, I hear, has his -lilts and harmonies in poesy, and perhaps that is the nearest like, -except for the Purpose that drives his chariot; but I am for that -runaway mood that gallops gayly forth into Nowhere, unguided and -unrestrained. A twenty bookmen shall come up to me, no doubt, with -their index fingers set upon examples, but I am happier in my ignorance, -and I prefer to think it has not yet been done--or, at least, not -exactly as I mean. Indeed, you may depend upon me to evade proof with -some quibble. - -Your didactic prose is a wain, pulled over the hard city street. Fiction -is the jaunting-car that paddles down the by-side lane. Poetry wallops -you along the bridle path with your mistress Muse on a pillion, and, but -very rarely, dares across country, over a low hedge or two (but always -after some fleeting hare of thought); but I--I am for the reckless run -over the moor and downs--the riderless random enthusiasm of nonsense! -So out of my way, gentlemen of the red coats, or I bowl you down! -Mazeppa might do for a figure, but his steed was hampered with the load; -his runaway had too savage an import, and it is my purpose to be only a -little mad. Pegasus is a forbidden metaphor nowadays. He is hackneyed -by the livery of vulgar stables. I prefer that Black Horse, vanned and -terrible, who flicked out the eyes of the Second Calender, as my mount -is like to serve me! - -In the Sonata is an exemplification of my theory. There, now, is a -vehicle that carries no passengers, save what one's fancy lades it -with--it charges and soars with no visible rein to guide it, except when -a thread of melody steers it into some little course of delight. So -there is a secret rhythm in the best prose that is more subtile than the -metres of verse, and which is to the essay what the expression of the -face is to the talker. One may, indeed, use that same word, expression -or gesture, instead of the common term, style. But a common or house -observation shows us that there is some pleasure in the face whose lips -are dumb, and I dare say there is joy for the coxcomb and female fop in -the unworn gown, as it hangs on its lonely nail, or is draped on the lay -figure of meaningless, meaningful form. So it is to such hair-brains -and cockatoos I appeal. Come to my Masquerade and let us for a wild -half-hour wear the spangles and tights of palestric impropriety, hid by -a visor that shall not betray our thought. In this lesser pantomime one -may be irrelevant, inconsequent and immature, and sport the flower of -thought that has not yet fruited into purpose. - -Can you find your way through this frivolity, mixed metaphor and tricksy -phrase, and see what a wanton a paragraph may become when one sends it -forth, free from the conventional moralities of licenced Literature? I -have been to many such debauch, and have got so drunk on adjectives that -I thought all my thoughts double. In this Harlequinade, too, there are -more games than my promised Sonata. I will mock you the "Mill in the -Forest," or any other descriptive piece, with coloured words, parodying -your orchestra with graphic nonsense. I will paint the charms of the -dance in seductive syllables; or no! better--the long forthright swing -of the skater, this way, that way, fast and faster, the Ice King's -master, the nibble of the cold, the brush of the rasping breeze, the -little rascally hubbies where the wind has pimpled the surface, and the -dark, blue-black slippery glare beyond, where--damn it! I shock you -with a raucous expletive, and you plunk into a dash of ice-cold -remonstrance up to your ears, and flounder, cold and dripping, -tooth-loose, and grey with fright! - -So, at the expense of good taste and to the grief of the judicious, I -force my point upon you. _En garde, messieurs_, and answer me! I find -few enough who can play the game with me or for me. The age of Chivalry -is gone, in horsemanship as well as in feats of arms and sword-play. -Who knows the demi-volt, the caracole, the curvet, the capriole or the -rest of the Seven Movements? Who is elegant in the High Manege or -Raised Airs? Who prances for the sheer delight of gallant rhetoric, on -Litotes, Asteism or Onomatopoeia? Fain would I be bedevilled, but the -Magi are passed away. I must fall back on Dr. Johnson's pious flim-flam, -but the humours of his verbiage are in me, not in him. - -Yet the New Century Carnival is proclaimed and, over the water, there -are, I hear, a few who are to revel with King Rex in the Empire of -Unreason. On this side the nearest we have got to it is a little -machine-made nonsense, ground out for the supposititious amusement of -babes. But what I mean is neither second childhood, nor bombast, nor -buffoonery, nor silliness, nor even insanity--though that is nearest the -mark--but a tipsy Hell-raising with this wine of our fine old English -speech. It has been too long corked up and cobwebbed by tradition, -sanctified to the Elect, and discreetly dispensed at decorous dinner -tables by respectable authors, and ladies-with-three-names who also -write. It has been too long sipped and tasted mincingly out of the -cut-glass goblets of the literary table. Gentlemen-inebriates all, I -wave you the red flag! A torch this way! What ho! Roysterers! Up -younglings, quodlings, dabchicks, devil-may-cares and mad-mannered -blades! To the devil with the tip-staves and tithing-men, constables, -beadles, vergers, deputy sheriffs and long-lipped parsons! A raid on -the wine-cellar to break flagons of good English, and drink, drink, -drink, till your heads spin! There is still joy and intoxication in the -jolly old bottles that Shakespeare and his giddy-phrased Buccaneering -crew of poets filled! "By Gad--slid! I scorn it, to be a consort for -every humdrum, hang them, scroyles!" - - - - - *Sub Rosa* - - -Perhaps I am as discreet, honourable and loyal as the ordinary man, but -I confess that at times I have a frantic desire to escape to the moon -and tell all I know, or to unburden myself of the weight of dynamic -confidences, pouring my revelations into the ears of some responsive -idiot. In the old days a corpse was fastened to the felon's back in -punishment of certain crimes, and to me a secret seems almost as deadly -a load. The temptation to vivify the tale and make it walk abroad on -its own legs is hard to deny. - -There are secrets so dangerous that to possess them is foolhardy. It is -like storing dynamite in one's drawing-room; an explosion is always -imminent, and publication would mean disaster. I have known secrets -myself, so outrageous, so bulging with scandal, that, had I not promptly -forgotten them, they would have undone society twenty times over! There -is a titilating pleasure in the keeping of such terrific truths and it -increases one's inward pride to think that one knows of another what, if -told, would change the aspect of a life. The temptation to tell is like -being in church and suddenly seized with an almost irresistible impulse -to shriek aloud, or like standing at the verge of a cliff and being -impelled to throw one's self over. To give way to the perfidious -thought means moral death, and when one falls, one brings others down as -well. - -Many of us, though we conceit ourselves to be worthy of trust, are, as -regards our secrets, in a state of unstable equilibrium. Women, seeing -and feeling things more personally and subjectively than men, are -especially hazardously poised. So long as the friendship with the -confidant is preserved, the secret is safe, but let estrangement come, -and suddenly the balance becomes top-heavy; one's morality falls and the -secret escapes in the crash of anger. I have known women who felt -themselves quite free to tell secrets when the proper owner of them -proved guilty of unfaithfulness. The difference in viewpoint of the -sexes seems to be this: men have a definite code of honour, certain -well-recognized laws of conduct acknowledged even by those who do not -always obey them. "The brand of the dog is upon him by whom is a secret -revealed." If a woman is honourable (in the man's sense of the term), -it is a test of her individual character, and not of conformity to any -feminine ethical system. - -Most men, for instance, and some women (especially when influenced by -love or great friendship), will keep a confidence not only passively, -but actively. As Kipling's _Hafiz_ teaches:-- - - "If there be trouble to Herward, and a lie of the blackest can - clear, - Lie, while thy lips can move, or a man is alive to hear!" - -It seems right, too, that in lesser cases one is justified in lying to -protect one's own secret, as in disavowing the authorship of an -anonymous book; for one surely need not be at the mercy of every -questioner. The true confidant is not a mere negative receptacle for -your story, but a positive ally. - -On the other hand, there are those who hold that a singular and prime -friendship dissolves all other obligations whatsoever, and that secrets -betrayed are the greatest sacrifices possible upon the altar of love. -Montaigne says, "The secret I have sworn not to reveal to any other I -may, without perjury, communicate to him who is not another, but -myself." There are few friendships nowadays so close as his with -Estienne de la Boëtie (who, himself, "would not so much as lie in -jest"); theirs was one of the great friendships of history; but there is -much casuistry used by those who would manifest their importance in -knowing mysterious things. They obey the letter of the law and tell -without really telling, letting the truth leak out in wise hints and -suggestions, or they tell part of a tale and hoodwink themselves into -thinking that they have violated no confidence. Yet nothing is so -dangerous as half a truth. It is like pulling one end of a bow-knot. -Sooner or later it is inevitable that the hearer will come across the -other side, and the cat will be out of the bag. - -But some secrets have so great a fiction interest, or such sensational -psychology that one is quite unable to refrain from telling the tale, -without names, or localities, perhaps, merely for the story's sake. This -is, perhaps, permissible when one really tells for the study of human -nature rather than as gossip. It is dangerous always, but a clever -person can so distort certain details that the true characters can never -be traced. For myself, I would never demand absolute confidence, for I -would never tell anything to anybody whose discretion I could not -absolutely trust, and a friend can as often aid one by telling at the -proper time as by keeping silent. - -Some secrets are told only for the purpose of being repeated. What one -cannot tell one's self one must get others to tell for one, and this -trick is the theme of many a farce. Women understand this perfectly; it -is their code, and men laugh at it, feeling themselves superior. The -three quickest ways of communication, cynics say, are telephone, -telegraph, and tell-a-woman. Women are notoriously fond of secrets; it -is their only chance for romance. No man who desires to obtain a -woman's affection should forget this. Not that it is necessary to -initiate her into your affairs, but you will, as soon as possible, see -that something happens which she may consider it wise not to tell. -Cement her interest with some lively secret that ties you to her -irrevocably, so that she cannot come across your photograph or your -letter without a knowing smile. - -There are those, too, who hold that their own idea of a secret's -importance is the excuse for divulgence or defense, but a man of honour -will keep the secret of a child as closely as that of an intimate -friend. The ass who surrounds his every narration with mystery and -takes needless precautions, has his rights, and though you may hear the -tale at the next corner you are still bound to silence. Some respect -their own secrets but not those of others and have no compunctions -against wheedling out a confidence from a weak acquaintance, thereby -becoming accessory to the fact of his faithlessness. A secret -discovered should be held as sacred as a secret confided. - -The desire to tell secrets is one of the most contagious of diseases, -and few of us are immune. Some vigorous moral constitutions never -succumb, but once an epidemic begins, it is hard work stopping it, and a -secret on the rampage is well nigh irresistible. Tell your secret, then, -broadcast, and let it have its way until it dies out, or else lock it in -your own heart. But above all confide it not to her who asserts that -she never has the slightest desire to tell, for there, like a seed sown -in fertile ground, it will germinate and flower long after you have -forgotten it, aye, and bring forth fruit you never planted. - - - - - * * * * * * * * - - - - - *Books by Gelett Burgess* - - -VIVETTE: or, The Memoirs of the Romance Association. With a Map of -Millamours, by the Author. 152 pp., 8vo. Small, Maynard & Co., Boston. -$1.25. - -A GAGE OF YOUTH: Poems, chiefly from the "Lark," Set Forms, Lyrics and -Ballads. 58 pp., small 8vo. Small, Maynard & Co., Boston. $1.00. - -THE LIVELY CITY O' LIGG: A Cycle of Modern Fairy Tales for City -Children. With 53 illustrations (8 in colour) by the Author, 210 pp., -small 4to. Frederick A. Stokes Co., New York. $1.50. - -GOOPS, AND HOW TO BE THEM: A Manual of Manners for Polite Infants, in -Rhyme. With 90 illustrations by the Author. 88 pp., small 4to. -Frederick A. Stokes Co., New York. 4th edition. $1.50. - -THE BURGESS NONSENSE BOOK: Being a Complete Collection of the Humorous -Masterpieces of Gelett Burgess, Esq. With 196 illustrations by the -Author. 239 pp., small 4to, heavy paper. Frederick A. Stokes Co., New -York. $2.15. - -THE ROMANCE OF THE COMMONPLACE: A Collection or Essays upon the Romantic -View of Life. 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