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THE 
 
 AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 BY 
 
 MARK TWAIN 
 
 (SAMUEL L. CLEMENS) 
 
 WITH EIGHTT-ONB ILLUSTRATIONS 
 BT DAN BEARD AND HAL HURST 
 
 TORONTO: 
 
 THE MUSSON BOOK CO., LIMITED 
 
 LONDON: CHATTO & WiNDUS 
 
PZ 
 3 
 
 Am 
 
 T 
 
 in 
 ye 
 of 
 dn 
 
 11 UL <i i IdeiS 
 
 moi 
 dee] 
 hyi 
 
 satii 
 
 subf 
 
 thai 
 
 occi 
 
 fee 
 
 StatI 
 
EXPLANATORY 
 
 Thb Colonel Mulberry Sellers here re-introduced to the 
 public is the same person who appeared as Eschol Sellers 
 in the first edition of the tale, entitled ' The Gilded Age/ 
 years ago, and as Beriah Sellers in the subsequent editions 
 of the same book, and finally as Mulberry Sellers in the 
 drama played afterward by John T. Raymond. 
 
 The name was changed from Eschol to Beriah to accom- 
 modate an Eschol Sellers who rose up out of the vasty 
 deeps of uncharted space, and preferred his request — backed 
 by threat of a libel suit — then went his way appeased, and 
 came no more. In the play Beriah had to be dropped to 
 satisfy another member of the race, and Mulberry was 
 substituted in the hope that the objectors would be tired by 
 that tune and let it pass unchallenged. So far it has 
 occupied the field in peace ,* therefore, we chance it again, 
 feeling reasonably safe this time, under shelter of the 
 Statute of Limitations. 
 
 Mabe Twain. 
 
 Habtvord, 1892. 
 
THE WEATHER IN THIS BOOK 
 
 No weather will be found in this book. This is an attempt to 
 pull a book through without weather. It being the first attempt 
 of the kind in fictitious literature, it may prove a failure, but it 
 seemed worth the while of some dare-devil person to try it, and 
 the author was in just the mood. Many a reader who wanted to 
 read a tale through was not able to :^o it because of the delays on 
 account of the weather. Nothing breaks up an author's progress 
 like having to stop every few pages to fuss up the weather. Thus, 
 it is plain that persistent intrusions of weather are bad for both 
 reader and author. Of course, weather is necessary to a narrative 
 of human experience. That is conceded. But it ought to be put 
 where it wiU not be in the way ; where it will not interrupt the 
 flow of the narrative. And it ought to be the ablest weather that 
 can be had, not ignorant, poor-quahty, amateur weather. Weather 
 is a literary speciality, and no untrained hand can turn out a 
 good article of it. , The present author can do only a few trifling 
 ordinary kinds of weather, and he cannot do those very gocl. 
 80 it has seemed wisest to borrow such weather as is necessary 
 for the book from qualified and recognised experts — giving credit, 
 of course. This weather will be found over in the back part of 
 the book, out of the way. (See Appendix, pp. 256-268.) The 
 reader is requested to turn over and help himself from time to 
 time as he goes along. 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 FronHapitee 
 
 ' TBB UOmT Jt78T VLOB 
 *THB SHERIFr SOTiC OUT* 
 
 THE ABflRIOAM OLAIHANT • • • • • 
 
 A uumtitD mnncBT • • • • • • • 
 
 HI WAS OONSTRVOTINa WHAT SEEMED TO Bl BOVM KIND Of A FRAIL 
 IfBOHAKIOAL TOT . t . • . . • • 
 
 THE COLONEL HAD TO GET UP AND STAND . • • 
 
 ' IT MITST TRY TOUB PATIENCE PRBTTT SHARPLT BOUETIMES ' • • 
 
 • • • • 
 
 > • • • • 
 
 'DAN'L WAITS ON THE FRONT DOOB* • • • 
 
 'LETTINa ON TO DUST AROUND* . . • • 
 
 HE CONTINUED TO OAZB AT THE CHAIR FASCINATUO . 
 
 ' PIOS IN THE CLOVER '•••«• 
 
 AN ENEROBTIC-LOOEINa MAN BUSTLED IN . • 
 
 < I SAW HIU OOINO TOWARD THE IRON OATS * . . 
 
 ONa>ARllBD PITH .••••• 
 
 ' IS IT PATnmo ? ' . • • • • • 
 
 ' A CHERUB IN AN ULSTER ' • . 
 
 SALLT 8BLLEB8, LADT GWENDOLEN . . . . . 
 
 * I'VE BEEN GLANCING THROUGH BURKE ' . . . . . 
 
 THESE TWO niPBESSIVB BHIPMENTS WOULD MEET AND PART IN lOD- 
 ATLANTIO •••••••. 
 
 'JUST ME, EZAOTXiX' . 
 
 A LETTER VOB X. T. I. . 
 
 ' XBBRI TOU ABB ' 
 
 10 
 18 
 
 20 
 21 
 22 
 28 
 28 
 25 
 27 
 80 
 38 
 84 
 86 
 87 
 
 THI THING WAS ONLT ▲ DUMMY AND HADN'T ANT WIBI ATTACHBD TO IT 89 
 
 44 
 
 46 
 
 48 
 61 
 62 
 64 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 VAM 
 TBI BBHDBSVOUS .....••. 64 
 
 TBI lABIi OBOrTBD BIBI AID THBBI TBBOUOB TBI IWAUfma XiOBBT . 56 
 
 liXBAOXINa BIB 'BOX ' VOB A PIN . • , .66 
 
 HI XilR BIB DUBT OM TBI TABLI . . « • • 68 
 
 KVBT Bl 00 DOWN ZN BIB BVIOTBAL NZOBT-DBIBB 7 . , .60 
 
 WOBXID BIB WAT OUT 09 TBI OBOWD . , . . 61 
 
 BILUUtS TOVOBBD A BlUi-BUTTON IN TBI WALL. . . .66 
 
 ' DID YOU BINO, KABBI SlUiIBB 7 ' . . , • . 67 
 
 TBI lABL AMD WASBWaTON BTABTID ON TBI BOBBOWTUL IBBAND . 71 
 
 ONI OLIHPBI AT TBI MBLANOBOLT MOBOUI . . . . 78 
 
 'OLAB TO OOODMBSB IT'B X>I FUST TDCI I'VI BOT ITIB ON 'iM ' , 76 
 
 LU>T BOSBHOBI AND BIB SAUOBTIB A8BIBTID AX TBI BITTZNO-UP . . 77 
 
 < IT COULD NOT Bl DONI BO, PATBEB ' . . . . .79 
 
 PABXIB, ABBIBTANT IDITOB 01 TBI ' DIMOCRAT ' . . • • 88 
 
 TUBNINO OTIB TBI LKATIB OV BIB DIABl . . . .91 
 
 BBFOBI TBI WBBOK OV A OBIAP UBBOB . . , . • 96 
 
 BTOPPID WXTB A PILLOW IN BIB TIITH . . . . .98 
 
 Bl BAD OOm nOH TBI VBONX BOOB . . , . . IQQ 
 
 Bl TOOK OFF BIB OOAT ••••... 108 
 
 AN ATALANOBI OF BOABDIBB ....... 106 
 
 WAITIO UPON BT TWO BTALWABT NIOBO WOHIN . . . . 107 
 
 'PWflB' 108 
 
 *l BOPI TBAT 70U WILL INJOT TBI OHABITT ' . . . . HO 
 
 BOTB WIBI BO PABALTBID WITB JOY . • . • . 118 
 
 Bl mABUBID BIS LBNOTB ON TBI TIN . . . . . 128 
 
 BIB TBOUOBTB BAD BUN FAB AWAY FBOU TBIBI TBIN08 . . . 180 
 
 'FOOL OB iro FOOL, Bl WOULD aBAB IX ' • . , . 184 
 
 Bl SAW OLD KABBB BIOKONINa BIK . . . , . . 189 
 
 ONI OF TBI NBOBO WOHIN • , , , , .140 
 
TEB AMBBIOAN OLAIMANT 
 
 FAOl 
 
 int. KAHiH muHo ranmnf • • . • • . 149 
 
 ' I WOULD BATHBB WAIT ' •.«••. 144 
 
 TBI nLMW rinB tiLL noH bis nNoiBS . t • . 140 
 
 ' x*K oonro to nr m oap fob too ' . • • . .147 
 
 BO. 6 BTABTBD A LAVOB . . . • 149 
 
 OAPTAXB BALTHABSB ABD BBOTHXR OT TBB BRUSH . . • 161 
 
 ' snOBnOMATIOB'B THB THIBT Off TIUB ' . . . . . 164 
 
 ' LOOK MB IB TBB BTB, KT BOT * . • » . .166 
 
 * I WABT TO MAKB A OOMnSSXON * • . . . . . 168 
 TBB LAST TOUCH WAS PUT OB . • . . . .160 
 
 * IB TBIS OASB MOBIT IS RBQUIRBD * . . ... 163 
 *OAfT TOUB BTB8 ABOUND THIS BOOK* . . . • .164 
 
 ' it's bbbb LBrr opbn * . • • • , . . 167 
 
 WA8TBD SBWBB-OAS . . . . . . .168 
 
 'BASTWABD, WITH THAT OBBAT UOBT TRABSFIOURIBO TBBIR VAOBS' . 174 
 
 * LOOK 1 ' .176 
 
 *1R nilBBD, OBBBRAL HAWKIBS' . • . . . . 177 
 
 ' Tan DBL 8ABT0 ' . . . . . . . .178 
 
 ' WB*tB KATBBIALISBD THIS BUB0LAB*8 AB0B8TOB * • . . 180 
 
 ' nr wi oouLD biausb imubdutblt ' . . , ,184 
 
 n was i TIOLBBT OASB OV UtrtUAL LOTB AT BIBSS 8I0HT . . . 191 
 
 SBB LOOTBD OBB OB TBB BBUSHKS • . . • . 198 
 
 ma DBAOOBD RBATILT BOB BOTH BOW . . . . . 197 
 
 < shb's KissiBa IT t ' . • . . -. .209 
 
 THB SHADT DBTIL BAD KBITBD HBB . . . . . . 219 
 
 *TOU ABB AB BABL*8 SOBI SHOW MB THB SIOBB ' . . . 229 
 
 * MT tATBBB I ' . . . . . 247 
 TBBBB WAS A QUIBT WBDDINO AT THB T0WBB8 . . • .261 
 
 nBit . • • • , . • , , . 268 
 
It i 
 
 wei 
 
 dek 
 
 oft 
 
 Bofl 
 
 whc 
 
 owr 
 
 lean 
 
 two 
 
 foai 
 
 his 
 
 byi 
 
 qnei 
 
 I 
 
 mor 
 ade 
 erec 
 who 
 meo 
 can 
 drea 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 It IB a matchless morning in rural England. On a fair hill 
 we see a majestic pile, the ivied walls and towers of Cholmon- 
 deley Castle, huge relic and witness of the baronial grandeurs 
 of the Middle Ages. This is one of the seats of the Earl of 
 Bossmore, E.G.| G.C.B., E.C.M.G., etc., etc., etc., etc., etc., 
 who possesses twenty-two thousand acres of English land, 
 owns a parish in London with two thousand houses on its 
 lease-roll, and struggles comfortably along on an income of 
 two hundred thousand pounds a year. The father and 
 founder of this proud old line was William the Conqueror 
 his very self; the mother of it was not inventoried in history 
 by name, she being merely a random episode and inconse- 
 quential, like the tanner's daughter of Falaise. 
 
 In a breakfast room of the castle on this breezy fine 
 morning there are two persons and the cooling remains of 
 a deserted meal. One of these persons is the old lord, tall, 
 erect, square-shouldered, whit^haired, stem-browed, a man 
 who shows character in every feature, attitude, and move- 
 ment, and carries his seventy years as easily as most, men 
 carry fifty. The other person is his only son and heir, a 
 dreamy-eyed young fellow, who looks about twenty-six but 
 
 Tt * 
 
2 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 is nearer thirty. Oandour, kindliness, honesty, sincerity, 
 simplicity, modesty — it is easy to see that these are cardi- 
 nal traits of his character ; and so when you have^lothed him 
 in the formidable components of his name, you somehow seem 
 to be contemplating a lamb in armour ; his name and style 
 being the Honourable Kirkcudbright Llanover Marjoribanks 
 Sellers Viscount Berkeley, of Cholmondeley Castle, War- 
 wickshire. (Pronounced K'koobry Thlanover Marshbanks 
 Sellers YycountBarkly, of Ghumly Castle, Warrikshr.) He is 
 standing by a great window, in an attitude suggestive of 
 respectful attention to what his father is saying and equally 
 respectful dissent from the positions and arguments offered. 
 The father walks the floor as he talks, and his talk shows that 
 his temper is away up toward summer heat. 
 
 * Soft-spirited as you are, Berkeley, I am quite aware 
 that when you have once made up your mind to do a thing 
 which your ideas of honour and justice require you to do, 
 argument and reason are (for the time being) wasted upon 
 you — ^yes, and ridicule, persuasion, supplication, and com- 
 mand as well. To my mind ' 
 
 * Father, if you will look at it without prejudice, without 
 passion, you must concede that I am not doing a rash thing, 
 a thoughtless, wilful thing, with nothing substantial behind 
 it to justify it. / did not create the American claimant to 
 the earldom of Bossmore ; I did not hunt for him, did not 
 find him, did not obtrude him upon your notice. He found 
 himself, he injected himself into our lives ' 
 
 'And has made mine a purgatory for ten years with his 
 tiresome letters, his wordy reasonings, his acres of tedious 
 evidence, * 
 
 * Which you would never read, would never consent to 
 read. Tet in common fairness he was entitled to a hearing. 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 8 
 
 That hearing would either prove he was the rightful earl— in 
 which case our course would be plain — or it would prove that 
 he wasn't — ^in which case our course would be equally plain. 
 I have read his evidences, my lord. I have conned them 
 well, studied them patiently and thoroughly. The chain 
 seems to be complete, no important link wanting. I believe 
 he is the rightful earl.' 
 
 * And I a usurper — a nameless pauper, a tramp ! Con- 
 sider what you are saying, sir.' 
 
 ' Father, tf ho is the rightful earl, would you, could you 
 — that fact being established — consent to keep his titles and 
 his properties from him a day, an hour, a minute ? ' 
 
 'You are talking nonsense — ^nonsense — lurid idiotcy 
 Now, listen to me. I will make a confession — ^if you wish 
 to call it by that name. I did not read those evidences be- 
 cause I had no occasion to— I was made familiar with them 
 in the time of this claimant's father and of my own father 
 forty years ago. This fellow's predecessors have kept mine 
 more or less familiar with them for close upon a hundred 
 and fifty years. The truth is. the rightful heir did go to 
 America, with the Fairfax heir or about the same time — 
 but disappeared somewhere in the wilds of Yiiginia, got 
 married, and began to breed savages for the Claimant 
 market ; wrote no letters home ; was supposed to be dead ; his 
 younger brother softly took possession ; presently the Ameri- 
 can did die, and straightway his eldest product put in his 
 claim— by letter— letter stiU in existence— and died before 
 the uncle in possession found time — or maybe inclination — 
 to answer. The infimt son of that eldest product grew up 
 —long interval, you see— and he took to writing letters and 
 (iirmBhing evidences. Well, successor after successor has 
 done the some, down to the present idiot. It was a suc- 
 
4 TEE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 oeBsion of paupers ; not one of them was ever able to pay 
 his passage to England or institute suit. The Fairfaxes 
 kepi their lordship alive, and so they have never lost it to 
 this day, although they live in Maryland ; their friend lost 
 his by his own neglect. You perceive now that the facts 
 in this case bring us to precisely this result : morally the 
 American tramp t« rightful earl of Bossmore ; legally he 
 has no more right than his dog. There now — are you satis- 
 fied?' 
 
 There was a pause, then the son glanced at the crest 
 carved in the great oaken mantel and said, with a regretful 
 note in his voice : 
 
 ' Since the introduction of heraldic symbols, the motto 
 of this house has been Suum cuique — to every man his own. 
 By your own intrepidly frank confession, my lord, it is 
 become a sarcasm. If Simon Lathers ' 
 
 ' Keep that exasperating name to yourself ! For ten 
 years it has pestered my eye and tortured my ear ; till at 
 last my very footfalls time themselves to the brain-racking 
 rhythm of Simon Lathers / — Simon Lathers ! — Simon 
 Lathers! And now, to make its presence in my soul 
 eternal, immortal, imperishable, you have resolved to — to 
 — what is it you have resolved to do ? ' 
 
 < To go to Simon Lathers, in America, and change 
 places with him.' 
 
 ' What 1 Deliver the reversion of the earldom into his 
 hands?' 
 
 * That is my purpose.' 
 
 * Make this tremendous surrender without even trying 
 the fantastic case in the Lords ? '^ 
 
 * Te — 8 — * with hesitation and some embarrassment. 
 
 * By all that is amazing, I believe you are insane, my 
 
THE AMBBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 trying 
 
 son. See here — have you been training with that ass 
 again— that radical, if you prefer the term, though the words 
 are synonymous— Lord Tanzy, of ToUmache ? * 
 
 The son did not reply, and the old lord continued : 
 
 'Yes, you confess. That puppy, that shame to his 
 birth and caste, who holds all hereditary lordships and 
 privilege to be usurpation, all nobility a tinsel sham, all 
 aristocratic institutions a fraud, all inequalities in rank 
 a legalised crime and an infamy, and no bread honest 
 bread that a man doesn't earn by his own work — workf 
 pah ! ' — and the old patrician brushed imaginary labour- 
 dirt from his white hands. 'You have come to hold 
 just those opinions yourself, I suppose,' he added with a 
 sneer. 
 
 A faint flush in the younger man's cheek told that 
 the shot had hit and hurt, but he answered with 
 dignity : 
 
 ' I have. I say it without shame — I feel none. And 
 now my reason for resolving to renounce my heirship 
 without resistance is explained. I wish to retire from what 
 to me is a false existence, a false position, and begin my 
 life over again — begin it right — begin it on the level of 
 mere manhood, unassisted by factitious aids, and succeed 
 or fail by pure merit or the want of it. I will go to 
 America, where all men are equal and all havo an equal 
 chance ; I will live or die, sink or swim, win or lose as 
 just a man — that alone, and not a single helping gaud or 
 fiction back of it.' 
 
 * Hear, hear ! ' The two men looked each other 
 steadily in the eye a moment or two, then the elder 
 one added, musingly, * Ab-so-lutely cra-zy — ab-so-lutely I * 
 After another silence, he said, as one who, long troubled 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 
 y 
 
 by clouds, detects a ray of sunshine, * Well, there will be 
 one satisfaction— Simon Lathers will come here to enter 
 into his own, and I will drown him in the horsepond. That 
 poor devil — always so humble in his letters, so pitiful, 
 
 so deferential; so steeped 
 in reverence for our great 
 line and lofty station; so 
 anxious to placate us, so 
 prayerful for recognition as 
 a relative, a bearer in his 
 veins of our sacred blood — 
 and withal so poor, so 
 needy, so threadbare and 
 pauper-shod as to raunent, 
 so despised, so laughed at 
 for his silly daimantship 
 by the lewd American scum 
 around him — ach, the vul- 
 gar, crawling, insufiFerable 
 tramp ! To read one of 
 his cringing, nauseating 
 letters — well ? * 
 
 This to a splendid 
 flunkey, all in inflamed 
 plush and buttons and 
 knee-breeches as to his 
 trunk, and a glinting white 
 frost-work of ground-glass paste as to his head, who stood 
 with his heels together and the upper half of him bent 
 forward, a salver in his hands : 
 < The letters, my lord.' 
 My lord took them, and the servant disappeared. 
 
 A BPLENDID FLUNKCT. 
 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 7 
 
 * Among the rest, an American letter. From the tramp, 
 of course. Jove, but here's a change ! No brown paper 
 envelope this time, filched from a shop and carrying the 
 shop's advertisement in the corner. Oh, no, a proper enough 
 envelope — with a most ostentatiously broad mourning 
 border — for his cat, perhaps, since he was a bachelor — and 
 fastened with red wax — a batch of it as big as a half-crown 
 — and — and— our crest for a seal ! — motto and all. And 
 the ignorant sprawling hand is gone; he sports a secre- 
 tary, evidently— a secretary with a most confident swing 
 and flourish to his pen. Oh indeed, our fortunes are im- 
 proving over there — our meek tramp has undergone a 
 metamorphosis.' 
 
 ' Bead it, my lord, please.' 
 
 * Yes, this time I will. For the sake of the cat : 
 
 14,042 Sixteenth Street, Washington, May 2. 
 
 My Lord, — It is my painful duty to annoimce to you that the 
 head of our illustrious house is no more — The Bight Honour- 
 able, The Most Noble, The Most Puissant Simon Lathers Lord 
 Bossmore having departed this life (' Gone at last— this is un- 
 speakably precious news, my son,*) at his seat in the environs of 
 the hamlet of Duffy's Corners in tiie grand old State of Arkansas 
 — and his twin brother with him, both being crushed by a log 
 at a smoke-house-raising, owing to carelessness on the part of all 
 present, referable to over-confidence and gaiety induced by over- 
 plus of sour-mash— (' Extolled be sour-mash, whatever that may 
 be, eh, Berkeley ? ') five days ago, with no scion of our ancient 
 race present to dose his eyes and inter him with the honours due 
 to his historic name and lofty rank — in fact, he is on the ice yet, 
 him and his brother — friends took up a collection for it. But I 
 shall take immediate occasion to have their noble remains 
 shipped to you {* Great heavens ! ') for interment, with due cere- 
 monies ani solemnities, in the family vault or mausoleum of our 
 
8 
 
 TEE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 house. Meantime I shall put up a pair of hatchments on my 
 house-front, iftnd you will of course do the same at your several 
 seats. 
 
 I have also to remind you that by this sad disaster I, as sole 
 heir, inherit and become seized of all the titles, honours, lands, 
 and goods of our lamented relative, and must of necessity, pain- 
 ful as the duty is, shortly require at the bar of the Lords resti- 
 tution of these dignities and properties, now illegally enjoyed by 
 your titular lordship. 
 
 With assurance of my distinguished consideration and warm 
 cousinly regard, I remain 
 
 Your titular lordship's 
 
 Most obedient servant. 
 Mulberry Sellers Earl Bossmore, 
 
 * Im-mense ! Come, this one's interesting. Why, 
 Berkeley, his breezy impudence is — is — why, it's colossal, 
 it's sublime.' 
 
 ' No, this one doesn't seem to cringe much.' 
 
 * Cringe — why, he doesn't know the meaning of the 
 word. Hatchments! To commemorate that snivelling 
 tramp and his fraternal duplicate. And he is going to send 
 me the remains. The late Claimant was a fool, but plainly 
 this new one's a maniac. What a name ! Mulberry 
 Sellers — there's music for you. Simon Lathers — Mulberry 
 Sellers— Mulberry Sellers — Simon Lathers. Sounds like 
 machinery working and churning. Simon Lathers, Mul- 
 berry Sel — — Are you going ? * 
 
 * If I have your leave, father.' 
 
 The old gentleman stood musing some time after his 
 son was gone. This was his thought : 
 
 ' He is a good boy, and lovable. Let him take his own 
 course — as it would profit nothing to oppose him— make 
 things worse, in fact. My arguments and his aunt's per- 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 9 
 
 suasions have failed ; let us see what America can do for 
 us. Let us see what equality and hard times can effect 
 for the mental health of a brain-sick young British lord. 
 Going to renounce his lordship and be a man 1 Yas 1 ' 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Colonel Mulberry Sellers — this was some days before he 
 wrote his letter to Lord Bossmore — was seated in his 
 * library,' which was also his * drawing-room ' and was also 
 his * picture gallery ' and likewise his * workshop.' Some- 
 times he called it by one of these names, sometimes by 
 another, according to occasion and circumstance. He was 
 constructing what seemed to be some kind of a frail 
 mechanical toy, and was apparently very much interested 
 in his work. He was a white-headed man, now, but other- 
 wise he was as young, alert, buoyant, visionary and enter- 
 prising as ever. His loving old wife sat near by, content- 
 edly knitting and thinking, with a cat asleep in her lap. 
 The room was large, light, and had a comfortable look, in 
 fact a home-like look, though the furniture was of a humble 
 sort and not over abundant, and the knick-knacks and 
 things that go to adorn a living-room not plenty and not 
 costly. But there were natural flowers, and there was an 
 abstract and unclassifiable something about the place which 
 betrayed the presence in the house of somebody with a 
 happy taste and an effective touch. 
 
 Even the deadly chromos on the walls were somehow 
 without offence; in fact they seemed to belong there and to 
 add an attraction to the room — a fascination, anyway ; for 
 
10 
 
 THB AMBBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 whoever got his eye on one of them was like to gaze and 
 Buffer till he died — ^you have seen that kind of pictures. 
 Some of these terrors were landscapes, some libelled the sea, 
 some were ostensible portraits, all were crimes. All the 
 
 ^4' 
 
 BK WAS COMBTBUOTXMO WHAT SEEMED TO BE BOMB KIND OV A VBAIIi 
 
 MECHANIOAL TOT. 
 
 portraits were recognisable as dead Americans of distinction, 
 and yet, through labelling added by a daring hand, they 
 were all doing duty here as * Earls of Bossmore.' The 
 newest one had left the works as Andrew Jackson, but was 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 U 
 
 and 
 
 ares. 
 I Bea, 
 
 i the 
 
 bion, 
 
 they 
 
 The 
 
 was 
 
 doing its best now, as ' Simon Lathers Lprd Bossmore, 
 Present Earl.' On one wall was a cheap old railroad map 
 of Warwickshire. This had been newly labelled 'The 
 Bossmore Estates.' On the opposite wall was another map, 
 and this was the most imposing decoration of the establish- 
 ment and the first to catch a stranger's attention, because 
 of its great size. It had once borne simply the title Siberu ; 
 bat now the word ' Futubb ' had been written in front of 
 that word. There were other additions, in red ink — ^many 
 cities, with great populations set down, scattered over the 
 vast country at points where neither cities nor populations 
 exist to-day. One of these cities, with population placed at 
 1,600,000, bore the name * Libertyorloffskoizalinski,' and 
 there was a still more populous one, centrally located and 
 marked * Capital,' which bore the name ' Freedomolovna- 
 ivanovich.' 
 
 The ' mansion ' — the Colonel's usual name for the house 
 —was a rickety old two-story frame of considerable size, 
 which had been painted, some time or other, but had nearly 
 forgotten it. It was away out in the ragged edge of Wash- 
 ington and had once been somebody's country place. It 
 had a neglected yard around it, witii a paling fence that 
 needed straightening up, in places, and a gate that would 
 stay shut. By the door-post were several modept tin signs. 
 * Col. Mulberry Sellers, Attorney at Law and Claim Agent,' 
 was the principal one. One learned from the others that 
 the Colonel was a Materialiser, a Hypnotiser, a Mind-Cure 
 dabbler, and so on. For he was a man who could always 
 find things to do. 
 
 A white-headed negro man, with spectacles and damaged 
 white cotton gloves, appeared in the presence, made a stately 
 obeisance and announced — 
 
18 
 
 THE AMEBIC AN CLAIMANT 
 
 * Marse Washington Hawkins, suh.* 
 
 * Great Scott 1 Show him in, Dan'l, show him in.' 
 The Colonel and his wife were on their feet in a moment, 
 
 and the next moment were joyfully wringing the hands of 
 a stontish, discouraged-looking man whose general aspect 
 suggested that he was fifty years old, but whose hair swore 
 to a hundred. 
 
 *Well, well, well, Washington, my boy, it w good to 
 look at you again. Sit down, sit down, and make yourself 
 at home. There, now — why, you look perfectly natural ; 
 aging a little, just a little, but you'd have known him any- 
 where, wouldn't you, Polly ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, yes. Berry, he*B just like his pa would have looked 
 if he'd lived. Dear, dear, where have you dropped from 7 
 Let me see, how long is it since ' 
 
 ' I should say it's all of fifteen years, Mrs. Sellers.' 
 
 ' Well, well, how time does get away with us. Yes, and 
 oh, the changes that ' 
 
 There was a sudden catch of her voice and a trembling of 
 the lip, the men waiting reverently for her to get command 
 of herself and go on ; but after a little struggle she turned 
 away, with her apron to her eyes, and softly disappeared. 
 
 * Seeing you made her think of the children, poor 
 thing — dear, dear, they're all dead but the youngest. 
 But banish care, it's no time for it now — on with the 
 dance, let joy be unconfined is my motto, whether there's 
 any dance to dance, or any joy to unconfine — ^you'll be 
 the healthier for it every time, — every time, Washington 
 — it's my experience, and I've seen a good deal of this 
 world. Gome — where have you disappeared to all these 
 years, and are you from there, now, or where are you 
 from?' 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 18 
 
 'I don't quite think you would ever guess, Colonel. 
 Cherokee Strip.' 
 « My land I ' 
 
 * Sure as you live.' 
 
 * You can't mean it. Actually living out there ? * 
 
 * Well, yes, if a body may call it that ; though it's a 
 pretty strong term for 'dobies and jackass rabbits, boiled 
 beans and slapjacks, depression, withered hopes, poverty in 
 all its varieties ' 
 
 * Louise out there ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, and the children.' 
 
 * Out there now ? ' 
 
 * Yes, I couldn't afford to bring them with me.' 
 
 * Oh, I see, — you had to come — claim agamst the govern- 
 ment. Make yourself perfectly easy — I'll take care of that.' 
 
 ' But it isn't a claim against the government.' 
 
 * No ? Want to be postmaster ? That*8 all right. Leave* 
 it to me. I'll fix it.' 
 
 * But it isn't postmaster — ^you're all astray yet.' 
 
 * Well, good gracious, Washington, why don't you come 
 out and tell me what it is ? What do you want to be so re- 
 served and distrustful with an old friend like me, for ? Don't 
 you reckon I can keep a se ' 
 
 * There's no secret about it — you merely don't give me 
 a chance to * 
 
 ' Now look here, old friend, I know the human race ; 
 and I know that when a man comes to Washington, I don't 
 care if it's from heaven, let alone Cherokee Strip, it's 
 because he wants something. And I know that as a rule 
 he's not going to get it ; that he'll stay and try for another 
 thing and won't get that ; the same luck with the next and 
 the next and the next ; and keeps on till he strikes bottom, 
 
14 
 
 THE AMBRIOAN OLAIMANT 
 
 and is too poor and ashamed to go back, even to Oherokee 
 Strip; and at last his heart breaks and they take up a 
 collection and bory him. There — don't interrapt me, I 
 know what Tm talking about. Happy and prosperous 
 in the Far West, wasn't I ? You know that. Principal 
 citisen of Hawkeye, looked up to by everybody, kind of an 
 autocrat, actually a kind of an autocrat, Washington. 
 Well, nothing would do but I must go Minister to St. James, 
 the Governor and everybody insisting, you know, and so at 
 last I consented — no getting out of it, had to do it, so here 
 I came. A day too late, Washington. Think of that — what 
 little things change the world's history— yes, sir, the place 
 had been filled. Well, there I was, you see. I offered to 
 compromise and go to Paris. The President was very sorry 
 and all that, but ihat place, you see, didn't belong to the 
 West, so there I was again. There was no help for it, so 
 I had to stoop a little — we all reach the day some time or 
 other when we've got to do that, Washington, and it's not 
 a bad thing for us, either, take it by and large and all 
 around — I had to stoop a little and offer to take Constanti- 
 nople. Washington, consider this — for it's perfectly true — 
 within a month I asked for China ; within another month I 
 hegged for Japan ; one year later I was' away down, down, 
 down, supplicating with tears and anguish for the bottom 
 office in the gift of the government of the United States — 
 Flint-Picker in the cellars of the War Department. And 
 by George I didn't get it.' 
 
 • Flint-Picker 9 ' 
 
 * Yes. Office established in the time of the Revolution, 
 last century. The musket-flints for the military posts were 
 supplied from the capitol. They do it yet ; for although 
 the flint arm has gone out and the forts have tumbled down, 
 
THB AMBBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 1ft 
 
 T8B COLONEL BAD TO QVX W AXID STANDt 
 
16 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 the decree hasn't been repealed — been overlooked and for- 
 gotten, you see — and so the vacancies where old Ticonderoga 
 and others used to stand, still get their six quarts of gun- 
 flints a year just the same.' 
 
 Washington said musingly after a pause : 
 ' How strange it seems — to start for Minister to England 
 at twenty thousand a year and fail for flint-picker at ' 
 
 * Three dollars a week. It's human life, Washington — 
 just an epitome of human ambition, and struggle, and the out- 
 come : you aim for the palace and get drowned in the sewer.* 
 
 There was another meditative silence. Then Washing- 
 ton said, with earnest compassion in his voice : 
 
 * And so, after coming here, against your inclination, to 
 satisfy your sense of patriotic duty and appease a selfish 
 public clamour, you get absolutely nothing for it.' 
 
 * Nothing ? ' The Colonel had to get up and stand, to 
 get room for his amazement to expand. 'Nothing ^ Washing- 
 ton ? I ask you this : to be a perpetual Member and the 
 only Perpetual Member of a Diplomatic Body accredited to 
 the greatest country on earth — do you call that nothing ? ' 
 
 It was Washington's turn to be amazed. He was 
 stricken dumb; but the wide-eyed wonder, the reverent 
 admiration expressed in his face were more eloquent than 
 any words could have been. The Colonel's wounded spirit 
 was healed and he resumed his seat pleased and content. 
 He leaned forward and said impressively : 
 
 *What was due to a man who had become for ever 
 conspicuous by an experience without precedent in the 
 history of the world? — a man made permanently and 
 diplomatically sacred, so to speak, by having been con- 
 nected, temporarily, through solicitation, with every single 
 diplomatic post in the roster of this government, from 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 17 
 
 Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary to the 
 Court of St. James all the way down to Consul to a guano 
 rock in the Straits of Sunda — salary payable in guano — 
 which disappeared by volcanic convulsion the day before 
 they got down to my name in the list of applicants. Cer- 
 tainly something august enough to be answerable to the 
 size of this unique and memorable experience was my due, 
 and I got it. By the common voice of this community, 
 by acclamation of the people, that mighty utterance which 
 brushes aside laws and legislation, and from whose decrees 
 there is no appeal, I was named Perpetual Member of the 
 Diplomatic Body representing the multifarious sovereignties 
 and civilisations of the globe near the republican court of 
 the United States of America. And they brought me home 
 with a tprchlight procession.' 
 
 * It is wonderful. Colonel, simply wonderful.* 
 
 ' It's the loftiest official position iu the whole earth.' 
 
 * I should think so — and the most commanding.' 
 
 * You have named the word. Think of it. I frown, and 
 there is war; I smile, and contending nations lay down 
 their arms.' 
 
 * It is awful. The responsibility, I mean.' 
 
 ' It is nothing. Besponsibility is no burden to me ; I 
 am used to it ; have always been used to it.' 
 
 * And the work — the work ! Do you have to attend all 
 the sittings ? ' 
 
 * Who, I ? Does the Emperor of Eussia attend the 
 conclaves of the governors of the provinces ? He sits at 
 home, and indicates his pleasure.' 
 
 Washington was silent a moment, then a deep sigh 
 escaped him. 
 
 
 
18 
 
 THE AMliimCAN CLAIMANT 
 
 *IIow proud I was an hour ago; how paltry eocnia 
 my Httio promotion now ! Colonel, the reason I came to 
 Washington is, — I am Congressional Delegj\tc from Cherokco 
 Strip 1 ' 
 
 The Colonel sprang to his foot and hroko out with 
 prodigious enthusiasm : 
 
 * Give me your hand, my boy — this is immense news ! 
 I congratulate you with all my heart. My prophecies 
 stand confirmed. I always said it was in you. I always 
 said you were born for high distinction and would achieve 
 it. You ask Polly if I didn't.' 
 
 Washington was dazed by this most unexpected demon- 
 stration. 
 
 * Why, Colonel, there's nothing to it. That little narrow, 
 desolate, unpeopled, oblong streak of grass and gravel, lost 
 in the remote wastes of the vast continent — why, it's like 
 representing a billiard table— a discarded onc3, ' 
 
 * Tut-tut, it's a great, it's a staving preferment, and just 
 opulent with influence here.' 
 
 * Shucks, Colonel, I haven't even a vote.* 
 
 * That's nothing ; you can make speeches.* 
 
 * No, I can't. The population's only two hundred * 
 
 * That's all right, that's all right ' 
 
 * And they hadn't any right to elect me ; we're not even 
 a territory, there's no Organic Act, the government hasn't 
 any official knowledge of us whatever.' 
 
 ' Never mind about that ; I'll fix that. I'll rush the 
 thing through, I'U get you organised in no time.' 
 
 * Will you. Colonel ?--it'8 too good of you ; but it's 
 just your old sterling self, the some old ever-faithful 
 friend/ and the grateful tears welled up in Washington's 
 eyes. 
 
THE AMElilCAH CLAIMANT 
 
 10 
 
 * It's just as good as done, my boy, just as good as done. 
 Sluilvc hands. We'll hitch teams together, you and I, and 
 we'll make things hum I ' 
 
 ClUrTEU III 
 
 Mrs. Skllers returned now, with her composure restored, 
 and began to ask after Hawkins's wife, and about his 
 children, and the number of them, and so on, and her 
 examination of the witness resulted in a circumstantial 
 history of the family's ups and downs and driftings to 
 and fro in the far West during the previous fifteen years. 
 There was a message, now, from out back, and Colonel 
 Sellers went out there to answer to it. Hawkins took this 
 opportunity to ask how the world had been using the 
 Colonel during the past half-generation. 
 
 ' Oh, it's been using him just the same ; it couldn't 
 change its way of using him if it wanted to, for ho wouldn't 
 let it.' 
 
 ' I can easily believe that, Mrs. Sellers.' 
 
 ' Yes, you see, he doesn't change himself — not the least 
 little bit in the world — he's always Mulberry Sellers.' 
 
 * I can see that plain enough.' 
 
 ' Just the same old scheming, generous, good-hearted, 
 moonshiny, hopeful, no-account failure he always was, 
 and still everybody likes him just as well as if he was the 
 shiningest success.' 
 
 ' They always did ; and it was natural, because he was 
 so obliging and accommodating, and had something about 
 him that made it kind of easy to ask help of him, or favours 
 — you didn't feel shy, you know, or have that wish- 
 
 o2 
 
20 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 you-didn't-have-to-try feeling that you have with other 
 people/ 
 
 * It's just BO, yet ; and a body wonders at it, too, because 
 he's been shamefully treated, mainy times, by people that 
 
 'it must tby tour patience pretty sharply, sometimes.* 
 
 had used him for a ladder to climb up by, and then kicked 
 him down wben they didn't need him any more. For a 
 time you can see he's hurt, his pride's wounded, because 
 he shrinks away from that thing, and don't want to talk 
 about i^- -and so I used to think now he's learned something, 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 21 
 
 and he'll be more careful hereafter — but laws! In a couple 
 of weeks he's forgotten all about it, and any selfish tramp 
 out of nobody knows where can come and put up a poor 
 mouth and walk right into his heart with his boots on.' 
 
 * It must try your patience pretty sharply sometimes.' 
 
 * Oh, no, I'm used to it ; and I'd rather have him so 
 than the other way. When I call him a failure, I mean to 
 the world he's a failure ; he isn't to me. I don't know as 
 I want him different — much different, anyway. I have to 
 scold him some, snarl at him, you might even call it, but I 
 reckon I'd do that just the same if he was different — it's my 
 make. But I'm a good 
 
 deal less snarly and 
 more contented when 
 he's a failure than I 
 am when he isn't.' 
 
 *Then he isn't al- 
 ways a failure,' said 
 Hawkins, brightening. 
 
 'Him? Oh, bless 
 you, no. He makes a 
 strike, as he calls it, 
 from time to time. 
 Then's my time to fret 
 and fuss. For the money just flies— first 
 come first served. Straight off, he loads 
 up the house with cripples and idiots and stray cats and 
 all the different kinds of poor wrecks that other people 
 don't want and he does^ and then when the poverty comes 
 again I've got to clear the most of them out or we'd 
 starve; and that distresses him, and me the same, of 
 course. Here's old Dan'l and Jinny, that the sheriff sold 
 
 *THE MONEY JCST 
 FLIES.' 
 
 er^asx'' 
 
22 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 south one of the times that we got bankrupted before the 
 war — they came wandering back after the peace, worn out 
 and used up on the cotton plantations, helpless, and not 
 another lick of work left in their old hides for the rest of 
 
 , .- . this earthly pilgrimage— and 
 
 we so pinched, oh! so pinched, 
 for the very crumbs to keep 
 life in us, and he just flung 
 the door wide, and the way 
 he received them, you'd have 
 thought they had come 
 straight down from heaven 
 in answer to prayer. I took 
 him one side and said, " Mul- 
 berry, we can't have them — 
 we've nothing for ourselves — 
 we can't feed them." He 
 looked at me kind of hurt, 
 and said, " Turn them out ? — 
 and they've come to me just 
 as confident and trusting as^as— why, Polly, I must have 
 bought that confidence some time or other a long time ago, 
 and given my note, so to speak — you don't get such thir.;;.^ 
 as a gift — and how am I going to go back on a debt like 
 that ? And you see, they're so poor, and old, and friend- 
 less, and — " But I was ashamed by that time, and shut 
 him ofif, and somehow felt a new courage in me, and so I 
 said, softly, "We'll keep them— the Lord will provide." 
 He was glad, and started to blurt out one of those over- 
 confident speeches of his, but checked himself in time, and 
 said humbly, "Z will, anyway." It was years and years and 
 years ago. Well, you see those old wrecks are here yet.' 
 
 •the sheriff 
 
 SOLD OCT.' 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 2i\ 
 
 * But don't they do your housework ? * 
 
 ' Laws ! The idea. They would if they could, poor old 
 things, and perhaps they think they do do some of it. But 
 it's a superstition. Dan'l waits on the front door, and 
 sometimes goes on an errand; and sometimes you'll see 
 one or both of them letting on to dust around in here — but 
 that's because there's something they want to hear about 
 and mix their gabble into. And they're always around at 
 
 •dan'l waits on thb 
 front door.' 
 
 'LETTING ON TO DUST 
 AROUND.' 
 
 meals, for the same reason. But the fact is, we have to 
 keep a young negro gu-l just to take care of therrif and a 
 negro woman to do the housework and help take care of 
 them.' 
 
 'Well, they ought to be tolerably happy, I should 
 think.' 
 
 *It's no name for it. They quarrel together pretty 
 much all the time — most always about religion, because 
 
24 
 
 TEE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 DanTs a Bunker Baptist and Jinny's a shouting Methodist, 
 and Jinny believes in special Providences and Dan'l don't, 
 because he thinks he's a kind of a free-thinker — and they 
 play and sing plantation hymns together, and talk and 
 chatter just eternally and for ever, and are sincerely fond of 
 each other and think the world of Mulberry, and be puts 
 up patiently with all their spoiled ways and foolishness, and 
 so — ah, well, they're happy enough if it comes to that. 
 And I don't mind — I've got used to it. I can get used to 
 anything, with Mulberry to help ; and the fact is, I don't 
 much care what happens, so long as he's spared to me.' 
 
 *Well, here's to him, and hoping he'll make another 
 strike soon.* 
 
 * And rake in the lame, the halt and the blind, and turn 
 the house into a hospital again ? It's what he would do. 
 I've seen a plenty of that and more. No, Washington, I 
 want his strikes to be mighty moderate ones the rest of the 
 way down the vale.' 
 
 * Well, then, big strike or little strike, or no strike at all, 
 here's hoping he'll never lack for friends — and I don't 
 reckon he ever will while there's people around who know 
 enough to ' 
 
 * Him lack for friends 1 ' and she tilted her head up with 
 a frank pride — * why, Washington, you can't name a man 
 that's anybody that isn't fond of him. I'll tell you privately, 
 that I've had Satan's own time to keep them from appoint- 
 ing him to some office or other. They knew he'd no busi- 
 ness with an office, just as well as I did, but he's the hardest 
 man to refuse anything to, a body ever saw. Mulberry 
 Sellers with an office ! laws goodness, you know what that 
 would be like. Why, they'd come from the ends of the 
 earth to see a circus like that. I'd just as lieves be married 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 20 
 
 
 to Niagara Falls, and done with it.* After a reflective pause 
 Bhe added — having wandered back, in the interval, to the 
 remark that had been her text : * Friends ?~oh, indeed, no 
 man ever had more ; and such friends : Grant, Sherman, 
 Sheridan, Johnston, Longstreet, Lee — many's the time 
 they've sat in that chair you're sitting in — ' Hawkins was 
 out of it instantly, and contemplating it with a reverential 
 surprise, and with the 
 awed sense of having 
 trodden shod upon 
 holy ground — 
 
 *They/* he said. 
 
 * Oh, indeed, yes, 
 a many and a many 
 a time.' 
 
 He continued to 
 gaze at the chair fasci- 
 nated, magnetised ; 
 and for once in his 
 life that continental 
 stretch of dry prairie 
 which stood for his 
 imagination was afire, 
 and across it was 
 marching a slanting 
 fiame-frontthat joined 
 its wide horizons toge- 
 ther and smothered 
 the skies with smoke. He was experiencing what one or 
 another drowsing, geographically-ignorant alien experiences 
 every day in the year when he turns a dull and indifferent 
 eye out of the car window and it falls upon a certain 
 
 BE CONTINUED TO QAZG AT THE CHAIB 
 FASCINATED. 
 
26 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 station-sign which reads ' Stratford-on-Avon I ' Mrs. Sellers 
 went gossiping comfortably along : 
 
 * Oh, they like to hear him talk, especially if their load 
 is getting rather heavy on one shoulder and they want to 
 shift it. He's all air, you know, — breeze, you may say — 
 and he freshens them up ; it's a trip to the country, they 
 say. Many a time he's made General Grant laugh — and 
 that's a tidy job, I can tell you, and as for Sheridan, his 
 eye lights up and he listens to Mulberry Sellers the same 
 as if he was artillery. You see, the charm about Mulberry 
 is, he is so catholic and unprejudiced that he £fa in any- 
 where and everywhere. It makes him powerful good 
 company, and as popular as scandal. You go to the 
 White House when the President's holding a general re- 
 ception — some time when Mulberry's there. Why, dear 
 me, you can't tell which of them it is that's holding that 
 reception.' 
 
 ' Well, he certainly is a remarkable man — and he always 
 ^as. Is he religious ? ' 
 
 * Clear to his marrow — does more thinking and reading 
 on that subject than any other except Russia and Siberia : 
 thrashes around over the whole field, too ; nothing bigoted 
 about him.' 
 
 * What is his religion ? * 
 
 *He — ' She stopped, and was lost for a moment or 
 two in thinkings, then she said, with simplicity, * I think he 
 was a Mohammedan or something last week.' 
 
 Washington started down town, now, to bring his trunk, 
 for the hospitable Sellerses would listen to no excuses; 
 their house must be his home during the session. The 
 Colonel returned presently and resumed work upon his 
 plaything. It was finished when Washington got back. 
 
THE AMEmCAN CLAIMANT 
 
 27 
 
 ' There it is,' said the Colonel, ' all finished.' 
 « What is it for, Colonel ? ' 
 
 * Oh, it's just a trifle. Toy to amuse the children/ 
 Washington examined it. 
 
 ' It seems to be a puzzle.' 
 
 * Yes, that's what it is. I call it Pigs in the Clover. 
 Put them in — see if you can put them in the pen.' 
 
 After many failures Washington 
 succeeded, and was as pleased as a 
 child. 
 
 * It's wonderfully ingenious, 
 Colonel, it's ever so clever. And 
 interesting— why, I could play with 
 it all day. What are you going to 
 do with it ? ' 
 
 'Oh, nothing. Patent it and 
 throw it aside.' 
 
 * Don't you do anything of the 
 kind. There's money in that thing.' 
 
 A compassionate look travelled over the Colonel's 
 countenance, and he said : 
 
 'Money— yes; pin-money: a couple of hundred thou- 
 sand, perhaps. Not more.' 
 
 Washington's eyes blazed. 
 
 ' A couple of hundred thousand dollars ! do you call that 
 pin-money ? ' 
 
 The Colonel rose and tip-toed his way across the room, 
 closed a door that was slightly ajar, tip-toed his way to his 
 seat again, and said, under his breath — 
 
 * You can keep a secret ? ' 
 
 Washington nodded his affirmative, he was too awed to 
 speak. 
 
 •Pias IN TIIK CLOVER.' 
 
28 THE AAfERTCAN CLAIMANT 
 
 ' You have heard of materialisation— miiterialisation of 
 departed spirits ? * 
 
 Washington had heard of it. 
 
 ' And prohably didn't believe in it ; and quite right too. 
 The thing as practised by ignorant charlatans is unworthy 
 of attention or respect— where there's a dim light and a 
 dark cabinet, and a parcel of sentimental gulls gathered 
 together, with their faith and their shudders and their 
 tears all ready, and one and the same fatty degeneration 
 of protoplasm and humbug comes out and materialises 
 himself into anybody you want, grandmother, grandchild, 
 brother-in-law. Witch of Endor, John Milton, Siamese 
 twins, Peter the Great, and all such frantic nonsense— no, 
 that is all foolish and pitiful. But when a man that is 
 competent brings the vast powers of science to bear, it's a 
 different matter, a totally different matter, you see. The 
 spectre that answers that call has come to stay. Do you 
 note the commercial value of that detail ? ' 
 
 'Well, I— the— the truth is, that I don't quite know 
 that I do. Do you mean that such, being permanent, not 
 transitory, would give more general satisfaction, and so 
 enhance the price of tickets to the show ' 
 
 * Show ? Folly— listen to me ; and get a good grip on 
 your breath, for you are going to need it. Within three 
 days I shall have completed my method, and then — let the 
 world stand aghast, for it shall see marvels. Washington, 
 within three days— ten at the outside— you shall see me 
 call the dead of any century, and they will arise and walk. 
 Walk? — ^they shall walk for ever, and never die again. 
 Walk with all the muscle and spring of their pristine 
 vigour.' 
 
 * Colonel ! Indeed it does take one's breath away.' 
 
THE AMElilOAN CLAIMANT 20 
 
 * Now do you see the money that'B in it ? * 
 *Vm — well, I'm— not really sure that I do.* 
 
 * Great Soott, look here. I shall havu a monopoly; 
 they'll all belong to me, won't they? Two thousand 
 policemen in the city of New York. Wages, four dollars a 
 day. I'll replace them with dead ones at half the money.' 
 
 'Oh, prodigious! I never thought of that. F-o-u-r 
 thousand dollars a day. Now I do begin to see ! But will 
 dead policemen answer ? 
 
 * Haven't they — up to this time ? * 
 
 * Well, if you put it that way * 
 
 * Put it any way you want to. Modify it to suit your- 
 self, and my lads shall still be superior. They won't eat, 
 they won't drink — don't need those things ; they won't wink 
 for cash at gambling dens and unlicensed rum-holes, they 
 won't spark the scullery-maids ; and moreover the bands 
 of toughs that ambuscade them on lonely beats, and 
 cowardly shoot and knife them will only damage the uni- 
 forms and not live long enough to get more than a 
 momentary satisfaction out of that.' 
 
 * Why, Colonel, if you can furnish policemen, then oi 
 course ' 
 
 'Certainly — I can furnish any line of goods that's 
 wanted. Take the army, for instance — now twenty-five 
 thousand men ; expense, twenty-two millions a year. I 
 will dig up the Bomans, I will resurrect the Greeks, I will 
 furnish the government, for ten millions a year, ten thou- 
 sand veterans drawn from the victorious legions of all the 
 ages— soldiers that will chase Indians year in and year out 
 on materialised horses, and cost never a cent for rations or 
 repairs. The armies of Europe cost two billions a year now — 
 1 will replace them all for a billion. I will dig up the trained 
 
80 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 statesmen of all ages and all climes, and furnish this 
 country with a Congress that knows enough to come in 
 out of the rain — a thing that's never happened yet, since 
 the Declaration of Independence, and never will happen till 
 these practically dead people are replaced with the genuine 
 article. I will re-stock the thrones of Europe with the best 
 brains and the best morals that all the royal sepulchres of 
 all the centuries can furnish — which isn't promising very 
 much— and I'll divide the wages and the civil list, fair and 
 square, merely taking my half and ' 
 
 * Colonel, if the half of this is true, there's millions in 
 it — millions.' 
 
 * Billions in it — billions ; that's what you mean. Why, 
 look here ; the thing is so close at hand, so imminent, so 
 absolutely immediate, that if a man were to come to me 
 
 now and say. Colonel, I am a little 
 short, and if you could lend me 
 a couple of billion dollars for — 
 come in I ' 
 
 This in answer to a knock. 
 
 An energetic-looking man bustled 
 
 in with a big pocket-book in his 
 
 hand, took a paper from it and 
 
 / presented it, with the curt re- 
 
 ;5 mark — 
 
 * Seventeenth and last call — 
 AM ENKRQETic-LooKiNQ MAN yQu waut to out with tliat throc 
 
 dollars and forty ceiits this time 
 without fail. Colonel Mulberry Sellers.' 
 
 The Colonel began to slap this pocket and that one, and 
 feel here and there and everywhere, muttering : 
 
 * What have J done with that wallet?— let me see— um 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 81 
 
 —not here, not there— Oh, I must have left it in the 
 kitchen ; I'll just run and ' 
 
 * No you won't — you'll stay right where you are. And 
 you're going to disgorge, too — this time.' 
 
 Washington innocently offered to go and look. "When 
 he was gone the Colonel said : 
 
 * The fact is, I've got to throw myself on your indulgence 
 just this once more, Suggs ; you see the remittances I was 
 expecting ' 
 
 'Hang the remittances- -it's too stale — it won't answer. 
 Come ! ' 
 
 The Colonel glanced about him in despair. Then his 
 face lighted ; he ran to the wall and began to dust off a 
 peculiarly atrocious chromo with his handkerchief. Then 
 he brought it reverently, offered it to the collector, averted 
 his face and said : 
 
 'Take it, but don't let me see it go. It's the sole 
 remaining Eembrandt that ' 
 
 * Eembrandt be damned, it's a chromo.* 
 
 * Oh, don't speak of it so, I beg you. It's the only really 
 great original, the only supreme example of that mighty 
 school of art which * 
 
 * Art ! It's the sickest looking thing I * 
 
 The Colonel was already bringing another horror and 
 tenderly dusting it. 
 
 * Take this one too — the gem of my collection — the only 
 genuine Fra Angelico that * 
 
 * Illuminated liver-pad, that's what it is. Give it here 
 —good day — people will think I've robbed a nigger barber- 
 shop.' 
 
 As he slammed the door behind him the Colonel shouted 
 with an anguished accent : 
 
82 
 
 TEE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 * Do please cover them up — don't let the damp get at 
 them. The delicate tints in the Angelico * 
 
 But the man was gone. 
 
 Washington reappeared and said ho had looked every- 
 where, and so had Mrs. Sellers and the servants, but in 
 vain ; and went on to say he wished he could get his eye 
 on a certain man about this time— no need to hunt up that 
 pocket-book then. The Colonel's interest was awake at 
 once. 
 
 *Wliatman?* 
 
 * One-armed Pete they call him out there—out in the 
 Cherokee country I mean. Bobbed the bank in Tah- 
 lequah.' 
 
 ' Do they have banks in Tahlequah ? ' 
 
 ' Yes — a bank, anyway. He was suspected of robbing 
 it. Whoever did it got away with more than twenty 
 thousand dollars. They offered a reward of five thousand. 
 I believe I saw that very man, on my way east.' 
 
 * No— is that so ? ' 
 
 < I certainly saw a man on the train, the first day I 
 struck the railroad, that answered the description pretty 
 exactly — at least as to clothes and a lacking arm.' 
 
 *Why didn't you get him arrested and claim the re- 
 ward?' 
 
 ' I couldn't. I had to get a requisition, of course. But 
 I meant to stay by him till I got my chance.' 
 
 *WeU?' 
 
 ' Well, he left the train during the night some time. 
 
 ' Oh, hang it, that's too bad.' 
 
 * Not so very bad, either.* 
 •Why?' 
 
 ' Because he came down to Baltimore in the very train 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 w 
 
 W 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 88 
 
 I was in, though I didn't know it in time. As we moTed 
 out of the station I saw him going toward the iron gate 
 with a satchel in his hand/ 
 
 * Good ; we'll catch him. Let's lay a plan.' 
 
 * Send description to the Baltimore police ? ' 
 
 <Why, what are you talking about? No. Do you 
 want them to get the reward ? ' 
 
 * What shall we do, then ? ' 
 The Colonel reflected. 
 
 •l SAW HIM OOINO TOWARD THU IROH OAOT.* 
 
 •I'll tell you. Put a personal in the Baltimore 8uh, 
 Word it like this : 
 
 DROP ME A LINE, PETE 
 
 A 
 
 — * Hold on. Which arm has he lost ? * 
 
 • The right.' 
 
 ' Good. Now then — 
 
 A DROP ME A LINE, PETE, EVEN IP YOU HAVE 
 • to write with your left band. Address X. Y. Z., General 
 Post OiBce, Washington. From YOU KNOW WHO. 
 
 ' There— that'll fetch him.' 
 
 • But he won*t know who— will he ? * 
 
 • No, but he'll want to know, won't he?* 
 
84 
 
 THE AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 * Why, certainly — I didn't think of that. What made 
 you think of it ? ' 
 
 'Knowledge of human curiosity. Strong trait, very 
 strong trait.* 
 
 * Now I'll go to my room and write it out and enclose 
 a dollar and tell them to print it to the worth of that.' 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 The day wore itself out. After dinner the two friends put 
 in a long and harassing evening trying to decide what to 
 
 do with the five thousand dollars 
 reward which they were going to 
 i;et when they should find One- 
 Armed Pete, and catch him, an4 
 prove him to be the right person, 
 and extradite him, and ship him 
 to Tahlequah in the Indian 
 Territory. But there were 
 so many dazzling openings 
 for ready cash that they 
 found it impossible to make 
 up their minds and keep 
 them made up. Finally, 
 Mrs. Sellers grew very 
 weary of it all, and said — 
 'What is the sense in 
 cooking a rabbit before it's 
 ?? caught?' 
 oms-ABMBD Mm Then the matter was 
 
 dropped, for the time being, and all went to bed. Next 
 
THE AMEEIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 85 
 
 made 
 , very 
 ndose 
 
 ids put 
 ^hat to 
 dollarB 
 Ding to 
 i One- 
 mi an4 
 person, 
 Ip him 
 Lidian 
 re were 
 >ening8 
 kt they 
 K>make 
 d keep 
 inaUy, 
 very 
 said — 
 ense in 
 fore it's 
 
 morning, being persuaded by Hawkins, the Colonel made 
 drawings and specifications and went down and applied for 
 a patent for his toy puzzle, and Hawkins took the toy 
 itself and started out to see what chance there might be to 
 do something with it commercially. He did not have to 
 go far. In a small old wooden shanty which had once 
 been occupied as a dwelling by some humble negro family 
 he found a keen-eyed Yankee engaged in repairing cheap 
 chairs and other second-hand 
 furniture. This man examined 
 the toy indifferently ; attempted 
 to do the puzzle ; found it not 
 BO easy as he had expected; 
 grew more interested, and fin- 
 ally emphatically so ; achieved 
 a success at last, and asked — 
 
 ' Is it patented ? ' 
 
 ' Patent applied for.' 
 
 'That will answer. What 
 do yon want for it ? ' 
 
 < What wiU it retail for ? ' 
 •Well, twenty-five cents, I 
 
 should think.' 
 
 * What will you give for the exclusive right ? ' 
 
 * I couldn't give twenty dollars, if I had to pay cash 
 down; bnt I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll make it and 
 market it, and pay yon five cents royalty on each one.' 
 
 Washington sighed. Another dream disappeared; no 
 money in the thing. So he said— 
 
 < All right, take it at that. Draw me a paper.' 
 
 He went his way with the paper, and dropped the 
 matter out of his mind— dropped it out to make room for 
 
 92 
 
 *IB IT PATSITTBD?' 
 
86 
 
 TEE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 further attempts to think out the most promismg way to 
 invest his half of the reward, in case a partnership invest- 
 ment satisfactory to both beneficiaries could not be hit upon. 
 He had not been very long at home when Sellers arrived 
 sodden with grief and booming with glad excitement — 
 working both these emotions successfully, sometimes sepa- 
 rately, sometimes together. He fell on Hawkins's neck 
 sobbing, and said — 
 
 * Oh, mourn with me, my friend, mourn for my desolate 
 house : death has smitten my last kinsman and I am Earl 
 of Bossmore — congratulate me ! ' 
 
 He turned to his wife, who had entered while this was 
 going on, put his arms about her and said — *Tou will 
 bear up, for my sake, my lady— it had to happen, it was 
 decreed.' 
 
 She bore up very well, and said— 
 
 < It's no great loss. Simon Lathers was a poor well- 
 meaning useless thing and no account, and his brother 
 never was worth shucks.' 
 
 The rightful earl continued — 
 
 * I am too much prostrated by these conflicting griefs 
 and joys to be able to concentrate my mind upon aflfairs ; I 
 will ask our good friend here to break the news by wire or 
 post to the Lady Gwendolen and instruct hei to ' 
 
 ' What Lady Gwendolen ? ' 
 
 * Our poor daughter, who, alas I ' 
 
 * Sally Sellers ? Mulberry Sellers, are you losing your 
 mind?' 
 
 * There — please do not forget who you are, and who I 
 am; remember your own dignity, be considerate also of 
 mine. It were best to cease from using my family name, 
 now, Lady Bossmore.' 
 
THE AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 87 
 
 iray to 
 nvest- 
 ; upon, 
 trrived 
 aent — 
 I eepa- 
 s neck 
 
 iesolate 
 mEarl 
 
 his \vas 
 ou will 
 , it was 
 
 or well- 
 brother 
 
 ig griefs 
 
 ffairs; I 
 
 wire or 
 
 ng your 
 
 id who I 
 ) also of 
 y name, 
 
 ' Goodness gracious, well, I never ! What am I to call 
 you then ? * 
 
 ' In private, the ordinary terms of endearment will still 
 be admissible, to some degree ,* but in public it will be more 
 becoming if your ladyship will speak to me as my lord, or 
 your lordship, and of me as Bossmore, or the Earl, or his 
 Lordship, and * 
 
 * Oh, scat 1 I can't ever do it, Berry.' 
 
 * But indeed you must, my love — we must live up to our 
 altered position and submit with what grace we may to its 
 requirements.' 
 
 * Well, all right, have it your own way ; I've never set 
 my wishes against your commands yet, Mul — my lord, and 
 it's late to begin now, though to my mind it's the rottenest 
 foolishness that ever was.' 
 
 ' Spoken like my own true wife ! There, kiss and be 
 friends again.' 
 
 * But — Gwendolen ! I don't know how I am ever going 
 to stand that name. 
 Why, a body wouldn't 
 know Sally Sellers in it. 
 It's too large for her; 
 kind of like a cherub 
 in an ulster, and it's a 
 most outlandish sort of 
 a name, anyway, to my 
 mind.' 
 
 * You'll not hear her 
 find fault with it, my 
 lady.' 
 
 * That's a true word. She takes to any kind of romantic 
 rubbish like she was born to it. She never got it from me, 
 
 *A CHEBUB IK AN ULSTEB.* 
 
88 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 that's sure. And sending her to that silly college hasn't 
 helped the matter any— just the other way.' 
 
 ' Now hear her, Hawkins ! Bowena-Ivanhoe College is 
 the selectest and most aristocratic seat of learning for young 
 ladies in our country. Under no circumstances can a girl 
 get in there unless she is either very rich and fashion- 
 able or can prove four generations of what may be called 
 American nobility. Castellated college-buildings —towers 
 and turrets and an imitation moat — and everything about 
 the place named out of Sir Walter Scott's books and redo- 
 lent of royalty and state and style ; and all the richest girls 
 keep phaetons, and coachmen in livery, and riding-horses, 
 with English grooms in plug hats and tight-buttoned coats, 
 and top-boots, and a whip-handle without any whip to it, 
 to ride sixty-three feet behind them ' 
 
 'And they don't learn a blessed thing, Washington 
 Hawkins, not a single blessed thing but showy rubbish and 
 un-American pretentiousness. But send for the Lady 
 Gwendolen — do; for I reckon the peerage regulations require 
 that she must come home and let on to go into seclusion 
 and mourn for those Arkansas blatherskites she's lost.' 
 
 ' My darling I Blatherskites ? Bemember — noblesse 
 oblige.* 
 
 * There, there — ^talk to me in your own tongue, Boss — 
 you don't know any other, and you only botch it when you 
 try. Oh, don't stare — it was a slip, and no crime ; customs 
 of a lifetime can't be dropped in a second. Bossmorc — 
 there, now, be appeased, and go along with you and attend 
 to Gwendolen. Are you going to write, Washington ? — or 
 telegraph ? ' 
 
 ' He will telegraph, dear.' 
 
 ' I thought as much,' my lady muttered, as she left the 
 
THE AMERICAN OLAlMANt 
 
 60 
 
 room. ' Wants it so the address will have to appear on the 
 envelope. It will just make a fool of that child. She'll get 
 it, of course, for if there are any other Sellerses there they'll 
 not be able to claim it. And just leave her alone to show 
 
 it around and make the most of it. Well, maybe she's 
 
 forgivable for that. She's so poor and they're so rich, of 
 course she's had her share of snubs from the livery-flunkey 
 sort, and I reckon it's only human to want to get even.' 
 
 Uncle Dan'l was sent with the telegram.; for although 
 a conspicuous object in a corner of the drawing-room was 
 a telephone hangmg on a transmitter, Washington found 
 all attempts to raise the central office vain. The Colonel 
 grumbled something 
 about it's being ' ahvaya 
 out of order when 
 you've got particular 
 and especial use for it,' 
 but he didn't explain 
 that one of the reasons 
 for this was that the 
 thing was only a dummy 
 and hadn't any wire 
 attached to it. And yet 
 the Oolonel often used it — when visitors were present — and 
 seemed to get messages through it. Mourning paper and 
 a seal were ordered, then the friends took a rest. 
 
 Next afternoon, while Hawkins, by request, draped 
 Andrew Jackson's portrait with crape, the rightful earl 
 wrote off the family bereavement to the usurper in England 
 — a letter which we have already read. He also, by letter 
 to the village authorities at Du^'s Corners, Arkansas, gave 
 order that the remains of the late twins be embalmed by 
 
 THE THING WAS ONLY A DUMMY AMD HADK'T 
 AMY WZBB ATXAOHED TO IT. 
 
40 
 
 THB AMBBtOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 some St. Louis expert and shipped at once to the usurper 
 — with bill. Then he drafted out the Bossmore arms and 
 motto on a great sheet of brown paper, and he and Hawkins 
 took it to Hawkins's Yankee furniture-mender, and at the 
 end of an hour oame back with a couple of stunning hatch- 
 ments, which they nailed up on the front of the house — at- 
 tractions calculated to draw, and they did ; for it was mainly 
 an idle and shiftless negro neighbourhood, with plenty of . 
 ragged children and indolent dogs to spare for a point of 
 interest like that, and keep on sparing them for it, days 
 and days together. 
 
 The new earl found — without surprise — this society item 
 in the evening paper, and cut it out and scrap-booked it : 
 
 By a recent bereavement our esteemed fellow-citizen, Colonel 
 Mulberry Sellers, Perpetual Member-at-large of the Diplomatic 
 Body, succeeds, as rightful lord, to the great earldom of Boss- 
 more, third by order of precedence in the earldoms of Great 
 Britain, and will take early measures, by suit in the House ot 
 Lords, to wrest the title and estates from the present usurping 
 holder of them. Until the season of mourning is past, the usual 
 Thursday evening receptions at Bossmore Towers will be dis- 
 continued. 
 
 Lady Bossmore's comment — to herself: 
 
 * Beceptions ! People who don't rightly know him may 
 think he is commonplace, but to my mind he is one of the 
 most unusual men I ever saw. As for suddenness and capa- 
 city in imagining things, his beat don't exist, I reckon. As 
 like as not it woiQdn't have occurred to anybody else to name 
 this poor old rat-trap Bossmore Towers, but it just comes 
 natural to him. Well, no doubt it's a blessed thing to have 
 an imagination that can always make you satisfied, no mat- 
 ter how you are fixed. Uncle Dave Hopkins used to always 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 41 
 
 wy, * Turn me into John Calvin, and I want to know which 
 
 place I'm going to ; turn me into Mulberry Sellers and I 
 
 don't care.' 
 
 The rightful earl's comment — to himself: 
 
 ' It's a beautiful name, beautiful. Pity I didn't thmk 
 
 of it before I wrote the usurper. But I'll be ready for him 
 
 when he answers.' 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 No answer to that telegram ; no arriving daughter. Yet 
 nobody showed any uneasiness or seemed surprised ; that 
 is, nobody but Washington. After three days of waiting, 
 he asked Lady Bossmore what she supposed the trouble 
 was. She answered, tranquilly : 
 
 * Oh, it's some notion of hers, you never can tell. She's 
 a Sellers, all through — at least in some of her ways ; and a 
 Sellers can't tell you beforehand what lie's going to do, be- 
 cause he don't know himself till he's done it. 8he*8 all right ; 
 no occasion to worry about her. When she's ready she'll come 
 or she'll write, and you can't tell which> till it's happened.' 
 
 It turned out to be a letter. It was handed in at that 
 moment, and was received by the mother without trembling 
 hands or feverish eagerness, or any other of the manifes- 
 tations common in the case of long-delayed answers to 
 imperative telegrams. She poUshed her glasses with tran- 
 quillity and thoroughness, pleasantly gossiping along, the 
 while, then opened the letter and began to read aloud : 
 
 Eenilworth Keep, Bedgaantlet Hall, 
 Bowena-Ivanhoe College, Thursday. 
 
 Dear Preoious Mamma Bossmore, — Oh, the joy of it 1 — ^you 
 ean*t think. They had always turned up their noses at our pre- 
 
 '■**t 
 
42 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 tensions, you know ; and I had fought back as well as I oould by 
 turning up mine at theirs. They always said it might be some- 
 thing great and fine to be rightful Shadow of an earldom, but to 
 merely be shadow o/a shadow, and two or three times removed 
 at that— pooh-pooh I And I always retorted that not to be able 
 to show four generations of American-Oolonial-DutGh-Peddler- 
 and-Salt-Ood-McAllister-Kobility might be endurable, but to 
 ha/ve to confess such an origin— pfew-few I Well, the telegram, 
 it was just a cydone ! The messenger came right into the great 
 Bob Boy Hall of Audience, as excited as he could be, singing 
 out, ' Despatch for Lady Gwendolen Sellers ! ' and you ought to 
 haye seen that simpering, chattering assemblage of pinchbeck 
 aristocrats turn to stone I I was off in the corner, of course, by 
 myself— it's where Cinderella belongs. I took the telegram and 
 read it, and tried to faint — ^and I could have done it if I had had 
 any preparation, but it was all so sudden, you know — but no 
 matter, I did the next best thing : I put my handkerchief to my 
 eyes and fled sobbmg to my room, dropping the telegram as I 
 started. I released one comer of my eye a moment— just enough 
 to see the herd swarm for the telegram — and then continued my 
 broken-hearted flight just as happy as a bird. 
 
 Then the visits of condolence began, and I had to accept the 
 loan of Miss Augusta-Templeton-Ashmore Hamilton's quarters 
 because the press was so great and there isn't room for three and 
 a oat in mine. And I'vo been holding a Lodge of Sorrow ever 
 since and defending mj self against people's attempts to claim 
 kin. And do you know, the very first girl to fetch her tears and 
 sympathy to my market was that foolish Skimperton girl who 
 has always snubbed me so shamefully and claimed lordship and 
 precedence of the whole college because some ancestor of hers, 
 some time or other, was a McAllister. Why it was like the 
 bottom bird in the menagerie putting on airs because its head 
 ancestor was a pterodactyl. 
 
 But the ger-reatest triumph of all v?as— guess. But you'll 
 never. This is it That little fool and two others have always 
 been fussing and firetting over which was entitled to precedence 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 48 
 
 ^by rank, you know. They've nearly starved themselves at it ; 
 for each claimed the right to take precedence of all the college 
 in leaving the table, and so neither of them ever finished her 
 dinner, but broke o£F in the middle and tried to get out ahead of 
 the others. Well, after my first day's grief and seclusion — I 
 was fixing up a mourning dress you see — I appeared at the 
 public table again, and then — what do you think ? Those three 
 flu£^ goslings sat there contentedly, and squared up the long 
 famine — lapped and lapped, munched and munched, ate and ate, 
 till the gravy appeared in their eyes — humbly waiting for the 
 Lady Gwendolen to take precedence and move out first, you see I 
 
 Oh, yes, I've been having a darling good time. And do you 
 know, not one of these collegians has had the cruelty to ask me 
 bow I came by my new name. With some this is due to charity, 
 but with the others it isn't. They refrain, not from native kind- 
 ness, but from educated discretion. I educated them. 
 
 Well, as soon as I shall have settled up what's left of the old 
 scores and snufTed up a few more of those pleasantly intoxicating 
 clouds of incense, I shall pack and depart homeward. Tell papa 
 I am as fond of him as I am of my new name. I couldn't put 
 it stronger than that. What an inspiration it was ! But in- 
 spirations come easy to him. 
 
 These, from your lovi^ daughter, 
 
 GWBNDOLBN. 
 
 Hawkins reached for the letter and glanced over it. 
 
 ' Good hand,' he said,, < and full of confidence and ani- 
 mation, and goes racing right aloug. She's bright — that's 
 plain.' 
 
 * Oh, they're all bright— the t^^erses. Anyway, they 
 would be, if there were any. IWen those poor Latherses 
 would have been bright if thcsy h^d been Sellerses ; I mean 
 full blood. Of course they b«i!>^ a Sellers strain in them — a 
 big strain of it, too — but being a Bland dollar don't make it 
 a dollar just the same.' 
 
44 
 
 THE AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 The seventh day after the date of the telegram Washmg- 
 ton came dreaming down to breakfast and was set wide- 
 awake by an electrical spasm of pleasure. Here was the 
 most beautiful young creature he had ever seen in his life. 
 It was Sally Sellers, Lady Gwendolen ; she had come in the 
 
 night. And it seemed to him that 
 her clothes were the prettiest and the 
 daintiest he had ever looked upon, 
 and the most exquisitely contrived 
 and fashioned and combined, as to 
 decorative trimmings, and fixings, 
 and melting harmonies of colour. It 
 was only a morning dress, and inex- 
 pensive, but he confessed to him- 
 self, in the English common to 
 Cherokee Strip, that it was a 
 * corker.' And now, as he perceived, 
 the reason why the Sellers house- 
 hold poverties and sterilities had been made to blossom 
 like the rose, and chiOrm the eye and satisfy the spirit, 
 stood explained : here was the magician ; here in the midst 
 of her works, and furnishing in her own person the proper 
 accent and climaxing finish of the whole. 
 
 ' My daughter. Major Hawkins — come home to mourn ; 
 
 flown home at the call of affliction to help the authors of 
 
 her being bear the burden of bereavement. She was very 
 
 fond of the late earl — idolised him, sir, idolised him—' 
 
 ' Why, father, I've never seen him.* 
 
 ' True— she's right, I was thinking of another— er — of 
 
 her mother * 
 
 *I idolised that smoked haddock? — that sentimental, 
 Bpiritless * 
 
 8ALLT 8EI1LBB8, LADT 
 aWBMDOIiEK. 
 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 4S 
 
 a 
 
 ' I was thinking of myself ! Poor noble fellow, we were 
 inseparable com * 
 
 *Hear the man! Mulberry Sel — Mul — ^Bossmore! — 
 hang the troublesome name I can never — if I've heard you 
 say oncCi Tve heard you say a thousand times that if that 
 poor sheep ' 
 
 * I was thinking of — of— I don't know who I was think- 
 ing of, and it doesn't make any difference anyway ; some- 
 body idolised him, I recollect it as if it were yesterday ; 
 
 and ' 
 
 Father, I am going to shake hands with Major Hawkins, 
 and let the introduction work along and catch up at its 
 leisure. I remember you very well indeed, Major Hawkins, 
 although I was a little child when I saw you last ; and I 
 am very, very glad indeed to see you again and have you 
 in our house as one of us ; ' and beaming in his face she 
 finished her cordial shake with the hope that he had not 
 forgotten her. 
 
 He was prodigiously pleased by her outspoken hearti- 
 ness, and wanted to repay her by assuring her that he 
 remembered her, and not only that but better even than 
 he remembered his own children, but the facts would not 
 quite warrant this; stOl, he stumbled through a tangled 
 sentence which answered just as well, since the purport of 
 it was an awkward and unintentional confession that her 
 extraordinary beauty hal so stupefied him that he hadn't 
 got back to his bearings, yet, and therefore couldn't be 
 certain as to whether he remembered her at all or not. The 
 speech made him her friend ; it couldn't well help it. 
 
 In truth the beauty of this fair creature was of a rare 
 type, and may well excuse a moment of our time spent in 
 its consideration. It did not consist in the fact that she 
 
46 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 had eyeSi nose, mouth, chin, hair, ears, it consisted in 
 their arrangement. In true heauty, more depends upon 
 right location and judicious distribution of feature than 
 upon multiplicity uf them. So also as regards colour. The 
 very combination of colours which in a voloanic irruption 
 would add beauty to a landscape might detach it from a 
 
 girl. Such was Gwendolen 
 Sellers. 
 
 The family circle being 
 completed by Gwendolen's 
 arrival, it was decreed that 
 the official mourning should 
 now begin ; that it should 
 begin at six o'clock every 
 evening (the dinner hour), 
 and end with the dinner. 
 
 'It's a grand old line, 
 Migor, a sublime old line, 
 and deserves to be mourned 
 for, aJmost royally ; almost 
 imperially, I may say. Er 
 — Lady Gwendolen — but 
 she's gone ; never mind ; I 
 wanted my Peerage; I'll 
 fetch it myself, presently, 
 and show you a thing or 
 
 •I'TB BIBN aLiNOINa THBOUOB BUBKB.' ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ y^^ ^ 
 
 realising idea of what our house is. I've be^ glancing 
 through Burke, and I find that of William the Conqueror's 
 sixty-four natural oh—my dear, would you mind getting 
 me that book ? It's on the escritoire in our boudoir. Tes, 
 as I was saying, there's only St. Albans, Bucoleugb, and 
 
 No 
 X. 
 
 abl 
 he 
 
THE AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 47 
 
 
 Graftion ahead of ns on the list — all the rest of the British 
 nobility are in procession behind us. Ah, thanks, my lady. 
 Now then, we turn to William, and we find — letter for 
 X. Y. Z. 9 Oh, splendid— when'd you get it ? * 
 
 ' Last night ; but I was asleep before you came, you were 
 out so late ; and when I came to breakfast Miss Gwendolen 
 — well, she knocked everything out of me, you know * 
 
 * Wonderful girl, wonderful ; her great origin is detect- 
 able in lix.' step, her carriage, her features — but what does 
 he say f re, this is exciting.' 
 
 * I havtiii't read it — er — ^Bossm — ^Mr. Bossm — er * 
 
 ' M'lord ! Just cut it short like that. It's the English 
 way. ril open it. Ah, now let's see.' 
 
 A. 
 
 TO YOU KNOW WHO. Think I know you. 
 days. Ooming to Washington. 
 
 Walt ten 
 
 The excitement died out of both men's faces. There 
 was a brooding silence for a while, then the younger one 
 said with a sigh — 
 
 ' Why, we can't wait ten days for the money.' 
 
 * No — the man's unreasonable ; we are down to the bed 
 rook, financially speaking.' 
 
 * If we could explain to him in some way that we are so 
 situated that time is of the utmost importance to us—' 
 
 * Yes-yes, that's it — and so if it would be as conyenient 
 for him to come at once it would be a great accommodation 
 to us, and one which we — which we ' 
 
 * ^Which we — ^wh ' 
 
 < — ^Well, which we should sincerely appreciate^—' 
 
 * That's it— and most gladly reciprocate ' 
 
 * Certainly — that'll fetch him. Worded right, if he's a 
 man — got any of the feelings of a man, sympathies and all 
 
48 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 SI 
 
 l« 
 
 TRKRE TWO IHPRE8BIVK 8HIF> 
 MEMTB WOnU) MEET AMD 
 PABT IM MID-ATZiAMTIC, 
 
 m 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 49 
 
 that, he*ll be here inside of twenty-four hours. Feu and 
 paper — come, we'll get right at it.' 
 
 Between them they framed twenty-two different ad- 
 vertisements, but none was satisfactory. A main fault in 
 all of them was urgency. That feature was very trouble- 
 some : if made prominent, it was calculated to excite Pete's 
 suspicion ; if modified below the suspicion-point it was flat 
 and meaningless. Finally the Colonel resigned, and said — 
 
 ' I have noticed, in such literary experiences as I have 
 had, that one of the most taking things to do is to conceal 
 your meaning when you are trying to conceal it. Whereas, 
 if you go at literature with a free conscience and nothing 
 to conceal, }ou can turn out a book, every time, that the 
 very elect can't understand. They all do.' 
 
 Then Hawkins resigned also, and the two agreed that 
 they must manage to wait the ten days somehow or other. 
 Next, they caught a ray of cheer : since they had something 
 definite to go upon, now, they could probably borrow money 
 on the reward — enough, at any rate, to tide them over 
 till they got it; and meantime the materialising recipe 
 would be perfected, and then good-bye to trouble for good 
 and all. 
 
 The next day. May the tenth, a couple of things hap- 
 pened — among others. The remains of the noble Arkansas 
 twins left America for England, consigned to Lord Boss- 
 more, and Lord Bossmore's son, Kirkcudbright Llanover 
 Marjoribanks Sellers Viscount Berkeley, sailed from Liver- 
 pool for America to place the reversion of the earldom in 
 the hands of the rightful peer, Mulberry Sellers, of Boss- 
 more Towers in the District of Columbia, U.S.A. 
 
 These two impressive shipments would meet and part 
 in mid- Atlantic, five days later, and give no sign. 
 
 B 
 
60 TEE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 In the course of time the twins arrived and were de- 
 livered to their great kinsman. To try to describe the rage 
 of that old man would profit nothing, the attempt would 
 fall 80 far short of the purpose. However, when he had 
 worn himself out and got quiet again, he looked the matter 
 over and decided that the twins had some moral rights, 
 although they had no legal ones ; they were of his blood, 
 and it could not be decorous to treat them as common clay. 
 So he laid them with their majestic kin in the Cholmondeley 
 church, with imposing state and ceremony, and added the 
 supreme touch by officiating as chief mourner himself. 
 But he drew the line at hatchments. 
 
 Our Mends in Washington watched the weary days go 
 by, while they waited for Fete and covered his name with 
 reproaches because of his calamitous procrastinations. 
 Meantime, Sally Sellers, who was as practical and demo- 
 cratic as the Lady Gwendolen Sellers was romantic and 
 aristocratic, was leading a life of mtense interest and activity, 
 and getting the most she could out of her double personaUty. 
 All day long in the privacy of her work-room Sally Sellers 
 earned bread for the Sellers family ; and all the evening 
 Lady Gwendolen Sellers supported the Bossmore dignity. 
 All day she was American, practically, and proud of the 
 woi^ of her head and hands and its commercial result ; 
 all the evening she took holiday and dwelt in a rich shadow- 
 land peopled with titled and coroneted fictions. By day, 
 to her, the place was a plain, unaffected, ramshackle old 
 trap— just that, and nothing more ; by night it was Boss- 
 more Towers. At college she had learned a trade with- 
 
 ot 
 tb 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 61 
 
 
 : 
 
 out knowing it. The girls had found out that she was 
 the designer of her own gowns. She had no idle moments 
 
 ■JUBT MB, KZAOILT. 
 
 f s 
 
62 
 
 THE AMEBIC AN CLAIMANT 
 
 after that, and wanted none ; for the exercise of an extra- 
 ordinary gift is the Bupremest pleasure in life, and it was 
 manifest that Sally Sellers possessed a gift of that sort in 
 the matter of costume-designing. Within three days after 
 reaching home she had hunted up some work ; before Fete 
 was yet due in Washington, and before the twins were fairly 
 asleep in English soil, she was already nearly swamped 
 with work, and the sacrificing of the family ohromos for 
 debt had got an effective check. 
 
 ' She's a brick,' said Bossmore to the Major ; * just her 
 father all over : prompt to labour with head or hands, and 
 not ashamed of it ; capable, always capable, let the enter- 
 prise be what it may ; successful by nature — don't know 
 what defeat is ; thus, intensely and practically American 
 
 by inhaled nationalism, and at the 
 same time intensely and aristocratic- 
 ally European by inherited 
 nobility of blood. Just me, 
 exactly: Mulberry Sellers in 
 matters of finance and inven- 
 tion; after office hours, what 
 do you find ? The same clothes, 
 yes, but what's in them ? Boss- 
 more of the peerage.' 
 The two friends had haunted the 
 General Post Office daily. At last they 
 had their reward. Toward evening 
 the 20th of May, they got a letter for 
 X. Y. Z . It bore the Washington post- 
 mark ; the note itself was not dated. 
 It said : 
 * Ash barrel back of lamp post Black horse Alley. If you 
 
 UBTIBB rOB X. Y. Z 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 68 
 
 are playing square go and set on it to-morrow morning 21st 
 10.22 not sooner not later wait till I come.' 
 
 The friends cogitated over the note profoundly. Pre- 
 sently the earl said : 
 
 * Don't you reckon he's afraid we are a sheriff with a 
 requisition ? ' 
 
 *Why, m'lord?* 
 
 ' Because that's no place for a stance. Nothing friendly, 
 nothing sociable about it. And at the same time, a body 
 that wanted to know who was roosting on that ash-barrel 
 without exposing himself by going near it, or seeming to be 
 interested in it, could just stand on the street comer and take 
 a glance down the alley and satisfy himself, don't you see ? ' 
 
 * Yes, his idea is plain, now. He seems to be a man 
 that can't be candid and straightforward. He acts as if he 
 thought we — shucks, I wish he had come out like a man 
 and told us what hotel he ' 
 
 * Now you've struck it ! you've struck it sure, Wash- 
 ington ; he has told us.' 
 
 •Has he?' 
 
 <Tes, he has ; but he didn't mean to. That alley is a 
 lonesome little pocket that runs along one side of the New 
 Gadsby. That's his hotel.' 
 
 ' What makes you think that ? ' 
 
 * Why, I just know it. He's got a room that's just 
 across from that lamp-post. He's going to sit there per- 
 fectly comfortable behind his shutters at 10.22 to-morrow, 
 and when he sees us sitting on the ash-barrel, he'll say to 
 himself, ** I saw one of those fellows on the train " — and then 
 he'll pack his satchel in half a minute and ship for the ends 
 of the earth.' 
 
 Hawkins turned sick with disappointment : 
 
04 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 Oh, dear, it's all up. Colonel— it's exactly what he'll do/ 
 
 ' Indeed he won't ! ' 
 •Won't he? Why?' 
 
 * Because you won't be 
 holding the ash - barrel 
 down, it'll be me. Tou'U 
 be coming in with an officer 
 and a requisition in plain 
 clothes — the officer, I mean 
 — the minute you see him 
 arrive and open up a talk 
 with me.' 
 
 * Well, what a head you 
 have got, Colonel Sellers! 
 I never should have thought 
 
 of that in the world.' 
 
 'Neither would any Earl of 
 Bossmore, betwixt William's contribution 
 and Mulberry — as earl; but it's office 
 hours, now, you see, and the earl in me 
 sleeps. Come — I'll show you his very 
 room.' 
 
 They reached the neighbourhood of 
 the New Gadsby about nine in 
 the evening, and passed down 
 the alley to the lamp-post. 
 
 'There you are,' said the 
 Colonel, triumphantly, with a 
 wave of his hand which took 
 in the whole side of the hotel. 
 * There it is— what did I tell you ? ' 
 
 'tHEBB tod ABE.' 
 
 THE RBNPSZV0U8. 
 
TBB AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 60 
 
 * Well, bat— why, Colonel, it*B six stories high. I don't 
 quite make out which window yoa ' 
 
 ' All the windows, all of them. Let him have his choice 
 — I*m indifferent, now that I have located him. You go 
 and stand on the 
 comer and wait ; 
 I'll prospect the 
 hotel.' 
 
 The earl drifted 
 here and there 
 through the 
 swarming lobby, 
 and finally took 
 a waiting posi- 
 tion in the 
 neighbourhood 
 of the elevator. 
 During an hour 
 crowds went up and 
 crowds came down ; 
 and all complete as 
 to limbs ; but at last 
 the watcher got a 
 glimpse of a figure 
 that was satisfactory — got a glimpse of the back of it, 
 though he had missed his chance at the face through 
 waning alertness. The glimpse revealed a cowboy hat, 
 and below it a plaided sack of rather loud pattern, and an 
 empty sleeve pinned up to the shoulder. Then the ele- 
 vator snatched the vision aloft and the watcher fled away 
 in joyful excitement, and rejoined the fellow-conspirator. 
 
 THE BABIi DRITTED HSBE AND THERE 
 THROUOB THE SWABHINa LOBBY. 
 
M 
 
 TBB AMESIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 'We've got him, Major — got him sure I I've seen him 
 — Been him good ; and I don't oare wliere or when that man 
 approaches me backwards, I'll recognise him every time. 
 We're all right. Now for the requisition.' 
 
 They got it, after the delays usual in such cases. By 
 half -past eleven they were at home and happy, and went to 
 . bed full of dreams of the morrow's great promise. 
 
 Among tho elevator load which had the suspect for fellow- 
 passenger >7as a young kinsman of Mulberry Sellers, but 
 Mulberry waB not aware of it and didn't see him. It was 
 Viscount Berkeley. 
 
 CHAPTER Vn 
 
 AsBivBr/ in his room Lord Berkeley made preparations 
 for that first and last and all-the-time duty of the visiting 
 
 Englishman— the jot- 
 ting down in hie diary 
 of his ' impressions ' to 
 date. His preparations 
 consisted in ransacking 
 his *boz' for a pen. 
 There was a plenty of 
 steel pens on his table 
 with the ink bottle, but 
 he was English. The 
 English people manu- 
 facture steel pens for 
 nineteen-twentieths of 
 the globe, but they never use any themselves. They use 
 exclusively the pre-historic quill. My lord not only found a 
 quill pen, but the best one he had seen in several years— and 
 
 BAKSAOKINO BIB 
 rOB A PXM. 
 
 
 
THE AMBBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 67 
 
 after writing diligently for some time, closed with the ow- 
 ing entry : 
 
 tAf»^ 
 
 He sat admiring that pen a while, and then went on : 
 
 All attempts to mingle with the common people and become 
 permanently one of them are going to fail, unless I can get rid 
 of it| disappear from it, and reappear with the solid protection 
 of a new name. I am astonished and pained to see how eager 
 the most of these Americans are to get acquainted with a lord, 
 and how diligent they are in pushing attentions upon him. 
 They lack English servility, it is true — ^but they could acquire it, 
 with practice. My quality travels ahead of me in the most mys- 
 terious way. I write my family name without additions on the 
 register of this hotel, and imagine that I am going to pass for 
 an obscure and unknown wanderer, but the clerk promptly calls 
 out, ' Front ! show his lordship to four-eighty-two ! ' and before 
 I can get to the lift there is a reporter trying to interview me, 
 as they call it. This sort of thing shall cease at once. I will 
 hunt up the American Claimant the first thing in the morning, 
 accomplish my mission, then change my lodging and vanish 
 from scrutiny under a fictitious name. 
 
68 
 
 THE AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 He left his diary on the table, where it would be handy 
 in case any new * impressions ' should wake him up in the 
 night, then he went to bed and presently fell asleep. An 
 hour or two passed, and then V r f^ame slowly to consciousness 
 with a confusion of mysterious and augmenting sounds 
 
 
 BE LBVT HIS DIABT ON THE TABLE. 
 
 hammering at the gates of his brain for admission ; the 
 next moment he was sharply awake, and those sounds burst 
 with the rush and roar and boom of an undammed freshet 
 into his ears. Banging and slamming of shutters ; smash- 
 ing of windows find the ringing clash of fahi^ig glass ; clatter 
 
THE AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 69 
 
 ,ndy 
 
 the 
 
 An 
 
 ness 
 
 inds 
 
 the 
 mrst 
 ishet 
 lash- 
 Bktter 
 
 of flying feet along the halls ; ehrieks, Bupplications, dumb 
 moanings of despair, within, hoarse shouts of command 
 outside ; cracklings and snappings, and the windy roar of 
 victorious flames ! 
 
 Bang, bang, bang I on the door, and a cry — 
 
 ' Turn out — the house is on fire ! * 
 
 The cry passed on, and the banging. Lord Berkeley 
 sprang out of bed and moved with all possible speed toward 
 the clothes-press in the darkness and the gathering smoke, 
 but fell over a chair and lost his bearings. He groped 
 desperately about on his hands, and presently struck his 
 head against the table and was deeply grateful, for it gave 
 him* his bearings again, since it stood close by the door. 
 He seized his most precious possession, his journalled Im- 
 pressions of America, and darted from the room. 
 
 He ran down the.^deserted hall toward the red lamp 
 which he knew indicated the place of a fire-escape. The 
 door of the room beside it was open. In the room the gas 
 was burning full head ; on a chair was a pile of clothing. 
 He ran to the window, could not get it up, but smashed it 
 with a chair, and stepped out on the landing of the fire- 
 escape ; below him was a crowd of men, with a sprinkling 
 of women and youth, massed in a ruddy light. Must he go 
 down in his spectral night-dress? No — this side of the 
 house was not yet on fire except at the further end; he 
 would snatch on those clothes. Which he did. They fitted 
 well enough, though a trifle loosely, and they were just a 
 shade loud as to pattern. Also as to hat — which was of a 
 new breed to him, Buffalo Bill not having been to England 
 yet. One side of the coat went on, but the other side re- 
 fused ; one of its sleeves was turned up and stitched to the 
 shoulder. He started down without waiting to get it loose, 
 
60 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 made the trip successfully, and was promptly hustled outside 
 the limit-rope by the police. 
 
 The cowboy hat and the coat but half on made him too 
 much of a centre of attraction for comfort, although no- 
 thing could be more pro- 
 foundly respectful, not to 
 W^: . say deferential, than was 
 the manner of the crowd 
 toward him. In his 
 mind he framed a 
 discouraged remark 
 for early entry in 
 his diary : ' It is 
 of no use ; they 
 know a lord 
 through any dis- 
 guise, and show 
 awe of him — 
 even something 
 very like fear, 
 indeed.' 
 
 Presently one 
 of the gaping and 
 adoring half-circle of 
 boys ventured a timid 
 question. My lord 
 answered it. The 
 boys glanced wonder- 
 ingly at each other 
 and from somewhere fell the comment — 
 
 * English cowboy I Well, if that ain't curious.' 
 Another mental note to be preserved for the diary: 
 
 UVBT BR GO DOWN X« HXB BPBCTRATj 
 NIOHT-DBBSB? 
 
 
TBB AMERICAN OLAIMANT 
 
 61 
 
 'Cowboy. Now what might a cowboy be? Perhaps 
 -:-' But the viscount perceived that some more ques- 
 tions were about to be asked; so he worked his way 
 out of the crowd, released the sleeve, put on the coat 
 and wandered away to seek a humble and obscure lodging. 
 He found it and went to bed and 
 was soon asleep. 
 
 In the morning he examined 
 his clothes. They were 
 rather assertive, it seemed 
 to him, but they were new 
 and clean, at any rate. 
 There was con- 
 siderable property 
 in the pockets. 
 Item, five one- 
 hundred dollar 
 bills. Item, near 
 fifty dollars in 
 small bills and 
 silver. Plug of 
 tobacco. Hymn-book, 
 which refuses to open ; found 
 to contain whisky. Memo- 
 randum - book bearing no 
 name. Scattering entries in 
 it, recording, in a sprawling, ignorant hand, appointments, 
 bets, horse-trades, and so on, with people of strange, 
 hyphenated name — Six-Fingered Jake, Toung-Man-afraid- 
 of-his-Shadow, and the like. No letters, no documents. 
 
 The young man muses— maps out his course. His letter 
 of credit is burned ; he will borrow the small bills and the 
 
 WORKED HIS WAY OUI OF 
 TUK OBOWD. 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 silver in these pockets, apply part of it to advertising for 
 the owner, and use the rest for sustenance while he seeks 
 work. He sends out for the morning paper, next, and 
 proceeds to read about the fire. The biggest line in the 
 display-head announces his own death ! The body of the 
 account furnishes all the particulars ; and tells how, with 
 the inherited heroism of his caste, he went on saving 
 women and children until escape for himself was impos- 
 sible ; then with the eyes of weeping multitudes upon him, 
 he stood with folded arms and sternly awaited the approach 
 of the devouring fiend; 'and so standing, amid a tossing 
 sea of flame and on-rushing billows of smoke, the noble 
 young heir of the great house of Bossmore was caught up 
 in a whirlwind of fiery glory, and disappeared for ever from 
 the vision of men.' 
 
 The thing was so fine and generous and knightly that 
 it brought the moisture to his eyes. Presently he said to 
 himself: 'What to do is as plain as day, now. My Lord 
 Berkeley is dead— let him stay so. Died creditably, too ; 
 that will make the calamity the easier for my father. And 
 I don't have to report to the American Claimant, now. 
 Yes, nothing could be better than the way matters have 
 turned out. I have only to furnish myself with a new 
 name, and take my new start in life totsJly untrammelled. 
 Now I breathe my first breath of real freedom ; and how 
 fresh and breezy and inspiring it is ! At last I am a man ! 
 a man on equal terms with my neighbour; and by my 
 manhood, and by it alone, I shall rise and be seen of the 
 world, or I shall sink from sight and deserve it. This is 
 the gladdest day, and the proudest, that ever poured its sun 
 upon my head ! * 
 
TH^ AMEBtOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 6B 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII 
 
 * God bless my soul, Hawkins ! ' 
 
 The morning paper dropped from the Colonel's nerve- 
 less grasp. 
 
 'What is it?' 
 
 * He's gone ! — the bright, the young, the gifted, the 
 noblest of his illustrious race — gone ! gone up in flames and 
 unimaginable glory! ' 
 
 *Who?' 
 
 ' My precious, precious young kinsman — Kirkcudbright 
 Llanover Marjoribanks Sellers Viscount Berkeley, son and 
 heir of usurping Bossmore.' 
 
 'No!' 
 
 * It's true — too true.* 
 'When?' 
 
 ' Last night.' 
 'Where?' 
 
 'Right here in Washington, where he arrived from 
 England last night, the papers say.' 
 ' You don't say ! ' 
 
 * Hotel burned down.' 
 'Whal. hotel?' 
 
 ' The New Gadsby ! ' 
 
 * Oh, my goodness ! And have we lost both of them ? ' 
 ' Both w/io » ' 
 
 ' One-Armed Pete.' 
 
 ' Oh, great guns, I forgot all about him. Oh, I hope not.' 
 
 ' Hope I Well, I should say ! Oh, we canH spare him! 
 
 We can better afford to lose a million viscounts than cor 
 
 only support and stay.' 
 
M 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 They searohod the paper diligently, and were appalled 
 to find that a one-armed man had been seen flying along 
 one of the halls of the hotel in his underclothing and 
 apparently out of his head with fright, and as he would 
 listen to no one and persisted in making for a stairway 
 which would carry him to certain death, his case was given 
 over as a helpless one. 
 
 ' Poor fellow,' sighed Hawkins ; ' and he had friends so 
 near. I wish we hadn't come away from there — maybe we 
 could have saved him.' 
 
 The earl looked up and said calmly — 
 
 'His being dead doesn't matter. He was uncertain 
 before. We've got him sure, this time.' 
 
 'Gothim? How?' 
 
 * I will materialise him.' 
 
 * Bossmore, don't — don't trifle with me. Do you mean 
 that? Can you do it?' 
 
 ' I can do it, just as sure as you are sitting there. And 
 IwiU.' 
 
 ' Give me your hand, and let me have the comfort of 
 shaking it. I was perishing, and you have put new life 
 into me. Gtet at it, oh, get at it right away.' 
 
 ' It will take a little time, Hawkins, but there's no hurry, 
 no;:^e in the world — in the circumstances. And of course 
 certain duties have devolved upon me now, which necessarily 
 claim my first attention. This poor young nobleman ' 
 
 ' Why, yes, I am sorry for my heartlessness, and you 
 smitten with this new family affliction. Of course you must 
 materialise him first — I quite understand that.' 
 
 *I — ^I — ^well, I wasn't meaning just that, but, — why, 
 what am I thinking of ! Of course I must materialise him. 
 Oh, Hawkins, selfishness is the bottom trait in human 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 65 
 
 nature ; I was only thinking that now, with the uRurper's 
 
 heir out of the way But you'll forgive that momentary 
 
 weaknees, and forget it. Don't ever remember it against 
 me that Mulberry Sellers was once mean enough to think 
 the thought that I was thinking. I'll materialise him — I 
 will, on my honour— and I'd do it were he a thousand heirs 
 jammed into one and stretching in a solid rank from here 
 to the stolen estates of Bossmore, and barring the road 
 for ever to the rightful earl ! ' 
 
 < There spoke the real Sellers — the other had a false 
 ring, old friend.' 
 
 * Hawkins, my boy, it just occurs to me — a thing I keep 
 forgetting to mention — a matter that we've got to be mighty 
 careful about.' 
 
 'What is that?' 
 
 * We must keep absolutely still about these materialisa- 
 tions. Mind, not a hint of them must escape — not a hint. 
 To say nothing of how my wife and daughter — high-strung, 
 sensitive organisations — might feel about them, the negroes 
 wouldn't stay on the place a minute.' 
 
 * That's true, they wouldn't. It's well you spoke, for I'm 
 not naturally discreet with my tongue when I'm not warned.' 
 
 Sellers reached out and touched a bell-button in the wall ; 
 set his eye upon the rear door and waited ; touched it again 
 and waited ; and just as Hawkins was remarking admiringly 
 that the Colonel was the most progressive and most alert 
 man he had ever seen, in the matter of impressing into his 
 service every modern convenience the moment it was in- 
 vented, and always keeping breast to breast with the drum* 
 major in the great work of material civilisation, he forsook 
 the button (which hadn't any wire attached to it), rang a 
 vast dinner-bell which stood on the table, and remarked 
 
66 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 that he had tried that new-fangled dry battery, now, to his 
 enture satisfaction, and had got enough of it ; and added— 
 * Nothing would do Graham Bell but I must try it; said 
 the mere /act of my trying it would secure public confidence, 
 and get it a chance to show what it could do. I told him 
 that in theory a dry battery was just a curled darling and 
 no mistake, but when it come to prAcUce, sho ! — and here's 
 
 BBLLERS TOUCHED A BELt-BUTTOM IN THE WALL. 
 
 the result. Was I right ? What should y<m say, Washington 
 Hawkins ? You've seen me try that button twice. V/as I 
 right ? — that's the idea. Did I know what I was talking 
 about, or didn't I ? ' 
 
 * WeU, you know how I feel about you. Colonel Sellers, 
 and always have felt. It seems to me that yon always 
 know eyerything about eve^^^thing. If that man had known 
 
TBB AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 67 
 
 you as I know you he would have taken your judgment at 
 the start, and dropped his 
 dry battery where it was.' 
 
 'Did you ring, Marse 
 Sellers?' 
 
 ' No, Marse Sellers 
 didn't; 
 
 ' Den it was you, Marse 
 Washington. I's heah, 
 suh.' 
 
 <No, it wasn't 
 Marse Washington, 
 either.' 
 
 * De good Ian' 1 
 who did ring her, 
 den?' 
 
 * Lord Boss- 
 more rang it ! ' 
 
 The old negro 
 flung up his hands 
 and exclaimed — 
 
 * Blame my skin if I 
 hain't gone en forgit dat 
 name agin ! Oome heah. 
 Jinny — run heah, honey.' 
 
 Jinny arrived. 
 
 * You take dish yer order 
 de lord gwine to give you. I'a 
 gwine down suller and study ♦did ton rimo, harsb raiaisBst 
 dat name tell I git it.' 
 
 * I take de order ! Who's yo' nigger las' year ? De bell 
 rung for you.' 
 
 v9 
 
68 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 <Dat don't make no diffunoe. When a bell ring for 
 anybody, en old marster tell me to ' 
 
 * Clear out, and settle it in the kitchen t ' 
 
 The noise of the quarrelling presently sank to a murmur 
 in the distance, and the earl added : ' That's a trouble with 
 old house servants that were your slaves once and have been 
 your personal friends always.' 
 
 * Yes, and members of the family.' 
 
 ' Members of the family is just what they hecome—the 
 members of the family, in fact. And sometimes master and 
 mistress of the household. These two are mighty good and 
 loving and faithful and honest, but hang it, they do just 
 about as they please, they chip into a conversation when- 
 ever they want to, and tiie plain fact is, they ought to be 
 killed.' 
 
 It was a random remark, but it gave him an idea — ^how- 
 ever, nothing could happen without that result. 
 
 ' What I wanted, Hawkins, was to send for the family 
 and break the news to them.' 
 
 * 0, never mind bothering with the servants, then. I 
 will go and bring them down.' 
 
 While he was gone, the earl worked his idea. 
 
 ' Yes,' he said to himself, ' when I've got the mate- 
 rialising down to a certainty, I will get Hawkins to kill 
 them, and after that they will be under better control. 
 Without doubt a materialised negro could easily be hypno- 
 tised into a state resembling silence. And this could be 
 made permanent — ^yes, and also modifiable, at will— some- 
 times very silent, sometimes turn on more talk, more action, 
 more emotion, according to what you want. It's a prime 
 good idea. Make it acyustable — with a screw or something.' 
 
 The two ladies eDtered, now, with Hawkins, and ^e 
 
g for 
 
 irmur 
 Bwith 
 Bbeen 
 
 B — the 
 
 erand 
 odand 
 io just 
 when- 
 ttobe 
 
 —how- 
 family 
 len. I 
 
 mate- 
 to km 
 iontrol. 
 hypno- 
 }uld be 
 -Bome- 
 action, 
 b prime 
 ithing.' 
 nd the 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 69 
 
 two negroes followed, uninvited, and fell to brushing and 
 dusting around, for they perceived that there was matter of 
 interest to the fore, and were willing to find out what it 
 was. 
 
 Sellers broke the newfi with stateliness and ceremony, 
 first warning the ladies, with gentle art, that a pang of 
 peculiar sharpness was about to be inflicted upon their 
 hearts — hearts still sore from a like hurt, still lamenting a 
 like loss— then he took the paper, and with trembling lips 
 and with tears in his voice he gave them that heroic death- 
 picture. 
 
 The result was a very genuine outbreak of sorrow and 
 sympathy from all the hearers. The elder lady cried, 
 thinking how proud that great-hearted young hero's mother 
 would be, if she were living, and how unappeasable her 
 grief ; and the two old servants cried with her, and spoke 
 out their applauses and their pitying lamentations with the 
 eloquent sincerity and simplicity native to their race. 
 Gwendolen was touched, and the romantic side of her 
 nature was strongly wrought upon. She said that such a 
 nature as that young man's was rarely and truly noble, 
 and nearly perfect ; and that with nobility of birth added it 
 was entirely perfect. For such a man she could endure all 
 things, suffer all things, even to the sacrificing of her life. 
 She wished she could have seen him; the Blightest, the 
 most momentary, contact with such a spirit would have 
 ennobled her own character and made ignoble thoughts and 
 ignoble acts thereafter impossible to her for ever. 
 
 'Have they found the body, Bossmore?' asked the 
 wife. 
 
 ' Tes, that is, they've found several. It must be one of 
 them, but none of them are recognisable.' 
 
70 
 
 THE AMBEICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 * What are you going to do ? ' 
 
 'I am going down there and identify one of them and 
 Bend it home to the etrioken father.* 
 
 ' Bnt, papa, did you ever see the young man ? * 
 
 * No, Gwendolen — why ? * 
 
 * How will you identify it ? * 
 
 ' I — well, you know it says none of them are recognis- 
 able. I'll send his father one of them— there's probably no 
 choice.' 
 
 Gwendolen knew it was not worth while to argue the 
 matter further, since her father's mind was made up and 
 there was a chance for him to appear upon that sad scene 
 down yonder in an authentic and official way. So she said 
 no more — till he asked for a basket. 
 
 ' A basket, papa ? What for 7 ' 
 
 ' It might be ashes.' 
 
 CHAPTEE IX 
 
 The earl and Washington started on the sorrowful errand, 
 talking as they walked. 
 
 * And as usual / * 
 •What, Colonel?' 
 
 'Seven of them in that hotel. Actresses. And all 
 burnt out, of course.' 
 
 * Any of them burnt up?' 
 
 ' Oh, no, they escaped ; they always do ; but there's 
 never a one of them that knows enough to fetch out her 
 jewellery with her.' 
 
 'That's strange.' 
 
 'Strange — it's the most unaccountable thing in the 
 
THE AMERIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 71 
 
 
 
 world. Experience teaches them nothing ; they can't seem 
 to learn anything except out of a book. In some cases 
 there's manifestly a fatality about it. For instance, take 
 What's-her-name, 
 that plays those 
 sensational thun- 
 der -and-lightning 
 parts. She's got 
 a perfectly im- 
 mense reputation 
 — draws like a 
 dog-fight — and it 
 all came from get- 
 ting burnt out in 
 hotels.' 
 
 * Why, how 
 could that give 
 her a reputation 
 as an actress ? ' 
 
 'It didn't-it 
 only made her 
 name familiar. 
 People want to see 
 her play because 
 her name is fami- 
 liar; but they don't know 
 what made it familiar, bo- 
 cause they don't remember. 
 First, she was at the bottoi:i 
 of the ladder, and abso- 
 lutely obscure — wages thirteen dollars a week and find her 
 own pads.' 
 
 THB EARXi AND WASHINGTON 8TABTBD 
 ON THB SOBBOWrUL EBBAND. 
 
72 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT. 
 
 «Pads?' 
 
 'Yes — things to fat up hor spindles with so as to be 
 plump and attractive. Well, she got burnt out in an hotel 
 and lost iff80,000 worth of diamonds ' 
 
 * She ? Where'd she get them ? 
 
 ' Goodness knows— given to her, no doubt, by spoony 
 young flats and sappy old bald-heads in the front row. All 
 the papers were full of it. She struck for higher pay and 
 got it. Well, she got burnt out again and lost all her 
 diamonds, and it gave her such a lift that she went 
 starring.' 
 
 'Well, if hotel fires are all she's got to depend on to 
 keep up her name, it's a pretty precarious kind of a reputa- 
 tion I should think.' 
 
 ' Not with her. No, anythmg but that. Because she's 
 so lucky ; born lucky, I reckon. Every time there's an hotel 
 fire she's in it. She's always there — and if she can't be 
 there herself, her diamonds are. Now you can't make 
 anything out of that but just sheer luck.' 
 
 * I never heard of such a thing. She must have lost 
 quarts of diamonds.' 
 
 * Quarts, she's lost bushels of them. It's got so that 
 the hotels are superstitious about her. They won't let her 
 in. They think there will be a fire ; and besides, if she's 
 there it cancels the insurance. She's been waning a little 
 lately, >iut this fire will set her 'ip. She lost i^60,000 worth 
 last night.' 
 
 * I think she's a fool. If I had #60,000 worth of dia- 
 monds I wouldn't trust them in an hotel.' 
 
 'I wouldn't either; but you can't teach an actress 
 that. This one's been burnt out thirty-five times. And 
 yet if there's an hotel fire in San Francisco to-night she's 
 
 1 
 
 >■ 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 78 
 
 
 » 
 
 I 
 
 got to bleed again, you mark my words. Perfect ass ; they 
 say she's got diamonds in every hotel in the country.' 
 
 When they arrived at the scene of the fire the poor old 
 earl took one glimpse at the melancholy morgue and turned 
 away his face overcome 
 by the spectacle, 
 said: 
 
 < It is too true, 
 Hawkins — recog- 
 nition is impos- 
 sible, not one of 
 the five could be f 
 identified by its 
 nearest friend. 
 You make the 
 selection, I can't 
 bear it.' 
 
 * Which one 
 had I better ' 
 
 * Oh, take any 
 them. Pick out 
 best one.' 
 
 However, the officers 
 assured the earl — for 
 they knew him, every- 
 body in Washington 
 knew him — that the 
 position in which these bodies were found made it im- 
 possible that any one of them could be that of his noble 
 young kinsman. They pointed out the spot where, if the 
 newspaper account was correct, he must have sunk down 
 to destruction ; and at a wide distance from this spot they 
 
 ONE aiilHFSB AT THE MELANCBOLT 
 MORGUE. 
 
74 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 showed him where the young man must have gone down 
 in case he was suffocated in his room ; and they showed 
 him still a third place, quite remote, where he might pos- 
 sibly have found his death if perchance he tried to escape 
 by the side exit toward the rear. The old Colonel brushed 
 away a tear and said to Hawkins — 
 
 * As it turns out there was something prophetic in my 
 fears. Yes, it's a matter of ashes. Will you kindly step 
 to a grocery and fetch a couple more baskets ? ' 
 
 Beverently they got a basket of ashes from each of those 
 now hallowed spots, and carried them home to consult as to 
 the best manner of forwarding them to England, and also 
 to give them an opportunity to 'lie in state,' — a mark of 
 respect which the Colonel deemed obligatory, considering 
 the high rank of the deceased. 
 
 They set the baskets en the table in what was formerly 
 the library, drawing-room, and workshop — ^now the Hall of 
 Audience— and went upstairs to the lumber room to see if 
 they could find a British flag to use as a part of the outfit 
 proper to the lying in state. A moment later. Lady Boss- 
 more came in from the street and caught sight of the. 
 baskets just as old Jinny crossed her field of vision. She 
 quite lost her patienee and, said — 
 
 'Well, what will you do next? What in the world 
 possessed you to clutter up the parlour table with these 
 baskets of ashes ? ' 
 
 ' Ashes ? ' And she came to look. She put up her 
 hands in pathetic astonishment. ' Well, I never see de like ! ' 
 
 * Didn't you do it ? ' 
 
 * Who, me ? Clah to goodness it's de fust time I've sot 
 eyes on 'em, Miss Polly. Dat's Dan'l. Dat ole moke is 
 losin' his mine.' 
 
THE AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 76 
 
 But it wasn't Dan'l, for he was called, and denied it. 
 
 * Dey ain't no way to 'splain dat. Wen hit's one er 
 dese-yer common 'currences, a body kin reckon maybe 
 de cat * 
 
 ' Oh ! ' and a shudder shook Lady Eossmore to her 
 foundations. * I see it 
 all. Keep away from 
 them — they're his.* 
 
 * His, m' lady ? ' 
 
 * Yes — your young 
 Marse Sellers from Eng- 
 land that's burnt up.' 
 
 She was alone with 
 the ashes — alone before 
 she could take half a 
 breath. Then she went 
 after Mulberry Sellers, 
 purposing to make short 
 work with his programme, 
 whatever it might be; 
 * for,' said she, * when his 
 sentimentals are up, he's a numskull, and there's no 
 knowing what extravagance he'll contrive, if you let him 
 alone.' She found him. He had found the flag and was 
 bringing it. When she heard that his idea was to have 
 the remains * lie in state, and invite the government and 
 the public,' she broke it up. She said — 
 
 ' Your intentions are all right — they always are — ^you 
 want to do honour to the remains, and surely nobody can 
 find any fault with that, for he was your kin ; but you are 
 going the wrong way about it, and you will see it yourself 
 if you stop and think. You can't file around a basket of 
 
 < CLAH TO GOODNESS IT'S DE FUST TIME 
 
 I've sot eies on 'em.' 
 
76 
 
 TBE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 ashes trying to look sorry for it and make a sight that is 
 really solemn, because the solemner it is, the more it isn't 
 — anybody can see that. It would be so with one basket ; 
 it would be three times so with three. Well, it stands to 
 reason that if it wouldn't be solemn with one mourner, it 
 wouldn't be with a procession — and there would be five 
 thousand people here. I don't know but it would be pretty 
 near ridiculous; I think it would. No, Mulberry, they 
 can't lie in state — it would be a mistake. Give that up an'^ 
 think of something else.' 
 
 So he gave it up; and not reluctantly, when he had 
 thought it over and realised how right her instinct was. 
 He concluded to merely sit up with the remains— just 
 himself and Hawkins. Even this seemed a doubtful 
 attention, to his wife, but she offered no objection, for it 
 was plain that he had a quite honest and simple-hearted 
 desire to do the friendly and honourable thing by these 
 forlorn poor relics which could command no hospitality in 
 this far off land of strangers but his. He draped the flag 
 about the baskets, put some crape on the door-knob, and 
 said with satisfaction — 
 
 ' There — ^he is as comfortable, now, as we can make him 
 in the circumstances. Except — yes, we must strain a point 
 there— one must do as one would wish to be done by — ^he 
 must have it.' 
 
 * Have what, dear ? * 
 
 'Hatchment.' 
 
 The wife felt that the house-front was standing about all 
 it could well stand, in that way ; the prospect of another 
 Btanning decoration of that nature distressed her, and she 
 wished the thing had not occurred to him. She said, hesi- 
 tatingly — 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 77 
 
 to 
 
 * But I thought such an honour as that wasn't allowed 
 to any but very very near relations, who ' 
 
 * Bight, you are quite right, my lady, perfectly right ; 
 but there aren't any nearer relatives than relatives by 
 usurpation. We eannot avoid it ; we are slaves of aristo- 
 cratic custom and must submit.' 
 
 tiADT BOSBMOBR AND REB DAVORTKB ASSIflTBD AT THE BITTINa-CP. 
 
 The hatchments were unnecessarily generous, each 
 being as large as a blanket, and thoy were unnecessarily 
 volcanic, too, as to variety and violence of colour, but they 
 pleased the earl's barbaric eye, and they satisfied his taste 
 for symmetry and completeness, too, for they left no waste 
 room to speak of on the house-front. 
 
 Lady Bossmore and her daughter assisted at the sitting- 
 up till near midnight, and helped the gentlemen to con- 
 
78 
 
 THE AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 eider what ought to be done next with the remains. 
 Bossmore thought they ought to be sent home — with a 
 committee and resolutions — at onco. But the wife was 
 doubtful. She said — 
 
 * Would you send all of the baskets ? * 
 
 * Oh, yes, all.' 
 < All at once ? ' 
 
 <To his father? Oh, no — ^by no means. Think of 
 the shook. No — one at a time; break it to him by 
 
 ' Would that have that effect, father ? ' 
 
 * Yes, my daughter. Bemember you are young and 
 elastic, but he is old. To send him the whole at once might 
 well be more than he could bear. But mitigated^ne 
 basket at a time, with restful intervals between, he would 
 be used to it by the time he got all of him. And sending 
 him in three ships is safer anyway. On account of 
 wrecks and storms.' 
 
 *I don't like the idea, father. If I were his father 
 it would be dreadful to have him coming in that — in 
 that- — " 
 
 * On the instalment plan,' suggested Hawkins, gravely, 
 and proud of being able to help. 
 
 * Yes — dreadful to have him coming in that incoherent 
 way. There would be the strain of suspense upon me all 
 the time. To have so depressing a thing as a^ funeral im- 
 pending, dela^^d, waitinr:; unaccomplished ' 
 
 * Oh, no, my child,' said the earl reassuringly, ' there 
 would be -nothing of that kind ; so old a gentleman could 
 not endure a long-drawn suspense like that. There will be 
 three funerals.' 
 
 Lady Bossmore looked up surprised, and said — 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 79 
 
 ' How is that going to make it easier for him ? It's a 
 total mistake, to my mind. He ought to be buried all at 
 once ; I'm sure of it.' 
 
 * 1 should think so, too/ said Hawkins. 
 
 ' And certainly I should/ said the daughter. 
 
 'You are all wrong/ said 
 the earl. *You will see it 
 yourselves, if you think. Only 
 one of these baskets has got 
 him in it.' 
 
 'Very well, then,* said 
 Lady Bossmore, 
 ' the thing is per- 
 fectly simple — 
 bury */ia« one.' 
 
 'Certainly/ 
 said Lady Gwen- 
 dolen. 
 
 'But it is not 
 simple,' said the 
 earl, 'because we 
 do not know which 
 basket he is in. 
 We know he is in 
 one of them, but *" °°''''" '"''' "' "^"^ ^' '^™'"'* 
 that is all we do know. Tou see now, I reckon, that I was 
 right ; it takes three funerals, there is no other way.' 
 
 ' And three graves and three monuments and three in- 
 scriptions?' asked the daughter. 
 
 * Well — ^yes— to do it right. That is what I should do.' 
 
 * It could not be done so, father. Each of the inscrip- 
 tions would give the same name and the same facts and 
 
80 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 say he was under each and all of these monuments, and 
 that would not answer at all.' 
 
 The earl nestled uncomfortably in his chair. 
 
 * No/ he said, ' that ia an objection. That is a serious 
 objection. I see no way out.' 
 
 There was a general silence for a while. Then Hawkins 
 said — 
 
 < It seems to me that if we mixed the three ramifica- 
 tions together ' 
 
 The earl grasped him by the hand and shook it grate- 
 fully. 
 
 ' It solves the whole problem,' he said. * One ship, one 
 funeral, one grave, one monument — it is admirably con- 
 ceived. It does you honour. Major Hawkins, it has re- 
 lieved me of a most painful embarrassment and distress, 
 and it will save that poor stricken old father much suffering. 
 Yes, he shall go over in one basket.' 
 
 ' When ? ' asked the wife. 
 
 * To-morrow — ^immediately, of course.* 
 
 * I would wait. Mulberry,' 
 *Wait? Why?' 
 
 * You don't want to break that childless old man's heart.' 
 
 * God knows I don't ! ' 
 
 * Then wait till he sends for his son's remains. If you 
 do that, you will never have to give him the last and 
 sharpest pain a parent can know — I mean, tJbe ceiiainty 
 that his son is dead. For he will never send.' 
 
 * Why won't he?' 
 
 * Because to send — and find out the truth — would rob 
 him of the one precious thing left him, the uncertainty, the 
 dim hope that maybe, after all, his boy escaped, and he 
 will see him again some day.' 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 81 
 
 •Why, Polly, he'll know by the papers that he was 
 burnt up.' 
 
 * He won't let himself believe the papers ; he'll argue 
 against anything and everything that proves his son is 
 dead ; and he will keep that up and live on it, and on 
 nothing else till he dies. But if the remains should 
 actually come, and be put before that poor old dim- 
 hoping soul ' 
 
 * Oh, my God, they never shall I Polly, you've saved 
 me from a crime, and I'll bless you for it always. Now 
 we know what to do. We'll place them reverently away, 
 and he shall never know.' 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 Thb young Lord Berkeley, with the fresh air of freedom 
 in his nostrils, was feeling invincibly strong for his new 
 career ; and yet — and yet — if the fight should prove a very 
 hard one at first, very discouraging, very taxing on un- 
 toughened moral sinews, he might in some weak moment 
 want to retreat. Not likely, of course, but possibly that 
 might happen. And so on the whole it might be pardon- 
 able caution to burn his bridges behind him. Oh, with- 
 out doubt. He must not stop with advertising for the 
 oiwner of that money, but must put it where he could not 
 borrow from it himself, meantime, under stress of circum- 
 stances. So he went down town, and put in his advertise- 
 ment, then went to a bank and handed in the ;3^500 for 
 deposit. 
 
 * What name ? ' 
 
 He hesitated and coloured a little ; he had forgotten to 
 
 Q 
 
n 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 make a selection. He now brought out the first one that 
 suggested itself — 
 
 * Howard Tracy.' 
 
 When he was gone the clerks, marvelling, said — 
 
 * The cowboy blushed.' 
 
 The first step was accomplished. The money was still 
 under his command and at his disposal, but the next step 
 would dispose of that difficulty. He went to another bank 
 and drew upon the first bank for the /$600 by cheque. The 
 money was collected and deposited a second time to the 
 credit of Howard Tracy. He was asked to leave a few 
 samples of his signature, which he did. Then he we^t 
 away, once more proud and of perfect courage, saying — 
 
 * No help for me now, for henceforth I couldn't draw 
 that money without identification, and that is become 
 legally impossible. No resources to fall back on. It is 
 work or starve from now to the end. I am ready^and 
 not afraid ! * 
 
 Then he sent this cablegram to his father : 
 
 Escaped unhurt from burning hotel, 
 namo. Qood-bye. 
 
 Have taken fictitious 
 
 During the evening, while he was wandering about in 
 one of the outlying districts of the city, he came across a 
 small brick church, with a bill posted there with these 
 words printed on it : * Mbohanigs* Club Debate. All 
 Invited.' He saw people, apparently mainly of the work- 
 ing class, entering the place, and he followed and took his 
 seat. It was a humble little church, quite bare as to 
 ornamentation. It had painted pews without cushions, 
 and no pulpit, properly speaking, but it had a platform. 
 On the platform sat tiie ^airman, and by his side sat a 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 88 
 
 man who held a manuscript in his hand and had the wait- 
 ing look of one who is going to perform the principal part. 
 The church was soon filled with a quiet and orderly con- 
 gregation of decently dressed and modest people. This is 
 what the chairman said : 
 
 * The essayist for this evening is au old member of our 
 club whom you all know, Mr. 
 Parker, assistant editor of the 
 " Daily Democrat." The subject 
 of his essay is the American 
 Press, and he will use as his /iv^ . 
 
 text a couple of paragraphs ^^^^^ f/\F%^ 
 taken from Mr. Matthew 
 Arnold's new book. He asks 
 me to read these texts for him. 
 The first is as follows : 
 
 'Goethe says somewhere that 
 " the thrill of awe," that is 
 
 to say, " BEYBBENCB," is 
 
 the best thing humanity 
 has.' 
 
 'Mr. Arnold's other 
 paragraph is as follows : . _^^ 
 
 PABKEB, ASSISTANT EOITOB OF TBD 
 • DBMOCBAT.' 
 
 'I should say that if 
 one were searching for the 
 best means to efface and kill in a whole nation the discipline of 
 respect, one could not do better than take the American news- 
 papers.' 
 
 Mr. Parker rose and bowed, and was received with 
 warm applause. He then began to read in a good round 
 resonant voice, with clear enunciation and careful attention 
 
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 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 to his pauses and emphases. His points were received 
 with approval as he went on. 
 
 The essayist took the position that the most important 
 function of a public journal in any country was the pro- 
 pagating of national feeling and pride in the national name 
 — the keeping the people * in love with their country and 
 its institutions, and shielded from the allurements of alien 
 and inimical systems.' He sketched the manner in which 
 the reverent Turkish or Bussian journalist fulfilled this 
 function— the one assisted by the prevalent * discipline of 
 respect' for the bastinado, the other for Siberia. Con- 
 tinuing, he said — 
 
 The chief function of an English journal is that of all other 
 journals the world over : it must keep the pubUe eye fixed ad- 
 miringly upon certain things, and keep it diligently diverted 
 from certain others. For instance, it must keep the public eye 
 fixed admiringly upon the glories of England, a processional 
 splendour stretching its receding line down the hazy vistas of 
 time, with the mellowed lights of a thousand years glinting from 
 its banners; and it must keep it diligently diverted from the 
 fact that all these glories were for the enrichment and aggran- 
 disement of the petted and privileged few, at cost of the blood 
 and sweat and poverty of the unconsidered masses who achieved 
 them but might not enter in and partake of them. It must 
 keep the public eye fixed in loving and awful reverence upon the 
 throne as a sacred thing, and diligently divert it from the fact 
 that no throne was ever set up by the unhampered vote of a 
 majority of any nation ; and that hence no throne exists that 
 has a right to exist, and no symbol of it, flying from any flag- 
 staff, is righteously entitled to wear any device but the skull and 
 croBsbones of that kindred industry which differs firom royalty 
 only business- wise^ merely as retail differs firom wholesale. It 
 must keep the citizen's eye fixed in reverent docility upon that 
 curioua invention of miMjhine politics, an Established Church, 
 
THE AMERIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 65 
 
 and upon that bald contradiction of common justice, an heredi- 
 tary nobility ; and diligently divert it from the fact that the one 
 damns him if he doesn't wear its collar, and robs him under the 
 gentle name of taxation whether he wears it or not, and the 
 other gets all the honours while he does all the work. 
 
 The eesayist thoaght that Mr. Arnold, with his trained 
 eye and intelligent observation, ought to have perceived 
 that the very quality which he so regretfully missed from the 
 American press — respectfulness, reverence — was exactly the 
 thing which would make that press useless to Americans if it 
 had it — rob it of the very thing which differentiates it from 
 all other journalism in the world and makes it distinctively 
 and preciously American, its frank and cheerful irreverence 
 being by all odds the most valuable of all its qualities. 
 ' For its mission — overlooked by Mr. Arnold — is to stand 
 guard over a nation's liberties, not its humbugs and shams.' 
 He thought that if during fifty years the institutions of the 
 old world could be exposed to the fire of a flouting and 
 scoffing press like America's, * monarchy and its attendant 
 crimes would disappear from Christendom.' Monarchists 
 might doubt this ; then * why not persuade the Czar to give 
 it a trial in Russia ? ' Concluding, he said — 
 
 Well, the charge is, that our press has but little of that old 
 world quality, reverence. Let us be candidly grateful that it is 
 so. With its limited reverence it at least reveres the things 
 which this nation reveres, as a rule, and that is sufficient : wha4 
 other people revere is feiirly and properly matter of light impor- 
 tance to us. Our press does not reverence kings, it does not 
 reverence so-called nobilities, it does not reverence established 
 ecclesiastical slaveries, it does not reverence laws which rob a 
 younger son to flatten an elder one, it does not reverence any 
 fraud or sham or infamy, howsoever old or rotten or holy, which 
 Bets one citizen above his neighbour by accident of birth ; it does 
 
86 
 
 THB AMEBIOAlf CLAIMANT 
 
 not reverence any law or custom, howsoever old or decayed or 
 sacred, which shuts against the hest man in the land the best 
 place in the land and the divine right to prove property and go 
 up and occupy it. In the sense of the poet Goethe — ^that meek 
 idolater of provincial three-carat royalty and nobility— our press 
 is certainly bankrupt in the ' thrUl of awe ' — otherwise rever- 
 ence ; reverence for nickel plate and brummagem. Let us sin- 
 cerely hope that this fact will remain a £EM)t for ever; for to my 
 mind a discriminating irreverence is the creator and protector 
 of human liberty— even as the other thing is the creator, nurse, 
 and steadfast protector of all forms of human slavery, bodily and 
 mental. 
 
 Tracy said to himself, almost shouted to himself, * I'm 
 glad I came to this country. I was right. I was right to 
 seek out a land where such healthy principles and theories 
 are in men's hearts and minds. Think of the innumerable 
 slaveries imposed by misplaced reverence t How well he 
 brought that out, and how true it is. There's manifestly 
 prodigious force in reverence. If you can get a man to 
 reverence your ideals, he's your slave. Oh, yes, in all the 
 ages the peoples of Europe have been diligently taught to 
 avoid reasoning about the shams of monarchy and nobility, 
 been taught to avoid examining them, been taught to 
 reverence them ; and now, as a natural result, to reverence 
 them is second nature. In order to shook them it is suf- 
 ficient to inject a thought of the opposite kind into their 
 dull minds. For ages, any expression of so-called irrever- 
 ence from their lips has been sin and crime. The sham 
 and swindle of all this is apparent the moment one reflects 
 that he is himself the only legitimately qualified judge of 
 what is entitled to reverence and what is not. Gome, I 
 hadn't thought of that before, but it is true, absolutely 
 true. What right has Goethe, what right has Arnold, what 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 87 
 
 » 
 
 right has any dictionary, to define the word irreverence for 
 me ? What their ideals are is nothing to me. So long as 
 I reverence my own ideals my whole duty is done, and I 
 commit no profanation if I laugh at theirs. I may scoff at 
 other people's ideals as much as I want to. It is my right 
 and my privilege. No man has any right to deny it.' 
 
 Tracy was expecting to hear the essay debated, but this 
 did not happen. The chairman said, by way of explana- 
 tion — 
 
 *1 would say, for the information of the strangers 
 present here, that in accordance with our custom the 
 subject of this meeting will be debated at the next meeting 
 of the club. This is in order to enable our members to 
 prepare what they may wish to say upon the subject with 
 pen and paper, for we are mainly mechanics and unaccus^ 
 tomed to speaking. We are obliged to write down what we 
 desire to say.' 
 
 Many brief papers were now read, and several off-hand 
 speeches made in discussion of the essay read at the last 
 meeting of the club, which had been a laudation, by some 
 visiting professor, of college culture, and the grand results 
 flowing from it to the nation. One of the papers was read 
 by a man ap]^ :oaching middle age, who said he hadn't had 
 a college education, that he had got his education in a 
 printing office, and had graduated from there into the 
 patent office, where he had been a clerk now for a great 
 many years. Then he continued to this effect : 
 
 The essayist contrasted the America of to-day with the 
 America of bygone times, and certainly the result is the exhibi- 
 tion of a mighty progress. But I think he a Uttle overrated the 
 college-culture share in the production of that result. It can no 
 doubt be easily shown that the colleges have contributed the 
 
88 
 
 TBE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 intellectual part of this progresSi and that that part is yast ; but 
 that the material progress has been immeasarably vaster, I think 
 you wH concede. Now I have been looking over a list of in- 
 Teiitors — the creators of this amazing material development — 
 and I find that they were not college-bred men. Of course there 
 are exceptions — like Professor Henry of Princeton, the inventor 
 of Mr. Morse's system of telegraphy — but these exceptions are 
 few. It is not overstatv<)ment to say that the imagination-stun- 
 ning material development of this century, the only century worth 
 living in since time itself was invented, is the creation ot men 
 not college-bred. We think we see what these inventors have 
 done : no, we see only the visible vast frontage of their work ; 
 behind it is their far vaster work, and it is invisible to the care- 
 less glance. They have reconstructed this nation — ^made it over, 
 that is— and, metaphorically speaking, have multiplied its 
 numbers almost beyond the power of figures to express. I will 
 explain what I mean. What constitutes the population of a 
 land ? Merely the numberable packages of meat and bonei; in 
 it called by courtesy men and women ? Shall a million ounces 
 of brass and a million ounces of gold be held to be of the same 
 value ? Take a truer standard : the measure of a man's con- 
 tributing capacity to his time and his people — the work he can 
 do — and then number the population of this country to-day, as 
 multiplied by what a man can now do, more than his grand- 
 father could do. By this standard of measurement, this nation, 
 two or three generations ago, consisted of mere cripples, para- 
 lytics, dead men, as compared with the men of to-day. In 1840 
 our population was 17,000,000. By way of rude but striking 
 illustration, let us consider, for argument's sake, that four of these 
 millions consisted of aged people, little children, and other in- 
 capables, and that the remaining 18,000,000 were divided and 
 employed as follows : 
 
 2,000,000 as ginners of cotton. 
 
 6,000,000 (women) as stocking-knittera. 
 
 2,000,000 (women) as thread-spinners. 
 
 500,000 as screw makers. 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 400,000 as reapers, binders, eto. 
 
 1,000,000 as com shellers. 
 
 40,000 as weavers. 
 
 1,000 as stitchers of shoe soles. 
 
 Now the deductions which I am going to append to these 
 figures may sound extravagant, but they are not. I take them 
 from Miscellaneous Documents No. 60, second session 46th Con- 
 gress, and they are ofiBcial and trustworthy. To-day, the work 
 of those 2,000,000 cotton-ginners is done by 2,000 men ; that of 
 the 6,000,000 stocking-knitters is done by 8,000 boys ; that of 
 the 2,000,000 thread-spinners is done by 1,000 girls ; that of the 
 600,000 screw makers is done by 600 girls ; that of the 400,000 
 reapers, binders, etc., is done by 4,000 boys ; that of the 1,000,000 
 com shellers is done by 7,600 men ; that of the 40,000 weavers 
 is done by 1,200 men ; and that of the 1,000 stitchers of shoe 
 soles is done by 6 men. To bunch the figures, 17,000 persons 
 to-day do the above work, whereas fifty years ago it would have 
 taken thirteen millions of persons to do it. Now then, how many 
 of that ignorant race — our fathers and grandfathers — ^with their 
 ignorant methods, would it take to do our work to-day? It 
 would take forty thousand millions — ^a hundred times the swarm- 
 ing population of China — ^twenty times the present population of 
 the globe. You look around you and you see a nation of sixty 
 millions — ^apparently; but secreted in their hands and brains, 
 and invisible to your eyes, is the true population of this Bepublic, 
 and it numbers forty billions I It is the stupendous creation of 
 those humble unlettered, un-college-bred inventors — all honour 
 to their name. 
 
 ' How grand that is 1 ' said Tracy, as he wended home- 
 ward. '"What a civilisation it is, and what prodigious 
 results these are! and brought about almost wholly by 
 common men ; not by Oxford-trained aristocrats, but men 
 who stand shoulder to shoulder in the humble ranks of life 
 and earn the bread that they eat. Again, I'm glad I came. 
 I have found a country at last where one may start fair, 
 
00 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 and breast to breast with his fellow-mani rise by his own 
 efforts, and be something in the world and be proud of that 
 something ; not be something created by an ancestor three 
 hundred years ago.* 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 PuRiNO the first few days he kept the fact diligently before 
 his mind that he was in a land where there was * work and 
 bread for all.* In fact, for convenience' sake he fitted it to 
 a little tune and hummed it to himself ; but as time wore 
 on the fiact itself began to take on a doubtful look, and 
 next the tune got fatigued and presently ran down and 
 stopped. His first effort was to get an upper clerkship in 
 one of the departments, where his Oxford education could 
 come into play and do him service. But he stood no chance 
 whatever, lliere, competency was no recommendation; 
 political backing, without competency, was worth six of it. 
 He was glaringly English, and that was necessarily against 
 him in the political centre of a nation where both parties 
 prayed for the Irish cause on the house-top and blasphemed 
 it in the cellar. By his dress he was a cowboy ; that won 
 him respect — when his back was not turned — but it couldn't 
 get a clerkship for him. But he had said, in a rash 
 moment, that he would wear those clothes till the owner or 
 the owner's friends caught sight of them and asked for that 
 money, and his conscience would not let him retire from 
 that engagement now. 
 
 At the end of a week things were beginnin<^ to wear 
 rather a startling look. He had hunted everywhere for 
 work, descending gradually the scale of quality, until 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 01 
 
 apparently he had sued for all the various kinds of work 
 a man without a special calling might hope to be able 
 to do, except ditching and the other coarse manual sorts — 
 and had got neither work nor the promise of it. 
 
 TDBNXNQ OTXB TBB UtAVKS OV HIS OIABT. 
 
 He was mechanically turning over the leaves of his 
 diary, meanwhile, and now his eye fell upon the first record 
 made after he was burnt out : 
 
92 
 
 TBB AMBBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 I myself did not donbt my stamina before, nobody oould 
 doabt it now, if they could see how I am housed, and realise that 
 I feel absolutely no disgust with these quarters, but am as serenely 
 content with them as any dog would be in a similar kennel. 
 Terms, twenty-five dollars a week. I said I would start at the 
 bottom. I have kept my word. 
 
 A shudder went quaking through him, and he ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 ' What have I been thinking of ? This the bottom ! 
 Mooning along a whole week, and these terrific expenses 
 climbing and climbing all the time ! I must end this folly 
 straightway.' 
 
 He settled up at once and went forth to find less 
 sumptuous lodgings. He bad to wander far and seek with 
 diligence, but he succeeded. They made him pay in 
 advance — four dollars and a half; this secured both bed 
 and food for a week. The good-natured, hard-worked land- 
 lady took him up three flights of narrow, uncarpeted stairs 
 and delivered him into his room. There were two double- 
 bedsteads in it, and one single one. He would be allowed 
 to sleep alone in one of the double beds until some new 
 boarder should come, but he wouldn't be charged extra. 
 
 So he would presently be required to sleep with some 
 stranger I The thought of it made him sick. Mrs. Marsh, 
 the landlady, was very friendly and hoped he would like her 
 house — they all liked it, she said. 
 
 * And they're a very nice set of boys. They carry on a 
 good deal, but that's their fun. You see, this room opens 
 right into this back one, and sometimes they're all in one 
 and sometimes in the other ; and hot nights they all sleep 
 on the roof when it don't rain. They get out there the 
 minute it's hot enough. The season's so early that they've 
 
THB AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 08 
 
 ex- 
 
 already had a night or two up there. If you'd like to go 
 up and pick out a place, you can. You'll find chalk in the 
 Bide of the chimney where there's a brick wanting. You 
 just take the chalk and — but of course you've done it 
 before.' 
 
 * Oh, no, I haven't.* 
 
 'Why, of course you haven't— what am I thinking 
 of ? Plenty of room on the Plains without chalking, I'll be 
 bound. Well, you just chalk out a place the size of a 
 blanket anywhere on the tin that ain't already marked off, 
 you know, and that's your property. You and your bed- 
 mate take turn-about carrying up the blanket and pillows 
 and fetching them down again; or one carries them up 
 and the other fetches them down, you fix it the way you 
 like, you know. You'll like the boys, they're everlasting 
 sociable — except the printer. He's the one that sleeps in 
 that single bed — the strangest creature ; why I don't believe 
 you could get that man to sleep with another man, not if 
 the house was afire. Mind you, I'm not just talking, I 
 know. The boys tried him, to see. They took his b^d out 
 one night, and so when he got home about three in the 
 morning — ^he was on a morning paper then, but he's on an 
 evening one now — ^there wasn't any place for him but with 
 the iron-moulder ; and if you'll believe me, he just set up 
 the rest of the night— he did, honest. They say he's 
 cracked, but it ain't so, he's English — they're awful par- 
 ticular. You won't mind my saying that. You— you're 
 English?' 
 
 ' Yes.' 
 
 'I thought so. I could tell it by the way you mis- 
 pronounce the words that's got a's in them, yon know; 
 such as saying loff when you mean laff— but you'll get over 
 
M 
 
 THB AMSniOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 that. He's a right down good fellow, and a little sociable 
 with the photographer's boy and the caulker and the black- 
 smith that work in the navy yard, but not so much with 
 the others. The fact is, though it's private, and the others 
 don't know it, he's a kind of an aristocrat, his father being 
 a doctor, and you know what style that is — in England, I 
 mean, because in this country a doctor ain't so very much, 
 even if he's that. But over there of course it's different. 
 80 this chap had a falling out with his father, and was 
 pretty high strung, and just cut for this country, and the 
 first he knew he had to get to work or starve. Well, he'd 
 been to college, you see, and so he judged he was all right- 
 did you say anything ? ' 
 
 * No— I only sighed.* 
 
 * And there's where he was mistaken. Why, he mighty 
 near starved. And I reckon he would have starved sure 
 enough, if some jour' printer or other hadn't took pity on 
 him and got him a place as apprentice. So he learnt the 
 trade, and then he was all right— but it was a close call. 
 Once he thought he had got to haul in his pride and holler 
 for his father and — why, you're sighing again. Is any- 
 thing the matter with you? — does my clatter ' 
 
 * Oh, dear-no. Pray go on— I like it.' 
 
 'Yes, you see, he's been over here ten years; he's 
 twenty-eight, now, and he ain't pretty well satisfied in his 
 mind, because he can't get reconciled to being a mechanic 
 and associating with mechanics, he being, as he says to 
 me, a genUeman, which is a pretty plain letting-on that the 
 boys ain't, but of course I know enough not to let that cat 
 out of the bag.' 
 
 * Wby— would there be any harm in it ? * 
 
 'Ham in it? They'd lick him, wouldn't they? 
 
THE AMBBIOAN CLAIMANT M 
 
 Wouldn't you 1 Of course you would. Don't you ever let 
 a man say you ain't a gentleman in thi9 country. But 
 lawSi what am I thinking about ? I reckon a body would 
 think twice before he said a cowboy wasn't a gentleman.' 
 
 A trim, active, slender, and very pretty girl of about 
 eighteen walked into the room now, in the most satisfied 
 and unembarrassed way. She was cheaply but smartly 
 and gracefully dressed, and the mother's quick glance at the 
 stranger's face as he rose was of the kind which inquires 
 what effect has been produced, and expects to find indica- 
 tions of surprise and admiration. 
 
 * This is my daughter Hattie — we call her Puss, It's 
 the new boarder. Fuss.' This without rising. 
 
 The young Englishman made the awkward bow com- 
 mon to his nationality and time of life in circumstances of 
 delicacy and difficulty, and these were of that sort ; for, 
 being taken by surprise, his natural, lifelong self sprang 
 to the front, and that self of course would not know just 
 how to act when introduced to a chambermaid, or to the 
 heiress of a mechanics* boarding-house. His other self — 
 the self which recognised the equality of all men — would 
 have managed the thing better, if it hadn't been caught off 
 guard and robbed of its chance. The young girl paid no 
 attention to the bow, but put out her hand frankly and 
 gave the stranger a friendly shake and said — 
 
 * How do you do ? ' 
 
 Then she marched to the one washstand in the room, 
 tilted her head this way and that before the wreck of a 
 cheap mirror that hung above it, dampened her fingers 
 with her tongue, perfected the circle of a little lock of hair 
 that was pasted against her forehead, then began to busy 
 herself with the slops. 
 
96 
 
 THE AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 'Well, I must be going -it's getting towards supper- 
 time. Make yourself at home, Mr. Tracy, you'll hear the 
 bell when it'n ready.' 
 
 The landlady took her tranquil departure, without com- 
 manding either of the young people 
 to vacate the room. The young 
 man wondered a 
 little that a mo- 
 ther who seemed 
 so honest and re- 
 spectable should 
 be so thought- 
 less, and was 
 reaching for his 
 hat, intending 
 to disembarrass 
 the girl of his 
 presence ; but she 
 said — 
 
 * .Where are 
 you going?' 
 
 'Well — no- 
 where in parti- 
 cular, but as I 
 
 BEjrOBE THK WRECK OF A CHEAP lUBROB. 
 
 am only in 
 way here- 
 
 the 
 
 * Why, who said you were in the way ? Sit down — I'll 
 move you when you are in the way.' 
 
 She was making the beds, now. He sat down and 
 watched her deft and diligent performance. 
 
 'What gave yor. that notion? Do you reckon I need 
 a whole room just to make up a bed or two in ? ' 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 07 
 
 * Well, no, it wasn't that, exactly. We are away up here 
 i:i an empty house, and your mother being gone ' 
 
 The girl interrupted him with an amused laugh, and 
 said — 
 
 ' Nobody to protect me ? Bless you, I don't need it. 
 I'm not afraid. I might be if I was alone, because I do 
 hate ghosts^ and I don't deny it. Not that I believe in 
 them, for I don't. I'm only just afraid of them.' 
 
 * How can you be afraid of them if you don't believe in 
 them?' 
 
 * Oh, I don't know the how of it — that's too many for 
 me ; I only ki.ow it's so. It's the same with Maggie Lee.' 
 
 'Whoisthat?' 
 
 * One of the boarders ; young lady that works in the 
 factry.' 
 
 ' She works in a factory ? ' 
 
 * Yes. Shoe factry.' 
 
 * In a shoe factory ; and you call her a young lady ? 
 *Why, she's only twenty-two; what shoald you call 
 
 her?' 
 
 * I wasn't thinking of her age, I was thinking of the 
 title. The fact is, I came away from England to get away 
 from artificial forms — for artificial forms suit artificial 
 people only— and here you've got them too. I'm sorry. 
 I hoped you had only men and women ; everybody equal ; 
 no differences in rank.' 
 
 The girl stopped with a pillow in her teeth and the case 
 spread open below it, contemplating him from under her 
 brows with a slightly puzzled expression. She released the 
 pillow and said — 
 
 ' Why, they ar$ all equal. Where's &ny difference in 
 rank?' 
 
 S 
 
98 THE AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 * If you call a factory girl a young lady^ what do you 
 call the President's wife ? ' 
 
 * Call her an old one.' 
 
 < Oh, you make age the only distinction ? * 
 
 STOPPID WITH k nUMW IN BER TIXTH. 
 
 ' There ain't any other to make as far as I can see.' 
 * Then aU women are ladies ? ' 
 Certainly they are. All the respectable ones.' 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 00 
 
 < Well, that puts a better face on it. Certainly there 
 is no harm in a title when it is given to everybody. It is 
 only an ofiSence and a wrong when it is restricted to a 
 favoured few. But Miss— er ' 
 
 * Hattie.' 
 
 *Mi8S Hattie, be frank; confess that that title isriH 
 accorded by everybody to everybody. The rich American 
 doesn't call her cook a lady— isn't tiiat so ? ' 
 
 •Yes, it's so. What of it?' 
 
 He was surprised and a little disappointed to see that 
 his admirable shot had produced no perceptible effect. 
 
 * What 0/ it ? ' he said. * Why this : equality is not 
 conceded here, after all, and the Americans are no better off 
 than the English. In fact there's no difference.' 
 
 ' Now what an idea. There's nothing in a title except 
 what is put into it — you've said that yourself. Suppose the 
 title is clearif instead of lady. You get that ? ' 
 
 'I believe so. Instead of speaking of a woman as a 
 lady, 70U substitute clean and say she's a clean person.' 
 
 * That's it. In England the swell folks don't speak of 
 the working people as gentlemen and ladies ? ' 
 
 «0h, no.' 
 
 ' And the working people don't call themaelrea gentlemen 
 and ladies ? ' 
 
 * Certainly not.' 
 
 * So if you used the other word there wouldn't be any 
 change. The swell people wouldn't call anybody but 
 themselves " clean," and those others would drop sort of 
 meekly into their way of talking and they wouldn't call 
 themselves clean. We don't do that way here. Everybody 
 callB himself a lady or gentleman, and thinks he t«, and 
 don't care what anybody else thinks him, bo long as he 
 
 ■ a 
 
100 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 don't say it out loud. You think there's no difference. You 
 knuckle dmon and we danH. Ain't that a difference ? ' 
 ' It is a difference I hadn't thought of; I admit that. 
 
 Still — calling one's self a lady doesn't — er ' 
 
 * I wouldn't go on if I were you.' 
 Howard Tracy turned his head to see who it might he 
 that had introduced this remark. It was a short man 
 about forty years old, with sandy hair, no beard, and a 
 
 pleasant face badly freckled 
 but alive and intelligent, and 
 he wore slop-shop clothing, 
 which was neat but showed 
 wear. He had come from the 
 front room beyond the hall, 
 where he had left his hat, and 
 he had a chipped and cracked 
 white wash-bowl in his hand. 
 The girl came and took the 
 bowl. 
 
 * I'll get it for you. You go 
 right ahead and give it to him, 
 Mr. Barrow. He's the new 
 boarder — ^Mr. Tracy — and I'd 
 just got to where it was getting 
 too deep for me.' 
 
 * Much obliged if you will, 
 Hattie. I was coming to 
 
 borrow of the boys.' He sat down at his ease on an old 
 trunk, and said, * I've been listening and got interested ; 
 and as I was saying, I wouldn't go on if I were you. You 
 see where you are coming to, don't you ? Catting yourself 
 a lady doesn't elect you ; that is what you were going to 
 
 BE HAD cons ntOU THE 
 ISOMT BOOM. 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 101 
 
 say ; and you saw that if yoa said it yon were going to run 
 right up against another difference that you hadn't thought 
 of : to wit, Whose right is it to do the electing ? Over there, 
 twenty thousand people in a miUion elect themselves 
 gentlemen and ladies, and the nine hundred and eighty 
 thousand accept that decree and swallow the afi&ont which 
 it puts upon them. Why, if they didn't accept it, it 
 wouldn't he an election, it would he a dead letter and have 
 no force at all. Over here the twenty thousand would-be 
 exclusives come up to the polls and vote themselves to be 
 ladies and gentlemen. But the thing doesn't stop there. 
 The nine hundred and eighty thousand come and vote 
 themselves to be ladies and gentlemen too, and that elects 
 the whole nation. Since the whole million vote themselves 
 ladies and gentlemen, there is no question about that 
 election. It d^tes make absolute equality, and there is no 
 fiction about it ; while over yonder the inequality (by decree 
 of the infinitely feeble, and consent of the infinitely strong) 
 is also absolute — as real and absolute as our equality.' 
 
 Tracy had shrunk promptly into his English shell when 
 this speech began, notwithstanding he had now been in 
 severe training several weeks for contact and intercourse 
 with the common herd on the common, herd's terms ; but 
 he lost no time in pulling himself out again, and so by the 
 time the speech was finished his valves were open once 
 more, and he was forcing himself to accept without resent- 
 ment the common herd's frank fashion of dropping sociably 
 into other people's conversations unembarrassed and un- 
 invited. The process was not very difficult this iiime, for 
 the man's smile and voice and manner were persuasive and 
 winning. Tracy would even have liked him on the spot, 
 but for the fact— fact which he was not really aware of— 
 
m 
 
 THM AMEBlCAif CLAIMANT 
 
 that the equality of men was not yet a reality to him, it was 
 only a theory ; the mind perceived, but the man failed to feel 
 it. It was Hattie's ghost over again, merely turned around. 
 Theoretically Barrow was his equal, but it was distinctly 
 distasteful to see him exhibit it. He presently said — 
 
 ' I hope in all sincerity that what you have said is true, 
 as regards the Americans, for doubts have crept into my 
 mind several times. It seemed that the equality must bo 
 ungenuine where the sign-names of castes were still in 
 vogue; but those sign-names have certainly lost their 
 offence and are wholly neutralised, nullified, and harmless if 
 they are the undisputed property of every individual in the 
 nation. I think I realise that caste does not exist and 
 cannot exist except by common consent of the masses 
 outside of its limits. I thought caste created itself and 
 perpetuated itself; but it seems quite true that it only 
 creates itself, and is perpetuated by the people whom it 
 despises, and who can dissolve it at any time by assuming 
 its mere sign-names themselves.' 
 
 ' It's what I think. There isn't any power on earth that 
 can prevent England's thirty millions from electing them- 
 selves dukes and duchesses to-morrow and calling them- 
 selves so. And within six months all the former dukes 
 and duchesses would have retired from the business. I 
 wish they'd try that. Boyalty itself couldn't survive such 
 a process. A handful of frowners against thirty million 
 laughers in a state of irruption. Why, it's Hercnlaneum 
 against Vesuvius ; it would take another eighteen centuries 
 to find that Herculaneum after the cataclysm. What's a 
 Colonel in our South? ^e's a nobody; because they're 
 all colonels down there. Ko, Tracy ' (shudder from Tracy), 
 * nobody in England would call you a gentleman and you 
 
• ,i 
 
 THE AMEttlCAN CLAIMANT 
 
 lOd 
 
 wouldn't call yourself one ; and I tell you it's a state of 
 things that makes a man put himself into most unbecoming 
 attitudes sometimes — the broad and general recognition and 
 acceptance of caste as caste does, I mean. Makes him do 
 it unconsciously — being bred in him, you see, and never 
 thought over and reasoned out. You couldn't conceive of 
 the Matterhorn being flattered by the notice of one of your 
 comely little English hills, could you ? ' 
 
 'Why, no.' 
 
 ' WeU, then, let a man in his right mind try to conceive 
 of Darwin feeling flattered by 
 the notice of a princess. It's 
 so grotesque that it — well, it 
 paralyses the imagination. 
 Yet that Memnon was flat- 
 tered by the notice of that 
 statuette; he says so — says 
 so himself. The system that 
 can make a god disown his 
 godship and profane it— oh, 
 well, it's all wrong, it's all 
 wrong and ought to be abo- 
 lished, I should say.' 
 
 The mention of Darwin 
 brought on a literary discus- 
 sion, and this topic roused 
 such enthusiasm in Barrow 
 that he took off his coat and 
 made himself the more free 
 and comfortable for it, and detained him so long that he 
 was still at it when the noisy proprietors of the room came 
 shouting and skylarking in and began to romp, scuffle, 
 
 BE TOOK OFF HIS COAT. 
 
104 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 c 
 
 wash, and otherwise entertain themeelves. He lingered 
 yet a little longer to o£fer the hospitalities of his room and 
 his book-ahelf to Traoy and ask him a personal question or 
 two: 
 
 * What is your trade ? * 
 
 * They—well, they call me a cowboy, but that is a fiancy ; 
 I'm not that. I haven't any trade.' 
 
 * What do you work at for your living ? ' 
 
 * Oh, anything — I mean I woM work at anything I could 
 get to do, but thus far I haven't been able to find an occupa- 
 tion.' 
 
 ' Maybe I can help yon ; I'd like to try.' 
 
 * I shall be very glad. I've tried, myself, to weariness.' 
 'Well, of course where a man hasn't a regular trade 
 
 he's pretty bad o£f in this world. What you needed, I 
 reckon, was less book learning and more bread-and-butter 
 learning. I don't know what your father could have been 
 thinking of. Tou ought to. have had a trade, you ought 
 to have had a trade, by all means. But never mind about 
 that; we'll stir up something to do, I guess. And don't 
 you get homesick; that's a bad business. We'll talk 
 the thing over and look around a little. You'll come 
 out all right. Wait for me — I'll go down to supper with 
 you.' 
 
 By this time Tracy had achieved a very friendly feeling 
 for Barrow and would have called him a friend, maybe, 
 if not taken too suddenly on a straight-out requirement 
 to realise on his theories. He was glad of his society, any- 
 way, and was feeling lighter-hearted than before. Also he 
 was pretty curious to know what vocation it might be which 
 had furnished Barrow such a large acquaintanceship with 
 books and allowed him so much time to read. 
 
 y 
 
 f 
 
^1 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 105 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 Presently the supper bell began to ring in the depths of 
 the house, and the sound proceeded steadily upward, grow- 
 ing in intensity 
 all the way up 
 towards the 
 upper floors. 
 The higher 
 it came the 
 more mad- 
 dening was 
 the noise, un- 
 til at last 
 what it lacked 
 of being ab- 
 solutely deafening, 
 was made up of the 
 sudden crash and 
 clatter of an aya- 
 lanche of boarders 
 down the 
 uncarpeted 
 stairway. 
 The peerage 
 did not go 
 to meals in 
 this fashion; 
 Tracy's train- 
 ing had not fitted him to enjoy this hilarious zoological 
 clamour and enthusiasm. He had to confess thai there was 
 
 AK AVALANCHE OF BOARDERS. 
 
106 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 Bomething about this extraordinary outpouring of animal 
 spirits which he would have to get inured to before he 
 could accept it. No doubt in time he would prefer it ; 
 but he wished the process might be modified and made just 
 a little more gradual, and not quite so pronounced and 
 violent. Barrow and Tracy followed the avalanche down 
 through an ever increasing and ever more and more aggres- 
 sive stench of bygone cabbage and kindred smells ; smells 
 which are to be found nowhere but in a cheap private 
 boarding-house; smells which once encountered can never 
 be forgotten; smells which encountered generations later 
 are instantly recognisable, but never recognisable with 
 pleasure. To Tracy these odours were suffocating, horrible, 
 almost unendurable ; but he held his peace and said no- 
 thing. Arrived in the basement, they entered a large dining- 
 room, where thirty-five or forty people sat at a long table. 
 They took their places. The feast had already begun and 
 the conversation was going on in the Uveliest way from one 
 end of the table to the other. The table-doth was of very 
 coarse material and was liberally spotted with cofiee stains 
 and grease. The knives and forks were iron, with bone 
 handles, the spoons appeared to be iron or sheet-iron or 
 something of the sort. The tea and coffee cups were of the 
 commonest and heaviest and most durable stone -ware. 
 All the furniture of the table was of the commonest and 
 cheapest sort. There was a single large thick slice of bread 
 by each boarder's plate, and it was observable that he 
 economised it as if he were not expecting it to be duplicated. 
 Dishes of butter were distributed along the table within 
 reach of people's arms, if they had long ones, but there 
 were no private butter plates. The butter was perhaps 
 good enough, and was quiet and well behaved ; but it had 
 
T6B AMEttlOAtH CLAIMANT 
 
 107 
 
 more bouquet than was necessary, though nobody com- 
 mented upon that fact or seemed in any way disturbed by 
 it. The main feature of the feast was a piping hot Irish 
 stew made of the potatoes and meat left over from a pro- 
 cession of previous meals. Everybody was liberally sup- 
 plied with this dish. On the table were a couple of great 
 dishes of sliced ham, and there were some other eatables 
 of minor importance — 
 preserves and New Or- 
 leans molasses and such 
 things. There was also 
 plenty of tea and cofifee 
 of an infernal sort, 
 with brown sugar 
 and condensed 
 milk, but the milk 
 and sugar supply 
 was not left at the 
 discretion of the 
 boarders, but was 
 rationed out at 
 headquarters — one 
 spoonful of sugar 
 and one of con- 
 densed milk to 
 each cup and no more. The table was waited upon by two 
 stalwart negro women, who raced back and forth from the 
 bases of supplies with splendid dash and clatter and energy. 
 Their labours were supplemented after a fashion by the 
 young girl Puss. She carried co£fee and tea back and forth 
 among the boarders, but she made pleasure excursions 
 rather than businesB ones in this way, to speak strictly. 
 
 WAITEI) TJFON BT TWO STALWABI MEORO WOMEN. 
 
108 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 She made jokes with various people. She chaffed the young 
 men pleasantly— and wittily, as she supposed, and as the 
 rest also supposed, apparently, judging by the applause 
 and laughter which she got by her efforts. Manifestly she 
 
 was a favourite with most 
 of the young fellows and 
 sweetheart of the rest of 
 them. Where she con- 
 ferred notice she conferred 
 happiness, as was seen by 
 the face of the recipient; 
 and at the same time she 
 conferred unhappi- 
 ness — one could see 
 it fall and dim the 
 faces of the other 
 young fellows like 
 a shadow. She 
 never 'Mistered' 
 these Mends of 
 hers, but called 
 them * Billy,' 
 
 •Tom,' 'John,* and 
 they called her 
 •Puss'or 'Hattie.' 
 'PUSS.' Mr. Marsh sat 
 
 at the head of the table, his wife sat at the foot. Marsh 
 was a man of sixty, and was an American ; but if he had 
 been bom a month earlier he would have been a Spaniard. 
 He was plenty good enough Spaniard as it was ; his face 
 was very dark, his hair very black, and his eyes were 
 not only exceedingly black but were very intense, and 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 100 
 
 con- 
 
 there was Bomething about them that indicated that they 
 could bum with passion upon occasion. He was stoop- 
 shouldered and lean-faoed| and the general aspect of him 
 was disagreeable ; he was evidently not a very companion- 
 able person. If looks went for anything, he was the very 
 opposite of his wife, who was all motherliness and charity, 
 good will and gONod nature. All the young men and the 
 women called her Aunt Bachael, which was another sign. 
 Tracy's wandering and interested eye presently fell upon 
 one boarder who had been overlooked in the distribution of 
 the stew. He was very pale and looked as if he had but 
 lately come out of a sick bed, and also as if he ought to get 
 back into it again as soon as possible. His face was very 
 melancholy. The waves of laughter and conversation broke 
 upon it without affecting it any more than if it had been a 
 rock in the sea and the words and the laughter veritable 
 waters. He held his head down and looked ashamed. 
 Some of the women cast glances of pity toward him from 
 time to time in a furtive and half-afraid way, and some of 
 the youngest of the men plainly had compassion on the 
 young fellow — a compassion exhibited in their faces but not 
 in any more active or compromising way. But the great 
 majority of the people present showed entire indifference to 
 the youth and his sorrows. Marsh sat with his head down, 
 but one could catch the malicious gleam of his eyes through 
 his shaggy brows. He was watching that young fellow 
 with evident relish. He had not neglected him through 
 carelessness, and apparently the table understood that fact. 
 The spectacle was making Mrs. Marsh very uncomfortable. 
 She had the look of one who hopes against hope that the 
 impossible may happen. But as the impossible did not 
 happen, ohe finally ventured to speak up and remind her 
 
no 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 husband that Nat Brady hadn't been helped to the Irish 
 Btew. 
 
 Marsh lifted his head and gasped out with mock court- 
 liness, ' Oh, he hasn't, hasn't he ? What a pity that is. 
 
e Irish 
 
 THE AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 111 
 
 3U WILIt 
 ARITT,* 
 
 ik court- 
 that is* 
 
 I don't know how I came to overlook him. Ah, he must 
 pardon me. You must indeed, Mr. — er — Baxter — Barker, 
 you must pardon me. I— er — ^my attention was directed 
 to some other matter, I don't know what. The thing that 
 grieves me mainly is, that it happens every meal now. 
 But you must try to overlook these little things, Mr. 
 Bunker, these little neglects on my part. They're always 
 likely to happen with me in any case, and they are especi- 
 ally likely to happen where a person has — er — well, where 
 a person is, say, about three weeks in arrears for his board. 
 You get my meaning ? — you get my idea ? Here is your 
 Irish stew, and — er — it gives me the greatest pleasure to 
 send it to you, and I hope that you will enjoy the charity 
 as much as I enjoy conferring it.' 
 
 A blush rose in Brady's white cheeks and flowed slowly 
 backward to his ears and upward toward his forehead, but 
 he said nothing and began to eat his food under the em- 
 barrassment of a general silence and the sense that all 
 eyes were fastened upon him. Barrow whispered to Tracy : 
 
 * The old man's been waiting for that. He wouldn't 
 have missed that chance for anything.' 
 
 < It's a brutal business,' said Tracy. Then he said to 
 himself, purposing to set the thought down in his diary 
 later : 
 
 ' WeU, here in this very house is a republic where all 
 are free and equal, if men are free and equal anywhere in 
 the earth, therefore I have arrived at the place I started 
 to find, and I am a man among men, and on the strictest 
 equality possible to men, no doubt. Yet here on the 
 threshold I find an inequality. There are people at this 
 table who are looked up to for some reason or another, and 
 here is a poor devil of a boy who is looked down upon. 
 
112 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 treated with indifference, and shamed by humiliations, 
 when he has committed no crime but that common one of 
 being poor. Equality ought to make men noble-minded. 
 In fact I had supposed it did do that.' 
 
 After supper, Barrow proposed a walk, and they 
 started. Barrow had a purpose. He wanted Tracy to 
 get rid of that cowboy hat. He didn't see his way to 
 finding mechanical or manual employment for a person 
 rigged in that fashion. Barrow presently said — 
 
 ' As I understand it, you're not a cowboy.' 
 
 « No, I'm not.' 
 
 < Well, now if you will not think me too curious, how 
 did you come to mount that hat ? Where'd you get it ? ' 
 
 Tracy didn't know quite how to reply to this, but pre- 
 sently said — 
 
 * Well, without going into particulars, I exchanged 
 clothes with a stranger under stress of weather, and I 
 would like to find him and re-exchange.' 
 
 * Well, why don't you find him ? Where is he ? ' 
 
 * I don't know. I supposed the best way to find him 
 would be to continue to wear his clothes, which are con- 
 spicuous enough to attract his attention if I should meet 
 him on the street.' 
 
 * Oh, very well,' said Barrow, ' the rest of the outfit is 
 well enough, and whUe it's not too conspicuous, it isn't 
 quite like the clothes that anybody else wears. Suppress 
 the hat. When you meet your man he'll recognise the 
 rest of his suit. That's a mighty embarrassing hat, you 
 know, in a centre of civilisation like this. I don't believe 
 an angel could get employment in Washington in a halo 
 like that.' 
 
 Tracy agreed to replace the hat with something of a 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 113 
 
 inodester form, and they stepped aboard a crowded car and 
 stood with others on the rear platform. Presently, as the 
 car moved swiftly along the rails, two men crossing the 
 street caught sight of the backs of Barrow and Tracy, and 
 both exclaimed at once, ' There he is ! ' It was Sellers and 
 Hawkins. Both were so paralysed with joy that before 
 they could pull themselves together and make an effort to 
 stop the car, it was gone too far, and they decided to wait 
 
 
 BOTH WERE 80 PARALYSED WITH JOT. 
 
 for the next one. They waited a while ; then it occurred 
 to Washington that there could be no use in chasing one 
 horse-car with another, and he wanted to hunt up a hack. 
 But the Colonel said — 
 
 * When you come to think of it, there's no occasion for 
 that at all. Now that I've got him materiaUsed, I can 
 command his motions. I'll have him at the house by the 
 time we get there.' 
 
 I 
 
114 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 Then they harried off home in a state of great and 
 joyful excitement. 
 
 The hat exchange accomplished, the two new friends 
 started to walk back leisurely to the boarding-house. 
 Barrow's mind was full of curiosity about this young 
 fellow. He said— 
 
 * You've never been to the Rocky Mountains ? * 
 «No.' 
 
 * You've never been out on the plains ? ' 
 'No.' 
 
 * How long have you been in this country ? * 
 
 * Only a few days.' 
 
 * You've never been in America before ? * 
 ' No.' 
 
 Then Barrow communed with himself. ' Now what odd 
 shapes the notions of romantic people take. Here's a 
 young fellow who's read in England about cowboys and 
 adventures on the plains. He comes here and buys a cow- 
 boy's suit. Thinks he can play himself on folks for a 
 cowboy, all inexperienced as he is. Now the minute he's 
 caught in this poor little game, he's ashamed of it and 
 ready to retire from it. It is that exchange that he has 
 put up as an explanation. It's rather thin, too thin alto- 
 gether. WeU, he's young, never been anywhere, knows 
 nothing about the world, sentimental, no doubt. Perhaps 
 it was the natural thing for him to do, but it was a most 
 singular choice, curious freak, altogether.' 
 
 Both men were busy with their thoughts for a time, 
 then Tracy heaved a sigh and said — 
 
 * Mr. Bar^'ow, the case of that young fellow troubles 
 me.' 
 
 ' You mean Nat Brady ? ' 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 116 
 
 * Yes, Brady, or Baxter, or whatever it was. The old 
 landlord called him by several different names.' 
 
 'Oh, yes, he has been very liberal with names for 
 Brady, since Brady fell into arrears for his board. Well, 
 that's one of his sarcasms — the old man thinks he's great 
 on sarcasm.' 
 
 'Well, what is Brady's difficulty? What is Brady— 
 who is he ? ' 
 
 ' Brady is a tinner. He's a young journeyman tinner 
 who was getting along all right till he fell sick and lost his 
 job. He was very popular before he lost his job ; every- 
 body in the house liked Brady. The old man was rather 
 especially fond of him, but you know that when a man 
 loses his job and loses his ability to support himself and to 
 pay his way as he goes, it makes a great difference in the 
 way people look at him and feel about him.' 
 
 ' Is that so ! /< it so ? ' 
 
 Barrow looked at Tracy in a puzzled way. ' Why of 
 course it's so. Wouldn't you know that, naturally ? Don't 
 you know that the wounded deer is always attacked and 
 killed by its companions and friends ? ' 
 
 Tracy said to himself, while a chilly and boding dis- 
 comfort spread itself through his system, ' In a republic of 
 deer and men where all are free and equal misfortune is a 
 crime, and the prosperous gore the unfortunate to death.' 
 Then he said aloud, ' Here in the boarding-house, if one 
 would have friends and be popular instead of having the 
 coM shoulder turned upon him, he must be prosperous.' 
 
 'Yes,' Barrow said, 'that is so. It's their human 
 nature. They do turn against Brady, now that he's un- 
 fortunate, and they don't Uke him as well as they did 
 before: but it isn't because 
 
 any 
 
 Brady- 
 
 I 2 
 
116 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 just as he was before, has the same nature and the same 
 impulses, but they — well, Brady is a thorn in their con- 
 sciences, you see. They know they ought to help him and 
 they're too stingy to do it, and they're ashamed of them- 
 selves for that, and they ought also to hate themselves on 
 that account, but instead of that they hate Brady because 
 he makes them ashamed of themselves. I say that's 
 human nature; that occurs everywhere; this boarding- 
 house is merely the world in little, it's the case all over — 
 they're all alike. In prosperity we are popular ; popularity 
 comes easy in that case, but when the other thing comes 
 our friends are pretty likely to turn against us.' 
 
 Tracy's noble theories and high purposes were beginning 
 to feel pretty damp and clammy. He wondered if by any 
 possibility he had made a mistake in throwing his own 
 prosperity to the winds and taking up the cross of other 
 people's unprosperity. But he wouldn't listen to that sort 
 of thing ; he cast it out of his mind and resolved to go 
 ahead resolutely along the course he had mapped out for 
 himself. 
 
 Extracts from his diary : 
 
 Have now spent several days in this singular hive. I don't 
 know quite what to make out of these people. They have merits 
 and virtues, but they have some other qualities, and some *vuju 
 that are hard to get along with. I can't enjoy them, l^he 
 moment I appearect in a hat of the period, I noticed a change. 
 The respect which had been paid me before, passed suddenly 
 away, and the people became friendly — more than that — they 
 became familiar, and I'm not used to familiarity, and can't take 
 to it right off : I find that out. These people's familiarity 
 amounts to impudence, sometimes. I suppose it's all right ; no 
 doubt I can get used to it, but it's not a satisfactory process at 
 all. I have aocompUshed my dearest wish, I am a man among 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 117 
 
 men, on an equal footing with Tom, Dick, and Harry, and yet it 
 isn't just exactly what I thought it was going to be. I — I miss 
 home. Am obliged to say I am homesick. Another thing— and 
 this is a confession — a reluctant one, but I will make it : The thing 
 I miss most and most severely, is the respect, the deference, with 
 which I was treated all my life in England, and which seems to 
 be somehow necessary to me. I get along very well without the 
 luxury and the wealth and the sort of society I've been accus- 
 tomed to, but I do miss the respect and can't seem to get recon- 
 ciled to the absence of it. There is respect, there is deference 
 here, but it doesn't fall to my share. It is lavished on two men. 
 One of th^m is a portly man of middle age who is a retired 
 plumber. Everybody is pleased to have that man's notice. He's 
 full of pomp and circumstance and self-complacency and bad 
 grammar, and at table he is Sir Oracle, and when he opens his 
 mouth not any dog in the kennel barks. The other person is a 
 policeman at the capitol-building. He represents the govern- 
 ment. The deference paid to these two men is not so very far 
 short of that which is paid to an earl in England, though the 
 method of it differs. Not so much courtliness, but the deference 
 is all there. 
 
 Yes, and there is obsequiousness too. 
 
 It does rather look as if in a republic where all are free and 
 equal prosperity and position constitute rank. 
 
 •vu,yb 
 The 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 The days drifted by, and they grew ever more dreary. For 
 Barrow's efforts to find work for Tracy were unavailing. 
 Always the first question asked was, * What Union do you 
 belong to ? ' 
 
 Tracy was obliged to reply that he didn't belong to any 
 trade-union. 
 
 *Very well, then, it's impossible to employ you. My 
 
118 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 men wouldn't stay with me if I should employ a '' scab," or 
 *' rat," ' or whatever the phrase was. 
 
 Finally, Tracy had a happy thought. He said, ' Why 
 the thing for me to do, of course, is to join a trade-union.' 
 
 * Yes,' Barrow said, ' that is the thing for you to do— if 
 you can.' 
 
 * If I caw? Is it difficult ? ' 
 
 ' Well, yes,' Barrow said, * it's sometimes difficult— in 
 fact, very difficult. But you can try, and of course it will 
 be best to try.* 
 
 Therefore Tracy tried ; but he did not succeed. He was 
 refused admission with a good deal of promptness, and was 
 advised to go back home, where he belonged, not come there 
 taking honest men's bread out of their mouths. Tracy 
 began to realise that the situation was desperate, and 
 the thought made him cold to the marrow. He said to him- 
 self, ' So there is an aristocracy of position here, and an 
 aristocracy of prosperity, and apparently there is also an 
 aristocracy of the ins as opposed to the outs, and I am with 
 the outs. So the ranks grow daily, here. Plainly there are 
 all kinds of castes here and only one that I belong to, the 
 outcasts.' But he couldn't even smile at his small joke, 
 although he was obUged to confess that he had a rather good 
 opinion of it. He was feeling so defeated and miserable by 
 this time that he could no longer look with philosophical 
 complacency on the horseplay of the young fellows in the 
 upper rooms at night. At first it had been pleasant to see 
 them unbend and have a good time after having so well 
 earned it by the labours of the day, but now it all rasped 
 upon his feelings and his dignity. He lost patience with 
 the spectacle. When they were feeling good, they shouted, 
 they scuffled, they sang songs, they romped about the place 
 
THB AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 lie 
 
 •I 
 
 or 
 
 i— m 
 will 
 
 like oattle, and they generally wound up with a pillow fight, 
 in which they banged each other over the head, and threw 
 the pillows in all directions, and every now and then he got 
 a buffet himself ; and they were always inviting him to join 
 in. They called him * Johnny Bull,' and invited him with 
 excessive familiarity to take a hand. At first he had 
 endured all this with good nature, but latterly he had shown 
 by his manner that it was distinctly distasteful to him, and 
 very soon he saw a change in the manner of these young 
 people toward him. They were souring on him, as they 
 would have expressed it in their language. He had never 
 been what might be called popular. That was hardly the 
 phrase for it ; he had merely been liked, but now dislike for 
 him was growing. His case was not helped by the fact 
 that he was out of luck, couldn't get work, didn't belong to 
 a Union, and couldn't gain admission to one. He got a good 
 many sUghts of that small ill-defined sort that you can't 
 quite put your finger on, and it was manifest that there was 
 only one thing which protected him from open insult, and 
 that was his muscle. These young people had seen him 
 exercising, mornings, after his cold sponge bath, and they 
 had perceived by his performance and the build of his body 
 that he was athletic, and also versed in boxing. He felt 
 pretty naked now, recognising that he was shorn of all 
 respect except respect for his fists. One night when he 
 entered his room he found about a dozen of the young 
 fellows there carrying on a very lively conversation 
 punctuated with horse-laughter. The talking ceased 
 instantly, and the frank affront of a dead silence followed. 
 He said, 
 
 ' Good evening, gentlemen,' and sat down. 
 
 There was no response. He flushed to the temples but 
 
120 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 
 forced himself to maintain silence. He sat there in this 
 imcomfortable stillness some time, then got up and went 
 out. 
 
 The moment he had disappeared he heard a prodigious 
 shout of laughter break forth. He saw that their plain 
 purpose had been to insult him. He ascended to the flat 
 roof, hoping to be able to cool down his spirit there and get 
 back his tranquillity. He found the young tinner up there, 
 alone and brooding, and entered into conversation with 
 him. They were pretty fairly matched, now, in unpopularity 
 and general ill-luck and misery, and they had no trouble in 
 meeting upon this common ground with advautage and 
 something of comfort to both. But Tracy's movements 
 had been watched, and in a few minutes the tormentors 
 came straggling one after another to the roof, where they 
 began to stroll up and down in an apparently purposeless 
 way. But presently they fell to dropping remarks that 
 were evidently aimed at Tracy, and some of them at the 
 tinner. The ringleader of this little mob was a short-haired 
 bully and amateur prize-fighter named Allen, who was 
 accustomed to lording it over the upper floor, and had more 
 than once shown a disposition to make trouble with Tracy. 
 Now there was an occasional cat-call, and hootings, and 
 whistlings, and finally the diversion of an exchange of con- 
 nected remarks was introduced : 
 
 ' How many does it take to make a pair ? ' 
 
 * Well, two generally makes a pair, but sometimes there 
 ain't stuff enough in them to make a whole pair.' General 
 laugh. 
 
 *What were you saying about the English a while 
 ago?' 
 
 * Oh, nothing, the English are all right, only — I — ^.' 
 
 (i 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 121 
 
 * What was it you said about them ? ' 
 ' Oh, I only said they swallow well/ 
 
 ' Swallow better than other people ? ' 
 
 * Oh, yes, the English swallow a good deal better than 
 other people.' 
 
 * What is it they swallow best ? * 
 
 * Oh, insults.' Another general laugh. 
 
 * Pretty hard to make 'em fight, ain't it ? ' 
 
 * No, tain't hard to make 'em fight.' 
 
 * Ain't it, really ? ' 
 
 ' No, tain't hard. It's impossible.' Another laugh. 
 
 * This one's kind of spiritless, that's certain.' 
 
 * CmLdvCt be the other way — in his case.' 
 'Why?' 
 
 * Don't you know the secret of his birth ? * 
 
 * No ! has he got a secret of his birth ? ' 
 
 * You bet he has.' 
 
 * What is it?' 
 
 * His father was a wax-figger.' 
 
 Allen came strolling by where the pair were sitting ; 
 stopped, and said to the tinner : 
 
 ' How are you off for friends, these days ? * 
 
 * Well enough off.' 
 *Got a good many?* 
 
 ' Well, as many as I need.* 
 
 ' A friend is valuable, sometimes — as a protector, you 
 know. What do you reckon would happen if I was to 
 snatch your cap off and slap you in the face with it ? ' 
 
 ' Please don't trouble me, Mr. Allen, I ain't doing any- 
 thing to you.* 
 
 * You answer me ! What do you reckon would 
 happen ? * 
 
122 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 • Well, I don't know.' 
 
 Tracy spoke up with a good deal of deliberation and 
 said, 
 
 ' Don't trouble the young fellow, I can tell you what 
 would happen.' 
 
 ' Oh, you can, can you ? Boys, Johnny Bull can tell us 
 what would happen if I was to snatch this chump's cap off 
 and slap him in the face with it. Now you'll see.* 
 
 He snatched the cap and struck the youth in the face, 
 and before he could inquire what was going to happen, it 
 had already happened, and he was warming the tin with 
 the broad of his back. Instantly there was a rush, and 
 shouts of ' A ring, a ring, make a ring ! Fair play all 
 round ) Johnny's grit ; give him a chance.' 
 
 The ring was qnickly chalked on the tin, and Tracy 
 found himself as eager to begin as he could have been if 
 his antagonist had been a prince instead of a mechanic. 
 At bottom he was a little surprised at this, because 
 although his theories had been all in that direction for 
 some time, he was not prepared to find himself actually eager 
 to measure strength with quite so common a man as this 
 ruffian. In a moment all the windows in the neighbour- 
 hood were filled with people, and the roofs also. The men 
 squared off, and the fight began. But Allen stood no 
 chance whatever against the young Englishman. Neither 
 in muscle nor in science was he his equal. He measured 
 his length on the tin time and again ; in fact, as fast as he 
 could get up he went down again, and the applause was kept 
 up in liberal fashion from all the neighbourhood around. 
 Finally, Allen had to be helped up. Then Tracy declined 
 to punish him further and the fight was at an end. Allen 
 was carried off by some of his friends in a very much 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 128 
 
 and 
 
 hnmbled condition, his face black and blue and bleeding, 
 and Tracy was at once surrounded by the young fellows, 
 who congratulated him, and told him that he had done the 
 whole house a service, and that from this out Mr. Allen would 
 be a httle more particular 
 about how he handled 
 slights and insults and 
 maltreatment around 
 amongst the boarders. 
 
 Tracy was a hero now, 
 and exceedingly popular. 
 Perhaps nobody had ever 
 been quite so popular on 
 that upper floor before. 
 But if being discounte- 
 nanced by these young 
 fellows had been hard to 
 bear, their lavish com- 
 mendations and approval 
 and hero-worship were 
 harder still to endure. 
 He felt degraded, but he 
 did not allow himself to 
 analyse the reasons why, too closely. He was content to 
 satisfy himself with the suggestion that he looked upon him- 
 self as degraded by the public spectacle which he had made 
 of himself, fighting on a tin roof, for the delectation of every- 
 body a block or two around. But he wasn't entirely satis- 
 fied with that explanation of it. Once he went a little too 
 far and wrote in his diary that his case was worse than 
 that of the prodigal son. He said the prodigal son merely 
 fed swine, he didn't have to chum with them. But he 
 
 HE MEASURED BIS LENGTH ON THE TIN. 
 
1.14 
 
 THE AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 stri'.ck that out, and said, * All men are equal. I will not 
 disown my principles. These men are as good as I am.' 
 
 Tracy was become popular on the lower floors also. 
 Everybody was grateful for Allen's reduction to the ranks, 
 and for his transformation from a doer of outrages to a 
 mere threatener of them. The young girls, of whom there 
 were half a dozen, showed many attentions to Tracy, par- 
 ticularly that boarding-house pet Hattie, the landlady's 
 daughter. She said to him, very sweetly — 
 
 * I think you're ever so nice.' And when he said, * I'm 
 glad you think so, Miss Hattie,' she said, still more 
 sweetly — 
 
 * Don't call me Miss Hattie — call me Puss.' 
 
 Ah, here was promotion ! He had struck the summit. 
 There were no higher heights to climb in that boarding- 
 house. His popularity was complete. 
 
 In the presence of people Tracy showed a tranquil out- 
 side, but his heart was being eaten out of him by distress 
 and despair. 
 
 In a little while he should be out of money, and then 
 what should he do? He wished, now, that he had 
 borrowed a little more liberally from that stranger's store. 
 He found it impossible to sleep. A single torturing, terri- 
 fying thought went racking round and round in his head, 
 wearing a groove in his brain : What should he do — What 
 was to become of him? And along with it began to 
 intrude a something presently which was very like a wish 
 that he had not joined the great and noble ranks of 
 martyrdom, but had stayed at home and oeen content to 
 be merely an earl and nothing better, with nothing more to 
 do in this world of a useful sort than an earl finds to do. 
 But he smothered that part of his thought as well as be 
 
 |x». 
 
TEE AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 125 
 
 I'm 
 
 I 
 
 could ; he made every effort to drive it away, and with fair 
 success, but he couldn'b keep it from intruding a little now 
 and then, and when it intruded it came suddenly and 
 nipped him like a bite, a sting, a burn. He recognised that 
 thought by the peculiar sharpness of its pang. The others 
 were painful enough, but that one cut to the quick when it 
 came. Night after night he lay tossing to the music of the 
 hideous snoring of the honest bread-winners until two anpl 
 three o'clock in the morning, then got up and took refuge 
 on the roof, where he sometimes got a nap and sometimes 
 failed entirely. His appetite was leaving him and the zest 
 of life was going along with it. Finally, one day, being 
 near the imminent verge of total discouragement, he said 
 to himself — and took occasion to blush privately when he 
 said it, * If my father knew what my American name is, — 
 he— well, my duty to my father rather requires that I 
 furnish him my name. I have no right to make his days 
 and nights unhappy, I can do enough unhappiness for the 
 family all by myself. Eeally he ought to know what my 
 American name is.' He thought over it a while and framed 
 a cablegram in his mind to this effect : 
 
 ' My American name is Howard Tracy.' 
 
 That wouldn't be suggesting anything. His father 
 could understand that as he chose, and doubtless he would 
 understand it as it was meant, as a dutiful and affectionate 
 desire on the part of a son to make his old father happy 
 for a moment. Continuing his train of thought, Tracy said 
 to himself, ' Ab, but if he should cable me to come home ! 
 I— I— couldn't do that — I mustn't do that. I've started 
 out on a mission, and I mustn't turn my back on it in 
 cowardice. No, no, I couldn't go home, at — at — ^least I 
 sbouldn't want to go home.' After a reflective pause : 
 
126 
 
 TEE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 * Well, maybe — perhaps— it would be my duty to go in the 
 circumstances ; he's very old and he does need me by him 
 to stay his footsteps down the long hill that inclines west- 
 ward toward the sunset of his life. Well, I'll think about 
 that. Yes, of course it wouldn't be right to stay here. I 
 — if I — well, perhaps I could just drop him a line and put 
 it off a little while and satisfy him in that way. Tt would 
 be — well, it would mar everything to have him require me 
 to come instantly.' Another reflective pause — then : * And 
 yet if he should do that I don't know but- -oh, dear me 
 — home ! how good it sounds ! and a body is excusable 
 for wanting to see his home again, now and then, any- 
 way.' 
 
 He went to one of the telegraph offices in the avenue 
 and got the first end of what Barrow called the 'usual 
 Washington courtesy,' where * they treat you as a tramp 
 until they find out you're a congressman, and then they 
 slobber all over you.' There was a boy of seventeen on 
 duty there, tying his shoe. He had his foot on a chair and 
 his back turned towards the wicket. He glanced over his 
 shoulder, took Tracy's measure, turned back, and went on 
 tying his shoe. Tracy finished writing his telegram and 
 waited, still waited, and still waited, for that performance 
 to finish, but there didn't seem to be any finisn to it ; so 
 finally Tracy said — 
 
 * Can't you take my telegram ? ' 
 
 The youth looked over his shoulder and said, by his 
 manner, not his words — 
 
 'Don't you think you could wait a minute, if you 
 tried ? ' 
 
 However, he got the shoe tied at last, and came and 
 took the telegram, glanced over it, then looked up sur* 
 
THE AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 127 
 
 prised at Tracy. There was something in his look that 
 bordered upon respect, almost reverence, it seemed to 
 Tracy, although he had been so long without anything of 
 this kind he was not sure that he knew the signs of it. 
 
 The boy read the address aloud, with pleased expression 
 in face and voice. 
 
 * The Earl of Rossmore ! Cracky ! Do you know 
 him?' 
 
 «Yes.' 
 
 * Is that so ! Does he know you ? * 
 'Well— yes.' 
 
 * Well, I swear ! Will he answer you ? * 
 
 * I think he will.' 
 
 * Will he though ? Where'U you have it sent ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, nowhere. Yu call here and get it. When shall 
 IcaU?' 
 
 * Oh, I don't know— I'll send it to you. Where shall I 
 send it ? Give me your address ; I'll send it to you soon's 
 it comes.' 
 
 But Tracy didn't propose to do this. He had acquired 
 the boy's admiration and deferential respect, and he wasn't 
 willing to throw these precious things away, a result sure 
 to follow if he should give the address of that boarding- 
 house. So he said again that he would call and get the 
 telegram, and went his way. 
 
 He idled along, reflecting. He said to himself, * There 
 u something pleasant about bemg respected. I have ac- 
 quired the respect of Mr. Allen and some of those others, 
 and almost the deference of some of them on pure merit, 
 for having thrashed Allen. While their respect and their 
 deference — if it is deference — is pleasant, a deference based 
 upon a sham, a shadow, does really seem pleasanter still. 
 
128 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 It's no real merit to be in correspondence with an earl, and 
 yet, after all, that boy makes me feel as if there was.' 
 
 The cablegram was actually gone home ! The thought 
 of it gave him an immense uplift. He walked with a 
 Ughter tread. His heart was full of happiness. He threw 
 aside all hesitances and confessed to himself that he was 
 glad through and through that he was going to give up this 
 experiment and go back to his home again. His eagerness 
 to get his father's answer began to grow, now, and it grew 
 with marvellous celerity, after it began. He waited an 
 hour, walking about, putting in his time as well as ho could, 
 but interested in nothing that came under his eye, and at 
 last he presented himself at the office again and asked if 
 any answer had come yet. The boy said — 
 
 * No, no answer yet,' then glanced at the clock and 
 added, ' I don't think it's likely you'll get one to-day.* 
 
 'Why not?' 
 
 *Well, you see it's getting pretty late. You can't 
 always tell where 'bouts a man is when he's on the other side, 
 and you can't always find him just the minute you want 
 him, and you see it's getting about six o'clock now, and over 
 there it's pretty late at night.' 
 
 * Why, yes,' said Tracy, * I hadn't thought of that.' 
 
 * Yes, pretty late, now, half-past ten or eleven. Oh yes 
 you probably won't get any answer to-night.' 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 129 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 So Tracy went home to supper. The odours in that supper 
 room seemed more strenuous and more horrible than ever 
 before, and he was happy in the thought that he was so soon 
 to be free from them again. When the supper was over he 
 hardly knew whether he had eaten any of it or not, and he 
 certainly hadn't heard any of the conversation. His heart 
 had been dancing all the time, his thoughts had been far 
 away from these things, and in the visions of his mind the 
 sumptuous appointments of his father's castle had risen 
 before him without rebuke. Even the plushed flunkey, 
 that walking symbol of a sham inequality, had not been 
 unpleasant to his dreaming view. After the meal Barrow 
 said — 
 
 ' Come with me. I'll give you a jolly evening/ 
 
 * Very good. Where are you going ? ' 
 
 * To my club.' 
 
 * What club is that?' 
 
 * Mechanics' Debating Club.' 
 
 Tracy shuddered, slightly. He didn't say anything about 
 having visited that place hhnself. Somehow he didn't quite 
 relish the memory of that time. The sentiments which had 
 made his former visit there so enjoyable, and filled him with 
 such enthusiasm, had undergone a gradual change, and they 
 had rotted away to such a degree that he couldn't contem- 
 plate another visit there with anything strongly resembling 
 delight. In fact he was a little ashamed to go ; he didn't 
 want to go there and find out by the rude impact of the 
 thought of those people upon his reorganised condition of 
 
 K 
 
180 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 mind, how sharp the change had been. He would have 
 preferred to stay away. He expected that now he should 
 hear nothing except sentiments which would be a reproach 
 to him in his changed mental attitude, and he rather wished 
 
 an TBOVOHTS bja bsbm vab awat ntox tbibb thutob. 
 
 he might be excused. And yet he didn't quite want to say 
 that, he didn't want to show how he did feel, or show any 
 disinolinatipn to go, and so he forced himself to go along 
 
 I 
 
THE AMBBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 181 
 
 with Barrow, privately purposing to take an early oppor- 
 tunity to get away. 
 
 After the essayist of the evening had read his paper, the 
 chairman announced that the debate would now be upon 
 the subject of the previous meeting, ' The American Press.' 
 It saddened the backsliding disciple to hear this announce- 
 ment. It brought up too many reminiscences. He wished 
 he had happened upon some other subject. But the debate 
 began, and he sat still and listened. 
 
 In the course of the discussion one of the speakers—a 
 blacksmith named Tompkins — arraigned all monarchs and 
 all lords in the earth for their cold selfishness in retaining 
 their unearned dignities. He said that no monarch and no 
 son of a monarch, no lord and no son of a lord ought to be 
 able to look his fellow-man in the face without shame. 
 Shame for consenting to keep his unearned titles, property, 
 and privileges at the expense of other people ; shame for 
 coLsenting to remain, on any terms, in dishonourable pos- 
 session of these things, which represented bygone robberies 
 and wrongs inflicted upon the general people of the nation. 
 He said, 'if there were a lord or the son of a lord here, I 
 would like to reason with him, and try to show him how 
 unfair and how selfish his position is I would try to per- 
 suade him to relinquish it, take his place among men on 
 equal terms, earn the bread he eats, and hold of slight value 
 all deference paid him because of artificial position, all re- 
 verence not the just due of his own personal merits.* 
 
 Traoy seemed to be listening to utterances of his own 
 made in talks with his radical Mends in England. It was 
 ai if some eavesdropping phonograph had treasured up his 
 words and brought them across the Atlantic to accuse him 
 with ibem in the hour of his defection and retreat. Every 
 
 I 2 
 
IM 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 word spoken by this stranger seemed to leave a blister on 
 Tracy's consciencOi and by the time the speech was finished 
 he felt that he was all conscience and one blister. This 
 man's deep compassion for the enslaved and oppressed 
 millions in Europe who had to bear with the contempt of 
 that small class above them, throned upon shining heights 
 whose paths were shut against them, was the very thing he 
 had often uttered himself. The pity in this man's voice 
 and words was the very twin of the pity that used to reside 
 in his own heart and come from his own lips when he 
 thought of these oppressed peoples. 
 
 The homeward tramp was accomplished in brooding 
 silence. It was a silence most grateful to Tracy's feelings. 
 He wouldn't have broken it for anything; for he was 
 ashamed of himself all the way through to his spine. He 
 kept saying to himself : 
 
 * How unanswerable it all is — how absolutely unanswer- 
 able I It is basely, degradingly selfish to keep those un- 
 earned honours, and— and — oh, hang it, nobody but a 
 cur ' 
 
 * "Vv hat an idiotic damned speech that Tompkins made ! ' 
 This outburst was from Barrow. It flooded Tracy's 
 
 demoralised soul with waters of refreshment. These were 
 the darlingest words the poor vacillating young apostate 
 had ever heard — for they whitewashed his shame for him, 
 and that is a good service to have when you can't get the 
 best of all verdicts, self-acquittal. 
 
 < Come up to my room and smoke a pipe, Tracy.* 
 
 Tracy had been expecting this invitation, and had had 
 
 his declination all ready: but he was glad enough to accept, 
 
 now. Was it possible that a reasonable argument could 
 
 be made against that man's desolating speech? He was 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 188 
 
 burning to hear Barrow try it. He knew how to start him, 
 and keep him going : it was to seem to combat his positions 
 — a process effective with most people. 
 
 *What is it yon object to in Tompkins's speech, 
 Barrow ? * 
 
 ' Oh, the leaving out of the factor of human nature ; 
 requiring another man to do what you wouldn't do your- 
 self.' 
 
 * Do you mean * 
 
 ' Why here's what I mean ; it's very simple. Tompkins 
 is a blacksmith ; has a family ; works for wages ; and hard, 
 too — fooling around won't furnish the bread. Suppose it 
 should turn out that by the death of somebody in England 
 he is suddenly an earl — income, half a million dollars a 
 year. What would he do ? ' 
 
 * Well, I— I suppose he would have to decline to * 
 
 ' Man, he would grab it in a second ! ' 
 
 * Do you really think he would ? ' 
 
 * Think ? — I don't think anything about it, I know it.' 
 *Why?' 
 
 ' Why ? Because he's not a fool.* 
 
 * So you think that if he were a fool, he * 
 
 ' No, I don't. Fool or no fool he would grab it. Any- 
 body would. Anybody that's alive. And I've seen dead 
 people that would get up and go for it. I would myself.' 
 
 This was balm, this was healing, this was rest and peace 
 and comfort. 
 
 * But I thought you were opposed to nobilities.' 
 'Transmissible ones, yes. But that's nothing. I'm 
 
 opposed to millionaires, but it would be dangerous to offer 
 me the position.' 
 
 * You'd take it?' 
 
184 
 
 THB AMMBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 * I would leave the funeral of my dearest enemy to go 
 and assume its burdens and responsibilities.* 
 
 Tracy thought a while, then said — 
 
 'I don't know that I quite get the bearings of your 
 position. You say you are opposed to hereditary nobilities, 
 and yet if you had the chance you would ' 
 
 • rooL OB NO rooL, hb would OBAB IX.' 
 
 " Take (me ? In a minute I would. And there isn't a 
 mechanic in that entire club that wouldn't. There isn't a 
 lawyer, doctor, editor, author, tinker, loafer, raiboad 
 president, saint—land, there isn't a human hdng in the 
 United States that wouldn't jump at the chance I ' 
 
 [ Except me,' said Tracy softly. 
 
 *Bzcept your Barrow could hardly get the words 
 
THE AMBBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 IM 
 
 ont, his Boorn so choked him. And he couldn't get any 
 further than that form of words ; it seemed to dam his flow, 
 utterly. He got up and came and glared upon Tracy in a 
 kind of outraged and unappeasable way, and said again, 
 ' Except you ! ' He walked around him — inspecting him 
 from one point of ^iew and then another, and relieving his 
 soul now and then by exploding that formula at him: 
 'Except youl* Finally he slumped down into his chair 
 with the air of one who gives it up, and said — 
 
 ' He's straining his viscera and he's breaking his heart 
 trying to get some low-down job that a good dog wouldn't 
 have, and yet wants to let on that if he had a chance to 
 scoop an earldom he wouldn't do it. Tracy, don't put this 
 kind of a strain on me. Lately I'm not as strong as I 
 was.' 
 
 ' Well, I wasn't meaning to put a strain on you, Bar- 
 row, I was only meaning to intimate that if an earldom 
 ever does fall in my way ' 
 
 * There — I wouldn't give myself any worry about that, 
 if I was you. And besides, I can settle what you would do. 
 Are you any different from me ? ' 
 
 * Well— no.' 
 
 * Are you any better than me ? ' 
 
 * — er — why, certainly not.' 
 
 * Are you as good ? Gome ! ' 
 
 * Indeed, I— the fact is, you take me so suddenly, * 
 
 ' Suddenly ? What is there sudden about it 9 It isn't 
 a difficult question, is it ? Or doubtful 7 Just measure us 
 on the only fair lines — the lines of merit — and of course 
 you'll admit that a journeyman chair-maker that earns his 
 twenty dollars a week, and has had the good and genuine 
 culture of contact with men, and care, and hardship, and 
 
186 
 
 TES AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 failure, and buoogbb, and downs and upsand ups and downs, 
 is just a trifle the superior of a young fellow like you, who 
 doesn't know how to do anything that's valuable, can't 
 earn his living in any secure and steady way, hasn't had 
 any experience of life and its seriousness, hasn't any 
 culture but the artificial culture of books, which adorns but 
 doesn't really educate— come ! if I wouldn't scorn an earl- 
 dom, what the devil right have you to do it ?' 
 
 Tracy dissembled his joy, though he wanted to thank 
 the chair-maker for that last remark. Presently a thought 
 struck him, and he spoke up briskly and said : 
 
 ' But look here, I really can't quite get the hang of 
 your notions — ^your principles, if they are principles. You 
 are inconsistent. You are opposed to aristocracies, yet 
 you'd take an earldom if you could. Am I to understand 
 that you don't blame an earl for being and remaining an 
 earl?' 
 
 ' I certainly don't.' 
 
 'And you wouldn't blame Tompkins, or yourself, oi- 
 me, or anybody, for accepting an earldom if it was ofifered ? ' 
 
 ' Indeed I wouldn't.' 
 
 * Well, then, who wovM you blame ? ' 
 
 ' The whole :aation — any bulk and mass of population 
 anywhere, in any country, that will put up with the infamy, 
 the outrage, the insult of an hereditary aristocracy which 
 they can't enter — and on absolutely free and equal terms.' 
 
 * CJome, aren't you beclouding yourself with distinctions 
 that are not differences ? ' 
 
 'Indeed I am not. I am entirely clear-headed about 
 this thing. If I could extirpate an aristocratic system by 
 declining its honours, then I should be a rascal to accept 
 them. And if enough of the mass would join me to make 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 187 
 
 )Wn8, 
 , who 
 can't 
 I had 
 any 
 18 hut 
 earl- 
 thank 
 lought 
 
 ing of 
 , You 
 BB, yet 
 irstand 
 ling an 
 
 the extirpation possible, then I should be a rascal to do 
 otherwise than help in the attempt.' 
 
 *l believe I understand— yes, I think I get the idea. 
 Ton have no blame for the lucky few who naturally decline 
 to vacate the pleasant nest they were born into, you only 
 despise the all-powerful and stupid mass of the nation for 
 allowing the nest to exist.' 
 
 'That's it, that's it! You can get a simple thing 
 through your head if yon work at it long enough.' 
 
 •Thanks.' 
 
 •Don't mention it. And I'll give you some sound 
 advice : when you go back, if you find your nation up and 
 ready to abolish that hoary afi&ont, lend a hand; but 
 if that isn't the state of things and you get a chance at an 
 earldom, don't you be a fool — you take it.' 
 
 Tracy responded with earnestness and enthusiasm — 
 
 « As I live, I'll do it I ' 
 
 Barrow laughed. 
 
 •I never saw such a fellow. I begin to think you'/e 
 got a good deal of imagination. With you, the idlest fancy 
 freezes into a reality at a breath. Wliy, you looked, then, 
 as if it wouldn't astonish you if you did tumble into an 
 earldom.' Tracy blushed. Barrow added: 'Earldom! 
 Oh yes, take it, if it offers ; but meantime we'll go on 
 looking around, in a modest way, and if you get a chance to 
 superintend a sausage-stuffei at six or eight dollars a week, 
 yon just trade off the earldom ^ a last year's ahnanac and 
 stick to the Bausage-stuffing. 
 
 )d about 
 stem by 
 io accept 
 to make 
 
188 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 Tbaoy went to bed happy once more, at rest in his mind 
 once more. He had started out on a high emprise — that 
 was to his credit, he argued ; he had fought the best fight 
 he could, considering l^e odds against him — that was to 
 his credit; he had been defeated — certainly there was 
 nothing discreditable in that. Being defeated, he had 
 a right to retire with the honours of war and go back with- 
 out prejudice to the position in the world's society to which 
 he had been bom. Why not ? even the rabid republican 
 chair-maker would do that. Tes, his conscience was com- 
 fortable once more. 
 
 He woke re&eshed, happy, and eager for his cable- 
 gram. He had been bom an aristocrat, he had been a 
 democrat for a time, he was now an aristocrat again. He 
 marvelled to £nd that this final change was not merely in- 
 tellectual, it had invaded his feeling ; and he also marvelled 
 to note that this feeling seemed a good deal less artificial 
 than any he had entertained in his system for a long time. 
 He could also have noted, if he had thought of it, that his 
 bearing had stiffened, over night, that his chin had lifted 
 itself a shade. Arrived in the basement, he was about to 
 enter the breakfast-room when he saw old Marsh in the 
 dim Ught of a corner of the hall, beckoning him with his 
 finger to approach. The blood welled slowly up in Tracy's 
 cheek, and he said with a grade of injured dignity aUnost 
 ducal — 
 
 'Is that forme?' 
 
 * Yes.' 
 
 ' What is the purpose of it ? * 
 
 (I 
 
TBE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 189 
 
 * I want to speak to you — ^in private.' - 
 
 * This spot is private enough for me.' 
 
 Marsh was surprised; and not particularly pleased. 
 He approached and said — 
 
 * Oh, in public, then, if you prefer. Though it hasn't 
 been my way.' 
 
 The boarders 
 gathered to thei 
 spot, interested. 
 
 * Speak out,' I 
 said Tracy. *What| 
 is it you want ? ' 
 
 'Well, haven't I 
 you — er — forgot | 
 something ? ' 
 
 * I ? I'm not aware of it.' 
 
 * Oh, you're not ? Now you 
 stop and think, a minute.' 
 
 * I refuse to stop and think. 
 It doesn't interest me. If it 
 interests you, speak out.' 
 
 'Well, then,' said Marsh, 
 raising his voice to a slightly 
 angry pitch, 'you forgot to 
 pay your board yesterday — if you're hownd to have it 
 public' 
 
 Oh yes, this heir to an annual million or so had been 
 dreaming and soaring, and had forgotten that pitiful three 
 or four dollars. For penalty he must have it coarsely 
 flung in his face in the presence of these people — people in 
 whose countenances was abeady beginning to dawn an 
 uncharitable enjoyment of the situation. 
 
 BE SAW OLD natsn 
 
 BEOKOmiTa HIM. 
 
140 
 
 TEE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 * Is that all ? Take your money and give your terrors a 
 rest.* 
 
 Tracy's hand went down into his pocket with angry 
 decision. But — it didn't come out. The colour began to 
 ebb out of his face. The countenances about him showed 
 a growing interest ; and some of them a heightened satis- 
 faction. There was an uncomfortable pause — then he 
 
 forced out, with difficulty, 
 the words — 
 
 * I've— been robbed ! ' 
 Old Marsh's eyes flamed 
 up with Spanish fire, and 
 he exclaimed — 
 
 ' Bobbed, is it ? That's 
 your tune ? It's too old — 
 been played in this house 
 too often ; everybody plays 
 it that can't get work 
 when he wants it, and 
 won't work when he can get 
 it. Trot out Mr. Allen, 
 somebody, and let him 
 take a toot at it. It's 
 hi» turn next, h$ forgot, 
 too, last night. I'm laying for him.' 
 
 One of the negro women came scrambling down 
 stairs as pale as a sorrel horse with consternation and 
 excitement : 
 
 ' Misto Marsh, Misto Allen's skipped out t ' 
 « What ! ' 
 
 'Yes-sah, and cleaned out his room cUAn\ tuck bofe 
 towels en de soap ! ' 
 
 ONE or TUB NEOKO vuMEM. 
 
THE AMBBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 141 
 
 * You lie, you hussy ! ' 
 
 *It's jes' S0| jes' as I tells you — en Misto Sumner's 
 socks is gone, en Misto Naylor's yuther shirt/ 
 
 Mr. Marsh was at boiling-point by this time. He 
 turned upon Tracy — 
 
 * Answer up now — when are you going to settle ? * 
 
 * To-day — since you seem to be in a hurry.' 
 
 * To-day, is it? Sunday — and you out of work? I 
 like that. Gome — where are you going to get the money ? ' 
 
 Tip< ''r spirit was rising again. He proposed to impress 
 these I. ie : 
 
 * I am expecting a cablegram from home. 
 
 Old Marsh was caught out, with the surprise of it. The 
 idea was so immense, so extravagant, that he couldn't get 
 his breath at first. When he did get it, it came rancid with 
 sarcasm. 
 
 ' A cablegram — think of it, ladies and gents, he's expect- 
 ing a cablegram I He*8 expecting a cablegram — this duffer, 
 this scrub, this bilk! From his father — eh? Yes — 
 without a doubt. A dollar or two a word — oh, that's 
 nothing — they don't mind a little thing like that — thU kind's 
 fathers don't. Now his father is— er — well, I reckon his 
 father ' 
 
 * My father is an English earl ! ' 
 
 The crowd fell back aghast — aghast at the sublimity of 
 the young loafer's * cheek.' Then they burst into a laugh 
 that made the windows rattle. Tracy was too angry to 
 realise that he had done a foolish thing. He said — 
 
 * Stand aside, please. I ' 
 
 ' Wait a minute, your lordship,' said Marsh, bowing low ; 
 * where is your lordship going ? ' 
 ' For the cablegram. Let me pass,' 
 
142 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 * Excuse me, your lordship, you'll stay right wtiere you 
 are.' 
 
 * What do you mean by that ? * 
 
 * I mean that I didn't begin to keep boarding-house yes- 
 terday. It means that I am not the kind that can be taken 
 in by every hack-driver's son that comes loafing over here 
 because he can't bum a living at home. It means that you 
 
 can't skip out on 
 
 any such ' 
 
 Tracy made 
 a step toward 
 the old man, but 
 Mrs. Marsh 
 sprang between, 
 and said — 
 
 'Don't, Mr. 
 Tracy, please.' 
 She turned to 
 her husband and 
 said, * Do bridle 
 your tongue. 
 What has he 
 done to be treat- 
 ed so ? Can't 
 you see he has 
 
 lost his mind, with trouble and distress? He's not re- 
 
 tponnble.' 
 
 ' Thank your kind heart, madam, but I've not lost my 
 
 mind ; and if I can have the mere privilege of stepping to 
 
 the telegraph-office ' 
 
 ' Well, you oan't/ cried Marsh. 
 *— or sending — ►* 
 
 MRS. MABSB »KAKO BBTWUM. 
 
THB AMBBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 148 
 
 e you 
 
 le yes- 
 I taken 
 t here 
 at you 
 out on 
 
 made 
 toward 
 an, but 
 [arsh 
 etween, 
 
 't, Mr. 
 please.* 
 ned to 
 and and 
 bridle 
 tongue, 
 has he 
 be treat- 
 Can't 
 he has 
 not re- 
 lost my 
 ipping to 
 
 'Sending! That beats everything. If there's any- 
 body that's fool enough to go on suoh a chuckleheaded 
 errand * 
 
 'Here comes Mr. Barrow — ^he will go for me. Bar- 
 row * 
 
 A brisk fire of exclamations broke out — 
 
 ' Say, Barrow, he's expecting a cablegram ! * 
 
 ' Cablegram from his father, you know ! ' 
 
 < Yes— cablegram from the wax-figger ! ' 
 
 ' And say, Barrow, this fellow's an earl—take off your 
 hat, pull down your vest ! ' 
 
 'Yes, he's come off and forgot his crown, that he 
 wears Sundays. He's cabled oyer to his pappy to send 
 it.' 
 
 ' You step out and get that cablegram, Barrow ; his 
 majesty's a little lame to-day.' 
 
 ' Oh, stop,' cried Barrow ; ' give the man a chance.' He 
 turned, and said with some severity, ' Tracy, what's the 
 matter with you ? What kind of foolishness is this you've 
 been talking ? You ought to have more sense.' 
 
 ' I've not been talking foolishness ; and if you'll go to 
 the telegraph-office ' 
 
 < Oh, don't talk so. I'm your friend in trouble and out 
 of it, before your face and behind your back, for anything 
 In rMMon ; but you've lost your head, you see, and this 
 moonshine about a cablegram ' 
 
 ' TKgo there and ask for it ! ' 
 
 ' Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Brady. Here, 
 I'll give you a written order for it. Fly, now, and fetch it. 
 We'll soon see 1 ' 
 
 Brady flew. Immediately the sort of quiet began to 
 •teal over the crowd which means dawning doubt, mis- 
 
144 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 giving ; and might be translated into the words, * Maybe he 
 if expecting a cablegram — maybe he has got a father some- 
 where — maybe we've been just a little too fresh, just a shade 
 too ** previous " 1 ' Loud talk ceased ; then the mutterings 
 and low murmurings and whisperings died out. The crowd 
 began to crumble apart. By ones and twos the fragments 
 
 drifted to the breakfast table. 
 ^m Barrow tried to bring Tracy 
 
 ^^B^k. ^^- 'Not yet, 
 
 Barrow — pre- 
 sently.' 
 
 Mrs. Marsh 
 and Hattie tried, 
 offering gentle 
 and kindly per- 
 suasions; but he 
 said : — 
 
 * I would 
 rather wait — ^till 
 he comes/ 
 
 Even old 
 Marsh began to 
 have suspicions 
 that maybe he 
 had been a trifle too ' brash,' as he called it in the privacy 
 of his soul, and he pulled himself together and started to- 
 ward Tracy with invitation in his eyes ; but Tracy warned 
 him off with a gesture which was quite positive and elo- 
 quent. Then followed the stillest quarter of an hour which 
 had ever been known in that house at that time of day. It 
 was so still, and so solemn withal, that when somebody's 
 
 ' I WOULD RiTBIB WAIT.' 
 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 140 
 
 cup slipped from his fingers and landed in his plate the 
 shock made people start, and the sharp sound seemed as in- 
 decorous there and as out of place as if a coffin and mourn- 
 ers were imminent and being waited for. And at last when 
 Brady's feet came 
 clattering down the 
 stairs the sacrilege 
 seemed unbearable. 
 Everybody rose 
 softly and turned 
 toward the door, 
 where stood Tracy ; 
 then with a com- 
 mon impulse 
 moved a step or 
 two in that direc- 
 tion, and stopped. 
 While they gazed, 
 young Brady ar- 
 rived, panting, and 
 put into Tracy's 
 hand — sure 
 enough — an enve- 
 lope. Tracy fas- 
 tened a bland, vic- 
 torious eye upon 
 the gazers, and 
 kept it there till one by one they dropped theur eyes, van- 
 quished and embarrassed. Then he tore open the telegram 
 and glanced at its message. The yellow paper fell from his 
 fingers and fluttered to the floor, and his face turned white. 
 
 There was nothing there but one word — 
 
 L 
 
 THB YELLOW PAPBB FBLL rSOM HI8 VIMOBBa. 
 
146 THE AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 * Thanks: 
 
 The humorist of the house, the tall, raw-boned Billy 
 Nash, calker from the navy yard, was standing in the rear 
 of the crowd. In the midst of the pathetic silence that was 
 now brooding over the place and moving some few hearts 
 there toward compassion, he began to whimper, then he put 
 his handkerchief to his eyes and buried his face in the neck 
 of the bashfuUest young fellow in the company, a navy-yard 
 blacksmith, shrieked ' Oh, pappy, how could yoM ! * and began 
 to bawl like a teething baby, if one may imagine a baby with 
 the energy and the devastating voice of a jackass. 
 
 So perfect was the imitation of a child's cry, and so vast 
 the scale of it, and so ridiculous the aspect of the performer, 
 that all gravity was swept from the place as if by a hurricane, 
 and almost everybody there joined in the crash of laughter 
 provoked by the exhibition. Then the small mob began to 
 take its revenge— revenge for the discomfort and apprehen- 
 sion it had brought upon itself by its own too rash fresh- 
 ness of a little while before. It guyed its poor victim, 
 baited him, worried him, as dogs do with a cornered cat. 
 The victim answered back with defiances and challenges 
 which included everybody, and which only gave the sport 
 new spirit and variety ; but when he changed bis tactics 
 and began to single out individuals and invite them by name, 
 the fun lost its funniness and the interest of the show died 
 out, along with the noise. 
 
 Finally Marsh was about to take an innings, but Bar- 
 row said— 
 
 'Never mind, now — cleave him alone. You've no 
 account with him but a money account. I'll take care of 
 that myself.' 
 
 The distressed ahd worried landlady gave Barrow a 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 147 
 
 fervenlly grateful look for his championship of the abused 
 stranger ; and the pet of the house, a very prism in her 
 cheap but ravishing Sunday rig, blew him a kiss from the 
 tips of her fingers and said, with the darliiigest smile and a 
 sweet little toss of her head — 
 
 'You're the only man here, and 
 I'm going to set my cap for you, you 
 dear old thing ! ' 
 
 *For shame. Puss! How you 
 talk ! I never saw such a child 1 ' 
 
 It took a good deal of argument 
 and persuasion — that is to say, petting, 
 under these disguises — to get Tracy 
 to entertain the idea of breakfast. 
 He at first said he would never eat 
 again in that house ; and added that 
 he had enough firmness of character, 
 he trusted, to enable him to fitarve like 
 a man when the alternative was to 
 eat insult with his bread. 
 
 When he had finished his break- 
 fast Barrow took him to his room, 
 furnished him a pipe, and said 
 cheerily— 
 
 ' NoWf old fellow, take in your battle-flag out of the wet ; 
 you're not in the hostile camp any more. You're a little 
 upset by your troubles, and that's natural enough, but 
 don't let your mind run on them any more than you can 
 help; drag your thoughts away from your troubles— by 
 the ears, by the heels, or any other way, so you manage 
 it; it's the healthiest thing a body can do; dwelling on 
 troubles is deadly, just deadly — and that's the softest name 
 
 L 2 
 
 *I*U OOINO TO SET Ul 
 CAP FOR YOU.' 
 
140 
 
 THE AMBBIOAN OLAIMAUT 
 
 there is for it. Ton must keep your mind amused^-you 
 must, indeed.' 
 
 * Oh, miserable me I ' 
 
 ' Don*t 1 There's just pure heartbreak in that tone. 
 It's just as I say ; you've got to get right down to it and 
 amuse your mind, as if it was salvation.' 
 
 'They're easy words to say, Barrow, but how am I 
 going to amuse, entertain, divert a mind that finds itself 
 suddenly assaulted and overwhelmed by disasters of a sort 
 not dreamed of and not provided for ? No, no, the bare 
 idea of amusement is repulsive to my feelings. Let us 
 talk of death and funerals.' 
 
 'No — not yet. That would be giving up the ship. 
 We'll not give up the ship yet. I'm going to amuse 
 you; I sent Brady out for the wherewithal before you 
 finished breakfast.' 
 
 'Youdid? Whatisit?* 
 
 * Gome, this is a good sign^ouriosity. Oh, there's hope 
 for you yet.' 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 Bbady arrived with a box, and departed, after saying— 
 
 ' They're finishing one up, but they'll be along at soon 
 as it's done.' 
 
 Barrow took a frameless oil portrait a foot square from 
 the box, set it up in a good light, without comment, and 
 reached for another, taking a furtive glance at Tracy mean- 
 time. The stony solemnity in Tracy's face remained as it 
 was, and gave out no sign of interest. Barrow placed the 
 second portrait beside the first, and stole another glance 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 149 
 
 t»W.(W«4> 
 
 while reaching for a third. The etone image softened, a 
 shade. No. 8 forced the ghost of a smile, No. 4 swept 
 indiflferenoe wholly away, and No. 6 started a laugh which 
 was still in good and 
 hearty condition when 
 No. 14 took its place in 
 the row. 
 
 ' Oh, you*re all right, 
 yet,' said Barrow. *You 
 see you're not past 
 amusement.' 
 
 The pictures were 
 fearful as to colour, and 
 atrocious as to drawing 
 and expression ; hut the 
 feature which squelched 
 animosity and made 
 them funny was a fea- 
 ture which could not achieve its full force in a single picture, 
 but required the wonder-working assistance of repetition. 
 One loudly-dressed mechanic in stately attitude, with his 
 hand on a cannon, ashore, and a ship riding at anchor in 
 the offing, this is merely odd; but when one sees the 
 same cannon and the same ship in fourteen pictures in 
 a row, and a different mechanic standing watch in each, 
 the thing gets to be funny. 
 
 ' Explain — explain these aberrations,' said Tracy. 
 
 ' Well, they are not the achievement of a single intellect, 
 a single talent — it takes two to do these miracles. They 
 are collaborations ; the one artist does the figure, the other 
 the accessories. The figure-artist is a German shoemaker 
 with an untaught passion for art, the other is a simple- 
 
 no. O STARTED A LAHOH. 
 
100 
 
 THE AMSTilOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 hearted old Yankee sailor-man whose possibilities are 
 strictly limited to his ship, his cannon, and his patch of 
 petrified sea. They work these things up from twenty-fiye- 
 cent tintypes ; they get six dollars apiece for them, and they 
 can grind ont a couple a day when they strike what they 
 call a boost — that is, an inspiration.' 
 
 * People actually pay money for these calumnies ? ' 
 
 ' They actually do — and quite willingly, too. And these 
 abortionists could double their trade and work the women 
 in, if Gapt. Saltmarsh could whirl a horse in, or a piano, or 
 a guitar, in place of his cannon. The fact is, he fatigues 
 the market with that cannon. Even ^he male market, I 
 mean. These fourteen in the procession are not all satis- 
 fied. One is an old " independent " fireman, and he wants 
 an engine in place of the cannon ; another is a mate of a 
 tug, and wants a tug in place of the ship— and so on, and 
 so on. But the Captain can't make a tug that is deceptive, 
 and a fire engine is many flights beyond his power.' 
 
 ' This is a most extraordinary form of robbery ; I never 
 have heard of anything like it. It's interesting.' 
 
 * Yes, and so are the artists. They are perfectly honest 
 men, and sincere. And the old sailor-man is full of sound 
 religion, and is as devoted a student of the Bible and mis- 
 quoter of it as you can find anywhere. I don't know a 
 better man or kinder-hearted old soul than Saltmarsh, 
 although he does swear a little sometimes.' 
 
 ' He seems to be perfect. I want to know him, Barrow.' 
 'You'll have the chance. I guess I hear them coming 
 now. We'll draw them out on their art, if you like.' 
 
 The artists arrived and shook hands with great 
 heartiness. The German was forty and a little fleshy, 
 with a shiny bald head and a kindly face and deferential 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAWANT 
 
 Ui 
 
 manner. Capt. Saltmarsh was sixty, tall, ereoi, po'^'Arfully 
 built, with coal-black hair and whiskers, and he ha«. ^ell- 
 tanned complexion, and a gait and countenance that were 
 full of command, confidence, and decision. His horny hands 
 and wrists were covered with tattoo-marks, and when his 
 lips parted, his teeth showed ap white and blemishless. 
 His voice was the effortless deep bass of a church organ, 
 
 and would, disturb the 
 tranquillity of a gas flame 
 fifty yards away. 
 
 * They're wonderful 
 pictures,' said Barrow. 
 
 'We've been ex- 
 amining them/ 
 * It is very 
 bleasaut dot you 
 like dem,' said 
 Handel, the Ger- 
 man, greatly pleased. 
 «Und you, Herr Tracy, 
 you haf peen bleased mit 
 dem too, alretty?' 
 
 * I can honestly say I 
 have never seen anything 
 just like them before.' 
 
 * Schon ! ' cried the German, delighted. * Tou hear, 
 Gaptain. Here is a chentleman, yes, vot abbreciate unser 
 aart.' 
 
 The Captain was charmed, and said — 
 
 ' Well, sir, we're thankful for a compliment yet, though 
 they're not as scarce now as they used to be before we made 
 a reputation.' 
 
 •v^ 
 
 OAPTAm RALTBIARSH AND BROTHRR 
 or THl BRUSH. 
 
162 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 'Getting the reputation is the up-hill time in most 
 things, Captain.' 
 
 * It's so. It ain't enough to know how to reef a gasket, 
 yon got to make the mate know you know it. That's repu- 
 tation. The good word b i at the right time, that's the 
 word that makes us ; and evil be to him that evil thinks, 
 as Isaiah says.' 
 
 'It's ver^ relevant, and hits the point exactly/ said 
 Tracy. 
 
 * Where did you study art. Captain 9 * 
 
 * I haven't studied ; it's a natural gift.' 
 
 *He is born mit dose cannon in him. He tondt haf to 
 do noding, his chenius do all de vork. Of he is asleep, und 
 take a pencil in his hand, out come a cannon. Py crashus, 
 of he could do a clavier, of he could do a guitar, of he could 
 do a vashtub, it is a fortune, heiliger Yohanniss it is yoost 
 a fortune 1 ' 
 
 * Well, it ill an immense pity that the business is hin- 
 dered and limited in this unfortunate way.' 
 
 The Captain grew a trifle excited himself now — 
 
 * You've said it, Mr. Tracy ! Hindered ? well, I should 
 say so. Why, look here. This fellow here. No. 11, he's 
 a hackman — a flourishing hackman, I may say. He 
 wants his hack in this picture. Wants it where the cannon 
 is. I got around that difficulty by telling him the cannon's 
 our trademark, so to speak — proves that the picture's our 
 work, and I was afraid if we left it out people wouldn't 
 know for certain if it was a Saltmarsh-Handel — ^nbw you 
 wouldn't yourself—* 
 
 * What, Captain ? You wrong yourself, indeed you do. 
 Anyone wbo has once seen a genuine Saltmarsh-Handel 
 is safe from imposture for ever. Stri'^ it, flay it, skin it 
 
 c 
 
 8 
 
TEE AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 158 
 
 I 
 
 out of every detail but the bare colour and expression, 
 and that man will still recognise it, still stop to worship * 
 
 *0h, how it makes me feel to hear dose oxpres- 
 Bions I * 
 
 — * still say to himself again as he had said a hundred 
 times before, the art of the Saltmarsh-Handel is an art 
 apart ; there is nothing in the heavens above or in the earth 
 beneath that resembles it * 
 
 * Py chiminy, nur horen Sie einmal ! In my lifeday 
 haf I never heard so brecious worts.' 
 
 * So I talked him out of the hack, Mr. Tracy, and he let 
 up on that, and said put in a hearse^ then — because he's 
 chief mate of a hearse but don't own it — stands a watch 
 for wages, you know. But I can't do a hearse any more 
 than I can a hack; so here we are — becalmed, yon see. 
 And it's the same with women and such. They come and 
 they want a little johnry picture ' 
 
 ' It's the accessories that make it a genre f * 
 
 'Yes — cannon, or cat, or any little thing like that, that 
 you heave in to whoop up the effect. We could do a pro- 
 digious trade with the women if we could foreground the 
 things they like, but they don't give a damn for artillery. 
 Mine's the lack,' continued the Captain with a sigh, 
 * Andy's end of the business is all right — I tell you he*$ an 
 artist from wayback ! ' 
 
 ' Yoost hear dot old man ! He always talk 'poud me 
 like dot,' purred the pleased German. 
 
 ' Look at his work yourself ! Fourteen portraits in a 
 row. And no two of them alike.' 
 
 ' Now that you speak of it, it is true ; I hadn't noticed 
 it before. It is very remarkable — unique, I suppose ? ' 
 
 * I should say so. That's the Vdry thing about Andy — 
 
154 
 
 THE AMEEICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 he discriminatea. Discrimination's the thief of time — forty- 
 ninth Psalm — but that ain't any matter, it's the honest 
 thing, and it pays'in the end.' 
 
 'Yes, he certainly is great in that feature, one is 
 obliged to admit it; but— now mind, I'm not really criti- 
 cising—don't you think he is just a trifle over strong in 
 ^ technique 9 ' 
 
 The Captain's face was 
 knocked expressionless by 
 this remark. It remained 
 quite vacant while he mut- 
 tered to himself — * Technique 
 — technique — poly technique 
 — pyrotechnique ; that's it, 
 likely — fireworks — too much 
 colour.' Then he spoke up 
 with serenity and confidence, 
 and said — 
 
 ' Well, yes, he does pile it 
 on pretty loud ; but they all 
 like it, you know — fact is, it's 
 the life of the business. Take 
 that No. 9, there, Evans the 
 butcher. He drops into the stoodio as sober-coloured as 
 anything you ever see : now look at him. You can't tell 
 him from scarlet fever. Well, it pleases that butcher to 
 death. I'm making a study of a sausage- wreath to hang 
 on the cannon, and I don't really reckon I can do it right ; 
 but if I can, we can break the butcher.' 
 
 * Unquestionably your confederate — I mean your — your 
 fellow-craftsman— is a great colourist * 
 
 * Oh, dank eschon 1 ' 
 
 DnCRimNATION'S THE TBIXF 
 OF TIMB.' 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 166 
 
 — * in fact a quite extraordinary colourist ; a colourist, 
 I make bold to say, without imitator here or abroad, and 
 with a most bold and effective touch, a touch like a batter- 
 ing-ram ; and a manner so peculiar and romantic, and 
 extraneous, and ad libitum, and heart-searching, that — 
 that — he — he is an impressionist, I presume ? ' 
 
 * No,' said the Captain simply, ' he is a Presbyterian.' 
 'It accounts for it all — all — there's something divine 
 
 about his art—soulful, unsatisft.ctory, yearning, dim- 
 hearkening on the void horizon, vague murmuring to the 
 spirit out of ultramarine distances and far-sounding cata* 
 clysms of uncreated space — oh, if he— if he — has he ever 
 tried distemper ? ' 
 
 The Captain answered up with energy 
 
 ' Not if he knows himself ! But his dog has, and ' 
 
 * Oh no, it vas not my dog.' 
 
 * Why, you said it was your dog.* 
 
 * Oh no, Gaptain, I ' 
 
 ' It was a white dog, wasn't it ? with his tail docked, and 
 one ear gone, and ' 
 
 * Dot's him, dot's him ! — der fery dog. Wy, py Ohorge, 
 dot dog he vould eat baint yoost de same like * 
 
 . * Well, never mind that, now — 'vast heaving — I never 
 saw Buch a man. You start him on that dog and he'll dis- 
 pute a year. Blamed if I haven't seen him keep it up a 
 level two hours and a half.' 
 
 * Why, Captain ! ' said Barrow. * I guess that must be 
 hearsay.' 
 
 * No, sir, DO hearsay about it— he disputed with me.' 
 
 * I don't see how you stood it.' 
 
 * Oh, you've got to— if you run with Andy. But it's 
 the only fault he's got.' 
 
166 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 * Ain't you afraid of acquiring it ? ' 
 
 <0h no,* said the Captain tranquilly, 'no danger of 
 that, I reckon.' 
 
 The artists presently took their leave. Then Barrow 
 put his hands on Tracy's shoulders and said — 
 
 * Look me in the eye, my hoy. Steady, steady. There 
 
 — it's just as I thought — 
 hoped, anyway; you're all 
 right, thank goodness. No- 
 thing the matter with your 
 mind. But don't do that 
 again — even for fun. It isn't 
 wise. They wouldn't have 
 believed you if you'd been an 
 earl's son. Why, they covMn't 
 — don't you know that? 
 What ever possessed you to 
 take such a freak ? But never 
 mind about that; let's not 
 talk of it. It was a mii^take ; 
 you see that yourself.' 
 
 ' Yes— it was a mistake.' 
 
 * Well, just drop it out of 
 
 your mind ; it's no harm ; we 
 
 all make them. Pull your 
 
 courage together, and don't 
 
 brood, and don't give up. I'm at your back, and we'll pull 
 
 through, don't you be afraid.' 
 
 When he was gone Barrow walked the floor a good while, 
 uneasy in his mind. He said to himself, * I'm troubled 
 about him. He never would have made a break like that 
 if he hadn't been a little off his balance. But I know what 
 
 'LOOK UB nx THE EYE, UY BOT.' 
 
TBB JLMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 157 
 
 being out of work and no prospect ahead can do for a man. 
 First it knocks the pluck out of him and drags his pride in 
 the dirt ; worry does the rest, and his mind gets shaky. I 
 must talk to these people. No — if there's any humanity in 
 them — and there is, at bottom — they'll be easier on him if 
 they think his troubles have disturbed his reason. But I've 
 got to find him some work ; work's the only medicine for 
 his disease. Poor devil t away off here, and not a friend.' 
 
 CHAPTEE XVII 
 
 Thb moment Tracy was alone his spirits vanished away, 
 and all the misery of his situation was manifest to him. 
 To be moneyless and an object of the chair-maker's charity, 
 this was bad enough ; but his folly in proclaiming himself 
 an earl's son to that scoffing and unbelieving crew, and, on 
 top of that, the humiliating result — the recollection of these 
 things was a sharper torture still. He made up his mind 
 that he would never play earl's son again before a doubtful 
 audience. 
 
 His father's answer was a blow he could not understand. 
 At ^jimes he thought his father imagined he could get work 
 to do in America without any trouble, and was minded to 
 let him try it and cure himself of his radicalism by hard, 
 cold, disenchanting experience. That seemed the most 
 plausible theory, yet he could not content himself with it. 
 A theory that pleased him better was, that this cablegram 
 would be followed by another, of a gentler sort, requiring 
 him to come home. Should he write and strike his flag. 
 
168 
 
 THJii AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 and ask for a ticket home ? Oh no, that he couldn't ever 
 do. At least, not yet. That cablegram would come, it cer- 
 tainly would. So he went from one telegraph-office to 
 another every day for nearly a week, and asked if there was 
 a cablegram for Howard Tracy. No, there wasn't any. So 
 
 they answered him at first. Later, they 
 said it before he had a chance to ask. 
 Later still they merely shook their heads 
 
 impatiently as 
 soon as he came 
 in sight. After 
 that he was 
 ashamed to go 
 any more. 
 
 He wad down 
 in the lowest 
 depths of de- 
 spair, now ; for the harder Barrow 
 tried to find work for him the more 
 hopeless the possibilities seemed to 
 grow. At last he said to Barrow— 
 * Look here. I want to make a 
 confession. I have got down, now, 
 to where I am not only willing to 
 acknowledge to myself that I am a 
 shabby creature and full of false 
 pride, but am willing to acknowledge it to you. Well, I've 
 been allowing you to wear yourself out hunting for work for 
 me when there's been a chance open to me all the time. For- 
 give my pride — what was left o^ it. It is all gone now, and 
 I've come to confess that if those ghastly artists want another 
 confederate, I'm their man — for at last I am dead to shame.' 
 
 I WANT TO IIAKB A 
 CONFESSION.' 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 160 
 
 * No ? Really, can you paint ? ' 
 
 * Not as badly as they. No, I don't claim that, for 1 am 
 not a genius ; in fact, I am a very indifferent amateur, a 
 slouchy dabster, a mere artistic sarcasm ; but drunk or 
 asleep I can beat those buccaneers.' 
 
 ' Shake ! I want to shout ! Oh, I tell you, I am im- 
 mensely delighted and relieved. Oh, just to work— that is 
 life! No matter what the work is — that's of no conse- 
 quence. Just work 
 itself is bliss when 
 a man's been starv- 
 ing for it. I've 
 been there ! Gome 
 right along, we'll 
 hunt the old boys 
 up. Don't you feel 
 good? I tell you 
 /do.' 
 
 The freebooters 
 were not at home. 
 But their 'works' 
 were — displayed in 
 profusion all about 
 the little ratty 
 studio. Gannon to 
 the right of them, cannon to the left of them, cannon in 
 front — it was Balaclava some again. 
 
 ' Here's the uncontented hackman, Tracy. Buckle to — 
 deepen the sea-green to turf, turn the ship into a hearse. 
 Let the boys have a taste of your quality.' 
 
 The artists arrived just as the last touch was put on. 
 They stood transfis^ed with admiration. 
 
 THE LAST TOUCH WAS POT OM. 
 
160 
 
 THE AMBBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 * My Bools ! but she's a stunner, that hearse. The hack- 
 man will just go all to pieces when he sees that — ^won't he, 
 Andy?' 
 
 ' Oh, it is sphlennid, sphlennid ! Herr Tracy, why haf 
 you not said you vas a so sublime aartist ? Lob' Gott, of 
 you had lif 'd in Paris you would be a Free de Borne, dot's 
 vot's de matter ! ' 
 
 The arrangements were soon made. Tracy was taken 
 into full and equal partnership, and he went straight to 
 work, with dash and energy, to reconstructing gems of art 
 whose accessories had failed to satisfy. Under his hand, 
 on that and succeeding days, artillery disappeared, and the 
 emblems of peace and commerce took its place — cats, hacks, 
 sausages, tugs, fire engines, pianos, guitars, rocks, gardens, 
 flower-pots, landscapes — whatever was wanted, he flung it 
 in ; and the more out of place and absurd the required ob- 
 ject was, the more joy he got out of fabricating it. The 
 pirates were deUghted, the customers applauded, the sex 
 began to flock in, great was the prosperity of the firm. 
 Tracy was obUged to confess to himself that there was some- 
 thing about work — even such grotesque and humble work 
 as this — ^which riost pleasantly satisfied a something in his 
 nature which had never been satisfied before, and also gave 
 him a strange new dignity in his own private view of 
 himself. 
 
 The Unqualified Member from Cherokee Strip was in a 
 state of deep dejection. For a good while now he had 
 been leading a sort of life which was calculated to kill, for 
 it had consisted in regularly alternating days of brilliant 
 hope and black disappointment. The brilliant hopes were 
 created by the magician Sellers, and they always promised 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 161 
 
 J 
 
 ,a 
 
 that now he had got the trick surei and would effectively 
 influence that materialised cowboy to call at the Towers 
 before night. The black disappointments consisted in the 
 persistent and monotonous failure of these prophecies. 
 
 At the date which this history has now reached, Sellers 
 was appalled to find that the usual remedy was inoperative, 
 and that Hawkins's low spirits refused absolutely to lift. 
 Something must be done, he reflected ; it was heart-break- 
 ing, this woe, this smileless misery, this dull despair that 
 looked out from his poor friend's face. Yes, he must be 
 cheered up. He mused a while, then he saw his way. He 
 said in his most conspicuously casual vein — 
 
 <Er-uh— by the way, Hawkins, we are feeling disap- 
 pointed about this thing — the way the materialisee is 
 acting, I mean — we are disappointed ; you concede that ? ' 
 
 * Concede it ? Why, yes, if you like the term.' 
 
 * Very well ; so far, so good. Now for the basis of the 
 feeling. It is not that your heart, your affections are con- 
 cerned ; that is to say, it is not that you want the mate- 
 rialisee Itsejf, You concede that ? ' 
 
 * Yes, I concede that, too — cordially.' 
 
 ' Very well, again ; we are making progress. To sum 
 up : The feeling, it is conceded, is not engendered by the 
 mere conduct of the materialisee ; it is conceded that it 
 does not arise from any pang which the personality of the 
 materialisee could assuage. Now then,' said the earl, with 
 the light of triumph in his eye, * the inexorable logic of the 
 situation nanows us down to this : our feeling has its source 
 in the mone^-loss involved. Gome, isn't that so ? ' 
 
 ' Goodness knows I concede that, with all my heart.' 
 
 * Very well. When you've found out the source of a 
 disease, you've also found out what remedy is required— just 
 
162 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 as in this case. In this case money is required. And only 
 money.' 
 
 The old| old seduction was in that airy, confident tone 
 and those significant words — usually called pregnant words 
 in books. The old answering signs of faith and hope 
 showed up in Hawkins's countenance, and he said — 
 
 ' Only money ? Do you mean that you know a way 
 to ' 
 
 'Washington, have you the impression that I have no 
 
 '« THIS 0A8B UONXT IS BIQTJnUID.' 
 
 resources but those I allow the public and my intimate 
 friends to know about ? ' 
 
 *WeU, I— er ' 
 
 ' Is it likely, do you think, that a man moved by nature 
 and taught by experience to keep his affairs to himself, and 
 a cautious and reluctant tongue in his head, wouldn't be 
 thoughtful enough to keep a few resources in reserve for ^ 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 168 
 
 only 
 
 tone 
 7ordB 
 hope 
 
 way 
 
 e no 
 
 1 
 
 nate 
 
 ture 
 and 
 tbe 
 or a 
 
 rainy day, when he's got as many as I have to select 
 from?' 
 
 ' Oh| yon make me feel so much better already, Oolonel ! 
 
 ' Have you ever been in my laboratory ? ' 
 
 • Why, no.* 
 
 ' That's it. You see yon didn't even know that I had 
 one. Come along. I'ye got a little trick there that I want 
 to show you. I'ye kept it perfectly quiet, not fifty people 
 know anything about it. But that's my way, always been 
 my way. Wait till you're ready ^ that's the idea ; and when 
 you're ready, zzip 1 — let her go ! ' 
 
 'Well, Colonel, I've never seen a man that I've had 
 such unbounded confidence in as you. When you say a 
 thing right out, I always feel as if that ends it ; as if that 
 is evidence, and proof, and everything else.' 
 
 The old Earl was profoundly pleas^id and touched. 
 
 ' I'm glad you believe in me, Washington ; not every- 
 l)ody is so just.' 
 
 * I always have believed in you ; and I always shall as 
 long as I live.' 
 
 ' Thank you, my boy. You shan't repent it. And you 
 ean*t* Arrived in the 'laboratory,' the Earl continued, 
 ' Now, cast your eye around this room — what do you see ? 
 Apparently a junk-shop; apparently a hospital connected 
 with a patent office — in reality , the mines of Golconda in 
 disguise! Look at that thing there. Now what would 
 you take that thing to be ? ' 
 
 ' I don't believe I could ever imagine.' 
 
 ' Of course you couldn't. It's my grand adaptation of 
 the phonograph to the marine service. You store up 
 profanity in it for use at sea. You know that sailors don't 
 fly around worth a cent unless you swear at them— so the 
 
 V 9 
 
164 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 mate that can do the best job of ewearing is the most 
 valuable man. In great emergencies his talent saves the 
 ship. But a ship is a large thing, and he can't be every- 
 
 where at once; so there 
 have been times when one 
 mate has lost a ship which 
 could have been saved if 
 they had had a hundred. 
 Prodigious storms, you 
 know. Well, a ship can't 
 afford a hundred mates ; 
 ' OAST youB ETEs ABOUND THIS BOOM.' but sho cau afford a hun- 
 dred Cursing Phonographs, 
 and distribute them all over the vessel — and there, you see, 
 she's armed at every point. Imagine a big storm and a 
 hundred of my machines all cursing away at once— splendid 
 spectacle, splendid !— you couldn't hear yourself think. 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 165 
 
 Ship goes through that storm perfectly serene— she's just 
 as safe as she'd be on shore.' 
 
 * It's a wonderful idea. How do you prepare the thing ? ' 
 
 * Load it — simply load it.' 
 'How?' 
 
 < Why, you just stand over it and swear into it.' 
 
 < That loads it, does it ? ' 
 
 * Yes — because every word it collars, it keeps — keeps it 
 for ever. Never wears out. Any time you turn the crank, 
 out it'll come. In times of great peril, you can reverse it, 
 and it'll swear backwards. That makes a sailor hump 
 himself ! ' 
 
 * Oh, I see. Who loads them ? — the mate ? * 
 
 * Yes, if he chooses. Or I'll furnish them already loaded. 
 I can hire an expert for ;^75 a month who will load a hun- 
 dred and fifty phonographs in a hundred and fifty hours, 
 and do it easy. And an expert can furnish a stronger article, 
 of course, than the mere average uncultivated mate could. 
 Then you see, all the ships of the world will buy them ready 
 loaded — for I shall have them loaded in any language a 
 
 . customer wants. Hawkins, it will work the grandest moral 
 reform of the nineteenth century. Five years from now, all 
 the swearing will be done by machinery — you won't ever hear 
 a profane word come from human lips on a ship. Millions 
 of dollars have been spent by the churches in the effort to 
 abolish profanity in the commercial marine. Think of it — 
 my name will live for ever in the affections of good men as 
 the man who, solitary and alone, accomplished this noble and 
 elevating reform.' 
 
 ' Oh, it is grand and beneficent and beautiful. How did 
 you ever come to think of it? You have a wonderful 
 mind. How did you say you loaded the machine ? ' 
 
16a 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 * Oh, it's no trouble — perfectly simple. If you want to 
 load it up loud and strong, you stand right over it and 
 shout. But if you leave it open and all set, it'll eavesdrop, 
 so to speak — that is to say, it will loan itself up with any 
 sounds that are made within six feet of it. Now I'll show 
 you how it works. I had an expert come and load this 
 one up yesterday. Hello, it's been left open— it's too bad 
 — still I reckon it hasn't had much chance to collect 
 irrelevant stuff. All you do is to press this button in the 
 floor — so. 
 
 The phonograph began to sing in a plaintiff voice — 
 
 There is a boardiDg-house, far, far away, 
 
 Where they have ham and eggs, three times a day. 
 
 'Hang it, that ain't it. Somebody's been singing 
 around here.' 
 
 The plaintive song begen again, mingled with a low, 
 gradually rising wail of cats slowly warming up toward a 
 fight— 
 
 Oh, how the boarders yell, 
 
 When they hear that dinner-bell-— 
 
 They gi^'e that landlord— 
 
 (momentary outburst of terrific catfight which drowns out 
 one word) 
 
 Three time ^ a day. 
 
 (Benewal of furious catfight for a moment. The plaintive 
 voice on a high fierce key, ' Scat, you devils ! ' — and a racket 
 as of flying missiles.) 
 
 'Well, never mind — let it go. I've got some sailor- 
 profanity down in there somewhere, if I could get to it. 
 But it isn't any matter ; you see how the machine works.* 
 
TBM AMEBIOAN OLAtMANf 
 
 167 
 
 it to 
 and 
 iropt 
 any 
 how 
 this 
 bad 
 >llect 
 the 
 
 HaT^kins responded with enthusiasm — 
 
 * Oh, it works admirably ! I know there's a hundred 
 fortunes in it.' 
 
 'And, mind, the Hawkins family get their share, 
 Washington.' 
 
 'Oh, thainks, 
 thanks ; yon are just 
 as generous as ever. 
 Ah, it's the grandest 
 invention of the age ! ' 
 
 * Ah, well, we live 
 in wonderful times. 
 The elements are 
 crowded fuU of bene- 
 ficent forces — always 
 have been — and ours 
 is the first generation 
 to turn them to ac- 
 count and make them 
 work for us. Why, 
 Hawkins, everything is 
 useful — nothing ought 
 ever to be wasted. 
 Now look at sewer-gas, 
 for instance. Sewer-gas has always 
 been wasted heretofore : nobody tried 
 to save up sewer-gas — you can't name 
 
 me a man. Ain't that so ? you know perfectly well it's so.' 
 
 * Yes, it is so — but I never — er — I don't quite see why a 
 body ' 
 
 ' Should want to save it up ? Well, I'll tell you. Do 
 you see this little invention here ? — it's a decomposer — ^I 
 
 'it's B££N LEi'T 
 OPEN.' 
 
168 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 call it a decomposer. I give you my word of honour that 
 if you show me a house that produces a given quantity of 
 sewer-gas in a day, I'll engage to set up my decomposer 
 there and make that house produce a hundred times that 
 quantity of sewer-gas in less than half an hour.' 
 * Dear me ! but why should you want to ? * 
 
 -^^.r^-U 
 
 WASTED SEWER-OAB. 
 
 * Want to ? Listen, and you'll see. My boy, for illu- 
 minating purposes and economy combined, there's nothing 
 in the world that begins with sewer-gas. And, really, it 
 don't cost a cent. You put in a good inferior article of 
 plumbing — such as you find everywhere — and add my 
 decomposer, and there you are. Just use the ordinary gas- 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 169 
 
 hat 
 rof 
 ser 
 lat 
 
 pjpes — and there your expense ends. Think of it. Why, 
 Major, in five years from now you won't see a house lighted 
 with anything but sewer-gas. Every physician I talk to 
 recommends it ; and every plumber.' 
 
 *But isn't it dangerous ? ' 
 
 'Oh, yes, more or less, but everything is — coal gas, 
 candles, electricity — ^there isn't anything that ain't.' 
 
 * It lights up well, does it ? ' 
 
 * Oh, magnificently.' 
 
 * Have you given it a good trial ? * 
 
 * Well, no, not a first-rate one. Polly's prejudiced, and 
 she won't let me put it in here ; but I'm playing my cards 
 to get it adopted in the President's house, and then it'll go 
 — don't you doubt it. I shall not need this one for the 
 present, Washington; you may take it down to some 
 boarding-house and give it a trial if you like.' 
 
 lu- 
 ng 
 ,it 
 
 of 
 ny 
 
 iS- 
 
 OHAPTER Xrai 
 
 Washington shuddered slightly at the suggestion ; then his 
 face took on a dreamy look and he dropped into a trance of 
 thought. After a little Sellers asked him what he was 
 grinding in his mental mill. 
 
 *Well, this. Have you got some secret project in 
 your head which requires a Bank of England back of it to 
 make it succeed ? ' 
 
 The Colonel showed lively astonishment, and said— 
 
 * Why, Hawkins, are you a mind reader ? ' 
 
 * I ? I never thought of such a thing.' 
 
 *Well, then, how did you happen to drop on to that 
 idea in this curious fashion ? It's just mind reading, that's 
 
/ 
 
 ( 
 
 170 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 what it IB, though you may not know it. Because I have got 
 a private project that requires a Bank of England at its 
 back. How could you divine that ? What was the process ? 
 This is interesting.' 
 
 * There wasn't any process. A thought like this hap- 
 pened to slip through my head by accident. How much 
 would make you or me comfortable ? A hundred thousand. 
 Yet you are expecting two or three of these inventions of 
 yours to turn out some billions of money, and you are 
 wanting them to do that. If you wanted ^10,000,000, 
 I could understand that — it's inside the human limits ; but 
 billions ! That's clear outside the limits. There must be a 
 definite project back of that somewhere.' 
 
 The Earl's interest and surprise augmented with every 
 word, and when Hawkins finished he said, with strong ad- 
 miration — 
 
 ' It's wonderfully reasoned out, Washington, it certainly 
 is. It shows what I think is quite extraordinary penetra- 
 tion. For you've hit it ; you've driven the centre ; you've 
 plugged the bull's-eye of my dream. Now I'll tell you 
 the whole thing, and you'll understand it. I don't need 
 to ask you to keep it to yourself, because you'll see that the 
 project will prosper all the better for being kept in the 
 background till the right time. Have you noticed how 
 many pamphlets and books I've got lying around relating 
 to Bussia ? ' 
 
 * Yes, I think most anybody would notice that — anybody 
 who wasn't dead.' 
 
 ' Well, I've been posting myself a good while. That's 
 a great and splendid nation, and deserves to be set free.' 
 He paused ; dlien added in a matter-of-fact way : ' When X 
 get this money I'm going to set it free.' 
 
 a 
 r 
 I 
 < 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 171 
 
 * Great guns ! ' 
 
 * Why, what makes you jump like that ? * 
 
 ' Dear me ! when you are going to drop a remark unc(er 
 a man's chair that is likely to blow him out through the 
 roof, why don't you put some expression, some force, some 
 noise into it that will prepare him? You shouldn't flip 
 out such a gigantic thing as this in that colourless kind of 
 a way. You do jolt a person up so. Go on, now ; I'm all 
 right again. Tell me all about it. I'm all interest — and 
 sympathy too.' 
 
 < Well, I've looked the ground over, and concluded that 
 the methods of the Bussian patriots, while good enough, 
 considering the way the boys are hampered, are not the 
 best — at least not the quickest. They are trying to revo- 
 lutionise Bussia from within; that's pretty slow, you know, 
 and liable to interruption all the time, and it is full of 
 perils for the workers. Do you know how Peter the Great 
 started his army ? He didn't start it on the family pro- 
 mises under the noses of the Strelitzes ; no, he started it 
 away off yonder, privately — only just one regiment, you 
 know, and he built to that. The first thing the Strelitzes 
 knew, the regiment was an army ; their position was turned, 
 and they had to take a walk. Ju it that little idea made the 
 biggest and worst of all the despotisms the world has seen. 
 The same idea can unmake it. I'm going to prove it. I'm 
 going to get out to one side and work my scheme the way 
 Peter did.' 
 
 * This is mighty interesting, Bossmore. What is it you 
 are going to do ? ' 
 
 * I'm going to buy Siberia and start a republic' 
 
 ' There — bang you go again without giving any notice I 
 Going to buy it ? ' 
 
172 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 * Tes, as soon as I get the money. I don't care what 
 the price is, I shall take it. I can afford it, and I will. 
 Now, then, consider this— and you've never thought of it, 
 I'll warrant. Where is the place where there is twenty-five 
 times more manhood, pluck, true heroism, unselfishness, 
 devotion to high and nohle ideals, adoration of liberty, wide 
 education, and brains per thousand of population than any 
 other domain in the world can show ? ' 
 
 * Siberia ! ' 
 ' Right.' 
 
 ' It is true—it certainly is true, but I never thought of it 
 before.* 
 
 ' Nobody ever thinks of it. But it's so just the same. 
 In those mines and prisons are gathered together the very 
 finest and noblest and capablest multitude of human 
 beingp. that God is able to create. Now, if you had that 
 kind of a population to sell, would you offer it to a des- 
 potism ? No, the despotism has no ube for it ; you would 
 lose money. A despotism has no use for anything but 
 human cattle. But suppose you want to start a republic ? ' 
 
 * Yes, I see. It's just the material for it.' 
 
 * Well, I should say so ! There's Siberia, with just the 
 very finest and choicest material on the globe for a republic, 
 and more coming — more coming all the time, don't you 
 see ! It is being daily, weekly, monthly recruited by the 
 most perfectly devised system that has ever been invented, 
 perhaps. Bv this system the whole of the hundred millions 
 of Bussia are being constantly and patiently :]ifted, sifted, 
 sifted by myriads of trained experts, spies appointed by 
 the Em^. ror personally ; and whenever they catch a man, 
 woman, or child that has got any brains or education or 
 character, they ship that person straight to Siberia. It is 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 178 
 
 admirable, it is wonderful. It is so searching and so effective 
 that it keeps the general level of Bussian intellect and educa- 
 tion down to that of the Czar.' 
 
 ' Gome, that sounds like exaggeration.' 
 
 ' Well, it's what they say, any way. But I think myself 
 it's a lie. And it doesn't seem right to slander a whole 
 nation that way, anyhow. Now, then, you see what the 
 material is, there in Siberia, for a republic' He paused, 
 and his breast began to heave and his eye to burn under 
 the impulse of strong emotion. Then his words began to 
 stream forth with constantly increasing energy and fire, 
 and he rose to his feet as if to give himself larger freedom. 
 < The minute I organise that republic, the light of liberty, 
 intelligence, justice, humanity bursting from it, flooding 
 from it, flaming from it, will concentrate the gaze of the 
 whol6 astonished world as upon the miracle of a new sun ; 
 Bnssia's countless multitude of slaves will rise up and 
 march, march! — eastward, with that great light trans- 
 figuring their faces as they come, and far back of them 
 you will see — what will you see? — a vacant throne 
 in an empty land ! It can be done, and by God I will 
 doit!' 
 
 He stood a moment bereft of earthly consciousness by 
 his exaltation ; then consciousness returned, bringing him 
 a slight shock, and he said, with grave earnestness : 
 
 ' I must ask you to pardon me, Major Hawkins. I have 
 never used that expression before, and I beg you will forgive 
 it this time.' 
 
 Hawkins was quite willing. 
 
 * You see, Washington, it is an error which I am by 
 nature not liable to. Only excitable, impulsive people are 
 exposed to it. But the circumstances of the present case— 
 
174 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 I being a democrat by birth and preference and an aristo- 
 crat by inheritance and relish * 
 
 The Earl stopped suddenly, his frame stiffened, and he 
 began to stare sueechless tlurough 
 the curtainless window. Then he 
 pointed, and gasped out a smgle 
 
 —a- 
 
 
 rapturous 
 word — 
 
 * Look ! » 
 What is it. 
 Colonel ? • 
 at!' 
 'No!* 
 
 * Sure as you're 
 born. Keep per- 
 fectly still. I'll 
 apply the influence 
 —I'll turn on all my force. 
 I've brought it thus far-^ 
 I'll fetch It right into the 
 house. You'll see.' 
 
 He was making all sortB 
 
 •BA8TWABI), WITH THAT OBKAT MOHT of PaSSCB VH thC air \^ th 
 TBANSnOVBIMa THBIB FACKS.' , . , , 
 
 his hande. 
 ^ There ! Look. I've made it smile ! See ? ' 
 Quite true. Tracy, out for an afternoon stroll, had 
 come unexpectedly upon his family arms upon this shabby 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 m 
 
 house front. The hatchments made him smile, which was 
 nothing ; they had made the neighbourhood cats do that. 
 
 * Look, Hawkins, look ! I'm drawing it over ! ' 
 
 * You're drawing it sure, Bossmore. If I ever had any 
 doubts about materialisation, they're gone now, and gone 
 for good. Oh, this 
 is a joyful day ! ' 
 
 Tracy was saun- 
 tering oyer to read 
 the doorplate. Be- 
 fore he was halfway 
 over, he was saying 
 to himself, * Why, 
 manifestly these 
 are the American 
 Claimant's quar- 
 ters.' 
 
 *It's coming — 
 coming right along. 
 £'11 slide down and 
 pull it in. You 
 follow after me.' 
 
 Sellers, pale 
 and a good deal 
 agitated, opened 
 the door and con- 
 fronted Tracy. The 
 oU man could not at once get his voice ; then he pumped 
 out a icattering and hardly coherent salutation and followed 
 it with — 
 
 ' Walk in, walk right in. Mr. — er— •-' 
 
 * Tracy — Howard Tracy.' 
 
 *LOOKl 
 
 I 
 
176 
 
 TEE AMEIilCAN CLAIMANT 
 
 * Tracy — thanks — walk right in, you're expected/ 
 Tracy entered, considerahly puzzled, and said — 
 
 ' Expected ? I think there must be some mistake.' 
 <0h, I judge not,' said Sellers, who, noticing that 
 Hawkins had arrived, gave him a sidewise glance, intended 
 to call his close attention to a dramatic effect he was pro- 
 posing to produce by his next remark. Then he said, 
 slowly and impressively : * I am — you know who.* 
 
 To the astonishment of both conspirators, the remark 
 produced no dramatic effect at all, for the new-comer 
 responded with a quite innocent and unembarrassed air — 
 
 * No, pardon me. I don't know who you are. I orly 
 suppose — but no doubt correctly — that you are the ge^itle- 
 man whose title is on the door-plate.' 
 
 * Eight, quite right — sit down, pra,y sit down.' The 
 Earl was rattled, thrown off his bearings, his head was in 
 a whirl. Then he noticed Hawkins standing apart and 
 staring idiotically at what to him was the apparition of a 
 defunct man, and a new idea was born to him. He said to 
 Tracy, briskly — 
 
 * But a thousand pardons, dear sir ; I am forgetting 
 courtesies due to guest and stranger. Let me introduce 
 my friend, General Hawkins — General Hawkins, our new 
 Senator — Senator from the latest and grandest addition to 
 the radiant galaxy of sovereign States, Cherokee Strip ' — 
 to himself, * That name will shrivel him up ! ' but it 
 didn't in the least, and the Colonel resumed the intro- 
 duction, piteously disheartened and amazed — 'Senator 
 Hawkins, Mr. Howard Tracy, of— er ' 
 
 * England.' 
 
 « England I Why, that'G im ' 
 
 ' England, yes, a native of England.' 
 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 177 
 
 * Eecently from there ? ' 
 
 * Yes, quite recently.' 
 
 Said the Colonel to himself: 'This phantom lies like 
 an expert. Purifying this kind by fire don't work. I'll 
 sound him a little further, give him another chance or two 
 to work his gift.' Then aloud with deep kony— 
 
 'Visiting our great country for recreation and amuse- 
 ment, no doubt. I suppose you find that travelling in the 
 majestic expanses of our far West is 
 
 ' I haven't been West, and haven' 
 been devoting myself 
 amusement 
 with any sort 
 of exclusive- 
 ness, I assure 
 you. In fact, 
 merely to live 
 — an artist 
 has got to 
 work, not 
 play.' 
 
 ' Artist ! • 
 
 said Hawkins to himself, thinkmg of the rifled bank ; ' that 
 is a name for it.' 
 
 ' Are you an artist ? ' asked the Colonel ; and added to 
 himself, ' now I am going to catch him.' 
 
 ' In a humble way, yes.' 
 
 ' What line ? ' pursued the sly veteran. 
 
 'Oils.' 
 
 ' I've got him,' said Sellers to himself. Then aloud, 
 ' This is fortunate. Could I engage you to restore some of 
 my paintings that need that attention ? ' 
 
 N 
 
 * Uy riUKNl), QENUilAL UAWKINB.' 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
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 ttiyi 125 
 
 122 ^^ ■■■ 
 
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 S? |£0 12.0 
 
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 (7U)t7a-4S03 
 

178 
 
 TEE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 rt'^.i'^ >',i t,». 
 
 * I shall be glad. Pray let me see them.* 
 No shuffling, no evasion, no embarrassment, even under 
 this crucial test. The Colonel was nonplussed. He led 
 
 Tracy to a chromo which had suf- 
 fered damage in a former owner's 
 ; hands through use as a 
 lamp-mat, and sud, with 
 a flourish of his hand 
 toward the picture — 
 « This Del Sarto—' 
 as that a Del 
 Sarto?' 
 
 The Colonel bent 
 a look of reproach 
 upon Tracy, allowed 
 {' it to sink home, then 
 resumed as if there 
 had been no inter- 
 ruption — 
 
 ' This Del Sarto is per- 
 haps the only original of 
 that sublime master in our 
 country. You see yourself 
 that the work is of such exceeding 
 delicacy that the risk — could — er — 
 would you mind giving me a little 
 example of what you can do before 
 
 we * 
 
 ♦Cheerfully, cheerfully. I will 
 copy one of these marvels.' 
 
 Water-colour materials — relics of Miss Sally's college 
 life — were brought — Tracy said he was better in oils, but 
 
 1-/ 
 
 'THIB DBL 8AIITI 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 179 
 
 would take a chance with these. So he was left alone. He 
 began his work, but the attractions of the place were too 
 strong for him, and he got up and went drifting about, 
 fascinated, also amazed. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 Meantime the Earl and Hawkins were holding a troubled 
 and anxious private conversation. The Earl said — 
 
 * The mystery that bothers me is, where did it get its 
 other arm ? ' 
 
 * Yes, it worries me, too. And another thing troubles 
 me — the apparition is English. How do you account for 
 that, Colonel ? ' 
 
 ' Honestly, I don't know, Hawkins ; I don't really know. 
 It is very confusing and awful.' 
 
 * Don't yon think, maybe, we've waked up the wrong 
 one ? ' 
 
 *The wrong one? How do you account for the 
 clothes ? * 
 
 'The clothes are right, there's no getting around it. 
 What are we to do ? We can't collect, as I see. The 
 reward is for a one-armed American. There is a two-armed 
 Englishman.' 
 
 * Well, it may be that that is not objectionable. You 
 see it isn't less than is called for. It is more, and so ' 
 
 But he saw that this argument was weak and dropped 
 it. The friends sat brooding over their perplexities some 
 time in silence. Finally the Earl's face began to glow 
 with an inspiration, and he said impressively — 
 
 ' Hawkins, this materialisation is a grander and nobler 
 
 ir2 
 
 : 
 
180 
 
 THE AMEBIOAHJ CLAIMANT 
 
 science than we have dreamed of. We have little ima- 
 gined what a solemn and stupendous thing we have done. 
 The whole secret is perfectly clear to me now, clear as day. 
 Every man is made up of hereditaries, long descended atoms 
 and particles of his ancestors. This present materialisation 
 is incomplete. We have only brought it down to perhaps 
 the beginning of this century.' 
 
 'What do you mean, Colonel?' cried Hawkins, filled 
 
 • we've MATEBUUBBD this BUBOLAB'S AK0B8TOB.' 
 
 with vague alarms by the old man's awe-compelling words 
 and manner. 
 
 * This. We've materialised this burglar's ancestor.' 
 
 * Oh, don't ! Don't say that ! It's hideous ! ' 
 
 'But it's true, Hawkins; I know it. Look at the 
 facts. This apparition is English ; note that. It uses good 
 grammar ; note that. It is an artist ; note that. It has 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 181 
 
 the manners and carriage of a gentleman; note that. 
 Where's your cowboy 7 Answer me that.' 
 
 ' BossmorOi this is dreadful ! It is too dreadful to think 
 of!' 
 
 * Never resurrected a rag of that burglar but the 
 clothes — not a rag of him but the clothes.' 
 
 * Colonel, do you really mean * 
 
 The Colonel brought his ast down with emphasis and 
 said — 
 
 'I mean exactly this: The materialisation was im- 
 mature ; the burglar has evaded us ; this is nothing but a 
 damned ancestor ! ' 
 
 He rose and walked the floor in great excitement. 
 Hawkins said plaintively — 
 
 * It's a bitter disappointment — bitter.' 
 
 ' I know it. I know it, Senator. I feel it as deeply as 
 anybody could. But we've got to submit — on moral grounds. 
 I need money, but God knows I am not poor enough or 
 shabby enough to be an accessory to the punishing of a man's 
 ancestor for crime committed by that ancestor's posterity.' 
 
 '!But, Colonel,' implored Hawkins, 'stop and think; 
 do: 't be rash ; you know it's the only chance we've got to 
 get the money, and, besides, the Bible itself says posterity 
 to the fourth generation shall be punished for the sins and 
 crimes committed by ancestors four generations back that 
 hadn't anything to do with them ; and so it's only fair to 
 turn the rule around and make it work both ways.' 
 
 The Colonel was struck with the strong logic of this 
 position. He strode up and down, and thought it painfully 
 over. Finally he said — 
 
 * There's reason in it ; yes, there's reason in it. And 
 BO, although it seems a piteous thing to sweat this poor 
 
182 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 ancient devil for a burglary he hadn't the least hand in, 
 still, if duty commands, I suppose we must give him up to 
 the authorities.' 
 
 ' I would,' said Hawkins, cheered and relieved. * I'd give 
 him up if he was a thousand ancestors compacted into one.' 
 
 * Lord bless me ! that's just what he is,' said Sellers, 
 with something like a groan; 'it's exactly what he is: 
 there's a contribution in him from every ancestor he ever 
 had. In him there's atoms of priests, soldiers, crusaders, 
 poets, and sweet and gracious women— all kinds and condi- 
 tions of folk who trod this earth in old, old centuries, and 
 vanished out of it ages ago, and now by act of ours they are 
 summoned from their holy peace to answer for gutting a 
 one-horse bank away out on the borders of Cherokee Strip, 
 and it's just a howling outrage ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, don't talk like that. Colonel; it takes the heart 
 all out of me, and makes me ashamed of the part I am 
 proposing to * 
 
 ' Wait— I've got it ! ' 
 
 * A saving hope ? Shout it ; I am perishing.* 
 
 * It's perfectly simple ; a child would have thought of it. 
 He is all right, not a flaw in him as far as I have carried 
 the work. If I've been able to bring him as far as the 
 beginning of this centm-y, what's to stop me now ? I'll go 
 on and materialise him down to date.' 
 
 < Land, I never thought of that ! ' said Hawkins, all 
 ablaze with joy again. ' It's the very thing. What a brain 
 you have got ! And will he shed the superfluous arm ? ' 
 
 ♦He will.' 
 
 ' And lose his English accent ? ' 
 
 'It will wholly disappear. He will speak Cherokee 
 Strip and other forms of profanity.' 
 
THE AMESIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 188 
 
 * Colonel, maybe he'll confess.' 
 
 ' Confess 7 Merely that bank robbery ? ' 
 
 * Merely ? Yes ; but why " merely " ? * 
 
 The Colonel said, in his impressive manner — 
 
 'Hawkins, he will be wholly mider my command. I 
 will make him confess every crime he ever committed. 
 There must be a thousand. Do you get the idea ? ' 
 
 t Well — ^not quite. 
 
 ' The rewards will come to us.* 
 
 * Prodigious conception ! I never saw such a head for 
 seeing with a lightning glance all the outlying ramifications 
 and possibilities of a central idea.' 
 
 ' It is nothing ; it comes natural to me. When his time 
 is out in one jail he goes to the next and the next, and 
 we shall have nothing to do but collect the rewards as he 
 goes along. It is a steady income as long as we live, 
 Hawkins. And much better than other kinds of invest- 
 ments, because he is indestructible.' 
 
 * It looks — it really does look the way you say ; it does, 
 indeed.' 
 
 « Look?— why it is. It will not be denied that I 
 have had a pretty wide and comprehensive financial 
 experience, and I do not hesitate to say that I consider 
 this one of the most valuable properties I have ever con- 
 trolled.' 
 
 * Do you really think so ? * 
 
 * I do, indeed.' 
 
 * Oh, Colonel, the wasting grind and grief of poverty ! 
 If we could realise immediately. I don't mean sell it all, 
 but sell part — enough, you know, to ' 
 
 ' See how you tremble with excitement. That comes of 
 lack of experience. My boy, when you have been familiar 
 
184 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 with vast operations as long as I have, you'll be dif- 
 ferent. Look at me ! is my eye dilated ? Do yon notice 
 a quiver anywhere ? Feel my pulse plunk — ^plunk — plunk 
 — same as if I were asleep. And yet, what is passing 
 through my calm, cold mind 7 A procession of figures 
 
 which would make a 
 ^*^^'^ financial novice drunk 
 
 — just the sight of them. 
 Now, it is by keeping 
 cool, and looking at a 
 thing all around, that 
 a man sees what's really 
 in it, and saves himself 
 from the novice's unfail- 
 ing mistake — the one 
 you've just suggested — 
 eagerness to realise. 
 Listen to me. Your idea 
 is to sell a part of him 
 for ready cash. Now 
 mine is — guess.' 
 
 'I haven't an idea. 
 What is it?' 
 
 * Stock him — of 
 course.' 
 
 * Well, I should never 
 have thought of that.' 
 
 * Because you are not 
 a financier. Say he has committed a thousand crimes. 
 Certainly, that's a low estimate. By the look of him, even 
 in his unfinished condition, he has committed all of a million. 
 But call it only a thousand, to be perfectly safe; five thou- 
 
 
 **. 
 
 'n WB COULD BEAUSU lUUEDUTBLT.' 
 
TEE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 18S 
 
 Band reward, multiplied by a thousand, gives us a dead sure 
 cash basis of— what? /5,000,000!' 
 ' Wait, let me get my breath.' 
 
 * And the property indestructible. Perpetually fruitful, 
 perpetually : for a property with his disposition will go on 
 committing crimes and winning rewards.' 
 
 ' You daze me, you make my head whirl t ' 
 
 * Let it whirl, it won't do any harm. Now that matter 
 is all fixed, leave it alone. I'll get up the company and 
 issue the stock all in good time. Just leave it in my hands. 
 Vou don't doubt my ability to work it up for all it is 
 worth.' 
 
 * Indeed, I don't. I can say that with truth.' 
 
 'All right, then. That's disposed of. Everything in 
 its turn. We old operators go by order and system — no 
 helter-skelter business with us. What'^ the next thing on 
 the docket ? The carrying on of the m^ ^serialisation — the 
 bringing it down to date. I will begin on that at once. I 
 think ' 
 
 'Look here, Bossmore. You didn't lock it in. A 
 hundred to one it has escaped.' 
 
 * Calm yourself as to that : don't give yourself any 
 uneasiness.' 
 
 * But why shouldn't it escape ? ' 
 
 ' Let it if it wants to I What of it ? ' 
 
 ' Well, I should consider it a pretty serious calamity.' 
 
 * Why, my dear boy, once in my power always in my 
 power. It may go and come freely. I can produce it here 
 whenever I want it, just by the exercise of my will.' 
 
 * Well, I am truly glad to hear that, I do assure you.' 
 
 * Yes, I shall give it all the painting it wants to do, and 
 ^e and the family will make it as comfortable and con- 
 
180 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 tented as we can. No occasion to restrain its movements. 
 I hope to persuade it to remain pretty quiet, though, 
 because a materialisation which is in a state of arrested 
 development must of necessity be soft and flabby and sub- 
 Btanceless, and — er — by the way, I wonder where it comes 
 from?* 
 
 * How ? What do you mean ? * 
 
 The Earl pointed significantly and interrogatively to- 
 ward the sky. Hawkins started, then settled into deep 
 reflection, finally shook his head sorrowfully, and pointed 
 downward. 
 
 * What makes you think so, Washington ? * 
 
 * Well, I hardly know ; but really you can see yourself 
 that he doesn't seem to be pining for his last place.' 
 
 *It's well thought. Soundly deduced. We've done 
 that Thing a favour. But I believe I will pump it a little 
 in a quiet way and find out if we are right.' 
 
 ' How long is it going to take to finish him off and fetch 
 him down to date. Colonel ? 
 
 ' I wish I knew, but I don't. I am clear knocked out 
 by this new detail — this unforeseen necessity of working a 
 subject down gradually from his condition of ancestor to 
 his ultimate result as posterity. But I'll make him hump 
 himself, any way.' 
 
 * Bossmore ! ' 
 
 ' Yes, dear. We're in the laboratory. Come, Hawkins 
 is here. Mind, now, Hawkins, he's a sound, living human 
 being to all the family, don't forget that. Here she 
 comes.' 
 
 ' Keep your seats, I'm not coming in. I just wanted to 
 ask, who is it painting down there ? ' 
 
 ' That ? Oh, that's a young artist ; young Englishman 
 
THE AMEBIC AN CLAIMANT 
 
 187 
 
 named Tracy; very promising — favourite pupil of Hans 
 Christian Andersen or one of the other old masters — 
 Andersen I'm pretty sure it is ; he's going to half sole 
 some of our old Italian masterpieces. Been talking to 
 him?' 
 
 * Well, only a word. I stumbled right in on him with- 
 out expecting anybody was there. I tried to be polite to 
 him ; offered him a snack [Sellers delivered a large wink to 
 Hawkins from behind his hand], but he declined and said 
 he wasn't hungry [another sarcastic wink], so I brought 
 some apples [double wink], and he ate a couple of ' 
 
 ' What ! ' and the Colonel sprang some yards toward 
 the ceiling, and came down quaking with astonishment. 
 
 Lady Bossmore was smitten dumb with amazement. 
 She gazed at the sheepish relic of Cherokee Strip, then at 
 her husband, and then at the guest again. Finally she 
 said — 
 
 * What is the matter with you, Mulberry ? ' 
 
 He did not answer immediately. His back was turned ; 
 he was bending over his chair, feeling the seat of it. But 
 he answered next moment and said — 
 
 * Ah, there it is ; it was a tack.' 
 
 The lady contemplated him doubtfully a moment, then 
 said, pretty snappishly — 
 
 * All that for a tack ! Praise goodness it wasn't a 
 shingle nail ; it would have landed you in the Milky Way. 
 I do hate to have my nerves shook up so.' And she turned 
 on her heel and went her way. 
 
 As soon as she was safely out, the Colonel said, in a 
 suppressed voice — 
 
 * Come, we must see for ourselves. It must be a mis- 
 take.' 
 
188 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 They hurried softly down and peeped in. Sellers whis- 
 pered, in a sort of despair— 
 
 ' It is eating. What a grisly spectacle ! Hawkins, it's 
 horrible t Take me away — I can't stand it.' 
 
 They tottered back to the laboratory. 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 Tract made slow progress with his work, for his mind 
 wandered a good deal. Many things were puzzling him. 
 Finally a light burst upon him all of a sudden— seemed 
 to at any rate— and he Haid to himself, 'I've got the 
 due at last : this man's mind is off its balance : I don't 
 know how much, but it's off a point or two, sure ; off enough 
 to explain this mess of perplexities, any way. These dreadful 
 chromos, which he takes for old masters ; these villainous 
 portraits, which to his frantic mind represent Bossmores ; 
 the hatchments, the pompous name of this ramshackle old 
 crib, Bossmore Towers, and that odd assertion of his that 
 I was expected. How could I be expected ? that is. Lord 
 Berkeley. He knows by the papers that that person was 
 burned up in the New Gadsby. 
 
 * Why, hang it, he really doesn't know whom he was 
 expecting ; for his talk showed that he was not expecting an 
 Englishman, nor yet an artist, yet I answer his require- 
 ments notwithstanding. He seems sufficiently satisfied 
 with me. Yet, he is a little off ; in fact, I am afraid he is 
 a good deal off, poor old gentleman. But he's interesting 
 — all people in about his condition are, I suppose. I hope 
 he'll like my work ; I should Uke to come every day and 
 study him. And when I write my father— ah, that hurts 1 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 m 
 
 I mustn't get on that subjuoi; it isn't good for my 
 spirits. 
 
 ' Somebody coming— I must go to work. It's the old 
 gentleman again. He looks bothered. Maybe my clothes 
 are suspicious ; and they are— for an artist. If my con- 
 Boience would allow me to make a change — but that is out 
 of the question. I wonder what he's making those passes 
 in the air for with his hands. I seem to be the object of 
 them. Can he be trying to mesmerise me ? I don't quite 
 like it. There's something uncanny about it.' 
 
 The Colonel muttered to himself, ' It has an effect on 
 him ; I can see it myself. That's enough for one time, I 
 reckon. He's not very solid yet, I suppose, and I might 
 disintegrate him. I'll just put a sly question or two at 
 him now, and see if I can find out what his condition is, 
 and where he's from.' 
 
 He approached and said affably — 
 
 * Don't let me disturb you, Mr. Tracy. I only want to 
 take a little glimpse of your work. Ah, that's fine — that's 
 very fine, indeed. You are doing it elegantly. My daughter 
 will be charmed with this. May I sit down by you ? ' 
 
 'Ob, do; I shall be glad.' 
 
 * It won't disturb you ? I mean, won't dissipate your 
 inspirations ? * 
 
 Tracy laughed and said they were not ethereal enough 
 to be very easily discommoded. 
 
 The Cobnel asked a number of cautious and well-con- 
 sidered questions — questions which seemed pretty odd and 
 flighty to Tracy — but the answers conveyed the information 
 desired, apparently, for the Colonel said to himself, with 
 mixed pride and gratification — 
 
 ' It's a good job as far as I've got with it. He's solid, 
 
190 
 
 THE AMBBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 solidi and going to last; solid as the real thing. It's 
 wonderful — wonderful. I believe I could petrify him.' 
 After a little while he asked warily — 
 
 * Do you prefer being here or— or there ? * 
 •There? Where?' 
 
 * Why — er — where you've been ? ' 
 
 Tracy's thought flew to his boarding-housoi and he 
 answered with decision — 
 
 * Oh, heroi much ! ' 
 
 The Colonel was startled, and said to himself, ' There's 
 no uncertain ring about that. It indicates where he's been 
 to, poor fellow ! Well, I am satisfied. I'm glad I got him 
 out.' 
 
 He sat thinking and thinking, and watching the brush 
 go. At length he said to himself, * Tes, it certainly seems 
 to account for the failure of my endeavours in poor Berkeley's 
 case. He went in the other direction. Well, it's all right. 
 He's better off.' 
 
 Sally Sellers entered from the street now looking her 
 divinest, and the artist was introduced to her. It was a 
 violent case of mutual love at first sight, though neither 
 party was aware of the fact, perhaps. The Englishman 
 made this irrelevant remark to himself. * Perhaps he is not 
 insane, after all.' Sally sat down and showed an interest 
 in Tracy's work, which greatly pleased him, and a bene- 
 volent forgiveness of it which convinced him that the girl's 
 nature was cast in a large mould. Sellers was anxious to 
 report his discoveries to Hawkins, so he took his leave, 
 saying that if the two • young devotees of the coloured muse' 
 thought they could manage without him he would go and 
 look after I^a afiEairs. The artist said to himself, ' I think 
 he is a little eccentric, perhaps, but that is all.' He 
 
 rei 
 mi 
 >7a 
 
 ehs 
 
 i 
 
 POE 
 
 inc 
 tro 
 hei 
 ace 
 he 
 
TEE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 191 
 
 reproached himself for having injuriously judged a man 
 without giving him any fair chance to show what he really 
 >7as. 
 
 Of course the stranger was very soon at his ease and 
 chatting along comfortably. The average American girl 
 
 
 II WAS ▲ VIOLENT CASE OF UOTUAL LOVE AT FIBST SIGHT. 
 
 possesses the valuable qualities of naturalness, honesty, and 
 inoffensive straightforwardness ; she is nearly barren of 
 troublesome conventions and artificiahties ; consequently 
 her presence and her ways are unembarrassing, and one is 
 acquainted with her and on pleasant terms with her before 
 he knows how it came about. 
 
 ■ I 
 
192 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 \ 
 
 This new acquaintanceship — friendship, indeed — pro- 
 gressed swiftly ; and the unasual swiftness of it and the 
 thoroughness of it are sufficiently evidenced and esta- 
 blished by one noteworthy fact — ^that within the first half- 
 hour both parties had ceased to be conscious of Tracy's 
 clothes. 
 
 Later this consciousness was reawakened ; it was then 
 apparent to Gwendolen that she was almost reconciled to 
 them, and it .was apparent to Tracy that he wasn't. 
 
 The reawakening was brought about by Gwendolen's 
 inviting the artist to stay to dinner. He had to decline, 
 because he wanted to live, now — that is, now that there 
 was something to live for — and he could not survive in those 
 clothes at a gentleman's table. He thought he knew that. 
 But he went away happy, for he sew that Gwendolen was 
 disappointed. 
 
 And whither did he go ? He went straight to a slop shop 
 and bought as neat and reasonably well-fitting a suit of 
 clothes as an Englishman could be persuaded to wear. He 
 said — to himself, but at his conscience — ' I know it's wrong ; 
 but it would be wrong not to do it ; and two wrongs do not 
 make a right.' 
 
 This satisfied him, and made his heart light. Perhaps 
 it will also satisfy the reader, if he can make out what it 
 means. 
 
 The old people were troubled about Gwendolen at dinner, 
 because she was so distraught and silent. If they had 
 noticed ihey would have found that she was sufficiently 
 alert and interested whenever the talk stumbled upon the 
 artist and his work ; but they didn't notice, and so the chat 
 woul4 swap around to some other subject, and then some- 
 body would presently be privately worrying about Gwendolen 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 198 
 
 again, and wondering if she were not well, or if something 
 had gone wrong in the millinery line. 
 
 Her mother offered her various reputable patent medi- 
 cines and tonics with iron and other hardware in them, and 
 her father even proposed to send out for wine, relentless 
 prohibitionist and head of the order in the district as 
 he was, but these 
 kindnesses were all 
 declined — thank- 
 fully, but with de- 
 cision. 
 
 At bedtime, 
 when the family 
 were breaking up 
 for the night, she 
 privately looted one 
 of the brushes, say- 
 ing to herself, * It's 
 the one he has used 
 the most.' 
 
 The next morn- 
 ing Tracy went 
 forth wearing his 
 new suit and equip- 
 ped with a pink in 
 
 his buttonhole — a daily attention from Puss. His whole 
 soul was full of Gwendolen Sellers, and this condition was 
 an inspiration artwise. All the morning his brush pawed 
 nimbly away at the canvasses, almost without his awarity — 
 awarity, in this sense, being the sense of being aware, 
 though disputed by some authorities — turning out marvel 
 upon marvel, in the way of decorative accessories to the 
 
 
 
 BBS LOOTBD 0MB OT THB BBVBHHB. 
 
194 
 
 THB AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 portraits, with a felicity and celerity which amazed the 
 veterans of the firm and fetched out of them continuous 
 explosions of applause. 
 
 Meantime Gwendolen was losing her morning and 
 many dollars. She supposed Tracy was coming in the 
 forenoon— a conclusion which she had jumped to without 
 outside help. So she tripped downstairs every little wUle 
 from her work parlour to arrange the brushes aad things 
 over again and see if he had arrived. And when she was 
 in her work parlour it was not profitable, but just the other 
 way — as she found out to her sorrow. She had put in her 
 idle moments during the last little while back in designing 
 a particularly rare and capable gown for herself, and this 
 morning she set about making it up ; but she was absent- 
 minded, and made an irremediable botch of it. 
 
 When she saw what she had done she knew the reason 
 of it, and the meaning of it, and she put her work away 
 from her, and said she would accept the sign. And from 
 that time forth she came no more away from the audience 
 chamber, but remained there and waited. 
 
 After luncheon she waited again. A whole hour. Then 
 a great joy welled up in her heart, for she saw him coming. 
 So she flew back upstairs thankful, and could hardly wait 
 for him to miss the principal brush, which she had mislaid 
 down there, but knew where she had mislaid it. 
 
 However, all in good time the others were called in, and 
 couldn't find the brush, and then she was sent for, and she 
 couldn't find it herself for some little time, but then she 
 found it when the others had gone away to hunt in the 
 kitchen and down cellar and in the woodshed, and all those 
 other places where people look for things whose ways they 
 are not familiar with. 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 195 
 
 So she gave him the brush, and remarked that she ought 
 to have seen that everything was ready for him, but it 
 hadn't seemed necessary, because it was so early that she 
 wasn't expecting — but she stopped there, surprised at her- 
 self for what she was saying; and he felt caught and 
 ashamed, and said to himself, 'I knew my impatience 
 would drag me here before I was expected and betray me, 
 and that is just what it has done ; she sees straight through 
 me, and is laughing at me, inside of course.' 
 
 Gwendolen was very much pleased, on one account, and 
 a little the other way in another; pleased with the new 
 clothes and the improvement which they had achieved ; less 
 pleased by the pink in the buttonhole. Yesterday's pink 
 had hardly interested her ; this one was just like it, but 
 somehow it had got her immediate attention and kept it. 
 She wished she could think of some way of getting at its 
 History in a properly colourless and indifferent way. Pre- 
 sently she made a venture. She said — 
 
 * Whatever a man's age may be, he can reduce it several 
 years by putting a bright-coloured flower in his button- 
 hole. I have often noticed that. Is that your sex's reason 
 for wearing a boutonniere ? ' 
 
 * I fancy not ; but certainly that reason would be a 
 sufficient one. I've never heard of the idea before.' 
 
 ' Tou seem to prefer pinks. Is it on account of the 
 colour or the form ? ' 
 
 *0h, no,' he said simply, 'they are given to me. I 
 don't think I have any preference.' 
 
 ' They are given to him,' she said to herself, and she felt 
 a coldness towards that pink. ' I wonder who it is, and 
 what she is like.' The flower began to take up a good deal 
 of room. It obtruded itself everywhere ; it intercepted all 
 
 oa 
 
100 
 
 TBE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 views and marred them ; it was becoming exceedingly an- 
 noying and conspicuous for a little thing. * I wonder if he 
 cares for her.* That thought gave her a quite definite pain. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 She had made everything comfortable for the artist ; there 
 was no further pretext for staying. So she said she would 
 go now, and asked him to summon the servants in case he 
 should need anything. She went away unhappy, and she 
 left unhappiness behind her, for she carried away all the 
 sunshine. 
 
 The time dragged heavily for both now. He couldn't 
 paint for thinking of her ; she couldn't design or millinerise 
 with any heart for thinking of him. Never before had 
 painting seemed so empty to him ; never had millinerising 
 seemed so void of interest to her. She had gone without 
 repeating that dinner invitation, an almost unendurable 
 disappointment to him. 
 
 On her part — well, she was suffering, too, for she had 
 found she couldn't invite him. It was not hard yesterday, 
 but it was impossible to-day. A thousand innocent privi- 
 leges seemed to have been filched from her unawares in 
 the past twenty-four hours. To-day she felt strangely 
 hampered, restrained of her liberty. To-day she couldn't 
 propose to herself to do anything or say anything concern- 
 ing this young man without being instantly paralysed into 
 non-action by the fear that he mi^t ' suspect.' Invite him 
 to dinner to-day ? It made her shiver to think of it. And 
 BO her afternoon was one long fret, broken at intervals. 
 V Three times she had to go downstairs on errands — that 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 197 
 
 is, she thought she had to go downstairs on errands. Thus, 
 going and coming, she had six glimpses of him, in the 
 aggregate, without seeming to look in his direction ; and she 
 tried to endure these electric ecstasies without showing any 
 sign, but they fluttered her up a good deal, and she felt 
 that the naturalness she was putting on was overdone and 
 
 TIUB DRAOOED HBAYILT TOB BOTH NOW. 
 
 quite too frantically sober and hysterically calm to deceive. 
 The painter had his share of the rapture. He had his six 
 glimpses, and they smote him with waves of pleasure that 
 assaulted him, beat upon him, washed over him deliciously, 
 and drowned out all consciousness of what he was doing 
 with his brush. So there were six places in his canvas 
 which had to be done over again. 
 
108 
 
 THIS AMJSUWAN CUIMANT 
 
 At IftNt Owondolon got Hotno ponoo of mind )iy Mon^litip; 
 word to ih% Thompioni, in tho ndglibourliood^ that nIio 
 WM ooming iheta to dinner. Hho wouldn't bo reminded 
 at that table that there wan an al^Montoe who ouglit to bo 
 a pronentee — a word which Hhe meant to look out In tbo 
 dictionary at a calmer time. 
 
 Abont thlN time the old Karl dropped in for a cimt with 
 the artist, and invited him to Mtay to dinner. TtM-y 
 cramped down bin Joy and gratitude by a Nuddeti and 
 powerful exerciNe of all hiti forces, and he felt that now that 
 he waN going to be cIomo to Gwendolen and hear her voice 
 and watch her face during Meveral preeiouM houm, earth 
 had nothing valuable to add to hin life for the preftent. 
 
 The Earl «aid to himself: * This dpeetre can eat apples, 
 apparently. We shall iind out now if that is a speciality. 
 I think myself it's a speciality. Apples, without doubt, 
 constitute the spectral limit. It was the case with our first 
 parents. No, I'm wrong'—at least only partly right. The 
 line was drawn at apples, Just as in the present case, but it 
 was from the other direction.' The new clothes gave him 
 a thrill of pleasure and pride. lie said to himself: 'I've 
 got part of him to date, any way.' 
 
 Sellers said he was pleased with Tracy's work, and ho 
 wont on and engaged him to restore his old masters, and 
 said he should also want him to paint his portrait and his 
 wife's, and possibly his daughter's. The time of the artist's 
 happiness was at flood now. The chat flowed pleasantly 
 along while Tracy painted, and Sellers carefully unpacked 
 a picture which he had brought with him. It was a chrome, 
 a new one, Just out. It was the smirking, self-satisfied 
 portrait of a man who was inundating the Union with 
 advertisements inviting everybody to buy his speciality, 
 
TUU AMmtlOAN OLAtMAN't 
 
 IM 
 
 which WAN A #9 Mhoo or dttm nvM or Inp Nomnitilng of thai 
 kind. The old gontloniAn ttinUA the chrotiio flat npmi h\n 
 lap, and gaisod down ionderly upon it. And b(;r.nmo Nil«nt 
 and modiiaiive. ProMonily Tracy noiicftd thai hi) wan 
 dripping ioar» on ii. ThiM ioocho^l iho yoting f«ll//w'N 
 iympathoiio naiuro, and at iho Mamo iirno ^/ivo him Uio 
 pAinfttl Mnio of bdng An iniriidor upon a Macrofl {rt'ismy, 
 an ohMorror of omoiionM whicli a Miran^^jr ought not to 
 witneiff. Bat hitt pity roNo Muporior to otlior conMidt^Ati/inM, 
 And cofflpflled him to try to comfort tho old mourruTr with 
 kindly words and a show of friendly interi^Mt. Ho Maid ',— 
 
 * I am very sorry— ii it a friend whom—' 
 
 * Ah, more than that, far more than that-— a relative, 
 the dearest I had on earth, although I was never permitte^l 
 to see him. Yes, it is yonng Lord Berkeley, who perished 
 
 so heroically in the awful confla ^hy, what in the 
 
 matter 7 ' 
 
 ' Oh, nothing, nothing. It was a little startling to be so 
 suddenly brought face to face, so to speak, with a person 
 one has heard so much talk about. Is it a good likeness 1 * 
 
 * Without doubt, yes. I never saw him, but you can 
 easily see the resembUince to his father/ said Belki's, htM' 
 ing ap the chromo, and glancing from it to the chromo 
 misrepresenting the usurping Earl and back again with an 
 approving eye. 
 
 ' Well, no, I am not sure that I make out the likeness. 
 It is plain that the usurping Earl there has a great deal of 
 character and a long face like a horse's, wfiereas his heir here 
 is smirky, moon-faced, and characterless.' 
 
 ' We are all that way in the beginning^all the line/ 
 said Sellers, nndisinrbed. ' We all start as moon-faced fools, 
 then later we tadpole along into horse-faced marvehi of 
 
200 
 
 fHE AMMittCAif OLAtMANT 
 
 intellect and character. It is by that sign and that fact that 
 I detect the resemblance here, and know this portrait to be 
 genuine and perfect. Yes, all our family are fools at first.' 
 
 ' This young man seems to meet the hereditary require- 
 ments, certainly.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes, he was a fool, without any doubt. Examine 
 the face, the shape of the head, the expression. It's all fool, 
 fool, fool, straight through.' 
 
 * Thanks,' said Tracy involuntarily. 
 ' Thanks ? ' 
 
 * I mean for explaining it to me. Go on, please.' 
 
 ' As I was saying, fool is printed all over the face. A 
 body can even read the details.' 
 
 * What do they say ? * 
 
 ' Well, added up, he is a wobbler/ 
 
 'Awhich?' 
 
 ' Wobbler. A person that's always taking a firm stand 
 about something or other— kind of a Gibraltar stand, he 
 thinks, for unshakable fidelity and everlastingness — and 
 then, inside of a little while, he begins to wobble ; no more 
 Gibraltar there ; no, sir, a mighty ordinary commonplace 
 weakling wobbling around on stilts. That's Lord Berkeley 
 to a dot, you can see it — ^look at that sheep. But — ^why, you 
 are blushing like sunset. Dear sir, have t unwittingly 
 offended you in some way ? ' 
 
 'Oh, no, indeed; no, indeed. Far from it. But it 
 always makes me blush to hear a man revile his own blood,' 
 he said to himself. * How strangely his vagrant and un- 
 guided fancies have hit upon the truth. By accident he 
 has described me. I am that contemptible thing. When 
 I left England I thought I knew myself; I thought I was a 
 very Frederick the Great for resolution and staying capa- 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 201 
 
 A 
 
 city; whereas, in truth, I am just a wobbler, simply a wob- 
 bler. Well, after all, it is at least creditable to have high 
 ideals and give birth to lofty resolutions ; I will allow my- 
 self that comfort.' Then he said, aloud, * Could this sheep, 
 as yon call him, breed a great and self-sacrificing idea in 
 his head, do you think ? Gould he meditate such a thing, 
 for instance, as the renunciation of the earldom and its 
 wealth and its glories, and voluntary retirement to the 
 ranks of the commonalty, there to rise by his own merit 
 or remain for ever poor and obscure ? ' 
 
 * Could he 7 Why, look at him — look at this simpering, 
 self-righteous mug. There is your answer. It's the very 
 thing he would think of. And he would start in to do it, 
 too.* 
 
 'And then?' 
 
 * He'd wobble.' 
 
 * And back down ? ' 
 
 * Every time.* 
 
 * Is that to happen with all my — 1 mean, would that 
 happen to all his high resolutions ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, certainly, certainly. It's the Bossmore of it.' 
 
 * Then this creature was fortunate to die.' 
 
 ' Suppose, for argument's sake, that I was a Bossmore, 
 and ' 
 
 * It can't be done.* 
 *Why?' 
 
 ' Because it's not a supposable case. To be a Bossmore 
 at your age you'd have to be a fool, and you're not a fool. 
 And you'd have to be a wobbler, whereas anybody that is 
 an expert in reading character can see at a glance that when 
 you set your foot down once, it's there to stay ; an earth- 
 quake can't wobble it.' He added to himself, ' That's enough 
 
203 
 
 THE AMBBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 to say to him, but it isn't half strong enough for the facts. 
 The more I observe him now, the more remarkable I find 
 him. It is the strongest face I have ever examined. There 
 is almost superhuman firmness here, immovable purpose, 
 iron steadfastness of will. A most extraordinary young 
 man.' 
 
 He presently said aloud — 
 
 'Some time I want to ask your advice about a little 
 matter, Mr. Tracy. You see, I've got that young lord's 
 remains— my goodness, how you jump ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, it's nothing ; pray, go on. You've got his remains ? ' 
 
 •Yes.' 
 
 ' Are you sure they are his, and not somebody else's ? 
 
 * Oh, perfectly sure. Samples, I mean. Not all of 
 him.' 
 
 ' Samples ? ' 
 
 * Yes, in baskets. Some time you will be going home, 
 and if you wouldn't mind taking them along ' 
 
 'Who— I?' 
 
 ' Yes, certainly. I don't mean now, but after a while; 
 after — ^but look here, would you like to see them P ' 
 
 ' No, most certainly not. I don't want to see them.' 
 
 ' Oh, very well, I only thought— heyo, where are you 
 going, dear ? * 
 
 ' Out to dinner, papa.' 
 
 Tracy was aghast. The Colonel said, in a disappointed 
 voice 
 
 *Well, I'm sorry. Sho, I didn't know phe was going 
 out, Mr. Tracy.' Gwendolen's face began to take on a sort 
 of apprehensive what-have-I-done expression. ' Three old 
 people to one young one ; well, it isn't a good team, that's 
 a fact.' Gwendolen's face betrayed a dawning hopefulness. 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 208 
 
 you 
 
 and she said, with a tone of reluctance that hadn't the hall- 
 mark on it — 
 
 ' If you prefer I will send word to the Thompsons that 
 I ' 
 
 * Oh, is it the Thompsons ? That simpliiies it ; sets 
 everything right. We can fix it without spoiling your 
 arrangements, my child. You've got your heart set on ' 
 
 ' But| papa, I'd just as soon go there some other ' 
 
 * N0| I won't have it. Tou are a good, hard-working, 
 darling child, and your father is not the man to disappoint 
 you when you ' 
 
 ' But, papa, I * 
 
 ' Go along, I won't hear a word. We'll get along, dear.' 
 
 Gwendolen was ready to cry with vexaliion. But there 
 was nothing to do but start, which she was about to do 
 when her father hit upon an idea which filled him with 
 delight because it so deftly covered all the difficulties of the 
 situation and made things smooth and satisfactory. 
 
 ' I've got it, my love, so that you won't be robbed of 
 your holiday and at the same time we'll be pretty satis- 
 factorily fixed for a good time here. You send Belle 
 Thompson here — perfectly beautiful creature, Tracy, per- 
 fectly beautiful. I want you to see that girl ; why, you'll 
 just go mad ; you'll go mad inside of a minute ; yes, you 
 send her right along, Gwendolen, and tell her — why, she's 
 gone.' He turned — she was already passing out the gate. 
 He muttered, ' I wonder what's the matter ; 1 don't know 
 what her mouth's doing, but I think her shoulders are 
 swearing.' 
 
 'Well,' said Sellers blithely to Tracy, 'I shall miss her 
 — ^parents always miss the children as soon as they're out 
 of sight,, it's only a natural and wisely ordained partiality 
 
204 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 — ^bui you*ll be all right, because Miss Belle will supply the 
 youthful element for you and to your encire content ; and 
 we old people will do our best, too. We shall have a good 
 enough time. And you'll have a chance to get better 
 acquainted with Admiral Hawkins. That's a rare character, 
 Mr. Tracy — one of the rarest and most engaging characters 
 the world has produced. You'll find him worth studying. 
 I've studied him ever since he was a child, and have always 
 found him develojung. I really consider that one of the 
 main things that has enabled me to master the difficult 
 science of character-reading was the vivid interest I always 
 felt in that boy and the baffling inscrutabilities of his ways 
 and inspirations.' 
 
 Tracy was not hearing a word. His spirits were gone ; 
 he was desolate. 
 
 'Yes, a most wonderful character. Concealment — 
 that's the basis of it. Always the first thing you want to 
 do is to find the keystone a man's character is built on — 
 then you've got it. No misleading and apparently incon- 
 sistent peculiarities can fool you then. What do you read 
 on the Senator's surface ? Simplicity ; a kind of rank and 
 protuberant simplicity ; whereas, in fact, that's one of the 
 deepest minds in the world. A perfectly honest man — an 
 absolutely honest and honourable man — and yet without 
 doubt the profoundest master of dissimulation the world 
 has ever seen.' 
 
 ' Oh, it's devilish.' This was wrung from the unlisten- 
 ing Tracy by the anguished thought what might have been 
 if only the dinner arrangements hadn't got mixed. 
 
 * No, I shouldn't call it that,' said Sellers, who now was 
 placidly walking up and down the room with his hands 
 under his coat-tails and listening to himself talk. ' One 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 206 
 
 could quite properly call it devilish in another man, but not 
 in the Senator. Your term is right — perfectly right — I 
 grant that — but the application is wrong. It makes a great 
 difference. Yes, he is a marvellous character. I do not 
 suppose that any other statesman ever had such a colossal 
 sense of humour, combined with the ability to totally con- 
 ceal it. I may except George Washington and Cromwell, 
 and perhaps Bobespierre, but I draw the line there. A per- 
 son not an expert might be in Judge Hawkins's company a 
 Ufetime and never find out he had any more sense of 
 humour than a cemetery. 
 
 A deep-drawn, yard-long sigh from the distraught and 
 dreaming artist, followed by a murmured ' Miserable, oh, 
 miserable.' 
 
 ' Well, no, I shouldn't say that about it, quite. On the 
 contrary, I admire his ability to conceal his humour, even 
 more, if possible, than I admire the gift itself, stupendous as 
 it is. Another thing — Gen. Hawkins is a thinker ; a keen, 
 logical, exhaustive, analytical thinker — perhaps the ablest 
 of modern times. That is, of course, upon themes suited to 
 his size, like the glacial period and the correlation of forces, 
 and the evolution of the Christian from the caterpillar — any 
 of those things ; give him a subject according to his size 
 and just stand back and watch him think. Why, you can 
 see the place rock. Ah, yes, you must know him ; you 
 must get on the inside of him. Perhaps the most extra- 
 ordinary mind since Aristotle.' 
 
 Dinner was kept waiting for a while for Miss Thompson, 
 but as Gwendolen had not delivered the invitation to her, 
 the waiting did no good, and the household presently went 
 to the meal without her. Poor old Sellers tried everything 
 his hospitable soul could devise to make the occasion an 
 
206 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 enjoyable one for the guest, and the guest tried his honest 
 best to be cheery and chatty and happy for the old gentle- 
 man's sake ; in fact, all hands worked hard in the interest 
 of a mutual good time, but the thing was a failure from the 
 start. Tracy's heart was lead in his bosom ; there seemed 
 to be only one prominent feature in the landscape, and 
 that was a vacant chair ; he couldn't drag his mind away 
 from Gwendolen and his hard luck ; consequently his dis- 
 tractions allowed deadly pauses to slip in every now and 
 then when it was his turn to say something, and, of course, 
 this disease spread to the rest of the conversation, where- 
 fore, instead of having a breezy sail in sunny waters, as 
 anticipated, everybody was bailing out and praying for 
 land. What could the matter be ? Tracy alone could have 
 told ; the others couldn't even invent a theory. 
 
 Meanwhile they were having a similarly dismal time at 
 the Thompson house — in fact, a twin experience. Gwen- 
 dolen was ashamed of herself for allowing her disappoint- 
 ment so to depress her spirits and make her so strangely 
 and profoundly miserable ; but feeling ashamed of herself 
 didn't improve the matter any ; it only seemed to aggravate 
 the suffering. She explained that she was not feeling very 
 well, and everybody could see that this was true ; so she 
 got sincere sympathy and commiseration ; but that didn't 
 help the case. Nothing helps that kind of a case. It is 
 best to just stand off and let it fester. The moment the 
 dinner was over the girl excused herself, and she hurried 
 home, feeling unspeakably grateful to get away from that 
 house and that intolerable suffering. 
 
 Will he be gone ? The thought arose in her brain, but 
 took effect in her heels. She slipped into the house, threw 
 off her things, and made straight for the dining-room. She 
 
 st 
 it 
 
 at 
 
 le 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 207 
 
 Btopped and listened. Her father's voice— with no life in 
 it ; presently her mother's — ^no Ufe in that ; a considerable 
 vacancy, then a sterile remark from Washington Hawkins. 
 Another silence ; then not Tracy's, but her father's voice 
 again. 
 
 ' He's gone/, she said to herself despairingly, and list- 
 lessly opened the door and stepped within. 
 
 * Why, my child,' cried the mother, * how white you are ! 
 Are you — has anything ' 
 
 'White?' exclaimed Sellers. 'It's gone like a flash; 
 'twasn't serious. Ahready she's as red as the soul of a 
 watermelon. Sit down, dear, sit down — goodness knows 
 you're welcome. Did you have a good time ? We've had 
 great times here — immense. Why didn't Miss Belle come ? 
 Mr. Traoy is not feeling well, and she'd have made him 
 forget it.' 
 
 She was content now, and out from her happy eyes 
 there went a light that told a secret to another pair of eyes 
 there, and got a secret in return. In just that infinitely 
 small fraction of a second those two great confessions were 
 made, received, and perfectly understood. All anxiety, 
 apprehension, uncertainty vanished out of these young 
 people's hearts, and left them filled with a great peace. 
 
 Sellers had the most confident faith that with the new 
 reinforcement victory would be at this last moment 
 snatched from the jaws of defeat, but it was an error. The 
 talk was as stubbornly disjointed as ever. He was proud 
 of Gwendolen, and liked to show her off, even against Miss 
 Belle Thompson, and here had been a great opportunity, 
 and what had she made of it ? He felt a good deal put 
 out. It vexed him to think that this Englishman, with 
 the travelling Briton's everlasting disposition to generalise 
 
SOS 
 
 THE AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 inrhole xnountaiD ranges from single sample grains of sand, 
 would jump to the conclusion that American girls were as 
 dumb as himself — generalising the whole tribe from this 
 single sample, and she at her poorest, there being nothing 
 at that table to inspire her, give her a start, keep her from 
 going to sleep. He made up his mind that, for the honour 
 of the country, he would bring these two together again 
 over the social board before long. 
 
 There would be a different result another time, he 
 judged. He said to himself, with a deep sense of injury : 
 * He'll put in his diary — they all keep diaries — he'll put in 
 his diary that she was miraculously uninteresting — dear, 
 dear; but wasn't she — I never saw the Uke — and yet 
 looking as beautiful as Satan, too— and couldn't seem to 
 do anything but paw breadcrumbs and pick flowers to 
 pieces and look fidgety. And it isn't any better here in 
 the Hall of Audience. I've had enough; I'll haul down 
 iny flag ; the others may fight it out if they want to.' 
 
 He shook hands all around and went off to do some 
 work which he said was pressing. The idolaters were the 
 width of the room apart, and apparently unconscious of 
 each other's presence. The distance got shortened a little 
 now. Very soon the mother witLJrew. The distance 
 narrowed again. Tracy stood before a chromo of some 
 Ohio politician which had been retouched and chain-mailed 
 for a crusading Bossmore, and Gwendolen was sitting on 
 the sofa not far from his elbow, artificially absorbed in 
 examining a photograph album that hadn't any photographs 
 in it. 
 
 The 'Senator' still lingered. He was sorry for the 
 young people; it had been a dull evening for tiiem. In 
 the goodness of his heart he tried to make it pleasant for 
 
TEE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 200 
 
 tliem now ; tried to remove the ill impression necessarily 
 left by the general defeat ; tried to be chatty, even tried to 
 be gay. But the responses were sickly; there was no 
 starting any enthusiasm ; he would give it up and quit— it 
 was a day specially picked out and consecrated to failures. 
 
 *bhb'8 kibsino it!' 
 
 But when Gwendolen rose up promptly and smiled a 
 glad smile, and said with thankfulness and blessing, * Must 
 you go ? ' it seemed cruel to desert, and he sat down again. 
 
 He was about to begin a remark when — when he didn't. 
 We have all been there. He didn't know how he knew his 
 
210 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 concluding to stay longer had been a mistake ; he merely 
 knew it, and he knew it for dead certain, too. And so he 
 bade good-night, and went mooning out, wondering what 
 he could have done that changed the atmosphere that way. 
 As the door closed behind him those two were standing 
 side by side, looking at the door — looking at it in a waiting, 
 second-counting, but deeply grateful kind of way. And the 
 instant it closed they flung their arms about each other's 
 necks, and there, heart to heart and lip to lip 
 
 ' Oh, my God ! she's kissing it ! ' 
 
 Nobody heard this remark, because Hawkins, who bred 
 it, only thought it ; he didn't utter it. He had turned the 
 moment he had closed the door, and had pushed it open a 
 little, intending to re-enter and ask what ill-advised thing 
 he had done or said, and apologise for it. But he didn't 
 re-enter ; he staggered ofif stunned, terrified, distressed. 
 
 t 
 
 CHAPTER XXn 
 
 Five minutes later he was sitting in his room with his head 
 bowed within the circle of his arms on the table — final 
 attitude of grief and despair. His tears were flowing fast, 
 and now and then a sob broke upon the stillnPHo. Presently 
 he said — 
 
 ' I knew her when she was a little child and used to 
 climb about my knees. I love her as I love my own, and 
 now, oh, poor thing, poor thing, I cannot bear it — she's 
 gone and lost her heart to this mangy materialiser. Why 
 didn't we see that that might happen ? But how could we ? 
 Nobody could. Nobody could ever have dreamed of such a 
 thing. Yon couldn't expect a person would fall in lovo 
 
TEE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 211 
 
 with a waxwork, and this one doesn't even amount to 
 that.' 
 
 He went on grieving to himself, and now and then 
 giving voice to his lamentations. 
 
 ' It's done, oh, it's done, and there's no help for it, no 
 midoing the miserable business. If I had the nerve I 
 would kill it. But that wouldn't do any good. She loves 
 it ; she thinks it's genuine and authentic. If she lost it 
 she would grieve for it just as she would for a real person. 
 And who's to break it to the family ! Not I — ^I'U die first. 
 Sellers is the best human being I ever knew, and I wouldn't 
 any more think of — oh, dear, why it'll break his heart when 
 he finds it out. And Folly's, too. This comes of meddling 
 with such infernal matters ! But for this the creature 
 would still be roasting in sheol, where it belongs. How is 
 it that these people don't smell the brimstone 7 Sometimes 
 I can't come into the same room with him without nearly 
 suffocating.' 
 
 After a while he broke out again — 
 
 * Well, there's one thing, sure. The materialising has 
 got to stop right where it is. If she's got to marry a 
 spectre, let her marry a decent one out of the middle ages, 
 like this one, not a cowboy and a thief such as this proto- 
 plasmic tadpole's going to turn into if Sellers keeps on 
 fussing at it. It costs ;^5,000 cash, and shuts down on the 
 company to stop the works at this point, but Sally Sellers's 
 happiness is worth more than that.' 
 
 He heard Sellers coming, and got himself to rights. 
 Sellers took a seat and said — 
 
 ' Well, I've got to confess I'm a good deal puzzled. It 
 did certainly eat, there's no getting around it. Not eat 
 exactly, either, but it nibbled — nibbled in an appetiteless 
 
 V 3 
 
212 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 way, but still it nibbled, and that's just a marvel. Now 
 the question is. What does it do with those nibblings? 
 That's it. What does it do with them ? My idea is that we 
 don't begin to know all there is to this stupendous discovery 
 yet. But time will show — time and science. Give us a 
 chance, and don't get impatient.' 
 
 But he couldn't get Hawkins interested ; couldn't make 
 him talk to amount to anything ; couldn't drag him out of 
 his depression, but at last he took a turn that arrested 
 Hawkins's attention. 
 
 ' I'm coming to like him, Hawkins. He is a person of 
 stupendous character — absolutely gigantic. Under that 
 placid exterior is concealed the most daredevil spirit that 
 was ever put into a man — he's just a Clive over again. 
 Yes, I'm aJl admiration for him, on account of his character, 
 and liking naturally follows admiration, you know. I'm 
 coming to like him immensely. Do you know I haven't 
 the heart to degrade such a character as that down to the 
 burglar estate for money or for anything else ? and I've 
 come to ask you if you are willing to let the reward go and 
 leave this poor fellow ' 
 
 'Wliereheis?' 
 
 * Yes— not bring him down to date.' 
 
 * Oh, there's my hand ; and my heart's in it, too.* 
 
 * I'll never forget you for this, Hawkins,' f*aid the old 
 gentleman, in a voice which he found it hard to control. 
 * You are making a great sacrifice for me, and one which 
 you can ill afford, but I'll never forget your generosity, and 
 if I live you shall not suffer for it, be sure of that.' 
 
 Sally Sellers immediately and vividly realised that she 
 was become a new being; a being of a far higher and 
 worthier sort than she had been such a little while before ; . 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 218 
 
 an earnest being, in place of a dreamer ; and supplied with 
 a reason for her presence in the world, where merely a 
 wistful and troubled curiosity about it had existed before. 
 So great and so comprehensive was the change which had 
 been wrought that she seemed to herself to be a real person 
 who had lately been a shadow; a something which had 
 lately been a nothing ; a purpose which had lately been a 
 fancy ; a finished temple, with the altar-fires lit and the 
 voice of worship ascending, where before had been but an 
 architect's confusion of arid working plans, unintelligible 
 to the passing eye and prophesying nothing. 
 
 * Lady ' Gwendolen ! The pleasantness of that sound 
 was all gone; it was an offence to her ear now. She 
 said : — 
 
 * There — that sham belongs to the past ; I will not be 
 called by it any more.' 
 
 * I may call you simply Gwendolen ? You will allow me 
 to drop the formalities straightway and name you by your 
 dear first name without additions ? ' 
 
 She was dethroning the pink, and replacing it with a 
 rosebud. 
 
 'There — that is better. I hate pink — some pinks. 
 Indeed, yes, you are to call me by my first name without 
 additions — that is — well, I don't mean without additions 
 entirely, but ' 
 
 It was as far as she could get. There was a pause ; 
 his intellect was struggling to comprehend ; presently it 
 did manage to catch the idea in time to save embarrass- 
 ment all around, and he said, gracefully — 
 
 * Dear Gwendolen ! I may say that ? * 
 
 * Yes— part of it. But— don't kiss me when I am talk- 
 ing ; it makes me forget what I was going to say. You 
 
214 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 can call me by part of that form, but not the last part. 
 Gwendolen is not my name.' 
 
 *Not your name?' This in a tone of wonder and 
 surprise. 
 
 The girl's soul was suddenly invaded by a creepy 
 apprehension, a quite definite sense of suspicion and alarm. 
 She put his arms away from her, looked him searchingly in 
 the eye, and said — 
 
 * Answer me truly, on honour. You are not seeking to 
 marry me on account of my rank ? * 
 
 The shot almost knocked him tiirough the wall, he was 
 so little prepared for it. There was something so finely 
 grotesque about the question and its parent suspicion that 
 he stopped to wonder and admire, and thus was he saved 
 from laughing. Then, without wasting precious time, he 
 set about the task of convincing her that he had been 
 lured by herself alone, and had fallen in love with her 
 only, not her title and position ; that he loved her with all 
 his heart, and could not love her more if she were a duchess, 
 or less if she were without home, name, or family. She 
 watched his face wistfully, eagerly, hopefully, translating 
 his words by its expression ; and when he had finished there 
 was gladness in her heart — a tumultuous gladness, indeed, 
 though outwardly she was calm, tranquil, even judicially 
 austere. She prepared a surprise for him now, calculated 
 to put a heavy strain upon those disinterested protestations 
 of his, and thus she delivered it, burning it away word by 
 word, as the fuse burns down to a bombshell, and watching 
 to see how far the explosion would lift him— 
 
 'Listen, and do not doubt me, for I shall speak the 
 exact truth. Howard Tracy, I am no more an earl's child 
 than you are ! ' 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 216 
 
 To her joy, and secret surprise, also, it never phased 
 him. He was ready this time and saw his chance. He cried 
 out with enthusiasm — 
 
 ' Thank heaven for that ! ' and gathered her to his 
 arms. 
 
 To express her happiness was almost beyond her gift 
 of speech. 
 
 ' You make me the proudest girl in all the earth,' she 
 said, with her head pillowed on his shoulder. ' I tnought it 
 only natural that you should be dazzled by the title — maybe 
 even unconsciously, you being English — and that you might 
 be deceiving yourself in thinking you only loved me, and 
 find you didn't love me when the deception was swept away ; 
 so it makes me proud that the revelation stands for nothing, 
 and that you do love just me, only me — oh, prouder than 
 any words can tell ! ' 
 
 * It is only you, sweetheart ; I never gave one envying 
 glance towards your father's earldom. That is utterly true, 
 dear Gwendolen.' 
 
 * There — you mustn't call me that. I hate that false 
 name. I told you it wasn't mine. My name is Sally 
 Sellers — or Sarah, if you like. From this time I banish 
 dreams, visions, imaginings, and will no more of them. I 
 am going to be myself— my geniune self, my honest self 
 my natural self, clear and clean of sham and folly and 
 fraud, and worthy of you. There is no grain of social in- 
 equaUty between us ; I, like you, am poor ; I, like you, am 
 without position or distinction ; you are a struggling artist; 
 I am that, too, in my humbler way. Our bread is honest 
 bread ; we work for our living. Hand in hand we will walk 
 hence to the grave, helping each other in all ways, living 
 for each other, being and remaining one in heart and 
 
210 
 
 TEE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 porpoee, one in hope and aspiration, inseparable to the 
 end. And though our place is low, judged by the world's 
 eye, we will make it as high as the highest in the essentials 
 of honest work for what we eat and wear, and conduct above 
 reproach. We live in a land, let us be thankful, where 
 this is all-sufficient, and no man is better than his neigh- 
 bour, by the grace of God, but only by his own merit.' 
 
 Tracy tried to break in, but she stopped him and kept 
 the floor herself. 
 
 ' I am not through yet. I am going to purge myself of 
 the last vestiges of artificiality and pretence, and then start 
 fair on your own honest level and be worthy mate to you 
 thenceforth. My father honestly thinks he is an earl. 
 Well, leave him his dream ! it pleases him and does no one 
 any harm. It was the dream of his ancestors before him. 
 It has made fools of the house of Sellers for generations, 
 and it has made something of a fool of me, but took no 
 deep root. I am done with it now and for good. Forty-eight 
 hours ago I was privately proud of being the daughter of a 
 pinchbeck earl, and thought the proper mate for me must 
 be a man of like degree ; but to-day— oh, how grateful I am 
 for your love, which has healed my sick brain and restored 
 my sanity — I could make oath that no earl's son in all the 
 world • 
 
 * Oh— well, but— but ' 
 
 ' Why, you look like a person in a panic. What is it ? 
 What is the matter ? ' 
 
 'Matter? Oh, nothing—nothing. I was only going 
 
 to say ' But in his flurry nothing occurred to him to say 
 
 for a moment ; then, by a lucky inspiration, he thought of 
 something entirely sufficient for the occasion, and brought 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 217 
 
 it out with eloquent force : ' Oh, how beautiful you are ! 
 You take my breath away when you look like that/ 
 
 It was well conceived, well-timed, and cordially de- 
 livered, and it got its reward. 
 
 * Let me see. Where was I ? Yes, my father's earldom 
 is pure moonshine. Look at those dreadful things on the 
 wall — you have, of course, supposed them to be portraits 
 of his ancestors, Earls of Bossmore. Well, they are not. 
 They are chromos of distinguished Americans — all moderns 
 — but he has carried them back a thousand years by re- 
 labelling them. Andrew Jackson there is doing what he 
 can to be the late American earl, and the newest treasure 
 in the collection is supposed to be the young English heir — 
 I mean the idiot with the crape; but in truth it's a 
 shoemaker, and not Lord Berkeley at all.' 
 
 * Are you sure ? ' 
 
 * Why, of course I am. Ho wouldn't look like that.' 
 'Why?' 
 
 * Because his conduct in his last moments, when the 
 fire was sweeping aroTind him, shows that he was a man. 
 It shows that he was a fine, high-souled young creature.' 
 
 Tracy was strongly moved by these compliments, and it 
 seemed to him that the girl's lovely Ups took on a new 
 loveliness when they were delivering them. He said 
 softly — 
 
 ' It is a pity he could not know what a gracious impres- 
 sion his behaviour was going to leave with the dearest and 
 sweetest stranger in the land of ' 
 
 * Oh, I almost loved him ! Why, I think of him every 
 day. He is always floating about in my mind.' 
 
 Tracy felt that this was a little more than was neces- 
 sary. He was conscious of the sting of jealousy. He said— 
 
218 
 
 TEE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 ' It is quite right to think of him — at least now and 
 then — that, is at intervals — in perhaps an admiring way, 
 hut it seems to me that ' 
 
 ' Howard Tracy, are you jealous of that dead man ? ' 
 
 He was ashamed — and at the same time not ashamed 
 He was jealous — and at the same time he was not jealous. In 
 a sense the dead man was himself; in that case compliments 
 and affection la^dshed upon that corpse went into his own 
 till and were clear profit. But in another sense the dead 
 man was not himself; and in that case all compliments and 
 afitection lavished there were wasted, and a sufficient basis 
 for jealousy. A tiff was the result of the dispute between 
 the two. They made it up, and were more loving than 
 ever. As an affectionate clincher of the reconciliation Sally 
 declared that she had now banished Lord Berkeley from 
 her mind, and added : * And, in order to make sure that 
 he shall never make trouble between us again, I will teach 
 myself to detest that name and all that have borne it, or 
 ever shall bear it.' 
 
 This inflicted another pang, and Tracy was minded to 
 ask her to modify that a little— just on general principles, 
 and as practice in not overdoing a good thing — but 
 thought perhaps he might better leave things as they were 
 and not risk bringing on another tiff. He got away from that 
 particular and sought less tender ground for conversation. 
 
 'I suppose you disapprove of aristocracies and nobi- 
 lities, now that you have renounced your title and your 
 father's earldom.' 
 
 * Beal ones ? Oh, dear, no, but I've thrown aside our 
 sham one for good.' 
 
 This answer fell just at the right time and just in the 
 right place to save the poor, unstable young man from 
 
TEE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 210 
 
 chai>ging his political complexion once mors. He had been 
 on the point of beginning to totter again, but this prop 
 shored him up and kept him from floundering back into 
 democracy and re-renouncing aristocracy. So he went 
 home glad that he had asked the fortunate question. The 
 girl would accept a little thing like a genuine earldom; 
 she was merely prejudiced against the brummagem article. 
 
 THE SIUDT VKVlh HAD KNIFED UKD. 
 
 Tes, he could have his girl and have his earldom, too; 
 that question was a fortunate stroke. 
 
 Sally went to bed happy, too ; and remained happy, 
 deliriously happy, for nearly two hours ; but at last, just 
 as she was sinking into a contented and luxurious uncon- 
 sciousness, the shady devil who lives and lurks and hides 
 and watches inside of human beings, and is always waiting 
 
8S0 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 for a chance to do the proprietor a malicious damage, 
 whispered to her bouI and said — 
 
 ' That question had a harmless look, but what was back 
 of it ? — what was the secret motive of it ? — what suggested 
 it?' 
 
 The shady devil had knifed her, and could retire now 
 and take a rest ; the wound would attend to business for 
 him. And it did. 
 
 Why should Howard Tracy ask that question 9 If ho 
 was not trying to marry her for the sake of her rank, what 
 should suggest that question to him 7 Didn't he plainly 
 look gratified when she said her objections to aristocracy 
 had their limitations ? Ah, he is after that earldom, that 
 gilded sham— it isn't poor me he wants. 
 
 So she argued, in anguish and tears. Then she argued 
 the opposite theory, but made a weak, poor business of it, 
 and lost the case. She kept the arguing up, one side and 
 then the other, the rest of the night, and at last fell asleep 
 in the dawn ; fell in the fire at dawn, one might say ; for 
 that kind of sleep resembles fire, and one comes out of it 
 with his brain baked and his physical forces fried out of 
 him. 
 
 CHAPTER XXin 
 
 Tbacy wrote \m father before he sought his bed. He wrote 
 a letter which he believed would get better treatment than 
 his cablegram received, for it contained what ought to be 
 welcome news; namely, that he had tried equality and 
 working for a living ; had made a fight which he could find 
 no reason to be ashamed of, and in the matter of earning a 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 221 
 
 living had proved that he was able to do it ; but that, on 
 the whole, he had arrived at the conclnHion that he conld 
 not reform the world single-handed, and was willing to 
 retire from the conflict with the fair degree of honour which 
 he had gained, and was also willing to return home and 
 resume his position and be content with it and thankful 
 for it for the future, leaving further experiment of a mis- 
 sionary sort to other young people needing the chastening 
 and quelling persuasions of experience, the only logic sure 
 to convince a diseased imagination and restore it to health. 
 
 Then he approached the subject of marriage with the 
 daughter of the American Claimant with a good deal of 
 caution and much painstaking art. He said praiseful and 
 appreciate e things about the girl, but didn't dwell upon 
 that detail or make it prominent. The thing which he made 
 prominent was the opportunity now so happily afforded to 
 reconcile York and Lancaster, graft the warring roses upon 
 one stem, and end for erer a crying injustice which had 
 already lasted far too long. 
 
 One could infer that he had thought this thing all out 
 and chosen the way of making all things fair and right, 
 L'ecr.use it was sufficiently fair and wiser than the renuncia- 
 tion scheme which he had brought with him from England. 
 One could infer that, but he didn't say it. In fact, the 
 more he read his letter over, the more he got to inferring 
 it himself. 
 
 When the old Earl received that letter the first part of it 
 filled him with &\ grim and snarly satisfaction ; but the rest 
 of it brought a snort or two out of him that conld be trans- 
 lated differently. He wasted no ink in this emergency, 
 either in cablegrams or letters ; he promptly took ship for 
 America to look into the matter himself. He had stanchly 
 
222 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 held his grip all this long time, and given no sign of the 
 hunger at his heart to see his son ; hoping for the cure of 
 his insane dream, and resolute that the process should go 
 through all the necessary stages without assuaging telegrams 
 or other nonsense from home, and here was victory at last. 
 Victory, but marred by this idiotic marriage project. Yes, 
 he would step over and take a hand in this matter himself. 
 
 During the first ten days following the mailing of the 
 letter Tracy's spirits had no idle time ; they were always 
 climbing up into the clouds or sliding down into the earth 
 as deep as the law of gravitation reached. He was intensely 
 happy and intensely miserable by turns, according to Miss 
 Sally's moods. He never could tell when the mood was 
 going to change, and when it changed he couldn't tell what 
 it was that had changed it. Sometimes she was so in love 
 with him that her love was tropical, torrid, and she could 
 find no language fervent enough for its expression ; then 
 suddenly, and without warning or any apparent reason, 
 the weather would change and the victim would find himself 
 adrift among the icebergs and feeling as lonesome and 
 friendless as the North Pole. It sometimes seemed to him 
 that a man might better be dead than exposed to these 
 devastating varieties of climate. 
 
 The case was simple. Sally wanted to believe that 
 Tracy's preference was disinterested; so she was always 
 applying little tests of one sort or another, hoping and ex- 
 pecting that they would bring out evidence which would 
 confirm and fortify her belief. Poor Tracy did not know 
 that these experiments were being made upon him ; con- 
 sequently he walked promptly into all the traps the girl 
 set for him. These traps consisted in apparently casual 
 references to social distinction, aristocratic title and privi- 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 228 
 
 lege, and such things. Often Tracy responded to these 
 references heedlessly, and not much caring what he said, 
 provided it kept the talk going and prolonged the seance. 
 He didn't suspect that the girl was watching his face and 
 listening for his words as one who watches the judge's face 
 and listens for the words which will restore him to home 
 and friends and freedom, or shut him away from the sun 
 and human companionship for ever. He didn't suspect 
 that his careless words were being weighed, and so he often 
 delivered sentences of death when it would have been just 
 as handy and all the same to him to pronounce acquittal. 
 Daily he broke the girl's heart ; nightly he sent her to the 
 rack for sleep. He couldn't understand it. 
 
 Some people would have put this and that together and 
 perceived that the weather never changed until one par- 
 ticular subject was introduced, and then that it always 
 changed. And they would have looked further and per- 
 ceived that that subject was always introduced by the one 
 party, never the other. They wou?d have argued, then, 
 that this was done for a purpose. If they could not find 
 out what that purpose was in any simpler and easier way, 
 they would ask. 
 
 But Tracy was not deep enough or suspicious enough 
 to think of these things. He noticed only one particular : 
 that the weather was always sunny when a visit began. 
 No matter how much it might cloud up later, it always 
 began with a clear sky. He couldn't explain this curious 
 fact to himself— he merely knew it to be a fact. The truth 
 of the matter was that by the time Tracy had been out of 
 Sally's sight six hours she was so famishing for a sight of 
 him that her doubts and suspicions were all consumed 
 away in the fire of that longing, and so always she came 
 
m 
 
 run AMKTUCAN CLAIMANT 
 
 into hfN proN^mco an NurpriHin^ly ra/liani and joyoan as bhir; 
 wasn't when nhn wf;nt out of it. 
 
 In circurnHtnncftM liki; th/;H«) a growin^^ pcrrtrait runn a 
 «ood many risks. Th(5 portrait of H'jIlorH, by Tra/;y, wa?{ 
 iigJitinfi along, day by day, through this niixij/l w<5ath*;r, 
 and daily abiding t«) Itsolf ln(;rudi(;abli)HignHof iUh vhcch-jf-A 
 Hfo it was ka^ling. It waH the happi^''^^ portrait, in HpotH, 
 that was over soon; hut in other spots a darnn^d houI 
 lookttd out from it; a soul that was suffering all the different 
 kinds of distress there are, from st^imachacho if> rahieH. 
 But Hellers liked it. Ife said it was just himself all rivcr— 
 a portrait that sweated moods from ayary iK)ro, and no two 
 moods alike. He said he had as many difleront kinds of 
 emotions in him as a jug. 
 
 It was a kind of a deailly work of art, maybe, hut it wan 
 a starchy picture for show ; for it was life si/.e, fall length, 
 and reprosontcd the American earl in a pr^^^r's scarlet robe, 
 with the three ermine bars indicative of an earl's rank, and 
 on the grey head an earl's coronet, tilted just a wee bit to 
 one side in a gallus and winsome way. When Rally's 
 weather was sunny, the portrait made Tracy chuckle ; but 
 when her weather was overcast, it disordered his mind and 
 stopped the circulation of his blood. 
 
 Late one night, when the sweethearts had been having 
 a flawless visit together, Bally's interior devil began to 
 work his specialty, and soon the con/ersation was drifting 
 toward the customary rock. Presently, in the midst of 
 Tracy's serene flow of talk, he felt a shudder which he knew 
 was not his shudder, but exterior to his breast, although 
 immediately against it. After the shudder came sobs ; Sally 
 was crying. 
 
 * Oh, my darling, what have I done—what have I said ? 
 
TItIi AM/CItrOAN OLAIAiANT 
 
 *m 
 
 Ifc }iaM h/ip}>r!>n(yl a^;iin t What have I rl/^no to wourul 
 yotiV' 
 
 Hho <ilmirnia>n(ii\ horH<;lf from hin arroi, anrl ({avo him a 
 look of (loop reproach. 
 
 * What have yr/u <l/jno 7 I will toll you wiiat yott bavo 
 done. You havo unwittingly rov(;a]/)(l, oh, for th«; twf;ntifdh 
 time, though I couUl not \xi\UiVti it, would not \t*i\'usy& it, 
 that it in not ma you UiVh, but tbit nham, my father's 
 imiifii'um carklom, and you havo hrokon my hoart ! ' 
 
 * Oh, my child, what aro you Maying! I ruivar dream«d 
 of Much a thing ! ' 
 
 'Oh, Howard, Howard, tho thingM you have uttered 
 when yott were forgettuig to guard your tongue have lie- 
 trayed you/ 
 
 ' Things I have uitttnA when I waM forgetting to guard 
 my tongue? TlieMe are hard wordM. When have I 
 remembered to guard it ? Never in ona instance. It ha« 
 no ofHce but to Hpeak the truth. It needn n/j guarding for 
 that/ 
 
 * Howard, I have noted your wordu and weighed them, 
 when you were not thinking of their Migniiicance ; and tliey 
 have told me more than you meant they fthoukl/ 
 
 ' Do you mean to Hay y^ . have answered the tru»t I 
 had in you by uning it ah an ambuMcade from which yon 
 could set Bnarefi for my unHUMpecting tongue, and be safe 
 from detection while you did it ? You have not done thi» — 
 nurely yon have not done thi« ? Ob, one'8 enemy could not 
 do it/ 
 
 Thi« was an aspect of the girFf conduct liiicb the had 
 not clearly perceived before. Waa it treachery 7 Had ihe 
 abused a trutft 7 The thought crimsoned her cheeks with 
 shame and remorse. 
 
226 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 
 ' Oh, forgive me,' she said. ' I did not know what I 
 was doing. I have been so tortured — ^you will forgive me, 
 you must ; I have suffered so much, and I am so sorry and 
 BO humble ; you do forgive me, don't you? — don't turn away, 
 don't refuse me ; it is only my love that is at fault, and 
 you know I love you, love you with all my heart ; I couldn't 
 bear to — oh, dear, dear, I am so miserable, and I never 
 meant any harm, and I didn't see where this insanity was 
 carrying me, and how it was wronging and abusing the 
 dearest heart in all the world to me — and— and — oh, take 
 me in your arms again. I have no other refuge, no other 
 home and hope ! ' 
 
 There was reconciliation again—immediate, perfect, 
 all-embracing— and with it utter happiness. This would 
 have been a good time to adjourn. But no, now that the 
 cloud-breeder was revealed at last ; now that it was mani- 
 fest that all the sour weather had come from this girl's 
 dread that Tracy was lured by her rank and not herself, 
 he resolved to lay that ghost immediately and permanently 
 by furnishing the best possible proof that he couldn't have 
 had back of him at any time the suspected motive. So 
 he said — 
 
 * Let me whisper a little secret in your ear — a secret 
 which I have kept shut up in my breast all this time. 
 Your rank couldn't ever have been an enticement. I am 
 son and heir to an English earl 1 ' 
 
 The girl stared at him, one, two, three moments, 
 maybe a dozen, then her lips parted — 
 
 * You ! ' she said, and moved away from him, still gazing 
 at him in blank amazement. 
 
 * Why— why, certainly I am. Why do you act like 
 this ? What have I done now ? ' 
 
THB AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 S87 
 
 what I 
 jive me, 
 rry and 
 ■n away, 
 ult, and 
 couldn't 
 I never 
 lity was 
 ing the 
 >h, take 
 10 other 
 
 perfect, 
 ) would 
 hat the 
 ) mani- 
 is girl's 
 herself, 
 anently 
 I't have 
 ve. So 
 
 k secret 
 
 s time. 
 
 I am 
 
 )ments, 
 
 gazing 
 
 let like 
 
 ' What have you done ? You have certainly made a 
 most strange statement. You must see that yourself.' 
 
 * Well,' with a timid little laugh, ' it may be a strange 
 enough statement ; but of what consequence is that, if it 
 is true ? ' 
 
 ' If it is true ? You are already retiring from it.' 
 <0h, not for a moment I You should not say that. 
 
 I have not deserved it. I have spoken the truth ; why do 
 
 you doubt it ? ' 
 
 Her reply was prompt. 
 
 * Simply because you didn't speak it earlier ! ' 
 
 < Oh ! ' It wasn't a groan exactly, but it was an intel- 
 ligible enough expression of the fact that he saw the point 
 and recognised that there was reason in it. 
 
 ' You have seemed to conceal nothing from me that I 
 ought to know concerning yourself, and you were not 
 privileged to keep back such a thing as this from me a 
 moment after — after — well, after you had determined to 
 pay your court to me.' 
 
 ' It's true, it's true, I know it t But there were circum- 
 stances in — in the way — circumstances which * 
 
 She waved the circumstances aside. 
 
 *Well, you see,' he said pleadingly, 'you seemed so 
 bent on our travelling the proud path of honest labour and 
 honourable poverty that I was terrified — that is, I was afraid 
 — of — of — well, you know how you talked.' 
 
 ' Yes, I know how I talked. And I also know that be- 
 fore the talk was finished you inquired how I stood as re- 
 gards aristocracies, and my answer was calculated to relieve 
 your fears.' 
 
 He was silent a while. Then he said in a discouraged 
 way— 
 
 • t 
 
228 
 
 THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 < I don't Bee any way out of it. It was a mistake. That 
 is in truth all it was, just a mistake. No harm was meant, 
 no harm in the world. I didn't see how it might some time 
 look. It is my way. I don't seem to see far.' 
 
 The girl was almost disarmed for a moment. Then she 
 flared up again. 
 
 * An earl's son t Do earls' sons go ahout working in 
 lowly callings for their bread-and-butter ? ' 
 
 ' God knows they don't I I have wished they did.' 
 
 < Do earls' sons sink their degree in a country like this, 
 and come sober and decent to sue for the hand of a born 
 child of poverty when they can go drunk, profane, and steeped 
 in dishonourable debt and buy the pick and choice of the 
 millionaires' daughters of America ? You are an earl's son ! 
 Show me the signs.' 
 
 ' I thank God I am not able — ^if those are the signs. But 
 yet I am an earl's son and heir. It is all I can say. I 
 wish you would believe me, but you will not. I know no 
 way to persuade you.' 
 
 She was about to soften again, but his closing remark 
 made her bring her foot down with smart vexation, and she 
 cried out — 
 
 * Oh, you drive all patience out of me. Would you have 
 one believe that you haven't your proofs at hand, and yet 
 are what you say you are ? Tou do not put your hand in 
 your pocket now, for you have nothing there. Yon make a 
 claim like this, and then venture to travel without creden- 
 tials. These are simply incredibilities. Don't you see that 
 yourself? ' 
 
 He cast about in his mind for a defence of some kind or 
 other, hesitated a little, and then said with difficulty and 
 diffidence -~ 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 * I will tell you just thA truth, foolish as it will seem to 
 you— to anybody, I suppose — but it is the truth. 1 had an 
 ideal — call i*- a dream, a folly, if you will— but I wanted to 
 renounce the privileges and unfair advantages enjoyed by 
 
 A 
 
 
 
 
 *YOV ABE AM EABL'b BON 1 SHOW ME TUB SIGNS.' 
 
 the nobility and wrung from the nation by force and fraud, 
 and purge myself of my share of those crimes against right 
 and reason by thenceforth comrading with the poor and 
 bumble on equal terms, earning with my own hands the 
 bread I ate, and rising by my own merit, if I rose at all.' 
 
280 
 
 TBB AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 The young girl scanned his face narrowly while he spoke ; 
 and there was something about his simplicity of manner and 
 statement which touched her — touched her almost to the 
 danger-point ; but she set her grip on the yielding spirit 
 and choked it to quiescence ; it could not be wise to sur- 
 render to compassion or any kind of sentiment, yet she 
 must ask one or two more questions. Tracy was reading 
 her face ; and what he read there lifted his drooping hopes 
 a little. 
 
 ' An earl's son to do that ! Why, he were a man I A man 
 to love ! — oh, a man to worship 1 ' 
 
 «Why,I • 
 
 * But he never lived ! He is not born, he will not be 
 born. The self-abnegation that could do that — even in utter 
 folly, and hopeless of conveying benefit to any, beyond the 
 more example — could be mistaken for greatness. Why, it 
 would be greatness in this cold age of sordid ideals ! A 
 moment — ^wait — let me finish. I have one question more. 
 Your father is earl of what ? ' 
 
 ' Bossmore— and I am Viscount Berkeley.' 
 Tho fat was in the fire again. The girl felt so outraged 
 that it was difficult to speak. 
 
 ' How can you venture such a brazen thing ? You know 
 that ha is dead, and you know that I know it. Oh, to rob 
 the living of name and honour for a selfish and temporary 
 advantage is crime enough, but to rob the dead — why it is 
 more than crime. It degrades crime I * 
 
 * Oh, listen to me— just a word— don't turn away like 
 that. Don't go — don't leave me so — stay one moment. On 
 my honour ' 
 
 * Oh, on your honour ! ' 
 
 * On my honour I am what I say 1 And I will prove it. 
 
spoke ; 
 ner and 
 I to the 
 g spirit 
 to sur- 
 yet she 
 reading 
 
 TBS AMBBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 281 
 
 A man 
 
 not be 
 in utter 
 ond the 
 Why, it 
 alsl A 
 n more. 
 
 utraged 
 
 lu know 
 , to rob 
 iporary 
 hy it is 
 
 ay like 
 )nt. On 
 
 rove it, 
 
 and yon will believe, I know you will. I will bring you a 
 message — a cablegram—* 
 'When?* 
 
 * To-morrow — next day—* 
 ' Signed " Bossmore " ? * 
 
 * Yes — signed " Bossmore." * 
 ' What will that prove ? * 
 
 * What will it prove ? What should it prove ? ' 
 
 ' If you force me to say it— possibly the presence of a 
 confederate somewhere.' 
 
 This was a hard blow, and staggered him. He said, 
 dejectedly— 
 
 *It is true. I did not think of it. Oh, my God, I do 
 not know any way to do ; I do everything wrong. You are 
 going ? — and you won't say even " good-night " or " good- 
 bye " ? Ah, we have not parted like this before.' 
 
 * Oh, I want to run, and — no, go now.' A pause, then 
 she said — 
 
 * You may bring the message when it comes.' 
 
 * Oh, may I ? God bless you ! ' 
 
 He was gone, and none too soon. Her lips were 
 already quivering, and now (vhe broke down. Through her 
 sobbings her words broke from time to time. 
 
 ' Oh, he is gone. I have lost him. I shall never see 
 him any more. And he didn't kiss me good-bye — never 
 even offered to force a kiss from me, and he knowing it was 
 the very, very last, %nd I expecting he would, and never 
 dreaming he would treat me so after all we have been to 
 each other. Oil, oh, oh, oh, what shall I do? He is a 
 dear, poor, mis^^ble, good-hearted, transparent liar, and 
 humbug, but oh, I do love him bo ! ' After a little she 
 broke into speech again. ' How dear he is 1 and I shall 
 
282 
 
 THS AMEBtCAlf CLAIMANT 
 
 miss him so f I shall miss him so ! Why won't he ever 
 think to forge a message and feteh it 9 But no, he never 
 will, he never thinks of anything ; he's so honest and simple 
 it wouldn't ever occur to him. Oh, what did possess him 
 to think he could succeed as a fraud — and he hasn't the 
 first requisite except duplicity that I can see. Oh, dear, I'll 
 go to hed and give it all up. Oh, I wish I had told him 
 to come and tell me whenever he didn't get any telegram, 
 and now it's all my own fault if I never see him again. 
 How my eyes must look 1 ' 
 
 CHAPTEB XXIV 
 
 Nbxi day, sure enough, the cablegram didn't come. This 
 was an immense disaster, for Tracy couldn't go into the 
 presence without that ticket, although it wasn't going to 
 possess any value as evidence. But if the failure of the 
 cablegram on that first day may be called an immense 
 disaster, where is the dictionary that can turn out a phrase 
 sizable enough to describe the tenth day's failure? Of 
 course every day that the cablegram didn't come made 
 Tracy all of tw&nty-fours more ashamed of himself than he 
 was the day before, and made Sally twenty-four hours more 
 certain than ever that he not only hadn't any father any- 
 where, but hadn't even a confederate — and so it followed 
 that he was a double-dyed humbug and couldn't be other- 
 wise. 
 
 These were hard days for Barrow and the art firm. All 
 these had their hands full, trying to comfort Tracy. 
 Barrow's task was particularly hard, because he was made 
 a confidant in full, and therefore had to humour Tracy's 
 
THE AMEBICAii CLAIMANT 
 
 S88 
 
 delusion that he had a father, and that the father was an 
 earl, and that he was going to send a cahlegiam. 
 
 Barrow early gave up the idea of trying to convince 
 Tracy that he hadn't any father, hecause this had such a 
 bad effect on the patient and worked up his temper to such 
 an alarming degree. He had tried, as an experiment, letting 
 Tracy think he had a father. The result was so good that 
 he went further with proper caution, and tried letting him 
 think his father was an earl. This wrought so well that he 
 grew bold and tried letting him think he had two fathers, 
 if he wanted to ; but he didn't want to, so Barrow withdrew 
 one of them and substituted letting him think he was going 
 to get a cablegram — which Barrow judged he wouldn't and 
 was right ; but Barrow worked the cablegram daily for all 
 it was worth, and it was the one thing that kept Tracy 
 alive : that was Barrow's opinion. 
 
 And these were bitter hard days for poor Sally, and 
 mainly delivered up to private crying. She kept her fur- 
 niture pretty damp, and so caught cold, and the dampness 
 and the cold and the sorrow together undermined her 
 appetite, and she was a pitiful eno"gh object, poor thing ! 
 Her state was bad enough, as per statement of it above 
 quoted; but all the forces of nature and circumstances 
 seemed conspiring to make it worse — and succeeding. For 
 instance, the morning after her dismissal of Tracy, Hawkins 
 and Sellers read in the associate press despatches that a 
 toy puzzle called Pigs in the Clover had come into sudden 
 favour within the past few weeks, and that from the Atlantic 
 to the Pacific all the populations of all the States had 
 knocked off work to play with it, and that the business of 
 the country had now come to a standstill in consequence ; 
 that judges, lawyers, burglars, parsons, thieves, merchants, 
 
284 
 
 THE AMBBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 mechanicB, murderers, iiromen, children, babies— everybody, 
 indeed, could be seen from morning till midnight absorbed 
 in one deep project and purpose, and only one — to pen 
 tho?c pigs, work out that puzzle successfully ; that all gaiety, 
 all cheerfulness had departed from the nation, and in its 
 place care, preoccupation, and anxiety sat upon every 
 countenance, and all faces were drawn, distressed, and fur- 
 rowed with the signs of age and trouble, and marked with 
 the still sadder signs of mental decay and incipient mad- 
 ness ; that factories were at work night and day in eight 
 cities, and yet to supply the demand for the puzzle was 
 thus far i mpossible. Hawkins was wild with joy, but Sellers 
 was c&lm. Small matters could not disturb his serenity. 
 He said — 
 
 * That's just the way things go. A man invents a thing 
 which could revolutionise the arts, produce mountains of 
 money and bless the earth, and who will bother with it or 
 show any interest in it ? — and so you are just as poor as 
 you were before. But you invent some worthless thing to 
 amuse yourself with, and would throw it away if left alone, 
 and all of a sudden the whole world makes a snatch for it 
 and out crops a fortune. Hunt up that Yankee and collect, 
 Hawkins — . if is yours, you know. Leave me to potter at 
 my lecture.* 
 
 This was a temperance lecture. Sellers was head chief 
 in the temperance camp, and had lectured now and then in 
 that interest, but had been dissatisfied with his efforts, 
 wherefore he was now about to try a new plan. After 
 much thought he had concluded that a main reason why his 
 lectures lacked fire or something was that they were too 
 transparently amateurish ; that is to say, it was probably 
 too plainly perceptible that the lecturer was trying to tell 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 885 
 
 body, 
 orbed 
 
 people about the horrid effects of liquor when he didn't 
 really know anything about those effects except from hearsay, 
 since he had hardly ever tasted an intoxicant in his life. 
 His scheme now was to prepare himself to speak from bitter 
 experience. Hawkins was to stand by with the bottle, 
 calculate the doses, watch the effects, make notes of results, 
 and otherwise assist in the preparation. Time was short, 
 for the ladies would be along about noon— that is to say, 
 the temperance organisation called the Daughters of Siloam 
 — and Sellers must be ready to head the procession. 
 
 The time kept slipping along ; Hawkins did not return. 
 Sellers could not venture to wait longer, so he attacked the 
 bottle himself and proceeded to note the effects. Hawkins 
 got back at last, took one comprehensive glance at the 
 lecturer, and went down and headed off the procession. 
 The ladies were grieved to hear that the champion had 
 been taken suddenly ill, and violently so, but glad to hear 
 that it was hoped he would be out again in a few days. 
 
 As it turned out, the old gentleman didn't turn over or 
 show any signs of life worth speaking of for twenty-four 
 hours. Then he asked after the procession, and learned 
 what had happened about it. He was sorry ; said he had 
 been ' fixed ' for it. He remained abed several days, and 
 his wife and daughter took turns in sitting with him and 
 ministering to his wants. Often he patted Sally's head, 
 and tried to comfort her. 
 
 * Don't cry, my child, don't cry so ; you know your old 
 father did it by mistake and didn't mean a bit of harm ; 
 you know he wouldn't intentionally do anything to make 
 you ashamed for the world ; you know he was trying to do 
 good and only made the mistake through ignorance, not 
 knowing the right doses, and Washington not there to help. 
 
 ifl 
 
286 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 Don't cry so, dear, ii breaks my old heart to see you, and 
 think I've brought this humiliation on you, and you so 
 dear to me and so good. I won't ever do it again, indeed, I 
 won't ; now be comforted, honey, that's a good child.' 
 
 But when she wasn't on duty at the bedside the crying 
 went on just the same ; then the mother would try to com- 
 fort her and say — 
 
 * Don't cry, dear, he never meant any harm ; it was all 
 one of those happenings that you can't guard against when 
 you are trying experiments thai. way. You see I don't cry. 
 It's because I know him so well. I could never look any- 
 body in the face again if he had got into such an amazing 
 condition as that a-purpose ; but, bless you, his intention 
 was pure and high, and that makes the act pure, though it 
 was higher than what was necessary. We're not humiliated, 
 dear ; he did it under a noble impulse, and we don't need 
 to be ashamed. There, don't cry any more, honey.' 
 
 Thus the old gentleman was useful to Sally during 
 several days as an explanation of her tearfulness. She felt 
 thankful to him for the shelter he was affording her, but 
 often said to herself : ' It's a shame to let him see in my 
 cryings a reproach, as if he could ever do anything that 
 could make me reproach him. But I can't confess ; I've 
 got to go on using him for a pretext ; he's the only one I've 
 got in the world, and I do need one so much.' 
 
 As soon as Sellers was out again, and found that stacks 
 of money had been placed in bank for him and Hawkins by 
 the Yankee, he said : ' Now we'll soon see who's the claim- 
 ant and who's the authentic. I'll just go over there and 
 warm up that House of Lords.' During the next few days 
 he and his wife were so busy with preparations for the voyage 
 that Sally had all the privacy she needed, and all the chance 
 
 to 
 
 N( 
 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 287 
 
 to cry that was good for her. Then the old pair left for 
 New York— and England. 
 
 Sally had also a chance to do another thing. That 
 was, to make up her mind that Ufe was not worth living 
 upon the present terms. If she must give up her impostor 
 and die, doubtless she must submit ; but might she not 
 lay her whole case before some disinterested person first, 
 and see if there wasn't perhaps some saving way over the 
 matter ? She turned this idea over in her mind a good 
 deal. In her first visit with Hawkins after her parents 
 were gone the talk fell upon Tracy, and she was impelled 
 to set her case before the statesman and take his counsel. 
 So she poured out her heart, and he listened with painful 
 solicitude. She concluded pleadingly with — 
 
 'Don't tell me he's an impostor. I suppose he is, bu\ 
 doesn't it look to you as if he isn't ? You are cool, you 
 know, and outside, and so maybe it can look to you as if 
 he isn't one, when it can't to me. Doesn't it look to you 
 as if he isn't ? Couldn't you — can't it look to you that 
 way — for — for my sake ? * 
 
 The poor man was troubled, but he felt obliged to keep 
 in the neighbourhood of the truth. He fought around the 
 present detail a little while, then gave it up and said he 
 couldn't really see his way to clearing Tracy. 
 
 ' No,* he said, ' the truth is he's an impostor.' 
 
 * That is, you — you feel a little certain, but not entirely 
 —oh, not entirely, Mr. Hawkins.' 
 
 ' It's a pity to have to say it — I do hate to say it — but 
 I don't think anything about it, I know he's an impostor.' 
 
 ' Oh, now, Mr. Hawkins, you can't go that far. A body 
 can't really know it, you know. It isn't proved he's not 
 what he says he id.' 
 
 t 
 ill 
 
 '' -I 
 
288 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 Should he come out and make a clean breast of the 
 whole wretched business ? Yes — at least the most of it — it 
 ought to be done. So he set his teeth, and went to the 
 matter with determination, but purposing to spare the girl 
 one pain — that of knowing that Tracy was a criminal. 
 
 ' Now I am going to tell you a plain tale ; one not 
 pleasant for me to tell or for you to hear, but we've got to 
 stand it. I know all about that fellow, and I know he's no 
 earl's son.' 
 
 The girl's eyes flashed and she said — 
 
 ' I don't care a snap for that — go on.' 
 
 This was so wholly unexpected that it at once obstructed 
 the narrative : Hawkins was not sure he had heard aright. 
 He said — 
 
 ' I don't know that I quite understand. Do you mean 
 to say that if he was aU right and proper otherwise you'd 
 be indifferent about the earl part of the business ? ' 
 
 * Absolutely.* 
 
 ' You'd be entirely satisfied with him, and wouldn't care 
 for his not being an earl's son — that being an earl's son 
 wouldn't add any value to him ? ' 
 
 * Not the least value that I would care for. Why, Mr. 
 Hawkins, I've gotten over all that daydreaming about 
 earldoms and aristocracies and all such nonsense, and am 
 become just a plain, ordinary nobody, and content with it ; 
 and it is to him I owe my cure. And as to anything being 
 able to add a value to him, nothing can do that. He is the 
 whole world to me, just as he is ; he comprehends all the 
 values there are — then how can you add one ? ' 
 
 * She's pretty far gone,' he said to himself. He con- 
 tinned, still to himself: ' I must change my plan again ; I 
 can't seem to strike one that will stand the requirements oi 
 
THS AMBBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 this most variegated emergency five minutes on a stretch. 
 Without making this fellow a criminal, I believe I will 
 invent a name and character for him calculated to disen- 
 chant her. If it fails to do it, then I'll know that the next 
 rightest thing to do will be to help her to her fate, poor 
 thing, not hinder her.' Then he said aloud^- 
 
 « Well, Gwendolen ' 
 
 ' I want to be called Sally.' 
 
 < I'm glad of it. I like it better. Well, I'll teU you 
 about this man Snodgrass.' 
 
 ' Snodgrass ! Is that his name ? ' 
 
 * Yes — Snodgrass. The other's his nom de plum€* 
 
 * It's hideous I ' 
 
 ' I know it is, but we can't help our names.' 
 'And that is truly his real name — and not Howard 
 Tracy?' 
 
 Hawkins answered regretfully— 
 
 * Yes, it seems a pity.' 
 
 The girl sampled the name musingly. 
 
 * Snodgrass, Snodgrass. No, I could not endure that. 
 I could not get used to it. No, I should call him by his 
 first name. What is his first name ? ' 
 
 * His — er — his initials are S. M.' 
 
 * His initials ? I don't care anything about his initials. 
 I can't call him by his initials. What do they stand for ? ' 
 
 ' Well, you see his father was a physician, and he — he— 
 well, he was an idolater of his profession, and he — well, he 
 was a very eccentric man, and ' 
 
 *What do they stand fori What are you shufiOing 
 about?* 
 
 *They — well, they stand for Spinal Meningitis. His 
 father being a phy—' 
 
240 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 * I never heard such an infamous name ! Nobody can 
 ever call a person that — a person they love. I wouldn't 
 call an enemy by such a name. It sounds like an epithet.' 
 After a moment, she added with a kind of consternation : 
 'Why, it would be my name! Letters would come with 
 it on.' 
 
 * Yes — Mrs. Spinal Meningitis Snodgrass.' 
 
 * Don't repeat it — don't: I can't hear it. Was the 
 father a lunatic ? ' 
 
 * N0| that is not charged.' 
 
 'I am glad of that, because that is transmissible. 
 What do you think was the matter with him, then ? ' 
 
 * Well, I don't really know. The family used to run a 
 good deal to idiots, and so, maybe ' 
 
 ' Oh, there isn't any maybe about it. This one was an 
 idiot.' 
 
 ' Well, yes — he could have been. He was suspected.' 
 
 ' Suspected ! ' said Sally with irritation. ' Would one 
 suspect there was going to be a dark time if he saw the 
 eonstellations fall out of the sky? But that is enough 
 about the idiot ; I don't take any interest in idiots ; tell me 
 about the son.' 
 
 ' Very well, then ; this one was the oldest, but not the 
 favourite. His brother, Zylobalsamum— '— >' 
 
 * Wait, give me a chance to realise that. It is perfectly 
 stupefying. Zylo— what did you call it ? ' 
 
 ' Zylobalsamum.' 
 
 * I never heard such a name. It sounds like a disease. 
 Is it a disease?' 
 
 ' No, I don't think it's a disease. It's either scriptural 
 or-^ — • 
 
 * Well, it's not scriptural.* 
 
THEAMBmOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 241 
 
 >dy can 
 ouldn't 
 pithet/ 
 nation : 
 le with 
 
 ^as the 
 
 lissible. 
 
 I run a 
 
 was an 
 
 cted.' 
 lid one 
 law the 
 enough 
 tell me 
 
 lot the 
 
 )rfeotly 
 
 [iseaso. 
 iptural 
 
 ' Then it*8 anatomical. I knew it was one or the other. 
 Yes, I remember now, it is anatomical. It's a ganglion, 
 a nerve centre — it is what is called the zylobalsamum 
 process.* 
 
 * Well, go on ; and if you come to any more of them, 
 omit the names ; they make one feel so uncomfortable.' 
 
 'Very well, then. As I said, this one was not a 
 favourite in the family, and so he was neglected in every 
 way, never sent to school, always allowed to associate with 
 the worst and coarsest characters, and so, of course, he has 
 grown up a rude, vulgar, ignorant, dissipated ruCdan, 
 and * 
 
 *He? It's no such thing 1 Tou ought to be more 
 generous than to make such a statement as that about 
 a poor young stranger who — who — why, he is the very 
 opposite of that ! He is considerate, courteous, obliging, 
 modest, gentle, refined, cultivated — oh, for shame 1 how 
 can you say such things about him ? ' 
 
 * 1 don't blame you, Sally — indeed, I haven't a word of 
 blame for you for being blinded by your affection — blinded 
 to these minor defects which are so manifest to others, 
 who * 
 
 'Minor defects? Do you call these minor defects? 
 What are murder and arson, pray ? ' 
 
 ' It is a difficult question to answer straight off, and, of 
 course, estimates of such things vary with environment. 
 With us, out our way, they would not necessarily attract as 
 much attention as with you ; yet they are often regarded 
 with disapproval * 
 
 ' Murder and arson are regarded with disapproval ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, frequently.* 
 
 * With disapproval * Who are those puritans you are 
 
243 
 
 THE AMEtttCAN CLAIMANT 
 
 talking about? But wait— how do you know bo much 
 about this family? Where did you get all this hearsay 
 evidence ? * 
 
 ' Sally, it isn't hearsay. That is the serious part of it. 
 I knew that family personally.' ■ 
 
 This was a surprise. 
 
 ' You ? You actually knew them ? ' 
 
 'Knew Zylo, as we used to call him, and knew bis 
 father, Dr. Bnodgrass. I didn't know your own Snodgrass, 
 but have had glimpses of him from time to time, and I 
 heard about him all the time. He was the common talk, 
 you see, on account of his ' 
 
 'On account of his not being a houseburner or an 
 assassin, I suppose. That would have made him common- 
 place. Where did you know these people ? ' 
 
 ' In Cherokee Strip.' 
 
 * Oh, how preposterous ! There are not enough people 
 in Cherokee Strip to give anybody a reputation, good or bad, 
 There isn't a quorum. Why., the whole population consists 
 of a couple of wagon loads of horse thieves.' 
 
 Hawkins answered placidly — 
 
 ' Our friend was one of those wagon loads.* 
 
 Sally's eyes burned and her breath came quick and fast, 
 but she kept a fairly good grip on her anger and did not 
 let it get the advantage of her tongue. The statesman sat 
 still and waited for developments. He was content with 
 his work. It was as handsome a piece of diplomatic art as 
 he had ever turned out, he thought ; and now, let the girl 
 make her own choice. He judged she would let her spectre 
 go ; he hadn't a doubt of it ; but any way let the choice be 
 made and he was ready to ratify it and offer no further 
 hindrance. 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 248 
 
 BO much 
 hearsay 
 
 art of it. 
 
 :new bis 
 lodgrass, 
 ), and I 
 ion talk, 
 
 r or an 
 tommon- 
 
 b people 
 
 1 or bad, 
 
 consists 
 
 md fast, 
 
 did not 
 
 man sat 
 
 3nt with 
 
 ic art as 
 
 the girl 
 
 r spectre 
 
 hoice be 
 
 further 
 
 Meanwhile Sally had thought and made up her mind. 
 To the Major's disappointment the verdict was against him. 
 Bally said — 
 
 ' He has no friend but me, and I >vill not desert him 
 now. I will not marry him if his moral character is bad ; 
 but if he can prove that it isn't I will — and he shall have 
 the chance. To me he seems utterly good and dear ; I 
 have never seen anything about him that looked otherwise 
 —except, of course, his calling himself an earl's son. 
 Maybe that is only vanity, and no real harm, when you get 
 to the bottom of it. I do not believe he is any such person 
 as you have painted him. I want you to find him and send 
 him to me. I will implore him to be honest with me and 
 tell me the whole truth, and not be afraid.' 
 
 * Very well ; if that is your decision I will do it. But, 
 Sally, you know he's poor and ' 
 
 * Oh, I don't care about that. That's neither here nor 
 there. Will you bring him to me ? ' 
 
 'I'll do it. When?' 
 
 ' Oh, dear, it's getting toward dark now, and bo you'll 
 have to put it off. But you will find him in the morning, 
 won't you ? Promise.' 
 
 * I'll have him here by daylight.' 
 
 * Oh, now you're your own old self again— and lovelier 
 than ever.' 
 
 ' I couldn't ask fairer than that. Good-bye, dear.' 
 Sally mused a moment alone, then said earnestly, ' I 
 
 love him in spite of his name,' and went about her affairs 
 
 with a light heart. 
 
 b2 
 
244 
 
 TEE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 Hawkins went straight to the telegraph-office and disbur- 
 dened his conscience. He said to himself, ' She's not going 
 to give this galvanised cadaver up, that's plain. Wild 
 horses can't pull her away from him. I've done my share; 
 it's for Sellers to take an innings now.' So he sent this 
 message to New York — 
 
 Gome back. Hire a special train. She's going to marry the 
 materialisee. 
 
 Meantime a note came to Bossmore Towers to say that 
 the Earl of Bossmore had just arrived from England, and 
 would do himself the pleasure of calling. Sally said to 
 herself — 
 
 'It's a pity he didn't stop in New York; but it's no 
 matter ; he can go up to-morrow and see my father : he 
 has come over here to tomahawk papa very likely, or buy out 
 his claim. This thing would have excited me a while back, 
 but it has only one interest for me now, and only one value. 
 I can say — to — to — Spine, Spiny, Spinal — I don't like any 
 form of that name ! I can say to him to-morrow : Don't 
 try to keep it up any more, or I shall have to tell you whom 
 I have been talking with last night, and then you will be 
 embarrassed.' 
 
 Tracy couldn't know he was to be invited for the 
 morrow, or he might have waited. As it was, he was too 
 miserable to wait any longer ; for his last hope — a letter — 
 had failed him. It was fully due to-day ; it had not come. 
 Had his father really flung hivz away ? It looked so. It 
 was not like his father, but it surely looked so. His father 
 
TEE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 24S 
 
 disbur- 
 lot going 
 Wild 
 y share ; 
 lent this 
 
 marry the 
 
 say that 
 and, and 
 said to 
 
 t it's no 
 ther: he 
 r buy out 
 lile back, 
 ne value, 
 like any 
 v: Don't 
 }u whom 
 a will be 
 
 for the 
 
 was too 
 
 letter— 
 
 ot come. 
 
 [ so. It 
 
 is father 
 
 was a rather tough nut, in truth, but ha« '^ever been so 
 with his son ; still, this implacable silence i. a a calamitous 
 look. Any way, Tracy would go to the Towers and — then 
 what ? He didn't know : his head was tired out with think- 
 ing — he wouldn't think about what he must do or say : let 
 it all take care of itself. So that he saw Sally he would be 
 satisfied. Happen what might, he wouldn't care. 
 
 He hardly knew how he got to the Towers, or when. 
 He knew and cared for only one thing — he was alone with 
 Sally. She was kind, she was gentle, there was moisture 
 in her eyes, and a yearning something in her face and 
 manner which she could not wholly hide ; but she kept her 
 distance. They talked. By-and-by she said, watching his 
 downcast countenance out of the corner of her eye — 
 
 ' It's 80 lonesome — with papa and mamma gone. I try 
 to read, but I can't seem to get interested in any book. I 
 try the newspapers, but they do put such rubbish in them. 
 You take up a paper and start to read something you 
 think's interesting, and it goes on and on and on about how 
 somebody — well. Dr. Snodgrass, for instance ' 
 
 Not a movement from Tracy, not the quiver of a muscle. 
 Sally was amazed, what command of himself he must have ! 
 Being disconcerted, she paused so long that Tracy pre- 
 sently looked up wearily and said — 
 
 'Well?' 
 
 ' Oh, I thought you were not listening. Yes, it goes on 
 and on about this Dr. Snodgrass till you are so tu'ed, and 
 then about his younger son — ^the favourite son — Zylobal- 
 samum Snodgrass * 
 
 Not a sign from Tracy, whose head was drooping 
 again. What supernatural self-possession t Sally fixed 
 her eye on him and began again, resolved to blast him out 
 
246 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 of his serenity this time if she knew how to apply the 
 dynamite that is concealed in certain forms of words when 
 those words are properly loaded with unexpected meanings. 
 
 ' And next it goes on and on and on ahout the eldest son 
 — not the ii . jurite, this one — and how he is neglected 
 in his poor, harren hoyhood, and allowed to grow up 
 unschooled, ignorant, coarse, vulgar, the comrade of the 
 community's scum, and become in his completed manhood 
 a rude, profane, dissipated ruffian * 
 
 That head still drooped ! Sally rose, moved softly and 
 solemnly a step or two and stood before Tracy— his head 
 came slowly up, his meek eyes met her intense ones — then 
 she finished with deep impressiveness — 
 
 ' — named Spinal Meningitis Snodgrass.' 
 
 Tracy merely exhibited signs of increased fatigue. The 
 girl was outraged by this iron indifference and callousness, 
 and cried out — 
 
 * What are you made of ? ' 
 
 'I? Why?* 
 
 'Haven't you any sensitiveness? Don't these things 
 touch any poor remnant of delicate feeling in you ? * 
 
 *N-no,' he seid wonderingly, *they don't seem to* 
 Why should they?' 
 
 ' Oh, dear me, how can you look so innocent and foolish 
 and good and empty and gentle, and all that, right in the 
 hearing of such things as those ! Look me in the eye- 
 straight in the eye. There ; now, then, answer me with- 
 out a flinch. Isn't Br. Snodgrass your father, and isn't 
 Zylobalsamum your brother ? ' (Here Hawkins was about 
 to enter the room, but changed his mind upon hearing these 
 words, and elected for a walk down town, and so glided swiftly 
 away.) ' And isn't your n^'.me Spinal Meningitis, and isn't 
 
TEE AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 247 
 
 pply the 
 rds when 
 leanings. 
 Idest son 
 leglected 
 grow up 
 e of the 
 nanhood 
 
 oftly and 
 his head 
 es — then 
 
 ue. The 
 lousness, 
 
 Q things 
 
 jeem to» 
 
 d foolish 
 it in the 
 le eye — 
 ne with- 
 nd isn't 
 la about 
 ng these 
 i swiftly 
 nd isn't 
 
 yonr father a doctor and an idiot, like all the family for 
 generations, and doesn't he name all his children after 
 poisons and pestilences and abnormal anatomical eccen- 
 tricities of the human body ? Answer me, some way or 
 somehow — and quick. Why do you sit there, looking like 
 an envelope without any address on it, and see me going 
 mad before your face with suspense I ' 
 
 ' Oh, I wish I could do — do — ^I wish I could do some- 
 
 *UX FATHEHl' 
 
 thing— anything that would give you peace again and make 
 you happy ; but I know of nothing— I know of no way. I 
 never heard of these awful people before.' 
 
 « What ? Say it again ! ' 
 
 * I have never, never in my life till now.* 
 
 'Oh, you do look so honest when you say that! It 
 mupt be true; surely you couldn't look that way, you 
 wouldn't look that way if it were not true, would you ? * 
 
248 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 * I couldn't and wouldn't. It is true. Oh, let us end 
 this suffering. Take me back into your heart and con- 
 fidence * 
 
 * Wait^ne more thing. Tell me you told that false- 
 hood out of mere vanity, and are sorry for it ; that you are 
 not expecting to ever wear the coronet of an earl ' 
 
 * Truly I am cured — cured this very day — I am not 
 expecting it ! ' 
 
 * Ob, now you are mine I I've got you back in the 
 beauty and glory of your unsmirched poverty and your 
 honourable obscurity, and nobody shall ever take you from 
 me again but the grave I And if ' 
 
 * De Earl of Bossmore, from Englan' 1 ' 
 
 * My father ! ' The young man released the girl and 
 hung his head. 
 
 The old gentleman stood surveying the couple — the one 
 with a strongly complimentary right eye, the other with a 
 mixed expression done with the left. This is difficult, and 
 not often resorted to. Presently his face relaxed into a 
 kind of constructive gentleness, and he said to his son — 
 
 ' Don't you think you could embrace me, too ? ' 
 
 The young man did it with alacrity. 
 
 * Then you are the son of an earl, after all ? ' said Sally 
 reproachfully. 
 
 « Yes, I ' 
 
 * Then I won't have you I • 
 
 * Oh, but you know * 
 
 ' No, I will not. You've told me another fib.' 
 
 * She's right. Go away and leave us. I want to talk 
 with her.* 
 
 Berkeley was obliged to go. But he did not go far. He 
 remained on the premises. At midnight the conference 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 fl49 
 
 between the old gentleman and the young girl was still 
 going blithely on, but it presently drew to a close, and the 
 former said — 
 
 * I came all the way over here to inspect you, my dear, 
 with the general idea of breaking off this match if there 
 were two fools of you, but as there's only one, you can have 
 him if you'll take him.' 
 
 ' Indeed, I will, then t May I kiss you ? ' 
 
 'You may. Thank you. Now you shall have that 
 privilege whenever you are good.' 
 
 Meantime Hawkins had long ago returned and slipped 
 up to the laboratory. He was rather disconcerted to find 
 his late invention, Snodgrass, there. The news was told 
 him ; that the English Bossmore was come, ' and I'm his 
 son. Viscount Berkeley, not Howard Tracy any more.' 
 
 Hawkins was aghast. He said — 
 
 ' Good gracious, then you're dead 1 ' 
 
 •Dead?' 
 
 'Yes, you are — we've got your ashes.* 
 
 ' Hang those ashes, I'm tired of them ; I'll give them to 
 my father.* 
 
 Slowly and painfully the statesman worked the truth 
 into his head that this was really a flesh-and-blood young 
 man, and not the unsubstantial resurrection he and Sellers 
 had so long supposed him to be. Then he said with feeling — 
 
 ' I'm so glad — so glad on Sally's account, poor thing I 
 We took you for a departed materialised bank thief from 
 Tahlequah. This will be a heavy blow to Sellers.' 
 
 Then he explained the whole matter to Berkeley, who 
 said — 
 
 * Well, the claimant must manage to stand the blow, 
 severe as it is. But he'll get over the disappointment.' 
 
250 
 
 THE AMERIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 * Who — the Colonel ? He'll get over it the minute ho 
 invents a new miracle to take its place. And he's already 
 at it by this time. But look here— what do you suppose 
 became of the man you've been representing ? * 
 
 * I don't know. I saved his clothes — it was all I could 
 do. I am afraid he lost his life.' 
 
 * Well, you must have found twenty or thirty thousand 
 dollars in those clothes in money or certificates of deposit.' 
 
 * No, only five hundred and a trifle. I borrowed the 
 trifle and banked the five hundred.' 
 
 * What'U we do about it 7 * 
 
 * Eeiurn it to the owner.' 
 
 * It's easy said, but not easy to manage. Let's leave it 
 alone till we get Sellers's advice. And that reminds me, 
 I've got to run and meet Sellers, and explain who you 
 are not, and who you are, or he'll come thundering in here 
 to stop his daughter from marrying a phantom. But— 
 suppose your father come over here to break off the match ? ' 
 
 ' WeU, isn't he downstairs getting acquainted with Sally ? 
 That's all safe.' 
 
 So Hawkins departed to meet and prepare the Sellerses. 
 
 Bossmore Towers saw great times and late hours during 
 the succeeding week. The two earls were such opposites 
 in nature that they fraternised at once. Sellers said 
 privately that Bossmore was the most extraordinary cha- 
 racter he had ever met — a man just made out of the con- 
 densed milk of human kindness, yet with the ability to 
 totally hide the fact from any but the most practised 
 character reader ; a man whose whole being was sweetness, 
 patience, and charity, yet with a cunning so profound, an 
 ability so marvellous in the acting of a double part, that 
 many a person of intelligence might live with him for 
 
 ee 
 ol 
 
 
 ■J 
 
THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 251 
 
 centuries and never suspect the presence in him of these 
 characteristics. 
 
 Finally, there was a quiet wedding at the TowerSi instead 
 
 THESE WAS A QUIET WEDDING AT THE TOWBBB. 
 
 of a big one at the British Embassy, with the militia and 
 the fire brigades and the temperance organisations on hand 
 in torchlight procession, as at first proposed by one of the 
 
 i 
 
262 
 
 THE AMEBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 earls. The art firm and Barrow were present at the 
 wedding, and the turner and Puss had heen invited, but 
 the tinner was ill and Fuss was nursing him — for they 
 were engaged. 
 
 The Sellerses were to go to England with their new 
 allies for e brief visit, but when it was time to take the 
 train from Washington the Colonel was missing. Hawkins 
 was going as far as New York with the party, and said he 
 would explain the matter on the road. The explanation 
 was in a letter left by the Colonel in Hawkins's hands. In 
 it he promised to join Mrs. Sellers later, in England, and 
 then went on to say — 
 
 'The truth is, my dear Hawkins, a mighty idea has 
 been borne to me within the hour, and I must not even 
 stop to say good-bye to my dear ones. A man's highest 
 duty takes precedence of all minor ones, and must be 
 attended to with his best promptness and energy, at what- 
 soever cost to his affections or his convenience. And first 
 of all a man's duties is his duty to his own honour : he 
 must keep that spotless. Mine is threatened. When I was 
 feeling sure of my imminent future soHdity, I forwarded 
 to the Czar of Bussia, perhaps prematurely, an o£Fer for the 
 purchase of Siberia, naming a vast sum. Since then an 
 episode has warned me that the method by which I was 
 expecting to acquire this money — materialisation upon a 
 scale of limitless magnitude — is marred by a taint of tem- 
 porary uncertainty. His Imperial Majesty may accept my 
 olfer at any moment. If this should occur now, I should 
 find myself painfully embarrassed, in fact, financially in- 
 adequate. I could not take Siberia. This would become 
 known, and my credit would suffer. 
 
 ' Beoently my private hours have been dark indeed, but 
 
THE AMERICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 258 
 
 it the 
 
 \, but 
 
 they 
 
 but 
 
 the sun shines again now. I see my way. I shall be able 
 to meet my obligations, and without having to ask an 
 extension of the stipulated time, I think. This grand 
 new idea of mine — the sublimest I have ever conceived— 
 will save me whole, I am sure. I am leaving for San 
 Francisco this moment to test it by the help of the great 
 Lick telescope. Like all of my more notable discoveries and 
 inventions, it is based upon hard, practical, scientific laws. 
 All other bases are unsound, and hence untrustworthy. 
 
 ' In brief, then, I have conceived the stupendous idea of 
 reorganising the climates of the earth according to the 
 desire of the populations interested. That is to say, I will 
 furnish climates to order, for cash or negotiable paper, 
 taking the old climates in part payment, of course, at a 
 fair discount, where they are in condition to be repaired at 
 small cost, and let out for hire to poor and remote commu- 
 nities not able to afford a good climate, and not caring for an 
 expensive one for mere display. My studies have convinced 
 me that the regulation of climates and the breeding of new 
 varities at will from the old stock is a feasible thing. In- 
 deed, I am convinced that it has been done before — done 
 in prehistoric times by now forgotten and unrecorded civili- 
 sations. Everywhere I find hoary evidence of artificial 
 manipulation of climates in bygone times. Take the glacial 
 period. Was that produced by accident ? Not at all ; it 
 was done for money. I have a thousand proofs of it, and 
 will some day reveal them. 
 
 ' I will confide to you an outline of my idea. It is to 
 utilise the spots on the sun; gat control of them, you 
 understand, and apply the stupendous energies which they 
 wield to beneficent purposes in the reorganising of our 
 climates. At present they merely make trouble and do 
 
254 
 
 THE AMEBICAN CLAIMANT 
 
 harm in the evoking of cydones and other kinds of electric 
 storms; but once under humane and intelligent control 
 this will cease and they will become a boon to man. 
 
 ' I have my plan all mapped out, whereby I hope and expect 
 to acquire complete and perfect control of the sun-spots, also 
 details of the method whereby I shall employ the same 
 commercially ; but I will not venture to go into particulars 
 before the patents shall have been issued. I shall hope and 
 expect to sell shop rights to the minor countries at a 
 reasonable figure, and supply a good business article of 
 climate to the great empires at special rates, together with 
 fancy brands for coronations, battles, and other great and 
 particular occasions. There are billions of money in this 
 enterprise : no expensive plant is required, and I shall begin 
 to realise in a few days — in a few weeks at furthest. I shall 
 stand ready to pay cash for Siberia the moment it is 
 delivered, and thus save my honour and my credit. I am con- 
 fident of this. I would like yon to provide a proper outfit and 
 start north as soon as I telegraph you, be it night or be it 
 day. I wish you to take up all the country stretching away 
 from the North Pole on all sides for many degrees south, and 
 buy Greenland and Iceland at the best figure you can get 
 now ^7hile they are cheap. It is my intention to move one 
 of the tropics up there and transfer the frigid zone to the 
 equator. I will have the entire Arctic Circle in the market 
 as a summer resort next year, and will use the surplusage 
 of the old climate, over and above what ca*i be utilised on 
 the equator, to reduce the temperature of opposition resorts. 
 But I have said enough to give you an idea of the prodigious 
 nature of my scheme and the feasible and enormously 
 profitable character of it. I shall join all you happy 
 people in England as soon as I shall have sold out some 
 
THE AMBBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 255 
 
 of my principal climates, and arranged with the Czar about 
 Siberia. 
 
 ' Meantime, watch for a sign from me. Eight days 
 from now we shall be wide asunder, for I shall be on the 
 border of the Pacific and you far out on the Atlantic, 
 approaching England. That day, if I am alive, and my 
 subUme discovery is proved and established, I will send you 
 gretiling, and my messenger shall deUver it where you are, 
 in the solitudes of the sea ; for I will waft a vast sun-spot 
 across the disc like drifting smoke, and you will know it for 
 my love-sign, and will say, ** Mulberry Sellers throws us a 
 kiss across the universe.*' ' 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 WEATHEB FOB USE IN THIS BOOR. SELECTED FBOM 
 THE BEST AUTHOBITIES 
 
 A BBiEF though violent thuuderstonn which had raged over 
 the city was passing away ; but still, though the rain had ceased 
 more than an hour before, wild piles of dark and coppery clouds, 
 in which a fierce and rayless glow was labouring, gigantically 
 overhung the grotesque and huddled vista of dwarf houses, while 
 in the distance, sheeting high over the low misty confusion of 
 gables and chimneys, spread a pall of dead leprous blue, suffused 
 with blotches of dull glistening yellow, and with black plague- 
 spots of vapour floating, and faint lightenings crinkling on its 
 surface. Thunder, still muttering in the close and sultry air, 
 kept the scared dwellers in the street within, behind their closed 
 shutters ; and all deserted, cowed, dejected, squaUd, like poor, 
 stupid, top-heavy things that had felt the wrath of the summer 
 tempest, stood the drenched structures on either side of the 
 narrow and crooked way, ghastly and picturesque under the giant 
 canopy. Bain dripped wretchedly in slow drops of melancholy 
 sound from their projecting eaves upon the broken flagging, lay 
 there in pools or trickled into the swollen drains, where the 
 fallen torrent sullenly gurgled on its way to the river. 
 
 * The Brazen AndroidZ—W. D. O'Connor. 
 
 The fiery mid-March sun a moment hung 
 
 Above the bleak Judean wilderness ; 
 
 Then darkness swept upon us, and 'twas night 
 
 ' Easter Eve at Eerak-Moab.*— Clinton Scollard. 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 967 
 
 HOM 
 
 jed over 
 >d ceased 
 r clouds, 
 mtically 
 )8, while 
 fusion of 
 su£fused 
 plague* 
 g on its 
 iltry air, 
 ir closed 
 ike poor, 
 summer 
 ) of the 
 the giant 
 lancholy 
 ring, lay 
 lere the 
 
 )nnor. 
 
 >llard. 
 
 The quiok-ooming winter twilight was already at hand. 
 Snow was again falling, sifting delicately down, incidentally as 
 >* ^ere. 4 PeUoia.'— Fanny N. D. Murfree. 
 
 Merciful heavens I The whole west, from right to left, blazes 
 up with a fierce light, and next instant the earth reels and quivers 
 with the awful shock of ten thousand batteries of artillery. It 
 is the signal for the fury to spring — for a thousand demons to 
 scream and shriek — for innumerable serpents of fire to writhe 
 and light up the blackness. 
 
 Now the rain falls, now the wind is let loose with a terrible 
 shrieki now the lightning is so constant that the eyes bum, and 
 the thunder-daps merge into an awful roar, as did the 800 
 cannon at Gettysburg. Grash 1 Orash ! Orash ! It is the cot- 
 ton-wood trees falling to earth. Shriek I Shriek I Shriek ! It 
 is the demon racing along the plain and uprooting even the 
 blades of grass. Shock I Shock 1 Shock 1 It is the fury flinging 
 his fiery bolts into the bosom of the earth. 
 
 * The Demon and the Fury.' — M. Quad. 
 
 Away up the gorge all diurnal fancies trooped into the wide 
 Uberties of endless luminous vistas of azure sunlit mountains 
 beneath the shining azure heavens. The sky, looking down in 
 deep blue placidities, only here and there smote the water to 
 azure emulations of its tmt. 
 
 * In the Stranger's Country.' — Charles Egbert Craddock. 
 
 There was every indication of a dust-storm, though the sun 
 still shone brilliantly. The hot wind had become wild and ram- 
 pant. It was whipping up the sandy coating of the plain in 
 every direction. High in the air were seen whirling spires and 
 cones of sand— a curious effect against the deep blue sky. Below, 
 puffs of sand were breaking out of the plain in every direction, 
 as though the plain were alive with mvisible horsemen. These 
 sandy oloudlets were instantly dissipated by the wind ; it was 
 
 \% 
 
 Y 
 
908 
 
 TEB AMBBIOAN CLAIMANT 
 
 the larger oloads that were lifted whole into the air, and the 
 larger clouds of sand were becoming more and more the rule. 
 
 Alfred's eyes, quickly scanning the horizon, descried the roof 
 of the boundary-rider's hut still gleaming in the sunlight. He 
 remembered the hut well. It could not be farther than four 
 miles, if as much as that, from this point of the track. He also 
 knew these dust-storms of old ; Bindarra was notorious for 
 them. Without thinking twice, Alfred put spurs to his horse, 
 and headed for the hut. Before he had ridden half the distance, 
 the detached clouds of sand banded together in one dense whirl- 
 wind, and it was only owing to his horse's instinct that he did 
 not ride wide of the hut altogether, for during the last half-mile 
 he never saw the hut until its outline loomed suddenly over his 
 horse's ears, and by then the sun was invisible. 
 
 ' A Bride from the Bush.' 
 It rained forty days and forty nights. — Geneait. 
 
I and the 
 I rule. 
 i the roof 
 ght. He 
 hau four 
 He also 
 trious for 
 bis horse, 
 distance, 
 ise whirl- 
 !it he did 
 half-mile 
 ' over his 
 
 ^ 
 
 f.)i^.