THE MAN THAT CORRUPTED HADLEYBURG AND OTHER STORIES

By Mark Twain

Note: (The title story may also be found as Etext file #1213)

CONTENTS:

 THE MAN THAT CORRUPTED HADLEYBURG MY FIRST LIE, AND HOW I GOT OUT OF IT THE ESQUIMAUX MAIDEN'S ROMANCE CHRISTIAN SCIENCE AND THE BOOK OF MRS. EDDY IS HE LIVING OR IS HE DEAD? MY DEBUT AS A LITERARY PERSON AT THE APPETITE-CURE CONCERNING THE JEWS FROM THE 'LONDON TIMES' OF 1904 ABOUT PLAY-ACTING TRAVELLING WITH A REFORMER DIPLOMATIC PAY AND CLOTHES LUCK THE CAPTAIN'S STORY STIRRING TIMES IN AUSTRIA MEISTERSCHAFT MY BOYHOOD DREAMS TO THE ABOVE OLD PEOPLE IN MEMORIAM--OLIVIA SUSAN CLEMENS

THE MAN THAT CORRUPTED HADLEYBURG

It was many years ago. Hadleyburg was the most honest and upright townin all the region round about. It had kept that reputation unsmirchedduring three generations, and was prouder of it than of any other ofits possessions. It was so proud of it, and so anxious to insure itsperpetuation, that it began to teach the principles of honest dealingto its babies in the cradle, and made the like teachings the stapleof their culture thenceforward through all the years devoted to theireducation. Also, throughout the formative years temptations were keptout of the way of the young people, so that their honesty could haveevery chance to harden and solidify, and become a part of their verybone. The neighbouring towns were jealous of this honourable supremacy, and affected to sneer at Hadleyburg's pride in it and call it vanity;but all the same they were obliged to acknowledge that Hadleyburg wasin reality an incorruptible town; and if pressed they would alsoacknowledge that the mere fact that a young man hailed from Hadleyburgwas all the recommendation he needed when he went forth from his nataltown to seek for responsible employment. 

But at last, in the drift of time, Hadleyburg had the ill luck to offenda passing stranger--possibly without knowing it, certainly withoutcaring, for Hadleyburg was sufficient unto itself, and cared not a rapfor strangers or their opinions. Still, it would have been well tomake an exception in this one's case, for he was a bitter man, andrevengeful. All through his wanderings during a whole year he kept hisinjury in mind, and gave all his leisure moments to trying to invent acompensating satisfaction for it. He contrived many plans, and all ofthem were good, but none of them was quite sweeping enough: the poorestof them would hurt a great many individuals, but what he wanted was aplan which would comprehend the entire town, and not let so much as oneperson escape unhurt. At last he had a fortunate idea, and when it fellinto his brain it lit up his whole head with an evil joy. He began toform a plan at once, saying to himself "That is the thing to do--I willcorrupt the town. "

Six months later he went to Hadleyburg, and arrived in a buggy at thehouse of the old cashier of the bank about ten at night. He got a sackout of the buggy, shouldered it, and staggered with it through thecottage yard, and knocked at the door. A woman's voice said "Come in, "and he entered, and set his sack behind the stove in the parlour, sayingpolitely to the old lady who sat reading the "Missionary Herald" by thelamp:

"Pray keep your seat, madam, I will not disturb you. There--now it ispretty well concealed; one would hardly know it was there. Can I seeyour husband a moment, madam?"

No, he was gone to Brixton, and might not return before morning. 

"Very well, madam, it is no matter. I merely wanted to leave that sackin his care, to be delivered to the rightful owner when he shall befound. I am a stranger; he does not know me; I am merely passing throughthe town to-night to discharge a matter which has been long in my mind. My errand is now completed, and I go pleased and a little proud, andyou will never see me again. There is a paper attached to the sack whichwill explain everything. Good-night, madam. "

The old lady was afraid of the mysterious big stranger, and was glad tosee him go. But her curiosity was roused, and she went straight to thesack and brought away the paper. It began as follows:

 "TO BE PUBLISHED, or, the right man sought out by private inquiry-- either will answer. This sack contains gold coin weighing a hundred and sixty pounds four ounces--"

 "Mercy on us, and the door not locked!"

Mrs. Richards flew to it all in a tremble and locked it, then pulleddown the window-shades and stood frightened, worried, and wondering ifthere was anything else she could do toward making herself and themoney more safe. She listened awhile for burglars, then surrendered tocuriosity, and went back to the lamp and finished reading the paper:

 "I am a foreigner, and am presently going back to my own country, toremain there permanently. I am grateful to America for what I havereceived at her hands during my long stay under her flag; and to one ofher citizens--a citizen of Hadleyburg--I am especially grateful for agreat kindness done me a year or two ago. Two great kindnesses in fact. I will explain. I was a gambler. I say I WAS. I was a ruined gambler. I arrived in this village at night, hungry and without a penny. I askedfor help--in the dark; I was ashamed to beg in the light. I begged ofthe right man. He gave me twenty dollars--that is to say, he gave melife, as I considered it. He also gave me fortune; for out of that moneyI have made myself rich at the gaming-table. And finally, a remarkwhich he made to me has remained with me to this day, and has at lastconquered me; and in conquering has saved the remnant of my morals: Ishall gamble no more. Now I have no idea who that man was, but I wanthim found, and I want him to have this money, to give away, throw away, or keep, as he pleases. It is merely my way of testifying my gratitudeto him. If I could stay, I would find him myself; but no matter, he willbe found. This is an honest town, an incorruptible town, and I knowI can trust it without fear. This man can be identified by the remarkwhich he made to me; I feel persuaded that he will remember it. 

"And now my plan is this: If you prefer to conduct the inquiryprivately, do so. Tell the contents of this present writing to any onewho is likely to be the right man. If he shall answer, 'I am the man;the remark I made was so-and-so, ' apply the test--to wit: open the sack, and in it you will find a sealed envelope containing that remark. If theremark mentioned by the candidate tallies with it, give him the money, and ask no further questions, for he is certainly the right man. 

"But if you shall prefer a public inquiry, then publish this presentwriting in the local paper--with these instructions added, to wit:Thirty days from now, let the candidate appear at the town-hall at eightin the evening (Friday), and hand his remark, in a sealed envelope, tothe Rev. Mr. Burgess (if he will be kind enough to act); and let Mr. Burgess there and then destroy the seals of the sack, open it, and seeif the remark is correct: if correct, let the money be delivered, withmy sincere gratitude, to my benefactor thus identified. "

Mrs. Richards sat down, gently quivering with excitement, and was soonlost in thinkings--after this pattern: "What a strange thing it is! ... And what a fortune for that kind man who set his bread afloat upon thewaters!... If it had only been my husband that did it!--for we are sopoor, so old and poor!... " Then, with a sigh--"But it was not my Edward;no, it was not he that gave a stranger twenty dollars. It is a pity too;I see it now.... " Then, with a shudder--"But it is GAMBLERS' money! thewages of sin; we couldn't take it; we couldn't touch it. I don't like tobe near it; it seems a defilement. " She moved to a farther chair... "Iwish Edward would come, and take it to the bank; a burglar might come atany moment; it is dreadful to be here all alone with it. "

At eleven Mr. Richards arrived, and while his wife was saying "I am SOglad you've come!" he was saying, "I am so tired--tired clear out; it isdreadful to be poor, and have to make these dismal journeys at my timeof life. Always at the grind, grind, grind, on a salary--another man'sslave, and he sitting at home in his slippers, rich and comfortable. "

"I am so sorry for you, Edward, you know that; but be comforted; we haveour livelihood; we have our good name--"

"Yes, Mary, and that is everything. Don't mind my talk--it's just amoment's irritation and doesn't mean anything. Kiss me--there, it's allgone now, and I am not complaining any more. What have you been getting?What's in the sack?"

Then his wife told him the great secret. It dazed him for a moment; thenhe said:

"It weighs a hundred and sixty pounds? Why, Mary, it's for-ty thousanddollars--think of it--a whole fortune! Not ten men in this village areworth that much. Give me the paper. "

He skimmed through it and said:

"Isn't it an adventure! Why, it's a romance; it's like the impossiblethings one reads about in books, and never sees in life. " He was wellstirred up now; cheerful, even gleeful. He tapped his old wife on thecheek, and said humorously, "Why, we're rich, Mary, rich; all we'vegot to do is to bury the money and burn the papers. If the gambler evercomes to inquire, we'll merely look coldly upon him and say: 'What isthis nonsense you are talking? We have never heard of you and your sackof gold before;' and then he would look foolish, and--"

"And in the meantime, while you are running on with your jokes, themoney is still here, and it is fast getting along toward burglar-time. "

"True. Very well, what shall we do--make the inquiry private? No, notthat; it would spoil the romance. The public method is better. Thinkwhat a noise it will make! And it will make all the other towns jealous;for no stranger would trust such a thing to any town but Hadleyburg, and they know it. It's a great card for us. I must get to theprinting-office now, or I shall be too late. "

"But stop--stop--don't leave me here alone with it, Edward!"

But he was gone. For only a little while, however. Not far from hisown house he met the editor--proprietor of the paper, and gave him thedocument, and said "Here is a good thing for you, Cox--put it in. "

"It may be too late, Mr. Richards, but I'll see. "

At home again, he and his wife sat down to talk the charming mysteryover; they were in no condition for sleep. The first question was, Whocould the citizen have been who gave the stranger the twenty dollars? Itseemed a simple one; both answered it in the same breath--

"Barclay Goodson. "

"Yes, " said Richards, "he could have done it, and it would have beenlike him, but there's not another in the town. "

"Everybody will grant that, Edward--grant it privately, anyway. For sixmonths, now, the village has been its own proper self once more--honest, narrow, self-righteous, and stingy. "

"It is what he always called it, to the day of his death--said it rightout publicly, too. "

"Yes, and he was hated for it. "

"Oh, of course; but he didn't care. I reckon he was the best-hated manamong us, except the Reverend Burgess. "

"Well, Burgess deserves it--he will never get another congregation here. Mean as the town is, it knows how to estimate HIM. Edward, doesn't itseem odd that the stranger should appoint Burgess to deliver the money?"

"Well, yes--it does. That is--that is--"

"Why so much that-IS-ing? Would YOU select him?"

"Mary, maybe the stranger knows him better than this village does. "

"Much THAT would help Burgess!"

The husband seemed perplexed for an answer; the wife kept a steady eyeupon him, and waited. Finally Richards said, with the hesitancy of onewho is making a statement which is likely to encounter doubt, "Mary, Burgess is not a bad man. "

His wife was certainly surprised. 

"Nonsense!" she exclaimed. 

"He is not a bad man. I know. The whole of his unpopularity had itsfoundation in that one thing--the thing that made so much noise. "

"That 'one thing, ' indeed! As if that 'one thing' wasn't enough, all byitself. "

"Plenty. Plenty. Only he wasn't guilty of it. "

"How you talk! Not guilty of it! Everybody knows he WAS guilty. "

"Mary, I give you my word--he was innocent. "

"I can't believe it and I don't. How do you know?"

"It is a confession. I am ashamed, but I will make it. I was the onlyman who knew he was innocent. I could have saved him, and--and--well, you know how the town was wrought up--I hadn't the pluck to do it. Itwould have turned everybody against me. I felt mean, ever so mean; ut Ididn't dare; I hadn't the manliness to face that. "

Mary looked troubled, and for a while was silent. Then she saidstammeringly:

"I--I don't think it would have done for you to--to--Onemustn't--er--public opinion--one has to be so careful--so--" It was adifficult road, and she got mired; but after a little she got startedagain. "It was a great pity, but--Why, we couldn't afford it, Edward--wecouldn't indeed. Oh, I wouldn't have had you do it for anything!"

"It would have lost us the good-will of so many people, Mary; andthen--and then--"

"What troubles me now is, what HE thinks of us, Edward. "

"He? HE doesn't suspect that I could have saved him. "

"Oh, " exclaimed the wife, in a tone of relief, "I am glad of that. Aslong as he doesn't know that you could have saved him, he--he--well thatmakes it a great deal better. Why, I might have known he didn'tknow, because he is always trying to be friendly with us, as littleencouragement as we give him. More than once people have twitted me withit. There's the Wilsons, and the Wilcoxes, and the Harknesses, they takea mean pleasure in saying 'YOUR FRIEND Burgess, ' because they know itpesters me. I wish he wouldn't persist in liking us so; I can't thinkwhy he keeps it up. "

"I can explain it. It's another confession. When the thing was new andhot, and the town made a plan to ride him on a rail, my consciencehurt me so that I couldn't stand it, and I went privately and gave himnotice, and he got out of the town and stayed out till it was safe tocome back. "

"Edward! If the town had found it out--"

"DON'T! It scares me yet, to think of it. I repented of it the minute itwas done; and I was even afraid to tell you lest your face might betrayit to somebody. I didn't sleep any that night, for worrying. But after afew days I saw that no one was going to suspect me, and after that I gotto feeling glad I did it. And I feel glad yet, Mary--glad through andthrough. "

"So do I, now, for it would have been a dreadful way to treat him. Yes, I'm glad; for really you did owe him that, you know. But, Edward, suppose it should come out yet, some day!"

"It won't. "

"Why?"

"Because everybody thinks it was Goodson. "

"Of course they would!"

"Certainly. And of course HE didn't care. They persuaded poor oldSawlsberry to go and charge it on him, and he went blustering over thereand did it. Goodson looked him over, like as if he was hunting for aplace on him that he could despise the most; then he says, 'So you arethe Committee of Inquiry, are you?' Sawlsberry said that was about whathe was. 'H'm. Do they require particulars, or do you reckon a kind of aGENERAL answer will do?' 'If they require particulars, I will come back, Mr. Goodson; I will take the general answer first. ' 'Very well, then, tell them to go to hell--I reckon that's general enough. And I'll giveyou some advice, Sawlsberry; when you come back for the particulars, fetch a basket to carry what is left of yourself home in. '"

"Just like Goodson; it's got all the marks. He had only one vanity; hethought he could give advice better than any other person. "

"It settled the business, and saved us, Mary. The subject was dropped. "

"Bless you, I'm not doubting THAT. "

Then they took up the gold-sack mystery again, with strong interest. Soon the conversation began to suffer breaks--interruptions caused byabsorbed thinkings. The breaks grew more and more frequent. At lastRichards lost himself wholly in thought. He sat long, gazing vacantly atthe floor, and by-and-by he began to punctuate his thoughts withlittle nervous movements of his hands that seemed to indicate vexation. Meantime his wife too had relapsed into a thoughtful silence, and hermovements were beginning to show a troubled discomfort. Finally Richardsgot up and strode aimlessly about the room, ploughing his hands throughhis hair, much as a somnambulist might do who was having a bad dream. Then he seemed to arrive at a definite purpose; and without a wordhe put on his hat and passed quickly out of the house. His wife satbrooding, with a drawn face, and did not seem to be aware that she wasalone. Now and then she murmured, "Lead us not into t... But--but--weare so poor, so poor!... Lead us not into... Ah, who would be hurt byit?--and no one would ever know... Lead us.... " The voice died outin mumblings. After a little she glanced up and muttered in ahalf-frightened, half-glad way--

"He is gone! But, oh dear, he may be too late--too late... Maybenot--maybe there is still time. " She rose and stood thinking, nervouslyclasping and unclasping her hands. A slight shudder shook her frame, andshe said, out of a dry throat, "God forgive me--it's awful to think suchthings--but... Lord, how we are made--how strangely we are made!"

She turned the light low, and slipped stealthily over and knelt down bythe sack and felt of its ridgy sides with her hands, and fondled themlovingly; and there was a gloating light in her poor old eyes. She fellinto fits of absence; and came half out of them at times to mutter "Ifwe had only waited!--oh, if we had only waited a little, and not been insuch a hurry!"

Meantime Cox had gone home from his office and told his wife allabout the strange thing that had happened, and they had talked it overeagerly, and guessed that the late Goodson was the only man in the townwho could have helped a suffering stranger with so noble a sum as twentydollars. Then there was a pause, and the two became thoughtful andsilent. And by-and-by nervous and fidgety. At last the wife said, as ifto herself, "Nobody knows this secret but the Richardses... And us... Nobody. "

The husband came out of his thinkings with a slight start, and gazedwistfully at his wife, whose face was become very pale; then hehesitatingly rose, and glanced furtively at his hat, then at his wife--asort of mute inquiry. Mrs. Cox swallowed once or twice, with her hand ather throat, then in place of speech she nodded her head. In a moment shewas alone, and mumbling to herself. 

And now Richards and Cox were hurrying through the deserted streets, from opposite directions. They met, panting, at the foot of theprinting-office stairs; by the night-light there they read each other'sface. Cox whispered:

"Nobody knows about this but us?"

The whispered answer was:

"Not a soul--on honour, not a soul!"

"If it isn't too late to--"

The men were starting up-stairs; at this moment they were overtaken by aboy, and Cox asked, "Is that you, Johnny?"

"Yes, sir. "

"You needn't ship the early mail--nor ANY mail; wait till I tell you. "

"It's already gone, sir. "

"GONE?" It had the sound of an unspeakable disappointment in it. 

"Yes, sir. Time-table for Brixton and all the towns beyond changedto-day, sir--had to get the papers in twenty minutes earlier thancommon. I had to rush; if I had been two minutes later--"

The men turned and walked slowly away, not waiting to hear the rest. Neither of them spoke during ten minutes; then Cox said, in a vexedtone, "What possessed you to be in such a hurry, I can't make out. "

The answer was humble enough:

"I see it now, but somehow I never thought, you know, until it was toolate. But the next time--"

"Next time be hanged! It won't come in a thousand years. "

Then the friends separated without a good-night, and dragged themselveshome with the gait of mortally stricken men. At their homes their wivessprang up with an eager "Well?"--then saw the answer with their eyes andsank down sorrowing, without waiting for it to come in words. In bothhouses a discussion followed of a heated sort--a new thing; there hadbeen discussions before, but not heated ones, not ungentle ones. Thediscussions to-night were a sort of seeming plagiarisms of each other. Mrs. Richards said:

"If you had only waited, Edward--if you had only stopped to think; butno, you must run straight to the printing-office and spread it all overthe world. "

"It SAID publish it. "

"That is nothing; it also said do it privately, if you liked. There, now--is that true, or not?"

"Why, yes--yes, it is true; but when I thought what a stir it wouldmake, and what a compliment it was to Hadleyburg that a stranger shouldtrust it so--"

"Oh, certainly, I know all that; but if you had only stopped to think, you would have seen that you COULDN'T find the right man, because he isin his grave, and hasn't left chick nor child nor relation behind him;and as long as the money went to somebody that awfully needed it, andnobody would be hurt by it, and--and--"

She broke down, crying. Her husband tried to think of some comfortingthing to say, and presently came out with this:

"But after all, Mary, it must be for the best--it must be; we know that. And we must remember that it was so ordered--"

"Ordered! Oh, everything's ORDERED, when a person has to find some wayout when he has been stupid. Just the same, it was ORDERED that themoney should come to us in this special way, and it was you that musttake it on yourself to go meddling with the designs of Providence--andwho gave you the right? It was wicked, that is what it was--justblasphemous presumption, and no more becoming to a meek and humbleprofessor of--"

"But, Mary, you know how we have been trained all our lives long, likethe whole village, till it is absolutely second nature to us to stop nota single moment to think when there's an honest thing to be done--"

"Oh, I know it, I know it--it's been one everlasting training andtraining and training in honesty--honesty shielded, from the verycradle, against every possible temptation, and so it's ARTIFICIALhonesty, and weak as water when temptation comes, as we have seen thisnight. God knows I never had shade nor shadow of a doubt of my petrifiedand indestructible honesty until now--and now, under the very first bigand real temptation, I--Edward, it is my belief that this town's honestyis as rotten as mine is; as rotten as yours. It is a mean town, a hard, stingy town, and hasn't a virtue in the world but this honesty it is socelebrated for and so conceited about; and so help me, I do believe thatif ever the day comes that its honesty falls under great temptation, itsgrand reputation will go to ruin like a house of cards. There, now, I'vemade confession, and I feel better; I am a humbug, and I've been one allmy life, without knowing it. Let no man call me honest again--I will nothave it. "

"I--Well, Mary, I feel a good deal as you do: I certainly do. It seemsstrange, too, so strange. I never could have believed it--never. "

A long silence followed; both were sunk in thought. At last the wifelooked up and said:

"I know what you are thinking, Edward. "

Richards had the embarrassed look of a person who is caught. 

"I am ashamed to confess it, Mary, but--"

"It's no matter, Edward, I was thinking the same question myself. "

"I hope so. State it. "

"You were thinking, if a body could only guess out WHAT THE REMARK WASthat Goodson made to the stranger. "

"It's perfectly true. I feel guilty and ashamed. And you?"

"I'm past it. Let us make a pallet here; we've got to stand watch tillthe bank vault opens in the morning and admits the sack... Oh dear, ohdear--if we hadn't made the mistake!"

The pallet was made, and Mary said:

"The open sesame--what could it have been? I do wonder what that remarkcould have been. But come; we will get to bed now. "

"And sleep?"

"No; think. "

"Yes; think. "

By this time the Coxes too had completed their spat and theirreconciliation, and were turning in--to think, to think, and toss, andfret, and worry over what the remark could possibly have been whichGoodson made to the stranded derelict; that golden remark; that remarkworth forty thousand dollars, cash. 

The reason that the village telegraph-office was open later thanusual that night was this: The foreman of Cox's paper was the localrepresentative of the Associated Press. One might say its honoraryrepresentative, for it wasn't four times a year that he could furnishthirty words that would be accepted. But this time it was different. Hisdespatch stating what he had caught got an instant answer:

 "Send the whole thing--all the details--twelve hundred words. "

 A colossal order! The foreman filled the bill; and he was the proudestman in the State. By breakfast-time the next morning the name ofHadleyburg the Incorruptible was on every lip in America, from Montrealto the Gulf, from the glaciers of Alaska to the orange-groves ofFlorida; and millions and millions of people were discussing thestranger and his money-sack, and wondering if the right man would befound, and hoping some more news about the matter would come soon--rightaway. 

 II

 Hadleyburg village woke up world-celebrated--astonished--happy--vain. Vain beyond imagination. Its nineteen principal citizens and their wiveswent about shaking hands with each other, and beaming, and smiling, and congratulating, and saying THIS thing adds a new word to thedictionary--HADLEYBURG, synonym for INCORRUPTIBLE--destined to live indictionaries for ever! And the minor and unimportant citizens and theirwives went around acting in much the same way. Everybody ran to the bankto see the gold-sack; and before noon grieved and envious crowds beganto flock in from Brixton and all neighbouring towns; and that afternoonand next day reporters began to arrive from everywhere to verify thesack and its history and write the whole thing up anew, and make dashingfree-hand pictures of the sack, and of Richards's house, and the bank, and the Presbyterian church, and the Baptist church, and the publicsquare, and the town-hall where the test would be applied and the moneydelivered; and damnable portraits of the Richardses, and Pinkertonthe banker, and Cox, and the foreman, and Reverend Burgess, andthe postmaster--and even of Jack Halliday, who was the loafing, good-natured, no-account, irreverent fisherman, hunter, boys' friend, stray-dogs' friend, typical "Sam Lawson" of the town. The little mean, smirking, oily Pinkerton showed the sack to all comers, and rubbed hissleek palms together pleasantly, and enlarged upon the town's fine oldreputation for honesty and upon this wonderful endorsement of it, andhoped and believed that the example would now spread far and wideover the American world, and be epoch-making in the matter of moralregeneration. And so on, and so on. 

By the end of a week things had quieted down again; the wildintoxication of pride and joy had sobered to a soft, sweet, silentdelight--a sort of deep, nameless, unutterable content. All faces bore alook of peaceful, holy happiness. 

Then a change came. It was a gradual change; so gradual that itsbeginnings were hardly noticed; maybe were not noticed at all, except byJack Halliday, who always noticed everything; and always made fun of it, too, no matter what it was. He began to throw out chaffing remarks aboutpeople not looking quite so happy as they did a day or two ago; and nexthe claimed that the new aspect was deepening to positive sadness; next, that it was taking on a sick look; and finally he said that everybodywas become so moody, thoughtful, and absent-minded that he could rob themeanest man in town of a cent out of the bottom of his breeches pocketand not disturb his reverie. 

At this stage--or at about this stage--a saying like this was droppedat bedtime--with a sigh, usually--by the head of each of the nineteenprincipal households:

"Ah, what COULD have been the remark that Goodson made?"

And straightway--with a shudder--came this, from the man's wife:

"Oh, DON'T! What horrible thing are you mulling in your mind? Put itaway from you, for God's sake!"

But that question was wrung from those men again the next night--and gotthe same retort. But weaker. 

And the third night the men uttered the question yet again--withanguish, and absently. This time--and the following night--the wivesfidgeted feebly, and tried to say something. But didn't. 

And the night after that they found their tongues andresponded--longingly:

"Oh, if we COULD only guess!"

Halliday's comments grew daily more and more sparklingly disagreeableand disparaging. He went diligently about, laughing at the town, individually and in mass. But his laugh was the only one left in thevillage: it fell upon a hollow and mournful vacancy and emptiness. Noteven a smile was findable anywhere. Halliday carried a cigar-box aroundon a tripod, playing that it was a camera, and halted all passers andaimed the thing and said "Ready!--now look pleasant, please, " butnot even this capital joke could surprise the dreary faces into anysoftening. 

So three weeks passed--one week was left. It was Saturday evening aftersupper. Instead of the aforetime Saturday-evening flutter and bustle andshopping and larking, the streets were empty and desolate. Richards andhis old wife sat apart in their little parlour--miserable and thinking. This was become their evening habit now: the life-long habit which hadpreceded it, of reading, knitting, and contented chat, or receiving orpaying neighbourly calls, was dead and gone and forgotten, ages ago--twoor three weeks ago; nobody talked now, nobody read, nobody visited--thewhole village sat at home, sighing, worrying, silent. Trying to guessout that remark. 

The postman left a letter. Richards glanced listlessly at thesuperscription and the post-mark--unfamiliar, both--and tossed theletter on the table and resumed his might-have-beens and his hopelessdull miseries where he had left them off. Two or three hours laterhis wife got wearily up and was going away to bed without agood-night--custom now--but she stopped near the letter and eyed itawhile with a dead interest, then broke it open, and began to skim itover. Richards, sitting there with his chair tilted back against thewall and his chin between his knees, heard something fall. It was hiswife. He sprang to her side, but she cried out:

"Leave me alone, I am too happy. Read the letter--read it!"

He did. He devoured it, his brain reeling. The letter was from a distantState, and it said:

 "I am a stranger to you, but no matter: I have something to tell. Ihave just arrived home from Mexico, and learned about that episode. Ofcourse you do not know who made that remark, but I know, and I am theonly person living who does know. It was GOODSON. I knew him well, manyyears ago. I passed through your village that very night, and was hisguest till the midnight train came along. I overheard him make thatremark to the stranger in the dark--it was in Hale Alley. He and Italked of it the rest of the way home, and while smoking in his house. He mentioned many of your villagers in the course of his talk--most ofthem in a very uncomplimentary way, but two or three favourably: amongthese latter yourself. I say 'favourably'--nothing stronger. I rememberhis saying he did not actually LIKE any person in the town--not one; butthat you--I THINK he said you--am almost sure--had done him a very greatservice once, possibly without knowing the full value of it, and hewished he had a fortune, he would leave it to you when he died, and acurse apiece for the rest of the citizens. Now, then, if it was you thatdid him that service, you are his legitimate heir, and entitled to thesack of gold. I know that I can trust to your honour and honesty, for ina citizen of Hadleyburg these virtues are an unfailing inheritance, andso I am going to reveal to you the remark, well satisfied that if youare not the right man you will seek and find the right one and see thatpoor Goodson's debt of gratitude for the service referred to is paid. This is the remark 'YOU ARE FAR FROM BEING A BAD MAN: GO, AND REFORM. '

"HOWARD L. STEPHENSON. "

 "Oh, Edward, the money is ours, and I am so grateful, OH, sograteful, --kiss me, dear, it's for ever since we kissed--and we neededit so--the money--and now you are free of Pinkerton and his bank, andnobody's slave any more; it seems to me I could fly for joy. "

It was a happy half-hour that the couple spent there on the setteecaressing each other; it was the old days come again--days that hadbegun with their courtship and lasted without a break till the strangerbrought the deadly money. By-and-by the wife said:

"Oh, Edward, how lucky it was you did him that grand service, poorGoodson! I never liked him, but I love him now. And it was fine andbeautiful of you never to mention it or brag about it. " Then, with atouch of reproach, "But you ought to have told ME, Edward, you ought tohave told your wife, you know. "

"Well, I--er--well, Mary, you see--"

"Now stop hemming and hawing, and tell me about it, Edward. I alwaysloved you, and now I'm proud of you. Everybody believes there wasonly one good generous soul in this village, and now it turns out thatyou--Edward, why don't you tell me?"

"Well--er--er--Why, Mary, I can't!"

"You CAN'T? WHY can't you?"

"You see, he--well, he--he made me promise I wouldn't. "

The wife looked him over, and said, very slowly:

"Made--you--promise? Edward, what do you tell me that for?"

"Mary, do you think I would lie?"

She was troubled and silent for a moment, then she laid her hand withinhis and said:

"No... No. We have wandered far enough from our bearings--God spare usthat! In all your life you have never uttered a lie. But now--now thatthe foundations of things seem to be crumbling from under us, we--we--"She lost her voice for a moment, then said, brokenly, "Lead us not intotemptation... I think you made the promise, Edward. Let it rest so. Letus keep away from that ground. Now--that is all gone by; let us be happyagain; it is no time for clouds. "

Edward found it something of an effort to comply, for his mind keptwandering--trying to remember what the service was that he had doneGoodson. 

The couple lay awake the most of the night, Mary happy and busy, Edwardbusy, but not so happy. Mary was planning what she would do with themoney. Edward was trying to recall that service. At first his consciencewas sore on account of the lie he had told Mary--if it was a lie. Aftermuch reflection--suppose it WAS a lie? What then? Was it such a greatmatter? Aren't we always ACTING lies? Then why not tell them? Look atMary--look what she had done. While he was hurrying off on his honesterrand, what was she doing? Lamenting because the papers hadn't beendestroyed and the money kept. Is theft better than lying?

THAT point lost its sting--the lie dropped into the background and leftcomfort behind it. The next point came to the front: HAD he renderedthat service? Well, here was Goodson's own evidence as reported inStephenson's letter; there could be no better evidence than that--itwas even PROOF that he had rendered it. Of course. So that point wassettled... No, not quite. He recalled with a wince that this unknown Mr. Stephenson was just a trifle unsure as to whether the performer of itwas Richards or some other--and, oh dear, he had put Richards on hishonour! He must himself decide whither that money must go--and Mr. Stephenson was not doubting that if he was the wrong man he would gohonourably and find the right one. Oh, it was odious to put a man insuch a situation--ah, why couldn't Stephenson have left out that doubt?What did he want to intrude that for?

Further reflection. How did it happen that RICHARDS'S name remained inStephenson's mind as indicating the right man, and not some other man'sname? That looked good. Yes, that looked very good. In fact it went onlooking better and better, straight along--until by-and-by it grew intopositive PROOF. And then Richards put the matter at once out of hismind, for he had a private instinct that a proof once established isbetter left so. 

He was feeling reasonably comfortable now, but there was still one otherdetail that kept pushing itself on his notice: of course he had donethat service--that was settled; but what WAS that service? He mustrecall it--he would not go to sleep till he had recalled it; it wouldmake his peace of mind perfect. And so he thought and thought. He thought of a dozen things--possible services, even probableservices--but none of them seemed adequate, none of them seemed largeenough, none of them seemed worth the money--worth the fortune Goodsonhad wished he could leave in his will. And besides, he couldn't rememberhaving done them, anyway. Now, then--now, then--what KIND of a servicewould it be that would make a man so inordinately grateful? Ah--thesaving of his soul! That must be it. Yes, he could remember, now, how heonce set himself the task of converting Goodson, and laboured at it asmuch as--he was going to say three months; but upon closer examinationit shrunk to a month, then to a week, then to a day, then to nothing. Yes, he remembered now, and with unwelcome vividness, that Goodson hadtold him to go to thunder and mind his own business--HE wasn't hankeringto follow Hadleyburg to heaven!

So that solution was a failure--he hadn't saved Goodson's soul. Richardswas discouraged. Then after a little came another idea: had he savedGoodson's property? No, that wouldn't do--he hadn't any. His life? Thatis it! Of course. Why, he might have thought of it before. This time hewas on the right track, sure. His imagination-mill was hard at work in aminute, now. 

Thereafter, during a stretch of two exhausting hours, he was busy savingGoodson's life. He saved it in all kinds of difficult and perilous ways. In every case he got it saved satisfactorily up to a certain point;then, just as he was beginning to get well persuaded that it had reallyhappened, a troublesome detail would turn up which made the whole thingimpossible. As in the matter of drowning, for instance. In that case hehad swum out and tugged Goodson ashore in an unconscious state witha great crowd looking on and applauding, but when he had got it allthought out and was just beginning to remember all about it, a wholeswarm of disqualifying details arrived on the ground: the town wouldhave known of the circumstance, Mary would have known of it, itwould glare like a limelight in his own memory instead of being aninconspicuous service which he had possibly rendered "without knowingits full value. " And at this point he remembered that he couldn't swimanyway. 

Ah--THERE was a point which he had been overlooking from the start: ithad to be a service which he had rendered "possibly without knowingthe full value of it. " Why, really, that ought to be an easy hunt--mucheasier than those others. And sure enough, by-and-by he found it. Goodson, years and years ago, came near marrying a very sweet and prettygirl, named Nancy Hewitt, but in some way or other the match had beenbroken off; the girl died, Goodson remained a bachelor, and by-and-bybecame a soured one and a frank despiser of the human species. Soonafter the girl's death the village found out, or thought it had foundout, that she carried a spoonful of negro blood in her veins. Richardsworked at these details a good while, and in the end he thought heremembered things concerning them which must have gotten mislaid in hismemory through long neglect. He seemed to dimly remember that it wasHE that found out about the negro blood; that it was he that told thevillage; that the village told Goodson where they got it; that he thussaved Goodson from marrying the tainted girl; that he had done him thisgreat service "without knowing the full value of it, " in fact withoutknowing that he WAS doing it; but that Goodson knew the value of it, andwhat a narrow escape he had had, and so went to his grave grateful tohis benefactor and wishing he had a fortune to leave him. It was allclear and simple, now, and the more he went over it the more luminousand certain it grew; and at last, when he nestled to sleep, satisfiedand happy, he remembered the whole thing just as if it had beenyesterday. In fact, he dimly remembered Goodson's TELLING him hisgratitude once. Meantime Mary had spent six thousand dollars on a newhouse for herself and a pair of slippers for her pastor, and then hadfallen peacefully to rest. 

That same Saturday evening the postman had delivered a letter to eachof the other principal citizens--nineteen letters in all. No two of theenvelopes were alike, and no two of the superscriptions were in the samehand, but the letters inside were just like each other in everydetail but one. They were exact copies of the letter received byRichards--handwriting and all--and were all signed by Stephenson, but inplace of Richards's name each receiver's own name appeared. 

All night long eighteen principal citizens did what their caste-brotherRichards was doing at the same time--they put in their energies tryingto remember what notable service it was that they had unconsciously doneBarclay Goodson. In no case was it a holiday job; still they succeeded. 

And while they were at this work, which was difficult, their wives putin the night spending the money, which was easy. During that one nightthe nineteen wives spent an average of seven thousand dollars each outof the forty thousand in the sack--a hundred and thirty-three thousandaltogether. 

Next day there was a surprise for Jack Halliday. He noticed thatthe faces of the nineteen chief citizens and their wives bore thatexpression of peaceful and holy happiness again. He could not understandit, neither was he able to invent any remarks about it that could damageit or disturb it. And so it was his turn to be dissatisfied with life. His private guesses at the reasons for the happiness failed in allinstances, upon examination. When he met Mrs. Wilcox and noticedthe placid ecstasy in her face, he said to himself, "Her cat has hadkittens"--and went and asked the cook; it was not so, the cook haddetected the happiness, but did not know the cause. When Hallidayfound the duplicate ecstasy in the face of "Shadbelly" Billson (villagenickname), he was sure some neighbour of Billson's had broken his leg, but inquiry showed that this had not happened. The subdued ecstasy inGregory Yates's face could mean but one thing--he was a mother-in-lawshort; it was another mistake. "And Pinkerton--Pinkerton--he hascollected ten cents that he thought he was going to lose. " And so on, and so on. In some cases the guesses had to remain in doubt, in theothers they proved distinct errors. In the end Halliday said tohimself, "Anyway it roots up that there's nineteen Hadleyburg familiestemporarily in heaven: I don't know how it happened; I only knowProvidence is off duty to-day. "

An architect and builder from the next State had lately ventured to setup a small business in this unpromising village, and his sign had nowbeen hanging out a week. Not a customer yet; he was a discouraged man, and sorry he had come. But his weather changed suddenly now. First oneand then another chief citizen's wife said to him privately:

"Come to my house Monday week--but say nothing about it for the present. We think of building. "

He got eleven invitations that day. That night he wrote his daughterand broke off her match with her student. He said she could marry a milehigher than that. 

Pinkerton the banker and two or three other well-to-do men plannedcountry-seats--but waited. That kind don't count their chickens untilthey are hatched. 

The Wilsons devised a grand new thing--a fancy-dress ball. They made noactual promises, but told all their acquaintanceship in confidence thatthey were thinking the matter over and thought they should give it--"andif we do, you will be invited, of course. " People were surprised, andsaid, one to another, "Why, they are crazy, those poor Wilsons, theycan't afford it. " Several among the nineteen said privately to theirhusbands, "It is a good idea, we will keep still till their cheap thingis over, then WE will give one that will make it sick. "

The days drifted along, and the bill of future squanderings rose higherand higher, wilder and wilder, more and more foolish and reckless. Itbegan to look as if every member of the nineteen would not only spendhis whole forty thousand dollars before receiving-day, but be actuallyin debt by the time he got the money. In some cases light-headed peopledid not stop with planning to spend, they really spent--on credit. Theybought land, mortgages, farms, speculative stocks, fine clothes, horses, and various other things, paid down the bonus, and made themselvesliable for the rest--at ten days. Presently the sober second thoughtcame, and Halliday noticed that a ghastly anxiety was beginning to showup in a good many faces. Again he was puzzled, and didn't know whatto make of it. "The Wilcox kittens aren't dead, for they weren't born;nobody's broken a leg; there's no shrinkage in mother-in-laws; NOTHINGhas happened--it is an insolvable mystery. "

There was another puzzled man, too--the Rev. Mr. Burgess. For days, wherever he went, people seemed to follow him or to be watching out forhim; and if he ever found himself in a retired spot, a member of thenineteen would be sure to appear, thrust an envelope privately intohis hand, whisper "To be opened at the town-hall Friday evening, " thenvanish away like a guilty thing. He was expecting that there might beone claimant for the sack--doubtful, however, Goodson being dead--but itnever occurred to him that all this crowd might be claimants. When thegreat Friday came at last, he found that he had nineteen envelopes. 

 III

 The town-hall had never looked finer. The platform at the end of it wasbacked by a showy draping of flags; at intervals along the wallswere festoons of flags; the gallery fronts were clothed in flags; thesupporting columns were swathed in flags; all this was to impress thestranger, for he would be there in considerable force, and in a largedegree he would be connected with the press. The house was full. The412 fixed seats were occupied; also the 68 extra chairs which had beenpacked into the aisles; the steps of the platform were occupied;some distinguished strangers were given seats on the platform; at thehorseshoe of tables which fenced the front and sides of the platform sata strong force of special correspondents who had come from everywhere. It was the best-dressed house the town had ever produced. There weresome tolerably expensive toilets there, and in several cases theladies who wore them had the look of being unfamiliar with that kind ofclothes. At least the town thought they had that look, but the notioncould have arisen from the town's knowledge of the fact that theseladies had never inhabited such clothes before. 

The gold-sack stood on a little table at the front of the platform whereall the house could see it. The bulk of the house gazed at it with aburning interest, a mouth-watering interest, a wistful and patheticinterest; a minority of nineteen couples gazed at it tenderly, lovingly, proprietarily, and the male half of this minority kept saying over tothemselves the moving little impromptu speeches of thankfulness for theaudience's applause and congratulations which they were presently goingto get up and deliver. Every now and then one of these got a piece ofpaper out of his vest pocket and privately glanced at it to refresh hismemory. 

Of course there was a buzz of conversation going on--there always is;but at last, when the Rev. Mr. Burgess rose and laid his hand on thesack, he could hear his microbes gnaw, the place was so still. Herelated the curious history of the sack, then went on to speak inwarm terms of Hadleyburg's old and well-earned reputation for spotlesshonesty, and of the town's just pride in this reputation. He said thatthis reputation was a treasure of priceless value; that under Providenceits value had now become inestimably enhanced, for the recent episodehad spread this fame far and wide, and thus had focussed the eyes of theAmerican world upon this village, and made its name for all time, ashe hoped and believed, a synonym for commercial incorruptibility. (Applause. ) "And who is to be the guardian of this noble fame--thecommunity as a whole? No! The responsibility is individual, notcommunal. From this day forth each and every one of you is in his ownperson its special guardian, and individually responsible that no harmshall come to it. Do you--does each of you--accept this great trust?(Tumultuous assent. ) Then all is well. Transmit it to your children andto your children's children. To-day your purity is beyond reproach--seeto it that it shall remain so. To-day there is not a person in yourcommunity who could be beguiled to touch a penny not his own--see toit that you abide in this grace. ("We will! we will!") This is not theplace to make comparisons between ourselves and other communities--someof them ungracious towards us; they have their ways, we have ours; letus be content. (Applause. ) I am done. Under my hand, my friends, restsa stranger's eloquent recognition of what we are; through him the worldwill always henceforth know what we are. We do not know who he is, butin your name I utter your gratitude, and ask you to raise your voices inindorsement. "

The house rose in a body and made the walls quake with the thunders ofits thankfulness for the space of a long minute. Then it sat down, and Mr. Burgess took an envelope out of his pocket. The house held itsbreath while he slit the envelope open and took from it a slip of paper. He read its contents--slowly and impressively--the audience listeningwith tranced attention to this magic document, each of whose words stoodfor an ingot of gold:

"'The remark which I made to the distressed stranger was this: "You arevery far from being a bad man; go, and reform. "' Then he continued:--'Weshall know in a moment now whether the remark here quoted correspondswith the one concealed in the sack; and if that shall prove tobe so--and it undoubtedly will--this sack of gold belongs to afellow-citizen who will henceforth stand before the nation as the symbolof the special virtue which has made our town famous throughout theland--Mr. Billson!'"

The house had gotten itself all ready to burst into the proper tornadoof applause; but instead of doing it, it seemed stricken with aparalysis; there was a deep hush for a moment or two, then a wave ofwhispered murmurs swept the place--of about this tenor: "BILLSON!oh, come, this is TOO thin! Twenty dollars to a stranger--orANYBODY--BILLSON! Tell it to the marines!" And now at this point thehouse caught its breath all of a sudden in a new access of astonishment, for it discovered that whereas in one part of the hall Deacon Billsonwas standing up with his head weekly bowed, in another part of it LawyerWilson was doing the same. There was a wondering silence now for awhile. Everybody was puzzled, and nineteen couples were surprised andindignant. 

Billson and Wilson turned and stared at each other. Billson asked, bitingly:

"Why do YOU rise, Mr. Wilson?"

"Because I have a right to. Perhaps you will be good enough to explainto the house why YOU rise. "

"With great pleasure. Because I wrote that paper. "

"It is an impudent falsity! I wrote it myself. "

It was Burgess's turn to be paralysed. He stood looking vacantly atfirst one of the men and then the other, and did not seem to know whatto do. The house was stupefied. Lawyer Wilson spoke up now, and said:

"I ask the Chair to read the name signed to that paper. "

That brought the Chair to itself, and it read out the name:

"John Wharton BILLSON. "

"There!" shouted Billson, "what have you got to say for yourselfnow? And what kind of apology are you going to make to me and to thisinsulted house for the imposture which you have attempted to play here?"

"No apologies are due, sir; and as for the rest of it, I publicly chargeyou with pilfering my note from Mr. Burgess and substituting a copy ofit signed with your own name. There is no other way by which you couldhave gotten hold of the test-remark; I alone, of living men, possessedthe secret of its wording. "

There was likely to be a scandalous state of things if this wenton; everybody noticed with distress that the shorthand scribes werescribbling like mad; many people were crying "Chair, chair! Order!order!" Burgess rapped with his gavel, and said:

"Let us not forget the proprieties due. There has evidently been amistake somewhere, but surely that is all. If Mr. Wilson gave me anenvelope--and I remember now that he did--I still have it. "

He took one out of his pocket, opened it, glanced at it, lookedsurprised and worried, and stood silent a few moments. Then he waved hishand in a wandering and mechanical way, and made an effort or two to saysomething, then gave it up, despondently. Several voices cried out:

"Read it! read it! What is it?"

So he began, in a dazed and sleep-walker fashion:

"'The remark which I made to the unhappy stranger was this: "You arefar from being a bad man. (The house gazed at him marvelling. ) Go, andreform. "'" (Murmurs: "Amazing! what can this mean?") "This one, " saidthe Chair, "is signed Thurlow G. Wilson. "

"There!" cried Wilson, "I reckon that settles it! I knew perfectly wellmy note was purloined. "

"Purloined!" retorted Billson. "I'll let you know that neither you norany man of your kidney must venture to--"

The Chair: "Order, gentlemen, order! Take your seats, both of you, please. "

They obeyed, shaking their heads and grumbling angrily. The housewas profoundly puzzled; it did not know what to do with this curiousemergency. Presently Thompson got up. Thompson was the hatter. He wouldhave liked to be a Nineteener; but such was not for him; his stock ofhats was not considerable enough for the position. He said:

"Mr. Chairman, if I may be permitted to make a suggestion, can both ofthese gentlemen be right? I put it to you, sir, can both have happenedto say the very same words to the stranger? It seems to me--"

The tanner got up and interrupted him. The tanner was a disgruntled man;he believed himself entitled to be a Nineteener, but he couldn't getrecognition. It made him a little unpleasant in his ways and speech. Said he:

"Sho, THAT'S not the point! THAT could happen--twice in a hundredyears--but not the other thing. NEITHER of them gave the twentydollars!" (A ripple of applause. )

Billson. "I did!"

Wilson. "I did!"

Then each accused the other of pilfering. 

The Chair. "Order! Sit down, if you please--both of you. Neither of thenotes has been out of my possession at any moment. "

A Voice. "Good--that settles THAT!"

The Tanner. "Mr. Chairman, one thing is now plain: one of these menhas been eavesdropping under the other one's bed, and filching familysecrets. If it is not unparliamentary to suggest it, I will remarkthat both are equal to it. (The Chair. "Order! order!") I withdraw theremark, sir, and will confine myself to suggesting that IF one of themhas overheard the other reveal the test-remark to his wife, we shallcatch him now. "

A Voice. "How?"

The Tanner. "Easily. The two have not quoted the remark in exactlythe same words. You would have noticed that, if there hadn't been aconsiderable stretch of time and an exciting quarrel inserted betweenthe two readings. "

A Voice. "Name the difference. "

The Tanner. "The word VERY is in Billson's note, and not in the other. "

Many Voices. "That's so--he's right!"

The Tanner. "And so, if the Chair will examine the test-remark inthe sack, we shall know which of these two frauds--(The Chair. "Order!")--which of these two adventurers--(The Chair. "Order!order!")--which of these two gentlemen--(laughter and applause)--isentitled to wear the belt as being the first dishonest blatherskite everbred in this town--which he has dishonoured, and which will be a sultryplace for him from now out!" (Vigorous applause. )

Many Voices. "Open it!--open the sack!"

Mr. Burgess made a slit in the sack, slid his hand in, and brought outan envelope. In it were a couple of folded notes. He said:

"One of these is marked, 'Not to be examined until all writtencommunications which have been addressed to the Chair--if any--shallhave been read. ' The other is marked 'THE TEST. ' Allow me. It isworded--to wit:

"'I do not require that the first half of the remark which was madeto me by my benefactor shall be quoted with exactness, for it was notstriking, and could be forgotten; but its closing fifteen words arequite striking, and I think easily rememberable; unless THESE shall beaccurately reproduced, let the applicant be regarded as an impostor. Mybenefactor began by saying he seldom gave advice to anyone, but that italways bore the hallmark of high value when he did give it. Then he saidthis--and it has never faded from my memory: 'YOU ARE FAR FROM BEING ABAD MAN--'"

Fifty Voices. "That settles it--the money's Wilson's! Wilson! Wilson!Speech! Speech!"

People jumped up and crowded around Wilson, wringing his hand andcongratulating fervently--meantime the Chair was hammering with thegavel and shouting:

"Order, gentlemen! Order! Order! Let me finish reading, please. " Whenquiet was restored, the reading was resumed--as follows:

"'GO, AND REFORM--OR, MARK MY WORDS--SOME DAY, FOR YOUR SINS YOU WILLDIE AND GO TO HELL OR HADLEYBURG--TRY AND MAKE IT THE FORMER. '"

A ghastly silence followed. First an angry cloud began to settle darklyupon the faces of the citizenship; after a pause the cloud began torise, and a tickled expression tried to take its place; tried so hardthat it was only kept under with great and painful difficulty; thereporters, the Brixtonites, and other strangers bent their heads downand shielded their faces with their hands, and managed to hold in bymain strength and heroic courtesy. At this most inopportune time burstupon the stillness the roar of a solitary voice--Jack Halliday's:

"THAT'S got the hall-mark on it!"

Then the house let go, strangers and all. Even Mr. Burgess's gravitybroke down presently, then the audience considered itself officiallyabsolved from all restraint, and it made the most of its privilege. It was a good long laugh, and a tempestuously wholehearted one, but itceased at last--long enough for Mr. Burgess to try to resume, and forthe people to get their eyes partially wiped; then it broke out again, and afterward yet again; then at last Burgess was able to get out theseserious words:

"It is useless to try to disguise the fact--we find ourselves in thepresence of a matter of grave import. It involves the honour of yourtown--it strikes at the town's good name. The difference of a singleword between the test-remarks offered by Mr. Wilson and Mr. Billsonwas itself a serious thing, since it indicated that one or the other ofthese gentlemen had committed a theft--"

The two men were sitting limp, nerveless, crushed; but at these wordsboth were electrified into movement, and started to get up. 

"Sit down!" said the Chair, sharply, and they obeyed. "That, as I havesaid, was a serious thing. And it was--but for only one of them. But thematter has become graver; for the honour of BOTH is now in formidableperil. Shall I go even further, and say in inextricable peril? BOTH leftout the crucial fifteen words. " He paused. During several moments heallowed the pervading stillness to gather and deepen its impressiveeffects, then added: "There would seem to be but one way whereby thiscould happen. I ask these gentlemen--Was there COLLUSION?--AGREEMENT?"

A low murmur sifted through the house; its import was, "He's got themboth. "

Billson was not used to emergencies; he sat in a helpless collapse. ButWilson was a lawyer. He struggled to his feet, pale and worried, andsaid:

"I ask the indulgence of the house while I explain this most painfulmatter. I am sorry to say what I am about to say, since it must inflictirreparable injury upon Mr. Billson, whom I have always esteemed andrespected until now, and in whose invulnerability to temptation Ientirely believed--as did you all. But for the preservation of my ownhonour I must speak--and with frankness. I confess with shame--and I nowbeseech your pardon for it--that I said to the ruined stranger allof the words contained in the test-remark, including the disparagingfifteen. (Sensation. ) When the late publication was made I recalledthem, and I resolved to claim the sack of coin, for by every right I wasentitled to it. Now I will ask you to consider this point, and weigh itwell; that stranger's gratitude to me that night knew no bounds; he saidhimself that he could find no words for it that were adequate, and thatif he should ever be able he would repay me a thousandfold. Now, then, I ask you this; could I expect--could I believe--could I even remotelyimagine--that, feeling as he did, he would do so ungrateful a thing asto add those quite unnecessary fifteen words to his test?--set a trapfor me?--expose me as a slanderer of my own town before my own peopleassembled in a public hall? It was preposterous; it was impossible. Histest would contain only the kindly opening clause of my remark. Of thatI had no shadow of doubt. You would have thought as I did. You wouldnot have expected a base betrayal from one whom you had befriendedand against whom you had committed no offence. And so with perfectconfidence, perfect trust, I wrote on a piece of paper the openingwords--ending with "Go, and reform, "--and signed it. When I was aboutto put it in an envelope I was called into my back office, and withoutthinking I left the paper lying open on my desk. " He stopped, turned hishead slowly toward Billson, waited a moment, then added: "I ask you tonote this; when I returned, a little latter, Mr. Billson was retiring bymy street door. " (Sensation. )

In a moment Billson was on his feet and shouting:

"It's a lie! It's an infamous lie!"

The Chair. "Be seated, sir! Mr. Wilson has the floor. "

Billson's friends pulled him into his seat and quieted him, and Wilsonwent on:

"Those are the simple facts. My note was now lying in a different placeon the table from where I had left it. I noticed that, but attachedno importance to it, thinking a draught had blown it there. That Mr. Billson would read a private paper was a thing which could not occur tome; he was an honourable man, and he would be above that. If you willallow me to say it, I think his extra word 'VERY' stands explained: itis attributable to a defect of memory. I was the only man in the worldwho could furnish here any detail of the test-mark--by HONOURABLE means. I have finished. "

There is nothing in the world like a persuasive speech to fuddle themental apparatus and upset the convictions and debauch the emotions ofan audience not practised in the tricks and delusions of oratory. Wilsonsat down victorious. The house submerged him in tides of approvingapplause; friends swarmed to him and shook him by the hand andcongratulated him, and Billson was shouted down and not allowed to say aword. The Chair hammered and hammered with its gavel, and kept shouting:

"But let us proceed, gentlemen, let us proceed!"

At last there was a measurable degree of quiet, and the hatter said:

"But what is there to proceed with, sir, but to deliver the money?"

Voices. "That's it! That's it! Come forward, Wilson!"

The Hatter. "I move three cheers for Mr. Wilson, Symbol of the specialvirtue which--"

The cheers burst forth before he could finish; and in the midstof them--and in the midst of the clamour of the gavel also--someenthusiasts mounted Wilson on a big friend's shoulder and were going tofetch him in triumph to the platform. The Chair's voice now rose abovethe noise:

"Order! To your places! You forget that there is still a document tobe read. " When quiet had been restored he took up the document, and wasgoing to read it, but laid it down again saying "I forgot; this is notto be read until all written communications received by me havefirst been read. " He took an envelope out of his pocket, removed itsenclosure, glanced at it--seemed astonished--held it out and gazed atit--stared at it. 

Twenty or thirty voices cried out:

"What is it? Read it! read it!"

And he did--slowly, and wondering:

"'The remark which I made to the stranger--(Voices. "Hello! how'sthis?")--was this: "You are far from being a bad man. (Voices. "GreatScott!") Go, and reform. "' (Voice. "Oh, saw my leg off!") Signed by Mr. Pinkerton the banker. "

The pandemonium of delight which turned itself loose now was of a sortto make the judicious weep. Those whose withers were unwrung laughedtill the tears ran down; the reporters, in throes of laughter, set downdisordered pot-hooks which would never in the world be decipherable; anda sleeping dog jumped up scared out of its wits, and barked itself crazyat the turmoil. All manner of cries were scattered through the din:"We're getting rich--TWO Symbols of Incorruptibility!--without countingBillson!" "THREE!--count Shadbelly in--we can't have too many!" "Allright--Billson's elected!" "Alas, poor Wilson! victim of TWO thieves!"

A Powerful Voice. "Silence! The Chair's fished up something more out ofits pocket. "

Voices. "Hurrah! Is it something fresh? Read it! read! read!"

The Chair (reading). "'The remark which I made, ' etc. 'You are far frombeing a bad man. Go, ' etc. Signed, 'Gregory Yates. '"

Tornado of Voices. "Four Symbols!" "'Rah for Yates!" "Fish again!"

The house was in a roaring humour now, and ready to get all the fun outof the occasion that might be in it. Several Nineteeners, looking paleand distressed, got up and began to work their way towards the aisles, but a score of shouts went up:

"The doors, the doors--close the doors; no Incorruptible shall leavethis place! Sit down, everybody!" The mandate was obeyed. 

"Fish again! Read! read!"

The Chair fished again, and once more the familiar words began to fallfrom its lips--"'You are far from being a bad man--'"

"Name! name! What's his name?"

"'L. Ingoldsby Sargent. '"

"Five elected! Pile up the Symbols! Go on, go on!"

"'You are far from being a bad--'"

"Name! name!"

"'Nicholas Whitworth. '"

"Hooray! hooray! it's a symbolical day!"

Somebody wailed in, and began to sing this rhyme (leaving out "it's") tothe lovely "Mikado" tune of "When a man's afraid of a beautifulmaid;" the audience joined in, with joy; then, just in time, somebodycontributed another line--

 "And don't you this forget--"

 The house roared it out. A third line was at once furnished--

 "Corruptibles far from Hadleyburg are--"

 The house roared that one too. As the last note died, Jack Halliday'svoice rose high and clear, freighted with a final line--

 "But the Symbols are here, you bet!"

That was sung, with booming enthusiasm. Then the happy house startedin at the beginning and sang the four lines through twice, with immenseswing and dash, and finished up with a crashing three-times-three and atiger for "Hadleyburg the Incorruptible and all Symbols of it which weshall find worthy to receive the hall-mark to-night. "

Then the shoutings at the Chair began again, all over the place:

"Go on! go on! Read! read some more! Read all you've got!"

"That's it--go on! We are winning eternal celebrity!"

A dozen men got up now and began to protest. They said that this farcewas the work of some abandoned joker, and was an insult to the wholecommunity. Without a doubt these signatures were all forgeries--

"Sit down! sit down! Shut up! You are confessing. We'll find your namesin the lot. "

"Mr. Chairman, how many of those envelopes have you got?"

The Chair counted. 

"Together with those that have been already examined, there arenineteen. "

A storm of derisive applause broke out. 

"Perhaps they all contain the secret. I move that you open them all andread every signature that is attached to a note of that sort--and readalso the first eight words of the note. "

"Second the motion!"

It was put and carried--uproariously. Then poor old Richards got up, and his wife rose and stood at his side. Her head was bent down, so thatnone might see that she was crying. Her husband gave her his arm, and sosupporting her, he began to speak in a quavering voice:

"My friends, you have known us two--Mary and me--all our lives, and Ithink you have liked us and respected us--"

The Chair interrupted him:

"Allow me. It is quite true--that which you are saying, Mr. Richards;this town DOES know you two; it DOES like you; it DOES respect you;more--it honours you and LOVES you--"

Halliday's voice rang out:

"That's the hall-marked truth, too! If the Chair is right, let the housespeak up and say it. Rise! Now, then--hip! hip! hip!--all together!"

The house rose in mass, faced toward the old couple eagerly, filled theair with a snow-storm of waving handkerchiefs, and delivered the cheerswith all its affectionate heart. 

The Chair then continued:

"What I was going to say is this: We know your good heart, Mr. Richards, but this is not a time for the exercise of charity toward offenders. (Shouts of "Right! right!") I see your generous purpose in your face, but I cannot allow you to plead for these men--"

"But I was going to--"

"Please take your seat, Mr. Richards. We must examine the rest of thesenotes--simple fairness to the men who have already been exposed requiresthis. As soon as that has been done--I give you my word for this--youshall be heard. "

Many voices. "Right!--the Chair is right--no interruption can bepermitted at this stage! Go on!--the names! the names!--according to theterms of the motion!"

The old couple sat reluctantly down, and the husband whispered to thewife, "It is pitifully hard to have to wait; the shame will be greaterthan ever when they find we were only going to plead for OURSELVES. "

Straightway the jollity broke loose again with the reading of the names. 

"'You are far from being a bad man--' Signature, 'Robert J. Titmarsh. '"

'"You are far from being a bad man--' Signature, 'Eliphalet Weeks. '"

"'You are far from being a bad man--' Signature, 'Oscar B. Wilder. '"

At this point the house lit upon the idea of taking the eight words outof the Chairman's hands. He was not unthankful for that. Thenceforwardhe held up each note in its turn and waited. The house droned out theeight words in a massed and measured and musical deep volume of sound(with a daringly close resemblance to a well-known church chant)--"Youare f-a-r from being a b-a-a-a-d man. " Then the Chair said, "Signature, 'Archibald Wilcox. '" And so on, and so on, name after name, andeverybody had an increasingly and gloriously good time except thewretched Nineteen. Now and then, when a particularly shining name wascalled, the house made the Chair wait while it chanted the whole of thetest-remark from the beginning to the closing words, "And go to hellor Hadleyburg--try and make it the for-or-m-e-r!" and in these specialcases they added a grand and agonised and imposing "A-a-a-a-MEN!"

The list dwindled, dwindled, dwindled, poor old Richards keeping tallyof the count, wincing when a name resembling his own was pronounced, andwaiting in miserable suspense for the time to come when it would be hishumiliating privilege to rise with Mary and finish his plea, which hewas intending to word thus: "... For until now we have never done anywrong thing, but have gone our humble way unreproached. We are verypoor, we are old, and, have no chick nor child to help us; we weresorely tempted, and we fell. It was my purpose when I got up beforeto make confession and beg that my name might not be read out in thispublic place, for it seemed to us that we could not bear it; but I wasprevented. It was just; it was our place to suffer with the rest. It hasbeen hard for us. It is the first time we have ever heard our name fallfrom any one's lips--sullied. Be merciful--for the sake or the betterdays; make our shame as light to bear as in your charity you can. " Atthis point in his reverie Mary nudged him, perceiving that his mind wasabsent. The house was chanting, "You are f-a-r, " etc. 

"Be ready, " Mary whispered. "Your name comes now; he has read eighteen. "

The chant ended. 

"Next! next! next!" came volleying from all over the house. 

Burgess put his hand into his pocket. The old couple, trembling, beganto rise. Burgess fumbled a moment, then said:

"I find I have read them all. "

Faint with joy and surprise, the couple sank into their seats, and Marywhispered:

"Oh, bless God, we are saved!--he has lost ours--I wouldn't give thisfor a hundred of those sacks!"

The house burst out with its "Mikado" travesty, and sang it three timeswith ever-increasing enthusiasm, rising to its feet when it reached forthe third time the closing line--

"But the Symbols are here, you bet!"

and finishing up with cheers and a tiger for "Hadleyburg purity and oureighteen immortal representatives of it. "

Then Wingate, the saddler, got up and proposed cheers "for the cleanestman in town, the one solitary important citizen in it who didn't try tosteal that money--Edward Richards. "

They were given with great and moving heartiness; then somebody proposedthat "Richards be elected sole Guardian and Symbol of the now SacredHadleyburg Tradition, with power and right to stand up and look thewhole sarcastic world in the face. "

Passed, by acclamation; then they sang the "Mikado" again, and ended itwith--

"And there's ONE Symbol left, you bet!"

There was a pause; then--

A Voice. "Now, then, who's to get the sack?"

The Tanner (with bitter sarcasm). "That's easy. The money has to bedivided among the eighteen Incorruptibles. They gave the sufferingstranger twenty dollars apiece--and that remark--each in his turn--ittook twenty-two minutes for the procession to move past. Staked thestranger--total contribution, $360. All they want is just the loanback--and interest--forty thousand dollars altogether. "

Many Voices (derisively. ) "That's it! Divvy! divvy! Be kind to thepoor--don't keep them waiting!"

The Chair. "Order! I now offer the stranger's remaining document. Itsays: 'If no claimant shall appear (grand chorus of groans), I desirethat you open the sack and count out the money to the principal citizensof your town, they to take it in trust (Cries of "Oh! Oh! Oh!"), anduse it in such ways as to them shall seem best for the propagation andpreservation of your community's noble reputation for incorruptiblehonesty (more cries)--a reputation to which their names and theirefforts will add a new and far-reaching lustre. " (Enthusiastic outburstof sarcastic applause. ) That seems to be all. No--here is a postscript:

"'P. S. --CITIZENS OF HADLEYBURG: There IS no test-remark--nobody madeone. (Great sensation. ) There wasn't any pauper stranger, nor anytwenty-dollar contribution, nor any accompanying benediction andcompliment--these are all inventions. (General buzz and hum ofastonishment and delight. ) Allow me to tell my story--it will take but aword or two. I passed through your town at a certain time, and receiveda deep offence which I had not earned. Any other man would have beencontent to kill one or two of you and call it square, but to me thatwould have been a trivial revenge, and inadequate; for the dead do notSUFFER. Besides I could not kill you all--and, anyway, made as I am, even that would not have satisfied me. I wanted to damage every man inthe place, and every woman--and not in their bodies or in their estate, but in their vanity--the place where feeble and foolish people are mostvulnerable. So I disguised myself and came back and studied you. Youwere easy game. You had an old and lofty reputation for honesty, andnaturally you were proud of it--it was your treasure of treasures, thevery apple of your eye. As soon as I found out that you carefully andvigilantly kept yourselves and your children OUT OF TEMPTATION, I knewhow to proceed. Why, you simple creatures, the weakest of all weakthings is a virtue which has not been tested in the fire. I laid a plan, and gathered a list of names. My project was to corrupt Hadleyburg theIncorruptible. My idea was to make liars and thieves of nearly half ahundred smirchless men and women who had never in their lives uttered alie or stolen a penny. I was afraid of Goodson. He was neither bornnor reared in Hadleyburg. I was afraid that if I started to operatemy scheme by getting my letter laid before you, you would say toyourselves, 'Goodson is the only man among us who would give away twentydollars to a poor devil'--and then you might not bite at my bait. Butheaven took Goodson; then I knew I was safe, and I set my trap andbaited it. It may be that I shall not catch all the men to whom I mailedthe pretended test-secret, but I shall catch the most of them, if I knowHadleyburg nature. (Voices. "Right--he got every last one of them. ") Ibelieve they will even steal ostensible GAMBLE-money, rather than miss, poor, tempted, and mistrained fellows. I am hoping to eternally andeverlastingly squelch your vanity and give Hadleyburg a new renown--onethat will STICK--and spread far. If I have succeeded, open the sack andsummon the Committee on Propagation and Preservation of the HadleyburgReputation. '"

A Cyclone of Voices. "Open it! Open it! The Eighteen to the front!Committee on Propagation of the Tradition! Forward--the Incorruptibles!"

The Chair ripped the sack wide, and gathered up a handful of bright, broad, yellow coins, shook them together, then examined them. 

"Friends, they are only gilded disks of lead!"

There was a crashing outbreak of delight over this news, and when thenoise had subsided, the tanner called out:

"By right of apparent seniority in this business, Mr. Wilson is Chairmanof the Committee on Propagation of the Tradition. I suggest that he stepforward on behalf of his pals, and receive in trust the money. "

A Hundred Voices. "Wilson! Wilson! Wilson! Speech! Speech!"

Wilson (in a voice trembling with anger). "You will allow me to say, andwithout apologies for my language, DAMN the money!"

A Voice. "Oh, and him a Baptist!"

A Voice. "Seventeen Symbols left! Step up, gentlemen, and assume yourtrust!"

There was a pause--no response. 

The Saddler. "Mr. Chairman, we've got ONE clean man left, anyway, out ofthe late aristocracy; and he needs money, and deserves it. I move thatyou appoint Jack Halliday to get up there and auction off that sack ofgilt twenty-dollar pieces, and give the result to the right man--the manwhom Hadleyburg delights to honour--Edward Richards. "

This was received with great enthusiasm, the dog taking a hand again;the saddler started the bids at a dollar, the Brixton folk and Barnum'srepresentative fought hard for it, the people cheered every jump thatthe bids made, the excitement climbed moment by moment higher andhigher, the bidders got on their mettle and grew steadily more and moredaring, more and more determined, the jumps went from a dollar up tofive, then to ten, then to twenty, then fifty, then to a hundred, then--

At the beginning of the auction Richards whispered in distress tohis wife: "Oh, Mary, can we allow it? It--it--you see, it is anhonour--reward, a testimonial to purity of character, and--and--canwe allow it? Hadn't I better get up and--Oh, Mary, what ought weto do?--what do you think we--" (Halliday's voice. "Fifteen I'mbid!--fifteen for the sack!--twenty!--ah, thanks!--thirty--thanks again!Thirty, thirty, thirty!--do I hear forty?--forty it is! Keep theball rolling, gentlemen, keep it rolling!--fifty!--thanks, nobleRoman!--going at fifty, fifty, fifty!--seventy!--ninety!--splendid!--ahundred!--pile it up, pile it up!--hundred and twenty--forty!--justin time!--hundred and fifty!--Two hundred!--superb! Do I hear twoh--thanks!--two hundred and fifty!--")

"It is another temptation, Edward--I'm all in a tremble--but, oh, we'veescaped one temptation, and that ought to warn us, to--("Six did Ihear?--thanks!--six fifty, six f--SEVEN hundred!") And yet, Edward, when you think--nobody susp--("Eight hundred dollars!--hurrah!--make itnine!--Mr. Parsons, did I hear you say--thanks!--nine!--this noblesack of virgin lead going at only nine hundred dollars, gilding andall--come! do I hear--a thousand!--gratefully yours!--did some one sayeleven?--a sack which is going to be the most celebrated in the wholeUni--") Oh, Edward (beginning to sob), we are so poor!--but--but--do asyou think best--do as you think best. "

Edward fell--that is, he sat still; sat with a conscience which was notsatisfied, but which was overpowered by circumstances. 

Meantime a stranger, who looked like an amateur detective gotten up asan impossible English earl, had been watching the evening's proceedingswith manifest interest, and with a contented expression in his face; andhe had been privately commenting to himself. He was now soliloquisingsomewhat like this: 'None of the Eighteen are bidding; that is notsatisfactory; I must change that--the dramatic unities require it; theymust buy the sack they tried to steal; they must pay a heavy price, too--some of them are rich. And another thing, when I make a mistake inHadleyburg nature the man that puts that error upon me is entitled toa high honorarium, and some one must pay. This poor old Richards hasbrought my judgment to shame; he is an honest man:--I don't understandit, but I acknowledge it. Yes, he saw my deuces--AND with a straightflush, and by rights the pot is his. And it shall be a jack-pot, too, ifI can manage it. He disappointed me, but let that pass. '

He was watching the bidding. At a thousand, the market broke: the pricestumbled swiftly. He waited--and still watched. One competitor droppedout; then another, and another. He put in a bid or two now. When thebids had sunk to ten dollars, he added a five; some one raised him athree; he waited a moment, then flung in a fifty-dollar jump, and thesack was his--at $1, 282. The house broke out in cheers--then stopped;for he was on his feet, and had lifted his hand. He began to speak. 

"I desire to say a word, and ask a favour. I am a speculator inrarities, and I have dealings with persons interested in numismatics allover the world. I can make a profit on this purchase, just as it stands;but there is a way, if I can get your approval, whereby I can make everyone of these leaden twenty-dollar pieces worth its face in gold, andperhaps more. Grant me that approval, and I will give part of my gainsto your Mr. Richards, whose invulnerable probity you have so justlyand so cordially recognised tonight; his share shall be ten thousanddollars, and I will hand him the money to-morrow. (Great applause fromthe house. But the "invulnerable probity" made the Richardses blushprettily; however, it went for modesty, and did no harm. ) If you willpass my proposition by a good majority--I would like a two-thirdsvote--I will regard that as the town's consent, and that is all I ask. Rarities are always helped by any device which will rouse curiosity andcompel remark. Now if I may have your permission to stamp upon the facesof each of these ostensible coins the names of the eighteen gentlemenwho--"

Nine-tenths of the audience were on their feet in a moment--dog andall--and the proposition was carried with a whirlwind of approvingapplause and laughter. 

They sat down, and all the Symbols except "Dr. " Clay Harkness got up, violently protesting against the proposed outrage, and threatening to--

"I beg you not to threaten me, " said the stranger calmly. "I know mylegal rights, and am not accustomed to being frightened at bluster. "(Applause. ) He sat down. "Dr. " Harkness saw an opportunity here. He wasone of the two very rich men of the place, and Pinkerton was the other. Harkness was proprietor of a mint; that is to say, a popular patentmedicine. He was running for the Legislature on one ticket, andPinkerton on the other. It was a close race and a hot one, and gettinghotter every day. Both had strong appetites for money; each had boughta great tract of land, with a purpose; there was going to be a newrailway, and each wanted to be in the Legislature and help locate theroute to his own advantage; a single vote might make the decision, andwith it two or three fortunes. The stake was large, and Harkness was adaring speculator. He was sitting close to the stranger. He leaned overwhile one or another of the other Symbols was entertaining the housewith protests and appeals, and asked, in a whisper, "What is your price for the sack?"

"Forty thousand dollars. "

"I'll give you twenty. "

"No. "

"Twenty-five. "

"No. "

"Say thirty. "

"The price is forty thousand dollars; not a penny less. "

"All right, I'll give it. I will come to the hotel at ten in themorning. I don't want it known; will see you privately. "

"Very good. " Then the stranger got up and said to the house:

"I find it late. The speeches of these gentlemen are not without merit, not without interest, not without grace; yet if I may be excused I willtake my leave. I thank you for the great favour which you have shown mein granting my petition. I ask the Chair to keep the sack for me untilto-morrow, and to hand these three five-hundred-dollar notes to Mr. Richards. " They were passed up to the Chair. 

"At nine I will call for the sack, and at eleven will deliver the restof the ten thousand to Mr. Richards in person at his home. Good-night. "

Then he slipped out, and left the audience making a vast noise, whichwas composed of a mixture of cheers, the "Mikado" song, dog-disapproval, and the chant, "You are f-a-r from being a b-a-a-d man--a-a-a a-men!"

 IV

 At home the Richardses had to endure congratulations and complimentsuntil midnight. Then they were left to themselves. They looked a littlesad, and they sat silent and thinking. Finally Mary sighed and said:

"Do you think we are to blame, Edward--MUCH to blame?" and her eyeswandered to the accusing triplet of big bank-notes lying on the table, where the congratulators had been gloating over them and reverentlyfingering them. Edward did not answer at once; then he brought out asigh and said, hesitatingly:

"We--we couldn't help it, Mary. It--well it was ordered. ALL thingsare. "

Mary glanced up and looked at him steadily, but he didn't return thelook. Presently she said:

"I thought congratulations and praises always tasted good. But--it seemsto me, now--Edward?"

"Well?"

"Are you going to stay in the bank?"

"N--no. "

"Resign?"

"In the morning--by note. "

"It does seem best. "

Richards bowed his head in his hands and muttered:

"Before I was not afraid to let oceans of people's money pour through myhands, but--Mary, I am so tired, so tired--"

"We will go to bed. "

At nine in the morning the stranger called for the sack and took it tothe hotel in a cab. At ten Harkness had a talk with him privately. Thestranger asked for and got five cheques on a metropolitan bank--drawn to"Bearer, "--four for $1, 500 each, and one for $34, 000. He put one of theformer in his pocket-book, and the remainder, representing $38, 500, heput in an envelope, and with these he added a note which he wroteafter Harkness was gone. At eleven he called at the Richards' houseand knocked. Mrs. Richards peeped through the shutters, then went andreceived the envelope, and the stranger disappeared without a word. Shecame back flushed and a little unsteady on her legs, and gasped out:

"I am sure I recognised him! Last night it seemed to me that maybe I hadseen him somewhere before. "

"He is the man that brought the sack here?"

"I am almost sure of it. "

"Then he is the ostensible Stephenson too, and sold every importantcitizen in this town with his bogus secret. Now if he has sent chequesinstead of money, we are sold too, after we thought we had escaped. Iwas beginning to feel fairly comfortable once more, after my night'srest, but the look of that envelope makes me sick. It isn't fat enough;$8, 500 in even the largest bank-notes makes more bulk than that. "

"Edward, why do you object to cheques?"

"Cheques signed by Stephenson! I am resigned to take the $8, 500 ifit could come in bank-notes--for it does seem that it was so ordered, Mary--but I have never had much courage, and I have not the pluck to tryto market a cheque signed with that disastrous name. It would be a trap. That man tried to catch me; we escaped somehow or other; and now he istrying a new way. If it is cheques--"

"Oh, Edward, it is TOO bad!" And she held up the cheques and began tocry. 

"Put them in the fire! quick! we mustn't be tempted. It is a trick tomake the world laugh at US, along with the rest, and--Give them to ME, since you can't do it!" He snatched them and tried to hold his grip tillhe could get to the stove; but he was human, he was a cashier, and hestopped a moment to make sure of the signature. Then he came near tofainting. 

"Fan me, Mary, fan me! They are the same as gold!"

"Oh, how lovely, Edward! Why?"

"Signed by Harkness. What can the mystery of that be, Mary?"

"Edward, do you think--"

"Look here--look at this! Fifteen--fifteen--fifteen--thirty-four. Thirty-eight thousand five hundred! Mary, the sack isn't worth twelvedollars, and Harkness--apparently--has paid about par for it. "

"And does it all come to us, do you think--instead of the ten thousand?"

"Why, it looks like it. And the cheques are made to 'Bearer, ' too. "

"Is that good, Edward? What is it for?"

"A hint to collect them at some distant bank, I reckon. Perhaps Harknessdoesn't want the matter known. What is that--a note?"

"Yes. It was with the cheques. "

It was in the "Stephenson" handwriting, but there was no signature. Itsaid:

 "I am a disappointed man. Your honesty is beyond the reach oftemptation. I had a different idea about it, but I wronged you in that, and I beg pardon, and do it sincerely. I honour you--and that is sinceretoo. This town is not worthy to kiss the hem of your garment. Dear sir, I made a square bet with myself that there were nineteen debauchable menin your self-righteous community. I have lost. Take the whole pot, youare entitled to it. "

 Richards drew a deep sigh, and said:

"It seems written with fire--it burns so. Mary--I am miserable again. "

"I, too. Ah, dear, I wish--"

"To think, Mary--he BELIEVES in me. "

"Oh, don't, Edward--I can't bear it. "

"If those beautiful words were deserved, Mary--and God knows I believedI deserved them once--I think I could give the forty thousand dollarsfor them. And I would put that paper away, as representing more thangold and jewels, and keep it always. But now--We could not live in theshadow of its accusing presence, Mary. "

He put it in the fire. 

A messenger arrived and delivered an envelope. Richards took from it anote and read it; it was from Burgess:

 "You saved me, in a difficult time. I saved you last night. It was atcost of a lie, but I made the sacrifice freely, and out of a gratefulheart. None in this village knows so well as I know how brave and goodand noble you are. At bottom you cannot respect me, knowing as you do ofthat matter of which I am accused, and by the general voice condemned;but I beg that you will at least believe that I am a grateful man; itwill help me to bear my burden. (Signed) 'BURGESS. '"

 "Saved, once more. And on such terms!" He put the note in the lire. "I--I wish I were dead, Mary, I wish I were out of it all!"

"Oh, these are bitter, bitter days, Edward. The stabs, through theirvery generosity, are so deep--and they come so fast!"

Three days before the election each of two thousand voters suddenlyfound himself in possession of a prized memento--one of the renownedbogus double-eagles. Around one of its faces was stamped these words:"THE REMARK I MADE TO THE POOR STRANGER WAS--" Around the other facewas stamped these: "GO, AND REFORM. (SIGNED) PINKERTON. " Thus the entireremaining refuse of the renowned joke was emptied upon a single head, and with calamitous effect. It revived the recent vast laugh andconcentrated it upon Pinkerton; and Harkness's election was a walk-over. 

Within twenty-four hours after the Richardses had received their chequestheir consciences were quieting down, discouraged; the old couple werelearning to reconcile themselves to the sin which they had committed. But they were to learn, now, that a sin takes on new and real terrorswhen there seems a chance that it is going to be found out. This givesit a fresh and most substantial and important aspect. At church themorning sermon was of the usual pattern; it was the same old things saidin the same old way; they had heard them a thousand times and found theminnocuous, next to meaningless, and easy to sleep under; but now itwas different: the sermon seemed to bristle with accusations; it seemedaimed straight and specially at people who were concealing deadly sins. After church they got away from the mob of congratulators as soon asthey could, and hurried homeward, chilled to the bone at they did notknow what--vague, shadowy, indefinite fears. And by chance they caughta glimpse of Mr. Burgess as he turned a corner. He paid no attention totheir nod of recognition! He hadn't seen it; but they did not know that. What could his conduct mean? It might mean--it might--mean--oh, a dozendreadful things. Was it possible that he knew that Richards could havecleared him of guilt in that bygone time, and had been silently waitingfor a chance to even up accounts? At home, in their distress they got toimagining that their servant might have been in the next room listeningwhen Richards revealed the secret to his wife that he knew of Burgess'sinnocence; next Richards began to imagine that he had heard the swishof a gown in there at that time; next, he was sure he HAD heard it. Theywould call Sarah in, on a pretext, and watch her face; if she had beenbetraying them to Mr. Burgess, it would show in her manner. They askedher some questions--questions which were so random and incoherent andseemingly purposeless that the girl felt sure that the old people'sminds had been affected by their sudden good fortune; the sharpand watchful gaze which they bent upon her frightened her, and thatcompleted the business. She blushed, she became nervous and confused, and to the old people these were plain signs of guilt--guilt of somefearful sort or other--without doubt she was a spy and a traitor. Whenthey were alone again they began to piece many unrelated things togetherand get horrible results out of the combination. When things had gotabout to the worst Richards was delivered of a sudden gasp and his wifeasked:

"Oh, what is it?--what is it?"

"The note--Burgess's note! Its language was sarcastic, I see it now. " Hequoted: "'At bottom you cannot respect me, KNOWING, as you do, of THATMATTER OF which I am accused'--oh, it is perfectly plain, now, God helpme! He knows that I know! You see the ingenuity of the phrasing. It wasa trap--and like a fool, I walked into it. And Mary--!"

"Oh, it is dreadful--I know what you are going to say--he didn't returnyour transcript of the pretended test-remark. "

"No--kept it to destroy us with. Mary, he has exposed us to somealready. I know it--I know it well. I saw it in a dozen faces afterchurch. Ah, he wouldn't answer our nod of recognition--he knew what hehad been doing!"

In the night the doctor was called. The news went around in the morningthat the old couple were rather seriously ill--prostrated by theexhausting excitement growing out of their great windfall, thecongratulations, and the late hours, the doctor said. The town wassincerely distressed; for these old people were about all it had left tobe proud of, now. 

Two days later the news was worse. The old couple were delirious, and were doing strange things. By witness of the nurses, Richards hadexhibited cheques--for $8, 500? No--for an amazing sum--$38, 500! Whatcould be the explanation of this gigantic piece of luck?

The following day the nurses had more news--and wonderful. They hadconcluded to hide the cheques, lest harm come to them; but when theysearched they were gone from under the patient's pillow--vanished away. The patient said:

"Let the pillow alone; what do you want?"

"We thought it best that the cheques--"

"You will never see them again--they are destroyed. They came fromSatan. I saw the hell-brand on them, and I knew they were sent to betrayme to sin. " Then he fell to gabbling strange and dreadful things whichwere not clearly understandable, and which the doctor admonished them tokeep to themselves. 

Richards was right; the cheques were never seen again. 

A nurse must have talked in her sleep, for within two days the forbiddengabblings were the property of the town; and they were of a surprisingsort. They seemed to indicate that Richards had been a claimant forthe sack himself, and that Burgess had concealed that fact and thenmaliciously betrayed it. 

Burgess was taxed with this and stoutly denied it. And he said it wasnot fair to attach weight to the chatter of a sick old man who was outof his mind. Still, suspicion was in the air, and there was much talk. 

After a day or two it was reported that Mrs. Richards's deliriousdeliveries were getting to be duplicates of her husband's. Suspicionflamed up into conviction, now, and the town's pride in the purity ofits one undiscredited important citizen began to dim down and flickertoward extinction. 

Six days passed, then came more news. The old couple were dying. Richards's mind cleared in his latest hour, and he sent for Burgess. Burgess said:

"Let the room be cleared. I think he wishes to say something inprivacy. "

"No!" said Richards; "I want witnesses. I want you all to hearmy confession, so that I may die a man, and not a dog. I wasclean--artificially--like the rest; and like the rest I fell whentemptation came. I signed a lie, and claimed the miserable sack. Mr. Burgess remembered that I had done him a service, and in gratitude (andignorance) he suppressed my claim and saved me. You know the thing thatwas charged against Burgess years ago. My testimony, and mine alone, could have cleared him, and I was a coward and left him to sufferdisgrace--"

"No--no--Mr. Richards, you--"

"My servant betrayed my secret to him--"

"No one has betrayed anything to me--" "--And then he did a natural andjustifiable thing; he repented of the saving kindness which he had doneme, and he EXPOSED me--as I deserved--"

"Never!--I make oath--"

"Out of my heart I forgive him. "

Burgess's impassioned protestations fell upon deaf ears; the dying manpassed away without knowing that once more he had done poor Burgess awrong. The old wife died that night. 

The last of the sacred Nineteen had fallen a prey to the fiendish sack;the town was stripped of the last rag of its ancient glory. Its mourningwas not showy, but it was deep. 

By act of the Legislature--upon prayer and petition--Hadleyburg wasallowed to change its name to (never mind what--I will not give itaway), and leave one word out of the motto that for many generations hadgraced the town's official seal. 

It is an honest town once more, and the man will have to rise early thatcatches it napping again. 

MY FIRST LIE, AND HOW I GOT OUT OF IT

As I understand it, what you desire is information about 'my first lie, and how I got out of it. ' I was born in 1835; I am well along, and mymemory is not as good as it was. If you had asked about my first truthit would have been easier for me and kinder of you, for I remember thatfairly well. I remember it as if it were last week. The family think itwas week before, but that is flattery and probably has a selfish projectback of it. When a person has become seasoned by experience and hasreached the age of sixty-four, which is the age of discretion, he likesa family compliment as well as ever, but he does not lose his head overit as in the old innocent days. 

I do not remember my first lie, it is too far back; but I remember mysecond one very well. I was nine days old at the time, and had noticedthat if a pin was sticking in me and I advertised it in the usualfashion, I was lovingly petted and coddled and pitied in a mostagreeable way and got a ration between meals besides. 

It was human nature to want to get these riches, and I fell. I liedabout the pin--advertising one when there wasn't any. You would havedone it; George Washington did it, anybody would have done it. Duringthe first half of my life I never knew a child that was able to riseabout that temptation and keep from telling that lie. Up to 1867 allthe civilised children that were ever born into the world wereliars--including George. Then the safety-pin came in and blocked thegame. But is that reform worth anything? No; for it is reform by forceand has no virtue in it; it merely stops that form of lying, it doesn'timpair the disposition to lie, by a shade. It is the cradle applicationof conversion by fire and sword, or of the temperance principle throughprohibition. 

To return to that early lie. They found no pin and they realised thatanother liar had been added to the world's supply. For by grace of arare inspiration a quite commonplace but seldom noticed fact was bornein upon their understandings--that almost all lies are acts, and speechhas no part in them. Then, if they examined a little further theyrecognised that all people are liars from the cradle onwards, withoutexception, and that they begin to lie as soon as they wake in themorning, and keep it up without rest or refreshment until they goto sleep at night. If they arrived at that truth it probably grievedthem--did, if they had been heedlessly and ignorantly educated by theirbooks and teachers; for why should a person grieve over a thing which bythe eternal law of his make he cannot help? He didn't invent the law;it is merely his business to obey it and keep still; join theuniversal conspiracy and keep so still that he shall deceive hisfellow-conspirators into imagining that he doesn't know that the lawexists. It is what we all do--we that know. I am speaking of the lie ofsilent assertion; we can tell it without saying a word, and we all doit--we that know. In the magnitude of its territorial spread it is oneof the most majestic lies that the civilisations make it their sacredand anxious care to guard and watch and propagate. 

For instance. It would not be possible for a humane and intelligentperson to invent a rational excuse for slavery; yet you will rememberthat in the early days of the emancipation agitation in the North theagitators got but small help or countenance from any one. Argue andplead and pray as they might, they could not break the universalstillness that reigned, from pulpit and press all the way down to thebottom of society--the clammy stillness created and maintained by thelie of silent assertion--the silent assertion that there wasn't anythinggoing on in which humane and intelligent people were interested. 

From the beginning of the Dreyfus case to the end of it all France, except a couple of dozen moral paladins, lay under the smother of thesilent-assertion lie that no wrong was being done to a persecuted andunoffending man. The like smother was over England lately, a good halfof the population silently letting on that they were not aware thatMr. Chamberlain was trying to manufacture a war in South Africa and waswilling to pay fancy prices for the materials. 

Now there we have instances of three prominent ostensible civilisationsworking the silent-assertion lie. Could one find other instances inthe three countries? I think so. Not so very many perhaps, but say abillion--just so as to keep within bounds. Are those countries workingthat kind of lie, day in and day out, in thousands and thousands ofvarieties, without ever resting? Yes, we know that to be true. Theuniversal conspiracy of the silent-assertion lie is hard at work alwaysand everywhere, and always in the interest of a stupidity or a sham, never in the interest of a thing fine or respectable. Is it the mosttimid and shabby of all lies? It seems to have the look of it. Forages and ages it has mutely laboured in the interest of despotismsand aristocracies and chattel slaveries, and military slaveries, andreligious slaveries, and has kept them alive; keeps them alive yet, hereand there and yonder, all about the globe; and will go on keeping themalive until the silent-assertion lie retires from business--the silentassertion that nothing is going on which fair and intelligent men areaware of and are engaged by their duty to try to stop. 

What I am arriving at is this: When whole races and peoples conspire topropagate gigantic mute lies in the interest of tyrannies and shams, whyshould we care anything about the trifling lies told by individuals? Whyshould we try to make it appear that abstention from lying is a virtue?Why should we want to beguile ourselves in that way? Why should wewithout shame help the nation lie, and then be ashamed to do a littlelying on our own account? Why shouldn't we be honest and honourable, and lie every time we get a chance? That is to say, why shouldn't webe consistent, and either lie all the time or not at all? Why should wehelp the nation lie the whole day long and then object to telling onelittle individual private lie in our own interest to go to bed on? Justfor the refreshment of it, I mean, and to take the rancid taste out ofour mouth. 

Here in England they have the oddest ways. They won't tell a spokenlie--nothing can persuade them. Except in a large moral interest, likepolitics or religion, I mean. To tell a spoken lie to get even thepoorest little personal advantage out of it is a thing which isimpossible to them. They make me ashamed of myself sometimes, they areso bigoted. They will not even tell a lie for the fun of it; they willnot tell it when it hasn't even a suggestion of damage or advantage init for any one. This has a restraining influence upon me in spite ofreason, and I am always getting out of practice. 

Of course, they tell all sorts of little unspoken lies, just likeanybody; but they don't notice it until their attention is called to it. They have got me so that sometimes I never tell a verbal lie now exceptin a modified form; and even in the modified form they don't approveof it. Still, that is as far as I can go in the interest of the growingfriendly relations between the two countries; I must keep some of myself-respect--and my health. I can live on a pretty low diet, but Ican't get along on no sustenance at all. 

Of course, there are times when these people have to come out with aspoken lie, for that is a thing which happens to everybody once ina while, and would happen to the angels if they came down here much. Particularly to the angels, in fact, for the lies I speak of areself-sacrificing ones told for a generous object, not a mean one; buteven when these people tell a lie of that sort it seems to scare themand unsettle their minds. It is a wonderful thing to see, and shows thatthey are all insane. In fact, it is a country which is full of the mostinteresting superstitions. 

I have an English friend of twenty-five years' standing, and yesterdaywhen we were coming down-town on top of the 'bus I happened to tell hima lie--a modified one, of course; a half-breed, a mulatto; I can't seemto tell any other kind now, the market is so flat. I was explaining tohim how I got out of an embarrassment in Austria last year. I do notknow what might have become of me if I hadn't happened to remember totell the police that I belonged to the same family as the Prince ofWales. That made everything pleasant and they let me go; and apologised, too, and were ever so kind and obliging and polite, and couldn't do toomuch for me, and explained how the mistake came to be made, and promisedto hang the officer that did it, and hoped I would let bygones bebygones and not say anything about it; and I said they could depend onme. My friend said, austerely:

'You call it a modified lie? Where is the modification?'

I explained that it lay in the form of my statement to the police. 'Ididn't say I belonged to the Royal Family; I only said I belonged to thesame family as the Prince--meaning the human family, of course; and ifthose people had had any penetration they would have known it. I can'tgo around furnishing brains to the police; it is not to be expected. '

'How did you feel after that performance?'

'Well, of course I was distressed to find that the police hadmisunderstood me, but as long as I had not told any lie I knew there wasno occasion to sit up nights and worry about it. '

My friend struggled with the case several minutes, turning it over andexamining it in his mind, then he said that so far as he could see themodification was itself a lie, it being a misleading reservation of anexplanatory fact, and so I had told two lies instead of only one. 

'I wouldn't have done it, ' said he; 'I have never told a lie, and Ishould be very sorry to do such a thing. '

Just then he lifted his hat and smiled a basketful of surprised anddelighted smiles down at a gentleman who was passing in a hansom. 

'Who was that, G---?'

'I don't know. '

'Then why did you do that?'

'Because I saw he thought he knew me and was expecting it of me. If Ihadn't done it he would have been hurt. I didn't want to embarrass himbefore the whole street. '

'Well, your heart was right, G---, and your act was right. What you didwas kindly and courteous and beautiful; I would have done it myself; butit was a lie. '

'A lie? I didn't say a word. How do you make it out?'

'I know you didn't speak, still you said to him very plainly andenthusiastically in dumb show, "Hello! you in town? Awful glad to seeyou, old fellow; when did you get back?" Concealed in your actionswas what you have called "a misleading reservation of an explanatoryfact"--the act that you had never seen him before. You expressed joy inencountering him--a lie; and you made that reservation--another lie. Itwas my pair over again. But don't be troubled--we all do it. '

Two hours later, at dinner, when quite other matters were beingdiscussed, he told how he happened along once just in the nick of timeto do a great service for a family who were old friends of his. The headof it had suddenly died in circumstances and surroundings of a ruinouslydisgraceful character. If know the facts would break the hearts of theinnocent family and put upon them a load of unendurable shame. There wasno help but in a giant lie, and he girded up his loins and told it. 

'The family never found out, G---?'

'Never. In all these years they have never suspected. They were proud ofhim and had always reason to be; they are proud of him yet, and to themhis memory is sacred and stainless and beautiful. '

'They had a narrow escape, G---. '

'Indeed they had. '

'For the very next man that came along might have been one of theseheartless and shameless truth-mongers. You have told the truth a milliontimes in your life, G---, but that one golden lie atones for it all. Persevere. '

Some may think me not strict enough in my morals, but that position ishardly tenable. There are many kinds of lying which I do not approve. Ido not like an injurious lie, except when it injures somebody else; andI do not like the lie of bravado, nor the lie of virtuous ecstasy; thelatter was affected by Bryant, the former by Carlyle. 

Mr. Bryant said, 'Truth crushed to earth will rise again. ' I havetaken medals at thirteen world's fairs, and may claim to be not withoutcapacity, but I never told as big a one as that. Mr. Bryant was playingto the gallery; we all do it. Carlyle said, in substance, this--I do notremember the exact words: 'This gospel is eternal--that a lie shall notlive. ' I have a reverent affection for Carlyle's books, and have readhis 'Revelation' eight times; and so I prefer to think he was notentirely at himself when he told that one. To me it is plain that hesaid it in a moment of excitement, when chasing Americans out of hisback-yard with brickbats. They used to go there and worship. At bottomhe was probably fond of it, but he was always able to conceal it. Hekept bricks for them, but he was not a good shot, and it is matter ofhistory that when he fired they dodged, and carried off the brick; foras a nation we like relics, and so long as we get them we do not muchcare what the reliquary thinks about it. I am quite sure that whenhe told that large one about a lie not being able to live he had justmissed an American and was over excited. He told it above thirty yearsago, but it is alive yet; alive, and very healthy and hearty, and likelyto outlive any fact in history. Carlyle was truthful when calm, but givehim Americans enough and bricks enough and he could have taken medalshimself. 

As regards that time that George Washington told the truth, a word mustbe said, of course. It is the principal jewel in the crown of America, and it is but natural that we should work it for all it is worth, asMilton says in his 'Lay of the Last Minstrel. ' It was a timely andjudicious truth, and I should have told it myself in the circumstances. But I should have stopped there. It was a stately truth, a loftytruth--a Tower; and I think it was a mistake to go on and distractattention from its sublimity by building another Tower alongside of itfourteen times as high. I refer to his remark that he 'could not lie. 'I should have fed that to the marines; or left it to Carlyle; it isjust in his style. It would have taken a medal at any European fair, and would have got an honourable mention even at Chicago if it had beensaved up. But let it pass; the Father of his Country was excited. I havebeen in those circumstances, and I recollect. 

With the truth he told I have no objection to offer, as alreadyindicated. I think it was not premeditated but an inspiration. With hisfine military mind, he had probably arranged to let his brother Edwardin for the cherry tree results, but by an inspiration he saw hisopportunity in time and took advantage of it. By telling the truth hecould astonish his father; his father would tell the neighbours; theneighbours would spread it; it would travel to all firesides; in the endit would make him President, and not only that, but First President. He was a far-seeing boy and would be likely to think of these things. Therefore, to my mind, he stands justified for what he did. But not forthe other Tower; it was a mistake. Still, I don't know about that; uponreflection I think perhaps it wasn't. For indeed it is that Tower thatmakes the other one live. If he hadn't said 'I cannot tell a lie' therewould have been no convulsion. That was the earthquake that rocked theplanet. That is the kind of statement that lives for ever, and a factbarnacled to it has a good chance to share its immortality. 

To sum up, on the whole I am satisfied with things the way they are. There is a prejudice against the spoken lie, but none against anyother, and by examination and mathematical computation I find that theproportion of the spoken lie to the other varieties is as 1 to 22, 894. Therefore the spoken lie is of no consequence, and it is not worth whileto go around fussing about it and trying to make believe that it is animportant matter. The silent colossal National Lie that is the supportand confederate of all the tyrannies and shams and inequalities andunfairnesses that afflict the peoples--that is the one to throw bricksand sermons at. But let us be judicious and let somebody else begin. 

And then--But I have wandered from my text. How did I get out of mysecond lie? I think I got out with honour, but I cannot be sure, for itwas a long time ago and some of the details have faded out of my memory. I recollect that I was reversed and stretched across some one's knee, and that something happened, but I cannot now remember what it was. Ithink there was music; but it is all dim now and blurred by the lapse oftime, and this may be only a senile fancy. 

THE ESQUIMAUX MAIDEN'S ROMANCE

'Yes, I will tell you anything about my life that you would like toknow, Mr. Twain, ' she said, in her soft voice, and letting her honesteyes rest placidly upon my face, 'for it is kind and good of you to likeme and care to know about me. '

She had been absently scraping blubber-grease from her cheeks witha small bone-knife and transferring it to her fur sleeve, while shewatched the Aurora Borealis swing its flaming streamers out of the skyand wash the lonely snow plain and the templed icebergs with the richhues of the prism, a spectacle of almost intolerable splendour andbeauty; but now she shook off her reverie and prepared to give me thehumble little history I had asked for. She settled herself comfortablyon the block of ice which we were using as a sofa, and I made ready tolisten. 

She was a beautiful creature. I speak from the Esquimaux point of view. Others would have thought her a trifle over-plump. She was just twentyyears old, and was held to be by far the most bewitching girl in hertribe. Even now, in the open air, with her cumbersome and shapeless furcoat and trousers and boots and vast hood, the beauty of her face was atleast apparent; but her figure had to be taken on trust. Among all theguests who came and went, I had seen no girl at her father's hospitabletrough who could be called her equal. Yet she was not spoiled. Shewas sweet and natural and sincere, and if she was aware that she was abelle, there was nothing about her ways to show that she possessed thatknowledge. 

She had been my daily comrade for a week now, and the better I knew herthe better I liked her. She had been tenderly and carefully brought up, in an atmosphere of singularly rare refinement for the polar regions, for her father was the most important man of his tribe and ranked at thetop of Esquimaux civilisation. I made long dog-sledge trips across themighty ice floes with Lasca--that was her name--and found her companyalways pleasant and her conversation agreeable. I went fishing with her, but not in her perilous boat: I merely followed along on the ice andwatched her strike her game with her fatally accurate spear. We wentsealing together; several times I stood by while she and the family dugblubber from a stranded whale, and once I went part of the way when shewas hunting a bear, but turned back before the finish, because at bottomI am afraid of bears. 

However, she was ready to begin her story, now, and this is what shesaid:

'Our tribe had always been used to wander about from place to place overthe frozen seas, like the other tribes, but my father got tired of that, two years ago, and built this great mansion of frozen snow-blocks--lookat it; it is seven feet high and three or four times as long as any ofthe others--and here we have stayed ever since. He was very proud of hishouse, and that was reasonable, for if you have examined it with careyou must have noticed how much finer and completer it is than housesusually are. But if you have not, you must, for you will find it hasluxurious appointments that are quite beyond the common. For instance, in that end of it which you have called the "parlour, " the raisedplatform for the accommodation of guests and the family at meals is thelargest you have ever seen in any house--is it not so?'

'Yes, you are quite right, Lasca; it is the largest; we have nothingresembling it in even the finest houses in the United States. ' Thisadmission made her eyes sparkle with pride and pleasure. I noted that, and took my cue. 

'I thought it must have surprised you, ' she said. 'And another thing;it is bedded far deeper in furs than is usual; all kinds of furs--seal, sea-otter, silver-grey fox, bear, marten, sable--every kind of fur inprofusion; and the same with the ice-block sleeping-benches along thewalls which you call "beds. " Are your platforms and sleeping-benchesbetter provided at home?'

'Indeed, they are not, Lasca--they do not begin to be. ' That pleasedher again. All she was thinking of was the number of furs her aestheticfather took the trouble to keep on hand, not their value. I could havetold her that those masses of rich furs constituted wealth--or would inmy country--but she would not have understood that; those were not thekind of things that ranked as riches with her people. I could havetold her that the clothes she had on, or the every-day clothes ofthe commonest person about her, were worth twelve or fifteen hundreddollars, and that I was not acquainted with anybody at home who woretwelve-hundred dollar toilets to go fishing in; but she would not haveunderstood it, so I said nothing. She resumed:

'And then the slop-tubs. We have two in the parlour, and two in the restof the house. It is very seldom that one has two in the parlour. Haveyou two in the parlour at home?'

The memory of those tubs made me gasp, but I recovered myself before shenoticed, and said with effusion:

'Why, Lasca, it is a shame of me to expose my country, and you must notlet it go further, for I am speaking to you in confidence; but I giveyou my word of honour that not even the richest man in the city of NewYork has two slop-tubs in his drawing-room. '

She clapped her fur-clad hands in innocent delight, and exclaimed:

'Oh, but you cannot mean it, you cannot mean it!'

'Indeed, I am in earnest, dear. There is Vanderbilt. Vanderbilt isalmost the richest man in the whole world. Now, if I were on my dyingbed, I could say to you that not even he has two in his drawing-room. Why, he hasn't even one--I wish I may die in my tracks if it isn'ttrue. '

Her lovely eyes stood wide with amazement, and she said, slowly, andwith a sort of awe in her voice:

'How strange--how incredible--one is not able to realise it. Is hepenurious?'

'No--it isn't that. It isn't the expense he minds, but--er--well, youknow, it would look like showing off. Yes, that is it, that is the idea;he is a plain man in his way, and shrinks from display. '

'Why, that humility is right enough, ' said Lasca, 'if one does not carryit too far--but what does the place look like?'

'Well, necessarily it looks pretty barren and unfinished, but--'

'I should think so! I never heard anything like it. Is it a finehouse--that is, otherwise?'

'Pretty fine, yes. It is very well thought of. '

The girl was silent awhile, and sat dreamily gnawing a candle-end, apparently trying to think the thing out. At last she gave her head alittle toss and spoke out her opinion with decision:

'Well, to my mind there's a breed of humility which is itself a speciesof showing off when you get down to the marrow of it; and when a man isable to afford two slop-tubs in his parlour, and doesn't do it, it maybe that he is truly humble-minded, but it's a hundred times more likelythat he is just trying to strike the public eye. In my judgment, yourMr. Vanderbilt knows what he is about. '

I tried to modify this verdict, feeling that a double slop-tub standardwas not a fair one to try everybody by, although a sound enough onein its own habitat; but the girl's head was set, and she was not to bepersuaded. Presently she said:

'Do the rich people, with you, have as good sleeping-benches as ours, and made out of as nice broad ice-blocks?'

'Well, they are pretty good--good enough--but they are not made ofice-blocks. '

'I want to know! Why aren't they made of ice-blocks?'

I explained the difficulties in the way, and the expensiveness of icein a country where you have to keep a sharp eye on your ice-man or yourice-bill will weigh more than your ice. Then she cried out:

'Dear me, do you buy your ice?'

'We most surely do, dear. '

She burst into a gale of guileless laughter, and said:

'Oh, I never heard of anything so silly! My! there's plenty of it--itisn't worth anything. Why, there is a hundred miles of it in sight, right now. I wouldn't give a fish-bladder for the whole of it. '

'Well, it's because you don't know how to value it, you littleprovincial muggings. If you had it in New York in midsummer, you couldbuy all the whales in the market with it. '

She looked at me doubtfully, and said:

'Are you speaking true?'

'Absolutely. I take my oath to it. '

This made her thoughtful. Presently she said, with a little sigh:

'I wish I could live there. '

I had merely meant to furnish her a standard of values which she couldunderstand; but my purpose had miscarried. I had only given her theimpression that whales were cheap and plenty in New York, and set hermouth to watering for them. It seemed best to try to mitigate the evilwhich I had done, so I said:

'But you wouldn't care for whale-meat if you lived there. Nobody does. '

'What!'

'Indeed they don't. '

'Why don't they?'

'Wel-l-l, I hardly know. It's prejudice, I think. Yes, that is it--justprejudice. I reckon somebody that hadn't anything better to do starteda prejudice against it, some time or other, and once you get a capricelike that fairly going, you know it will last no end of time. '

'That is true--perfectly true, ' said the girl, reflectively. 'Like ourprejudice against soap, here--our tribes had a prejudice against soap atfirst, you know. '

I glanced at her to see if she was in earnest. Evidently she was. Ihesitated, then said, cautiously:

'But pardon me. They had a prejudice against soap? Had?'--with fallinginflection. 

'Yes--but that was only at first; nobody would eat it. '

'Oh--I understand. I didn't get your idea before. '

She resumed:

'It was just a prejudice. The first time soap came here from theforeigners, nobody liked it; but as soon as it got to be fashionable, everybody liked it, and now everybody has it that can afford it. Are youfond of it?'

'Yes, indeed; I should die if I couldn't have it--especially here. Doyou like it?'

'I just adore it! Do you like candles?'

'I regard them as an absolute necessity. Are you fond of them?'

Her eyes fairly danced, and she exclaimed:

'Oh! Don't mention it! Candles!--and soap!--'

'And fish-interiors!--'

'And train-oil--'

'And slush!--'

'And whale-blubber!--'

'And carrion! and sour-krout! and beeswax! and tar! and turpentine! andmolasses! and--'

'Don't--oh, don't--I shall expire with ecstasy!--'

'And then serve it all up in a slush-bucket, and invite the neighboursand sail in!'

But this vision of an ideal feast was too much for her, and she swoonedaway, poor thing. I rubbed snow in her face and brought her to, andafter a while got her excitement cooled down. By-and-by she drifted intoher story again:

'So we began to live here in the fine house. But I was not happy. Thereason was this: I was born for love: for me there could be no truehappiness without it. I wanted to be loved for myself alone. I wantedan idol, and I wanted to be my idol's idol; nothing less than mutualidolatry would satisfy my fervent nature. I had suitors in plenty--inover-plenty, indeed--but in each and every case they had a fatal defect:sooner or later I discovered that defect--not one of them failed tobetray it--it was not me they wanted, but my wealth. '

'Your wealth?'

'Yes; for my father is much the richest man in this tribe--or in anytribe in these regions. '

I wondered what her father's wealth consisted of. It couldn't be thehouse--anybody could build its mate. It couldn't be the furs--they werenot valued. It couldn't be the sledge, the dogs, the harpoons, the boat, the bone fish-hooks and needles, and such things--no, these were notwealth. Then what could it be that made this man so rich and broughtthis swarm of sordid suitors to his house? It seemed to me, finally, that the best way to find out would be to ask. So I did it. The girl wasso manifestly gratified by the question that I saw she had been achingto have me ask it. She was suffering fully as much to tell as I was toknow. She snuggled confidentially up to me and said:

'Guess how much he is worth--you never can!'

I pretended to consider the matter deeply, she watching my anxious andlabouring countenance with a devouring and delighted interest; and when, at last, I gave it up and begged her to appease my longing by tellingme herself how much this polar Vanderbilt was worth, she put her mouthclose to my ear and whispered, impressively:

'Twenty-two fish-hooks--not bone, but foreign--made out of real iron!'

Then she sprang back dramatically, to observe the effect. I did my levelbest not to disappoint her. I turned pale and murmured:

'Great Scott!'

'It's as true as you live, Mr. Twain!'

'Lasca, you are deceiving me--you cannot mean it. '

She was frightened and troubled. She exclaimed:

'Mr. Twain, every word of it is true--every word. You believe me--you dobelieve me, now don't you? Say you believe me--do say you believe me!'

'I--well, yes, I do--I am trying to. But it was all so sudden. So suddenand prostrating. You shouldn't do such a thing in that sudden way. It--'

'Oh, I'm so sorry! If I had only thought--'

'Well, it's all right, and I don't blame you any more, for you are youngand thoughtless, and of course you couldn't foresee what an effect--'

'But oh, dear, I ought certainly to have known better. Why--'

'You see, Lasca, if you had said five or six hooks, to start with, andthen gradually--'

'Oh, I see, I see--then gradually added one, and then two, and then--ah, why couldn't I have thought of that!'

'Never mind, child, it's all right--I am better now--I shall be overit in a little while. But--to spring the whole twenty-two on a personunprepared and not very strong anyway--'

'Oh, it was a crime! But you forgive me--say you forgive me. Do!'

After harvesting a good deal of very pleasant coaxing and petting andpersuading, I forgave her and she was happy again, and by-and-by she gotunder way with her narrative once more. I presently discovered that thefamily treasury contained still another feature--a jewel of some sort, apparently--and that she was trying to get around speaking squarelyabout it, lest I get paralysed again. But I wanted to known about thatthing, too, and urged her to tell me what it was. She was afraid. But Iinsisted, and said I would brace myself this time and be prepared, then the shock would not hurt me. She was full of misgivings, but thetemptation to reveal that marvel to me and enjoy my astonishment andadmiration was too strong for her, and she confessed that she had it onher person, and said that if I was sure I was prepared--and so on and soon--and with that she reached into her bosom and brought out a batteredsquare of brass, watching my eye anxiously the while. I fell overagainst her in a quite well-acted faint, which delighted her heart andnearly frightened it out of her, too, at the same time. When I came toand got calm, she was eager to know what I thought of her jewel. 

'What do I think of it? I think it is the most exquisite thing I eversaw. '

'Do you really? How nice of you to say that! But it is a love, now isn'tit?'

'Well, I should say so! I'd rather own it than the equator. '

'I thought you would admire it, ' she said. 'I think it is so lovely. Andthere isn't another one in all these latitudes. People have come all theway from the open Polar Sea to look at it. Did you ever see one before?'

I said no, this was the first one I had ever seen. It cost me a pangto tell that generous lie, for I had seen a million of them in my time, this humble jewel of hers being nothing but a battered old New YorkCentral baggage check. 

'Land!' said I, 'you don't go about with it on your person this way, alone and with no protection, not even a dog?'

'Ssh! not so loud, ' she said. 'Nobody knows I carry it with me. Theythink it is in papa's treasury. That is where it generally is. '

'Where is the treasury?'

It was a blunt question, and for a moment she looked startled and alittle suspicious, but I said:

'Oh, come, don't you be afraid about me. At home we have seventymillions of people, and although I say it myself that shouldn't, there is not one person among them all but would trust me with untoldfish-hooks. '

This reassured her, and she told me where the hooks were hidden in thehouse. Then she wandered from her course to brag a little about the sizeof the sheets of transparent ice that formed the windows of the mansion, and asked me if I had ever seen their like at home, and I came rightout frankly and confessed that I hadn't, which pleased her more than shecould find words to dress her gratification in. It was so easy to pleaseher, and such a pleasure to do it, that I went on and said--

'Ah, Lasca, you are a fortune girl!--this beautiful house, this daintyjewel, that rich treasure, all this elegant snow, and sumptuous icebergsand limitless sterility, and public bears and walruses, and noblefreedom and largeness and everybody's admiring eyes upon you, andeverybody's homage and respect at your command without the asking;young, rich, beautiful, sought, courted, envied, not a requirementunsatisfied, not a desire ungratified, nothing to wish for that youcannot have--it is immeasurable good-fortune! I have seen myriads ofgirls, but none of whom these extraordinary things could be truthfullysaid but you alone. And you are worthy--worthy of it all, Lasca--Ibelieve it in my heart. '

It made her infinitely proud and happy to hear me say this, and shethanked me over and over again for that closing remark, and her voiceand eyes showed that she was touched. Presently she said:

'Still, it is not all sunshine--there is a cloudy side. The burden ofwealth is a heavy one to bear. Sometimes I have doubted if it were notbetter to be poor--at least not inordinately rich. It pains me to seeneighbouring tribesmen stare as they pass by, and overhear them say, reverently, one to another, "There--that is she--the millionaire'sdaughter!" And sometimes they say sorrowfully, "She is rolling infish-hooks, and I--I have nothing. " It breaks my heart. When I was achild and we were poor, we slept with the door open, if we chose, butnow--now we have to have a night-watchman. In those days my fatherwas gentle and courteous to all; but now he is austere and haughty andcannot abide familiarity. Once his family were his sole thought, but nowhe goes about thinking of his fish-hooks all the time. And his wealthmakes everybody cringing and obsequious to him. Formerly nobody laughedat his jokes, they being always stale and far-fetched and poor, anddestitute of the one element that can really justify a joke--the elementof humour; but now everybody laughs and cackles at these dismal things, and if any fails to do it my father is deeply displeased, and shows it. Formerly his opinion was not sought upon any matter and was not valuablewhen he volunteered it; it has that infirmity yet, but, nevertheless, it is sought by all and applauded by all--and he helps do the applaudinghimself, having no true delicacy and a plentiful want of tact. He haslowered the tone of all our tribe. Once they were a frank and manlyrace, now they are measly hypocrites, and sodden with servility. In myheart of hearts I hate all the ways of millionaires! Our tribe wasonce plain, simple folk, and content with the bone fish-hooks of theirfathers; now they are eaten up with avarice and would sacrifice everysentiment of honour and honesty to possess themselves of the debasingiron fish-hooks of the foreigner. However, I must not dwell on these sadthings. As I have said, it was my dream to be loved for myself alone. 

'At last, this dream seemed about to be fulfilled. A stranger came by, one day, who said his name was Kalula. I told him my name, and he saidhe loved me. My heart gave a great bound of gratitude and pleasure, forI had loved him at sight, and now I said so. He took me to his breastand said he would not wish to be happier than he was now. We wentstrolling together far over the ice-floes, telling all about each other, and planning, oh, the loveliest future! When we were tired at last wesat down and ate, for he had soap and candles and I had brought alongsome blubber. We were hungry and nothing was ever so good. 

'He belonged to a tribe whose haunts were far to the north, and I foundthat he had never heard of my father, which rejoiced me exceedingly. Imean he had heard of the millionaire, but had never heard his name--so, you see, he could not know that I was the heiress. You may be sure thatI did not tell him. I was loved for myself at last, and was satisfied. Iwas so happy--oh, happier than you can think!

'By-and-by it was towards supper time, and I led him home. As weapproached our house he was amazed, and cried out:

'"How splendid! Is that your father's?"

'It gave me a pang to hear that tone and see that admiring light in hiseye, but the feeling quickly passed away, for I loved him so, and helooked so handsome and noble. All my family of aunts and uncles andcousins were pleased with him, and many guests were called in, and thehouse was shut up tight and the rag lamps lighted, and when everythingwas hot and comfortable and suffocating, we began a joyous feast incelebration of my betrothal. 

'When the feast was over my father's vanity overcame him, and he couldnot resist the temptation to show off his riches and let Kalula seewhat grand good-fortune he had stumbled into--and mainly, of course, he wanted to enjoy the poor man's amazement. I could have cried--but itwould have done no good to try to dissuade my father, so I said nothing, but merely sat there and suffered. 

'My father went straight to the hiding-place in full sight of everybody, and got out the fish-hooks and brought them and flung them scatteringlyover my head, so that they fell in glittering confusion on the platformat my lover's knee. 

'Of course, the astounding spectacle took the poor lad's breath away. He could only stare in stupid astonishment, and wonder how a singleindividual could possess such incredible riches. Then presently heglanced brilliantly up and exclaimed:

'"Ah, it is you who are the renowned millionaire!"

'My father and all the rest burst into shouts of happy laughter, andwhen my father gathered the treasure carelessly up as if it might bemere rubbish and of no consequence, and carried it back to its place, poor Kulala's surprise was a study. He said:

'"Is it possible that you put such things away without counting them?"

'My father delivered a vain-glorious horse-laugh, and said:

'"Well, truly, a body may know you have never been rich, since a merematter of a fish-hook or two is such a mighty matter in your eyes. "

'Kalula was confused, and hung his head, but said:

'"Ah, indeed, sir, I was never worth the value of the barb of one ofthose precious things, and I have never seen any man before who was sorich in them as to render the counting of his hoard worth while, sincethe wealthiest man I have ever known, till now, was possessed of butthree. "

'My foolish father roared again with jejune delight, and allowed theimpression to remain that he was not accustomed to count his hooks andkeep sharp watch over them. He was showing off, you see. Count them?Why, he counted them every day!

'I had met and got acquainted with my darling just at dawn; I hadbrought him home just at dark, three hours afterwards--for the days wereshortening toward the six-months' night at that time. We kept up thefestivities many hours; then, at last, the guests departed and the restof us distributed ourselves along the walls on sleeping-benches, andsoon all were steeped in dreams but me. I was too happy, too excited, tosleep. After I had lain quiet a long, long time, a dim form passed by meand was swallowed up in the gloom that pervaded the farther end of thehouse. I could not make out who it was, or whether it was man or woman. Presently that figure or another one passed me going the other way. Iwondered what it all meant, but wondering did no good; and while I wasstill wondering I fell asleep. 

'I do not know how long I slept, but at last I came suddenly broad awakeand heard my father say in a terrible voice, "By the great Snow God, there's a fish-hook gone!" Something told me that that meant sorrowfor me, and the blood in my veins turned cold. The presentiment wasconfirmed in the same instant: my father shouted, "Up, everybody, andseize the stranger!" Then there was an outburst of cries and curses fromall sides, and a wild rush of dim forms through the obscurity. I flew tomy beloved's help, but what could I do but wait and wring my hands?--hewas already fenced away from me by a living wall, he was being boundhand and foot. Not until he was secured would they let me get to him. Iflung myself upon his poor insulted form and cried my grief out uponhis breast while my father and all my family scoffed at me and heapedthreats and shameful epithets upon him. He bore his ill usage with atranquil dignity which endeared him to me more than ever, and made meproud and happy to suffer with him and for him. I heard my father orderthat the elders of the tribe be called together to try my Kalula for hislife. 

'"What!" I said, "before any search has been made for the lost hook?"

'"Lost hook!" they all shouted, in derision; and my father added, mockingly, "Stand back, everybody, and be properly serious--she is goingto hunt up that lost hook: oh, without doubt she will find it!"--whereatthey all laughed again. 

'I was not disturbed--I had no fears, no doubts. I said:

'"It is for you to laugh now; it is your turn. But ours is coming; waitand see. "

'I got a rag lamp. I thought I should find that miserable thing in onelittle moment; and I set about that matter with such confidence thatthose people grew grace, beginning to suspect that perhaps they had beentoo hasty. But alas and alas!--oh, the bitterness of that search! Therewas deep silence while one might count his fingers ten or twelve times, then my heart began to sink, and around me the mockings began again, andgrew steadily louder and more assured, until at last, when I gave up, they burst into volley after volley of cruel laughter. 

'None will ever know what I suffered then. But my love was my supportand my strength, and I took my rightful place at my Kalula's side, andput my arm about his neck, and whispered in his ear, saying:

'"You are innocent, my own--that I know; but say it to me yourself, formy comfort, then I can bear whatever is in store for us. "

'He answered:

'"As surely as I stand upon the brink of death at this moment, I aminnocent. Be comforted, then, O bruised heart; be at peace, O thoubreath of my nostrils, life of my life!"

'"Now, then, let the elders come!"--and as I said the words there was agathering sound of crunching snow outside, and then a vision of stoopingforms filing in at the door--the elders. 

'My father formally accused the prisoner, and detailed the happenings ofthe night. He said that the watchman was outside the door, and that inthe house were none but the family and the stranger. "Would the familysteal their own property?" He paused. The elders sat silent manyminutes; at last, one after another said to his neighbour, "This looksbad for the stranger"--sorrowful words for me to hear. Then my fathersat down. O miserable, miserable me! At that very moment I could haveproved my darling innocent, but I did not know it!

'The chief of the court asked:

'"Is there any here to defend the prisoner?"

'I rose and said:

'"Why should he steal that hook, or any or all of them? In another dayhe would have been heir to the whole!"

I stood waiting. There was a long silence, the steam from the manybreaths rising about me like a fog. At last one elder after anothernodded his head slowly several times, and muttered, "There is forcein what the child has said. " Oh, the heart-lift that was in thosewords!--so transient, but, oh, so precious! I sat down. 

'"If any would say further, let him speak now, or after hold his peace, "said the chief of the court. 

'My father rose and said:

'"In the night a form passed by me in the gloom, going toward thetreasury and presently returned. I think, now, it was the stranger. "

'Oh, I was like to swoon! I had supposed that that was my secret; notthe grip of the great Ice God himself could have dragged it out of myheart. The chief of the court said sternly to my poor Kalula:

'"Speak!"

'Kalula hesitated, then answered:

'"It was I. I could not sleep for thinking of the beautiful hooks. Iwent there and kissed them and fondled them, to appease my spirit anddrown it in a harmless joy, then I put them back. I may have droppedone, but I stole none. "

'Oh, a fatal admission to make in such a place! There was an awful hush. I knew he had pronounced his own doom, and that all was over. On everyface you could see the words hieroglyphed: "It is a confession!--andpaltry, lame, and thin. "

'I sat drawing in my breath in faint gasps--and waiting. Presently, Iheard the solemn words I knew were coming; and each word, as it came, was a knife in my heart:

'"It is the command of the court that the accused be subjected to thetrial by water. "

'Oh, curses be upon the head of him who brought "trial by water" to ourland! It came, generations ago, from some far country that lies noneknows where. Before that our fathers used augury and other unsuremethods of trial, and doubtless some poor guilty creatures escaped withtheir lives sometimes; but it is not so with trial by water, which isan invention by wiser men than we poor ignorant savages are. By it theinnocent are proved innocent, without doubt or question, for they drown;and the guilty are proven guilty with the same certainty, for theydo not drown. My heart was breaking in my bosom, for I said, "He isinnocent, and he will go down under the waves and I shall never see himmore. "

'I never left his side after that. I mourned in his arms all theprecious hours, and he poured out the deep stream of his love upon me, and oh, I was so miserable and so happy! At last, they tore him fromme, and I followed sobbing after them, and saw them fling him into thesea--then I covered my face with my hands. Agony? Oh, I know the deepestdeeps of that word!

'The next moment the people burst into a shout of malicious joy, andI took away my hands, startled. Oh, bitter sight--he was swimming! Myheart turned instantly to stone, to ice. I said, "He was guilty, and helied to me!" I turned my back in scorn and went my way homeward. 

'They took him far out to sea and set him on an iceberg that wasdrifting southward in the great waters. Then my family came home, and myfather said to me:

'"Your thief sent his dying message to you, saying, 'Tell her I aminnocent, and that all the days and all the hours and all the minuteswhile I starve and perish I shall love her and think of her and blessthe day that gave me sight of her sweet face. '" Quite pretty, evenpoetical!

'I said, "He is dirt--let me never hear mention of him again. " And oh, to think--he was innocent all the time!

'Nine months--nine dull, sad months--went by, and at last came the dayof the Great Annual Sacrifice, when all the maidens of the tribe washtheir faces and comb their hair. With the first sweep of my combout came the fatal fish-hook from where it had been all those monthsnestling, and I fell fainting into the arms of my remorseful father!Groaning, he said, "We murdered him, and I shall never smile again!"He has kept his word. Listen; from that day to this not a month goes bythat I do not comb my hair. But oh, where is the good of it all now!'

So ended the poor maid's humble little tale--whereby we learn that sincea hundred million dollars in New York and twenty-two fish-hooks on theborder of the Arctic Circle represent the same financial supremacy, aman in straitened circumstances is a fool to stay in New York when hecan buy ten cents' worth of fish-hooks and emigrate. 

CHRISTIAN SCIENCE AND THE BOOK OF MRS. EDDY

 'It is the first time since the dawn-days of Creation that a Voice has gone crashing through space with such placid and complacent confidence and command. '

I

This last summer, when I was on my way back to Vienna from theAppetite-Cure in the mountains, I fell over a cliff in the twilight andbroke some arms and legs and one thing or another, and by good luck wasfound by some peasants who had lost an ass, and they carried me to thenearest habitation, which was one of those large, low, thatch-roofedfarm-houses, with apartments in the garret for the family, and acunning little porch under the deep gable decorated with boxes ofbright-coloured flowers and cats; on the ground floor a large and lightsitting-room, separated from the milch-cattle apartment by a partition;and in the front yard rose stately and fine the wealth and pride of thehouse, the manure-pile. That sentence is Germanic, and shows that I amacquiring that sort of mastery of the art and spirit of the languagewhich enables a man to travel all day in one sentence without changingcars. 

There was a village a mile away, and a horse-doctor lived there, butthere was no surgeon. It seemed a bad outlook; mine was distinctlya surgery case. Then it was remembered that a lady from Boston wassummering in that village, and she was a Christian Science doctor andcould cure anything. So she was sent for. It was night by this time, andshe could not conveniently come, but sent word that it was no matter, there was no hurry, she would give me 'absent treatment' now, and comein the morning; meantime she begged me to make myself tranquil andcomfortable and remember that there was nothing the matter with me. Ithought there must be some mistake. 

'Did you tell her I walked off a cliff seventy-five feet high?'

'Yes. '

'And struck a boulder at the bottom and bounced?'

'Yes. '

'And struck another one and bounced again?'

'Yes. '

'And struck another one and bounced yet again?'

'Yes. '

'And broke the boulders?'

'Yes. '

'That accounts for it; she is thinking of the boulders. Why didn't youtell her I got hurt, too?'

'I did. I told her what you told me to tell her: that you were nowbut an incoherent series of compound fractures extending from yourscalp-lock to your heels, and that the comminuted projections caused youto look like a hat-rack. '

'And it was after this that she wished me to remember that there wasnothing the matter with me?'

'Those were her words. '

'I do not understand it. I believe she has not diagnosed the case withsufficient care. Did she look like a person who was theorising, or didshe look like one who has fallen off precipices herself and brings tothe aid of abstract science the confirmation of personal experience?'

'Bitte?'

It was too large a contract for the Stubenmadchen's vocabulary; shecouldn't call the hand. I allowed the subject to rest there, and askedfor something to eat and smoke, and something hot to drink, and a basketto pile my legs in, and another capable person to come and help me cursethe time away; but I could not have any of these things. 

'Why?'

'She said you would need nothing at all. '

'But I am hungry and thirsty, and in desperate pain. '

'She said you would have these delusions, but must pay no attentionto them. She wants you to particularly remember that there are no suchthings as hunger and thirst and pain. '

'She does, does she?'

'It is what she said. '

'Does she seem o be in full and functional possession of herintellectual plant, such as it is?'

'Bitte?'

'Do they let her run at large, or do they tie her up?'

'Tie her up?'

'There, good-night, run along; you are a good girl, but your mentalGeschirr is not arranged for light and airy conversation. Leave me to mydelusions. '

II

It was a night of anguish, of course--at least I supposed it was, forit had all the symptoms of it--but it passed at last, and the ChristianScientist came, and I was glad. She was middle-aged, and large and bonyand erect, and had an austere face and a resolute jaw and a Roman beakand was a widow in the third degree, and her name was Fuller. I waseager to get to business and find relief, but she was distressinglydeliberate. She unpinned and unhooked and uncoupled her upholsteriesone by one, abolished the wrinkles with a flirt of her hand and hung thearticles up; peeled off her gloves and disposed of them, got a book outof her hand-bag, then drew a chair to the bedside, descended into itwithout hurry, and I hung out my tongue. She said, with pity but withoutpassion:

'Return it to its receptacle. We deal with the mind only, not with itsdumb servants. '

I could not offer my pulse, because the connection was broken; but shedetected the apology before I could word it, and indicated by a negativetilt of her head that the pulse was another dumb servant that she had nouse for. Then I thought I would tell her my symptoms and how I felt, sothat she would understand the case; but that was another inconsequence, she did not need to know those things; moreover, my remark about how Ifelt was an abuse of language, a misapplication of terms--

'One does not feel, ' she explained; 'there is no such thing asfeeling: therefore, to speak of a non-existent thing as existent as acontradiction. Matter has no existence; nothing exists but mind; themind cannot feel pain, it can only imagine it. '

'But if it hurts, just the same--'

'It doesn't. A thing which is unreal cannot exercise the functions ofreality. Pain is unreal; hence pain cannot hurt. '

In making a sweeping gesture to indicate the act of shooing the illusionof pain out of the mind, she raked her hand on a pin in her dress, said'Ouch!' and went tranquilly on with her talk. 'You should never allowyourself to speak of how you feel, nor permit others to ask you howyou are feeling: you should never concede that you are ill, nor permitothers to talk about disease or pain or death or similar non-existencesin your preserve. Such talk only encourages the mind to continue itsempty imaginings. ' Just at that point the Stubenmadchen trod on thecat's tail, and the cat let fly a frenzy of cat-profanity. I asked withcaution:

'Is a cat's opinion about pain valuable?'

'A cat has no opinion; opinions proceed from the mind only; the loweranimals, being eternally perishable, have not been granted mind; withoutmind opinion is impossible. '

'She merely imagined she felt a pain--the cat?'

'She cannot imagine a pain, for imagination is an effect of mind;without mind, there is no imagination. A cat has no imagination. '

'Then she had a real pain?'

'I have already told you there is no such thing as real pain. '

'It is strange and interesting. I do wonder what was the matter with thecat. Because, there being no such thing as real pain, and she not beingable to imagine an imaginary thing, it would seem that God in his Pityhas compensated the cat with some kind of a mysterious emotion useablewhen her tail is trodden on which for the moment joins cat and Christianin one common brotherhood of--'

She broke in with an irritated--

'Peace! The cat feels nothing, the Christian feels nothing. Your emptyand foolish imaginings are profanation and blasphemy, and can do you aninjury. It is wiser and better and holier to recognise and confess thatthere is no such thing as disease or pain or death. '

'I am full of imaginary tortures, ' I said, 'but I do not think I couldbe any more uncomfortable if they were real ones. What must I do to getrid of them?'

'There is no occasion to get rid of them, since they do not exist. Theyare illusions propagated by matter, and matter has no existence; thereis no such thing as matter. '

'It sounds right and clear, but yet it seems in a degree elusive; itseems to slip through, just when you think you are getting a grip onit. '

'Explain. '

'Well, for instance: if there is no such thing as matter, how can matterpropagate things?'

In her compassion she almost smiled. She would have smiled if there wereany such thing as a smile. 

'It is quite simple, ' she said; 'the fundamental propositions ofChristian Science explain it, and they are summarised in the fourfollowing self-evident propositions: 1. God is All in all. 2. God isgood. Good is Mind. 3. God, Spirit, being all, nothing is matter. 4. Life, God, omnipotent Good, deny death, evil sin, disease. There--nowyou see. '

It seemed nebulous: it did not seem to say anything about the difficultyin hand--how non-existent matter can propagate illusions. I said, withsome hesitancy:

'Does--does it explain?'

'Doesn't it? Even if read backward it will do it. '

With a budding hope, I asked her to do it backward. 

'Very well. Disease sin evil death deny Good omnipotent God life matteris nothing all being Spirit God Mind is Good good is God all in All isGod. There--do you understand now?

'It--it--well, it is plainer than it was before; still--'

'Well?'

'Could you try it some more ways?'

'As many as you like: it always means the same. Interchanged in any wayyou please it cannot be made to mean anything different from what itmeans when put in any other way. Because it is perfect. You can jumbleit all up, and it makes no difference: it always comes out the way itwas before. It was a marvellous mind that produced it. As a mental tourde force it is without a mate, it defies alike the simple, the concrete, and the occult. '

'It seems to be a corker. '

I blushed for the word, but it was out before I could stop it. 

'A what?'

'A--wonderful structure--combination, so to speak, or profoundthoughts--unthinkable ones--un--'

'It is true. Read backwards, or forwards, or perpendicularly, or at anygiven angle, these four propositions will always be found to agree instatement and proof. '

'Ah--proof. Now we are coming at it. The statements agree; they agreewith--with--anyway, they agree; I noticed that; but what is it theyprove--I mean, in particular?'

'Why, nothing could be clearer. They prove: 1. GOD--Principle, Life, Truth, Love, Soul, Spirit, Mind. Do you get that?'

'I--well, I seem to. Go on, please. 

'2. MAN--God's universal idea, individual, perfect, eternal. Is itclear?'

'It--I think so. Continue. '

'3. IDEA--An image in Mind; the immediate object of understanding. Thereit is--the whole sublime Arcana of Christian Science in a nutshell. Doyou find a weak place in it anywhere?'

'Well--no; it seems strong. '

'Very well. There is more. Those three constitute the ScientificDefinition of Immortal Mind. Next, we have the Scientific Definition ofMortal Mind. Thus. FIRST DEGREE: Depravity. 1. Physical--Passions andappetites, fear, depraved will, pride, envy, deceit, hatred, revenge, sin, disease, death. '

'Phantasms, madam--unrealities, as I understand it. '

'Every one. SECOND DEGREE: Evil Disappearing. 1. Moral--Honesty, affection, compassion, hope, faith, meekness, temperance. Is it clear?'

'Crystal. '

'THIRD DEGREE: Spiritual Salvation. 1. Spiritual--Faith, wisdom, power, purity, understanding, health, love. You see how searchingly andco-ordinately interdependent and anthropomorphous it all is. In thisThird Degree, as we know by the revelations of Christian Science, mortalmind disappears. '

'Not earlier?'

'No, not until the teaching and preparation for the Third Degree arecompleted. '

'It is not until then that one is enabled to take hold of ChristianScience effectively, and with the right sense of sympathy and kinship, as I understand you. That is to say, it could not succeed during theprocess of the Second Degree, because there would still be remainsof mind left; and therefore--but I interrupted you. You were aboutto further explain the good results proceeding from the erosions anddisintegrations effected by the Third Degree. It is very interesting: goon, please. '

'Yes, as I was saying, in this Third Degree mortal mind disappears. Science so reverses the evidence before the corporeal human senses asto make this scriptural testimony true in our hearts, "the last shallbe first and the first shall be last, " that God and His idea may be tous--what divinity really is, and must of necessity be--all-inclusive. '

'It is beautiful. And with that exhaustive exactness your choice andarrangement of words confirms and establishes what you have claimed forthe powers and functions of the Third Degree. The Second could probablyproduce only temporary absence of mind, it is reserved to the Third tomake it permanent. A sentence framed under the auspices of theSecond could have a kind of meaning--a sort of deceptive semblance ofit--whereas it is only under the magic of the Third that that defectwould disappear. Also, without doubt, it is the Third Degree thatcontributes another remarkable specialty to Christian Science: viz. , ease and flow and lavishness of words, and rhythm and swing andsmoothness. There must be a special reason for this?'

'Yes--God-all, all-God, good Good, non-Matter, Matteration, Spirit, Bones, Truth. '

'That explains it. '

'There is nothing in Christian Science that is not explicable; for Godis one, Time is one, Individuality is one, and may be one of a series, one of many, as an individual man, individual horse; whereas God is one, not one of a series, but one alone and without an equal. '

'These are noble thoughts. They make one burn to know more. How doesChristian Science explain the spiritual relation of systematic dualityto incidental reflection?'

'Christian Science reverses the seeming relation of Soul and body--asastronomy reverses the human perception of the movement of the solarsystem--and makes body tributary to Mind. As it is the earth which isin motion, while the sun is at rest, though in viewing the sun rise onefinds it impossible to believe the sun not to be really rising, so thebody is but the humble servant of the restful Mind, though it seemsotherwise to finite sense; but we shall never understand this while weadmit that soul is in body, or mind in matter, and that man is includedin non-intelligence. Soul is God, unchangeable and eternal; and mancoexists with and reflects Soul, for the All-in-all is the Altogether, and the Altogether embraces the All-one, Soul-Mind, Mind-Soul, Love, Spirit, Bones, Liver, one of a series, alone and without an equal. '

(It is very curious, the effect which Christian Science has upon theverbal bowels. Particularly the Third Degree; it makes one think of adictionary with the cholera. But I only thought this; I did not say it. )

'What is the origin of Christian Science? Is it a gift of God, or did itjust happen?'

'In a sense, it is a gift of God. That is to say, its powers are fromHim, but the credit of the discovery of the powers and what they are foris due to an American lady. '

'Indeed? When did this occur?'

'In 1866. That is the immortal date when pain and disease and deathdisappeared from the earth to return no more for ever. That is, thefancies for which those terms stand, disappeared. The things themselveshad never existed; therefore as soon as it was perceived that there wereno such things, they were easily banished. The history and nature of thegreat discovery are set down in the book here, and--'

'Did the lady write the book?'

'Yes, she wrote it all, herself. The title is "Science and Health, withKey to the Scriptures"--for she explains the Scriptures; they were notunderstood before. Not even by the twelve Disciples. She begins thus--Iwill read it to you. '

But she had forgotten to bring her glasses. 

'Well, it is no matter, ' she said, 'I remember the words--indeed, allChristian Scientists know the book by heart; it is necessary in ourpractice. We should otherwise make mistakes and do harm. She beginsthus: "In the year 1866 I discovered the Science of MetaphysicalHealing, and named it Christian Science. " And she says--quitebeautifully, I think--"Through Christian Science, religion and medicineare inspired with a diviner nature and essence, fresh pinions aregiven to faith and understanding, and thoughts acquaint themselvesintelligently with God. " Her very words. '

'It is elegant. And it is a fine thought, too--marrying religion tomedicine, instead of medicine to the undertaker in the old way; forreligion and medicine properly belong together, they being the basis ofall spiritual and physical health. What kind of medicine do you give forthe ordinary diseases, such as--'

'We never give medicine in any circumstances whatever! We--'

'But, madam, it says--'

'I don't care what it says, and I don't wish to talk about it. '

'I am sorry if I have offended, but you see the mention seemed in someway inconsistent, and--'

'There are no inconsistencies in Christian Science. The thing isimpossible, for the Science is absolute. It cannot be otherwise, sinceit proceeds directly from the All-in-all and the Everything-in-Which, also Soul, Bones, Truth, one of a series, alone and without equal. It isMathematics purified from material dross and made spiritual. '

'I can see that, but--'

'It rests upon the immovable basis of an Apodictical Principle. '

The word flattened itself against my mind trying to get in, anddisordered me a little, and before I could inquire into its pertinency, she was already throwing the needed light:

'This Apodictical Principle is the absolute Principle of ScientificMind-healing, the sovereign Omnipotence which delivers the children ofmen from pain, disease, decay, and every ill that flesh is heir to. '

'Surely not every ill, every decay?'

'Every one; there are no exceptions; there is no such thing as decay--itis an unreality, it has no existence. '

'But without your glasses your failing eyesight does not permit youto--'

'My eyesight cannot fail; nothing can fail; the Mind is master, and theMind permits no retrogression. '

She was under the inspiration of the Third Degree, therefore there couldbe no profit in continuing this part of the subject. I shifted to otherground and inquired further concerning the Discoverer of the Science. 

'Did the discovery come suddenly, like Klondike, or after long study andcalculation, like America?'

'The comparisons are not respectful, since they refer totrivialities--but let it pass. I will answer in the Discoverer's ownwords: "God had been graciously fitting me, during many years, for thereception of a final revelation of the absolute Principle of ScientificMind-healing. "'

'Many years? How many?'

'Eighteen centuries!'

'All God, God-good, good-God, Truth, Bones, Liver, one of a series aloneand without equal--it is amazing!'

'You may well say it, sir. Yet it is but the truth. This American lady, our revered and sacred founder, is distinctly referred to and her comingprophesied, in the twelfth chapter of the Apocalypse; she could not havebeen more plainly indicated by St. John without actually mentioning hername. '

'How strange, how wonderful!'

'I will quote her own words, for her "Key to the Scriptures:" "Thetwelfth chapter of the Apocalypse has a special suggestiveness inconnection with this nineteenth century. " There--do you note that?Think--note it well. '

'But--what does it mean?'

'Listen, and you will know. I quote her inspired words again: "In theopening of the Sixth Seal, typical of six thousand years since Adam, there is one distinctive feature which has special reference to thepresent age. Thus:

'"Revelation xii. 1. And there appeared a great wonder in heaven--awoman clothed with the sun, and the moon under her feet, and upon herhead a crown of twelve stars. "

'That is our Head, our Chief, our Discoverer of ChristianScience--nothing can be plainer, nothing surer. And note this:

'"Revelation xii. 6. And the woman fled into the wilderness, where shehad a place prepared of God. "

'That is Boston. '

'I recognise it, madam. These are sublime things and impressive; Inever understood these passages before; please go on with the--withthe--proofs. '

'Very well. Listen:

'"And I saw another mighty angel come down from heaven, clothed with acloud; and a rainbow was upon his head, and his face was as it were thesun, and his feet as pillars of fire. And he had in his hand a littlebook. "

'A little book, merely a little book--could words be modester? Yet howstupendous its importance! Do you know what book that was?'

'Was it--'

'I hold it in my hand--"Christian Science"!'

'Love, Livers, Lights, Bones, Truth, Kidneys, one of a series, alone andwithout equal--it is beyond imagination and wonder!'

'Hear our Founder's eloquent words: "Then will a voice from harmony cry, 'Go and take the little book; take it and eat it up, and it shall makethy belly bitter; but it shall be in thy mouth sweet as honey. 'Mortal, obey the heavenly evangel. Take up Divine Science. Read it frombeginning to end. Study it, ponder it. It will be indeed sweet at itsfirst taste, when it heals you; but murmur not over Truth, if you findits digestion bitter. " You now know the history of our dear and holyScience, sir, and that its origin is not of this earth, but only itsdiscovery. I will leave the book with you and will go, now, but giveyourself no uneasiness--I will give you absent treatment from now till Igo to bed. '

III

Under the powerful influence of the near treatment and the absenttreatment together, my bones were gradually retreating inward anddisappearing from view. The good word took a brisk start, now, and wenton quite swiftly. My body was diligently straining and stretching, thisway and that, to accommodate the processes of restoration, and everyminute or two I heard a dull click inside and knew that the two endsof a fracture had been successfully joined. This muffled clicking andgritting and grinding and rasping continued during the next threehours, and then stopped--the connections had all been made. All exceptdislocations; there were only seven of these: hips, shoulders, knees, neck; so that was soon over; one after another they slipped into theirsockets with a sound like pulling a distant cork, and I jumped up asgood as new, as to framework, and sent for the horse-doctor. 

I was obliged to do this because I had a stomach-ache and a cold inthe head, and I was not willing to trust these things any longer inthe hands of a woman whom I did not know, and in whose ability tosuccessfully treat mere disease I had lost all confidence. My positionwas justified by the fact that the cold and the ache had been in hercharge from the first, along with the fractures, but had experienced nota shade of relief; and indeed the ache was even growing worse and worse, and more and more bitter, now, probably on account of the protractedabstention from food and drink. 

The horse-doctor came, a pleasant man and full of hope and professionalinterest in the case. In the matter of smell he was pretty aromatic, infact quite horsey, and I tried to arrange with him for absent treatment, but it was not in his line, so out of delicacy I did not press it. Helooked at my teeth and examined my hock, and said my age and generalcondition were favourable to energetic measures; therefore he would giveme something to turn the stomach-ache into the botts and the cold inthe head into the blind staggers; then he should be on his own beatand would know what to do. He made up a bucket of bran-mash, and saida dipperful of it every two hours, alternated with a drench withturpentine and axle-grease in it, would either knock my ailments out ofme in twenty-four hours or so interest me in other ways as to make meforget they were on the premises. He administered my first dose himself, then took his leave, saying I was free to eat and drink anything Ipleased and in any quantity I liked. But I was not hungry any more, anddid not care for food. 

I took up the 'Christian Scientist' book and read half of it, then tooka dipperful of drench and read the other half. The resulting experienceswere full of interest and adventure. All through the rumblings andgrindings and quakings and effervescings accompanying the evolution ofthe ache into the botts and the cold into the blind staggers I couldnote the generous struggle for mastery going on between the mash and thedrench and the literature; and often I could tell which was ahead, andcould easily distinguish the literature from the others when the otherswere separate, though not when they were mixed; for when a bran-mashand an eclectic drench are mixed together they look just like theApodictical Principle out on a lark, and no one can tell it from that. The finish was reached at last, the evolutions were complete and a finesuccess; but I think that this result could have been achieved withfewer materials. I believe the mash was necessary to the conversion ofthe stomach-ache into the boots, but I think one could develop the blindstaggers out of the literature by itself; also, that blind staggersproduced in this way would be of a better quality and more lasting thanany produced by the artificial processes of a horse-doctor. 

For of all the strange, and frantic, and incomprehensible, anduninterpretable books which the imagination of man has created, surelythis one is the prize sample. It is written with a limitless confidenceand complacency, and with a dash and stir and earnestness which oftencompel the effects of eloquence, even when the words do not seem tohave any traceable meaning. There are plenty of people who imagine theyunderstand the book; I know this, for I have talked with them; but inall cases they were people who also imagined that there were no suchthings as pain, sickness, and death, and no realities in the world;nothing actually existent but Mind. It seems to me to modify the valueof their testimony. When these people talk about Christian Sciencethey do as Mrs. Fuller did; they do not use their own language, but thebook's; they pour out the book's showy incoherences, and leave you tofind out later that they were not originating, but merely quoting;they seem to know the volume by heart, and to revere it as they woulda Bible--another Bible, perhaps I ought to say. Plainly the book waswritten under the mental desolations of the Third Degree, and I feelsure that none but the membership of that Degree can discover meaningsin it. When you read it you seem to be listening to a lively andaggressive and oracular speech delivered in an unknown tongue, a speechwhose spirit you get but not the particulars; or, to change the figure, you seem to be listening to a vigorous instrument which is making anoise it thinks is a tune, but which to persons not members of the bandis only the martial tooting of a trombone, and merely stirs the soulthrough the noise but does not convey a meaning. 

The book's serenities of self-satisfaction do almost seem to smack ofa heavenly origin--they have no blood-kin in the earth. It is more thanhuman to be so placidly certain about things, and so finely superior, and so airily content with one's performance. Without ever presentinganything which may rightfully be called by the strong name of Evidence, and sometimes without even mentioning a reason for a deduction at all, it thunders out the startling words, 'I have Proved' so and so! It takesthe Pope and all the great guns of his church in battery assembled toauthoritatively settle and establish the meaning of a sole and singleunclarified passage of Scripture, and this at vast cost of time andstudy and reflection, but the author of this work is superior to allthat: she finds the whole Bible in an unclarified condition, and atsmall expense of time and no expense of mental effort she clarifiesit from lid to lid, reorganises and improves the meanings, thenauthoritatively settles and establishes them with formulae which youcannot tell from 'Let there be light!' and 'Here you have it!' It isthe first time since the dawn-days of Creation that a Voice has gonecrashing through space with such placid and complacent confidence andcommand. 

IV

A word upon a question of authorship. Not that quite; but, rather, aquestion of emendation and revision. We know that the Bible-Annex wasnot written by Mrs. Eddy, but was handed down to her eighteen hundredyears ago by the Angel of the Apocalypse; but did she translate italone, or did she have help? There seems to be evidence that she hadhelp. For there are four several copyrights on it--1875, 1885, 1890, 1894. It did not come down in English, for in that language it could nothave acquired copyright--there were no copyright laws eighteen centuriesago, and in my opinion no English language--at least up there. Thismakes it substantially certain that the Annex is a translation. Then, was not the first translation complete? If it was, on what grounds werethe later copyrights granted?

I surmise that the first translation was poor; and that a friend orfriends of Mrs. Eddy mended its English three times, and finally got itinto its present shape, where the grammar is plenty good enough, and thesentences are smooth and plausible though they do not mean anything. I think I am right in this surmise, for Mrs. Eddy cannot write Englishto-day, and this is argument that she never could. I am not able toguess who did the mending, but I think it was not done by any member ofthe Eddy Trust, nor by the editors of the 'Christian Science Journal, 'for their English is not much better than Mrs. Eddy's. 

However, as to the main point: it is certain that Mrs. Eddy didnot doctor the Annex's English herself. Her original, spontaneous, undoctored English furnishes ample proof of this. Here are samples fromrecent articles from her unappeasable pen; double columned with themare a couple of passages from the Annex. It will be seen that they throwlight. The italics are mine:

 1. 'What plague spot, 'Therefore the efficient or bacilli were (sic) gnawing remedy is to destroy the (sic) at the heart of this patient's unfortunate belief, metropolis... And bringing by both silently and audibly it on bended knee? arguing the opposite facts in Why, it was an institute that regard to harmonious being had entered its vitals (sic) representing man as that, among other things, healthful instead of diseased, taught games, ' et cetera. (P. And showing that it is 670, 'C. S. Journal, ' article impossible for matter to suffer, entitled 'A Narrative--by to feel pain or heat, to be Mary Baker G. Eddy. ') thirsty or sick. ' (P. 375, Annex. ) 2. 'Parks sprang up (sic)... Electric street cars run 'Man is never sick; for (sic) merrily through several Mind is not sick, and matter streets, concrete sidewalks cannot be. A false belief and macadamised roads dotted is both the tempter and the (sic) the place, ' et cetera. Tempted, the sin and the (Ibid. ) sinner, the disease and its 3. 'Shorn (sic) of its cause. It is well to be calm suburbs it had indeed little in sickness; to be hopeful is left to admire, save to (sic) still better; but to such as fancy a skeleton understand that sickness is not above ground breathing (sic) real, and that Truth can slowly through a barren (sic) destroy it, is best of all, for breast. ' (Ibid. ) it is the universal and perfect remedy. ' (Chapter xii. , Annex. )

You notice the contrast between the smooth, plausible, elegant, addledEnglish of the doctored Annex and the lumbering, ragged, ignorant outputof the translator's natural, spontaneous, and unmedicated penwork. The English of the Annex has been slicked up by a very industrious andpainstaking hand--but it was not Mrs. Eddy's. 

If Mrs. Eddy really wrote or translated the Annex, her original draftwas exactly in harmony with the English of her plague-spot or bacilliwhich were gnawing at the insides of the metropolis and bringing itsheart on bended knee, thus exposing to the eye the rest of the skeletonbreathing slowly through a barren breast. And it bore little or noresemblance to the book as we have it now--now that the salariedpolisher has holystoned all of the genuine Eddyties out of it. 

Will the plague-spot article go into a volume just as it stands? I thinknot. I think the polisher will take off his coat and vest and cravatand 'demonstrate over' it a couple of weeks and sweat it into a shapesomething like the following--and then Mrs. Eddy will publish it andleave people to believe that she did the polishing herself:

1. What injurious influence was it that was affecting the city's morals?It was a social club which propagated an interest in idle amusements, disseminated a knowledge of games, et cetera. 

2. By the magic of the new and nobler influences the sterile spaceswere transformed into wooded parks, the merry electric car replaced themelancholy 'bus, smooth concrete the tempestuous plank sidewalk, themacadamised road the primitive corduroy, et cetera. 

3. Its pleasant suburbs gone, there was little left to admire save thewrecked graveyard with its uncanny exposures. 

The Annex contains one sole and solitary humorous remark. There is amost elaborate and voluminous Index, and it is preceded by this note:

'This Index will enable the student to find any thought or ideacontained in the book. '

V

No one doubts--certainly not I--that the mind exercises a powerfulinfluence over the body. From the beginning of time, the sorcerer, theinterpreter of dreams, the fortune-teller, the charlatan, the quack, the wild medicine-man, the educated physician, the mesmerist, and thehypnotist have made use of the client's imagination to help them intheir work. They have all recognised the potency and availability ofthat force. Physicians cure many patients with a bread pill; they knowthat where the disease is only a fancy, the patient's confidence in thedoctor will make the bread pill effective. 

Faith in the doctor. Perhaps that is the entire thing. It seems to looklike it. In old times the King cured the king's evil by the touch of theroyal hand. He frequently made extraordinary cures. Could his footmanhave done it? No--not in his own clothes. Disguised as the King, couldhe have done it? I think we may not doubt it. I think we may feel surethat it was not the King's touch that made the cure in any instance, but the patient's faith in the efficacy of a King's touch. Genuine andremarkable cures have been achieved through contact with the relics of asaint. Is it not likely that any other bones would have done as well ifthe substitution had been concealed from the patient? When I was a boy, a farmer's wife who lived five miles from our village, had great fame asa faith-doctor--that was what she called herself. Sufferers came toher from all around, and she laid her hand upon them and said, 'Havefaith--it is all that is necessary, ' and they went away well of theirailments. She was not a religious woman, and pretended to no occultpowers. She said that the patient's faith in her did the work. Severaltimes I saw her make immediate cures of severe toothaches. My mother wasthe patient. In Austria there is a peasant who drives a great trade inthis sort of industry and has both the high and the low for patients. He gets into prison every now and then for practising without a diploma, but his business is as brisk as ever when he gets out, for his workis unquestionably successful and keeps his reputation high. In Bavariathere is a man who performed so many great cures that he had to retirefrom his profession of stage-carpentering in order to meet the demandof his constantly increasing body of customers. He goes on from yearto year doing his miracles, and has become very rich. He pretends to noreligious helps, no supernatural aids, but thinks there is something inhis make-up which inspires the confidence of his patients, and that itis this confidence which does the work and not some mysterious powerissuing from himself. 

Within the last quarter of a century, in America, several sects ofcurers have appeared under various names and have done notable things inthe way of healing ailments without the use of medicines. There are theMind Cure, the Faith Cure, the Prayer Cure, the Mental-Science Cure, andthe Christian-Science Cure; and apparently they all do their miracleswith the same old powerful instrument--the patient's imagination. Differing names, but no difference in the process. But they do not givethat instrument the credit; each sect claims that its way differs fromthe ways of the others. 

They all achieve some cures, there is no question about it; and theFaith Cure and the Prayer Cure probably do no harm when they do no good, since they do not forbid the patient to help out the cure with medicinesif he wants to; but the others bar medicines, and claim ability to cureevery conceivable human ailment through the application of their mentalforces alone. They claim ability to cure malignant cancer, and otheraffections which have never been cured in the history of the race. Therewould seem to be an element of danger here. It has the look of claimingtoo much, I think. Public confidence would probably be increased if lesswere claimed. 

I believe it might be shown that all the 'mind' sects except ChristianScience have lucid intervals; intervals in which they betray somediffidence, and in effect confess that they are not the equals of theDeity; but if the Christian Scientist even stops with being merely theequal of the Deity, it is not clearly provable by his Christian-ScienceAmended Bible. In the usual Bible the Deity recognises pain, disease, and death as facts, but the Christian Scientist knows better. Knowsbetter, and is not diffident about saying so. 

The Christian Scientist was not able to cure my stomach-ache and mycold; but the horse-doctor did it. This convinces me that ChristianScience claims too much. In my opinion it ought to let diseases aloneand confine itself to surgery. There it would have everything its ownway. 

The horse-doctor charged me thirty kreutzers, and I paid him; in fact Idoubled it and gave him a shilling. Mrs. Fuller brought in an itemisedbill for a crate of broken bones mended in two hundred and thirty-fourplaces--one dollar per fracture. 

'Nothing exists but Mind?'

'Nothing, ' she answered. 'All else is substanceless, all else isimaginary. '

I gave her an imaginary cheque, and now she is suing me for substantialdollars. It looks inconsistent. 

VI

Let us consider that we are all partially insane. It will explain us toeach other, it will unriddle many riddles, it will make clear and simplemany things which are involved in haunting and harassing difficultiesand obscurities now. 

Those of us who are not in the asylum, and not demonstrably due there, are nevertheless no doubt insane in one or two particulars--I think wemust admit this; but I think that we are otherwise healthy-minded. I think that when we all see one thing alike, it is evidence that asregards that one thing, our minds are perfectly sound. Now there arereally several things which we do all see alike; things which we allaccept, and about which we do not dispute. For instance, we who areoutside of the asylum all agree that water seeks its level; that the sungives light and heat; that fire consumes; that fog is damp; that 6 times6 are thirty-six; that 2 from 10 leave eight; that 8 and 7 are fifteen. These are perhaps the only things we are agreed about; but althoughthey are so few, they are of inestimable value, because they make aninfallible standard of sanity. Whosoever accepts them we know to besubstantially sane; sufficiently sane; in the working essentials, sane. Whoever disputes a single one of them we know to be wholly insane, andqualified for the asylum. 

Very well, the man who disputes none of them we concede to be entitledto go at large--but that is concession enough; we cannot go any furtherthan that; for we know that in all matters of mere opinion that same manis insane--just as insane as we are; just as insane as Shakespeare was, just as insane as the Pope is. We know exactly where to put our fingerupon his insanity; it is where his opinion differs from ours. 

That is a simple rule, and easy to remember. When I, a thoughtfuland unbiased Presbyterian, examine the Koran, I know that beyond anyquestion every Mohammedan is insane; not in all things, but in religiousmatters. When a thoughtful and unbiased Mohammedan examines theWestminster Catechism, he knows that beyond any question I amspiritually insane. I cannot prove to him that he is insane, becauseyou never can prove anything to a lunatic--for that is a part of hisinsanity and the evidence of it. He cannot prove to me that I am insane, for my mind has the same defect that afflicts his. All democrats areinsane, but not one of them knows it; none but the republicans andmugwumps know it. All the republicans are insane, but only the democratsand mugwumps can perceive it. The rule is perfect; in all matters ofopinion our adversaries are insane. When I look around me I am oftentroubled to see how many people are mad. To mention only a few:

 The Atheist, The Shakers, The Infidel, The Millerites, The Agnostic, The Mormons, The Baptist, The Laurence Oliphant The Methodist, Harrisites, The Catholic, and the other The Grand Lama's people, 115 Christian sects, the The Monarchists, Presbyterian excepted, The Imperialists, The 72 Mohammedan sects, The Democrats, The Buddhist, The Republicans (but not The Blavatsky-Buddhist, the Mugwumps), The Nationalist, The Mind-Curists, The Confucian, The Faith-Curists, The Spiritualist, The Mental Scientists, The 2, 000 East Indian The Allopaths, sects, The Homeopaths, The Peculiar People, The Electropaths, The Swedenborgians, The--but there's no end to the list; there are millions of them! And allinsane; each in his own way; insane as to his pet fad or opinion, butotherwise sane and rational. 

This should move us to be charitable toward one another's lunacies. Irecognise that in his special belief the Christian Scientist is insane, because he does not believe as I do; but I hail him as my mate andfellow because I am as insane as he--insane from his point of view, andhis point of view is as authoritative as mine and worth as much. Thatis to say, worth a brass farthing. Upon a great religious or politicalquestion the opinion of the dullest head in the world is worth the sameas the opinion of the brightest head in the world--a brass farthing. Howdo we arrive at this? It is simple: The affirmative opinion of a stupidman is neutralised by the negative opinion of his stupid neighbour--nodecision is reached; the affirmative opinion of the intellectual giantGladstone is neutralised by the negative opinion of the intellectualgiant Cardinal Newman--no decision is reached. Opinions that provenothing are, of course, without value--any but a dead person knows thatmuch. This obliges us to admit the truth of the unpalatable propositionjust mentioned above--that in disputed matters political and religiousone man's opinion is worth no more than his peer's, and hence itfollows that no man's opinion possesses any real value. It is a humblingthought, but there is no way to get around it: all opinions upon thesegreat subjects are brass-farthing opinions. 

It is a mere plain simple fact--as clear and as certain as that 8 and 7make fifteen. And by it we recognise that we are all insane, asconcerns those matters. If we were sane we should all see a political orreligious doctrine alike, there would be no dispute: it would be a caseof 8 and 7--just as it is in heaven, where all are sane and none insane. There there is but one religion, one belief, the harmony is perfect, there is never a discordant note. 

Under protection of these preliminaries I suppose I may now repeatwithout offence that the Christian Scientist is insane. I mean himno discourtesy, and I am not charging--nor even imagining--that heis insaner than the rest of the human race. I think he is morepicturesquely insane that some of us. At the same time, I am quite surethat in one important and splendid particular he is saner than is thevast bulk of the race. 

Why is he insane? I told you before: it is because his opinions are notours. I know of no other reason, and I do not need any other; it is theonly way we have of discovering insanity when it is not violent. Itis merely the picturesqueness of his insanity that makes it moreinteresting than my kind or yours. For instance, consider his 'littlebook'--the one described in the previous article; the 'little book'exposed in the sky eighteen centuries ago by the flaming angel of theApocalypse and handed down in our day to Mrs. Mary Baker G. Eddy of NewHampshire and translated by her, word for word, into English (withhelp of a polisher), and now published and distributed in hundreds ofeditions by her at a clear profit per volume, above cost, of 700per cent. !--a profit which distinctly belongs to the angel of theApocalypse, and let him collect it if he can; a 'little book' which theC. S. Very frequently calls by just that name, and always inclosed inquotation-marks to keep its high origin exultantly in mind; a 'littlebook' which 'explains' and reconstructs and new-paints and decoratesthe Bible and puts a mansard roof on it and a lightning-rod and all theother modern improvements; a little book which for the present affectsto travel in yoke with the Bible and be friendly to it, and within halfa century will hitch it in the rear, and thenceforth travel tandem, itself in the lead, in the coming great march of Christian Scientismthrough the Protestant dominions of the planet. 

Perhaps I am putting the tandem arrangement too far away; perhaps fiveyears might be nearer the mark than fifty; for a Viennese lady told melast night that in the Christian Science Mosque in Boston she noticedsome things which seem to me to promise a shortening of the interval;on one side there was a display of texts from the New Testament, signedwith the Saviour's initials, 'J. C. ;' and on the opposite side a displayof texts from the 'little book' signed--with the author's mere initials?No--signed with Mrs. Mary Baker G. Eddy's name in full. Perhaps theAngel of the Apocalypse likes this kind of piracy. I made this remarklightly to a Christian Scientist this morning, but he did not receive itlightly, but said it was jesting upon holy things; he said there was nopiracy, for the angel did not compose the book, he only brought it--'Godcomposed it. ' I could have retorted that it was a case of piracy justthe same; that the displayed texts should be signed with the Author'sinitials, and that to sign them with the translator's train of names wasanother case of 'jesting upon holy things. ' However, I did not say thesethings, for this Scientist was a large person, and although by his owndoctrine we have no substance, but are fictions and unrealities, I knewhe could hit me an imaginary blow which would furnish me an imaginarypain which could last me a week. The lady said that in that Mosque therewere two pulpits; in one of them was a man with the Former Bible, in theother a woman with Mrs. Eddy's apocalyptic Annex; and from these booksthe man and the woman were reading verse and verse about:

 'Hungry ones throng to hear the Bible read in connection with the text-book of Christian Science, "Science and Health, with Key to the Scriptures, " by Mary Baker G. Eddy. These are our only preachers. They are the word of God. '--Christian Science Journal, October 1898. 

Are these things picturesque? The Viennese lady told me that in a chapelof the Mosque there was a picture or image of Mrs. Eddy, and that beforeit burns a never-extinguished light. Is that picturesque? How long doyou think it will be before the Christian Scientist will be worshippingthat image and praying to it? How long do you think it will be beforeit is claimed that Mrs. Eddy is a Redeemer, a Christ, or Christ's equal?Already her army of disciples speak of her reverently as 'Our Mother. 'How long will it be before they place her on the steps of the Thronebeside the Virgin--and later a step higher? First, Mary the Virgin andMary the Matron; later, with a change of Precedence, Mary the Matronand Mary the Virgin. Let the artist get ready with his canvas and hisbrushes; the new Renaissance is on its way, and there will be money inaltar-canvases--a thousand times as much as the Popes and their Churchever spent on the Old Masters; for their riches were as poverty ascompared with what is going to pour into the treasure-chest of theChristian-Scientist Papacy by-and-by, let us not doubt it. We willexamine the financial outlook presently and see what it promises. Afavourite subject of the new Old Master will be the first verse of thetwelfth chapter of Revelation--a verse which Mrs. Eddy says (in herAnnex to the Scriptures) has 'one distinctive feature which has specialreference to the present age'--and to her, as is rather pointedlyindicated:

 'And there appeared a great wonder in heaven--a woman clothed with the sun and the moon under her feet, ' etc. 

The woman clothed with the sun will be a portrait of Mrs. Eddy. 

Is it insanity to believe that Christian Scientism is destined to makethe most formidable show that any new religion has made in the worldsince the birth and spread of Mohammedanism, and that within a centuryfrom now it may stand second to Rome only, in numbers and power inChristendom?

If this is a wild dream it will not be easy to prove it is so justyet, I think. There seems argument that it may come true. TheChristian-Science 'boom' is not yet five years old; yet already it has500 churches and 1, 000, 000 members in America. 

It has its start, you see, and it is a phenomenally good one. Moreover, it is latterly spreading with a constantly accelerating swiftness. Ithas a better chance to grow and prosper and achieve permanency than anyother existing 'ism;' for it has more to offer than any other. The pastteaches us that, in order to succeed, a movement like this must not bea mere philosophy, it must be a religion; also, that it must not claimentire originality, but content itself with passing for an improvementon an existing religion, and show its hand later, when strong andprosperous--like Mohammedanism. 

Next, there must be money--and plenty of it. 

Next, the power and authority and capital must be concentrated in thegrip of a small and irresponsible clique, with nobody outside privilegedto ask questions or find fault. 

Next, as before remarked, it must bait its hook with some new andattractive advantages over the baits offered by the other religions. 

A new movement equipped with some of these endowments--likespiritualism, for instance--may count upon a considerable success; anew movement equipped with the bulk of them--like Mohammedanism, forinstance--may count upon a widely extended conquest. Mormonism had allthe requisites but one--it had nothing new and nothing valuable to baitwith; and, besides, it appealed to the stupid and the ignorant only. Spiritualism lacked the important detail of concentration of money andauthority in the hands of an irresponsible clique. 

The above equipment is excellent, admirable, powerful, but notperfect. There is yet another detail which is worth the whole of itput together--and more; a detail which has never been joined (in thebeginning of a religious movement) to a supremely good workingequipment since the world began, until now: a new personage to worship. Christianity had the Saviour, but at first and for generations it lackedmoney and concentrated power. In Mrs. Eddy, Christian Science possessesthe new personage for worship, and in addition--here in the verybeginning--a working equipment that has not a flaw in it. In thebeginning, Mohammedanism had no money; and it has never had anything tooffer its client but heaven--nothing here below that was valuable. Inaddition to heaven hereafter, Christian Science has present health anda cheerful spirit to offer--for cash--and in comparison with this bribeall other this-world bribes are poor and cheap. You recognise that thisestimate is admissible, do you not?

To whom does Bellamy's 'Nationalism' appeal? Necessarily to the few:people who read and dream, and are compassionate, and troubled for thepoor and the hard-driven. To whom does Spiritualism appeal? Necessarilyto the few; its 'boom' has lasted for half a century and I believe itclaims short of four millions of adherents in America. Who are attractedby Swedenborgianism and some of the other fine and delicate 'isms?' Thefew again: Educated people, sensitively organised, with superior mentalendowments, who seek lofty planes of thought and find their contentmentthere. And who are attracted by Christian Science? There is no limit;its field is horizonless; its appeal is as universal as is the appealof Christianity itself. It appeals to the rich, the poor, the high, thelow, the cultured, the ignorant, the gifted, the stupid, the modest, the vain, the wise, the silly, the soldier, the civilian, the hero, thecoward, the idler, the worker, the godly, the godless, the freeman, theslave, the adult, the child; they who are ailing, they who have friendsthat are ailing. To mass it in a phrase, its clientele is the HumanRace? Will it march? I think so. 

VII

Remember its principal great offer: to rid the Race of pain and disease. Can it do it? In large measure, yes. How much of the pain and disease inthe world is created by the imaginations of the sufferers, and then keptalive by those same imaginations? Four-fifths? Not anything short ofthat I should think. Can Christian Science banish that four-fifths? Ithink so. Can any other (organised) force do it? None that I know of. Would this be a new world when that was accomplished? And a pleasanterone--for us well people, as well as for those fussy and fretting sickones? Would it seem as if there was not as much gloomy weather as thereused to be? I think so. 

In the meantime would the Scientist kill off a good many patients? Ithink so. More than get killed off now by the legalised methods? I willtake up that question presently. 

At present I wish to ask you to examine some of the Scientist'sperformances, as registered in his magazine, 'The Christian ScienceJournal'--October number, 1898. First, a Baptist clergyman gives usthis true picture of 'the average orthodox Christian'--and he could haveadded that it is a true picture of the average (civilised) human being:

'He is a worried and fretted and fearful man; afraid of himself and hispropensities, afraid of colds and fevers, afraid of treading on serpentsor drinking deadly things. '

Then he gives us this contrast:

'The average Christian Scientist has put all anxiety and fretting underhis feet. He does have a victory over fear and care that is not achievedby the average orthodox Christian. '

He has put all anxiety and fretting under his feet. What proportion ofyour earnings or income would you be willing to pay for that frame ofmind, year in year out? It really outvalues any price that can be putupon it. Where can you purchase it, at any outlay of any sort, in anyChurch or out of it, except the Scientist's?

Well, it is the anxiety and fretting about colds, and fevers, anddraughts, and getting our feet wet, and about forbidden food eaten interror of indigestion, that brings on the cold and the fever and theindigestion and the most of our other ailments; and so, if the Sciencecan banish that anxiety from the world I think it can reduce the world'sdisease and pain about four-fifths. 

In this October number many of the redeemed testify and give thanks; andnot coldly but with passionate gratitude. As a rule they seem drunk withhealth, and with the surprise of it, the wonder of it, the unspeakableglory and splendour of it, after a long sober spell spent in inventingimaginary diseases and concreting them with doctor-stuff. The firstwitness testifies that when 'this most beautiful Truth first dawned onhim' he had 'nearly all the ills that flesh is heir to;' that those hedid not have he thought he had--and thus made the tale about complete. What was the natural result? Why, he was a dump-pit 'for all thedoctors, druggists, and patent medicines of the country. ' ChristianScience came to his help, and 'the old sick conditions passed away, ' andalong with them the 'dismal forebodings' which he had been accustomedto employ in conjuring up ailments. And so he was a healthy and cheerfulman, now, and astonished. 

But I am not astonished, for from other sources I know what must havebeen his method of applying Christian Science. If I am in the right, hewatchfully and diligently diverted his mind from unhealthy channels andcompelled it to travel in healthy ones. Nothing contrivable by humaninvention could be more formidably effective than that, in banishingimaginary ailments and in closing the entrances against subsequentapplicants of their breed. I think his method was to keep saying, 'Iam well! I am sound!--sound and well! well and sound! Perfectly sound, perfectly well! I have no pain; there's no such thing as pain! I have nodisease; there's no such thing as disease! Nothing is real but Mind; allis Mind, All-Good, Good-Good, Life, Soul, Liver, Bones, one of a series, ante and pass the buck!'

I do not mean that that was exactly the formula used, but that itdoubtless contains the spirit of it. The Scientist would attach value tothe exact formula, no doubt, and to the religious spirit in which it wasused. I should think that any formula that would divert the mind fromunwholesome channels and force it into healthy ones would answer everypurpose with some people, though not with all. I think it most likelythat a very religious man would find the addition of the religiousspirit a powerful reinforcement in his case. 

The second witness testifies that the Science banished 'an old organictrouble' which the doctor and the surgeon had been nursing with drugsand the knife for seven years. 

He calls it his 'claim. ' A surface-miner would think it was nothis claim at all, but the property of the doctor and his pal thesurgeon--for he would be misled by that word, which is Christian-Scienceslang for 'ailment. ' The Christian Scientist has no ailment; to himthere is no such thing, and he will not use the lying word. All thathappens to him is, that upon his attention an imaginary disturbancesometimes obtrudes itself which claims to be an ailment, but isn't. 

This witness offers testimony for a clergyman seventy years old who hadpreached forty years in a Christian church, and has not gone over tothe new sect. He was 'almost blind and deaf. ' He was treated by the C. S. Method, and 'when he heard the voice of Truth he saw spiritually. ' Sawspiritually. It is a little indefinite; they had better treat him again. Indefinite testimonies might properly be waste-basketed, since there isevidently no lack of definite ones procurable, but this C. S. Magazine ispoorly edited, and so mistakes of this kind must be expected. 

The next witness is a soldier of the Civil War. When Christian Sciencefound him, he had in stock the following claims:

 Indigestion, Rheumatism, Catarrh, Chalky deposits in Shoulder joints, Arm joints, Hand joints, Atrophy of the muscles of Arms, Shoulders, Stiffness of all those joints, Insomnia, Excruciating pains most of the time. 

These claims have a very substantial sound. They came of exposure in thecampaigns. The doctors did all they could, but it was little. Prayerswere tried, but 'I never realised any physical relief from that source. 'After thirty years of torture he went to a Christian Scientist and tookan hour's treatment and went home painless. Two days later he 'began toeat like a well man. ' Then 'the claims vanished--some at once, othersmore gradually;' finally, 'they have almost entirely disappeared. 'And--a thing which is of still greater value--he is now 'contentedand happy. ' That is a detail which, as earlier remarked, is aScientist-Church specialty. With thirty-one years' effort the MethodistChurch had not succeeded in furnishing it to this harassed soldier. 

And so the tale goes on. Witness after witness bulletins his claims, declares their prompt abolishment, and gives Mrs. Eddy's Discovery thepraise. Milk-leg is cured; nervous prostration is cured; consumptionis cured; and St. Vitus's dance made a pastime. And now and then aninteresting new addition to the Science slang appears on the page. Wehave 'demonstrations over' chilblains and such things. It seems to bea curtailed way of saying 'demonstrations of the power ofChristian-Science Truth over the fiction which masquerades under thename of Chilblains. ' The children as well as the adults, share in theblessings of the Science. 'Through the study of the "little book" theyare learning how to be healthful, peaceful, and wise. ' Sometimesthey are cured of their little claims by the professional healer, and sometimes more advanced children say over the formula and curethemselves. 

A little Far-Western girl of nine, equipped with an adult vocabulary, states her age and says, 'I thought I would write a demonstration toyou. ' She had a claim derived from getting flung over a pony's head andlanded on a rock-pile. She saved herself from disaster by remember tosay 'God is All' while she was in the air. I couldn't have done it. I shouldn't have even thought of it. I should have been too excited. Nothing but Christian Science could have enabled that child to do thatcalm and thoughtful and judicious thing in those circumstances. She camedown on her head, and by all the rules she should have broken it;but the intervention of the formula prevented that, so the only claimresulting was a blackened eye. Monday morning it was still swollen andshut. At school 'it hurt pretty bad--that is, it seemed to. ' So 'I wasexcused, and went down in the basement and said, "Now I am depending onmamma instead of God, and I will depend on God instead of mamma. "' Nodoubt this would have answered; but, to make sure, she added Mrs. Eddyto the team and recited 'the Scientific Statement of Being, ' whichis one of the principal incantations, I judge. Then 'I felt my eyeopening. ' Why, it would have opened an oyster. I think it is one of thetouchingest things in child-history, that pious little rat down cellarpumping away at the Scientific Statement of Being. 

There is a page about another good child--little Gordon. Little Gordon'came into the world without the assistance of surgery or anaesthetics. 'He was a 'demonstration. ' A painless one; therefore his coming evoked'joy and thankfulness to God and the Discoverer of Christian Science. 'It is a noticeable feature of this literature--the so frequent linkingtogether of the Two Beings in an equal bond; also of Their Two Bibles. When little Gordon was two years old, 'he was playing horse on the bed, where I had left my "little book. " I noticed him stop in his play, takethe book carefully in his little hands, kiss it softly, then look aboutfor the highest place of safety his arms could reach, and put it there. 'This pious act filled the mother 'with such a train of thought as I hadnever experienced before. I thought of the sweet mother of long agowho kept things in her heart, ' etc. It is a bold comparison; however, unconscious profanations are about as common in the mouths of the laymembership of the new Church as are frank and open ones in the mouths ofits consecrated chiefs. 

Some days later, the family library--Christian Science books--was lyingin a deep-seated window. It was another chance for the holy child toshow off. He left his play and went there and pushed all the books toone side except the Annex. 'It he took in both hands, slowly raisedit to his lips, then removed it carefully, and seated himself in thewindow. ' It had seemed to the mother too wonderful to be true, thatfirst time; but now she was convinced that 'neither imagination noraccident had anything to do with it. ' Later, little Gordon let theauthor of his being see him do it. After that he did it frequently;probably every time anybody was looking. I would rather have that childthan a chromo. If this tale has any object, it is to intimate that theinspired book was supernaturally able to convey a sense of its sacredand awful character to this innocent little creature without theintervention of outside aids. The magazine is not edited withhigh-priced discretion. The editor has a claim, and he ought to get ittreated. 

Among other witnesses, there is one who had a 'jumping toothache, 'which several times tempted her to 'believe that there was sensation inmatter, but each time it was overcome by the power of Truth. ' She wouldnot allow the dentist to use cocaine, but sat there and let himpunch and drill and split and crush the tool, and tear and slash itsulcerations, and pull out the nerve, and dig out fragments of bone; andshe wouldn't once confess that it hurt. And to this day she thinks itdidn't, and I have not a doubt that she is nine-tenths right, and thather Christian Science faith did her better service than she could havegotten out of cocaine. 

There is an account of a boy who got broken all up into small bits byan accident, but said over the Scientific Statement of Being, or some ofthe other incantations, and got well and sound without having sufferedany real pain and without the intrusion of a surgeon. I can believethis, because my own case was somewhat similar, as per my formerarticle. 

Also there is an account of the restoration to perfect health, ina single night, of a fatally injured horse, by the application ofChristian Science. I can stand a good deal, but I recognise that the iceis getting thin here. That horse had as many as fifty claims: howcould he demonstrate over them? Could he do the All-Good, Good-Good, Good-Gracious, Liver, Bones, Truth, All down but Nine, Set them up onthe Other Alley? Could he intone the Scientific Statement of Being?Now, could he? Wouldn't it give him a relapse? Let us draw the line athorses. Horses and furniture. 

There is a plenty of other testimonies in the magazine, but these quotedsamples will answer. They show the kind of trade the Science is driving. Now we come back to the question; Does it kill a patient here and thereand now and then? We must concede it. Does it compensate for this? I ampersuaded that it can make a plausible showing in that direction. Forinstance: when it lays its hands upon a soldier who has suffered thirtyyears of helpless torture and makes him whole in body and mind, what isthe actual sum of that achievement? This, I think: that it has restoredto life a subject who had essentially died ten deaths a year for thirtyyears, and each of them a long and painful one. But for its interferencethat man would have essentially died thirty times more, in the threeyears which have since elapsed. There are thousand of young people inthe land who are now ready to enter upon a life-long death similar tothat man's. Every time the Science captures one of these and securesto him life-long immunity from imagination-manufactured disease, it mayplausibly claim that in his person it has saved 300 lives. Meantimeit will kill a man every now and then; but no matter, it will still beahead on the credit side. 

VIII

 'We consciously declare that "Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, " was foretold as well as its author, Mary Baker Eddy, in Revelation x. She is the "mighty angel, " or God's highest thought to this age (verse 1), giving us the spiritual interpretation of the Bible in the "little book open" (verse 2). Thus we prove that Christian Science is the second coming of Christ--Truth--Spirit. ' --Lecture by Dr. George Tomkins, D. D. , C. S. 

There you have it in plain speech. She is the mighty angel; she is thedivinely and officially sent bearer of God's highest thought. For thepresent, she brings the Second Advent. We must expect that before shehas been in her grave fifty years she will be regarded by her followingas having been herself the Second Advent. She is already worshipped, andwe must expect this feeling to spread territorially, and also to deepenin intensity (1). 

Particularly after her death; for then, as anyone can foresee, Eddy-worship will be taught in the Sunday-schools and pulpits of thecult. Already whatever she puts her trade-mark on, thought it be only amemorial spoon, is holy and is eagerly and passionately and gratefullybought by the disciple, and becomes a fetish in his house. I say bought, for the Boston Christian-Science Trust gives nothing away; everythingit has for sale. And the terms are cash; and not cash only but cash inadvance. Its god is Mrs. Eddy first, then the Dollar. Not a spiritualDollar, but a real one. From end to end of the Christian-Scienceliterature not a single (material) thing in the world is conceded to bereal, except the Dollar. But all through and through its advertisementsthat reality is eagerly and persistently recognised. The hunger of theTrust for the Dollar, its adoration of the Dollar, its lust after theDollar, its ecstasy in the mere thought of the Dollar--there has beennothing like it in the world in any age or country, nothing so coarse, nothing so lubricous, nothing so bestial, except a French novel'sattitude towards adultery. 

The Dollar is hunted down in all sorts of ways; the Christian-ScienceMother-Church and Bargain-Counter in Boston peddles all kinds ofspiritual wares to the faithful, always at extravagant prices, andalways on the one condition--cash, cash in advance. The Angel of theApocalypse could not go there and get a copy of his own pirated bookon credit. Many, many precious Christian-Science things are to be hadthere--for cash: Bible Lessons; Church Manual; C. S. Hymnal; History ofthe building of the Mother-Church; lot of Sermons; Communion Hymn, 'Saw Ye My Saviour, ' by Mrs. Eddy, half a dollar a copy, 'words usedby special permission of Mrs. Eddy. ' Also we have Mrs. Eddy's and theAngel's little Bible-Annex in eight styles of binding at eight kindsof war-prices: among these a sweet thing in 'levant, divinity circuit, leather lined to edge, round corners, gold edge, silk sewed, each, prepaid, $6, ' and if you take a million you get them a shillingcheaper--that is to say, 'prepaid, $5. 75. ' Also we have Mrs. Eddy's'Miscellaneous Writings, ' at noble big prices, the divinity-circuitstyle heading the extortions, shilling discount where you take anedition. Next comes 'Christ and Christmas, ' by the fertile Mrs. Eddy--apoem--I would God I could see it--price $3, cash in advance. Then followfive more books by Mrs. Eddy at highwaymen's rates, as usual, some ofthem in 'leatherette covers, ' some of them in 'pebbled cloth, ' withdivinity circuit, compensation balance, twin screw, and the other modernimprovements: and at the same bargain counter can be had the 'ChristianScience Journal. ' I wish it were in refined taste to apply a rudely andruggedly descriptive epithet to that literary slush-bucket, so as togive one an accurate idea of what it is like. I am moved to do it, butI must not: it is better to be refined than accurate when one is talkingabout a production like that. 

Christian-Science literary oleomargarine is a monopoly of the MotherChurch Headquarters Factory in Boston; none genuine without thetrade-mark of the Trust. You must apply there, and not elsewhere; andyou pay your money before you get your soap-fat. 

The Trust has still other sources of income. Mrs. Eddy is president(and perhaps proprietor?) of the Trust's Metaphysical College in Boston, where the student who has practised C. S. Healing during three years thebest he knew how perfects himself in the game by a two weeks' course, and pays one hundred dollars for it! And I have a case among mystatistics where the student had a three weeks' course and paid threehundred for it. 

The Trust does love the Dollar when it isn't a spiritual one. 

In order to force the sale of Mrs. Eddy's Bible-Annex, no healer, Metaphysical College-bred or other, is allowed to practise the gameunless he possess a copy of that holy nightmare. That means a largeand constantly augmenting income for the Trust. No C. S. Family wouldconsider itself loyal or pious or pain-proof without an Annex or two inthe house. That means an income for the Trust--in the near future--ofmillions: not thousands--millions a year. 

No member, young or old, of a Christian-Scientist church can retainthat membership unless he pay 'capitation tax' to the Boston Trustevery year. That means an income for the Trust--in the near future--ofmillions more per year. 

It is a reasonably safe guess that in America in 1910 there will be10, 000, 000 Christian Scientists, and 3, 000, 000 in Great Britain; thatthese figures will be trebled by 1920; that in America in 1910 theChristian Scientists will be a political force, in 1920 politicallyformidable--to remain that, permanently. And I think it a reasonableguess that the Trust (which is already in our day pretty brusque in itsways) will then be the most insolent and unscrupulous and tyrannicalpolitico-religious master that has dominated a people since the palmydays of the Inquisition. And a stronger master than the strongestof bygone times, because this one will have a financial strengthnot dreamed of by any predecessor; as effective a concentrationof irresponsible power as any predecessor had; in the railway, thetelegraph, and the subsidised newspaper, better facilities for watchingand managing his empire than any predecessor has had; and after ageneration or two he will probably divide Christendom with the CatholicChurch. 

The Roman Church has a perfect organisation, and it has an effectivecentralisation of power--but not of its cash. Its multitude of Bishopsare rich, but their riches remain in large measure in their own hands. They collect from 200, 000, 000 of people, but they keep the bulk of theresult at home. The Boston Pope of by-and-by will draw his dollar-a-headcapitation-tax from 300, 000, 000 of the human race, and the Annex andthe rest of his book-shop will fetch in double as much more; and hisMetaphysical Colleges, the annual pilgrimage to Mrs. Eddy's tomb, fromall over the world--admission, the Christian-Science Dollar (payablein advance)--purchases of consecrated glass beads, candles, memorialspoons, aureoled chromo-portraits and bogus autographs of Mrs. Eddy, cash offerings at her shrine--no crutches of cured cripples received, and no imitations of miraculously restored broken legs and necks allowedto be hung up except when made out of the Holy Metal and proved byfire-assay; cash for miracles worked at the tomb: these money-sources, with a thousand to be yet invented and ambushed upon the devotee, willbring the annual increment well up above a billion. And nobody but theTrust will have the handling of it. No Bishops appointed unless theyagree to hand in 90 per cent. Of the catch. In that day the Trust willmonopolise the manufacture and sale of the Old and New Testaments aswell as the Annex, and raise their price to Annex rates, and compel thedevotee to buy (for even to-day a healer has to have the Annex and theScriptures or he is not allowed to work the game), and that will bringseveral hundred million dollars more. In those days the Trust will havean income approaching $5, 000, 000 a day, and no expenses to be taken outof it; no taxes to pay, and no charities to support. That last detailshould not be lightly passed over by the read; it is well entitled toattention. 

No charities to support. No, nor even to contribute to. One searches invain the Trust's advertisements and the utterances of its pulpit forany suggestion that it spends a penny on orphans, widows, dischargedprisoners, hospitals, ragged schools, night missions, city missions, foreign missions, libraries, old people's homes, or any other objectthat appeals to a human being's purse through his heart. (2)

I have hunted, hunted, and hunted, by correspondence and otherwise, andhave not yet got upon the track of a farthing that the Trust has spentupon any worthy object. Nothing makes a Scientist so uncomfortable as toask him if he knows of a case where Christian Science has spent moneyon a benevolence, either among its own adherents or elsewhere. He isobliged to say no. And then one discovers that the person questioned hasbeen asked the question many times before, and that it is getting to bea sore subject with him. Why a sore subject? Because he has written hischiefs and asked with high confidence for an answer that will confoundthese questioners--and the chiefs did not reply. He has writtenagain--and then again--not with confidence, but humbly, now, and hasbegged for defensive ammunition in the voice of supplication. A replydoes at last come--to this effect: 'We must have faith in Our Mother, and rest content in the conviction that whatever She(3) does with themoney it is in accordance with orders from Heaven, for She does no actof any kind without first "demonstrating over" it. '

That settles it--as far as the disciple is concerned. His Mind isentirely satisfied with that answer; he gets down his Annex and doesan incantation or two, and that mesmerises his spirit and puts that tosleep--brings it peace. Peace and comfort and joy, until some inquirerpunctures the old sore again. 

Through friends in America I asked some questions, and in some casesgot definite and informing answers; in other cases the answers were notdefinite and not valuable. From the definite answers I gather than the'capitation-tax' is compulsory, and that the sum is one dollar. To thequestion, 'Does any of the money go to charities?' the answer from anauthoritative source was: 'No, not in the sense usually conveyed by thisword*. ' (The italics are mine. ) That answer is cautious. But definite, I think--utterly and unassailably definite--although quiteChristian-scientifically foggy in its phrasing. Christian Science isgenerally foggy, generally diffuse, generally garrulous. The writer wasaware that the first word in his phrase answered the question which Iwas asking, but he could not help adding nine dark words. Meaninglessones, unless explained by him. It is quite likely--as intimated byhim--that Christian Science has invented a new class of objects to applythe word charity to, but without an explanation we cannot know what theyare. We quite easily and naturally and confidently guess that they arein all cases objects which will return five hundred per cent. On theTrust's investment in them, but guessing is not knowledge; it is merely, in this case, a sort of nine-tenths certainty deducible from what wethink we know of the Trust's trade principles and its sly and furtiveand shifty ways. 

Sly? Deep? Judicious? The Trust understands business. The Trust does notgive itself away. It defeats all the attempts of us impertinents to getat its trade secrets. To this day, after all our diligence, we have notbeen able to get it to confess what it does with the money. It does noteven let its own disciples find out. All it says is, that the matterhas been 'demonstrated over. ' Now and then a lay Scientist says, witha grateful exultation, that Mrs. Eddy is enormously rich, but he stopsthere; as to whether any of the money goes to other charities or not, he is obliged to admit that he does not know. However, the Trust iscomposed of human beings; and this justifies the conjecture that if ithad a charity on its list which it did not need to blush for, we shouldsoon hear of it. 

'Without money and without price. ' Those used to be the terms. Mrs. Eddy's Annex cancels them. The motto of Christian Science is 'Thelabourer is worthy of his hire. ' And now that it has been 'demonstratedover, ' we find its spiritual meaning to be, 'Do anything and everythingyour hand may find to do; and charge cash for it, and collect the moneyin advance. ' The Scientist has on his tongue's end a cut-and-dried, Boston-supplied set of rather lean arguments whose function is to showthat it is a Heaven-commanded duty to do this, and that the croupiers ofthe game have no choice by to obey. 

The Trust seems to be a reincarnation. Exodus xxxii. 4. 

I have no reverence for Mrs. Eddy and the rest of the Trust--if there isa rest--but I am not lacking in reverence for the sincerities of thelay membership of the new Church. There is every evidence that the laymembers are entirely sincere in their faith, and I think sincerityis always entitled to honour and respect, let the inspiration of thesincerity be what it may. Zeal and sincerity can carry a new religionfurther than any other missionary except fire and sword, and I believethat the new religion will conquer the half of Christendom in a hundredyears. I am not intending this as a compliment to the human race, Iam merely stating an opinion. And yet I think that perhaps it is acompliment to the race. I keep in mind that saying of an orthodoxpreacher--quoted further back. He conceded that this new Christianityfrees its possessor's life from frets, fears, vexations, bitterness, andall sorts of imagination-propagated maladies and pains, and fills hisworld with sunshine and his heart with gladness. If Christian Science, with this stupendous equipment--and final salvation added--cannot winhalf the Christian globe, I must be badly mistaken in the make-up of thehuman race. 

I think the Trust will be handed down like the other papacy, and willalways know how to handle its limitless cash. It will press the button;the zeal, the energy, the sincerity, the enthusiasm of its countlessvassals will do the rest. 

IX

The power which a man's imagination has over his body to heal it or makeit sick is a force which none of us is born without. The first manhad it, the last one will possess it. If left to himself a man is mostlikely to use only the mischievous half of the force--the half whichinvents imaginary ailments for him and cultivates them: and if he is oneof these very wise people he is quite likely to scoff at the beneficenthalf of the force and deny its existence. And so, to heal or help thatman, two imaginations are required: his own and some outsider's. Theoutsider, B, must imagine that his incantations are the healing powerthat is curing A, and A must imagine that this is so. It is not so, atall; but no matter, the cure is effected, and that is the main thing. The outsider's work is unquestionably valuable; so valuable that it mayfairly be likened to the essential work performed by the engineer whenhe handles the throttle and turns on the steam: the actual power islodged exclusively in the engine, but if the engine were left alone itwould never start of itself. Whether the engineer be named Jim, or Bob, or Tom, it is all one--his services are necessary, and he is entitledto such wage as he can get you to pay. Whether he be namedChristian Scientist, or Mental Scientist, or Mind Curist, or LourdesMiracle-Worker, or King's-Evil Expert, it is all one, --he is merely theEngineer, he simply turns on the same old steam and the engine does thewhole work. 

In the case of the cure-engine it is a distinct advantage to clothe theengineer in religious overalls and give him a pious name. It greatlyenlarges the business, and does no one any harm. 

The Christian-Scientist engineer drives exactly the same trade as theother engineers, yet he out-prospers the whole of them put together. Isit because he has captured the takingest name? I think that that is onlya small part of it. I think that the secret of his high prosperity lieselsewhere:

The Christian Scientist has organised the business. Now that wascertainly a gigantic idea. There is more intellect in it than wouldbe needed in the invention of a couple of millions of EddyScience-and-Health Bible Annexes. Electricity, in limitless volume, hasexisted in the air and the rocks and the earth and everywhere sincetime began--and was going to waste all the while. In our time we haveorganised that scattered and wandering force and set it to work, and backed the business with capital, and concentrated it in few andcompetent hands, and the results are as we see. 

The Christian Scientist has taken a force which has been lying idle inevery member of the human race since time began, and has organised it, and backed the business with capital, and concentrated it at Bostonheadquarters in the hands of a small and very competent Trust, and thereare results. 

Therein lies the promise that this monopoly is going to extend itscommerce wide in the earth. I think that if the business were conductedin the loose and disconnected fashion customary with such things, itwould achieve but little more than the modest prosperity usually securedby unorganised great moral and commercial ventures; but I believe thatso long as this one remains compactly organised and closely concentratedin a Trust, the spread of its dominion will continue. 

VIENNA: May 1, 1899. 

(1) After raising a dead child to life, the disciple who did it writesan account of her performance, to Mrs. Eddy, and closes it thus: 'Myprayer daily is to be more spiritual, that I may do more as you wouldhave me do... And may we all love you more and so live it that theworld may know that the Christ is come. '--Printed in the Concord, N. H. , Independent Statesman, March 9, 1899. If this is no worship, it is agood imitation of it. 

(2) In the past two years the membership of the Established Church ofEngland have given voluntary contributions amounting to $73, 000, 000 tothe Church's benevolent enterprises. Churches that give have nothing tohide. 

(3) I may be introducing the capital S a little early--still it is onits way. 

IS HE LIVING OR IS HE DEAD?

I was spending the month of March 1892 at Mentone, in the Riviera. Atthis retired spot one has all the advantages, privately, which are to behad publicly at Monte Carlo and Nice, a few miles farther along. That isto say, one has the flooding sunshine, the balmy air and the brilliantblue sea, without the marring additions of human pow-wow and fuss andfeathers and display. Mentone is quiet, simple, restful, unpretentious;the rich and the gaudy do not come there. As a rule, I mean, the richdo not come there. Now and then a rich man comes, and I presently gotacquainted with one of these. Partially to disguise him I will call himSmith. One day, in the Hotel des Anglais, at the second breakfast, heexclaimed:

'Quick! Cast your eye on the man going out at the door. Take in everydetail of him. '

'Why?'

'Do you know who he is?'

'Yes. He spent several days here before you came. He is an old, retired, and very rich silk manufacturer from Lyons, they say, and I guess he isalone in the world, for he always looks sad and dreamy, and doesn't talkwith anybody. His name is Theophile Magnan. '

I supposed that Smith would now proceed to justify the large interestwhich he had shown in Monsieur Magnan, but, instead, he dropped into abrown study, and was apparently lost to me and to the rest of the worldduring some minutes. Now and then he passed his fingers through hisflossy white hair, to assist his thinking, and meantime he allowed hisbreakfast to go on cooling. At last he said:

'No, it's gone; I can't call it back. '

'Can't call what back?'

'It's one of Hans Andersen's beautiful little stories. But it's gone frome. Part of it is like this: A child has a caged bird, which it lovesbut thoughtlessly neglects. The bird pours out its song unheard andunheeded; but, in time, hunger and thirst assail the creature, and itssong grows plaintive and feeble and finally ceases--the bird dies. Thechild comes, and is smitten to the heart with remorse: then, with bittertears and lamentations, it calls its mates, and they bury the bird withelaborate pomp and the tenderest grief, without knowing, poor things, that it isn't children only who starve poets to death and then spendenough on their funerals and monuments to have kept them alive and madethem easy and comfortable. Now--'

But here we were interrupted. About ten that evening I ran acrossSmith, and he asked me up to his parlour to help him smoke and drink hotScotch. It was a cosy place, with its comfortable chairs, its cheerfullamps, and its friendly open fire of seasoned olive-wood. To makeeverything perfect, there was a muffled booming of the surf outside. After the second Scotch and much lazy and contented chat, Smith said:

'Now we are properly primed--I to tell a curious history and you tolisten to it. It has been a secret for many years--a secret betweenme and three others; but I am going to break the seal now. Are youcomfortable?'

'Perfectly. Go on. '

Here follows what he told me:

'A long time ago I was a young artist--a very young artist, in fact--andI wandered about the country parts of France, sketching here andsketching there, and was presently joined by a couple of darling youngFrenchmen who were at the same kind of thing that I was doing. We wereas happy as we were poor, or as poor as we were happy--phrase it to suityourself. Claude Frere and Carl Boulanger--these are the names of thoseboys; dear, dear fellows, and the sunniest spirits that ever laughed atpoverty and had a noble good time in all weathers. 

'At last we ran hard aground in a Breton village, and an artist as pooras ourselves took us in and literally saved us from starving--FrancoisMillet--'

'What! the great Francois Millet?'

'Great? He wasn't any greater than we were, then. He hadn't any fame, even in his own village; and he was so poor that he hadn't anything tofeed us on but turnips, and even the turnips failed us sometimes. Wefour became fast friends, doting friends, inseparables. We painted awaytogether with all our might, piling up stock, piling up stock, but veryseldom getting rid of any of it. We had lovely times together; but, O mysoul! how we were pinched now and then!

'For a little over two years this went on. At last, one day, Claudesaid:

'"Boys, we've come to the end. Do you understand that?--absolutely tothe end. Everybody has struck--there's a league formed against us. I'vebeen all around the village and it's just as I tell you. They refuse tocredit us for another centime until all the odds and ends are paid up. "

'This struck us as cold. Every face was blank with dismay. We realisedthat our circumstances were desperate, now. There was a long silence. Finally, Millet said with a sigh:

'"Nothing occurs to me--nothing. Suggest something, lads. "

'There was no response, unless a mournful silence may be called aresponse. Carl got up, and walked nervously up and down a while, thensaid:

'"It's a shame! Look at these canvases: stacks and stacks of as goodpictures as anybody in Europe paints--I don't care who he is. Yes, and plenty of lounging strangers have said the same--or nearly that, anyway. "

'"But didn't buy, " Millet said. 

'"No matter, they said it; and it's true, too. Look at your 'Angelus'there! Will anybody tell me--"

'"Pah, Carl--My 'Angelus!' I was offered five francs for it. "

'"When?"

'"Who offered it?"

'"Where is he?"

'"Why didn't you take it?"

'"Come--don't all speak at once. I thought he would give more--I wassure of it--he looked it--so I asked him eight. "

'"Well--and then?"

'"He said he would call again. "

'"Thunder and lightning! Why, Francois--"

'"Oh, I know--I know! It was a mistake, and I was a fool. Boys, I meantfor the best; you'll grant me that, and I--"

'"Why, certainly, we know that, bless your dear heart; but don't you bea fool again. "

'"I? I wish somebody would come along and offer us a cabbage forit--you'd see!"

'"A cabbage! Oh, don't name it--it makes my mouth water. Talk of thingsless trying. "

'"Boys, " said Carl, "do these pictures lack merit? Answer me that. "

'"No!"

'"Aren't they of very great and high merit? Answer me that. "

'"Yes. "

'"Of such great and high merit that, if an illustrious name wereattached to them they would sell at splendid prices. Isn't it so?"

'"Certainly it is. Nobody doubts that. "

'"But--I'm not joking--isn't it so?"

'"Why, of course it's so--and we are not joking. But what of it. What ofit? How does that concern us?"

'"In this way, comrades--we'll attach an illustrious name to them!"

'The lively conversation stopped. The faces were turned inquiringly uponCarl. What sort of riddle might this be? Where was an illustrious nameto be borrowed? And who was to borrow it?

'Carl sat down, and said:

'"Now, I have a perfectly serious thing to propose. I think it is theonly way to keep us out of the almshouse, and I believe it to be aperfectly sure way. I base this opinion upon certain multitudinous andlong-established facts in human history. I believe my project will makeus all rich. "

'"Rich! You've lost your mind. "

'"No, I haven't. "

'"Yes, you have--you've lost your mind. What do you call rich?"

'"A hundred thousand francs apiece. "

'"He has lost his mind. I knew it. "

'"Yes, he has. Carl, privation has been too much for you, and--"

'"Carl, you want to take a pill and get right to bed. "

'"Bandage him first--bandage his head, and then--"

'"No, bandage his heels; his brains have been settling for weeks--I'venoticed it. "

'"Shut up!" said Millet, with ostensible severity, "and let the boy havehis say. Now, then--come out with your project, Carl. What is it?"

'"Well, then, by way of preamble I will ask you to note this fact inhuman history: that the merit of many a great artist has never beenacknowledged until after he was starved and dead. This has happened sooften that I make bold to found a law upon it. This law: that the meritof every great unknown and neglected artist must and will be recognisedand his pictures climb to high prices after his death. My project isthis: we must cast lots--one of us must die. "

'The remark fell so calmly and so unexpectedly that we almost forgot tojump. Then there was a wild chorus of advice again--medical advice--forthe help of Carl's brain; but he waited patiently for the hilarity tocalm down, and then went on again with his project:

'"Yes, one of us must die, to save the others--and himself. We will castlots. The one chosen shall be illustrious, all of us shall be rich. Holdstill, now--hold still; don't interrupt--I tell you I know what I amtalking about. Here is the idea. During the next three months the onewho is to die shall paint with all his might, enlarge his stock all hecan--not pictures, no! skeleton sketches, studies, parts of studies, fragments of studies, a dozen dabs of the brush on each--meaningless, ofcourse, but his, with his cipher on them; turn out fifty a day, each tocontain some peculiarity or mannerism easily detectable as his--they'rethe things that sell, you know, and are collected at fabulous prices forthe world's museums, after the great man is gone; we'll have a tonof them ready--a ton! And all that time the rest of us will be busysupporting the moribund, and working Paris and the dealers--preparationsfor the coming event, you know; and when everything is hot and justright, we'll spring the death on them and have the notorious funeral. You get the idea?"

'"N-o; at least, not qu--"

'"Not quite? Don't you see? The man doesn't really die; he changes hisname and vanishes; we bury a dummy, and cry over it, with all the worldto help. And I--"

'But he wasn't allowed to finish. Everybody broke out into a rousinghurrah of applause; and all jumped up and capered about the room andfell on each other's necks in transports of gratitude and joy. For hourswe talked over the great plan, without ever feeling hungry; and at last, when all the details had been arranged satisfactorily, we cast lots andMillet was elected--elected to die, as we called it. Then we scrapedtogether those things which one never parts with until he is bettingthem against future wealth--keepsake trinkets and suchlike--and these wepawned for enough to furnish us a frugal farewell supper and breakfast, and leave us a few francs over for travel, and a stake of turnips andsuch for Millet to live on for a few days. 

'Next morning, early, the three of us cleared out, straightway afterbreakfast--on foot, of course. Each of us carried a dozen of Millet'ssmall pictures, purposing to market them. Carl struck for Paris, wherehe would start the work of building up Millet's name against the cominggreat day. Claude and I were to separate, and scatter abroad overFrance. 

'Now, it will surprise you to know what an easy and comfortable thing wehad. I walked two days before I began business. Then I began to sketcha villa in the outskirts of a big town--because I saw the proprietorstanding on an upper veranda. He came down to look on--I thought hewould. I worked swiftly, intending to keep him interested. Occasionallyhe fired off a little ejaculation of approbation, and by-and-by he spokeup with enthusiasm, and said I was a master!

'I put down my brush, reached into my satchel, fetched out a Millet, andpointed to the cipher in the corner. I said, proudly:

'"I suppose you recognise that? Well, he taught me! I should think Iought to know my trade!"

'The man looked guiltily embarrassed, and was silent. I saidsorrowfully:

'"You don't mean to intimate that you don't know the cipher of FrancoisMillet!"

'Of course he didn't know that cipher; but he was the gratefullest manyou ever saw, just the same, for being let out of an uncomfortable placeon such easy terms. He said:

'"No! Why, it is Millet's, sure enough! I don't know what I could havebeen thinking of. Of course I recognise it now. "

'Next, he wanted to buy it; but I said that although I wasn't rich Iwasn't that poor. However, at last, I let him have it for eight hundredfrancs. '

'Eight hundred!'

'Yes. Millet would have sold it for a pork chop. Yes, I got eighthundred francs for that little thing. I wish I could get it back foreighty thousand. But that time's gone by. I made a very nice pictureof that man's house and I wanted to offer it to him for ten francs, butthat wouldn't answer, seeing I was the pupil of such a master, so I soldit to him for a hundred. I sent the eight hundred francs straight toMillet from that town and struck out again next day. 

'But I didn't walk--no. I rode. I have ridden ever since. I sold onepicture every day, and never tried to sell two. I always said to mycustomer:

'"I am a fool to sell a picture of Francois Millet's at all, for thatman is not going to live three months, and when he dies his picturescan't be had for love or money. "

'I took care to spread that little fact as far as I could, and preparethe world for the event. 

'I take credit to myself for our plan of selling the pictures--it wasmine. I suggested it that last evening when we were laying out ourcampaign, and all three of us agreed to give it a good fair trial beforegiving it up for some other. It succeeded with all of us. I walked onlytwo days, Claude walked two--both of afraid to make Millet celebratedtoo close to home--but Carl walked only half a day, the bright, conscienceless rascal, and after that he travelled like a duke. 

'Every now and then we got in with a country editor and started an itemaround through the press; not an item announcing that a new painter hadbeen discovered, but an item which let on that everybody knew FrancoisMillet; not an item praising him in any way, but merely a wordconcerning the present condition of the "master"--sometimes hopeful, sometimes despondent, but always tinged with fears for the worst. Wealways marked these paragraphs, and sent the papers to all the peoplewho had bought pictures of us. 

'Carl was soon in Paris and he worked things with a high hand. He madefriends with the correspondents, and got Millet's condition reported toEngland and all over the continent, and America, and everywhere. 

'At the end of six weeks from the start, we three met in Paris andcalled a halt, and stopped sending back to Millet for additionalpictures. The boom was so high, and everything so ripe, that we saw thatit would be a mistake not to strike now, right away, without waiting anylonger. So we wrote Millet to go to bed and begin to waste away prettyfast, for we should like him to die in ten days if he could get ready. 

'Then we figured up and found that among us we had sold eighty-fivesmall pictures and studies, and had sixty-nine thousand francs to showfor it. Carl had made the last sale and the most brilliant one of all. He sold the "Angelus" for twenty-two hundred francs. How we did glorifyhim!--not foreseeing that a day was coming by-and-by when France wouldstruggle to own it and a stranger would capture it for five hundred andfifty thousand, cash. 

'We had a wind-up champagne supper that night, and next day Claude andI packed up and went off to nurse Millet through his last days and keepbusybodies out of the house and send daily bulletins to Carl in Parisfor publication in the papers of several continents for the informationof a waiting world. The sad end came at last, and Carl was there in timeto help in the final mournful rites. 

'You remember that great funeral, and what a stir it made all overthe globe, and how the illustrious of two worlds came to attend it andtestify their sorrow. We four--still inseparable--carried the coffin, and would allow none to help. And we were right about that, because ithadn't anything in it but a wax figure, and any other coffin-bearerswould have found fault with the weight. Yes, we same old four, who hadlovingly shared privation together in the old hard times now gone forever, carried the cof--'

'Which four?'

'We four--for Millet helped to carry his own coffin. In disguise, youknow. Disguised as a relative--distant relative. '

'Astonishing!'

'But true just the same. Well, you remember how the pictures went up. Money? We didn't know what to do with it. There's a man in Paris to-daywho owns seventy Millet pictures. He paid us two million francs forthem. And as for the bushels of sketches and studies which Milletshovelled out during the six weeks that we were on the road, well, itwould astonish you to know the figure we sell them at nowadays--that is, when we consent to let one go!'

'It is a wonderful history, perfectly wonderful!'

'Yes--it amounts to that. '

'Whatever became of Millet?'

'Can you keep a secret?'

'I can. '

'Do you remember the man I called your attention to in the dining roomto-day? That was Francois Millet. '

'Great--'

'Scott! Yes. For once they didn't starve a genius to death and thenput into other pockets the rewards he should have had himself. Thissong-bird was not allowed to pipe out its heart unheard and then be paidwith the cold pomp of a big funeral. We looked out for that. '

MY DEBUT AS A LITERARY PERSON

In those early days I had already published one little thing ('TheJumping Frog') in an Eastern paper, but I did not consider that thatcounted. In my view, a person who published things in a mere newspapercould not properly claim recognition as a Literary Person: he mustrise away above that; he must appear in a magazine. He would then bea Literary Person; also, he would be famous--right away. Thesetwo ambitions were strong upon me. This was in 1866. I prepared mycontribution, and then looked around for the best magazine to go upto glory in. I selected the most important one in New York. Thecontribution was accepted. I signed it 'MARK TWAIN;' for that name hadsome currency on the Pacific coast, and it was my idea to spread itall over the world, now, at this one jump. The article appeared in theDecember number, and I sat up a month waiting for the January number;for that one would contain the year's list of contributors, my namewould be in it, and I should be famous and could give the banquet I wasmeditating. 

I did not give the banquet. I had not written the 'MARK TWAIN'distinctly; it was a fresh name to Eastern printers, and they put it'Mike Swain' or 'MacSwain, ' I do not remember which. At any rate, I wasnot celebrated and I did not give the banquet. I was a Literary Person, but that was all--a buried one; buried alive. 

My article was about the burning of the clipper-ship 'Hornet' on theline, May 3, 1866. There were thirty-one men on board at the time, andI was in Honolulu when the fifteen lean and ghostly survivors arrivedthere after a voyage of forty-three days in an open boat, through theblazing tropics, on ten days' rations of food. A very remarkable trip;but it was conducted by a captain who was a remarkable man, otherwisethere would have been no survivors. He was a New Englander of the bestsea-going stock of the old capable times--Captain Josiah Mitchell. 

I was in the islands to write letters for the weekly edition of theSacramento 'Union, ' a rich and influential daily journal which hadn'tany use for them, but could afford to spend twenty dollars a week fornothing. The proprietors were lovable and well-beloved men: long agodead, no doubt, but in me there is at least one person who still holdsthem in grateful remembrance; for I dearly wanted to see the islands, and they listened to me and gave me the opportunity when there was butslender likelihood that it could profit them in any way. 

I had been in the islands several months when the survivors arrived. Iwas laid up in my room at the time, and unable to walk. Here was a greatoccasion to serve my journal, and I not able to take advantage of it. Necessarily I was in deep trouble. But by good luck his Excellency AnsonBurlingame was there at the time, on his way to take up his post inChina, where he did such good work for the United States. He came andput me on a stretcher and had me carried to the hospital where theshipwrecked men were, and I never needed to ask a question. He attendedto all of that himself, and I had nothing to do but make the notes. It was like him to take that trouble. He was a great man and a greatAmerican, and it was in his fine nature to come down from his highoffice and do a friendly turn whenever he could. 

We got through with this work at six in the evening. I took no dinner, for there was no time to spare if I would beat the other correspondents. I spent four hours arranging the notes in their proper order, then wroteall night and beyond it; with this result: that I had a very long anddetailed account of the 'Hornet' episode ready at nine in the morning, while the other correspondents of the San Francisco journals had nothingbut a brief outline report--for they didn't sit up. The now-and-thenschooner was to sail for San Francisco about nine; when I reached thedock she was free forward and was just casting off her stern-line. Myfat envelope was thrown by a strong hand, and fell on board all right, and my victory was a safe thing. All in due time the ship reached SanFrancisco, but it was my complete report which made the stir and wastelegraphed to the New York papers, by Mr. Cash; he was in charge of thePacific bureau of the 'New York Herald' at the time. 

When I returned to California by-and-by, I went up to Sacramento andpresented a bill for general correspondence at twenty dollars a week. Itwas paid. Then I presented a bill for 'special' service on the 'Hornet'matter of three columns of solid nonpareil at a hundred dollars acolumn. The cashier didn't faint, but he came rather near it. He sentfor the proprietors, and they came and never uttered a protest. Theyonly laughed in their jolly fashion, and said it was robbery, but nomatter; it was a grand 'scoop' (the bill or my 'Hornet' report, I didn'tknow which): 'Pay it. It's all right. ' The best men that ever owned anewspaper. 

The 'Hornet' survivors reached the Sandwich Islands the 15th of June. They were mere skinny skeletons; their clothes hung limp about them andfitted them no better than a flag fits the flag-staff in a calm. Butthey were well nursed in the hospital; the people of Honolulu kept themsupplied with all the dainties they could need; they gathered strengthfast, and were presently nearly as good as new. Within a fortnight themost of them took ship for San Francisco; that is, if my dates have notgone astray in my memory. I went in the same ship, a sailing-vessel. Captain Mitchell of the 'Hornet' was along; also the only passengersthe 'Hornet' had carried. These were two young men from Stamford, Connecticut--brothers: Samuel and Henry Ferguson. The 'Hornet' was aclipper of the first class and a fast sailer; the young men's quarterswere roomy and comfortable, and were well stocked with books, and alsowith canned meats and fruits to help out the ship-fare with; and whenthe ship cleared from New York harbour in the first week of Januarythere was promise that she would make quick and pleasant work of thefourteen or fifteen thousand miles in front of her. As soon as the coldlatitudes were left behind and the vessel entered summer weather, thevoyage became a holiday picnic. The ship flew southward under a cloud ofsail which needed no attention, no modifying or change of any kind, fordays together. The young men read, strolled the ample deck, rested anddrowsed in the shade of the canvas, took their meals with the captain;and when the day was done they played dummy whist with him tillbed-time. After the snow and ice and tempests of the Horn, the shipbowled northward into summer weather again, and the trip was a picniconce more. 

Until the early morning of the 3rd of May. Computed position of the ship112 degrees 10 minutes longitude, latitude 2 degrees above the equator;no wind, no sea--dead calm; temperature of the atmosphere, tropical, blistering, unimaginable by one who has not been roasted in it. Therewas a cry of fire. An unfaithful sailor had disobeyed the rules andgone into the booby-hatch with an open light to draw some varnish from acask. The proper result followed, and the vessel's hours were numbered. 

There was not much time to spare, but the captain made the most of it. The three boats were launched--long-boat and two quarter-boats. Thatthe time was very short and the hurry and excitement considerable isindicated by the fact that in launching the boats a hole was stove inthe side of one of them by some sort of collision, and an oar driventhrough the side of another. The captain's first care was to have foursick sailors brought up and placed on deck out of harm's way--among thema 'Portyghee. ' This man had not done a day's work on the voyage, but hadlain in his hammock four months nursing an abscess. When we were takingnotes in the Honolulu hospital and a sailor told this to Mr. Burlingame, the third mate, who was lying near, raised his head with an effort, andin a weak voice made this correction--with solemnity and feeling:

'Raising abscesses! He had a family of them. He done it to keep fromstanding his watch. '

Any provisions that lay handy were gathered up by the men and twopassengers and brought and dumped on the deck where the 'Portyghee'lay; then they ran for more. The sailor who was telling this to Mr. Burlingame added:

'We pulled together thirty-two days' rations for the thirty-one men thatway. '

The third mate lifted his head again and made another correction--withbitterness:

'The "Portyghee" et twenty-two of them while he was soldiering there andnobody noticing. A damned hound. '

The fire spread with great rapidity. The smoke and flame drove the menback, and they had to stop their incomplete work of fetching provisions, and take to the boats with only ten days' rations secured. 

Each boat had a compass, a quadrant, a copy of Bowditch's 'Navigator, 'and a Nautical Almanac, and the captain's and chief mate's boats hadchronometers. There were thirty-one men all told. The captain took anaccount of stock, with the following result: four hams, nearly thirtypounds of salt pork, half-box of raisins, one hundred pounds of bread, twelve two-pound cans of oysters, clams, and assorted meats, akeg containing four pounds of butter, twelve gallons of water in aforty-gallon 'scuttle-butt', four one-gallon demijohns full of water, three bottles of brandy (the property of passengers), some pipes, matches, and a hundred pounds of tobacco. No medicines. Of course thewhole party had to go on short rations at once. 

The captain and the two passengers kept diaries. On our voyage to SanFrancisco we ran into a calm in the middle of the Pacific, and didnot move a rod during fourteen days; this gave me a chance to copy thediaries. Samuel Ferguson's is the fullest; I will draw upon it now. When the following paragraph was written the doomed ship was about onehundred and twenty days out from port, and all hands were putting in thelazy time about as usual, as no one was forecasting disaster. 

 (Diary entry) May 2. Latitude 1 degree 28 minutes N. , longitude 111 degrees 38 minutes W. Another hot and sluggish day; at one time, however, the clouds promised wind, and there came a slight breeze --just enough to keep us going. The only thing to chronicle to-day is the quantities of fish about; nine bonitos were caught this forenoon, and some large albacores seen. After dinner the first mate hooked a fellow which he could not hold, so he let the line go to the captain, who was on the bow. He, holding on, brought the fish to with a jerk, and snap went the line, hook and all. We also saw astern, swimming lazily after us, an enormous shark, which must have been nine or ten feet long. We tried him with all sorts of lines and a piece of pork, but he declined to take hold. I suppose he had appeased his appetite on the heads and other remains of the bonitos we had thrown overboard. 

Next day's entry records the disaster. The three boats got away, retiredto a short distance, and stopped. The two injured ones were leakingbadly; some of the men were kept busy baling, others patched the holesas well as they could. The captain, the two passengers, and eleven menwere in the long-boat, with a share of the provisions and water, andwith no room to spare, for the boat was only twenty-one feet long, sixwide, and three deep. The chief mate and eight men were in one of thesmall boats, the second mate and seven men in the other. The passengershad saved no clothing but what they had on, excepting their overcoats. The ship, clothed in flame and sending up a vast column of black smokeinto the sky, made a grand picture in the solitudes of the sea, andhour after hour the outcasts sat and watched it. Meantime the captainciphered on the immensity of the distance that stretched between him andthe nearest available land, and then scaled the rations down to meet theemergency; half a biscuit for dinner; one biscuit and some canned meatfor dinner; half a biscuit for tea; a few swallows of water for eachmeal. And so hunger began to gnaw while the ship was still burning. 

 (Diary entry) May 4. The ship burned all night very brightly, and hopes are that some ship has seen the light and is bearing down upon us. None seen, however, this forenoon, so we have determined to go together north and a little west to some islands in 18 degrees or 19 degrees north latitude and 114 degrees to 115 degrees west longitude, hoping in the meantime to be picked up by some ship. The ship sank suddenly at about 5 A. M. We find the sun very hot and scorching, but all try to keep out of it as much as we can. 

They did a quite natural thing now: waited several hours for thatpossible ship that might have seen the light to work her slow way tothem through the nearly dead calm. Then they gave it up and set abouttheir plans. If you will look at the map you will say that theircourse could be easily decided. Albemarle Island (Galapagos group) liesstraight eastward nearly a thousand miles; the islands referred to inthe diary as 'some islands' (Revillagigedo Islands) lie, as they think, in some widely uncertain region northward about one thousand miles andwestward one hundred or one hundred and fifty miles. Acapulco, on theMexican coast, lies about north-east something short of one thousandmiles. You will say random rocks in the ocean are not what is wanted;let them strike for Acapulco and the solid continent. That does looklike the rational course, but one presently guesses from the diariesthat the thing would have been wholly irrational--indeed, suicidal. Ifthe boats struck for Albemarle they would be in the doldrums all theway; and that means a watery perdition, with winds which are whollycrazy, and blow from all points of the compass at once and alsoperpendicularly. If the boats tried for Acapulco they would get out ofthe doldrums when half-way there--in case they ever got half-way--andthen they would be in lamentable case, for there they would meet thenorth-east trades coming down in their teeth, and these boats were sorigged that they could not sail within eight points of the wind. So theywisely started northward, with a slight slant to the west. They had butten days' short allowance of food; the long-boat was towing the others;they could not depend on making any sort of definite progress in thedoldrums, and they had four or five hundred miles of doldrums in frontof them yet. They are the real equator, a tossing, roaring, rainy belt, ten or twelve hundred miles broad, which girdles the globe. 

It rained hard the first night and all got drenched, but they filled uptheir water-butt. The brothers were in the stern with the captain, whosteered. The quarters were cramped; no one got much sleep. 'Kept on ourcourse till squalls headed us off. '

Stormy and squally the next morning, with drenching rains. A heavy anddangerous 'cobbling' sea. One marvels how such boats could live in it. Is it called a feat of desperate daring when one man and a dog cross theAtlantic in a boat the size of a long-boat, and indeed it is; but thislong-boat was overloaded with men and other plunder, and was only threefeet deep. 'We naturally thought often of all at home, and were glad toremember that it was Sacrament Sunday, and that prayers would go up fromour friends for us, although they know not our peril. '

The captain got not even a cat-nap during the first three days andnights, but he got a few winks of sleep the fourth night. 'The worstsea yet. ' About ten at night the captain changed his course and headedeast-north-east, hoping to make Clipperton Rock. If he failed, nomatter; he would be in a better position to make those other islands. Iwill mention here that he did not find that rock. 

On May 8 no wind all day; sun blistering hot; they take to the oars. Plenty of dolphins, but they couldn't catch any. 'I think we are allbeginning to realise more and more the awful situation we are in. ' 'Itoften takes a ship a week to get through the doldrums; how much longer, then, such a craft as ours?' 'We are so crowded that we cannot stretchourselves out for a good sleep, but have to take it any way we can getit. '

Of course this feature will grow more and more trying, but it will behuman nature to cease to set it down; there will be five weeks of ityet--we must try to remember that for the diarist; it will make our bedsthe softer. 

May 9 the sun gives him a warning: 'Looking with both eyes, the horizoncrossed thus +. ' 'Henry keeps well, but broods over our troubles morethan I wish he did. ' They caught two dolphins; they tasted well. 'Thecaptain believed the compass out of the way, but the long-invisiblenorth star came out--a welcome sight--and endorsed the compass. '

May 10, 'latitude 7 degrees 0 minutes 3 seconds N. , longitude 111degrees 32 minutes W. ' So they have made about three hundred miles ofnorthing in the six days since they left the region of the lost ship. 'Drifting in calms all day. ' And baking hot, of course; I have beendown there, and I remember that detail. 'Even as the captain says, all romance has long since vanished, and I think the most of us arebeginning to look the fact of our awful situation full in the face. ' 'Weare making but little headway on our course. ' Bad news from the rearmostboat: the men are improvident; 'they have eaten up all of the cannedmeats brought from the ship, and are now growing discontented. ' Not sowith the chief mate's people--they are evidently under the eye of a man. 

Under date of May 11: 'Standing still! or worse; we lost more last nightthan we made yesterday. ' In fact, they have lost three miles of thethree hundred of northing they had so laboriously made. 'The cock thatwas rescued and pitched into the boat while the ship was on fire stilllives, and crows with the breaking of dawn, cheering us a good deal. 'What has he been living on for a week? Did the starving men feed himfrom their dire poverty? 'The second mate's boat out of water again, showing that they over-drink their allowance. The captain spoke prettysharply to them. ' It is true: I have the remark in my old note-book; Igot it of the third mate in the hospital at Honolulu. But there is notroom for it here, and it is too combustible, anyway. Besides, the thirdmate admired it, and what he admired he was likely to enhance. 

They were still watching hopefully for ships. The captain was athoughtful man, and probably did not disclose on them that that wassubstantially a waste of time. 'In this latitude the horizon is filledwith little upright clouds that look very much like ships. ' Mr. Fergusonsaved three bottles of brandy from his private stores when he left theship, and the liquor came good in these days. 'The captain serves outtwo tablespoonfuls of brandy and water--half and half--to our crew. ' Hemeans the watch that is on duty; they stood regular watches--fourhours on and four off. The chief mate was an excellent officer--aself-possessed, resolute, fine, all-round man. The diarist makes thefollowing note--there is character in it: 'I offered one bottle ofbrandy to the chief mate, but he declined, saying he could keep theafter-boat quiet, and we had not enough for all. '

HENRY FERGUSON'S DIARY TO DATE, GIVEN IN FULL:

 May 4, 5, 6, doldrums. May 7, 8, 9, doldrums. May 10, 11, 12, doldrums. Tells it all. Never saw, never felt, never heard, never experienced such heat, such darkness, such lightning and thunder, and wind and rain, in my life before. 

That boy's diary is of the economical sort that a person might properlybe expected to keep in such circumstances--and be forgiven for theeconomy, too. His brother, perishing of consumption, hunger, thirst, blazing heat, drowning rains, loss of sleep, lack of exercise, waspersistently faithful and circumstantial with his diary from the firstday to the last--an instance of noteworthy fidelity and resolution. Inspite of the tossing and plunging boat he wrote it close and fine, in ahand as easy to read as print. They can't seem to get north of 7 degreesN. ; they are still there the next day:

 (Diary entry) May 12. A good rain last night, and we caught a good deal, though not enough to fill up our tank, pails, &c. Our object is to get out of these doldrums, but it seems as if we cannot do it. To-day we have had it very variable, and hope we are on the northern edge, thought we are not much above 7 degrees. This morning we all thought we had made out a sail; but it was one of those deceiving clouds. Rained a good deal to-day, making all hands wet and uncomfortable; we filled up pretty nearly all our water-pots, however. I hope we may have a fine night, for the captain certainly wants rest, and while there is any danger of squalls, or danger of any kind, he is always on hand. I never would have believed that open boats such as ours, with their loads, could live in some of the seas we have had. 

During the night, 12th-13th, 'the cry of A SHIP! brought us to ourfeet. ' It seemed to be the glimmer of a vessel's signal-lantern risingout of the curve of the sea. There was a season of breathless hope whilethey stood watching, with their hands shading their eyes, and theirhearts in their throats; then the promise failed: the light was a risingstar. It is a long time ago--thirty-two years--and it doesn't matternow, yet one is sorry for their disappointment. 'Thought often of thoseat home to-day, and of the disappointment they will feel next Sunday atnot hearing from us by telegraph from San Francisco. ' It will bemany weeks yet before the telegram is received, and it will come as athunderclap of joy then, and with the seeming of a miracle, for itwill raise from the grave men mourned as dead. 'To-day our rations werereduced to a quarter of a biscuit a meal, with about half a pint ofwater. ' This is on May 13, with more than a month of voyaging in frontof them yet! However, as they do not know that, 'we are all feelingpretty cheerful. '

In the afternoon of the 14th there was a thunderstorm, 'which towardnight seemed to close in around us on every side, making it very darkand squally. ' 'Our situation is becoming more and more desperate, ' forthey were making very little northing 'and every day diminishes oursmall stock of provisions. ' They realise that the boats must soonseparate, and each fight for its own life. Towing the quarter-boats is ahindering business. 

That night and next day, light and baffling winds and but littleprogress. Hard to bear, that persistent standing still, and the foodwasting away. 'Everything in a perfect sop; and all so cramped, and nochange of clothes. ' Soon the sun comes out and roasts them. 'Joe caughtanother dolphin to-day; in his maw we found a flying-fish and twoskipjacks. ' There is an event, now, which rouses an enthusiasm of hope:a land-bird arrives! It rests on the yard for awhile, and they can lookat it all they like, and envy it, and thank it for its message. As asubject of talk it is beyond price--a fresh new topic for tongues tiredto death of talking upon a single theme: Shall we ever see the landagain; and when? Is the bird from Clipperton Rock? They hope so; andthey take heart of grace to believe so. As it turned out the bird had nomessage; it merely came to mock. 

May 16, 'the cock still lives, and daily carols forth his praise. 'It will be a rainy night, 'but I do not care if we can fill up ourwater-butts. '

On the 17th one of those majestic spectres of the deep, a water-spout, stalked by them, and they trembled for their lives. Young Henry set itdown in his scanty journal with the judicious comment that 'it mighthave been a fine sight from a ship. '

From Captain Mitchell's log for this day: 'Only half a bushel ofbread-crumbs left. ' (And a month to wander the seas yet. ')

It rained all night and all day; everybody uncomfortable. Now camea sword-fish chasing a bonito; and the poor thing, seeking help andfriends, took refuge under the rudder. The big sword-fish kept hoveringaround, scaring everybody badly. The men's mouths watered for him, forhe would have made a whole banquet; but no one dared to touch him, of course, for he would sink a boat promptly if molested. Providenceprotected the poor bonito from the cruel sword-fish. This was just andright. Providence next befriended the shipwrecked sailors: they got thebonito. This was also just and right. But in the distribution of merciesthe sword-fish himself got overlooked. He now went away; to muse overthese subtleties, probably. The men in all the boats seem pretty well;the feeblest of the sick ones (not able for a long time to stand hiswatch on board the ship) 'is wonderfully recovered. ' This is the thirdmate's detected 'Portyghee' that raised the family of abscesses. 

 Passed a most awful night. Rained hard nearly all the time, and blew in squalls, accompanied by terrific thunder and lightning from all points of the compass. --Henry's Log. 

 Most awful night I ever witnessed. --Captain's Log. 

Latitude, May 18, 11 degrees 11 minutes. So they have averaged butforty miles of northing a day during the fortnight. Further talk ofseparating. 'Too bad, but it must be done for the safety of the whole. ''At first I never dreamed, but now hardly shut my eyes for a cat-napwithout conjuring up something or other--to be accounted for byweakness, I suppose. ' But for their disaster they think they would bearriving in San Francisco about this time. 'I should have liked to sendB---the telegram for her birthday. ' This was a young sister. 

On the 19th the captain called up the quarter-boats and said one wouldhave to go off on its own hook. The long-boat could no longer tow bothof them. The second mate refused to go, but the chief mate was ready;in fact, he was always ready when there was a man's work to the fore. Hetook the second mate's boat; six of its crew elected to remain, andtwo of his own crew came with him (nine in the boat, now, includinghimself). He sailed away, and toward sunset passed out of sight. Thediarist was sorry to see him go. It was natural; one could have betterspared the 'Portyghee. ' After thirty-two years I find my prejudiceagainst this 'Portyghee' reviving. His very looks have long passed outof my memory; but no matter, I am coming to hate him as religiouslyas ever. 'Water will now be a scarce article, for as we get out of thedoldrums we shall get showers only now and then in the trades. This lifeis telling severely on my strength. Henry holds out first-rate. ' Henrydid not start well, but under hardships he improved straight along. 

Latitude, Sunday, May 20, 12 degrees 0 minutes 9 seconds. They oughtto be well out of the doldrums now, but they are not. No breeze--thelonged-for trades still missing. They are still anxiously watching fora sail, but they have only 'visions of ships that come to naught--theshadow without the substance. ' The second mate catches a booby thisafternoon, a bird which consists mainly of feathers; 'but as they haveno other meat, it will go well. '

May 21, they strike the trades at last! The second mate catches threemore boobies, and gives the long-boat one. Dinner 'half a can ofmincemeat divided up and served around, which strengthened us somewhat. 'They have to keep a man bailing all the time; the hole knocked in theboat when she was launched from the burning ship was never efficientlymended. 'Heading about north-west now. ' They hope they have eastingenough to make some of these indefinite isles. Failing that, they thinkthey will be in a better position to be picked up. It was an infinitelyslender chance, but the captain probably refrained from mentioning that. 

The next day is to be an eventful one. 

 (Diary entry) May 22. Last night wind headed us off, so that part of the time we had to steer east-south-east and then west-north-west, and so on. This morning we were all startled by a cry of 'SAIL HO!' Sure enough, we could see it! And for a time we cut adrift from the second mate's boat, and steered so as to attract its attention. This was about half-past five A. M. After sailing in a state of high excitement for almost twenty minutes we made it out to be the chief mate's boat. Of course we were glad to see them and have them report all well; but still it was a bitter disappointment to us all. Now that we are in the trades it seems impossible to make northing enough to strike the isles. We have determined to do the best we can, and get in the route of vessels. Such being the determination, it became necessary to cast off the other boat, which, after a good deal of unpleasantness, was done, we again dividing water and stores, and taking Cox into our boat. This makes our number fifteen. The second mate's crew wanted to all get in with us, and cast the other boat adrift. It was a very painful separation. 

So these isles that they have struggled for so long and so hopefullyhave to be given up. What with lying birds that come to mock, and islesthat are but a dream, and 'visions of ships that come to naught, ' it isa pathetic time they are having, with much heartbreak in it. It was oddthat the vanished boat, three days lost to sight in that vast solitude, should appear again. But it brought Cox--we can't be certain why. But ifit hadn't, the diarist would never have seen the land again. 

 (Diary entry) Our chances as we go west increase in regard to being picked up, but each day our scanty fare is so much reduced. Without the fish, turtle, and birds sent us, I do not know how we should have got along. The other day I offered to read prayers morning and evening for the captain, and last night commenced. The men, although of various nationalities and religions, are very attentive, and always uncovered. May God grant my weak endeavour its issue!

 Latitude, May 24, 14 degrees 18 minutes N. Five oysters apiece for dinner and three spoonfuls of juice, a gill of water, and a piece of biscuit the size of a silver dollar. 'We are plainly getting weaker--God have mercy upon us all!' That night heavy seas break over the weather side and make everybody wet and uncomfortable besides requiring constant baling. 

Next day 'nothing particular happened. ' Perhaps some of us would haveregarded it differently. 'Passed a spar, but not near enough to see whatit was. ' They saw some whales blow; there were flying-fish skimmingthe seas, but none came aboard. Misty weather, with fine rain, verypenetrating. 

Latitude, May 26, 15 degrees 50 minutes. They caught a flying-fish anda booby, but had to eat them raw. 'The men grow weaker, and, I think, despondent; they say very little, though. ' And so, to all the otherimaginable and unimaginable horrors, silence is added--the mutenessand brooding of coming despair. 'It seems our best chance to get in thetrack of ships with the hope that some one will run near enough to ourspeck to see it. ' He hopes the other boards stood west and have beenpicked up. (They will never be heard of again in this world. )

 (Diary entry) Sunday, May 27, Latitude 16 degrees 0 minutes 5 seconds; longitude, by chronometer, 117 degrees 22 minutes. Our fourth Sunday! When we left the ship we reckoned on having about ten days' supplies, and now we hope to be able, by rigid economy, to make them last another week if possible. (1) Last night the sea was comparatively quiet, but the wind headed us off to about west-north-west, which has been about our course all day to-day. Another flying-fish came aboard last night, and one more to-day --both small ones. No birds. A booby is a great catch, and a good large one makes a small dinner for the fifteen of us--that is, of course, as dinners go in the 'Hornet's' long-boat. Tried this morning to read the full service to myself, with the Communion, but found it too much; am too weak, and get sleepy, and cannot give strict attention; so I put off half till this afternoon. I trust God will hear the prayers gone up for us at home to-day, and graciously answer them by sending us succour and help in this our season of deep distress. 

The next day was 'a good day for seeing a ship. ' But none was seen. Thediarist 'still feels pretty well, ' though very weak; his brother Henry'bears up and keeps his strength the best of any on board. ' 'I do notfeel despondent at all, for I fully trust that the Almighty will hearour and the home prayers, and He who suffers not a sparrow to fall seesand cares for us, His creatures. '

Considering the situation and circumstances, the record for next day, May 29, is one which has a surprise in it for those dull people whothink that nothing but medicines and doctors can cure the sick. A littlestarvation can really do more for the average sick man than can the bestmedicines and the best doctors. I do not mean a restricted diet; I meantotal abstention from food for one or two days. I speak from experience;starvation has been my cold and fever doctor for fifteen years, and hasaccomplished a cure in all instances. The third mate told me in Honoluluthat the 'Portyghee' had lain in his hammock for months, raising hisfamily of abscesses and feeding like a cannibal. We have seen that inspite of dreadful weather, deprivation of sleep, scorching, drenching, and all manner of miseries, thirteen days of starvation 'wonderfullyrecovered' him. There were four sailors down sick when the ship wasburned. Twenty-five days of pitiless starvation have followed, and nowwe have this curious record: 'All the men are hearty and strong; eventhe ones that were down sick are well, except poor Peter. ' When I wrotean article some months ago urging temporary abstention from food asa remedy for an inactive appetite and for disease, I was accused ofjesting, but I was in earnest. 'We are all wonderfully well and strong, comparatively speaking. ' On this day the starvation regime drew its belta couple of buckle-holes tighter: the bread ration was reduced from theusual piece of cracker the size of a silver dollar to the half of that, and one meal was abolished from the daily three. This will weaken themen physically, but if there are any diseases of an ordinary sort leftin them they will disappear. 

 Two quarts bread-crumbs left, one-third of a ham, three small cans of oysters, and twenty gallons of water. --Captain's Log. 

The hopeful tone of the diaries is persistent. It is remarkable. Lookat the map and see where the boat is: latitude 16 degrees 44 minutes, longitude 119 degrees 20 minutes. It is more than two hundred mileswest of the Revillagigedo Islands, so they are quite out of the questionagainst the trades, rigged as this boat is. The nearest land availablefor such a boat is the American group, six hundred and fifty milesaway, westward; still, there is no note of surrender, none even ofdiscouragement! Yet, May 30, 'we have now left: one can of oysters;three pounds of raisins; one can of soup; one-third of a ham; threepints of biscuit-crumbs. '

And fifteen starved men to live on it while they creep and crawl sixhundred and fifty miles. 'Somehow I feel much encouraged by this changeof course (west by north) which we have made to-day. ' Six hundred andfifty miles on a hatful of provisions. Let us be thankful, even afterthirty-two years, that they are mercifully ignorant of the fact thatit isn't six hundred and fifty that they must creep on the hatful, buttwenty-two hundred!

Isn't the situation romantic enough just as it stands? No. Providenceadded a startling detail: pulling an oar in that boat, for commonseaman's wages, was a banished duke--Danish. We hear no more of him;just that mention, that is all, with the simple remark added that 'he isone of our best men'--a high enough compliment for a duke or any otherman in those manhood-testing circumstances. With that little glimpseof him at his oar, and that fine word of praise, he vanishes out of ourknowledge for all time. For all time, unless he should chance upon thisnote and reveal himself. 

The last day of May is come. And now there is a disaster to report:think of it, reflect upon it, and try to understand how much itmeans, when you sit down with your family and pass your eye over yourbreakfast-table. Yesterday there were three pints of bread-crumbs; thismorning the little bag is found open and some of the crumbs are missing. 'We dislike to suspect any one of such a rascally act, but there isno question that this grave crime has been committed. Two days willcertainly finish the remaining morsels. God grant us strength to reachthe American group!' The third mate told me in Honolulu that in thesedays the men remembered with bitterness that the 'Portyghee' haddevoured twenty-two days' rations while he lay waiting to be transferredfrom the burning ship, and that now they cursed him and swore an oaththat if it came to cannibalism he should be the first to suffer for therest. 

 (Diary entry) The captain has lost his glasses, and therefore he cannot read our pocket prayer-books as much as I think he would like, though he is not familiar with them. 

Further of the captain: 'He is a good man, and has been most kind tous--almost fatherly. He says that if he had been offered the command ofthe ship sooner he should have brought his two daughters with him. ' Itmakes one shudder yet to think how narrow an escape it was. 

 The two meals (rations) a day are as follows: fourteen raisins and a piece of cracker the size of a penny for tea; a gill of water, and a piece of ham and a piece of bread, each the size of a penny, for breakfast. --Captain's Log. 

He means a penny in thickness as well as in circumference. SamuelFerguson's diary says the ham was shaved 'about as thin as it could becut. '

 (Diary entry) June 1. Last night and to-day sea very high and cobbling, breaking over and making us all wet and cold. Weather squally, and there is no doubt that only careful management--with God's protecting care--preserved us through both the night and the day; and really it is most marvellous how every morsel that passes our lips is blessed to us. It makes me think daily of the miracle of the loaves and fishes. Henry keeps up wonderfully, which is a great consolation to me. I somehow have great confidence, and hope that our afflictions will soon be ended, though we are running rapidly across the track of both outward and inward bound vessels, and away from them; our chief hope is a whaler, man-of-war, or some Australian ship. The isles we are steering for are put down in Bowditch, but on my map are said to be doubtful. God grant they may be there!

 Hardest day yet. --Captain's Log. 

Doubtful! It was worse than that. A week later they sailed straight overthem. 

 (Diary entry) June 2. Latitude 18 degrees 9 minutes. Squally, cloudy, a heavy sea.... I cannot help thinking of the cheerful and comfortable time we had aboard the 'Hornet. '

 Two days' scanty supplies left--ten rations of water apiece and a little morsel of bread. BUT THE SUN SHINES AND GOD IS MERCIFUL. --Captain's Log. 

 (Diary entry) Sunday, June 3. Latitude 17 degrees 54 minutes. Heavy sea all night, and from 4 A. M. Very wet, the sea breaking over us in frequent sluices, and soaking everything aft, particularly. All day the sea has been very high, and it is a wonder that we are not swamped. Heaven grant that it may go down this evening! Our suspense and condition are getting terrible. I managed this morning to crawl, more than step, to the forward end of the boat, and was surprised to find that I was so weak, especially in the legs and knees. The sun has been out again, and I have dried some things, and hope for a better night. 

 June 4. Latitude 17 degrees 6 minutes, longitude 131 degrees 30 minutes. Shipped hardly any seas last night, and to-day the sea has gone down somewhat, although it is still too high for comfort, as we have an occasional reminder that water is wet. The sun has been out all day, and so we have had a good drying. I have been trying for the last ten or twelve days to get a pair of drawers dry enough to put on, and to-day at last succeeded. I mention this to show the state in which we have lived. If our chronometer is anywhere near right, we ought to see the American Isles to-morrow or next day. If there are not there, we have only the chance, for a few days, of a stray ship, for we cannot eke out the provisions more than five or six days longer, and our strength is failing very fast. I was much surprised to-day to note how my legs have wasted away above my knees: they are hardly thicker than my upper arm used to be. Still, I trust in God's infinite mercy, and feel sure he will do what is best for us. To survive, as we have done, thirty-two days in an open boat, with only about ten days' fair provisions for thirty-one men in the first place, and these divided twice subsequently, is more than mere unassisted HUMAN art and strength could have accomplished and endured. 

 Bread and raisins all gone. --Captain's Log. 

 Men growing dreadfully discontented, and awful grumbling and unpleasant talk is arising. God save us from all strife of men; and if we must die now, take us himself, and not embitter our bitter death still more. --Henry's Log. 

 (Diary entry) June 5. Quiet night and pretty comfortable day, though our sail and block show signs of failing, and need taking down--which latter is something of a job, as it requires the climbing of the mast. We also had news from forward, there being discontent and some threatening complaints of unfair allowances, etc. , all as unreasonable as foolish; still, these things bid us be on our guard. I am getting miserably weak, but try to keep up the best I can. If we cannot find those isles we can only try to make north-west and get in the track of Sandwich Island-bound vessels, living as best we can in the meantime. To-day we changed to one meal, and that at about noon, with a small ration or water at 8 or 9 A. M. , another at 12 A. M. , and a third at 5 or 6 P. M. 

 Nothing left but a little piece of ham and a gill of water, all around. --Captain's Log. 

They are down to one meal a day now--such as it is--and fifteen hundredmiles to crawl yet! And now the horrors deepen, and, though they escapedactual mutiny, the attitude of the men became alarming. Now we seemto see why that curious incident happened, so long ago; I mean Cox'sreturn, after he had been far away and out of sight several days in thechief mate's boat. If he had not come back the captain and the twoyoung passengers might have been slain, now, by these sailors, who werebecoming crazed through their sufferings. 

 NOTE SECRETLY PASSED BY HENRY TO HIS BROTHER:

 Cox told me last night that there is getting to be a good deal of ugly talk among the men against the captain and us aft. They say that the captain is the cause of all; that he did not try to save the ship at all, nor to get provisions, and that even would not let the men put in some they had; and that partiality is shown us in apportioning our rations aft.... Asked Cox the other day if he would starve first or eat human flesh. Cox answered he would starve.... Then told him he would only be killing himself. If we do not find those islands we would do well to prepare for anything. .... Is the loudest of all. 

 REPLY:

 We can depend on... I think, and... And Cox, can we not?

 SECOND NOTE:

 I guess so, and very likely on... ; but there is no telling... And Cox are certain. There is nothing definite said or hinted as yet, as I understand Cox; but starving men are the same as maniacs. It would be well to keep a watch on your pistol, so as to have it and the cartridges safe from theft. 

 Henry's Log, June 5. Dreadful forebodings. God spare us from all such horrors! Some of the men getting to talk a good deal. Nothing to write down. Heart very sad. 

 Henry's Log, June 6. Passed some sea-weed and something that looked like the trunk of an old tree, but no birds; beginning to be afraid islands not there. To-day it was said to the captain, in the hearing of all, that some of the men would not shrink, when a man was dead, from using the flesh, though they would not kill. Horrible! God give us all full use of our reason, and spare us from such things! 'From plague, pestilence, and famine; from battle and murder, and from sudden death, good Lord, deliver us!'

 (Diary entry) June 6. Latitude 16 degrees 30 minutes, longitude (chron. ) 134 degrees. Dry night and wind steady enough to require no change in sail; but this A. M. An attempt to lower it proved abortive. First the third mate tried and got up to the block, and fastened a temporary arrangement to reeve the halyards through, but had to come down, weak and almost fainting, before finishing; then Joe tried, and after twice ascending, fixed it and brought down the block; but it was very exhausting work, and afterward he was good for nothing all day. The clue-iron which we are trying to make serve for the broken block works, however, very indifferently, and will, I am afraid, soon cut the rope. It is very necessary to get everything connected with the sail in good easy running order before we get too weak to do anything with it. 

 Only three meals left. --Captain's Log. 

 (Diary entry) June 7. Latitude 16 degrees 35 minutes N. , longitude 136 degrees 30 minutes W. Night wet and uncomfortable. To-day shows us pretty conclusively that the American Isles are not there, though we have had some signs that looked like them. At noon we decided to abandon looking any farther for them, and to-night haul a little more northerly, so as to get in the way of Sandwich Island vessels, which fortunately come down pretty well this way--say to latitude 19 degrees to 20 degrees to get the benefit of the trade-winds. Of course all the westing we have made is gain, and I hope the chronometer is wrong in our favour, for I do not see how any such delicate instrument can keep good time with the constant jarring and thumping we get from the sea. With the strong trade we have, I hope that a week from Sunday will put us in sight of the Sandwich Islands, if we are not safe by that time by being picked up. 

It is twelve hundred miles to the Sandwich Islands; the provisions arevirtually exhausted, but not the perishing diarist's pluck. 

 (Diary entry) My cough troubled me a good deal last night, and therefore I got hardly any sleep at all. Still, I make out pretty well, and should not complain. Yesterday the third mate mended the block, and this P. M. The sail, after some difficulty, was got down, and Harry got to the top of the mast and rove the halyards through after some hardship, so that it now works easy and well. This getting up the mast is no easy matter at any time with the sea we have, and is very exhausting in our present state. We could only reward Harry by an extra ration of water. We have made good time and course to-day. Heading her up, however, makes the boat ship seas and keeps us all wet; however, it cannot be helped. Writing is a rather precarious thing these times. Our meal to-day for the fifteen consists of half a can of 'soup and boullie'; the other half is reserved for to-morrow. Henry still keeps up grandly, and is a great favourite. God grant he may be spared. 

 A better feeling prevails among the men. --Captain's Log. 

 (Diary entry) June 9. Latitude 17 degrees 53 minutes. Finished to-day, I may say, our whole stack of provisions. (2) We have only left a lower end of a ham-bone, with some of the outer rind and skin on. In regard to the water, however, I think we have got ten days' supply at our present rate of allowance. This, with what nourishment we can get from boot-legs and such chewable matter, we hope will enable us to weather it out till we get to the Sandwich Islands, or, sailing in the meantime in the track of vessels thither bound, be picked up. My hope is in the latter, for in all human probability I cannot stand the other. Still, we have been marvellously protected, and God, I hope, will preserve us all in His own good time and way. The men are getting weaker, but are still quiet and orderly. 

 (Diary entry) Sunday, June 10. Latitude 18 degrees 40 minutes, longitude 142 degrees 34 minutes. A pretty good night last night, with some wettings, and again another beautiful Sunday. I cannot but think how we should all enjoy it at home, and what a contrast is here! How terrible their suspense must begin to be! God grant that it may be relieved before very long, and He certainly seems to be with us in everything we do, and has preserved this boat miraculously; for since we left the ship we have sailed considerably over three thousand miles, which, taking into consideration our meagre stock of provisions, is almost unprecedented. As yet I do not feel the stint of food so much as I do that of water. Even Henry, who is naturally a good water-drinker, can save half of his allowance from time to time, when I cannot. My diseased throat may have something to do with that, however. 

Nothing is now left which by any flattery can be called food. But theymust manage somehow for five days more, for at noon they have stilleight hundred miles to go. It is a race for life now. 

This is no time for comments or other interruptions from me--everymoment is valuable. I will take up the boy brother's diary at thispoint, and clear the seas before it and let it fly. 

 HENRY FERGUSON'S LOG:

 Sunday, June 10. Our ham-bone has given us a taste of food to-day, and we have got left a little meat and the remainder of the bone for tomorrow. Certainly, never was there such a sweet knuckle-one, or one that was so thoroughly appreciated.... I do not know that I feel any worse than I did last Sunday, notwithstanding the reduction of diet; and I trust that we may all have strength given us to sustain the sufferings and hardships of the coming week. We estimate that we are within seven hundred miles of the Sandwich Islands, and that our average, daily, is somewhat over a hundred miles, so that our hopes have some foundation in reason. Heaven send we may all live to see land!

 June 11. Ate the meat and rind of our ham-bone, and have the bone and the greasy cloth from around the ham left to eat to-morrow. God send us birds or fish, and let us not perish of hunger, or be brought to the dreadful alternative of feeding on human flesh! As I feel now, I do not think anything could persuade me; but you cannot tell what you will do when you are reduced by hunger and your mind wandering. I hope and pray we can make out to reach the islands before we get to this strait; but we have one or two desperate men aboard, though they are quiet enough now. IT IS MY FIRM TRUST AND BELIEF THAT WE ARE GOING TO BE SAVED. 

 All food gone. --Captain's Log. (3)

(Ferguson's log continues)

 June 12. Stiff breeze, and we are fairly flying--dead ahead of it --and toward the islands. Good hope, but the prospects of hunger are awful. Ate ham-bone to-day. It is the captain's birthday; he is fifty-four years old. 

 June 13. The ham-rags are not quite all gone yet, and the boot-legs, we find, are very palatable after we get the salt out of them. A little smoke, I think, does some little good; but I don't know. 

 June 14. Hunger does not pain us much, but we are dreadfully weak. Our water is getting frightfully low. God grant we may see land soon! NOTHING TO EAT, but feel better than I did yesterday. Toward evening saw a magnificent rainbow--THE FIRST WE HAD SEEN. Captain said, 'Cheer up, boys; it's a prophecy--IT'S THE BOW OF PROMISE!'

 June 15. God be for ever praised for His infinite mercy! LAND IN SIGHT! rapidly neared it and soon were SURE of it.... Two noble Kanakas swam out and took the boat ashore. We were joyfully received by two white men--Mr. Jones and his steward Charley--and a crowd of native men, women, and children. They treated us splendidly--aided us, and carried us up the bank, and brought us water, poi, bananas, and green coconuts; but the white men took care of us and prevented those who would have eaten too much from doing so. Everybody overjoyed to see us, and all sympathy expressed in faces, deeds, and words. We were then helped up to the house; and help we needed. Mr. Jones and Charley are the only white men here. Treated us splendidly. Gave us first about a teaspoonful of spirits in water, and then to each a cup of warm tea, with a little bread. Takes EVERY care of us. Gave us later another cup of tea, and bread the same, and then let us go to rest. IT IS THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE.... God in His mercy has heard our prayer.... Everybody is so kind. Words cannot tell. 

 June 16. Mr. Jones gave us a delightful bed, and we surely had a good night's rest; but not sleep--we were too happy to sleep; would keep the reality and not let it turn to a delusion--dreaded that we might wake up and find ourselves in the boat again. 

It is an amazing adventure. There is nothing of its sort in historythat surpasses it in impossibilities made possible. In one extraordinarydetail--the survival of every person in the boat--it probably standsalone in the history of adventures of its kinds. Usually merely a partof a boat's company survive--officers, mainly, and other educated andtenderly-reared men, unused to hardship and heavy labour; the untrained, roughly-reared hard workers succumb. But in this case even the rudestand roughest stood the privations and miseries of the voyage almost aswell as did the college-bred young brothers and the captain. I mean, physically. The minds of most of the sailors broke down in the fourthweek and went to temporary ruin, but physically the endurance exhibitedwas astonishing. Those men did not survive by any merit of their own, ofcourse, but by merit of the character and intelligence of the captain;they lived by the mastery of his spirit. Without him they wouldhave been children without a nurse; they would have exhausted theirprovisions in a week, and their pluck would not have lasted even as longas the provisions. 

The boat came near to being wrecked at the last. As it approached theshore the sail was let go, and came down with a run; then the captainsaw that he was drifting swiftly toward an ugly reef, and an effortwas made to hoist the sail again; but it could not be done; the men'sstrength was wholly exhausted; they could not even pull an oar. Theywere helpless, and death imminent. It was then that they were discoveredby the two Kanakas who achieved the rescue. They swam out and manned theboat, and piloted her through a narrow and hardly noticeable break inthe reef--the only break in it in a stretch of thirty-five miles! Thespot where the landing was made was the only one in that stretch wherefooting could have been found on the shore; everywhere else precipicescame sheer down into forty fathoms of water. Also, in all that stretchthis was the only spot where anybody lived. 

Within ten days after the landing all the men but one were up andcreeping about. Properly, they ought to have killed themselves withthe 'food' of the last few days--some of them, at any rate--men who hadfreighted their stomachs with strips of leather from old boots and withchips from the butter cask; a freightage which they did not get rid ofby digestion, but by other means. The captain and the two passengersdid not eat strips and chips, as the sailors did, but scraped theboot-leather and the wood, and made a pulp of the scrapings bymoistening them with water. The third mate told me that the boots wereold and full of holes; then added thoughtfully, 'but the holes digestedthe best. ' Speaking of digestion, here is a remarkable thing, and worthnothing: during this strange voyage, and for a while afterward on shore, the bowels of some of the men virtually ceased from their functions; insome cases there was no action for twenty and thirty days, and in onecase for forty-four! Sleeping also came to be rare. Yet the men didvery well without it. During many days the captain did not sleep atall--twenty-one, I think, on one stretch. 

When the landing was made, all the men were successfully protected fromover-eating except the 'Portyghee;' he escaped the watch and ate anincredible number of bananas: a hundred and fifty-two, the third matesaid, but this was undoubtedly an exaggeration; I think it was a hundredand fifty-one. He was already nearly half full of leather; it washanging out of his ears. (I do not state this on the third mate'sauthority, for we have seen what sort of a person he was; I state it onmy own. ) The 'Portyghee' ought to have died, of course, and even nowit seems a pity that he didn't; but he got well, and as early as any ofthem; and all full of leather, too, the way he was, and butter-timberand handkerchiefs and bananas. Some of the men did eat handkerchiefs inthose last days, also socks; and he was one of them. 

It is to the credit of the men that they did not kill the rooster thatcrowed so gallantly mornings. He lived eighteen days, and then stood upand stretched his neck and made a brave, weak effort to do his duty oncemore, and died in the act. It is a picturesque detail; and so is thatrainbow, too--the only one seen in the forty-three days, --raising itstriumphal arch in the skies for the sturdy fighters to sail under tovictory and rescue. 

With ten days' provisions Captain Josiah Mitchell performed thismemorable voyage of forty-three days and eight hours in an open boat, sailing four thousand miles in reality and thirty-three hundred andsixty by direct courses, and brought every man safe to land. A bright, simple-hearted, unassuming, plucky, and most companionable man. Iwalked the deck with him twenty-eight days--when I was not copyingdiaries, --and I remember him with reverent honour. If he is alive he iseighty-six years old now. 

If I remember rightly, Samuel Ferguson died soon after we reached SanFrancisco. I do not think he lived to see his home again; his diseasehad been seriously aggravated by his hardships. 

For a time it was hoped that the two quarter-boats would presently beheard of, but this hope suffered disappointment. They went down with allon board, no doubt, not even sparing that knightly chief mate. 

The authors of the diaries allowed me to copy them exactly as they werewritten, and the extracts that I have given are without any smoothingover or revision. These diaries are finely modest and unaffected, andwith unconscious and unintentional art they rise toward the climax withgraduated and gathering force and swing and dramatic intensity; theysweep you along with a cumulative rush, and when the cry rings out atlast, 'Land in sight!' your heart is in your mouth, and for a moment youthink it is you that have been saved. The last two paragraphs are notimprovable by anybody's art; they are literary gold; and their verypauses and uncompleted sentences have in them an eloquence not reachableby any words. 

The interest of this story is unquenchable; it is of the sort that timecannot decay. I have not looked at the diaries for thirty-two years, butI find that they have lost nothing in that time. Lost? They have gained;for by some subtle law all tragic human experiences gain in pathos bythe perspective of time. We realize this when in Naples we stand musingover the poor Pompeian mother, lost in the historic storm of volcanicashes eighteen centuries ago, who lies with her child gripped close toher breast, trying to save it, and whose despair and grief havebeen preserved for us by the fiery envelope which took her life buteternalized her form and features. She moves us, she haunts us, shestays in our thoughts for many days, we do not know why, for she isnothing to us, she has been nothing to anyone for eighteen centuries;whereas of the like case to-day we should say, 'Poor thing! it ispitiful, ' and forget it in an hour. 

(1) There are nineteen days of voyaging ahead yet. --M. T. 

(2) Six days to sail yet, nevertheless. --M. T. 

(3) It was at this time discovered that the crazed sailors had gottenthe delusion that the captain had a million dollars in gold concealedaft, and they were conspiring to kill him and the two passengers andseize it. --M. T. 

AT THE APPETITE-CURE

This establishment's name is Hochberghaus. It is in Bohemia, a shortday's journey from Vienna, and being in the Austrian Empire is of coursea health resort. The empire is made up of health resorts; it distributeshealth to the whole world. Its waters are all medicinal. They arebottled and sent throughout the earth; the natives themselves drinkbeer. This is self-sacrifice apparently--but outlanders who have drunkVienna beer have another idea about it. Particularly the Pilsnerwhich one gets in a small cellar up an obscure back lane in the FirstBezirk--the name has escaped me, but the place is easily found: Youinquire for the Greek church; and when you get to it, go right alongby--the next house is that little beer-mill. It is remote from alltraffic and all noise; it is always Sunday there. There are two smallrooms, with low ceilings supported by massive arches; the arches andceilings are whitewashed, otherwise the rooms would pass for cells inthe dungeons of a bastile. The furniture is plain and cheap, there is noornamentation anywhere; yet it is a heaven for the self-sacrificers, forthe beer there is incomparable; there is nothing like it elsewhere inthe world. In the first room you will find twelve or fifteen ladies andgentlemen of civilian quality; in the other one a dozen generals andambassadors. One may live in Vienna many months and not hear of thisplace; but having once heard of it and sampled it, the sampler willafterward infest it. 

However, this is all incidental--a mere passing note of gratitude forblessings received--it has nothing to do with my subject. My subjectis health resorts. All unhealthy people ought to domicile themselves inVienna, and use that as a base, making flights from time to time to theoutlying resorts, according to need. A flight to Marienbad to get ridof fat; a flight to Carlsbad to get rid of rheumatism; a flight toKalteneutgeben to take the water cure and get rid of the rest of thediseases. It is all so handy. You can stand in Vienna and toss a biscuitinto Kaltenleutgeben, with a twelve-inch gun. You can run out thither atany time of the day; you go by phenomenally slow trains, and yet insideof an hour you have exchanged the glare and swelter of the city forwooded hills, and shady forest paths, and soft cool airs, and the musicof birds, and the repose and the peace of paradise. 

And there are plenty of other health resorts at your service andconvenient to get at from Vienna; charming places, all of them; Viennasits in the centre of a beautiful world of mountains with now and then alake and forests; in fact, no other city is so fortunately situated. 

There is an abundance of health resorts, as I have said. Among them thisplace--Hochberghaus. It stands solitary on the top of a densely woodedmountain, and is a building of great size. It is called the AppetiteAnstallt, and people who have lost their appetites come here to getthem restored. When I arrived I was taken by Professor Haimberger to hisconsulting-room and questioned:

'It is six o'clock. When did you eat last?'

'At noon. '

'What did you eat?'

'Next to nothing. '

'What was on the table?'

'The usual things. '

'Chops, chickens, vegetables, and so on?'

'Yes; but don't mention them--I can't bear it. '

'Are you tired of them?'

'Oh, utterly. I wish I might never hear of them again. '

'The mere sight of food offends you, does it?'

'More, it revolts me. '

The doctor considered awhile, then got out a long menu and ran his eyeslowly down it. 

'I think, ' said he, 'that what you need to eat is--but here, choose foryourself. '

I glanced at the list, and my stomach threw a hand-spring. Of allthe barbarous lay-outs that were ever contrived, this was the mostatrocious. At the top stood 'tough, underdone, overdue tripe, garnishedwith garlic;' half-way down the bill stood 'young cat; old cat;scrambled cat;' at the bottom stood 'sailor-boots, softened withtallow--served raw. ' The wide intervals of the bill were packed withdishes calculated to gag a cannibal. I said:

'Doctor, it is not fair to joke over so serious a case as mine. I camehere to get an appetite, not to throw away the remnant that's left. '

He said gravely: 'I am not joking; why should I joke?'

'But I can't eat these horrors. '

'Why not?'

He said it with a naivete that was admirable, whether it was real orassumed. 

'Why not? Because--why, doctor, for months I have seldom been able toendure anything more substantial than omelettes and custards. Theseunspeakable dishes of yours--'

'Oh, you will come to like them. They are very good. And you must eatthem. It is a rule of the place, and is strict. I cannot permit anydeparture from it. '

I said smiling: 'Well, then, doctor, you will have to permit thedeparture of the patient. I am going. '

He looked hurt, and said in a way which changed the aspect of things:

'I am sure you would not do me that injustice. I accepted you in goodfaith--you will not shame that confidence. This appetite-cure is mywhole living. If you should go forth from it with the sort of appetitewhich you now have, it could become known, and you can see, yourself, that people would say my cure failed in your case and hence can fail inother cases. You will not go; you will not do me this hurt. '

I apologised and said I would stay. 

'That is right. I was sure you would not go; it would take the food frommy family's mouths. '

'Would they mind that? Do they eat these fiendish things?'

'They? My family?' His eyes were full of gentle wonder. 'Of course not. '

'Oh, they don't! Do you?'

'Certainly not. '

'I see. It's another case of a physician who doesn't take his ownmedicine. '

'I don't need it. It is six hours since you lunched. Will you havesupper now--or later?'

'I am not hungry, but now is as good a time as any, and I would like tobe done with it and have it off my mind. It is about my usual time, and regularity is commanded by all the authorities. Yes, I will try tonibble a little now--I wish a light horsewhipping would answer instead. '

The professor handed me that odious menu. 

'Choose--or will you have it later?'

'Oh, dear me, show me to my room; I forgot your hard rule. '

'Wait just a moment before you finally decide. There is another rule. Ifyou choose now, the order will be filled at once; but if you wait, youwill have to await my pleasure. You cannot get a dish from that entirebill until I consent. '

'All right. Show me to my room, and send the cook to bed; there is notgoing to be any hurry. '

The professor took me up one flight of stairs and showed me into a mostinviting and comfortable apartment consisting of parlour, bedchamber, and bathroom. 

The front windows looked out over a far-reaching spread of green gladesand valleys, and tumbled hills clothed with forests--a noble solitudeunvexed by the fussy world. In the parlour were many shelves filled withbooks. The professor said he would now leave me to myself; and added:

'Smoke and read as much as you please, drink all the water you like. When you get hungry, ring and give your order, and I will decide whetherit shall be filled or not. Yours is a stubborn, bad case, and I thinkthe first fourteen dishes in the bill are each and all too delicate forits needs. I ask you as a favour to restrain yourself and not call forthem. '

'Restrain myself, is it? Give yourself no uneasiness. You are going tosave money by me. The idea of coaxing a sick man's appetite back withthis buzzard-fare is clear insanity. '

I said it with bitterness, for I felt outraged by this calm, cold talkover these heartless new engines of assassination. The doctor lookedgrieved, but not offended. He laid the bill of fare of the commode at mybed's head, 'so that it would be handy, ' and said:

'Yours is not the worst case I have encountered, by any means; stillit is a bad one and requires robust treatment; therefore I shall begratified if you will restrain yourself and skip down to No. 15 andbegin with that. '

Then he left me and I began to undress, for I was dog-tired and verysleepy. I slept fifteen hours and woke up finely refreshed at ten thenext morning. Vienna coffee! It was the first thing I thought of--thatunapproachable luxury--that sumptuous coffee-house coffee, compared withwhich all other European coffee and all American hotel coffee is merefluid poverty. I rang, and ordered it; also Vienna bread, that deliciousinvention. The servant spoke through the wicket in the door andsaid--but you know what he said. He referred me to the bill of fare. Iallowed him to go--I had no further use for him. 

After the bath I dressed and started for a walk, and got as far as thedoor. It was locked on the outside. I rang, and the servant came andexplained that it was another rule. The seclusion of the patient wasrequired until after the first meal. I had not been particularly anxiousto get out before; but it was different now. Being locked in makes aperson wishful to get out. I soon began to find it difficult to put inthe time. At two o'clock I had been twenty-six hours without food. Ihad been growing hungry for some time; I recognised that I was not onlyhungry now, but hungry with a strong adjective in front of it. Yet I wasnot hungry enough to face the bill of fare. 

I must put in the time somehow. I would read and smoke. I did it; hourby hour. The books were all of one breed--shipwrecks; people lost indeserts; people shut up in caved-in mines; people starving in besiegedcities. I read about all the revolting dishes that ever famishingmen had stayed their hunger with. During the first hours these thingsnauseated me: hours followed in which they did not so affect me; stillother hours followed in which I found myself smacking my lips over sometolerably infernal messes. When I had been without food forty-five hoursI ran eagerly to the bell and ordered the second dish in the bill, whichwas a sort of dumplings containing a compost made of caviar and tar. 

It was refused me. During the next fifteen hours I visited the bellevery now and then and ordered a dish that was further down the list. Always a refusal. But I was conquering prejudice after prejudice, rightalong; I was making sure progress; I was creeping up on No. 15 withdeadly certainty, and my heart beat faster and faster, my hopes rosehigher and higher. 

At last when food had not passed my lips for sixty hours, victory wasmine, and I ordered No. 15:

'Soft-boiled spring chicken--in the egg; six dozen, hot and fragrant!'

In fifteen minutes it was there; and the doctor along with it, rubbinghis hands with joy. He said with great excitement:

'It's a cure, it's a cure! I knew I could do it. Dear sir, my grandsystem never failed--never. You've got your appetite back--you know youhave; say it and make me happy. '

'Bring on your carrion--I can eat anything in the bill!'

'Oh, this is noble, this is splendid--but I knew I could do it, thesystem never fails. How are the birds?'

'Never was anything so delicious in the world; and yet as a rule I don'tcare for game. But don't interrupt me, don't--I can't spare my mouth, Ireally can't. '

Then the doctor said:

'The cure is perfect. There is no more doubt nor danger. Let the poultryalone; I can trust you with a beefsteak, now. '

The beefsteak came--as much as a basketful of it--with potatoes, andVienna bread and coffee; and I ate a meal then that was worth all thecostly preparation I had made for it. And dripped tears of gratitudeinto the gravy all the time--gratitude to the doctor for putting alittle plain common-sense into me when I had been empty of it so many, many years. 

II

Thirty years ago Haimberger went off on a long voyage in a sailing-ship. There were fifteen passengers on board. The table-fare was of theregulation pattern of the day: At 7 in the morning, a cup of bad coffeein bed; at 9, breakfast: bad coffee, with condensed milk; soggy rolls, crackers, salt fish; at 1 P. M. , luncheon: cold tongue, cold ham, coldcorned beef, soggy cold rolls, crackers; 5 P. M. , dinner: thick peasoup, salt fish, hot corned beef and sour kraut, boiled pork and beans, pudding; 9 till 11 P. M. , supper: tea, with condensed milk, cold tongue, cold ham, pickles, sea-biscuit, pickled oysters, pickled pigs' feet, grilled bones, golden buck. 

At the end of the first week eating had ceased, nibbling had taken itsplace. The passengers came to the table, but it was partly to put inthe time, and partly because the wisdom of the ages commanded them tobe regular in their meals. They were tired of the coarse and monotonousfare, and took no interest in it, had no appetite for it. All day andevery day they roamed the ship half hungry, plagued by their gnawingstomachs, moody, untalkative, miserable. Among them were three confirmeddyspeptics. These became shadows in the course of three weeks. There wasalso a bed-ridden invalid; he lived on boiled rice; he could not look atthe regular dishes. 

Now came shipwrecks and life in open boats, with the usual paucity offood. Provisions ran lower and lower. The appetites improved, then. When nothing was left but raw ham and the ration of that was down totwo ounces a day per person, the appetites were perfect. At the end offifteen days the dyspeptics, the invalid, and the most delicate ladiesin the party were chewing sailor-boots in ecstasy, and only complainingbecause the supply of them was limited. Yet these were the same peoplewho couldn't endure the ship's tedious corned beef and sour kraut andother crudities. They were rescued by an English vessel. Within ten daysthe whole fifteen were in as good condition as they had been when theshipwreck occurred. 

'They had suffered no damage by their adventure, ' said the professor. 

'Do you note that?'

'Yes. '

'Do you note it well?'

'Yes--I think I do. '

'But you don't. You hesitate. You don't rise to the importance of it. Iwill say it again--with emphasis--not one of them suffered any damage. '

'Now I begin to see. Yes, it was indeed remarkable. '

'Nothing of the kind. It was perfectly natural. There was no reason whythey should suffer damage. They were undergoing Nature's Appetite-Cure, the best and wisest in the world. '

'Is that where you got your idea?'

'That is where I got it. '

'It taught those people a valuable lesson. '

'What makes you think that?'

'Why shouldn't I? You seem to think it taught you one. '

'That is nothing to the point. I am not a fool. '

'I see. Were they fools?'

'They were human beings. '

'Is it the same thing?'

'Why do you ask? You know it yourself. As regards his health--and therest of the things--the average man is what his environment and hissuperstitions have made him; and their function is to make him an ass. He can't add up three or four new circumstances together and perceivewhat they mean; it is beyond him. He is not capable of observing forhimself; he has to get everything at second-hand. If what are miscalledthe lower animals were as silly as man is, they would all perish fromthe earth in a year. '

'Those passengers learned no lesson, then?'

'Not a sign of it. They went to their regular meals in the Englishship, and pretty soon they were nibbling again--nibbling, appetiteless, disgusted with the food, moody, miserable, half hungry, their outragedstomachs cursing and swearing and whining and supplicating all day long. And in vain, for they were the stomachs of fools. '

'Then, as I understand it, your scheme is--'

'Quite simple. Don't eat until you are hungry. If the food fails totaste good, fails to satisfy you, rejoice you, comfort you, don't eatagain until you are very hungry. Then it will rejoice you--and do yougood, too. '

'And I am to observe no regularity, as to hours?'

'When you are conquering a bad appetite--no. After it is conquered, regularity is no harm, so long as the appetite remains good. As soon asthe appetite wavers, apply the corrective again--which is starvation, long or short according to the needs of the case. '

'The best diet, I suppose--I mean the wholesomest--'

'All diets are wholesome. Some are wholesomer than others, but all theordinary diets are wholesome enough for the people who use them. Whetherthe food be fine or coarse it will taste good and it will nourish if awatch be kept upon the appetite and a little starvation introduced everytime it weakens. Nansen was used to fine fare, but when his meals wererestricted to bear-meat months at a time he suffered no damage and nodiscomfort, because his appetite was kept at par through the difficultyof getting his bear-meat regularly. '

'But doctors arrange carefully considered and delicate diets forinvalids. '

'They can't help it. The invalid is full of inherited superstitions andwon't starve himself. He believes it would certainly kill him. '

'It would weaken him, wouldn't it?'

'Nothing to hurt. Look at the invalids in our shipwreck. They livedfifteen days on pinches of raw ham, a suck at sailor-boots, and generalstarvation. It weakened them, but it didn't hurt them. It put them infine shape to eat heartily of hearty food and build themselves up to acondition of robust health. But they did not know enough to profit bythat; they lost their opportunity; they remained invalids; it servedthem right. Do you know the trick that the health-resort doctors play?'

'What is it?'

'My system disguised--covert starvation. Grape-cure, bath-cure, mud-cure--it is all the same. The grape and the bath and the mud makea show and do a trifle of the work--the real work is done by thesurreptitious starvation. The patient accustomed to four meals and latehours--at both ends of the day--now consider what he has to do at ahealth resort. He gets up at 6 in the morning. Eats one egg. Tramps upand down a promenade two hours with the other fools. Eats a butterfly. Slowly drinks a glass of filtered sewage that smells like a buzzard'sbreath. Promenades another two hours, but alone; if you speak to himhe says anxiously, "My water!--I am walking off my water!--please don'tinterrupt, " and goes stumping along again. Eats a candied roseleaf. Liesat rest in the silence and solitude of his room for hours; mustn't read, mustn't smoke. The doctor comes and feels of his heart, now, and hispulse, and thumps his breast and his back and his stomach, and listensfor results through a penny flageolet; then orders the man's bath--halfa degree, Reaumur, cooler than yesterday. After the bath another egg. A glass of sewage at three or four in the afternoon, and promenadesolemnly with the other freaks. Dinner at 6--half a doughnut and a cupof tea. Walk again. Half-past 8, supper--more butterfly; at 9, to bed. Six weeks of this regime--think of it. It starves a man out and putshim in splendid condition. It would have the same effect in London, NewYork, Jericho--anywhere. '

'How long does it take to put a person in condition here?'

'It ought to take but a day or two; but in fact it takes from one to sixweeks, according to the character and mentality of the patient. '

'How is that?'

'Do you see that crowd of women playing football, and boxing, andjumping fences yonder? They have been here six or seven weeks. They werespectral poor weaklings when they came. They were accustomed to nibblingat dainties and delicacies at set hours four times a day, and they hadno appetite for anything. I questioned them, and then locked them intotheir rooms--the frailest ones to starve nine or ten hours, the otherstwelve or fifteen. Before long they began to beg; and indeed theysuffered a good deal. They complained of nausea, headache, and so on. Itwas good to see them eat when the time was up. They could not rememberwhen the devouring of a meal had afforded them such rapture--that wastheir word. Now, then, that ought to have ended their cure, but itdidn't. They were free to go to any meals in the house, and they chosetheir accustomed four. Within a day or two I had to interfere. Theirappetites were weakening. I made them knock out a meal. That set them upagain. Then they resumed the four. I begged them to learn to knock outa meal themselves, without waiting for me. Up to a fortnight ago theycouldn't; they really hadn't manhood enough; but they were gaining it, and now I think they are safe. They drop out a meal every now and thenof their own accord. They are in fine condition now, and they mightsafely go home, I think, but their confidence is not quite perfect yet, so they are waiting awhile. '

'Other cases are different?'

'Oh yes. Sometimes a man learns the whole trick in a week. Learns toregulate his appetite and keep it in perfect order. Learns to drop out ameal with frequency and not mind it. '

'But why drop the entire meal out? Why not a part of it?'

'It's a poor device, and inadequate. If the stomach doesn't callvigorously--with a shout, as you may say--it is better not to pesterit but just give it a real rest. Some people can eat more meals thanothers, and still thrive. There are all sorts of people, and all sortsof appetites. I will show you a man presently who was accustomed tonibble at eight meals a day. It was beyond the proper gait of hisappetite by two. I have got him down to six a day, now, and he is allright, and enjoys life. How many meals to you affect per day?'

'Formerly--for twenty-two years--a meal and a half; during the past twoyears, two and a half: coffee and a roll at 9, luncheon at 1, dinner at7. 30 or 8. '

'Formerly a meal and a half--that is, coffee and a roll at 9, dinner inthe evening, nothing between--is that it?

'Yes. '

'Why did you add a meal?'

'It was the family's idea. They were uneasy. They thought I was killingmyself. '

'You found a meal and a half per day enough, all through the twenty-twoyears?'

'Plenty. '

'Your present poor condition is due to the extra meal. Drop it out. Youare trying to eat oftener than your stomach demands. You don't gain, youlose. You eat less food now, in a day, on two and a half meals, than youformerly ate on one and a half. '

'True--a good deal less; for in those olds days my dinner was a verysizeable thing. '

'Put yourself on a single meal a day, now--dinner--for a few days, tillyou secure a good, sound, regular, trustworthy appetite, then take toyour one and a half permanently, and don't listen to the family anymore. When you have any ordinary ailment, particularly of a feverishsort, eat nothing at all during twenty-four hours. That will cure it. Itwill cure the stubbornest cold in the head, too. No cold in the head cansurvive twenty-four hours' unmodified starvation. '

I know it. I have proved it many a time. 

CONCERNING THE JEWS

Some months ago I published a magazine article(1) descriptive of aremarkable scene in the Imperial Parliament in Vienna. Since then Ihave received from Jews in America several letters of inquiry. They weredifficult letters to answer, for they were not very definite. But atlast I have received a definite one. It is from a lawyer, and he reallyasks the questions which the other writers probably believed they wereasking. By help of this text I will do the best I can to publicly answerthis correspondent, and also the others--at the same time apologisingfor having failed to reply privately. The lawyer's letter reads asfollows:

 'I have read "Stirring Times in Austria. " One point in particular is of vital import to not a few thousand people, including myself, being a point about which I have often wanted to address a question to some disinterested person. The show of military force in the Austrian Parliament, which precipitated the riots, was not introduced by any Jew. No Jew was a member of that body. No Jewish question was involved in the Ausgleich or in the language proposition. No Jew was insulting anybody. In short, no Jew was doing any mischief toward anybody whatsoever. In fact, the Jews were the only ones of the nineteen different races in Austria which did not have a party--they are absolute non-participants. Yet in your article you say that in the rioting which followed, all classes of people were unanimous only on one thing, viz. , in being against the Jews. Now, will you kindly tell me why, in your judgment, the Jews have thus ever been, and are even now, in these days of supposed intelligence, the butt of baseless, vicious animosities? I dare say that for centuries there has been no more quiet, undisturbing, and well-behaving citizen, as a class, than that same Jew. It seems to me that ignorance and fanaticism cannot alone account for these horrible and unjust persecutions. 

 'Tell me, therefore, from your vantage point of cold view, what in your mind is the cause. Can American Jews do anything to correct it either in America or abroad? Will it ever come to an end? Will a Jew be permitted to live honestly, decently, and peaceably like the rest of mankind? What has become of the Golden Rule?'

I will begin by saying that if I thought myself prejudiced against theJew, I should hold it fairest to leave this subject to a person notcrippled in that way. But I think I have no such prejudice. A few yearsago a Jew observed to me that there was no uncourteous reference to hispeople in my books, and asked how it happened. It happened because thedisposition was lacking. I am quite sure that (bar one) I have no raceprejudices, and I think I have no colour prejudices nor caste prejudicesnor creed prejudices. Indeed, I know it. I can stand any society. Allthat I care to know is that a man is a human being--that is enough forme; he can't be any worse. I have no special regard for Satan; but I canat least claim that I have no prejudice against him. It may even be thatI lean a little his way, on account of his not having a fair show. Allreligions issue Bibles against him, and say the most injurious thingsabout him, but we never hear his side. We have none but the evidence forthe prosecution, and yet we have rendered the verdict. To my mind, thisis irregular. It is un-English; it is un-American; it is French. Withoutthis precedent Dreyfus could not have been condemned. Of course Satanhas some kind of a case, it goes without saying. It may be a poor one, but that is nothing; that can be said about any of us. As soon as I canget at the facts I will undertake his rehabilitation myself, if I canfind an unpolitic publisher. It is a thing which we ought to be willingto do for any one who is under a cloud. We may not pay Satan reverence, for that would be indiscreet, but we can at least respect his talents. A person who has during all time maintained the imposing position ofspiritual head of four-fifths of the human race, and political head ofthe whole of it, must be granted the possession of executive abilitiesof the loftiest order. In his large presence the other popes andpoliticians shrink to midges for the microscope. I would like to seehim. I would rather see him and shake him by the tail than any othermember of the European Concert. In the present paper I shall allowmyself to use the word Jew as if it stood for both religion and race. It is handy; and, besides, that is what the term means to the generalworld. 

In the above letter one notes these points:

1. The Jew is a well-behaved citizen. 

2. Can ignorance and fanaticism alone account for his unjust treatment?

3. Can Jews do anything to improve the situation?

4. The Jews have no party; they are non-participants. 

5. Will the persecution ever come to an end?

6. What has become of the Golden Rule?

Point No. 1. --We must grant proposition No. 1, for several sufficientreasons. The Jew is not a disturber of the peace of any country. Evenhis enemies will concede that. He is not a loafer, he is not a sot, heis not noisy, he is not a brawler nor a rioter, he is not quarrelsome. In the statistics of crime his presence is conspicuously rare--in allcountries. With murder and other crimes of violence he has but littleto do: he is a stranger to the hangman. In the police court's daily longroll of 'assaults' and 'drunk and disorderlies' his name seldom appears. That the Jewish home is a home in the truest sense is a fact whichno one will dispute. The family is knitted together by the strongestaffections; its members show each other every due respect; and reverencefor the elders is an inviolate law of the house. The Jew is not a burdenon the charities of the state nor of the city; these could cease fromtheir functions without affecting him. When he is well enough, he works;when he is incapacitated, his own people take care of him. And not in apoor and stingy way, but with a fine and large benevolence. His raceis entitled to be called the most benevolent of all the races of men. A Jewish beggar is not impossible, perhaps; such a thing may exist, butthere are few men that can say they have seen that spectacle. The Jewhas been staged in many uncomplimentary forms, but, so far as I know, nodramatist has done him the injustice to stage him as a beggar. Whenevera Jew has real need to beg, his people save him from the necessityof doing it. The charitable institutions of the Jews are supported byJewish money, and amply. The Jews make no noise about it; it is donequietly; they do not nag and pester and harass us for contributions;they give us peace, and set us an example--an example which he have notfound ourselves able to follow; for by nature we are not free givers, and have to be patiently and persistently hunted down in the interest ofthe unfortunate. 

These facts are all on the credit side of the proposition that the Jewis a good and orderly citizen. Summed up, they certify that he isquiet, peaceable, industrious, unaddicted to high crimes and brutaldispositions; that his family life is commendable; that he is nota burden upon public charities; that he is not a beggar; that inbenevolence he is above the reach of competition. These are the veryquintessentials of good citizenship. If you can add that he is ashonest as the average of his neighbours--But I think that question isaffirmatively answered by the fact that he is a successful business man. The basis of successful business is honesty; a business cannot thrivewhere the parties to it cannot trust each other. In the matter ofnumbers the Jew counts for little in the overwhelming population of NewYork; but that his honest counts for much is guaranteed by the fact thatthe immense wholesale business of Broadway, from the Battery to UnionSquare, is substantially in his hands. 

I suppose that the most picturesque example in history of a trader'strust in his fellow-trader was one where it was not Christian trustingChristian, but Christian trusting Jew. That Hessian Duke who used tosell his subjects to George III. To fight George Washington with gotrich at it; and by-and-by, when the wars engendered by the FrenchRevolution made his throne too warm for him, he was obliged to flythe country. He was in a hurry, and had to leave his earningsbehind--$9, 000, 000. He had to risk the money with some one withoutsecurity. He did not select a Christian, but a Jew--a Jew of only modestmeans, but of high character; a character so high that it left himlonesome--Rothschild of Frankfort. Thirty years later, when Europe hadbecome quiet and safe again, the Duke came back from overseas, and theJew returned the loan, with interest added. (2)

The Jew has his other side. He has some discreditable ways, thoughhe has not a monopoly of them, because he cannot get entirely ridof vexatious Christian competition. We have seen that he seldomtransgresses the laws against crimes of violence. Indeed, his dealingswith courts are almost restricted to matters connected with commerce. Hehas a reputation for various small forms of cheating, and for practisingoppressive usury, and for burning himself out to get the insurance, andfor arranging cunning contracts which leave him an exit but lock theother man in, and for smart evasions which find him safe and comfortablejust within the strict letter of the law, when court and jury knowvery well that he has violated the spirit of it. He is a frequent andfaithful and capable officer in the civil service, but he ischarged with an unpatriotic disinclination to stand by the flag as asoldier--like the Christian Quaker. 

Now if you offset these discreditable features by the creditable onessummarised in a preceding paragraph beginning with the words, 'Thesefacts are all on the credit side, ' and strike a balance, what must theverdict be? This, I think: that, the merits and demerits beingfairly weighed and measured on both sides, the Christian can claim nosuperiority over the Jew in the matter of good citizenship. 

Yet in all countries, from the dawn of history, the Jew has beenpersistently and implacably hated, and with frequency persecuted. 

Point No. 2. --'Can fanaticism alone account for this?'

Years ago I used to think that it was responsible for nearly all of it, but latterly I have come to think that this was an error. Indeed, it isnow my conviction that it is responsible for hardly any of it. 

In this connection I call to mind Genesis, chapter xlvii. 

We have all thoughtfully--or unthoughtfully--read the pathetic story ofthe years of plenty and the years of famine in Egypt, and how Joseph, with that opportunity, made a corner in broken hearts, and the crusts ofthe poor, and human liberty--a corner whereby he took a nation's moneyall away, to the last penny; took a nation's live stock all away, to thelast hoof; took a nation's land away, to the last acre; then took thenation itself, buying it for bread, man by man, woman by woman, childby child, till all were slaves; a corner which took everything, leftnothing; a corner so stupendous that, by comparison with it, the mostgigantic corners in subsequent history are but baby things, for it dealtin hundreds of millions of bushels, and its profits were reckonable byhundreds of millions of dollars, and it was a disaster so crushing thatits effects have not wholly disappeared from Egypt to-day, more thanthree thousand years after the event. 

Is it presumably that the eye of Egypt was upon Joseph the foreign Jewall this time? I think it likely. Was it friendly? We must doubt it. WasJoseph establishing a character for his race which would survive long inEgypt? and in time would his name come to be familiarly used to expressthat character--like Shylock's? It is hardly to be doubted. Let usremember that this was centuries before the Crucifixion?

I wish to come down eighteen hundred years later and refer to a remarkmade by one of the Latin historians. I read it in a translation manyyears ago, and it comes back to me now with force. It was alluding toa time when people were still living who could have seen the Saviour inthe flesh. Christianity was so new that the people of Rome had hardlyheard of it, and had but confused notions of what it was. The substanceof the remark was this: Some Christians were persecuted in Rome througherror, they being 'mistaken for Jews. '

The meaning seems plain. These pagans had nothing against Christians, but they were quite ready to persecute Jews. For some reason or otherthey hated a Jew before they even knew what a Christian was. May I notassume, then, that the persecution of Jews is a thing which antedatesChristianity and was not born of Christianity? I think so. What was theorigin of the feeling?

When I was a boy, in the back settlements of the Mississippi Valley, where a gracious and beautiful Sunday school simplicity and practicalityprevailed, the 'Yankee' (citizen of the New England States) was hatedwith a splendid energy. But religion had nothing to do with it. Ina trade, the Yankee was held to be about five times the match of theWesterner. His shrewdness, his insight, his judgment, his knowledge, hisenterprise, and his formidable cleverness in applying these forces werefrankly confessed, and most competently cursed. 

In the cotton States, after the war, the simple and ignorant Negroesmade the crops for the white planter on shares. The Jew came down inforce, set up shop on the plantation, supplied all the negro's wants oncredit, and at the end of the season was proprietor of the negro's shareof the present crop and of part of his share of the next one. Beforelong, the whites detested the Jew, and it is doubtful if the negro lovedhim. 

The Jew is begin legislated out of Russia. The reason is not concealed. The movement was instituted because the Christian peasant and villagerstood no chance against his commercial abilities. He was always readyto lend money on a crop, and sell vodka and other necessities of life oncredit while the crop was growing. When settlement day came he owned thecrop; and next year or year after he owned the farm, like Joseph. 

In the dull and ignorant English of John's time everybody got into debtto the Jew. He gathered all lucrative enterprises into his hands; he wasthe king of commerce; he was ready to be helpful in all profitable ways;he even financed crusades for the rescue of the Sepulchre. To wipe outhis account with the nation and restore business to its natural andincompetent channels he had to be banished the realm. 

For the like reasons Spain had to banish him four hundred years ago, andAustria about a couple of centuries later. 

In all the ages Christian Europe has been oblige to curtail hisactivities. If he entered upon a mechanical trade, the Christian had toretire from it. If he set up as a doctor, he was the best one, and hetook the business. If he exploited agriculture, the other farmers hadto get at something else. Since there was no way to successfully competewith him in any vocation, the law had to step in and save the Christianfrom the poor-house. Trade after trade was taken away from the Jew bystatute till practically none was left. He was forbidden to engagein agriculture; he was forbidden to practise law; he was forbidden topractise medicine, except among Jews; he was forbidden the handicrafts. Even the seats of learning and the schools of science had to be closedagainst this tremendous antagonist. Still, almost bereft of employments, he found ways to make money, even ways to get rich. Also ways to investhis takings well, for usury was not denied him. In the hard conditionssuggested, the Jew without brains could not survive, and the Jew withbrains had to keep them in good training and well sharpened up, orstarve. Ages of restriction to the one tool which the law was not ableto take from him--his brain--have made that tool singularly competent;ages of compulsory disuse of his hands have atrophied them, and he neveruses them now. This history has a very, very commercial look, a mostsordid and practical commercial look, the business aspect of a Chinesecheap-labour crusade. Religious prejudices may account for one part ofit, but not for the other nine. 

Protestants have persecuted Catholics, but they did not take theirlivelihoods away from them. The Catholics have persecuted theProtestants with bloody and awful bitterness, but they never closedagriculture and the handicrafts against them. Why was that? That has thecandid look of genuine religious persecution, not a trade-union boycottin a religious dispute. 

The Jews are harried and obstructed in Austria and Germany, and latelyin France; but England and America give them an open field and yetsurvive. Scotland offers them an unembarrassed field too, but there arenot many takers. There are a few Jews in Glasgow, and one in Aberdeen;but that is because they can't earn enough to get away. The Scotch paythemselves that compliment, but it is authentic. 

I feel convinced that the Crucifixion has not much to do with theworld's attitude toward the Jew; that the reasons for it are older thanthat event, as suggested by Egypt's experience and by Rome's regretfor having persecuted an unknown quantity called a Christian, underthe mistaken impression that she was merely persecuting a Jew. Merely aJew--a skinned eel who was used to it, presumably. I am persuaded thatin Russia, Austria, and Germany nine-tenths of the hostility to the Jewcomes from the average Christian's inability to compete successfullywith the average Jew in business--in either straight business or thequestionable sort. 

In Berlin, a few years ago, I read a speech which frankly urged theexpulsion of the Jews from Germany; and the agitator's reason was asfrank as his proposition. It was this: that eighty-five percent ofthe successful lawyers of Berlin were Jews, and that about the samepercentage of the great and lucrative businesses of all sorts in Germanywere in the hands of the Jewish race! Isn't it an amazing confession?It was but another way of saying that in a population of 48, 000, 000, ofwhom only 500, 000 were registered as Jews, eighty-five per cent of thebrains and honesty of the whole was lodged in the Jews. I must insistupon the honesty--it is an essential of successful business, taken byand large. Of course it does not rule out rascals entirely, even amongChristians, but it is a good working rule, nevertheless. The speaker'sfigures may have been inexact, but the motive of persecution stands outas clear as day. 

The man claimed that in Berlin the banks, the newspapers, the theatres, the great mercantile, shipping, mining, and manufacturing interests, the big army and city contracts, the tramways, and pretty much all otherproperties of high value, and also the small businesses, were in thehands of the Jews. He said the Jew was pushing the Christian to thewall all along the line; that it was all a Christian could do to scrapetogether a living; and that the Jew must be banished, and soon--therewas no other way of saving the Christian. Here in Vienna, last autumn, an agitator said that all these disastrous details were true ofAustria-Hungary also; and in fierce language he demanded the expulsionof the Jews. When politicians come out without a blush and read the babyact in this frank way, unrebuked, it is a very good indication that theyhave a market back of them, and know where to fish for votes. 

You note the crucial point of the mentioned agitation; the argument isthat the Christian cannot compete with the Jew, and that hence his verybread is in peril. To human beings this is a much more hate-inspiringthing than is any detail connected with religion. With most people, ofa necessity, bread and meat take first rank, religion second. I amconvinced that the persecution of the Jew is not due in any large degreeto religious prejudice. 

No, the Jew is a money-getter; and in getting his money he is a veryserious obstruction to less capable neighbours who are on the samequest. I think that that is the trouble. In estimating worldly valuesthe Jew is not shallow, but deep. With precocious wisdom he found outin the morning of time that some men worship rank, some worship heroes, some worship power, some worship God, and that over these ideals theydispute and cannot unite--but that they all worship money; so he made itthe end and aim of his life to get it. He was at it in Egypt thirty-sixcenturies ago; he was at it in Rome when that Christian got persecutedby mistake for him; he has been at it ever since. The cost to him hasbeen heavy; his success has made the whole human race his enemy--but ithas paid, for it has brought him envy, and that is the only thing whichmen will sell both soul and body to get. He long ago observed thata millionaire commands respect, a two-millionaire homage, amulti-millionaire the deepest deeps of adoration. We all know thatfeeling; we have seen it express itself. We have noticed that when theaverage man mentions the name of a multi-millionaire he does it withthat mixture in his voice of awe and reverence and lust which burns in aFrenchman's eye when it falls on another man's centime. 

Point No. 4--'The Jews have no party; they are non-participants. '

Perhaps you have let the secret out and given yourself away. It seemshardly a credit to the race that it is able to say that; or to you, sir, that you can say it without remorse; more, that you should offer it as aplea against maltreatment, injustice, and oppression. Who gives the Jewthe right, who gives any race the right, to sit still in a free country, and let somebody else look after its safety? The oppressed Jew wasentitled to all pity in the former times under brutal autocracies, forhe was weak and friendless, and had no way to help his case. But he hasways now, and he has had them for a century, but I do not see that hehas tried to make serious use of then. When the Revolution set him freein France it was an act of grace--the grace of other people; he does notappear in it as a helper. I do not know that he helped when England sethim free. Among the Twelve Sane Men of France who have stepped forwardwith great Zola at their head to fight (and win, I hope and believe(3))the battle for the most infamously misused Jew of modern times, do youfind a great or rich or illustrious Jew helping? In the United States hewas created free in the beginning--he did not need to help, ofcourse. In Austria and Germany and France he has a vote, but of whatconsiderable use is it to him? He doesn't seem to know how to apply itto the best effect. With all his splendid capacities and all hisfat wealth he is to-day not politically important in any country. InAmerica, as early as 1854, the ignorant Irish hod-carrier, who hada spirit of his own and a way of exposing it to the weather, made itapparent to all that he must be politically reckoned with; yet fifteenyears before that we hardly knew what an Irishman looked like. As anintelligent force and numerically, he has always been away down, but hehas governed the country just the same. It was because he was organised. It made his vote valuable--in fact, essential. 

You will say the Jew is everywhere numerically feeble. That is nothingto the point--with the Irishman's history for an object-lesson. But Iam coming to your numerical feebleness presently. In all parliamentarycountries you could no doubt elect Jews to the legislatures--and evenone member in such a body is sometimes a force which counts. Howdeeply have you concerned yourselves about this in Austria, France, andGermany? Or even in America, for that matter? You remark that the Jewswere not to blame for the riots in this Reichsrath here, and you addwith satisfaction that there wasn't one in that body. That is notstrictly correct; if it were, would it not be in order for you toexplain it and apologise for it, not try to make a merit of it? But Ithink that the Jew was by no means in as large force there as he oughtto have been, with his chances. Austria opens the suffrage to him onfairly liberal terms, and it must surely be his own fault that he is somuch in the background politically. 

As to your numerical weakness. I mentioned some figures awhileago--500, 00--as the Jewish population of Germany. I will add somemore--6, 000, 000 in Russia, 5, 000, 000 in Austria, 250, 000 in the UnitedStates. I take them from memory; I read them in the 'EncyclopaediaBrittannica' ten or twelve years ago. Still, I am entirely sure of them. If those statistics are correct, my argument is not as strong as itought to be as concerns America, but it still has strength. It is plentystrong enough as concerns Austria, for ten years ago 5, 000, 000 was nineper cent of the empire's population. The Irish would govern the Kingdomof Heaven if they had a strength there like that. 

I have some suspicions; I got them at second-hand, but they haveremained with me these ten or twelve years. When I read in the 'E. B. 'that the Jewish population of the United States was 250, 000 I wrote theeditor, and explained to him that I was personally acquainted with moreJews than that in my country, and that his figures were without a doubta misprint for 25, 000, 000. I also added that I was personally acquaintedwith that many there; but that was only to raise his confidence in me, for it was not true. His answer miscarried, and I never got it; but Iwent around talking about the matter, and people told me they had reasonto suspect that for business reasons many Jews whose dealings weremainly with the Christians did not report themselves as Jews in thecensus. It looked plausible; it looks plausible yet. Look at the cityof New York; and look at Boston, and Philadelphia, and New Orleans, and Chicago, and Cincinnati, and San Francisco--how your race swarms inthose places!--and everywhere else in America, down to the least littlevillage. Read the signs on the marts of commerce and on the shops;Goldstein (gold stone), Edelstein (precious stone), Blumenthal(flower-vale), Rosenthal (rose-vale), Veilchenduft (violent odour), Singvogel (song-bird), Rosenzweig (rose branch), and all the amazinglist of beautiful and enviable names which Prussia and Austria glorifiedyou with so long ago. It is another instance of Europe's coarse andcruel persecution of your race; not that it was coarse and cruel tooutfit it with pretty and poetical names like those, but it was coarseand cruel to make it pay for them or else take such hideous and oftenindecent names that to-day their owners never use them; or, if they do, only on official papers. And it was the many, not the few, who got theodious names, they being too poor to bribe the officials to grant thembetter ones. 

Now why was the race renamed? I have been told that in Prussia it wasgiven to using fictitious names, and often changing them, so as to beatthe tax-gatherer, escape military service, and so on; and that finallythe idea was hit upon of furnishing all the inmates of a house with oneand the same surname, and then holding the house responsible right alongfor those inmates, and accountable for any disappearances that mightoccur; it made the Jews keep track of each other, for self-interest'ssake, and saved the Government the trouble(4). 

If that explanation of how the Jews of Prussia came to be renamed iscorrect, if it is true that they fictitiously registered themselves togain certain advantages, it may possible be true that in America theyrefrain from registered themselves as Jews to fend off the damagingprejudices of the Christian customer. I have no way of knowing whetherthis notion is well founded or not. There may be other and better waysof explaining why only that poor little 250, 000 of our Jews got into the'Encyclopaedia'. I may, of course, be mistaken, but I am strongly of theopinion that we have an immense Jewish population in America. 

Point No. 3--'Can Jews do anything to improve the situation?'

I think so. If I may make a suggestion without seeming to be trying toteach my grandmother to suck eggs, I will offer it. In our days we havelearned the value of combination. We apply it everywhere--in railwaysystems, in trusts, in trade unions, in Salvation Armies, in minorpolitics, in major politics, in European Concerts. Whatever our strengthmay be, big or little, we organise it. We have found out that thatis the only way to get the most out of it that is in it. We know theweakness of individual sticks, and the strength of the concentratedfaggot. Suppose you try a scheme like this, for instance. In England andAmerica put every Jew on the census-book as a Jew (in case you have notbeen doing that). Get up volunteer regiments composed of Jews solely, and when the drum beats, fall in and go to the front, so as to removethe reproach that you have few Massenas among you, and that you feed ona country but don't like to fight for it. Next, in politics, organiseyour strength, band together, and deliver the casting-vote where youcan, and, where you can't, compel as good terms as possible. You huddleto yourselves already in all countries, but you huddle to no sufficientpurpose, politically speaking. You do not seem to be organised, exceptfor your charities. There you are omnipotent; there you compel your dueof recognition--you do not have to beg for it. It shows what you can dowhen you band together for a definite purpose. 

And then from America and England you can encourage your race inAustria, France, and Germany, and materially help it. It was a pathetictale that was told by a poor Jew a fortnight ago during the riots, after he had been raided by the Christian peasantry and despoiled ofeverything he had. He said his vote was of no value to him, and hewished he could be excused from casting it, for indeed, casting it was asure damage to him, since, no matter which party he voted for, the otherparty would come straight and take its revenge out of him. Nine per centof the population, these Jews, and apparently they cannot put a plankinto any candidate's platform! If you will send our Irish lads overhere I think they will organise your race and change the aspect of theReichsrath. 

You seem to think that the Jews take no hand in politics here, thatthey are 'absolutely non-participants. ' I am assured by men competentto speak that this is a very large error, that the Jews are exceedinglyactive in politics all over the empire, but that they scatter their workand their votes among the numerous parties, and thus lose the advantagesto be had by concentration. I think that in America they scatter too, but you know more about that than I do. 

Speaking of concentration, Dr. Herzl has a clear insight into the valueof that. Have you heard of his plan? He wishes to gather the Jews of theworld together in Palestine, with a government of their own--under thesuzerainty of the Sultan, I suppose. At the Convention of Berne, last year, there were delegates from everywhere, and the proposalwas received with decided favour. I am not the Sultan, and I am notobjecting; but if that concentration of the cunningest brains in theworld were going to be made in a free country (bar Scotland), I think itwould be politic to stop it. It will not be well to let that race findout its strength. If the horses knew theirs, we should not ride anymore. 

Point No. 5. --'Will the persecution of the Jews ever come to an end?'

On the score of religion, I think it has already come to an end. Onthe score of race prejudice and trade, I have the idea that it willcontinue. That is, here and there in spots about the world, where abarbarous ignorance and a sort of mere animal civilisation prevail;but I do not think that elsewhere the Jew need now stand in any fearof being robbed and raided. Among the high civilisations he seems tobe very comfortably situated indeed, and to have more than hisproportionate share of the prosperities going. It has that look inVienna. I suppose the race prejudice cannot be removed; but he canstand that; it is no particular matter. By his make and ways he issubstantially a foreigner wherever he may be, and even the angelsdislike a foreigner. I am using this world foreigner in the Germansense--stranger. Nearly all of us have an antipathy to a stranger, evenof our own nationality. We pile grip-sacks in a vacant seat to keephim from getting it; and a dog goes further, and does as a savagewould--challenges him on the spot. The German dictionary seems tomake no distinction between a stranger and a foreigner; in its view astranger is a foreigner--a sound position, I think. You willalways be by ways and habits and predilections substantiallystrangers--foreigners--wherever you are, and that will probably keep therace prejudice against you alive. 

But you were the favourites of Heaven originally, and your manifold andunfair prosperities convince me that you have crowded back into thatsnug place again. Here is an incident that is significant. Last weekin Vienna a hailstorm struck the prodigious Central Cemetery and madewasteful destruction there. In the Christian part of it, accordingto the official figures, 621 window-panes were broken; more than 900singing-birds were killed; five great trees and many small ones weretorn to shreds and the shreds scattered far and wide by the wind; theornamental plants and other decorations of the graces were ruined, andmore than a hundred tomb-lanterns shattered; and it took the cemetery'swhole force of 300 labourers more than three days to clear away thestorm's wreckage. In the report occurs this remark--and in itsitalics you can hear it grit its Christian teeth: '... Lediglich dieisraelitische Abtheilung des Friedhofes vom Hagelwetter ganzlichverschont worden war. ' Not a hailstone hit the Jewish reservation! Suchnepotism makes me tired. 

Point No. 6. --'What has become of the Golden Rule?'

It exists, it continues to sparkle, and is well taken care of. It isExhibit A in the Church's assets, and we pull it out every Sunday andgive it an airing. But you are not permitted to try to smuggle it intothis discussion, where it is irrelevant and would not feel at home. It is strictly religious furniture, like an acolyte, or acontribution-plate, or any of those things. It has never intruded intobusiness; and Jewish persecution is not a religious passion, it is abusiness passion. 

To conclude. --If the statistics are right, the Jews constitute but oneper cent of the human race. It suggests a nebulous dim puff of star-dustlost in the blaze of the Milky Way. Properly the Jew ought hardly tobe heard of; but he is heard of, has always been heard of. He isas prominent on the planet as any other people, and his commercialimportance is extravagantly out of proportion to the smallness ofhis bulk. His contributions to the world's list of great names inliterature, science, art, music, finance, medicine, and abstruselearning are also away out of proportion to the weakness of his numbers. He has made a marvellous fight in this world, in all the ages; and hasdone it with his hands tied behind him. He could be vain of himself, andbe excused for it. The Egyptian, the Babylonian, and the Persian rose, filled the planet with sound and splendour, then faded to dream-stuffand passed away; the Greek and the Roman followed, and made a vastnoise, and they are gone; other peoples have sprung up and held theirtorch high for a time, but it burned out, and they sit in twilight now, or have vanished. The Jew saw them all, beat them all, and is nowwhat he always was, exhibiting no decadence, no infirmities of age, noweakening of his parts, no slowing of his energies, no dulling of hisalert and aggressive mind. All things are mortal to the Jew; all otherforces pass, but he remains. What is the secret of his immortality?

Postscript--THE JEW AS SOLDIER

When I published the above article in 'Harper's Monthly, ' I wasignorant--like the rest of the Christian world--of the fact that the Jewhad a record as a soldier. I have since seen the official statistics, and I find that he furnished soldiers and high officers to theRevolution, the War of 1812, and the Mexican War. In the Civil War hewas represented in the armies and navies of both the North and the Southby 10 per cent of his numerical strength--the same percentage that wasfurnished by the Christian populations of the two sections. This largefact means more than it seems to mean; for it means that the Jew'spatriotism was not merely level with the Christian's, but overpassedit. When the Christian volunteer arrived in camp he got a welcome andapplause, but as a rule the Jew got a snub. His company was not desired, and he was made to feel it. That he nevertheless conquered his woundedpride and sacrificed both that and his blood for his flag raises theaverage and quality of his patriotism above the Christian's. His recordfor capacity, for fidelity, and for gallant soldiership in the field isas good as any one's. This is true of the Jewish private soldiers and ofthe Jewish generals alike. Major-General O. O. Howard speaks of oneof his Jewish staff officers as being 'of the bravest and best;' ofanother--killed at Chancellorsville--as being 'a true friend and abrave officer;' he highly praises two of his Jewish brigadier-generals;finally, he uses these strong words: 'Intrinsically there are no morepatriotic men to be found in the country than those who claim to beof Hebrew descent, and who served with me in parallel commands or moredirectly under my instructions. '

Fourteen Jewish Confederate and Union families contributed, betweenthem, fifty-one soldiers to the war. Among these, a father and threesons; and another, a father and four sons. 

In the above article I was neither able to endorse nor repel the commonapproach that the Jew is willing to feed upon a country but not to fightfor it, because I did not know whether it was true or false. I supposedit to be true, but it is not allowable to endorse wandering maxims uponsupposition--except when one is trying to make out a case. That slurupon the Jew cannot hold up its head in presence of the figures of theWar Department. It has done its work, and done it long and faithfully, and with high approval: it ought to be pensioned off now, and retiredfrom active service. 

(1) See 'Stirring Times in Austria, ' in this volume. 

(2) Here is another piece of picturesque history; and it reminds us thatshabbiness and dishonesty are not the monopoly of any race or creed, butare merely human:

'Congress has passed a bill to pay $379. 56 to Moses Pendergrass, ofLibertyville, Missouri. The story of the reason of this liberality ispathetically interesting, and shows the sort of pickle that an honestman may get into who undertakes to do an honest job of work for UncleSam. In 1886 Moses Pendergrass put in a bid for the contract to carrythe mail on the route from Knob Lick to Libertyville and Coffman, thirtymiles a day, from July 1, 1887, for one years. He got the postmaster atKnob Lick to write the letter for him, and while Moses intended thathis bid should be $400, his scribe carelessly made it $4. Moses got thecontract, and did not find out about the mistake until the end of thefirst quarter, when he got his first pay. When he found at what rate hewas working he was sorely cast down, and opened communication with thePost Office Department. The department informed his that he must eithercarry out his contract or throw it up, and that if he threw it up hisbondsman would have the pay the Government $1, 459. 85 damages. So Mosescarried out his contract, walked thirty miles every week-day for ayear, and carried the mail, and received for his labour $4, or, tobe accurate, $6. 84; for, the route being extended after his bid wasaccepted, his pay was proportionately increased. Now, after ten years, a bill was finally passed to pay to Moses the difference between what heearned in that unlucky year and what he received. '

The 'Sun, ' which tells the above story, says that bills were introducedin three or four Congresses for Moses' relief, and that committeesrepeatedly investigated his claim. 

It took six Congresses, containing in their persons the compressedvirtues of 70, 000, 000 of people, and cautiously and carefully givingexpression to those virtues in the fear of God and the next election, eleven years to find out some way to cheat a fellow Christian out ofabout $13 on his honestly executed contract, and out of nearly $300 duehim on its enlarged terms. And they succeeded. During the same timethey paid out $1, 000, 000, 000 in pensions--a third of it unearned andundeserved. This indicates a splendid all-round competency in theft, for it starts with farthings, and works its industries all the way up toship-loads. It may be possible that the Jews can beat this, but the manthat bets on it is taking chances. 

(3) The article was written in the summer of 1898. 

(4) In Austria the renaming was merely done because the Jews in somenewly-acquired regions had no surnames, but were mostly named Abrahamand Moses, and therefore the tax-gatherer could tell t'other from which, and was likely to lose his reason over the matter. The renaming was putinto the hands of the War Department, and a charming mess thegraceless young lieutenants made of it. To them a Jew was of no sortof consequence, and they labelled the race in a way to make the angelsweep. As an example, take these two: Abraham Bellyache and SchmulGodbedamned--Culled from 'Namens Studien, ' by Karl Emil Fransos. 

FROM THE 'LONDON TIMES' OF 1904

Correspondence of the 'London Times' Chicago, April 1, 1904. 

I resume by cable-telephone where I left off yesterday. For many hoursnow, this vast city--along with the rest of the globe, of course--hastalked of nothing but the extraordinary episode mentioned in my lastreport. In accordance with your instructions, I will now trace theromance from its beginnings down to the culmination of yesterday--ortoday; call it which you like. By an odd chance, I was a personal actorin a part of this drama myself. The opening scene plays in Vienna. Date, one o'clock in the morning, March 31, 1898. I had spent the evening ata social entertainment. About midnight I went away, in company with themilitary attaches of the British, Italian, and American embassies, tofinish with a late smoke. This function had been appointed to take placein the house of Lieutenant Hillyer, the third attache mentioned in theabove list. When we arrived there we found several visitors in the room;young Szczepanik;(1) Mr. K. , his financial backer; Mr. W. , the latter'ssecretary; and Lieutenant Clayton, of the United States Army. War wasat that time threatening between Spain and our country, and LieutenantClayton had been sent to Europe on military business. I was wellacquainted with young Szczepanik and his two friends, and I knew Mr. Clayton slightly. I had met him at West Point years before, when hewas a cadet. It was when General Merritt was superintendent. He had thereputation of being an able officer, and also of being quick-temperedand plain-spoken. 

This smoking-party had been gathered together partly for business. Thisbusiness was to consider the availability of the telelectroscope formilitary service. It sounds oddly enough now, but it is neverthelesstrue that at that time the invention was not taken seriously by any oneexcept its inventor. Even his financial support regarded it merely as acurious and interesting toy. Indeed, he was so convinced of this thathe had actually postponed its use by the general world to the end ofthe dying century by granting a two years' exclusive lease of it to asyndicate, whose intent was to exploit it at the Paris World's Fair. When we entered the smoking-room we found Lieutenant Clayton andSzczepanik engaged in a warm talk over the telelectroscope in the Germantongue. Clayton was saying:

'Well, you know my opinion of it, anyway!' and he brought his fist downwith emphasis upon the table. 

'And I do not value it, ' retorted the young inventor, with provokingcalmness of tone and manner. 

Clayton turned to Mr. K. , and said:

'I cannot see why you are wasting money on this toy. In my opinion, theday will never come when it will do a farthing's worth of real servicefor any human being. '

'That may be; yes, that may be; still, I have put the money in it, and am content. I think, myself, that it is only a toy; but Szczepanikclaims more for it, and I know him well enough to believe that he cansee father than I can--either with his telelectroscope or without it. '

The soft answer did not cool Clayton down; it seemed only to irritatehim the more; and he repeated and emphasised his conviction that theinvention would never do any man a farthing's worth of real service. He even made it a 'brass' farthing, this time. Then he laid an Englishfarthing on the table, and added:

'Take that, Mr. K. , and put it away; and if ever the telelectroscopedoes any man an actual service--mind, a real service--please mail itto me as a reminder, and I will take back what I have been saying. Willyou?'

'I will, ' and Mr. K. Put the coin in his pocket. 

Mr. Clayton now turned toward Szczepanik, and began with a taunt--ataunt which did not reach a finish; Szczepanik interrupted it with ahardy retort, and followed this with a blow. There was a brisk fight fora moment or two; then the attaches separated the men. 

The scene now changes to Chicago. Time, the autumn of 1901. As soon asthe Paris contract released the telelectroscope, it was delivered topublic use, and was soon connected with the telephonic systems of thewhole world. The improved 'limitless-distance' telephone was presentlyintroduced, and the daily doings of the globe made visible to everybody, and audibly discussible, too, by witnesses separated by any number ofleagues. 

By-and-by Szczepanik arrived in Chicago. Clayton (now captain) wasserving in that military department at the time. The two men resumed theViennese quarrel of 1898. On three different occasions they quarrelled, and were separated by witnesses. Then came an interval of two months, during which time Szczepanik was not seen by any of his friends, and itwas at first supposed that he had gone off on a sight seeing tour andwould soon be heard from. But no; no word came from him. Then it wassupposed that he had returned to Europe. Still, time drifted on, and hewas not heard from. Nobody was troubled, for he was like most inventorsand other kinds of poets, and went and came in a capricious way, andoften without notice. 

Now comes the tragedy. On December 29, in a dark and unused compartmentof the cellar under Captain Clayton's house, a corpse was discoveredby one of Clayton's maid-servants. Friends of deceased identified itas Szczepanik's. The man had died by violence. Clayton was arrested, indicted, and brought to trial, charged with this murder. The evidenceagainst him was perfect in every detail, and absolutely unassailable. Clayton admitted this himself. He said that a reasonable man could notexamine this testimony with a dispassionate mind and not be convinced byit; yet the man would be in error, nevertheless. Clayton swore that hedid not commit the murder, and that he had had nothing to do with it. 

As your readers will remember, he was condemned to death. He hadnumerous and powerful friends, and they worked hard to save him, fornone of them doubted the truth of his assertion. I did what little Icould to help, for I had long since become a close friend of his, andthought I knew that it was not in his character to inveigle an enemyinto a corner and assassinate him. During 1902 and 1903 he was severaltimes reprieved by the governor; he was reprieved once more in thebeginning of the present year, and the execution day postponed to March31. 

The governor's situation has been embarrassing, from the day of thecondemnation, because of the fact that Clayton's wife is the governor'sniece. The marriage took place in 1899, when Clayton was thirty-four andthe girl twenty-three, and has been a happy one. There is one child, alittle girl three years old. Pity for the poor mother and child keptthe mouths of grumblers closed at first; but this could not last forever--for in America politics has a hand in everything--and by-and-bythe governor's political opponents began to call attention to his delayin allowing the law to take its course. These hints have grown moreand more frequent of late, and more and more pronounced. As anatural result, his own part grew nervous. Its leaders began to visitSpringfield and hold long private conferences with him. He was nowbetween two fires. On the one hand, his niece was imploring him topardon her husband; on the other were the leaders, insisting that hestand to his plain duty as chief magistrate of the State, and place nofurther bar to Clayton's execution. Duty won in the struggle, and theGovernor gave his word that he would not again respite the condemnedman. This was two weeks ago. Mrs. Clayton now said:

'Now that you have given your word, my last hope is gone, for I knowyou will never go back from it. But you have done the best you could forJohn, and I have no reproaches for you. You love him, and you love me, and we know that if you could honourable save him, you would do it. Iwill go to him now, and be what help I can to him, and get what comfortI may out of the few days that are left to us before the night comeswhich will have no end for me in life. You will be with me that day? Youwill not let me bear it alone?'

'I will take you to him myself, poor child, and I will be near you tothe last. '

By the governor's command, Clayton was now allowed every indulgence hemight ask for which could interest his mind and soften the hardships ofhis imprisonment. His wife and child spent the days with him; I was hiscompanion by night. He was removed from the narrow cell which he hadoccupied during such a dreary stretch of time, and given the chiefwarden's roomy and comfortable quarters. His mind was always busy withthe catastrophe of his life, and with the slaughtered inventor, and henow took the fancy that he would like to have the telelectroscope anddivert his mind with it. He had his wish. The connection was made withthe international telephone-station, and day by day, and night by night, he called up one corner of the globe after another, and looked upon itslife, and studied its strange sights, and spoke with its people, andrealised that by grace of this marvellous instrument he was almost asfree as the birds of the air, although a prisoner under locks and bars. He seldom spoke, and I never interrupted him when he was absorbed inthis amusement. I sat in his parlour and read, and smoked, and thenights were very quiet and reposefully sociable, and I found thempleasant. Now and then I would her him say 'Give me Yedo;' next, 'Giveme Hong-Kong;' next, 'Give me Melbourne. ' And I smoked on, and read incomfort, while he wandered about the remote underworld, where thesun was shining in the sky, and the people were at their daily work. Sometimes the talk that came from those far regions through themicrophone attachment interested me, and I listened. 

Yesterday--I keep calling it yesterday, which is quite natural, forcertain reasons--the instrument remained unused, and that also wasnatural, for it was the eve of the execution day. It was spent in tearsand lamentations and farewells. The governor and the wife and childremained until a quarter-past eleven at night, and the scenes Iwitnessed were pitiful to see. The execution was to take place at fourin the morning. A little after eleven a sound of hammering broke outupon the still night, and there was a glare of light, and the childcried out, 'What is that, papa?' and ran to the window before she couldbe stopped and clapped her small hands and said, 'Oh, come and see, mamma--such a pretty thing they are making!' The mother knew--andfainted. It was the gallows!

She was carried away to her lodging, poor woman, and Clayton and Iwere alone--alone, and thinking, brooding, dreaming. We might have beenstatues, we sat so motionless and still. It was a wild night, for winterwas come again for a moment, after the habit of this region in the earlyspring. The sky was starless and black, and a strong wind was blowingfrom the lake. The silence in the room was so deep that all outsidesounds seemed exaggerated by contrast with it. These sounds were fittingones: they harmonised with the situation and the conditions: the boomand thunder of sudden storm-gusts among the roofs and chimneys, then thedying down into moanings and wailings about the eaves and angles; nowand then a gnashing and lashing rush of sleet along the window-panes;and always the muffled and uncanny hammering of the gallows-builders inthe court-yard. After an age of this, another sound--far off, and comingsmothered and faint through the riot of the tempest--a bell tollingtwelve! Another age, and it was tolled again. By-and-by, again. A drearylong interval after this, then the spectral sound floated to us oncemore--one, two three; and this time we caught our breath; sixty minutesof life left!

Clayton rose, and stood by the window, and looked up into the black sky, and listened to the thrashing sleet and the piping wind; then he said:'That a dying man's last of earth should be--this!' After a little hesaid: 'I must see the sun again--the sun!' and the next moment he wasfeverishly calling: 'China! Give me China--Peking!'

I was strangely stirred, and said to myself: 'To think that it is amere human being who does this unimaginable miracle--turns winter intosummer, night into day, storm into calm, gives the freedom of the greatglobe to a prisoner in his cell, and the sun in his naked splendour to aman dying in Egyptian darkness. '

I was listening. 

'What light! what brilliancy! what radiance!... This is Peking?'

'Yes. '

'The time?'

'Mid-afternoon. '

'What is the great crowd for, and in such gorgeous costumes? What massesand masses of rich colour and barbaric magnificence! And how they flashand glow and burn in the flooding sunlight! What is the occasion of itall?'

'The coronation of our new emperor--the Czar. '

'But I thought that that was to take place yesterday. '

'This is yesterday--to you. '

'Certainly it is. But my mind is confused, these days: there are reasonsfor it.... Is this the beginning of the procession?'

'Oh, no; it began to move an hour ago. '

'Is there much more of it still to come?'

'Two hours of it. Why do you sigh?'

'Because I should like to see it all. '

'And why can't you?'

'I have to go--presently. '

'You have an engagement?'

After a pause, softly: 'Yes. ' After another pause: 'Who are these in thesplendid pavilion?'

'The imperial family, and visiting royalties from here and there andyonder in the earth. '

'And who are those in the adjoining pavilions to the right and left?'

'Ambassadors and their families and suites to the right; unofficialforeigners to the left. '

'If you will be so good, I--'

Boom! That distant bell again, tolling the half-hour faintly throughthe tempest of wind and sleet. The door opened, and the governor and themother and child entered--the woman in widow's weeds! She fell upon herhusband's breast in a passion of sobs, and I--I could not stay; I couldnot bear it. I went into the bedchamber, and closed the door. I satthere waiting--waiting--waiting, and listening to the rattling sashesand the blustering of the storm. After what seemed a long, long time, Iheard a rustle and movement in the parlour, and knew that the clergymanand the sheriff and the guard were come. There was some low-voicedtalking; then a hush; then a prayer, with a sound of sobbing; presently, footfalls--the departure for the gallows; then the child's happy voice:'Don't cry now, mamma, when we've got papa again, and taking him home. '

The door closed; they were gone. I was ashamed: I was the only friend ofthe dying man that had no spirit, no courage. I stepped into the room, and said I would be a man and would follow. But we are made as we aremade, and we cannot help it. I did not go. 

I fidgeted about the room nervously, and presently went to the windowand softly raised it--drawn by that dread fascination which the terribleand the awful exert--and looked down upon the court-yard. By thegarish light of the electric lamps I saw the little group of privilegedwitnesses, the wife crying on her uncle's breast, the condemned manstanding on the scaffold with the halter around his neck, his armsstrapped to his body, the black cap on his head, the sheriff at his sidewith his hand on the drop, the clergyman in front of him with bare headand his book in his hand. 

'I am the resurrection and the life--'

I turned away. I could not listen; I could not look. I did not knowwhither to go or what to do. Mechanically and without knowing it, I putmy eye to that strange instrument, and there was Peking and the Czar'sprocession! The next moment I was leaning out of the window, gasping, suffocating, trying to speak, but dumb from the very imminence of thenecessity of speaking. The preacher could speak, but I, who had suchneed of words--'And may God have mercy upon your soul. Amen. '

The sheriff drew down the black cap, and laid his hand upon the lever. Igot my voice. 

'Stop, for God's sake! The man is innocent. Come here and see Szczepanikface to face!'

Hardly three minutes later the governor had my place at the window, andwas saying:

'Strike off his bonds and set him free!'

Three minutes later all were in the parlour again. The reader willimagine the scene; I have no need to describe it. It was a sort of madorgy of joy. 

A messenger carried word to Szczepanik in the pavilion, and one couldsee the distressed amazement in his face as he listened to the tale. Then he came to his end of the line, and talked with Clayton and thegovernor and the others; and the wife poured out her gratitude upon himfor saving her husband's life, and in her deep thankfulness she kissedhim at twelve thousand miles' range. 

The telelectroscopes of the world were put to service now, and formany hours the kinds and queens of many realms (with here and therea reporter) talked with Szczepanik, and praised him; and the fewscientific societies which had not already made him an honorary memberconferred that grace upon him. 

How had he come to disappear from among us? It was easily explained. HEhad not grown used to being a world-famous person, and had been forcedto break away from the lionising that was robbing him of all privacy andrepose. So he grew a beard, put on coloured glasses, disguised himselfa little in other ways, then took a fictitious name, and went off towander about the earth in peace. 

Such is the tale of the drama which began with an inconsequentialquarrel in Vienna in the spring of 1898, and came near ending as atragedy in the spring of 1904. 

II

Correspondence of the 'London Times' Chicago, April 5, 1904

To-day, by a clipper of the Electric Line, and the latter's ElectricRailway connections, arrived an envelope from Vienna, for CaptainClayton, containing an English farthing. The receiver of it was a gooddeal moved. He called up Vienna, and stood face to face with Mr. K. , andsaid:

'I do not need to say anything: you can see it all in my face. My wifehas the farthing. Do not be afraid--she will not throw it away. '

III

Correspondence of the 'London Times' Chicago, April 23, 1904

Now that the after developments of the Clayton case have run theircourse and reached a finish, I will sum them up. Clayton's romanticescape from a shameful death stepped all this region in an enchantmentof wonder and joy--during the proverbial nine days. Then the soberingprocess followed, and men began to take thought, and to say: 'But a manwas killed, and Clayton killed him. ' Others replied: 'That is true: wehave been overlooking that important detail; we have been led away byexcitement. '

The telling soon became general that Clayton ought to be tried again. Measures were taken accordingly, and the proper representations conveyedto Washington; for in America under the new paragraph added to theConstitution in 1889, second trials are not State affairs, but national, and must be tried by the most august body in the land--the Supreme Courtof the United States. The justices were therefore summoned to sit inChicago. The session was held day before yesterday, and was opened withthe usual impressive formalities, the nine judges appearing in theirblack robes, and the new chief justice (Lemaitre) presiding. In openingthe case the chief justice said:

'It is my opinion that this matter is quite simple. The prisoner atthe bar was charged with murdering the man Szczepanik; he was tried formurdering the man Szczepanik; he was fairly tried and justly condemnedand sentenced to death for murdering the man Szczepanik. It turns outthat the man Szczepanik was not murdered at all. By the decision of theFrench courts in the Dreyfus matter, it is established beyond cavilor question that the decisions of courts and permanent and cannot berevised. We are obliged to respect and adopt this precedent. It is uponprecedents that the enduring edifice of jurisprudence is reared. Theprisoner at the bar has been fairly and righteously condemned to deathfor the murder of the man Szczepanik, and, in my opinion, there is butone course to pursue in the matter: he must be hanged. '

Mr. Justice Crawford said:

'But, your Excellency, he was pardoned on the scaffold for that. '

'The pardon is not valid, and cannot stand, because he was pardonedfor killing Szczepanik, a man whom he had not killed. A man cannotbe pardoned for a crime which he has not committed; it would be anabsurdity. '

'But, your Excellency, he did kill a man. '

'That is an extraneous detail; we have nothing to do with it. The courtcannot take up this crime until the prisoner has expiated the otherone. '

Mr. Justice Halleck said:

'If we order his execution, your Excellency, we shall bring about amiscarriage of justice, for the governor will pardon him again. '

'He will not have the power. He cannot pardon a man for a crime which hehas not committed. As I observed before, it would be an absurdity. '

After a consultation, Mr. Justice Wadsworth said:

'Several of us have arrived at the conclusion, your Excellency, that itwould be an error to hang the prisoner for killing Szczepanik, insteadof for killing the other man, since it is proven that he did not killSzczepanik. '

'On the contrary, it is proven that he did kill Szczepanik. By theFrench precedent, it is plain that we must abide by the finding of thecourt. '

'But Szczepanik is still alive. '

'So is Dreyfus. '

In the end it was found impossible to ignore or get around the Frenchprecedent. There could be but one result: Clayton was delivered over forthe execution. It made an immense excitement; the State rose as one manand clamored for Clayton's pardon and retrial. The governor issued thepardon, but the Supreme Court was in duty bound to annul it, and did so, and poor Clayton was hanged yesterday. The city is draped in black, and, indeed, the like may be said of the State. All America is vocal withscorn of 'French justice, ' and of the malignant little soldiers whoinvented it and inflicted it upon the other Christian lands. 

(1) Pronounced (approximately) Shepannik. 

ABOUT PLAY-ACTING

I

I have a project to suggest. But first I will write a chapter ofintroduction. 

I have just been witnessing a remarkable play, here at the Burg Theatrein Vienna. I do not know of any play that much resembles it. In fact, it is such a departure from the common laws of the drama that the name'play' doesn't seem to fit it quite snugly. However, whatever else itmay be, it is in any case a great and stately metaphysical poem, anddeeply fascinating. 'Deeply fascinating' is the right term: for theaudience sat four hours and five minutes without thrice breakinginto applause, except at the close of each act; sat rapt andsilent--fascinated. This piece is 'The Master of Palmyra. ' It is twentyyears old; yet I doubt if you have ever heard of it. It is by Wilbrandt, and is his masterpiece and the work which is to make his name permanentin German literature. It has never been played anywhere except in Berlinand in the great Burg Theatre in Vienna. Yet whenever it is put on thestage it packs the house, and the free list is suspended. I know peoplewho have seem it ten times; they know the most of it by heart; they donot tire of it; and they say they shall still be quite willing to go andsit under its spell whenever they get the opportunity. 

There is a dash of metempsychosis in it--and it is the strength of thepiece. The play gave me the sense of the passage of a dimly connectedprocession of dream-pictures. The scene of it is Palmyra in Roman times. It covers a wide stretch of time--I don't know how many years--and inthe course of it the chief actress is reincarnated several times: fourtimes she is a more or less young woman, and once she is a lad. Inthe first act she is Zoe--a Christian girl who has wandered across thedesert from Damascus to try to Christianise the Zeus-worshipping pagansof Palmyra. In this character she is wholly spiritual, a religiousenthusiast, a devotee who covets martyrdom--and gets it. 

After many years she appears in the second act as Phoebe, a graceful andbeautiful young light-o'-love from Rome, whose soul is all for theshows and luxuries and delights of this life--a dainty and capriciousfeather-head, a creature of shower and sunshine, a spoiled child, buta charming one. In the third act, after an interval of many years, shereappears as Persida, mother of a daughter who is in the fresh bloom ofyouth. She is now a sort of combination of her two earlier selves: inreligious loyalty and subjection she is Zoe: in triviality of characterand shallowness of judgement--together with a touch of vanity indress--she is Phoebe. 

After a lapse of years she appears in the fourth act as Nymphas, a beautiful boy, in whose character the previous incarnations areengagingly mixed. 

And after another stretch of years all these heredities are joined inthe Zenobia of the fifth act--a person of gravity, dignity, sweetness, with a heart filled with compassion for all who suffer, and a handprompt to put into practical form the heart's benignant impulses. 

There are a number of curious and interesting features in this piece. For instance, its hero, Appelles, young, handsome, vigorous, in thefirst act, remains so all through the long flight of years covered bythe five acts. Other men, young in the firs act, are touched with grayin the second, are old and racked with infirmities in the third; in thefourth, all but one are gone to their long home, and this one is a blindand helpless hulk of ninety or a hundred years. It indicates that thestretch of time covered by the piece is seventy years or more. Thescenery undergoes decay, too--the decay of age assisted and perfected bya conflagration. The fine new temples and palaces of the second actare by-and-by a wreck of crumbled walls and prostrate columns, mouldy, grass-grown, and desolate; but their former selves are stillrecognisable in their ruins. The ageing men and the ageing scenerytogether convey a profound illusion of that long lapse of time: theymake you live it yourself! You leave the theatre with the weight of acentury upon you. 

Another strong effect: Death, in person, walks about the stage in everyact. So far as I could make out, he was supposably not visible to anyexcepting two persons--the one he came for and Appelles. He used variouscostumes: but there was always more black about them than any othertint; and so they were always sombre. Also they were always deeplyimpressive and, indeed, awe-inspiring. The face was not subjected tochanges, but remained the same first and last--a ghastly white. To mehe was always welcome, he seemed so real--the actual Death, not aplay-acting artificiality. He was of a solemn and stately carriage; andhe had a deep voice, and used it with a noble dignity. Wherever therewas a turmoil of merry-making or fighting or feasting or chaffing orquarreling, or a gilded pageant, or other manifestation of ourtrivial and fleeting life, into it drifted that black figure with thecorpse-face, and looked its fateful look and passed on; leaving itsvictim shuddering and smitten. And always its coming made the fussyhuman pack seem infinitely pitiful and shabby, and hardly worth theattention of either saving or damning. 

In the beginning of the first act the young girl Zoe appears by somegreat rocks in the desert, and sits down exhausted, to rest. Presentlyarrive a pauper couple stricken with age and infirmities; and they beginto mumble and pray to the Spirit of Life, who is said to inhabit thatspot. The Spirit of Life appears; also Death--uninvited. They are(supposably) invisible. Death, tall, black-robed, corpse-faced, standsmotionless and waits. The aged couple pray to the Spirit of Life for ameans to prop up their existence and continue it. Their prayer fails. The Spirit of Life prophesies Zoe's martyrdom; it will take place beforenight. Soon Appelles arrives, young and vigorous and full of enthusiasm:he has led a host against the Persians and won the battle; he is the petof fortune, rich, honoured, believed, 'Master of Palmyra'. He has heardthat whoever stretches himself out on one of those rocks there and asksfor a deathless life can have his wish. He laughs at the tradition, butwants to make the trial anyway. The invisible Spirit of Life warns him!'Life without end can be regret without end. ' But he persists: let himkeep his youth, his strength, and his mental faculties unimpaired, andhe will take all the risks. He has his desire. 

From this time forth, act after act, the troubles and sorrows andmisfortunes and humiliations of life beat upon him without pity orrespite; but he will not give up, he will not confess his mistake. Whenever he meets Death he still furiously defies him--but Deathpatiently waits. He, the healer of sorrows, is man's best friend: therecognition of this will come. As the years drag on, and on, and on, thefriends of the Master's youth grow old; and one by one they totterto the grave: he goes on with his proud fight, and will not yield. Atlength he is wholly alone in the world; all his friends are dead; lastof all, his darling of darlings, his son, the lad Nymphas, who dies inhis arms. His pride is broken now; and he would welcome Death, if Deathwould come, if Death would hear his prayers and give him peace. Theclosing act is fine and pathetic. Appelles meets Zenobia, the helper ofall who suffer, and tells her his story, which moves her pity. By commonreport she is endowed with more than earthly powers; and since hecannot have the boon of death, he appeals to her to drown his memoryin forgetfulness of his griefs--forgetfulness 'which is death'sequivalent'. She says (roughly translated), in an exaltation ofcompassion:

'Come to me!

 Kneel; and may the power be granted me To cool the fires of this poor tortured brain, And bring it peace and healing. '

He kneels. From her hand, which she lays upon his head, a mysteriousinfluence steals through him; and he sinks into a dreamy tranquility. 

 'Oh, if I could but so drift Through this soft twilight into the night of peace, Never to wake again!

(Raising his hand, as if in benediction. )

 O mother earth, farewell! Gracious thou were to me. Farewell! Appelles goes to rest. '

Death appears behind him and encloses the uplifted hand in his. Appellesshudders, wearily and slowly turns, and recognises his life-longadversary. He smiles and puts all his gratitude into one simple andtouching sentence, 'Ich danke dir, ' and dies. 

Nothing, I think, could be more moving, more beautiful, than this close. This piece is just one long, soulful, sardonic laugh at human life. Itstitle might properly be 'Is Life a Failure?' and leave the five actsto play with the answer. I am not at all sure that the author meant tolaugh at life. I only notice that he has done it. Without putting intowords any ungracious or discourteous things about life, the episodes inthe piece seem to be saying all the time, inarticulately: 'Note whata silly poor thing human life is; how childish its ambitions, howridiculous its pomps, how trivial its dignities, how cheap itsheroisms, how capricious its course, how brief its flight, how stingyin happinesses, how opulent in miseries, how few its prides, howmultitudinous its humiliations, how comic its tragedies, how tragicits comedies, how wearisome and monotonous its repetition of its stupidhistory through the ages, with never the introduction of a new detail;how hard it has tried, from the Creation down, to play itself upon itspossessor as a boon and has never proved its case in a single instance!'

Take note of some of the details of the piece. Each of the five actscontains an independent tragedy of its own. In each act someone'sedifice of hope, or of ambition, or of happiness, goes down in ruins. Even Appelles' perennial youth is only a long tragedy, and his life afailure. There are two martyrdoms in the piece; and they are curiouslyand sarcastically contrasted. In the first act the pagans persecute Zoe, the Christian girl, and a pagan mob slaughters her. In the fourth actthose same pagans--now very old and zealous--are become Christians, andthey persecute the pagans; a mob of them slaughters the pagan youth, Nymphas, who is standing up for the old gods of his fathers. No remarkis made about this picturesque failure of civilisation; but thereit stands, as an unworded suggestion that civilisation, even whenChristianised, was not able wholly to subdue the natural man in thatold day--just as in our day the spectacle of a shipwrecked Frenchcrew clubbing women and children who tried to climb into the lifeboatssuggests that civilisation has not succeeded in entirely obliteratingthe natural man even yet. Common sailors a year ago, in Paris, at afire, the aristocracy of the same nation clubbed girls and women out ofthe way to save themselves. Civilisation tested at top and bottom both, you see. And in still another panic of fright we have this sametough civilisation saving its honour by condemning an innocent man tomultiform death, and hugging and whitewashing the guilty one. 

In the second act a grand Roman official is not above trying to blastAppelles' reputation by falsely charging him with misappropriatingpublic moneys. Appelles, who is too proud to endure even the suspicionof irregularity, strips himself to naked poverty to square the unfairaccount, and his troubles begin: the blight which is to continue andspread strikes his life; for the frivolous, pretty creature whom hebrought from Rome has no taste for poverty and agrees to elope witha more competent candidate. Her presence in the house has previouslybrought down the pride and broken the heart of Appelles' poor oldmother; and her life is a failure. Death comes for her, but is willingto trade her for the Roman girl; so the bargain is struck with Appelles, and the mother is spared for the present. 

No one's life escapes the blight. Timoleus, the gay satirist of thefirst two acts, who scoffed at the pious hypocrisies and money-grubbingways of the great Roman lords, is grown old and fat and blear-eyed andracked with disease in the third, has lost his stately purities, andwatered the acid of his wit. His life has suffered defeat. Unthinkinglyhe swears by Zeus--from ancient habit--and then quakes with fright; fora fellow-communicant is passing by. Reproached by a pagan friend of hisyouth for his apostasy, he confesses that principle, when unsupported byan assenting stomach, has to climb down. One must have bread; and 'thebread is Christian now. ' Then the poor old wreck, once so proud of hisiron rectitude, hobbles away, coughing and barking. 

In that same act Appelles give his sweet young Christian daughter andher fine young pagan lover his consent and blessing, and makes themutterly happy--for five minutes. Then the priest and the mob come, totear them apart and put the girl in a nunnery; for marriage betweenthe sects is forbidden. Appelles' wife could dissolve the rule; and shewants to do it; but under priestly pressure she wavers; then, fearingthat in providing happiness for her child she would be committing a sindangerous to her own, she goes over to the opposition, and throws thecasting vote for the nunnery. The blight has fallen upon the youngcouple, and their life is a failure. 

In the fourth act, Longinus, who made such a prosperous and enviablestart in the first act, is left alone in the desert, sick, blind, helpless, incredibly old, to die: not a friend left in theworld--another ruined life. And in that act, also, Appelles' worshippedboy, Nymphas, done to death by the mob, breathes out his last sigh inhis father's arms--one more failure. In the fifth act, Appelles himselfdies, and is glad to do it; he who so ignorantly rejoiced, only fouracts before, over the splendid present of an earthly immortality--thevery worst failure of the lot!

II

Now I approach my project. Here is the theatre list for Saturday, May 7, 1898, cut from the advertising columns of a New York paper:

(graphic here)

Now I arrive at my project, and make my suggestion. From the look ofthis lightsome feast, I conclude that what you need is a tonic. Send for'The Master of Palmyra. ' You are trying to make yourself believe thatlife is a comedy, that its sole business is fun, that there is nothingserious in it. You are ignoring the skeleton in your closet. Send for'The Master of Palmyra. ' You are neglecting a valuable side of yourlife; presently it will be atrophied. You are eating too much mentalsugar; you will bring on Bright's disease of the intellect. You need atonic; you need it very much. Send for 'The Master of Palmyra. ' Youwill not need to translate it; its story is as plain as a procession ofpictures. 

I have made my suggestion. Now I wish to put an annex to it. And thatis this: It is right and wholesome to have those light comedies andentertaining shows; and I shouldn't wish to see them diminished. Butnone of us is always in the comedy spirit; we have our graver moods;they come to us all; the lightest of us cannot escape them. These moodshave their appetites--healthy and legitimate appetites--and there oughtto be some way of satisfying them. It seems to me that New York oughtto have one theatre devoted to tragedy. With her three millions ofpopulation, and seventy outside millions to draw upon, she can affordit, she can support it. America devotes more time, labour, money andattention to distributing literary and musical culture among the generalpublic than does any other nation, perhaps; yet here you find herneglecting what is possibly the most effective of all the breeders andnurses and disseminators of high literary taste and lofty emotion--thetragic stage. To leave that powerful agency out is to haul theculture-wagon with a crippled team. Nowadays, when a mood comes whichonly Shakespeare can set to music, what must we do? Read Shakespeareourselves! Isn't it pitiful? It is playing an organ solo on ajew's-harp. We can't read. None but the Booths can do it. 

Thirty years ago Edwin Booth played 'Hamlet' a hundred nights in NewYork. With three times the population, how often is 'Hamlet' played nowin a year? If Booth were back now in his prime, how often could heplay it in New York? Some will say twenty-five nights. I will say threehundred, and say it with confidence. The tragedians are dead; but Ithink that the taste and intelligence which made their market are not. 

What has come over us English-speaking people? During the first half ofthis century tragedies and great tragedians were as common with us asfarce and comedy; and it was the same in England. Now we have not atragedian, I believe, and London, with her fifty shows and theatres, has but three, I think. It is an astonishing thing, when you come toconsider it. Vienna remains upon the ancient basis: there has been nochange. She sticks to the former proportions: a number of rollickingcomedies, admirably played, every night; and also every night at theBurg Theatre--that wonder of the world for grace and beauty and richnessand splendour and costliness--a majestic drama of depth and seriousness, or a standard old tragedy. It is only within the last dozen years thatmen have learned to do miracles on the stage in the way of grand andenchanting scenic effects; and it is at such a time as this that we havereduced our scenery mainly to different breeds of parlours and varyingaspects of furniture and rugs. I think we must have a Burg in New York, and Burg scenery, and a great company like the Burg company. Then, witha tragedy-tonic once or twice a month, we shall enjoy the comedies allthe better. Comedy keeps the heart sweet; but we all know that thereis wholesome refreshment for both mind and heart in an occasionalclimb among the solemn pomps of the intellectual snow-summits built byShakespeare and those others. Do I seem to be preaching? It is out ofmy life: I only do it because the rest of the clergy seem to be onvacation. 

TRAVELLING WITH A REFORMER

Last spring I went out to Chicago to see the Fair, and although I didnot see it my trip was not wholly lost--there were compensations. InNew York I was introduced to a Major in the regular army who said he wasgoing to the Fair, and we agreed to go together. I had to go to Bostonfirst, but that did not interfere; he said he would go along and put inthe time. He was a handsome man and built like a gladiator. But hisways were gentle, and his speech was soft and persuasive. He wascompanionable, but exceedingly reposeful. Yes, and wholly destitute ofthe sense of humour. He was full of interest in everything that went onaround him, but his serenity was indestructible; nothing disturbed him, nothing excited him. 

But before the day was done I found that deep down in him somewhere hehad a passion, quiet as he was--a passion for reforming petty publicabuses. He stood for citizenship--it was his hobby. His idea was thatevery citizen of the republic ought to consider himself an unofficialpoliceman, and keep unsalaried watch and ward over the laws and theirexecution. He thought that the only effective way of preserving andprotecting public rights was for each citizen to do his share inpreventing or punishing such infringements of them as came under hispersonal notice. 

It was a good scheme, but I thought it would keep a body in troubleall the time; it seemed to me that one would be always trying to getoffending little officials discharged, and perhaps getting laughed atfor all reward. But he said no, I had the wrong idea: that there was nooccasion to get anybody discharged; that in fact you mustn't get anybodydischarged; that that would itself be a failure; no, one must reform theman--reform him and make him useful where he was. 

'Must one report the offender and then beg his superior not to dischargehim, but reprimand him and keep him?'

'No, that is not the idea; you don't report him at all, for then yourisk his bread and butter. You can act as if you are going to reporthim--when nothing else will answer. But that's an extreme case. That isa sort of force, and force is bad. Diplomacy is the effective thing. Nowif a man has tact--if a man will exercise diplomacy--'

For two minutes we had been standing at a telegraph wicket, and duringall this time the Major had been trying to get the attention of one ofthe young operators, but they were all busy skylarking. The Major spokenow, and asked one of them to take his telegram. He got for reply:

'I reckon you can wait a minute, can't you?' And the skylarking went on. 

The Major said yes, he was not in a hurry. Then he wrote anothertelegram:

 'President Western Union Tel. Co. :

 'Come and dine with me this evening. I can tell you how business is conducted in one of your branches. '

Presently the young fellow who had spoken so pertly a little beforereached out and took the telegram, and when he read it he lost colourand began to apologise and explain. He said he would lose his place ifthis deadly telegram was sent, and he might never get another. If hecould be let off this time he would give no cause of complaint again. The compromise was accepted. 

As we walked away, the Major said:

'Now, you see, that was diplomacy--and you see how it worked. Itwouldn't do any good to bluster, the way people are always doing. That boy can always give you as good as you send, and you'll come outdefeated and ashamed of yourself pretty nearly always. But you see hestands no chance against diplomacy. Gentle words and diplomacy--thoseare the tools to work with. '

'Yes, I see: but everybody wouldn't have had your opportunity. It isn'teverybody that is on those familiar terms with the President of theWestern Union. '

'Oh, you misunderstand. I don't know the President--I only use himdiplomatically. It is for his good and for the public good. There's noharm in it. '

I said with hesitation and diffidence:

'But is it ever right or noble to tell a lie?'

He took no note of the delicate self-righteousness of the question, butanswered with undisturbed gravity and simplicity:

'Yes, sometimes. Lies told to injure a person and lies told to profityourself are not justifiable, but lies told to help another person, and lies told in the public interest--oh, well, that is quite anothermatter. Anybody knows that. But never mind about the methods: you seethe result. That youth is going to be useful now, and well-behaved. Hehad a good face. He was worth saving. Why, he was worth saving on hismother's account if not his own. Of course, he has a mother--sisters, too. Damn these people who are always forgetting that! Do you know, I've never fought a duel in my life--never once--and yet have beenchallenged, like other people. I could always see the other man'sunoffending women folks or his little children standing between him andme. They hadn't done anything--I couldn't break their hearts, you know. '

He corrected a good many little abuses in the course of the day, andalways without friction--always with a fine and dainty 'diplomacy' whichleft no sting behind; and he got such happiness and such contentmentout of these performances that I was obliged to envy him his trade--andperhaps would have adopted it if I could have managed the necessarydeflections from fact as confidently with my mouth as I believe I couldwith a pen, behind the shelter of print, after a little practice. 

Away late that night we were coming up-town in a horse-car when threeboisterous roughs got aboard, and began to fling hilarious obscenitiesand profanities right and left among the timid passengers, some of whomwere women and children. Nobody resisted or retorted; the conductortried soothing words and moral suasion, but the toughs only called himnames and laughed at him. Very soon I saw that the Major realised thatthis was a matter which was in his line; evidently he was turning overhis stock of diplomacy in his mind and getting ready. I felt thatthe first diplomatic remark he made in this place would bring down alandslide of ridicule upon him, and maybe something worse; but before Icould whisper to him and check him he had begun, and it was too late. Hesaid, in a level and dispassionate tone:

'Conductor, you must put these swine out. I will help you. '

I was not looking for that. In a flash the three roughs plunged at him. But none of them arrived. He delivered three such blows as one could notexpect to encounter outside the prize-ring, and neither of the men hadlife enough left in him to get up from where he fell. The Major draggedthem out and threw them off the car, and we got under way again. 

I was astonished: astonished to see a lamb act so; astonished at thestrength displayed, and the clean and comprehensive result; astonishedat the brisk and business-like style of the whole thing. The situationhad a humorous side to it, considering how much I had been hearing aboutmild persuasion and gentle diplomacy all day from this pile-driver, andI would have liked to call his attention to that feature and do somesarcasms about it; but when I looked at him I saw that it would be of nouse--his placid and contented face had no ray of humour in it; he wouldnot have understood. When we left the car, I said:

'That was a good stroke of diplomacy--three good strokes of diplomacy, in fact. '

'That? That wasn't diplomacy. You are quite in the wrong. Diplomacy is awholly different thing. One cannot apply it to that sort; they would notunderstand it. No, that was not diplomacy; it was force. '

'Now that you mention it, I--yes, I think perhaps you are right. '

'Right? Of course I am right. It was just force. '

'I think, myself, it had the outside aspect of it. Do you often have toreform people in that way?'

'Far from it. It hardly ever happens. Not oftener than once in half ayear, at the outside. '

'Those men will get well?'

'Get well? Why, certainly they will. They are not in any danger. I knowhow to hit and where to hit. You noticed that I did not hit them underthe jaw. That would have killed them. '

I believed that. I remarked--rather wittily, as I thought--that hehad been a lamb all day, but now had all of a sudden developed into aram--battering-ram; but with dulcet frankness and simplicity he said no, a battering-ram was quite a different thing, and not in use now. Thiswas maddening, and I came near bursting out and saying he had no moreappreciation of wit than a jackass--in fact, I had it right on mytongue, but did not say it, knowing there was no hurry and I could sayit just as well some other time over the telephone. 

We started to Boston the next afternoon. The smoking compartment in theparlour-car was full, and he went into the regular smoker. Across theaisle in the front seat sat a meek, farmer-looking old man with a sicklypallor in his face, and he was holding the door open with his foot toget the air. Presently a big brakeman came rushing through, and when hegot to the door he stopped, gave the farmer an ugly scowl, then wrenchedthe door to with such energy as to almost snatch the old man's boot off. Then on he plunged about his business. Several passengers laughed, andthe old gentleman looked pathetically shamed and grieved. 

After a little the conductor passed along, and the Major stopped him andasked him a question in his habitually courteous way:

'Conductor, where does one report the misconduct of a brakeman? Does onereport to you?'

'You can report him at New Haven if you want to. What has he beendoing?'

The Major told the story. The conductor seemed amused. He said, withjust a touch of sarcasm in his bland tones:

'As I understand you, the brakeman didn't say anything?'

'No, he didn't say anything. '

'But he scowled, you say?'

'Yes. '

'And snatched the door loose in a rough way?'

'Yes. '

'That's the whole business, is it?'

'Yes, that is the whole of it. '

The conductor smiled pleasantly, and said:

'Well, if you want to report him, all right, but I don't quite make outwhat it's going to amount to. You'll say--as I understand you--thatthe brakeman insulted this old gentleman. They'll ask you what he said. You'll say he didn't say anything at all. I reckon they'll say, How areyou going to make out an insult when you acknowledge yourself that hedidn't say a word?'

There was a murmur of applause at the conductor's compact reasoning, andit gave him pleasure--you could see it in his face. But the Major wasnot disturbed. He said:

'There--now you have touched upon a crying defect in the complaintsystem. The railway officials--as the public think and as you also seemto think--are not aware that there are any insults except spoken ones. So nobody goes to headquarters and reports insults of manner, insults ofgesture, look, and so forth; and yet these are sometimes harder to bearthan any words. They are bitter hard to bear because there is nothingtangible to take hold of; and the insulter can always say, if calledbefore the railway officials, that he never dreamed of intending anyoffence. It seems to me that the officials ought to speciallyand urgently request the public to report unworded affronts andincivilities. '

The conductor laughed, and said:

'Well, that would be trimming it pretty fine, sure!'

'But not too fine, I think. I will report this matter at New Haven, andI have an idea that I'll be thanked for it. '

The conductor's face lost something of its complacency; in fact, itsettled to a quite sober cast as the owner of it moved away. I said:

'You are not really going to bother with that trifle, are you?'

'It isn't a trifle. Such things ought always to be reported. It is apublic duty and no citizen has a right to shirk it. But I sha'n't' haveto report this case. '

'Why?'

'It won't be necessary. Diplomacy will do the business. You'll see. '

Presently the conductor came on his rounds again, and when he reachedthe Major he leaned over and said:

'That's all right. You needn't report him. He's responsible to me, andif he does it again I'll give him a talking to. '

The Major's response was cordial:

'Now that is what I like! You mustn't think that I was moved by anyvengeful spirit, for that wasn't the case. It was duty--just a senseof duty, that was all. My brother-in-law is one of the directors of theroad, and when he learns that you are going to reason with your brakemanthe very next time he brutally insults an unoffending old man it willplease him, you may be sure of that. '

The conductor did not look as joyous as one might have thought he would, but on the contrary looked sickly and uncomfortable. He stood around alittle; then said:

'I think something ought to be done to him now. I'll discharge him. '

'Discharge him! What good would that do? Don't you think it would bebetter wisdom to teach him better ways and keep him?'

'Well, there's something in that. What would you suggest?'

'He insulted the old gentleman in presence of all these people. Howwould it do to have him come and apologise in their presence?'

'I'll have him here right off. And I want to say this: If people woulddo as you've done, and report such things to me instead of keeping mumand going off and blackguarding the road, you'd see a different state ofthings pretty soon. I'm much obliged to you. '

The brakeman came and apologised. After he was gone the Major said:

'Now you see how simple and easy that was. The ordinary citizen wouldhave accomplished nothing--the brother-in-law of a directory canaccomplish anything he wants to. '

'But are you really the brother-in-law of a director?'

'Always. Always when the public interests require it. I have abrother-in-law on all the boards--everywhere. It saves me a world oftrouble. '

'It is a good wide relationship. '

'Yes. I have over three hundred of them. '

'Is the relationship never doubted by a conductor?'

'I have never met with a case. It is the honest truth--I never have. '

'Why didn't you let him go ahead and discharge the brakeman, in spite ofyour favourite policy. You know he deserved it. '

The Major answered with something which really had a sort of distantresemblance to impatience:

'If you would stop and think a moment you wouldn't ask such a questionas that. Is a brakeman a dog, that nothing but dogs' methods will dofor him? He is a man and has a man's fight for life. And he always has asister, or a mother, or wife and children to support. Always--there areno exceptions. When you take his living away from him you take theirsaway too--and what have they done to you? Nothing. And where is theprofit in discharging an uncourteous brakeman and hiring another justlike him? It's unwisdom. Don't you see that the rational thing to do isto reform the brakeman and keep him? Of course it is. '

Then he quoted with admiration the conduct of a certain divisionsuperintendent of the Consolidated road, in a case where a switchman oftwo years' experience was negligent once and threw a train off the trackand killed several people. Citizens came in a passion to urge the man'sdismissal, but the superintendent said:

'No, you are wrong. He has learned his lesson, he will throw no moretrains off the track. He is twice as valuable as he was before. I shallkeep him. '

We had only one more adventure on the train. Between Hartford andSpringfield the train-boy came shouting with an armful of literature, and dropped a sample into a slumbering gentleman's lap, and the manwoke up with a start. He was very angry, and he and a couple of friendsdiscussed the outrage with much heat. They sent for the parlour-carconductor and described the matter, and were determined to have the boyexpelled from his situation. The three complainants were wealthy Holyokemerchants, and it was evident that the conductor stood in some awe ofthem. He tried to pacify them, and explained that the boy was not underhis authority, but under that of one of the news companies; but heaccomplished nothing. 

Then the Major volunteered some testimony for the defence. He said:

'I saw it all. You gentlemen have not meant to exaggerate thecircumstances, but still that is what you have done. The boy hasdone nothing more than all train-boys do. If you want to get his wayssoftened down and his manners reformed, I am with you and ready to help, but it isn't fair to get him discharged without giving him a chance. '

But they were angry, and would hear of no compromise. They were wellacquainted with the President of the Boston and Albany, they said, andwould put everything aside next day and go up to Boston and fix thatboy. 

The Major said he would be on hand too, and would do what he could tosave the boy. One of the gentlemen looked him over and said:

'Apparently it is going to be a matter of who can wield the mostinfluence with the President. Do you know Mr. Bliss personally?'

The Major said, with composure:

'Yes; he is my uncle. '

The effect was satisfactory. There was an awkward silence for a minuteor more; then the hedging and the half-confessions of over-hasteand exaggerated resentment began, and soon everything was smooth andfriendly and sociable, and it was resolved to drop the matter and leavethe boy's bread and butter unmolested. 

It turned out as I had expected: the President of the road was not theMajor's uncle at all--except by adoption, and for this day and trainonly. 

We got into no episodes on the return journey. Probably it was becausewe took a night train and slept all the way. 

We left New York Saturday night by the Pennsylvania road. Afterbreakfast the next morning we went into the parlour-car, but found it adull place and dreary. There were but few people in it and nothing goingon. Then we went into the little smoking compartment of the same car andfound three gentlemen in there. Two of them were grumbling over one ofthe rules of the road--a rule which forbade card-playing on the trainson Sunday. They had started an innocent game of high-low-jack and hadbeen stopped. The Major was interested. He said to the third gentleman:

'Did you object to the game?'

'Not at all. I am a Yale professor and a religious man, but myprejudices are not extensive. '

Then the Major said to the others:

'You are at perfect liberty to resume your game, gentlemen; no one hereobjects. '

One of them declined the risk, but the other one said he would like tobegin again if the Major would join him. So they spread an overcoatover their knees and the game proceeded. Pretty soon the parlour-carconductor arrived, and said, brusquely:

'There, there, gentlemen, that won't do. Put up the cards--it's notallowed. '

The Major was shuffling. He continued to shuffle, and said:

'By whose order is it forbidden?'

'It's my order. I forbid it. '

The dealing began. The Major asked:

'Did you invent the idea?'

'What idea?'

'The idea of forbidding card-playing on Sunday. '

'No--of course not. '

'Who did?'

'The company. '

'Then it isn't your order, after all, but the company's. Is that it?'

'Yes. But you don't stop playing! I have to require you to stop playingimmediately. '

'Nothing is gained by hurry, and often much is lost. Who authorised thecompany to issue such an order?'

'My dear sir, that is a matter of no consequence to me, and--'

'But you forget that you are not the only person concerned. It may bea matter of consequence to me. It is, indeed, a matter of very greatimportance to me. I cannot violate a legal requirement of my countrywithout dishonouring myself; I cannot allow any man or corporation tohamper my liberties with illegal rules--a thing which railway companiesare always trying to do--without dishonouring my citizenship. So I comeback to that question: By whose authority has the company issued thisorder?'

'I don't know. That's their affair. '

'Mine, too. I doubt if the company has any right to issue such a rule. This road runs through several States. Do you know what State we are innow, and what its laws are in matters of this kind?'

'Its laws do not concern me, but the company's orders do. It is my dutyto stop this game, gentlemen, and it must be stopped. '

'Possibly; but still there is no hurry. In hotels they post certainrules in the rooms, but they always quote passages from the State lawas authority for these requirements. I see nothing posted here of thissort. Please produce your authority and let us arrive at a decision, foryou see yourself that you are marring the game. '

'I have nothing of the kind, but I have my orders, and that issufficient. They must be obeyed. '

'Let us not jump to conclusions. It will be better all around to examineinto the matter without heat or haste, and see just where we standbefore either of us makes a mistake--for the curtailing of the libertiesof a citizen of the United States is a much more serious matter thanyou and the railroads seem to think, and it cannot be done in my personuntil the curtailer proves his right to do so. Now--'

'My dear sir, will you put down those cards?'

'All in good time, perhaps. It depends. You say this order must beobeyed. Must. It is a strong word. You see yourself how strong it is. A wise company would not arm you with so drastic an order as this, ofcourse, without appointing a penalty for its infringement. Otherwise itruns the risk of being a dead letter and a thing to laugh at. What isthe appointed penalty for an infringement of this law?'

'Penalty? I never heard of any. '

'Unquestionably you must be mistaken. Your company orders you to comehere and rudely break up an innocent amusement, and furnishes you no wayto enforce the order! Don't you see that that is nonsense? What do youdo when people refuse to obey this order? Do you take the cards awayfrom them?'

'No. '

'Do you put the offender off at the next station?'

'Well, no--of course we couldn't if he had a ticket. '

'Do you have him up before a court?'

The conductor was silent and apparently troubled. The Major started anew deal, and said:

'You see that you are helpless, and that the company has placed you ina foolish position. You are furnished with an arrogant order, and youdeliver it in a blustering way, and when you come to look into thematter you find you haven't any way of enforcing obedience. '

The conductor said, with chill dignity:

'Gentlemen, you have heard the order, and my duty is ended. As toobeying it or not, you will do as you think fit. ' And he turned toleave. 

'But wait. The matter is not yet finished. I think you are mistakenabout your duty being ended; but if it really is, I myself have a dutyto perform yet. '

'How do you mean?'

'Are you going to report my disobedience at headquarters in Pittsburg?'

'No. What good would that do?'

'You must report me, or I will report you. '

'Report me for what?'

'For disobeying the company's orders in not stopping this game. As acitizen it is my duty to help the railway companies keep their servantsto their work. '

'Are you in earnest?'

'Yes, I am in earnest. I have nothing against you as a man, but I havethis against you as an officer--that you have not carried out thatorder, and if you do not report me I must report you. And I will. '

The conductor looked puzzled, and was thoughtful a moment; then he burstout with:

'I seem to be getting myself into a scrape! It's all a muddle; I can'tmake head or tail of it; it never happened before; they always knockedunder and never said a word, and so I never saw how ridiculous thatstupid order with no penalty is. I don't want to report anybody, and Idon't want to be reported--why, it might do me no end of harm! No dogo on with the game--play the whole day if you want to--and don't let'shave any more trouble about it!'

'No, I only sat down here to establish this gentleman's rights--he canhave his place now. But before won't you tell me what you think thecompany made this rule for? Can you imagine an excuse for it? I mean arational one--an excuse that is not on its face silly, and the inventionof an idiot?'

'Why, surely I can. The reason it was made is plain enough. It is tosave the feelings of the other passengers--the religious ones amongthem, I mean. They would not like it to have the Sabbath desecrated bycard-playing on the train. '

'I just thought as much. They are willing to desecrate it themselves bytravelling on Sunday, but they are not willing that other people--'

'By gracious, you've hit it! I never thought of that before. The factis, it is a silly rule when you come to look into it. '

At this point the train conductor arrived, and was going to shut downthe game in a very high-handed fashion, but the parlour-car conductorstopped him, and took him aside to explain. Nothing more was heard ofthe matter. 

I was ill in bed eleven days in Chicago and got no glimpse of the Fair, for I was obliged to return East as soon as I was able to travel. TheMajor secured and paid for a state-room in a sleeper the day before weleft, so that I could have plenty of room and be comfortable; but whenwe arrived at the station a mistake had been made and our car had notbeen put on. The conductor had reserved a section for us--it was thebest he could do, he said. But Major said we were not in a hurry, andwould wait for the car to be put on. The conductor responded, withpleasant irony:

'It may be that you are not in a hurry, just as you say, but we are. Come, get aboard, gentlemen, get aboard--don't keep us waiting. '

But the Major would not get aboard himself nor allow me to do it. Hewanted his car, and said he must have it. This made the hurried andperspiring conductor impatient, and he said:

'It's the best we can do--we can't do impossibilities. You will take thesection or go without. A mistake has been made and can't be rectifiedat this late hour. It's a thing that happens now and then, and thereis nothing for it but to put up with it and make the best of it. Otherpeople do. '

'Ah, that is just it, you see. If they had stuck to their rights andenforced them you wouldn't be trying to trample mine underfoot inthis bland way now. I haven't any disposition to give you unnecessarytrouble, but it is my duty to protect the next man from this kind ofimposition. So I must have my car. Otherwise I will wait in Chicago andsue the company for violating its contract. '

'Sue the company?--for a thing like that!'

'Certainly. '

'Do you really mean that?'

'Indeed, I do. '

The conductor looked the Major over wonderingly, and then said:

'It beats me--it's bran-new--I've never struck the mate to itbefore. But I swear I think you'd do it. Look here, I'll send for thestation-master. '

When the station-master came he was a good deal annoyed--at the Major, not at the person who had made the mistake. He was rather brusque, andtook the same position which the conductor had taken in the beginning;but he failed to move the soft-spoken artilleryman, who still insistedthat he must have his car. However, it was plain that there was onlyone strong side in this case, and that that side was the Major's. Thestation-master banished his annoyed manner, and became pleasant andeven half-apologetic. This made a good opening for a compromise, andthe Major made a concession. He said he would give up the engagedstate-room, but he must have a state-room. After a deal of ransacking, one was found whose owner was persuadable; he exchanged it for oursection, and we got away at last. The conductor called on us in theevening, and was kind and courteous and obliging, and we had a longtalk and got to be good friends. He said he wished the public would maketrouble oftener--it would have a good effect. He said that the railroadscould not be expected to do their whole duty by the traveller unless thetraveller would take some interest in the matter himself. 

I hoped that we were done reforming for the trip now, but it was not so. In the hotel car, in the morning, the Major called for broiled chicken. The waiter said:

'It's not in the bill of fare, sir; we do not serve anything but what isin the bill. '

'That gentleman yonder is eating a broiled chicken. '

'Yes, but that is different. He is one of the superintendents of theroad. '

'Then all the more must I have broiled chicken. I do not like thesediscriminations. Please hurry--bring me a broiled chicken. '

The waiter brought the steward, who explained in a low and polite voicethat the thing was impossible--it was against the rule, and the rule wasrigid. 

'Very well, then, you must either apply it impartially or break itimpartially. You must take that gentleman's chicken away from him orbring me one. '

The steward was puzzled, and did not quite know what to do. He began anincoherent argument, but the conductor came along just then, and askedwhat the difficulty was. The steward explained that here was a gentlemanwho was insisting on having a chicken when it was dead against the ruleand not in the bill. The conductor said:

'Stick by your rules--you haven't any option. Wait a moment--is this thegentleman?' Then he laughed and said: 'Never mind your rules--it's myadvice, and sound: give him anything he wants--don't get him started onhis rights. Give him whatever he asks for; and it you haven't got it, stop the train and get it. '

The Major ate the chicken, but said he did it from a sense of duty andto establish a principle, for he did not like chicken. 

I missed the Fair it is true, but I picked up some diplomatic trickswhich I and the reader may find handy and useful as we go along. 

DIPLOMATIC PAY AND CLOTHES

VIENNA, January 5--I find in this morning's papers the statement thatthe Government of the United States has paid to the two members of thePeace Commission entitled to receive money for their services 100, 000dollars each for their six weeks' work in Paris. 

I hope that this is true. I will allow myself the satisfaction ofconsidering that it is true, and of treating it as a thing finished andsettled. 

It is a precedent; and ought to be a welcome one to our country. Aprecedent always has a chance to be valuable (as well as the other way);and its best chance to be valuable (or the other way) is when it takessuch a striking form as to fix a whole nation's attention upon it. If itcome justified out of the discussion which will follow, it will find acareer ready and waiting for it. 

We realise that the edifice of public justice is built of precedents, from the ground upward; but we do not always realise that all theother details of our civilisation are likewise built of precedents. The changes also which they undergo are due to the intrusion of newprecedents, which hold their ground against opposition, and keep theirplace. A precedent may die at birth, or it may live--it is mainly amatter of luck. If it be imitated once, it has a chance; if twice abetter chance; if three times it is reaching a point where account mustbe taken of it; if four, five, or six times, it has probably come tostay--for a whole century, possibly. If a town start a new bow, or a newdance, or a new temperance project, or a new kind of hat, and can getthe precedent adopted in the next town, the career of that precedent isbegun; and it will be unsafe to bet as to where the end of its journeyis going to be. It may not get this start at all, and may have nocareer; but, if a crown prince introduce the precedent, it will attractvast attention, and its chances for a career are so great as to amountalmost to a certainty. 

For a long time we have been reaping damage from a couple of disastrousprecedents. One is the precedent of shabby pay to public servantsstanding for the power and dignity of the Republic in foreign lands; theother is a precedent condemning them to exhibit themselves officiallyin clothes which are not only without grace or dignity, but are a prettyloud and pious rebuke to the vain and frivolous costumes worn by theother officials. To our day an American ambassador's official costumeremains under the reproach of these defects. At a public function ina European court all foreign representatives except ours wear clotheswhich in some way distinguish them from the unofficial throng, and markthem as standing for their countries. But our representative appearsin a plain black swallow-tail, which stands for neither country, norpeople. It has no nationality. It is found in all countries; it is asinternational as a night-shirt. It has no particular meaning; butour Government tries to give it one; it tries to make it stand forRepublican Simplicity, modesty and unpretentiousness. Tries, and withoutdoubt fails, for it is not conceivable that this loud ostentation ofsimplicity deceives any one. The statue that advertises its modesty witha fig-leaf really brings its modesty under suspicion. Worn officially, our nonconforming swallow-tail is a declaration of ungraciousindependence in the matter of manners, and is uncourteous. It says toall around: 'In Rome we do not choose to do as Rome does; we refuseto respect your tastes and your traditions; we make no sacrifices toanyone's customs and prejudices; we yield no jot to the courtesies oflife; we prefer our manners, and intrude them here. '

That is not the true American spirit, and those clothes misrepresent us. When a foreigner comes among us and trespasses against our customs andour code of manners, we are offended, and justly so; but our Governmentcommands our ambassadors to wear abroad an official dress which is anoffence against foreign manners and customers; and the discredit of itfalls upon the nation. 

We did not dress our public functionaries in undistinguished raimentbefore Franklin's time; and the change would not have come if he hadbeen an obscurity. But he was such a colossal figure in the world thatwhatever he did of an unusual nature attracted the world's attention, and became a precedent. In the case of clothes, the next representativeafter him, and the next, had to imitate it. After that, the thing wascustom; and custom is a petrifaction: nothing but dynamite can dislodgeit for a century. We imagine that our queer official costumery wasdeliberately devised to symbolise our Republican Simplicity--a qualitywhich we have never possessed, and are too old to acquire now, if wehad any use for it or any leaning toward it. But it is not so; there wasnothing deliberate about it; it grew naturally and heedlessly out of theprecedent set by Franklin. 

If it had been an intentional thing, and based upon a principle, itwould not have stopped where it did: we should have applied it further. Instead of clothing our admirals and generals, for courts-martial andother public functions, in superb dress uniforms blazing with colour andgold, the Government would put them in swallow-tails and white cravats, and make them look like ambassadors and lackeys. If I am wrong in makingFranklin the father of our curious official clothes, it is no matter--hewill be able to stand it. 

It is my opinion--and I make no charge for the suggestion--that, whenever we appoint an ambassador or a minister, we ought to confer uponhim the temporary rank of admiral or general, and allow him to wear thecorresponding uniform at public functions in foreign countries. I wouldrecommend this for the reason that it is not consonant with the dignityof the United States of America that her representative shouldappear upon occasions of state in a dress which makes him glaringlyconspicuous; and that is what his present undertaker-outfit does whenit appears, with its dismal smudge, in the midst of the butterflysplendours of a Continental court. It is a most trying position for ashy man, a modest man, a man accustomed to being like other people. He is the most striking figure present; there is no hiding from themultitudinous eyes. It would be funny, if it were not such a cruelspectacle, to see the hunted creature in his solemn sables scufflingaround in that sea of vivid colour, like a mislaid Presbyterian inperdition. We are all aware that our representative's dress should notcompel too much attention; for anybody but an Indian chief knows thatthat is a vulgarity. I am saying these things in the interest of ournational pride and dignity. Our representative is the flag. He is theRepublic. He is the United States of America. And when these embodimentspass by, we do not want them scoffed at; we desire that people shall beobliged to concede that they are worthily clothed, and politely. 

Our Government is oddly inconsistent in this matter of official dress. When its representative is a civilian who has not been a solider, itrestricts him to the black swallow-tail and white tie; but if he is acivilian who has been a solider, it allows him to wear the uniform ofhis former rank as an official dress. When General Sickles was ministerto Spain, he always wore, when on official duty, the dress uniform ofa major-general. When General Grant visited foreign courts, he wenthandsomely and properly ablaze in the uniform of a full general, andwas introduced by diplomatic survivals of his own PresidentialAdministration. The latter, by official necessity, went in the meekand lowly swallow-tail--a deliciously sarcastic contrast: the one dressrepresenting the honest and honourable dignity of the nation; the other, the cheap hypocrisy of the Republican Simplicity tradition. In Parisour present representative can perform his official functions reputablyclothed; for he was an officer in the Civil War. In London our lateambassador was similarly situated; for he, also, was an officer in theCivil War. But Mr. Choate must represent the Great Republic--even atofficial breakfasts at seven in the morning--in that same old funnyswallow-tail. 

Our Government's notions about proprieties of costume are indeed very, very odd--as suggested by that last fact. The swallow-tail is recognisedthe world over as not wearable in the daytime; it is a night-dress, and a night-dress only--a night-shirt is not more so. Yet, when ourrepresentative makes an official visit in the morning, he is obliged byhis Government to go in that night-dress. It makes the very cab-horseslaugh. 

The truth is, that for awhile during the present century, and up tosomething short of forty years ago, we had a lucid interval, and droppedthe Republican Simplicity sham, and dressed our foreign representativesin a handsome and becoming official costume. This was discardedby-and-by, and the swallow-tail substituted. I believe it is not nowknown which statesman brought about this change; but we all know that, stupid as he was as to diplomatic proprieties in dress, he would nothave sent his daughter to a state ball in a corn-shucking costume, norto a corn-shucking in a state-ball costume, to be harshly criticisedas an ill-mannered offender against the proprieties of custom in bothplaces. And we know another thing, viz. That he himself would not havewounded the tastes and feelings of a family of mourners by attendinga funeral in their house in a costume which was an offence against thedignities and decorum prescribed by tradition and sanctified by custom. Yet that man was so heedless as not to reflect that all the socialcustoms of civilised peoples are entitled to respectful observance, and that no man with a right spirit of courtesy in him ever has anydisposition to transgress these customs. 

There is still another argument for a rational diplomatic dress--abusiness argument. We are a trading nation; and our representative isa business agent. If he is respected, esteemed, and liked where he isstationed, he can exercise an influence which can extend our trade andforward our prosperity. A considerable number of his business activitieshave their field in his social relations; and clothes which do notoffend against local manners and customers and prejudices are a valuablepart of his equipment in this matter--would be, if Franklin had diedearlier. 

I have not done with gratis suggestions yet. We made a great deal ofvaluable advance when we instituted the office of ambassador. Thatlofty rank endows its possessor with several times as much influence, consideration, and effectiveness as the rank of minister bestows. Forthe sake of the country's dignity and for the sake of her advantagecommercially, we should have ambassadors, not ministers, at the greatcourts of the world. 

But not at present salaries! No; if we are to maintain present salaries, let us make no more ambassadors; and let us unmake those we have alreadymade. The great position, without the means of respectably maintainingit--there could be no wisdom in that. A foreign representative, to bevaluable to his country, must be on good terms with the officials of thecapital and with the rest of the influential folk. He must mingle withthis society; he cannot sit at home--it is not business, it buttersno commercial parsnips. He must attend the dinners, banquets, suppers, balls, receptions, and must return these hospitalities. He should returnas good as he gets, too, for the sake of the dignity of his country, andfor the sake of Business. Have we ever had a minister or an ambassadorwho could do this on his salary? No--not once, from Franklin's time toours. Other countries understand the commercial value of properly liningthe pockets of their representatives; but apparently our Government hasnot learned it. England is the most successful trader of the severaltrading nations; and she takes good care of the watchmen who keep guardin her commercial towers. It has been a long time, now, since we neededto blush for our representatives abroad. It has become custom to sendour fittest. We send men of distinction, cultivation, character--ourablest, our choicest, our best. Then we cripple their efficiency throughthe meagreness of their pay. Here is a list of salaries for English andAmerican ministers and ambassadors:

 City Salaries

 American English

 Paris $17, 500 $45, 000 Berlin 17, 500 40, 000 Vienna 12, 000 40, 000 Constantinople 10, 000 40, 000 St. Petersburg 17, 500 39, 000 Rome 12, 000 35, 000 Washington -- 32, 500

Sir Julian Pauncefote, the English ambassador at Washington, has a veryfine house besides--at no damage to his salary. 

English ambassadors pay no house rent; they live in palaces owned byEngland. Our representatives pay house-rent out of their salaries. Youcan judge by the above figures what kind of houses the United Statesof America has been used to living in abroad, and what sort ofreturn-entertaining she has done. There is not a salary in our listwhich would properly house the representative receiving it, and, inaddition, pay $3, 000 toward his family's bacon and doughnuts--thestrange but economical and customary fare of the American ambassador'shousehold, except on Sundays, when petrified Boston crackers are added. 

The ambassadors and ministers of foreign nations not only have generoussalaries, but their Governments provide them with money wherewith to paya considerable part of their hospitality bills. I believe our Governmentpays no hospitality bills except those incurred by the navy. Throughthis concession to the navy, that arm is able to do us credit in foreignparts; and certainly that is well and politic. But why the Governmentdoes not think it well and politic that our diplomats should be ableto do us like credit abroad is one of those mysterious inconsistencieswhich have been puzzling me ever since I stopped trying to understandbaseball and took up statesmanship as a pastime. 

To return to the matter of house-rent. Good houses, properly furnished, in European capitals, are not to be had at small figures. Consequently, our foreign representatives have been accustomed to live ingarrets--sometimes on the roof. Being poor men, it has been the bestthey could do on the salary which the Government has paid them. Howcould they adequately return the hospitalities shown them? It wasimpossible. It would have exhausted the salary in three months. Still, it was their official duty to entertain their influentials after somesort of fashion; and they did the best they could with their limitedpurse. In return for champagne they furnished lemonade; in return forgame they furnished ham; in return for whale they furnished sardines;in return for liquors they furnished condensed milk; in return for thebattalion of liveried and powdered flunkeys they furnished the hiredgirl; in return for the fairy wilderness of sumptuous decorations theydraped the stove with the American flag; in return for the orchestrathey furnished zither and ballads by the family; in return for theball--but they didn't return the ball, except in cases where the UnitedStates lived on the roof and had room. 

Is this an exaggeration? It can hardly be called that. I saw nearly theequivalent of it, a good many years ago. A minister was trying to createinfluential friends for a project which might be worth ten millionsa year to the agriculturists of the Republic; and our Government hadfurnished him ham and lemonade to persuade the opposition with. Theminister did not succeed. He might not have succeeded if his salaryhad been what it ought to have been--$50, 000 or $60, 00 a year--but hischances would have been very greatly improved. And in any case, heand his dinners and his country would not have been joked about by thehard-hearted and pitied by the compassionate. 

Any experienced 'drummer' will testify that, when you want to dobusiness, there is no economy in ham and lemonade. The drummer takes hiscountry customer to the theatre, the opera, the circus; dines him, wineshim, entertains him all the day and all the night in luxurious style;and plays upon his human nature in all seductive ways. For he knows, byold experience, that this is the best way to get a profitable order outof him. He has this reward. All Governments except our own play the samepolicy, with the same end in view; and they, also, have their reward. But ours refuses to do business by business ways, and sticks to hamand lemonade. This is the most expensive diet known to the diplomaticservice of the world. 

Ours is the only country of first importance that pays its foreignrepresentatives trifling salaries. If we were poor, we could not findgreat fault with these economies, perhaps--at least one could find asort of plausible excuse for them. But we are not poor; and the excusefails. As shown above, some of our important diplomatic representativesreceive $12, 000; others, $17, 500. These salaries are all ham andlemonade, and unworthy of the flag. When we have a rich ambassador inLondon or Paris, he lives as the ambassador of a country like ours oughtto live, and it costs him $100, 000 a year to do it. But why should weallow him to pay that out of his private pocket? There is nothing fairabout it; and the Republic is no proper subject for any one's charity. In several cases our salaries of $12, 000 should be $50, 000; and all ofthe salaries of $17, 500 ought to be $75, 000 or $100, 000, since we pay norepresentative's house-rent. Our State Department realises the mistakewhich we are making, and would like to rectify it, but it has not thepower. 

When a young girl reaches eighteen she is recognised as being a woman. She adds six inches to her skirt, she unplaits her dangling braids andballs her hair on top of her head, she stops sleeping with her littlesister and has a room to herself, and becomes in many ways a thunderingexpense. But she is in society now; and papa has to stand it. There isno avoiding it. Very well. The Great Republic lengthened her skirts lastyear, balled up her hair, and entered the world's society. This meansthat, if she would prosper and stand fair with society, she must putaside some of her dearest and darlingest young ways and superstitions, and do as society does. Of course, she can decline if she wants to; butthis would be unwise. She ought to realise, now that she has 'come out, 'that this is a right and proper time to change a part of her style. Sheis in Rome; and it has long been granted that when one is in Rome itis good policy to do as Rome does. To advantage Rome? No--to advantageherself. 

If our Government has really paid representatives of ours on the ParisCommission $100, 000 apiece for six weeks' work, I feel sure that it isthe best cash investment the nation has made in many years. For it seemsquite impossible that, with that precedent on the books, the Governmentwill be able to find excuses for continuing its diplomatic salaries atthe present mean figure. 

P. S. --VIENNA, January 10. --I see, by this morning's telegraphic news, that I am not to be the new ambassador here, after all. This--well, I hardly know what to say. I--well, of course, I do not care anythingabout it; but it is at least a surprise. I have for many months beenusing my influence at Washington to get this diplomatic see expandedinto an ambassadorship, with the idea, of course th--But never mind. Letit go. It is of no consequence. I say it calmly; for I am calm. But atthe same time--However, the subject has no interest for me, and neverhad. I never really intended to take the place, anyway--I made up mymind to it months and months ago, nearly a year. But now, while I amcalm, I would like to say this--that so long as I shall continue topossess an American's proper pride in the honour and dignity of hiscountry, I will not take any ambassadorship in the gift of the flag ata salary short of $75, 000 a year. If I shall be charged with wanting tolive beyond my country's means, I cannot help it. A country which cannotafford ambassador's wages should be ashamed to have ambassadors. 

Think of a Seventeen-thousand-five-hundred-dollar ambassador!Particularly for America. Why it is the most ludicrous spectacle, themost inconsistent and incongruous spectacle, contrivable by even themost diseased imagination. It is a billionaire in a paper collar, a kingin a breechclout, an archangel in a tin halo. And, for pure sham andhypocrisy, the salary is just the match of the ambassador's officialclothes--that boastful advertisement of a Republican Simplicity whichmanifests itself at home in Fifty-thousand-dollar salaries to insurancepresidents and railway lawyers, and in domestic palaces whose fittingsand furnishings often transcend in costly display and splendour andrichness the fittings and furnishings of the palaces of the sceptredmasters of Europe; and which has invented and exported to the Old Worldthe palace-car, the sleeping-car, the tram-car, the electric trolley, the best bicycles, the best motor-cars, the steam-heater, the best andsmartest systems of electric calls and telephonic aids to laziness andcomfort, the elevator, the private bath-room (hot and cold water ontap), the palace-hotel, with its multifarious conveniences, comforts, shows, and luxuries, the--oh, the list is interminable! In a word, Republican Simplicity found Europe with one shirt on her back, so tospeak, as far as real luxuries, conveniences, and the comforts oflife go, and has clothed her to the chin with the latter. We are thelavishest and showiest and most luxury-loving people on the earth; andat our masthead we fly one true and honest symbol, the gaudiest flagthe world has ever seen. Oh, Republican Simplicity, there are many, manyhumbugs in the world, but none to which you need take off your hat!

LUCK

(NOTE. --This is not a fancy sketch. I got it from a clergyman who wasan instructor at Woolwich forty years ago, and who vouched for itstruth. --M. T. )

It was at a banquet in London in honour of one of the two or threeconspicuously illustrious English military names of this generation. Forreasons which will presently appear, I will withhold his real name andtitles, and call him Lieutenant-General Lord Arthur Scoresby, V. C. , K. C. B. , etc. , etc. , etc. What a fascination there is in a renownedname! There say the man, in actual flesh, whom I had heard of so manythousands of times since that day, thirty years before, when his nameshot suddenly to the zenith from a Crimean battle-field, to remain forever celebrated. It was food and drink to me to look, and look, andlook at that demigod; scanning, searching, noting: the quietness, thereserve, the noble gravity of his countenance; the simple honestythat expressed itself all over him; the sweet unconsciousness of hisgreatness--unconsciousness of the hundreds of admiring eyes fastenedupon him, unconsciousness of the deep, loving, sincere worship wellingout of the breasts of those people and flowing toward him. 

The clergyman at my left was an old acquaintance of mine--clergyman now, but had spent the first half of his life in the camp and field, and asan instructor in the military school at Woolwich. Just at the moment Ihave been talking about, a veiled and singular light glimmered in hiseyes, and he leaned down and muttered confidentially to me--indicatingthe hero of the banquet with a gesture, --'Privately--his glory is anaccident--just a product of incredible luck. '

This verdict was a great surprise to me. If its subject had beenNapoleon, or Socrates, or Solomon, my astonishment could not have beengreater. 

Some days later came the explanation of this strange remark, and this iswhat the Reverend told me. 

About forty years ago I was an instructor in the military academy atWoolwich. I was present in one of the sections when young Scoresbyunderwent his preliminary examination. I was touched to the quick withpity; for the rest of the class answered up brightly and handsomely, while he--why, dear me, he didn't know anything, so to speak. He wasevidently good, and sweet, and lovable, and guileless; and so it wasexceedingly painful to see him stand there, as serene as a graven image, and deliver himself of answers which were veritably miraculous forstupidity and ignorance. All the compassion in me was aroused in hisbehalf. I said to myself, when he comes to be examined again, he will beflung over, of course; so it will be simple a harmless act of charity toease his fall as much as I can. 

I took him aside, and found that he knew a little of Caesar's history;and as he didn't know anything else, I went to work and drilled him likea galley-slave on a certain line of stock questions concerning Caesarwhich I knew would be used. If you'll believe me, he went throughwith flying colours on examination day! He went through on that purelysuperficial 'cram', and got compliments, too, while others, who knewa thousand times more than he, got plucked. By some strangely luckyaccident--an accident not likely to happen twice in a century--he wasasked no question outside of the narrow limits of his drill. 

It was stupefying. Well, although through his course I stood by him, with something of the sentiment which a mother feels for a crippledchild; and he always saved himself--just by miracle, apparently. 

Now of course the thing that would expose him and kill him at lastwas mathematics. I resolved to make his death as easy as I could; so Idrilled him and crammed him, and crammed him and drilled him, just onthe line of questions which the examiner would be most likely to use, and then launched him on his fate. Well, sir, try to conceive of theresult: to my consternation, he took the first prize! And with it he gota perfect ovation in the way of compliments. 

Sleep! There was no more sleep for me for a week. My conscience torturedme day and night. What I had done I had done purely through charity, and only to ease the poor youth's fall--I never had dreamed of any suchpreposterous result as the thing that had happened. I felt as guilty andmiserable as the creator of Frankenstein. Here was a wooden-head whomI had put in the way of glittering promotions and prodigiousresponsibilities, and but one thing could happen: he and hisresponsibilities would all go to ruin together at the first opportunity. 

The Crimean war had just broken out. Of course there had to be a war, Isaid to myself: we couldn't have peace and give this donkey a chance todie before he is found out. I waited for the earthquake. It came. And itmade me reel when it did come. He was actually gazetted to a captaincyin a marching regiment! Better men grow old and gray in the servicebefore they climb to a sublimity like that. And who could ever haveforeseen that they would go and put such a load of responsibility onsuch green and inadequate shoulders? I could just barely have stood itif they had made him a cornet; but a captain--think of it! I thought myhair would turn white. 

Consider what I did--I who so loved repose and inaction. I said tomyself, I am responsible to the country for this, and I must go alongwith him and protect the country against him as far as I can. So I tookmy poor little capital that I had saved up through years of work andgrinding economy, and went with a sigh and bought a cornetcy in hisregiment, and away we went to the field. 

And there--oh dear, it was awful. Blunders? why, he never did anythingbut blunder. But, you see, nobody was in the fellow's secret--everybodyhad him focused wrong, and necessarily misinterpreted his performanceevery time--consequently they took his idiotic blunders for inspirationsof genius; they did honestly! His mildest blunders were enough to makea man in his right mind cry; and they did make me cry--and rage andrave too, privately. And the thing that kept me always in a sweat ofapprehension was the fact that every fresh blunder he made increasedthe lustre of his reputation! I kept saying to myself, he'll get so highthat when discovery does finally come it will be like the sun fallingout of the sky. 

He went right along up, from grade to grade, over the dead bodies of hissuperiors, until at last, in the hottest moment of the battle of... Downwent our colonel, and my heart jumped into my mouth, for Scoresbywas next in rank! Now for it, said I; we'll all land in Sheol in tenminutes, sure. 

The battle was awfully hot; the allies were steadily giving way all overthe field. Our regiment occupied a position that was vital; a blundernow must be destruction. At this critical moment, what does thisimmortal fool do but detach the regiment from its place and order acharge over a neighbouring hill where there wasn't a suggestion of anenemy! 'There you go!' I said to myself; 'this is the end at last. '

And away we did go, and were over the shoulder of the hill before theinsane movement could be discovered and stopped. And what did we find?An entire and unsuspected Russian army in reserve! And what happened?We were eaten up? That is necessarily what would have happened inninety-nine cases out of a hundred. But no; those Russians argued thatno single regiment would come browsing around there at such a time. It must be the entire English army, and that the sly Russian gamewas detected and blocked; so they turned tail, and away they went, pell-mell, over the hill and down into the field, in wild confusion, and we after them; they themselves broke the solid Russia centre in thefield, and tore through, and in no time there was the most tremendousrout you ever saw, and the defeat of the allies was turned into asweeping and splendid victory! Marshal Canrobert looked on, dizzy withastonishment, admiration, and delight; and sent right off for Scoresby, and hugged him, and decorated him on the field in presence of all thearmies!

And what was Scoresby's blunder that time? Merely the mistaking hisright hand for his left--that was all. An order had come to him to fallback and support our right; and instead he fell forward and went overthe hill to the left. But the name he won that day as a marvellousmilitary genius filled the world with his glory, and that glory willnever fade while history books last. 

He is just as good and sweet and lovable and unpretending as a man canbe, but he doesn't know enough to come in when it rains. He hasbeen pursued, day by day and year by year, by a most phenomenal andastonishing luckiness. He has been a shining soldier in all our wars forhalf a generation; he has littered his military life with blunders, andyet has never committed one that didn't make him a knight or a baronetor a lord or something. Look at his breast; why, he is just clothedin domestic and foreign decorations. Well, sir, every one of them is arecord of some shouting stupidity or other; and, taken together, theyare proof that the very best thing in all this world that can befall aman is to be born lucky. 

THE CAPTAIN'S STORY

There was a good deal of pleasant gossip about old Captain 'Hurricane'Jones, of the Pacific Ocean--peace to his ashes! Two or three ofus present had known him; I, particularly well, for I had made foursea-voyages with him. He was a very remarkable man. He was born on aship; he picked up what little education he had among his ship-mates;he began life in the forecastle, and climbed grade by grade to thecaptaincy. 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 allclimates. When a man has been fifty years at sea, he necessarily knowsnothing of men, nothing of the world but its surface, nothing of theworld's thought, nothing of the world's learning but it's a B C, andthat blurred and distorted by the unfocussed lenses of an untrainedmind. Such a man is only a gray and bearded child. That is what oldHurricane Jones was--simply an innocent, lovable old infant. When hisspirit was in repose he was as sweet and gentle as a girl; when hiswrath was up he was a hurricane that made his nickname seem tamelydescriptive. He was formidable in a fight, for he was of powerful buildand dauntless courage. He was frescoed from head to heel with picturesand mottoes tattooed in red and blue India ink. I was with him onevoyage when he got his last vacant space tattooed; this vacant space wasaround his left ankle. During three days he stumped about the ship withhis ankle bare and swollen, and this legend gleaming red and angry outfrom a clouding of India ink: 'Virtue is its own R'd. ' (There was alack of room. ) He was deeply and sincerely pious, and swore like afish-woman. He considered swearing blameless, because sailors wouldnot understand an order unillumined by it. He was a profound Biblicalscholar--that is, he thought he was. He believed everything in theBible, but he had his own methods of arriving at his beliefs. He wasof the 'advanced' school of thinkers, and applied natural laws to theinterpretation of all miracles, somewhat on the plan of the peoplewho make the six days of creation six geological epochs, and so forth. Without being aware of it, he was a rather severe satirist on modernscientific religionists. Such a man as I have been describing is rabidlyfond of disquisition and argument; one knows that without being told it. 

One trip the captain had a clergyman on board, but did not know he wasa clergyman, since the passenger list did not betray the fact. He took agreat liking to this Rev. Mr. Peters, and talked with him a great deal:told him yarns, gave him toothsome scraps of personal history, and wovea glittering streak of profanity through his garrulous fabric that wasrefreshing to a spirit weary of the dull neutralities of undecoratedspeech. One day the captain said, 'Peters, do you ever read the Bible?'

'Well--yes. '

'I judge it ain't often, by the way you say it. Now, you tackle it indead earnest once, and you'll find it'll pay. Don't you get discouraged, but hang right on. First you won't understand it; but by-and-by thingswill begin to clear up, and then you wouldn't lay it down to--ear. '

'Yes, I have heard that said. '

'And it's so 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 anygetting around that--but you stick to them and think them out, and whenonce you get on the inside everything's plain as day. '

'The miracles, too, captain?'

'Yes, sir! the miracles, too. Every one of them. Now, there's thatbusiness with the prophets of Baal; like enough that stumped you?'

'Well, I don't know but--'

'Own up, now; it stumped you. Well, I don't wonder. You hadn't anyexperience in ravelling such things out, and naturally it was too manyfor you. Would you like to have me explain that thing to you, and showyou how to get at the meat of these matters?'

'Indeed, I would, captain, if you don't mind. '

Then the captain proceeded as follows: 'I'll do it with pleasure. First, you see, I read and read, and thought and thought, till I gotto understand what sort of people they were in the old Bible times, andthen after that it was clear and easy. Now, this was the way I put itup, concerning Isaac(1) and the prophets of Baal. There was some mightysharp men amongst the public characters of that old ancient day, andIsaac was one of them. Isaac had his failings--plenty of them, too;it ain't for me to apologise for Isaac; he played a cold deck on theprophets of Baal, and like enough he was justifiable, considering theodds that was against him. No, all I say it, 't' wa'n't any miracle, andthat I'll show you so's 't you can see it yourself. 

'Well, times had been getting rougher and rougher for prophets--thatis, prophets of Isaac's denomination. There were four hundred and fiftyprophets of Baal in the community, and only one Presbyterian; that is, if Isaac was a Presbyterian, which I reckon he was, but it don't say. Naturally, the prophets of Baal took all the trade. Isaac was prettylow spirited, I reckon, but he was a good deal of a man, and no doubthe went a-prophesying around, letting on to be doing a land-officebusiness, but 't' wa'n't any use; he couldn't run any opposition toamount to anything. By-and-by things got desperate with him; he setshis head to work and thinks it all out, and then what does he do? Why hebegins to throw out hints that the other parties are this and that andt'other, --nothing very definite, may be, but just kind of underminingtheir reputation in a quiet way. This made talk, of course, and finallygot to the King. The King asked Isaac what he meant by his talk. SaysIsaac, "Oh, nothing particular; only, can they pray down fire fromheaven on an altar? It ain't much, maybe, your majesty, only can they doit? That's the idea. " So the King was a good deal disturbed, and he wentto the prophets of Baal, and they said, pretty airy, that if he hadan altar ready, they were ready; and they intimated he better get itinsured, too. 

'So next morning all the Children of Israel and their parents and theother people gathered themselves together. Well, here was that greatcrowd of prophets of Baal packed together on one side, and Isaac walkingup and down all alone on the other, putting up his job. When time wascalled, Isaac let on to be comfortable and indifferent; told the otherteam to take the first innings. So they went at it, the whole fourhundred and fifty, praying around the altar, very hopefully, and doingtheir level best. They prayed an hour--two hours--three hours--and soon, plumb till noon. It wa'n't any use; they hadn't took a trick. Ofcourse they felt kind of ashamed before all those people, and well theymight. Now, what would a magnanimous man do? Keep still, wouldn't he? Ofcourse. What did Isaac do? He graveled the prophets of Baal every wayhe could think of. Says he, "You don't speak up loud enough; your god'sasleep, 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 exactlanguage. Mind I don't apologise for Isaac; he had his faults. 

'Well, the prophets of Baal prayed along the best they knew how all theafternoon, and never raised a spark. At last, about sundown, they wereall tuckered out, and they owned up and quit. 

'What does Isaac do, now? He steps up and says to some friends ofhis, there, "Pour four barrels of water on the altar!" Everybody wasastonished; for the other side had prayed at it dry, you know, and gotwhitewashed. They poured it on. Says he, "Heave on four more barrels. "Then 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 upa trench around it that would hold a couple of hogsheads--"measures, " itsays: I reckon it means about a hogshead. Some of the people were goingto put on their things and go, for they allowed he was crazy. Theydidn't know Isaac. Isaac knelt down and began to pray: he strung along, and strung along, about the heathen in distant lands, and about thesister churches, and about the state and the country at large, andabout those that's in authority in the government, and all the usualprogramme, you know, till everybody had got tired and gone to thinkingabout something else, and then, all of a sudden, when nobody wasnoticing, he outs with a match and rakes it on the under side of hisleg, and pff! up the whole thing blazes like a house afire! Twelvebarrels of water? Petroleum, sir, PETROLEUM! that's what it was!'

'Petroleum, captain?'

'Yes, sir; the country was full of it. Isaac knew all about that. Youread the Bible. Don't you worry about the tough places. They ain't toughwhen you come to think them out and throw light on them. There ain't athing in the Bible but what is true; all you want is to go prayerfullyto work and cipher out how 'twas done. '

(1) This is the captain's own mistake. 

STIRRING TIMES IN AUSTRIA

I. THE GOVERNMENT IN THE FRYING-PAN. 

Here in Vienna in these closing days of 1897 one's blood gets no chanceto stagnate. The atmosphere is brimful of political electricity. All conversation is political; every man is a battery, with brushesoverworn, and gives out blue sparks when you set him going on the commontopic. Everybody has an opinion, and lets you have it frank and hot, andout of this multitude of counsel you get merely confusion and despair. For no one really understands this political situation, or can tell youwhat is going to be the outcome of it. 

Things have happened here recently which would set any countrybut Austria on fire from end to end, and upset the Government to acertainty; but no one feels confident that such results will followhere. Here, apparently, one must wait and see what will happen, then hewill know, and not before; guessing is idle; guessing cannot help thematter. This is what the wise tell you; they all say it; they say itevery day, and it is the sole detail upon which they all agree. 

There is some approach to agreement upon another point: that there willbe no revolution. Men say: 'Look at our history, revolutions have notbeen in our line; and look at our political map, its construction isunfavourable to an organised uprising, and without unity what could arevolt accomplish? It is disunion which has held our empire together forcenturies, and what it has done in the past it may continue to do nowand in the future. '

The most intelligible sketch I have encountered of this unintelligiblearrangement of things was contributed to the 'Traveller's Record' by Mr. Forrest Morgan, of Hartford, three years ago. He says:

 'The Austro-Hungarian Monarchy is the patchwork-quilt, the Midway Plaisance, the national chain-gang of Europe; a state that is not a nation, but a collection of nations, some with national memories and aspirations and others without, some occupying distinct provinces almost purely their own, and others mixed with alien races, but each with a different language, and each mostly holding the others foreigners as much as if the link of a common government did not exist. Only one of its races even now comprises so much as one-fourth of the whole, and not another so much as one-sixth; and each has remained for ages as unchanged in isolation, however mingled together in locality, as globules of oil in water. There is nothing else in the modern world that is nearly like it, though there have been plenty in past ages; it seems unreal and impossible even though we know it is true; it violates all our feeling as to what a country should be in order to have a right to exist; and it seems as though it was too ramshackle to go on holding together any length of time. Yet it has survived, much in its present shape, two centuries of storms that have swept perfectly unified countries from existence and others that have brought it to the verge of ruin, has survived formidable European coalitions to dismember it, and has steadily gained force after each; forever changing in its exact make-up, losing in the West but gaining in the East, the changes leave the structure as firm as ever, like the dropping off and adding on of logs in a raft, its mechanical union of pieces showing all the vitality of genuine national life. '

That seems to confirm and justify the prevalent Austrian faith that inthis confusion of unrelated and irreconcilable elements, this conditionof incurable disunion, there is strength--for the Government. Nearlyevery day some one explains to me that a revolution would not succeedhere. 'It couldn't, you know. Broadly speaking, all the nations in theempire hate the Government--but they all hate each other too, and withdevoted and enthusiastic bitterness; no two of them can combine; thenation that rises must rise alone; then the others would joyfully jointhe Government against her, and she would have just a fly's chanceagainst a combination of spiders. This Government is entirelyindependent. It can go its own road, and do as it pleases; it hasnothing to fear. In countries like England and America, where there isone tongue and the public interests are common, the Government must takeaccount of public opinion; but in Austria-Hungary there are nineteenpublic opinions--one for each state. No--two or three for each state, since there are two or three nationalities in each. A Government cannotsatisfy all these public opinions; it can only go through the motions oftrying. This Government does that. It goes through the motions, and theydo not succeed; but that does not worry the Government much. '

The next man will give you some further information. 'The Government hasa policy--a wise one--and sticks to it. This policy is--tranquillity:keep this hive of excitable nations as quiet as possible; encourage themto amuse themselves with things less inflammatory that politics. To thisend it furnishes them an abundance of Catholic priests to teach them tobe docile and obedient, and to be diligent in acquiring ignorance aboutthings here below, and knowledge about the kingdom of heaven, to whosehistoric delights they are going to add the charm of their societyby-and-by; and further--to this same end--it cools off the newspapersevery morning at five o'clock, whenever warm events are happening. 'There is a censor of the press, and apparently he is always on duty andhard at work. A copy of each morning paper is brought to him at fiveo'clock. His official wagons wait at the doors of the newspaper officesand scud to him with the first copies that come from the press. His company of assistants read every line in these papers, and markeverything which seems to have a dangerous look; then he passes finaljudgment upon these markings. Two things conspire to give to the resultsa capricious and unbalanced look: his assistants have diversifiednotions as to what is dangerous and what isn't; he can't get time toexamine their criticisms in much detail; and so sometimes the very samematter which is suppressed in one paper fails to be damned in anotherone, and gets published in full feather and unmodified. Then the paperin which it was suppressed blandly copies the forbidden matter intoits evening edition--provokingly giving credit and detailing all thecircumstances in courteous and inoffensive language--and of course thecensor cannot say a word. 

Sometimes the censor sucks all the blood out of a newspaper and leavesit colourless and inane; sometimes he leaves it undisturbed, and letsit talk out its opinions with a frankness and vigour hardly to besurpassed, I think, in the journals of any country. Apparently thecensor sometimes revises his verdicts upon second thought, for severaltimes lately he has suppressed journals after their issue and partialdistribution. The distributed copies are then sent for by the censorand destroyed. I have two of these, but at the time they were sent for Icould not remember what I had done with them. 

If the censor did his work before the morning edition was printed, hewould be less of an inconvenience than he is; but, of course, the paperscannot wait many minutes after five o'clock to get his verdict; theymight as well go out of business as do that; so they print and taketheir chances. Then, if they get caught by a suppression, they muststrike out the condemned matter and print the edition over again. Thatdelays the issue several hours, and is expensive besides. The Governmentgets the suppressed edition for nothing. If it bought it, that would bejoyful, and would give great satisfaction. Also, the edition would belarger. Some of the papers do not replace the condemned paragraphswith other matter; they merely snatch they out and leave blanksbehind--mourning blanks, marked 'Confiscated'. 

The Government discourages the dissemination of newspaper information inother ways. For instance, it does not allow newspapers to be sold onthe streets: therefore the newsboy is unknown in Vienna. And there is astamp duty of nearly a cent upon each copy of a newspaper's issue. Every American paper that reaches me has a stamp upon it, which has beenpasted there in the post-office or downstairs in the hotel office; butno matter who put it there, I have to pay for it, and that is the mainthing. Sometimes friends send me so many papers that it takes all I canearn that week to keep this Government going. 

I must take passing notice of another point in the Government's measuresfor maintaining tranquillity. Everybody says it does not like to see anyindividual attain to commanding influence in the country, since such aman can become a disturber and an inconvenience. 'We have as muchtalent as the other nations, ' says the citizen, resignedly, and withoutbitterness, 'but for the sake of the general good of the country, we arediscouraged from making it over-conspicuous; and not only discouraged, but tactfully and skillfully prevented from doing it, if we show toomuch persistence. Consequently we have no renowned men; in centurieswe have seldom produced one--that is, seldom allowed one to producehimself. We can say to-day what no other nation of first importancein the family of Christian civilisations can say--that there exists noAustrian who has made an enduring name for himself which is familiar allaround the globe. 

Another helper toward tranquillity is the army. It is as pervasive asthe atmosphere. It is everywhere. All the mentioned creators, promoters, and preservers of the public tranquillity do their several shares inthe quieting work. They make a restful and comfortable serenity andreposefulness. This is disturbed sometimes for a little while: a mobassembles to protest against something; it gets noisy--noisier--stillnoisier--finally too noisy; then the persuasive soldiery comes chargingdown upon it, and in a few minutes all is quiet again, and there is nomob. 

There is a Constitution and there is a Parliament. The House draws itsmembership of 425 deputies from the nineteen or twenty states heretoforementioned. These men represent peoples who speak eleven differentlanguages. That means eleven distinct varieties of jealousies, hostilities, and warring interests. This could be expected to furnishforth a parliament of a pretty inharmonious sort, and make legislationdifficult at times--and it does that. The Parliament is split up intomany parties--the Clericals, the Progressists, the German Nationalists, the Young Czechs, the Social Democrats, the Christian Socialists, andsome others--and it is difficult to get up working combinations amongthem. They prefer to fight apart sometimes. 

The recent troubles have grown out of Count Badeni's necessities. Hecould not carry on his Government without a majority vote in the Houseat his back, and in order to secure it he had to make a trade of somesort. He made it with the Czechs--the Bohemians. The terms were not easyfor him: he must issue an ordinance making the Czech tongue the officiallanguage in Bohemia in place of the German. This created a storm. Allthe Germans in Austria were incensed. In numbers they form but a fourthpart of the empire's population, but they urge that the country's publicbusiness should be conducted in one common tongue, and that tongue aworld language--which German is. 

However, Badeni secured his majority. The German element in Parliamentwas apparently become helpless. The Czech deputies were exultant. 

Then the music began. Badeni's voyage, instead of being smooth, wasdisappointingly rough from the start. The Government must get theAusgleich through. It must not fail. Badeni's majority was ready tocarry it through; but the minority was determined to obstruct it anddelay it until the obnoxious Czech-language measure should be shelved. 

The Ausgleich is an Adjustment, Arrangement, Settlement, which holdsAustria and Hungary together. It dates from 1867, and has to be renewedevery ten years. It establishes the share which Hungary must pay towardthe expenses of the imperial Government. Hungary is a kingdom (theEmperor of Austria is its King), and has its own Parliament andgovernmental machinery. But it has no foreign office, and it has noarmy--at least its army is a part of the imperial army, is paid outof the imperial treasury, and is under the control of the imperial waroffice. 

The ten-year arrangement was due a year ago, but failed to connect. Atleast completely. A year's compromise was arranged. A new arrangementmust be effected before the last day of this year. Otherwise the twocountries become separate entities. The Emperor would still be King ofHungary--that is, King of an independent foreign country. There wouldbe Hungarian custom-houses on the Austrian border, and there would be aHungarian army and a Hungarian foreign office. Both countries would beweakened by this, both would suffer damage. 

The Opposition in the House, although in the minority, had a good weaponto fight with in the pending Ausgleich. If it could delay the Ausgleicha few weeks, the Government would doubtless have to withdraw the hatedlanguage ordinance or lose Hungary. 

The Opposition began its fight. Its arms were the Rules of the House. Itwas soon manifest that by applying these Rules ingeniously it could makethe majority helpless, and keep it so as long as it pleased. It couldshut off business every now and then with a motion to adjourn. It couldrequire the ayes and noes on the motion, and use up thirty minuteson that detail. It could call for the reading and verification of theminutes of the preceding meeting, and use up half a day in that way. Itcould require that several of its members be entered upon the list ofpermitted speakers previously to the opening of a sitting; and as thereis no time-limit, further delays could thus be accomplished. 

These were all lawful weapons, and the men of the Opposition(technically called the Left) were within their rights in using them. They used them to such dire purpose that all parliamentary business wasparalysed. The Right (the Government side) could accomplish nothing. Then it had a saving idea. This idea was a curious one. It was to havethe President and the Vice-Presidents of the Parliament trample theRules under foot upon occasion!

This, for a profoundly embittered minority constructed out of fire andgun-cotton! It was time for idle strangers to go and ask leave to lookdown out of a gallery and see what would be the result of it. 

II. A MEMORABLE SITTING. 

And now took place that memorable sitting of the House which broke tworecords. It lasted the best part of two days and a night, surpassingby half an hour the longest sitting known to the world's previousparliamentary history, and breaking the long-speech record with Dr. Lecher's twelve-hour effort, the longest flow of unbroken talk that evercame out of one mouth since the world began. 

At 8. 45 on the evening of the 28th of October, when the House had beensitting a few minutes short of ten hours, Dr. Lecher was granted thefloor. It was a good place for theatrical effects. I think that noother Senate House is so shapely as this one, or so richly and showilydecorated. Its plan is that of an opera-house. Up toward the straightside of it--the stage side--rise a couple of terraces of desks for theministry, and the official clerks or secretaries--terraces thirty feetlong, and each supporting about half a dozen desks with spaces betweenthem. Above these is the President's terrace, against the wall. Along itare distributed the proper accommodations for the presiding officer andhis assistants. The wall is of richly coloured marble highly polished, its paneled sweep relieved by fluted columns and pilasters ofdistinguished grace and dignity, which glow softly and frostily in theelectric light. Around the spacious half-circle of the floor bendsthe great two-storied curve of the boxes, its frontage elaboratelyornamented and sumptuously gilded. On the floor of the House the 425desks radiate fanwise from the President's tribune. 

The galleries are crowded on this particular evening, for word has goneabout that the Ausgleich is before the House; that the President, Rittervon Abrahamowicz, has been throttling the Rules; that the Opposition arein an inflammable state in consequence, and that the night session islikely to be of an exciting sort. 

The gallery guests are fashionably dressed, and the finery of the womenmakes a bright and pretty show under the strong electric light. But downon the floor there is no costumery. 

The deputies are dressed in day clothes; some of the clothes neat andtrim, others not; there may be three members in evening dress, but notmore. There are several Catholic priests in their long black gowns, andwith crucifixes hanging from their necks. No member wears his hat. Onemay see by these details that the aspects are not those of an eveningsitting of an English House of Commons, but rather those of a sitting ofour House of Representatives. 

In his high place sits the President, Abrahamowicz, object of theOpposition's limitless hatred. He is sunk back in the depths of hisarm-chair, and has his chin down. He brings the ends of his spreadfingers together, in front of his breast, and reflectively taps themtogether, with the air of one who would like to begin business, but mustwait, and be as patient as he can. It makes you think of Richelieu. Nowand then he swings his head up to the left or to the right and answerssomething which some one has bent down to say to him. Then he taps hisfingers again. He looks tired, and maybe a trifle harassed. He is agray-haired, long, slender man, with a colourless long face, which, in repose, suggests a death-mask; but when not in repose is tossed andrippled by a turbulent smile which washes this way and that, and is noteasy to keep up with--a pious smile, a holy smile, a saintly smile, adeprecating smile, a beseeching and supplicating smile; and when itis at work the large mouth opens, and the flexible lips crumple, andunfold, and crumple again, and move around in a genial and persuasiveand angelic way, and expose large glimpses of the teeth; and thatinterrupts the sacredness of the smile and gives it momentarily a mixedworldly and political and satanic cast. It is a most interesting faceto watch. And then the long hands and the body--they furnish great andfrequent help to the face in the business of adding to the force of thestatesman's words. 

To change the tense. At the time of which I have just been speaking thecrowds in the galleries were gazing at the stage and the pit with raptinterest and expectancy. One half of the great fan of desks was ineffect empty, vacant; in the other half several hundred members werebunched and jammed together as solidly as the bristles in a brush; andthey also were waiting and expecting. Presently the Chair delivered thisutterance:

'Dr. Lecher has the floor. '

Then burst out such another wild and frantic and deafening clamour ashas not been heard on this planet since the last time the Comanchessurprised a white settlement at night. Yells from the Left, counter-yells from the Right, explosions of yells from all sidesat once, and all the air sawed and pawed and clawed and cloven by awrithing confusion of gesturing arms and hands. Out of the midst of thisthunder and turmoil and tempest rose Dr. Lecher, serene and collected, and the providential length of his enabled his head to show out of it. He began his twelve-hour speech. At any rate, his lips could be seen tomove, and that was evidence. On high sat the President, imploring order, with his long hands put together as in prayer, and his lips visibly butnot hearably speaking. At intervals he grasped his bell and swung itup and down with vigour, adding its keen clamour to the storm welteringthere below. 

Dr. Lecher went on with his pantomime speech, contented, untroubled. Here and there and now and then powerful voices burst above the din, and delivered an ejaculation that was heard. Then the din ceased for amoment or two, and gave opportunity to hear what the Chair might answer;then the noise broke out again. Apparently the President was beingcharged with all sorts of illegal exercises of power in the interest ofthe Right (the Government side): among these, with arbitrarily closingan Order of Business before it was finished; with an unfair distributionof the right to the floor; with refusal of the floor, upon quibble andprotest, to members entitled to it; with stopping a speaker's speechupon quibble and protest; and with other transgressions of the Rules ofthe House. One of the interrupters who made himself heard was a youngfellow of slight build and neat dress, who stood a little apart from thesolid crowd and leaned negligently, with folded arms and feet crossed, against a desk. Trim and handsome; strong face and thin features; blackhair roughed up; parsimonious moustache; resonant great voice, ofgood tone and pitch. It is Wolf, capable and hospitable with sword andpistol; fighter of the recent duel with Count Badeni, the head of theGovernment. He shot Badeni through the arm and then walked over in thepolitest way and inspected his game, shook hands, expressed regret, andall that. Out of him came early this thundering peal, audible above thestorm:

'I demand the floor. I wish to offer a motion. '

In the sudden lull which followed, the President answered, 'Dr. Lecherhas the floor. '

Wolf. 'I move the close of the sitting!'

P. 'Representative Lecher has the floor. ' (Stormy outburst from theLeft--that is, the Opposition. )

Wolf. 'I demand the floor for the introduction of a formal notion. (Pause). Mr. President, are you going to grant it, or not? (Crash ofapproval from the Left. ) I will keep on demanding the floor till I getit. '

P. 'I call Representative Wolf to order. Dr. Lecher has the floor. '

Wolf. 'Mr. President, are you going to observe the Rules of this House?'(Tempest of applause and confused ejaculations from the Left--a boom androar which long endured, and stopped all business for the time being. )

Dr. Von Pessler. 'By the Rules motions are in order, and the Chair mustput them to vote. '

For answer the President (who is a Pole--I make this remark in passing)began to jangle his bell with energy at the moment that that wildpandemonium of voices broke out again. 

Wolf (hearable above the storm). 'Mr. President, I demand the floor. Weintend to find out, here and now, which is the hardest, a Pole's skullor a German's!'

This brought out a perfect cyclone of satisfaction from the Left. In themidst of it someone again moved an Adjournment. The President blandlyanswered that Dr. Lecher had the floor. Which was true; and he wasspeaking, too, calmly, earnestly, and argumentatively; and the officialstenographers had left their places and were at his elbows taking downhis words, he leaning and orating into their ears--a most curious andinteresting scene. 

Dr. Von Pessler (to the Chair). 'Do not drive us to extremities!'

The tempest burst out again: yells of approval from the Left, catcallsand ironical laughter from the Right. At this point a new and mosteffective noise-maker was pressed into service. Each desk has anextension, consisting of a removable board eighteen inches long, sixwide, and a half-inch thick. A member pulled one of these out andbegan to belabour the top of his desk with it. Instantly othermembers followed suit, and perhaps you can imagine the result. Of allconceivable rackets it is the most ear-splitting, intolerable, andaltogether fiendish. 

The persecuted President leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, clasped his hands in his lap, and a look of pathetic resignation creptover his long face. It is the way a country schoolmaster used to look indays long past when he had refused his school a holiday and it had risenagainst him in ill-mannered riot and violence and insurrection. Twicea motion to adjourn had been offered--a motion always in order in otherHouses, and doubtless so in this one also. The President had refused toput these motions. By consequence, he was not in a pleasant place now, and was having a right hard time. Votes upon motions, whether carried ordefeated, could make endless delay, and postpone the Ausgleich to nextcentury. 

In the midst of these sorrowful circumstances and this hurricane ofyells and screams and satanic clatter of desk-boards, RepresentativeDr. Kronawetter unfeelingly reminds the Chair that a motion has beenoffered, and adds: 'Say yes, or no! What do you sit there for, and giveno answer?'

P. 'After I have given a speaker the floor, I cannot give it toanother. After Dr. Lecher is through, I will put your motion. ' (Storm ofindignation from the Left. )

Wolf (to the Chair). 'Thunder and lightning! look at the Rule governingthe case!'

Kronawetter. 'I move the close of the sitting! And I demand the ayes andnoes!'

Dr. Lecher. 'Mr. President, have I the floor?'

P. 'You have the floor. '

Wolf (to the Chair, in a stentorian voice which cleaves its way throughthe storm). 'It is by such brutalities as these that you drive us toextremities! Are you waiting till someone shall throw into your facethe word that shall describe what you are bringing about?(1) (Tempestof insulted fury from the Right. ) Is that what you are waiting for, oldGrayhead?' (Long-continued clatter of desk-boards from the Left, withshouts of 'The vote! the vote!' An ironical shout from the Right, 'Wolfis boss!')

Wolf keeps on demanding the floor for his motion. At length--

P. 'I call Representative Wolf to order! Your conduct is unheard of, sir! You forget that you are in a parliament; you must remember whereyou are, sir. ' (Applause from the Right. Dr. Lecher is still peacefullyspeaking, the stenographers listening at his lips. )

Wolf (banging on his desk with his desk-board). 'I demand the floor formy motion! I won't stand this trampling of the Rules under foot--no, notif I die for it! I will never yield. You have got to stop me by force. Have I the floor?'

P. 'Representative Wolf, what kind of behaviour is this? I call you toorder again. You should have some regard for your dignity. '

Dr. Lecher speaks on. Wolf turns upon him with an offensive innuendo. 

Dr. Lecher. 'Mr. Wolf, I beg you to refrain from that sort ofsuggestions. ' (Storm of hand-clapping from the Right. )

This was applause from the enemy, for Lecher himself, like Wolf, was anObstructionist. 

Wolf growls to Lecher, 'You can scribble that applause in your album!'

P. 'Once more I call Representative Wolf to order! Do not forget thatyou are a Representative, sir!'

Wolf (slam-banging with his desk-board). 'I will force this matter! Areyou going to grant me the floor, or not?'

And still the sergeant-at-arms did not appear. It was because therewasn't any. It is a curious thing, but the Chair has no effectual meansof compelling order. 

After some more interruptions:

Wolf (banging with his board). 'I demand the floor. I will not yield!'

P. 'I have no recourse against Representative Wolf. In the presence ofbehaviour like this it is to be regretted that such is the case. ' (Ashout from the Right, 'Throw him out!')

It is true he had no effective recourse. He had an official called an'Ordner, ' whose help he could invoke in desperate cases, but apparentlythe Ordner is only a persuader, not a compeller. Apparently he is asergeant-at-arms who is not loaded; a good enough gun to look at, butnot valuable for business. 

For another twenty or thirty minutes Wolf went on banging with his boardand demanding his rights; then at last the weary President threatenedto summon the dread order-maker. But both his manner and his wordswere reluctant. Evidently it grieved him to have to resort to this direextremity. He said to Wolf, 'If this goes on, I shall feel obliged tosummon the Ordner, and beg him to restore order in the House. '

Wolf. 'I'd like to see you do it! Suppose you fetch in a few policementoo! (Great tumult. ) Are you going to put my motion to adjourn, or not?'

Dr. Lecher continues his speech. Wolf accompanies him with hisboard-clatter. 

The President despatches the Ordner, Dr. Lang (himself a deputy), onhis order-restoring mission. Wolf, with his board uplifted fordefence, confronts the Ordner with a remark which Boss Tweed mighthave translated into 'Now let's see what you are going to do about it!'(Noise and tumult all over the House. )

Wolf stands upon his rights, and says he will maintain them until he iskilled in his tracks. Then he resumes his banging, the President jangleshis bell and begs for order, and the rest of the House augments theracket the best it can. 

Wolf. 'I require an adjournment, because I find myself personallythreatened. (Laughter from the Right. ) Not that I fear for myself; I amonly anxious about what will happen to the man who touches me. '

The Ordner. 'I am not going to fight with you. '

Nothing came of the efforts of the angel of peace, and he presentlymelted out of the scene and disappeared. Wolf went on with his noiseand with his demands that he be granted the floor, resting his boardat intervals to discharge criticisms and epithets at the Chair. Once hereminded the Chairman of his violated promise to grant him (Wolf) thefloor, and said, 'Whence I came, we call promise-breakers rascals!' Andhe advised the Chairman to take his conscience to bed with him and useit as a pillow. Another time he said that the Chair was making itselfridiculous before all Europe. In fact, some of Wolf's language wasalmost unparliamentary. By-and-by he struck the idea of beating out atune with his board. Later he decided to stop asking for the floor, andto confer it upon himself. And so he and Dr. Lecher now spoke at thesame time, and mingled their speeches with the other noises, andnobody heard either of them. Wolf rested himself now and then fromspeech-making by reading, in his clarion voice, from a pamphlet. 

I will explain that Dr. Lecher was not making a twelve-hour speech forpastime, but for an important purpose. It was the Government's intentionto push the Ausgleich through its preliminary stages in this one sitting(for which it was the Order of the Day), and then by vote refer it toa select committee. It was the Majority's scheme--as charged by theOpposition--to drown debate upon the bill by pure noise--drown it outand stop it. The debate being thus ended, the vote upon the referencewould follow--with victory for the Government. But into the Government'scalculations had not entered the possibility of a single-barrelledspeech which should occupy the entire time-limit of the setting, andalso get itself delivered in spite of all the noise. Goliath wasnot expecting David. But David was there; and during twelve hours hetranquilly pulled statistical, historical, and argumentative pebbles outof his scrip and slung them at the giant; and when he was done he wasvictor, and the day was saved. 

In the English House an obstructionist has held the floor withBible-readings and other outside matters; but Dr. Lecher could nothave that restful and recuperative privilege--he must confine himselfstrictly to the subject before the House. More than once, when thePresident could not hear him because of the general tumult, he sentpersons to listen and report as to whether the orator was speaking tothe subject or not. 

The subject was a peculiarly difficult one, and it would have troubledany other deputy to stick to it three hours without exhausting hisammunition, because it required a vast and intimate knowledge--detailedand particularised knowledge--of the commercial, railroading, financial, and international banking relations existing between two greatsovereignties, Hungary and the Empire. But Dr. Lecher is Presidentof the Board of Trade of his city of Brunn, and was master of thesituation. His speech was not formally prepared. He had a few notesjotted down for his guidance; he had his facts in his head; his heardwas in his work; and for twelve hours he stood there, undisturbed by theclamour around him, and with grace and ease and confidence pouredout the riches of his mind, in closely reasoned arguments, clothed ineloquent and faultless phrasing. 

He is a young man of thirty-seven. He is tall and well-proportioned, andhas cultivated and fortified his muscle by mountain-climbing. If he werea little handsomer he would sufficiently reproduce for me the ChaunceyDepew of the great New England dinner nights of some years ago; he hasDepew's charm of manner and graces of language and delivery. 

There was but one way for Dr. Lecher to hold the floor--he must stayon his legs. If he should sit down to rest a moment, the floor would betaken from him by the enemy in the Chair. When he had been talking threeor four hours he himself proposed an adjournment, in order that he mightget some rest from his wearing labours; but he limited his motion withthe condition that if it was lost he should be allowed to continuehis speech, and if it was carried he should have the floor at thenext sitting. Wolf was now appeased, and withdrew his ownthousand-times-offered motion, and Dr. Lecher's was voted upon--andlost. So he went on speaking. 

By one o'clock in the morning, excitement and noise-making had tiredout nearly everybody but the orator. Gradually the seats of theRight underwent depopulation; the occupants had slipped out to therefreshment-rooms to eat and drink, or to the corridors to chat. Someone remarked that there was no longer a quorum present, and moved a callof the House. The Chair (Vice-President Dr. Kramarz) refused to put itto vote. There was a small dispute over the legality of this ruling, butthe Chair held its ground. 

The Left remained on the battle-field to support their champion. Hewent steadily on with his speech; and always it was strong, virile, felicitous, and to the point. He was earning applause, and this enabledhis party to turn that fact to account. Now and then they applauded hima couple of minutes on a stretch, and during that time he could stopspeaking and rest his voice without having the floor taken from him. 

At a quarter to two a member of the Left demanded that Dr. Lecher beallowed a recess for rest, and said that the Chairman was 'heartless. 'Dr. Lecher himself asked for ten minutes. The Chair allowed him five. Before the time had run out Dr. Lecher was on his feet again. 

Wolf burst out again with a motion to adjourn. Refused by the Chair. Wolf said the whole Parliament wasn't worth a pinch of powder. The Chairretorted that that was true in a case where a single member was ableto make all parliamentary business impossible. Dr. Lecher continued hisspeech. 

The members of the Majority went out by detachments from time to timeand took naps upon sofas in the reception-rooms; and also refreshedthemselves with food and drink--in quantities nearly unbelievable--butthe Minority stayed loyally by their champion. Some distinguisheddeputies of the Majority stayed by him too, compelled thereto byadmiration of his great performance. When a man has been speakingeight hours, is it conceivable that he can still be interesting, stillfascinating? When Dr. Lecher had been speaking eight hours he was stillcompactly surrounded by friends who would not leave him, and by foes (ofall parties) who could not; and all hung enchanted and wondering uponhis words, and all testified their admiration with constant and cordialoutbursts of applause. Surely this was a triumph without precedent inhistory. 

During the twelve-hour effort friends brought to the orator threeglasses of wine, four cups of coffee, and one glass of beer--a moststingy re-enforcement of his wasting tissues, but the hostile Chairwould permit no addition to it. But, no matter, the Chair could not beatthat man. He was a garrison holding a fort, and was not to be starvedout. 

When he had been speaking eight hours his pulse was 72; when he hadspoken twelve, it was 100. 

He finished his long speech in these terms, as nearly as a permissiblyfree translation can convey them:

'I will now hasten to close my examination of the subject. I conceivethat we of the Left have made it clear to the honourable gentlemenof the other side of the House that we are stirred by no intemperateenthusiasm for this measure in its present shape.... 

'What we require, and shall fight for with all lawful weapons, is aformal, comprehensive, and definitive solution and settlement of thesevexed matters. We desire the restoration of the earlier condition ofthings; the cancellation of all this incapable Government's pernicioustrades with Hungary; and then--release from the sorry burden of theBadeni ministry!

'I voice the hope--I know not if it will be fulfilled--I voice the deepand sincere and patriotic hope that the committee into whose hands thisbill will eventually be committed will take its stand upon high ground, and will return the Ausgleich-Provisorium to this House in a form whichshall make it the protector and promoter alike of the great interestsinvolved and of the honour of our fatherland. ' After a pause, turningtowards the Government benches: 'But in any case, gentlemen of theMajority, make sure of this: henceforth, as before, you find us at ourpost. The Germans of Austria will neither surrender nor die!'

Then burst a storm of applause which rose and fell, rose and fell, burstout again and again and again, explosion after explosion, hurricaneafter hurricane, with no apparent promise of ever coming to an end; andmeantime the whole Left was surging and weltering about the champion, all bent upon wringing his hand and congratulating him and glorifyinghim. 

Finally he got away, and went home and ate five loaves and twelvebaskets of fish, read the morning papers, slept three hours, took ashort drive, then returned to the House, and sat out the rest of thethirty-three-hour session. 

To merely stand up in one spot twelve hours on a stretch is a featwhich very few men could achieve; to add to the task the utterance of ahundred thousand words would be beyond the possibilities of the most ofthose few; to superimpose the requirement that the words should be putinto the form of a compact, coherent, and symmetrical oration wouldprobably rule out the rest of the few, bar Dr. Lecher. 

III. --CURIOUS PARLIAMENTARY ETIQUETTE. 

In consequence of Dr. Lecher's twelve-hour speech and the otherobstructions furnished by the Minority, the famous thirty-three-hoursitting of the House accomplished nothing. The Government side had madea supreme effort, assisting itself with all the helps at hand, bothlawful and unlawful, yet had failed to get the Ausgleich into the handsof a committee. This was a severe defeat. The Right was mortified, theLeft jubilant. 

Parliament was adjourned for a week--to let the members cool off, perhaps--a sacrifice of precious time; for but two months remained inwhich to carry the all-important Ausgleich to a consummation. 

If I have reported the behaviour of the House intelligibly, the readerhas been surprised by it, and has wondered whence these law-makers comeand what they are made of; and he has probably supposed that the conductexhibited at the Long Sitting was far out of the common, and due tospecial excitement and irritation. As to the make-up of the House, itis this: the deputies come from all the walks of life and from all thegrades of society. There are princes, counts, barons, priests, peasants, mechanics, labourers, lawyers, judges, physicians, professors, merchants, bankers, shopkeepers. They are religious men, they areearnest, sincere, devoted, and they hate the Jews. The title of Doctoris so common in the House that one may almost say that the deputy whodoes not bear it is by that reason conspicuous. I am assured that it isnot a self-granted title, and not an honorary one, but an earned one;that in Austria it is very seldom conferred as a mere compliment; thatin Austria the degrees of Doctor of Music, Doctor of Philosophy, and soon, are not conferred by the seats of learning; and so, when an Austrianis called Doctor, it means that he is either a lawyer or a physician, and that he is not a self-educated man, but is college-bred, and hasbeen diplomaed for merit. 

That answers the question of the constitution of the House. Now as tothe House's curious manners. The manners exhibited by this convention ofDoctors were not at that time being tried as a wholly new experiment. I will go back to a previous sitting in order to show that the deputieshad already had some practice. 

There had been an incident. The dignity of the House had been woundedby improprieties indulged in in its presence by a couple of the members. This matter was placed in the hands of a committee to determine wherethe guilt lay and the degree of it, and also to suggest the punishment. The chairman of the committee brought in his report. By this it appearedthat in the course of a speech, Deputy Schrammel said that religionhad no proper place in the public schools--it was a private matter. Whereupon Deputy Gregorig shouted, 'How about free love!'

To this, Deputy Iro flung out this retort: 'Soda-water at theWimberger!'

This appeared to deeply offend Deputy Gregorig, who shouted back at Iro, 'You cowardly blatherskite, say that again!'

The committee had sat three hours. Gregorig had apologised. Iroexplained that he didn't say anything about soda-water at the Wimberger. He explained in writing, and was very explicit: 'I declare upon my wordof honour that I did not say the words attributed to me. '

Unhappily for his word of honour, it was proved by the officialstenographers and by the testimony of several deputies that he did saythem. 

The committee did not officially know why the apparently inconsequentialreference to soda-water at the Wimberger should move Deputy Gregorigto call the utterer of it a cowardly blatherskite; still, after properdeliberation, it was of the opinion that the House ought to formallycensure the whole business. This verdict seems to have been regarded assharply severe. I think so because Deputy Dr. Lueger, Burgermeisterof Vienna, felt it a duty to soften the blow to his friend Gregorigby showing that the soda-water remark was not so innocuous as it mightlook; that, indeed, Gregorig's tough retory was justifiable--and heproceeded to explain why. He read a number of scandalous post-cardswhich he intimated had proceeded from Iro, as indicated by thehandwriting, though they were anonymous. Some of them were posted toGregorig at his place of business and could have been read by all hissubordinates; the others were posted to Gregorig's wife. Lueger did notsay--but everybody knew--that the cards referred to a matter of towngossip which made Mr. Gregorig a chief actor in a tavern scene wheresiphon-squirting played a prominent and humorous part, and wherein womenhad a share. 

There were several of the cards; more than several, in fact; no fewerthan five were sent in one day. Dr. Lueger read some of them, anddescribed others. Some of them had pictures on them; one a picture of ahog with a monstrous snout, and beside it a squirting soda-siphon; belowit some sarcastic doggerel. 

Gregorig dealt in shirts, cravats, etc. One of the cards bore thesewords: 'Much-respected Deputy and collar-sewer--or stealer. '

Another: 'Hurrah for the Christian-Social work among thewomen-assemblages! Hurrah for the soda-squirter!' Comment by Dr. Lueger:'I cannot venture to read the rest of that one, nor the signature, either. '

Another: 'Would you mind telling me if.... ' Comment by Dr. Lueger: 'Therest of it is not properly readable. '

To Deputy Gregorig's wife: 'Much-respected Madam Gregorig, --Theundersigned desires an invitation to the next soda-squirt. ' Commentby Dr. Lueger: 'Neither the rest of the card nor the signature can Iventure to read to the House, so vulgar are they. '

The purpose of this card--to expose Gregorig to his family--was repeatedin others of these anonymous missives. 

The House, by vote, censured the two improper deputies. 

This may have had a modifying effect upon the phraseology of themembership for a while, and upon its general exuberance also, but it wasnot for long. As has been seen, it had become lively once more on thenight of the Long Sitting. At the next sitting after the long one therewas certainly no lack of liveliness. The President was persistentlyignoring the Rules of the House in the interest of the government side, and the Minority were in an unappeasable fury about it. The ceaselessdin and uproar, the shouting and stamping and desk-banging, weredeafening, but through it all burst voices now and then that madethemselves heard. Some of the remarks were of a very candid sort, andI believe that if they had been uttered in our House of Representativesthey would have attracted attention. I will insert some samples here. Not in their order, but selected on their merits:

Mr. Mayreder (to the President). 'You have lied! You conceded the floorto me; make it good, or you have lied!'

Mr. Glockner (to the President). 'Leave! Get out!'

Wolf (indicating the President). 'There sits a man to whom a certaintitle belongs!'

Unto Wolf, who is continuously reading, in a powerful voice, from anewspaper, arrive these personal remarks from the Majority: 'Oh, shutyour mouth!' 'Put him out!' 'Out with him!' Wolf stops reading a momentto shout at Dr. Lueger, who has the floor but cannot get a hearing, 'Please, Betrayer of the People, begin!'

Dr. Lueger, 'Meine Herren--' ('Oho!' and groans. )

Wolf. 'That's the holy light of the Christian Socialists!'

Mr. Kletzenbauer (Christian Socialist). 'Dam--nation! Are you ever goingto quiet down?'

Wolf discharges a galling remark at Mr. Wohlmeyer. 

Wohlmeyer (responding). 'You Jew, you!'

There is a moment's lull, and Dr. Lueger begins his speech. Graceful, handsome man, with winning manners and attractive bearing, a bright andeasy speaker, and is said to know how to trim his political sails tocatch any favouring wind that blows. He manages to say a few words, thenthe tempest overwhelms him again. 

Wolf stops reading his paper a moment to say a drastic thing aboutLueger and his Christian-Social pieties, which sets the C. S. S. In a sortof frenzy. 

Mr. Vielohlawek. 'You leave the Christian Socialists alone, youword-of-honour-breaker! Obstruct all you want to, but you leave themalone! You've no business in this House; you belong in a gin-mill!'

Mr. Prochazka. 'In a lunatic-asylum, you mean!'

Vielohlawek. 'It's a pity that such man should be leader of the Germans;he disgraces the German name!'

Dr. Scheicher. 'It's a shame that the like of him should insult us. '

Strohbach (to Wolf). 'Contemptible cub--we will bounce thee out ofthis!' (It is inferable that the 'thee' is not intended to indicateaffection this time, but to re-enforce and emphasise Mr. Storhbach'sscorn. )

Dr. Scheicher. 'His insults are of no consequence. He wants his earsboxed. '

Dr. Lueger (to Wolf). 'You'd better worry a trifle over your Iro's wordof honour. You are behaving like a street arab. '

Dr. Scheicher. 'It is infamous!'

Dr. Lueger. 'And these shameless creatures are the leaders of the GermanPeople's Party!'

Meantime Wolf goes whooping along with his newspaper readings in greatcontentment. 

Dr. Pattai. 'Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! You haven't the floor!'

Strohbach. 'The miserable cub!'

Dr. Lueger (to Wolf, raising his voice strenuously above the storm). 'You are a wholly honourless street brat!' (A voice, 'Fire therapscallion out!' But Wolf's soul goes marching noisily on, just thesame. )

Schonerer (vast and muscular, and endowed with the most powerful voicein the Reichsrath; comes ploughing down through the standing crowds, red, and choking with anger; halts before Deputy Wohlmeyer, grabs a ruleand smashes it with a blow upon a desk, threatens Wohlmeyer's face withhis fist, and bellows out some personalities, and a promise). 'Only youwait--we'll teach you!' (A whirlwind of offensive retorts assails himfrom the band of meek and humble Christian Socialists compactedaround their leader, that distinguished religious expert, Dr. Lueger, Burgermeister of Vienna. Our breath comes in excited gasps now, and weare full of hope. We imagine that we are back fifty years ago in theArkansas Legislature, and we think we know what is going to happen, andare glad we came, and glad we are up in the gallery, out of the way, where we can see the whole thing and yet not have to supply any of thematerial for the inquest. However, as it turns out, our confidence isabused, our hopes are misplaced. )

Dr. Pattai (wildly excited). 'You quiet down, or we shall turn ourselvesloose! There will be cuffing of ears!'

Prochazka (in a fury). 'No--not ear boxing, but genuine blows!'

Vieholawek. 'I would rather take my hat off to a Jew than to Wolf!'

Strohbach (to Wolf). 'Jew flunky! Here we have been fighting the Jewsfor ten years, and now you are helping them to power again. How much doyou get for it?'

Holansky. 'What he wants is a strait-jacket!'

Wolf continues his reading. It is a market report now. 

Remark flung across the House to Schonerer: 'Die Grossmutter auf demMisthaufen erzeugt worden!'

It will be judicious not to translate that. Its flavour is pretty high, in any case, but it becomes particularly gamy when you remember that thefirst gallery was well stocked with ladies. 

Apparently it was a great hit. It fetched thunders of joyous enthusiasmout of the Christian Socialists, and in their rapture they flung bitingepithets with wasteful liberality at specially detested members ofthe Opposition; among others, this one at Schonerer, 'Bordell in derKrugerstrasse!' Then they added these words, which they whooped, howled, and also even sand, in a deep-voiced chorus: 'Schmul Leeb Kohn! SchmulLeeb Kohn! Schmul Leeb Kohn!' and made it splendidly audible above thebanging of desk-boards and the rest of the roaring cyclone of fiendishnoises. (A gallery witticism comes flitting by from mouth to moutharound the great curve: 'The swan-song of Austrian representativegovernment!' You can note its progress by the applausive smiles and nodsit gets as it skims along. )

Kletzenbauer. 'Holofernes, where is Judith?' (Storm of laughter. )

Gregorig (the shirt-merchant). 'This Wolf-Theatre is costing 6, 000florins!'

Wolf (with sweetness). 'Notice him, gentlemen; it is Mr. Gregorig. '(Laughter. )

Vieholawek (to Wolf). 'You Judas!'

Schneider. 'Brothel-knight!'

Chorus of Voices. 'East-German offal tub!'

And so the war of epithets crashes along, with never-diminishing energy, for a couple of hours. 

The ladies in the gallery were learning. That was well; for by-and-byladies will form a part of the membership of all the legislatures in theworld; as soon as they can prove competency they will be admitted. Atpresent, men only are competent to legislate; therefore they lookdown upon women, and would feel degraded if they had to have them forcolleagues in their high calling. 

Wolf is yelling another market report now. 

Gessman. 'Shut up, infamous louse-brat!'

During a momentary lull Dr. Lueger gets a hearing for three sentences ofhis speech. The demand and require that the President shall suppress thefour noisiest members of the Opposition. 

Wolf (with a that-settles-it toss of the head). 'The shifty trickster ofVienna has spoken!'

Iro belonged to Schonerer's party. The word-of-honour incident hasgiven it a new name. Gregorig is a Christian Socialist, and hero of thepost-cards and the Wimberger soda-squirting incident. He stands vastand conspicuous, and conceited and self-satisfied, and roosterish andinconsequential, at Lueger's elbow, and is proud and cocky to be in sucha great company. He looks very well indeed; really majestic, and awareof it. He crows out his little empty remark, now and then, and looks aspleased as if he had been delivered of the Ausgleich. Indeed, he doeslook notably fine. He wears almost the only dress vest on the floor; itexposes a continental spread of white shirt-front; his hands are posedat ease in the lips of his trousers pockets; his head is tilted backcomplacently; he is attitudinising; he is playing to the gallery. However, they are all doing that. It is curious to see. Men who onlyvote, and can't make speeches, and don't know how to invent wittyejaculations, wander about the vacated parts of the floor, and stop ina good place and strike attitudes--attitudes suggestive of weightythought, mostly--and glance furtively up at the galleries to see how itworks; or a couple will come together and shake hands in an artificialway, and laugh a gay manufactured laugh, and do some constrained andself-conscious attitudinising; and they steal glances at thegalleries to see if they are getting notice. It is like a scene on thestage--by-play by minor actors at the back while the stars do the greatwork at the front. Even Count Badeni attitudinises for a moment; strikesa reflective Napoleonic attitude of fine picturesqueness--butsoon thinks better of it and desists. There are two who do notattitudinise--poor harried and insulted President Abrahamowicz, whoseems wholly miserable, and can find no way to put in the dreary timebut by swinging his bell and discharging occasional remarks which nobodycan hear; and a resigned and patient priest, who sits lonely in a greatvacancy on Majority territory and munches an apple. 

Schonerer uplifts his fog-horn of a voice and shakes the roof with aninsult discharged at the Majority. 

Dr. Lueger. 'The Honourless Party would better keep still here!'

Gregorig (the echo, swelling out his shirt-front). 'Yes, keep quiet, pimp!'

Schonerer (to Lueger). 'Political mountebank!'

Prochazka (to Schonerer). 'Drunken clown!'

During the final hour of the sitting many happy phrases were distributedthrough the proceedings. Among them were these--and they are strikinglygood ones:

'Blatherskite!'

'Blackguard!'

'Scoundrel!'

'Brothel-daddy!'

This last was the contribution of Dr. Gessman, and gave greatsatisfaction. And deservedly. It seems to me that it was one of the mostsparkling things that was said during the whole evening. 

At half-past two in the morning the House adjourned. The victory waswith the Opposition. No; not quite that. The effective part of itwas snatched away from them by an unlawful exercise of Presidentialforce--another contribution toward driving the mistreated Minority outof their minds. 

At other sittings of the parliament, gentlemen of the Opposition, shaking their fists toward the President, addressed him as 'Polish Dog'. At one sitting an angry deputy turned upon a colleague and shouted, '----------!'

You must try to imagine what it was. If I should offer it even in theoriginal it would probably not get by the editor's blue pencil; tooffer a translation would be to waste my ink, of course. This remark wasfrankly printed in its entirety by one of the Vienna dailies, but theothers disguised the toughest half of it with stars. 

If the reader will go back over this chapter and gather its array ofextraordinary epithets into a bunch and examine them, he will marvel attwo things: how this convention of gentlemen could consent to use suchgross terms; and why the users were allowed to get out the place alive. There is no way to understand this strange situation. If every man inthe House were a professional blackguard, and had his home in a sailorboarding-house, one could still not understand it; for, althoughthat sort do use such terms, they never take them. These men are notprofessional blackguards; they are mainly gentlemen, and educated; yetthey use the terms, and take them too. They really seem to attach noconsequence to them. One cannot say that they act like schoolboys; forthat is only almost true, not entirely. Schoolboys blackguard each otherfiercely, and by the hour, and one would think that nothing would evercome of it but noise; but that would be a mistake. Up to a certain limitthe result would be noise only, but, that limit overstepped, troublewould follow right away. There are certain phrases--phrases ofa peculiar character--phrases of the nature of that reference toSchonerer's grandmother, for instance--which not even the mostspiritless schoolboy in the English-speaking world would allow to passunavenged. One difference between schoolboys and the law-makers ofthe Reichsrath seems to be that the law-makers have no limit, nodanger-line. Apparently they may call each other what they please, andgo home unmutilated. 

Now, in fact, they did have a scuffle on two occasions, but it was noton account of names called. There has been no scuffle where that was thecause. 

It is not to be inferred that the House lacks a sense of honour becauseit lacks delicacy. That would be an error. Iro was caught in a lie, andit profoundly disgraced him. The House cut him, turned its back uponhim. He resigned his seat; otherwise he would have been expelled. But itwas lenient with Gregorig, who had called Iro a cowardly blatherskitein debate. It merely went through the form of mildly censuring him. Thatdid not trouble Gregorig. 

The Viennese say of themselves that they are an easy-going, pleasure-loving community, making the best of life, and not taking itvery seriously. Nevertheless, they are grieved about the ways of theirParliament, and say quite frankly that they are ashamed. They claimthat the low condition of the parliament's manners is new, not old. A gentleman who was at the head of the government twenty years agoconfirms this, and says that in his time the parliament was orderly andwell-behaved. An English gentleman of long residence here endorses this, and says that a low order of politicians originated the present forms ofquestionable speech on the stump some years ago, and imported theminto the parliament. (2) However, some day there will be a Minister ofEtiquette and a sergeant-at-arms, and then things will go better. I meanif parliament and the Constitution survive the present storm. 

IV. --THE HISTORIC CLIMAX

During the whole of November things went from bad to worse. Theall-important Ausgleich remained hard aground, and could not be sparredoff. Badeni's government could not withdraw the Language Ordinance andkeep its majority, and the Opposition could not be placated on easierterms. One night, while the customary pandemonium was crashing andthundering along at its best, a fight broke out. It was a surging, struggling, shoulder-to-shoulder scramble. A great many blowswere struck. Twice Schonerer lifted one of the heavy ministerialfauteuils--some say with one hand--and threatened members of theMajority with it, but it was wrenched away from him; a member hammeredWolf over the head with the President's bell, and another member chokedhim; a professor was flung down and belaboured with fists and choked; heheld up an open penknife as a defence against the blows; it was snatchedfrom him and flung to a distance; it hit a peaceful Christian Socialistwho wasn't doing anything, and brought blood from his hand. This was theonly blood drawn. The men who got hammered and choked looked sound andwell next day. The fists and the bell were not properly handled, orbetter results would have been apparent. I am quite sure that thefighters were not in earnest. 

On Thanksgiving Day the sitting was a history-making one. On that daythe harried, bedevilled, and despairing government went insane. In orderto free itself from the thraldom of the Opposition it committed thiscuriously juvenile crime; it moved an important change of the Rules ofthe House, forbade debate upon the motion, put it to a stand-up voteinstead of ayes and noes, and then gravely claimed that it had beenadopted; whereas, to even the dullest witness--if I without immodestymay pretend to that place--it was plain that nothing legitimately to becalled a vote had been taken at all. 

I think that Saltpeter never uttered a truer thing than when he said, 'Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad. ' Evidently thegovernment's mind was tottering when this bald insults to the House wasthe best way it could contrive for getting out of the frying-pan. 

The episode would have been funny if the matter at stake had been atrifle; but in the circumstances it was pathetic. The usual storm wasraging in the House. As usual, many of the Majority and the most of theMinority were standing up--to have a better chance to exchange epithetsand make other noises. Into this storm Count Falkenhayn entered, withhis paper in his hand; and at once there was a rush to get near him andhear him read his motion. In a moment he was walled in by listeners. Theseveral clauses of his motion were loudly applauded by these allies, and as loudly disapplauded--if I may invent a word--by such of theOpposition as could hear his voice. When he took his seat the Presidentpromptly put the motion--persons desiring to vote in the affirmative, stand up! The House was already standing up; had been standing for anhour; and before a third of it had found out what the President had beensaying, he had proclaimed the adoption of the motion! And only a fewheard that. In fact, when that House is legislating you can't tell itfrom artillery practice. 

You will realise what a happy idea it was to side-track the lawful ayesand noes and substitute a stand-up vote by this fact: that a littlelater, when a deputation of deputies waited upon the President andasked him if he was actually willing to claim that that measure had beenpassed, he answered, 'Yes--and unanimously. ' It shows that in effect thewhole House was on its feet when that trick was sprung. 

The 'Lex Falkenhayn, ' thus strangely born, gave the President power tosuspend for three days any deputy who should continue to be disorderlyafter being called to order twice, and it also placed at his disposalsuch force as might be necessary to make the suspension effective. Sothe House had a sergeant-at-arms at last, and a more formidable one, asto power, than any other legislature in Christendom had ever possessed. The Lex Falkenhayn also gave the House itself authority to suspendmembers for thirty days. 

On these terms the Ausgleich could be put through in anhour--apparently. The Opposition would have to sit meek and quiet, andstop obstructing, or be turned into the street, deputy after deputy, leaving the Majority an unvexed field for its work. 

Certainly the thing looked well. The government was out of thefrying-pan at last. It congratulated itself, and was almost girlishlyhappy. Its stock rose suddenly from less than nothing to a premium. It confessed to itself, with pride, that its Lex Falkenhayn was amaster-stroke--a work of genius. 

However, there were doubters--men who were troubled, and believed thata grave mistake had been made. It might be that the Opposition wascrushed, and profitably for the country, too; but the manner of it--themanner of it! That was the serious part. It could have far-reachingresults; results whose gravity might transcend all guessing. It might bethe initial step toward a return to government by force, a restorationof the irresponsible methods of obsolete times. 

There were no vacant seats in the galleries next day. In fact, standing-room outside the building was at a premium. There were crowdsthere, and a glittering array of helmeted and brass-buttoned police, onfoot and on horseback, to keep them from getting too much excited. No one could guess what was going to happen, but every one felt thatsomething was going to happen, and hoped he might have a chance to seeit, or at least get the news of it while it was fresh. 

At noon the House was empty--for I do not count myself. Half an hourlater the two galleries were solidly packed, the floor still empty. Another half-hour later Wolf entered and passed to his place; thenother deputies began to stream in, among them many forms and faces grownfamiliar of late. By one o'clock the membership was present in fullforce. A band of Socialists stood grouped against the ministerial desks, in the shadow of the Presidential tribune. It was observable that theseofficial strongholds were now protected against rushes by bolted gates, and that these were in ward of servants wearing the House's livery. Also the removable desk-boards had been taken away, and nothing left fordisorderly members to slat with. 

There was a pervading, anxious hush--at least what stood very well fora hush in that House. It was believed by many that the Opposition wascowed, and that there would be no more obstruction, no more noise. Thatwas an error. 

Presently the President entered by the distant door to the right, followed by Vice-President Fuchs, and the two took their way down pastthe Polish benches toward the tribune. Instantly the customary storm ofnoises burst out, and rose higher and higher, and wilder and wilder, andreally seemed to surpass anything that had gone before it in that place. The President took his seat and begged for order, but no one couldhear him. His lips moved--one could see that; he bowed his body forwardappealingly, and spread his great hand eloquently over his breast--onecould see that; but as concerned his uttered words, he probably couldnot hear them himself. Below him was that crowd of two dozen Socialistsglaring up at him, shaking their fists at him, roaring imprecationsand insulting epithets at him. This went on for some time. Suddenlythe Socialists burst through the gates and stormed up through theministerial benches, and a man in a red cravat reached up and snatchedthe documents that lay on the President's desk and flung them abroad. The next moment he and his allies were struggling and fighting with thehalf-dozen uniformed servants who were there to protect the new gates. Meantime a detail of Socialists had swarmed up the side steps andoverflowed the President and the Vice, and were crowding and shoulderingand shoving them out of the place. They crowded them out, and down thesteps and across the House, past the Polish benches; and all about themswarmed hostile Poles and Czechs, who resisted them. One could see fistsgo up and come down, with other signs and shows of a heady fight; thenthe President and the Vice disappeared through the door of entrance, andthe victorious Socialists turned and marched back, mounted the tribune, flung the President's bell and his remaining papers abroad, and thenstood there in a compact little crowd, eleven strong, and held the placeas if it were a fortress. Their friends on the floor were in a frenzy oftriumph, and manifested it in their deafening way. The whole House wason its feet, amazed and wondering. 

It was an astonishing situation, and imposingly dramatic. Nobody hadlooked for this. The unexpected had happened. What next? But therecan be no next; the play is over; the grand climax is reached; thepossibilities are exhausted; ring down the curtain. 

Not yet. That distant door opens again. And now we see what history willbe talking of five centuries hence: a uniformed and helmeted battalionof bronzed and stalwart men marching in double file down the floor ofthe House--a free parliament profaned by an invasion of brute force!

It was an odious spectacle--odious and awful. For one moment it wasan unbelievable thing--a thing beyond all credibility; it must be adelusion, a dream, a nightmare. But no, it was real--pitifully real, shamefully real, hideously real. These sixty policemen had beensoldiers, and they went at their work with the cold unsentimentality oftheir trade. They ascended the steps of the tribune, laid their handsupon the inviolable persons of the representatives of a nation, anddragged and tugged and hauled them down the steps and out at thedoor; then ranged themselves in stately military array in front of theministerial estrade, and so stood. 

It was a tremendous episode. The memory of it will outlast all thethrones that exist to-day. In the whole history of free parliaments thelike of it had been seen but three times before. It takes its imposingplace among the world's unforgettable things. It think that in mylifetime I have not twice seen abiding history made before my eyes, butI know that I have seen it once. 

Some of the results of this wild freak followed instantly. The Badenigovernment came down with a crash; there was a popular outbreak or twoin Vienna; there were three or four days of furious rioting in Prague, followed by the establishing there of martial law; the Jews and Germanswere harried and plundered, and their houses destroyed; in otherBohemian towns there was rioting--in some cases the Germans being therioters, in others the Czechs--and in all cases the Jew had to roast, nomatter which side he was on. We are well along in December now;(3) thenext new Minister-President has not been able to patch up a peace amongthe warring factions of the parliament, therefore there is no use incalling it together again for the present; public opinion believes thatparliamentary government and the Constitution are actually threatenedwith extinction, and that the permanency of the monarchy itself is a notabsolutely certain thing!

Yes, the Lex Falkenhayn was a great invention, and did what was claimedfor it--it got the government out of the frying-pan. 

(1) That is, revolution. 

(2) 'In that gracious bygone time when a mild and good-tempered spiritwas the atmosphere of our House, when the manner of our speakers wasstudiously formal and academic, and the storms and explosions of to-daywere wholly unknown, ' etc. --Translation of the opening remark of aleading article in this morning's 'Neue Freie Presse, ' December 11. 

(3) It is the 9th. --M. T. 

PRIVATE HISTORY OF THE 'JUMPING FROG' STORY

Five or six years ago a lady from Finland asked me to tell her a storyin our Negro dialect, so that she could get an idea of what that varietyof speech was like. I told her one of Hopkinson Smith's Negro stories, and gave her a copy of 'Harper's Monthly' containing it. She translatedit for a Swedish newspaper, but by an oversight named me as the authorof it instead of Smith. I was very sorry for that, because I got a goodlashing in the Swedish press, which would have fallen to his share butfor that mistake; for it was shown that Boccaccio had told that verystory, in his curt and meagre fashion, five hundred years before Smithtook hold of it and made a good and tellable thing out of it. 

I have always been sorry for Smith. But my own turn has come now. A fewweeks ago Professor Van Dyke, of Princeton, asked this question:

'Do you know how old your "Jumping Frog" story is?'

And I answered:

'Yes--forty-five years. The thing happened in Calaveras County, in thespring of 1849. '

'No; it happened earlier--a couple of thousand years earlier; it is aGreek story. '

I was astonished--and hurt. I said:

'I am willing to be a literary thief if it has been so ordained; Iam even willing to be caught robbing the ancient dead alongside ofHopkinson Smith, for he is my friend and a good fellow, and I thinkwould be as honest as any one if he could do it without occasioningremark; but I am not willing to antedate his crimes by fifteen hundredyears. I must ask you to knock off part of that. '

But the professor was not chaffing: he was in earnest, and could notabate a century. He offered to get the book and send it to me and theCambridge text-book containing the English translation also. I thoughtI would like the translation best, because Greek makes me tired. January30th he sent me the English version, and I will presently insert it inthis article. It is my 'Jumping Frog' tale in every essential. It is notstrung out as I have strung it out, but it is all there. 

To me this is very curious and interesting. Curious for several reasons. For instance:

I heard the story told by a man who was not telling it to his hearers asa thing new to them, but as a thing which they had witnessed and wouldremember. He was a dull person, and ignorant; he had no gift as astory-teller, and no invention; in his mouth this episode was merelyhistory--history and statistics; and the gravest sort of history, too; he was entirely serious, for he was dealing with what to him wereaustere facts, and they interested him solely because they were facts;he was drawing on his memory, not his mind; he saw no humour in histale, neither did his listeners; neither he nor they ever smiled orlaughed; in my time I have not attended a more solemn conference. To himand to his fellow gold-miners there were just two things in the storythat were worth considering. One was the smartness of its hero, JimSmiley, in taking the stranger in with a loaded frog; and the other wasSmiley's deep knowledge of a frog's nature--for he knew (as the narratorasserted and the listeners conceded) that a frog likes shot and isalready ready to eat it. Those men discussed those two points, and thoseonly. They were hearty in their admiration of them, and none of theparty was aware that a first-rate story had been told in a first-rateway, and that it brimful of a quality whose presence they neversuspected--humour. 

Now, then, the interesting question is, did the frog episode happen inAngel's Camp in the spring of '49, as told in my hearing that day in thefall of 1865? I am perfectly sure that it did. I am also sure that itsduplicate happened in Boeotia a couple of thousand years ago. I think itmust be a case of history actually repeating itself, and not a case ofa good story floating down the ages and surviving because too good to beallowed to perish. 

I would now like to have the reader examine the Greek story and thestory told by the dull and solemn Californian, and observe how exactlyalike they are in essentials. 

(Translation. )

THE ATHENIAN AND THE FROG. (1)

An Athenian once fell in with a Boeotian who was sitting by theroad-side looking at a frog. Seeing the other approach, the Boeotiansaid his was a remarkable frog, and asked if he would agree to start acontest of frogs, on condition that he whose frog jumped farthest shouldreceive a large sum of money. The Athenian replied that he would if theother would fetch him a frog, for the lake was near. To this he agreed, and when he was gone the Athenian took the frog, and, opening its mouth, poured some stones into its stomach, so that it did not indeed seemlarger than before, but could not jump. The Boeotian soon returnedwith the other frog, and the contest began. The second frog first waspinched, and jumped moderately; then they pinched the Boeotian frog. Andhe gathered himself for a leap, and used the utmost effort, but he couldnot move his body the least. So the Athenian departed with the money. When he was gone the Boeotian, wondering what was the matter with thefrog, lifted him up and examined him. And being turned upside down, heopened his mouth and vomited out the stones. 

And here is the way it happened in California:

FROM 'THE CELEBRATED JUMPING FROG OF CALAVERAS COUNTY'

Well, thish-yer Smiley had rat-tarriers and chicken cocks, and tom-cats, and all of them kind of things, till you couldn't rest, and you couldn'tfetch nothing for him to bet on but he'd match you. He ketched a frogone day, and took him home, and said he cal'lated to educate him; andso he never done nothing for three months but set in his back yard andlearn that frog to jump. And you bet you he did learn him, too. He'dgive him a little punch behind, and the next minute you'd see that frogwhirling in the air like a doughnut--see him turn one summerset, ormaybe a couple if he got a good start, and come down flat-footed and allright, like a cat. He got him up so in the matter of ketching flies, andkep'him in practice so constant, that he'd nail a fly every time as furas he could see him. Smiley said all a frog wanted was education, and hecould do 'most anything--and I believe him. Why, I've seen him setDan'l Webster down here on this flor--Dan'l Webster was the name of thefrog--and sing out, 'Flies, Dan'l, flies!' and quicker'n you could winkhe'd spring straight up and snake a fly off'n the counter there, andflop down on the floor ag'in as solid as a gob of mud, and fall toscratching the side of his head with his hind foot as indifferent asif he hadn't no idea he'd been doin' any more'n any frog might do. Younever see a frog so modest and straightfor'ard as he was, for all he wasso gifted. And when it come to fair and square jumping on a dead level, he could get over more ground at one straddle than any animal of hisbreed you ever see. Jumping on a dead level was his strong suit, youunderstand; and when it came to that, Smiley would ante up money on himas long as he had a red. Smiley was monstrous proud of his frog, andwell he might be, for fellers that had travelled and been everywheresall said he laid over any frog that ever they see. 

Well, Smiley kep' the beast in a little lattice box, and he used tofetch him down-town sometimes and lay for a bet. One day a feller--astranger in the camp, he was--come acrost him with his box, and says:

'What might it be that you've got in the box?'

And Smiley says, sorter indifferent-like, 'It might be a parrot, or itmight be a canary, maybe, but it's ain't--it's only just a frog. '

And the feller took it, and looked at it careful, and turned it roundthis way and that, and says, 'H'm--so 'tis. Well, what's he good for?'

'Well, ' Smiley says, easy and careless, 'he's good enough for one thing, I should judge--he can outjump any frog in Calaveras County. '

The feller took the box again and took another long, particular look, and give it back to Smiley, and says, very deliberate, 'Well, ' he says, 'I don't see no p'ints about that frog that's any better'n any otherfrog. '

'Maybe you don't, ' Smiley says. 'Maybe you understand frogs and maybeyou don't understand 'em; maybe you've had experience, and maybe youain't only a amature, as it were. Anyways, I've got my opinion, and I'llresk forty dollars that he can outjump any frog in Calaveras County. '

And the feller studies a minute, and then says, kinder sad like, 'Well, I'm only a stranger here, and I ain't got no frog, but if I had a frogI'd bet you. '

And then Smiley says: 'That's all right--that's all right; if you'llhold my box a minute, I'll go and get you a frog. ' And so the fellertook the box and put up his forty dollars along with Smiley's and setdown to wait. 

So he set there a good while thinking and thinking to hisself, and thenhe got the frog out and prized his mouth open and took a teaspoonand filled him full of quail shot--filled him pretty near up to hischin--and set him on the floor. Smiley he went to the swamp and sloppedaround in the mud for a long time, and finally he ketched a frog andfetched him in and give him to this feller, and says:

'Now, if you're ready, set him alongside of Dan'l, with his fore-pawsjust even with Dan'l's, and I'll give the word. ' Then he says, 'One--two--three--git!' and him and the feller touched up the frogs frombehind, and the new frog hopped off lively; but Dan'l give a heave, andhysted up his shoulders--so--like a Frenchman, but it warn't no use--hecouldn't budge; he was planted as solid as a church, and he couldn't nomore stir than if he was anchored out. Smiley was a good deal surprised, and he was disgusted, too, but he didn't have no idea what the matterwas, of course. 

The feller took the money and started away; and when he was going out atthe door he sorter jerked his thumb over his shoulder--so--at Dan'l, and says again, very deliberate: 'Well, ' he says, 'I don't see no p'intsabout that frog that's any better'n any other frog. '

Smiley he stood scratching his head and looking down at Dan'l a longtime, and at last he says, 'I do wonder what in the nation that frogthrow'd off for--I wonder if there ain't something the matter withhim--he 'pears to look mighty baggy, somehow. ' And he ketched Dan'l bythe nape of the neck, and hefted him, and says, 'Why, blame my cats ifhe don't weigh five pound!' and turned him upside down, and he belchedout a double handful of shot. And then he see how it was, and he was themaddest man--he set the frog down and took out after that feeler, but henever ketched him. 

The resemblances are deliciously exact. There you have the wily Boeotainand the wily Jim Smiley waiting--two thousand years apart--and waiting, each equipped with his frog and 'laying' for the stranger. A contestis proposed--for money. The Athenian would take a chance 'if the otherwould fetch him a frog'; the Yankee says: 'I'm only a stranger here, andI ain't got a frog; but if I had a frog I'd bet you. ' The wily Boeotianand the wily Californian, with that vast gulf of two thousand yearsbetween, retire eagerly and go frogging in the marsh; the Athenianand the Yankee remain behind and work a best advantage, the one withpebbles, the other with shot. Presently the contest began. In the onecase 'they pinched the Boeotian frog'; in the other, 'him and the fellertouched up the frogs from behind. ' The Boeotian frog 'gathered himselffor a leap' (you can just see him!), but 'could not move his body inthe least'; the Californian frog 'give a heave, but it warn't no use--hecouldn't budge. ' In both the ancient and the modern cases the strangersdeparted with the money. The Boeotian and the Californian wonder what isthe matter with their frogs; they lift them and examine; they turn themupside down and out spills the informing ballast. 

Yes, the resemblances are curiously exact. I used to tell the story ofthe 'Jumping Frog' in San Francisco, and presently Artemus Ward camealong and wanted it to help fill out a little book which he was about topublish; so I wrote it out and sent it to his publisher, Carleton; butCarleton thought the book had enough matter in it, so he gave the storyto Henry Clapp as a present, and Clapp put it in his 'Saturday Press, 'and it killed that paper with a suddenness that was beyond praise. Atleast the paper died with that issue, and none but envious peoplehave ever tried to rob me of the honour and credit of killing it. The'Jumping Frog' was the first piece of writing of mine that spread itselfthrough the newspapers and brought me into public notice. Consequently, the 'Saturday Press' was a cocoon and I the worm in it; also, I was thegay-coloured literary moth which its death set free. This simile hasbeen used before. 

Early in '66 the 'Jumping Frog' was issued in book form, with othersketches of mine. A year or two later Madame Blanc translated it intoFrench and published it in the 'Revue des Deux Mondes, ' but the resultwas not what should have been expected, for the 'Revue' struggled alongand pulled through, and is alive yet. I think the fault must have beenin the translation. I ought to have translated it myself. I think sobecause I examined into the matter and finally retranslated the sketchfrom the French back into English, to see what the trouble was; that is, to see just what sort of a focus the French people got upon it. Then themystery was explained. In French the story is too confused and chaoticand unreposeful and ungrammatical and insane; consequently it couldonly cause grief and sickness--it could not kill. A glance at myretranslation will show the reader that this must be true. 

(My Retranslation. )

THE FROG JUMPING OF THE COUNTY OF CALAVERAS

Eh bien! this Smiley nourished some terriers a rats, and some cocks ofcombat, and some cats, and all sorts of things: and with his rage ofbetting one no had more of repose. He trapped one day a frog and himimported with him (et l'emporta chez lui) saying that he pretended tomake his education. You me believe if you will, but during three monthshe not has nothing done but to him apprehend to jump (apprendre asauter) in a court retired of her mansion (de sa maison). And I yourespond that he have succeeded. He him gives a small blow by behind, and the instant after you shall see the frog turn in the air like agrease-biscuit, make one summersault, sometimes two, when she was wellstarted, and refall upon his feet like a cat. He him had accomplishedin the art of to gobble the flies (gober des mouches), and him thereexercised continually--so well that a fly at the most far that sheappeared was a fly lost. Smiley had custom to say that all which lackedto a frog it was the education, but with the education she could donearly all--and I him believe. Tenez, I him have seen pose DanielWebster there upon this plank--Daniel Webster was the name of thefrog--and to him sing, 'Some flies, Daniel, some flies!'--in a fash ofthe eye Daniel had bounded and seized a fly here upon the counter, thenjumped anew at the earth, where he rested truly to himself scratch thehead with his behind-foot, as if he no had not the least idea of hissuperiority. Never you not have seen frog as modest, as natural, sweetas she was. And when he himself agitated to jump purely and simply uponplain earth, she does more ground in one jump than any beast of hisspecies than you can know. 

To jump plain--this was his strong. When he himself agitated for thatSmiley multiplied the bests upon her as long as there to him remained ared. It must to know, Smiley was monstrously proud of his frog, and heof it was right, for some men who were travelled, who had all seen, said that they to him would be injurious to him compare to another frog. Smiley guarded Daniel in a little box latticed which he carried bytimesto the village for some bet. 

One day an individual stranger at the camp him arrested with his box andhim said:

'What is this that you have then shut up there within?'

Smiley said, with an air indifferent:

'That could be a paroquet, or a syringe (ou un serin), but this no isnothing of such, it not is but a frog. '

The individual it took, it regarded with care, it turned from one sideand from the other, then he said:

'Tiens! in effect!--At what is she good?'

'My God!' responded Smiley, always with an air disengaged, 'she is goodfor one thing, to my notice (a mon avis), she can better in jumping(elle peut batter en sautant) all frogs of the county of Calaveras. '

The individual retook the box, it examined of new longly, and itrendered to Smiley in saying with an air deliberate:

'Eh bien! I no saw not that that frog had nothing of better than eachfrog. ' (Je ne vois pas que cette grenouille ait rien de mieux qu'aucunegrenouille. ) (If that isn't grammar gone to seed, then I count myself nojudge. --M. T. )

'Possible that you not it saw not, ' said Smiley; 'possible that you--youcomprehend frogs; possible that you not you there comprehend nothing;possible that you had of the experience, and possible that you not bebut an amateur. Of all manner (de toute maniere) I bet forty dollarsthat she batter in jumping no matter which frog of the country ofCalaveras. '

The individual reflected a second, and said like sad:

'I not am but a stranger here, I no have not a frog; but if I of it hadone, I would embrace the bet. '

'Strong, well!' respond Smiley; 'nothing of more facility. If you willhold my box a minute, I go you to search a frog (j'irai vous chercher. )'

Behold, then, the individual who guards the box, who puts his fortydollars upon those of Smiley, and who attends (et qui attendre). Heattended enough longtimes, reflecting all solely. And figure you that hetakes Daniel, him opens the mouth by force and with a teaspoon him fillswith shot of the hunt, even him fills just to the chin, then he himputs by the earth. Smiley during these times was at slopping in a swamp. Finally he trapped (attrape) a frog, him carried to that individual, andsaid:

'Now if you be ready, put him all against Daniel, with their before-feetupon the same line, and I give the signal'--then he added: 'One, twothree--advance!'

Him and the individual touched their frogs by behind, and the frog newput to jump smartly, but Daniel himself lifted ponderously, exhalted theshoulders thus, like a Frenchman--to what good? He could not budge, heis planted solid like a church, he not advance no more than if one himhad put at the anchor. 

Smiley was surprised and disgusted, but he not himself doubted notof the turn being intended (mais il ne se doutait pas du tour bienentendre). The indidivual empocketed the silver, himself with it went, and of it himself in going is that he no gives not a jerk of thumb overthe shoulder--like that--at the poor Daniel, in saying with his airdeliberate--(L'individu empoche l'argent, s'en va et en s'en allantest-ce qu'il ne donne pas un coup de pouce pas-dessus l'epaule, commeca, au pauvre Daniel, en disant de son air delibere). 

'Eh bien! I no see not that that frog has nothing of better thananother. '

Smiley himself scratched longtimes the head, the eyes fixed upon Daniel, until that which at last he said:

'I me demand how the devil it makes itself that this beast has refused. Is it that she had something? One would believe that she is stuffed. '

He grasped Daniel by the skin of the neck, him lifted and said:

'The wolf me bite if he no weigh not five pounds. '

He him reversed and the unhappy belched two handfuls of shot (et lemalheureux, etc. ). When Smiley recognised how it was, he was like mad. He deposited his frog by the earth and ran after that individual, but henot him caught never. 

It may be that there are people who can translate better than I can, butI am not acquainted with them. 

So ends the private and public history of the Jumping Frog of CalaverasCounty, an incident which has this unique feature about it--that it isboth old and new, a 'chestnut' and not a 'chestnut;' for it was originalwhen it happened two thousand years ago, and was again original when ithappened in California in our own time. 

P. S. 

London, July, 1900. --Twice, recently, I have been asked this question:

'Have you seen the Greek version of the "Jumping Frog"?'

And twice I have answered--'No. '

'Has Professor Van Dyke seen it?'

'I suppose so. '

'Then you supposition is at fault. '

'Why?'

'Because there isn't any such version. '

'Do you mean to intimate that the tale is modern, and not borrowed fromsome ancient Greek book. '

'Yes. It is not permissible for any but the very young and innocent tobe so easily beguiled as you and Van Dyke have been. '

'Do you mean that we have fallen a prey to our ignorance andsimplicity?'

'Yes. Is Van Dyke a Greek scholar?'

'I believe so. '

'Then he knew where to find the ancient Greek version if one existed. Why didn't he look? Why did he jump to conclusions?'

'I don't know. And was it worth the trouble, anyway?'

As it turns out, now, it was not claimed that the story had beentranslated from the Greek. It had its place among other uncreditedstories, and was there to be turned into Greek by students of thatlanguage. 'Greek Prose Composition'--that title is what made theconfusion. It seemed to mean that the originals were Greek. It was notwell chosen, for it was pretty sure to mislead. 

Thus vanishes the Greek Frog, and I am sorry: for he loomed fine andgrand across the sweep of the ages, and I took a great pride in him. 

M. T. 

(1) Sidgwick, Greek Prose Composition, page 116

MY MILITARY CAMPAIGN

You have heard from a great many people who did something in the war; isit not fair and right that you listen a little moment to one who startedout to do something in it, but didn't? Thousands entered the war, gotjust a taste of it, and then stepped out again, permanently. These, bytheir very numbers, are respectable, and are therefore entitled to asort of voice--not a loud one, but a modest one; not a boastful one, butan apologetic one. They ought not to be allowed much space among betterpeople--people who did something--I grant that; but they ought at leastto be allowed to state why they didn't do anything, and also to explainthe process by which they didn't do anything. Surely this kind of lightmust have a sort of value. 

Out West there was a good deal of confusion in men's minds during thefirst months of the great trouble--a good deal of unsettledness, ofleaning first this way, then that, then the other way. It was hardfor us to get our bearings. I call to mind an instance of this. I waspiloting on the Mississippi when the news came that South Carolina hadgone out of the Union on December 20, 1860. My pilot-mate was a NewYorker. He was strong for the Union; so was I. But he would not listento me with any patience; my loyalty was smirched, to his eye, because myfather had owned slaves. I said, in palliation of this dark fact, thatI had heard my father say, some years before he died, that slavery was agreat wrong, and that he would free the solitary Negro he then owned ifhe could think it right to give away the property of the family whenhe was so straitened in means. My mate retorted that a mere impulse wasnothing--anybody could pretend to a good impulse; and went on decryingmy Unionism and libelling my ancestry. A month later the secessionatmosphere had considerably thickened on the Lower Mississippi, and Ibecame a rebel; so did he. We were together in New Orleans, January 26, when Louisiana went out of the Union. He did his full share of the rebelshouting, but was bitterly opposed to letting me do mine. He said that Icame of bad stock--of a father who had been willing to set slaves free. In the following summer he was piloting a Federal gun-boat and shoutingfor the Union again, and I was in the Confederate army. I held his notefor some borrowed money. He was one of the most upright men I ever knew;but he repudiated that note without hesitation, because I was a rebel, and the son of a man who had owned slaves. 

In that summer--of 1861--the first wash of the wave of war broke uponthe shores of Missouri. Our State was invaded by the Union forces. Theytook possession of St. Louis, Jefferson Barracks, and some other points. The Governor, Claib Jackson, issued his proclamation calling out fiftythousand militia to repel the invader. 

I was visiting in the small town where my boyhood had beenspent--Hannibal, Marion County. Several of us got together in a secretplace by night and formed ourselves into a military company. One TomLyman, a young fellow of a good deal of spirit but of no militaryexperience, was made captain; I was made second lieutenant. We had nofirst lieutenant; I do not know why; it was long ago. There were fifteenof us. By the advice of an innocent connected with the organisation, we called ourselves the Marion Rangers. I do not remember that any onefound fault with the name. I did not; I thought it sounded quite well. The young fellow who proposed this title was perhaps a fair sample ofthe kind of stuff we were made of. He was young, ignorant, good-natured, well-meaning, trivial, full of romance, and given to reading chivalricnovels and singing forlorn love-ditties. He had some pathetic littlenickel-plated aristocratic instincts, and detested his name, which wasDunlap; detested it, partly because it was nearly as common in thatregion as Smith, but mainly because it had a plebeian sound to hisear. So he tried to ennoble it by writing it in this way: d'Unlap. Thatcontented his eye, but left his ear unsatisfied, for people gave thenew name the same old pronunciation--emphasis on the front end of it. He then did the bravest thing that can be imagined--a thing to make oneshiver when one remembers how the world is given to resenting shams andaffectations; he began to write his name so: d'Un Lap. And he waitedpatiently through the long storm of mud that was flung at this workof art, and he had his reward at last; for he lived to see that nameaccepted, and the emphasis put where he wanted it, by people who hadknown him all his life, and to whom the tribe of Dunlaps had beenas familiar as the rain and the sunshine for forty years. So sure ofvictory at last is the courage that can wait. He said he had found, byconsulting some ancient French chronicles, that the name was rightly andoriginally written d'Un Lap; and said that if it were translated intoEnglish it would mean Peterson: Lap, Latin or Greek, he said, for stoneor rock, same as the French Pierre, that is to say, Peter; d', of orfrom; un, a or one; hence d'Un Lap, of or from a stone or a Peter; thatis to say, one who is the son of a stone, the son of a Peter--Peterson. Our militia company were not learned, and the explanation confused them;so they called him Peterson Dunlap. He proved useful to us in his way;he named our camps for us, and he generally struck a name that was 'noslouch, ' as the boys said. 

That is one sample of us. Another was Ed Stevens, son of the townjeweller, --trim-built, handsome, graceful, neat as a cat; bright, educated, but given over entirely to fun. There was nothing serious inlife to him. As far as he was concerned, this military expedition ofours was simply a holiday. I should say that about half of us lookedupon it in the same way; not consciously, perhaps, but unconsciously. Wedid not think; we were not capable of it. As for myself, I was full ofunreasoning joy to be done with turning out of bed at midnight and fourin the morning, for a while; grateful to have a change, new scenes, newoccupations, a new interest. In my thoughts that was as far as I went; Idid not go into the details; as a rule one doesn't at twenty-five. 

Another sample was Smith, the blacksmith's apprentice. This vast donkeyhad some pluck, of a slow and sluggish nature, but a soft heart; at onetime he would knock a horse down for some impropriety, and at another hewould get homesick and cry. However, he had one ultimate credit to hisaccount which some of us hadn't: he stuck to the war, and was killed inbattle at last. 

Jo Bowers, another sample, was a huge, good-natured, flax-headed lubber;lazy, sentimental, full of harmless brag, a grumbler by nature; anexperienced, industrious, ambitious, and often quite picturesque liar, and yet not a successful one, for he had had no intelligent training, but was allowed to come up just any way. This life was serious enough tohim, and seldom satisfactory. But he was a good fellow, anyway, andthe boys all liked him. He was made orderly sergeant; Stevens was madecorporal. 

These samples will answer--and they are quite fair ones. Well, this herdof cattle started for the war. What could you expect of them? They didas well as they knew how, but really what was justly to be expected ofthem? Nothing, I should say. That is what they did. 

We waited for a dark night, for caution and secrecy were necessary;then, toward midnight, we stole in couples and from various directionsto the Griffith place, beyond the town; from that point we set outtogether on foot. Hannibal lies at the extreme south-eastern corner ofMarion County, on the Mississippi River; our objective point was thehamlet of New London, ten miles away, in Ralls County. 

The first hour was all fun, all idle nonsense and laughter. But thatcould not be kept up. The steady trudging came to be like work; theplay had somehow oozed out of it; the stillness of the woods and thesombreness of the night began to throw a depressing influence over thespirits of the boys, and presently the talking died out and each personshut himself up in his own thoughts. During the last half of the secondhour nobody said a word. 

Now we approached a log farm-house where, according to report, there wasa guard of five Union soldiers. Lyman called a halt; and there, in thedeep gloom of the overhanging branches, he began to whisper a plan ofassault upon that house, which made the gloom more depressing thanit was before. It was a crucial moment; we realised, with a coldsuddenness, that here was no jest--we were standing face to face withactual war. We were equal to the occasion. In our response there was nohesitation, no indecision: we said that if Lyman wanted to meddle withthose soldiers, he could go ahead and do it; but if he waited for us tofollow him, he would wait a long time. 

Lyman urged, pleaded, tried to shame us, but it had no effect. Our course was plain, our minds were made up: we would flank thefarmhouse--go out around. And that is what we did. We turned theposition. 

We struck into the woods and entered upon a rough time, stumbling overroots, getting tangled in vines, and torn by briers. At last we reachedan open place in a safe region, and sat down, blown and hot, to cool offand nurse our scratches and bruises. Lyman was annoyed, but the rest ofus were cheerful; we had flanked the farm-house, we had made our firstmilitary movement, and it was a success; we had nothing to fret about, we were feeling just the other way. Horse-play and laughing began again;the expedition was become a holiday frolic once more. 

Then we had two more hours of dull trudging and ultimate silence anddepression; then, about dawn, we straggled into New London, soiled, heel-blistered, fagged with our little march, and all of us exceptStevens in a sour and raspy humour and privately down on the war. Westacked our shabby old shot-guns in Colonel Ralls's barn, and thenwent in a body and breakfasted with that veteran of the Mexican War. Afterwards he took us to a distant meadow, and there in the shade of atree we listened to an old-fashioned speech from him, full of gunpowderand glory, full of that adjective-piling, mixed metaphor, and windydeclamation which was regarded as eloquence in that ancient time andthat remote region; and then he swore us on the Bible to be faithful tothe State of Missouri and drive all invaders from her soil, no matterwhence they might come or under what flag they might march. This mixedus considerably, and we could not make out just what service wewere embarked in; but Colonel Ralls, the practised politician andphrase-juggler, was not similarly in doubt; he knew quite clearly thathe had invested us in the cause of the Southern Confederacy. He closedthe solemnities by belting around me the sword which his neighbour, colonel Brown, had worn at Buena Vista and Molino del Rey; and heaccompanied this act with another impressive blast. 

Then we formed in line of battle and marched four miles to a shady andpleasant piece of woods on the border of the far-reached expanses of aflowery prairie. It was an enchanting region for war--our kind of war. 

We pierced the forest about half a mile, and took up a strong position, with some low, rocky, and wooded hills behind us, and a purling, limpidcreek in front. Straightway half the command were in swimming, and theother half fishing. The ass with the French name gave this positiona romantic title, but it was too long, so the boys shortened andsimplified it to Camp Ralls. 

We occupied an old maple-sugar camp, whose half-rotted troughs werestill propped against the trees. A long corn-crib served for sleepingquarters for the battalion. On our left, half a mile away, was Mason'sfarm and house; and he was a friend to the cause. Shortly after noon thefarmers began to arrive from several directions, with mules and horsesfor our use, and these they lent us for as long as the war might last, which they judged would be about three months. The animals were of allsizes, all colours, and all breeds. They were mainly young and frisky, and nobody in the command could stay on them long at a time; for we weretown boys, and ignorant of horsemanship. The creature that fell to myshare was a very small mule, and yet so quick and active that it couldthrow me without difficulty; and it did this whenever I got on it. Then it would bray--stretching its neck out, laying its ears back, and spreading its jaws till you could see down to its works. It was adisagreeable animal, in every way. If I took it by the bridle and triedto lead it off the grounds, it would sit down and brace back, and noone could budge it. However, I was not entirely destitute of militaryresources, and I did presently manage to spoil this game; for I had seenmany a steam-boat aground in my time, and knew a trick or two which evena grounded mule would be obliged to respect. There was a well by thecorn-crib; so I substituted thirty fathom of rope for the bridle, andfetched him home with the windlass. 

I will anticipate here sufficiently to say that we did learn to ride, after some days' practice, but never well. We could not learn to likeour animals; they were not choice ones, and most of them had annoyingpeculiarities of one kind or another. Stevens's horse would carry him, when he was not noticing, under the huge excrescences which form on thetrunks of oak-trees, and wipe him out of the saddle; in this way Stevensgot several bad hurts. Sergeant Bowers's horse was very large andtall, with slim, long legs, and looked like a railroad bridge. His sizeenabled him to reach all about, and as far as he wanted to, with hishead; so he was always biting Bowers's legs. On the march, in the sun, Bowers slept a good deal; and as soon as the horse recognised that hewas asleep he would reach around and bite him on the leg. His legs wereblack and blue with bites. This was the only thing that could ever makehim swear, but this always did; whenever the horse bit him he alwaysswore, and of course Stevens, who laughed at everything, laughed atthis, and would even get into such convulsions over it as to lose hisbalance and fall off his horse; and then Bowers, already irritatedby the pain of the horse-bite, would resent the laughter with hardlanguage, and there would be a quarrel; so that horse made no end oftrouble and bad blood in the command. 

However, I will get back to where I was--our first afternoon in thesugar-camp. The sugar-troughs came very handy as horse-troughs, and wehad plenty of corn to fill them with. I ordered Sergeant Bowers to feedmy mule; but he said that if I reckoned he went to war to be dry-nurseto a mule, it wouldn't take me very long to find out my mistake. Ibelieved that this was insubordination, but I was full of uncertaintiesabout everything military, and so I let the thing pass, and went andordered Smith, the blacksmith's apprentice, to feed the mule; but hemerely gave me a large, cold, sarcastic grin, such as an ostensiblyseven-year-old horse gives you when you lift his lip and find he isfourteen, and turned his back on me. I then went to the captain, andasked if it was not right and proper and military for me to have anorderly. He said it was, but as there was only one orderly in the corps, it was but right that he himself should have Bowers on his staff. Bowerssaid he wouldn't serve on anybody's staff; and if anybody thought hecould make him, let him try it. So, of course, the thing had to bedropped; there was no other way. 

Next, nobody would cook; it was considered a degradation; so we had nodinner. We lazied the rest of the pleasant afternoon away, some dozingunder the trees, some smoking cob-pipes and talking sweethearts and war, some playing games. By late supper-time all hands were famished; andto meet the difficulty all hands turned to, on an equal footing, andgathered wood, built fires, and cooked the meal. Afterward everythingwas smooth for a while; then trouble broke out between the corporal andthe sergeant, each claiming to rank the other. Nobody knew which was thehigher office; so Lyman had to settle the matter by making the rank ofboth officers equal. The commander of an ignorant crew like that hasmany troubles and vexations which probably do not occur in the regulararmy at all. However, with the song-singing and yarn-spinning around thecamp-fire, everything presently became serene again; and by-and-by weraked the corn down level in one end of the crib, and all went to bed onit, tying a horse to the door, so that he would neigh if any one triedto get in. (1)

We had some horsemanship drill every forenoon; then, afternoons, werode off here and there in squads a few miles, and visited the farmers'girls, and had a youthful good time, and got an honest good dinner orsupper, and then home again to camp, happy and content. 

For a time, life was idly delicious, it was perfect; there was nothingto mar it. Then came some farmers with an alarm one day. They said itwas rumoured that the enemy were advancing in our direction, fromover Hyde's prairie. The result was a sharp stir among us, and generalconsternation. It was a rude awakening from our pleasant trance. The rumour was but a rumour--nothing definite about it; so, in theconfusion, we did not know which way to retreat. Lyman was for notretreating at all, in these uncertain circumstances; but he found thatif he tried to maintain that attitude he would fare badly, for thecommand were in no humour to put up with insubordination. So he yieldedthe point and called a council of war--to consist of himself and thethree other officers; but the privates made such a fuss about being leftout, that we had to allow them to remain, for they were already present, and doing the most of the talking too. The question was, which way toretreat; but all were so flurried that nobody seemed to have even aguess to offer. Except Lyman. He explained in a few calm words, thatinasmuch as the enemy were approaching from over Hyde's prairie, ourcourse was simple: all we had to do was not to retreat toward him; anyother direction would answer our needs perfectly. Everybody saw ina moment how true this was, and how wise; so Lyman got a great manycompliments. It was now decided that we should fall back upon Mason'sfarm. 

It was after dark by this time, and as we could not know how soon theenemy might arrive, it did not seem best to try to take the horses andthings with us; so we only took the guns and ammunition, and started atonce. The route was very rough and hilly and rocky, and presently thenight grew very black and rain began to fall; so we had a troublesometime of it, struggling and stumbling along in the dark; and soon someperson slipped and fell, and then the next person behind stumbled overhim and fell, and so did the rest, one after the other; and then Bowerscame with the keg of powder in his arms, whilst the command were allmixed together, arms and legs, on the muddy slope; and so he fell, ofcourse, with the keg, and this started the whole detachment down thehill in a body, and they landed in the brook at the bottom in a pile, and each that was undermost pulling the hair and scratching and bitingthose that were on top of him; and those that were being scratched andbitten, scratching and biting the rest in their turn, and all sayingthey would die before they would ever go to war again if they ever gotout of this brook this time, and the invader might rot for all theycared, and the country along with them--and all such talk as that, whichwas dismal to hear and take part in, in such smothered, low voices, and such a grisly dark place and so wet, and the enemy maybe coming anymoment. 

The keg of powder was lost, and the guns too; so the growling andcomplaining continued straight along whilst the brigade pawed around thepasty hillside and slopped around in the brook hunting for these things;consequently we lost considerable time at this; and then we heard asound, and held our breath and listened, and it seemed to be the enemycoming, though it could have been a cow, for it had a cough like a cow;but we did not wait, but left a couple of guns behind and struck out forMason's again as briskly as we could scramble along in the dark. But wegot lost presently among the rugged little ravines, and wasted a deal oftime finding the way again, so it was after nine when we reached Mason'sstile at last; and then before we could open our mouths to give thecountersign, several dogs came bounding over the fence, with great riotand noise, and each of them took a soldier by the slack of his trousersand began to back away with him. We could not shoot the dogs withoutendangering the persons they were attached to; so we had to look on, helpless, at what was perhaps the most mortifying spectacle of the civilwar. There was light enough, and to spare, for the Masons had now runout on the porch with candles in their hands. The old man and his soncame and undid the dogs without difficulty, all but Bowers's; but theycouldn't undo his dog, they didn't know his combination; he was of thebull kind, and seemed to be set with a Yale time-lock; but they got himloose at last with some scalding water, of which Bowers got his shareand returned thanks. Peterson Dunlap afterwards made up a fine name forthis engagement, and also for the night march which preceded it, butboth have long ago faded out of my memory. 

We now went into the house, and they began to ask us a world ofquestions, whereby it presently came out that we did not know anythingconcerning who or what we were running from; so the old gentleman madehimself very frank, and said we were a curious breed of soldiers, andguessed we could be depended on to end up the war in time, because noGovernment could stand the expense of the shoe-leather we should costit trying to follow us around. 'Marion Rangers! good name, b'gosh!' saidhe. And wanted to know why we hadn't had a picket-guard at the placewhere the road entered the prairie, and why we hadn't sent out ascouting party to spy out the enemy and bring us an account of hisstrength, and so on, before jumping up and stampeding out of a strongposition upon a mere vague rumour--and so on, and so forth, till hemade us all fell shabbier than the dogs had done, and not half soenthusiastically welcome. So we went to bed shamed and low-spirited;except Stevens. Soon Stevens began to devise a garment for Bowers whichcould be made to automatically display his battle-scars to the grateful, or conceal them from the envious, according to his occasions; but Bowerswas in no humour for this, so there was a fight, and when it was overStevens had some battle-scars of his own to think about. 

Then we got a little sleep. But after all we had gone through, ouractivities were not over for the night; for about two o'clock in themorning we heard a shout of warning from down the lane, accompanied bya chorus from all the dogs, and in a moment everybody was up and flyingaround to find out what the alarm was about. The alarmist was a horsemanwho gave notice that a detachment of Union soldiers was on its way fromHannibal with orders to capture and hang any bands like ours whichit could find, and said we had no time to lose. Farmer Mason was ina flurry this time, himself. He hurried us out of the house with allhaste, and sent one of his negroes with us to show us where to hideourselves and our tell-tale guns among the ravines half a mile away. Itwas raining heavily. 

We struck down the lane, then across some rocky pasture-land whichoffered good advantages for stumbling; consequently we were down in themud most of the time, and every time a man went down he blackguarded thewar, and the people who started it, and everybody connected with it, andgave himself the master dose of all for being so foolish as to gointo it. At last we reached the wooded mouth of a ravine, and there wehuddled ourselves under the streaming trees, and sent the negro backhome. It was a dismal and heart-breaking time. We were like to bedrowned with the rain, deafened with the howling wind and the boomingthunder, and blinded by the lightning. It was indeed a wild night. Thedrenching we were getting was misery enough, but a deeper misery stillwas the reflection that the halter might end us before we were a dayolder. A death of this shameful sort had not occurred to us as beingamong the possibilities of war. It took the romance all out of thecampaign, and turned our dreams of glory into a repulsive nightmare. Asfor doubting that so barbarous an order had been given, not one of usdid that. 

The long night wore itself out at last, and then the negro came to uswith the news that the alarm had manifestly been a false one, and thatbreakfast would soon be ready. Straightway we were light-hearted again, and the world was bright, and life as full of hope and promise asever--for we were young then. How long ago that was! Twenty-four years. 

The mongrel child of philology named the night's refuse CampDevastation, and no soul objected. The Masons gave us a Missouri countrybreakfast, in Missourian abundance, and we needed it: hot biscuits; hot'wheat bread' prettily criss-crossed in a lattice pattern on top;hot corn pone; fried chicken; bacon, coffee, eggs, milk, buttermilk, etc. ;--and the world may be confidently challenged to furnish the equalto such a breakfast, as it is cooked in the South. 

We stayed several days at Mason's; and after all these years the memoryof the dullness, the stillness and lifelessness of that slumberousfarm-house still oppresses my spirit as with a sense of the presenceof death and mourning. There was nothing to do, nothing to think about;there was no interest in life. The male part of the household were awayin the fields all day, the women were busy and out of our sight; therewas no sound but the plaintive wailing of a spinning-wheel, forevermoaning out from some distant room--the most lonesome sound in nature, a sound steeped and sodden with homesickness and the emptiness oflife. The family went to bed about dark every night, and as we were notinvited to intrude any new customs, we naturally followed theirs. Thosenights were a hundred years long to youths accustomed to being up tilltwelve. We lay awake and miserable till that hour every time, andgrew old and decrepit waiting through the still eternities for theclock-strikes. This was no place for town boys. So at last it was withsomething very like joy that we received news that the enemy were on ourtrack again. With a new birth of the old warrior spirit, we sprang toour places in line of battle and fell back on Camp Ralls. 

Captain Lyman had taken a hint from Mason's talk, and he now gaveordered that our camp should be guarded against surprise by the postingof pickets. I was ordered to place a picket at the forks of the road inHyde's prairie. Night shut down black and threatening. I told SergeantBowers to go out to that place and stay till midnight; and, just as Iwas expecting, he said he wouldn't do it. I tried to get others to go, but all refused. Some excused themselves on account of the weather;but the rest were frank enough to say they wouldn't go in any kindof weather. This kind of thing sounds odd now, and impossible, but itseemed a perfectly natural thing to do. There were scores of littlecamps scattered over Missouri where the same thing was happening. Thesecamps were composed of young men who had been born and reared to asturdy independence, and who did not know what it meant to be orderedaround by Tom, Dick, and Harry, whom they had known familiarly alltheir lives, in the village or on the farm. It is quite within theprobabilities that this same thing was happening all over the South. James Redpath recognised the justice of this assumption, and furnishedthe following instance in support of it. During a short stay in EastTennessee he was in a citizen colonel's tent one day, talking, whena big private appeared at the door, and without salute or othercircumlocution said to the colonel:

'Say, Jim, I'm a-goin' home for a few days. '

'What for?'

'Well, I hain't b'en there for a right smart while, and I'd like to seehow things is comin' on. '

'How long are you going to be gone?'

''Bout two weeks. '

'Well don't be gone longer than that; and get back sooner if you can. '

That was all, and the citizen officer resumed his conversation where theprivate had broken it off. This was in the first months of the war, ofcourse. The camps in our part of Missouri were under Brigadier-GeneralThomas H. Harris. He was a townsman of ours, a first-rate fellow, and well liked; but we had all familiarly known him as the sole andmodest-salaried operator in our telegraph office, where he had to sendabout one dispatch a week in ordinary times, and two when there was arush of business; consequently, when he appeared in our midst one day, on the wing, and delivered a military command of some sort, in a largemilitary fashion, nobody was surprised at the response which he got fromthe assembled soldiery:

'Oh, now, what'll you take to don't, Tom Harris!'

It was quite the natural thing. One might justly imagine that we werehopeless material for war. And so we seemed, in our ignorant state; butthere were those among us who afterward learned the grim trade; learnedto obey like machines; became valuable soldiers; fought all through thewar, and came out at the end with excellent records. One of the veryboys who refused to go out on picket duty that night, and called me anass for thinking he would expose himself to danger in such a foolhardyway, had become distinguished for intrepidity before he was a yearolder. 

I did secure my picket that night--not by authority, but by diplomacy. I got Bowers to go, by agreeing to exchange ranks with him for the timebeing, and go along and stand the watch with him as his subordinate. Westayed out there a couple of dreary hours in the pitchy darkness andthe rain, with nothing to modify the dreariness but Bowers's monotonousgrowlings at the war and the weather; then we began to nod, andpresently found it next to impossible to stay in the saddle; so we gaveup the tedious job, and went back to the camp without waiting for therelief guard. We rode into camp without interruption or objection fromanybody, and the enemy could have done the same, for there were nosentries. Everybody was asleep; at midnight there was nobody to send outanother picket, so none was sent. We never tried to establish a watch atnight again, as far as I remember, but we generally kept a picket out inthe daytime. 

In that camp the whole command slept on the corn in the big corn-crib;and there was usually a general row before morning, for the place wasfull of rats, and they would scramble over the boys' bodies and faces, annoying and irritating everybody; and now and then they would bite someone's toe, and the person who owned the toe would start up and magnifyhis English and begin to throw corn in the dark. The ears were halfas heavy as bricks, and when they struck they hurt. The persons struckwould respond, and inside of five minutes every man would be locked ina death-grip with his neighbour. There was a grievous deal of blood shedin the corn-crib, but this was all that was spilt while I was in thewar. No, that is not quite true. But for one circumstance it would havebeen all. I will come to that now. 

Our scares were frequent. Every few days rumours would come that theenemy were approaching. In these cases we always fell back on some othercamp of ours; we never stayed where we were. But the rumours alwaysturned out to be false; so at last even we began to grow indifferentto them. One night a negro was sent to our corn-crib with the same oldwarning: the enemy was hovering in our neighbourhood. We all said lethim hover. We resolved to stay still and be comfortable. It was a finewarlike resolution, and no doubt we all felt the stir of it in ourveins--for a moment. We had been having a very jolly time, that was fullof horse-play and school-boy hilarity; but that cooled down now, andpresently the fast-waning fire of forced jokes and forced laughs diedout altogether, and the company became silent. Silent and nervous. Andsoon uneasy--worried--apprehensive. We had said we would stay, and wewere committed. We could have been persuaded to go, but there was nobodybrave enough to suggest it. An almost noiseless movement presently beganin the dark, by a general and unvoiced impulse. When the movement wascompleted, each man knew that he was not the only person who had creptto the front wall and had his eye at a crack between the logs. No, wewere all there; all there with our hearts in our throats, and staringout toward the sugar-troughs where the forest foot-path came through. Itwas late, and there was a deep woodsy stillness everywhere. There was aveiled moonlight, which was only just strong enough to enable us to markthe general shape of objects. Presently a muffled sound caught our ears, and we recognised it as the hoof-beats of a horse or horses. And rightaway a figure appeared in the forest path; it could have been made ofsmoke, its mass had so little sharpness of outline. It was a man onhorseback; and it seemed to me that there were others behind him. I gothold of a gun in the dark, and pushed it through a crack between thelogs, hardly knowing what I was doing, I was so dazed with fright. Somebody said 'Fire!' I pulled the trigger. I seemed to see a hundredflashes and hear a hundred reports, then I saw the man fall down out ofthe saddle. My first feeling was of surprised gratification; my firstimpulse was an apprentice-sportsman's impulse to run and pick up hisgame. Somebody said, hardly audibly, 'Good--we've got him!--wait for therest. ' But the rest did not come. There was not a sound, not the whisperof a leaf; just perfect stillness; an uncanny kind of stillness, whichwas all the more uncanny on account of the damp, earthy, late-nightsmells now rising and pervading it. Then, wondering, we crept stealthilyout, and approached the man. When we got to him the moon revealed himdistinctly. He was lying on his back, with his arms abroad; hismouth was open and his chest heaving with long gasps, and his whiteshirt-front was all splashed with blood. The thought shot through methat I was a murderer; that I had killed a man--a man who had never doneme any harm. That was the coldest sensation that ever went through mymarrow. I was down by him in a moment, helplessly stroking his forehead;and I would have given anything then--my own life freely--to make himagain what he had been five minutes before. And all the boys seemedto be feeling in the same way; they hung over him, full of pityinginterest, and tried all they could to help him, and said all sorts ofregretful things. They had forgotten all about the enemy; they thoughtonly of this one forlorn unit of the foe. Once my imagination persuadedme that the dying man gave me a reproachful look out of his shadowyeyes, and it seemed to me that I would rather he had stabbed me thandone that. He muttered and mumbled like a dreamer in his sleep, abouthis wife and child; and I thought with a new despair, 'This thing that Ihave done does not end with him; it falls upon them too, and they neverdid me any harm, any more than he. '

In a little while the man was dead. He was killed in war; killed in fairand legitimate war; killed in battle, as you might say; and yet hewas as sincerely mourned by the opposing force as if he had been theirbrother. The boys stood there a half hour sorrowing over him, andrecalling the details of the tragedy, and wondering who he might be, andif he were a spy, and saying that if it were to do over again they wouldnot hurt him unless he attacked them first. It soon came out that minewas not the only shot fired; there were five others--a division ofthe guilt which was a grateful relief to me, since it in some degreelightened and diminished the burden I was carrying. There were six shotsfired at once; but I was not in my right mind at the time, and my heatedimagination had magnified my one shot into a volley. 

The man was not in uniform, and was not armed. He was a stranger in thecountry; that was all we ever found out about him. The thought of himgot to preying upon me every night; I could not get rid of it. I couldnot drive it away, the taking of that unoffending life seemed such awanton thing. And it seemed an epitome of war; that all war must bejust that--the killing of strangers against whom you feel no personalanimosity; strangers whom, in other circumstances, you would help ifyou found them in trouble, and who would help you if you needed it. Mycampaign was spoiled. It seemed to me that I was not rightly equippedfor this awful business; that war was intended for men, and I fora child's nurse. I resolved to retire from this avocation of shamsoldiership while I could save some remnant of my self-respect. Thesemorbid thoughts clung to me against reason; for at bottom I did notbelieve I had touched that man. The law of probabilities decreed meguiltless of his blood; for in all my small experience with guns I hadnever hit anything I had tried to hit, and I knew I had done my bestto hit him. Yet there was no solace in the thought. Against a diseasedimagination, demonstration goes for nothing. 

The rest of my war experience was of a piece with what I have alreadytold of it. We kept monotonously falling back upon one camp or another, and eating up the country--I marvel now at the patience of the farmersand their families. They ought to have shot us; on the contrary, theywere as hospitably kind and courteous to us as if we had deserved it. Inone of these camps we found Ab Grimes, an Upper Mississippi pilot, who afterwards became famous as a dare-devil rebel spy, whose careerbristled with desperate adventures. The look and style of his comradessuggested that they had not come into the war to play, and theirdeeds made good the conjecture later. They were fine horsemen and goodrevolver-shots; but their favourite arm was the lasso. Each had one athis pommel, and could snatch a man out of the saddle with it every time, on a full gallop, at any reasonable distance. 

In another camp the chief was a fierce and profane old blacksmith ofsixty, and he had furnished his twenty recruits with gigantic home-madebowie-knives, to be swung with the two hands, like the machetes of theIsthmus. It was a grisly spectacle to see that earnest band practisingtheir murderous cuts and slashes under the eye of that remorseless oldfanatic. 

The last camp which we fell back upon was in a hollow near the villageof Florida, where I was born--in Monroe County. Here we were warned, oneday, that a Union colonel was sweeping down on us with a whole regimentat his heels. This looked decidedly serious. Our boys went apart andconsulted; then we went back and told the other companies present thatthe war was a disappointment to us and we were going to disband. Theywere getting ready, themselves, to fall back on some place or other, andwere only waiting for General Tom Harris, who was expected to arrive atany moment; so they tried to persuade us to wait a little while, but themajority of us said no, we were accustomed to falling back, and didn'tneed any of Tom Harris's help; we could get along perfectly well withouthim and save time too. So about half of our fifteen, including myself, mounted and left on the instant; the others yielded to persuasion andstayed--stayed through the war. 

An hour later we met General Harris on the road, with two or threepeople in his company--his staff, probably, but we could not tell; noneof them was in uniform; uniforms had not come into vogue among us yet. Harris ordered us back; but we told him there was a Union colonel comingwith a whole regiment in his wake, and it looked as if there was goingto be a disturbance; so we had concluded to go home. He raged a little, but it was of no use; our minds were made up. We had done our share; hadkilled one man, exterminated one army, such as it was; let him go andkill the rest, and that would end the war. I did not see that briskyoung general again until last year; then he was wearing white hair andwhiskers. 

In time I came to know that Union colonel whose coming frightened meout of the war and crippled the Southern cause to that extent--GeneralGrant. I came within a few hours of seeing him when he was as unknown asI was myself; at a time when anybody could have said, 'Grant?--UlyssesS. Grant? I do not remember hearing the name before. ' It seems difficultto realise that there was once a time when such a remark could berationally made; but there was, and I was within a few miles of theplace and the occasion too, though proceeding in the other direction. 

The thoughtful will not throw this war-paper of mine lightly aside asbeing valueless. It has this value: it is a not unfair picture of whatwent on in many and many a militia camp in the first months of therebellion, when the green recruits were without discipline, without thesteadying and heartening influence or trained leaders; when all theircircumstances were new and strange, and charged with exaggeratedterrors, and before the invaluable experience of actual collision in thefield had turned them from rabbits into soldiers. If this side of thepicture of that early day has not before been put into history, thenhistory has been to that degree incomplete, for it had and has itsrightful place there. There was more Bull Run material scattered throughthe early camps of this country than exhibited itself at Bull Run. And yet it learned its trade presently, and helped to fight the greatbattles later. I could have become a soldier myself, if I had waited. I had got part of it learned; I knew more about retreating than the manthat invented retreating. 

(1) It was always my impression that that was what the horse was therefor, and I know that it was also the impression of at least one otherof the command, for we talked about it at the time, and admired themilitary ingenuity of the device; but when I was out West three yearsago I was told by Mr. A. G. Fuqua, a member of our company, that thehorse was his, that the leaving him tied at the door was a matter ofmere forgetfulness, and that to attribute it to intelligent inventionwas to give him quite too much credit. In support of his position, hecalled my attention to the suggestive fact that the artifice was notemployed again. I had not thought of that before. 

MEISTERSCHAFT

IN THREE ACTS (1)

DRAMATIS PERSONAE:

 MR. STEPHENSON. MARGARET STEPHENSON. GEORGE FRANKLIN. ANNIE STEPHENSON. WILLIAM JACKSON. MRS. BLUMENTHAL, the Wirthin. GRETCHEN, Kellnerin

ACT I. SCENE I. 

Scene of the play, the parlour of a small private dwelling in a village. (MARGARET discovered crocheting--has a pamphlet. )

MARGARET. (Solus. ) Dear, dear! it's dreary enough, to have to study thisimpossible German tongue: to be exiled from home and all human societyexcept a body's sister in order to do it, is just simply abscheulich. Here's only three weeks of the three months gone, and it seems likethree years. I don't believe I can live through it, and I'm sure Anniecan't. (Refers to her book, and rattles through, several times, likeone memorising:) Entschuldigen Sie, mein Herr, konnen Sie mir vielleichtsagen, um wie viel Uhr der erste Zug nach Dresden abgeht? (Makesmistakes and corrects them. ) I just hate Meisterschaft! We may seepeople; we can have society; yes, on condition that the conversationshall be in German, and in German only--every single word of it! Verykind--oh, very! when neither Annie nor I can put two words together, except as they are put together for us in Meisterschaft or that idioticOllendorff! (Refers to book, and memorises: Mein Bruder hat IhrenHerrn Vater nicht gesehen, als er gestern in dem Laden des deutschenKaufmannes war. ) Yes, we can have society, provided we talk German. Whatwould conversation be like! If you should stick to Meisterschaft, it would change the subject every two minutes; and if you stuck toOllendorff, it would be all about your sister's mother's good stockingof thread, or your grandfather's aunt's good hammer of the carpenter, and who's got it, and there an end. You couldn't keep up your interestin such topics. (Memorising: Wenn irgend moglich--mochte ich noch heuteVormittag Geschaftsfreunde zu treffen. ) My mind is made up to one thing:I will be an exile, in spirit and in truth: I will see no one duringthese three months. Father is very ingenious--oh, very! thinks he is, anyway. Thinks he has invented a way to force us to learn to speakGerman. He is a dear good soul, and all that; but invention isn't hisfach'. He will see. (With eloquent energy. ) Why, nothing in the worldshall--Bitte, konnen Sie mir vielleicht sagen, ob Herr Schmidt mitdiesem Zuge angekommen ist? Oh, dear, dear George--three weeks! It seemsa whole century since I saw him. I wonder if he suspects that I--thatI--care for him--j-just a wee, wee bit? I believe he does. And I believeWill suspects that Annie cares for him a little, that I do. And I knowperfectly well that they care for us. They agree with all our opinions, no matter what they are; and if they have a prejudice, they change it, as soon as they see how foolish it is. Dear George! at first he justcouldn't abide cats; but now, why now he's just all for cats; he fairlywelters in cats. I never saw such a reform. And it's just so with allhis principles: he hasn't got one that he had before. Ah, if all menwere like him, this world would--(Memorising: Im Gegentheil, mein Herr, dieser Stoff ist sehr billig. Bitte, sehen Sie sich nur die Qualitatan. ) Yes, and what did they go to studying German for, if it wasn't aninspiration of the highest and purest sympathy? Any other explanation isnonsense--why, they'd as soon have thought of studying American history. 

(Turns her back, buries herself in her pamphlet, first memorising aloud, until Annie enters, then to herself, rocking to and fro, and rapidlymoving her lips, without uttering a sound. )

Enter ANNIE, absorbed in her pamphlet--does not at first see MARGARET. 

ANNIE. (Memorising: Er liess mich gestern fruh rufen, und sagte mirdass er einen sehr unangenehmen Brief von Ihrem Lehrer erhalten hatte. Repeats twice aloud, then to herself, briskly moving her lips. )

M. (Still not seeing her sister. ) Wie geht es Ihrem HerrnSchwiegervater? Es freut mich sehr dass Ihre Frau Mutter wieder wohlist. (Repeats. Then mouths in silence. )

A. (Repeats her sentence a couple of times aloud; then looks up, workingher lips, and discovers Margaret. ) Oh, you here? (Running to her. ) Olovey-dovey, dovey-lovey, I've got the gr-reatest news! Guess, guess, guess! You'll never guess in a hundred thousand million years--and more!

M. Oh, tell me, tell me, dearie; don't keep me in agony. 

A. Well I will. What--do--you--think? They're here!

M. Wh-a-t! Who? When? Which? Speak!

A. Will and George!

M. Annie Alexandra Victoria Stephenson, what do you mean?

A. As sure as guns!

M. (Spasmodically embracing and kissing her. ) 'Sh! don't use suchlanguage. O darling, say it again!

A. As sure as guns!

M. I don't mean that! Tell me again, that--

A. (Springing up and waltzing about the room. ) They're here--in thisvery village--to learn German--for three months! Es sollte mich sehrfreuen wenn Sie--

M. (Joining in the dance. ) Oh, it's just too lovely for anything!(Unconsciously memorising:) Es ware mir lieb wenn Sie morgen mit mirin die Kirche gehen konnten, aber ich kann selbst nicht gehen, weil ichSonntags gewohnlich krank bin. Juckhe!

A. (Finishing some unconscious memorising. )--morgen Mittag bei mirspeisen konnten. Juckhe! Sit down and I'll tell you all I've heard. (They sit. ) They're here, and under that same odious law that fettersus--our tongues, I mean; the metaphor's faulty, but no matter. Theycan go out, and see people, only on condition that they hear and speakGerman, and German only. 

M. Isn't--that--too lovely!

A. And they're coming to see us!

M. Darling! (Kissing her. ) But are you sure?

A. Sure as guns--Gatling guns!

M. 'Sh! don't, child, it's schrecklich! Darling--you aren't mistaken?

A. As sure as g--batteries! (They jump up and dance a moment--then--)

M. (With distress. ) But, Annie dear!--we can't talk German--and neithercan they!

A. (Sorrowfully. ) I didn't think of that. 

M. How cruel it is! What can we do?

A. (After a reflective pause, resolutely. ) Margaret--we've got to. 

M. Got to what?

A. Speak German. 

M. Why, how, child?

A. (Contemplating her pamphlet with earnestness. ) I can tell you onething. Just give me the blessed privilege: just hinsetzen Will Jacksonhere in front of me, and I'll talk German to him as long as thisMeisterschaft holds out to burn. 

M. (Joyously. ) Oh, what an elegant idea! You certainly have got a mindthat's a mine of resources, if ever anybody had one. 

A. I'll skin this Meisterschaft to the last sentence in it!

M. (With a happy idea. ) Why Annie, it's the greatest thing in the world. I've been all this time struggling and despairing over these few littleMeisterschaft primers: but as sure as you live, I'll have the wholefifteen by heart before this time day after to-morrow. See if I don't. 

A. And so will I; and I'll trowel in a layer of Ollendorff mush betweenevery couple of courses of Meisterschaft bricks. Juckhe!

M. Hoch! hoch! hoch!

A. Stoss an!

M. Juckhe! Wir werden gleich gute deutsche Schulerinnen werden! Juck--

A. --he!

M. Annie, when are they coming to see us? To-night?

A. No. 

M. No? Why not? When are they coming? What are they waiting for? Theidea! I never heard of such a thing! What do you--

A. (Breaking in. ) Wait, wait, wait! give a body a chance. They havetheir reasons. 

M. Reasons?--what reasons?

A. Well, now, when you stop and think, they're royal good ones. They'vegot to talk German when they come, haven't they? Of course. Well, theydon't know any German but Wie befinden Sie sich, and Haben Sie gutgeschlafen, and Vater unser, and Ich trinke lieber Bier als Wasser, anda few little parlour things like that; but when it comes to talking, why, they don't know a hundred and fifteen German words, put them alltogether. 

M. Oh, I see. 

A. So they're going to neither eat, sleep, smoke, nor speak the truthtill they've crammed home the whole fifteen Meisterschafts auswendig!

M. Noble hearts!

A. They've given themselves till day after to-morrow, half-past 7 P. M. , and then they'll arrive here loaded. 

M. Oh, how lovely, how gorgeous, how beautiful! Some think this worldis made of mud; I think it's made of rainbows. (Memorising. ) Wenn irgendmoglich, so mochte ich noch heute Vormittag dort ankommen, da es mirsehr daran gelegen ist--Annie, I can learn it just like nothing!

A. So can I. Meisterschaft's mere fun--I don't see how it ever couldhave seemed difficult. Come! We can't be disturbed here; let's giveorders that we don't want anything to eat for two days; and are absentto friends, dead to strangers, and not at home even to nougat peddlers--

M. Schon! and we'll lock ourselves into our rooms, and at the end oftwo days, whosoever may ask us a Meisterschaft question shall get aMeisterschaft answer--and hot from the bat!

BOTH. (Reciting in unison. ) Ich habe einen Hut fur meinen Sohn, ein PaarHandschuhe fur meinen Bruder, und einen Kamm fur mich selbst gekauft. (Exeunt. )

Enter Mrs. BLUMENTHAL, the Wirthin. 

WIRTHIN. (Solus. ) Ach, die armen Madchen, sie hassen die deutscheSprache, drum ist es ganz und gar unmoglich dass sie sie je lernenkonnen. Es bricht mir ja mein Herz ihre Kummer uber die Studienanzusehen.... Warum haben sie den Entchluss gefasst in ihren Zimmernein Paar Tagezu bleiben?... Ja--gewiss--das versteht sich; sie sindentmuthigt--arme Kinder!(A knock at the door. ) Herein!

Enter GRETCHEN with card. 

GR. Er ist schon wieder da, und sagt dass er nur Sie sehen will. (Handsthe card. ) Auch-WIRTHIN. Gott im Himmel--der Vater der Madchen? (Putsthe card in her pocket. ) Er wunscht die Tochter nicht zu treffen? Ganzrecht; also, Du schweigst. 

GR. Zu Befehl. WIRTHIN. Lass ihn hereinkommen. 

GR. Ja, Frau Wirthin! (Exit GRETCHEN. )

WIRTHIN. (Solus. ) Ah--jetzt muss ich ihm die Wahrheit offenbaren. 

Enter Mr. STEPHENSON. 

STEPHENSON. Good-morning, Mrs. Blumenthal--keep your seat, keep yourseat, please. I'm only here for a moment--merely to get your report, you know. (Seating himself. ) Don't want to see the girls--poor things, they'd want to go home with me. I'm afraid I couldn't have the heart tosay no. How's the German getting along?

WIRTHIN. N-not very well; I was afraid you would ask me that. You see, they hate it, they don't take the least interest in it, and there isn'tanything to incite them to an interest, you see. And so they can't talkat all. 

S. M-m. That's bad. I had an idea that they'd get lonesome, and have toseek society; and then, of course, my plan would work, considering thecast-iron conditions of it. 

WIRTHIN. But it hasn't, so far. I've thrown nice company in theirway--I've done my very best, in every way I could think of--but it's nouse; they won't go out, and they won't receive anybody. And a body can'tblame them; they'd be tongue-tied--couldn't do anything with a Germanconversation. Now, when I started to learn German--such poor German asI know--the case was very different: my intended was a German. I wasto live among Germans the rest of my life; and so I had to learn. Why, bless my heart! I nearly lost the man the first time he asked me--Ithought he was talking about the measles. They were very prevalentat the time. Told him I didn't want any in mine. But I found out themistake, and I was fixed for him next time.... Oh yes, Mr. Stephenson, asweetheart's a prime incentive. 

S. (Aside. ) Good soul! she doesn't suspect that my plan is a doublescheme--includes a speaking knowledge of German, which I am boundthey shall have, and the keeping them away from those two youngfellows--though if I had known that those boys were going off for ayear's foreign travel, I--however, the girls would never learn thatlanguage at home; they're here, and I won't relent--they've got to stickthe three months out. (Aloud. ) So they are making poor progress? Nowtell me--will they learn it--after a sort of fashion, I mean--in threemonths?

WIRTHIN. Well, now, I'll tell you the only chance I see. Do what I will, they won't answer my German with anything but English; if that goes on, they'll stand stock-still. Now I'm willing to do this: I'll straighteneverything up, get matters in smooth running order, and day afterto-morrow I'll go to bed sick, and stay sick three weeks. 

S. Good! You are an angel? I see your idea. The servant girl--

WIRTHIN. That's it; that's my project. She doesn't know a word ofEnglish. And Gretchen's a real good soul, and can talk the slates off aroof. Her tongue's just a flutter-mill. I'll keep my room--just ailing alittle--and they'll never see my face except when they pay their littleduty-visits to me, and then I'll say English disorders my mind. They'llbe shut up with Gretchen's windmill, and she'll just grind them topowder. Oh, they'll get a start in the language--sort of a one, sure'syou live. You come back in three weeks. 

S. Bless you, my Retterin! I'll be here to the day! Get ye to yoursick-room--you shall have treble pay. (Looking at watch. ) Good! I canjust catch my train. Leben Sie wohl! (Exit. )

WIRTHIN. Leben Sie wohl! mein Herr!

ACT II. SCENE I. 

Time, a couple of days later. The girls discovered with their work andprimers. 

ANNIE. Was fehlt der Wirthin?

MARGARET. Das weiss ich nicht. Sie ist schon vor zwei Tagen ins Bettgegangen--

A. My! how fliessend you speak!

M. Danke schon--und sagte dass sie nicht wohl sei. 

A. Good? Oh no, I don't mean that! no--only lucky for us--glucklich, you know I mean because it'll be so much nicer to have them all toourselves. 

M. Oh, naturlich! Ja! Dass ziehe ich durchaus vor. Do you believe yourMeisterschaft will stay with you, Annie?

A. Well, I know it is with me--every last sentence of it; and a coupleof hods of Ollendorff, too, for emergencies. Maybe they'll refuse todeliver--right off--at first, you know--der Verlegenheit wegen--aber ichwill sie spater herausholen--when I get my hand in--und vergisst Du dasnicht!

M. Sei nicht grob, Liebste. What shall we talk about first--when theycome?

A. Well--let me see. There's shopping--and--all that about the trains, you know--and going to church--and--buying tickets to London, andBerlin, and all around--and all that subjunctive stuff about the battlein Afghanistan, and where the American was said to be born, and soon--and--and ah--oh, there's so many things--I don't think a body canchoose beforehand, because you know the circumstances and the atmospherealways have so much to do in directing a conversation, especially aGerman conversation, which is only a kind of an insurrection, anyway. I believe it's best to just depend on Prov--(Glancing at watch, andgasping. )--half-past--seven!

M. Oh, dear, I'm all of a tremble! Let's get something ready, Annie!(Both fall nervously to reciting): Entschuldigen Sie, mein Herr, konnenSie mir vielleicht sagen wie ich nach dem norddeutschen Bahnhof gehe?(They repeat it several times, losing their grip and mixing it all up. )

BOTH. Herein! Oh, dear! O der heilige--

Enter GRETCHEN. 

GRETCHEN (Ruffled and indignant. ) Entschuldigen Sie, meine gnadigstenFraulein, es sind zwei junge rasende Herren draussen, die herein wollen, aber ich habe ihnen geschworen dass--(Handing the cards. )

M. Due liebe Zeit, they're here! And of course down goes my back hair!Stay and receive them, dear, while I--(Leaving. )

A. I--alone? I won't! I'll go with you! (To GR. ) Lassen Sie die Herrennaher treten; und sagen Sie ihnen dass wir gleich zuruckkommen werden. (Exit. )

GR. (Solus. ) Was! Sie freuen sich daruber? Und ich sollte wirklichdiese Blodsinnigen, dies grobe Rindvieh hereinlassen? In den hulflosenUmstanden meiner gnadigen jungen Damen?--Unsinn! (Pause--thinking. )Wohlan! Ich werde sie mal beschutzen! Sollte man nicht glauben, dass sieeinen Sparren zu viel hatten? (Tapping her skull significantly. ) Was siemir doch Alles gesagt haben! Der Eine: Guten Morgen! wie geht es IhremHerrn Schwiegervater? Du liebe Zeit! Wie sollte ich einen Schwiegervaterhaben konnen! Und der Andere: 'Es thut mir sehr leid dass Ihrer HerrVater meinen Bruder nicht gesehen hat, als er doch gestern in dem Ladendes deutschen Kaufmannes war!' Potztausendhimmelsdonnerwetter! Oh, ichwar ganz rasend! Wie ich aber rief: 'Meine Herren, ich kenne Sie nicht, und Sie kennen meinen Vater nicht, wissen Sie, denn er ist schon langedurchgebrannt, und geht nicht beim Tage in einen Laden hinein, wissenSie--und ich habe keinen Schwiegervater, Gott sei Dank, werde auch nieeinen kriegen, werde uberhaupt, wissen Sie, ein solches Ding nie haben, nie dulden, nie ausstehen: warum greifen Sie ein Madchen an, das nurUnschuld kennt, das Ihnen nie Etwas zu Leide gethan hat?' Dann haben siesich beide die Finger in die Ohren gesteckt und gebetet: 'AllmachtigerGott! Erbarme Dich unser?' (Pauses. ) Nun, ich werde schon diesenSchurken Einlass gonnen, aber ich werde ein Auge mit ihnen haben, damitsie sich nicht wie reine Teufel geberden sollen. (Exit, grumbling andshaking her head. )

Enter WILLIAM and GEORGE. 

W. My land, what a girl! and what an incredible gift of gabble!--kindof patent climate-proof compensation-balance self-acting automaticMeisterschaft--touch her button, and br-r-r! away she goes!

GEO. Never heard anything like it; tongue journalled on ball-bearings! Iwonder what she said; seemed to be swearing, mainly. 

W. (After mumbling Meisterschaft a while. ) Look here, George, this isawful--come to think--this project: we can't talk this frantic language. 

GEO. I know it, Will, and it is awful; but I can't live without seeingMargaret--I've endured it as long as I can. I should die if I tried tohold out longer--and even German is preferable to death. 

W. (Hesitatingly. ) Well, I don't know; it's a matter of opinion. 

GEO. (Irritably. ) It isn't a matter of opinion either. German ispreferable to death. 

W. (Reflectively. ) Well, I don't know--the problem is so sudden--but Ithink you may be right: some kinds of death. It is more than likelythat a slow, lingering--well, now, there in Canada in the early timesa couple of centuries ago, the Indians would take a missionary and skinhim, and get some hot ashes and boiling water and one thing and another, and by-and-by that missionary--well, yes, I can see that, by-and-by, talking German could be a pleasant change for him. 

GEO. Why, of course. Das versteht sich; but you have to always think athing out, or you're not satisfied. But let's not go to bothering aboutthinking out this present business; we're here, we're in for it; you areas moribund to see Annie as I am to see Margaret; you know the terms:we've got to speak German. Now stop your mooning and get at yourMeisterschaft; we've got nothing else in the world. 

W. Do you think that'll see us through?

GEO. Why it's got to. Suppose we wandered out of it and took a chance atthe language on our own responsibility, where the nation would we be!Up a stump, that's where. Our only safety is in sticking like wax to thetext. 

W. But what can we talk about?

GEO. Why, anything that Meisterschaft talks about. It ain't our affair. 

W. I know; but Meisterschaft talks about everything. 

GEO. And yet don't talk about anything long enough for it to getembarrassing. Meisterschaft is just splendid for general conversation. 

W. Yes, that's so; but it's so blamed general! Won't it sound foolish?

GEO. Foolish! Why, of course; all German sounds foolish. 

W. Well, that is true; I didn't think of that. 

GEO. Now, don't fool around any more. Load up; load up; get ready. Fixup some sentences; you'll need them in two minutes new. (They walk upand down, moving their lips in dumb-show memorising. )

W. Look here--when we've said all that's in the book on a topic, andwant to change the subject, how can we say so?--how would a German sayit?

GEO. Well, I don't know. But you know when they mean 'Change cars, ' theysay Umsteigen. Don't you reckon that will answer?

W. Tip-top! It's short and goes right to the point; and it's gota business whang to it that's almost American. Umsteigen!--changesubject!--why, it's the very thing!

GEO. All right, then, you umsteigen--for I hear them coming. 

Enter the girls. 

A. To W. (With solemnity. ) Guten Morgen, mein Herr, es freut mich sehr, Sie zu sehen. 

W. Guten Morgen, mein Fraulein, es freut mich sehr Sie zu sehen. 

(MARGARET and GEORGE repeat the same sentences. Then, after anembarrassing silence, MARGARET refers to her book and says:)

M. Bitte, meine Herren, setzen Sie sich. 

THE GENTLEMEN. Danke schon. (The four seat themselves in couples, thewidth of the stage apart, and the two conversations begin. The talk isnot flowing--at any rate at first; there are painful silences all along. Each couple worry out a remark and a reply: there is a pause of silentthinking, and then the other couple deliver themselves. )

W. Haben Sie meinen Vater in dem Laden meines Bruders nicht gesehen?

A. Nein, mein Herr, ich habe Ihren Herrn Vater in dem Laden Ihres HerrnBruders nicht gesehen. 

GEO. Waren Sie gestern Abend im Koncert, oder im Theater?

M. Nein, ich war gestern Abend nicht im Koncert, noch im Theater, ichwar gestern Abend zu Hause. (General break-down--long pause. )

W. Ich store doch nicht etwa?

A. Sie storen mich durchaus nicht. 

GEO. Bitte, lassen Sie sich nicht von mir storen. 

M. Aber ich bitte Sie, Sie storen mich durchaus nicht. 

W. (To both girls. ) Wenn wir Sie storen so gehen wir gleich wieder. 

A. O, nein! Gewiss, nein!

M. Im Gegentheil, es freut uns sehr, Sie zu sehen, alle beide. 

W. Schon!

GEO. Gott sei dank!

M. (Aside. ) It's just lovely!

A. (Aside. ) It's like a poem. (Pause. )

W. Umsteigen!

M. Um--welches?

W. Umsteigen. 

GEO. Auf English, change cars--oder subject. 

BOTH GIRLS. Wie schon!

W. Wir haben uns die Freiheit genommen, bei Ihnen vorzusprechen. 

A. Sie sind sehr gutig. 

GEO. Wir wollten uns erkundigen, wie Sie sich befanden. 

M. Ich bin Ihnen sehr verbunden--meine Schwester auch. 

W. Meine Frau lasst sich Ihnen bestens empfehlen. 

A. Ihre Frau?

W. (Examining his book. ) Vielleicht habe ich mich geirrt. (Shows theplace. ) Nein, gerade so sagt das Buch. 

A. (Satisfied. ) Ganz recht. Aber--

W. Bitte empfehlen Sie mich Ihrem Herrn Bruder. 

A. Ah, das ist viel besser--viel besser. (Aside. ) Wenigstens es wareviel besser wenn ich einen Bruder hatte. 

GEO. Wie ist es Ihnen gegangen, seitdem ich das Vergnugen hatte, Sieanderswo zu sehen?

M. Danke bestens, ich befinde mich gewohnlich ziemlich wohl. 

(GRETCHEN slips in with a gun, and listens. )

GEO. (Still to Margaret. ) Befindet sich Ihre Frau Gemahlin wohl?

GR. (Raising hands and eyes. ) Frau Gemahlin--heiliger Gott! (Is like tobetray herself with her smothered laughter, and glides out. )

M. Danke sehr, meine Frau ist ganz wohl. (Pause. )

W. Durfen wir vielleicht--umsteigen?

THE OTHERS. Gut!

GEO. (Aside. ) I feel better, now. I'm beginning to catch on. (Aloud. )Ich mochte gern morgen fruh einige Einkaufe machen und wurde Ihnen sehtverbunden sein, wenn Sie mir den Gefallen thaten, mir die Namen derbesten hiesigen Firmen aufzuschreiben. 

M. (Aside. ) How sweet!

W. (Aside. ) Hang it, I was going to say that! That's one of the noblestthings in the book. 

A. Ich mochte Ihnen gern begleiten, aber es ist mir wirklich heuteMorgen ganz unmoglich auszugehen. (Aside. ) It's getting as easy as 9times 7 is 46. 

M. Sagen Sie dem Brieftrager, wenn's gefallig ist, er, mochte Ihnen deneingeschriebenen Brief geben lassen. 

W. Ich wurde Ihnen sehr verbunden sein, wenn Sie diese Schachtel furmich nach der Post tragen wurden, da mir sehr daran liegt einen meinerGeschaftsfreunde in dem Laden des deutschen Kaufmanns heute Abendtreffen zu konnen. (Aside. ) All down but nine; set'm up on the otheralley!

A. Aber, Herr Jackson! Sie haven die Satze gemischt. Es istunbegreiflich wie Sie das haben thun konnen. Zwischen Ihrem ersten Theilund Ihrem letzten Theil haben Sie ganz funfzig Seiten ubergeschlagen!Jetzt bin ich ganz verloren. Wie kann man reden, wenn man seinen Platzdurchaus nicht wieder finden kann?

W. Oh, bitte, verzeihen Sie; ich habe das wirklich nicht beabsichtigt. 

A. (Mollified. ) Sehr wohl, lassen Sie gut sein. Aber thun Sie es nichtwieder. Sie mussen ja doch einraumen, das solche Dinge unertraglicheVerwirrung mit sich fuhren. 

(GRETCHEN slips in again with her gun. )

W. Unzweifelhaft haben Sic Recht, meine holdselige Landsmannin.... Umsteigen!

(As GEORGE gets fairly into the following, GRETCHEN draws a bead on him, and lets drive at the close, but the gun snaps. )

GEO. Glauben Sie dass ich ein hubsches Wohnzimmer fur mich selbst undein kleines Schlafzimmer fur meinen Sohn in diesem Hotel fur funfzehnMark die Woche bekommen kann, oder, wurden Sie mir rathen, in einerPrivatwohnung Logis zu nehmen? (Aside. ) That's a daisy!

GR. (Aside. ) Schade! (She draws her charge and reloads. )

M. Glauben Sie nicht Sie werden besser thun bei diesem Wetter zu Hausezu bleiben?

A. Freilich glaube ich, Herr Franklin, Sie werden sich erkalten, wennSie bei diesem unbestandigen Wetter ohne Ueberrock ausgehen. 

GR. (Relieved--aside. ) So? Man redet von Ausgehen. Das klingt schonbesser. (Sits. )

W. (To A. ) Wie theuer haben Sie das gekauft? (Indicating a part of herdress. )

A. Das hat achtzehn Mark gekostet. 

W. Das ist sehr theuer. 

GEO. Ja, obgleich dieser Stoff wunderschon ist und das Muster sehrgeschmackvoll und auch das Vorzuglichste dass es in dieser Art gibt, soist es doch furchtbat theuer fur einen solcehn Artikel. 

M. (Aside. ) How sweet is this communion of soul with soul!

A. Im Gegentheil, mein Herr, das ist sehr billig. Sehen Sie sich nur dieQualitat an. 

(They all examine it. )

GEO. Moglicherweise ist es das allerneuste das man in diesem Stoff hat;aber das Muster gefallt mir nicht. 

(Pause. )

W. Umsteigen!

A. Welchen Hund haben Sie? Haben Sie den hubschen Hund des Kaufmanns, oder den hasslichen Hund der Urgrossmutter des Lehrlings desbogenbeinigen Zimmermanns?

W. (Aside. ) Oh, come, she's ringing in a cold deck on us: that'sOllendorff. 

GEO. Ich habe nicht den Hund des--des--(Aside. ) Stuck! That's noMeisterschaft; they don't play fair. (Aloud. ) Ich habe nicht den Hunddes--des--In unserem Buche leider, gibt es keinen Hund; daher, obich auch gern von solchen Thieren sprechen mochte, ist es mir dochunmoglich, weil ich nicht vorbereitet bin. Entschuldigen Sie, meineDamen. 

GR. (Aside) Beim Teufel, sie sind alle blodsinnig geworden. In meinemLeben habe ich nie ein so narrisches, verfluchtes, verdammtes Gesprachgehort. 

W. Bitte, umsteigen. 

(Run the following rapidly through. )

M. (Aside. ) Oh, I've flushed an easy batch! (Aloud. ) Wurden Sie mirerlauben meine Reisetasche heir hinzustellen?

GR. (Aside. ) Wo ist seine Reisetasche? Ich sehe keine. 

W. Bitte sehr. 

GEO. Ist meine Reisetasche Ihnen im Wege?

GR. (Aside. ) Und wo ist seine Reisetasche?

A. Erlauben Sie mir Sie von meiner Reisetasche zu bereien. 

GR. (Aside. ) Du Esel!

W. Ganz und gar nicht. (To Geo. ) Es ist sehr schwul in diesem Coupe. 

GR. (Aside. ) Coupe. 

GEO. Sie haben Recht. Erlauben Sie mir, gefalligst, das Fenster zuoffnen. Ein wenig Luft wurde uns gut thun. 

M. Wir fahren sehr rasch. 

A. Haben Sie den Namen jener Station gehort?

W. Wie lange halten wir auf dieser Station an?

GEO. Ich reise nach Dresden, Schaffner. Wo muss ich umsteigen?

GR. (Aside. ) Sie sind ja alle ganz und gar verruckt. Man denke sich sieglauben dass sie auf der Eisenbahn reisen. 

GEO. (Aside, to William. ) Now brace up; pull all your confidencetogether, my boy, and we'll try that lovely goodbye business a flutter. I think it's about the gaudiest thing in the book, if you boom it rightalong and don't get left on a base. It'll impress the girls. (Aloud. )Lassen Sie uns gehen: es ist schon sehr spat, und ich muss morgen ganzfruh aufstehen. 

GR. (Aside--grateful. ) Gott sei Dank dass sie endlich gehen. 

(Sets her gun aside. )

W. (To Geo. ) Ich danke Ihnen hoflichst fur die Ehre die Sie mirerweisen, aber ich kann nicht langer bleiben. 

GEO. (To W. ) Entschuldigen Sie mich gutigst, aber ich kann wirklichnicht langer bleiben. 

(GRETCHEN looks on stupefied. )

W. (To Geo. ) Ich habe schon eine Einladung angenommen; ich kann wirklichnicht langer bleiben. 

(GRETCHEN fingers her gun again. )

GEO. (To W. ) Ich muss gehen. 

W. (To GEO. ) Wie! Sie wollen schon wieder gehen? Sie sind ja eben erstgekommen. 

M. (Aside. ) It's just music!

A. (Aside. ) Oh, how lovely they do it!

GEO. (To W. ) Also denken Sie doch noch nicht an's Gehen. 

W. (To Geo. ) Es thut mir unendlich leid, aber ich muss nach Hause. MeineFrau wird sich wundern, was aus mir geworden ist. 

GEO. (To W. ) Meine Frau hat keine Ahnung wo ich bin: ich muss wirklichjetzt fort. 

W. (To Geo. ) Dann will ich Sie nicht langer aufhalten; ich bedaure sehrdass Sie uns einen so kurzen Besuch gemacht haben. 

GEO. (To W. ) Adieu--auf recht baldiges Wiedersehen. 

W. UMSTEIGNEN!

(Great hand-clapping from the girls. )

M. (Aside. ) Oh, how perfect! how elegant!

A. (Aside. ) Per-fectly enchanting!

JOYOUS CHORUS. (All) Ich habe gehabt, du hast gehabt, er hat gehabt, wirhaben gehabt, ihr habet gehabt, sie haben gehabt. 

(GRETCHEN faints, and tumbles from her chair, and the gun goes offwith a crash. Each girl, frightened, seizes the protecting hand of hersweetheart. GRETCHEN scrambles up. Tableau. )

W. (Takes out some money--beckons Gretchen to him. George adds moneyto the pile. ) Hubsches Madchen (giving her some of the coins), hast Duetwas gesehen?

GR. (Courtesy--aside. ) Der Engel! (Aloud--impressively. ) Ich habe nichtsgesehen. 

W. (More money. ) Hast Du etwas gehort?

GR. Ich habe nichts gehort. 

W. (More money. ) Und morgen?

GR. Morgen--ware es nothig--bin ich taub und blind. 

W. Unvergleichbares Madchen! Und (giving the rest of the money) darnach?

GR. (Deep courtesy--aside. ) Erzengel! (Aloud. ) Darnach, mein gnadgister, betrachten Sie mich also taub--blind--todt!

ALL. (In chorus--with reverent joy. ) Ich habe gehabt, du hast gehabt, erhat gehabt, wir haben gehabt, ihr habet gehabt, sie haben gehabt!

ACT III. 

Three weeks later. 

SCENE I. 

Enter GRETCHEN, and puts her shawl on a chair. Brushing around with thetraditional feather-duster of the drama. Smartly dressed, for she isprosperous. 

GR. Wie hatte man sich das vorstellen konnen! In nur drei Wochen bin ichschon reich geworden! (Gets out of her pocket handful after handful ofsilver, which she piles on the table, and proceeds to repile and count, occasionally ringing or biting a piece to try its quality. ) Oh, dass(with a sigh) die Frau Wirthin nur ewig krank bliebe!... Diese edlenjungen Manner--sie sind ja so liebenswurdig! Und so fleissig!--undso treu! Jeden Morgen kommen sie gerade um drei Viertel auf neun; undplaudern und schwatzen, und plappern, und schnattern, die jungen Damenauch; um Schlage zwolf nehmen sie Abschied; um Sclage eins kommen sieschon wieder, und plauden und schwatzen und plappern und schnattern;gerade um sechs Uhr nehmen sie wiederum Abschied; um halb acht kehrensie noche'mal zuruck, und plaudern und schwatzen und plappern undschnattern bis zehn Uhr, oder vielleicht ein Viertel nach, falls ihreUhren nach gehen (und stets gehen sie nach am Ende des Besuchs, aberstets vor Beginn desselben), und zuweilen unterhalten sich die jungenLeute beim Spazierengehen; und jeden Sonntag gehen sie dreimal indie Kirche; und immer plaudern sie, und schwatzen und plappern undschnattern bis ihnen die Zahne aus dem Munde fallen. Und ich? DurchMangel an Uebung, ist mir die Zunge mit Moos belegt worden! Freilichist's mir eine dumme Zei gewesen. Aber--um Gotteswillen, was geht dasmir an? Was soll ich daraus machen? Taglich sagt die Frau Wirthin, 'Gretchen' (dumb-show of paying a piece of money into her hand), 'dubist eine der besten Sprach--Lehrerinnen der Welt!' Act, Gott!Und taglich sagen die edlen jungen Manner, 'Gretchen, liebesKind' (money-paying again in dumb-show--three coins), 'bleib'taub--blind--todt!' und so bleibe ich.... Jetzt wird es ungefahr neunUhr sein; bald kommen sie vom Spaziergehen zuruck. Also, es ware gutdass ich meinem eigenen Schatz einen Besuch abstatte und spazieren gehe. 

(Dons her shawl. Exit. L. )

Enter WIRTHIN. R. 

WIRTHIN. That was Mr. Stephenson's train that just came in. Evidentlythe girls are out walking with Gretchen;--can't find them, and shedoesn't seem to be around. (A ring at the door. ) That's him. I'll gosee. (Exit. R. )

Enter STEPHENSON and WIRTHIN. R. 

S. Well, how does sickness seem to agree with you?

WIRTHIN. So well that I've never been out of my room since, till I heardyour train come in. 

S. Thou miracle of fidelity! Now I argue from that, that the new plan isworking. 

WIRTHIN. Working? Mr. Stephenson, you never saw anything like it in thewhole course of your life! It's absolutely wonderful the way it works. 

S. Succeeds? No--you don't mean it. 

WIRTHIN. Indeed I do mean it. I tell you, Mr. Stephenson, that plan wasjust an inspiration--that's what it was. You could teach a cat German byit. 

S. Dear me, this is noble news! Tell me about it. 

WIRTHIN. Well, it's all Gretchen--ev-ery bit of it. I told you she was ajewel. And then the sagacity of that child--why, I never dreamed it wasin her. Sh-she, 'Never you ask the young ladies a question--never leton--just keep mum--leave the whole thing to me, ' sh-she. 

S. Good! And she justified, did she?

WIRTHIN. Well, sir, the amount of German gabble that that child crammedinto those two girls inside the next forty-eight hours--well, I wassatisfied! So I've never asked a question--never wanted to ask any. I'vejust lain curled up there, happy. The little dears! they've flitted into see me a moment, every morning and noon and supper-time; and as sureas I'm sitting here, inside of six days they were clattering German tome like a house afire!

S. Sp-lendid, splendid!

WIRTHIN. Of course it ain't grammatical--the inventor of the languagecan't talk grammatical; if the dative didn't fetch him the accusativewould; but it's German all the same, and don't you forget it!

S. Go on--go on--this is delicious news--

WIRTHIN. Gretchen, she says to me at the start, 'Never you mind aboutcompany for 'em, ' sh-she--'I'm company enough. ' And I says, 'Allright--fix it your own way, child;' and that she was right is shown bythe fact that to this day they don't care a straw for any company buthers. 

S. Dear me; why, it's admirable!

WIRTHIN. Well, I should think so! They just dote on that hussy--can'tseem to get enough of her. Gretchen tells me so herself. And the careshe takes of them! She tells me that every time there's a moonlightnight she coaxes them out for a walk; and if a body can believe her, sheactually bullies them off to church three times every Sunday!

S. Why, the little dev--missionary! Really, she's a genius!

WIRTHIN. She's a bud, I tell you! Dear me, how she's broughtthose girls' health up! Cheeks?--just roses. Gait?--they walk onwatch-springs! And happy?--by the bliss in their eyes, you'd thinkthey're in Paradise! Ah, that Gretchen! Just you imagine our trying toachieve these marvels!

S. You're right--every time. Those girls--why, all they'd have wanted toknow was what we wanted done, and then they wouldn't have done it--themischievous young rascals!

WIRTHIN. Don't tell me? Bless you, I found that out early--when I wasbossing. 

S. Well, I'm im-mensely pleased. Now fetch them down. I'm not afraidnow. They won't want to go home. 

WIRTHIN. Home! I don't believe you could drag them away from Gretchenwith nine span of horses. But if you want to see them, put on your hatand come along; they're out somewhere trapseing along with Gretchen. (Going. )

S. I'm with you--lead on. 

WIRTHIN. We'll go out the side door. It's towards the Anlage. (Exitboth. L. )

Enter GEORGE and MARGARET. R. Her head lies upon his shoulder, his armis about her waist; they are steeped in sentiment. 

M. (Turning a fond face up at him. ) Du Engel!

GEO. Liebste!

M. Oh, das Liedchen dass Du mir gewidmet hast--es ist so schon, sowunderschon. Wie hatte ich je geahnt dass Du ein Poet warest!

GEO. Mein Schatzchen!--es ist mir lieb wenn Dir die Kleinigkeit gefallt. 

M. Ah, es ist mit der zartlichsten Musik gefullt--klingt ja so suss undselig--wie das Flustern des Sommerwindes die Abenddammerung hindurch. Wieder--Theuerste!--sag'es wieder. 

GEO. Du bist wie eine Blume!--So schon und hold und rein--Ich schau'Dich an, und WehmuthSchleicht mir ins Herz hinein. Mir ist als ob ichdie HandeAufs Haupt Dir legen sollt', Betend, dass Gott Dich erhalte, Sorein und schon und hold. 

M. A-ch! (Dumb-show sentimentalisms. ) Georgie--

GEO. Kindchen!

M. Warum kommen sie nicht?

GEO. Das weiss ich gar night. Sie waren--

M. Es wird spat. Wir mussen sie antreiben. Komm!

GEO. Ich glaube sie werden recht bald ankommen, aber--(Exit both. L. )

Enter GRETCHEN, R. , in a state of mind. Slumps into a chair limp withdespair. 

GR. Ach! was wird jetzt aus mir werden! Zufallig habe ich in der Ferneden verdammten Papa gesehen!--und die Frau Wirthin auch! Oh, dieseErscheinung--die hat mir beinahe das Leben genommen. Sie suchen diejungen Damen--das weiss ich wenn sie diese und die jungen Herrenzusammen fanden--du heileger Gott! Wenn das gescheiht, waren wir Alleganz und gar verloren! Ich muss sie gleich finden, und ihr eine Warnunggeben! (Exit. L. )

Enter ANNIE and WILL, R. , posed like the former couple and sentimental. 

A. Ich liebe Dich schon so sehr--Deiner edlen Natur wegen. Dass du dazuauch ein Dichter bist!--ach, mein Leben ist ubermassig reich geworden!Wer hatte sich doch einbilden konnen dass ich einen Mann zu einem sowunderschonen Gedicht hatte begeistern konnen?

W. Liebste! Es ist nur eine Kleinigkeit. 

A. Nein, nein, es ist ein echtes Wunder! Sage es noch einmal--ich fleheDich an. 

W. Du bist wie eine Blume!--So schon und hold und rein--Ich schau' Dichan, und WehmuthSchleicht mir ins Herz hinein. Mir ist als ob ich dieHandeAufs Haupt Dir legen sollt', Betend, dass Gott Dich erhalt, So reinund schon und hold. 

A. Ach, es ist himmlisch--einfach himmlisch. (Kiss. ) Schreibt auchGeorge Gedicht?

W. Oh, ja--zuweilen. 

A. Wie schon!

W. (Aside. ) Smouches 'em, same as I do! It was a noble good idea to playthat little thing on her. George wouldn't ever think of that--somehow henever had any invention. 

A. (Arranging chairs. ) Jetzt will ich bei Dir sitzen bleiben, und Du--

W. (They sit. ) Ja--und ich--

A. Du wirst mir die alte Geschichte, die immer neu bleibt, noch wiedererzahlen. 

W. Zum Beispiel, dass ich Dich liebe!

A. Wieder!

W. Ich--sie kommen!

Enter GEORGE and MARGARET. 

A. Das macht nichts. Fortan! (GEORGE unties M. 's bonnet. She retieshis cravat--interspersings of love-pats, etc. , and dumb show oflove-quarrellings. )

W. Ich liebe Dich. 

A. Ach! Noch einmal!

W. Ich habe Dich vom Herzen lieb. 

A. Ach! Abermals!

W. Bist Du denn noch nicht satt?

A. Nein! (The other couple sit down, and MARGARET begins a retying ofthe cravat. Enter the WIRTHIN and STEPHENSON, he imposing silence with asign. ) Mich hungert sehr, ich verhungre!

W. Oh, Du armes Kind! (Lays her head on his shoulder. Dumb-show betweenSTEPHENSON and WIRTHIN. ) Und hungert es nicht mich? Du hast mir nichteinmal gesagt--

A. Dass ich Dich liebe? Mein Eigener! (Frau WIRTHIN threatens tofaint--is supported by STEPHENSON. ) Hore mich nur an: Ich liebe Dich, ich liebe Dich--

Enter GRETCHEN. 

GR. (Tears her hair. ) Oh, dass ich in der Holle ware!

M. Ich liebe Dich, ich liebe Dich! Ah, ich bin so glucklich dass ichnicht schlafen kann, nicht lesen kann, nicht reden kann, nicht--

A. Und ich! Ich bin auch so glucklich dass ich nicht speisen kann, nichtstudieren, arbeiten, denken, schreiben--

S. (To Wirthin--aside. ) Oh, there isn't any mistake about it--Gretchen'sjust a rattling teacher!

WIRTHIN. (To Stephenson--aside. ) I'll skin her alive when I get my handson her!

M. Komm, alle Verliebte! (They jump up, join hands, and sing inchorus--) Du, Du, wie ich Dich liebe, Du, Du, liebest auch mich! Die, die zartlichsten Triebe--

S. (Stepping forward. ) Well! (The girls throw themselves upon his neckwith enthusiasm. )

THE GIRLS. Why, father!

S. My darlings! (The young men hesitate a moment, they they add theirembrace, flinging themselves on Stephenson's neck, along with thegirls. )

THE YOUNG MEN. Why, father!

S. (Struggling. ) Oh, come, this is too thin!--too quick, I mean. Let go, you rascals!

GEO. We'll never let go till you put us on the family list. 

M. Right! hold to him!

A. Cling to him, Will! (GRETCHEN rushes in and joins the generalembrace, but is snatched away by the WIRTHIN, crushed up against thewall, and threatened with destruction. )

S. (Suffocating. ) All right, all right--have it your own way, youquartette of swindlers!

W. He's a darling! Three cheers for papa!

EVERYBODY. (Except Stephenson, who bows with hand on heart)Hip--hip--hip: hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!

GR. Der Tiger--ah-h-h!

WIRTHIN. Sei ruhig, you hussy!

S. Well, I've lost a couple of precious daughters, but I've gained acouple of precious scamps to fill up the gap with; so it's allright. I'm satisfied, and everybody's forgiven--(With mock threats atGretchen. )

W. Oh, wir werden fur Dich sorgen--dur herrliches Gretchen!

GR. Danke schon!

M. (To Wirthin. ) Und fur Sie auch; denn wenn Sie nicht so freundlichgewesen waren, krank zu werden, wie waren wir je so glucklich gewordenwie jetzt?

WIRTHIN. Well, dear, I was kind, but I didn't mean it. But I ain'tsorry--not one bit--that I ain't. (Tableau. )

S. Come, now, the situation is full of hope, and grace, and tendersentiment. If I had in the least poetic gift, I know I could improviseunder such an inspiration (each girl nudges her sweetheart) somethingworthy to--to--Is there no poet among us? (Each youth turns solemnlyhis back upon the other, and raises his hands in benediction over hissweetheart's bowed head. )

BOTH YOUTHS AT ONCE. Mir ist als ob ich die HandeAufs Haupt Dir legensollt'--(They turn and look reproachfully at each other--the girlscontemplate them with injured surprise. )

S. (Reflectively. ) I think I've heard that before somewhere. 

WIRTHIN. (Aside. ) Why, the very cats in Germany know it!

(Curtain. )

(1) (EXPLANATORY. ) I regard the idea of this play as a valuableinvention. I call it the Patent Universally-Applicable AutomaticallyAdjustable Language Drama. This indicates that it is adjustable to anytongue, and performable in any tongue. The English portions of the playare to remain just as they are, permanently; but you change the foreignportions to any language you please, at will. Do you see? You at oncehave the same old play in a new tongue. And you can keep changing itfrom language to language, until your private theatrical pupils havebecome glib and at home in the speech of all nations. Zum Beispiel, suppose we wish to adjust the play to the French tongue. First, we giveMrs. Blumenthal and Gretchen French names. Next, we knock the GermanMeisterschaft sentences out of the first scene, and replace them withsentences from the French Meisterschaft--like this, for instance: 'Jevoudrais faire des emplettes ce matin; voulez-vous avoir l'obligeance devenir avec moi chez le tailleur francais?' And so on. Wherever you findGerman, replace it with French, leaving the English parts undisturbed. When you come to the long conversation in the second act, turn to anypamphlet of your French Meisterschaft, and shovel in as much French talkon any subject as will fill up the gaps left by the expunged German. Example--page 423, French Meisterschaft: On dirait qu'il va faire chaud. J'ai chaud. J'ai extremement chaud. Ah! qu'il fait chaud! Il fait unechaleur etouffante! L'air est brulant. Je meurs de chaleur. Il estpresque impossible de supporter la chaleur. Cela vous fait transpirer. Mettons-nous a l'ombre. Il fait du vent. Il fait un vent froid. Il faitun tres agreable pour se promener aujourd'hui. And so on, all the waythrough. It is very easy to adjust the play to any desired language. Anybody can do it. 

MY BOYHOOD DREAMS

The dreams of my boyhood? No, they have not been realised. For all whoare old, there is something infinitely pathetic about the subject whichyou have chosen, for in no greyhead's case can it suggest any but onething--disappointment. Disappointment is its own reason for its pain:the quality or dignity of the hope that failed is a matter aside. Thedreamer's valuation of the thing lost--not another man's--is the onlystandard to measure it by, and his grief for it makes it large andgreat and fine, and is worthy of our reverence in all cases. We shouldcarefully remember that. There are sixteen hundred million people inthe world. Of these there is but a trifling number--in fact, onlythirty-eight millions--who can understand why a person should have anambition to belong to the French army; and why, belonging to it, heshould be proud of that; and why, having got down that far, he shouldwant to go on down, down, down till he struck the bottom and got on theGeneral Staff; and why, being stripped of this livery, or set freeand reinvested with his self-respect by any other quick and thoroughprocess, let it be what it might, he should wish to return to hisstrange serfage. But no matter: the estimate put upon these things bythe fifteen hundred and sixty millions is no proper measure of theirvalue: the proper measure, the just measure, is that which is put uponthem by Dreyfus, and is cipherable merely upon the littleness or thevastness of the disappointment which their loss cost him. There you haveit: the measure of the magnitude of a dream-failure is the measure ofthe disappointment the failure cost the dreamer; the value, in others'eyes, of the thing lost, has nothing to do with the matter. With thisstraightening out and classification of the dreamer's position tohelp us, perhaps we can put ourselves in his place and respect hisdream--Dreyfus's, and the dreams our friends have cherished and revealto us. Some that I call to mind, some that have been revealed to me, arecurious enough; but we may not smile at them, for they were precious tothe dreamers, and their failure has left scars which give them dignityand pathos. With this theme in my mind, dear heads that were brown whenthey and mine were young together rise old and white before me now, beseeching me to speak for them, and most lovingly will I do it. Howells, Hay, Aldrich, Matthews, Stockton, Cable, Remus--how their younghopes and ambitions come flooding back to my memory now, out of thevague far past, the beautiful past, the lamented past! I remember it sowell--that night we met together--it was in Boston, and Mr. Fiends wasthere, and Mr. Osgood, Ralph Keeler, and Boyle O'Reilly, lost to usnow these many years--and under the seal of confidence revealed to eachother what our boyhood dreams had been: reams which had not as yet beenblighted, but over which was stealing the grey of the night that was tocome--a night which we prophetically felt, and this feeling oppressed usand made us sad. I remember that Howells's voice broke twice, and itwas only with great difficulty that he was able to go on; in the endhe wept. For he had hoped to be an auctioneer. He told of his earlystruggles to climb to his goal, and how at last he attained to within asingle step of the coveted summit. But there misfortune after misfortuneassailed him, and he went down, and down, and down, until now at last, weary and disheartened, he had for the present given up the struggleand become the editor of the Atlantic Monthly. This was in 1830. Seventyyears are gone since, and where now is his dream? It will never befulfilled. And it is best so; he is no longer fitted for the position;no one would take him now; even if he got it, he would not be able todo himself credit in it, on account of his deliberateness of speech andlack of trained professional vivacity; he would be put on real estate, and would have the pain of seeing younger and abler men intrustedwith the furniture and other such goods--goods which draw a mixed andintellectually low order of customers, who must be beguiled of theirbids by a vulgar and specialised humour and sparkle, accompaniedwith antics. But it is not the thing lost that counts, but only thedisappointment the loss brings to the dreamer that had coveted thatthing and had set his heart of hearts upon it, and when we rememberthis, a great wave of sorrow for Howells rises in our breasts, and wewish for his sake that his fate could have been different. At that timeHay's boyhood dream was not yet past hope of realisation, but it wasfading, dimming, wasting away, and the wind of a growing apprehensionwas blowing cold over the perishing summer of his life. In the pride ofhis young ambition he had aspired to be a steamboat mate; and in fancysaw himself dominating a forecastle some day on the Mississippi anddictating terms to roustabouts in high and wounding terms. I look backnow, from this far distance of seventy years, and note with sorrow thestages of that dream's destruction. Hay's history is but Howells's, withdifferences of detail. Hay climbed high toward his ideal; when successseemed almost sure, his foot upon the very gang-plank, his eye uponthe capstan, misfortune came and his fall began. Down--down--down--everdown: Private Secretary to the President; Colonel in the field; Charged'Affaires in Paris; Charge d'Affaires in Vienna; Poet; Editor of theTribune; Biographer of Lincoln; Ambassador to England; and now at lastthere he lies--Secretary of State, Head of Foreign Affairs. And he hasfallen like Lucifer, never to rise again. And his dream--where nowis his dream? Gone down in blood and tears with the dream of theauctioneer. And the young dream of Aldrich--where is that? I rememberyet how he sat there that night fondling it, petting it; seeing itrecede and ever recede; trying to be reconciled and give it up, butnot able yet to bear the thought; for it had been his hope to be ahorse-doctor. He also climbed high, but, like the others, fell; thenfell again, and yet again, and again and again. And now at last he canfall no further. He is old now, he has ceased to struggle, and is only apoet. No one would risk a horse with him now. His dream is over. Hasany boyhood dream ever been fulfilled? I must doubt it. Look at BranderMatthews. He wanted to be a cowboy. What is he to-day? Nothing buta professor in a university. Will he ever be a cowboy? It is hardlyconceivable. Look at Stockton. What was Stockton's young dream? He hopedto be a barkeeper. See where he has landed. Is it better with Cable?What was Cable's young dream? To be ring-master in the circus, and swellaround and crack the whip. What is he to-day? Nothing but a theologianand novelist. And Uncle Remus--what was his young dream? To be abuccaneer. Look at him now. Ah, the dreams of our youth, how beautifulthey are, and how perishable! The ruins of these might-have-beens, howpathetic! The heart-secrets that were revealed that night now so longvanished, how they touch me as I give them voice! Those sweet privacies, how they endeared us to each other! We were under oath never to tellany of these things, and I have always kept that oath inviolate whenspeaking with persons whom I thought not worthy to hear them. Oh, ourlost Youth--God keep its memory green in our hearts! for Age is upon us, with the indignity of its infirmities, and Death beckons!

TO THE ABOVE OLD PEOPLE

 Sleep! for the Sun that scores another Day Against the Tale allotted You to stay, Reminding You, is Risen, and now Serves Notice--ah, ignore it while You stay!

 The chill Wind blew, and those who stood before The Tavern murmured, 'Having drunk his Score, Why tarries He with empty Cup? Behold, The Wine of Youth once poured, is poured no more

 'Come, leave the Cup, and on the Winter's Snow Your Summer Garment of Enjoyment throw: Your Tide of Life is ebbing fast, and it, Exhausted once, for You no more shall flow. '

 While yet the Phantom of false Youth was mine, I heard a Voice from out the Darkness whine, 'O Youth, O whither gone? Return, And bathe my Age in thy reviving Wine. '

 In this subduing Draught of tender green And kindly Absinth, with its wimpling Sheen Of dusky half-lights, let me drown The haunting Pathos of the Might-Have-Been. 

 For every nickeled Joy, marred and brief, We pay some day its Weight in golden Grief Mined from our Hearts. Ah, murmur not-- From this one-sided Bargain dream of no Relief!

 The Joy of Life, that streaming through their Veins Tumultuous swept, falls slack--and wanes The Glory in the Eye--and one by one Life's Pleasures perish and make place for Pains. 

 Whether one hide in some secluded Nook-- Whether at Liverpool or Sandy Hook-- 'Tis one. Old Age will search him out--and He--He--He--when ready will know where to look. 

 From Cradle unto Grave I keep a House OF Entertainment where may drowse Bacilli and kindred Germs--or feed--or breed Their festering Species in a deep Carouse. 

 Think--in this battered Caravanserai, Whose Portals open stand all Night and Day, How Microbe after Microbe with his Pomp Arrives unasked, and comes to stay. 

 Our ivory Teeth, confessing to the Lust Of masticating, once, now own Disgust Of Clay-Plug'd Cavities--full soon our Snags Are emptied, and our Mouths are filled with Dust. 

 Our Gums forsake the Teeth and tender grow, And fat, like over-riped Figs--we know The Sign--the Riggs' Disease is ours, and we Must list this Sorrow, add another Woe;

 Our Lungs begin to fail and soon we Cough, And chilly Streaks play up our Backs, and off Our fever'd Foreheads drips an icy Sweat-- We scoffered before, but now we may not scoff. 

 Some for the Bunions that afflict us prate Of Plasters unsurpassable, and hate To Cut a corn--ah cut, and let the Plaster go, Nor murmur if the Solace come too late. 

 Some for the Honours of Old Age, and some Long for its Respite from the Hum And Clash of sordid Strife--O Fools, The Past should teach them what's to Come:

 Lo, for the Honours, cold Neglect instead! For Respite, disputatious Heirs a Bed Of Thorns for them will furnish. Go, Seek not Here for Peace--but Yonder--with the Dead. 

 For whether Zal and Rustam heed this Sign, And even smitten thus, will not repine, Let Zal and Rustam shuffle as they may, The Fine once levied they must Cash the Fine. 

 O Voices of the Long Ago that were so dear! Fall'n Silent, now, for many a Mould'ring Year, O whither are ye flown? Come back, And break my heart, but bless my grieving ear. 

 Some happy Day my Voice will Silent fall, And answer not when some that love it call: Be glad for Me when this you note--and think I've found the Voices lost, beyond the Pall. 

 So let me grateful drain the Magic Bowl That medicines hurt Minds and on the Soul The Healing of its Peace doth lay--if then Death claim me--Welcome be his Dole!

SANNA, SWEDEN, September 15th. 

Private. --If you don't know what Riggs's Disease of the Teeth is, thedentist will tell you. I've had it--and it is more than interesting. --M. T. 

EDITORIAL NOTE

Fearing that there might be some mistake, we submitted a proof of thisarticle to the (American) gentlemen named in it, and asked them tocorrect any errors of detail that might have crept in among the facts. They reply with some asperity that errors cannot creep in among factswhere there are no facts for them to creep in among; and that noneare discoverable in this article, but only baseless aberrations of adisordered mind. They have no recollection of any such night in Boston, nor elsewhere; and in their opinion there was never any such night. They have met Mr. Twain, but have had the prudence not to intrust anyprivacies to him--particularly under oath; and they think they now seethat this prudence was justified, since he has been untrustworthy enoughto even betray privacies which had no existence. Further, they thinkit a strange thing that Mr. Twain, who was never invited to meddle withanybody's boyhood dreams but his own, has been so gratuitously anxiousto see that other people's are placed before the world that he has quitelost his head in his zeal and forgotten to make any mention of his ownat all. Provided we insert this explanation, they are willing to lethis article pass; otherwise they must require its suppression in theinterest of truth. 

P. S. --These replies having left us in some perplexity, and also in somefear lest they distress Mr. Twain if published without his privity, wejudged it but fair to submit them to him and give him an opportunity todefend himself. But he does not seem to be troubled, or even aware thathe is in a delicate situation. He merely says: 'Do not worry about thoseformer young people. They can write good literature, but when it comesto speaking the truth, they have not had my training. --MARK TWAIN. ' Thelast sentence seems obscure, and liable to an unfortunate construction. It plainly needs refashioning, but we cannot take the responsibility ofdoing it. --EDITOR. 

IN MEMORIAM

OLIVIA SUSAN CLEMENS

DIED AUGUST 18, 1896; AGED 24

 In a fair valley--oh, how long ago, how long ago!-- Where all the broad expanse was clothed in vines, And fruitful fields and meadows starred with flowers, And clear streams wandered at their idle will; And still lakes slept, their burnished surfaces A dream of painted clouds, and soft airs Went whispering with odorous breath, And all was peace--in that fair vale, Shut from the troubled world, a nameless hamlet drowsed. 

 Hard by, apart, a temple stood; And strangers from the outer world Passing, noted it with tired eyes, And seeing, saw it not: A glimpse of its fair form--an answering momentary thrill-- And they passed on, careless and unaware. 

 They could not know the cunning of its make; They could not know the secret shut up in its heart; Only the dwellers of the hamlet knew; They knew that what seemed brass was gold; What marble seemed, was ivory; The glories that enriched the milky surfaces-- The trailing vines, and interwoven flowers, And tropic birds a-wing, clothed all in tinted fires-- They knew for what they were, not what they seemed: Encrustings all of gems, not perishable splendours of the brush. They knew the secret spot where one must stand-- They knew the surest hour, the proper slant of sun-- To gather in, unmarred, undimmed, The vision of the fane in all its fairy grace, A fainting dream against the opal sky. 

 And more than this. They knew That in the temple's inmost place a spirit dwelt, Made all of light! For glimpses of it they had caught Beyond the curtains when the priests That served the altar came and went. 

 All loved that light and held it dear That had this partial grace; But the adoring priests alone who lived By day and night submerged in its immortal glow Knew all its power and depth, and could appraise the loss If it should fade and fail and come no more. 

 All this was long ago--so long ago!

 The light burned on; and they that worshipped it, And they that caught its flash at intervals and held it dear, Contented lived in its secure possession. Ah, How long ago it was!

 And then when they Were nothing fearing, and God's peace was in the air, And none was prophesying harm, The vast disaster fell: Where stood the temple when the sun went down Was vacant desert when it rose again!

 Ah yes! 'Tis ages since it chanced! So long ago it was, That from the memory of the hamlet-folk the Light has passed-- They scarce believing, now, that once it was, Or if believing, yet not missing it, And reconciled to have it gone. 

 Not so the priests! Oh, not so The stricken ones that served it day and night, Adoring it, abiding in the healing of its peace: They stand, yet, where erst they stood Speechless in that dim morning long ago; And still they gaze, as then they gazed, And murmur, 'It will come again; It knows our pain--it knows--it knows-- Ah surely it will come again. 

 S. L. C. 

 LAKE LUCERNE, August 18, 1897.