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-J-'f*^ 
 
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 '■Wh>')^} 
 
 ;n, "/I ,. i^'- ;";^- 
 
 THE 
 
 STOLEN WHITE ELEPHANT 
 
 Zi^ 
 
 V 
 
.i.::i&*j*: 
 
 
 ■;l 
 
 
 i 
 
 / 
 
 UasffitfiSsife-* 
 
THE 
 
 Stolen White Elephant 
 
 ETC. 
 
 BY 
 
 MARK TWAIN 
 
 (SAMUEL L. CLEMENS) 
 
 TORONTO 
 
 THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY 
 
 LIMITED 
 
P5I2 Si-5^ 
 S 7 
 
 :JJ 
 
 I rj 
 
 Mt 
 

 CONTENTS. 
 
 ' nu BiouDi Wmn Suphaiit 
 8oia BAMuna Kom or in inu Kxoimnoir ... ^ 
 
 iHi FAon oosonvua nu maurr Oi»inyn. of Gbimb 
 i» CkmiionouT ^ 
 
 Abouy ]CAovAviMous.iirOTDiirT LmiATinii. , . . iio 
 IPwroH, Bbothim^ PiriroR , ' ^^ 
 
 A O^TionB IzpmnroB 
 
 Thi Ouuv fiBVQLunoir nr PnoAnur ... , , ^ jy, 
 
 »8. MoWlLLUMS AHD TBI LiGHnmiO .^ , ^ . ,9, 
 
 0» m D«C4T OF THI Ak of Ltuto . , ,p. 
 
 Aw Ivooinraui wirv ah Umsnwwn * . . . sw 
 
 Pabu Kons 
 
 . 9M 
 
 LIW WD OF BAOWFttD. llf OmifAMT . , . . »» 
 
 8nMcw ov vn Babim . . •— 
 
 _ 988 
 
 BfbIOT OB TBB WBATBBB . . . . . , ^^ 
 
 OOBOBBBtBO TBB AXttlOAB LABCHTA^b . . . . ' ^y 
 
 BOOBM ... 
 
 • • • • S59 
 
 tM Uiras OF ALOBSO FuS ClaBBBOB ABD BOfABBAB 
 
 889 
 
 ( 
 
M^ 
 
 ■w. 
 
STOLEN WHITE ELEPHANT} 
 
 I. ' 
 
 Thi following curious history wm related to me by a ohanoe 
 imilway aoquaintanoe. He wm a gentleman more than 
 ■eventy years of age» and his thoroughly good and gentle 
 face and earnest and sincere manner imprinted the unmistak- 
 able stamp of truth upon eveiy statement which fell from 
 his lips. He said — 
 
 Tou know in what reverence t^ t>yal white elephant of 
 Biam is held by the people of tha. c ntry. Tou know it is 
 sacred to kings, only kings may possess it, and that it is 
 indeed in a measure even superior to kings, since it receiyes 
 not merely honour but worship. Very well ; five years ago^ 
 when the troubles concerning the frontier line arose between 
 Great Britain and Siam, it was presently manifest that Sian» 
 had been in the wrong. Therefore every reparation was 
 quickly made^ and the British representative stated that he 
 was satisfied and the past should be forgotten. This greatly 
 
 * Left out of A Tramp Abraadf because it was learad that some 
 of the partionlan had been exaggerated, and that others were not 
 tnie. Before these snspidons bad been proven grovndless, the book 
 had gone to piess.— M. T. 
 
 - • ■ B 
 
THJf STOLBN WEITS BLBPHANT. 
 
 nlitfed the Sang of Siam^Mid puily m * tokon of gimtltiidib 
 Imt ptrilj alio^ perhapt, to wipe out any Utile rem*ininf 
 Teitiga of unplea«mtiie« which Kngland might fool toword 
 hiniy ho wiahod to iond the Queen o present — the sole sure 
 way of propitiating an enemy, aooording to Oriental ideaii 
 Thii present ought not only to he a royal one, hot trana- 
 oendently royal Wherefore, what offering ooold be so meol 
 as that of a white elephant t My position in the Indian 
 oivil seryioe was snoh that I was deemed peculiarly worthy 
 *iie honour of conveying the present to Her Miy'esty. A 
 ship was fitted out for me and my servants and the offioera 
 and attendants of the elephant, and in due time I arrived in 
 New York harbour and placed my royal charge in admirable 
 quarters in Jersey Oity. It was necessary to remain awhile 
 in order to recruit the animal's health before resuming tho 
 voyage* • 
 
 All went well during a fortnight — ^then my calamities 
 began. The white elephant was stolen 1 I was called up at 
 dead of night and informed of this fiaarful misfortune. IVir 
 some moments I was beside myself with terror and anxiety; 
 I was helpless. Then I grew calmer and ooUected my 
 faculties. I soon saw my oourse— for indeed there was but 
 the one course for an intelligent man to pursue. Late as it 
 was, I flew to New York and got a policeman to conduct 
 me to the headquarters of the detective force. Fortunately 
 I arrived in time, though the chief of the force, the oelo* 
 hrated Inspector Blunt» was just on the point of leaving for 
 his home. He was a man of middle size and compact frame, 
 and when he was thinking deeply h^ had a way of knitting 
 iiB brows and tapping his forehead reflectively with his 
 
TSM BTOLBN WBITB SLSPSANT, • 
 
 finger, whkh imprened you at onoe with the oonviotioD that 
 foa ftood hi the presence of a pereon of no coitaion order. 
 The Ywj sight of him gaTe me confidence and made ma 
 hopeAiL I stated my errand. It did not flurry him in the 
 leoat; it had no more risible eflfeot upon his iron self-poseession 
 than If I had told him somebody had stolen my dog. He 
 uotioned me to^ a seat, and said calmly— 
 
 ' Allow me to think a moment, pleaee.' 
 
 So saying, he sat down at his office table and leaned his 
 head npon his hand. Several clerks were at work at th« 
 other end of the room ; the seratohing of their pens was all 
 thesoond I heard during the next six or seven minutes. 
 Meantime the inspector sat there buried in thought. Finally 
 he raised his head, and there was that in the firm lines of 
 his faM which showed me that his brain had done its work 
 and his plan was made. Sold he — and his voice was low 
 and impressivo— 
 
 'This is no ordinary case. £very step must be warily 
 taken; each step must be made sure before the next is 
 ventured. And secrecy must be observed — secrecy profound 
 and abeolnte. Speak to no one about the matter, not even 
 the reporters. I will take care of them; I will see that 
 they get only what it may suit my ends to let them know.' 
 He touched a bell; a youth appeared. 'Alario^ tell the 
 reporters to remain for the present.' The boy retired. 
 'Now let us proceed to business— «nd systematically. 
 Nothing can be accomplished in iJiis trade of nune without 
 strict and minute method.' 
 
 He took a pen and some paper. ' Now— name of the 
 dephantt' 
 
TSB BTOUm WMITM JBLSPMANT. 
 
 . "11 
 
 ' Huaaa Ben AU Ben Sdim Abddlah Mobainmed MoiaA 
 Alhammal JMnaelj^eebboyDhiiJiefip Sultan Bbn Bkndpoor.' 
 'YerywfllL QiTennunet' v 
 
 'Jumbo.' 
 'YeiyweU. Pluoeof biriht' 
 
 < The capital caty of Siam.' 
 
 - V. 
 
 ' Pai»ntB living I ' 
 
 <No— dead; 
 
 'HadtheyanyotheriaBaebendee this one r ^H^flH 
 
 * None — ^he wae an only child.' 
 
 < Yety welL These matters are sufficient under that 
 head. Now please describe the elephant, and leave out no 
 particular, however inm'gnificant^rthat is, insignificant from 
 your point of view. To men in my profession there an no 
 insignificant partiouiars ; they do not ezidt.' 
 
 I described ; he wrote. When I was done, he said — 
 
 ' Now listen. If I have made any mistakes, correct me.' 
 
 He read aa follows — 
 
 ' Height, 19 feet ; length, from apes of forehead to in> 
 Bertiou of tail, 26 feet; length of trunk, 16 feet; togth of 
 tail, 6 feet; total length, including trunk and tail, 48 leet; 
 length of tusks, 9^ feet ; ears in keeping with these dimen- 
 sions; footprint resembles the mark when one up-enda a 
 barrel in the snow ; colour of the elephant, a dull white ; 
 has a hole the me of a plate in each ear for the insertion of 
 jewelry, and possesses the habit in a remarkable degree of 
 squirting water upon spectators and of maltreathig with hia 
 trunk not only such persons as he is acquainted with, but 
 even entire strangers; limps slightly with his right hind 
 U|[, and had a small fiicar in hia left armpit caused by a 
 
 if 
 
 A 
 

 TMB 8T0LBN WMJTJB JBLBPSAlTf. 
 
 iomier boQ ; had on, wlics stoko, » oastle ocntiaiiing M«fai 
 for fifteen penonsy and a gold-oloyi laddle-blankBt the mmd 
 an oidinaxy carpet.' 
 
 lliere were no mistakes. The inspeotor touched the 
 bell, handed the deeoription to Alario, and laid^- 
 
 * Have fifty thoasand oqpies of this printed at onoe %tu4 
 mailed to every detective office and pawnbroker's sluypon 
 the continent.' Alaric retired. <There-HBo tar, so good. 
 Nezty I must have a pLotpgraph of the property.' 
 
 I gave him one. He examined it criticaUy, and said— > 
 
 < It must do, since we can do no better ; but be has hii 
 
 trunk curled up and tudced into his mouth. That is vat* 
 
 fortunate, and is calculated to mislead, for of course he does 
 
 not ^usually have it in that position.' He touched his belL 
 
 * Alaric^ have fifty thousand copies of this photograph 
 made^ the first thing in themoming, and mail tham with the 
 descriptive droulars.' 
 
 Alaric retired to execute his orders. The inspector 
 said — 
 
 V ' It will be necessity to offer a reward, of eoursa Now 
 as to the amount t ' 
 
 ' What sum would yon suggest t ' 
 
 * To begin with, I should say — ^well, twenty-five thousand 
 dollars. It is an intricate and difficult business ; thm are 
 a thousand avenues of escape and opportunities of conceal- 
 ment. These thieves have friends and pels everywhere-—*' 
 
 ' ' Heai me, do you know who they aret ' 
 The waxy faoe^ practised in concealing the thoughts and 
 fadings witl)!n, gave me no token, nor yet thiirq[»lying wotdsi 
 io quietly uttwed-> 
 
6 
 
 pi ■■- 
 
 TBS 8T0LBK WHTFM XLBPEAlfT. 
 
 * KevcKT mind about that I may, and I may not W« 
 genwally gather a pretty ihrevd inklicg of who our man k 
 by the manner of his work and the aiae of the game he goes 
 after. We are not dealing with a pickpocket cr a hall thief, 
 now, make up your mind to that. This property was not 
 ^ lifted " by a novice. But, as I was saying, oonsidering the 
 amount of travel which will have to be done, and the diligence 
 with which the thieves will cover up their traces as th^ 
 move along, twenty-five thousand may be too small a sum 
 to offer, yet I think it worth while to start with that* 
 
 80 we determined upon that figure, as a beginning. 
 Then ihis man, whom nothing escaped which could by any 
 possibility be made to serve as a clue, said— • 
 
 'There axe cases in detective ^Jiistory to show that 
 criminals have been detected through peculiaritiee in their 
 appetites. Now, what does this elephant eat, and how 
 much)' 
 
 ' Well, as to what he eats — ^he will eat anyihing. He 
 will eat a man, he will eat a Bible— he Will eat anything 
 between a man and a Bible.' 
 
 ' Qood — ^very good indeed, but too generaL Details are 
 necessary — details are the only valuaUe things in our trade. 
 Tory well — as to men. At one meal-"or, if you prefer, 
 during one day — ^how many men wi]l he eat^ if fresh t ' 
 
 ' He would not care whether they were fresh or not ; at 
 a single meal he would eat five ordinary men*' 
 
 * Y&py good; five men; we will put that down. What 
 nationalities would he prefer t ' 
 
 * He Is indifferent about nationalitieB. He prefeis a» 
 yiaintancee, but \j not pr^udiced against strangers.' 
 
TMB STOLEN WMITB BLBPMANT. 
 
 :'man k 
 he goes 
 aU thief, 
 was not 
 >ringthe 
 liligenoe 
 as thej 
 la Bum 
 
 ginning, 
 by any 
 
 iw that 
 in their 
 nd how 
 
 7* Be 
 
 lything 
 
 ola are 
 tradOi 
 prefeTi 
 
 ot; at 
 
 What 
 
 ^Yery good. Now as to Biblee. How many 
 would he eat at a meal t ' 
 
 ' He would eat an. entire edition.' 
 
 'It ia hardly anocinot enough. Do yon mean the ordi* 
 naiy oetavo, or the fiunily iUuetiAted t ' 
 
 * I think he would beindi£(iBrent toillustrationa; tbatis, 
 I think he would not value illustratlona above limple leOter' 
 
 * No, you do not get my idea. . I i«fer to bulk. The 
 ordinaiy octavo Bible weighs about two pounds and a half 
 while the great quarto with the illustrationa weighs tn or 
 twelve. How many Dor6 Bibles would he eat lit li'lomel t ' 
 
 'If you knew this elephant^ yon oould not ask. Ha 
 would take what they Imd.' 
 
 ' Well, put it in dollars and oents^ then. We must get at 
 it somehow. The Bori oosts a hundred dollars a oopy, 
 Russia leather, bevelled.' 
 
 ' He would require about fifty thoussnd doUan^ woiitli^ 
 say an edition of five hundred oopies.' 
 
 ' How, that is more exact. I will put that down. Very 
 well ; he likes men and Bibles ; so fu, so good. What else 
 will he eatt I Want particulars.' 
 
 ' He will leave Bibles to eat bridksy he will leave bricki 
 to eat bottles, he will leave bottles to eat dothing, he wiU 
 leave clothing to eat cats, he will leave cats to eat oysters^ 
 he will leave oysters to eat ham, he will leave ham to eat 
 sugar, he will leave sugar to eat pie, he will leave pie to eat 
 potatoes, he will leave potatoes to eat bran, he will leave 
 bran to eat hay, he will leave hay to eat oats, he will leave 
 oats to eat rice^ Ibr he was mainly raised on it. There if 
 
B 
 
 TMS BTOLBN WHITS BLSPHANT. 
 
 nothing wh«t0?«r that he will not eat but European hnttari 
 and he would eat that if he oonld taste it.' 
 
 ' Yery good. Qeuenl quantily at a meal— ^eay about * 
 
 < WeQ, anywhere from a quarter to half a ton.' 
 ' Ajid he drinks * 
 
 < Everything that is ilnid. Milk, water, whisky, 
 juiolaases, castor oil, camphene, oarbolio aoid — ^it is no use 
 to go into particulars ; whatever fluid ooouis to yoa set it 
 down. He will drink anything that is fluid, ezoept Euro- 
 pean coffee.' 
 
 'Yeiygood. As to quantity t ' 
 
 'Put it down five to fifteen barrels— his thirst yaries; 
 his other appetites do not/ 
 
 ' These things are unusual. They ought to fomish quits 
 good dues toward tracing him.' 
 
 He touched the belL^ ' ' , ' 
 
 * Alario, summon Oaptain Bums.' 
 
 Bums appeared. Inspector Blunt unfolded the whole 
 matter to him, detail by detail. Then he said in the clear, 
 decisive tones of a man whose plans are dearly defined in 
 his head, and who is accustomed to command — 
 
 * Captain Bums, detail Detectives Jones, Davis, Halsey, 
 Bates, and Hackett to shadow the dephant.' 
 
 •Yes, sir.' 
 
 * Detail Detectives Moses, Dakin, Murphy, Bogers, 
 Tupper, Higgins, and Bartholomew to shadow the thieves.' 
 
 'Yes, sir.' 
 
 * Place to strong guard — a guard of thirty picked men, 
 with a relief of thixty-H>ver the place Ihim whence -^e 
 elephant was stolen, to keep strict watch there iiight and 
 
TME StOZSN WmtB BLmBANT. 
 
 day, and allow none to approaeb— «ioept r e portwi withocl 
 writfeen anihoiily from midJ 
 
 'Plaoe detoodTW in plain doUiea in the lailwaj, stoam- 
 ■bip^ and feny di&fibia, and upon all roadwaji loading oat of 
 Jeraey Oify, with orders to ■O Mw h all snspioioiis peraona.' 
 
 •Yoi^alr.' 
 
 'Funiiah all tluse men with photograph and aooom- 
 panying doBoription of the elqphant^ and^initmot them to 
 search all trains and outgoing ftny-boats and other tobbsIs.* 
 
 •Yes, sir/ 
 
 * If the elephnnt should be found, let him be seised, and 
 the information forwsrded to me by telc^praph.' 
 
 < Yes, sir.' 
 
 'Let' me be informed at onoe if any dues should be 
 foond— footprints of the animal, or anything of that kind.' 
 <ZeB,ar.' 
 
 * Get an <nder oommanding the harbour polioe to paHtd 
 the frontages Tigilsntly.' 
 
 *Yes,8ir.' 
 
 'Beqiateh deteotiTas in plain dothes over all the rail- 
 ways, north as for as Canada, west as for as Ohio, K>uth as 
 fitf as Washington.' 
 
 •Yes, sir.' 
 
 ' Place experts in all the telegraph offices to listen to afl 
 messages ; and let them require that all cipher deqiatches te 
 interpreted to them.' 
 
 •Yes, sir.' 
 
 < Let all these things be done with the utmost sserscgr-^ 
 Bund, the most impenetraUe secraoy*' 
 
 A. 
 
10 
 
 TWB STOLBN WmtE BLBPBANT. 
 
 •T«i, iir/ 
 
 * Beport to me promptly at the ufaal ham^ 
 
 *Ye8>0ir. ^ 
 
 •Gol* 
 
 «YeB, dr.' 
 
 Hewasgonei. 
 
 Inspector Blant was silent and thoughtful a momect; 
 while the fire in his ejre oooled down and faded out. Then 
 he turned to me and said in a pladd Toioe-^ 
 
 'I am not given to boasting, it is not my habit; but— 
 we shall find the elephant.' 
 
 I shook him warmly by the hand and thanked him ; and 
 Ifdt my thaiiks, too. The ^ore I had seen of the man the 
 more I liked him, and the more I ac^mired and marvelled 
 over the mysterious wonders of his pi .ifession. Then we 
 parted for the night, and I went home with a &r happiev 
 heart than I had carried with me to his offioOi 
 
 XL 
 
 Next morning it was all in the newspapers, in the minu- 
 test detail. It even had additions — consisting of Detective 
 This, Detective That, and Detective The Other^s « Theory ' 
 as to how the robbery was done, who the robbers were, and 
 whither th^ had flown with their booty. There were 
 eleven of these theories, and they covered all the possibilitiea; 
 and this single £act shows what independent thinkers dfeteo- 
 tives are. No two theories were alike, or even much r» 
 ■embled each other, save in one striking particular, and ia 
 
TMB arOLBN WHITE SLMPHANT. 
 
 U 
 
 khfttonoftUtbadeTeniheGiietwfroabflolatdj agreed, lliat 
 wafly that •!thoi]gli the fear of my building waa torn out and 
 the dnljdoor remained looked, the elephant had not been re* 
 mored through the rent^ bat bj some other (midiacoyered) 
 outlet. All agreed that the robberi had made that rent 
 only to mislead the detectiTes. That never would hava 
 ocourred to me or to any other layman, perhaps, but it had 
 not deoeiyed the detecUves for a moment Thus, what I 
 had supposed was the only thing that had no mysteiy about 
 it was in fiust the very thing I had gone furthest astray in. 
 The eleven theories all named the supposed robbers, but no 
 two named the same robbers ; the total number of suspected 
 persons was thirfy-seyen. The various newspaper accounts 
 all dosed with the most important opinion of all — ^that ol 
 Chief Inspector Hunt A portknn of this statement read at 
 follows— 
 
 'The 4ihief knows who the two principals are, namelyi 
 «Briok" J>\xStf and <<Bed" McFadden. Ten days before 
 the robbery was achieved he was already aware that it was 
 to be attempted, and had quietly proceeded to shadow these 
 two noted villains; but unfortunately on the night in quee* 
 tion their track was lost, and before it could be found again 
 the bird was flown — ^that is, the elephant. 
 
 * Du% and McFadden are the boldest scoundrels in the 
 profession; the chief has reason for believing that they are 
 the men who stole the stove out of the detective head* 
 quAiiers on a bitter night last winter — in consequence of 
 whidi the ohief and every detective were in the hands of the 
 physicians before morning, some with froien feet^ othen 
 with froaen fingers, ears, and other members.' 
 
li 
 
 TBB STOLSN WSITS WLSPBAHT. 
 
 WheiQ I read the fint half of that I was more afltonlshed 
 tiian fver at the wonderful iagadtj of this strange man. 
 He not onlj saw ^veiything in the present with a dear eye, 
 imt even the fi ti!r9 oovld not be hidden from him. I was 
 soon at his offioe, and said I conld not help wishing he had 
 had those men arrested, and so prevented the trouble ar^ 
 loss; but his i^lj was simple and unanswerable— 
 
 ' It is not our proTinoe to prevent crime, but to punish 
 it. We cannot punish it until it is committed.' 
 
 I remarked that the secrecy with which we had begun 
 had been marred by the newspapers ; not only all our fiusta 
 bat all our plans and purposes had been revealed ; even all 
 the suspected persons had been named ; these would doi^btlesi 
 disguise themselves now, or go into hiding. 
 
 ' Let them. They will find that when I am ^!9BAy foi 
 them, my hand will descend upon thciu, in inei? secret 
 places, as unerringly as the hand of &te. As to the news- 
 papers, we muH keep in with them. Fame^ reputation, 
 constant public mention — ^these are the detectiveV bread and 
 butter. He mwj publish his fiiots, else he waU be supposed 
 to have noue ; he must publish his theory, iw nothing is so 
 strange or striking as a detective's theory, or brings him so 
 much wonderittg respect ; we must publish our plaxis, for 
 these the joomals insist upon having, and we could not deny 
 them without offending. We must constantly show the 
 pubUo what we are doing, or they will believe, we are doing 
 nothing. It is much pleasanter to have a newspaper say, 
 ** Inspector Bluni's ingenious and extraordinary theory Is as 
 Ibllows,'' than to have it say some harsh thing, or, worse 
 still, some sarcastic one.' 
 
TBB »rCLS2S WMITB JBLSPMAJTr, 
 
 'I Md Um force of what yon my. Bat I Dotioed that iii 
 toe, part of your ronuurki in the papers thia moming, yon 
 veraeed to reToal yov opmion upon a certain minor point' 
 
 ^Teny wealwaysdothat; it haaagood eflbot Beaidei^ 
 1 bad not formed any opinion on that pointy any way.' 
 
 I deposited a considerable iom of money with tht 
 inqiector, to meet current eaqpenses, and sat down to wait 
 lor news. We were expecting the telegrams to begin to 
 arrive at any moment now. Meantime I re-read the news- 
 papers and also oar descriptive ciroalar, and observed thai 
 oar $25flQ0 reward seemed to be ofoed only to detectives. 
 I said I thought it ooj^t to be offered to anybody who would 
 oatoh the elephant. The inspector saLd— 
 
 ' It is the detectives who will find the elephant, henoe 
 the reward will go to the right plaoe. If other people found 
 the animal, it would only be by watching the deteotiveB and 
 taking advantage of dues and i^^dioations stolen from them, 
 and that would entitle the detectives to the reward, after 
 alL The proper office of a reward is to stimulate the men 
 who deliver up their time and their trained sagacities to this 
 sort of work, and not to confer benefits upon chance dtisens 
 who stumble upon a capture without having eamod^ths 
 benefits by -their own merits and labours.' 
 
 This was reasonable enough, certainly. Now the telo- 
 graphio machine m the comer began to dick, and the 
 lbU,«ri«g d«patoh w« tte reBult- ^ 
 
 * Flower Statfon, N.T. : 7.80 A.1I. 
 
 *Have got a dua Found a succession of deep trscks 
 •eroas 9, £urm near bore. Fdlowed them two miles east 
 
 f 
 
u 
 
 iHM ffTOLBJf wmra eopeant. 
 
 ; 
 
 without nralt; think olephaat wiot wwrt. Shall now 
 ■hadow him h* thatdireotkn. 
 
 'Darlej*! ono of tho bfr . . on the force/ said tht 
 
 faofpeotor. 'Weshallhear frcnn him again before lon|^' 
 
 Telegram Ka 2 camo— - / 
 
 • Barkn^ N J. : 7.40 A Ji. 
 
 'JustanriTed. Glam fiMtory htoken open here during 
 night and eight hundred bottles taken. Only water in large 
 quantity near here is five miles dist^i. Shall strike fbr 
 there. Elephant will be thirsty. Bottles were empty. 
 
 <Bakbb, De^edtee.* 
 
 'That promisei w«iU, too^' said the inspeotor. 'I told 
 
 yon the creature's appetites would not be bad dues.' 
 
 Telegram No. 3— 
 
 < Taylorville, LX : 8.15 A.1L 
 
 ' A haystack near here disap^i^oared during night. Pro- 
 bably eaton. Haye got a due, and am oft 
 
 ' HuBBABD^ Detective,* 
 
 'How he does move around I' said the inspector. 'I 
 knew we nad a difficult job on hand, but we shall catch him 
 
 yet' 
 
 * Flower Station, N.Y. : • AM, 
 
 ^Siiadowed the tradoei three mil^ westward. Large^ 
 deep, and ragged. Have just met a farmer who says they 
 are not elephant tracks. Says they are holes where he dug 
 up saplings for shade-trees when ground was frozen last 
 winter. Uiye me oraers how to proceed. 
 
 •DASLM¥,Daeah$,* 
 
TMW BTOLXN WMITM MLMFKANT. 
 
 U 
 
 '▲hAl ftoonfedaimteof tho thieml The UUng growi 
 mum,* Mid th« impeator. 
 
 He diotftied the (bUowing tel^grun to Darlej— ^ 
 
 * Arreat the man end finroe him to neme hie pele. Oon* 
 tfmie to follow the treoke— te the Fedfio^ if neoeenurj, 
 
 Kext telegnun*- 
 
 •Ooney Point, Pa. : 8.45 AA 
 
 *(h» office broken opn here during night and three 
 
 montha' unpaid gai billa takon. Haye got a due and am 
 
 eivaj, 
 
 4 
 
 'Heaveoil' laid tiie inspector, 'would he eat gae 
 biller 
 
 • Through ignorance — ^yee; but they cannot aupport lift. 
 At leasts unaMdsted.' 
 
 Now came this exciting telegram^* 
 
 * Ironville^ N.T. : 9.80 A.M. 
 
 'Just arrived. This village in consternation. Elephahl 
 passed through here at five this morning. Some say he went 
 east| some say west, some north, some south^but all say 
 they did not wait to notice particularly. He killed a horse ; 
 have secured a piece of it for a due. Killed it with his 
 trunk; from sityle of blow, liiink he struck it left-handed. 
 From poBitian in which horse lies, think elephant travdied 
 northward along line of Berkley railway. Has four and a 
 half hours' stsrt; but I move on his track at onc& 
 
 «Hawx8, DOeeihe*' 
 
IS fUM araim wextm mlmpmant. 
 
 I at to wd •Dokmalioiif of Joj. Tb* impeotor wm m 
 nlf-oontointd m a gmtwi image. H« oJmly iouohed hit 
 bell 
 
 ' Alerio, Mnd Oftptein Banui hera.' 
 
 Bnrnii^ypeMred. 
 
 * How nuuiy man are ready for initaiit orden t' 
 
 'Ninety-dx^air/ 
 
 'Send them north at onoe. Let them oonoentrate along 
 the line of the Berklej road north of IronTiUe/ 
 
 'Yea, air/ 
 
 'Let them oondnct their moyementa with the utmoat 
 •ecrecy. Aa fiwt aa othera are at liberty, hold them tat 
 orders.' ' 
 
 •Yea, dr.' 
 
 'Ck)l' 
 
 «Ye«,alr.* 
 
 Preaently oame another telegram— 
 
 < Sage Oom«ri^ H.Tl : l<l3a 
 
 'Just anived. Elephant passed through here at 8.15. 
 
 All escaped from the town bat a policeman. Apparently 
 
 elephant did not strike at poUoeman, but at the lamp-post 
 
 Qot both. I hftTO secured a portion of the paUoeman a« 
 
 due. 
 
 ' BruMM, i>0fod(tw.' 
 
 ' So the elephant luui turned weatward,' said the impeo- 
 tor. ' However, he will not esaqpe^for my men are scattered 
 all oyer that region.' 
 
 The next telegram 
 
rSV 9T01BN WM2TB RLSBMAHT. 
 
 If 
 
 < Jut arrited. YiUage denrtsd, aaoept riok and a^isd. 
 
 ESflphant paawd through three-qnartfln of an hour ago. 
 
 Tha anti-temperanoe maaa moating waa in aesa&on; ho pat 
 
 hia trunk in at * window and washed it ont with water from 
 
 oiftam. SomofwaUowod it— ainoe dead ; lOTflral drowned. 
 
 DetectiTefl Oroaa and O'Shanghnearf were pairing throngh 
 
 town, but going iouth~io miaMd elephant. Whole region 
 
 ^ for many miles around in terror — ^people flying from theii* 
 
 homea. Whererer they tvn they meet elephant, and many 
 
 aMkiUed. 
 
 < Brant, Deieeiive,' 
 
 I oould haTe ihed teara, this havoo ao diatreaaed ma 
 But the inspector only said— - 
 
 'Tou aee — ^we are dosing in on him. He foela out 
 preeenoe; he has turned eastward again.' 
 
 Tet frirther troublo^ news waa in store for us. TI10 
 telegraph brought thi»— 
 
 'Hoganport, UI.U. 
 
 * Just arrived. Elephant passed through half an hour ago^ 
 
 creating wildest fright and excitement. Elephant ragec^ 
 
 around streets; two plumbem going by, killed one — other 
 
 escaped. Regret general 
 
 ' O'Flahbety, Diieciim.* 
 
 * Kow h«i is right in the midst of ray men,' said the 
 inspector. ' Nothing can saye him.' 
 
 A suooeesion oi telegrams came horn detectives who weie 
 ioatlered through New Jersey and Pennsylvania, and who 
 
18 
 
 THE STOLEN WSOTB ELEPWANT. 
 
 were following <aliies oomnstiiig of ravftged htana, fiujtoriet, 
 
 and SiindajHMshool libraries, with bigL hopea— hopea 
 
 amounting to oertaintieB, indeed. The inspector aaid*- 
 
 * I wish I could communicate with them and order them 
 
 north| but that ia impossibla A detective onlj viaita a 
 
 telegraph office to send his report ; then he ia off again, and 
 
 you don't know where to put your hand on him.' 
 
 Now came this despateh—- 
 
 < Bridgeport, Ot.: 19.1IL 
 
 'Bamum offers rate of j$|4,000 a year for ezduaive 
 
 privilege of using elephant as travelling advertiedng medium 
 
 from now till detectives find him. Wants to paste eiroua- 
 
 posters on him. Desirea immediate answer. 
 
 ^BoQOB, DeteOive,* 
 
 ___ ' ^ ' ' 
 
 ' That ia perfectly abauxd t' I exclaimed. 
 
 'Of course it is,' said the inspector. 'Evidently Mr. 
 Bamum, who thinks he is so sharp, does not know me — but 
 I know him.' 
 
 Then he dictated this answer to the deapatoh— 
 
 'Mr. Bamom's offer declined. Make it fflfiOO or 
 
 nothing. 
 
 'CAh^Bluht.' 
 
 ' There. We shall not have to wait long for an answer, 
 Mr. Bamum is not at home; he is in the telegraph office- 
 it is his way when he has business on hand. Inside of 
 
 
 * DoNB.— P. T. Barnum.' 
 |k> interrupted the clicking telegraphio instrument. Befoi« 
 
tES aroLEN wmtB 
 
 itt 
 
 I Mold make % oomment upon ihis eocferaordinMy epiiode, 
 the following despatoh oarried my tbouc^ti into anotlier 
 and very diatreBBing ohannel^ 
 
 <Bdlhria,K.T.t ISitO. 
 
 < Elephant arriTed here from the aoath and pasaed through 
 toward the forest at ILSO, dispernng a funeral on the way, 
 and «iit«m<flhiTig the mourners by two. Oituens fired some 
 small oannon-balls into him, and then fled. Detective 
 Burke and I arrived ten min ites later, from the north, but 
 mistook some ezoavations for foo^bprints, and so lost i good 
 deal of time ; but at last we struck the right trail and Sol- 
 lowed it to the woods. We then got down on our hands 
 and knees and continued to keep a sharp eye on the track, 
 and so shadowed it into the brush. Burke was in advance. 
 UnfOTtunately the animal had stopped to rest; therefore, 
 Burke having .his head down, intent upon the track, butted 
 up against the elephant's hind legs before he was aware of 
 his vicinity. Burke instantly rose to his feet^ seized the 
 tail, and ezdaimed joyfblly, " I claim the re—-" but got 
 no frirther, for a, single blow of the huge trunk laid the 
 brave fellow's fragments low in death. I fled rearward, 
 and the elephant turned and shadowed me to the edge of 
 the wood, making tremendous speed, and I should inevitably 
 have been lost^ but that^the remains of the funeral providen- 
 tially intervened again and diverted his attention. I have 
 just learned that nothing of that funeral is no^ -eft ; but 
 this is no loss, for there is an abundance of material for 
 another. Meantime the elephant has disappeared again. 
 
 ' *HuLB0<wi7, DdlMltee.* 
 
Tss sTOLSir wsm slspmant. 
 
 We heard no news except from the diligent and confident 
 detectives loattered aboat New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Dela- 
 ware,, and Virginia — ^who were aU following fresh and en-, 
 couniging dues — ^nntil shortly after 2 p.m., when ihii 
 telegram came — 
 
 . * Baxter Centre, 9.16. 
 
 < Elephant been here, plastered over with circus-bills, and 
 
 broke up a revival, striking down and damaging many who 
 
 were on the point of entering upon a better life. Citizens 
 
 penned him up, and established a guard. When Detective 
 
 Brown and I arrived, some time after, we entered ^closure 
 
 and proceeded to identify elephant by photograph and de- 
 
 scHption. All marks tallied exactly except one^ which we 
 
 could not see— -the boil-scar under armpit. To make sure, 
 
 Brown crept under to look, and was immediately brained 
 
 — that is, head crushed and destroyed, though nothing issued 
 
 from d^bris^ All fled ; so did elephant, striking right and 
 
 left with much effect. Has eact^ied, but left bold blood- 
 
 tradL from cannon-wounds. Rediscovery certain. He broke 
 
 southward through a dense forest. 
 
 * Bbbnt, Detective* 
 
 That was the last telegram. At nightfidl a fog shut 
 down which was so dense that oljects but three feet away 
 could not be discerned. This lasted all night. The ferry 
 twacs and even the omnibuses had to stop running. 
 
 i 
 
 v 
 
ofident 
 , Ddft- 
 md m- 
 D this 
 
 I, 9.15. 
 
 illfly Mid 
 
 jiy who 
 Citizens 
 letective 
 Qdotiire 
 and d»- 
 rhicbwe 
 nkesore, 
 brained 
 
 ;ht and 
 d blood- 
 le broke 
 
 Mtfitw/ 
 
 fog shat 
 wftaway 
 eferfj 
 
 TBS 8T0LB1I WBITB StSPHAirT. 
 
 I 
 
 NiXT momiiig the pajien were aafiill of deteotlTB theoriei 
 M before; they had all our tzagio &ctB in detail also, and a 
 great many more which they had received fiom their tele* 
 graphic oorrespondentB. Column after column was occupied, 
 a third of ite way down, with glaring head-lines, whldi it 
 made my heart sick to read. Their general tone was like 
 Ai*— 
 
 *Ths WHFnsEiiBPHANT atLabobI Hb motbb upon hib 
 Fatal Mabch t Wholb Yillagss dbrebtbd bt thbir 
 
 *FniOH1vSTRI0KBN OoCfUPANTS 1 PaLB TbBBOB QOBS BBFOBB 
 
 Him, Dbath and Dbyastation follow aftbb! After 
 
 THESE, THB' BbtBOTIYES. BaBNB DESTBOTED, FaOTOBIES 0UT> 
 
 TED, Habybsts dbvoubed, Pubuo Assbkblaobs dispbbsbd, 
 accompanied bt Scenes of Caiwage impossible to dbscbibbI 
 Theories of thibtt-fovb of the most distinguished 
 
 DETEOnYBS on THE FOBCB t ThEOBT OF ChIBF BlUNT 1 ' 
 
 ' There r said Inspector Blunt, almost betrayed into 
 excitement, 'this is magnificent I This is the greatest 
 windfall that any detectiye organisation ever had. The 
 fame of it will travel to the ends of the earth, and endure 
 to the end of time, and my name with it.' ' 
 
 But there was no joy for ma I fidt as if I had com- 
 mitted aU ^oee red crimes, and that the elephant was only 
 my irresponsible agent. And how the list had grown 1 In 
 one place he had 'into^ered with an election and killed five 
 lepeateis.' He had followed this act with the dsrtruotkii 
 
IS TSB STOLEN WMITB BIJSPMANT. 
 
 Ait two poor fSellowB, named ODonohiio and McFlannigMi, 
 who had 'found a refoge in the home of the oppraaMd of all 
 lands only the day before, and were in the act of ezorciiuig 
 for the font time the noble right of American citiaens at the 
 poUi^ when stricken down by the relentless hand of the 
 Soouige of Siam/ In another, he had ' foond a craay sensii^ 
 tion-pfeacher preparing his next season's heroic attacks on 
 the dance, the theatre, and other things which can't strike 
 back, and had stepped nn him.' And in still another place 
 he had ' killed a lightning-rod agent.' And so the list went 
 on, growing redder and redder, and more and more heart- 
 breaking. Sixty persons had been killed, and |nro hundred 
 
 » 
 
 and forfy wounded. All the aocoonts bore just testimony 
 to the activity and devotion of the detectives, and all dosed 
 with^the remark that ' three hundred thousand citizens and 
 four detectives saw the dread creature, and two of the latt^ 
 he destroyed.' 
 
 I dreaded to hear the telegraphic instmment begin to 
 cUck again. By-and-by the messages began to pour in, but 
 I was hapfnly disappointed in their nature. It was soon 
 apparent that all trace of the elephant was lost. The fog 
 had enabled him to search out a good hiding-plaoe unobserved. 
 Telegrams from the most absurdly distant points reported 
 that a dim vast riiasis had been glimpsed there through the 
 fog at such and such an hour, and was 'undoubtedly the 
 elephant.' This dim vast mass had been glimpsed in Kew 
 Haven, in Kew Jersey, in Pennsylvania, in interior New 
 York, in Brooklyn, jmd even in the city of Kew York itself 1 
 But in all cases the dim vast mass had vanished quickly and 
 left BO tnoe. Every detective of the laige force scattered 
 
 I 
 
 ' 
 
iijJll'M 
 
 TMB STOLEN WHITS BLSPHANT. 
 
 ower this huge extent of oountxy sent his bourl j report. Mid 
 each and uyery one of them had a dv^ and was shadowing 
 gomething, and was hot upon the heels of it. 
 
 Bat the day passed without other resull 
 
 The nest day the stuneii 
 
 The nest Jusij the same. 
 
 The newspaper reports began to grpw monotonoDS with 
 faots that amounted to nothing, dues which led to nothing, 
 and theories which had nearly exhausted the elements which 
 surprise and delight and dazde. 
 
 By advice of the inspector I doubled the reward. 
 
 Four more dull days followed. Then came a bitter bk ^ 
 to the poor, hard-working deteotiTes — the Journalists de- 
 clined to print their theories, and coldly said, ' Give us a 
 test.' 
 
 Two weeks after the elephant's disappearance I raised the 
 reward to j$|75,0OO by the inspector's adTioe. It was a great 
 sum, but I felt that I would rather sacrifice my whole pri- 
 vate fortune than lose my credit with my Qovemmenti Kow 
 that the detectives were in adversity, the newspapers turned 
 upon them, and began to fling the most stinging sarcasms at 
 them. This gave the minstrels an idea, and they dressed 
 tiiemselves as detectives and hunted the elephant on the 
 stage in the most extravagant way. The caricaturists made 
 jdctures cf detectives scanning the country with spy-glasses, 
 while the elephant^ at their backs, stole apples out of their 
 pockets. And they made all sorts of ridiculous pictures of 
 the detectiv9 badge — yon have seen that badge printed in 
 gold on the back of detective ncivels, no doubt — ^it is a wide- 
 staring eye, with the legend, * Wk Kbvib fiunr/ When 
 
TME STOLEN WHITE ElEPSANT. 
 
 i 
 
 datecttveB oalled for & ^liink, the would-be fluietiouB bei^ 
 keeper reetuTected an obeolete form of ezpreesioii, and said, 
 'Will you have an eye-opener t ' All the air was thick with 
 Haroanmn. 
 
 But there was one man who moved oalm, untouched, 
 unaffected through it all. It was that heart of oak, the 
 Chief Inspector. His brave eye never drooped, his serene 
 confidence never wavered. He always said — 
 
 * Let them rail on ; he laughs best who laughs last.' 
 
 My admiration for the man grew into a species of wor- 
 ship. I was at his side always. His oflEice had become a». 
 unpleasant place to me, and now became daily more and 
 more so. Tet if he could endure it I meant to do so alto; 
 at least, as long as I could. So I came regularly, and stayed 
 — ^the only outsider, who seemed to be capable of it. Every- 
 body wondered how I could ; and often it seemed to me that 
 I must desert, but at such times I looked into that calm and 
 apparently unconscious face, and held my ground. 
 
 About three weeks after the elephant's disappearsnoe I 
 was about to say, one morning, that I should ham to strike 
 my colours and retire, when the great detective arrested the 
 thought by proposing one more superb and masterly move. 
 
 This was to compromise with the robbers. The fertility 
 of this man's invention exceeded anything I have ever seen, 
 and I have had a wide intercourse with the world's finest 
 minds. He said he was confident he could compromise for 
 ^100,000 and recover the elephant. I said I believed I 
 could scrape the amount together ; but what would become 
 . of the poor detectives who had worked so foithfullyl He 
 nAd— 
 
 ■•Vv 
 
TBS aroLss wmrs slbpsaht. h 
 
 * In oompromifles they always get balfl' . 
 
 Thi removed my only objeotioLu So the iniapector wrote 
 two note% in this form~^— 
 
 * Bear Madam, — Your husband oan make a laige eum of 
 money (and be entirely protected from the law) by making 
 an immediate appointment with me. 
 
 He Bent one of these by his confidential messenger to 
 the 'reputed wife' of Brick Jhiffy, and the other to the 
 reputed wifs of Red MoFadden. 
 
 Within the hour these offensiTe answers came >— 
 
 <YeOwldlbol: brick MoDufiys bin ded 2 yere. 
 
 'Bbidqbt Mahonit/ 
 
 *Ohief Bat,— Bed MoFadden is hung and in heving 18 
 month. Any Ass but a detective knose that. 
 
 ' Mabt (XHoouGAir.' 
 
 'I had long suspected these £Msts,' said the inspector; 
 * this testimony proves the unerring accuracy of my instinot' 
 
 The moment one resource failed him he was ready with 
 another. Hie immediately wrote an advertjlsement for the 
 morning papefs, and I kept a copy of it — 
 
 < A.— zwbW. 242 N. l^nd— &328wmlg. Otpo,—, 2 m ! 
 ogw. Mum.' 
 
 He said that if the thief was alive this would bring him 
 to the usual rendecvous. He further explained that the 
 oBoal rendecvous was a plaoe where all business affiurs 
 
TBB STOLBN WHITS BLBPMANT. 
 
 S 
 
 
 be t ween deteetiyee and oriminali were oondwsted. Thia 
 meetiiig would take plaoe at twelve the next night 
 
 We oonld do nothing till then, and I loet no time in 
 getting out of the oflSoe, z^A was gratefhl indeed for the 
 priyil^ge. 
 
 ▲t eleren the next night I brought $100,000 in bank- 
 notes and put them into the chiefs hands^ and shortly after- 
 ward he took his leave^ with the braye old undicimed 
 ooniidenoe in his eye. An almost intolerable hour dragged 
 to a dose : then I heard his welcome tread, and rose gasping 
 and tottered to meet him. How his fine eyes flamed witli 
 triumph! He said — 
 
 ' We've oompromised I The jokers will sing a different 
 tune to-morrow I Follow me 1 ' 
 
 He took a lighted candle and strode down into the 
 vast vaulted basement where sixty detectives always slept^ 
 and where a score were now playing cards to while thp 
 time. I followed dose after him. He walked swiftly 
 down to the dim remote end of the place, and just as I 
 succumbed to the pangs of suffocation and was swooning 
 away he stumbled and fdl over the outlying members of a 
 mighty object, and I heard him exclaim as he went dovrn — 
 
 'Our noble profession is vindicated. Here is your 
 depfaantl' 
 
 I was carri^ to the Office above and restored with 
 carbolic add. The whole detective force swarmed is, and 
 such another season of triumphant rejoicing epsued as I had 
 never witnessed before. The reporters were called, baskets 
 of champagne were opened, toasts were drunk, the hand* 
 shakings and congratulations were continuous and enthu- 
 
 ^ 
 
TBS SiTOZBN WEJTJB ELSPBANT. WS 
 
 ■bstiOi Katiirally the chief waa the hero of the hour, and 
 hia happineai waa ao oomplete and had been ao patiently 
 and worthily and brayelj won that it made me happy to 
 ae^ it, thongh I atood there a homeleae beggar, my prioeleaa 
 charge dead, and my poaition in my coontiya service loat to 
 me through what would alwaya aeem my fatally oareleaa 
 execution of a great truat Many an eloquent eye teatified 
 ita deep admiration for the chief, and many a detectiTe^a 
 Toice murmured, ' Look at him— juat the king of the foo 
 fenion— only give him a due, it'a all he wants, and there 
 ain't anything hid that he can't find.' The dividing of the 
 j((50,000 made great pleasure; when it waa finiahed the 
 chief made a little speech while he put hia ahare in hia 
 pockety in which he said, ' Ei^joy it^ boys, for you've earned 
 it; and more than that— you've earned fbr the detective 
 profession undying fame,' 
 
 A telegram arrived, which read — 
 
 'Monroe, Hioh.: 10 PJL 
 ' Firat time I've struck a telegraph o£Bce in over threo 
 weefak Have followed those footprints, horseback, through 
 the woods, a thousand miles to here, and they get atronger 
 and bigger and freaher every day. Don't worry — ^inside of 
 (mother week 111 have the elephant. This is ''.sad sure. 
 
 < Dablet, Beieoiwe,' 
 
 The chief ordered three cheers for ' Darley, one of the 
 finest minds on the force,' and then commanded that he be 
 telegraphed to come home and receive his share of the 
 leward* 
 
 So ended that marvelloua episode of the stolen elephant 
 
TBS BTOLSN WBITB SLSPBANT, 
 
 V 
 
 The newspapen w«re pletflant with pndies ohm iraors^ tht 
 Dfut day, with one contemptible ezoeptioii. This sheet 
 said, 'Qraat is the deteotiTe J He may be a little slow in 
 finding a little thing like a mislaid elephant — he may hunt 
 him all day and sleep with his zottbg carcase all night for 
 three weeks, but he will find him at hist~if he can get the 
 man who mislaid him to show him the place 1 ' 
 
 Poor Hassan was lost to me Tor ever. The cannon-shots 
 had wounded him fiEitally. He had «rept to that unfriendly 
 place in the fog ; and there, surrounded by his enemies and 
 in constant danger of detection, he had wasted away with 
 hunger and suffering till death gave him peace. 
 
 The compromise cost me ^100,000; my detective ex- 
 penses were ;((42,000 more; I neyer applied for a place 
 again under my Govenmient; I am a mined man and a 
 wanderer in tLie earth — but my admiration fpir that man, 
 whom 1 belieTe to be the greatest detective the world hpii 
 ever produced^ remains undimmed to this day, and wiU 
 90 remain unto the end. 
 
SOME RAMBLING NOTES OF AN 
 IDLE EXCURSION. 
 
 / 
 
 All the journeyings I had aver done had been purely m 
 the way of businefls. The pleasant May weather aug^eeted 
 a noTelfy, namely, a trip for pure reoreaiion, the bread-and- 
 batter element l«ft out. The KoTerend said he would go» 
 too : a good man, one of the best of men^ although a dergy- 
 man. By eleven at night we were in Kew Haven and on 
 board the New York boat. We bought our tiokete, and 
 then went wandering around, he^ and there, in the solid 
 comfort of being free and idle, and of putting distance 
 between oursehres and the mails and telegraphs. 
 
 After a while X went to my state-room and undressed, 
 but the night was too enticing for bed. We were moving 
 down the bay now, aiid it was pleasant to stand at the 
 window and take the cool night-breeze and watoh the gliding 
 lights on shore. Presently two elderly men sat down under 
 that window and began a conversation. Their talk was 
 properly no business of mine, yet I was feeling friendly 
 toward the world and willing to be entertained. I soon 
 gathered that they were farothen^ that they were lW>m a 
 
tOMJi RAMBUVQ NOTSB Of 
 
 iidaU Oonnaoticat village, and that tht mattar in hand oon- 
 oemed the oameterj. Said one— 
 
 < Now, John, we talked it all over amongst onrsalTei, 
 and this ia what we've done. You Me, everybody waa a- 
 movin' from the old buryin' ground, and our folks was most 
 about left to theirselves, as you may say. They was 
 crowded, too, as yon know ; lot wa'n't big enough in the first 
 place; and last year, when Seth's wife died, we oouldnt 
 hardly tuck her in. She sort o' overlaid Deacon Shorb's lot» 
 and he soured on her, so to speak, and on the rest of us, too. 
 80 we talked it over, and I was for a lay-out in the new 
 simitery on the hilL They waVt unwilling, if it was cheap. 
 Well, the two best and biggest plots was No. 6 and No. 9 — 
 both of a siaa; nice comfortable room for twenty-six— 
 twenty-six iiill-growns, that is; but you reckon in children 
 and other shorts, and strike an overage, and I should 8ay you 
 might lay in thirty, or may-be thirty-two or three, pretty 
 genteel — ^no crowdin' to signify.' 
 
 < That's a plenty, William. Which one did you buy t ' 
 
 ' Well, I'm a-comin' to that, ^ >lin. Tou see. No. 8 wcm 
 thirteen dollars. No. 9 fourteen- * 
 
 < I see. So's't you took No. 8.' 
 
 < Tou wait. I took No. 9. And I'll tell you for why. 
 In the first place. Deacon Shorb wanted it. Well, after the 
 way he'd gone on about Seth's wife overlappin' his prem'ses, 
 I'd 'a' beat him out of that No. 9 if I'd 'a' had to stand two 
 dollars extra, let alone one. That's the way I felt about it. 
 Says I, what's a dollar, any way 1 life's on'y a pilgrimage, 
 says I ; we ain't here for good, and we can't take it with us, 
 says I. Bo I just dumped it down, knowin' the Lord don*t 
 
AN IDLE BXCUBBION. Wk 
 
 waikpt a good dMd to go for nothin', and oallatlii' to tako h 
 ottt o^ fomebody in the amne o' tndo. Thai tlMro wm 
 mother reMon, John. No. 9'i a long way iho handiait lot 
 in the nmitery, and the likeUeit for ntiiation. It layi 
 right on to|^ of a knoll in the dead centre of the bnryin' 
 groond; and yon oan see Millport from there, and Traoy*!, 
 and Ho^^r Mount, and a raft o^ &mi8, and so on. There 
 eint no better outlook from a bnryin' plot in the State. Si 
 TTiggina mjB BO, and I reckon he ought to know. Well, 
 end that ain't all 'Oourse Shorb had to take No. 8; wa'nt 
 no help for't. Now No. 8 jinee on to No. 9, but it'c on the 
 •lope of the hUl, and every time it raine itll eoak right down 
 on to the Shorbs. Si Higgine says 't when the deacon's 
 time comee he better take oat fire and marine insurance 
 both on his remaina.' 
 
 Here there was the sound of a low, placid, duplicate 
 chuckle of appreciation and flatisfiiustion. 
 
 ' Now, John, here's a little rough draft of the ground 
 that I've made on a piece of paper. TJp here in the leli- 
 hand comer we've bunched the departed ; took them from 
 the old grave-yard and stowed them one along side o' t'other 
 ona first-come-first-served pianino partialities, with Qran'ther 
 Jones for a starter, on'y because it happened so, and windin' 
 up indiscriminate with Seth's twins. A little crowded 
 towards the end of the lay-out, may be^ but we reckoned *% 
 wa'n't best to scatter the twins. Well, next comes the 
 livin*. Here, where it's marked A, we^re goin' to put 
 Mariar and her fSunily, whei^ they're called ; B, that's for 
 Brother Hosea and his^n ; 0, Calvin and tribe. What's left 
 is these two lots here— just the gem of the whole patch for 
 
 r 
 
81 80MS RAMBLING NOTES OF 
 
 genenl style and outlook ; they're for me and my folks, ani 
 yon and youm. Which of them would you mther be burieil 
 
 far 
 
 ' I swan youVe took me mighty unexpected, William I 
 It flort of started the shivers. Fact is, I was thinkin' so 
 busy about makin' things comfortable for the others, I~ 
 hadn't thought about being buried m3rself.' ^ 
 
 'life's on'y a fleetin' show, John, as the sayin' i& 
 We've all got to go, sooner or later. To go with a clean 
 record's the main tlung. Fact is, it's the on'y thing worth 
 strivin' for, John.' 
 
 'Tes, that's so, William, that's so; there aint no 
 getting around it. Which of these lots would you reoom* 
 mendr 
 
 'Well, it depends, John. Are you particular about 
 outlookt' 
 
 * I don't say I am, William ; I don't say I ain't. Reely, 
 I don't know. But mainly, I reckon, I'd set store by a 
 south exposure.' 
 
 < That's easy fixed, John. They're both south exposure. 
 They take the sun, and the Shorbs get the shade.' 
 
 * How about sile, William t ' 
 
 ' D's a sandy sile, E's mostly loom.' 
 
 < You may gimme E, then, William ; a sandy sile caves 
 in, more or less, and costs for repairs.' - 
 
 * All right ; set your name down here, John, under E. 
 Now, if you don't mind paying me your share of the four- 
 teen dollars, John, while we're on the business, everything's 
 6xed.' 
 
 After some higgling and sharp bargaining the money was 
 
AN WLB EXCURSION. 
 
 paid, and John bade his brother good-night and took his 
 leave. There was nlenoe for some moments; then a soft 
 chuckle wdled up from the lonely William, and he mattered : 
 <I dedare for't, if I haven't made a mistake t It's D 
 thafs mostly loom, not £. And John's booked for a sandy 
 sile, after alL' 
 
 There was another soft chuckle, and William de|*.\rted 
 to his rest^ also. 
 
 The next day, in New York, was a hot one. Still we 
 mana^;ed to get more or less entertainment out of it. To- 
 ward the middle of the afternoon we arrived on board the 
 staunch steamship BemrndOf with bag and baggage, and 
 hunted for a shady plaoe. It was biasing summer weather, 
 until we were half way down the harbour. Then I buttoned 
 my ooat dosely ; half an hour later I put on a spring over- 
 coat and buttoned that. As we passed the light-ship I 
 added an ulster, and tied a handkerchief around the collar 
 to hxAA it snug to my neck. So rapidly had the summer 
 gone and winter come again ! 
 
 By nightfSedl we were far out at sea, with no land in sight 
 No telegrams could come here, no letters, no news. This 
 was an uplifting thought. It was still more uplifting to 
 reflect that the millions of harassed people on shore behind 
 us were suffering just as usual. 
 
 The next day brought us into the midst, of the Atlantic 
 solitudeB>-out of smoke^soloared soundings into fftthomless 
 deep blue ; no ships visible anywhere over the wide ocean ; 
 no company but Mother Carey's diickens wheeling, darting, 
 skimming the waves in the sun. There were some seafaring 
 men among the pasBengers^ and conversation drifted into 
 
 p 
 
84 
 
 aOMJB RAMBLING NOTES OF 
 
 matteni oonoerniiig ahipB and sailors. One said that ' trcit 
 as the needle to the pole ' waa a bad figure, since the needle 
 seldom pointed to the pole. He said a ship's compass wai 
 not £Edthful to any particalar point, but was the most fickle 
 and treacherous^ of the servants of man. It waa for evei 
 changing. It changed every day in the year ; consequently 
 the amount of the daily variation had to be ciphered out and 
 allowance made for it/ else the mariner would go utterly 
 astray. Another said there was a vast fortune waiting for 
 the genius who should invent a compass that would not be 
 affected by the local influences of an iron ship. He said 
 there waa only one creature more fickle tlian a wooden 
 ship's compass, und that waa the compass of an iron ship. 
 Then came reference to the well-known fact that as 
 experienced mariner can look at the compass of a new iron 
 vessel, thousands of miles from her birthplace, and tell 
 which way her head was pointing when she waa in process 
 ofbuildiDg. ) 
 
 Now an ancient wluddHihip master fell to talking about the 
 sort of crews they used to have in his early days. Said he— 
 
 * Sometimes we'd ha\e a batch of college students. 
 Queer lot. Ignorant 1 Why, they didn't know the cat- 
 heads from the main brace. But if you took them for foola 
 you'd get bit, sure. They'd leam more in a month than 
 another man would in a year. We had one, once, in the 
 diary Ann, that came aboard with gold spectacles on. And 
 besides, he was rigged out from main truck to keelson in the 
 nobbiest clothes that ever saw a fo'oastle. He bad a chest 
 full, toe: doakB, and broadcloth coats, and velvet vests: 
 everything sweU, you know ; and didn't the salt water fix 
 
AX IDLE EXCURSION, 
 
 85 
 
 — 
 
 thttn out for himt I guess not 1 Well, going to sea, the 
 mate told him to go aloft and help shake out the fore* 
 io^'gallantsX IJp he shins to the foretop, with his speotaoles 
 on, and In a minute down he oomes again, looking insulted. 
 8ays the mate, ''What did you oome down fort" 
 Says the ohi^, ** Fr'aps you didn't notice that there ain't 
 any ladders aho^e thera" Tou see we hadn't any shrouds 
 above the foretop. The men bursted out in a laugh such as I 
 guess you never heard the like of. Next night, which was 
 dark and rainy, the mate ordered this chap to go aloft 
 about something, and Vm dummed If he didn't start up with 
 an umbrella and a lantern 1 But no matter; he made a 
 mighty good sailor before the voyage was done^ and we had 
 to hunt up something else to laugh at. Tears afterwards, 
 when I had forgot all about him, I comes into Boston, mate 
 of a shi^, and was loafing around town with the second 
 mate, and it so happened that we stepped into the Bevere 
 House, thinking may be we would chance the salt-horse in 
 that big dining-room for a flyer, as the boys say. Some 
 fellows were talking just at our elbow, and one says, 
 ''Yonder's the new governor of Massachusetts— at that 
 table over there, with the ladies.' We took a good look, my 
 mate and I, for we hadn't either of us ever seen a governor 
 before. I looked and looked at that &oe, and then all of a 
 sudden it popped on mel But I didn't give any sign. 
 Says I, '' Mate, I've a notion to go over and shake hands 
 with him." Says he^ "' I think I see you doing it, Tom." 
 Says I, '< Mate, I'm a-going to do it." Says he, «0h, yes, I 
 guess so ! May be you don't want to bet you will^ Tom t " 
 Says I, <' I don't mind going a Y on it, mate." Says he^ 
 
SOME IRAMBLINO HOTSS OF 
 
 ** Put it up." ** Up she goes," says I, planking the cash. 
 This surprised him. But he covered it, and says, pretty 
 saroastioy ''Hadn't you better take your grub with the 
 governor and the ladies, Tom!" Says I, "Upon second 
 thoughts, I will." Says he, ** Well, Tom, you are a dum 
 fool" Says I, '' May be I am, may be I ain*t ; but the main 
 question is, do you want to risk two and a half that I wont 
 do it I" "Make it a V," says he. "Done," says I. I 
 started, him argiggling and slapidng his hand on his thigh, 
 he felt so good. I went over there and leaned my knuckles 
 on the table a minute and looked the governor in the faoe^ 
 and says I, " Mister Gardner, don't you know me t " He 
 stared, and I stared, and he stared. Then all of a sudden 
 he sings out, " Tom Bowling, by the holy poker 1 Ladies, 
 it's old Tom Bowling, that you've heard me talk about— ^ 
 shipmate of mine in the Mary Ann," He rose up and shook 
 hands with me ever so hearty — I sort of glanced around 
 and took a realising sense of my mate's saucer eyes — and 
 then says the governor, " Plant yourself, Tom, plant your> 
 self; you <^an't cat your anchor again till you've had a feed 
 with me and the ladies 1 "- .1 planted myself alongside the 
 governor, and cfinted my eye around towards my mate. 
 Well, sir, his deadlights were bugged out like tompions ; 
 and his mouth stood that wide open that you could have 
 laid a ham in it witiiout him noticing it.' 
 
 There was great applause at the conclusion of the old 
 captain's story; then^ alter a moment's silence, a grave, pale 
 young man 8aid — 
 
 ' Had you ever met the governor before t ' 
 
 The old reptain looked steadily at this inquirer a whiles 
 
AN IDLE JSXCUSaiON, 
 
 «r 
 
 and then got up and walked aft without making any reply* 
 One paspenger after another stole a furtive glance at the 
 inquirer, hut failed to make him out, and so gave him up 
 It took some little work to get the talk-machinery to running 
 smoothlv again after this derangement ; hut at length a con- 
 versation sprang up about that important and jealously 
 guarded instrument, a ship*s time-keeper, its exceeding 
 delicate accuracy, and the wreck and destruction that have 
 sometimesvresulted from its varying a few seemingly trifling 
 moments from the true time ; then, in due course, my com- 
 rade, the Beverend, got off on a yani| with a fair wind and 
 everything drawing. It was a true story, too — about 
 Captain Rounceville's shipwreck — true in every detaU. It 
 was to this effect : — 
 
 Captain Rounceville's vessel was lost in mid- Atlantic, 
 and likewise his wife and his two little childi^en. Captain 
 Rounceville and seven seamen escaped witb life, but with 
 little else. A small, rudely constructed raft was to be their 
 home for eight days. They had neither provisions nor 
 water. They had scarcely any clothing; no one had a coat 
 but the captain. This coat was changing hands all the time, 
 for the weather was very cold* Whenever a man became 
 exhausted with the cold, they put the coat on Mm and laid 
 him down between two shipmates -until the garment and 
 their bodies had wanned life into him again. Among the 
 sail(»rB was a Portuguese who knew no English. He seemed 
 to have no thought of his own calamity, but was concerned 
 only about the captain's bitter loss of wife and children. By 
 day, he would look his dumb compassion in the captain's 
 boe; and by night, in the darkncuB and the driving spray and 
 
BOMB RAMBLING NOTES OF 
 
 rain, he would seek out the captain and try to oomfort 
 him with caressing pats on the shoulder. One day, when 
 hunger and thurst were making their sure inroads upon the 
 men's strength and spiritB, a floating barrel was seen at a 
 distance. It seemed a great find, for doubtless it contained 
 food of some sort A brave fellow swam to it, and after 
 long and exhausting effort got it to the raft. It was eagerly 
 opened. It was a banel <^ magnesia 1 On the fifth day an 
 onion was spied. A Bailor swam off and got it. vAlthough 
 perishing with hanger, he brought it in its integrity and put 
 it into the captain's hand. The history of the sea teaches that 
 among starving, shipwrecked men selfishnesB is rare, and a 
 wonder^som^eUing ma, ^nimity the rule. The onion was 
 equally divided into eight parts, and eaten with deep thanks- 
 givings. On the eighth day a distant ship was sighted. 
 Attempts were made to hoist an oar, with Captain Bounoe- 
 ville's cnat on it for a signal. There were many failures, for 
 the men were but skeletons now, and strengthless. At last 
 success was achieved, but the signal brooght no help. The 
 ship faded out of sight and left despair behind her. By-and- 
 by another ship appeared, and passed so near that the cast- 
 aways, every eye eloquent with gratitude, made ready to 
 welcome the boat that would be sent to save them. But 
 this ship also drove on, and left tbese men staring their un- 
 utterable surprise and dismay into each other's ashen faces. 
 Late in the day, still another ship came up out of the 
 distance, but the men noted with a pang that her course was 
 one which would not bring her noarer. Their remnant of 
 life was nearly spent ; their lips and tongues were swollen^ 
 parched, cracked with eight dayi^ thirst; their bodies 
 
 m Wi—i — Mi i' i rt MM 
 
AN IDLB EXCURSION, 
 
 gtaryed ; and here wm their last chance gliding relentlessly 
 from them; they would not be alive when the neart» snnroee. 
 For a day or two past the men had lost their Toices, but now 
 Captain Bounoerille whispered, < Let us pray/ The Portu ^ 
 gaese patted him on the shoulder in sign of deep f4>provaL 
 All knelt at the base of the oar that was waving the signal- 
 coat aloft, and bowed theirheads. Thesea was tossing; the 
 •un rested^ a red, rayless disk, on the sea-line in the west. 
 When the men presently raised their heads they would have 
 roared a hallelujah if they had had a voice : the ship's sails 
 lay wrinkled and flapping against her masts, she was. going 
 about I Here was rescue at last, and in the very last instant 
 of time that was left for it. No, not rescue yet — only th« 
 imminent prospect of it. The red disk sank under the sea 
 and darkness blotted out the ship. By-cuad-by came a plea- 
 sant sound— oars moving in a boat's rowlocks. Nearer it 
 came, and nearer — ^within thirty stepe, but nothing visible. 
 Then a deep voice: 'Hol-2o/' The castaways could not 
 answer; their swollen tongues reftised voice. The boat 
 skirted round and round the raft, started away — the agcny 
 of it 1 — ^returned, rested the oars, dose at hand, listening, uo 
 doubt. The deep voice again: 'Hol-i^/ Where are y% 
 shipmates'' Gaptain Bounoeville whispered to his men, 
 saying : < Whisper your beot^ boys I now — all at once.' So 
 they sent out an eightfold whisper in hoaise concert: 
 <Here I ' There was life in it if it succeeded : death if H 
 fidled. ^iber that supreme moment Captain Eouncevilla 
 was conscious of nothing until he came to himself on board 
 the saving ship. Said the Reverend, concluding — 
 
 VThere was one little moment of time in which that raft 
 

 10 
 
 80MB RAMBLING NOTES OF 
 
 could be vifdhle from that ship, and oxdy one. If that one 
 little fleeting moment had pacied unfrnitftil, those men'a 
 doom was sealed. As dose as that does Ood shaye events 
 foreordained from the beginning of the world. When the 
 Sim reached the water's edge that day, the captain of that 
 ship was sitting on deck reading his prayer-bode The book 
 fell ; he stooped to pick it np, and happened to glance at 
 the sun. In that instant that fiuM>£r raft appeared for a 
 second against the red disk, its needle-like oar and diminutive 
 signal, cut sharp and black against the bright surface, and 
 in the next instant was thrust away into the dusk again. 
 But that ship, that captain, and that pf^gnant instant had 
 had their work appointed for them in the dawn of time, and 
 could not fiul of the performance. The chronometer of Qod 
 never errs I * 
 
 There was deep, thoughtful sUence for some momentii 
 Then the grave, pale yoimg man said, 
 
 'What is the chronometer of Qod t ' 
 
 At dinner, m o'clock, the same people assembled whom we 
 had talked with on deck and seen at luncheon and break&st 
 this second day out, and at dinner the evening before. That 
 is to say, three journeying ship-masters, a Boston merchant^ 
 and a returning Bermudian who had been absent from his 
 Bermuda thirteen years ; these sat on the starboard side. 
 On the port side sat the Reverend in the seat of honour : 
 the pale young man next to him ; I next ; next to me an 
 aged Bermudian, returning to his aunny islands after an 
 
AN IDLE JBXCVnSION. 
 
 a 
 
 ftbtoanee of twejttywaeyen yean. Of course our captain was 
 at the head of the table, the purser at t]|e foot of it. A 
 small oompany, but small companies are pleasantest. 
 
 No rsoks upon the table ; the sky cloudless, the sun 
 brilliant, the blue sea scaroely ruffled : then what had 
 become of the four married couples, the three baohdiors, and 
 the aotive and obliging doctor from the rural districts of 
 Pennsyh'aniat— for all these were on deck when we sailed 
 down New York harbour. This is. the explanation. I quote 
 from my note-book : — 
 
 7%uraday, 3.80 p.m. Under way, passing the Battery. 
 The large party, of four married couples, three bachelorS| 
 and a cheery, exhilarating doctor from the wilds of Penn- 
 qrlyania, are eyidently travelling together. All but the 
 doctor grouped in camp-chairs on deck. 
 
 Passing principal fort. The doctor is one of those people 
 who has an infidlible preyentiye of sea-sickness ; is flitting 
 from friend to friend administering it and saying, ' I>on't 
 you be afraid; I know this medicine; absolutely infallible; 
 prepared under my owi| supervision.' Takes a dose himself^ 
 intrepidly. 
 
 4.15 P.M. Two of those ladies have strudc their colours, 
 notwithstanding the ^iufidlible/ They have gone below. 
 The other two b^gin to show distress. 
 
 5 P.1I. Exit one husband and one bachelor. These 
 still bad their infallible in cargo when they started, but 
 airived at the companion-way without it, 
 
 5.10. Lady No. 8, two bachelors, and one married man 
 have gone below with their own opinion of the ii^&Uible. 
 
4f 80MS RAMBUNQ NOTjbiS OF 
 
 6.20. Fusing Quarantine Hnlk. The infallible hat 
 done the hmdneai for all the party except the Sootchinan*a 
 wife and the author of that formidable remedy. 
 
 Kearin^ the Ligfat-Ship. Exit the Sootohman'a wife^ 
 head drooped on stewardess's shoulder. 
 
 Entering the open sea. Exitdootorl 
 
 The rout seems permanent; henoe the smallcoss of 
 ehe company at table since the Toyige began. Our captain 
 is a grave, handsome Hercules of thirty-five, "^th a brown 
 hand of such majestic siie that one cannot eat for admiring 
 it, and wondering if a single kid or calf could furnish 
 material for gloving it. ■ 
 
 Conversation not general; drones along between couples. 
 One catches a sentence here and there. like thl^, from 
 Bermudian of thirteen years' absence : ' It is the nature ol 
 women to vssk trivial, irrelevant, and pursuing questions— 
 questions that pursue you from a beginning in nothing to a 
 f run-to-oover in nowhere.' Beply of Bermudian of twenty- 
 seven years' absence : * Tes ; and to think they have logical, 
 analytic^ minds and argumentative ability, you see 'em 
 begin to whet up whenever they smell argument in the air.' 
 Plainly these be philosophers. 
 
 Twice since we left port our engines have stopped for a 
 couple of minutes at a time. Now they stop again. Says 
 the pale young man, meditatively, 'There ! that engineer is 
 sitting down to rest again.' 
 
 Grave stare from the captain, whose mighty jaws cease 
 to work, and whose harpooned potato stops in mid-air on 
 its way to his open, paralysed mouth. Presently says he in 
 
AS IDLB SXCURSXON. 
 
 wife^ 
 
 air/ 
 
 18 
 
 maMured tones, * 1b it your idea that the engineer of thii 
 ihip propels her by a crank turned by his own hands f ' 
 
 The pale young man studies over this a moment^ then 
 Ults up his gnileleBS eyes, and says, ' Don't he f ' 
 
 Thus gently fiUls the death-blow to ftirther conyersation, 
 and the ('fnner drags to its dose fn a reflective silence, di» 
 tnrbed by no sounds but the murmurous wash of the sea and 
 the stibdued clash of teeth. 
 
 After a smoke %nd a promenade on deck, where is no 
 motion to discompose our steps, we think of a g^me of whist. 
 We asik the brisk and capable stewardess from Ireland if 
 ^here wee any cards in the ship. 
 
 'Bless your soul, dear, indeed there is. Not a whole 
 pic'*% true kit ye, but not enough missing to signify.' 
 
 However, I happened by acddent to bethink me of a 
 new pack in a morocco case, in my trunk, which, I bad 
 placed there by mistake, thinking it to be a ^ask of some- 
 thing. 80 a party of us conquered the tediui^ of the 
 evening with a few games and were ready for bed at sa 
 bells, mariner's time, the signal for putting out the lights. 
 
 There was much chat in the smoking-cabin on the upper 
 deck after luncheon to-day, mostly whaler yams from those 
 old sea-captains. Captain Tom Bowling was garrulous. 
 He had that garruloi&s attention to minor detail which is 
 bom of secluded farm life or life at sea on long voyages, 
 where there is little to do and timo no object. He would 
 sail along till he was right in tbo most exciting part of a 
 yam, and then say, 'Well, as I was saying, the rudder was 
 fouled, ship driving before the gale, head-on, straight for the 
 ioeberg, all hsinds holding their breath, turned to stone^ 
 
44 
 
 ^ilfj; RAMBLING NOTSS OF 
 
 top^hamper giving way, saiU blown to ribbons, ftnt ont 
 ■tiok going, then another, boom I smaah 1 orach I duok yonr 
 head and stand from under f when up oomea Johnny Bogersy 
 eiipstan bar in hand, eyes a-hlaang, hair a-flying . . . no^ 
 twaVt Johnny Rogera . . . lemme see . . . aeema to me 
 Johnny Rogers wa'n't along that voyage ; he was along om 
 voyage, I know that mighty well, but somehow it seems to 
 me that he signed the artioles for this voyage, but — but— 
 whether he oome along or not, or go^ left, or something 
 happened — ' 
 
 And so on and so on, till the excitement all oooled down 
 and nobody oared whether the ship struck the ioeberg or 
 not. 
 
 In the course of his talk he rambled into a oritioiBm 
 upon New England degrees of merit in shipbuilding. Said 
 he, * You get a vessel built away down Maineway ; Bath, 
 for instance ; what's the result 1 First tMng you do, you 
 want to heave her down for repairs — that- 8 the reeuit I 
 Well, sir, she hain't been hove down a week till you can 
 heave a dog through her seams. Tou send that vessel to 
 sea, and what's the result t She wets her oakum the first 
 trip t Leave it to any man if 'tain't so. Well, you let our 
 folks build you a vessel — down New Bedford-way. Whafs 
 the result! Well, sir, you might take that ship and heave 
 her down, and keep her hove down six months, and she'U 
 never shed a tear f ' 
 
 Everybody, landsmen and all, recognised the descriptive 
 neatness of that figure, and applauded, which greatly pleased 
 the old man. A moment later, the meek eyes of the pale- 
 young fellow heretofore mentioned came up slowly, rested 
 
AH IDLS SXCUnSION, 
 
 opon the old ^man's face a moment, and the meek mouth 
 began to open. 
 
 * Shot your head t ' shouted the old mariner. 
 
 It was a rather startling surprise to everybody, but it 
 was effective in the matter of its purpose. So the con- 
 versation flowed on instead of perishing. 
 
 There was some talk about the perils of the sea, and a 
 landsman delivered himself of the customary nonsense about 
 the poor mariner wandering in Ux ooeiuis, tempesirtossed, 
 pursued by dangers, every storm-blast aud thundeibolt in 
 the home sKies moving the friends by snug firesides to com- 
 passion for that poor mariner, and prayers for his succour. 
 Captain Bowling put up with this for a while, and then 
 burst out wit^ a new view of the matter. 
 
 < Come, belay there ! I have read this kind of rot all my 
 life in poetry and tales and such like rubbage.. Pity for the 
 poor mariner t sympathy for the poor mariner 1 All right 
 enough, but not in the way the poetry puts it. Pity for the 
 niariner's wife t all right again, but not in the way the 
 poetry puts it. Look-a-here ! whose life's the safest in ih« 
 whole world ) The poor mariner's. Tou look at the sta- 
 tistics, youll see. So don't you fool away any sympathy on 
 the poor mariner's dangers and privations and suffering!. 
 Leave that to the poetry muflk Now yon look at the other 
 side a minute. Here is Captain Brace, forty years old, been 
 at sea thirty. On his way now to take command of his ship 
 and sail south from Bermuda. Next week hell be under^ 
 way : easy times ; comtbrtabl'' quarters ; passengers, sociable 
 company ; just enough to do to keep his mind healthy and 
 not tire him ; king over his ship, boss of everything and 
 
46 
 
 SOUfJ! RAMBUNQ NOTES OF - 
 
 everybody; thirty years' safety to learn him that his pro- 
 fession ain't a dangerous one. Now you look back at his 
 home. His wife's a feeble woman ; she's a stranger in Kew 
 York ; shut, up in blazing hot or freezing cold lodgings, ao* 
 <X>rd{ng to the season; don't know anybody hardly; no 
 company but Ver lonesomeness t^ad her thoughts ; husband 
 gone six months at a tim j. She has borne eight children ; 
 five of them she has buried without her husband ever setting 
 eyes on them. She watohed them all the long nights till 
 they died — he comfortable on the sea ; she followed them to 
 the grave, sLo heard the clods fall that broke her heartr^ 
 he comfortable on the sea ; she mourned at home, weeks and 
 weeks, liiissing them eveiy day and every hour — he cheerful 
 at sea, knowing nothing about it. Now look at it a minute 
 •—turn it over in your mind and size it : five children bom, 
 she among stran<;^ers, and him not by to hearten her; buried, 
 and him not by tO comfort her ; think of that ! Sympathy 
 for the poor mariiner e perils is rot ; give it to his wife's hard 
 lines, where it beloniips 1 Poetry makes out that all the wife 
 worries about is the dangers her husband's running. She's 
 got substantialer things to worry over, I tell you. Poetry's 
 always pitying the poor mariner on account of his perils at 
 sea ; better a blamed sight pity him for the nights he cant 
 sleep for thinking of how he had to leave his wife in her 
 very birth pains, lonesome and friendless, in the thick ci 
 disease and trouble and death. If there's one thing that can 
 make me madder than another, it's this sappy, damned 
 maritime poetry t ' 
 
 Oaptain Brace was a patient^ gentle, seldom-speaking 
 man, with a pathetic something in his bronzed face that had 
 
AN IDLE EXCURSION^ 
 
 47 
 
 been a mjstety up to this time, but atood interpreted now, 
 muoe we had heard hia story. He had voyaged eighteen 
 times to the Mediterranean, seven times to India, ofioe to the 
 Arotie pole in a disoovery-ship, and ' between times ' had 
 ▼idted all the remote seas and ocean comers of the globe. 
 Bat he said that twelve years ago, on aoooont of his fieunily, 
 he * settled down/ and ever since then had ceased to roam. 
 And what do you suppose was this simple-hearted, life-long 
 wanderer's idea of settling down and ceasing ^o roamt 
 Why, the making of two five-month voyages a year between 
 Surinam and Bpston for sugar and molasses 1 
 
 Among other talk, to-day, it came out that whale-ships 
 carry 1:0 doctor. The captain adds the doototship to his 
 own dut)'>?. He not only gives medicines, but sets broken 
 limbs after notions of his own, or sawtr them off and sears 
 the stump when amputation seems best. The captain is 
 provided with a medidne-chest, with the medicines num- 
 bered instead of named. A book of directions goes with 
 this. It describes diseases and symptoms, and says, ' Give a 
 teaspoonfal of Ko. 9 once an hour,' or * Give ten grains of 
 Ko. 12 every half hour,' etc. One of our sea-captains came 
 across a skipper in the Nortii Pacific who was in a state of 
 great surprise and perplexity. Said h&— 
 
 'There's tomething rotten about this medidne-chest 
 business. One of my mep was sick — ^nothing much the 
 matter. I looked m the book : it said, give him a teaspoon- 
 ful of No. 15. I went to the medidne-chest, and I secl 
 was out of No. 16. I judged I'd got U> get up a combina- 
 tion somehow that would fill the bill; so I hove into 
 the fellow half a taaspoonful of No. 8 and hidf a teaspoonftd 
 
80MJB RAMBLING ITOTJBS OF 
 
 of No 7, and 111 be hanged if it didn't JoU him in fifteen 
 minutes I There's something abont this mcdicine*ohest sys- 
 tem that's too many for me 1 ' 
 
 There was a good deal of pleasant gossip about old 
 Captain * Hurricane ' Jones, of the Baoifio Ocean — ^peace to 
 his ashes I Two or thr^e of us present had known him ; I, 
 particularly well, for I had made four sea-voyages with bim. 
 He was a very remarkable man. He was bom in a ship ; 
 he picked up what little education he had among his ship- 
 mates ; he began life in the forecastle, and climbed grade by 
 grade to the captaincy. More than fifty years of his sixty- 
 five were spent at sea. He had sailed all oceans, seen all ' 
 lands, and borrowed a tint from all climates. When a man 
 has been fifty years at sea he necessarily knows nothing 
 of men, nothing of the world but its surface, nothing 
 of the world's thought, nothing of the world's learning 
 but its A B 0, and that blurred and distorted by 
 the unfocussed lenses of an untrained mind. Such a 
 man is only a grey and bearded child. That is what 
 old Hurricane Jones was — simply an innocent, lovable 
 old infant. When his spirit was in repose he was as sweet 
 and gentle as a girl; when his wrath was up he was a 
 hurricane that made his nickname seem tamely descriptiva 
 He was formidable in a fight, for he was of powerful 
 build and dauntless courage. He was frescoed from 
 head to heel with pictures and mottoes tattooed in red 
 and blue India ink. I was with him one voyage when he 
 got his last vacant space tattooed ; this vacant space waa 
 around his left ankle. During three days he stumped about 
 the ship with his ankle bare and swollen, and this legend 
 
 I 
 
AN UDLS SXCUMSIoy. 
 
 gleaming red and angry out from a douding of India ink : 
 ' Yiriiie is its own R'd.' (There was a lack of room.) He 
 was deeply and sincerely pious, and swore like a fish-woman. 
 He considered swearing blameless, because sailors would not 
 understand an order nnillumined by it. He was a pro- 
 found Biblical scholar — that is, he thought he was. He 
 believed everything in the Bible, but he had his own 
 methods of arriving at his beliefik He was of the * ad- 
 vanced ' school of thinkers, and applied natural laws to the 
 interpretation of all miradee, somewhat on the plan of the 
 people who make the six days of creation six geological 
 epochs, and so forth. Without being aware of it, he was a 
 rather severe satire on modem scientific religionists. Such 
 a man as I have been describing is rabidly fond oi disquisi- 
 tion and argument; one knows that without being told it. 
 
 One trip the captain had a clergyman on board, but 
 did not know he was a clergyman, since the passenger list 
 did not betray the fact. He took a great liking to this 
 lev. Mr. Peters, and talked with him a great deal ; told 
 him yams, gave him toothsome Scraps of personal history, 
 and wove a glittering streak of profanity through hii 
 garrulous fabric that was refreshing to a spirit weary of the 
 dull neutralities of undecorated speech. One day the captain 
 ioid, ' Peters, do you ever read the Bible 1 ' 
 
 'Well— yes.' 
 
 *I judge it ain't often, by the way you say it. Now, 
 you tackle it in dead earnest once, and you'll find itil pay. 
 Don't you get discouraged, but hang right on. First, you 
 wo«i't understand it; but by-and-by things will begin to 
 dear up, and then you wouldn't lay it down to eat.' 
 
5 
 
 ■0 BOMB RAMBimO NOTSS Of 
 
 'Yes, I haye heard that said.' 
 ^ ' And it's 80 too. There ain't a book that begins with 
 it It lays over 'em all, Peters. There's some pretty tough 
 things in it — ^there ain't any getting around that — ^bat yon 
 stick to them and think them out, and when once you get 
 on the inside eveiytlung's plain as day.' 
 
 < The miracles, ^ 'X), captain t ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir I the miracles, too. Every one of them. Now, 
 there's that business with the prophets of Baal; like enough 
 that stumped you t ' 
 
 •Well, I don't know but • 
 
 ' Own up, now ; lii stumped you. Well, I don't wonder. 
 Yoii hadn't had any experience in ravelling such things out, 
 and naturally it was too many for you. Would you like to 
 have me explain that thing to you, and show you how to 
 get at the meat of these matters % ' 
 
 'Indeed I would, captain, if you don't mind.' 
 
 Then the captain proceeded as follows: '111 do it with 
 pleasure. First, you see, I read and read, and thought and 
 thought, till I got to understand what sort of people they 
 were in the old Bible times, and then after that it was all 
 dear and easy. Now, this was the way I put it up, con- 
 cerning Isaac ^ and the prophets of BaaL There was some 
 mighty sharp men amongst the public characters of that 
 old ancient day, and Isaac was one of them. Isaac had his 
 failings — ^plenty of them, too it ain't for me to apologise 
 for Isaac ; he played it on the prophets of Baal, and like 
 tnough he was justifiable, considering the odds that waf 
 
 > This is the oe^tain^El own nuistake* 
 
 ' -^ 
 
AN IDLE BXCUHSION, 
 
 Bgainst him. No, all I say is, 'twa'n't anj miracle^ and 
 tihat 111 show you soVt you <«ii see it youraelfl 
 
 ' Weli| times had been getting rougher and rougher for 
 prophets — ^that is, prophets of Isaac's denomination. Thero 
 was four hundred and fifty prophets of Baal in the oom- 
 murity, and only one Presbyterian ; that is, if Isaac woi 
 a Iveisbyterian, which I reckon he was, but it don't say. 
 Naturally, the prophef-** of Baal took all the trade. Isaac 
 was pretty low-spirited, I reckon, but he was a good dad of 
 a man, and no doubt he went a-prophesying around, letting 
 on to be doing a land-office business, but 'twa'n't any use; 
 he couldn't run any opposition to amount to anything. By- 
 and-by things got desperate with him ; he sets his head to 
 work and thinks it all out, and then what does he do) 
 Why, he begins to threw out hints that the other parties 
 are this and that and t'other — ^nothing very definite, may 
 be, but just kind of undermining their reputation in a quiet 
 way. This made talk, of course, 4md finally got to the king. 
 The king asked Isaac what he meant by his talk. Sayi 
 Isaac, " Oh, nothing particular ; only, can they pray down 
 fire from heayen on an altar 9 It ain't much, may be, your 
 majesty, only can they do itt That's the idea." So the 
 king was a good deal dis^lrbed, and he went to the prophets 
 of BaaL and they said, pretty airy, that if he had an altar 
 ready, they were ready; and they intimated he better get it 
 insured, too. 
 
 * So ne^ morning all the children of Israel and their parents 
 and the other people gatherea themselves together. Well, 
 here was that great crowd of prophets of Baal packed together 
 on one nde, and Isaac waUdng up and down all alone on the 
 
 ) 4 
 
aOJI£B RAMBLIKG NOTES OF 
 
 other, patting up his job. When time was called, Inao let on 
 to he comfortable and indifierent ; told the other team to take 
 the first innings. So they went at it, the whole four hun- 
 dred and fifty, praying around the altar, very hopeftil, and 
 loing their level best. They prayed an hour — two hours — 
 three hours — and so on, plumb till noon. It waVt any 
 use; they hadn't took a trick. Of course they felt kind of 
 ashamed before all those people, and well they might. Now, 
 what would a magnanimous man do 9 Keep still, wouldn't 
 hel Of course. What did Isaac dof He gravelled the 
 prophets of Baal every way he could, think of. Says he^ 
 '^Tou don't speak up loud enough ; your gud's asleep, like 
 enough, or may be he's taking a walk ; you want to holler, 
 you know**— or words to that effect; I don't recollect the 
 exact language. Mind, I don't apologise for Isaac; he had 
 his faults. 
 
 'Well, the prophets of Baal prayed along the best they 
 knew how all the afternoon, and never raised a spark. At 
 last, about sundown, they were all tuckered out, and they 
 owned up and quit. 
 
 < What does Isaac do, now % He steps up and says to 
 some friends of his, there, ** Pour four barrels of water on 
 the altar ! '* Everybody was astonished ; for the other side 
 had prayed at it dry, you know, and got whitewashed. 
 They poured it on. Says he, ** Heave on four more barrehk*^ 
 The^ he says, " Heave on four more.** Twelve barrels, you 
 see, altogether. The water ran all over the altar, and all 
 down the sides, and filled up a trench around it that would 
 hold a couple of hogsheads — ''measures,'* it says; I reckon 
 it means about a hogshead. Some of the people were going 
 
 ^ 
 
AN IDLE BXCUnSION. 88 
 
 to pat on their things and go, for they allowed he was 
 orasy. They didn't know Isaac. Isaao kneU down and 
 began to pray: he strung along, and strung along, about 
 the heathen in distant lands, and about the sister churches, 
 and about the state and the country at large, and about 
 those that's in authority in the government, and all the 
 usual progranune, you know, tiU everybody had got tired, 
 and gone to thinking about something else, and then, all 
 of a sudden, when nobody was noticing, he outs with a 
 match and rakes it on the under side <^ his leg, and pff I 
 up the whole thing blaxes Uke a hbuse afire 1 Twelve 
 barrels of wat&r^ Petroleum^ sir, pstbolbumI that's what 
 itwasi' 
 
 ' Petroleum, captain t ' 
 
 ' Yes, sir ; the oountiy was ftill of it. Isaac knew aU 
 about that. Tou read the Bible. Don't you worry about 
 the tough places. They ain't tough when you come to think 
 them put and throw light on them. There ain't a thing in 
 the Bible but what is true; all you want is to go prayer- 
 fully to work and cipher out how 'twas done/ , 
 
 At eight o'dock on the third morning out from New 
 York land was sighted. Away across the sunny waves one 
 saw a faint dark stripe stretched along under the horizon — 
 or pretended to see it, for the credit of his eyesight. Even 
 the Beverend said he saw it, a thing which was manifestly 
 not so. But I never have seen any one who was morally 
 strong enough to confess that he could not see land when 
 others claimed that they could. 
 
 By-and-by the Bermuda Islands were easily visible. 
 The principal one lay upon the water in the distance, a 
 
 I 
 
 ! 
 
 I 
 
8i 
 
 BOMB RAMBLING N0TB8 OF 
 
 long, duU- coloured body, aoalloped with slight hillB and 
 valleys. We ooold not go straight at it, bat had to travel 
 all the way around it, sixteen miles from shore, because it is 
 fenced with an invisible coral reef. At last we sighted 
 buoys, bobbing here and there, and then we glided into a 
 narrow channel among them, 'raised the reef,' and came 
 upon shoaling blue water that soon further shoaled into 
 pale green, with a surfece scarcely rippled. Now came the 
 resurrection hour : the berths gave up their dead. Who are 
 these pale spectres in plug hats and silken flounces that file 
 up the companion-way in melancholy procession and step 
 upon the deck 1 These are they which took the infiallible 
 preventive of seansickness in New York harbour, and then 
 disappeared and were forgotten. Also there came two or 
 three faces not seen before until this moment. One's im- 
 pulse is to ask, < Where did you come aboard % ' 
 
 We followed the narrow channel a long time, with land 
 on both sides — ^low hills that might have been green and 
 grassy, but had a faded look instead. However, the land- 
 locked water was lovely, at any rate, with its glittering 
 belts of blue and green where moderate sbundings were, apd 
 its broad splotches of rich brown where the rocks lay near 
 the surface. Everybody was feeling so well that even the 
 grave, pale young man (who, by a sort of kindly common 
 consent, had come latterly to be referred to as ' the Ass') 
 received frequent and friendly notice — whicb was right 
 enough, for there was no harm in him. 
 
 At last we steamed between two island points whose 
 rocky jaws allowed only just enough room for the vessel's 
 body, and now before us loomed Hamilton on her olusterad 
 
AN IDIS EXCVRSION, 
 
 05 
 
 Ok and 
 
 travel 
 use it if 
 sighted 
 
 1 into a 
 d came 
 9d into 
 me the 
 ^o are 
 hat file 
 id step 
 fiallible 
 id then 
 bwo or 
 )'8 im- 
 
 b land 
 n and 
 iland- 
 tering 
 apd 
 rnear 
 n the 
 imon 
 
 right 
 
 rhoee 
 »erg 
 ieied 
 
 knieddeB and smmnits, the whitest mass df terraced aroh^ 
 teoture that er'sts in the world, perhaps. 
 
 It was Sunday afternoon, and on the pier weve gathered 
 one or two hundred Bermadiaiw, half of them black, half of 
 them white^ and all of them nobbily dressed, as the poet 
 says. 
 
 Several boats came off to the ship, bringing dtizena. 
 One of these citizens was a faded, diminutive old gentleman, 
 who approached our most ancient passenger with a childlike 
 joy in his twinkling eyes, halted before him, folded his arms, 
 and said, smiling with all his might and with all the simple 
 delight that was in him, ' Tou don't know me, John 1 (> jme^ 
 out with it, now ; you know you don't I ' 
 
 The andent passenger scanned him perplexedly, scanned 
 the napless, threadbare costume of venerable fashion that 
 had done Sunday service no man knows how many years, 
 contemplated the marvellous stove-pipe hat of still more 
 ancient and venerable pattern, with its poor pathetic old 
 stiff brim canted up ' gallusly ' in the wrong places, and 
 said, with a hesitation that indicated strong internal effort 
 to ' plao^ ' the gentle old apparition, * Why ... let me see 
 . • . plague on it . . . there's Btymethvng about you that 
 • . . er . . . er . . . Wt Tve been gone from Bermuda for 
 IwentyHse^^en years, and . . . hum, hum ... I don't seem 
 to get at it, somehow, but there's something about you that 
 10 just as familiar to me a n ' 
 
 ' Likely it might be his hat,' murmured the Ass, with 
 innocent, iBympathetic interest 
 
 I 
 
SOME RAMBLING NOTMS OF 
 
 in 
 
 So the Reverend and I had at last arrived at Hamilton, 
 the principal town in the Bermuda Islands. A wonderfnlly 
 white town ; white as snow itself. White aa marUe ; white 
 as flour. Tet looking like none of thesoi eiototly. Never 
 mind, we said ; we shall hit vpon a figure hy-ond-by that 
 will describe this peculiar wMoO. 
 
 It was a town that was compacted together upon the 
 sides and tops of a duster of small hills. Its outlying 
 borders hinged off and thinned away among the cedar 
 
 ■ir 
 
 forests, and there was no woody distance of curving coast^ 
 or leafy islet sleeping upon the duupledi painted sea, but 
 waa flecked with shining white points — half-concealed houses 
 peeping out of the foliage. The architecture of the town 
 was mainly Spanish, inherited from the colonists of two 
 hundred and fifty years ago. Some ragged-topped cocoa- 
 palms, glimpsed here and there, gave the land a tropical 
 aspect. 
 
 There was an ample pier of heavy maflonxy ; upon this, 
 under shelter, were some thousands of barrels containing 
 that product which has carried the fame of Bermuda to 
 many lands, the potato. With here and there an onion. 
 That last sentence is facetious; for they grow at least two 
 onions in Bermuda to one potato. The onion is the pride 
 and joy of Bermuda. It is her jewel, her gem of gems. In 
 her conversation, her pulpit, her literature, it is her most 
 fi:^uent and eloquent figure. In Bermudian metaphor it 
 ■tands for perfbction — ^perfection absolute. 
 
 I 
 
 'HI 
 
 the! 
 
 cot 
 
 wM 
 
 out 
 The 
 whi 
 anc 
 
 ! 
 
AN WLB EXCURSION. 
 
 The Bermadian weeping over the departed ezhaiifitM 
 praise when he says, * He was an onion I * The Bermadian 
 estolling the living hero bankrupts applause when he saySi 
 *He is an onion 1 ' The Bermudian setting his son upon 
 the stage of life to dare and do for himself dimaxes all 
 counsel, supplication, admonition, comprehends all ambitioii, 
 when he says, ' Be an onion 1 ' 
 
 When parallel with the pier, and ten or fifteen steps 
 outside it, we anchored. It was Sunday, bright and sunny. 
 The groups upon the pier — ^men, youths, and boys — ^were 
 whites and blacks in about equal proportion. All were well 
 and i^Uy dressed, many of them nattily, a few of them 
 yecj stylishly. One would have to trave.^ far before he 
 would find another town of twelve thousand inhabitants 
 that could represent itself so respectably, in the matter of 
 dothes, on a freight-pier, without premeditation or efibrt 
 The women and young girls, black and white, who occaslon- 
 ally passed by, were nicely dad, and many were degantly 
 and fkshionably so. The men did not affect summer dothing 
 mudi, but the girls and women did, and their white garments 
 were good to look at, alter so 'many months of fiuniliarity 
 with sombre colours. 
 
 Around one isolated potato barrd stocd four young 
 gentlemen, two black, two white, becomingly dressed, each 
 with the head of a dender cane pressed against his teeth, 
 and each with a foot propped up on the barreL Another 
 young gentleman came up, looked longingly at the barrd, 
 but saw no rest for his foot there, and turned pensively away 
 to seek another barrel. Ho wandered here and there, but 
 without result. Nobody sat upon a barrd, as is the custom 
 
 
$0M£ RAMBLIKO K0TE8 OF 
 
 of tbe idle in other Undi, yet all the Isolated barrels weN 
 hamanly oconpied. Whosoever had a foot to ipare pat it 
 on a barrel) if all the plaoes on it were not already taken. 
 The habits of all peoples are determined by their oircum- 
 stanoes. The Bermudians lean upon barrels because of the 
 scarcity of lamp-posts. 
 
 Many oitlsens came on board and spoke eagerly to the 
 officers — inquiring about the Tnroo-Russian war news, I 
 supposed. However, by listening judiciously I found that 
 this was not so. They said, ' What is the price of onions t* 
 or, ' How's onions t ' Naturally enough this was their first 
 interest; but they dropped into the war the moment^ was 
 satisfied. 
 
 We went ashore and found a novelty of a pleasant 
 nature : there were no hackmen, hacks, or omnibuses oA 
 the pier or about it anywhere, and nobody offered his services 
 to us or molested us in any way. I said it was like being 
 in heaven. The Keverend robukingly and rather pointedly 
 advised me to make the most of it« then. Wo knew of a 
 boarding-house, and what we needed now was somebody to 
 pilot us to it. Presently^ a little barefooted coloured boy 
 came along, whose raggedness was conspicuously un-Ber- 
 mudian. His rear was so marvellously bepatched with 
 coloured squares and triangles that one was half persuaded 
 he had got it out of an atlas. When the sun struck him 
 right, he was as good to follow as a lightning-bug. We 
 hired him and dropped into his wake. He piloted us 
 through one picturesque street after another, and in due 
 course deposited us ^'here we belonged. He charged nothing 
 for his map, and but a trifle for his services ; so the Beverend 
 
AN JDZB gxcunsioir. 
 
 .babied it The little ohap received tlio money witli a 
 Deaming applause in hia eye which [ilainly eaid, ' This man's 
 an onion 1 ' 
 
 We had brought no letters of introduction; our nameu 
 had laen misspelt in the passenger list; nobody knew 
 whether we were honest folk or otherwise. So we were 
 expecting to have a good private time in case there was 
 nothing in our general aspect to dose boarding-house doon 
 against us. We had no trouble. Bermuda has had but 
 little experience of rascals^ and is not suspicious. We got 
 large, cool, well-lighted rooms on a second floor, overlooking 
 a blymy display of flowers and flowering shrubs — calls and 
 annunciation lilies, lantanas, heliotrope, jeaaamine, roses, 
 pinks, double geraniums, oleanders, pomegranates, blue 
 morning-glories of a great siie^ and miany plants that were 
 unknown to me. 
 
 We took a long afternoon walk, and soon found out that 
 that ezceef/r/»gly white town was built of blocks o^ white 
 coral. Bermuda is a coral island, with a six-inch crust of 
 soil on «top of it, and every man has a quarry on his own 
 premises. Everywhere you go you see square recesses cut 
 into the hillsides, with perpendicular walls unmarred by 
 crack or crevice, and perhaps yon £uicy that a house grew 
 out of the ground there, and has been removed in a single 
 piece from the mould. If yoa do, you err. But the material 
 for a house has been quarried there. They cut right down 
 through the coral, to any depth tiiat is convenient — ^ten to 
 twenty feet — and take it out in great square blocks. This 
 cutting is done with a chisel thaf* has a handle twelve or 
 fifteen feet long, and is used as one uses a crowbar when be 
 
60 
 
 ^Oilf:^ RAMBLING NOTBS 01/ 
 
 Ib drilling a Lole, or a dasher when he is ohuming. Thus 
 soft is this stone. Then with a oommon hand-saw they saw 
 the great blocks into handsome, huge bricks that are two 
 feet long, a foot wide, and about six inches thick. These 
 stand loosely piled during a month to harden; then the 
 work of building begins. The house is built of these blocks ; 
 it is roofed with broad coral slabs an inch thick, whose edges 
 lap upon each other, so that the roof looks like a succes- 
 sion of shallow steps or terraces \ the chimneys are built of 
 the coral blocks, and sawed into graceful and picturesque 
 patterns ; Ihe ground-floor veranda is paved with coral blocks ; 
 also the walk to the gate ; the fence is built of coral blqi^cs — 
 built in massive panels, with broad capstones and heavy 
 gate-posts, and the whole trimmed into easy lines and comely 
 shape with the saw. Then they put a hard coat of white- 
 wash, as thick as your thumbnail, on the fence and all over 
 the house, roof, chimneys, and all ; the sun comes out and 
 shines on this spectacle, and it is time for you to shut your 
 unaccustomed eyes, lest they be put out. It is the whitest 
 white you can conceive of, and theblindingest. A Bermuda 
 house does not look like marble ; it is a much inteoser white 
 than that \ and besides, there is a dainty, indefinable some- 
 thing else about its look thai is not marble-like. We put 
 in a great deal of solid talk and reflection over this; matter 
 of trying to find a figure tnat would describe the unique 
 white of a Bermuda house, and we contrived to hit upon it 
 at last. It is exactly the white of the icing of a cake, and 
 has the same unemphasised and scarcely perceptible polish. 
 The white of marble is modest and retiring compared with it. 
 After the house is cafied in its hard scale of whitewasli^ 
 
AN IDLE EXCURSION. 
 
 ei 
 
 ncft A cracky or sign of a seam, or joioing of the blocks, is 
 detectable, horn, base-stone to chiimiej-top; the building 
 looks as if it had been carved from a single block of stone, 
 and the doors and windows sawed out afterwards. A white 
 marble house has a oold, tomb-like, ansddable look, and 
 takes the conversation out of a body and depresses him. 
 Not so with a Bermuda house. There is something ex- 
 hilarating, even hilarious, about its vivid whiteness when 
 the sun plajs upon it. If it be of picturesque shape and 
 graceful contour — and many of the Bermudian dwellings are 
 — ^it will so fSskSGinate you that you will keep your eyes on it 
 nnti^they ache. One of those clean-out, fitncLful chimneys — 
 too pnr» and white for this world — with one side glowing in 
 the sun and the other touched with a soft shadow, is an 
 object that will charm one's gase by the hour. I know of 
 no other country that has chimneys worthy to be gazed at and 
 gloated over. One Of those snowy houses, half-concealed and 
 half-glimpsed through green foliage, is a pretty thing to see ; 
 and if it takes one by surprise and suddenly, as he turns a 
 sharp comer of a country road, it will wring an exdamation 
 firom himi, sure. 
 
 Wherever you go, in town or country, you find those 
 snowy houses, and always with masses of bright-coloured 
 flowers about them, but with no vines dimbing their walls; 
 vines cannot take hold of the smooth, hard whitewash. 
 Wherever you go, in the town or along the country roadS| 
 among little potato farms and patches or expensive country 
 seats, these etainless white dwellings, gleaming out from 
 flowers and foliage, meet you at every turn. The least little 
 bit of a cottage is as white and blemishless as the stateliest 
 
 ' « -i 
 
 
 i 
 
aOMB RAMBLINO K0TE9 OF 
 
 mangioin. Nowhere is there dirt or steiicb, puddle or hog- 
 wallow, neglect, disorder, or lack of trimness and neatnofla 
 The roads, the streets, the dwellings, the people, the clothes 
 — ^this neatness extends to everything that fetlls ni ier the 
 eye. It is the tidiest conntiy in the world. And very much 
 the tidiest, too. 
 
 Considering these things, the question came r.p. Where 
 do the poor live 1 No answer was arrived at. Therefore, 
 we agree to leave this conundrum for future statesmen to 
 wrangle over. 
 
 What a bright and startling spectade one of those 
 blazing white country palaces, with its brown-tinted window 
 caps and ledges, and green shutters, and its wealth of 
 caressing flowers and foliage, would be in black London ! 
 And what a gleaming surprise it would be in nearly any 
 American dty one could mention, too t 
 
 Bermuda roads are made hy cutting down a few inches 
 into the solid white coral — or a good many feet, where a hill 
 intrudes itself — and smoothing off the surface of the ro§4-bod. 
 It is a simple and easy process. The grain of the coral is 
 coarse and porous ; the road-bed has the look of being made 
 of coarse white sugar. Its exqessiye cleanness and whiteness 
 are a trouble in one way : the sun is n^flected into your eyes 
 with such energy as you walk along, that you want to sneeze 
 all the time. Old Captain Tom Bowling found another 
 difficulty. He joined us in our walk, but kept wandering 
 unrestfully to the roadside. Finally he explained. Said he, 
 * Well, I chew, you know, and the road's so plaguy dean.' 
 
 We walked several miles that afternoon in the bewilder- 
 ing glare of the sun, the white roads., and the white buildings. 
 
 
 Our 
 
 tool 
 
 look^ 
 
 sn 
 
 his 
 
 and 
 
AN IDLE BXCUItSION. 
 
 Our fljes got to paimng us a good deal. By-and-by a 
 Boothing, blessed twilight spread its cod balm around. We 
 looked up in pleased surprise and saw that it proceeded fix>m 
 in intensely black negro who was going by. We answered 
 his military salute in the grateful gloom of his near presence^ 
 and then passed on into the pitiless white glare again. 
 
 The coloured women whom we met usually bowed and 
 5poke ; so did the children. The coloured men commonly 
 gave the military salute. They borrow this fiushion from 
 the soldiers, no doubt; England has kept a garrison here for 
 generations. The younger men's custom of carrying small 
 canes is also borrowed from the soldiers, I suppose, who 
 alwayd carry a cane, in Bermuda as everywhere else in 
 Britr Vs broad dominions. 
 
 The country roads curve and wind hither and thither in 
 the delightfolest way, unfolding pretty surprises at every 
 turn : billowy masses of oleander that seem to float out from 
 behind distant projections like the pink doudbanks of 
 sunset ; sudden plunges among cottages and gardens, life and 
 activity, followed by aa sudden plunges into the sombre 
 twilight and stillness of the woods; flitting visions of white 
 fortresses and beacon towers pictured against the sky on 
 remote hill-tops; glimpses of shining green sea caught for a 
 moment through opening headlands, then lost again ; more 
 woods and solitude ; and by-and-by another turn lays bare, 
 without warning, ^he full sweep of the inland oceaui 
 enriched with its bars of soft colour, and graced with its 
 wandering sails. 
 
 Take any road you please, you may depend upon it you 
 will not stay m it half a mile. Your road is everything t^iat 
 
 .'' 
 
 • \ \ 
 
 ■\ 
 
 . 
 
M 
 
 SOME RAMBLING N0TJB8 OF 
 
 a road ought to be: it is bordered with trees, and with 
 strange plants and flowers; it is shady and pleasant, or 
 sunny and stUl pleasant ; it carries you by the prettiest and 
 peacefulest and most homelike of homes, and through 
 stretches of forest that lie in a deep hush sometimes, and 
 sometimes are alive with the music of birds; it curves 
 always, whioh is a continual promise, whereas straight roads 
 reveal ever/thing at a glance and kill interest. Tour road 
 is all this, and yet you will not stay in it half a mile, fer the 
 reason that little seductive, mysterious roads are always 
 branching out from it on either hand, and as these curve 
 sharply also and hide what is beyond, you cannot resist the 
 temptation to desert your own chosen road and explore 
 them. Ton are usually paid for your trouble ; consequently, 
 your walk inland always turns out to be one of the most 
 crooked, involved, purposeless, and interesting experiences a 
 body can imagine. There is enough of variety. Sometimes 
 you are in the level open, with marshes thick grown with 
 flag-lances that aro ten feet high on the one hand, and 
 potato and onion orchards on the other ; next, you aro on a 
 hill-top, with the ocean and the islands spread around you; 
 presently the road winds through a deep cut, shut in by 
 perpendicular walls thirty or forty feet high, mark^^ with 
 the oddest and abruptest stratum lines, suggestive of sudden 
 and eccentric old upheavals, and garnished with hero and 
 there a clinging a>2venturous flower, anc^ hero and thero a 
 dangling vine; and by-and-by your way is along the sea 
 edge, and you may look down a &thom or two through the 
 transparent water and watch the diamond like flash and 
 play o( the l^t upon the rocks and sands on the bottom 
 
AN WLS BXCUnSION. 
 
 3d 
 
 vntii yovL are tired of it-^ if yon are no oonstitated aa to liii 
 able to get tired of it. 
 
 Tou may march the u imtry roads in maiden meditntiony 
 fiuBcy free, by field and fium, for no dog will plunge out at 
 you from unsuspected gate, with breath-taking surprise of 
 ferocious bark, notwithstanding it is a Christian land and a 
 civilised. We saw upwards of a million cato in Bermuda^ 
 but the people are very abstemious in the matter of dog& 
 Two or three nights we prowled the country far and wide, 
 and never once were ao(v>«ted by a dog. It is a great privi- 
 lege to visit such a land. The cats were no offence when 
 properly distributed, but when piled they obstructed travel. 
 
 As we entered the edge of the town that Sunday after* 
 noon, we stopped at a cottage to get a drink of water. The 
 proprietory a middle-aged man with a good &oe, asked ua^ 
 to sit down and rest. His dame brought chairs, and we 
 grouped ourselves in the shade of the trees by the door. Mr. 
 Smith — ^that was not his name, but it will answer — quea* 
 tioned us about ourselves and our country, and we answered 
 him truthfully, as a general thing, and questioned him in 
 return. It was all very simple and pleasant and sociable. 
 Rural, too ; for there was a pig and a small donkey and l 
 hen anchored out, dose at hand, by cords to their legs, on 
 a spot that purported to be grassy. Presently, a woman 
 passed along, and although she coldly said nothing she 
 changed the drift of our talk. Said Smith — 
 
 'She didn't look this way, you noticed 1 Well, she ia 
 our jas7i neighbour on one side, and there's another fEumiljr 
 that's our next neighbours on the other side ; but there's a 
 general ooobeBs all aiou -^d now, and we don't speak. Yei 
 
 F 
 
 X 
 
y 
 
 SOME HAMBLINO N0TB8 09 
 
 these three fi>-niiliA«^ one generation and another, haTe liyed 
 here side hy side and heen as friendly as weavers Ibr a 
 hundred and fifty years, till ahoat a year ago.' 
 
 * Why, what calamity could hare been powerful enough 
 m break up io old a friendshipt' 
 
 ' Welly it was too ba^» but it couldn't be helped. It 
 happened like this : About a year or more ago, the rats got 
 to pestering my place a good deal, and I set up a steel-trap 
 in the back yard. Both of these neighbours run considerable 
 to oats, and so I warned them about the trap, be(».use their 
 oats were pietty sociable around here nights, and they might 
 get into trouble without my intending it. Well, they shut 
 up their cats for a while, but you know how it is widi 
 people; they got careless, and sure enough one night the 
 trap took Mrs. Jones's principal tomcat into camp, and 
 finished him up. In the moniing Mrs. Jones comes here 
 with the corpse in her arms, and cries and takes on the same 
 as if it WP49 a child. It was a cat by the name of Yelverton 
 —Hector G. Yelverton — a troublesome old rip, with no 
 more principle than an L^jun, though you couldn't make her 
 believe it. I said all a man could to comfort her, but no, 
 nothing would do but I must pay for him. Finally, I said 
 I warr't investing in cats now as much as I was, and with 
 that she walked off in a huff, carrying the remains with her. 
 That closed our intercourse with the Joneses. Mrs. Jones 
 joined another church and took her tribe with her. She 
 said she would not hold fellowship with assassins. Well, 
 by-and-by comes Mrs. Brown's turn — she that went by 
 here a minute ago. She had a disgraceful old yellow cat 
 that ihe thought as much of as if he was twins, and out 
 
Air n>ZB Bxcusaioir, 
 
 I 
 
 Oftt 
 
 night he tried that trap on hie neok, and it fitted him so, 
 fioid was io sort of satiafiactory, that he laid down and curled 
 ap and stayed with it Such was the end of Sir John 
 Baldwin.' 
 
 * Was that the name of the cat t ' 
 
 ' The same. There's cats around here with names that 
 would surprise you. Maria' (to his wife), 'what was that 
 oat's name that eat a keg of ratsbane by mistake . oyer at 
 Hooper's, and started home and got struck by lightning, 
 and took che blind staggers and feU in the well, and was 
 most drowned before they could fish him out t ' 
 
 'That was that coloured Deacon Jackson's cat. I only 
 rdmember the last end of its nime, wkich was Hold-The- 
 Fort-For>I-Am-Ooming Jackson.' • 
 
 < Sho ! that ain't the one. That's the one that eat up 
 an entire box of Seidliti powders, and then hadn't any more 
 judgment than to go and take a drink. He was considered 
 to be a great loss, but I never could see it. Well, no matter 
 about the names. Mrs. Brown wanted to be reasonable, but 
 Mrs. Jones wouldn't let her. She put her up to going to 
 law for damages. So to law she went, and had the face to 
 claim seven shillings and sixpence. It made a great stir. 
 All the neighbours went to court. Everybody took sides. 
 It got hotter and hotter, and broke up all the friendships 
 for three hundred yards around — friendships that had lasted 
 for generations and generations. 
 
 * Well, I proved by eleven witnesses that the oat was of 
 a low character and very ornery, and wam't worth a 
 cancelled postage-stamp, any way, taking the average of 
 eats here ; but I lost the case. What could I expect t The 
 
 
BOMB RA3iJBLIN& NOTES OF 
 
 qntem li all wrong here, and is bound to make revolution 
 and bloodshed some day. You see, they give the magistrate 
 ft poor little starvation salary, and then turn him loose on 
 the public to gouge for fees and costs to live on. What is 
 the natural result t Why he never looks into the justice 
 of a case— never once. All he looks at is which client has 
 got the money. So this one piled the fees and costs and 
 everything 'i" to me.. I could pky specie, don't you seet 
 and he kne o^i ^ well that if he put the verdict on to 
 Mrs. Brown, where Li belonged, he'd have to take his swag 
 in currency.' 
 
 ' Currency f Why, has Bermuda a currency f ' 
 
 ' Yes — onions. And they were forty per cent, discount, 
 too, then, because the season had been over as much as 
 three months. So I lost my case. I had to pay for that 
 cat. But the general trouble the case, made was the worst 
 thmg about it. Broke up so much good feeling. The 
 neighbours don't speak to each other now. Mrs. Brown 
 had named a child after me. But she changed its name 
 right away. She is a Baptist. Well, in the course of 
 baptising it over again, it got drowned. I was hojang we 
 might get to be friendly again some time or other, but of 
 course this drowning the child knocked that all out of the 
 question. It would have saved a world of heart-break and 
 ill Uood if she had named it dry.' 
 
 I knew by the sigh that this was honest. All this 
 trouble and all this destruction of confidence in the purity 
 of the bench on account of a 8even-«hilling lawsuit about a 
 ei\t t Somehow, it seemed to ' siae ' the country. 
 
 At this point we observed that an Englirii flag had just 
 
 awa: 
 
 comi 
 
 shoo 
 
 we 
 
 gove 
 
 adm 
 
 with 
 «■< 
 
 dead 
 
 Mr. 
 
 
 mud 
 
 ing 
 
 one'i 
 
 mus 
 
 max 
 
 at 
 
 som 
 
 bu^ 
 
AS ihLB BJtfcimaioN. m 
 
 » 
 
 beeD phoed at half-mast on i building a hundred jardi 
 away. I and mj friands were busy in an instant^ trying to 
 {iii^«|rinA whose death, among the island dignitaries, ooaM 
 oommand such a mark of respooi ss this. Then a shudder 
 shook them and me at the same moment, and I knew that 
 we had jumped to one and the same conclusion : * The 
 govemor has gone to England; it is for the British 
 sdinirall' ^ 
 
 At this moment Mr. Smith noticed the flag. He said 
 with emotion — 
 
 ^ ' That^s on a boardmg-house. I judg<d >ere's a boarder 
 dead.* - 
 
 ^A doien other flags within view wee to half-mast. 
 
 * It's a boarder, sure,' said Smith 
 
 ' But would they half-mast the flags here for a boarderi 
 Mr.Smithr 
 
 * Why, certainly they would, if he was dsad! 
 That seemed to sise the countiy again. 
 
 rf 
 
 ■'< 
 
 1 
 
 ' 
 
 Jutt 
 
 IV. 
 
 The early twilight of a Sunday eveningin Hamilton, Her* 
 muda, is an alluring time. There is just enough of whispet^ 
 ing breeze, fragrance of flowers, and sense of repose to raise 
 oine*s thoughts heayenward \ and just enough amateur piano 
 muaio to ke^ him reminded of the other place. There are 
 many venerable pianos in Ha»*uilton, and they all play 
 at twilight. Age enlarges and enriches the powers of 
 some musical instruments — ^noUbly those of the violinr^ 
 but it seems to Mt a piano's teeth on edge. Most of 
 
70 
 
 80MB MAMBJjyO NOTES OF 
 
 the musie in vogue there is the same that tboee pianoi 
 prattled in their innocent infancy; and there is some- 
 thing very pathetic about it when they go over it now, 
 in their asthmatic second childhood, dropping a note here 
 and there/ wh^re a tooth is gone. 
 
 We attended evening service at the stately Episcopal 
 ohurch on the hill, where were five or six hundr ^J people, half 
 of them white and the other half black, according to the usual 
 Bermudian proportions; and all well dressed — a thing 
 which is also usual in Bermuda, and to be confidently ex- 
 pected. There was good music, which we heard, and doubt- 
 less a good sermon, but there was a wonderful deal of 
 coiighing, and so only the high parts of the argument caxtied 
 over it. As we came out, after service, I overheard one 
 young girl say to another-^ 
 
 ' Why, you don't mean to say you pay duty on gloves 
 and laoes! I only pay postage; have thorn done up and 
 sent in the '' Boston Advertiser.'* ' 
 
 There are those who believe that the most difficult thing 
 to create is a woman who can comprehend that it is wrong 
 to smuggle; and that an impossible thing to create is a 
 woman who will not smuggle, whether or no, when she gets 
 % chance. But these may be errors. 
 
 We went wandering off toward the country, and were 
 ■oon fiir down in the lonely black depths of a road that was 
 roofed over with the dense foliage of a double rank of great 
 oedars. There was no sound of any kind there ; it was per- 
 fectly stilL And it was so dark that one could detect 
 nothing but sombre outlines. We strode farther and fiurther 
 down this tunnel, cheering the way with dhat. 
 
 N 
 
 
 ' 
 
AN IDLB SXCUBSIOir. 
 
 n 
 
 
 N 
 
 Phsflentlj the chat took this dmpe : * How inflonfibly tint 
 ehanuster of a people and of a goyemment makee its impi«H 
 apon a stranger, and gives him a sense of seoarity or of 
 insecurity without his taking deliberate thought upon the 
 matter or asking anybody a question 1 We have been in 
 this land half a day ; we have seen none but honest facet; 
 wo hare noted the British flag flying, whidi means efficient 
 government and good order ; so without inquiry we plunge 
 unarmed and with perfect confidence into this dismal place, 
 which in almost any other country would swarm with thugs 
 and garotters ' 
 
 'Shi What was thatt Stealthy footsteps I Low voices 1 
 We gasp, we dose up together, and wait. A vague shape 
 glides out of the dusk and confronts us. A voice speaks — 
 demands money I 
 
 'A shilling, gentlemen, if you please, to help build the 
 new Methodist church.' 
 
 Blessed sound! Holy sound! We oontribute with 
 thankful avidity to the new Methodist church, and are 
 happy to think how lucky it was that those little coloured 
 Sunday-school scholars did not seize with violence upon 
 everything we had before we recovered from our momentary 
 helpless condition. By the light of cigars we write down 
 the names of weightier philanthropists than ourselves on 
 the contribution-cards, and then pass on into the farther 
 darkness, saying. What sort of a government do they call 
 this, where they allow little black pious children, with 
 oontribntion-cards, to plunge out upon peaceable strangen 
 in the dark and scare them to death 1 
 
 We prowled on several hours^ sometimes by the seaside^ 
 
79 
 
 80MB RAMSLIHQ NOTES OF 
 
 sometimea inland, and finally managed to get lost, which ii 
 a fisat that requirai talent in Bermuda. I had on n«w 
 ahoef. They were No. 7's when I started, bat were nol 
 more than 6'a now, and still diminishing. I walked two 
 hoars in those shoes after that, before we reached home. 
 Doabtless I ooald haye the reader's sympathy for the asking. 
 Many people have neyer had the headache or the toothache^ 
 and I am one of those myself; bat everybody has worn 
 tight shoes for two or three hoars, and known the lozary of 
 taking th^m off in a retired place and seeing his feet swell 
 ap and obscure the firmament. Once when I was a callow, 
 bashful cub, I took a plain, unsentimental country girl to a 
 comedy one night. I had known her a day ; she seemed 
 divine ; I wore my new boots. At the end of the first half- 
 hour sho said, * Why do you fidget so with your feet t ' I 
 said, ' Did 1 1 ' Then I put my attention there and kept 
 still. At the end of another half-hour she said, ' Why do 
 you say, ** Yes, oh yes 1 " and ** Ha, ha 1 oh, certainly 1 yery 
 true I " to everything I say, when half the time those are en- 
 tirely irrelevant answersi ' 1 blushed, and explained that 
 I had been a little absent-minded. At the end of another 
 half-hour she said, ' Please, why do you grin so steadfieuitly at 
 vacancy, and yet look so sad t ' I explained that I always 
 did that when I was reflecting. An hour passed, and then 
 she turned and contemplated me with her eamef>t eyes and 
 said, * Why do you cry all the time t ' I explained that very 
 funny comedies always made me cry. At last human nature 
 surrendered, and I secretly slipped my boots off. . This was 
 a mistake. I was >iot able to get them on any more. It 
 
 bere were no omnibuses 
 
 
 rainy nightj 
 
 going 
 
 way 
 

 Air IDIM SXCURSIOn, 71 
 
 Mid M I walked homey bamlng up with ihame, with the 
 giii on one arm and my boots under the other, I wae an 
 olject worthy of lome oompaesion — especially in thoee 
 momenta of murtyrdom when I had to paai through the 
 glare that fell upon the parement from street lampe. 
 Finally, this child of the forest said, 'Where are your 
 boots t' and being taken unprepai*ed, I put a fitting finish 
 to the follies of the evening with the stupid remark, ' The 
 higher classes do not wear them to the theatre.' 
 
 The Reverend had been an army chaplain duiing the 
 war, and while we were hunting for a road that would lead 
 to Hamilton he told a story about two dying soldiers which 
 interested me in spite of my feet. "He said, that in the 
 Potomac hospitals rough pine coffins were furnished by 
 government, but that it was not always possible to keep up 
 with the demand; so, when a man died, if there was no 
 coffin at hand he was buried without one. One night, late, 
 two soldiers lay dying in a ward. A man came in with a 
 ooffin on his shoulder, and stood trying to make up his mind 
 which of these two poor fellows would be likely to need it 
 first Both of them begged for it with their fading eyes — 
 they were past talking. Then one of them protruded a 
 wasted hand from his blankets and made a feeble beckoning 
 sigA with the fingers, to signify, ' Be a good fellow ; put it 
 under my bed, please.' The man did it, and left. The 
 lucky soldier painfully turned himself in his bed until he 
 istoed the other warrior, raised himself partly on his elbow, 
 and began to work up a mysterious erpression of some ''nd 
 in his face. Gradually, irksomely, but surely and steadily, 
 It developed, and at last it took definite form as a pretty 
 
 
H 
 
 80MB RAMBLING N0TB8 OF 
 
 ■n 
 
 saccGBsful wmk. The sufferer fell back esdiausted with hif 
 labour, but bathed in glory. Now entered a personal friend 
 of No. 2, the despoiled soldier. No. 2 pleaded with him 
 with eloquent eyes, till presently he understood, and removed 
 the coffin from under No. I's bed and put it under No. 2's. 
 No. 2 indicat3d bis joy, and made some more signs; the 
 friend understood again, and put his arm under Na 2'8 
 shoulders and lifted him partly up. Then the dying hero 
 turned the dim exultation of his ey^ upon No. 1, and began 
 a flow and laboured work with his hands; gradually he 
 lifted one hand up toward his face; it grew weak and 
 dropped back again; once more he made the effort, but 
 failed again. He took a rest ; he gathered all the remnant 
 of his strength, and this time he slowly but surely carried 
 his thumb to the side of his nose, spread the gaunt 
 fibgers wide in triumph, and d ropped back dead. That 
 picture sticks by me yet. The * situation ' is unique. 
 
 The next morning, at what seemed a very ^arly hour, 
 the little white table- waiter appeared suddenly in my room 
 and shot a single word out of himself : ' Breakfast 1 ' 
 
 This was a remarkable boy in many ways. He was 
 about eleven years old ; he had alert, intent black eyes; he 
 was quick of movement; there was no hesitation, no un- 
 certainty about him anywhere ; there was a military decision 
 in his lip, his manner, his speech, that was an astonishing 
 thing to see in a little chap like him ; he wasted no words; 
 his answers always came so quick and brief that they seemed 
 to be part of the question that had been asked instead of a 
 reply to it. When he stood at table with his fly-brush, 
 rigid, erect, his face set in a cast-iron gravity, he waaa statiie 
 
AN IDLE EXCURSION. 
 
 n 
 
 tQl he detected a dawning want in somebody's eye; then he 
 pounced down, supplied it, and was instantly a statue again. 
 When he was sent to the kitchen for anything, he marched 
 upright till he got to the door ; he turned hand-springs the 
 rest of the way. 
 
 'Breakfast!' 
 
 I thought I would make one more effort to get some 
 oonversaUon out of this being. 
 
 * Have you called the Beverend, or are—-' 
 •Yess'rr 
 
 ' Is it early, or is- * 
 
 'Eight-fivel* 
 
 ' Bo you have to do all the ** chores," or is there some- 
 body to give you a 1 ' 
 ' Coloured girl V 
 
 * Is there only one parish in this island, or are ther e ■ ' 
 •Eightr 
 
 * Is the big church on the hill a parish church, or is 
 
 ' Ohapel-of-ease 1 ' 
 
 'Is taxation here classified into poll, parish, town, 
 and' * \ 
 
 * Don't know I' 
 
 Before I could cudgel another question out of my head, 
 be was below, handnspringing across the back yard. He 
 had slid down the balusters, head-first. I gave up trying to 
 provoke a discussion with him. The essential element of 
 discussion had been left out of him ; his answers were so 
 final and exact that they did not leave a doubt to hang con- 
 versation on. I susptxst that there is the making of a mighty 
 
n 
 
 SOME RAMBLING K0TE8 OF 
 
 man or a mighty rascal in this boy — acoording to oircam- 
 gtanoes — ^but they are going to appreotioe him to a carpenter. 
 It is the way the world uses its opportunities. 
 
 Daring this day and the next we took carriage drives 
 about the island and over to the town of St. George's, fifteen 
 or twenty miles away. Such hard, excellent roads to drive 
 over are not to be found elsewhere out of Europe. An in- 
 telligent young coloured man drove us, and acted as guide- 
 book. In the edge of the town we saw five or six mountain- 
 cabbage palms (atrocious name I) standing in a straight row, 
 and equidistant from each other. These were not the largest 
 or the tallest trees I have ever seen, but they were the state- 
 liest — the most majestic. That row of them must be the 
 nearest that nature has ever come to counterfeiting a colon- 
 nade. These trees are all the same height, say sixty feet; 
 the trunks as grey as granite, with a very gradual and perfect 
 taper ; without sign of branch or knot or flaw ; the surfSaoe 
 not looking like bark, but like granite that has been dressed 
 and not polished. Thus all the. way up the diminishing 
 shaft for fifty feet ; then it begins to take the appearance of 
 being closely wrapped, spool-fashion, with grey cord, or of 
 having been turned in a lathe. Above this point there is 
 an outward swell, and thence upwards, for six feet or more, 
 the cylinder is a bright, fresh green, and is formed of wrap- 
 pings like those of an ear of green Indian com. Then comes 
 the great spraying palm plume, also green. Other palm-trees 
 always lean out of the perpendicular, or have a curve in 
 them. But the plumb-line could not detect a deflection in 
 any individual of this stetely row ; they stand as straight as 
 the colonnade of Baalbeo ; they have ite great height, they 
 
 ha 
 
AN IDLB EXCURSION. 
 
 n 
 
 have its graoefulness, thej have its dignity ; in moonllgbt or 
 twilight, and shorn of their plumes, they would duplicate it. 
 
 • The birds we came across in the country were singularly 
 tame ; even that wild creature, the quail, would pick around 
 in the grass at ease while we inspected it and talked about it 
 at leisure. A small bird of the canary species had to be 
 stirred up with the butt end of the whip before it would 
 move, and then it moved only a couple of feet. It is said 
 that even the suspicious idea is tame and sociable in Bermuda, 
 and will allow himself to be caught and caressed without 
 misgivings. This should be taken with allowance, for 
 doubtless there is more or less brag about it. In San 
 Francisco they used to claim that their native flea could kl^k 
 a child over, as if it were a merit in a flea to be able to do 
 that ; as if the knowledge of it trumpeted abroad ought to 
 entice immigration. Such a thing in nine cases out of ten 
 would be almost sure to deter a thinking man from coming. 
 
 We saw no bugs or reptiles to speak of, and s^, I was 
 thinking of saying in print, in a general way, that there were 
 none at all ; but ore night alter I had gone to bed, the 
 Reverend came mto my room carrying ^mething, and asked, 
 
 * Is this your boot t ' I said it was, and he said he had met 
 a spider going off with it. Next morning he stated that just 
 at dawn the same spider raised his window and was coming 
 hi to get a shirt, but saw him and fled. 
 
 I inquire, * Did he get the shirt I ' 
 
 < No.* 
 
 * How did vou know it was a shirt he was after t ' 
 
 m 
 
 ^ I could see it in his >ye.' 
 
 We inquired around, but could hear of no Bermudfav 
 
 
 
fS 
 
 SOME RAMBLINQ NOTES OJT 
 
 il. '■•■::aif^:- 
 
 i 
 
 svider oa^ able of doing these things. Citizen6 hk^vl 1}^% : thr 1 
 kvrgrat spiders could not more than spread their .' .<g9 ovr^r f.ti 
 ordinary saucer, and that they had. always been considered 
 honest. Hera wa^ testimony of a clergyman against the teft> 
 timony of mere worldlings — interested ones, too. On tbd 
 whole, 7 judged it best to lock up my tbingtf . 
 
 Here and there on the <X)unti7 roads we found lemon, 
 papaia, orange, lime, and fig trees; also several sorts of 
 palms, among them the cocoa, the date, and the palmetto. 
 We saw some bambc «s forty feet high, with stems a« thick 
 as a man's arm. Jungles of the mangrove-tree stood up out 
 of swamps, propped on their interlacing roots as upon a 
 tangle of stilts. In drier places the noble tamariw! sent 
 down its grateful cloud of shade. Here and tij« ..« the 
 blossomy tamarisk adorned the roadside. There vas a 
 curious gnarled and twisted black tree, without a single leaf 
 on it. It might have passed itself off for a dead Mpple-tree 
 but for the fact that it had a star-like, red-hot flower 
 sprinkled sparsely '^ver its pe' - It had the scattery red 
 glow that a constellation mighv L.»7e when glimpsed through 
 smoked glass. It is possible that our constellations have 
 been so constructed as to be invisible through smoked glass; 
 if this is so it is a great mistiike. 
 
 X We saw a tree that bears grapes, and just as calmly and 
 unostentatiously as a vine would do it. We saw an India- 
 rubber tree, but out of season, possibly, so there were no 
 shoes ^a it, nor suspendera, nor anything that a person would 
 properly expect to Snd there. This gave it an impressively 
 i-fp iileL". look. There was exactly one mahogany tree on 
 ^.» island. I know this to be i^iiable^ becaosd I mw a mim 
 
'm:s.' ,^ 
 
 \ 
 
 
 AN IDLE SXCUnSION. 
 
 who ftti^id he br'i oounfcetij it* >iihuy p. tixrx and could hoc }\- 
 DiistttkeA, He wta a man with a hare lip and a pure heart, 
 and everybody said he was as true as steel. Such men a?.6 
 all too few. " ' 
 
 One's eye caught near and far the pink cloud of tlie 
 (Meander and the red blaze of the pomegranate blossom. In. 
 one piece of wild wood the morning-glory vines had wrapped 
 the trees to their very tops, and decorated them all over with 
 couples and clusters of great blue bells — a fine and striking 
 spectacle, at a little distance. But the dull cedar is every- 
 where, and its is the prevailing foliage One does not appre- 
 ciate how dull it is until the varnished, bright green attire 
 of the infrequent lemon-tree pleasantly intrudes its contrast. 
 In one thing Bermuda is eminently tropical — was in May, 
 at least — ^the unbrilliant, slightly faded, unrejoicing look of 
 the landscape. For forests airayed in a blemishless mag- 
 nificence of glowing green foliage that seems to exult in 
 its own existence and can move the beholder to an en^-bu- 
 siasm that will make him either ehout or cry, one rr ' :-t, gm 
 to countries that have malignant winters. 
 
 We saw scores of ooloored. farmers digging thef? aaji^ 
 of potatoes and onions, their v/ivesand children halpmg — 
 entirdly contented and comfortable, if looks go for anything. 
 We never met a man, or woman, or child anywhere in this 
 sunny island who seomed to be unprooperous, or discontented, 
 or sorry about anything. This sort of monotony became very 
 tiresome presently, and evea Homething worse. The speo 
 lade of an entire n&tion groTelliug m contentment is tm 
 infuriating thing. We felt the lack >>£ something in this 
 eommunity — a ^sigue, an undefinable, as& elusive something, 
 
 
 ' him 
 
 
 ;^^ 
 
 ^.^^';•*: 
 
 mm. 
 
80 
 
 aOMB ILiMBUNG NOTES OF 
 
 ftnd yet a lack. Bat after ocmsiderable thought we made out 
 what it was — ^tramps. Let them go there, right now, in a 
 body. It IB utterly virgin soil. Passage b cheap. Every 
 true patriot in America will help buy tickets. Whole armies 
 of these excellent beings can be spared fix>m our midst and 
 om* polls ; they will find a delicious climate and a green, 
 kind-hearted people. There are potatoes and onions for all, 
 and a generous welcome for the first batch that arrives, and 
 elegant graves for the second. 
 
 It was the Early Rose potato the people were digging 
 Later in the year they have another crop, which they call the 
 Garnet. Wo buy their potatoes (retail) at fifteen dollars a 
 barrel ; and those coloured farmers buy ours for a song^ and 
 live on them. Havana might exchange cigars with Con- 
 bectici* t in the same advantageous way, if she thought of it. 
 
 We passed a roadside grat; ry with a sign up, ' Potatoes 
 Wanted. An ignorant stranger, doubtless. He could not 
 have gone thirty steps from his place without finding plenty 
 oC them. 
 
 In 8evei\*l iielda the arrowroot crop was already sproai> 
 jlng. Bermuda us^ to make a vast annual profit out of this 
 staple before fire-arms came into such general use. 
 
 The inland i& not large. Somewhere in the interior a 
 mA'i'. Ltfmi if u& had a veiy slow horse. I suggested that 
 we IkJ belt^ fo by him ; but the driver said the man had 
 but a littb 'fmy to go. I waited to see, wondering how he 
 Ciould know, Pi^escntly the man did turn down another road. 
 I ;;iiked, * How did you know he would 1 * 
 
 ' Because I knew the man, and where he lived.' 
 
 I askf^^ him, satirically, if he knew everybody in tto 
 
AN WLB BXCVRSION, 
 
 81 
 
 tlM 
 
 idancl ; he answered, veiy simply, that he <li<i This gives 
 a body's mind a good substantial grip on tha dimensions of 
 the place. 
 
 At the principal hotel in St. George's, a young girl, with 
 a sweet, serious fSetoe, said we could not be fumishe^d with 
 dinner, because we had not been expected, and no preparation 
 had been made. Yet it was still an hour before dinner 
 time. We argued, she yielded not ; we supplicated, she was 
 sei^ne. The hotel had not been expecting an inundation of 
 two people, and so it seemed that we should have to go home 
 dinnerless. I said we were not very hungry j a fish would 
 do. My little maid answered, it was not the mark%t-day for 
 fish. Things began to look serious; but presently the 
 boarder who sustained the hotel came in, and when the case 
 was laid before him he was cheerfully willing to divide. So 
 we had much pleasant chat at table about St. Qeorgefs chief 
 industry, the repairing of damaged ships ; and in between 
 we had a soup that had something in it that seemed to tasts 
 like the hereafter, but it proved to be only pepper of a 
 particularly vivacious kind. And we had an iron-clad 
 chicken that was deliciously cooked, but not in the right 
 way. Baking was not the thing to convince his sort. He 
 ought to have been put through a quartz mill until the 
 * tuck ' was taken out of him, and then boiled till we came 
 again. We got a good deal of sport out of him, but not 
 enough sustenance to leave the victory on our side. No 
 matter; we had potatoes and a pie and a sociable good time. 
 Then a ramble thorough the town, which is a quaint one, 
 with interesting, crooked streets, and narrow, crooked lanes, 
 
 with here and there a grain of dust. Here, as in Hamilton, 
 
 a 
 
 ft 
 
 i 
 
 
 i--^fi 
 
 I; 
 
BOMB RAMBLING NOTJBS OF 
 
 the dwellings had Venetian blinds of a very Benaible 
 pattern. They were not double shutters, hinged at the 
 sides, but a single broad shutter, hinged at the top; you 
 push it outward, from the bottom, and fasten it at any 
 anj[le required by the sun or desired by yourself. 
 
 'Ail about the. island one sees great white scars on the 
 hill-slopes. These are dished spaces where the soil has been 
 scraped off and the coral exposed and glazed with hard 
 whitewash. Some of these are a quarter-acre in fdze. They 
 catoh and carry the rainfall to reservoii's ; for the wells are 
 few and poor, and there are no natural springs and no 
 b.*ooks. "^ 
 
 They say that the Bermuda climate is mild and equable 
 with neyer any snow or ice, and that one may be very 
 comfortable in spring clothing the year round there. We 
 had delightful and decided summer weather in May, with a 
 flaming sun that permitted the thinnest of raiment, and yet 
 there was a constant breeze ; consequently we were never 
 dLe^omforted by heat. At four or five in the afternoon the 
 mercury began to go down, and then it became necessary to 
 change to thick garments. I went to St George's in the 
 morning clothed in the thinnest of linen, and reached home 
 at five in the afternoon with two overcoats on. The nights 
 are said to be always cool and bracing. We had mosquito 
 nets, and the Beverend said the mosquitoes persecuted him 
 a good deal. I often heard him slapping and banging at 
 these imaginary creatures with as much zeal as if they had 
 been real. There are no mosquitoes in the Bermudas in 
 May. 
 
 The poet Thomas Moore spent several months In 
 
AN IDLE EXCURSION. 
 
 Bormnda more than seventy years ago. He wan sent out 
 to be registrar of the Admiralty. I am not quite 'iear ai 
 to the function of a registrar of the Admiralty of Bermuda, 
 but I think it if his duty to keep a record of all the 
 admirals bom there. I will inquire into this. There was 
 not much doing in admirals, and Moore got tired and went 
 away. A reverently preserved souvenir of him is sUUl one 
 of the treasures of the islands. I gathered the idea, 
 vaguely, that it was a jug, but was persistently thwarted in 
 the twenty-two efforts I made to visit it. However, it was 
 no matter, for I found afterwards that it was only a chair. 
 
 There are several ' sights ' in the Bermudas, of course^ 
 but they are easily avoided. This is a great advantage — 
 one cannot have it in Europe. Bermuda is the right 
 country for a jaded man to ' loaf' in. There are no harass- 
 ments ; the deep peace and quiet of the country sink into 
 one's body and bones and give his conscience a rest, and 
 diloroform the legion of invisible small devils that are 
 always trying to whitewash his hair. A good many 
 Americans go there about the fii'st of March and remain 
 until the early spring weeks have finished their villanies at 
 home. 
 
 The Bermudians are hoping soon to have telegraphic 
 oommunication with the world. But even after they shall 
 have acquired this curse it will still be a good country to 
 go to for a vacation, for there are charming little islets 
 scattered about the enclosed sea where one could live secure 
 from interruption. The telegraph boy would have to come 
 in a boat, and one :x)uld easily kill him while he was making 
 his landing. 
 
 '1^ 
 
 
80MS JUMBUNO NOTES OF 
 
 We had spent four days in Bermuda — three bright ones 
 out of doors and one rainy one in the house, we being dis- 
 appointed about getting a yacht for a sail ; and now oar 
 furlough was ended, and we entered into the ship again and 
 sailed homeward. 
 
 Among the passengers was a most lean and lank and 
 forlorn invalid, whose weary look and patient eyes and 
 sorrowful mien awoke every one's kindly interest and stirred 
 every one's compassion. When he spoke — ^which was but 
 seldom — there was a gentleness in his tones that made each 
 hearer his friend. The second night of the voyage — we were 
 all in the smoking-cabin at the time — he drifted, little by 
 little, into the general conversation. One thing brought on 
 another, and so, in due course, he happened to Ml into the 
 biographical vein, and the following strange narrative was 
 the result. 
 
 f^ 
 
 THB invalid's BTDBT.^ 
 
 I seem sixty and married, but these e^ts are due to my 
 condition and sufferings, for I am a bachelor, and only 
 forty-one. It will be hard for you to believe that I, who am 
 now but a shadow, was a kale, hearty man two short years 
 ago--a man of iron, a very athlete ! — ^yet such is the simple 
 truth. But straHger still than this fact is the way in which 
 I lost my health. I lost it through helping to take care of 
 a box of guns on a two-hundred-mile railway journey one 
 
 . * Left out of these ' Rambling Notes,' when originally published 
 in the Atlantic Monthly, becanse it was feared that the story was 
 not trae, and at that time there was no way of proving that it was 
 &ot.->-M. T. 
 
'i 
 
 f 
 
 ►' 
 
 AS IDLE EXCURSION, 80 
 
 winter's night. It is the aictaal truth, and I will tell yoa 
 about it. 
 
 I belong in Cleveland, Ohio. One winter's night, two 
 years ago, I reached home just after dark, in a driving 
 snow-storm, and the first thing I heard when I entered the 
 house was that my dearest boyhood friend and schoolmate, 
 John B. Haokett, had died the day before, and that his last 
 uiteranoe had been a desire that I would take his i^mains 
 home to his poor old father and mother in Wisconsin. I 
 was greatly shocked and grieved, but there was no time to 
 waste in emotions ; I must start at once. I took the card, 
 marked ' Deacon Levi Hackett, Bethlehem, Wisconsin/ and 
 hurried off through the whistling storm to the railway- 
 station. Arrived there I found the long white^pine box 
 which had been described to me ; I fastened the card to it 
 with some tacks, saw it put safely aboard the express oar^ 
 and then ran into the eating-room to provide myself with a 
 sandwich and some dgars. When I returned, presently, 
 there was my coffin-box hack ctgaiUf apparently, and a yoimg 
 fellow examining around it, with a card in his hand, and 
 some tacks and a hammer ! I was astonished and puf!:ded. 
 He began to nail on his card, and I rushed out to the ex- 
 press car, in a good deal of a state of mind, to ask for an 
 explanation. But no — there was my box, all right, in the 
 express car; it hadn't been disturbed. [The fact is that 
 without my suspecting it a prodigious mistake had been 
 made. I was carrying off a box of guru which that young 
 fellow had come to the station to ship to a rifle company hi 
 Peoria, Illinois, and he had got my corpse !] Just then the 
 conductor sung out ' i^il aboard,' and I jumped into tht 
 
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IMAGE EVALUATION 
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 Sdences 
 Corporation 
 
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 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. U580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
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 M- . 80M3B MAMBUNO NOTES OF 
 
 wiyio i s oar >ad got a oomfbrtaUe Mat on a bale of biuMk 
 Xhe flipi'wiinnm was there, hard at work — a plain man of 
 fffyy with a iimple^ honest, goodrnatored &oo^ and a hreeqr» 
 pnotioal heartiness in his general style. As the tnin roored 
 off a stranger skipped into tiie car and set a..paokage of 
 peculiarly mature and capable limbuzger cheese on one end 
 of my coffin-box — I mean my box of guns* That m to say, 
 I know fioi0 that it was limbnrger cheese^ but at that time 
 I never had heard of the article in my life, and of course 
 was wholly ignorant of its character. Well, we qped throu^^ 
 the wild night, the bitter storm raged on, a cheerless misery 
 stole over me, my heart went down, down, down I The did 
 expTpesman made a brisk remark or two about the tempest 
 and the aretio weather, slammed his sliding doors to^ and, 
 bolted them, doeed his window down tight^ and then went 
 bustling around, here and there and yonder, setting things 
 to rights^ and all the time contentedly humming ' Sweet By • 
 and-By,' in a low tone^ and flatting a good deaL ^Pjresantly 
 I began to detect a most evil and searching odour stealing 
 about on the frosen air. Thisdepreesedmyqaritsstfllmore^ 
 because of course I attributed it to my poor departed friendi 
 There was something infinitely laddening about his calliqg 
 himself to my remembrance in this dumb pathetic way, so 
 it was hard to keep the tears back. Moreover, it distreeaed 
 me on account of the old expressman, who, I was afiaidp 
 nii^t iiotice it. However, he went humming tranquilly 
 on, and gave no sign; and for this I was grateful. Qrate- 
 lul, yee^ but stlU uneaey ; a^a soon I began to leel more and 
 mora uneasy every minute^ fsx evety minute that went by 
 that odour thickened up the more, and got to be more and 
 
 \ 
 
•m- 
 
 AK IDLE XXCftTJtSIOm 
 
 9 
 
 ' >' 
 
 gMDMy and haid to tkmL Fntently, liATiiig gol 
 thing* arranged to hii aatitikctiop, the eipreiiman got eonM 
 wood and made up a tramendous fire in his stova This 
 distreiaed me more than I oan tell, for I oonld not hat ftel 
 that it was a mistake. I waa sore that the eflfect woold he 
 ddeterions upon my poor departed friend. Thompson— 4he 
 expressman's name was Thompson, as I firond out in the 
 eoorse of the night-~now went pohing around his oar, 
 ■tq>ping up whateYor stray craoks he could find, remarking 
 that it didn't make any difibrenoe what kind of a night it 
 was outsidA, he oalodlated to make ut eomfbrtahle, anyway. 
 I said nothing, hot I heliefed he waa not choosing the right 
 way. Meantime he was hamming to himself just as hefore; 
 and meantime, too^ th^ sto^e was getting hotter and hotter, 
 and the plaoe doeer and doser. I felt myself growing pale 
 and qualmish, hut grieved' in sllenee and (hlI nothing. 
 Soon J noticed that the < Sweet By-and-By ' was gctdually 
 &ding out; nest it ceased altogethor, and there was an 
 ominous stillness. After a few moments Thompson said— - 
 
 *Kewl I reckon it ain't no einnamon *t Tto loaded up 
 thish-yer store with 1 ' ^ 
 
 He gasped once or twice, then moved toward the oof— 
 gun^hoK, stood over that limhuiger cheeee part of a moment, 
 then came hack and sat down near me, looking a good deal 
 impressed. Aiftsr a oonteniplative pauss^ he said, indioatinf 
 the hoz with a gesture-^ 
 
 *]Mendofyoamt' 
 
 < Tee,' I said with a sigh. 
 
 ' He's pretty ripe, oMi'l he t ' 
 
 for perhaps a ooople of minutes^ 
 
80NLB EAMBUNQ NOTJBS OF 
 
 •Mh being bo^ with his own thoqgliti; tlimi Tbompm 
 tM, in A low, awed Toio^^ 
 
 ' SometimeB it's unoertain whether thigrVe really gone fit 
 iiot--M0fft gone, you know — body warai, jointi limber and 
 •Oy althongh you think they're gone^ yon dont really know. 
 I'?e had cases in my oar. It's perfectly awful, beoos yon 
 dont know what minute theyll rise rij^t np and look at 
 you 1 ' Then, after a pause, and slightly lifting his elbow 
 toward the box — * But h0 ain't in no tnnce 1 No, sir, I go 
 bail for iktml' 
 
 We sat some time, in meditative silenoe^ listeioing to the 
 wind and the roar of the train ; then Diompeon said, with 
 a good deal of feeling — 
 
 ' Well-a-well, we've all got to go^ they aint no getting 
 around it. Man that is bom of woman is of few days and 
 far between, as Scriptur' says. Yes, you look at it any way 
 you want to, it's awAil solemn and our'us : they aint nobodff 
 can get around it; aff$ got to go— just nawybody, as you 
 may wkj. One day you're heaoiy and strong' — ^here he 
 scrambled to hisfeet and broke a pane and stretched his nose 
 out at it a moment or two, then sat down again while I 
 struggled up and thrust my nose out at the same plaoe^ and 
 this we kept on doing every now and then — ^'and next day 
 he's mt down like the grass, and the places which knowed 
 him then knows him no more for erer, as Seriptur* iays. 
 Yes-'ndeedy, it's awful solemn and dir'us; but we^TO all gol 
 to go, one time or another ; they aint no getting around il' 
 
 There was another long pause i then— 
 
 'What did he die off ^ 
 
 Isaidldi^i'tknow. 
 
 mi 
 
4Jr XDLS SXCUMSIOM. 
 
 f 
 
 y 
 
 ' How long, has ha btn datd t ' 
 
 It leemed judioioiii to onlaige tho fiusto to fit tho pcdbi^ 
 liUiti«;iolMdd^ 
 
 'Two or tbren dftyi.' 
 
 But it did no good; ibrllioiiiiMKm veoeiTBdit with to ia- 
 Jured look whidi plainly said, 'Two or three yean, yon 
 mean." Then he went right along^ placidly ignoring my 
 statement^ and gare his views at considerable length upon 
 tho nnwiadom of putting off burials too kxngp Then ho 
 lounged off toward the box, stood a moment^ then oamo 
 back on s sharp trot and visited the broken pane, oboerr- 
 
 ' ^Twould V ben s dum sight better, all aroond, if they'd 
 started him along last summer/ 
 
 ThompsoQ sat down and buried his fiuse in his ted silk 
 handksrbhief, and began to slowly sway and rook his body 
 like one who is doing his best to enduro the almost unan"* 
 duraUei By this time the fragranoo— >if you may call it 
 fiRBgranoe — ^was just about suffocating, as near as you can 
 come at it^ Thompson's fiusewas turning grey; I knew 
 mine hadn't any colour left in it By-andrby Thompson 
 rested his forehead in his idt hand, with his elbow on his 
 knee, and sort of waved his red handkerohief toward the boK 
 with his other hand, and said — 
 
 ' I've carried a many aone of 'emr-HK>me of 'em consider- 
 able overdue^ too— but» lordy, he just lays over 'em all 1— and 
 doesiteoiy. Oa^, they was heUotrope to Atm 1 ' 
 
 This recognition of my poOT friend gratified m^ in spite 
 of the sad oiimmirtnnces. beoause it had so muioh tho sound 
 
 ^a comnlimsnt. 
 
 :■ 7 
 
SOMM MAMBUare NOTES OF 
 
 l^n/ttj looo it was plain tM ■omBihing had got to be 
 dona. I saggtiled cigaxi. TlioiiipaoD thought it waa a good 
 idea. He said— 
 
 « likelj H 01 modify him Mma.' 
 
 We puffed giiigerly along fiir a wldle^ and tried hard to 
 imagine that thinga weie unproved. But it wasnt any fam» 
 Before v9kj long, and without any oonsnltation, both oigaia 
 were quietly dropped from our nenrelees fingera at the aame' 
 moment. Tbompaon said with a righ — 
 
 ' No, Gap., it don't modify him worth a oent* Faotis, it 
 makee him worse^ beoua it appears to stir up his ambition. 
 What do you reckon we better do, now t' 
 
 I waa not able to suggest anything; faideed, I had to be 
 swallowing and swallowing, all the time, and did not like to 
 trust myself to speal^. Thompson fbU to maondering, in a <. 
 desultory and low-spiiited way, about the miserable oxpe- 
 liences of this night; and he got to referring to my poor 
 friend by Tarious titles — sometimes military oneSy sometimei 
 stTil ones; and I noticed that as frsl as my poor friend's 
 effwti>«Qess grew, Thompson promoted him accordingly— 
 gave him a bigger title. Finally he said — 
 
 ' rve got an idea. Suppos'n' we buckle down to it and 
 gi^ the Oolonel a bit off a shove towards t'othfnr end of the 
 oarf---About ten foot, say. He wouldn't have so much in- 
 fiuenoe^ ^Mn, do^t you reck^m t ' 
 
 I said it was a good schimie. So we took in a good 
 fresh breath at the broken pane^ calculating to hold it till 
 we got through; then we went there and bent down over 
 that deadly dieese and took a gr^ on the bos. Thompson 
 nodded * AH ready,' and then we threw oursslves fbrwiri 
 
 do 
 H 
 
 fai 
 he 
 roi 
 he 
 
 np 
 
 if 
 
 mi 
 
 a-g 
 lea 
 he 
 
 dbo 
 shu 
 atl 
 awi 
 Thi 
 
 dor 
 the 
 
 1^ 
 
\ . 
 
 Air IDLB sxcunaion. n 
 
 wHh an ovr inii^ft; bill lliompton dipped, and diimped 
 down with his noM on the eheeee^ and hie breath got looee. 
 Hie 8H(8^ *Bd gasped, and floundered up and made a bieak 
 for ^ door, pawing the air and laying hoanely, ' Don^ 
 hender me) — gimme the roadl Vm ardying; gimme the 
 road I' Ont on the cold phttlbrm I eat down and held hit 
 head a while, and he rerived. Treaently he said-^ 
 
 < Bo yon reckon we atarted the Qen'ml any t ' 
 
 I laid no; we hadn't bodged him. 
 
 'Well, then, Ihat idea's np the flume. Wegot to think 
 up something else. He's suited wher^ he is, I reckon ; and 
 if that's the way he feels abont it^ and has made np his 
 mind thai he don't wish to be disturbed, you bet you he's 
 a-going to hate his own way in the bwdneas. Tes, better 
 leaw> him right wher' he i% long as he wants it so; beens 
 he holds all the trumps^ don't yon know, and so it stands to 
 reason thai the man thai lays out to alter his plans for him 
 is g(»ng to get left.' 
 
 But we couldn't stay out there in that mad storm ; we 
 diould haye frosen to death. So we went in again and 
 shut the door, and began to suflbr once more and take turns 
 ai the break in the window, ^y-and-by, as we were stnrtuig^ 
 away from a station where we had stof^ied a moment^ 
 Thompson pranced in cheerily, and ezolaimed — 
 
 'We^ aU vic^t^ now ] I reckon we've got Uw Commo* 
 dore this time. I judge I've got the stuff here thatll take 
 the tttok out of him.' 
 
 li was carbolic add. He had a ok^hoj of it He 
 aU around 
 
 qpriidded 
 
 everywhere: 
 
 eiveiTthinf witl it^ rifla-boi, cjoese^ and alL Then we sal 
 
\ 
 
 BOMB MAMBLIKO irOTSB OW 
 
 down, Ming pretty hopeAiL But it wMnt fear long. Ton 
 i|0 tfaid two peiAimM ^egui to mix, and thon — well, pL«tlj 
 •obn wo niftds a break for tho door $ and out there llio'itipoon 
 •wabbed bia fiuw with bia bandanna and eaid in a kind ol 
 diaheartened way-* 
 
 'It aint no uao. Wo can't back agin him. He Jnat 
 nfflieee ererything we put up to modify him with, and givea 
 it hia own flayour and playa it baok on us. Why, Gap., 
 don't you know, it's as muob aa a hundred times wotm in 
 there now than it was when he first got argoing. I nerer 
 did see one of 'em warm up to his work so, and take such a 
 dumnation interest in it. No, sir, I never did, as long aa 
 Tto ben on the road; and Tto carried a many a one U 
 'cm, as I was telling yon.' 
 
 We went in again, after we were froien pretty stiff ; but 
 my, we couldn't ttay in, now. So we jusf. waltaed back and 
 fbrth, fi«edng, and thawing, and stifling, by turns. In 
 about an hour we stopped at another station ; and as we !aft 
 it Thompson came in witb a bag, and said — 
 
 'Gap., I'm a-going to chance him once more— just this 
 once; and if we dont fetch him this time, the thing for us 
 to do, is to junrt throw up the sponge and withdraw fbom the 
 canTsss. Tb&t^s {ihe way / put it up.' 
 
 He had Iffought a lot of chicken feathers, and dried 
 a|»ples, and leaf tobacco, and rags, and did shoee^ and sul- 
 phur, and assBfiBtid% and one thing or another; and ha 
 piled them on a breadth of sheet iron in the middle oi the 
 floor, and set flre tt> them. When they got well started, I 
 oouldnt see^ myseli^ how ^^en the corpse oonld stand it. 
 AH that went belbre was Just sim^ poetiy to that smaU-M 
 
i 
 
 t 
 
 M mind jm^ th* (Mrighua UMa itood itp out €f fi Jott M 
 MtblimeM eTfr-.&ot ii, tk«ie otliar smtUi Jvnt Mmtd to 
 give it 6 better hold; and my, lioir rich it wmI I didnl 
 main theie refleotioiui there— there irAen't time— nuide tl nm 
 on the pletfarm. And brcAkiiig for the pUtform, ThompeoA 
 got fofiboated and fell; end beforo I got him dimgged oat, 
 which I did by the collar, I wm mighty near gone mjaelt • 
 When we rerived, Thompeon aaid d^tedly-^ 
 
 'We got to stay out here, Gap. Wegottodoit. They 
 ain't no other way. The Governor wante to trayel alone^ 
 and he's fixed so he can outvote us.' 
 And presently he added-~ 
 
 'And don't you know, we're pitimad. It^a our last trip, 
 you can makeup your mind to it l^phoid fever is what's 
 going to come of thia I feel it a-coming right now. Tei^ 
 sir, we^re elected, just as sure as you're bom.' 
 
 We were taken from the platferm an hour kter, frossn 
 and insensibly at the next station, and I went straight off 
 into a virulent fever, and never knew anything again fer 
 three weeks, i found out, then, that I had spent that awful 
 night with a harmleas box of rifles and a lot of innocent 
 cheese; but the news was too late to save nic, i^'^kHm 
 had done its work and my health was pemianently shat* 
 \te«d; neither Bermuda nor any other Umd can ever bring 
 It back lo me. Thi3 is my lasc tnp; I am on my way 
 hcmetodis. 
 
 We made th^ run, home to New York quarantine fa 
 three days and five hours, and could have gone right aloug 
 iq» to the ci^ if w^% had had a health permit But health 
 
#■: 
 
 :^£d 
 
 mum MAMBUim mrMf of 
 
 \ 
 
 /" 
 
 ptmiU U9 uii gra&ied aAtr mtvo bt tlit vfmAng, pfivtly 
 btOMH* a ili^ aMmoi b« IsipeeM and OTwliaiilad wHh •>• 
 IwiMliiT* thorooi^iiflif ouMpi in dayKgbt, and partly btoania 
 baalth atto&n ai« liable to oitoh cold if Uibj eoqpoft thMn- 
 itlm lo tlM ni|[lit air. Still, jon omi (ny a pormit dtflr 
 homni for fiva dollan aztra, and tha ofioar will do tha io^ 
 qpoctiug naxt waak. Oar ihip and panengan laj iindir 
 aipanie and in humiliating oaptivitj all night, under tha 
 Tflry noM of the little ollBoial reptile who is eiippooed to pro- 
 tect New York from peetiknoB hy lue vigilant 'inepestioni.' 
 This inqMsing rigour gave ererybody a eoleinn and awful 
 idea of the benefloent watchfalnegg of our govenunant, and 
 there were mme who wondered if anything ihiflr oonld ba 
 fomid in other eotintriM. 
 
 In tha morning we were all. a-tiptoe to witneai tha 
 intricate ceremony of inqieoting the ihip. But it wee a 
 diaappointing thing. The health ofllcer^a tog ranged along- 
 aide for a moment, our puraer handed the lawf ol three4oUar 
 permit foe to the health oSBoet^B bootblack, who paaaed ua a 
 folded paper in a forked atiek, and away we went. Tha 
 enttie 'inspection' did not oooapy thirteen aeconda. 
 
 The health officer^a place ie worth a hundred thooaand 
 doUare a year to him. Hia ayeOein of inspection is perfcot^ 
 and therefore cannot be improved on ; bat It seema to » la 
 that his qrstem of cdleoting his foaa might be amended. S\or 
 a great ahip to lie idle all night is a moatooatly kes of time; 
 for her paasengers to have to do the same thing woiks to 
 them the same da|nage, with the addition of an ammmt of 
 exasperation and bUtemeaa of aool that the epectade of thai 
 

 /' 
 
 AM miM MxovMMiam 
 
 iMiMli oiie6r^ ftihar on a diovtl «iiiU huitf 
 Now why would H not be better and rimplar to lit tiM dbiiN 
 (Mi in nnmolorted, tad th« ftei ttnd penniti bo aohongod 
 ono»»|Oirt^|Niiti 
 
 tho 
 
THE FACTS CONCERNING THE 
 RECENT CARNIVAL OF CRIME 
 IN CONNECTICUT. 
 
 I WAS feding UithA, almoit Joonnd. I put % matoh to mj 
 cigar, and Juat theii the mormng's mail was handed in. Tha 
 first supennription I glanced at was in a handwriting that 
 sent a thrill of pleasure through and through me. It was Aunt 
 Marjr^s; and she was the person I loved and honoured most 
 In all the world, outside of my own household. She had 
 been my boyhood's idol; maturity, which is &tal to so 
 many enchantments, had not been able to dislodge her from 
 iier pedestal ; no, it had only Justified her right to be there^ 
 and placed her dethronement permanently among the im- 
 possibilities. To show how strong her influence over me 
 was, I will obsenre that long after eyerybody elsQ^s '<2o-etop> 
 smoMng' had ceased to affect me in the slightest degree, 
 Aunt Mary could stiU stir my torpid consdence into faint 
 signs of life when she touched upon the matter. But all 
 things have their limit, in this world. A happy day came 
 at last, when eren Aunt Mary's words could no longer moye 
 I was not merely glaJ to see that day arriTC ; I was 
 than glad — ^I was gratefol; for when its sun had ssl^ 
 
 !;:■- ,- 
 
OMtMM IM COMJfJBCTICUT. 
 
 Mm om aUoj thai wm abU lo nwr mj fl^joymtiit ^^ mj 
 aunt'i tofllety was gima. TIm ramaindar of bar itajr with ua 
 that winter waa In vrmj way a dalight Of ooursa iha 
 plaaded with ma jvat aa earnaatfy aa aTer, afker that blfl—d 
 day, to quit 1117 parnidoui habit^ but to no pnrpofa what* 
 awr ; the momant iha openad tha mljeot I at onoa beoamt 
 oahnly, paaeiAiUy, oontentadly iadiflforent — abfolutaly» ada- 
 mantinely indiflbrant Ooniequently tha dodng weeks of 
 that memorable visit melted away aa pleaaantly aa a dream, 
 they ware lo freighted, for me^ with tranquil latia&otion, 
 I eould not have ei\|oyed my pet vioe more if my gen^ 
 tormentor had been a smoker herself^ and an advocate of the 
 praotice. Well, the sight of her handwriting reminded me 
 that I waa getting yery hungry to see her again. I easily 
 guessed what I should find in her letter. I opened it. 
 Good 1 Just aa I OTipeoted ; she was oomingl Coming this 
 ▼ar^ day, too, and by tha morning train ; I might expect 
 iMr any moment. 
 
 I said to myself, ' I am thoroughly happy and content, 
 ■ow. If my moat pitiless enemy flould appear before me at 
 this moment, I would freely right any wrong I may have 
 dona him.' 
 
 Stftii^tway the door opened, and a ahrivelled, shabby 
 dwarf enteredo He was not mora than two feet high. He 
 seemed to be about forty years old. Every feature and every 
 in^ of himwaaatriilaoutofahape; and so, while one could 
 not put his finger upon any particular part and say, < This is 
 % oeoipionons deformity,' the spectator perceived that thJa 
 Uttle person was a deformity as a whole^a vague, general, 
 fFenly blmded^ nicely acQusted deformitv. ^Diere waa a 
 
 / 
 
TMB MMVjiNT CARNIVAI. OF 
 
 / 
 
 ■■ 
 
 foodika omming in the fiMse and tiie sharp Uttla «fBs» and 
 also alertness and malioe. And yet, this vile Ut of hnmaB 
 nibbiah aeek^ed to bear a sort of remote and ill-defined v^* 
 semhlAnoe to me t It was dully peroeptiUe in the mean 
 fbrm, the oountenanoe, and even the olotbeS| geito«% 
 manner, and Attitudes of the creature. He was a ikr- 
 fetched, dbn suggestion of a burlesque upon me, a oarioatuve 
 of me in little. One thing about him struck me fordbly, 
 and most unpleasantly : he was ooTsred all over with a 
 fiiBzy, greenish mould, such as one sometimes sees upon 
 mildewed bread. The sight of it was nauseating. 
 
 Ho stepped along with a chipper airi and flung himself 
 into a doll's chair in a very free and easy way, without 
 waiting to be asked. He tossed his hat into the waste 
 basket. H3 picked up my old chalk pipe from the floor, 
 gave the stem a wipe m> two on his knee, flUed the bowl 
 from the tobacoo-boz at his side, and said to me in a tone of 
 pert command — 
 
 ' Oimme a match I ' - 
 
 I blushed to the rooti of my hair ; partly with indigna- 
 tion, but mainly because it somehow seemed to me that this 
 whole performance was very like an exaggeration of con- 
 duct which I myself had sometimes been guilty of in my 
 interoourae with familiar friends — ^but never, never with 
 strangers, I observed to myiielf. I wanted to kick the 
 pigmy into the fire, but some incomprehensible nense of 
 being legaUy and legitimately under his authority forced me 
 to obey his order. He applied the match to the pipe, took a 
 contemplative whiff or two, and remarked, in an irritatingiy 
 fiuniliar waj^- 
 
 iiT. 
 
CBma IN COVNSOTiCt/T. 
 
 Pbiwnito me itl deriliib odd wwtlier for thk time of 
 
 I flushed again, and in anger and humiliation as before; 
 for the ]an( .age wae hardly an exaggeration of some that I 
 have uttered in my day, and moreoyer wasdeliyered ina tone 
 ''of voice and with an exasperating drawl that had the seeming 
 of a deliberate travesty of my styla Now there is nothing 
 I am quite so sensitive about as a mocking imitation of my 
 drawling infirmity of speech. I spoke up sharply and said, 
 
 < Look here, you miserable ash-cat 1 you will have to 
 give a little more attention to your manners, or I will throw 
 you out of the window 1 ' 
 
 The manikin smiled a smile of malicious content and 
 security, puffed a whiff of smoke contemptuously toward me, 
 and said, with a still more elaborato drawl — y 
 
 * Oome — go gently, now ; don't put on too many airs with 
 your betters.' 
 
 This cool snub rasped me all over, but it seemed to sub* 
 jugate me, too, for a moment. The pigmy contemplated me 
 awhile with his weasel eyes, and then said, in a peculiarly 
 sneering way — 
 
 * Tou tum'^ a tramp away from your door this morning.' 
 I said xarustily-^ 
 
 ' Perhaps I did, perhaps I didn't. How do you know f ' 
 
 ' Well, I know. It isn't any matter how I know.' 
 
 ' Very well. Suppose I did turn a tramp away from the 
 
 €oor — whatofitr 
 
 'Oh, nothing; nothing in particular. Only you lied to 
 
 nim.^ 
 
 'IdidnHl That is, I * 
 
1<I0 
 
 TJOX MSCJSNT CAMifrrAL OF 
 
 y-r 
 
 ' Yes, butyoa did ^ you lied to hSM.' 
 
 IllBlt a guilty pang^in tnith I had felt H forty timet 
 before thai, tramp bad travelled a block from iny door— bat 
 •^11 1 reBolyed to make a ihow of feeling alandered; no I 
 
 < 'Thisieabaselesaimpertiiieikoe. I Siiid to the tnunp-— — ^ 
 
 * There— wait. Ton were about to lie again. / know 
 what you said tahim. Tou said the oook was gone down 
 town and there was nothing left from breakfast Two lies. 
 Tou knew the cook was behind the door, and plenty ol 
 provisions behind Atfr.' 
 
 This astonishing aocuraoy sQenoed me ; and it filled me 
 with wondering speculations, too, as to how this cub could 
 have got his information. Of course he could have culled the 
 conversation from the tramp, but by what sort of magic had 
 ue contrived to find out about the concealed cook f Now the 
 dwarf spoke again — 
 
 ' It was rather pitifbl, rather small, in you to refrise to 
 read that poor young ^roman's manuscript the other day, 
 and give her an opinion as to its literary value; andshe had 
 eome soBtr, too, and to hopefully. Now, watnH itt' 
 
 Ifidt likeacurl And I had felt so every time the thing 
 had recurred to my mind, I may as well oonfess. I flushed 
 hotly and said — 
 
 'Look here, have you nothing better to do tiiaa prowl 
 around prying into other people's business t Did that girl 
 teU you that!' « 
 
 * Never mind whether she did or not. The main thing 
 is, you did that contemptible thing. And you felt 
 of it afterwards. Aha ! you feel ashamed of it note J ' 
 
I 
 
 cniMB nr comrjscTicxrt. im 
 
 i responded— 
 
 'I^told that girl, in the kindest, gentlest way, that I 
 eonld not consent to deliTerjodgment upon any one's manu- 
 script, because an indiyidual's yerdiot was worthless. It 
 ndglit underrate a work of high merit and k)se it to tho 
 world, or it might oTenate a trashj Ukrodaotion and so open 
 the way for its inaction upon HSI^e world. I said that the 
 great public was the only tribunal competent to sit in judg^ 
 ment upon a literary effort, and therefore it must be beet 
 to lay it before that tribunal in the outset, since in the 
 end it must stand or fiOl by that mighty court's decidon 
 any way,' 
 
 'Yes, you said aU that. So you did, you juggling, small- 
 souled shuffler I And yet wh«i the happy hopeftilness &ded 
 out rf that poor giri's &oe^ when you saw her furtively sUp 
 beneath her shawl the scroll she had so padently and 
 honestly scribbled ai-«o ashamed of her darling now, so 
 proud of it before— when you saw the gladness go out of 
 her eyes and the tears come there^ when she crept away so 
 humbly who had come so ' 
 
 *0h, peace! peace! peace! Blister your mercUesi 
 tongue, haven't aU these thought tortured me enough, 
 without 3«mr wming here to fetch them back againt' 
 
 Bemorse! remorse! It seemed to me tiiat it would eat 
 the very heart out of me ! And yet that small fiend only 
 sat there leering at me with joy and contempt, and pUusidly 
 chuckling. Presentiy he began to speak again. Every sen- 
 tence was an acousaHon, and eveiy accusation a truth. 
 Bwry danse was freighted with sarcasm and derision, emy 
 
lOM 
 
 TBB RSCBNT CAMNIVAL OF 
 
 
 I 
 
 * 
 
 ■low-dropping word burned like Titariol. Hie dwaif r» 
 minded me of timee when I had flown at my children in 
 anger and poniahed them he fibtdta which a KtUe inquiry 
 would have taught me that others, and not they, had com- 
 mitted. He reminded me of how I had dialoyally allowed 
 old friends to be traduced in my hearing, and been tooGraren 
 to utter a word in their defence. He reminded me ctf many 
 diahonoBt things which I had done ; of many which I had 
 procured to be done by children and other irresponsible 
 persons; of some which I had planned, thought upon, and 
 longed to do, and been kept from the performance by fiaar 
 of consequences only. With exquisite omelty he recalled 
 to my mind, item by item, wrongs and unkindnesses I 
 had inflicted and humiliations I had put upon friends 
 since dead, 'who died thinking of those injuries, maybe, 
 snd grieving over tiiem,' he added, by way of poison to the 
 ■tab. ' , 
 
 * For instance,' said he, ' take the case of your younger 
 brother, when you two were boys together, many a long 
 year ago. He always lovingly trusted in yon with a fidelity 
 that your manifiild treacheries were not able to shake. He 
 followed you about like a dog, content to suffer wrong and 
 abuse if he might only be with you ; patient under these 
 injuries so long as it was your hand that inflicted them. 
 The latest picture you have of him in health and strength 
 must be such a comfort to you 1 Ton pledged yova honour 
 that if he would let you blindfold him no harm should com9 
 to him; and then, giggling and choking over the rare fun 
 of the joke, you led him to a bro^k thinly glaie<) with, ice, 
 and pushed him in; and hoiryon did knghl .Man, you 
 
atms m commcrjcur. 
 
 1041 
 
 rp nercr fttgeb the gantie, r«proMlifiil look lie gKf joom 
 be etnsgg^ liiivering ont^ if 7011 Uve a thomend yeunl 
 Oho ! 70a sae it now, yen see it nowV 
 
 * BeMt» I hft^ seen it e miUion timee, ead ahftU iee it » 
 miUion more I and may 70a rot away piooemeel, and soffiv 
 tiil doom8da7 what I suffer now, for bringing it back to me 
 egeint' 
 
 The dwarf chnckled oontaitedl7, and went on with bis 
 eoooalng bistoc7 of m7 career. I dropped into a mood7, 
 ▼engeful state, and snffined in silence mider the meroi]«Mi 
 lesh. At hut this remark of bis gaire me a sodden 
 
 the 
 
 < I'wo months ago, on a Tae8da7, 70Q w<^ np, awa7 in 
 the night, and fell to thinking^rwith sbame^ abont a peeii- 
 liari7 ibean and pitiful act of 7onrs toward a poor ignorant 
 Indian in iiie wildji of the Bocky Mountains in the winter 
 of eighteen hundred and ' ^ 
 
 ' Stop a moment, devil 1 Stop t Bo 7on mean to tell 
 me that even m7 veiy thoughU are not hidden from 700! ' 
 
 'It s^ems to look like that. Didn't yon think tl 
 thoughts I have just mentioned t ' 
 
 * If I didn% I wish I ma7 never breathe again 1 Look 
 here, friend — ^look me'in the eye. Who are you t ' 
 
 ' Well, who do you think t * 
 
 * 1 think you are Satan himselt I think you are tbe 
 devil' 
 
 •No.' 
 
 ' Not Then who eon you bef ' 
 'Would you really like to know f 
 •/fuiMIwould.' ^ 
 
 A 
 
 *^h. 
 
 ■IS¥ 
 
•r-:?^: 
 
 ■'7-lW 
 
 i f" 
 
 101 TMB RECBNT CABmVAl' OF 
 
 < WeU, I un your (7MJOMII00 r 
 
 In Ml initaat I WM in a blase of joy wxd ^nvittMim, 1 
 iprang at the ereatnre, roaring — 
 
 'Ouno yoQy I have wished a hundred million times thai 
 yoa were tangible^ and that I oonld get ray hands on your 
 throat onoel (Hi, bat I will wreak a deadly Tengeano** 
 on ' 
 
 Folly 1 Lightning does not move more qiiiekly than my 
 Conscienoe did !* He darted aloft so suddenly that in the 
 moment my fingers dutohed tho empty air he was already 
 perched on the top of the high look-caaOi with his thumb at 
 oifl nose in token of derision. I 4img the poker at him, end 
 missed. I fired the bootjack. In a blind rage I flew from 
 place to place, and snatched and hurled any missile that 
 came handy; the storm of h^oks, inkstands, and chunks of 
 coal gloomed the air and beat about the manikin's perch 
 relentlessly, but all to no purpose ; the nimble figure dodged 
 0very shot; and not only that, but burst into a cackle of 
 saniastio and triumphant kughter as I sat down exhaustdd. 
 While I puffed and gasped with &tigue and excitement, my 
 Ckmsdenoe talked to this effect — 
 
 \ My good slave, you are curiously witless — no, I mean 
 characteristically so. In truth, you axe always consistent^ 
 ^ways yourself, always an ass. Otherwise it must have 
 occurred to you that if you attempted tins murder with a 
 sad heart and a heavy conscience, I would droop under the 
 burdening influence instantly. Fool, I should have weighad 
 a ton, and could not have budged from the floor; but insi»ad, 
 you are so cheerfully anadous to kill me that your conscience 
 \s as light as a feather ; hence I am away up here out d your 
 
cniMs IN comrBCTwxrT. 
 
 IM 
 
 ■ft 
 the 
 
 iMflh. I OHD almoit vespeol a niHV oHinaijiottoir Ibol; 
 Imt i^oif— pAh I ' 
 
 I would haT8 giToi anything, then, to be heATy-hearted, 
 ■0 that I could get this person down from there and take 
 his lilie, bat I ooold no more be heayy-hearted over saeh a 
 desire than I oonld hare sorrowed over its aooomplishment. 
 So I ooold only look longingly up at my master, and rayeat 
 the ill-lttok that denied me a heavy oonaoienoe the one only 
 time that I had ever wanted each a thing in my ^. By* 
 and-by I got to mosing over the hoards strange adventure^ 
 and of ooozse my hnman entioeity began to work. I set 
 myself to framing in my mind some questions for this fiend 
 to answer. Jnst then one of my boys entered, leaving the 
 door open behind him, and ezolaimed — 
 
 ' My 1 what hat been going on, heret The bookcsse is 
 all one riddle of * 
 
 I sprang np in consternation, and shonted— 
 
 <Oat of this 1 Hunyl Jumpl Slyl Shutthedoor! 
 Quick, or my OonsoieoDce will get away I ' 
 
 The door slammed to, and I lodked it I glsnoed up and 
 was grateftil, to the bottom of my hearty to see that my owner- 
 was still my prisoner, issid — 
 
 ' Hang you, I might have lost you 1 Ohildren are the 
 heedlessest creatures. But look here, friend, the boy did not 
 seem to notioe you at all ] how is Uiat t ' 
 
 'For a very gdiDd reason. I am invisible to all but you.' 
 
 I made mentd note of that piece of information with a 
 good deal of satisfiMstion. I could kill this miscreant now, if 
 I got a chance^ and no one would know it. But this very 
 reflection made me so light>hearted that my Conscience could 
 

 npr BMcsmr CAnmvAi or 
 
 hardl J keep hit aeat^ but wis like to fUmt aloft toward the 
 eelliiig like a 4(^ balloon. I aaid, preeently— ^ 
 
 'Oosce, my Comijieiioe, let ns be friendly. Let lu Ity a 
 flag df truce for a wbHe. I am suffering to ask you aoma 
 queations.' 
 
 * Very well Begin.' 
 'Well, then, in the first plaoe^ Hrhy were you never 
 
 visible to me before 1 ' 
 
 ^Beoaufie yon nover asked to see me befjro; thkt is, you 
 never asked in the right lipirit and the projsir form beforo. 
 You were just In the li^t spbit this ti^ne, and when you 
 called for your most pitiless enemy I was that person by a 
 very huge mi^rity, though you did not suspect it.' 
 
 * Well, did that remark of mine turn yi into flesh and 
 blood t' 
 
 * No. It only made me visible to you, I am unsub- 
 stantial, just a^ other spirits are.' 
 
 This remark prodded me with a sharp misgiving. If he 
 was unsubstantial, how was I going to kill him. But I dis- 
 sembled, and said persuasively — 
 
 < Consdenoe, it isn't sociable of yon to keep at such a dis- 
 tance. CSome down and take another smoke.' 
 
 This was answered with a look that was full of derision, 
 and with tiiis observation added—* 
 
 ' Come where you can get at me and kill me t The invi- 
 tation is declined with thanks.' 
 
 'All right,' said I to myself; «so it seems aspirit can be 
 killed after all; tix^rep^will be one spirit lacking in this 
 world presently, or I kise my guess.' Then I said aloud— 
 
 'Friend ' 
 

 OBIXB IB vommcTicvT. 
 
 w 
 
 ' Tbtve ; w»it a bit. I un not your ftien^ I am your 
 onemy; I am not your equal, I am y<mr master. Odl me 
 " my iocd," if yoQ p&ease. Tea are too fitmiliar.* 
 
 '* I don't like Buoh titles. I em willing to eall y«m dr. 
 Tliat is as £tf m ' 
 
 ' We will haye no aigument about this. Juitobey; that 
 is all. Qo on with your chatter.' 
 
 ' Very well, my lord — sinoe nothing bat my lord will soit 
 yon — \ wau going to ask yon how long you will be visible to 
 mel' 
 
 'Always I' 
 
 I broke out with strong indignation : ' This is simply an 
 outrage. That is what I thmk of it. Tou have dogged, 
 and dogged, and dogged me, all the days of my life, in* 
 /isible. That was misery enough; not/ to have such a 
 looking thing as you tagging after me like another shadow 
 all the re^t of my days is an intolerable prospect. Tot 
 have my opinion, my lord ; make the most of it.' 
 
 ' My lad, there was never so pleased a oonsdience In this 
 world as I was when you made me visible. It givee me an 
 inconceivable advantage. iToto, I can look you straight in 
 the eye, and call you names, and leer at yon, jeer at you, 
 sneer at you; and ycu know what eloquence tfiere is in 
 visible gesture and expression, more especially when the 
 dfeot is heightened by audiUe speech. I shall always ad- 
 dress yon henceforth in your o-v-n i^n-i-v-e-1-l-i-n-g d-r-a-w-l 
 --baby I' 
 
 I let fly with tl^e -coal-hod. No result. My lord said— 
 
 * Oome, come I Eemember the flag of truce ! ' 
 
 * Ah, I fisrfot that I wiU try to b« civil; and ywk try 
 
•'t\ 
 
 TBS MMCBNT CAMNIVAL OF 
 
 lit. ic<o^ fbr ft BOfdtj. The idoa of a eMl cofuwknflt. It it 
 ft good join ; fta aacaUint Jdco. All the eoMoJopcw / hfttv 
 OTor liciftrd of were nagging, badgering, liaiilt-llnding, exe- 
 omble aftTages ! tiid alwftya in ft aweftt aboat some 
 
 poor Utile inaigniiloaat kiile or other— deetruotion oatoh the 
 lot of them, / say 1 I irould trade mine for the amftll-poK 
 and seven kinds of oonmunption, and be glad of the ohanoe. 
 No^ tell me, why tt it that a oonadenoe can't haul a man 
 over the ooala onioe^ for an offence, and then let him alonet 
 Why IB it that it wanta to keep on pegging at him, day 
 and night and night and day, week in and week out^ 
 for erer and oyer, about the same old thing t There is 
 no senie in thati^ and no reason in it. I think a oon- 
 floienoe that will act like th^t is meaner than the very dirt 
 iteelll' 
 
 < Well, «M like it ; that suffioea.' 
 
 ' Bo you do it with the honest intent to improve a 
 mant' 
 
 That question produoed a sftroftstio smile, ftnd this 
 reply— 
 
 'No, sir. Ezcuae me. We do it simply because it is 
 <s bunness." It is our trada The pmtpon of it it to im- 
 prove the man, but %o6 are merely disinterested agents. We 
 are appointed by authority, and haven't anything to say in 
 the matter. We obey orders and leave the oonsequencei 
 w^ftwe they belong. But I am willing to admit this mudi : 
 we ie crowd the orders a trifle when we get a chance^ wfa&di 
 za most of the time. We ei\joy it. We are instmotod to 
 remind a man a few times of an error ; and I don't miftd 
 acknowledging that we try to give pretty good measore. 
 
OBOn IN COKNEOTICVT. 
 
 160 
 
 kxA when w% gai hold ofanui ofapMiilhurly MiMlti^t 
 iMlQr% ohy b«t ir% do haie him I I h*To knofwn jwukAmiow 
 lo oomo all the wtj from Ohhm end Rnmia to lee a penoa 
 of that kind put through hie peoes, on a ipeciel oeBiiion. 
 Why, I knew e men of thet lori who hed eeoidentelly crip- 
 pled e mulatto baby; the newa went aljioad, and I wiah 
 yoQ may nerer oommit another sin if the eopedenoee didnt 
 flook from all over the earth to eqjoy the ftm and help hie 
 master ezerdie him. fhat man walked the floor in torture 
 Cmt forlj-eight houn[^ without eating or deeping, and then 
 blew hie braine outb The child wee perfectly weU again in 
 three weeka.' 
 
 ' Well, yon are a preeioiie oiew, not to pat H too strong. 
 I think I b^gin to see, now, why yon have always been a 
 trifle ineonsistent with me. In your anziefy to get all the 
 juioe you can out of a sin, you make a man repent of it 
 in three or four diffisrent ways. For instanoe, you found 
 frnlt with me for lying to that tramp, and I sufhred over 
 that. But it was only yesterday that I told a tramp the 
 square truth, to wit, that, it being regarded as bad oitiaen- 
 ship to enoounge vagrancy, I would give him nothing. 
 What did you do ikm\ Why, you made me say to myself, 
 "Ah, it would have been so much kinder and more blame> 
 less to ease him off with a little white lie, and send him 
 away feeling that ?! he eould not have bread, the gentle 
 treatment was s« least something to be grateful fort" 
 WeU, I sufRared all day about Mot. Three days before, I 
 had led a tramp, and fed him freely, supposing it a virtnona 
 set. Btrai^t off you ssid, **0 false citisen,' to have fed a 
 tnimpl" and I suffiared as usual. Igayeatramp 
 
IMI 
 
 TBM jmaarr cAMmvAi of 
 
 yoa ofcjifslcd to tt— 4|/l«r tlM mntemet wai mMb» of eoan»| 
 foa novor qwik up tnHwehaiuL Kext» I ri^^iMil a timmp 
 work; yw oljoeted to Mol. N«Et» I propoMd to kill a 
 Inmp; yon kept am *w«ko oU night, ooring nmone ol 
 o?«7 pore. Sure I wm goiiig to be right tki§ time, I aent 
 the next tramp away with my benediction ; and I wish yon 
 may live as k>Dg as I do, if yon didn't make me smart all 
 night again beoanae I did«^t kill him. Is there any way 
 of satisfying that malignant invention which is called a 
 conscience 1' 
 
 ' Ha, ha I this is luxury t Oo on 1 ' 
 
 'But come, now, answer me that question. 1$ there 
 any way I ' 
 
 ' Well, none that I propose to tell you, my son. Am I 
 I don't care whuU act yon may turn your hand to, I can 
 straightway whisper a word in your ear and make you 
 think you have committed a dreadftil meanness. It is my 
 6fiMtM«»-~aad my joy— to make you repent of everything 
 yon do. If I have fooled away any opportunities it was 
 not intentional; I beg to assure you it was not inten- 
 tional 1' 
 
 'Don't worry; you havent misRod a trick that /know 
 oLl never did a thing in all my life, virtuous or other- 
 wise, that I didn't repent of within twenty-four hours. In 
 church last Sunday I listened to a charity sermon. My 
 first impulse was to give three hundred and fifty dollars ; I 
 repented of that and reduced it a hundred; repented (^ that 
 and reduced it another hundred; repented of that and re- 
 duced it another hundred; repented of that and reduced the 
 ronudning fifigr to twenty-five; repented of that and oamo 
 
 p -i' 
 
^ ' 
 
 CMiMM im comncTichT. 
 
 Ill 
 
 dbwB lo iftom; npmtad of that and droppod to two dolUn 
 and a half; when the phUe oame round at ktt, I repented 
 oooe more ard oontribated ten cents. Well, when I got 
 home, I did wiah to goodnan I had that ten oenta back 
 again 1 Yon never did let me get through a charity iDirmon 
 without having something to sweat about' 
 
 * Oh, and I never shall, I never shall. Ton can alwajt 
 depend on me.' 
 
 * I think so. Many and many's the restless night I've 
 wanted to take you by the neck. If I could only get hold 
 of you now!' ^ 
 
 * Tes, no doubt But I am not an ass ; I am only the 
 saddle of an ass. But go on^ go on. You entertain me 
 more than I like to confess.' 
 
 ' I am glad of that (You will not mind my lying a 
 little, to keep in praistice.) Look here; not to be too per- 
 sonal, I think you are about the shabfaiGst and most con- 
 temptible little shrivelled-up reptile that can be imagined. 
 I am grateful enough that you are invisible to other people, 
 for I should die with shame to be seen with such a mil- 
 dewed monkey of a conscience as you are. Now, if you 
 were fkv^ or six feet high, and — -' 
 
 ' Oh, come ! who is to blame! ' 
 
 < / don't know.' 
 
 * Why, you are ; nobody else.' 
 
 * Confound you, I wasn't consulted about your persona! 
 appearance.' 
 
 ' I don't care, you had a good deal to do with it, nevei^ 
 thflless. When you were eight or nine years old, I was 
 seven ftet h^i^ and as pretty as a picture.* 
 
lit 
 
 TWS MSCBNT CAJtmVAL OF 
 
 *■ I wiah yoQ bad died young 1 So yoo have grown Um 
 wrong way, have you t ' ^ 
 
 ' Some of us grow one way and somo the other. Tou 
 had a laxge conscience once ; if you've a small conscieiice 
 now, I reckon there are reasons for it. However, both of 
 us are to blame, you and I. Tou see, you used to be eon* 
 sdentious about a great many things; morbidly so, I may' 
 say. It was a great many years aga You {>rQbably do 
 not remember it, now. Well, I took a great interest in my 
 work, and I so eigoyed the anguish which certain pet sins 
 of yours afflicted you with, that I kept pelting at you until 
 I rather overdid the matter. Tou began to rebeL Of 
 course I began to lose ground, then, and shrivel a little— 
 diminiBh in stature, get mouldy, and grow deformed. The 
 more I weakened, the more stubbornly you fastened on to 
 those particular sins ; till at last the places on my person 
 that represent those vices became as callous as shark skin. 
 Take smoking, for instance. I played that card a little too 
 long, and I lost. When peojde {>lead with you at this late 
 day to quit that vice, that old callous place seems to enlaige 
 and cover me all over like a shirt of maiL It exerts a mys- 
 terious, smothering effect; and presently I, your faithful 
 hater, your devoted Conscience, go sound asleep I Sound t 
 It is no name for it. I couldn't hear it thunder at such a 
 time. Tou have 'some few other vices — ^perhaps eighty, or 
 maybe ninety — that a£Eect me in much the same way.' 
 
 ' This is flattering ; you must be asleep a good part of 
 your time.' 
 
 ^Tes, of late yeank I should be askiep aU the time^ bal 
 Cor the help I get' 
 
cnms nr connscticxft. 
 
 lis 
 
 * Who helps yoiit' 
 
 'Other ooDflcienoes.' Whenever a person whose oon- 
 soienoe I am aoqnainted with tries to plead with yon about 
 the vices yon are callons to, I get my friend to give his 
 olient a pang oonceming some Tillany of his own, and that . 
 shuts off his meddling and starts him off to hunt personal 
 consolation. My 6«ld of usefulness is about trimmed down 
 to tramps, budding authoresses, and that line of goods, now; 
 but don't you worry — VH harry you on ifwm while they 
 last I Just you put your trust in me.' > 
 
 ( I think I can. But if yon had only been good enough 
 to mention these &ots some thirty years ago, I should have 
 turned my particular attention to sin, and I think that by 
 this time I should not only have had you pretty perma- 
 nently asleep on the entire list of human vices, but reduced 
 to the size of a homoBopathic pill, at that. That is about 
 the style <^ conscience / anji pining for. If I only had you 
 ehrunk down to a homceopathio pill, and could get my bands 
 on you, would I put you in a glass case for a keepsake t 
 No, sir. I would give you to a ydlow 4og I That is where 
 ywk ought to be — ^you and all your tribe. Ton are not fit 
 to be in society, in my opinion. Now another question. 
 Do you know a good many consdenoes in this section t ' 
 
 < Plenty of them.' 
 
 'I would give anything to see some of themt * Could 
 jrou bring them here 1 And would they be visible to me f ' 
 
 < Certainly not.' / 
 
 * I suppose I ought to have known that, without asking. 
 But no matter; you can describe them. Tell me about my 
 1^B^|^bo^r Thompson's oooscienoe, please,,' . 
 
lU 
 
 TMB JtBCSNT CAJtNIVAL OP 
 
 'Yaj well. I know him intimately; ha^ known liim 
 many years. I knew him when he was elev«i feet hij^ 
 and of a fitnltless figure. But he is very rusty and tough 
 and misshapen now, and hardly ever interests himself about 
 anything. As to his present sise — ^well, he sleeps in a cigar* 
 box.* 
 
 ' Likely enough. There are t&w smaller, meaner men in 
 this region than Hu£^ Thompson. Do you know Rohin* 
 son's oonsdeDoe t ' 
 
 ' Yes. He is a shade under four and a half iM hi|^; 
 used to be a blonde ; is a brunette now, but still shapely and 
 oomely.' 
 
 ' Well, Bobinaon is a good fellow. Do you know Tom 
 Smith's oonsdenoe t ' 
 
 * I have known him from childhood. He was thirteen 
 inches high, and rather sluggish when he was two years old, 
 as nearly all of mi are at that age. He is thirty-seven feet 
 high now, and the stateliest figure in America. His legs 
 are still racked with growing pains, but he has a good time, 
 nevertheless. Never slec^ He is the most active and 
 eneigetio member of the New England Conscience dub; is 
 president of it. Night and day you can find iiim pegging 
 away at Smith, panting with his labour, deeves rolled up, 
 countenance all alive with ex^joyment. He has got his 
 victim splendidly dragooned now. He can make poor 
 Smith imagine that the most innocent little thing he does is 
 an odious sin ; and then he sets to work and almost tortures 
 the soul out of him about it' 
 
 ' Smith is the noblest man in all this section, and the 
 purest, and yet Is always breaking his heart because 
 
 1 ■ 
 
CEIMB IN CONNXCTICtrr. 
 
 m 
 
 idtlM 
 
 cannot be good ! Only a oonadenoe eould find pleasure in 
 beaping agony upon a q>urit Uke that. Do you know my 
 aunt Mary's consdenoe % ' 
 
 ' I have seen her at a distanoe, but luoi not acquaint^ 
 with her. She lives in the (^)en air altogether, because no 
 door is large enough i^ admit her.' 
 
 <I can belieye that. Let me see. Do you know the ' 
 eonsdenoe of that publisher who once stole some sketches of 
 mine for a '' series " of his, and then left me to pay the law 
 expenses I had to incur in order to choke him off t ' 
 
 ' Tes. He has a wide &me. He was exhibited^ n month 
 ago, with some other antiquities, for the benefit of a recent 
 Member of the Oabinet's eonsdenoe that was starving in 
 exile. Tickets and fiures were high, but I travelled for 
 nothing by pretending to be the oonsdence of an editor, and 
 got in for half-price by representing myself to be the oon- 
 sdence of a dergyman. However, the publisher's oonsdence^ 
 whidi was to have been the main feature of the entertain- 
 ment, was a failurd— eis an exhibition. He was there, but 
 what of that t The management had provided a microscope 
 with a magnifjring power of only thirty thousand ditimeteis, 
 and so nobody got to see him, after all. There was great 
 and general dissatisfaction, of course ; but—-— ' 
 
 Just here there was an eager footstep on the stair ; X 
 opened the door, and my aunt Mary burst into the room. 
 It was a joyful meeting, and a cheery bombardment of ques- 
 tions and answers concerning family matters ensued. By- 
 •nd-by my aunt said — 
 
 * But I am going to abuse you a little now. You pro 
 mised me, the^y I saw you last^ that ^u would look after 
 
116 
 
 THB nscBNT cahnivaz or 
 
 the needs of the poor fiunilj around the comer as fhathAilly 
 as I had done it myself. Well, I found oat by aooideiii 
 that you failed of your promise. Wa$ that right t ' 
 
 In simple truth, I never had thought of that fiumly a 
 Bocond time I And now such a splintering pang of guilt 
 shot through me 1 I glanced up at my Conscience. Plainly, 
 my heavy heart was affecting him. His body was drooping 
 forward ; he seemed about to fidl from the book-case. My 
 aunt ccmtinued — 
 
 ' And think how you have neglected my po(»r protigie at 
 the almshouse, you dear, hard-hearted promise-breaker 1 ' I 
 blushed scarlet, and my tongue was tied. As the sense of 
 my guilty negligence waxed sharper and stronger, my Con- 
 science began to sway heavily back and forth ; and when my 
 aunt, after a little pause, said in a grieved tone, 'Since you 
 never omse went to see her, maybe it will not distress you 
 now to know that that poor child died, months ago, utterly 
 friendless and forsaken V my Conscience could no longer beer 
 up under the weight of my sufferings, but tumbled headlong 
 from his high perch and struck the floor with a dull, leaden 
 thump. He lay th^ce writhing with pain and quaking 
 with apprehension, but straining every muscle in frantio 
 efforts to get up. In a fever of expectancy I sprang 
 to the (ioor, locked it, placed my back against it, and 
 bent a watchful gaze upon my struggling master. 
 Already my fingers were itching to begin their murderous 
 
 work. 
 
 <0h, what etm be the matter!' exdaimed my aunt, 
 shrinking from me, and following with her frightened eyes 
 tiie direction of mine. My breath was coming in Bhort» 
 
 
If. 1.1., 
 
 ClOMS IN CONNBCTICUT. 
 
 117 
 
 
 foidk gups now, and 1117 eicdtement was almost nnoon- 
 troUabla. My aunt cried oat— ^ 
 
 * 0\ do not look so t Tou appal me ! Oh, what can 
 the ipatter bel What is it yon seet Why do yon stare 
 sol Why ^ you work your fingers like that 1 ' 
 
 * Peace, woman I ' I said, in a hoarse whisper. ' Look 
 elsewhere; pay no attention to me ; it is nothing — ^nothing. 
 I am often this way. It will pass in a moment It oomes 
 from smoking too mndi.' 
 
 My injured lord was up, wi^d-eyed with terror, and 
 trying to hobble toward the door. I could hardly breathe, 
 I was so wrought up. My aunt wrung hr liands, and 
 said — 
 
 * Oh, I knew how it would be ; I knew it would oome to 
 this at last I Oh, I implore you to crush out that &tal 
 habit while it may yet be time 1 Tou must not, you shall 
 not be deaf to my supplications longer 1' My struggling 
 Consdenoe showed sudden signs of weariness 1 ' Oh, pro- 
 mise me you will throw off this hateful slavery of tobacco 1 ' 
 My Conscience b^gan to reel drowsily, and grope with his 
 hands — enchanting spectacle ! ' I beg you, I beseech you, 1 
 implore you I Your reason is deserting you ! There is 
 madnees in your eye ! It flames with frenzy ! Ch, hear 
 me, hear me, and be saved ! See, I plead with you on my 
 very knees 1 ' As she sank before me my Oonsdenoe reeled 
 again, and then drooped languidly to the floor, blinking 
 toward me a last supplication for mercy, with heavy eyes. 
 * Oh, promise, or you are lost ! Promise, and be redeemed I 
 Prcmiisel Promise and livef With \. long-drawn sigh 
 my ooaquerod Oonsdenee dosed his eyes and fell fast asleep t 
 
lis 
 
 THE MB0SN7 CAMNIVAL OF 
 
 *-«. 
 
 WiUi Mi exultuit shout I gprang past my aunt, andlB 
 an instant I had mj life-long foe by the throat. After so 
 many years of waiting and bnging, he was mine at last I 
 tore him to shreds and fragments. I rent the fragments to 
 bits. I oast the bleeding rubbish into the fire, and drew 
 into my nostrils the grateful inoense of my bumt-o£foiing. 
 At lasty and for erer, my Oonsdenoe was dead 1 
 
 I was a free man I I turned upon my poor aont^ who 
 was almost petrified with teRor, and shouted— 
 
 ' Out of this with your paupers, your charities, your 
 reforms, your pestilent morals I You behold before you a 
 man whose li£»-couflid. is done, whose soul is at peace; a 
 man whose heart is dead to sorrow, dead to suiQEbring, dead 
 to remorse ; a man withoitt ▲ oonsoibnqb I In my joy I 
 spare you, though I could throttle you and never feel a 
 pang! Ryl' 
 
 She fled. Since that day my life is all bliak Bliss, 
 unalloyed bliss. Nothing in all ^e world could persuade 
 me to have a conscience again. I settled all my old out- 
 standing scores, and began the world anew. I killed thirty - 
 eight persons during the first two weeks— all of them on 
 account of ancient grudges. I burned a dwelling that 
 interrupted my view. I swindled a widow and some 
 <»phanB out of their last cow, which is a very good one, 
 though not thoroughbred, I believe. I have also committed 
 BooresNif crimes, of various kinds, and have ei\joyed my 
 work exceedingly, whereas it would formerly have broken 
 my heart and turned my hair grey, I have no doubt 
 
 In conclusion I wish to state, by way of advertisement, 
 that medical coUeges deairinK assorted tramps for 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 I 
 I 
 
ndlB 
 
 ^m 
 i. I 
 
 itB to 
 
 drew 
 ariog. 
 
 CBZMJS m COmXCTICUT. 
 
 m 
 
 pnrpoMi, dtlMT Ijgr tiw groM, by ixiKd SMisiiraiiittt^ or per 
 ten, will do woU to ei^iaixie the lot in my oaUar hebn 
 P«ueliaBing elaowlifln^ M those woro all Mleoted 
 bj myeelf, and oan be had at * low rate, beoaiue I wiih to 
 dear o«t my atock and get ready &r the quiring tnMla 
 
 , ivho 
 
 your 
 nou a 
 oe; a 
 dead 
 joy I 
 eel a 
 
 Bliss, 
 luade 
 iout- 
 drty- 
 n on 
 
 that 
 ■ome 
 
 one, 
 itted 
 I my 
 oken 
 
 nenty 
 [itifie 
 
ABOUT MAGNANIMOUS-INCIDENT 
 
 LITERATURE. 
 
 All my life, from Ix^hood np, I have had the habit of read- 
 ing a oertain 8tt of anecdotes, written in the quaint vein of 
 The World's ingenious Fabulist, for the lesson they taught 
 me and the pleasure they gave me. They lay always oon- 
 yenient to my hand, and whenever I thought meanly of my 
 kind I turned to them, and they banished that sentiment; 
 wheuoTer I felt myself to be selfish, sordid, and ignoble 
 I turned to them, and they told mo what to do to win 
 beck my self-respeot. Many times I wished that the charm- 
 ing anecdotes had not stopped with their happy climaxes, 
 but had continued the pleasing history of the several bene- 
 fiMJtors and benefidaries. This wish rose in my breast so per- 
 sistently that at last I determined to satisfy it by seeking out 
 the sequels of those anecdotes myself. So I set about it, and 
 after great labour and tedious research accomplished my fcask. 
 I will lay the result before you, giving you each anecdote in 
 its turn, and following it with its sequel as I gathered it 
 through my investigations. 
 
 THE GRATEFUL POODLE. 
 
 One day a benevolent physician (who had read the books) 
 
 \ 
 
 \ • 
 
MAONANIMOUB-INCWBNT UTERATUMR 191 
 
 haying foond a ttray poodle suffering from a broken leg, oon- 
 T«yed the poor creature to hie home» and after getting and 
 bandaging the ii^jured limb gave the litUe ootoaat ite liberty 
 agdn, and thought no more about the matter. Bat how 
 great was his surprise, upon opening his door one mornings 
 some days later, to find the grateful poodle patiently waiting 
 there, and in its oompany another stray dog, one of whose 
 1^, by some accident^ had been broken. Th» kind physi- 
 eian at onoe relieved the distressed animal, nor did he forg^ 
 to admire the inscrutable goodness and mercy of Qod, who 
 had been willing to use so humble an instrument as th« 
 poor outcast poodle for the inculcating of, Ac, &c, iui. 
 
 >ks) 
 
 I- 
 The next morning the benerolent physiciati fi>t:nd the 
 
 two dogs, beaming with gratitude, waiting* at his door, and 
 
 with them two other dogs — (nipples. The cripples were 
 
 sraedily healed, and the four went their way, leaying the 
 
 benevolent physician more overcome by pious wonder than 
 
 ever. The day passed, the morning came. There at the 
 
 door sat now the four reconstructed dogs, and with them 
 
 four others requiring reconstruction. This day also passed, 
 
 and another morning came ; and now sixteen dogs, eight d 
 
 them newly crippled, occupied the sidewalk, and the people 
 
 were gcnng around. By noon the broken legs Were all set, but 
 
 the pious wonder in the good physician's breast was beginning 
 
 to get mixed with involuntary pro&nity. The sun rose once 
 
 more, and exhibited thirty-two dogti, sixteen d them with 
 
 broken legs, occupying the sidewalk and half of the street ; 
 
 the human spectators took i^i the rest of the room. The 
 
 i '1 
 
 II 
 
in MAONAJmiOUMJrClDBNT UTMJUTUMM 
 
 evies of tha wounded, the loiigi of the h^ded bratee, end the 
 oomnieiiti of the on-looking oidaene made great and iniplring 
 flheer, bat traffic wan interrupted in that street. The good 
 phyiioiui hired a eouple of assifltant Burgeons and got through 
 his benevolent work before dork, first taking the precaution 
 to oanoel his church membership, so that he might express 
 himself with the latitude which the case required. 
 
 But some things have their limits. When once more the 
 morning dawned, and the good physioian looked out upon a 
 massed and far-reaching multitude of clamorous and beseech- 
 ing dogs, he said, ' I might as well acknowledge it, I havv 
 been fooled by the books ; they only tell the pretty part of 
 the story, and then stop. Fetch me the shou-gun; this thing 
 has gone along fiff enough.' 
 
 He issued forth with kis weapon, and chanced to step 
 upon ^he tail of the original poodle, who promptly bit him 
 in tlte leg. Now the great and good work which this poodle 
 had been engaged in had engendered in him such j^ mighty 
 and augmenting enthusiasm as to tr .*n his weak head at last 
 and drive him mad. A month later, when the benevolent 
 physician lay in the death throes of hydrophobia, he called 
 his weeping friends about him, and said — 
 
 * Beware of the books. They tell but half of the stoiy. 
 Whenever a poor wretch asks you for help, and yon feel a 
 doubt as to what result may flow from your benevolence, 
 give yourself the benefit of the doubt and kill the applicant.' 
 
 And 80 saying he turned his fiuse to the wall and gave mi 
 the ghost. 
 
MAONANIMOUMNCIDBNT UTJFJUTUMR 1S» 
 
 J TBI BEKVrOLEXn AUTHOB. 
 
 A poor and joung litermry beginner had triod in Tiin tu 
 get his mannflcripts accepted. At laat, wlien the horron of 
 ■tarvation were ataring him in the h/Od, he laid hii aad oaae 
 before a celebrated aathor, beieeching hia coonflel and aaaiBt- 
 anoe. This generous man immediately put aside his own 
 matters and proceeded to peruse one of the despised manu- 
 scripts. Having completed his kindly task, he shook the 
 poor young man cordially by the hand, saying, ' I perosiTe 
 merit in this ; oome again to me on Monday.* At the time 
 specified, the celebrated author, with a sweet smile, but 
 saying nothing, spread open a magasine which was damp 
 from the press. What was the poor young man's astonish- 
 ment to discover upon the printed page his own article 
 * How can I ever,' said he, fidling upon his knees aad burst- 
 ing into tears, * testify my gratitude for this noble conduct 1 ' 
 The celebrated author was the renowned Snodgrass; the 
 poor young ^My**^**^ thus rescued fW>m obacurity and starva- 
 tion was the afterwards equally renowned Snagsby. Let this 
 pleasing incident admonish us to turn a charitable ear to all 
 b^ginnerb that need help. 
 
 s 
 
 SBQVBL. 
 
 The next week Snagsby -vfas back with five rejected 
 manuscripts. The a»lebrated author was a little surpHsed, 
 because in the books the young straggler had needed but 
 one lift, apparently. Howevor, he ploughed through these 
 papers, removing unnecessary flowers and digging up somff 
 
 \ 
 
It4 AUONANlMOU&INCmBNT LITSXATUMM 
 
 Aores of a^jeotiTV-itiimpii, and then niooeeded in gsMing two 
 oi the ftrtiolea vooepted. 
 
 A week or 00 drifted hf, and the gxateAiI Snagebj 
 Mriyed with another cargo. The celebrated anthor had felt 
 a mighty glow of latiafiMstion within himself the first time 
 he had saoosBsfiillj befiriended the poor joong stmggler, and 
 had compared himself with the generous people in the books 
 with high gratification; but he was beginning to suspect 
 now that he had struck upon something fresh in the nobl»> 
 episode line. His enthusiasm took a chill. Still, he could 
 not bear to repulse this struggling young author, who clung 
 to him with Buoh pretty simplicity and trustfulness. 
 
 Well, the upshot of it all was that the celebrated author 
 presently found himself permanently freighted with the 
 poor young beginnerr AH his mild effortn to unload his 
 cargo went for nothing. He had to give daily counsel, daUy 
 encouragement; he had to keep on procuring magaiine 
 acceptances, and then revamping the manuscripts to make 
 them presentable. When the young aspirant got a start at 
 last, he rode into sudddn fame by describing the celebrated 
 author's private life with such a caustic humour and such 
 minuteness of blistering detail that the book sold a prodigious 
 edition, and broke the celebrated author's heart with mortifi- 
 cation. With his latest gsuqp he said, 'Alas, the books 
 deceived me ; thej do not tell the whole stoiy. Beware of 
 the struggling young author, my friends. Whom Qod sees 
 fit to starve, let not man presumptuously rescue to his own 
 undoing.' 
 
 •f 
 
 hi 
 his 
 
 - I I 
 
UAONANIMOUMNCiDSNT LJTJSRATUIUS. l» 
 
 Vm «RATirUL HUSBAim. 
 
 One day a lady wm driTing through the prineipal iih«et 
 if A great dty with her little hoy, when the horaee took 
 IHght and dMhed madly away, hurling the ooachman ftom 
 his box and leaving the oooapanti of the ouriage paralyied 
 with terror. But a brave youth who waa driring a grocery 
 wagon threw himeelf before the plunging aninuUe, and sue* 
 oeeded in arresting their flight at the peril of hie own.* 
 The grateful lady took his number, and upon arriving at her 
 home she reUted the heroic act to her husband (who had 
 read the books), who listened with streaming eyes to the 
 moving recital^ and who, after returning thanks, in conjunc- 
 tion with his restored loved ones, to Him who suffereth not 
 even a sparrow to fall to the ground unnoticed, sent for the 
 brave young person, and, phicing a cheque for five hundred 
 dollars in his hand, said, * Take this aa a reward for your 
 noble act, William Ferguson, and if ever you shall "need a 
 firiend, remember that Thompson McSpadden has a gratefbl 
 heart' Let us learn -from this that a good deed cannot fiul 
 to benefit the doer, hoi^c^er humble he may be. 
 
 SEQUISL. 
 
 William Ferguson called the next week and asked Mr. 
 McSpadden to use his influence to get him a higher employ, 
 ment, he feeling capable of better things than driving a 
 grocer's wagon. Mr. McSpadden got him an under-clerk* 
 •hip at a good salary. 
 
 > This is probably a mlfpriot.— M. T. ' 
 
IM HAONAmMOUS-INCIDSNT LITSRATUSA 
 
 Plreflently WilliAm Feiguaon's mother fell nok, and 
 William— Well, to oat the story short, Mr. MoSpaddea 
 oonmnted to take her into hie home. Before long she 
 yearned for the society of her younger diildren ; so Mary 
 and Jnlia were admitted also, and little Jimmy, their 
 brother. Jimmy had a pocket-k^e, and he wandered into 
 the drawing-room with it one day, alone, and rednoed ten 
 thousand dollars' worth of fnmiture to an indeterminable 
 value in rather less than three-quarters of an hour. A day 
 or two later he fell down stairs and broke his neck, and 
 serenteen of his fiftmily's relatives came to the house to 
 attend the funeral. This made them acquainted, and they 
 kept the kitchen occupied Alter that, and likewise kept the 
 McSpaddens busy hunting up situations of various sorts for 
 them, and hunting up more when they wore these out. Tbe 
 old woman dratik a good deal and swore a good deal; but 
 the grateful McSpaddens knew it was their duty to reform 
 her, considering what her son had done for them, so they 
 clave nobly to their generous task. William came often and 
 got decreasing sums of money, and asked for higher and 
 more lucrative employment— which the gratefiil McSpadd n 
 more or less promptly procured for him. McSpadden con- 
 sented also, after some demur, to fit William for college; 
 but when the first vacation came and the hero requested to 
 be sent to Europe for his health, the persecuted McSpadden 
 rose against the tyrant and revolted. He plainly and squarely 
 refused. William Ferguson's mother was so astounded that 
 she let her gin-bottle drop, and her profane lips revised to 
 do their office. When she reoovdred she said in a half-giusp, 
 ' Is this your gratitudet Where would your wifo and boy 
 be now, but for my son 9' 
 
MAONANIMOVS-INCIDSNT LZTSnATUMR ISI 
 
 , William Mid, < Is this jmr gntitiide t Did I save you 
 wife^ lift or not t tell me that r 
 
 Beren relatioiis swarmed in from the kitchen, and each 
 taid, < And this is his gratitude I ' 
 
 William's sisters staied, bewildered, and said, * And this 
 is his ^t — ' but were interrupted by their mother, who 
 bnrst into tears and exclaimed, ' To thinl: that my sainted 
 Httle Jimmy threw away his life in the service of such a 
 reptile 1 ' 
 
 Then the pluck of the reyolutionary McSpadden rose to 
 the occasion, and he replied with fervour, ' Out of my house^ 
 the whole beggarly tribe of yon 1 I was beguiled by the 
 books, but shall never be beguiled again— -once is sufficient 
 for me/ And turning to William he shouted, ' Tee, you did 
 save my wife's life, and the next man that does it shall die 
 in his tracks t ' 
 
 
 Not being a clergyman, I place my text at the end of my 
 sermon instead of at the beginning. Here it is, from Mr. 
 Noah Brooks's Recollections of President Lincoln, in 
 * Scribner's Monthly * : — 
 
 ' J. H. Hackett, in his part of Falstafl^ was an actor who 
 gare Mr. Lincoln great delight. With his usual desire to 
 signify to others hifl sense of obligation, Mr. Lincoln wrote a 
 genial little note to the actor, expressing his pleasure at wit* 
 nessing his performance. ' Mr. Hackett, in reply, sent a book 
 of some sort ; perhaps it was one of bis own authorship. He 
 also wrote several notes to the Fl^dent. One night, quite 
 late, when the episode had passed out of my mind, I went to 
 tke White House in answer to a mflsssfni Passing into th« 
 
1S8 MAGNANIM0U8-INCIDBNT LITBRATUMM. 
 
 Frandent's office, I notioed, to my siirpEiae^ HackoU mtting 
 in the anteroom as if wkiting for an audience. Hie Fresidant 
 asked me if any one was outside. On being tokl, he said^ 
 half sadly, ** Oh, I can't see him, I can't see him ; I was in 
 hopes he had gone away." Then he added, '' Now thi» just 
 illustrates the difficulty of having pleasant Mends and a<h 
 quaintanoes in this place. You know how I liked Haokett 
 as an actor, and how I wrote to tell him so. He sent me 
 that book, and there I thought the matter would end. He 
 is a master of his place in the profession, I suppose, and well 
 fixed in it; but just because we had a little friendly corre- 
 spondence, such as any two men might have, he wants some- 
 thing. What do yon suppose he wanti^t" I could not 
 guess, and Mr. lincoln added, '' Well, he wants to be consul 
 to London. Ohydearl*" 
 
 I will observe, in conclusion, that the William Ferguson 
 incident occurred, and within my personal knowlelge — 
 though I have changed the nature of the details, to keep 
 William from recognising himi^ in it. 
 
 All the readers of this article have in some, sweet and 
 gushing hour of their lives played the rdiU of Magnanimous- 
 Incident hero. 1 wish I knew how many there are among 
 them who are willing to talk about that episode and like tci 
 be reminded of the consequences that flowed from it. 
 
 Wa 
 
 
 I 
 
 little 
 
 instai 
 
 they 
 
 rolled 
 
 anyth 
 
 thedi 
 
 wiitin 
 
 took 1 
 
 the pi 
 
 but it 
 
ipon 
 
 PUNCH, BROTHERS, PUNCH. 
 
 Will the reader please to cait his eye over the following 
 f«rae0| and lee if he can disoorer anything harmful in them 1 
 
 * Condiict(», when yon receive a fare, 
 ^ Panoh in the presenoe of the paaBenjare 
 
 A blue trip sl^ for an eightHsent furai 
 A boff trip dip for a liz-oent fare 
 A pink trip slip for a three-oent fare, 
 Pnndh in the preeenoe of the paswnjaie 1 
 
 OHOBUS. 
 
 Panoh, brothen I pnnoh with care t 
 Punch in the preeenoe of the paHenjare t* 
 
 I eame aoroaB these jingling rhymes in a newspaper, a 
 little while ago, and read them a oouple of times. They took 
 instant and entire possession of me. All through breakfast 
 they went waltzing through my brain ; and when, at last, I 
 rolled- up my tiapkin, I could not tell whether I had eaten 
 anything or not. I had carefully laid out my day's work 
 the day before — a thrilling tragedy in the novel which I am 
 writing. I went to my den to begin my deed of blood. I 
 took up my pen, but all I could get it to say was, ' Punch in 
 the presence of the passeigaie.' I fought hard for an hour, 
 but it wag useless* My head kept humming. < A blue trip 
 
180 
 
 PUJfCE, BMOTMBRa, PUNCH. 
 
 •lip for an dghioent &re, a buff trip slip for a siz-oent ^re^' 
 and 80 on and bo on, without peace or respite. The day*! 
 work was ruined — I could see that plainly enough. I gav« 
 up and drifted down town, and presently diaoovored that my 
 feet were keeping time to that relenUess jingle. When I 
 oould stand it no longer I altered my step. But it did no 
 good ; those rhjnnes aooommodatfxl themselTes to the new 
 step and went on hai'assing me just as before. I returned 
 home, and suffered all the afternoon ; suffered all through an 
 unconGcious and unrefreshing dinner; suffered, and cried, 
 and jingled all through the evening; went to bed and rolled, 
 tossed, and jingled right along, ihe same aa ever; got up at 
 midnight frantic, and tried to read i but there was nothing 
 visible upon the whirling page except * Punch t punch in the 
 presence of the passenjare.' By sunrise I was out of my 
 mind, and everybody marrelled and was^^ distressed at the 
 idiotic burden of my ravings — ' Punch I oh, punch 1 punch 
 in the presence of the passenjare 1 ' 
 
 Two days later, on Saturday morning, I arose, a tottering 
 wreck, and went forth to fulfil an engagement with a valued 
 friend, the Bev. Mr. — -, to walk to the Talcott Tower, ten 
 milee distant. He stared at me, but asked no questions. 
 
 We Started. Mr. talked, talked, talked — as is his 
 
 wont I said nothing ; I heard nothing. At the end of a 
 mile, Mr. said— 
 
 ' Mark, are you sick ) I never saw a man look so haggard 
 and worn and absent-minded. Say sometMng ; do ! ' 
 
 Drearily, without enthusiasm, I said : ' Punch, brother^ 
 punch with care ! Punch in the presence of the passen- 
 jafel' 
 
PUNCff, SSOTJUmtS, PUNCM. 
 
 in 
 
 I ■ 
 
 My friend eyed me blankly, looked perplexed, then 
 aud — 
 
 ' I do not think I get your drift, Mark. There does not 
 ■eem to be any relevancy in what yon have said, certainly 
 nothing sad ; and yet — maybe it was the way yon »aid the 
 words — ^I never heard anything that sounded so pathetia 
 What is * 
 
 But I heard no more^ I was already hx away with my 
 pitiless, heart-breaking ' bine trip slip for an eight-oent fiue^ 
 buff trip slip for a six-oent fare, pink trip slip for a three- 
 oent fare ; pnnch in the presence of the passei^jare.' I do 
 not know what oconrred during the other nine miles. How- 
 ever, all of a sudden Mr. laid his hand on my shoulder 
 
 and shouted — 
 
 * Oh, wake up ! wake up ! wake up 1 Don't deep all 
 dayl Here we are at the Tower, man! I have talked 
 myself deaf and dumb and blind, and never got a response^ 
 Just look at this magnificent autumn landscape t Look at 
 it I look at it I Feast your eyes on itl Ton have trar 
 veiled; you have seen boasted landscapes elsewhere. Oome, 
 now, deUver an honest opinion. What do you say to 
 tLisT 
 
 I sighed wearily, and murmiued— 
 
 < A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a 
 ihree^sent fare, punch in thd presence of the passenjare.' 
 
 Bev. Mr. stood there, very grave, full of concern, 
 
 apparently, and looked long at me ; then he said — , 
 
 * Mark, there is something about this that I cannot under- 
 stand. Thoee are about tho same words you said 'before ; 
 thare doee not seem to be anything in them, and yet thej 
 
•rr 
 
 PUNCH, SnOTMEBSf PVKCB. 
 
 nearly break my heart when yon say them. Punch in Uib— 
 how is it they got' 
 
 I h^gan at the beginning and repeated all the lines. My 
 friend's fieioe lighted with interest. He said^ 
 
 ^Why, what a captivating jingle it is I It is almost 
 mnsio. It flows along so nicely. I have nearly caught the 
 rhymes mysell Say them over just once more^ and then 
 111 hate themy sure.' 
 
 I said them oyer. Then Mr. said them. He made 
 
 one little mistake^ which I corrected. The next time and 
 the iiext he got them right. Now a great burden seemed to 
 tumble fro" . my shoulders. That torturing jingle departed 
 out of my brain, and a grateful sense of rest and peace 
 descended upon me. I was light-hearted enough -to sing; 
 and I did jdng for half an hour, (Er<iraight along, as we went 
 jogging homeward. Then my freed tongue found blessed 
 speech again, and the pent talk of many a weary hour began 
 to gush and flow. It flowe«^ on and on, joyously, jubilantly, 
 until the fountain was empty and dry. As I wrung my 
 frieiid's hand at parting, I said — 
 
 'Haven't we had a royal good timet But now I re- 
 member, you haven't said a word tosfs two hours. X)ome^ 
 come, out with something I ' 
 
 The Bev. ULt. turned a lack-lustre eye upon me, 
 
 dr^w a deep sigh, and said, without animation, without 
 apparent consoiousness — 
 
 'Punch, brothers, punch with caret Punch in the 
 presence of the passei^iare t ' 
 
 A pang shot through me as I said to myself, 'P6oi 
 Mlow, poor fellow t A< has got it, now.' 
 
FUIfCB, BM0THBM8, PUNCM. 
 
 n - 
 
 I did nofc lee Mr. — fbr two or three daye after tlukt 
 Ibea, on Tueeday eyeDing, he staggered into mj preienoo 
 •ad Mmk dqeiitedly into a seat He waa pale, worn; ho 
 was a wreck. He lifted his faded eyes to my &oe and 
 said— 
 
 'Ah, Mark, it was a minons investment that I made in 
 those heartless rhymes. They have ridden me like a ni^^t- 
 mare, day and nighty hour after hour, to this very moment. 
 Sinoe I saw yon I have suffered the torments of the lost 
 Saturday evening I had a sudden oall, hy telegraph, and 
 took the night train for Boston. Tho occasion was the 
 death of a valued old friend who had requested that I should 
 preach his f^eral sermon. I took my seat in the cars and 
 set myself to fbuning the discourse. But I nerer got beyond 
 the opening paragraph ; for then the train started and the 
 car-wheels began their ''dack, clack — dack-daok-daok t 
 dack, olaek-~-claok-cIack-clack 1 " and right away those 
 odious rhymes fitted themselves to that accompaniment. 
 For an hour I sat there and set a syllable of those riiymes 
 to every separate and distinct dack the cuvwheds made. 
 Why, I was as &gged out, then, as if I had Iseen ch<^Eyping 
 wood all day. My skull was splitting with headachoc It 
 seemed to me that I must go mad if I sat there any longer ; 
 so I undressed and went to bed. I stretdied myself out in 
 my berth, and -well, you know what the result was. The 
 thing went right along, just the same. ** 01adc-dack>dack, 
 e Hue trip slip, dack-dack-clacl., for an dght-oent fiire; 
 eiack-dack-dsck, a buft trip slip, dack-dack-clack, for a six- 
 oent fitre^ and so on. and so on, and so on—^mne^, in the 
 presence of the passenjaie 1 ** Sleep t Not a single wink I 
 
 fe'-'il 
 
184 
 
 PUJrCM, MMOTSmtS, PUNCB. 
 
 I wMalmosfc ft Ivnatio when I got to Boston. Don't aak m€ 
 about the ftmemL I did the be«t I oould, bat every aolamii 
 individual lontenoe wm meahed and tangled and woven in and 
 out with ^Punoh, brotheni punch with care, punch in the 
 preeenoe of the passeijare.'' And the most distressing thing 
 was that mj d^Hnvry dropped into the undulating rhythm 
 of those pulsing rhymes, and I could actually catch absent- 
 minded people nodding <tfiM to the swing of it with their 
 stupid heads. And, Mark, you may believe it or not, but 
 before I got through, the entire assemblage w ere placidly 
 bobbing their heads in solemn unison, mourners, under- 
 taker, and alL The moment I had finished, I fled to the 
 anteroom in a state bordering on firenzy. Of course it would 
 be my luck to find a sorrowing and aged maiden aunt of the 
 deceased there, who had arrived from Springfield too late to 
 get into the church. She began to sob, and said — 
 
 ' ** Oh, oh,- he is gone^ he is gone, and I didn't see him 
 before he died I " 
 
 '"Tesl" I said, '<he if gone, he m gonc^ he m gone-^ 
 oh, Vfill this sufferiiig never cease 1 " 
 
 ' ** Tou loved him, then 1 Oh, you too loved him t " 
 
 * "Loved him I Loved who f* 
 
 «« Why, my poor George ! my poor nephew!* 
 <«0h — him/ Tea-— oh, yes, yes. Certainly— -certainly. 
 PundK-r— punch— oh, this misery will kill me ! ** 
 
 * ** Bless you I bless you, sir, for these sweet words f /, 
 too, sufifer in this dear loss. Were you present during hk 
 last moments t** 
 
 < ''Yes 1 I»'«oAoM last moments f ^ 
 ***BiM. The dear departed V 
 
PUNCB, BM0THBR8, PVNCH, 
 
 ^ ^ Yes t Ohy jte— yes — yM / I mippofle so, I think so^ 
 / don't know i Oh, certainly — I was therfr— / was there I * 
 
 '"Oh, what a priyilegel what a predons privilege ( 
 And hia last words— oh, tell me, tell me his last words I 
 What did he say ! " 
 
 ' " He said — ^he said— oh, my head, my head, my head I 
 He said — ^he said — ^he never said anything bat Punch, punch, 
 ffimch in the presence of the passei\]arel Oh, leave me, 
 madam 1 In the name of all that is generous, leave me to 
 my madness, my misery, my despair 1 — a buff trip slip for a 
 six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent &i»— endu- 
 rance can nofbr-ther go! — puhgh in the presence of the 
 pasBOTJare!**' 
 
 My friend's hopeless eyes rested upon mine a pregnant 
 minute, and then he said impressively,— 
 
 ' Mark, yon do not say anything. Tou do not oflbr me 
 any hope. But, ah me, it is just as well — it is just as well 
 Yon oould not do me any good. The time has long gone by 
 when words could comfort m& Something telU me that my 
 tongue is doomed to wag for ever to the jif^ger of that re* 
 moiseless jingle. There— there it is coming on me again : 
 a blue trip slip £sr an eight-cent fiire, a buff trip slip 
 for a ' 
 
 Thus Kiurmuring faint and fainter, my friend sank into 
 a peaceful trance and forgot his sufferings in a blessed 
 respite. 
 
 How did I finally save him from the asylum 9 I took 
 him to a neighbouring university and made him discharge 
 the burden of his persidcuting rhymes into the eager ears of 
 the p9or, unthinking students. How is it with ikem^ now t 
 
 i\ 
 
•• PVlfCB, BR0TMEE8, PUNCB. 
 
 llitweultiitooiadiotelL Why did I writ* thto article I 
 It WM for a worthy, eren » noWe, imrpoi^ ItwMtowarn 
 you, rmder, If yon should oome aoroMi thow meroilea 
 rhymen, to avoid tham-^void them aa too would a ^^^ 
 lencel 
 
olel 
 
 'M' 
 
 I ■' '■■'•'I'J^'iSfMt' 
 
 A CURIOUS EXPERIENCE. 
 
 Kbu is the Btoory which the Mi^or w!d me, m nearly rj 1 
 tan reoall it :-^ 
 
 In the winter of 1862-3, I wbs eomnumdant cf Fort 
 IVambuU, at New London, Conn. Maybe onr life there 
 was ^ot 80 brisk as life at < the front ; ' still it was brisk 
 enough, in its way— -one's brains didn't oake together there 
 for lack of something to keep them stirring. For one thing, 
 all the Northern atmosphere at that time was thick with 
 mysterious rumours — ^rumours to the effect that rebel spies 
 were flitting OTorywhere, and getting ready to blow up our 
 Northern forts, bum our hotds, send infected clothing into 
 our towns, and all that sort of thing. Tou remember it, 
 AJ} this ha I a tendency to keep uis awake, and knock the 
 traditional dulnees out of garrison Ufe; Besides, ours was a 
 recruiting station — ^whioh Ia the g«s:9 as saying we hadn't 
 any time to waste in dorlng, or dreaming, or fooling around. 
 Why, with all our watdl^lness, fifty per cent, of ib day's r^- 
 ormts would leak out of our hands and give us the slip the 
 same night. The bounties were so prodigious tiiat aieomii 
 eould pay a sentinel three or four hundred dolkrs to let him 
 
m 
 
 A cvmoua Bxpsnnmca. 
 
 Moape, Mid ttill have enough of hii bountj^money Iflit U 
 oongtitate a fortune for a poor man. Tea, af I said before, 
 our Uh was not drowqr* 
 
 Well, one day I was In my quarters alone, doing some 
 writing, when a pale and ragged lad of fourteen or fifteen 
 entered, made a neat bow, and said — 
 
 * I believe recruits are received here f ' 
 •Yes. 
 
 ' Will you please enlist me, sir I ' 
 
 ' Dear me, no 1 You are too young, my boy, and too 
 small/ 
 
 A disappointed look came into his fiiMie, and quickly 
 deepened into an expression of despondency. He turned 
 slowly away, as if to go; hesitated, then &oed me again, and 
 said, in a tone which went to my heart — 
 
 * I have no home, and not a friend in the world. If you 
 cmUd only enlist me T 
 
 But of course the thing was out of the question, and I 
 said so as gently as I could. Their I told him to sit down 
 by the stove and warm himself, and added — 
 
 * You shall have something to eat presenUy. You are 
 hungryt' 
 
 He did not answer j he did not need to; the gratitude 
 in his big soft eyes was more eloquent than any words could 
 have been. He sat down by the stove, and I went on 
 writing. Oocanonally I took a furtive glance at him. I 
 noticed that his clothes and shoes, although soiled and 
 damaged, were of good style and material. This &ct was 
 suggestive. To it I added the fiiots that his voice was low 
 and musical ; his eyes deep and melancholy ; his carriage 
 
A CVMIOUa BXPBRIBNCK 
 
 \m 
 
 too 
 
 ttude 
 >fild 
 
 It on 
 I 
 and 
 was 
 low 
 
 Mid addr«M gentlemanly ; evidflntly the poor ohap wae In 
 Iroable. As a reeolt^ I was intereeted. 
 
 Howerer, I became abeorbed in m j work by and by, 
 and forgot all about the boy. I don't know how long thin 
 lasted ; bnt^ at length, T happened to look up. The boy's 
 back was toward me, but his fkoe was turned in such a way 
 that I could see one of his cheeks — and down that cheek a 
 rill of noiseless tears was flowing. 
 
 ' Qod bless my soxd 1 ' I said to myself; * I forgot the 
 poor rat was starving.' Then I made amends for my 
 brutaUty by saying to him, ' Gome along, my lad ; you shaU 
 dine with ms ; I am alone to<lay.' 
 
 He gave me another of those* gratefVil looks, and a happy 
 light broke in his £eu». At the table he stood with his 
 hand on his chair-back untU I was seated, then seated him- 
 self. I took up my knife and fork and — ^well, I simply 
 held them, and kept still; for the boy had inclined his 
 head and was saying a silent grace. A thousand hallowed 
 memories of home and my childhood poured in upon me, 
 and 1 sighed to think how far I had drifted from religion 
 and its balm for hurt minds, its comfort and solace and sup- 
 port 
 
 As our meal progressed I observed that young Wicklow 
 —Robert Wicklow was his full name — ^knew what to do 
 with his napkin ; and — well, in a word, I observed that he 
 was a boy of good breeding ; never mind the details. He 
 had a simple franVness, too, whidi won upon me. We 
 talked mainly about himself, and I had no difficulty in 
 getting his histmy out of him. When he spoke of his 
 having been bom and reared in Louisiana, I warmed to him 
 
 i*, 
 
uo 
 
 A CUM10U8 BXPERIENCB. 
 
 deddedly, for I had spmt Mmie time down there. I knew 
 til the * coast' region of the Mianssippi, and loved it, and 
 had not been long enough away from it for my inters in it 
 to begin to pale. The very names that fell from his lips 
 eot-ided good to me — so good that I steered the talk in 
 directions tk^t would bring them out. Baton Kongo, 
 Flaquemine, Donaldsonyille, Sixfy-mile Pointy Bonnet-Oaxre^ 
 the Stock-Landing, Oarrollton, the Steamship Landing, the 
 Steamboat Landing, New Orleans, Tchonpitoulas Street^ 
 thd Esplanade, the Rue des Bons En^ts, the St. Charles 
 Hotel, the Tivoli Oircle, the Shell Road, Lake Pontchartrain ; 
 and it was particularly delightful to me to hear once more 
 of the ' R. E. Lee,' the * Natchez,' the < Eclipse,' the < Ck^neral 
 Quitman,' the * Duncan F. Kenner,' and other old fiuniliar 
 steamboats. It was almost as good as being back where, 
 '^he^ n^mes so yividly reproduced in my mind the look of 
 the fihijQgs they stood for. Briefly, this was little Wioklow's 
 histoiy?— 
 
 When the war broke out, he and his invalid aunt and 
 his &ther were living near Baton Rouge, en a great and 
 rich plantation which had been in the family for fifty years. 
 The fiither was a IJnion man. He was persecuted in all 
 sorts of ways, but dung to his principles. At last, one 
 night, masked men burned his mansion down, and the 
 &mily had to fly for their lives. They were hunted from 
 place to place, and learned all Uiere was to know about 
 poverty, hunger, and distress. The invalid aunt found 
 relief at last : misery and exposure killed her; she died in 
 an open field, like a tramp, the rain beating open her and 
 the thunder booming overhead. Not long afterward the 
 
 
A CURIOUS SXPSBISNCK 
 
 141 
 
 fiither was oaptared bj an armed band ; and whila the mb 
 begged and pleaded, the victim was atmng up before hia 
 (koe. [At this point a baleful light ahonto in the yonth'fc 
 eyea, and ho said, with the manner of one who talks to him- 
 self : < If I cannot bo enlisted, no matter — I shall find a way 
 —I shall find a way.*] Afl soon as the &ther was pxo- 
 nonnoed dead the son was told that if he was not out of that 
 region within twenty-four hours it would go hard with him. 
 That night he crept to the riverside and hid himself near a 
 plantation landing. By and by the ' Duncan F. Kenner ' 
 stopped there, and he swam out and concealed himaelf in 
 the yawl that was dragging at her stem. Before daylight 
 the boat reached the Stock-Tending, and he slipped ashore. 
 He walked the three miles which lay between that point 
 and the house of an undo of his in Good-Children Street, in 
 New Orleans, and then his troubles were over for the time 
 being. But this uncle was a Union man too, and before 
 very long he concluded that he had better leave the South. 
 So he and young Wi<^ow slipped out of the country on 
 board a sailing veasel, and in due time reached New York. 
 They put up at the Astor House. Young Wicklow had a 
 good time ol it for a while, strolling up and down Broadway, 
 and observing the strauge Northern sights ; bnt In the end 
 a change oamo — and not for the better. The unde had 
 been cheerful at first, but now he began to look troubled 
 and despondent; moreover, he became moody and irritable ; 
 talked oi money giving out, .ind no way to get more — ' not 
 enough left for one, let alone tvo.* Then, one morning, he 
 waa mfflsmg— did nr t come to breikfast The boy inquired at 
 
 t 
 
 
 Uie office, and was told that the inoie had 
 
 hisbmthf 
 
14S 
 
 A otrmom fxpsribncb. 
 
 night before end gone away — to Beaton, the derk beliefed^ 
 but wafi not certain. 
 
 The lad was alone and friendless. He did not know 
 what to do, but concluded he had better try to follow and 
 find his unold. He went down to the steamboat landing; 
 learned that the trifle of money in his pocket would not 
 oarry him to Boston ; however, it would carry him to Kew 
 London ; ao he took passage for that port, reeolying to trust 
 to Providence to furnish him means to travel the rest ol 
 the way. He had now been wandering about tiie streets ol 
 Kew London three days and nights, getting a bito and a 
 nap here and there for charity's sake. But he had given up 
 at last; courage and hope were both gone. If he could 
 enlist, nobody could be more thaokful ; if he could not 
 get in as a soldier, couldn't he be a drummer-boy t Ah, 
 he would work $o hard to please, and would be so grate- 
 AUl 
 
 Well, there's the histoiy of young Wicklow, just as he 
 told it to me, barring details. I said — 
 
 <My boy, you're among friends now— don't you be 
 troubled any more.' How his eyes glistened ! I called in 
 Sergeant John Raybum — ^he was from Hartford; lives in 
 Hartford yet ; maybe you know him — and said, ' Baybum, 
 quarter this boy with the musicians. I am going to enrol 
 him as a drummer-boy, and I want you to look after him 
 and see that he is well treated.' 
 
 Well, of course, intercourse between the commandant of 
 the post and the drummer-boy came to an end, now ; but 
 the poor little friendless chap lay heavy on my heart, just 
 the same. I kept on the lookout^ hoping to see him brighteii 
 
 / 
 
 are 
 
A CURI0V8 EXPBMISNCS. 
 
 148 
 
 It of 
 
 but 
 
 juflt 
 
 tliteii 
 
 «p tnd b^gin to be cheery and gay; bat no^ the days went 
 by. and there was no change. He aoBooiated with nobody; 
 he was always absent-minded, always thinking ; his fisMse was 
 always sad. One morning Bay bum asked leave to speak to 
 me privately. Said he— ' 
 
 < I hope I don't oflfond, sir ; bat the truth is, the musicians 
 are in such a sweat it seems as if somebody's goi to speak.' 
 
 ' Why, what is the trouble I ' 
 
 ' It's the Wicklow boy, sir. The musioianB ire down oa 
 him to an extent you can't imagine. ^ 
 
 < Well, go on, goon. What has he been doing t ' 
 * Prayin*, sir.' 
 
 'Praying!' 
 
 'Tes, sir; the musicians haven't any peace of their life 
 for that boy's prayin'. first thing in the morning he's at 
 it; noons he's at it ; and nights — vr^^nighU he just lays 
 into 'em like all possessed I Sleep) Bless you, they ea/fCt 
 sleep : he's got the floor, as the sayin' is, and then when he 
 once gets his supplication-mill agoin*, there just simply ain't 
 any let-up to him. He stmts in with the band-master, and 
 he prays for him ; next he takes the head bugler, and ha 
 prays for him ; next the bass drum, and he scoops him in ; 
 and so on, light straight through the band, givin' them all a 
 show, and takin' that amount of interest in it which would 
 make yOu think he thought he wam't but a little while for 
 this world, and believed he couldn't be happy in heaven 
 without he had a brass band along, and wanted to pick 'em 
 out for himself, so he could dq>end on 'em to do up the 
 national tunes in a style suitln' to the place. Wall, sir, 
 heavin' boots at him don't have no eflfect; it's dark in thsM; 
 
 1.1 
 
 .J 
 
144 
 
 A CURIOUS EXPSmSKCS. 
 
 and, besideiy he don't pray Me, luiyway, but kneels down 
 behind the big drum ; bo it don't make no difoenoe if they 
 rain boots at him, hs don't give a dem — ^warbles right 
 akng, same as if it was applause. They sing out, ** Oh, dry 
 upl" < Gire us a rastl" «Shoot himl" <<0h, take a 
 walk 1 " ^nd all sorts of sudh things, Bat what of it t It 
 don't phase him. He don't it Ind it.' After a pause : ' Kind 
 of a good little fool, too ; gits up in the momin' and carts 
 all that stock of boc s back, and sorts 'em out and sets each 
 man's pair where they belong. And tb y've been throwed 
 at him so much now, that he knows every boot in the band 
 — <9fiin sort 'em out with his eyes shut.' 
 
 After another pause, which I forbore to interrupt— 
 * But the roughest thing about it is, that when he's done 
 prayin' — ^when he ever does get done — he pipes up and 
 begins to aing. Well, you know what a honey kind of a 
 voice he's got when he talks ; you know how it would per- 
 suade a cast-iron dog to come down off of a doorstep and 
 lick his hand. Now if youll take my word for it^ sir, it 
 ain't a circumstance to his singin*^! Flute music is harsh to 
 that boy's singin'. Oh, he just gurgles it out so soft an^ 
 sweet and low, there in the dark, that it makes you think 
 you are in heaven.' 
 
 ' What is there <' rough " about that 9 ' 
 
 ' Ah, that's just it, sir. Tou hear him sing 
 
 M 
 
 Joat as I am— poor, wretched, bUnd,' 
 
 —just you hear him sing that, once, and see if you dont 
 melt all up and the water come into your eyes I I don^t 
 ears whai he sings, it goes plum straight home to you-*- 
 
down 
 
 right 
 k,dry 
 Bke a 
 ;) It 
 Kind 
 i ourti 
 »each 
 irowed 
 dband 
 
 8 done 
 ip and 
 d of a 
 d pex«- 
 epand 
 
 iir, it 
 urah to 
 it an^ 
 
 think 
 
 don't 
 
 don^t 
 
 you— 
 
 A CVMI0V8 SZFmaSNQB. 
 
 145 
 
 goea deep down to where yon Kf and it fetdiea yon eveij 
 lime t Jost you Iiear him tang 
 
 « Ohild of ain and aoRow, filled with diinuij. 
 Wait not till to-monow, yield thee to-day | 
 Grieve not that loTe 
 Which, from above "-^ 
 
 and so on. It makes a body fed like the wiekedesti 
 uigratefalebto brute that walks. And when he sings them 
 songs of his about home, and mother, and childhood, and old 
 memories, and things that's vanished, and dd firiends dead 
 and gone, it fetches everything before your foce that you've 
 ever loved and lost in all your^Ufe — and it's just beautiful, 
 it^s just divine to listen to, sir — but, Lord, Lord, the heart- 
 break of it I The band — ^well, they all cry--every rascal of 
 ihem blubbers, and don't try to hide it, either ; and first you 
 know, that veiy gang that's been slammin' boots at that 
 boy will skip out of their bunks all of a sudden, and rush 
 over in the dark and hug him I Yes, they do—and slobber 
 all over Idm, and call him pet names, and beg him to forgive 
 them. And just at that time, if a regiment was to offer to 
 hurt a hair of that cub's head, they'd go tor that regiment^ 
 if it was a whole army corps l* 
 
 ^Another pause. 
 
 <l8 that ant' said L 
 
 •Yes, sir,' ' . 
 
 •Well, dear me, what is the oomplaintt What do they 
 wantdonet' 
 
 ' Done t Why bless yon, sir, they want you to stop him 
 from tingM* 
 
 * What an idea I You said his music wa;» divina' 
 
 ,1 
 
 i ' 
 
 i 
 
 s 
 
 ' \, 
 
 I 
 
 j 
 
 »i 
 
140 
 
 A CURIOUB EXPERIBNCX, 
 
 'That's just it It's ton divine. Mortal man iM&*t 
 stand it. It stirs a body up so; it turns a body inside but; 
 it racks his feelin'd all to rags; it makes him feel bad 
 and wickedy and not fit for any place but perdition. It 
 keeps a body in such an everlastin' state of repentin', that 
 nothin' don't ta^te good and there am*t no comfort in life. 
 And then the cryin*, you see— every momin' they are 
 ashamed to look one another in the &ce.' 
 
 * Well, this is an odd casCi and a ringnlar complaint. So 
 they really want the singing stopped 1 ' 
 
 ' Tes, sir, that is the idea. They don't wish to ask too 
 much ; they would like powerful well to have the prayin' 
 shut down ^ or leastways trimmed off around the edges ; 
 but the main thing^s the singin*. If they can only get the 
 singin' choked off, they think they can stand the prayin^' 
 rough as it is to be bullyragged so much that way.' 
 
 I told the sergeant I would teke the matter under oon- 
 Bideratiou. That night I crept into the musicians' quarters 
 and listened. The sergeant had not overstated the case. I 
 heard the praying voice pleading in the dark ; I heard the 
 execrations of the harassed men ; I heard the rain of boots 
 whiz through the air, and bang and thump around the big 
 drum. The thing touched me, but it amused me, too. By 
 and by, after an impressive silence, came the singing* 
 Lord, the pathos of it, the enchantment of it ! Nothing in 
 the world was ever so sweet, so gracious, so tender, so holy, 
 so movi^. I made my stay very brief; I was beginning to 
 experience emotions of a sort not proper to the commandant 
 of a fortress. 
 
 Next day I issued orders which stopped the praying and 
 
 
A CUJUOm BXPBRIBNCa. 
 
 147 
 
 lebul; 
 lel bad 
 m. It 
 i\ that 
 in life. 
 Ley are 
 
 nt. So 
 
 ask too 
 prayin' 
 edges; 
 get the 
 prayin,' 
 
 er ooD- 
 
 [uarters 
 iase. I 
 ard the 
 >f boots 
 the big 
 K). By 
 singing, 
 hing in 
 BO holy, 
 iningto 
 landant 
 
 ing and 
 
 ringing. TtuBn followed three or fonr days which were so 
 ftill of boonty -jumping exdtements and irritations that 1 
 nerer once thought of my drummer-boy. But now comes 
 Seigeant Baybum, one morning, and says— 
 * That new boy acts mighty strangei sir.' 
 •Howt' 
 
 ' Well, sir, he^s all the time writing.' 
 •Writingt What does he write— lettera t ' 
 'I don't know, sir; but whenever he's off duty, he is 
 always poking and nosing around the fort, all by hiraself,— 
 blest if I think there's a hole or comer in it he hasn't been 
 into, — ^and every little while he outs with pencil and paper 
 and scribbles something down.' 
 
 •This gave me a most unpleasant sensation. I wanted to 
 scoff at it, but it was not a time to scoff at anyOwng that 
 had the least suspicious tinge about it. Things were 
 happening all around us, in the North, then, that warned us 
 to be always on the alert, and always suspecting. I re^ 
 called to mind the suggestive fJEust that this boy was from the 
 South,— -the extreme South, Louisiana, — and tho thought 
 was not of a reassuring nature, under the circumstances. 
 Nevertheless, it cost me a pang to give the orders which I 
 now gave to Baybum. I felt like a fitther who i^ots to ex- 
 pose his own child to shame and injury. I^told Baybum lo 
 keep quiet, bide his time, and get me some of those writings 
 whenever he could manage it without the boy's finding it 
 out. And I charged him not to do anything which might 
 let the boy discover that he was being watched. I alsa 
 ordered that he allow the lad his usual liberties, but that 
 lie be followed at a distaace when he went out into the town. 
 
 J 
 
 I 
 
 \\ 
 
 Xi 
 
148 
 
 A CXmiOUB EXPBItlENCS. 
 
 During the next two days, Raybnm reported to me 
 lereral timee. No laooeeB. The boy was still writing, but 
 be always pocketed his paper with a careless air wheneTsr 
 Raybnm appeared in his vicinity. He had gone twice to an 
 old deserted stable in the town^ remained a minnte or two, 
 and come out again. One could not pooh-pooh these things 
 —they had an eyil look. I was obliged to confess to my- 
 self that I was getting uneasy. I went into my priyate 
 quarters and sent for my second in command, — an officer of 
 intelligence and judgment, son of (General James .Watson 
 Webb. He was surprised and troubled. We had a long 
 talk oyer the matter, and came to the conclusion that it 
 would be worth while to institute a secret soaroh. I deter- 
 mined to take charge of that myself. So I had myself 
 called at two in the morning ; and, pretty soon after, I wsa 
 in the musicians* quarters, crawling along the floor on my 
 stomach among the snorers. I reached my slumbering 
 waifs bunk at last, without distiurbing anybody, captured 
 his dothee and kit, and crawled stealthily back again. When 
 I got to my own quarters, I found Webb there, waiting and 
 eager to know the result We made^ search immediately. 
 The clothes were a disappointment. In the pockets we 
 found blank paper and a pencil ; nothing else, except a jack- 
 knife and such queer odds and ends and useless trifles as boys 
 hoard and yalue. We turned to the kit hopefully. Nothing 
 there but a rebuke for us 1 — a little Bible with this written 
 on the fly4eaf: 'Stranger, be kind to my boy, for his 
 mother's sake.' 
 
 I looked at Webb— -he dropped his eyes ; he looked at 
 ■19—1 dropped mine. Neither spoke. I put the book 
 
A CVmoVS SXPSROOrCB, 
 
 140 
 
 to DM 
 g, but 
 meTer 
 ) toui 
 >rtwo, 
 things 
 to my- 
 private 
 Boer of 
 Watson 
 a long 
 that it 
 [deter- 
 myself 
 
 •, I W9i 
 
 iked at 
 book 
 
 WYer^mi^j back in its place. Preiiently Webb got ap and 
 went away, without remark. After a little I nerved Qiyself 
 «p to my unpalatable job, and took the plunder back to 
 where it belonged, crawling on my stomach as before. It 
 seemed the peculiarly appropriate attitude for the business 
 I was in. I was most honestly glad w;hen it was over and 
 done with. 
 
 About noon next day Eayburn came, as usual, to report 
 T cut him short. I said — 
 
 ' Let this nonsense be dropped. We are making a buga^ 
 boo out of a poor little cub who has got no more harm in 
 him than a hymn-book.' 
 
 The sergeant looked surprised, and saidt^^ 
 J Well, you know it was your orders, sir, and I've gol 
 some of the writing.' 
 
 *And what does it amount tot How did you 
 getitt' 
 
 ' I peeped through the key-hole, and see him writing. 
 80 when I judged he was about done, I made a sort of a 
 little cough, and I see him crumple it up and throw it in 
 the 6re, and look all around to see if anybody was coming. 
 Then he settled back as comfortable and careless as anything. 
 Then I comes in, and passes the time of day pleasantly, and 
 sends him of an errand. He never looked uneasy, but 
 went right along. It was a coal-fire and new-built; the 
 writing had gone over behind a chunk, out of sight ; but I 
 got it out ; there it is ; it ain't hardly scorched, you see.' 
 
 I glanced at the paper and took in a sentence or twa 
 Then I dismissed the sergeant and told him to sand Webb 
 to me. Here is the paper in full *— 
 
 ■■^ 
 
 I 
 
A CUmOU8 EXPBItlBNCa. 
 
 * Fort Tnimbiill, the Sth. 
 < Colonel, — I waa mistaken m to the calibre of the three 
 guns I ended my list with. They are 18-pounden; all the 
 rest of the armament is as I stated. The garrison remaina 
 9M before reported, except that the two light infantry oom- 
 paniee that were tc be detached for service at the fixmt are 
 to stay here for ^^ae present — can't find out for how long^ 
 just now, but will soon. We are satisfied that, all things 
 considered, matters had better be postponed un ' 
 
 There it broke off— there is where Baybum coughed 
 and interrupted the writer. All my affection for the boy, 
 all my respect for him and charity for his forlorn condition, 
 withered in a moment under the blight of this revelation of 
 cold-blooded baseness. 
 
 But never mind about that. Here waa business — 
 business that required profound and immediate attention, 
 too. Webb and I turned the subject over and over, and 
 examined it all around. Webb said-— 
 
 * What a pity he was interrupted ! Something is going 
 to be postponed until — when t And what ia the something! 
 Possibly he wduld have mentioned it, the pious little 
 reptile 1 ' 
 
 'Yes,' I said, 'we have missed a trick. And who ii 
 **wt^ in the letter) Is it conspirators inside the fort or 
 outsider . 
 
 That ' we * was uncomfortably sug;gestive. However, it 
 was not worth while to be guessing around that^ so we 
 proceeded to matters more practical. In the first place, we 
 decided to double the sentries and keep the strictest possible 
 
 
A CURIO VS BXPBRIBNCK 
 
 VSi 
 
 iratoh. Xiext, we thought of oalling Wieklow in and making 
 him diyolge everything ; but that did not teem wieest until 
 other methods uhould fail. We most have flome more of the 
 writings; so we began to plan to that end. And no^ wo 
 had an idea : Wieklow never went to the post-offioe, — ^per- 
 haps the deserted stab) a was his post-offioe. We sent for 
 my confidential clerk — a young German named Sterne^ who 
 was a sort of natural detective — and told him all about the 
 case and ordered him to go to work on it Within the hour 
 we got word that Wieklow was writing again. Shortly 
 afterward, word came that ha had a^ed leave to go out into 
 the town. He was detained awhile, and meantime Sterne 
 hurried off and concealed himself in the stable. By and by 
 he saw Wieklow saimter in, look about him, then hide some- 
 thing under some rubbish in a comer, and take leisurely 
 leave again. Sterne pounced upcn the hidden artide-— a 
 
 . letter — and brought it to us. It had no superscription and 
 no signature. It repeated what we had already read, and 
 
 *then went on to say v-^ 
 
 * We think it best to postpone till the two companies are 
 gone. I mean the four inside think so; have not com- 
 municated with the others — afraid of attracting attention. 
 I say four because we have lost two; they had hardly en- 
 listed and got inside when they were shipped off to the firont* 
 It will be absolutely necessary to have two in their places. 
 The two that went were the brothers from Thirty-mile 
 Foint. X have something of the greatest importance to reveal, 
 but must not trust it ^«o this method of oommunicatioa; will 
 tiy the otheCi' 
 
m 
 
 A CURlOVa EXrSMISNCR 
 
 'The UtUe soonndrcir idd Webb; 'who cofOd haire 
 foppoaed he wm a spy t However, never mind abont that ; 
 let ua add up our partionlan, auoh as they are, and see how 
 the case stands to date. First, we've got a rebel spy in onr 
 midst, whom we know; secondly, weVe got three more 
 in onr midst whom we don't know ; thirdly, these spies have 
 been intrcd aoed among us through the simple and easy 
 process of enlisting as soldiers in the Union army— and 
 evidently two of them have got sold at it, and been shipped 
 off to the front; fourthly, there aie assistant spies 'outside' 
 —number indefinite ; fifthly, Wicklow has very important 
 matter which he is afraid to communicate by the ' present 
 method' — ^will 'try the other/ That is the case, as it now 
 stands. Shall we collar Wicklow and make him oonfesat 
 Or shall we catch the person who removes the lettere from 
 the stable and make him teUt Or shall we keep still and 
 find out more t ' 
 
 We decided upon the last oourse. We judged that we 
 did not need to proceed to summary measures now, since it 
 was evident that the conspirators were likely to wait till 
 those two light infismtry companies were out of the way. 
 We fortified Sterne with pretty ample powers, and told him 
 to use his best endeavours to find out Window's ' other 
 method' of communication. We meant to play a bold 
 game; and to this end we proposed to keep the spies in an 
 unsuspecting state as long as possible. So we ordered 
 Sterne to return to the stable immediately, and, if he found 
 the coast dear, to conceal Wicklow's letter where it was 
 before, and leave it there for the conspiratom to get. 
 
 The night dosed do¥m without further event. It was 
 
A CUMIOVa BXPBRlSNCa, 
 
 1«8 
 
 iaTt 
 
 lat; 
 
 iiov 
 
 our 
 
 ior6 
 
 iay« 
 
 BAiy 
 
 •and 
 
 pped 
 
 dde' 
 
 tnat 
 
 iBent 
 
 now 
 
 re»t 
 
 from 
 and 
 
 we 
 be it 
 
 tiU 
 ray. 
 him 
 ther 
 )old 
 
 an 
 ared 
 und 
 waa 
 
 waa 
 
 eold and dark and aleety, with a raw wind blowing ; atill I 
 tamed oat of my warm bed Mveral timea duiing the night» 
 and went the rounda in person, to see that all waa rightand 
 that OTeiy sentry waa on the alert I always found them 
 wide awake and watchAU ; eyidently whispers of mysterious 
 dangers had been floating about, and the doubling of the 
 guards had been a kind of indorsement of those rumours. 
 Onoe, toward morning, I encountered Webb, breasting hia 
 way against the bitter wind, and learned then that he, also^ 
 had been the rounds several timea to see that all waa going 
 right 
 
 Next day's events hurried things up somewhat Wiok- 
 low wrote another letter ; Sterne preceded him to the stable 
 and saw him deposit it ; captured it as soon as Wickbw 
 was out of the way, then slipped out and followed the little 
 spy at a distance, with a detective.in plain clothes at his own 
 heels, for we thought it Judicious to have the law's assistance 
 Iiandy in case of need. Wicklow went to the railway 
 station, and waited around till the train from New York 
 came in, then stood scanning the faces of the crowd as they 
 poured out of the cars. Presently an aged gentleman, with 
 green goggles and a cane, came limping along, stopped in 
 Wioklow's neighbourhood, and began to look about him ex- 
 pectantly. In an instant Wicklow darted forward, thrust 
 an envelope into his hand, then glided away and disappeared 
 in the throng. The next instant Bteme had snatched the 
 letter; and as he hurried past the detective he said: 
 * Follow the old gentleman — don't lose sight of him.' Then 
 Sterne skurried out with the crowd, and camo straight to 
 theibrt 
 
 !*! f 
 
154 
 
 A CUBI0U8 SXPSJtlSKCm 
 
 We sat with dosed doors, and instraoted the guard out- 
 side to allow no intemiption. 
 
 First we opened the letter captored at the stable. It 
 read as follows : — 
 
 'Holt Alliakge, — ^Fonndi in the usual gun, commands 
 from the Master, left thare last night, which set a«ide the 
 instructions heretofore received from the subordinate quarter. 
 Have left in the gun bhe usual indication that the commands 
 reached the proper hand * 
 
 Webb, interrupting: ^ Isn't the bey under constant 
 surveillance now 1 ' 
 
 I said yes ; he had been under strict surveillance ever 
 since the capturing of his former letter. 
 
 ' Then bow could he put anything into a gun, or take 
 anything but of it, and not get caught 1 ' 
 
 ' WeU,' I said, ' I don't like the look of that very well' 
 
 *I don't, either,' said Webb. 'It simply means that 
 there are conspirators among the very sentinels. Without 
 their connivance in some way or other, the thing couldn't 
 have been done.' 
 
 I sent for Eaybum, and ordered him to examine the 
 batteries and see what he could find. The reading of the 
 letter was then tesumed ^— 
 
 ' The new commands are peremptory, and require that 
 the MMMM shall be FFFFF at 3 o'clock to-morrow morn- 
 ing. Two hundred will arrive, in small parties, by train and 
 otherwise, from various directions, and will be at appointed 
 place at right time. I will distribute the sign to-day. 
 Success is apparently sure, though something must have 
 
A CVmOVB B2LPERIENCB, 
 
 156 
 
 it 
 
 got out» for the sentries have been doubled, and the chieft 
 went the round last night several timee. W. '^. comet 
 from southerly to-day and will receiTe secret orders — by 
 the other method. All six of you must be in 166 at sharp 
 2 A.M. Tou will find B. B. there, who will give you 
 detailed instructions. Password same as last time, only 
 reversed — ^put first syllable last and last syllable first. 
 RemeiAer XXXX. Do not forget. Be of good heart ; 
 before the next sun risers you will be heroes; your fame 
 will be permanent^ you mil have added a deathless page to 
 histoiy. Afiien.' 
 
 'Thunder and Mars,' said Webb, *but we are getting 
 into mighty hot quarters, as I look at it I ' 
 
 I said thei« was no question but that things were be- 
 ginning to wear a most serious aspect. Said I-^ 
 
 ' A desperate enterprise is on foot, that is plain enough. 
 To-night is the time set for it — that, also, is plain. The 
 exact nature of the enterprise — ^I mean the manner of it- 
 is hidden away under those blind bunches of M's and Fs, 
 but the end and aim, I judge, is the surprise and capture of 
 the post. We must move quick and sharp now. I think 
 nothing can be gained by continuing our clandestine policy 
 as regards Wicklow. We must know, and as soon as pos- 
 sible, too, where *' 166 ** is located, so that we can make a 
 descent upon the gang there at 2 a.m. ; and doubtless the 
 quickest way to get that information will be to force it out 
 of that boy. But first of all, and before we make any im- 
 portant move, 1 must lay the facts before the War Depart* 
 ment, and ask for pienaiy powers.' 
 
 ^ 
 
IM 
 
 A CURIOUS BXPBRIBNCS, 
 
 Hie deepatch was prepared in cipher to go over the 
 wireB; I read it, approved it, and sent it along. 
 
 We presently finished discussing the letter which was 
 nnder consideration, and then opened the one wliich had 
 been snatched from the lame gentleman. It contained no- 
 thing but a couple of perfectly blank sheetd of note-paper ! It 
 was a chilly check to our hot eagerness and expectancy. We 
 felt as blank as th^^ pftper, for a moment, and tifice 9k 
 foolish. But it was for a moment only ; for, of course^ we 
 immediately afterward thought ol ' sympathetic ink.' We 
 held the paper dose to the fire and watched for the characters 
 to come out, under the influence of the heat ; but nothing 
 appeared but some faint tracings, which we could make 
 nothing of. We then called in the surgeon, and sent him 
 off with orders to apply every test he was acquainted with 
 till he got the right one, and report the contents of the 
 letter to me the instant he brought them to the surface. 
 This check was a confounded annoyance, and we naturally 
 chafed under the delay ; for we had fully expected to get 
 out of that letter some of the most important secrets of the 
 plot. 
 
 Now appeared Sergeant Baybum, and drew from his 
 pocket a piece of twine string about a foot long, with three 
 ^ knots tied in it, and held h up. 
 
 * I got it out of a gun on the water-front,' said he. ' 1 
 took the tompions out of all the guns,and~ examined dose; 
 this string was the only thing that was in any gun.' 
 
 So this bit of string was Wicklow's * sign ' to signify that 
 the 'Master's' commands had not miscarried. I ordered 
 (hat every sentinel who had served near that gun during 
 
A cujaous BXPnniBNCB. 
 
 m 
 
 (he past twenty-foar hoim be put in ooDfinement ei <moe 
 and separately, And not allowed to oommunioate with any 
 one without my privily and consent. 
 
 A telegram now oame from the Secretary of War. It 
 read as followa : — 
 
 ' Svspend haheeu wrpiu, Pat town onder martial law. 
 Make necessary arrests. Act with vigoar and promptness. 
 Keep the Department informed.' 
 
 Wewerenowindiapetogotowg^k. I 8»t oat «>d 
 had the lame gentleman quietly arrested and as qnietly 
 brought into the fort ; I placed him nnder guard, and forbade 
 speech to him or from him. He was inclined to bluster at 
 first, but he soon dropped that. ^ 
 
 Next came word that Wicklow had been seen to give 
 something to a couple of our new recruits ; and that^ as soon 
 as his back was turned, these had been seized and confined. 
 Upon each was found a small bit of paper bearing these 
 words and signs in pencil : — 
 
 Baolb's Thibd Fught. 
 
 BUnSMBEB JXEJL, 
 
 166. 
 
 In accordance with instructions, I telegraphed to the 
 Departmiant, in cipher, the progress made, and also described 
 ttie above ticket. We seemed to b« in a strong enough 
 
168 
 
 A CURIOUS SXPSRIBNCM, 
 
 pofidtion now to venture to throw off the mftsk as regarded 
 Wicklow ; so I sent for him. I also sent for and receiTed 
 baek the letter written in sympathetic ink, the eargeon 
 accompanying it with the information that thus fkt it had 
 resisted his tests, but that there were others he could apply 
 when I should be ready for him to do so. 
 
 Presently Wicklow entered. He had a somewhat worn 
 and anxious look, but he was composed and easy, and if he 
 suspected anything it did not appear in his face or manner. 
 I allowed him to stand there a moment or two, then I said 
 pleasantly — 
 
 ' My boy, why do yon go to that old stable so much t ' 
 He answered, with simple demeanour and without em- 
 barrassment — 
 
 * Well, I hardly know, sir. There isn't any particular 
 reason, except that I like to be alone, and I amuse myself 
 there.' • 
 
 * ' You amuse yourself there, do you Y * 
 
 * Yes, mr,* he replied^ as innocently and simply as before. 
 < Is that all you do there 9 ' 
 
 * Yes, sir,' he said, looking up with childlike wonderment 
 in his big soft eyes. 
 
 *Youare«wel' 
 
 *Yes, sir, sure,* 
 
 After a pause, I said— 
 
 * Wicklow, why do you write so much t * 
 
 * II I do not write much, sir.* 
 
 * You don't: 
 
 ' No, sir. Oh, if you mean scribbling, I do scribble some, 
 tor amusement.' 
 
A CVBI0V8 BXPSJtIJSNCM. 
 
 * What do y'ua do with yovr toribbiiiigB t ' 
 
 * Notliingy sir — throw them away/ 
 *Never send them to anybody T 
 •No, sir.' 
 
 I suddenly thrust before him the letter to the * OcJoiiel/ 
 He started slightly, but immediately composed himsell. ▲ 
 slight tinge spread itself over his cheek. 
 
 * How came you to send this piece of scribbling, then f ' 
 •I ney-neyer meant any harm, sir.' 
 
 * Kever Jieant any harm 1 You betray the armament 
 and condition of the post, and mean no harm by it t ' 
 
 He hung his head and was silent. 
 
 < Come, speak up, and stop lying. Whom was this letter 
 intended fort' 
 
 He showed ngns of distress now ; but quickly collected 
 himself, and replied in a tone of deep earnestness — 
 
 * I will tell you the truth, sir — ^the whole truth. The 
 letter was never intended for anybody at all. I wrote it 
 only to amuse myselt I see the error and foolishness of h 
 now — but it is the only offence, sir, upon my honour.' 
 
 ' Ah, I am glad of that. It is dangerous to be writing 
 such letters. I hope you are sure this is the only <me yoa 
 wrotet' 
 
 ' Yes, sir, perfectly sure.' 
 
 His hardihood was stupefying. He told that lie with as 
 sincere a countenance as any creature ever wore. I waited 
 • moment to soothe down my rising temper, and then said— 
 
 'Wioklow,jog your memory now, and see if you oau 
 help me with two or three little matters which X wish to 
 Inquire aoouu' 
 
 'J 
 
•!W«. 
 
 160 
 
 A cxmiova sxpsriencb. 
 
 'I will dp my Teiy best, rir/ 
 
 < Then, to begin mth— who is *< the Master "t* 
 
 It betrayed him into darting a startled glance at oar 
 fiioes; but that was all. He was serene again in a moment, 
 and tranquilly answered — ^ 
 
 * 1 do not know, sir.' 
 ' Tou do not know t ' 
 ' I do not know.' 
 
 ' You are tua't you do not know 1' 
 
 He tried hard to keep his eyes on mine, but the Rtrain 
 was too great ; his chin sunk slowly toward his breast and 
 he was silent; he stood there nervously fumbling with a 
 button, an object to command one's pity, in spite of his 
 base acts. Presently I broke the stillness with the 
 question— 
 
 < Who are the " Holy Alliance "f 
 
 His body shook visibly, and he made a slight random 
 gesture with his hands, which to me was like the appc * >f 
 a despairing creature for compassion. But he made no 
 sound. He continued to stand with his face bent toward 
 thflL ground. As we sat gazing at him, waiting for him to 
 speak, we saw the big tears begin to roll down his cheeks. 
 But he remained silent. After a little, I said — 
 
 < Tou must answer me, my boy, and you must tell me 
 the truth. Who are the Holy Alliance % * 
 
 He wept on in silence. Presently I said, somewhat 
 sharply — 
 
 * Answer the question ! ' 
 
 He struggled to get command of his voice ; and then^ 
 looking up apptjalingly, forced the words out between his 
 
*.W*S. 
 
 A cumova bxpsbiencr 
 
 lei 
 
 rhat 
 
 ' Oh, have pity cm me, sir 1 I cannot answer it, for I do 
 not know.' 
 
 'What!' 
 
 ' Indeed, sir, I am teUing tlie tmth, I never have heard 
 of the Holy AVIianoe till thiii moment. On my honour, sir, 
 this is so.' 
 
 'Qood heavens! Look at this second letter of yours; 
 there, do you see those words, " Holy AUianoe f ** What do 
 you say now I ' 
 
 He gazed up into my £Etoe with the hurt look of one upon 
 whom a great wrong has been wrought, then said feelingly — 
 
 * This is some cruel joke, sir ; and how could they play 
 it upon me, who have tried all I could to do right, and have 
 never done harm to anybody t Some one has counterfeited 
 my hand; I never wrote a line of this; I have never seen 
 this letter before \* 
 
 ' Oh, you unspeakable liar 1 Here, what do you say to 
 thitf* — and I snatched the sympathetio-ink letter from my 
 pocket and thrust it before his eyes. 
 
 His £ace turned white t— as white aa a dead person's. 
 He wavered slightly in his tracks, and put his hand against 
 the wall to steady himself. After a moment he asked, in so 
 fiunt a voice that it was hardly audible — 
 
 * Have you — ^read it t ' 
 
 Our faces must have answered the truth before my Hpa 
 oould get out the false * yes,' for I distinctly saw the courage 
 come back into that boy's eyes. I waited for him to say 
 something, but he kept silent. So at last I said — 
 
 ' 'Wellf what have you to say as to the revelations in thig 
 letter)' 
 
 11 
 
 m 
 
 ■^¥i 
 
M 
 
 A CUBIOVB BXPERIBNCB. 
 
 H« aniweNd, with porfeot oompoBure— 
 
 'Notbiagy ezospt that thej are entiielj liannlaM tad 
 innooent; they oan hurt nobody.' 
 
 I WM in lomething of % oorDm now, ts I oouldn't din- 
 pfOTe hii anertion. I did not know exactly how to proceed. 
 However, an idea oame to my relief, and I laid — 
 
 * Ton are sure you know nothing about the Master and 
 .^ ^tHj Alliance, and did not write the letter whieh you 
 ii,y is a A. '•gery t ' 
 
 <Ye0,tir — imra' 
 
 I slowly drew out the knotted twine string and hdd it 
 up without speaking. He gazed at it indijflferentlyi^ then 
 looked at me inquirmgly. My patience was sorely taxed. 
 However, I kept my temper down, and said in my usual 
 voice — 
 
 < Wioklow, do you see thist ' 
 
 'Yes, sir.' 
 
 'Whatisitt' 
 
 'It seems to be a piece of string.' ^ 
 
 'Semrut It it a piece of string. Do you recognise it t' 
 
 ' No, sir,' he replied, as calmly as the words could be 
 uttered. 
 
 His coolness was perfectly wonderful 1 I paused now 
 for several seconds, in order that the silenoe might add im^ 
 pressiveness to what I was about to say ; then I rose and 
 iaid m^hand on his shoulder, and said gravely— 
 
 'It will do you no good, poor boy, none in the world. 
 This sign to the '^ Master," this knotted string, found in one 
 sf the guns on the water-front — * 
 
 'Found in the gun ! Oh, nd» no, no t do not say in the 
 
 V 
 
 
A cujuom jsxpjsBuarai 
 
 'O 
 
 i 
 
 
 gtm, but in a oradk in the tomuion 1 — ^it nwii haine been in 
 the oraok 1 ' and down he went on his knees and daaped his 
 handa and lifted up a fietoe that was pitiful to sc^^ so ashy it 
 was, and so wild with tenor. 
 
 * K0| it was fti the gun.' ^ 
 
 'Oh, something has gone wrong ! My €k)d, I am lost I* 
 and he sprang up and darted this way and that^ dodging 
 the hands that were put ont to catch him, and doing his 
 beet to escape from the plaoa But of course escape was im- 
 possible. Then he flung h! js'At on his knees again, eiying 
 with all his might, and dr^ipeu ne around the legs; and so 
 fi^ dung to me and begged and pleaded, saying, ' Oh, have 
 pity on ue 1 Oh, be merciful to me 1 Do not betray me; 
 they would not spare n life a moment 1 Pft>teot me, save 
 me. I will confess everything r 
 
 It took us some time to quiet him down and modify his 
 fright, and get him into something like a rational frame ol 
 mind. Then I began to question him, he answering hum- 
 bly, with downcast eyes, and fix>m time to time swabbing 
 away his constantly flowing tears. 
 ' * So you are at heart a rebel t' 
 
 *Yes, sir.* -^ 
 
 ^Andaspyf .^ . 
 
 -Yes,Bir,' \, 
 
 'And have been acting under distinct orders from ou^ 
 iider 
 
 « Yes, sir.' 
 
 •Willingly!' 
 
 <Yes,8far.' 
 
 '^M^, perhaps r 
 
 n 
 
164 
 
 A QVmOVB SXPJSMIENCJBL 
 
 ' YeB, tor; it would do no good todenj it The South ii 
 myooimtzy; my heart is Southern, an(d it ib all in her oanse.'* 
 
 'Then the tale you told me of your wrongs and the 
 perseoation of your family was made up for the occasion t ' 
 
 * They — they told me to say it, sir/ 
 
 * And you would betray and destroy those who pitied 
 and sheltered you. Do you comprehend how base you are^ 
 you poor misguided thing t ' 
 
 He replied with sobs only. 
 
 'Well, let that pass. To bushiess. Who is the 
 ''Oolonel,'' find where is hel' 
 
 He began to cry hard, and tried to beg off from answer- 
 ing. He said he would be killed if he told. I threatened 
 to put him in the dark cell and lock him up if he did not 
 come out with the information. At the same time I pro- 
 mised to proteot him from all harm if he made a dean 
 breast. For all answer, he closed his mouth firmly and put 
 on a stubborn air, which I could not bring him out of. At 
 last I started with him ; but a single glance into the dark 
 cell converted him. He broke into a passion of weeping 
 and supplicating, and declared he would tell everything. 
 
 So I brought him back, and he named the * Colonel,' 
 and described him particularly. Said he would be fcmd at 
 the principal hotel in the town, in citizen's dress. I had to 
 threaten nmi again before he would describe and name the 
 ' Master.' Said the Master would be found at No. 15 Bond 
 Street, New York, passing \mder the name of R. F. Gaylord. 
 I telegraphed name and description to the chief of police of 
 the metropolis, and asked that Qaylord be arrested and held 
 tUl I could send for him. 
 
A CUMIOUS MXPSRlXNCm 
 
 the 
 
 'Kour/ said J, 4t ■eenui that there are eeveral of tha 
 eonapinitora ** outade," preeumably in Kew London. Kama 
 and desoribe them.' 
 
 He named and described three men and two women — all 
 stopping at the principal hotel. I sent out qnieUy, and had 
 them and the * Colonel ' arrested and confined in the fort. 
 
 'Next^ I want to know all about your three feUow- 
 eonfipirators who are here in the fort' 
 
 He was about to dodge me with a &lsehood, I thought j 
 but I produced the mysterious bits of paper which had been 
 found upon two of them, and this had a salutaiy effect upon 
 him. I said we had possession of two of the men, and he 
 must point out the third. This frightened him badly, and 
 he cried out — 
 
 * Oh, please don't make me ; he would kill me on tht 
 spot I ' 
 
 I said that that was all nonsense ; I would have some- 
 body near by to protect him, and, besides, the men ihould 
 be assembled without arms. I ordered all the raw recruits 
 ^ be mustered, and then the poor trembling little wretch 
 went out and stepped along down the line, trying to look as 
 indifferent as possible. Finally he spoke a single word to 
 one of the men, and beforo he had gone five steps the man 
 was under arrest. 
 
 As soon as WicklOw was with us again I had those 
 three men brought in. I made one of them stand forward* 
 and said — 
 
 ' Now, Wicklow, mind, not a shade's diyergenoe from 
 the exact truth. Who is this man, and wkbt do you know 
 about him r 
 
 
 t 
 
 si 
 
A CURIOUS KXPRnmNOk 
 
 Bdng 'in for it/ ho oast cooMquenoet Mdde, flurteaed hii 
 •jw on the man'i faoe, and spoke itnui^t along without 
 hesitation — to the foUowing efiTeot. 
 
 ' His real name is Oeorge Bristow. He is from New 
 Orleans ; was second mate of the ooast-paoket ** Oapitol " 
 two years ago; is a desperate oharaotGr, and has seryed two 
 terms for manslaughter— one for killing a deok-hand named 
 Hyde with a oapetan-bar, and one for killing a ronstahont 
 for refusing to heaTe the lead, which is no part of a ronst- 
 ahoufs husinees. He is a spy, and was sent here hy the 
 Colonel to act in that capacity. He was third mate of the 
 ** St. Nicholas ** when she blew up in the neighbourhood of 
 Memphis, in '58, and oame near being lynched for robbing 
 the dead and wounded while they were being taken ashore 
 in an empty wood-boatb' 
 
 And so forth and so on— he gaye the man's biography in 
 full. When he had finished I said to the man— 
 'What have you to say to thist' 
 ' Barring your presence^ sir, it is the infomalest lie that 
 «fTer was spoke ! ' 
 
 I sent h«m back into confinement, and called the others 
 forward in turn. Same result. The boy gare a detailed 
 history of each, without erer hesitiiting for a word or a hat; 
 out all I could get out of either rascal was the indignant 
 assei'tion that it was all a lie. They would confess nothing. 
 I returned them to captiyity, and brought} out tho rest of 
 my prisoners one by one. Wicklow told all about them-— 
 what towns in the South they were from, and erery detail 
 flf their oonneotion with the oonspiracy. 
 
 But they all denied his facts, and not mn of them co»- 
 
A cuMioua sxpsnuurcB. 
 
 167 
 
 htmd A thing. The men raged, the women oried. Aoooxd- 
 iog to their itories, they were all innooent people from oat 
 Weety and loved the Union above all things in this world. 
 Hocked the gang up, in disgust, and fell to oateohicing 
 Wioklow onoe more. 
 
 < Where is No. 166, and who is B. B. t ' 
 
 But there he was determined to draw the line. Neither 
 onaxing nor threats had any effect upon him. Time was 
 flying — ^it was necessary to institute sharp measures. So I 
 tied him up a-tiptoe by the thumbs. As the pain increased 
 it wrung screams from him which were almost more than I 
 ooold bear. But I held my ground, and pretty soon he 
 shrieked out — 
 
 ' Oh, pleaee let me down, and I will tell I ' 
 
 ' No — ^yonll tell b^ore I let you down.' 
 
 Every instant was agony to him now, so out it came r^" 
 
 'No. 166, Eagle Hotel 1' — naming a wretched tavern 
 down by the water, a resort of common labouxen, long- 
 shoremen, and less reputable folk. 
 
 So I released him, and then demanded to know the 
 object of the conspiracy. 
 
 * To take the Ibii to-night/ said he, doggedly and sob- 
 bing. 
 
 * Have I got aU the chieiii of the conspiracy t ' 
 
 ' No. You've got tu\ except those that ave to meet at 
 166.' 
 
 < What does << remember XXXX ** mi^%ikV 
 No reply. 
 
 ' What is the password to No. 166 1 ^ 
 No r^ly. 
 
 M 
 
 U 
 
 m 
 
i¥ 
 
 A CVRIOUS EXPEEIENCS, 
 
 'What do those bunches of letters mean— " PFFPP " 
 and ** MMMM ** t Answer t or you will catch it again.' 
 
 ' I never vnU answer ! I will die first. Now do what 
 jrou please.' 
 
 ' Think what you are saying, Wicklow. Is it final ! ' 
 
 He answered steadily, and without a quiver in his 
 ▼oice — ^-. "" 
 
 ' It is final An sure as I love my wronged country 
 and hate everything this Northern sun shines on, I will 
 die before I will reveal those things.' 
 
 I triced him up by the thumbs again. When the agony 
 was full upon him, it was heart-breaking to hear the poor 
 thing's shrieks, but we got nothing else out of him. To 
 every question he screamed the same reply : ' I can die, and 
 I wiU die ; but I will never tell.' 
 
 Well, we had to give it up. We were convinced that 
 he certainly would die rather than confess. So we took 
 him down and imprisoned him, under strict guard. 
 
 Then for some hours we busied ourselves with sending 
 telegrams to the War Department, and with making pre- 
 parations for a descent upon No. 166. 
 
 It was stirring times, that black and bitter nighip 
 Things had leaked out, and the whole garrison was on the 
 alert. The sentinels were ti*ebled, and nobody could move, 
 outside or in, without being brought to a stand with a 
 musket levelled at his head. However, Webb and I were 
 less concerned now than we had previously been, because of 
 the fact that the conspiracy must necessarily be in a pretty 
 crippled condition, since so many of its principals were in 
 cmr dutches. 
 
 ' 
 
 f] 
 
 \ 
 
that 
 took 
 
 i 
 
 
 A CURI0XT8 BXPEEISKCR 
 
 160 
 
 ^I detennined to be at No. 166 in good season, capture 
 And gag B. B., and be on hand for the rest when thej 
 anived. At about a quarter past one in the morning 1 
 crept out of the fortress with half a dozen stalwart and 
 gamy U. S. regulars at my heels — and the boy Wicklow, 
 with his hands tied behind him. I told him we were going 
 to No. 166, and that if I found he had lied again and waa 
 misleading us, he would have to show us the right place or 
 fluffer the consequences. 
 
 We approached the tavern stealthily and reconnoitred. 
 A light was burning in the small bar-room, the rest of the 
 house was dark. I tried the front door ; it yielded, and we 
 softly entered, closing the door behind us. Then we re- 
 moved our shoes, and I led the way to the bar-rodm. The 
 German landlord sat there, asleep in his chair. I woke 
 him gently, and told nim to take off his boots and precede 
 us ; warning him at the same time to utter no sound. He 
 obeyed without a murmur, but evidently he was badly 
 frightened. I ordered him to lead the way to 166. We 
 ascended two or three flights of stairs as sofdy as a file of 
 cats; and then, having arrived near the farther end of a 
 long hall, we came to a door through the glazed transom of 
 which we could discern the glow of a dim light from within. 
 The landlord felt for me in the dark and whispered me 
 th&t that was 166. I tried the door — it was locked on the' 
 inside. I whispered an order to one of my biggt«t soldiers ; 
 we set our ample shoulders to the door and with one heave 
 we burst it from its hinges. I caught a half-glimpse of a 
 figure in a bed — saw its head dart toward the candle ; out 
 went the light, and we were in pitch darkneas. With one 
 
 m 
 
 1 ^ 
 
 t 
 
 ift 
 
 --JMt'. 
 
170 
 
 A CURIOUS EXPERIENCS. 
 
 big bound I lit on that bed and pinned its occupant down 
 with my knees. My prisoner struggled fiercely, but I got 
 ft grip on his throat with my left hand, and that was a good 
 assistance to my knees in holding him down. Then straight- 
 way I snatched out my revolver, cocked it, and laid the 
 cold barrel wamingly against his cheek. 
 
 < Now somebody strike a light 1 ' said L ' I've got him 
 safe.' 
 
 It was done. The flame of the match burst up. I 
 looked at my captive, and, by Qeorge^ it was a young 
 woman 1 
 
 I let go and got off the bed, feeling pretty sheepish. 
 Everybody stared stupidly at his neighbour. Nobody had 
 any wit or sense left, so sudden and overwhelming had been 
 the surprise. The young woman began to cry, and covered 
 her face with the sheet. The limdlord said, meekly— 
 
 ' My daughter, she has been d(mig something that is not 
 right, nichi wahr t * 
 
 ' Your daughter I Is she your daughter 1 ' 
 
 * Oh, yeSj she is my daughter. She is just to-night come 
 home from Cincinnati a little bit sick.' 
 
 ' Confound it, that boy has Ued again. This is not the 
 right 166 ; this is not B. B. Now, Wicklow, you wul 
 find the correct 166 for us, or — hello ! where is that boy I' 
 
 Gone, as sure as guns ! And, what is more, we &iled 
 to find a trace of him. Here was an awkward predicament. 
 I cursed my stupidity in nov tying him to oim of the menj 
 but it was of no use to bother about that now. What 
 should I do in the present drcumstanoes t— that was the 
 question. That girl mighi be B. B. after ail. I did not 
 
A CURIOUS EXPERIENCE, 
 
 171 
 
 believe it, but still it would not answer to take onbeliel 
 for proof. So 1 finally put my men in a vacant room across 
 the hall from 166, and told them to capture anybody and 
 everybody that approached the girl's room, and to keep the 
 landlord with them, and under strict watch, until further 
 orders. Then I hurried back to the fort to see if all was 
 right there yet. 
 
 Yes, all was right. And all remained right, I stayed 
 np all night to make sure of that. Nothing happened. I 
 was unspeakably glad to see the dawn come again, and be 
 able to telegraph the Department that the Stars and Striped 
 still floated over Fort TrumbulL 
 
 An immense pressure was lifted from my bi^ast. Still 
 I did not relax vigilance, of cx)ur8e, nor effort either ; the 
 case was too grave for that. I had up my prisoners, one 
 by one, and harried them by the hour, trying to get them 
 to confess, but it was a failure. They only gnashed their 
 teeth and tore their hair, and revealed nothing. 
 
 About noon came tidings of my missing boy. He had 
 been seen on the road, tramping westward, some eight miles 
 out, at six in the morning. I started a cavalry lieutenant 
 and a private on his track at once. They came in sight of 
 him twenty miles out. He had climbed a fence and wac 
 wearily dragging himself across a slushy field toward a large 
 old-fiushioned mansion in the edge of a village. They rode 
 through a bit of woods, made a detour, and closed up on 
 the house from the opposite side; then dismounted and 
 skurried into the kitchen. Nobody there. They slipped 
 into the next room, which wa« also unoccupied ; the door 
 fiKMBi that room into the front or sitting room was opem. 
 
 ~N 
 
 I, . 
 
 ' -f! 
 
 i4 
 
 M 
 
 K 
 
 ,v«3 
 
•>%*%. 
 
 17S 
 
 A CVRZOVB ES'^^'^VrTCR 
 
 ■"^^f 
 
 i 
 
 
 They were about to step thron^^ib 3i wl jti t!)v7 heard a low 
 voice ; it was somebody praying. Bo tkey b<»ited reverently, 
 and the lieutenant put bis head in and saw an eld man and 
 an old woman kneeling in a comer of that sitting; -room. 
 It waci the old man ^^bat was praying, and just as he was 
 finishing his prayer, the Wicklow boy opened the front 
 door and stepped in. Both of those old people sprang at 
 him and smothered him with embi-aces, shouting— 
 
 * Our boy ! our darling 1 Qod be praised. The lost is 
 found ! He that was dead is alive again ! ' 
 
 Well, sir, what do you think ! Thrt young imp was bom 
 and reared on that homestead; and had royer been five miles 
 away from it in all his life, till the fortii%ht ')efcre he loafed 
 into my quai'ters and gulled me with that maudlin yam of 
 his ! It's as true as gospel That old man was his father-* 
 a learned old retired clergyman rancl tLat old lady was his 
 mother. 
 
 Lpt me throTT -^ a word or two of explanation concerning 
 that boy ^mA his ^ ; jormances. It turned out that he was 
 a tfcvenous devourer of dime novels and sensation-story 
 papers — therefore, dark mysteries and gaudy heroisms were 
 just In his linoc Then he bad read newspaper reports of the 
 stealthy goings and comings of rebel spies in our midat, and 
 of their lurid purposes and their two or three startling 
 achievements, till his imagination was all afiame on that 
 subject. His constant comrade for gome months had been 
 a Yarkee youth of much tongue and lively fancy, who had 
 served for a couple of yaars as * mud derk ' (that is, subordi- 
 imt^a puiser) on certain of the picket-boats plying betweea 
 New Orleans and points two or three huadr^ miles up thii 
 
 
m 
 
 flp* 
 
 A CUMIOUS EXPEBUmCB. 
 
 in 
 
 Mi£sissLppi — Whence bia easy facdhty in handling tb^^ irou, ^ 
 •nd other details pertaining; to that region. l*i^ >w 1 %Md 
 spent two or three months in that part of the cot - t^iy \6i0t% 
 the war ; and I knew just enough about it to be oasl j tvken in 
 by that boy, whereas a bom Louisianian would probably have 
 caught him tripping before he had talked fifteen minutes. 
 Do you know the reason he said be would rather die than 
 explain certain of his treasonable enigmas f Simply because 
 he eouJdnH explain them I — ^they had no meaning ; he had 
 fired them out of hL«!i imagination without forethought 
 or afterthought; and so, upon sudden call, he wasn't able to 
 invent an explanation of tham. For instance he couldn't 
 reveal what was hidden in the * sympathetic ink * letter, for 
 the ample reason that there wasn't anything hidden in it ; 
 it was blank paper only. He hadn't put aii)^.I'ing into a 
 gun, and had never intended to— for his letters were al] 
 written uo imaginary persons, and when ^3 hid jne in the 
 stable he always removed the one he h».^ j^ut iMere the (Uj 
 before ; so he was not acquainted with tl at knotted string, 
 since he was seeing it for the first time wbop I $4howed it to 
 him ; but as soon as I had let him find at where it came 
 from, he straightway adopted it, in his romantic fashion, and 
 got some fine effects out of it. He invented Mr. ' Gaylord ;' 
 there wasn't any 15 lend Sti-eet, just then— it had been 
 pulled down three months before. He invented the * Colonel ; * 
 he invented tiie glib histories of those unfortunates wkom I 
 oaptfured and confet>nted with him ; he invented ' B. B, ', * h« 
 even invented Ho. 166, ^ne may say^ tor he didn't knov' 
 tkere wm gueb a number in the Eagle Hotel until we went 
 
 ti 
 
 
 i 
 
m 
 
 A CUMIOUS EXPERIBNCR 
 
 there. He itx>od Teadj to invent anybody or anything when* 
 ever it wag wanted. If I called for ' ontside ' spiee, he 
 promptly d/uecribed strangenr whom he had aeon at the 
 hotel, and whose names he had happened to hear. Ah, he 
 lived in a gorgeous, mysterious, romantic world during those 
 few sturmg days, and I think it was real to him, and that 
 he enjoyed it clear down to the bottom of his heart. 
 
 But he made trouble enough for us, and just no end of 
 humiliation. Ton see, on account of him wo had fifteen or 
 twenty people under arrest and confinement in the fort, with 
 sentinels before their doors. A lot of the captives were 
 soldiers and such, and to them I didn't have to apologise ; 
 but the rest were first-class citizens, firom all over the oountry, 
 and no amoimt of apologies was sufficient to satisfy them. 
 They just fumed md raged and made no end of trouble I 
 And those two ladies— one was an Ohio Congressman's wife^ 
 the other a Western bishop's sister — well, the scorn and 
 ridicule and angry tears they poured out on me made up % 
 ikeepsake that was likely to make me remember them for a 
 considerable time, — ^and I shall. 'JChat old lame gentleman 
 with the goggles was a college president from PhUadolphia, 
 who had come up to attend his nephew's funeral He had 
 ^^ever seen young Wicklow before, of course. Well, he not 
 ei.Ay missed the funeral, and got jailed as a rebel spy, but 
 ^ ickiow had stood up there in my quarters and coldly de- 
 scribed him as a counterfeiter, nigger-trader, horse-thief, and 
 fire-bug from the most notorious rascal-nest in Galveston ; 
 A2xd this was a thing which that poor old gentleman couldn't 
 seem to get over at aU. 
 
A cumova sxpsrisncr 
 
 in 
 
 he 
 the 
 
 And the War Department 1 But, my soul, letfs draw 
 the curtain oyer that part I 
 
 Nora. — I ahowed my mannisoript to the Major, and he Mtid: 
 ' Tonr Bufuniliarity with militaxy matten haa betrayed yoa into 
 lome little mistake!. Still, they are piotcrosque ones — let them go } 
 military men will smile at them, the rest wont detect them. Yo« 
 have got the main facts of the history rights and have set them down 
 JDet about as they oceured.'— M . T. 
 
 ^T 
 
 * ft- 
 
 t ' 
 
 
 r' 
 
THE GREAT REVOLUTION IN 
 
 PITCAIRN. 
 
 Let me refresh the reader's memory a little. Nearly a 
 hundred years ago the crew of the British ship Bounty 
 mutinied, set the captain and his officers adrift upon the 
 open sea, took possession of the ship, imd sailed southwaid. 
 They procured wives for themselves among the natives of 
 Tahiti, then proceeded to a lonely little rock in mid-Padfic^ 
 called Pitcaim's Island, wrecked the vessel, stripped her of 
 everything that might be useful to a new colony, and estab- 
 lished themselves on shore. 
 
 Pitcaim's is so far removed &om the track of commerce 
 that it was many years before another vessel touched there. 
 It had always been considered an uninhabited island ; so 
 when a ship did at last drop its anchor there, in 1808, the 
 captain was greatly surprised to find the place peopled. 
 Although the mutineers had fought among themselves, and 
 gradually killed each other off until only two or three of the 
 original stock remained, these tragedies had not occurred 
 before a number of children had been bom ; so in 1808 the 
 island had a population of twenty-seven persons. John 
 Adams, the chief mutineer, still survived, and was to live 
 many years yet, as governor and patriaich of the flock. 
 
THS GSBAT SSVOLVTIOX IJf PITCAIBN. 177 
 
 Tearly a 
 Bounty 
 ipon the 
 ithwaid. 
 atives of 
 i-Pacific, 
 k1 her of 
 idestah- 
 
 ommerce 
 sd there, 
 land; so 
 L808, the 
 peopled. 
 Ivefi, and 
 ee of the 
 occurred 
 1808 the 
 John 
 s to live 
 he flock. 
 
 From heing mutineer and homldde, he had turned Ohristian 
 and teacher, and his nation of twenty-seven persons was 
 now the purest and devoutest in Christendom. Adams had 
 long ago hoisted the British flag, and confUtuted his island 
 an appanage of the British crown. 
 
 To-day the population numbers ninety persons — dzteen 
 meskf nineteen women, twenty-five boys, and thirty girls- 
 all descendants of the mutineers, all bearing the family 
 names of those mutineers, and all speaking English, and 
 English only. The island stands high up out of the sea, and 
 haB precipitous walls. It is about three quarters of a mile 
 long, and in places is as much as h^Jf a mile wide. Such 
 arable land as it affords is held by the several families, ao- 
 oording to a division made many years ago. There is some 
 live stock — goats, pigs, chickens, and cats ', but no dogs, and 
 no large animals. There is one church building — ^used also 
 as a capitol, a school-house, and a public library. The title 
 of the governor hsB been, for a generatio i or two, ' Magis* 
 irate and Chief Kuler, in subordination to Her Majesty the 
 Queen of Great Britain.' It wa« his province to make the 
 laws, as well as execute them. His olfice was elective ; 
 everybody over seventeen years old had t^ vote— no matter 
 about the sex. 
 
 The sole occupations of the people were faiming and 
 fishing ; their solo recreation, religious services. There has 
 never been a shop in the island, nor any money. The habits 
 and dress of the people have always been primitive, and 
 their laws simple to puerility. They have lived in a deep 
 8abbe.th tranquillity, far from the wotld and its ambitions 
 Mid vexations, and neither knowing nor caring what wai 
 
 
 l! i 
 
 1 1! 
 
 
 ,; .j^ 
 
 
 !.( i 
 
178 TEB QMSAT REVOLVTION IN PITCAIMN. 
 
 going on in the mighty empires that lie beyond their limit- 
 lau ocean solitudes. Onoe in three or four years a ship 
 touched there, moved them with aged news of bloody battles, 
 devastabing epidemics, fallen thrones, and mined dynasties, 
 then traded them some soap and flannel for some yams and 
 bread-finit, and sailed away, leaving them to retire into 
 their peaceful dreams and pious dissipations once more. 
 
 On September 8 last, Admiral de Horsey, commander-in- 
 chief of the British fleet in the Pacific, visited Fitcairn's 
 Island, and speaks as follows in his official report to the 
 Admiralty :^- 
 
 * They have beans, carrots, turnips, cabbxges, and a little 
 maize; pineapples, fig-trees, custard apples, and oranges; 
 lemons and cocoa-nuts. Clothing is obtained alone from 
 passing ships, in barter fof refreshments. There are no 
 springs on the island, but as it rains generally once a month, 
 they have plenty of water, although at times, in former 
 years, they have suffered from drought. No alcoholic 
 liquors, except for medicinal purposes, are used, and a 
 drunkard is unknown. ... 
 
 ' The necessary articles required by the islanders are best 
 shown by those we furnished in barter for refreshments : 
 namely, flannel, serge, drill, half-boots, combs, tobacco, and 
 soap. They also stand much in need of maps and slates for 
 their school, and tools of ar.y kind are most acceptable. I 
 caused them to be supplied from the public stores with a 
 tTnion-jack for display on the arrival of ships, and a pit 
 saw, of which they were greatly in need. This,, I trust, will 
 meet the approval of their lordships. If the munificent 
 people of England were only aware of the wants of thii 
 
r limit- 
 a ship 
 -battles, 
 jmaatieB, 
 eims and 
 ire into 
 )re. 
 
 inder-in- 
 Htcairn's 
 t to the 
 
 d a little 
 oranges ; 
 ine from 
 e are no 
 Bk month, 
 a former 
 alooholio 
 , and a 
 
 i are best 
 ihments : 
 aocO| and 
 slates for 
 liable. I 
 » with a 
 md a pit 
 ;ru8t, will 
 lunifioent 
 bs of thk 
 
 TKB GREAT REVOLUTION IN PITCAIJtN. 17» 
 
 fflo»t deserving littlo colonj, they would not long go lUigap- 
 plied. ... 
 
 * Diyine serrloe is held every Sunday at 10.30 ▲.¥. and 
 at 3 P.M., in the house built and used bv John Adams for 
 that purpose until he died in 1829. It is conducted strictly 
 in aocordanoe with the liturgy of the Church of England, by 
 Mr. Simon Young, their selected pastor, who is much re- 
 ■pected. A Bible class is held every Wednesday, when all 
 who conveniently can, attend. There is also a general 
 meeting for prayer on the first Friday in every month. 
 Family prayers are said in every house the first thing in the 
 morning and the last thing in the evening, and no food is 
 partaken of without asking God's blessing before and after- 
 wards. Of these islanders' religious attributes no one can 
 speak without deep respect. A people whose greatest 
 pleasure and privilege is to commune in prayer with their 
 God, and to join in hymns of praise, and who are, moreover, 
 cheerful, diligent, and probably freer &om vice than any 
 other community, need no priest among them.' 
 
 Now I come to a sentence in the Admiral's report which 
 he dropped carelessly from hifi pen, no doubt, and never 
 gave the matter a second thought. He little imagined what 
 aireight of tragic prophecy it bore 1 This is the sentence — 
 
 ' One stranger, an Ameiican, has settled on the island— 
 a doubtful acquisition,'' 
 
 A doubtful acquisition, indeed I Captain Oimsby, in 
 the American ship Hor^r.etf touched at Pitcaim's nearly four 
 months after the Admiral's visit, and from the facts which 
 he gathCfred there we now know all about that American. 
 iiet us put these facts together, in historical form. The 
 
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 180 ftB OJSJBAT BSrptVTION m PITCAIEM. 
 
 Ammictai't name was Batterwortli Stayely. As soon as bff 
 had beoome well aoquaaiited with all the people— and thii 
 took bat ft few dajn, of oourae—he began to ingratiate him- 
 self with them by all the arti he conld command. He 
 became exceedingly popular, and much looked up to; for 
 one of the first things he did was to forsake his worldly way 
 of life, and throw all his energies into religion. He was 
 always reading his Bible, or praying, or singing hymns, or 
 asking blessings. In prayer, no one had such 'liberty ' as 
 he, no one conld pray so long or so welL 
 
 At Ifist, when he considered the time to be ripe, he began 
 secretly to sow the seeds of discontent among the people. It 
 was his deliberate purpose, from the banning, to subvert 
 the goyemment^ but of course he kept that to himself for a 
 time. He used different arts with different individuals. He 
 awakened dissatis&otion in one quarter by calling attention 
 to the shortness of the Sunday services; he argued that 
 there should be three three-hour services on Sunday instead 
 of only two. Many had secretly held this opinion before ; 
 they now privately banded themselves into a party to work 
 for it. He showed certain of the women that they were not 
 allowed sufficient voice in the prayer-meetings ; thus another 
 party was formed. No weapon was beneath his notice ; he 
 even descended to the children, and awoke discontent in 
 their breasts because-Hw he discovered for them— th^ had 
 not enough Sunday-school. This created a third party. 
 
 Now, as the chief of thfise parties, he found himself the 
 strongest power in the community. So he proceeded to Ida 
 next move— ft no less important one than the im|Swhment 
 •f the chief magistrate, James Bussell Nickoy ; ft man of 
 
TSB GRSAT RBVOLUTION IN PITCATRN, Vd 
 
 fthantofter and ability, and poneand of gnat wealth, 1i« 
 being the owner of a house wiUi a parlour to it, three acree 
 and a half of yam land, and the only boat in PitoaimX a 
 whale-boat ; and, most onfortnnatelj, a pretesct for this im- 
 peachment offered itself at just the right time. One of the 
 eerliest and most predous laws of the island was the law 
 against trespass. It was held in great reverence, and waa 
 regarded a(i the palladiam of the people's liberties. About 
 thirty years ago an important case came before the oonrts 
 under this law, in this wise : a chicken belonging to Elisa- 
 beth Young (aged, at that time, fift^^ight, a daughter of 
 John Mills, one of the mutineers of the Bmmiy) trespassed 
 upon the grounds of Thursday October Ohristian (aged 
 twenty-nine, a grandson of Fletcher Ohristian, one of the 
 mutineers). Ohristian killed the chicken. Acooruing to 
 the law, Ohristian oould keep the chicken ; or, if he pre- 
 ferred, he could irestore its remains to the owner, and 
 reoeiye ' damages ' in produce to an amount equivalent to 
 the waste and ii\)ury wrought by the trespasser. The court 
 records set forth that 'the said Ohristian aforesaid did 
 deliver the aforesaid remains to the said Elizabeth Young, 
 and did demand one bushel of yams in satisCeMstion of the 
 damage done.' But Elizabeth Young considered the demand 
 exorbitant ; the parties could not agree ; therefore Ohristian 
 brought suit in the courts. He lost his case in the justice's 
 eourt ; at lease, lie was awarded only a half-peck of yams^ 
 which he considered insufficient, and in^ the nature of a 
 defeat. He appealed. The case lingered several years in 
 an ascending grade of courts, and always resulted in decrees 
 sustaining the original verdiet; and finally the thing gn/k 
 
188 TMJ8 OMMAT MSVOLUTtON JOt PITCAOOf. 
 
 ~ 
 
 Into the flapreme oourt^ and there it stack for twenty yeen. 
 fiat htfrt Bommery eren the sapreme ooozt mana^ to arrive 
 •t a decision at last. Once more the original verdict waa 
 •ostained. Ohristian then ndd he was satisfied ; bat Starely 
 was preaent> and whispered to him and to his lawyer, sag- 
 gestingy ' as a mere form/ that the original law be exhibited, 
 in order to make sare that it still existed. It seemed an 
 odd idea, but an ingenious one. So the demand was madfii 
 A messenger waa sent to the magistrate's house; he pre- 
 sently returned with the tidings that it had disappeared 
 from amoDg the state archives. "^ 
 
 The court now pronounced its late decision void, fdnoe 
 it had been made onder a law which had no actual exia* 
 tenoe. 
 
 Great excitement ensued, immediately. The news swept 
 abroad over the whole island that the palladium of the 
 publio liberties was lost—may be treasonably destroyed. 
 Within thirty minutes almost the entire nation were in the 
 court-room — ^that is to 8ay,iihe church. Hie impeachment 
 of the chief magistrate followed, upon Stavely's motion* 
 Hie accused met his misfortune with the dignity which 
 became his great office. He did not plead, or even argue : 
 he offered the simple defence that he had noib meddled with 
 the missing law; that he had kq>t the state archives in the 
 same candle- box that had been used as their depository firom 
 the beginning; ^md that he was innocent of the rraioval or 
 destruction of the lost document. 
 
 But nothing could save him; he was found guilly d 
 misprisifm of treason, and degraded from Us office, and all 
 hia property waa confiscated. 
 
 la 
 01 
 in 
 re 
 de 
 in 
 nc 
 
 gi 
 to 
 re 
 ai 
 
 m 
 oc 
 
 m 
 Ah 
 
 Si 
 n 
 vi 
 n 
 ■c 
 
 0* 
 hi 
 
TSS QMSAT nsrOLVTlON XN PITCAIMN. 18» 
 
 Hie lamert pirfe of the whole ahamefid mttttw wm the 
 fMMon eaggested by his enemiee fo? hia deetruotioo of the 
 lawy to wit: that he did it to &your Ohristiaii, beeanee 
 Ohriifitian wae hie cousin I Whereaa Stavelj was the only 
 indiyidnal in the entire nation who was not his cousin. The 
 reader most lemember that all of these people are the 
 descendants of half a dosen men ; that the first children 
 intermarried together and bore grandchildren to the muti- 
 neers 3 that these grandchildren intermarried; after them, 
 great and great-great-grandduldren intermarried : so that 
 today everybody is blood kin to eyerybody. Moreover, the 
 raiationshipB are wonderfdlly, even astoondingly, mixed np 
 and complicated, h. stranger, for instance^ saya to an 
 >ialander— 
 
 'Ton speak of that young woman as your oonsin; a 
 while ago you called Tier your aunt.' ^.^-^ ^ 
 
 ' Well, she u my aunt, and my cousin too. And also 
 my step-dster, my niece, my fourth cousin, my thirty-third 
 oonsin, my forty-second cousin, my greatFaunt, my grand- 
 mother, my widowed sister-in-law-^and next week she will 
 ^Hbe my^wife,* 
 
 ' So the charge of nepotism against the cMef magistrate 
 was weak. But no matter; weak or strong, it suited 
 Stayely. Stavely was immediately elected to the vacant 
 magistracy; and, oozing reform from eveiy poie, he went 
 vigorously to work. In no long time religious services 
 raged everywhere and unceasingly. By command, the 
 second prayer of the Sunday morning service, which had 
 crustomarily endured some thirty-five or forty minutes, and 
 hid pleaded for tbe world, first by continent and tim hf 
 
 
'^^-% ■ 
 
 Bfttioiiil aa^' tribal dfltail, waf tttendiad to an lionr and a 
 ha]^ ind made to indade aapplidatdoDfl in behalf of the 
 pOBRible peoples fii the Bereral plaseti. Everybody waa 
 pleased with this ; eveiybody said, < Now ihU is something 
 Uke** Bj oommand, the usual three-hour sennons were 
 doubled in length. The nation came in a body to testier 
 their gratitude to the new magistrate. The old law forbid- 
 ding cooking on the Sabbath was extended to the prohibition 
 of eating, also. By command, Sunday-sohool was priyileged 
 to spread over into the week. The joy of all classes was 
 complete. In one riM>rt month the new magistrate had 
 become the people's idol t 
 
 The time Was ripe for this man's next move. He began, 
 cautiously at first, to poison the public mind against 
 England. He took the chief oituens aside, one by one, and 
 conversed with them on this topic Presently he grew 
 bolder^ and spoke out. He said the nation owed it to 
 itself to its honour, to its great traditions, to rise in its 
 might t^A throw off 'this galling English yoke.' 
 ' But the simple islanders answered— 
 
 ' We had not noticed that it galled. How does it gall! 
 England sends a ship once in three or four years to give us 
 soap and clothing, and things which we sorely need and 
 grateCblly receive ; but she never troubles us ; she lets us go 
 ourownway.' 
 
 * 8he lets you go your own way ! So slaves have felt 
 and spoken in all the ages I This speech shows how fijlen 
 yon are^ how base, how brulalised, you have become^ under 
 this grinding tyranny 1 What I has all manly pride fxnt' 
 saken yont Is.liberty notMng t Are you content to be * 
 
of th# 
 
 f 
 dthing 
 
 tertiiy 
 forUd- 
 ibltion 
 nleged 
 90 was 
 be bad 
 
 began, 
 
 Rgainsfc 
 
 ae, and 
 
 grew 
 
 it to 
 
 in its 
 
 t 
 
 t gall! 
 j^ve na 
 Bd and 
 BUB go 
 
 .ve felt 
 fiillen 
 under 
 de fjot' 
 » be 1^ 
 
 TSS OBSAT MSrOLUTIOJr IN FITCjUMN. IW 
 
 mere appendage to a ftneign and bateAil aoTernigntj, wben 
 joa migbt riae np and take your rigbtftJ place in tbe 
 august fiunily of nations, great, free, enligbtened, ind^ 
 pendent, tbe minion of no Boeptred master, but tbe arbiter 
 of your own destiny, and a Yoioe and a power* In de- 
 creeing tbe destinies of your sister soTereignties of tbe 
 world!' 
 
 Speeobes like tbis produced an effect by-and-by. Oitlaens 
 began to feel tbe Englisb yoke; tbey did not know ezactly 
 bow or wbereabouts tbey felt it, but tbey were perfectly 
 eertain tbey did feel it. Tbey get to grumbling a good deal, 
 and obcfing under tbeir obams, and longing for relief and 
 release. They presently fell to bating; tbe Englisb flag^ tbat 
 sign and symbol of their nation's d«>gradation ; tbey ceased 
 to glance up at it as they passed the capjitol, but aTsrted 
 their eyes and grated their teeth; and one morning, when it 
 was found trampled into tbe mud at the foot of the sta£^- 
 they left it there, and no man put bis band to it to hoist it 
 again. A certain thing wliiob was sure t6 happen sooner or 
 later happened now. Some of the chief oitiaens went to tbe 
 magistrate by night and said — 
 
 *We cain enduro this hated tyranny no longer. How 
 can we cast it off f 
 
 'EowT 
 
 'A eotif) SdUA, It is Uke this : everything is got ready, 
 and at the appointed moment I, as the official bead of the 
 nation, publicly and solemnly proclaim its independence^ 
 and absolTe it from allegiance to any and Ul other powers 
 whatsoever.' 
 
 r 
 
180 TBM GMAT SSVOLUTION ^N PlTOAim, 
 
 'That loiindi simple acd eMj. We oah do th*4 right 
 away. Then what will be the next thing to do T ' 
 
 ' Seiie All the defenoei and publio properties of tSl kinds, 
 eetablieh martial law, put the army and navy on a war 
 footing, iud proclaim the empire 1 ' 
 
 This fine programme dazzled these innooenti. Thsy 
 said— 
 
 'This if grand— this is splendid; but will not £ngkad 
 resistl' 
 
 'Let her. This rook is a Gibraltar.' 
 
 ' Tme. Bat about the empire t Do we n$ed an empirs^ 
 and an emperor 1 ' 
 
 'What you need, mj Mends, Is unification. Look at* 
 Qermany y look at Italy. They are unified. TTnifieation is 
 the thing, It makes living dear. That constitutes pro- 
 gress. We must have a standing army, and a navy. Taxes 
 followy as a matter of course. All these things summed up 
 make grandeur. With unification and grandeur, what 
 more can you want t Yery well — only the empire can oon- 
 fisr these boons." 
 
 So on Deoembor 8 Pitcaim's Island was proclaimed m 
 fl[«e and indepandlent nation; and on the same day the 
 solemn coronation of Batterworth I., emperor of Fitcaim's 
 Island, took place, amii great r^oidngBr^and festivities. 
 Tbe entire nation, with the eocoeption of fourteen persons, 
 mainly little children, marched past the throne in single 
 file, with banners and music, the procession being upwaida 
 of ninety feet long ; and some jaid it was as mudi as three 
 quarteni of a minute passing a j^yen point. Nothing like it 
 
 
 
Tsjs onsAT jtBroinriON nr pircAJOtif. m 
 
 I 
 
 \mA evw been eeeik In the histoiy of the idand belbre^ 
 Pablio eiithiuiAam mm meesorelMM. 
 
 Kow itnigfatwaj imperud reforms b^gan. Ordcm ol 
 nbbili^were instituted. ▲ minister of the navy wis 
 appointed, and the whale-boat put in commission. A 
 minister of 'var was created, and order to proceed at once 
 with the fonnation of a standing army. A first lord of tha 
 treasury was named, and commanded to get up a taxation 
 scheme^ and also open negotiations for treaties, offensiTe^ 
 defensiye, and oommerdal, with foreign powers. Some 
 generals and admirals were appointed ; also soiae chamber- 
 lains, some equerries in waiting, and some lords of the bed* 
 chamber. 
 
 At this point jJl the material was used up. The Grand 
 DukA of Galilee, minister of war, complained that all the 
 sixteen grown men in the empire had been given great 
 offices, and cousequMiily would not consent to serve in the 
 ranks; wherefore his standing army was at a standstilL 
 The Biai^uis of Ararat, minister of the navy, made a similar 
 complaint. He said he was willing to steer the whale-boat 
 himself, but he mtMt have somebody to man her. 
 
 The emperor did the best he could in the cinjumstanoet; 
 he took ail the boys above the age of ten years away from 
 tiieir mothers, and pressed them into the aimy, thus con* 
 structing a corps of seventeen privates, officered by one 
 lieutenant-general and two m^jor-g^nerals. This pleased 
 tftA minister of war, but procured the enmity of all the 
 mothers in the land ; for they said their predous ones muft 
 DOW find bloody grares 5n the fields of trar, and he would \m 
 •OBwenihle for fL Sorite of the more heart-broken and 
 
k*- 
 
 188 TMB GlfJUT MBVOZUTION XN PITCAISlf. 
 
 inappetMble among thflm by oonsUaily in wait for the 
 •mparor and threw yama at him, unmindfol of tha body- 
 guard. 
 
 On account of the extreme ioarcity of material, it wai 
 found neoeisary to require the Duke of Bethany, pott- 
 mastergeneral, to pull etrokoKNtf in the navy, and thus idt 
 In the rear of a noble of lower degree, name^, Viscount 
 Oanaan, lord-justice of the oommon-pleaa. This turned the 
 Duke of Bethsay into a tolerably open malcontent and a 
 ■eoret conspirator—* thing which the emperor foresaw, but 
 oould not help. 
 
 Things went from bad to worse. The emperor raised 
 Nancy Peters to the peerage on one day, and married her 
 the next, notwithstanding, for reesons of state, the cabinet 
 had strenuously advised him to marry Emmeliney eldest 
 daughter of the Archbishop of Bethlehem. This caused 
 trouble in a powerful quarter — ^the church. The new 
 empress secured the support and friendship of two-thirds of 
 the thirty-six grown women in the nation by absorbing 
 them into her courts as iiaids of honour ; but this made 
 deadly enemies of the remaining twelve. The fSunilies ol 
 the mui^ of honour soon began to rebel, because then was 
 now nobody at home to keep house. The twelve snubbed 
 women refused to enter the imperial kitchen as'servants; 
 ao the empress had to require the Oounteps of Jericho and 
 other great court dames to fetch water, sweep the palace^ 
 and perform other menial and equally diaitaateful servioes. 
 This made bad blood in that department. 
 
 Bveiybody fell to complaining that the taxes levied for 
 the suiqfKxrt of the army, the navy, and the rest of the 
 
ur. 
 
 TMM anSAT MXrOLUTION XN PITCAIBNr 181 
 
 for tht 
 • bodj- 
 
 7* P<**- 
 thufl di 
 
 riscouni 
 
 ned the 
 
 t and a 
 
 law, but 
 
 tr laifled 
 ried her 
 cabinet 
 i, eldest 
 I caused 
 he new 
 liirds of 
 beorblng 
 is made 
 nilies of 
 ere was 
 Bnabbe:^ 
 nryante; 
 eho and 
 » palace, 
 aorvioee. 
 
 Yied tot 
 of the 
 
 Imperial eatabUihrnent were intdUrablj burdioaome, and 
 were reducing the nation to beggaiy. The emperor^i reply 
 — ' Look at Qermanj; look at Italy. Are you better than 
 theyt and haTen*t jou unification t'— did not satisfy 
 them. Thej said, ' People can't ^tU unification, and we aiv 
 starving. Agriculture has oeased. Everybody is in the 
 army, everybody is in the navy, everybody is in the 
 public service, standing around in a uniform, with nothing 
 whatever to do, nothing to ei^t, and nobody to till the 
 
 fields—' 
 
 < Look at Qermany ; look at Italy. It is the same thera 
 
 Budh is unification, and there's no other way to get it — 
 
 1 no other way to keep it after you've got it,' said the pooi 
 
 emperor always. 
 
 But the grumblers onlv replied, 'We can't stofid the 
 taxes — ^we can't Hand them ' 
 
 Now right on top of tb ' 3 cabinet reported a national 
 ctobt amounting to upwards wi forty-five dollars— -half a 
 dollar to every individual in the nation. And they proposod 
 to fund something. They had heard that this was always 
 done in such emergencies. They proposed duties on exports; 
 also on imports. And they wanted to issue bonds; also 
 paper money, redeemable in yams and cabbagee in fifty 
 years. They said the pay of the army and of the navy and 
 of the whole governmental machine was &r in airean, and 
 unless something was done^ and done immediately, national 
 bankruptcy must ensue, and possibly insurrection and' revo- 
 lution. The emperor at once resolved upon a high-handed 
 measure, and one of a nature never belbre heard of in Fit- 
 eaim's Island. He went in state to the ohurdh on Sunday 
 
 *• li 
 
 
IQO TMOt QJtMAT MMFOLUTION IN PITOAIMN. 
 
 BORi^, with tilt •rmj at hii Imch, tad oomniMxded tht 
 loiniftar (^tha treafury to t«ke ap ft oollaotioiu 
 
 That WM tlie feather that broke th« oamers taek. Fint 
 one dtixen, aad than another, roee and refUeed to inbmit to 
 thia unheard^ outrage — and each refusal wai followed bj 
 the immediate oonfieeation of the malcontent*a property.' 
 /Hiifl rigour ioon stopped the refusals, and the ooUeotion 
 prooeoded amid a sullen and ominous silence. As the 
 emperor withdrew with the troops, be said, ' I will teach 
 you who is master here.' Seyeral persons shouted, * Down 
 with unification.' They were at once arrested and torn (turn 
 the arms of thev weeping friends by the soldiery. 
 
 But in the meantime, as any prophet might hare forsh' 
 seen, a Social Democrat had been developed. As the 
 emperor stepped into the gilded imperial wheelbarrow at 
 the church door, the social democrat stabbed at him fifteen . 
 or sixteen times with a harpoon, but fortunately with such 
 a peculiarly social demomtio unpredsion of sim us to do no 
 damage. 
 
 That very night the oonvulsion came. The nation rose 
 as one man — ^though forty-nine of the revolutionists were of 
 the other sex. The in£emtry threw down their pitchforks | 
 tho artillery cast aside their cocoarnuts ; the navy revolted ; 
 the emperor was seised, and bound hand and loot in his 
 palace. He was very much depressed. He said — 
 
 * I fi:eed you from a grinding tyrayny ; I lifted you up 
 out of your degradation, and made you a nation among 
 nations ; I gave you a stro^, compact, centralised govern- 
 ment; and, more ^han all, I gave you the blessing of blest* 
 ings— unificatioit. I have done all thi^; and my reward Is 
 
tlf. 
 
 led tht 
 
 > Fifit 
 
 bmitto 
 ired bj 
 typertj.' 
 tlleotioti 
 Ai the 
 U teaoh 
 'Down 
 imfiNMii 
 
 Te fowH." 
 As the 
 
 jitnr el 
 1 fifteen 
 ith Buob 
 to do no 
 
 ion rose 
 were of 
 Morlrs ; 
 BYolted ; 
 fe in hii 
 
 yon up 
 among 
 govern- 
 >f bleflih 
 iward k 
 
 MM OBMAT EMVOLVTION IN PtTOAJBN, 101 
 
 hatred, fatfolt, and theee bonda. Take mej do with me m 
 ye will. I here redgn mj orown and all my dignitiee, and 
 gladly do I leleaacf myielf from their too heayy burden. For 
 yonr take I took them up ; for your lake I Uy them down. 
 The imperial jewel ie no more ; now braiae and defile aa ye 
 will the uaeleea letting.' 
 
 By a unanimous roioe the people oondemned the ex- 
 emperor and the social democrat to perpetual banishment 
 from ehuroh servioes, or to perpetual labour as galley-slaves 
 in the whale-boat — whioherer they might prefer. The next 
 day the nation aasembled again, and rehoisted the British 
 flag, reinetated the British tyranny, rednoed the nobility to 
 the condition of commoners again, and then straightway 
 turned their diligent attention to the weeding of the mined 
 and neglected ysm patches, and the rehabilitation of the 
 old useful industries and the old healing and solacing 
 pieties. The ez-emperor restored the lost trespass law, and 
 explained that he had stolen it — ^not to ii^nre any one, but 
 to fbrther his political projects. Therefore the nation gave 
 the late chief magistrate Jbis office again, and also his alienated 
 property. 
 
 Upon rejSection, the ex-emperor and the social democrat 
 chose perpetual banishment from rdigious services, in pio 
 lerence to perpetual labour as gaUey-slaves ' wi$h perpetual 
 nUgious services,' as they phrased it; wherefore the people 
 believed that the poor fellows' troubles had unseated their 
 reason, and so they judged it best to confine them for the 
 piresent. Which they did. 
 
 Bach ia tlie history of Fitoaim's 'doubtful aequuitioiL' 
 
 \ 
 
 m 
 
y 
 
 MRS. McWILLIAMS AND THE 
 LIGHTNING. 
 
 Well, Gir-~Gontinaed Mr. McWOliamSi for this was not the 
 beginning of his talk—the fear of %htmng iB one of th«. 
 most distreBfidng infirmitieB a human being can be afflicted 
 with. It is mostly confined to women; but now and then 
 you find it in a little dog, and aometimea in a man. It is a 
 particularly distreflsing infirmity, for the reason that ii (okea 
 the sand out of a person to an extent which no other fear 
 ean, and it can't be rMjomtd with, and neither can it be 
 shamed out of a person. A woman who could face the very 
 devil himself— or a mouse—loses her grip and goes all to 
 pieces in front of a flash of lightning. Her fright is some* 
 thing pitiful to see. 
 
 Well, as I was telling yon, I woke up, with that 
 smothered and unlocatable cry of ' Mortimer 1 Mortimer ! ' 
 wailing in my ears; and as soon as I could scrape my 
 Acuities together I reached over in the dark, and then 
 said— 
 
 < Evangeline, is that you calling t What is the matter I 
 Where are you r 
 
 * Shut up in the boot-closet. Ton ought to be ashamed 
 (o lie there and sleep so, and iooh an awfiil storm goinf 
 
MB8. MoWTLUAMa AND TWS LIOJBTiajm. IM 
 
 Why, how am one be aeh*med wbec h^ it aiSeep t It 
 
 le ashamed nhum he is adeep^ 
 
 is unreaaonaUe: a man ean*\ 
 
 > 
 
 ETangeline.' 
 
 'You never try, MortSmer — jaa know rery well foa 
 Barer try.' 
 
 I caught the sound of muffled soba. 
 
 That sound smote dead the sharp speech that was on my 
 HpSi and I changed it to-^ 
 
 *rm sorry, dear — I'm truly sony. I never meant to 
 act so. Oome hack and— ' 
 
 'MOBTIMEBt' ' 'tPKflHI^ 
 
 * Heavens 1 what is the miatter, my lovet' 
 
 * Do you mean to say you are in that bed yet t ' 
 *Why; of course.' 
 
 < Come out of at instantly. I should think you would 
 take some Utile care of your life, liar n^ sake and the ehil- 
 drea's, if you will not tot your own.' 
 
 « But my love ' 
 
 * Don't talk to me, Mortimer. Tofu know there is no 
 place so dangerous as a bed, in such m thunderstorm as this 
 — all the books say that; yet there yon would lie, and de- 
 liberately throw away your life—for goodness knows what 
 unless for the sake of ai^^uing and arguing, and * 
 
 * But, confomid it^ Evangeline^ I'm 9io< in the bed, now, 
 
 rm— ' 
 
 [Sentence interrupted by a sudden glare of lightning, 
 followed by a terrified little scream horn Mrs. MoWilliams 
 and a tremendous Mast of thunder.] 
 
 ' There I You see the result Oh, Mortimer, how 
 ywi be so profligaie as to swear at such a time asthiat' 
 
M sots. McWXLLIAMB AHO) TMS ZIGMTNIWG. 
 
 <I didik'i fwcftr. And that wam't a result of tt^anj 
 Wij. It would hATe jome. juBt the eame, if I hadn't said a 
 word; and yon know very well, Evangeline — at least yon 
 onght to know — ^that when the atmosphire is bhaiged with 
 •leotrioily * ' '■ , r ' 
 
 * Oh yes, now argue it, and aigoe it^ and argue it t — ^I 
 don't see how you can act so, when you know there is not a 
 lightning-rod on the place, and your poor wife and children 
 are absolutely at the meroy of FlK>Tid6noe. What are you 
 doing f — flighting a match at such a time as this 1 Are yon 
 ftarkmadf 
 
 * Hang it, woman, where's the harm t The place is. as 
 dark as the inside of an infidel, and * 
 
 * Put it out 1 put it out instantly ! Are you deteniuned 
 to sacrifice us alii Tou hfium there is nothing attracts 
 lightning like a light. \Fzt I — wmK I boom — bdoam-hoom' 
 hoomf] Oh, just hear it I Now you see what you've 
 donel' 
 
 ' Ko, I don*i see what Tve done. A match may attract 
 lightning, for all I know, but it don't ectute lightning — ^111 
 go odds on that. And it didn't attract it worth a cent this 
 time; for if that shot was levelled at my match, it was 
 Messed poor markmanship — about an average of none out 
 of a possible million, I should say.. Why, at Dollymount^ 
 Msh marksmanship as that—' 
 
 * For shame, Mortimer 1 Here we are standing right ia 
 the very presence of death, and yeC in so solemn a moment yoc 
 are capabb of using such language as that. If you have me 
 
 desire ^} — 
 <WeUf 
 
 Mortimer I' 
 
h 
 
 MBA McWILlIAMS AND TMB LIOHTmNG. IN 
 
 •ay 
 id a 
 
 you 
 witk 
 
 fe!-I 
 not a 
 ildien 
 •tfyou 
 e yoH 
 
 \ it. at 
 
 •minod 
 ttraoUi 
 
 you've 
 
 attraol 
 
 g-ra 
 
 mtthia 
 it was 
 ae out 
 lounti 
 
 * i)id jou say your prayers to-night t * 
 
 < I — ^I — ^meant to, but I got to fxjiag to cipher out how 
 much twelve times thirteen is, and ' 
 
 [Fzif — boom-herroom4H>om / 5umM!Mffiii20 (oti^-SMAaR !] 
 
 'Oh, we axe lost, beyond all helpl ^ow cofM jom 
 Mglect snoh a thing at such a time as this t ' 
 
 'But it foatnH "such a time as this." There wasn't a 
 cloud in the sky. How could / know there was going to be 
 all this rumpus and pow-wow about a little slip like thatt 
 And I don't think it's just fair for you to make so much out 
 of it, anyway, seeing it happens so seldom; I haven't 
 missed before since I brought on that earthquake^four yean 
 ago.' 
 
 ' MoBTiMEB I How you talk t Have you forgotten the 
 yellow fevert' . 
 
 ' My dear, you are always throwing up the yellow Saver 
 to me, and I think it is perfectly unreasonable. You can't 
 even send a telegn^hic message as far as Memphis without 
 relays, so how is a little devotional slip of mine going to can}^ 
 Bo&rt m «ton(2 the earthquake, because it was in the neigh- 
 bourhood ; but 111 be hanged if I'm going to be responsible 
 for every blamed—' ^ 
 
 [Fet t — ^BOOM 6eroofifr-boom t boom t — ^B AKQ Q 
 
 ' Oh, dear, dear, dear I I hnoto it struck something, Mor* 
 timer. We never shall see the light of another day ; and if 
 it will do you any good to remember, when we are gone, that 
 your dreadful language— i/br^MTMr/* 
 
 •Well! Whatnowl' 
 
 '.Tour vdoe sounds as if-^-— Mortimer, are youactuaily 
 standing in fix)nt of that open fireplace t ' 
 
■f'-: 
 
 f Mfl' 
 
 Its MM> M0WXZZZ4MS AND TOB lI0aTNJar9. 
 
 'That k tlie y€K7 oriine I Am oommittiiig/ 
 ' Get away from it, this moment Yov do leem date* 
 mined to bring deetraotion on ns all. Don't yon know that 
 there ii no bettor oondnotor for lightning than an open 
 diimney 1 Now where bare you got to 9 ' 
 ' Tm here by the window.' 
 
 * Oh, for pity's lake, have you lost your mind t Clear out 
 firom there^ this moment. The yery children in arms know 
 it ia fatal to stand near a window in a thunderstorm. Dear, 
 dear, I know I shall never see the light of another day. 
 MoHimer t ' 
 
 <Yesl' 
 
 < What is that rustling !• * , 
 
 'It's me.' 
 
 ' What are you doingt ' 
 
 * Trying to find the upper end of my pantaloons.* 
 'Quick ! throw those things away I 1 do believe yon 
 
 would deliberately put on those clothes at nmch a time as 
 this; yet you know perfectly well that all authorities agree 
 that woollen stuffii attract lightning. Oh, dear, dear, it isn't 
 sufficient that one's life must be in peril from natural causes, 
 but you must do everything you can possibly think of to 
 augment the danger. (Hi, don*t sing ! What can yon be 
 thinking oft' 
 
 'Kow Where's the harm in itt ' 
 
 'Mortimer, if I have told you once, I have told yon a 
 hundred times, that singing causes vibrations in the atmo- 
 sphere which interrupt the flow of the electric fluid, and— » 
 What on minh are you opening that door fori' 
 
 'Goodness graoba^ wtMsan, Is IhcM any harm ia <Aiil f' 
 
?. 
 
 MM6, McWILLZAMS AND TMM LIGSTSINO. lOT 
 
 that 
 open 
 
 irout 
 
 know 
 
 Dear, 
 
 day. 
 
 toe 
 
 yon 
 
 agree 
 isn't 
 
 aiises, 
 of to 
 
 oa be 
 
 jroa a 
 ai«u>- 
 
 haif* 
 
 *Smrm/ There'a <i0o<ft m it Anybody that haa ghm 
 Uiia anljeet any aCtentioa knows thai to oreate a dranglii is 
 to invite tbe li^tning. Ton haven^t balf shut it; shut it 
 lf0FA^-«nd do hiiny, or we are all destroyed. Oh, it is aa 
 awfol thing to be shot up with a lunatic at snoh a time as 
 this. Mortimer, what are yon doing 1 ' 
 
 'Nothing. Just turning on the water. Uiia room is 
 smothering hot and dose. I want to bathe my fiioe and 
 htm df t 
 
 < Ton have oertainly parted with the remnant of your 
 mind I Where lightning strikes any (^her subetance onoe^ 
 it strikes water fiffy times. Do torn it ofL ' Oh, dear, I aa 
 tore that nothing in this world oan ssto vol It does seem 
 to me that Mortimer, what was that t ' 
 
 * It was a d a it was a picture. Ejiocked it 
 
 down;* 
 
 ' Then you are dose to the wall 1 I nerer heardof sudi 
 imprudence t Don't you know that there 's no better ooop 
 duqjbor for lightning than a wallt Ck>me away from there 1 
 And you oame as near as anything to swearing, too. Oh. 
 how oan yon be so desperatdy wicked, and your family in 
 sndi perilt Mortimer, did you order a feather bed, as I 
 asked you to dot' 
 
 «No. Forgot it' 
 
 'Forgot it 1 It may cost you your life. If you had f 
 featner bed, now, and oould spread it in the middle of the 
 room and lie on it, you would be perfectly safe. Come in 
 |uiok, before you haye a ohancd to commit any 
 firantio indisoretioiis.' 
 tiied, but the little closet would not hold us both with 
 
106 Mna. MpWULIAMS ANP TBS IT&MTmjrO, 
 
 I '^-^ 
 
 tha door ihiit^ imleBi we oonld be oontent to ouoSliflr. I 
 guped awhile^ then forced my way out. My wHb oalled 
 ©at — 
 
 * MarHmBT, sometbing must be done for yrar preeevT»- 
 tion. Oive me tbat Qerman book that is on the md of the 
 mantel-pieoe, and a candle; but don't light it; give nue a 
 match ; I will light it in here. That book has some direo- 
 tionsinii' 
 
 I got the book — at cost of a vase and some other brittle 
 things ; and the madam shut henelf up with her candle. I 
 had a moment's peace ; then she called out— 
 
 ' Mcrdmery what was that f ' 
 
 ' Nothing but the cat/ 
 
 ' The cat 1 Oh, destruction ! Catch her, and shut her 
 up in the wash-stand. Do be quick, love ; cats are full of 
 eleotrioily. I just know my hair will turn white with this 
 night's awful perils.' 
 
 I heard the muffled sobbings again. But for that, I 
 should not bave moved band or foot in such a wild enter- 
 prise in the dark. 
 
 However, t went at my task— over chairs, and against 
 tSi sorts of obstructions, all of them haid ones, too, and most 
 of them with sharp edges — and at last I got kitty cooped up 
 in the commode, at an expense of over four hundred dollars 
 in broken furniture and shins. Then these muffled words 
 eame from the doset ^— 
 
 < It says the safest thing is to stand on a chair in the 
 middle of the room, Mortimw ; and the legs of the dbalr 
 must be insulated with non-conduetors. That is, you must 
 >f the ehair in glass tnmUera. [Fti f-^hooiifh^ 
 
 
MMa. MtWUsLlAMB Aim TMM ZIOSTNJNG, 100 
 
 imig /—-mnaih f] Oh, hear thatt Do hnrtj, Mortinwr, 
 before yon ere limek.' 
 
 I managed to find and aecore the tnmbleri. I got the 
 laat fonp— broke all the reat I inenlated the ohair legi^ 
 and called for further inatmotiona. 
 
 ' Mortimer, it aaya ** WUhrend eihee Cknritteni entfone 
 man MetaUe^ wie i. B., Binge, Uhren, SohliUnel, eto., von 
 aioh nnd halte eioh anch nioht an solohen SteUen aiif, wo 
 Tiele MetaDe bei einander liegen, oder mit andem Kttrpem 
 ▼erbunden sind, wie an Harden, Oefen, Biaengittem a. d^" 
 What does that meaii, Mortimer f Doea it mean that you 
 ■tiuit keep metala about yon, or keep them away from yont' 
 
 * Well, I hardly know. It appears to be a little mixed. 
 All Qerman advioe is more or less mixed. However, I thmV 
 that that sentence is mostly in the dative case, with a little 
 genitive and aoonsative sifted in, here and there^for lock ; so 
 I reckon it means that you must keep some metals dboui 
 you.' 
 
 '* Yes, that must be it. It stands to reason that it ia. 
 They are in the nature of lightning-rods, you know. Put on 
 your fireman's helmet, Mortimer ; that is mostly metaL' 
 
 I got it and put it en — a very heavy and clumsy and 
 micomfortable thing on a hot night in a doee room. Even 
 my night-dress seemed to be more clothing than I strictly 
 needed. 
 
 * Mortimer, I think your middle ought to be protect 
 Wont you buckle on your militia sabre, please 9 ' 
 
 I complied. 
 
 * Now, Mortimer, yon ought to have some way to proteel 
 yonrfosl Do please put on your q^un.' 
 
m XMSL mWUMSMS AND TMS ZIOMTmK&. 
 
 I did it— In aUano o ■ md kepi mj temp«r m wdl m | 
 coull. 
 
 'MdrtiDMr, it myu, «Das Qewitter Unten lit sehi^ ge- 
 fUirlioh, mSl die Giodke selbst^ aowie der dundi das LKuten 
 reranliuKte Luftzag und die WSb» dee Thurmes den Bliti 
 •iiiiehe& kdnnten." Mortimer, does tliat mean that it !■ 
 dftDgerom not to ring the ehorch belli daring a thande»>- 
 ■torml' 
 
 ' Tee, it soema io mean t^iat— -if that ia the past, participle 
 <>f the nomioatiTe c&ae singular, and X reckon it ia. Yea, I 
 think it meana that on account of the height of the churah 
 tower and the absence of Luftuswg it would be very dang^roui 
 {Hhir ge/ahrU^) not to ring the bells in time ^ a atom ; 
 
 and moreover, don't you see, the very wordinf^ ' 
 
 . 'Never mind that, Mortimer; don't wa^^te thepredoua 
 time in talk. Get the large dinner-bell; it is righi theie 
 in the hall. Quick, Mortimer dear; we are almost safe. 
 Oh dear, I do believe we are going to be saved at 
 lastr 
 
 Our little summer establishment stands on top of a high 
 ran^,^ of hilla, overlooking a valley. Several fiirm-houaea 
 are in our neighbourhood— the nearest aome three or four 
 hundred yards away. 
 
 When I, mounted on the chair, had been danging that 
 dreadfhl bell a matter of seven or eight minutes, our shutters 
 were suddenly torn Oj^an from without, and a brilliant bull's 
 tye lantern was thrust in at the window, followed by a 
 hoarse inquiry' :—. 
 
 ' What in the natalon la the matter here! ' 
 
 Tha window was full of men's heads, and the heads mn 
 
MOUI. McWIlLIAMB AND tSS LIQJBTNUIfQ. fOi 
 
 I 
 
 Ml olf eyes that ftazed wildly «t my night-dr«Mi aad my 
 warliJke toooaticmenta. 
 
 I dropped the bell^ skipped down from the ohair in oon- 
 fadxok, and eaidl — 
 
 ' There is nothing the matter, friends— only a litUe dit- 
 eomfort on aooonnt of the thnnder-fltorm, I was trying to 
 keep off the lightning/ 
 
 'Thnn er-9tonnt lightning! Why, Mr. McWilliami^ 
 haTO yon lost yoor mind 1 It is a heaatifrd starlight night ; 
 there has been no storm.' 
 
 I looked out| and I was io astonished I oould hardly 
 qpeak for a while. Then I said : — 
 
 * I do not nndentand this. We distinctly saw the glow 
 of the flashes through the curtains and shatters^ and heard 
 the thunder.' 
 
 One alter another of those people lay down on the ground 
 to laugh— and two of them died. One of the suniTom 
 remarked :— 
 
 y Pity you didn't think to open your blinds and look 
 orer to the top of the high hill yonder. What you heard 
 was cannon; what you saw was the flash. You see, the 
 telegraph brought some news, just at midnight: Garfield's 
 nominated — and that^s what's the matter 1 ' 
 
 Tes, Mr. Twain, as I was saying in the beginning (said 
 Mr. LXoWilliams), the rules for preeenring people against 
 lightning are so excellent and so innumerable that the most 
 Inecnnpi^diensible thing in the world to me-is how anybody 
 •reir manages to get struck. 
 
 So saying; he gathered up his satchel and umbraUa, and 
 ieparted; £ar the tnin had reached his town. 
 
^ 
 
 "€ 
 
 ON THE DECAY OF THE ART OP 
 
 LYING. 
 
 BaBAT, fOB DISOUBUOR, BHAD AT A MBBTIHO OF THB ^ISTOBIOAL 
 AHD ARTIQUABIAil OLUB OV HABTVOBD, AND OFFBBBD VOB THB 
 THIBTT-DOLLAB PBZKB. NOW 11B8T«^UBUBHBD.* 
 
 Obbbbyb, I do not mean to suggest that the euitom of lying 
 has suffered any deoay or interraption — ^no, for the lie, aa a 
 Yirtae, a Principle, is eternal; the lie, as a recreation, a 
 solace, a refuge in time of need, the fourth Grace, the tenth 
 Muse, man's best and surest friend, is immortal, and cannot 
 perish from the earth while this Club remains. My com- 
 plaint simply concerns the deoay of the ar< of lying. No 
 high-minded man, no man of right feeling, can contemplate 
 the lumbering and slovenly lying of the present day without 
 grieying to see a noble art so prostituted. In this Teteran 
 presence I naturally enter upon, this theme with diffidence; 
 it is like an old maid trying to teach nursery matters to the 
 mothers in IsraeL It would not become me to criticise you, 
 gentlemen, who are nearly all my elders — and my superiors, 
 iiiSihis thing — and so, if I should here and there §etm to do 
 H^ I trust it will in most cases be more in a spirit of admiia- 
 
 > Did not take the piiai^ 
 
J>B€AT or TSB AMT OF LYING. 
 
 Uqb than of iknli-ilncliikg; bdeed If thii finM^ of tlii ftM 
 •rti bad e yt rj fw h w reoalTed tlM attention, tno cmr aga m mt^ 
 Mid oonaoiantioiia praotioe and derdtypment wbibh thk Oliib 
 htm doTotod to it, I ahoold Dot need to utter this lament, or 
 iihed a dbglo tear. I do not ea j thia to flatter : laayitina 
 ■iniit of jaft and appreoiatiTe recognition. [It had been mj 
 Intention, at thii point, to mention namee and give iUnstn^ 
 tiye apecimena, bat indioationa obeerraUe ftboat me admo- 
 niahed me to beware of partionlan and oonilne myeelf to 
 genentlitiea.] 
 
 Ko £Mst la more flnnly eetaUiahed than that lying ia a 
 neoearily of our ciroumatanoea — ^the deduction that it ia then 
 a Virtue goes without aaying. Ko virtue can reach ita 
 higfaeat uaeAilneee without careftil and diligent oultlTation—' 
 therctoe^ it goea without saying, that this one ought to be 
 taught in the public sohodls— at the fireside— «Ten in the 
 newspapers. What chance has the ignorant, unoultiTated 
 liar against the educated ezpertt What chance have I 
 against Mr. Per—* against a lawyer. Judieiotti lying is what , 
 the world needs. I som^|iimes think it were even better and 
 safer not to lie at all than to lie iigudidouflly. An awkward, 
 unscientific lie ia often as ineflfeotnal as the truth. 
 
 Kow let us see what the philoeophers say. Note that 
 venerable proTerb: Oh5}dren and fools ahoay$ speak the 
 truth. The deduction Is plain — adults and wise persons 
 mever speak it. Parkman, the historian, says, ' The prindplo 
 of truth may itself be carried into an abeurdity.' In an- 
 other place in the same chapter he says, * The saying is old, 
 that truth should not be qpoken at all times; and those 
 whom a sick consoienoe worries into habitual violati^ of th« 
 
10* 
 
 BECAY OF TMM AMT 09 tYIMQ. 
 
 maxim are imbeoilM and nqlaanoea.* It if abrong laogiiafa^ 
 Imt tnw. None of va oonld Unt with an habitual trntb- 
 tellar; hot thank goodneM none of ua haa lo. Am habitual 
 trath-tellar ia limply an impoaaibla oreatoro; ha doaa not 
 cijat ; he never haa eziatad. Of oonne there are people who 
 ikink they never lie, bat it ia not ao—^md thia ignoranoe la 
 one of the very things that shame our ao-oalled oiviliaation* 
 Eyerybody lies — every day; every hour; awake ; asleep; in 
 his dreams; in his Joy; in his moamii<g; if he keeps his 
 tongoe still, his hands, his feet, his ey^ his attitude, will 
 eonvey deception — and purposely. Even in sermons — ^bol 
 that ia a platitude. 
 
 In a far country where I onoe lived the ladies used to go 
 around paying calls, under the humane and kindly pretenoe 
 of wanting to see each other ; and when they returned homs^ 
 they would cry out with a glad voice, saying, ' We made six- 
 teen calls aod^found fourteen t^ them out'— not meaning 
 that they found out anythingngainst the fourteen — no, that 
 ^waa only a colloquial phrase to signify that they were not at 
 hom»— and their manner of saying^it expressed their lively 
 satisfaction in that fact. Now their pretence of wanting to 
 see the fourteen — and the other two whom they had been 
 less lucky with— was that commonest and mildest ferm of 
 lying which is sufficiently described aa a deflection from the 
 truth. Is it justifiable t Most certainly. It is beautiful^ 
 it is noble ; for its object is, nof to reap profit, but to oonvey 
 a pleasure to the sixteen. Hie iron^souled truth-monger 
 would plainly manifest, or even utter the fact that he didn't 
 want to see those people— and be would be an ass, and infliat 
 a totally unnecessary pain. And next, those ladioi in thai 
 
nBCAT or TMM AMT OF LYUTO. 
 
 iff oonntry — but nsmr mind, tliej luid * thooMiid pleMuil 
 w»7i of Ijingf thftt grew out of gentk impulMi, and w«ra % 
 oreditto t&«irintelligenoeMidanhoDoartotlieirbiMrte. Ltt 
 tho {MurtioulAni go. 
 
 Hie men in that fluroomitrj were HuiyOTwy one. Their 
 nme howdy-do wae % lie, beoaoae ikty didn't OAre how 700 
 did, ezoept Ihey wer^ nnderteken. To the ordinary inquirer 
 yon lied in retnm ; for yon made no ooneoientioiui diagnoais 
 of your oaae, but answered at random, and usually missed it 
 ooniiderahly. Ton lied to the undertaker, and said your- 
 health was failing— a wholly commendable lie, sinoe it cost 
 yon nothing and pleased the other man. If a stranger 
 called and interrupted you, yon said with your hearty tongue, 
 ' Fm glad to see yoo,' and said with your heartier soul, * I 
 wish you were with the cannibals and it was dinner-time.' 
 When he went, you said regretfully, *M%iU you got" and 
 followed it with a ' Call agidn :' but you did no harm, for 
 yon did not deceive anybody nor inflict any hurt, whereas 
 the truth would have made you both unhappy. 
 
 I think that all this courteous lying is a sweet and loving 
 art, and should be oultivat(>d. The highest perfection of 
 politeness is only a beautiful edifice, built^ from the base to 
 the dome^ of gracef%il and gilded forms of charitable and 
 nnseififih lying. 
 
 What I bemoan is the growing prevalence of the brutal 
 imth. Let us do what we can to eradicate it. An iigurious 
 truth has no merit over an ii\jnrious lie. '^Neither should 
 ever be uttered. The man who speaks an ii\jurious truth 
 lest his soul be not saved if he do otherwise, should reflect 
 that that sort cf a soul is not strictly worth saving. The 
 
 
■> ■ ■■'■ 
 
 SOB 
 
 1>SCAT OMT TEJB AMT OF LYnTB. 
 
 man who tells a lie to help a poor devil out of troaUe li 
 one of whom the an^pde doubUeas say, ' Lo, here le an heroie 
 •onl who casta his own welfare into jeopardy to Bucoonr his 
 neighbour'a; let us exalt this magnanimous liar/ 
 
 An ii\juiioiis lie is an nncommendable thing; and so, 
 also, and in the same degree, is an injurious truth — a. fieust 
 which is recognised by the*Jaw of libeL 
 
 Among other common lies, we have the tOrnt lie — the 
 deception which one conveys by simply keeping stpl 'and 
 eoncealing the truth. Many obstinate truth-mongers indulge 
 in this dissipation, imagining that if they tptak no lie, they 
 lie not at alL In that fxt country where I once lived, there 
 was a lovely Spirit, a lady whose impulses were always high 
 and pure, and whose character answered to them. One day 
 I was there at dinner, and remarked, in a general way, that 
 we are all liars. She was amazed, and said, * Not aU9* It 
 was before Pinafore's time, so I did not make the response 
 which would naturally follow in our day, but frankly said, 
 ' Yes, att — ^we are all liars ; there are no exceptions.' She 
 looked almost offended, and said, ' Why, do yon include me f * 
 * Certainly,' I said, ' I think you even rank as an expert.' 
 She saidy 'Sh — sh! the children I' So the subject was 
 /changed in deference to the children's i»reeence, and we. 
 went on talking about other things. But as soon as the 
 young people were out of the way, the lady came warmly 
 back to the matter and said, ' I have made it the mle of my 
 life to never tell a lie ; and I have never departed from it in 
 a single instance.' I said, ' I don't mean the least harm ot 
 disrespeot, but really you have been lying like smoke ever 
 since I've been sitting here. It has caused me a good deal 
 
 A 
 
 \ 
 
BBOAT OF THE ART OF LTTNQ, 
 
 m 
 
 ef i»2b, beoanae I un not nsed to it.' She required of ms 
 fttt iDatanoo— jut a angle instanoe. So I eaid — 
 
 < Weill here is the unfilled duplicate of the blank which 
 the Oaklcnd hosjatal people sent to you by the hand of the 
 nflk-nurae when she oame here to nune your little nephew 
 through his dangerous illness. This blank asks all manner 
 of questions as to the conduct of that sick-nurse : " Did she 
 ever sleep on her watch 1 Did she ever forget to giye the 
 medidne 9 " and so forth and so on. Tou are warned to be 
 Tory carefiil and explicit in your answers, for the weUSeure of 
 the service requires that the nurses be promptly fined or. 
 •therwise punished for derelictions. You told me you were 
 perfectly delighted with that nurse — that she had a thousand 
 perfections and only one &ult : you found you neysr could 
 depend on her wrapping Johnny up half sufficiently while 
 he waited in a chilly chair for her to rearrange the warm 
 bed. You filled up the duplicate of this paper, and sent it 
 back to the hospital by the hand of the nurse. How did 
 you answer this questibn — ''Was the nurse at any time 
 guilty of a negligence which was likely to result in the 
 patient's taking cold t " Ck>me — everything is decided by a 
 bet here in California: ten dollars to ten cents you lied 
 when you answered that question.' She said, 'I didn't; 
 I^ftU hkmk!* 'Just so — ^you have told a iilevU lie; you 
 have left it to be inferred that you had no fault to find in 
 that matter.' She said, 'Oh, was that » liet And how 
 001^ I mention her one Fdngle fault, and she so good \-^ 
 it would have been cruel.' I said, ' One ought always to lie 
 when one can do good by it ; your impulse was right, but 
 your judgment was crude; this comes of unintelligent 
 
DMCAT OF TEE ART OF LYING. 
 
 of yonn. Tou know Mr. Jones's Willie is lying -very low 
 with scarlet fever; well, your reoommendation was so en- 
 ihiisiastio that that girl is there nnndng him, and the 
 worn-out fiunily hare all been trustingly sound asleep for 
 the last fourteen hours, leaving their darling with ful 
 eonfidenoe in those fiital hands, because you, like young 
 George Washington, have a reputa — However, Jf you 
 are not going to have anything to do, I will come around 
 to-morrow, and well attend the funeral together, for of course 
 youll naturally feel a peculiar interest in Willie's case — 
 as personal a one, in &ct, as the undertaker.' 
 
 But that 'was all lost. Before I was half-way throu^ 
 she was in a carriage and making thirty miles an hour 
 toward the Jones mansion to save what waa left of WUlie 
 and tell all she knew about the deadly nurse, all of whieh 
 was unnecessary, as Willie waod't sick; I had been lying 
 myself. But that same day, all the same, she sent a line ta 
 the hospital which filled up the neglected blank, and stated 
 the/oefo, too, in the squarest possible manner. 
 
 Now, you see, this lady's fault was not in lying, but only 
 in lying injudiciously. She should have told the iiruth, then^ 
 and made it up to the nurse with a fraudulent compliment 
 further along in the paper. She could have said, < In one 
 respect this sick-nurse is perfection— when she is on watch 
 ■he never snores.' Almost any little pleasant lie would have 
 taken the sting out of that troublesome but necessary ex- 
 pression of the truth. 
 
 Lying is universal— we off do it j we all mutt do it 
 Therefore, the wise thing is for us dUigently to train our 
 
DECAY OF TMS ART OF LTINO. 
 
 it 
 wast' 
 
 •dyM to lie thoughtfully, judicioiialy; to lie with a good 
 object, and not an evil one; to lie for othera' advantagOi and 
 not our own; to lie healinglj, charitably, humanely, not 
 emelly, htirtfully, malic].ously ; to lie gracefully and gradoualy, 
 not awkwardly and dumsily ; to lie firmly, frankly, Bquarely, 
 with head erect, not haltingly, tortuously, with pucdllanimoos 
 mien, as being ashamed of our high calling. Then shall we 
 bo rid of the rank and pestilent truth that is rotting the 
 land; then shall we be great and good and beautifrd, and 
 worthy dwellers in a world where even benign Nature 
 habitually lies, except when she promises execrable weather. 
 Then — But I am but a new and feeble student in thii 
 gracious art; I cannot instruct <Am Club. 
 
 Joking aside, I think there is much need of wise examinar 
 tion into what sorts of lies are best and wholesomest to be 
 indulged, seeing we mua^ all lie and do all lie, and what sorts 
 it may be best to avoid —and this is a thing which I feel 
 I can confidently put into the hahds of this experienced Olah 
 ^— a ripe body, who may be termed, in this regard^ and without 
 undue flattery, Old Masters. 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 n 
 
 i i 
 
THE CANVASSERS TALB. 
 
 > 
 
 PooB, sad-eyed stranger I There was that aboat his humble 
 nden, his tired look, his deoayed-gentilitjolothes, that ahnost 
 reached the mustard-seed of charity that stUl remained, 
 remote and lonely, in the empty vastness of my heart, not- 
 withstanding I observed a portfolio under his arm, and said 
 to myself, Behold, Providence hath delivered his servant into 
 the hands of another canvasser. 
 
 Well, these people always get one interested. Before 
 I wall knew how it came about, this one "^as telling me his 
 history, and I was all attention and sympathy. He told it 
 something like this : — 
 
 My parents died, alas, when I was a little, sinless child. 
 My uncle Ithuriel took me ti) his heart and recued me as his 
 own. He was my only relative in the wide world ; but ho 
 was good and rich and generous. He reared me in the lap 
 of luxury. I knew no want that money could satisfy. 
 
 In the fulness of time I was graduated, and went with 
 two of my servants — my chamberlain and my valet — ^to 
 travel in foreign countries. During four years I flitted upon 
 careless wing amid the beauteous gardens of the distant 
 Itrandy if you will permit this form of speech in one whosi 
 
 ■H 
 
THB CANVASSmta TAia. 
 
 ill 
 
 ftlmo0fc 
 oained, 
 rt, notr 
 adBud 
 knt into 
 
 Before 
 mehlB 
 told it 
 
 child, 
 leas his 
 but he 
 the lap 
 
 ^nt with 
 
 let — ^to 
 
 upon 
 
 distant 
 
 whose 
 
 Umgae was eyer attuned to poesy ; and indeed I so speak 
 with confidence, as one unto his kind, for I peroei/e by your 
 eyes that yon too, sir, are gifted with the divine inflation. 
 In those fiur lands I revelled in the ambrosial food thai 
 finictifies the soul, the mind, the heart. But of all things, 
 that which most appealed to my inborn ftsthetic taste was 
 the prevailing custom there, among the rich, of making 
 collections of elegant and costly rarities, dainty ohjeta d§ . 
 vwittf and in an evil hour I tried to uplift my uncle Ithuriel 
 to a plane of sympathy with this exquisite employment 
 ^ I wrote and told him of one gentleman's va^t coF ion 
 of shells; another's noble collection of meerschaum pipes; 
 another's elevating and refining collection of undecipherable 
 autographs; another's priceless collection of old china; 
 another's enchanting collection of postage-Btomps — and so 
 forth and so on. Soon my letters yielded fruit. My uncle 
 began to look about for something to make a collection gL 
 You may know, perhaps, how fleetly a taste like this dilates. 
 His soon became a raging fever, though I knew it not. Ho 
 began to neglect his great pork business; presently ho 
 wholly retired, and turned an elegant leisure into a rabid 
 search for curious things. His wealth was vast, and he 
 spared it not. First he tried oow-bells. He made a colleo- 
 tion which filled five large sttlona, and comprehended all the 
 different sorts of cow-bells that ever had been contrived, 
 save one. That one — an antique, and the only specimen 
 extant — was possessed by another collector. My uncle 
 offered enormous sums for it, but the gentleman would not 
 selL Doubtless you know what necessarily resulted. A 
 true oollector attaches no value to a collection that is not 
 
 
 f ' 
 
lis 
 
 THE CaHVASSER'S TALB. 
 
 eomplete. His great heart brealn, he leUs his hottnt. hi 
 tnnis his mind to some field that seems unoooaplad. 
 
 Thus did my uncle. He next tried brickbats. After 
 piling up a vast and intensely interesting colleotlon the 
 former difficulty supervened ; his great heart broke again ; 
 he sold out his soul's idol to the retired brewer who pos- 
 sessed the missing brick. Then he tried flint hatchets and 
 other implements of Primeval Man, but by and by diih 
 ooTered that the fiictory where they were made was supply* 
 ' ing other collectors as well as himself. He tried Azteo 
 inscriptions and stuffed whales — another failure, after in- 
 credible labour and expense. When his collection seemed 
 at last perfect a stuffed ^hale arrived from Greenland and 
 an Aztec inscription from the Oundurango regions of Central 
 America that made all former specimens insigniflcant. My 
 uncle hastened to secure these noble goms. He got the 
 stuffed whale, but another collector got the inscription. A 
 real Cundurango, as possibly you know, is a possession of 
 such supreme value that, when once a collector gets it, he 
 will rather part with his fiunily than with it. So my 
 unde sold out, and saw his darlings go forth, never more to 
 return; and his coal-black hair turned white as snow in a 
 single night. 
 
 Now he waited, and thought. He knew another dis- 
 appointment might kill him. He was resolved that he 
 would choose things next time that no other man was col^ 
 lecting. He carefuUy mads up his mind, and once more 
 entered the field — this time to make a collection of echoes. 
 
 < Of what r said I. 
 
 Bohoes, «rl His first purchase was sn echo In 
 
TJis CANVAJSsmes talb. 
 
 lU 
 
 u 
 
 dis- 
 lat he 
 col- 
 more 
 
 iOQS. 
 
 to 
 
 Geri^ that repeated four times; his neit was a 
 iiz-repeater in ^ICaryland; his nazi was a thirteen- 
 repeater in Maine; his next was a nine-repeater in 
 Kansas; his next was a twelve-repeater in Tennessee, 
 which he got cheap, so to speak, because it was out 
 of rejNiir, a portion of the orag which reflected it haying 
 tumbled down. He believed he oould repair it at a cost of 
 \ few thousand dollars, and, by increasing the elevation with 
 • vasonxy, treble the repeating capacity; but the architect 
 who undertook the job^had never built an eoho before, and 
 so he utterly spoiled this one. Before he meddled with it 
 it used to talk back like a mother-in-law, but now it wom 
 only fit for the deaf and dumb asylum. Well, next he 
 bought a lot of cheap little double-barrelled echoes, scattered 
 around over various States and Territories; he got them at 
 twenty per cent, off by taking the lot. Next he bought a 
 perfect Qatling gun of an echo in Oregon, and it cost » 
 fortune, I can tell you. Tou may know, sir, that in the 
 echo market the scale of prices is cumulative, like the carat- 
 scale in diamonds; in fact, the same phraseology is used. 
 A single-carat echo is worth but ten dollars over and above 
 the value of the land it is on ; c two-carat or double-barrelled 
 echo is worth thirty dollars; a fivo-carat is worth nine 
 hundred and fifty ; a ten-carat is worth thirteen thousand. 
 My uncle's Oregon echo, which he called the Great Pitt 
 Echo, was a twenty-two carat gem, and cost two hundred 
 and sixteen thousand dollars — ^they threw the land in, for it 
 was four hundred miles from a settlement. 
 
 Well, in the meantime my path was a path of roses. I 
 was the accepted suitor of the only and lovely daughter of 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 1 : 
 
 .1 
 
 :-.Vt 
 
114 
 
 THE CANVMSSXS 7ALZ 
 
 Ml English earl, and was beloved to distraction. In thai 
 dear presence I swam in seas of bliss. The family wera 
 content, for it was kno^n that I was sole heir to an vnole 
 held to be worth five millions of dollars. Howeveri none of 
 ■a knew that my uncle bad become a collector, at least in 
 anything more than a small way, for ifisthetio amusement. 
 
 Now gathered the clouds above my unconscious head. 
 niat divine echo, since known throughout the wwld as tibi 
 Great Koh-i-noor, or Mountain of Repetitions^ was dis-- 
 •overed. It was a sixiy-five-carat gem. You could utter a 
 word and it would talk back at you for fifteen minuses, 
 when the day was otherwise quiet. But behold, another 
 §euBb came to light at the same time : another echo-collector 
 Was in the field. The two rushed to make the peerless puiv 
 ehase. The property consisted of a couple of small hills 
 with a shallow swale between, out yonder among the back 
 settlements of New York State. Both men arrived on the 
 ground at the same time, and neither knew the other was 
 there. The echo was not all owned by one man; a person 
 by the name of Williamson Bolivar Jarvis owned the east 
 hill, and a person by the name of Harbison J. Bledso owned 
 the west hill ; the swale between was the dividing line. So 
 while my undo was buying Jarvis's hill for three million 
 two hundred and eighty-five thousand dollars, the other 
 party was buying Bledso's hill for a shade over three 
 million. 
 
 . Now, do yon perceive the natural result t Why, the 
 noblest collection of echoes on earth was for ever and ever 
 incomplete, since it possessed but the one half of the king 
 echo of the universe. Neither man was content with this 
 
» m>0in«,j^a^nnt>i» ri mu:fm^' 
 
 Tss CANYAaassa taul 
 
 Hi 
 
 liTided ownerahipy yet neithw would sell to the othir. 
 There were jawings, bickeringi^ heart-bnmmge. And at 
 last that other colleotor, with a malignity which only a 
 eolleotor can ever feel toward a man and a brother, pro-^ 
 seeded to oat down his hill 1 
 
 ^ Yoa eee^ as long as he conld not have the echo, he was 
 leeoWed that nobody should have it. He would Iremove his 
 hill, and then there would be nothing to reflect my unde's 
 echo. My undo remonstrated with him, but the man said, 
 ' I own one end of this echo ; I choose to kill my end ; you 
 must take care of your own end yourself.' 
 
 Well, my uncle got an injunction put on him. Th« 
 other man appealed and fought it in a higher court They 
 carried it on up, dear to the Supreme Oourt of the United 
 States. It made no end of trouble there. Two of the 
 judges believed that an echo was personal property, because 
 it was impalpable to sight and touch, and yet was pur- 
 duyseable, saleable, and, consequently, taxable; two othen 
 believed that an echo was real estate, because it was mani* 
 festly attached to the land, and was not removable from 
 place to place; other of the judges contended that an echo 
 was not property at all. 
 
 It was finally decided that the echo wa;' property ; that 
 the hills were property ; that the two men were separate 
 and independent owners of the two hills, but tenants in 
 common in the edio ; therefore defendant was at foil liberty 
 to cut down his hill, since it belonged solely to him, but 
 must give bonds in three million dollars as indemnity for 
 damages which might result to my unde^s half of the edio. 
 This decision also debarred my unde from using defendamt'i 
 
 /' 
 
 j 
 
 \ 
 
 \ 
 
 V 
 
 I 
 
 !i - 
 
 I 
 
116 
 
 TSB CANVASaSXS TALR 
 
 hill to reflect his part of the echo without defendantfi oon- 
 ient ; he must nae only his own hill; if his put of the echo 
 would not go, under these oiroumstances, it was wad, of 
 ooursoi but the court could find no remedy. The court also 
 debarred defendant from using my unde's hill to reflect hi§ 
 end of the echo without consent. Tou see the grand result I 
 Keither man would give consent, and so that astonishing 
 and most noble echo had to cease from its great powers ; 
 and since that day that magnificent property is tied up and 
 VDsaleable. 
 
 A week before my ''jredding-day, while I was still swim> 
 ming in bliss and the nobility were gathering from far and 
 near to honour our espousals, came news of my uncle's death, 
 and also a copy of his will, making me his sole heir. He wat 
 gone ; aUs^ my dear beneAtctor was no more. The thought 
 surchargefi my heart even at this remote day. I han<!ed the 
 will to the Earl ; I could not read it for the blinding tears. 
 The Earl read it; then he sternly sold, 'Sir, do you a^U 
 this wealth t But doubtless you do in your inflated country, 
 Sir, you are left sole heir to a vast collection of echoes, if a 
 thing can be called a collection that is scattered fisr and wide 
 over the huge length and breadth of the American conti- 
 nent. Sir, this is not all ; you are head and ears in debt ; 
 there is not an echo in the lot but has a mortgage on it; 
 Sir, I am not a hard man, but I must look to my child's in- 
 terest. If you had but one echo which you could honestly 
 eall your own, if you had but one echo which was free from 
 mcumbrance, so that you could retire to it with my child^ 
 and by humble, painstaking industry, cultivate and improve 
 ft, and thus wrest from it a maintMianoe, I would not say 
 
 . : >'' ;H' <;. 
 
TMS CANVASSSXa TALK 
 
 til 
 
 pm nay ; bat I cannot many my child to a beggar. Leaya 
 his side, my darling. Qo, air; take your mortgage-ridden 
 echoes, and quit my eight for ever.' 
 
 My noble CelesUne dung to me in tean^ with loving 
 arms, and swore she would willingly, nay, gladij marry me, 
 though I had not an echo in the world. But it could not 
 be. Wo were torn asundeiv— she to pine and die within tha 
 twelyemonth — I to toil life's -dong journey sad and lone^ 
 praying daily, hourly, for that release which shall join tis to 
 gether again in that dear realm where the wicked ooase froB 
 troubling and the weary are at rest. Now, sir, if you will 
 be so kind as to look at these maps and plans in my port- 
 folio, I am sure I can sell you an echo for less money than 
 any man in the trade. Now this one, which cost my uncle 
 ten dollars thirty years ago, and is one of the sweetest things 
 in Texas, I will let you have for ' 
 
 *Let me interrupt you,' I said. 'My friend, I have 
 cot had a moment's respite from canvassers this day. I 
 have bought a sewing-machine which I did not want; I 
 have bought a map which is mistaken in all its details; 
 I have bought a dock which will not go ; I have bought a 
 moth poison which the moths prefer to any other beverage; 
 I have bought no end of useless inventions ; and now I have 
 had enough of 1jiis foolishness. I would not have one of your 
 echoes if you were even to give it to me. I would not let it 
 stay on the place. I always hate a man that tries to sell me 
 echoes. You seo this gun % Now take your collection and 
 move on ; let us not have bloodshed.' 
 
 But he only smiled a sad, sweet smile, and got out some 
 iQnore dl^^pnnis. You know the residt perfectly well, be< 
 
 i- 
 
Sll 
 
 Tss cANVAaassa talm 
 
 eauB6 you know that when you hare onoe opened the doot 
 to a canfaaier, the trouble ii done and you hare got te 
 ■offer defeat. 
 
 I compromiBed with this man at the end of an intolera^ble 
 hour. I bought two double-beirelled echoes in good condi- 
 tion, and he tbrew in another, which he laid waa not sale- 
 able because it only spoke Qerman. He said, * She wat a 
 perfect polyglot once, but sosMhow her palate got down.' 
 
 offered 
 
 Tfaund 
 
 • 'H 
 
 «0c 
 
 'In 
 
 ;^ 
 
 powers 
 bookcac 
 I found 
 'Hi 
 *Sp 
 •In 
 •Oh 
 •I 
 means.' 
 *W( 
 what it 
 'Oh, 
 you, too. 
 

 AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN 
 INTERVIEWER. 
 
 Thi nerrouB, dapper, ' peart ' young man took the oludr 1 
 fi^ered him, and eaid he was connected with the 'Dail^ 
 Thunderstorm,'' and added : — 
 
 * Hoping it's no harm, Tye come to interview yoo.' 
 < Come to wiiat t ' 
 
 * IrUertnew you.' 
 
 ' Ah ! I see. Yes — ^yes. tlm ! Yes — ^yes.' 
 I was not feeling bright that morning. Indeed, my 
 powers seemed a bit under a cloud. However, I went to the 
 bookcase, and when I had been looking six or seven minutes 
 I found I was obliged to refer to the young man. I said — 
 
 * How do yon spell it V 
 'SpeUwhatr 
 •Interview.* ^ 
 
 •Oh my goodness I what do you want to spell it fort* 
 'I don't want to spell it; I want to see what i< 
 means.* 
 
 * Well, this is astonishing, I must say. / can tell you 
 what it means, if you — if you ' 
 
 ' Oh, all right I That will answer, and much obliged t« 
 you, toOb' 
 
 J 
 
290 AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN INTEEVXEffTEM. 
 
 * In, Wf ter, <«r, inter * 
 
 /Than yon spell it with an If* 
 
 *Why, certainly I '• 
 
 ' Oh, that 18 what took me so long.' 
 
 'Why, my daar far, what did you propose to ipell it 
 withf 
 
 < Well, I — I — hardly know. I had the XJnahridged, and 
 I was ciphering around in the hack end, hoping I might 
 tree her among the pictares. But it's a yery old edition.' 
 
 ' Why, my Mend, they wouldn't have a pidure of it in 
 eren the latest e— - . My dear sir, I hegyour pardon, I mean 
 no harm in the world, hut you do not look as — as — ^hitelligent 
 as I had expected you would. l^To harm — I metm no harm 
 at aU.' 
 
 * Oh, don't mention it I It has often heen said, and hf 
 people who would not flatter, and who could have no 
 inducement to flatter, that I am quite remarkahle in thai 
 way. Tes — ^yes ; they always speak of it with rapture.' 
 
 'I can easily imagine it. But ahout this interview. 
 Ton know it is the custom, now, to interview any man who 
 has hecome notorious.' 
 
 ' Indeed, I had not heard of it hefore. It must he very 
 Interesting. What do you do it with V 
 
 * Ah, well — ^well — well — ^this is disheartening. It oughA 
 to he done with a duh in some cases ; hut customarily it 
 consists in the interviewer asking questions and the inter- 
 viewed answering them. It is all the rago now. Will you 
 let me ask yon certain questions calculated to hring out the 
 lalient points of your puhlio and private histoiy t ' 
 
 ' Oh, with pleasure— with pleasure. I hftve a very bad 
 
AN BNCOUNTJSn WITH AN INTmtVIBWJSR, 991 
 
 memory, bat I hope you will not ndnd that. That is to lay 
 it is an irregular memory — dBgularly irregular. Sometimes 
 it goes in a gallop^ and then again it will be as much as a 
 fortnight pasamg a given point. This is a great grief to me.' 
 'Oh, it is no matter, so yon will try to do the best yom 
 
 'I win. I will put my whole mind on hi' 
 
 'Thanks. Are you ready to begin f 
 
 'Beady.' 
 
 Q. How old are yon t . 
 
 A, Nineteen, in June. 
 
 Q, Indeed 1 I would have taken you to be thirty-five or 
 inx. Where were you bom t 
 
 Ae In Missouri. 
 
 (}. When did you begin to write t 
 
 A. In 1^36. 
 
 Q. Why, how could that be, if you are only ninetoen 
 Bowt 
 
 A, I don't know. It does seem curious, somehow. 
 
 Q. It does, indeed. Whom do you consider the most 
 remarkable man yon ever mott 
 
 A. Aaron Burr. 
 
 Q, But you never could have met Aaron Burr, if you 
 ■re only nineteen years 
 
 A, Now, if yon know more about me than I do, what do 
 you ask me for t 
 
 Q, Well, it was only a suggestion; nothing more. How 
 did you happen to meet Burr t 
 
 A* Well, I happened to be at his fonend one day, and 
 bs asked ine to makd less noise. and~«-«« 
 
 y 
 
AN BNCOVNTEB WITS AN INTJBMVUBWmL 
 
 y 
 
 Q. But, good heayeoB I if you were at his funeral, he 
 ■iiiit have been dead ; and if he was dead, how could he 
 eare whether joa made a noise or not 1 
 
 A, I don't know. He was always a particular kind of 
 a man that way. 
 
 Q, Still, I don't understand it at all. Ton say he qpoke 
 to you, and that he was dead. ' 
 
 A, I didn't say he was dead. ( 
 
 0. But wasn't he dead t 
 
 A, Well, some said he was, some said he wasn\ 
 
 Q, What did you thinkt 
 
 A, Oh, it .ras none of my business 1 It wasn't any of 
 my funeral. ^ 
 
 Q. Pid you — However, w^ can never get this matter 
 straight. Let me ask about something else. What was the 
 date of your birth 1 
 
 A, Monday, October 31, 1693. 
 
 Q, What! Impossible! That would make you a 
 hundred and eighty years old. How do you account for 
 thatt 
 
 A, I don't account for it at all. 
 
 Q, But you said at first you were only nineteen, and 
 now you make yourself out to be one hi^idred and eighty. 
 It is an awful discrepancy. 
 
 A, Why, have you noticed that? (Shaking hands.) 
 Msny a time it has seemed to me like a discrepancy, but 
 somehow I couldn't make up my mind. How quick you 
 notice a thing 1 
 
 Q, Thank you Ibr the compliment, as far as it goes. Hsd 
 yoo, or have you, any brotiiers or sisters 9 
 
 \ 
 

 L, and 
 5hty. 
 
 Had 
 
 AN BNCOUNTER WITH AN INTEBVIMWX^ 9S3 
 
 A, Eh I I — ^I — ^I think so—yee— t>nt I don't remembsi^ 
 
 Q, Well, thftt li the most extraordinary statement I eT«)r 
 iMffdt 
 
 A» Why, what makes yon think thatt ^ 
 
 Q» How oonld I think otherwise f Why, look here! 
 Who is this » picture of on the wallf Isnt thatja brothsr 
 sfyoursf 
 
 A, Oh 1 yes, yes, yes 1 Kow yon remind me of it ; thfti 
 XNW a brother of mine. That's William — £iU we called him 
 Jt 9or old Bill t 
 
 Q. Whyt Ishedeadthent 
 
 A, Ah ! well, I suppose so. We never could teU. There 
 was a great mystery about it. 
 
 Q, That is sad, very sad. He disappeared, thent 
 
 A» Well, yes, in a sort of general way. We buried 
 him* X 
 
 Q, Buried him ! Buried him, without knowing whether 
 he was dead or not 1 
 
 A, Oh, no t Not that. He was dead enough. 
 
 Q, Well, I confess that I can't understand this. If you 
 buried him, and you knew he was dea d 
 
 A, Nol no ! We only thought he was. 
 
 Q, Oh, I see f He came to life again I 
 
 J/ I bet he didn't. 
 
 Q. Well, I never heard anything like this. SoTnehoif 
 was dead. Somebody was buried. Now, where was the 
 mystery 1 
 
 A, Ah I that's just it I That's it exactly. You see we 
 were twins—defunct and I — and we got mixed in the bath- 
 tub when we were only two weeks old, and one of us wat 
 
\if 
 
 AN BNCOVNTER WITH AN INTBRVIBfVMM. 
 
 drowned. But we didn't know which. Soxoe think it wm 
 Bill. Some think it was me. 
 
 Q, Well, that t^ remarkable. What do you think t 
 
 A. Qoodness knows 1 I would give whole worlds to 
 know. This solomui this awful mysteiy has cast a gloom 
 oyer my whole life. But I will tell you a secret now, which 
 I never have revealed to any creature before. One of us had 
 a peculiar mark — a laj^ge mole on the book of his left hand ; 
 that was ms, Thoat cmM wets the oiw that wot drowned I 
 
 Q. Very well then, I don't see that there is any mysteij 
 about it, after alL 
 
 A, You don't) Well, / dOc Anyway, I don't see how 
 they oonld eVer have been such a blundering lot as to go 
 and bury the wrocg child. But, 'sh ! — don't mention it 
 where the family can hear of it. Heaven knows they hava 
 heart-breaking troubles enough without adding this. 
 
 Q, Well, I believe I have got material enough for the 
 present, and. I am very much oblige^l to you for the pains 
 you liave taken. But I was a good deal interested in that 
 account of Aaron Burros funeraL Would you mind telUng 
 me what particular droumstance it was that made you thiid[ 
 Burr was such a remarkable man t 
 
 j1. Oh| ft was a mere taiflel Not one man in Wj 
 would have noticed it at all. When the sermon was over, 
 and the proce(<eion all ready to start for the cemetery, and 
 the body aU arranged nice in the hearse, he ndd he wanted 
 to take a last look at the scenery, and so he got up cmd rode 
 wUh the driver, 
 
 Tbm the young man reverently withdrew. He was 
 fery pleasant oompany, and I was sony to see him go* 
 
V 
 
 PARIS NOTES} 
 
 1 Kow 
 to go 
 
 Ion it 
 f hava 
 
 Dr tlio 
 
 pains 
 that 
 telling 
 
 thiidK ^ 
 
 fifty 
 
 over, 
 
 }f and 
 
 ranted 
 
 rodM 
 
 [e wM 
 
 Tdb Parimaii tfaTelfl but litUe, he knowi no Umgnagt !«l 
 his own, readf no literature but hii omii and conieqnentlj 
 he IB pretty narrow and pretty aelf-iufficieDt. However, let 
 08 not be too sweeping ; there are T^renchmen who know 
 languages not their own: these are the waiterct Among 
 the rest, they know English; that is, they know it on the 
 European pUui— which is to say, they ean qptek it, but oan*t 
 understand it. They easily make themselTes understood, 
 but it is next to impossible to word an English sentenoe in 
 suoh a way as to enable them to comprehend it» They 
 think they comprehend it ; they pretend they do; but they 
 don't Here is a oonyersation which I had with one of these 
 beings; I wrote it down at the time, in order tohayeit 
 exactly correct. 
 
 /• These are line oranges. Where are they grown ? 
 
 H: Morel Yes, I will bring them. 
 
 /. No, do not bring any more; I only want to know 
 where they are from — ^where they are raised. 
 
 J7«. Test (inth imperturbable mien, and rising in- 
 
 ■ Orowdad out of 4 Tumjf Abroad to make room for more Tftal 
 ifeatiitiof.— M. 7. 
 
226 
 
 PAMia N0TS8. 
 
 /. Yes. Omi you tell me what ooantry thej ave from! 
 ' He, Test (blandly, with rising inflection.) 
 
 /. (diaheartened.) Ihegr are very nice. 
 
 H; Ck>od nightii (Bows, and retires, quite latifified with 
 himself.) ^ 
 
 That young man could have become a good English 
 scholar by taking the right sort of pains, but he was French, 
 and wouldn't do that How diffiarent is the case with our 
 peoplej they utilise every means that ofos. There are 
 some alleged French Protestants in Paris, and they built a 
 nice little church on one of the great avenues that lead away 
 ftom the Arch of Triumph, and proposed to listen to the 
 ocnrsct thii^, ^ jeached in the correct way, there, in thdr 
 precious French tongue, and be happy. But their little 
 game does not succeed. Our people are always there ahead 
 of them, Sundays, and take up all the room. When the 
 minister gets up to preach, he finds has house full of devout 
 foreigners, each ready and waiting, with his little book in 
 \im hand— a morocco-bound Te<itament, apparently. But 
 only apparently ; it is Mr. Bellows's admiraUe and 
 exhaustive little French-English dictionary, which in look 
 and binding and sixe is just like a Testament—and tiiose 
 people are there to study French. The building has been 
 nicknamed ' The Ohurdi of the Gratis SVenoh Lesson.' 
 
 These students probably acquire more language thta 
 general informalion, for I am told that a French sermon is 
 like a French speech — ^it never names an historicBi events 
 but only the date of it ; if you are not up in datee^ you get 
 left. A French epeech is something like this :— 
 
 ' Comrades, dtiiiens, brothers, noUe parte of the only 
 
PAias NOTsa. 
 
 m 
 
 omi 
 
 iDgliflh 
 
 Venchi 
 
 ithour 
 
 ire are 
 
 bnilta 
 
 daway 
 
 to the 
 n their 
 ir little 
 « ahead 
 len the 
 
 devout 
 book in 
 Bat 
 and 
 
 in look 
 
 [d those 
 been 
 
 tb^a 
 
 mis 
 
 events 
 
 'onget 
 
 onlj 
 
 •!iblime and perfect nation, let oe not forget that the Slat 
 Jan^iaiy oast off our ofaains; that the 10th Angost relieved 
 OS of the shameM presence of foreign spies; that the 5th 
 September was its own justification before Heaven and 
 humanity; that the 18th Brumaire contained the seeds of 
 its own punishment ; that the 14th Julj was the mighty 
 voice of liberty proclaiming the resurrection, the new day, 
 and inviting the oppressed peoples of the earth to look upon 
 the divine face of France and live ; and let us here record 
 our everlasting curse against the man of the 2nd December, 
 and declare in thunder tones, the native tones of France, 
 that but for him there had been no 17th March in history, 
 no 12th October, no 19th January, no 22nd April, no 16th 
 November, no. 30th September, no 2nd July, no 14th 
 Febmary, no 29th June, no 16th August, no Slst May — 
 that but for him, France, the pure, the grand, the peerless, 
 had had a serene an^ vacant almanac to-day 1' 
 
 I have heard of one French sermon which dosed in this 
 odd yet eloquent way : — 
 
 * My hearers, we have sad cause to remember the man 
 of the 18th January. The results of the vast crime of tho 
 13th January have been in just proportion to the magni- 
 tude c'*th0 act itself. But for it there had been no 30th 
 Kovember— sorrowful spectacle 1 The grisly deed of the 
 16th June had not been done but for it, nor had the man of 
 the 16th June known existence; to it alone the 3rd September 
 was d^je. also the fatal 12th October. S!iall we, then, be 
 gratefVil for the 13th January, with its freight of death for 
 )^«i and me and all that breathet Tes, my friendis^ for it 
 
PAMIS SOTSa. 
 
 gave m also that which had never come bat for it, and it 
 aloneT-the blessed 25th December.' 
 
 It may be well enough to explain, though in the case of 
 many of my readers this will hardly be necessary. The 
 man of the 13th Januaiy is Adam ; the crime of that date 
 was the eating of the apple ; the sorrowful spectacle of the 
 SOth November was the expulsion from Eden; the grisly 
 deed of the 16th June was the murder of Abel ; the act of 
 the 3rd September was the beginning of the journey to the 
 land of Nod; the 12th day of October, the last mountain- 
 tops disappeared under the flood. When you go to church 
 in France, you want to take your almanac with yo»-- 
 annotated. ^^ 
 
LEGEND OF SAGENFELD, IN 
 
 GERMANY.^ 
 
 BIoBi than % thousand years ago this small district was a 
 kingdom — a litUa bit of a kingdom, a sort of dainty little 
 toy kingdom, as one might say. It was far removed team 
 the jealousies, strifias, and turmoils of that old warlike day, 
 and so its life was a simple life, its people a gentle and 
 guileless race ; it lay always !n a deep dream of peace, a soft 
 Sabbath tranquillity; there was no malice, there was no 
 envy, there was no ambition, consequently there were no 
 heart-burnings, there was no nnhappiness in the land. 
 
 In the course of time the old king died and his Kttie son 
 Hubert came to the throne. The people's love for him grew 
 daily ; he was so good and so pure and so noble, that by and- 
 by this love became a passion, almost a worship. Now at 
 his birth the socthsayers had diligently studied the stars 
 and found somef/hing written in that shining book to this 
 effect : — 
 
 In HvheH*8foiwrU»nllh ytw a pregnant event toiU happen ; 
 ihe omimai whose tifngvng ehaU tound sweetest m fftiberfs ectr 
 
 * Lett oiA of A Tramp Abroad because its aaitientioity turned 
 doubtful, and could not at that time be proved.— M. T. 
 
LEGEND OF 8AQSNFELD. 
 
 ahaU tave Submrfi l^fe. So long tu the Ung and HKe naiion 
 thaU honotur th%$ mUmoTi ract/or thi$ good deed, the aneieni 
 dynoiiy §hdB not /ail of an heir, nor the naiion know toar 
 or peetiknce or poverty. But beware an erring ohoice I 
 
 All through the Ung's thirteenth year bat one thing waa 
 talked of by the ■oothfayen, the statennen, the little parlia- 
 ment, and the general people. That one thing was this : 
 How is the last sentence of the prophecy to be understood 1 
 What goes before seems to mean that the sieving animal will 
 choose iteelf, at the proper time; bat the dosing sentence 
 seems to mean that the hvng most choose beforehand, and 
 say what singer among the animals pleases him beat, and 
 that if he choose wisely the chosen animal wfU save his life, 
 his dynasty, his people, bat that if he bhoold make ' an 
 erring ohoice ' — ^beware t 
 
 By the end of the year there were as many opinions 
 about this matter as there had been in th^ beginning ; but 
 a m^ority of the wise and the simple were agreed that the 
 ^est plan would be fbr the little king to make dioioe before- 
 hand, and the earlier the better. So an edict was sent forth 
 oommanding all persons who owned singing creatures to 
 bring them to the great hall of the palace in the morning o! 
 the first day of the new year. This command was obeyed. 
 When eveiything was in readiness for the trial, the king 
 made his solemn entry with the great officers of the crown, aU 
 clothed in their robes of state. The king mounted his golden 
 throne and prepared to give judgment. But he presently 
 said — 
 
 ' These creatures all sing at once ; the noise is unendur 
 
LSQEND OF SAOSNFSLD, 
 
 ftUe; no one oaji choose in guoh a turmoil. Ikk* them all 
 away, and bring badk one at a time.' 
 
 This waa done. One aweet warbler aftor another 
 eharmed the young king's ear and was remoyed to make 
 way for another candidate. The precious minutes slipped 
 by ; among so many bewitching songsters he found it hard 
 to choose, and all the harder because the promised penalty 
 for an error was so terrible that it unsettled his Judgment 
 and made him afraid to trust his own ears. He grew 
 nervous and his &ce showed distress. IjuL^ ministers saw 
 this, for they never took their eyes from him a moment. 
 Now they b^gan to say in their hearts— 
 
 * He has lost courage— the cool head is gon»— he will 
 err — ^he and his dynasty and his people are doomed I ' 
 
 At the end of an hour the king sat silent awhile, and 
 then said — 
 
 * Bring back the linnet' 
 
 The linnet trilled forth her jubilant musia In the 
 midst of it the king was about to uplift his sceptre iniogn of 
 choice, but checked himself and said—- 
 
 'But let us be sure. Bring back the thrush ; let them 
 sing together/ 
 
 The thrush wbb brought, and the two birds poured out 
 their marvels ol song together. The king wavered, then 
 his inclination began to settle sm sct^^ngthen— one could 
 see it in his countenance. Jiope budded in the hearts of the 
 old ministers, thdr pulses began to beat quicker, the sceptre 
 began to rise slowly, when— 
 
 There was a hideous interruptien I It was a sound like 
 this— just at the door »— 
 
LSGSKD OF SAQBNFSLD. 
 
 < Waw ...... Ai/— w»w iU/— waw-litl 
 
 wAw-hs ! — ^waw-he I ' 
 
 Breiybodj wa« iorely starUed-v-and enraged at himself 
 for showing it. 
 
 The next instant the dearest^ sweetest, prettiest UtUe 
 peasant maid of nine years oame tripping in, her brown eyes 
 glowing with childish eagerness; but whan she saw ^-hat 
 augtvit company and those angry frees she stopped and hung 
 her head and pat her poor coarse apron to her eyes. No- 
 body gave her welcome, none pitied her. Presently phe 
 looked up timidly through her tears, and said — 
 
 ' My lord the king, I pray you pardon me, Ibr I meant 
 .no wrong. I have no &ther and no mother, but I have a 
 goat and a donkey, and they are all in all to me. My goat 
 gives me the sweetest milk, and when my dear good donkey 
 brays it seems to me there is no music like to it. So when 
 my lord the king's jester said the sweetest sjinger among all 
 the animals should save the crown and nation, and moved 
 me to bring him here—"-' 
 
 AU the court burst into a rude laugh, and the child fled 
 away crying, without trying to finish her speech. The chief 
 minister gave a private order that she and her disastrous 
 donkey be flogged beyond the precincts of the palace and 
 commanded to come within them no more. 
 
 Then the trial of the birds was resumed. The two birds 
 sang their best, but the sceptre lay motionless in the king's 
 hand. Hope died slowly out in the breasts of aU. An hour 
 went by; two hours; still no decision. The day waned to 
 its dose, and the waiting multitudes outside the palace grew 
 erased with anxiety and apprehension. The twilight came 
 
 » 
 
IBQBND OF BAQBNFBLD. 
 
 hat 
 
 on, the Bhadows fell deeper and deeper. The king and hia 
 eonrt could no longer lee each other's ikoee. No one spoke 
 —none called for lights. The great trial had heen made; it 
 had (ailed ; each and all wished to hide their fiioes from 
 the light and coTer up their deep trouble in their own 
 hearts. 
 
 Finally — ^harkt A rich, ftill strain of the divinest melody 
 streamed forth from a remote part of the hall — the nightin- 
 gale's Toioe I 
 
 ' Up 1 ' shouted the king, Met all the hells make pro- 
 clamation to the people, for the choice is made and we have 
 not erred. King, dynasty, and nation are saved. From 
 hencefr -th let the nightingale be honoured throughout the 
 land for ever. And publish it among all the people that 
 whosoever shall insult a nightingale, or ii\jure it, shall suffer 
 death. The king hath spoken.' 
 
 All that little world was drunk with joy. The castle 
 and the city biased with bonfires all night long, the people 
 danced and drank and sang, and the triumphant damour of 
 the bells never ceased. 
 
 From that day the nightingale was a sacred bird. Its 
 song was heard in every house ; the poets wrote its praises ; 
 the painters painted it ; its sculptured image adorned every 
 arch and turret and fountain and public building. It was 
 even taken into the king's councils ; and no grave matter of 
 state was deeided until the soothsayers had laid the thing 
 before the state nightir-'^e and translated to the ministry 
 what it was that the bird had sung about it. 
 
tSQEND OF 8AQBNFELD. 
 
 TL 
 
 
 Thb jouog king wsus very fond of the chase. When th« 
 summer ..aa oome he rode forth with hawk and hound, one 
 day, in a brilliant company of his nobles. He got separated 
 from them, by-and-by, in a great forest, and toolc what he 
 imagined a near cut, to find them again ; but it was a mis- 
 take. He rode on and on, hopefully at first, but with sink- 
 ing ootii^^ finally. Twili£;ht came on, and still he was 
 plunging through a lonely and unknown land. Then came 
 a catastrophe. In the dim light he forced his horse through 
 a tangled thicket oyerhanging a steep and rocky declivity. 
 Whon horse and rider reached the bottom, the former had a 
 broken nef>> and the latter a broken leg. The poor little 
 king i2kj tLe^^ suffering agonies of pain, and each hour 
 seemed a long month to him. He kept his ear strained to 
 hear any sound that might promise hope of rescue <; but he 
 heard no voice, no sound of horn or bay of hound. So at 
 last he gave up all hope, and said, 'Let death oome, for o(»ne 
 Itmust.' 
 
 Just then the deep, sweet song of a nightingale swept 
 across the still wastes of the night. 
 
 ' Saved t ' the king said. ' Saved ! It is the sacred bird, 
 and the prophecy is come true. The gods themselves pro- 
 tected me from error in the choice.' 
 
 He could hardly oontain his Joy; he could not 'word 
 his gratitude. Every few momently now, he thought he 
 caught the sound of approaching succour. But each time it 
 was a disappointment : no succour came. The dull houn 
 
 r 
 
 \i 
 
tSOJSND OF 8A0SNFBLD. 
 
 ibifted on. Still no help came— but stOl the SBered bird 
 iang (HL He began to have miagiyingB about his ohoioe, 
 but he stifled them. Toward dawn the bird ceased. The 
 morning oame, and with it thirst and hunger ; botnosoooomr. 
 The day waxed and waned. At last the king cursed the 
 nightingale. 
 
 Immediately the song of the thrush came from out the 
 wood. The king said in his heart, * This was the true bird 
 —my choice was false-HSUooonr will come now.' 
 
 But it did not come. Then he lay many hours insensible. 
 When he came to himself, a linnet was singing, fie listened 
 — ^with apathy. His £uth was gone. 'These birds,' he 
 ^|gp jaid, ' can bring no help ; I and my house and my people are 
 '^ doomed.' He turned him about to die; for he was grown 
 yery feeble from hunger and thirst and suffering, and felt 
 that his end was near.- In truth, he wanted to die, and be 
 released from pain. For long hours he lay without thought 
 or feeling or motion. Then his senses returned. The dawn 
 of the third morning was breaking. Ah, the world seemed 
 Tery bei^utiful to those worn eyes. Suddenly a great long- 
 ing to live roce up in the lad's heart, and from his soul welled 
 a deep and feivent prayer that Heaven would have mercy 
 upon him and let him see his home and his friends once 
 • more. In that instant a soft, a fiunt, a fiur-off sound, but 
 oh, how inexpressibly sweet to his waiting ear, came float- 
 ing out of the distance — 
 
 * Waw he! — wa w As / — ^waw-he I 
 
 — waw-he I — waw-he I ' 
 
 * Thai, oh, ikta song is sweeter, a thousand times sweeter, 
 than the vcioe of nightingale, thmth, or linnet, for it brings 
 
LSQEND OF SAQBNFZfJ}. 
 
 not mere hope^ bat otrtotnty of enooaar; and now indeed am 
 I eayedl Thie laered singer has chosen itself, as the orade 
 intended; the prophecy (s ftilfilledi and my life, my house, 
 and my people are redeemed. The ass shall be sacred from 
 thisdayl' ' 
 
 The divine mnsic grew nearer and nearer, stronger and 
 stronger — and ever sweeter and sweeter to the perishing 
 sufferer's ear. Down the dedivity the docile little donkey 
 wandered, cropping herbage and singing as he went ; and 
 when at last he saw the dead horse and the wounded king, 
 he came and snuffed at them with simple and marrelling 
 curiosity. The king petted him, and he knelt down as had 
 been his wont when his little mistress dceii«d to mount. 
 With great labour and pain the lad drew himself upon th« 
 creature's back, and held himself there by aid of the generous 
 ears. The ass went singing forth from the place and carried 
 the king to the little peasant maid's hut. She gave him 
 her pallet for a bed, refreshed him with goat's milk, and 
 then flew to tell the great news to the first scouting party 
 of searchers she might meet. 
 
 The king got well. His first act was to proclaim the 
 sacredness and inviolability of the ass; his second was to 
 add this particular ass to his cabinet and make him chief 
 minister of the crown ; his third was to have all the statues 
 and effigies of nightingales throughout his kingdom de- 
 stroyed, and replaced by statues and effigies of the sacred 
 donkey;' and his fourth was to announce that when the 
 little peasant maid should reach her fifteenth year he would 
 make her his queen--«nd he kept his word. 
 
 
tSQBNJ) OF 8AQENFBLD. 
 
 Booh 18 the legend. This eoplaiiiB why the mouldeiiiig 
 iinaiie of .the aas adorns all these old ommhling walls and 
 arches \ and it explains why, during many oentnries, an ass 
 was always the chief minister in that royal cabinet, just as 
 is still the case in most cabinets to this day ; and it also 
 explains why, in that little kingdom, during many centuries^ 
 all great poems, all great speeches, all great books, all public 
 solemnities, and all royal proclamations, always bc^gan with 
 these stirring wQrd»— 
 
 'Waw A0/ — waw •••••• A«/— -waw-hel 
 
 — waw-het — waw-he!' 
 
SPEECH ON THE BASTES, 
 
 At thb Bavqubt, in Ohioaqo, oiy^m bt tbb Abmt or tbb 
 Tbbnbssbb to thus vnsT CtoiiifAKDBB, Oenbbal U. 8w 
 Grant, Koybmbbb 1879. 
 
 [The fifteenth regnlar toa«t was * The Babiei.— As they jomf oit us 
 in our sonrows, let us not foiget them in our festiTitdes.*] 
 
 I uks that. We have not all had .thd good fortune to be 
 ladies. We have not all been generals, or poets, or states- 
 men; but when the toast works down to the babies^ we 
 stand on common ground. It is a shame that for a thoiisand 
 years the world's banquets haya utterly ignored the baby, as 
 if he didn^ \ amount to anything. If yov will stop and think 
 a minute— II yon will go back fifty or one hundred years to 
 your early married life and recontemplate your ^rst baby-— 
 you wiU remember that he amounted to a good deal, and 
 even something over. You soldiers all know that when that 
 little fellow artived at &mily headquarters you had to hand 
 in your resignation. He took entire command. Ton became 
 his lackey, his mere body-servant, and yon had to stand 
 around too. He was not a commander who made allowano^i 
 for time, distance, weather, or anything else. You had to 
 execute his order whether it was possible or not. And there 
 was only one form of marching in his manual of tactics, and 
 that was the double-quick. He treated you with every sorl 
 
 
SPEECH ON THE BABIES 
 
 ^imnolnniwnd diareBpectyUid the brayest of yoa didn't dare 
 lo ny a word« Yov oonld bjob the death-storm at Doneleon 
 and YidLBbnrg, and give back blow for blow ; but when he 
 blawed your whiskers, and pulled your hair, and twisted 
 your nose, yon had to take it. When the thunden of war 
 were sounding in your ears you set your fiujes toward the 
 batteries, and advanced with steady tread; but when ha 
 tnn>ed on the i :7ion of his war-whoop you advanced in the 
 other direction, and mighty glad of the chance too. When 
 he called for soothing-syrup, did you venture to throw out 
 any side remarks about certain services being unbecoming 
 an officer and a gentleman) Ni. You got up and got il 
 When he ordered his pap bottle and it was not warm, did 
 yon talk back t Not you. Xou went to work and toairmed 
 it. YovL even descended so far in your menial office as to 
 take a suck at that warm, insipid siiuff yourself, to see if it 
 was right — ^three parts water to one of milk, a touch of sugar 
 to modify the colic, and a drop of peppermint to kill those 
 immortal hiccoughs. I can taste that stuff, yet. And how 
 mimy things you learned as you went along I Sentimental 
 young folks stUl take stock in that beautiful old sayiqg that 
 when the baby smiles in his sleep, it is because the angels 
 are whispering to him. Yery pretty, but too thin— simply 
 wind on the stomach, my Mends. If the baby proposed lo 
 take a walk at his usual hour, two o'clock in the morning, 
 didn't you rise up promptly and remark, with a mental addi- 
 tion which would not improve a Sunday-school book much, 
 that that was the very thing you were about to propose 
 yourself t Oh I you were under good discipline, and as yo« 
 went fluttering up and down the room in your undresi 
 
S40 
 
 8PJBJBCS ON TBB BABIB8. 
 
 uniform, yiou not only prattled undignified baby-talk, bat i 
 toned up your martial yoioob and tried to ting 1 — ' Rock-» 
 by baby in the tree-top/ for instance. What a fpeotade for 
 an Army of the Tennessee 1 And what an affliction for the 
 neighbours, too ; Lir it is not erexybody within a mile around 
 that likes military music at three in the morning. And 
 when yon had been keeping this sort cf thing up two or three 
 houTE', and your little yelyet-head intimated that nothing 
 suited him like exercise and noise, what did you dot [' (To 
 •11 /n Tou simply went on until you dropped in the ^«uit 
 ditch. The idea that a hc^ doesn't amowU to anything 1 
 Why, one baby is just a house and a front yard fuU by itself. 
 Om baby can f umiah more business than you and your whole 
 Interior Department can attend to. HJe is enterprising, 
 irrepressible, brimAil of lawless activities. Do what you 
 please, you can't make him stay on the reservation. Suffi- 
 cient unto the day is one baby. As lon(; as you are in your 
 right mind don't you ever pray for twins. Twins amount 
 to a permanent riot. And there ain't any real difference 
 between triplets and an insurrection. 
 
 Yes, it was high time for a toast-master to recognise the 
 importance of the babies. Think what is in store for the 
 present crop ! Fifty years from now we shall all be dead, 
 I trust, and then this flag, if it still survive (and let us 
 hope it may), will be floating over a Eepublic numbering 
 200,000,000 souls, according to the settled laws of our in- 
 . crease. Our present schooner of State will have grown into 
 a political leviathan — a Great Eastern. The cradled babies 
 of to-day will be on deck. Let them be well trained, for we 
 are going to leave a big contract on their hands. Among 
 
MPSSCB ON TBB BABUSUl 
 
 111 
 
 tlie tliTee or four, million eradles nowxookisg in the land art 
 ■ome which this nation would pro s oi ' ve for ages as saored 
 things, if we could know which ones they are. In one of 
 these cradles the unoonsoions Farragnt of the fntnve is at 
 this moment teething — ^think of it 1 — and patting in a world 
 of dead earnest, nnardculated, but perfectly justifiable pro- 
 fanity over it, too. In another the fatnre renowned astro- 
 nomer is blinking at the shining Milky Way with bat a 
 languid interest — ^poor little chapl — ^and wondering what 
 iias become of that other one they call the wet-nurse. In 
 another the future great historian is lying^-and doubtless 
 will continue to lie until his earthly missien is ended. In 
 another the future President is bus/ing himself with no pn^ 
 founder problem of state than what the mischief has liecome 
 of his hur so early ; and in a mighty amy of other cradles 
 there are now some 60,000 future office-seekers, getting ready 
 to furnish him occasion to grapple with that same old problem 
 a second time. And in still one more cradle^ somewhere 
 under the flag, the future illustrious commander-in-chief of 
 the American armies is so little burdened with his approach- 
 ing grandeurs and responsibilities as to be giving his whole 
 strategic mind at thismomentito trying to find out some wa;y 
 to get his big toe into his mouth — an achierement which, 
 meaning no disrespect, the illustrious guest ot this erening 
 turned hia entire attention to some fifty-six years ago ; and 
 if the child is but a prophecy of the man, there are mighty 
 few who will doubt that he suceeecML 
 
SPEECH ON THE WEATHER, 
 
 ▲t thk Naw Bholajid Sooibtt'b SBvumr-vnun* 
 
 ANHUAL DlNNEB, NBW YOBK OITT. 
 
 The next toait wai : • The Oldest Inhabitant— The Weather ol 
 New England.' • 
 
 Who oan lose it and f oiget it f 
 Who can haye it and regret it t 
 
 <B« interpoier *twizt na Twain.' 
 
 Merokanut tf VenHet» 
 
 To thif Samnel L. 01emena~(Hark Twain) replied as follows :— 
 
 I BETEBENTLT belleve that the Maker who made ns all 
 maJces everythixig in New England bat the weather. I 
 don't know who makes that^ but I think it mtust be raw 
 apprentices in the weather clerk's feotory whp experiment 
 and learn how, in New England, for board and dothes, and 
 then are promoted to make weather for countries that 
 require a goo^ article, and will i»ke their custom elsewhere 
 if they don't get it. There is a sumptuous ^Ariety about 
 the New England weather that compels the stranger's 
 admiratioin — and regret. The weather is always doing 
 something there; always attending strictly to business; 
 always getting up new designs and trying them on the 
 peoplt to see how they will ^, But it gets through more 
 busin«BS in spring than in any other season. In the spring 
 I hftve counted one hundred and thirfy-sls difiSarent kinds of 
 
?, 
 
 btber of 
 
 ^eniet. 
 
 OS all 
 her. I 
 be raw 
 Briment 
 legyaod 
 » that 
 lewhere 
 r about 
 ranger's 
 
 doing 
 
 udness; 
 
 on the 
 
 ;h more 
 
 spring 
 hands of 
 
 MPJSSCS ON TMB WSATJZSJt 
 
 MS 
 
 weailier inside of fonr-and-twentj hoars, It was I that made 
 
 the &me and fortune of that mau that had that manreUoos 
 
 ooUeotipn of weather on nxfaiUtion at the Centennial, that 
 
 so astounded the foreigners. He was going to trayel all 
 
 over the world and get bpeoimens from all the olimes. I 
 
 said, 'Don't you do it; you oome to New England on a 
 
 &YOurable spring day.' I told him what we could do in the 
 
 way of style, variety, and quantity. Well, he oame and he 
 
 made his eoUeotion in four days. As to rariety, why, he 
 
 confessed that he got hundreds of kinds of weather that he 
 
 had never heard of before. And as to quantity-- ^ell, after 
 
 he had picked out and discarded all that was blemished in 
 
 any way, he not only had weather enough, but weather to 
 
 spare weather to hire out; weather to sell; to deposit; 
 
 weather to invest ; weather to give to the poor. The people 
 
 of New England are by natuse patient and forbearing, but 
 
 there are some ^lings which th^ will not stand. Evevy 
 
 year they kill a lot of poets for writing about ' Beautiful 
 
 Spring.' These are generally casual visitors, who bring 
 
 their notions of spring from somewhere else^ and cannot, of 
 
 oounie, know how the natives feel about spring. And so 
 
 the first thing they know the opportunity to inquire how 
 
 they feel has permanently gone by. Old Probabilities has 
 
 a mighlj reputation for acourato prophecy, and thoroughly 
 
 well deserves it. You take up the paper and observe how 
 
 crisply and confidently he checks off what to-day's weather 
 
 is going to be on the Pacific, down South, in the Middle 
 
 States, in the Wisconsin region. See him sail along in the 
 
 jqy and pride df his power till he gets to New England, and 
 
 then see his tail drof, Ee doesn't know what the weather is 
 
%u 
 
 6PEECS Oy TRS WSATHBA 
 
 
 going to be in New England. Well, he mulli over it, and 
 by-and-by he gets out something abont like tibia : PM>babIe 
 north-east to sonth-west winds, vaiying to the soathward and 
 westward and eostwrird, and points between, high and bw ■ 
 barometer swapping aronnd from place £o place; probable 
 areas of rain, snow, hail, and drought, succeeded or preceded 
 by earthquakes, with ^Jiunder and lightning. Then he 
 jots down this poetc^ript from his wandering mind, to 
 cover aixddents. 'But it is possible that the programme 
 may be wholly changed in the meantime.' Yes, one of the 
 brightest gems in the New England weather is the danling 
 uncertainty of it. There is only one thing certain about it : 
 you are certain there is going to be plenty of it — a perfect 
 grand review ; but you never can tell which end of the ^' 
 cession is going to move first. Tou ^ up for the drought ; 
 you leave your umbrella in the house and sally out, and two 
 to one you get drowned. Tou make up your mind U^at the 
 earthquake is due ; you stand from under, and take hold of 
 something to steady yourself, and the first thing you know 
 you get struck by lightning. These are great disappoint- 
 ments; but they can't be helped. The lightning there is 
 peculiar; it is so convincing, that when it strikes a thing it 
 doesn't leave enough of that thing behind for you to tell 
 
 whether Well, you*d think it was something valuable^ 
 
 and a Congressman had been there. And the thunder. 
 When the thunder begins to merely tune up and scrape and 
 saw, and key up the instruments for the performance^ 
 strangers say, ' Why, what awful thunder you have here 1' 
 But when the bAton 18 raised and the real concert begins 
 yaull find that stranger down in the cellar with his head in 
 
8PEBCB ON TSB WSATSSB. 
 
 S45 
 
 It, and 
 
 •obable 
 ^anil 
 id low 
 robable 
 receded 
 len he 
 bd, to 
 rramme 
 )of the 
 laEding 
 x)at it : 
 perfect 
 ^e^- 
 ronglit ; 
 md two 
 i^at the 
 hold of 
 1 know 
 ippoint- 
 bhere i^ 
 thing it 
 to tell 
 alnable, 
 bunder, 
 ipe and 
 rmance, 
 beret' 
 begins 
 head in 
 
 the Mh-bazioi. Kow as to the tiam of the weather in New 
 Dogland — ^lengthways, I mean. It is utterly disproportioned 
 to the siae of that little country. Half the time, when it 
 Is packed as full as it can stick, you will see that New 
 England weather sticking out beyond the edges and projecting 
 around hundreds and hundrjds of miles over die neighbour- 
 ing States. She cant hold a tenth part of her weather. 
 Tou can see cracks all about where she has strained herself 
 trying to do it. I could speak volumes about the inhuman 
 perversity of the New England weather, but I will give but 
 a single specimen. I like to hea^* rain on a tin ro<^ So I 
 covered part of my roof with tin, with an eye to that luxury. 
 Well, sir, do you think it ever ndhs on that tin t No, sir : 
 skips it every time. Mind, in this speech I have been trying 
 mefely to do honour to the New England weather — ^no lan- 
 guage could do it justice. But, after all, there is at least 
 one or two things about that weather (or, if you please, 
 effects produced by it) which we residents would not like to 
 part with. If we hadn't our bewitching autumn foliage, we 
 should still have to credit the weather with one feature 
 which compensates far all its bullying vaf^es — ^the ice- 
 storm: when a leafless txee is clothed with ice firom the 
 bottom to the top — ^ice that is as brigtit and dear as crystal; 
 when every bough and twig is strung with ice-beads, frozen. 
 dew-drops, and the whole tree sparkles cold and white, like 
 the Shah of Peraia*s diamond plume. Then the wind waves 
 the branches and the sun comes out and tmos all those 
 myriads of b^ads and drops to prisms that glow and bum 
 and flash with all manner of coloured fires, which change 
 and change again with inconceivable rapidity from blue tf- 
 
8PSECS ON TUM WBATBJSM. 
 
 # 
 
 red, from red to green, end green to gold— the tree beoomet 
 ft qnmying foontein, • rerj esplosion of dasling jewels ; and 
 it ttands there the acme, the diaiAz, the enpremeit poiri- 
 bilitj in art or nature^ of bewildering, intoxicating, intolo 
 imUe magnificence. One cannot make the worda too stroni^ 
 
 *. 
 
 -i*-' 
 
beoomit 
 
 t poMi- 
 intol« 
 
 CONCERNING THE AMERICAN 
 
 LANGUAGE} 
 
 ■-.it^ 
 
 Thxrs was an Englishman In our oompartment, and lis 
 eomplimented me on—- on whati But you would never 
 guess. He complimented me on my English. He said 
 Americans in general did not speak the English language as 
 correctly as I did. I said I was obliged to him for his 
 compliment^ since I knew he meant it for one, but that I 
 was not fairly entitled to it, for I didn't speak English at 
 til— I only spoke American. 
 
 He laughed, and said it was a distinction without a 
 difference. I said no, the difference was not prodigious, but 
 still it was considerable. We fell into a friendly dispute 
 orer the matter. I put my case as well as I could, and said, 
 
 ' The languages were identical several generations ago, 
 but our changed conditions and the spread of our people far 
 to the south and £ar to the west have made many alterations 
 in our pronunciation, and huve introduced new words among 
 «B and changed the meanings of many old ones. English 
 people talk through their noses ; we do not. We say knoWf 
 
 > Being part of a chapter which was crowded eat of A Trtm§ 
 JJbrmi.—VL I. 
 
U8 
 
 THE AMERICAN LANGUAOK 
 
 ^ 
 
 English people say nOo; we say eow, the Briton says Motcr 
 we ' 
 
 'Oh, come I that is pure Yankee j everybody knows 
 that/ 
 
 ' TeS| it is pure Yankee ; that is true. One cannot hear 
 it in America outside of the little ovner called New 
 England, which is Yankee land. The fenglish themselTes 
 planted it there two hundred and fifty years ago, and there 
 it 1 emains ; it haa never spread. But England talks through 
 her noae yet; the Londoner and the haokwoodd New- 
 Englander pronounce '' know ** and ** oow " alike, and then 
 the Britoii unconsciously satirises himself by making fun of 
 the Yankee's pronunciation.' 
 
 We ai^ed this point at some length ; nobody won ; but 
 no matter, the fact remains — Englishmen say ndo aad kdow 
 for ' know ' and ' cow/ and that is "^hat the rustic inhabitant 
 of a very small section of America does. 
 
 * You conferred your a upon New England too, and there 
 it remains ; it has not travelled out of the narrow limits of 
 those six little states in all these two hundred and fifty years. 
 All England uses it, New England's small population — say 
 four millions — use it, but we have forty-five millions who do 
 not use it^ You say ** glahs of wawtah," so does New Eng- 
 land ; at least, New England says glaha, America at large 
 flattens the a, and says ** glass of water.'' These sounds are 
 pleasanter than yours ; you may think they are not right- 
 well, in English they are not right, but in " American " they 
 are. You say Jlahsk, and hahaketf and jachdhst ; we say 
 ** flask," ''basket," "jackass" — sounding the a as it is in 
 *'tallow," "fallow," aad so on. Up to as kte as 18i7 
 
THE AMEmCAN LANOUAOB. 
 
 Mr, Webster's Dictionary had the impndenoe to still pro* 
 noiincG " basket " bahiket, when he knew that outside of his 
 little New England all America shortened the a and paid no 
 attention to his English broadening of ii HowoYer, it 
 called itself an English Dictionary, so it was proper enough 
 that it should stick to English forms, perhaps. It still calls 
 itself an English Dictionary to-day, but it has quietly ceased 
 to pronounce ** basket " as if it were spelt bc^kei. In the 
 American Iftngnage the h is renpected ; the h is liot dropped 
 or added improperly.' • 
 
 * The same is the case in England — ^I mean among the 
 <9ducated classes, of course.' 
 
 ' Yes, that is true ; but a nation's language is a vexy 
 large matter. It is not simply a manner of speech obtaining 
 among the educated handful ; the manner obtaining among 
 the vast uneducated multitude must be considered also. 
 Your uneducated masses speak English, you will not deny 
 that ; our uneducated masses speak American — ^it won't be 
 &ir for yoiT to deny that^ for you can see yourself that when 
 your stable-boy says, ''It isn't the 'unting that 'urts the 
 'orse, but the 'ammer, 'ammer, 'ammer on the 'ard 'ighway," 
 and our st(^ble-boy makes the same remark without sufib* 
 eating a single A, these two people are manifestly talking 
 two different languages. But if the sighs are to be trusted, 
 even your educated classes used to drop the A. They say 
 humble now, and h&roie, and historic, &c,f but I Judge that 
 they used to drop those h*B because your writers still keep 
 up the fisushion of putting an before those words, instead ol 
 0. This is what Mr. Darwin might call a " rudimentary " 
 ngn that that an was justifiable once, and useful — ^when 
 
260 
 
 TMS AMEJRICAN LANOUAOB. 
 
 jonr educated ekuwes U9ed to say *wnMe, and *mmo^ and 
 ^itloncaiL Ctorraot^ writers of the Amarioan language do not 
 put an before those words.' 
 
 The English gentleman had something to say upon this 
 matter, but nerer mind what he said — ^I'm not arguing his 
 case. I'haTe him at a disadvantage now. I proceeded : — 
 
 ' In Bn^^btnd you encourage an oi«tor by fl»«lA^iinmg 
 ** H'yaah 1 h'yaah I " We pronounce it he«r in some sections^ 
 **l^y€T** in others, and so on; but our whites do not say» 
 ^h'yaahy'' pronouncing the a's like the a in oA. I have 
 heard English ladies say ** don't you " — ^making two separate 
 and distinct words of it; your Mr. Bumand has satirised it. 
 But we always say " dontchu." This is much better. Your 
 ladies say, ** Oh, it's oful nice ! " Ours say, ** Oh, it's otoful 
 nice I " We say, " Fwt hundred," you say **For "—as in 
 the word or. Tour clergymen speak of ** the Lawd," ours 
 of '' the Lord " ; yours speak of ** the gawds of the heathen^" 
 ours of ''the gods of the heathen." When yon are ex- 
 hausted yon say you are <' knocked up." We don't. When 
 you say you will do a thing ''directly," you mean "im- 
 mediately " ; in the American language — ^generally speaking 
 — ^the word signifies " after a litti&" When you say " dever " 
 yon mean "capable"; with us the word used to mean 
 " accommodating," but I don't know what it means |iow. 
 Your word "stout" means "fleshy"; our word "stout" 
 usually means "strong." Your words " gentleman " and 
 " lady" haye a very restricted meaning; with us they indude 
 the barmaid, butcher, burglar, harlot, and horse-thief. You 
 say, "I haven't g<d any stoddngs on," "I haven't got sjolJ 
 memory," " I havent goi any money in my purse "; w» 
 
 f 
 
yie^ and 
 \ donol 
 
 xxntbii 
 aing his 
 
 ilalmiwg 
 ieetioD% 
 lot mjt 
 1 haTB 
 separate 
 jnaedit 
 . Your 
 'b awlul 
 
 d" oxam 
 
 aatheny" 
 
 axe es- 
 
 When 
 
 dever" 
 io mean 
 
 18 |10W. 
 
 "stout" 
 01 "and 
 indude 
 f. Yon 
 ^o^any 
 le"; w» 
 
 TBS AMERICAN LANQUAOM. 
 
 sn 
 
 OflgaOy sajy ^ I haven't any stoddngg on," ** I haven't any 
 memory/' " I haven't any money in my purse." Yon say 
 ''out of window"; we always put in a Ms. If one asks 
 ''How old is that mant" the Briton answers, "He will be 
 about forty"; in the American language we should say, 
 " He w about forty." However, I wont tire you, sb; bat 
 if I wanted to, I could pile up differences here until I not 
 only convinced you that Finglish and American are separate 
 languages, but that when I speak my native tongue in its 
 utmost purity an Englifihman can't understand me at aU.' 
 
 ' I don't wish to flatter you, but it is about all I can do 
 to understand you now* 
 
 That was a very pretty compliment^ and it put us on the 
 pleasantest terms directly — ^I use the word in the English 
 
 [Zofsr — 1882. .^Ssthetes in many of our schools are now 
 beginning to teach the pupils to broaden the a, and to say 
 * don't joq,' in the elegant foreign way.] 
 
ROGERS. 
 
 Jtam man Rogers happened npon me and introdnoed himflelf 
 
 at the town of , in the South of England, whei« I stayed 
 
 awhile. His step-fitther had married a distant rektire of 
 mine who was afterwards hanged, and so he seemed to think 
 a blood relationship existed between us. He came in every 
 day and sat down and talked. Of all the bland, serene 
 human curiosities I ever, saw, I think he was the chiefest. 
 He desired to look at my new chimney-pot hat. I was very 
 willing, for I thought he would notice the i^me «9f the great 
 Oxford Street hatter in it, and respect me accordingly. But 
 be turned it about with a sort of grays ocmpassion, pointed 
 out two or three blemishes, and said that I, being sr« recently 
 arriyed, could not be expected to know where to supply 
 myself. Said be would send me the address of hia hatter. 
 Then he said, * Pardon me,' and proceeded to cut a neat 
 circle of red tissue-paper ; daintily notched the edges of^^it ; 
 took the mucilage and pasted it in my hat so as to coyer the 
 manu&cturer's name. He said, 'No one will know now 
 where you got it. I will send you a hat-tip of my hatter, 
 and you can pastb ': oyer this tissue drdle.' It was the 
 cahnest, coolest thing — I neyer admired a man so much in 
 my life. Mind, he did this while his own hat sat offensiyelj 
 
Moassa, 
 
 near our noflea^ on *h^ taUe— «n ancient ttLtingnisher of the 
 ' sloach ' pattern, limp And shapelefls with age, diaoolouied 
 by vidssitadeB of the weather, and banded by an equator of 
 bear's grease that had stewed tbxongh. 
 
 Another time he examined my ooat. I had no terron^ 
 for OTor my tailor's door was the legepid, * By Special Ap- 
 pointment Tailor to H.B.H. the Prince of Wales/ 4ra. I 
 did not know at the time that the most of the tailor shops 
 had the same sign oat, and that whereas it cakee nine tailors 
 to make an ordL^jtry man, it takes a hundred and fifty to make 
 a prince. He was full of compassion for my coat. Wrote 
 down the address of his tailor for me. Did not tell me to 
 mention my nom de pf/ume and the tailor would put his beet 
 wOrk on my garment, as complimentary people someCimai 
 do, but said his tailor would hardly trouble himself for an 
 unknown person (unknown person, when I thought I was 
 so celebrated in England I — ^that was the cruellest out), but 
 cautioned me to mention hit name, and it would be all right. 
 Thinking to be fiEUietious, I said — 
 
 ' But he might sit up all night aind injure his health.' 
 
 ' Well, Iri him,' said Bogers ; ' Tte done enough for hini| 
 for him to show some appreciation of it.' 
 
 I might as well have tried to disconcert a mummy with 
 my fiEUsetiousness. Said Bogers : ' I get all my coats there--w 
 they're the only coats fit to be seen in.' 
 
 I made one more attempt. I said, 'I wish you had 
 brought one irith you — I would like to look at it.' 
 
 * Bless your heart, haven't I got one on ! — th%$ article ii 
 lioigan's make.' 
 
 I examined it. The ooat had been bought ready-mada 
 
 
 
 - 1 
 
S64 
 
 JtOOMltS. 
 
 
 of a Ohatham Street Jew, without any qnestfon — about 
 1848. It probably cost four dollars when it waii new. It 
 was ripped, it was frayed, it was napless and gieaay. I 
 could not resist showing him where it was ripped. It so 
 effected him that I was almost sony I had done it. First 
 he seemed plunged into a bottomless abyss of griet Then 
 he roused himself, made a feint with his hands as if waving 
 off the pity of a nation, and said — ^with what seemed to me 
 a manufSaetured emotion — 'No matter; no matter; don't 
 mind me ; do not bother about it. I can get another.' 
 
 When he was thoroughly restored, so that he could 
 examine the rip and command his feelings, he said, ah, now 
 he understood it — ^his servant must have done it while 
 dressing him that morning. 
 
 His servant! There was something awe-inspiring in 
 effirontery like this. 
 
 Nearly every day he interested himself in some article 
 of my dotiiing. One would hardly have expected this sc. 
 of iofeituation in a man who always wore the seme suit, and 
 it a suit that seemed coeval with the Conquest. 
 
 It was an unworthy ambition, perhaps, but I did wish I 
 oould make this man admire something about me or some- 
 thing I did*— you would have felt the same way. I saw my 
 opportunity : I was about to return to London, and had 
 < listed ' my soiled linen fw the wash. It made quite an 
 imposing mountain in the comer of the room — fifty-four 
 pieces. I hoped he would £uicy it was the accumulation oi 
 a single week. I took up the wash-list, as if to see that it 
 was all right, and then tossed it on the table, with pre- 
 tended forgetfulness. Sure enough, be took it np and ran 
 
ROQBJta. 
 
 -*boat 
 w. It 
 «y. I 
 
 It 80 
 
 First 
 
 Then 
 waying 
 
 to me 
 ; don't 
 • 
 
 ) could 
 ill, not» 
 t while 
 
 [ring in 
 
 ) article 
 ihitt sc. 
 nit, and 
 
 ' wish I 
 >r some- * 
 saw my 
 md had 
 [uite an 
 5fty-four 
 ktionol 
 ) that it 
 ith pr»- 
 and ran 
 
 his eye along down to the grand total ^en he said, ' Toa 
 get off ea^,' and laid it down again. 
 
 His gloTce were the saddest min, hut he told me where 
 I oonld get some like them. His shoee would hardly hold 
 widnuts without leaking, hut he liked to put his feet up on 
 the mantel-p^pce and contemplate them. He wore a dim 
 glasahreastpin, which he called a 'morphylitio diamond'-^ 
 whateyer that may mean — and said only two of them had 
 ever been found — ^the Emperor of China had the other one. 
 
 Afterward, in London, it was a pleasure to me to see 
 this fentastic vagabond come marching into the lobby of the 
 hotel in his grand-ducal way, for he always had some new 
 imaginary gxundeur to derelop-— there was nothing stale 
 about him buthis clothes. If he addressed me when strangers 
 were about, he always raised his voice a little and called ma 
 < 8ir Richard,' or ' General,' or ' Your Lordship ' — and when 
 people began to stare and look deferential, he would fall to 
 inquiring in a casual way why I disappointed the Duke of 
 Argyll the night before; and then remind me of our en- 
 gagement at the Duke of Westminster's for the following 
 day. I think that for the time being these things were 
 realities to him. He once came and invited me to go with 
 him and spend the evening with the Earl of Warwick at 
 his town house. I said I had received no formal invitation. 
 He said that that was of no consequence, the Earl had no 
 formalities for him or his friends. I asked if I might go 
 Just as I was. He said no, that would hardly do ; evening 
 dress was requisite at night in any gentleman's l^ouse. He 
 said he would wait while I dressed, and then we would go 
 to bis apartments and I could take a bottle of champagne 
 
 :*< 
 
8fi0 
 
 MOOmtA 
 
 and a dgar wliile he cbreesed. I waa Teiy wilUng io aea 
 how this enterprise would torn out, bo I dresaed and we 
 started to his lodgings. He said if I didn't mind we would 
 walk. So we tramped some four miles through the mud 
 and fogy and finally found his ' apartments : ' they consisted 
 of a single room over a barber's shop in a back street. Two 
 oh 'irs, ^ muM table^ an ancient valise, a wash-basin and 
 pil " (^Mih on the floor in a comer), an unmade bed, a 
 fragL at Ok \ looking-glass, and a flower-pot with a perish- 
 ing little rose geranium in it, which he called a century 
 plants and said it had not bloomed now for upwards of two 
 centuries— given to him by the late Lord PalmersUm — ^been 
 ofiered a pcodigious sum for it — these were the contents of 
 the room. Also a brass candlestick and part of a candle. 
 Eogera lit the candle, and told me to sit down and make 
 myself at home. He said he hoped I was thirsty, because 
 he would surprise my palate with an article of champagne 
 that seldom got into a commoner^s system ; or would I pre- 
 fer sherry, or port) Said he had port in bottles that were 
 swathed in stratified cobwebs, every stratum representing 
 a geneitktion. And as for his cigars — ^well, I should judge 
 of them myself. Then he put his head out at the door and 
 caUed— 
 
 'Sackville!' Ko answer. 
 
 *Hil— Sackvillel' No answer. 
 
 *'Now what the devil can have become of that butler t' 
 I n&oef allow a servant to--Oh, confound that idiot, he'i 
 got the A^«. Oan't get into the other rooms without the 
 keys,' 
 
 (I was just wondering at his intrepidity in still keeping 
 
Moomtd. 
 
 to Me 
 and we 
 
 swotild 
 b6 mud 
 cxDsistod 
 u. Two 
 ain and 
 d bed, a 
 tperish- 
 oentniy 
 3 of two 
 n — ^been 
 
 itODtSOf 
 
 \ candle, 
 ndmake 
 becanae 
 uoapagne 
 Ldlpra- 
 lat were 
 eaenting 
 Id judge 
 loor and 
 
 butler r 
 lioty he'i 
 lout the 
 
 keeping 
 
 np the delusion dt the champagne^ and trying to imagine 
 how he was going to get out of the difficulty.) 
 
 Kow he stopped calling Saokyille and began t'> call 
 'Anglesy.' But Anglesy didn't come. He said, <7^ij is 
 the $eeand time that that equeny has been absent without 
 leave. To-morrow HI discharge him.' 
 
 Now he began to whoop for 'Thomas/ but Thomas 
 didn't answer. Then for ' Theodore,' but no Theodore re- 
 plied. 
 
 'Well, I give it up/ said Ro^ s. 'The servants never 
 «3Epeot me at this hour, and so xhi, tc all off on a lark. 
 Blight get along without the equerry and the page, but can't 
 have any wine or cigars without '..^le butler, and can't dress 
 without my valet.' 
 
 I offered to help him drees, but be would not hear of it ; 
 and besides, he said he would not feel comfortable unless 
 dressed by a practised hand. However, he finally con- 
 eluded that he was such old friends with the Earl that it 
 would not make any difference how he was dressed. So we 
 took a cab, he gave the driver some directions, and we 
 started. By and by we stopped before a large house and 
 got out. I never had seen this man with a collar on. He 
 now stepped underla lunp and got a venerable paper coUar 
 out of his coat pocket, along with a hoary cravat, and put 
 them on. He ascended the stoop, and entered. Presently 
 he reappeared, descended rapidly, and said — 
 
 * dome— quick I ' 
 
 We hurried away, and turned the comer. 
 
 ' Now we're safe,' he said, and took off his collar and 
 cravat and returned them to his pocket 
 
 I'' 
 
BOGEYS. 
 
 * Made » mighty narrow eflcape/ said ha, 
 'Howt'iaidL 
 ' B' George, the Oonntefls was there t ' 
 
 * Well, what of that t — don't ahe know you!' 
 'Know met Ahsolutely worships me. I jnst did 
 
 happen to catch a glimpse of her before she saw me — and 
 out I shot. Hadn't seen her for two months — to rush in 
 on her without any warning might have been fatal. She 
 could not have stood it. I didn't know ahe was in town- 
 thought she was at the castle. Let me lean on you— just 
 a moment — there; now I am better — ^thank you; thank 
 you ever so much. Lord bless me, what an escape 1 ' 
 
 So I never got to call on the Earl after alL But I 
 marked his house for future reforence. It proved to be an 
 ordinary family hotel, with about a thousand plebeians 
 roosting in it. 
 
 In most things Rogers was by no means a fool. In some 
 things xt was plain enough that he was a fool, but he cer* 
 talnly did not know it. He was in the * deadest ' earnest in 
 these matters. He died at sea, last summer, as the * Earl 
 of Bamsgata* 
 
i 
 
 St did 
 ^-— cjid 
 ash in 
 . She 
 
 X)Wll-— 
 
 1— just 
 tliank 
 
 But I 
 ;obe an 
 lebdans 
 
 In some 
 
 he cer- 
 
 rnest in 
 
 le'Eerl 
 
 TUB LOVES OF ALONZO FITZ 
 CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH 
 ETHELTON. 
 
 It was well along in the forenoon of a bitter winter's day. 
 The town of Eastport, in the State of Maine, lay buried 
 under a deep snow that was newly fallen. The customary 
 bustle in the streets was wanting. One could look long dis- 
 tances down them and see nothing but a dead-white empti- 
 ness, with silence to match. Of course I do not mean that 
 you could 9tt the silence — ^no, you could only hear it. The 
 sidewalks were merely long, deep ditches, with steep snow 
 walls on either side. Here and there you might hear the 
 fidnt, far scrape of a wooden shovel, and if you were quick 
 enough you might catch a glimpse of a distant black figure 
 stooping and disappearing in otie of those ditches, and reap- 
 pearing the next moment with a motion which you would 
 know meant the heaving out of a shovelful of snow. But 
 you needed to be quick, for that black figure would not 
 linger, but would soon drop that shovel and scud for the 
 house, thrashing itself with its arms to warm them. Yes^ 
 it was too venomously cold for snowHsJiovellers or anybody 
 else to stay out long. 
 
 Presently the sky darkened; then the wind rose and 
 
 6l 
 
 ' 8 
 
ALONZO FITZ CLABSNCB 
 
 began to blow in fitful, yigoronB gufU, which stnt doudi fA 
 powdery mow aloft, and etiraight ahead, and eyery where. 
 Under the impulae of one of these gusts, great white drifte 
 banked themselves like graves across the streets ; a moment 
 later, another gust shifted them around the other way, 
 driving a fine spray of snow from their sharp crests, as the 
 gale drives the spume flakes from wave-crests at sea; a 
 third g^st swept that place as clean as your hand, if it saw 
 fit. Thi^ was fooUnff, this was play ; bat each and all of the 
 gusts dumped some snow into the sidewalk ditches, for that 
 WAS business. 
 
 Alonso Fitz Clarence was sitting in his snug and elegant 
 !ittle parlotur, in a lovely blue silk dressing -gown, with cufik 
 and fSftcings of crimson satin, elaborately quilted. The re- 
 mains of his breakfast were before him, and the dainty and 
 costly little table service added a harmonious charm to the 
 grace, beauty, and Jichness of the fixed appointments of the 
 room. A cheery fire was blaung on the hearth. 
 
 A furious gust of wind shook the windows, and a great 
 wave of snow washed against them with & drenching sound, 
 so to speak. The handsome young bachelor murmured — 
 
 * That means, no going out to-day. Well, I am content. 
 But what to do for company 1 Mothor is well enough, Aunt 
 Susan is well enough ; but these, like the poor, I have with 
 me always. On so grim a day as ibis, one needs a new in> 
 terest, a fresh element, to whet the dull ""edge of captivity. 
 That was very neatly said, but ^t doesn't mean anything. 
 One doesn't wamJk tlie edge of captivity sharpened up, you 
 know, but just the reverse/ 
 
 He glanced at his pretty French mantel-dook. 
 
Aim ROSAmfAS BTEBLTON, 
 
 'That dock's wrong Again. That olook hmrdlj ever 
 knows what time it is ; and when it does know, it lies about 
 it-— which amounts to the same thing. Alfred 1 ' 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
 ' Alfred 1 . • • Qood servant, but as uncertain as the 
 elook.' 
 
 Alonzo touched an electrical bell-button in the wall. He 
 waited a moment, then touched it again; waited a few 
 moments more, and said — 
 
 < Battery out of order, no doubt. But now that I have 
 started, I ibiU find out what time it is.' He stepped to a 
 speaking-tube in the wall, blew its whistle, and called, 
 * Mother 1 ' and repeated it twice. 
 
 ' Well, thai^i no use. Mother's battery is out of order, 
 toa Oan't raise anybody downstairs — that is plain.' 
 
 He £> it down at a rosewood desk, leaned his chin on the 
 left-hand edge of it, and spoke, as if to the floor : ' Aunt 
 Susan I ' -^ 
 
 A low, pleasant voice answered, * Is that you, Alonzo I ' 
 
 ' Yes. I'm too lazy and comfortable to go downstairs ; 
 I am in extremity, and I can't seem to scare up any 
 help.' 
 
 * Dear me, what is the matter t ' 
 
 ' Matter enough, I can tell you I * 
 
 ' Oh, don't keep me in suspo^^e, dear I What if it !' 
 
 ' I want to know what time it is.' 
 
 *Tou abominable boy, what a turn you did Ive me t Is 
 thatallf 
 
 ' All — on my honour. Calm yourself. Tell me the tims^ 
 and receive my blessing.' 
 
 
262 IB ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE 
 
 'Just fiye minutes after nine. Ko charge — keep your 
 bleBsing/ 
 
 ' Thanks. It wouldn't have impoverished me, aunty, nov 
 80 enriched you that you could live without other means.' 
 He got up murmuring, * Just five minutes after nine/ and 
 fis;c9d his dock. * Ah,* said he, ' you are doing better tl=^-xx 
 uaual. You are only thirty-four minutes wrong. Let me 
 see ... let me see. . . . Thirty-three and twenty-one are 
 fifty-four ; four times fifty-four are two hundred and thirty- 
 six. One off, leaves two hundred and thii-ty-five. That's 
 right.' 
 
 He turned the hands of his dock forward tlQ they 
 marked twenty-five minutes to one, and said, 'Now see 
 if you can't keep right for a while . . . else 111 raffle 
 you I ' 
 
 He sat down at the desk again, and said, ' Aunt Susan I ' 
 
 * Yos, dear.' 
 ''Had breakfast!' 
 
 .'Yes indeed, an hour ago.' 
 *Busyr 
 
 * No — except sewing. Why ! ' 
 
 * Got any company % ' 
 
 * No, but I expect some at half past nine.' 
 
 * I wish / did. I'm lonesome. I want to talk to some- 
 body.' 
 
 * Very well, talk to me.' 
 
 * But this is very private.' 
 
 * Don't be afraid — talk right along ; there's nobody here 
 but me.' 
 
 * I hardly know whether to venture or not, but * 
 
AND HOSANNAH ETHMLTON. 
 
 Is to some- 
 
 'But what ) Oh, don't stop there t You Jcnoto you can 
 trust me, Alonzo — ^you know you can.' 
 
 ' I feel it, aunt, but !ihis is very serious. It a€ects me 
 deeply — me, and all the &mily — even the whole oom- 
 munity.' 
 
 ' Oh, Alonzo, tell me 1 I will never breathe a word of it 
 Whatisitr 
 
 'Aunt, if I might dare——* 
 
 ' Oh, please go on 1 I love you, and can feel for you. Tell 
 me all. Oonfide in me. What m it f ' 
 
 'The weather!' 
 
 ' Plague take the weather I I don't see how you can have 
 the heart to serve me so, Lon.' 
 
 ' There, there, aunty dear, I'm sorry ; I am, on my honour. 
 I won't do it again. Do you forgive me ! ' 
 
 ' Tes, since you seem so sincere about it, though I know 
 I oughtn't to. You will fool me again as soon as I have for- 
 gotten this time.' 
 
 * No I won't, honour bright. But such weather, oh^ such 
 weather ! You've got to keep your spirits up artificially. 
 It is snowy, ar.d blowy, and gusty, and bitter cold ! How is 
 the weather with you 1 ' '^ 
 
 * Warm and rainy and melancholy. The mourners go 
 about the streets with their umbrellas running streams from 
 the end of every whalebone. There's an elevated double 
 pavement of umbrellas stretching down the sides of the 
 streets as far as I can see. I've got a fii'e for cheerfulness, 
 and the windows open to keep cool. But it is vain, it is 
 useless : nothing com^ in but the bakny breath of December, 
 with its burden of mocking odours from the flowers that 
 
 J 
 
 
S04 
 
 ALONZO FITZ CLAMENCS 
 
 possetss the realm outside, and rejoice in tlieii lawless profunon 
 whilst the spirit of man is low, and flaunt their gaudy splen- 
 dours in his face whilst his soul is clothed in sackcloth and 
 ashes and his heart breaketh/ 
 
 Alonzo opened his lips to say, * You ought to print that, 
 and get it framed/ but checked himself, for he heard L' ' 
 aunt speaking to some one else. He went and stood at the 
 window and looked out upon the wintry prospect. The 
 storm was driving the snow before it more furiously than 
 ever ; window shutters were slamming and banging ; a for- 
 lorn dog, with bowed head and tail withdrawn from service, 
 was presshig his quaking body against a windward wall for 
 shelter and protection; a young girl was ploughing knee^ 
 deep through the drifts, with her face turned from the blast, 
 and the cape of her waterproof blowing straight rearward 
 over her head. Alonzo shuddered, and said with a sigh, 
 * Better the slop, and the sultry rain, and even the insolent 
 flowers, than this ! ' ' 
 
 He turned from the window, moved a step, and stopped 
 in a listening attitude. The faint, sweet notes of a familiar 
 song caught his ear. He remained there, with his head 
 unconsciously bent forward, drinking in the melody, stirrincy 
 neither hand nor foot, hardly breathing. There was a blemish 
 In the execution of the song, but to Alonzo it seemed an 
 added charm instead of a defect. This blemish consisted of 
 a marked flatting of the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and 
 seventh notes of the refrain or i^horus of the pieoe. When 
 the music ended, Alonzo drew a deep breath, and said, 'Ah, 
 I never have heard " In the Sweet By-and-By " sung likfl 
 that before 1 ' ^ 
 
ANJ> ROSANNAS ETHELTON. 
 
 S66 
 
 He stepped quickly to the desk, listened a moment, and 
 3aid in a guarded, oonfidential voice, ' Annty, who is this 
 divine singer 1 * 
 
 * She is the company I was expecting. Stays with me a 
 month or two. I will introduce you. Miss * 
 
 * For goodness' sake, wait a moment. Aunt Susan 1 You 
 never stop to think what you are about ! ' - 
 
 He flew to his bed-chamber, and returned in a moment 
 perceptibly changed in his outward appcjirance, and re> 
 marking, snappishly— 
 
 * Hang it, she would have introduced me to this angel in 
 that sky-blue dressing-gown with red-hot lapels I Women 
 never think when they get a^ing.' ' 
 
 He hastened and stood by the desk, and said eagerly, 
 ' Now, aunty, I am ready,' and fell to smiling and bowing 
 with all the persuaoiveness and elegance that were in him. 
 
 ' Yery well. Miss Kosannah Ethelton, lei me introduce 
 to you my favourite nephew, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence. 
 There ! Tou are both good people, and I like you ; so I am 
 going to tiiist you together while I attend to a few household 
 affairs. Sit down, Rosannah ; sit down, Alonzo. Good-by ; 
 I shan't be gone long.' 
 
 Alonzo had been bowing and smiling all the while, and 
 motioning imaginary young ladies to sit down in imaginary 
 chairs, but now he took a seat himself, mentally saying, 
 ' Oh, this is luck i Let the winds blow now, and the snow 
 drive, and l^e heavens frown 1 Little I care 1 ' 
 
 While jthese joung people chat themselves into an 
 acquaintanceship, let us take the liberty of inspecting the 
 sweeter and fairer of the two. She sat alone, at her grace- 
 
 i! 
 
 -I 
 I 
 
 i. 
 
 I 
 
 II 
 
» * ■!» "f! 
 
 .>*■ -^ 
 
 
 / 
 
 ^i 
 
 t- s 
 
 n 
 
 
 ALONZO FITZ CI ^^^v J^ 
 
 'Pl ",.'>■ /-W- 
 
 ltd ease, in a richly furnished aparhr .eur- tr hirh was umbI* 
 feetly the private parlour of a refined and sensible lady, if 
 signs and symbols may go for anything. For inptance, by 
 ft low, comfortable chau* stood a dainty, top-'ieavy work- 
 stand, whose summit was a fancifully embroidered shallow 
 basket, with yari-coloure(^i crewels, and other strings and 
 odds and ends, protruding from under the gaping lid and 
 hanging down in negligent profusion. On the floor lay 
 bright shijds of Turkey red, Prussian blue, and kindred 
 fabrics, bits of ribbon, a spool or two, a pair of scissors, and 
 a roll or so of tinted silken stufls. On a luzurioub sofa, 
 uphohtered with some sort of soft In^kn goods wrought 
 in black and gold threads interwebbod ^rith other threads 
 not so pronounced in colour, lay a great square of coarse 
 white stuff, upon whose surface a rich bouqueb of flowers 
 was growing, under the deft e^iltiitvtion of the crochet 
 needle. The household cat was asleep on this work of art. 
 In a k.y -window .d an easel with an unfii^ished picture 
 on it, and a paletto and brushes en a chair beside it. There 
 were books everywhere: Robertson's Sermons, Tennyson^ 
 Moody and Sankey, Hawthorne, 'Bab and his Friends,' 
 cook-books, prayer-books, pattern-books — and books aboui; 
 all kinds of odious and exasperating pottery, of course. There 
 was a piano, with a deckload of music, and more in a tender. 
 There was a great plenty of pictures on the walls, on the 
 Bhelves of the mantel-piece, and around generally ; where 
 ooigr:. of vantage offered were statuettes, and quaint and 
 jpr »tty gimcr»cks, and rare and costly specimens of peculiarly 
 devilish china. The bay-window gave upon a garden that was 
 ftbiase with foreigJi and dom^ic flowers and Sowerin^ighi'ubi. 
 
 
^f^M.: 
 
 AND ROSANNAJBL BTEELTON. 
 
 m 
 
 But the HV766ti young ^1 was the daintiest thing tho^^ 
 premises, within or without, could offer for contemp'a; ion i 
 delicately chiselled features, of Grecian cast ; hereon); ^licv 
 the pure snow of a japonica that is receiving a faint reusscttid 
 enrichment from some scarlet neighbour of the garden; great 
 soft blue eyes fringed with long, curving lashes; an ex- 
 pression made up of the trustfulness of a child and the 
 gentleness of a fawn ; a beautiful head crowned with its 
 own prodigal gold ; a lithe and rounded figure, whose every 
 attitude and movement were instinct with native grace. 
 
 Her dress and adornment were marked by that exquisite 
 harmony that can come only of a fine natural taste pc^rfected 
 by culture. Her gown was of a simple magenta tulle, cut 
 bias, traversed by three rows of light blue flounces, with 
 the selvage edges turned up with ashes-of-ro&es ^bciiilid; 
 overdress of dark bay tarlatan, with scarlet satin lambrequins; 
 corn-coloured polonaise, en ycmier, looped wicli Toctner-of- 
 pearl buttons and silver cord, and hauled afh ' ?d mi-.de fast 
 by buff- velvet lashings; basque of lavender <eps, picke^^ 
 out with Valenciennes; low nook, short fcleeve^v laroon- 
 velvet necktie edged with delicate pink silk ; injaicte hand- 
 kerchief of some simple three-ply ir grain fabrio of a soil 
 ea&ou tint ; coral bracelets and locket-chain ; coiffure of 
 forget-me-i.ots and lilies uf the valley mas&ed around a 
 noble c^la. 
 
 This was all ; yet even in this uubdued attire she wa« 
 divinely beautiful. Then what must she have bt^n when 
 ftdonif d for the festival or the ball ! 
 
 All this time she had been busfjy chattLig with Alonzo, 
 imconsdoxis of our inspection. The miButea still sped, and 
 
 I 
 
'■rf* 
 
 il 
 
 ALOKZO FirZ CZAHENCB 
 
 ■till she talked. But by and by she happened to look up, 
 and saw the clock. A crimaon blush sent its rich flood 
 through her cheeks, and she exclaimed— < 
 
 * There, good-bye, Mr. Fitz Clarence ; I must go now ! * * 
 She sprang from her chair with such haste that she 
 
 hardly heajfd the young man's answering good-bye. She stood 
 radiant, graceful, beautiful, and gazed, wondering, upon the 
 accusing clock. Presently her pouting lips parted, and she 
 ■aid — 
 
 ' Fire minutes after eleven 1 Nearly two hours, and it 
 did not seem twenty minutes 1 Oh, dear, what will he think 
 of me ! ' 
 
 At the self-same moment Alonzo was staring at hU dock. 
 And presently he said — 
 
 * Twenty-five miuutes to three ! Nearly two hours, and I 
 didn't beUeye it was two minutes ! Is it possible that this 
 dock is humbugging again ! Miss Ethelton ! Just one 
 Bpoment, please. Are you there yet 1 * 
 
 * Yes, but be quick ; I'm going right away.' 
 
 * Would yon be so kind as to tell me what time it is 1 ' 
 The girl blushed again, murmjired to herself, * It's right 
 
 flown cruel of him to ask mel' and then spoke up and 
 »m; vered with admirably counterfeited unconcern, * Five 
 mm 'tea after eleven.' 
 
 * Oh, thank you 1 You have to go, now, have yoa ! ' 
 •Yes." 
 
 * Tm sorry.' 
 No reply. 
 'Miss Ethelton I • 
 •Welir 
 
AND JROaANNAH BTHELTON, 
 
 * You— you're there yet, ain*t you \* 
 
 * Yes -y but please huny. What did you want to say ^ * 
 
 * Well, I — well, nothing in particular. It's rery lone- 
 some here. It's asking a great deal, I know, but would you 
 mind talking with me again by and by — t)iat is, if it will 
 not trouble you too much 1 ' 
 
 * I don't know— but I'll think about it. Ill try.* 
 
 ' Oh, thanks I Miss Etbelton t . . . Ah me, she's gone, 
 and here are the black clouds and the whirling snow and the 
 raging winds come again ! But she said good-bye / She 
 didn't say good-morning, she said good-b} e ! . . . The clock 
 was right, after all. What a lightniug- winged two hours it 
 wasl' 
 
 He sat down, and gazed dreamily into his ifire for a 
 while, then heaved a sigh and said — 
 
 * How wonderful it is I Two little hours ago I was a 
 free man, and now my heart's in San Francisco 1 ' 
 
 About that time Bosannah Ethelton, propped in the 
 window-seat of her bed-chamber, book in hand, was gasing 
 vacantly out over the rainy seas that washed the Qolden 
 Gate, and whispering to herself, * How different he is from 
 poor Burley, with his empty head and his single little anUo 
 talent of mimicrv 1 ' 
 
 11 
 
 i 
 
 ; ^ 
 
 
 XL 
 
 Pour weeks later Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley was enter^ 
 taining a gay luncheon company, in a sumptuous drawing- 
 room on Telegraph Hill, with some capital imitations of 
 the voices and ^tures of certain popular actors and San 
 
m 
 
 ALONZO FITZ CLARENCJB 
 
 Franciscan literary people and Bonanza grandees. He wai 
 elegantly upholstered, and was a handsome fellow, barring a 
 trifling cast in his eye. He seemed very jovial, but never- 
 theless he kept his eye on the door with an expectant and 
 uneasy watchfulness. By and by a nobby lackey appeared, 
 and delivered a message to the mistress, who nodded her 
 head understandingly. That seemed to settle the thing for 
 Mr. Burley ; his vivacity decreased little by little, and a 
 dejected look began to creep into one of his eyes and a 
 sinister one into the other. 
 
 The rest of the company departed in due time, leaving 
 him with the mistress, to whom he said — 
 
 * 'piere is no longer any question about it. She avoids 
 me. She continually excuses herself. If I could see her, 
 if I could speak to her only a moment — but this sus- 
 pense * 
 
 * Perhaps her seeming avoidance is mere accident, Mr. 
 Burley. Go to the small drawing-room up-stairs and amuse 
 yourself a moment. I will despatch a household order 
 that is on my mind, and then I will go to her room. With- 
 out doubt she will be persuaded tc' see you.* 
 
 Mr. Burley went up-stairs, intending to go to the small 
 drawing-]^m, but as he was passing ' Aunt Susan's ' pri- 
 vate parlour, the door of which stood slightly ajar, he heard 
 a joyous laugh which he recognised j so without knock or 
 announcement he stepped confidently in. But before ha 
 eould make his presence known he heard words that bar* 
 rowed up his soul and chilled his young blood. He heard 
 8 voice say — 
 
 *Dai*liQg, it has come I ' 
 
AND ROSANNAE ETHELTOK 
 
 m 
 
 Thsn he heard Kosannah Etheiton, whose baok wai 
 toward him, say— 
 
 ' So has yours, dearest t ' 
 
 He saw her bowed form bend lower ; he heard her kiss 
 ■omething, — not merely once, but again and again 1 His 
 soul raged within him. The heart-breaking conversation 
 went on — 
 
 'Bosannah, I knew you must be beautiful, but this is' 
 dazzling, this is blinding, this is intoxicating 1 ' 
 
 * Alonzo, it is such >iappiness to hear you say it. I 
 know it IS not true, but I am «o grateful to have you think 
 it is, nevertheless I I knew you must have a noble face, 
 but the grace and majesty of the reality beggar the poor 
 creation of mj^ fancy,' 
 
 Burley heard that rattling shower of kisses again. 
 
 'Thank you, my Kosannah 1 The photograph flatten 
 me, but you must not allow yourself to think of that. 
 Sweetheart I ' 
 
 * Yes, AlonK).' 
 
 ' I am so happy, Rosannah.' 
 
 ' Oh, Alcmzo, none that have gone before me knew what 
 love was, none that come after me will ever know what 
 happiness is. I float in a gorgeous doudland, a boundless 
 firmament of enchanted and bewildering ecstasy 1 ' 
 
 ' Oh, my Rosannah I — for you are mine, are you not t ' . 
 
 * Wholly, oh, wholly yours, Alonzo, now and for ever I 
 All the day long, and all through my nightly dreams, one 
 song sings itself, and its sweet burden is, "Alonzo Fits 
 Okrence, Alonxo Fitz Clarence, Eastport, State of Maine!'" 
 
 i 
 
 ' I'l 
 
S7S 
 
 ALONZO FITZ CLAMENCB 
 
 'Oune him, Tve got Lib addreis, anj wayl' roared 
 Burley, inwardly, and rushed from the place^ 
 
 Jost behind the unconrcious Alonzo stood his mother, a 
 picture of astonishment. She was so muffled from hea(^. to 
 heel in furs that nothing of herself was visible but her eyes 
 and nose. She was a good allegory of winter, for she was 
 powdered all over with snow. 
 
 Behind the unconscious Rosannah stood ' Aunt Susan,' 
 another picture of astonisliment. She was a good allegory 
 of summer, for she was lightly clad, and was vigorously 
 cooling the perspiitition on her face with a fan. 
 
 Both of these women had tears of joy in their eyes. 
 
 ' So ho 1 ' exclaimed Mrs. Fitz Clarence, ' this explains 
 why nobody has been able to drag you out of jrour room for 
 ■ix weeks, Alonao 1 ' 
 
 'So hoi' exclaimed Aunt Susan, 'this explains why 
 you have been a hermit for the past six weeks, Bosannah I ' 
 
 The young couple were on their feet in an instant, 
 abashed, and standing like detected dealers in stolen goods 
 awaiting Judge Lvnch's doom. 
 
 ' Bless you, my son 1 I am happy in your happiness. 
 Come to your mother's arms, Alonzo ! ' 
 
 * Bless you, Rosannah, for my dear nephew's sake I Come 
 to my arms 1 * ^ . 
 
 Then was there a mingling of hearts and of tears of re- 
 joicing on Telegraph Hill and in Eastport Square. 
 
 Servants were called by the elders, in both places. Unto 
 one was given the order, ' Pile this fire high with hickory 
 wood, and bring me a roasting-hot lemonade.' 
 
AND ROSANNAH STHELTON. 
 
 Unto the other was given the order, ' Put out this fire, 
 and bring me two palm-leaf fans and a pitcher of ice-water.' 
 
 Then the young people were diflmissed, and the elders 
 ■at down to talk the sweet surprise over and make tht 
 wedding plans. 
 
 Some minutes before this Mr. Burley rushed from tht 
 mansion on Telegraph Hill without meeting or taking 
 formal leave of anybody. He hissed through his teeth, in 
 unconscious imitation of a popular favourite in melodrama, 
 ' Him shall she never wed 1 I have sworn it 1 Ere great 
 Nature shall have dofifed her winter's ermine to don the 
 emerald gauds of spring, she shall be mine 1 ' 
 
 UL 
 
 Two weeks later. Every few hours, during some three 
 or four days, a very prim and devout-looking Episcopal 
 clergyman, with a cast in his eye, had visited Alonjzo. 
 Aooor^ng to his card, he was the Eev. Melton Hargrave, 
 of Oindnnati. He said he had retired from the ministry on 
 account of his health. If he had said on account of Ul 
 health, he would probably have erred, to judge by his 
 wholesome looks sknd firm build. He was the inventor of 
 an improvement in telephones, and hoped to make his bread 
 by selling the privilege of using it. * At present,* he con- 
 tinued, ' a man may go and tap a telegraph wire which is 
 conveying a song or a concert from one State to another, 
 and hi' can attach his private telephone and steal a hearing 
 
 il 
 
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 Hiotographic 
 
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 Corporation 
 
 23 WIST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S«0 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
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 AZ0NZ6 MmS CLAJtSNCM 
 
 ol tb^t nnude as it i^um: along. My inTentioii will atop all 
 
 Ihat' 
 
 < Well/ answered Alonso, 'if the owner of the miisio 
 oonld not miss what was stolen, why should he care f ' 
 
 * He shouldn't oare»' said the Beverend. 
 
 < Well t ' said Alonao inqniringly. 
 
 ^Suppose,' replied the Raverend, <sappose that» instead 
 of mnsic that was passing along and being stolen, the Burden 
 of the wire was loving endearments of the most private and 
 ■acred nature t' 
 
 Alonso shuddered from head to heel. 'Sir, It is a 
 piioeloBS invention,' said he ; ' I must have it at any cost.' 
 
 Bat the invention was delayed somen liere on the road 
 from Oinctnnati, most nnaocountably. The impatient 
 AUmao oould hardly wait The thought of Bosannah's 
 sweet words being shared with him by some ribald thief 
 was galling to him* The Beverend came frequently and 
 lamented the delay, and told of measures he had taken 
 to huny things up. This was <<onie little oomfbrt to 
 
 Alonso. 
 
 ' One forenoon the Beverend ascended the stairs and 
 knocked at Alonio's door. There was no response. He 
 entered, glanced eagerly around, dosed the door softly, then 
 ran to the telephone.. The exquisitely soft and remote 
 •trains of the ' Sweet By-«nd-By ' came floating through the 
 instrument. The singer was flatting, as usual, the five 
 notes that follow the first t'^fu in tiie chorus, when the 
 Beverend interrupted her with this word, in a voioe whi<& 
 was an exact imitatSon of Alonzo's, with just the 
 |lavo>iir of impatit^ce added— 
 
•^^2> nOSANNAH BTMBLTON, 
 
 trtk 
 
 'SweethwurU' 
 
 Th, .glle rtq. th.t goe. with . Uppy he«t WM hearf «. 
 
 ^ «fi^ behind th, heavy fold, rf th. vel Jwinir 
 ^^ ^"^ «tered «ui flew to the telephone. Seid 
 
 ' Boeannah. dear, ehaU we dng «mething together r 
 S-aeUung mo*m/'«4ed d« with «««tio Ktte,. 
 
 'YeB, if yoo prefer. 
 Sing it yours^ if yon likci I » 
 
 'BoniiiiAh, that was not like yon.' ^'^ 
 VI-iWOBeitbecome. me « muidi m yenr^poKf 
 i1»eech became yon, Mr. Kt« dawnce.' 
 
 fanJ.lfT!^'* ^'^''' ^'^''^^ "^ ^ nothing 
 impohte abont my speech.' ^ 
 
 -Ohindeedl Ofoon«e, th.n,ImiHnnde«toodyoa,and 
 I moe^ humbly beg your Ko donb^yoa 
 
 ■Md, "Don't Bing it any mow to^ay."' 
 « Sing le^ any more to-day ! » 
 
 • The Bong yon mentioned, of con«a Howveiyobtu* 
 we are, all of a sudden I ' 
 
 * I never mentioned any soi^.' 
 •Oh,yonrfw?»'l/» 
 
 ^^ 
 
ALONZO FITZ CLAMSNOS 
 
 * I am oompelled to remark that y<m did* 
 < And I am obliged to mterate that I didnV 
 *A aeoond rudenaeBl That ia aufficifliit, sb. I will 
 never forgivo yon. AU ia ow between na.' 
 
 Then came * muffled Bonnd of crying. Alonao haatened 
 
 to flay—' 
 
 «0h, Boaannah, nnaay thoae wordal There ii lome 
 areadfoi myafcery teze, flome hideona mistake. lamntteriy 
 ewneat and ainoere when I aay I new aaid anything about 
 anyaong. I wonld not hmrt yon for the whole world .. . 
 Kosannah, dear! ... Oh, apeak to me, won't yon!' 
 
 There was a panse; then Alonao heard thejprraaobbinga 
 letareating, and knew she had gone from the telephone, fle 
 
 loae with a kei^vy »gh and hastened from tl^e room, flaying 
 to himadf, «I will ransack the charity misaiona and the 
 hftunta of the poor>r my moth«f. She wiU persnade her 
 that T never meant to wonnd her.' 
 
 A minnte later, the Bevetend waa cronehmg over the 
 telephone like a cat that knoweth the waya of the prey. He 
 had not very many minntea to wait. A aoft» repentant 
 Toioe, tremnlona with teara, flaid— 
 
 « Alonao, dear, I have been wrong. Yon oouM not have 
 said flo oniel a thing, It mnat have been aome one who im*. 
 tated yonr voice in malioe or in jeat' 
 
 The Reverend coldly answered, in Alonao'a tonea— 
 
 * Yon have aain all waa over between na. So let it b^ 
 I apnm yonr proflfered repentance, and deepiae it I ' 
 
 Then he departed, radiant with fiendish triumph, t» letnia 
 
 no more with hia imaginary, telephonic invention for ever. 
 lV)ur hooia afterward, Akmao arrived with hia mother 
 
:v - 
 
 AND JHOSANirAB STMBLTONi 
 
 S77 
 
 ftmn her &Toiiiito haunts of poreiij and yioe. They sum* 
 monedtheBpml^ra&cifloohoiiflehold; hut there wm no raplj, 
 Thej waited, end oontiniied to wait^ npon the trlciel«M tele- 
 phone* 
 
 At length, when it waa aonaet in San nranoiioo, and 
 three hocini and a half after dark In Eaitport^ an anewer 
 etme to the oft-repeated ory of ' Boeannah I ' 
 
 Bnt^ alaa 1 it was Aunt Susan's Toioe that spake. She 
 said— 
 
 'I haye heen out all daj ; just got in. I will go and 
 find her.' 
 
 The watchers waited two mlnntea— fiye minntes— -ten 
 minutes. Then came these &tal wordsy in a lightened 
 
 ' She is gone^ and her baggage with h^. To yisit an- 
 other friendy she told the servants. But I fornd this note 
 on the table in her lo^iai. listen: '' I am gone ; seek not to 
 traoe me out ; mj heart is broken ; yon will never see me 
 mora Tell him I shall always think of him when I sing 
 my poor ' Sweet By-and-By/ but never of. the unkind words 
 he said about it." That is her note. Alonso, Alonao, what 
 doesitmeant What has hi^pened t ' 
 
 But AlouBO sat white and oold as the dead. His mother 
 threw back the velvet ourtains and opened a window. The 
 oold air refreshed the sufferer, and he tdd his aunt his 
 dismal story. Meantime his mother was inspecting a card 
 which had disdoasd itself upon the floor when she oast the 
 eortains badt. It read, < Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley, San 
 Wandsco.' 
 
 'The mi sc re a n t I * shouted Alwmo, and rushed fivth ti 
 
m 
 
 AZONZO FITZ ClAMBNOS 
 
 iMk the fUae Beverend and destroy Mm; Ibr the end es- 
 plained evenrthing, tinoe in the oouzte of the lovenf mutual 
 oonf&Kions they had told each other all aboat all the swee^ 
 bearte they had ever had, and thrown no end of mud at theb 
 fidUngs and foiblea— for loven alwaye do that. It has • 
 fiuKrination that ranks next after billing and oooing. 
 
 IV. 
 
 During the next two months many things happened. It 
 had early transpired that Eosannah^ poor scuffeiing orphan, 
 had neither returbed to her grandmother in Portland, 
 Oregon, nor sent any word to her save a duplicate of the 
 woful note she had left in the mansion on Telegraph HiU. 
 Whosoever was sheltering her — ^if shv^ was sUll alive — ^had 
 been peprsuaded not to betray her whereabouts, without 
 doubt I for aJl efforts to find trace of her had fisdled. 
 
 Did Alonsogiveher upt Not he. He said to hinself, 
 ' She will sing that sweet song when she is sod ; I shall find 
 her.' So he took his carpet sack and a poxifible telephone^ 
 and shook the snow of his native dty &om his arotios, and 
 went fi)rth into the world. He wandered &r and wide and 
 in many States. Time and again, strangers were iMtounded 
 to see a wasted, pale, and woe-worn man laboriously dimb a 
 tciegraph-pole in wintry and lonely places, perch sadly there 
 an hour, with his ear at a little box, then come sighing 
 down, and wander wearily away. Sometimes they fibnA at 
 him, as peasants do at aeronauts, thinking him mad and 
 dangerous. Thus hia dlothes were much shredded by bullets, 
 
AND MOSANSAM STSSLtON. 
 
 if. 
 
 And Ml person grievouBly liuMrated. Bnl he b»t ili all 
 pfttieDtlj. 
 
 In tiie beginning of his pilgrimAge he med often to lajy 
 «Ah, if I oould but hear the ''Sweet Bj-and-Bj"!' Bat 
 toward the end of it he used to shed tean of angnish and 
 mjf ' Ah, if I could but hear something else 1 ' 
 
 Thus a month and three weeks drifted hy, and at last 
 some hwnane people seised him and confined him in a 
 private mad-house in New York. He made no moan, te 
 Ids strength was all gone, and with it all heart and all hope. 
 The superintendent^ in pity, gave up Ids own comfortahia 
 parlour and bed-chamber to him and nursed him with aflfoo- 
 iionate derotion. 
 
 At th:^ rad of a week the patient was able to leave his 
 bed fisr the first time.. He was lying, comfortably pillowed, 
 on a 8ofi^ listening to the plainiiye Miserere of the hkmk 
 Maxoh winds, and the muffled sound of tramping fiaet in the 
 street below,->-for it was about six in the erening^ and New 
 York was going home from work. He had a bright fire and 
 the added cheer of a couple of student lamps. So it wae 
 warm and snug within, though bleak and raw without; it 
 was light and Imght within, though outside it was as dark 
 mod dreary as if the world had been lit with Hartford gas. 
 Alonso smiled fisebly to think how his loving vagaries had 
 made him a E^ianiao in the eyes of the world, and was pro- 
 ceeding to pursue his line of thought further, when a ikint^ 
 iweet straur, the veiy ghost of sound, so remote and a^ 
 tenuated it seemed, struck upon his ear. His pulses stood 
 still; he listened with parted %i and bated breath. The 
 «oiig flowed on— he waiting^ listening, rising slowty and* 
 
ALONZO FXTZ OLAMiiNClS 
 
 vnoQiiadbiiily fSrom bis reouinbeat position. At Itfl bt 
 exolaimed—' 
 
 'Itifll itisshel Oh, the diWne flatted notes I' 
 
 He dragged himaeif eagerly to the oomer whence the 
 sounds proceeded, tore aside a eurtain, and discovered a 
 telephone. He be^it oyer, and as the last note died away 
 lie burst forth with the exclamation— 
 
 *Ohy thank Heayen, found at lastl Speak to me^ 
 Bosannah, dearest 1 Xheomel mystery has been unrayelled; 
 it was the yillain Bnrley who mimicked my yoioe and 
 wounded you with insolent speech I ' 
 
 There was a bceathless pause, a waiting age to Alonio ; 
 then a &int sound oame^ inssaxkg itself into language^— 
 
 * Oh, say those precious words agaiz^, Alonao I ' 
 
 ' They are the truth, the yeritable truth, my Bosannah, 
 and you shall have the proof, ample and abundant 
 pioofr 
 
 ' Oh, Alonso, stay by me t Leave me not for a moment I 
 Lot me feel that you aie near me 1 TeU me we shall never 
 be parted m* »re I Ob, this happy hour, this Ueesed hour, 
 this memoraUe hour J ' 
 
 ' We wiU mai?s record of it, my Bosannah ; every yew, 
 as this d^ar hour chimes from the dock, we will celebrate 
 H with thanksgivings, aU the years of our life/ 
 
 « We will, we will, Alonao I' 
 
 < Four minutes alter six, in the evening, my Bosannah 
 shall henceforth——' 
 
 ' Twenty-tiiree minutes after twelve, afternoon, shall—— 
 
 ' Why, Bosannah, darling, where are you T 
 
 ^\& Honolulu, Sandwidi Islands. And where are yoal 
 
\l ^'''' 
 
 AJfL BOaANNAM BTMMLTOB. 
 
 by me; do not leave me for a momesi I oaimot bear 
 H Are yoa at home t ' 
 
 ' No^ dear, I am in New York— a pa^t in the dootor^a 
 handa.' 
 
 An ligoniong shriek came buzang to Alonao'a ear, like 
 the sharp bnzziiig of a hurt gnat; it loat power in traTelling 
 lite thoneuid milet. Alonn> haatened to saj-— 
 
 'Calm jonrMil^ my child. It ii nothing. Already I 
 am getting w«dl under the sweet healing of your presenoeb 
 Rosannaht' 
 
 * Tes^ Aloniot Oh, how joa terrified me I Say on.' 
 
 * Name the happy day, Bosannah I * 
 
 There was a little pause. Then a difi^ent small Toloe 
 replied, < I Uiish— but it is with pleasure, it is with hi^* 
 ness. Would— would yon like to have it soon < ' 
 
 ' This very night, Bosannah I Oh I let us rkk no more 
 delays. Let it be now! — this very night, this vesy 
 moment 1' 
 
 ' Oh, yon impatient creature I I have nobody here but 
 my good old unde^ a missionary for a generation, and now 
 retired fnm. service— nobody but him and hie ysiSb. I 
 would so dearly li^e it if your mother and your aunt 
 Busan—- — ' 
 
 ' Owr mother and our auui Susan, my Bosannah.' 
 
 ' Yes, our mother and our aunt Susan — ^I am content to 
 word it so if it pleases yon ; I would sc like to have them 
 present.' 
 
 'So would L Suppose you telegraph Aunt Susan. 
 How long would it take Yit^ to come ?' 
 
 'The steamer leaves Ebn Itumbsoo day after tOHnov* 
 
AJLOmO Fin CLAUBNCM 
 
 tow. The paasage it eight dayi. Sh« would be 1i«m m 
 Mazdi 31. 
 < ' Then name Aprfl 1 : do, Boeannah, dear/ 
 ' Meroj, it would make ua Apiil fools, Alonio t* 
 ' So we be the happiest ones that that day's sim looki 
 down upon in the whole broad expanse of the globe^ whj 
 need we oare 1 Gall it April 1, dear.' 
 
 <Then April 1 it shaU be, with all mj heart!' 
 'Oh, happiness 1 Name the hour, too, Bosannah.' 
 «I like the morning, it is so bUthe. Will eight in the 
 morning do, Alonzo t ' 
 
 ' The loYeUeet hour in the day— since it will make you 
 mine.' ' ' 
 
 There was a feeble but frantic sound for some little 
 time, as if wool-lipped, disembodied spirits wen exchanging 
 kisses; then Bosannah said, 'Exeuse me just a moment^ 
 dear ; I have an appointment, and am called to meet it.' 
 
 The young girl sought a large parlour and took her plaoe 
 «t a window which looked out upon a beautifbl scene. To 
 the lefb one oould view the charming Nuuana Valley, fringed 
 with its ruddy flush of tropical floweis and. its plumed and 
 graceful ooooa palms; its rising foot-hills clothed in the 
 shining green of lemon, dtron, and orange groves; its 
 storied precipice beyond, where the firsf Kamehameha drove 
 his defeated foes over to their destruction — a spot that had 
 ^forgotten its grim histoiy, no doubt, for now it was smiling, 
 as ahnost always at noonday, under the glowing arches of a 
 seooessbn of rainbowa In front of the window one could 
 see ^e quaint toTn, and here and there a ptoturesque groiqp 
 fif dusky natives, enjoying the blistering weather; and hf 
 
A2m MOHANNAM BTBBLTON. 
 
 to the right lay^ tm^Siim oof An, tonbg iti white miM ia 
 th« Bonshina "^ 
 
 Bosannah itoodthare, in her filmy white raiment, flaming 
 her flushed and heated farje, waiting. A Kanaka hoy, 
 elothed in a damaged hlui< neck-tie and part of a silk hat, 
 thnut his head in ftt the door, and annoonned, <1Visoo 
 kaoUr 
 
 * Show him in/ said tho girl, straightening herself up and 
 assuming a meaning dignity. Hr. Sidney Algernon Burley 
 entered, dad from head to heel in dazzling snow— that is to 
 say, in the h'ghtest and whitest of Irish linen. He moT«d 
 eag^ly forward, b t the girl made a gesture and gave hxm 
 a look which checked him suddenly. She said coldly, * I am 
 here, as I promised. I believed your assertions, I yielded to 
 your importunities, and said } ^ould name the day. I name 
 the 1st of April — eight in the ing. Now go 1 ' 
 
 < Oh, my dearest, if tbe gn '<of a life-time ■■'* 
 
 * Kot a word. Span) me all sight of you, all communi- 
 cation with youy untQ that hour. No— no supplications ; I 
 will have it so.' 
 
 When he was gone, she sank exhausted in a chair, tor 
 the long siege of troubles she had undergone had wasted her 
 strength. Presently she oaid, < What a nanow eeoape 1 If 
 
 the hour afpointed had been an hour earlier Oh, honor, 
 
 what an escape I liave made I And to think I had come to 
 imagine I was loving this beguiling, this truthless, this 
 treacherous monster 1 Oh, he shall repent his villany 1 ' 
 
 Let lis now draw this history to a dose, for little more 
 needs to be told. On the 2nd of the ensuing April thf 
 Honolulu ' Advertiser ' contained this notice a-— 
 
r 
 
 AtOmO m% CLAMMlSfQM 
 
 BCuuuiD. — ^In thin dtgr^ bgr takphom^ ynterdfty morn- 
 ing, at d|^t o'dook, by Rot. Kathaa Hayi, MdaM lij B«r. 
 KathMdel Davis of New York, Mr. Alamo Ifiti 01al«no^ 
 clEurtiKurt^ Maine, U. a, and MIm Boeannah Bthelton, o£ 
 Portland, Or^n, XT. a Mnk Suian Howland of Ban 
 IVanoiaoo, a firiend of the bride, was present, she being the 
 gaest of the Ber. Mr. Hays and wift^ nnole and aont of the 
 bride, Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley, of San Frandsoo^ 
 was also present, bat did not lemaln tOl the eondnsion of 
 the marriage serrioe. Oaptain Hawthorne's beautiful yaoht, 
 tastefoll J decorated, was in waiting, and the happj bride 
 and her friends immediately departed on a briMlal trip to 
 Lahaina and Haleakala. 
 
 4 
 
 The New York papers of the same date contained this 
 notioe s— • 
 
 Mabub).— In this dty, yesterday, by telephone, at half- 
 past two in the morning, bj Ber. Nathaniel Daris, assisted 
 by Ber. Nathan Hays, of Honolnla, Mr. Alonao Fits 01a- 
 lenoe, of Eas(q[Kxrt» Maine» and Miss Bosannah Ethelton, of 
 Portland, Oregon. The parents and sereral friends of the 
 bridegroom were present^ and ei\i€iyed asumptoons breek&st 
 and muoh ftsttrity until nearly sunrise^ and then deputed 
 on a bridal trip to the Aquarium, the bridegroom's state of 
 health not admitting of a more extended journey. 
 
 Toward the close of that memorable day, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Alonao Pits Olarenoe were buried in sweet oonTerse omf 
 oeming the pleasures of their sereral bridal toon, ^iriien 
 suddenly the young wife exohumed. 'Oh, Lonny, I Ibrgoif 
 I did what I said I would.' 
 
 4 .- 
 
">. 
 
 Aim MOBAinrAM mtssltm. 
 
 'IndMdldicL I niAda Mmi the April fiwl 1 Anaitoia 
 l^biiao, toot Aliyit WM A ohamiiiig nupriMl 13i«ro 1m 
 itood, tfroltaring In a bUok dren wa^ with tbe mwoary 
 iMldbog oat of tlM top of tho thamioniotir, wmiting to be 
 iiMRied« Ton ihoiild hftTO leeQ tho look he §»▼• wImh I 
 whlfperad it in hii mt I All 1 hli wickednaM ooilmo niAny 
 ft betrtMlie and num^ * taer, but tbo loore wai aU iqnAred 
 up, tli«n» 8o tho Yongeftil fooling wmit right oat of mj 
 boMrt, and I begged him to etay, end leid I forgRTO him 
 enrwrything. Bat he woaldn*t He leid he wonld live to 
 be ftTonged; leid he woald make our liTii a oone to m. 
 Bat he 0Rn% oflMi he, deer I' 
 
 ' Herer in thii world, my Bueenneh I' 
 
 Aont Soean, the Oregonien grendmother, and the yoong 
 eoaple and their Eaetport parenti, are all h^ipy et thie 
 writings and likely to remain eo. Aont Soian broa|^t the 
 bride from the Idande, aooompanied her aaoii oar oontfr 
 nenty and had the happine« of witneeiing the n^vtarooe 
 meeting between an adoring hoebaiid and wife who had 
 nerer seen eech other antil that moment. 
 
 A word about the wretched Boley, whoee wicked 
 madhinatione eame eo near wrecking the hearto and Ihree of 
 our poor"" young friends, will be eufficient. In a murderooa 
 ^attempt to seiie a crippled and helpleBe artisan who he 
 frncied had done him some small offence^ he feU into a 
 caldron of boiUng oH, and expired belbre he could be ex« 
 
V 
 
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 Ff- 
 
 ffrf«(«tf «« Tm BAIXARTmS PRBM 
 
 Spott&swooob. Baixartvnb # Co. Ln^t 
 OoMkM#«r> £o«Nfeie # Mom, SNf MmI