THE PARENTICIDE CLUB by Ambrose Bierce CONTENTS My Favorite MurderOil of DogAn Imperfect ConflagrationThe Hypnotist MY FAVORITE MURDER Having murdered my mother under circumstances of singular atrocity, Iwas arrested and put upon my trial, which lasted seven years. Incharging the jury, the judge of the Court of Acquittal remarked thatit was one of the most ghastly crimes that he had ever been calledupon to explain away. At this, my attorney rose and said: "May it please your Honor, crimes are ghastly or agreeable only bycomparison. If you were familiar with the details of my client'sprevious murder of his uncle you would discern in his later offense(if offense it may be called) something in the nature of tenderforbearance and filial consideration for the feelings of the victim. The appalling ferocity of the former assassination was indeedinconsistent with any hypothesis but that of guilt; and had it notbeen for the fact that the honorable judge before whom he was triedwas the president of a life insurance company that took risks onhanging, and in which my client held a policy, it is hard to see howhe could decently have been acquitted. If your Honor would like tohear about it for instruction and guidance of your Honor's mind, thisunfortunate man, my client, will consent to give himself the pain ofrelating it under oath. " The district attorney said: "Your Honor, I object. Such a statementwould be in the nature of evidence, and the testimony in this case isclosed. The prisoner's statement should have been introduced threeyears ago, in the spring of 1881. " "In a statutory sense, " said the judge, "you are right, and in theCourt of Objections and Technicalities you would get a ruling in yourfavor. But not in a Court of Acquittal. The objection is overruled. " "I except, " said the district attorney. "You cannot do that, " the judge said. "I must remind you that inorder to take an exception you must first get this case transferredfor a time to the Court of Exceptions on a formal motion dulysupported by affidavits. A motion to that effect by your predecessorin office was denied by me during the first year of this trial. Mr. Clerk, swear the prisoner. " The customary oath having been administered, I made the followingstatement, which impressed the judge with so strong a sense of thecomparative triviality of the offense for which I was on trial that hemade no further search for mitigating circumstances, but simplyinstructed the jury to acquit, and I left the court, without a stainupon my reputation: "I was born in 1856 in Kalamakee, Mich. , of honest and reputableparents, one of whom Heaven has mercifully spared to comfort me in mylater years. In 1867 the family came to California and settled nearNigger Head, where my father opened a road agency and prospered beyondthe dreams of avarice. He was a reticent, saturnine man then, thoughhis increasing years have now somewhat relaxed the austerity of hisdisposition, and I believe that nothing but his memory of the sadevent for which I am now on trial prevents him from manifesting agenuine hilarity. "Four years after we had set up the road agency an itinerant preachercame along, and having no other way to pay for the night's lodgingthat we gave him, favored us with an exhortation of such power that, praise God, we were all converted to religion. My father at once sentfor his brother, the Hon. William Ridley of Stockton, and on hisarrival turned over the agency to him, charging him nothing for thefranchise nor plant--the latter consisting of a Winchester rifle, asawed-off shotgun, and an assortment of masks made out of flour sacks. The family then moved to Ghost Rock and opened a dance house. It wascalled 'The Saints' Rest Hurdy-Gurdy, ' and the proceedings each nightbegan with prayer. It was there that my now sainted mother, by hergrace in the dance, acquired the _sobriquet_ of 'The Bucking Walrus. ' "In the fall of '75 I had occasion to visit Coyote, on the road toMahala, and took the stage at Ghost Rock. There were four otherpassengers. About three miles beyond Nigger Head, persons whom Iidentified as my Uncle William and his two sons held up the stage. Finding nothing in the express box, they went through the passengers. I acted a most honorable part in the affair, placing myself in linewith the others, holding up my hands and permitting myself to bedeprived of forty dollars and a gold watch. From my behavior no onecould have suspected that I knew the gentlemen who gave theentertainment. A few days later, when I went to Nigger Head and askedfor the return of my money and watch my uncle and cousins swore theyknew nothing of the matter, and they affected a belief that my fatherand I had done the job ourselves in dishonest violation of commercialgood faith. Uncle William even threatened to retaliate by starting anopposition dance house at Ghost Rock. As 'The Saints' Rest' hadbecome rather unpopular, I saw that this would assuredly ruin it andprove a paying enterprise, so I told my uncle that I was willing tooverlook the past if he would take me into the scheme and keep thepartnership a secret from my father. This fair offer he rejected, andI then perceived that it would be better and more satisfactory if hewere dead. "My plans to that end were soon perfected, and communicating them tomy dear parents I had the gratification of receiving their approval. My father said he was proud of me, and my mother promised thatalthough her religion forbade her to assist in taking human life Ishould have the advantage of her prayers for my success. As apreliminary measure looking to my security in case of detection I madean application for membership in that powerful order, the Knights ofMurder, and in due course was received as a member of the Ghost Rockcommandery. On the day that my probation ended I was for the firsttime permitted to inspect the records of the order and learn whobelonged to it--all the rites of initiation having been conducted inmasks. Fancy my delight when, in looking over the roll of membership, I found the third name to be that of my uncle, who indeed was juniorvice-chancellor of the order! Here was an opportunity exceeding mywildest dreams--to murder I could add insubordination and treachery. It was what my good mother would have called 'a special Providence. ' "At about this time something occurred which caused my cup of joy, already full, to overflow on all sides, a circular cataract of bliss. Three men, strangers in that locality, were arrested for the stagerobbery in which I had lost my money and watch. They were brought totrial and, despite my efforts to clear them and fasten the guilt uponthree of the most respectable and worthy citizens of Ghost Rock, convicted on the clearest proof. The murder would now be as wantonand reasonless as I could wish. "One morning I shouldered my Winchester rifle, and going over to myuncle's house, near Nigger Head, asked my Aunt Mary, his wife, if hewere at home, adding that I had come to kill him. My aunt repliedwith her peculiar smile that so many gentlemen called on that errandand were afterward carried away without having performed it that Imust excuse her for doubting my good faith in the matter. She said Idid not look as if I would kill anybody, so, as a proof of good faithI leveled my rifle and wounded a Chinaman who happened to be passingthe house. She said she knew whole families that could do a thing ofthat kind, but Bill Ridley was a horse of another color. She said, however, that I would find him over on the other side of the creek inthe sheep lot; and she added that she hoped the best man would win. "My Aunt Mary was one of the most fair-minded women that I have evermet. "I found my uncle down on his knees engaged in skinning a sheep. Seeing that he had neither gun nor pistol handy I had not the heart toshoot him, so I approached him, greeted him pleasantly and struck hima powerful blow on the head with the butt of my rifle. I have a verygood delivery and Uncle William lay down on his side, then rolled overon his back, spread out his fingers and shivered. Before he couldrecover the use of his limbs I seized the knife that he had been usingand cut his hamstrings. You know, doubtless, that when you sever the_tendo Achillis_ the patient has no further use of his leg; it is justthe same as if he had no leg. Well, I parted them both, and when herevived he was at my service. As soon as he comprehended thesituation, he said: "'Samuel, you have got the drop on me and can afford to be generous. I have only one thing to ask of you, and that is that you carry me tothe house and finish me in the bosom of my family. ' "I told him I thought that a pretty reasonable request and I would doso if he would let me put him into a wheat sack; he would be easier tocarry that way and if we were seen by the neighbors _en route_ itwould cause less remark. He agreed to that, and going to the barn Igot a sack. This, however, did not fit him; it was too short and muchwider than he; so I bent his legs, forced his knees up against hisbreast and got him into it that way, tying the sack above his head. He was a heavy man and I had all that I could do to get him on myback, but I staggered along for some distance until I came to a swingthat some of the children had suspended to the branch of an oak. HereI laid him down and sat upon him to rest, and the sight of the ropegave me a happy inspiration. In twenty minutes my uncle, still in thesack, swung free to the sport of the wind. "I had taken down the rope, tied one end tightly about the mouth ofthe bag, thrown the other across the limb and hauled him up about fivefeet from the ground. Fastening the other end of the rope also aboutthe mouth of the sack, I had the satisfaction to see my uncleconverted into a large, fine pendulum. I must add that he was nothimself entirely aware of the nature of the change that he hadundergone in his relation to the exterior world, though in justice toa good man's memory I ought to say that I do not think he would in anycase have wasted much of my time in vain remonstrance. "Uncle William had a ram that was famous in all that region as afighter. It was in a state of chronic constitutional indignation. Some deep disappointment in early life had soured its disposition andit had declared war upon the whole world. To say that it would buttanything accessible is but faintly to express the nature and scope ofits military activity: the universe was its antagonist; its methodsthat of a projectile. It fought like the angels and devils, inmid-air, cleaving the atmosphere like a bird, describing a paraboliccurve and descending upon its victim at just the exact angle ofincidence to make the most of its velocity and weight. Its momentum, calculated in foot-tons, was something incredible. It had been seento destroy a four year old bull by a single impact upon that animal'sgnarly forehead. No stone wall had ever been known to resist itsdownward swoop; there were no trees tough enough to stay it; it wouldsplinter them into matchwood and defile their leafy honors in thedust. This irascible and implacable brute--this incarnatethunderbolt--this monster of the upper deep, I had seen reposing inthe shade of an adjacent tree, dreaming dreams of conquest and glory. It was with a view to summoning it forth to the field of honor that Isuspended its master in the manner described. "Having completed my preparations, I imparted to the avuncularpendulum a gentle oscillation, and retiring to cover behind acontiguous rock, lifted up my voice in a long rasping cry whosediminishing final note was drowned in a noise like that of a swearingcat, which emanated from the sack. Instantly that formidable sheepwas upon its feet and had taken in the military situation at a glance. In a few moments it had approached, stamping, to within fifty yardsof the swinging foeman, who, now retreating and anon advancing, seemedto invite the fray. Suddenly I saw the beast's head drop earthward asif depressed by the weight of its enormous horns; then a dim, white, wavy streak of sheep prolonged itself from that spot in a generallyhorizontal direction to within about four yards of a point immediatelybeneath the enemy. There it struck sharply upward, and before it hadfaded from my gaze at the place whence it had set out I heard a horridthump and a piercing scream, and my poor uncle shot forward, with aslack rope higher than the limb to which he was attached. Here therope tautened with a jerk, arresting his flight, and back he swung ina breathless curve to the other end of his arc. The ram had fallen, aheap of indistinguishable legs, wool and horns, but pulling itselftogether and dodging as its antagonist swept downward it retired atrandom, alternately shaking its head and stamping its fore-feet. Whenit had backed about the same distance as that from which it haddelivered the assault it paused again, bowed its head as if in prayerfor victory and again shot forward, dimly visible as before--aprolonging white streak with monstrous undulations, ending with asharp ascension. Its course this time was at a right angle to itsformer one, and its impatience so great that it struck the enemybefore he had nearly reached the lowest point of his arc. Inconsequence he went flying round and round in a horizontal circlewhose radius was about equal to half the length of the rope, which Iforgot to say was nearly twenty feet long. His shrieks, _crescendo_in approach and _diminuendo_ in recession, made the rapidity of hisrevolution more obvious to the ear than to the eye. He had evidentlynot yet been struck in a vital spot. His posture in the sack and thedistance from the ground at which he hung compelled the ram to operateupon his lower extremities and the end of his back. Like a plant thathas struck its root into some poisonous mineral, my poor uncle wasdying slowly upward. "After delivering its second blow the ram had not again retired. Thefever of battle burned hot in its heart; its brain was intoxicatedwith the wine of strife. Like a pugilist who in his rage forgets hisskill and fights ineffectively at half-arm's length, the angry beastendeavored to reach its fleeting foe by awkward vertical leaps as hepassed overhead, sometimes, indeed, succeeding in striking him feebly, but more frequently overthrown by its own misguided eagerness. But asthe impetus was exhausted and the man's circles narrowed in scope anddiminished in speed, bringing him nearer to the ground, these tacticsproduced better results, eliciting a superior quality of screams, which I greatly enjoyed. "Suddenly, as if the bugles had sung truce, the ram suspendedhostilities and walked away, thoughtfully wrinkling and smoothing itsgreat aquiline nose, and occasionally cropping a bunch of grass andslowly munching it. It seemed to have tired of war's alarms andresolved to beat the sword into a plowshare and cultivate the arts ofpeace. Steadily it held its course away from the field of fame untilit had gained a distance of nearly a quarter of a mile. There itstopped and stood with its rear to the foe, chewing its cud andapparently half asleep. I observed, however, an occasional slightturn of its head, as if its apathy were more affected than real. "Meantime Uncle William's shrieks had abated with his motion, andnothing was heard from him but long, low moans, and at long intervalsmy name, uttered in pleading tones exceedingly grateful to my ear. Evidently the man had not the faintest notion of what was being doneto him, and was inexpressibly terrified. When Death comes cloaked inmystery he is terrible indeed. Little by little my uncle'soscillations diminished, and finally he hung motionless. I went tohim and was about to give him the _coup de grace_, when I heard andfelt a succession of smart shocks which shook the ground like a seriesof light earthquakes, and turning in the direction of the ram, saw along cloud of dust approaching me with inconceivable rapidity andalarming effect! At a distance of some thirty yards away it stoppedshort, and from the near end of it rose into the air what I at firstthought a great white bird. Its ascent was so smooth and easy andregular that I could not realize its extraordinary celerity, and waslost in admiration of its grace. To this day the impression remainsthat it was a slow, deliberate movement, the ram--for it was thatanimal--being upborne by some power other than its own impetus, andsupported through the successive stages of its flight with infinitetenderness and care. My eyes followed its progress through the airwith unspeakable pleasure, all the greater by contrast with my formerterror of its approach by land. Onward and upward the noble animalsailed, its head bent down almost between its knees, its fore-feetthrown back, its hinder legs trailing to rear like the legs of asoaring heron. "At a height of forty or fifty feet, as fond recollection presents itto view, it attained its zenith and appeared to remain an instantstationary; then, tilting suddenly forward without altering therelative position of its parts, it shot downward on a steeper andsteeper course with augmenting velocity, passed immediately above mewith a noise like the rush of a cannon shot and struck my poor unclealmost squarely on the top of the head! So frightful was the impactthat not only the man's neck was broken, but the rope too; and thebody of the deceased, forced against the earth, was crushed to pulpbeneath the awful front of that meteoric sheep! The concussionstopped all the clocks between Lone Hand and Dutch Dan's, andProfessor Davidson, a distinguished authority in matters seismic, whohappened to be in the vicinity, promptly explained that the vibrationswere from north to southwest. "Altogether, I cannot help thinking that in point of artistic atrocitymy murder of Uncle William has seldom been excelled. " OIL OF DOG My name is Boffer Bings. I was born of honest parents in one of thehumbler walks of life, my father being a manufacturer of dog-oil andmy mother having a small studio in the shadow of the village church, where she disposed of unwelcome babes. In my boyhood I was trained tohabits of industry; I not only assisted my father in procuring dogsfor his vats, but was frequently employed by my mother to carry awaythe debris of her work in the studio. In performance of this duty Isometimes had need of all my natural intelligence for all the lawofficers of the vicinity were opposed to my mother's business. Theywere not elected on an opposition ticket, and the matter had neverbeen made a political issue; it just happened so. My father'sbusiness of making dog-oil was, naturally, less unpopular, though theowners of missing dogs sometimes regarded him with suspicion, whichwas reflected, to some extent, upon me. My father had, as silentpartners, all the physicians of the town, who seldom wrote aprescription which did not contain what they were pleased to designateas _Ol. Can. _ It is really the most valuable medicine everdiscovered. But most persons are unwilling to make personalsacrifices for the afflicted, and it was evident that many of thefattest dogs in town had been forbidden to play with me--a fact whichpained my young sensibilities, and at one time came near driving me tobecome a pirate. Looking back upon those days, I cannot but regret, at times, that byindirectly bringing my beloved parents to their death I was the authorof misfortunes profoundly affecting my future. One evening while passing my father's oil factory with the body of afoundling from my mother's studio I saw a constable who seemed to beclosely watching my movements. Young as I was, I had learned that aconstable's acts, of whatever apparent character, are prompted by themost reprehensible motives, and I avoided him by dodging into theoilery by a side door which happened to stand ajar. I locked it atonce and was alone with my dead. My father had retired for the night. The only light in the place came from the furnace, which glowed adeep, rich crimson under one of the vats, casting ruddy reflections onthe walls. Within the cauldron the oil still rolled in indolentebullition, occasionally pushing to the surface a piece of dog. Seating myself to wait for the constable to go away, I held the nakedbody of the foundling in my lap and tenderly stroked its short, silkenhair. Ah, how beautiful it was! Even at that early age I waspassionately fond of children, and as I looked upon this cherub Icould almost find it in my heart to wish that the small, red woundupon its breast--the work of my dear mother--had not been mortal. It had been my custom to throw the babes into the river which naturehad thoughtfully provided for the purpose, but that night I did notdare to leave the oilery for fear of the constable. "After all, " Isaid to myself, "it cannot greatly matter if I put it into thiscauldron. My father will never know the bones from those of a puppy, and the few deaths which may result from administering another kind ofoil for the incomparable _ol. Can. _ are not important in a populationwhich increases so rapidly. " In short, I took the first step in crimeand brought myself untold sorrow by casting the babe into thecauldron. The next day, somewhat to my surprise, my father, rubbing his handswith satisfaction, informed me and my mother that he had obtained thefinest quality of oil that was ever seen; that the physicians to whomhe had shown samples had so pronounced it. He added that he had noknowledge as to how the result was obtained; the dogs had been treatedin all respects as usual, and were of an ordinary breed. I deemed itmy duty to explain--which I did, though palsied would have been mytongue if I could have foreseen the consequences. Bewailing theirprevious ignorance of the advantages of combining their industries, myparents at once took measures to repair the error. My mother removedher studio to a wing of the factory building and my duties inconnection with the business ceased; I was no longer required todispose of the bodies of the small superfluous, and there was no needof alluring dogs to their doom, for my father discarded themaltogether, though they still had an honorable place in the name ofthe oil. So suddenly thrown into idleness, I might naturally havebeen expected to become vicious and dissolute, but I did not. Theholy influence of my dear mother was ever about me to protect me fromthe temptations which beset youth, and my father was a deacon in achurch. Alas, that through my fault these estimable persons shouldhave come to so bad an end! Finding a double profit in her business, my mother now devoted herselfto it with a new assiduity. She removed not only superfluous andunwelcome babes to order, but went out into the highways and byways, gathering in children of a larger growth, and even such adults as shecould entice to the oilery. My father, too, enamored of the superiorquality of oil produced, purveyed for his vats with diligence andzeal. The conversion of their neighbors into dog-oil became, inshort, the one passion of their lives--an absorbing and overwhelminggreed took possession of their souls and served them in place of ahope in Heaven--by which, also, they were inspired. So enterprising had they now become that a public meeting was held andresolutions passed severely censuring them. It was intimated by thechairman that any further raids upon the population would be met in aspirit of hostility. My poor parents left the meeting broken-hearted, desperate and, I believe, not altogether sane. Anyhow, I deemed itprudent not to enter the oilery with them that night, but sleptoutside in a stable. At about midnight some mysterious impulse caused me to rise and peerthrough a window into the furnace-room, where I knew my father nowslept. The fires were burning as brightly as if the following day'sharvest had been expected to be abundant. One of the large cauldronswas slowly "walloping" with a mysterious appearance of self-restraint, as if it bided its time to put forth its full energy. My father wasnot in bed; he had risen in his night clothes and was preparing anoose in a strong cord. From the looks which he cast at the door ofmy mother's bedroom I knew too well the purpose that he had in mind. Speechless and motionless with terror, I could do nothing inprevention or warning. Suddenly the door of my mother's apartment wasopened, noiselessly, and the two confronted each other, bothapparently surprised. The lady, also, was in her night clothes, andshe held in her right hand the tool of her trade, a long, narrow-bladed dagger. She, too, had been unable to deny herself the last profit which theunfriendly action of the citizens and my absence had left her. Forone instant they looked into each other's blazing eyes and then sprangtogether with indescribable fury. Round and round, the room theystruggled, the man cursing, the woman shrieking, both fighting likedemons--she to strike him with the dagger, he to strangle her with hisgreat bare hands. I know not how long I had the unhappiness toobserve this disagreeable instance of domestic infelicity, but atlast, after a more than usually vigorous struggle, the combatantssuddenly moved apart. My father's breast and my mother's weapon showed evidences of contact. For another instant they glared at each other in the most unamiableway; then my poor, wounded father, feeling the hand of death upon him, leaped forward, unmindful of resistance, grasped my dear mother in hisarms, dragged her to the side of the boiling cauldron, collected allhis failing energies, and sprang in with her! In a moment, both haddisappeared and were adding their oil to that of the committee ofcitizens who had called the day before with an invitation to thepublic meeting. Convinced that these unhappy events closed to me every avenue to anhonorable career in that town, I removed to the famous city ofOtumwee, where these memoirs are written with a heart full of remorsefor a heedless act entailing so dismal a commercial disaster. AN IMPERFECT CONFLAGRATION Early one June morning in 1872 I murdered my father--an act which madea deep impression on me at the time. This was before my marriage, while I was living with my parents in Wisconsin. My father and I werein the library of our home, dividing the proceeds of a burglary whichwe had committed that night. These consisted of household goodsmostly, and the task of equitable division was difficult. We got onvery well with the napkins, towels and such things, and the silverwarewas parted pretty nearly equally, but you can see for yourself thatwhen you try to divide a single music-box by two without a remainderyou will have trouble. It was that music-box which brought disasterand disgrace upon our family. If we had left it my poor father mightnow be alive. It was a most exquisite and beautiful piece of workmanship--inlaidwith costly woods and carven very curiously. It would not only play agreat variety of tunes, but would whistle like a quail, bark like adog, crow every morning at daylight whether it was wound up or not, and break the Ten Commandments. It was this last mentionedaccomplishment that won my father's heart and caused him to commit theonly dishonorable act of his life, though possibly he would havecommitted more if he had been spared: he tried to conceal thatmusic-box from me, and declared upon his honor that he had not takenit, though I know very well that, so far as he was concerned, theburglary had been undertaken chiefly for the purpose of obtaining it. My father had the music-box hidden under his cloak; we had worn cloaksby way of disguise. He had solemnly assured me that he did not takeit. I knew that he did, and knew something of which he was evidentlyignorant; namely, that the box would crow at daylight and betray himif I could prolong the division of profits till that time. Alloccurred as I wished: as the gaslight began to pale in the library andthe shape of the windows was seen dimly behind the curtains, a longcock-a-doodle-doo came from beneath the old gentleman's cloak, followed by a few bars of an aria from _Tannhauser_, ending with aloud click. A small hand-axe, which we had used to break into theunlucky house, lay between us on the table; I picked it up. The oldman seeing that further concealment was useless took the box fromunder his cloak and set it on the table. "Cut it in two if you preferthat plan, " said he; "I tried to save it from destruction. " He was a passionate lover of music and could himself play theconcertina with expression and feeling. I said: "I do not question the purity of your motive: it would bepresumptuous of me to sit in judgment on my father. But business isbusiness, and with this axe I am going to effect a dissolution of ourpartnership unless you will consent in all future burglaries to wear abell-punch. " "No, " he said, after some reflection, "no, I could not do that; itwould look like a confession of dishonesty. People would say that youdistrusted me. " I could not help admiring his spirit and sensitiveness; for a moment Iwas proud of him and disposed to overlook his fault, but a glance atthe richly jeweled music-box decided me, and, as I said, I removed theold man from this vale of tears. Having done so, I was a trifleuneasy. Not only was he my father--the author of my being--but thebody would be certainly discovered. It was now broad daylight and mymother was likely to enter the library at any moment. Under thecircumstances, I thought it expedient to remove her also, which I did. Then I paid off all the servants and discharged them. That afternoon I went to the chief of police, told him what I had doneand asked his advice. It would be very painful to me if the factsbecame publicly known. My conduct would be generally condemned; thenewspapers would bring it up against me if ever I should run foroffice. The chief saw the force of these considerations; he washimself an assassin of wide experience. After consulting with thepresiding judge of the Court of Variable Jurisdiction he advised me toconceal the bodies in one of the bookcases, get a heavy insurance onthe house and burn it down. This I proceeded to do. In the library was a book-case which my father had recently purchasedof some cranky inventor and had not filled. It was in shape and sizesomething like the old-fashioned "ward-robes" which one sees inbed-rooms without closets, but opened all the way down, like a woman'snight-dress. It had glass doors. I had recently laid out my parentsand they were now rigid enough to stand erect; so I stood them in thisbook-case, from which I had removed the shelves. I locked them in andtacked some curtains over the glass doors. The inspector from theinsurance office passed a half-dozen times before the case withoutsuspicion. That night, after getting my policy, I set fire to the house andstarted through the woods to town, two miles away, where I managed tobe found about the time the excitement was at its height. With criesof apprehension for the fate of my parents, I joined the rush andarrived at the fire some two hours after I had kindled it. The wholetown was there as I dashed up. The house was entirely consumed, butin one end of the level bed of glowing embers, bolt upright anduninjured, was that book-case! The curtains had burned away, exposingthe glass-doors, through which the fierce, red light illuminated theinterior. There stood my dear father "in his habit as he lived, " andat his side the partner of his joys and sorrows. Not a hair of themwas singed, their clothing was intact. On their heads and throats theinjuries which in the accomplishment of my designs I had beencompelled to inflict were conspicuous. As in the presence of amiracle, the people were silent; awe and terror had stilled everytongue. I was myself greatly affected. Some three years later, when the events herein related had nearlyfaded from my memory, I went to New York to assist in passing somecounterfeit United States bonds. Carelessly looking into a furniturestore one day, I saw the exact counterpart of that book-case. "Ibought it for a trifle from a reformed inventor, " the dealerexplained. "He said it was fireproof, the pores of the wood beingfilled with alum under hydraulic pressure and the glass made ofasbestos. I don't suppose it is really fireproof--you can have it atthe price of an ordinary book-case. " "No, " I said, "if you cannot warrant it fireproof I won't takeit"--and I bade him good morning. I would not have had it at any price: it revived memories that wereexceedingly disagreeable. THE HYPNOTIST By those of my friends who happen to know that I sometimes amusemyself with hypnotism, mind reading and kindred phenomena, I amfrequently asked if I have a clear conception of the nature ofwhatever principle underlies them. To this question I always replythat I neither have nor desire to have. I am no investigator with anear at the key-hole of Nature's workshop, trying with vulgar curiosityto steal the secrets of her trade. The interests of science are aslittle to me as mine seem to have been to science. Doubtless the phenomena in question are simple enough, and in no waytranscend our powers of comprehension if only we could find the clew;but for my part I prefer not to find it, for I am of a singularlyromantic disposition, deriving more gratification from mystery thanfrom knowledge. It was commonly remarked of me when I was a childthat my big blue eyes appeared to have been made rather to look intothan look out of--such was their dreamful beauty, and in my frequentperiods of abstraction, their indifference to what was going on. Inthose peculiarities they resembled, I venture to think, the soul whichlies behind them, always more intent upon some lovely conception whichit has created in its own image than concerned about the laws ofnature and the material frame of things. All this, irrelevant andegotistic as it may seem, is related by way of accounting for themeagreness of the light that I am able to throw upon a subject thathas engaged so much of my attention, and concerning which there is sokeen and general a curiosity. With my powers and opportunities, another person might doubtless have an explanation for much of what Ipresent simply as narrative. My first knowledge that I possessed unusual powers came to me in myfourteenth year, when at school. Happening one day to have forgottento bring my noon-day luncheon, I gazed longingly at that of a smallgirl who was preparing to eat hers. Looking up, her eyes met mine andshe seemed unable to withdraw them. After a moment of hesitancy shecame forward in an absent kind of way and without a word surrenderedher little basket with its tempting contents and walked away. Inexpressibly pleased, I relieved my hunger and destroyed the basket. After that I had not the trouble to bring a luncheon for myself: thatlittle girl was my daily purveyor; and not infrequently in satisfyingmy simple need from her frugal store I combined pleasure and profit byconstraining her attendance at the feast and making misleading profferof the viands, which eventually I consumed to the last fragment. Thegirl was always persuaded that she had eaten all herself; and later inthe day her tearful complaints of hunger surprised the teacher, entertained the pupils, earned for her the sobriquet of Greedy-Gut andfilled me with a peace past understanding. A disagreeable feature of this otherwise satisfactory condition ofthings was the necessary secrecy: the transfer of the luncheon, forexample, had to be made at some distance from the madding crowd, in awood; and I blush to think of the many other unworthy subterfugesentailed by the situation. As I was (and am) naturally of a frank andopen disposition, these became more and more irksome, and but for thereluctance of my parents to renounce the obvious advantages of the newregime I would gladly have reverted to the old. The plan that Ifinally adopted to free myself from the consequences of my own powersexcited a wide and keen interest at the time, and that part of itwhich consisted in the death of the girl was severely condemned, butit is hardly pertinent to the scope of this narrative. For some years afterward I had little opportunity to practicehypnotism; such small essays as I made at it were commonly barren ofother recognition than solitary confinement on a bread-and-water diet;sometimes, indeed, they elicited nothing better than thecat-o'-nine-tails. It was when I was about to leave the scene ofthese small disappointments that my one really important feat wasperformed. I had been called into the warden's office and given a suit ofcivilian's clothing, a trifling sum of money and a great deal ofadvice, which I am bound to confess was of a much better quality thanthe clothing. As I was passing out of the gate into the light offreedom I suddenly turned and looking the warden gravely in the eye, soon had him in control. "You are an ostrich, " I said. At the post-mortem examination the stomach was found to contain agreat quantity of indigestible articles mostly of wood or metal. Stuck fast in the esophagus and constituting, according to theCoroner's jury, the immediate cause of death, one door-knob. I was by nature a good and affectionate son, but as I took my way intothe great world from which I had been so long secluded I could nothelp remembering that all my misfortunes had flowed like a stream fromthe niggard economy of my parents in the matter of school luncheons;and I knew of no reason to think they had reformed. On the road between Succotash Hill and South Asphyxia is a little openfield which once contained a shanty known as Pete Gilstrap's Place, where that gentleman used to murder travelers for a living. The deathof Mr. Gilstrap and the diversion of nearly all the travel to anotherroad occurred so nearly at the same time that no one has ever beenable to say which was cause and which effect. Anyhow, the field wasnow a desolation and the Place had long been burned. It was whilegoing afoot to South Asphyxia, the home of my childhood, that I foundboth my parents on their way to the Hill. They had hitched their teamand were eating luncheon under an oak tree in the center of the field. The sight of the luncheon called up painful memories of my schooldays and roused the sleeping lion in my breast. Approaching theguilty couple, who at once recognized me, I ventured to suggest that Ishare their hospitality. "Of this cheer, my son, " said the author of my being, withcharacteristic pomposity, which age had not withered, "there issufficient for but two. I am not, I hope, insensible to thehunger-light in your eyes, but--" My father has never completed that sentence; what he mistook forhunger-light was simply the earnest gaze of the hypnotist. In a fewseconds he was at my service. A few more sufficed for the lady, andthe dictates of a just resentment could be carried into effect. "Myformer father, " I said, "I presume that it is known to you that youand this lady are no longer what you were?" "I have observed a certain subtle change, " was the rather dubiousreply of the old gentleman; "it is perhaps attributable to age. " "It is more than that, " I explained; "it goes to character--tospecies. You and the lady here are, in truth, two broncos--wildstallions both, and unfriendly. " "Why, John, " exclaimed my dear mother, "you don't mean to say that Iam--" "Madam, " I replied, solemnly, fixing my eyes again upon hers, "youare. " Scarcely had the words fallen from my lips when she dropped upon herhands and knees, and backing up to the old man squealed like a demonand delivered a vicious kick upon his shin! An instant later he washimself down on all-fours, headed away from her and flinging his feetat her simultaneously and successively. With equal earnestness butinferior agility, because of her hampering body-gear, she plied herown. Their flying legs crossed and mingled in the most bewilderingway; their feet sometimes meeting squarely in midair, their bodiesthrust forward, falling flat upon the ground and for a momenthelpless. On recovering themselves they would resume the combat, uttering their frenzy in the nameless sounds of the furious bruteswhich they believed themselves to be--the whole region rang with theirclamor! Round and round they wheeled, the blows of their feet falling"like lightnings from the mountain cloud. " They plunged and rearedbackward upon their knees, struck savagely at each other with awkwarddescending blows of both fists at once, and dropped again upon theirhands as if unable to maintain the upright position of the body. Grass and pebbles were torn from the soil by hands and feet; clothing, hair, faces inexpressibly defiled with dust and blood. Wild, inarticulate screams of rage attested the delivery of the blows;groans, grunts and gasps their receipt. Nothing more truly militarywas ever seen at Gettysburg or Waterloo: the valor of my dear parentsin the hour of danger can never cease to be to me a source of prideand gratification. At the end of it all two battered, tattered, bloody and fragmentary vestiges of mortality attested the solemn factthat the author of the strife was an orphan. Arrested for provoking a breach of the peace, I was, and have eversince been, tried in the Court of Technicalities and Continuanceswhence, after fifteen years of proceedings, my attorney is movingheaven and earth to get the case taken to the Court of Remandment forNew Trials. Such are a few of my principal experiments in the mysterious force oragency known as hypnotic suggestion. Whether or not it could beemployed by a bad man for an unworthy purpose I am unable to say.