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HKAD-riECK— THE BOARDERS. „ lag'' I ALARMKD THE COOK" „ .„^ Pacing p. fi READIXCi WEnSTKR's mCTrONARV'" . .. .„ '"WHAT AUK THE FIIIST SVMPTOMS OK ,N- S.'.NITV V " " 12 niE CONSPIRATORS *■ 18 " ' I STCCK TO THE ITOs ' " „, , "22 WEUN T YOLR EARS U,x,J KNOIO.r V " u gg '"THE CORKS POPPE,,,,, SOME PruPOSE UST NIGHT " " . . , '"»■ VOU COULD SPARE So ,,,tT,.E AS ONE klame'" .... THE SCHOOL .MA.STKR AS A COOLER . " " ." ' .. l[ IIOIIMO • • . ,i8 '•'"KAD,NOT„E„UN„A. NEWSPAPERS'" ; ^ /^^l ^t WOOING THE MrsE 04 fi.'S 71 74 76 80 82 86 88 94 96 110 11-2 122 124 1^2 KM 138 vll ingp. 64 Page. fin 14 71 ing p. 71 a 7t5 u 80 82 " 86 88 94 t( m ii 110 u 112 u 122 (( 124 11 1^2 u i:u 138 thky dkpartkd "you fish all day, and havk no luck". hk col'ld bk hkakd thuowing things about "uk was not muudkiied" "SUPKKINTKNDKNT SMITHKUS HAS NOT AB- SCONDKI) " THK INSl'IKKl) BOARDKU PAID HIS IIII.L " I KNOW YOU can't, BKOAUSK IT ISN't TIIKUk" "you can MAKK YOURHELK HKAIU) in SAN UfANCISCO" THE PIIOPHKTOGRAPH "I GliASPKD IT IN MY TWO HANDS " "PIANO.pr,AVING isn't ALWAYS MUSIC" "the MOON ITSELF WILL HE ISED " "declinks to be hidden" "the bibliomaniac would bk raising bulbs "... " didn't know enough to choose his own PACE " ".lAMTORS havk TO HK SKKN TO " . " MY KLOyUKNCE ELOATDD UP THE AlUSHAFT " cmgp . 144 a 148 it 150 u 156 (1 ir.s u 1C.4 u ir.K (1 174 4i 176 a 184 ii 180 i( 190 1 194 200 208 21(1 210 fciJ The giiCists at Mrs. Smitliors's liigh-class boarding-house for gentlemen had asscnihled as usual for breakfast, and in a few moments Mary, the dainty M'aitress, entered with the steaming coffee, the mush, and the rolls. The School-Master, who, by-ihe-way, was suspected by Mi's. Sinithers of having inten- tions, and for that reason occupied the chair nearest the lady's heart, folded up the morn- ing paper, and placing it under him so tliat no one else could get it, observed, (piite gen- ially for him, " It was very wet yesterday.'' " I didn't find it so," observed a youu'^ nian seated balf-way down the tal)1e, who was by common const'ut called the Idiot, because of 1 I his " views.-' " In fact, I was very dry yes- terday. Curious thing, Fm always dry on rainy davs. I am one of the land of men who' know that it is the part of wisdom to .tay in when it rains, or to carry an umbrella when it is not possible to stay at home, or, having no home, like ourselves, to remain cooped up in stalls, or stalled up in coops, as ^ ou may prefer." ''You carried an nmhrella, then ?" observed the landlady, ignoring the Idiot's shaft at the rize o<' her "elegant and airy ai)artments with an case born of experience. " Yes, madame," returned the Idiot, quite unconscious of what was coming. "^Yhosc?"' queried the lady, a sarcastic smile playing about her lips. " That' I cannot say, :Mrs. Smithers," re- plied the Idiot, serenely, "hut it is the one von usually carry." "Your insinuation, sir," said Uie S(lu)ol- Master, coming to the landlady's rescue, " is an unworthy one. Tlu" umbrella in (iue> tion is mine. It has been in my ])Ossession for live years." i 4 ^ " Then," replied the Idiot, unabashed, " it is time you returned it. Don't you think ry yes- :lry on )[ men loni lo nbrcUa \m\ or, remain lop^, as ibscrved 't !it the inents '" )t, quite ^areastic ers," re- Ihe one ' Sclu)ol- st'ue, "■" ifi ill que.-?- (osscssion si\e(l, " it •;;u think men's morals are rather lax in this matter of cimbrellas, Mr. Whitcchoker ?'' he added, turning from the School-Master, who began to show signs of irritation. '* Very," said the Minister, running his fin- ger ai)out his neck to make the colhir which had been sent home from the laundry by mistake set more casilv — " very lax. At the last Conference I attended, some person, for- getting his high olflce as a minister in the Churcli, walked of! with my umbrella without fo much as a thank you; and it was em- barrassing, too, because the rain was coming down in bucketfuls." " What did you do ? " asked fhc landlady, sympathetically. She liked Mr. Whitechok- er's sermons, and, beyond this, he was a more profitable boarder than any of the others, re- maining home to luncheon every day and having to i)ay extra therefor. " There was but one thing left for me to do. I took the bishop's umbrella," said ^Ir. ^\'hiteclloker, blushing slightly. " But you returned it, of course ? " said the Idiot. " I intended to, but I left it on the train on my way back homo the next day," replied the Clergyman, visibly embarrassed by the Idiot's imcxpectod cross-examination. " It's the same way with books," put in the Bibliomaniac, an unfortunate bein<,' whoso love of rare first editions had brought him down from aHluencc to boarding. " ]\[any a man who wouldn't steal a dolhir wouhl run off with a book. I had a friend once wiio had a rare copy of Through Africa bij J)ai/- light. It was a beautiful book. Only twv^nty- five copies printed. The margins of the pages vrere four inches wide, and the title- page was rubricated; the frontispiece was colored by hand, and the seventeenth page had one of the most amusing typogra[)hical errors on it — "' " Was there any reading-matter in the book?" asked the Idiot, blowing li'oftly on a hot potato that was nicely balanced on the end of his fork. " Yes, a little ; but it didn't amount to much," returned the Bibliomaniac. "It isn't as reading-matter that men like myself care for l)Ooks, yoii know. We have a higher no- tion than that. It is as a specimen of the book-maker's art that wo admire a cliastc bit of literature like Through Africa hi/ Dau- v» d by tlie n. )iit in tho ;ig whose iiction upon his intellect. ^' I don't really know wh..(her Ihal is due to vour gen- I'nilly unsuspicious nature, or to your short- comings as a mind-reader." ;"'^''»''-^' are some mimis," put in the land- h»«ly at this point, "that aiv so small that it 10 I would c'ortaiiilv I'uiii Ihc eyes to attem])t to read tlu'iu." " I liavc H'on many such," observed tho Idiot, suavelv. "• Even our friend tlie Biblio- maniac at times has seemed to me to be very absent-minded. And that reminds me, Doc- tor," he continued, addressing himself to the medical boarder. " What is the cause of absrnt-mindedness? " "That,"' returned the Doctor, ponderously, " is it very large ijuestion. Absent-minded- ness, generally s])eaking, is the result of th(! projection of the intellect into surroundings other than those which for want of a better term I might call the corporeally immedi- ate."' " So 1 jiave understood," said the Idiot, ai)])rovi]igly. " And is abseni-mindedncss ac- quired or iidierent? " Here the Idiot appropriated the roll el' ]u>i neighbor. " That dej)ends largely upon the case,"' re])lie{l tlu' l)orti)r, lu'rvoiisly. "Some are born absent-minded, some achieve absenl- mindedness, and some have absent-minded- ness thrust upon them." *' As illustrations of which we might take, Idiot, REAUINU WKUSTEU'S DICTIONAUV '" I *n ' i 11 for instance, T suppose,"" said the Idiot, '' tlie born idiot, the borrower, and the man wlio is knocked silly by the pole of a truck on Broadway." "Precisely," replied the Doctor, ^lad to isot ont of the discussion so easily. Jle was a very young doctor, and not always sure of himself. "Or," put in the School-^Mastcr, "to con- dense our illustrations, if the Idiot would kindly go out u])on I'roadway and encoun- tt'r the truck, we should find the three coi:;- bined in him." The landlady here laughed quite heartily, and handed the School-Master an extra strong cup of colTee, " There is a great deal in what you say," said the Idiot, without a tremor. "There are very few scientific phenomena that can- not be demonstrated in one way or another by my poor but essentially hoiK^st self. It is the exception always that proves the rule, and in my case you find a consistent converse exemplidcation of all three branches of ab- ijent-mindedness." "lie talks w<'ll," said the I'ibliomaniac, yDflo voce, to the ^Minister. 12 " Yes, especial ly when ho gets hold of largo words. I really believe he reads," replied :.[r. Whitechoker. " I know he docs," said the School-Master, who had overheard. "1 saw him reading Webster's Dictionary last night. 1 have no" ticed, however, that generally his vocaoulary is largely confined to words that come Ik- tween the letters A and F, which shows that as yet ho has not dijipcd very deeplv into the l)ook." " What are vou murmuring about ? " que- ried the Idiot, noting the lowered tone of those on the other side of the table. "MVe were conversing— ahem ! about—" began the ^finister, with a despairing glance at the Bibliomaniac. "Let me say it," interrupted the Biblio- maniac. " You aren't used to prevarication, and that is what is demanded at this time. We were talking about— ah— about— er—" "Tut! tut!" ejaculated the School-Mas- ter. "We were only saying we thought the —er— the— that the—" "What arc the first symptoms of insanity, Doctory " observed (be Idiot, willi ;> |,.„k of wonder at the three shudling boarders op- of large roi)]ied Master, reading avc 110- aijulary •me be- wri that Iv iiit;) que- one of out—" glance Bihlio- cation, 1 lime. -(.,.—" 1 -Mas- lit the canity, )(ik of I's op- 5 t» 09 o i it Mitt^m^tiiiiKtmiaimt p; I ; :i 13 posito him, and turning anxiously to the physician. " I \\:ish you wouldn't talk shop," retorted the ])octor, angrily. Insanity was one of his weak points. "It's a beastly habit/' said the School- Master, much relieved at this turn of the con- versation. "Well, perhaps you are right," returned the Idiot. " People do, as a rule, prefer to talk of things they know something about, and I don't blame you. Doctor, for wanting to keep out of a medical discussion. I only asked my last question because the behavior of the Bibliomaniac and Mr. Whitechoker and the School -Master for some time past has worried me, and I didn't know but what you might work up a nice little practice among us. It might not pay, but you'd find the experience valuable, and I think unique." " It is a fine thing to have a doctor right in the house," said Mr. Whitechoker, kindly, fearing that the Doctor's manifest indigna- tion might get the better of him. "That," returned the Idiot, "is an asser- tion, Mr. Whitechoker, that is both true and untrue. Tlwrc are times when a physician i ! 14 * is can ornament to a boarding-house; times when he is not. For instance, on Wednes- day morning if it had not boon for tlie sur- gical skill of our friend here, our good land- lady could never liavo managed properly to distril)ute the late autumn chicken we found upon the menu. Tally one for the alfirma- tive. On the other hand, I must confess to considerable loss of appetite wlien I soc the Doctor rolling liis bread up into little pills, or measuring the vinegar he puts on his salad by means of a glass dropper, and taking the temperature of his coffee with his pocket thermometer. Nor do I like — and I should not have mentioned it save by way of illus- trating my position in regard to Mr. White- choker's assertion — nor do I like the cold, eager glitter in the Doctor's eyes as he watches me consuming, with some difficulty, I admit, the cold pastry we have served up to Uj on Saturday mornings under the wholly transparent alias of 'Hot Bread.' I may have very bad taste, but, in my humble opin- ion, the man who talks shop is preferable to the one who suggests it in his eyes. Some more iced potatoes, Mary," he added, calmly. " Madame," said the Doctor, turning an- 15 grily to the landlady, "this is insuiTerablc. You may make out my bill this morning. 1 shall have to- seek a home elsewhere." " Oh, now, Doctor ! " began the landlady, in her most jilcading tone. " Jove ! " ejaculated the Idiot. " That's a good idea, Doctor. I think I'll go with you. I'm not altogether satisfied here myself, but to desert so charming a company as we have here had never occurred to me. Together, however, we can go forth, and perhaps find happiness. Shall we put on our hunting togs and chase the fiery, untamed hall-room to the death this morning, or shall we put it off until some pleasanter day?" " Put it off," observed the School-Master, persuasively. "The Idiot was only indulg- ing in persiflage, Doctor. That's all. When you have known him longer you will under- stand him better. Views are as necessary to him as sunlight to the flowers ; and I truly think that in an asylum he would prove a delightful companion." " There, Doctor," said the Idiot ; " that's handsome of the School-Master. He couldn't make more of an apology if he tried. I'll forgive him if you will. What say you?" , .T^i^/'.i^^^H^'Wt^m'i^Sfr/M IG And strange to say, (ho Doctor, in spite of tlio indifrnation wliicli still left a rod tinge on his ohook, laughed aloud and was recon- ciled. As for the School-Master, he wanted to bo angry, but ho did not feel that he could afford his wrath, and for the first time in some months the guests wont their several ways at peace with each other and the world. n spite (1 tinge rocon- itod to 3 could ime in several world. Ill There was a conspiracy in hand to em- barrass the Idiot. The 8ciiool-Master and the Bibliomaniac had combined forces to give him a taste of Ids own medicine. The time had not yet arrived whicli showed the Idiot at a disadvantage; and the two l)oarders, the one proud of his learning, and the other not wholly unconscious of a bookish life, were distinctly lircd ol' the triumpi)iint manner in which the hhot alwnys left the breakfast- table to their invariahh' discomfiture. It was ihe Scliool-Master's suggestion to ))Ut their toniicnloi' into the pit lu' liad here- tofore dig'ie(l for them. The worthy in- structor of youth had of bde conu' to see that while he was still a prime favorite with his buidhidy, he had, nevertheU'ss, sulTcred some- what in her estimation hecause of the ap- parent ease with which the Idiot had got the better of him on all points. It was neees- 18 sary, ho tlionp],t, to rehabilitate Iiimsolf and a doop-lnid i)lot, to ul.idi the Bibliomaniac readily lent ear, was the result of his rellee- tions. Thi'y twain ucre to induluv in u ^u^. cussion of the great story of Robert Ehnicrc which boll, ^^■v^^^ confident the Idiot had not read, and concerning Mhieh they felt assured lie could not have an intelligent opinion if ho had read it. So it hai)j)cncd ujmn this bright Sunday* morning that as the boarders sat theni down to partake of the usual "restful breakfast " as the Idiot termed it, the Bibliomaniac ob- served : "I have just finished reading Rohcrt Eh- mrrr:" " Have you, indeed ?" returned the Seliool- Master, with apparent intcresl. "T (rust you profited by it ? " "On the contrary." observed the Biblio- maniac. " :My views are much unsettled bv it." "1 prefer the breast of the chicken, Mrs Smithers," observed the Idiot, sending his plate back to the presiding genius (.f (h(« iable. ''The neck of a .■hicken is graceful, but not too full of sustenance." g g l «a ! a > M I »«UMML.Ug| i| U i| I TUB CONSl'IRATORS at all the result of mature convictions can be unsettled by the story of ELvncre. For mv part I believe, and I lune always said— ^' " " I never could understand Mhy the neck of a chicken should be allowed on a respec- table table anyhow," continued the Idiot Ur. noring the controversy in which his neigh- bors M'cro engaged, " unless for the purpose of showing that the deceased fowl mot with an accidental rather than a natural death." " In what way does the n(>ck demonstrate that point?" queried the Bibliomanuu., for- getting the cons])iracy for a moment. " By its twist or by its length, of course " returned the Idiot. " A chicken that dies 'a natural death does not have its neck wrun.r- nor when the head is removed by tiio use of a hatchet, is it likely that it will bo cut off so elose behind the cars that those who eat the oh.cken are confronted with four inches of neck." 20 ill "Tory ontortaining indeed," interposed tlie Scliool-]\raster ; " l)iit wc are wandering from the point the Biljlionianiac and I were discussing. Ts or is not tlie story of Robert Ehmcrc unsettling to one's beliefs? Per- haps you can help us to decide that ques- tion." '' Perhaps I can," returned the Idiot ; "and perhaps not. It did not unsettle my beliefs." "But don't you think," observed tiie Bib- liomannie, "that to certain minds the book is more or less unsettling? " " To that I can confidently say no. The certain mind knows no uncertainty," replied the Idiot, calmly. " Very pretty indeed," said the Scliool- ]\raster, coldly. " But what was your opin- ion of ^frs. Ward's handling of the subject? Do you think she was suHicien^^ly realistic? And if so, and h'lsmere weakened under the stress of circumstances, do you think — or don't you think — th(> jiroduction of such a book harmful, because — being real — it must of necessity therefore be unsettling to some minds?" " " I prefer not to express an opinion on 21 that subject/' rotunied the Idiot, 'Mjecausc I never read Robert Els — " " Xcvcr read it '^ " ejaculated the School- Master, a look of triuui])]i in his eyes. "Why, everybody has read Elsmarc that pretends to have read anything/"' asserted the Bibliomaniac, " Of course," put in the landlady, with a scornful laugh. "Well, I didn't," Slid the IHiot, noncha- lantly. " The same ground was gone over two years before in Burrows's great story, Is It, or Is It Not? and anybody v.iio ever ri'ad Clink's books on the Xon-ExistciU as Op- posed to What Is, knows Mdiere Burrows got his points. Burrows's story v.as a perfect marvel. I don't know how many editions it wont through in luigland, and when it was translated into French by ]\ladame Tournay, it simply set France wild." " Great Scott I" Avliispered the Biblioma- niac, des])erately, "I'm afraid we've been barking up the wrong tree." " fou've read Clink, I snppose?" asked the Idiot, turning to the School-Master. " Y — es," returned the School-Master, blushing deeply. 22 The Idiot looked surprised, and tried to con- ceal a smile by sipping his coffee from a spoon. " And Burrows ? " " No," returned the School-Master, hum- bly. " I never read Burrows." " Well, you ought to. It's a great book, and it's the one Robert Elsmcre is taken from — same ideas all through, I'm told — that's why I didn't read Ehmcrc. Waste of time, you know. But you noticed yourself, I suppose, that Clink's ground is the same as that covered in Elsmcre?" "T^o; I only dipped lightly into Clink," returned the School-Master, with some em- barrassment. " But you couldn't help noticing a similar- ity of ideas ? " insisted the Idiot, calmly. The School-Maste-" looked beseechingly at the Bibliomaniac, who would have been glad to fly to his co-conspirator's assistance had he known how, but never having heard of Clink, or Burrows either, for that matter, he made up his mind that it Avas best for his reputation for him to stay out of the con- troversy. " Very slight similarity, however,'' said the School-Master, in despair. " ' I STUCK TO THE PIGS ' " 23 I " Where can I find Clink's books? "' put in Mr. Whitocliokor, very mneli interested, The Idiot convenient!}' had his mouth full of chicken at the moment, and it was to the School-Blaster, who had also read him, that they all — the landhidy included — looked fm' an answer. " Oh, I think," returned that worthy, hes- itatingly—'* I think you'll find Clink in any of the public libraries." " What is his full name ? " persisted Mr. Whiteclioker, taking out a memorandum- book. " Horace J. Clink," said the Idiot. " Yes ; that's it—Horace J. Clink," echoed the School-Master. " Very virile writer and a clear thinker," he added, with some nerv- ousness. "What, if any, of his books would you specially recommend ? " asked the Minister again. The Idiot had by this time risen from the table, and was leaving the room with the genial gentleman who occasionally imbibed. The School-Master's reply was not audi- ble. " I say," said the genial gentleman to the 24 Idiot ns they passed out into the hall, " they didn't get much tlie best of you in that mas- ter, r.ut, tell me, who was Clink, any- how?" "Xever heard of liim before," returned the Idiot. "And Burrows?" " 8anie as Clink." t< Know anything a])out Blsinere?" d cnucK- led the genial gentlcnuiu. " Xothing—excopt that it and 'Pigs in Clover' came out at the same time, and I stuck to the Pics." And the genial gentleman who occasion- ally imbibed was so pleased at the pliglit of the School-:\raster and of the Bibliomaniac that he invited the Idiot up to his room, where the private stock was kept for just such occasions, and they put in a very pleas- ant morning together. IV The guests were assembled as usual. The oatmeal course had been eaten in silence. In the Idiot's eye there was a cold glitter of ex- pectancy— a glitter that boded ill for the man who should challenge him to contro- versial combat— and there seemed also to be, judging from sundry winks passed over the table and kicks jiassol under it, an under- standing to which hv and the genial gentle- man who occasionally imbibed were parties. As the School- JIaster sampled his cofPee ilie genial gentleman who occasionally im- bibed broke tiie silence. "I missed you at the concert last night, Mr. Idiot," said he. "^'es," said the idiot, with a caressing movement of the hand over his upper lip ; " I was very sorr}', but I couldn't get around last night. I had an engagement with a number of friends at the athletic club. I 2G meant to have dropped you a line in the af- ternoon telling you about it, but I forgot it until it was too late. Was the concert a suc- cess ? " " Verv successful indeed. The best one, in fact, we have had this season, which makes me regret all the more deeply your alisence," returned the genial gentlenuni, with a sug- gestion of a smih" phiying about his lips, " Indeed," he added, " it was the finest one I'vd ever seen." "The finest one you've what?" queried the School-!Master, startled at the verb. " The finest one I've ever seen," replied the genial gentleman. " There were only ten performers, and really, in all my experience as an attendant at concerts, I never saw such a magnificent rendering of Beethoven as we had last night. T wish you could have been there. It was a siglit for the gods." "I don't believe," said the Idiot, with a slight cough that may have been intended to conceal a laugh — and lliat may also have l)een the result of too many cigarettes — " I don't believe it coidd have been any more interesting tlmn a giiiiic of pool I beard al the club.'' \ 27 " It iippoars to nic," said the Bihlioninniac to the School-Master, " that the popping souiidrf we lieard hitc last night in the Id- iot's room may have some connection with the present mode of speech these two gen- tlemen affect." "■ Let's hear them out," returned the School-Master, " and then we'll take them into camp, as the Idiot would say." " I don't know ahout that," rejjlied the genial gentleman. " I've seen a great many concerts, and I've heard a great many good games of poo], but the concert last night was simply a ravishing s})ectacle. We had a Cuban j)ianist there who played the or- chestrr.tion of the first act of Parisfal with surprising agility. As far as I could see, ho didn't miss a note, though it was a little annoying to observe how inadcMpiately he used the pedals." "Too forcibly, or how?" queried the Idiot. " Not forcibly onough," returned the Im- biber. " He tried to work them botli with one foot. It was the only thing to mar an otherwise marvellous performance. The idea of a man trying to dis])lay Wagner « 28 ^vitli t.-o J^ancls and one foot is irritatin<. to a musician with a trained eje -' ^ said Alls. 8mit]irTs, anxiously. ^^'s,- put in the School-iraster • - thorn -ems to be madness m our midst.''' "" H el , wliat can you expect of a Cuban, 1 inhoM ^ rpiened the Idiot. - The Cub-.n ^'i- ^.Sj.u,iard or the Italian orTli A •' -, hasn't the vigor which is nece^^;';: proper comprehension and renderim. o "agner's music. He is bv n..f„ i '^ indofent Tf .-f ' ^"'''' '''^'^' '^"^^ iiiuuKnr. It it ^v(>p, eas cr for n v. • i :;i7,;,!'«- T"^- '-•• ''-' ■."-. tr;: otiicr log Ivo known Italians whoso diet «ere too tirod (o masticate solids. K j^ Z Z «tl> whicl. it can 1,0 absorb ,, ".akos n,„c„roni the favorite dish of the J -. and the fondness of all Latin, :J';'; "r '« ™"'^l.v duo, I think, to tie f ae I «■'"<■ ™n be swallowed without clu°v„f fa an and tho .Spaniard speak IIk: r : Mi.i.( that e„n,o» CSV- thai i» ,„r, , , '^my; whil,. Ihe (,,„,„„„, ,„„, ™' slro„ser.„,oro™er,e,ic,ind,d,..inaV,3; I irritatinir J ne down," -'r; "there a Cuban, lie Cuban, the Afri- ^^sary f ol- der in •...,< WKHKNT Y()i;il KAUS I.ONC KNOUOII ?' " 29 that even to us, who are people of an aver- age amount of energy, is sometimes ap])all- ing in the severity oj: tlie strain it puts upon the tongue. So, wliile I do not wonder that your Cuban pianist showed woful defects in his use of tlie pedals, I do wonder that, even with his surprising agility, he had sufficient energy to manipulate the keys to the satis- faction of so competent a witness as your- self." " It was too bad ; but we made up for it later,-*' asserted the other. "There was a young girl there who gave us some of Men- delssohn's Songs without Words. Iler ex- pression was simply perfect. I wouldn't have missed it for all the world; and now that I think of it, in a few days I can let ^ou see for yourself how splendid it was. We persuaded her to encore tlie songs in the dark, and we got a flash-light photograph of two of them." " Oh ! then it was not on the piano-forte she gave them?" said tlie Idiot. "Oh no; all labial," returned the genial gentleman. Here Mr. Whitechoker began to look con- cerned, and vvhispered something lo the 30 School-Mastor, who replied that there were enough others present to cope with the two parties to the con^•ersation in case of a vio- iont oiithreak. " I'd he very glad to see the photograplis " rep led the Idiot "PoT^'fT ^ ' I u uiiot. Can t I secure copies of them for my collection? You know I have the complete rendering of ^ Kome, Sweet Home inkodak views, as sung hv Patti. 1 >oy are simply wonderful, and thev prove what lias repeatedly heen said hv critics, that m the matter of expression, the superior of -I atti has never heen seen." "ril try to get them for you, though I couhtitcanhedone. The artist is a very l^l'v A-oung girl, and does not care to have T ?^''^*^ ^^''^'^ too great a publicitv until she is ready to go into music a little more ;l/'q>ly^ She is going to read the ' Moon- li^Iit Sonata' to us at our next concert ; ou d better come !'„, told her gestures bring out the composer's meaning i„ a man- ner never as yet equalled." "I'll he there; thank you," returned the Idiot. "And the next time those fellows at the clul. are down for a pool tou'Mament I want you to come up and hear them plav ^::'ii!lH e i a •■i ii > 31 It was extraordinary last night to hear the halls dropping one hy cne— click, click, click — as regularly as a metronome, into the pockets. One of the finest shots, I am sorry to say, I missed/' " How did it happen?" asked the Biblio- maniac. " Weren't your ears long enough ? " " It was a kiss shot, and I couldn't hear it," returned the Idiot. '• I thiidv you men are crazy," said the School-Master, unable to contain himself any longer. "So?" observed the Idiot, calmly. "And how do wo show our insanity?" " Seeing concerts and hearing games of pool." " I take exception to your ruling," re- turned the Imbiber. '^As my friend the Id- iot has frequently remarked, you have the peculiarity of a great many men in your pro- fession, who think because they never hap- pened to see or do or hear things as other people do, they may not be seen, done, or heard at all. I saw the eorert I attended last night. Our musical club has rooms uext to a hos])ita], ami we have to give silent con- certs for fear of disturbing the patients; but P 1 I/- i 32 WG are all musicians of sufficient education to understand by a glance of the eye wJiat you Avould fail to comprehend with fourteen cars and a micro])lii,no." "Very well said/' put in the Idiot, with a scornful glance at the School-Master. "And 1 literally heard the i)ool tournament I was dining in a room off the hilliard-halL and every shot that was made, with the ex- ception of the one I si)oke of, AVas distinctly audible. You gentlemen, who think vou know it all, wouldn't be able to su])pi; a bureau of information at the rate of five minutes a day for an hour on a holidav Let's go np-stairs," he added, turning to the Imbiber, "where we may discuss our last night's entertainment apart from this at- mosphere of rar fied learning. It makes me lamt.'* And the Imbiber, who was with difficulty keepmg his lips in proper form, was glad enough to accept the invitation. " Tiic corks popped io some purpose last night," he said later on. ' ' "Yes," said tiie Idiot; "for a conspiracy there's nothing so helpful as popping corks." ^f I " WiiEX you get through with the ilre, Mr. Pedagog," observed the Idiot, one winter's morning, observing that the ample propor- tions of the School-Master served as a screen to shut off the heat from himself and the genial gentleman who occasionally imbibed, " I wish you would let Us have a little of it! Indeed, if you could convenientlv spare so little as one flame for my friend here and myself, we'd be much obliged." " It won't hurt you to cool off a little, sir," returned the School-Master sarcastically and without mo vine:. " Xo, I am not so much afraid of the in- jury that may be mine as I am concerned for you. If that fire should melt our only refrigerating material, I do not know what our good landlady would do. Is it true, as the Bibliomaniac asserts, that Mrs. Smithers 1 ! !>< iji 34 ft leaves nil her milk and l)uttcr in your room overnight, relying upon yonr coolness to keep them fresli?" "I never made any sneli assertion," said the Bibliomaniac, warndy. " 1 am not used to having my M-ord dis- puted," returned the Idiot, with a wink at the genial old gentleman. "But I never said it, and I d;'fy you to prove that I said it," returned the Biblio- maniac, hotly. " You forget, sir," said the Idiot, coolly, "that you are the one who disputes my as- sertion"! That casts the burden of proof on your shoulders. Of course if you can prove that you never said anything of the sort, I withdraw ; but if you cannot adduce proofs, you, having doubted my word, and publicly at that, need not feel hurt if I decline to ac- cept all that you say as gospel." " You show ridiculous heat," said the School-Master. " Thank you/' returned the Idiot, grace- fully. "And that brings us back to the original pr()i)osition that you would do well to show a little yourself." " Good-morning, gentlemen," said Mrs. ,v(i r room Less to ,," said ird dis- vink iit you to Biblio- , coolly, my as- iroof on n prove ( sort, I '. proofs, publicly 10 to ac- aid the t, grace- : to the . do well i 3 r a CO o O lid Mrs. .1 I 35 Smithors, entering the room at this moment. " It's a bright, fresh morning." "Like yourself," said the School-Master, gallantly. " Yes," added the Idiot, with a glance at the clock, which registered 8.45— forty-five minutes after the breakfast hour—" very lik(3 Mrs. Smithers— rather advanced." To this the landlady paid no attention; but the School-Master could not refrain from saving : " Advanced, and therefore not backward, like some persons I might name." "Very clever," retorted the Idiot, "and really worth rewarding. .Afrs. Smithers, you ought to give Mr. Pedagog a receipt in full for the past six months." "Mr. ]»cdagog," returned tiie landladv, severely, "' is one of the gentlemen who al- ways have their receipts for the past six months." " Which betrays a very saving disposition " accorded the Idiot. "I wish I had all j',1 received for six months. I'd be a rich man." ''Would you, now?" queried the Biblio- nuiniac. " That is interesting enough. How men's ideas dilferon the subject of wealth! 30 :i Here is the Idiot would consider himself rich with $150 in his pocket—" " Do you think he gets as niucli as that ? " put in the Schoo]-:\raster, viciously. " Five dollars a week is rather high pay ifor one of liis— " " Very high indeed," agreed the Idiot. " I wish I got that much. I might he ahh; to hire a two-legged encyclopanlia to tell me everything, and have over $4.75 a week left to spend on oj)era. dress, and the poor hut honest board .Afrs. Smithers provides, if my salary was up to iho $5 mark ; hut the trouble is men do not make the fabulous fortunes nowadays with the ease with which you, :Mr. Pedagog, made yours. There are, no doubt, more and greater opportunities to-day than there were in the olden time, but there i\n\ also more men trying to take advantage of thc?n. Labor in tlie business world is badly watered. The colleges are turning out more men in a week nowadays than the whole country turiu'd out in a year forty years ago, and the (pudity is so ])oor that thcTe has k-en a goneral reduction of wages all along the line. Where does the struggler for existence come in when he lias to compete with the 37 imsolf ricli as that ? " ly. " Five for one of Idiot. " I it 1)0 ablo to tell luo - week left 3 poor but (los, if my the trouble ! fortunes 1 you, ]\rr. no doubt, i-diiy than there are •antn«re of d is badly : out more the whole y(N)rs rtfro, 1' hiis been along the existeneo witli tlio college-bred youth who, for fear of not gel- ting employment anywJiere, is willing to work for nothing? People arc not willing to pay for what they can get fo- nothing." "I am glad to hear from your lips so com[)lete an admission," said tlie Sehool- Master, "•' that education is downing igno- rance." " I am glad to know of your gladness," returned the Idiot "T didn't quite say that education Avas downing ignorance. I plead guilty to the charge of holding the be- lief that unskilled omniscience interferes very materially with skilled sciolism iu skilled sciolism's efforts to make a living." "Then you admit your own superticial- ity?" asked the School-Master, somewhat surprised by the Idiot's eommimd of svlla- bles. "I admit that 1 do not know it all," re- turned the Idiot. "I prefer to go through life feeling thiit there is y(>t something for iiic to learn. It seems to me fur better to admit this voluntarily thnn to have it forced home upon me by circumstances, as hap- jK'Ued in the case of a college graduate I know, who speculated on Wnll Street, and t I 38 ( I f I , r lost the luuKlred dollars that wore subse- quently put to a good use by the uneducated me." " From whieh you deduce that ignorance IS better than education ?" queried the bchool-Master, scorni'ully. ^^ "For an omniscient," returned the Idiot, "you are singularly near-sighted. I jiave made no such deduction. T arrive at the conclusion, however, that in the chase for the gdded shekel the education of experience IS better than the cod.lling of Alma Mater. In the satisfaction— the personal satisfac- tion—one derives from a liberal education I admit that the sons of Alma .Mater are the better off. I never could hope to ho co self- satisfied, for instance, as you are." "No," observed the School-Mas! r; "you cannot raise grapen on a thistle farm. Any unbiassed observer looking around this table " he added, "and noting Afr. Whitechoker 'a graduate of Yale; the Bibliomaniac, a son'of dear old Harvard ; the Doctor, an honor man of Williams; our I'.gal friend here, a gradu- ate of Columbia— to say nothing of myself who was graduated with honors at Amherst —any unbiassed observer seeing these, I sav <.,' - you Any TUB SCIIOOLMASTKR AS A COOLER 39 and tncn seeing joii, wouldn't take very lono- to make up his mind as to whether a man IS better olF or not for having had a colle- giate training." " There I must again dispute vour asser- tion," returned the Idiot. - ThJ unbiasse.t person of whom you speak would say, ' lion; IS this gray-haired Amiierst man, this book- loving Cambridge boy of fifty-seven years of age, the reverend graduate of Yale, class of -55, and the other two learned gentlemen of forty-nine summers each, and this poor ig- noramus of an Idiot, whose onlv virtue is his modesty, all in the same box.' " And then he would ask himself, 'In what way have these lusty sons of Amherst, Yale, Harvard, and so forth, the better of the modest and un- assuming Idiot?' " "The same box?" said the Bibliomaniac. U iiat do you mean by that ? " ^ 'Must what I say,'' returned the Idiot. " The same box. All boarding, all eschew- ing luxuries of necessity, all ],aving their 1)>)1^ with dillieulty, all sparsely clothed; in reality, all keeping Lent the v(>ar through. 'Verily,' ho would say, 'the Idiot has The best of it, for he is young.'" ai J 40 And loavincr tlicm cliewing the cud of ro- ilectjon, tlic Idiot departed. " I thought they were going to land you that time," said the genial gentleman wlio occasionally inihibed, later; - hut when I iieard you use the word ^sciolisnl/ I knew you were all right. Where did vou ^et it?" " My chief got it off on me at tlie office the other day. I happened in a mad moment to try to unload some of my original observa- tions on him apropos of my getting to the office t>vo hours late, in which it was my en- deavor to prove to him that tlio truly safe and conservative man was alwavs slow, and so apt to turn up late on occasions. He liopped about the office for a nnnute or two and then he informed me that I was an 18 ' karat sciolist. I didn't know what he meant and so I looked it up." ' " And what did he mean ? " " He meant that I took the cake for super- iiciahty, and I guess he was right," replied tlie Idiot, with a smile that was not alto- gether mirthful. VI <( GooD-MORxixG ! " said the Idiot, clieer- fully, as he entered the dining-room. To this remark no one but the Lindlady vouchsafed a reply. " I don't think it is " she said, shortly. - It's raining too hard to be a very good morning." "That reminds me," observed the Idiot, taking his seat and helping liimself copious' ly to the hominy. « A friend of mine on one of the newspapers is preparing an ar- ticle on the 'Antiquity of Modern Humor' A^ ith your kind permission, .Airs. Smithers, i II take down your remark and hand it over to Mr. Scribuler as a specimen of the mod- ern antique joke. You may not be aware of the fact, but that jest is to be found in the rare first edition of the Tales of Bohho an Italian humorist, who stole overvthin.r hc' wrote from tbe Greeks." I 1 42 "So?" queried the Bibliomaniac. "I never lu^ard of Bobbo, though I had, before the auction sale of my librnrv. . ,'.,,ice conv f^'-5''^-^/^«^.-. bound in full cruZd or .^^o other Italian Joe Millers in tree calf. 1 cannot at this moment recall their names " _ At what period did Bobbo live^^" in quired the School-Master. "I don't exactly remember," returned the Mot assistmg the last potato on the table o^er to his. plate. « I don't know exactly It was subsequent to b.c, I think, although I inay be wrong. If it was not, vou m^y rest assured it was prior to B.C." ^ "Do you happen to know," queried the Bibliomaniac, "the exact date of this rare iirst edition of which you speak ^" Itliot. And for a very g. ,| reason. It was printed L^M,re .iates were invented - Ihe silence which followed this bit of in- formation from f],,. Idiot was almost ins ut- 'Z '" '\ '"T"''- ^' '''' ' '^^'^'^ that ^poke. and what it said was thn^ the Idiot's ^'lioey was colossal, and ^ ., accepting the .stillness as a tribute, sm, s^ .-t v 43 " What do you think, Mr. White- choker," he said, when he thought the time was ripe for renewing the conver- sation — "wliat do you think of the doctrine that every day will bo Sunday by-and-by ? " " I have only to say, sir," returned the Dominie, pouring a little hot water into his milk, which was a bit too strong for him, " that I am a firm be- liev • in the occur- ren of a period when Sunday will be to all practical pur- poses perpetual." " That is my belief, too," observed the School-Master. " But it will be ruinous to our good huuUady to provide us with one of her exee])tionally fine Suiulav breakfasts everv mornin"- " "Thank you, Mr. Pedagog," returned BOBBO " Can't I give )> 44 5rrs. Smitliers, nitli ,i smili,. you another cup of coiree''" pained at the ladv's gramn.ar, but too cour- tons to call attention to it s.;e by the em Pl.a- wUh which he ,,,,„,., the word",:;- :. , ■ ^"' '" ™^'= ''■e got a Sunday break- fast every day in the week, we, on the otl^ r hand, would get approxiu^ately' what l^^^y " Tho ff,, i, „„ ^,^^^, ., ^^,^^^_^_^_^ ^^_^ '<>uj, witli a snap. "Then JIary," sai.l the Idiot, graeefullv .turnmgtotl«„n,id, "y„„„, ;^,i,.; '; gas.of,ee.water. It is quite a/w^rn,, te all, as l,e coffee, and not quite so weak drawbacks, he „dded, unconscious of the venomous glances of the landlarlv. " Tou Mr. Mntechoker, for instance,- would be' l-aoh,ng all the time, and in 'conscq: .„ e "ouhl soon break down. Th.-n the effect "pon our eyes from habitually reading the ^ ..day newspapers day after day wonW be <'.vtren,ely bad; „or n.ust we forget that an /I J^^S^ / iw^% READING THE SUNDAY NKWSPAPERS "* ii a N y «J 45 eternity of Siirdays means the elimination 'from jur midst,' as the novelists say, of baseball, of circuses, of horse-racing, and other necessities of life, unless we are pre- pared to cast over tlie Puritanical view of Sunday which now prevails. It would sub- stitute Dr. Watts for ' Annie Kooney.' We sliould lose ' Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay ' entirely, which is a point in its favor." " T don't know about that,"' said the genial old geudeman. "I ratlier like Ihat sonjr." 'M)id you ever hear me sing it?" asked the Idiot. " Xever mind," returned the genial old gentleman, hastily. " Perhaps von are right, after all,." Tile Idiot smiled, and resumed: "Our shops would be ])erpetualiy closed, un;l an enornu)Us loss to the sbopkeeju'rs would bc! sure to follow;. Mr. I't'dagog's theory that we shoubl have Sunday breakfasts everv day is not tenable, for (lie reason that with a perpetual day of rest agriculture would die out, food ])ro(luels would be killed of? by un- |)ullei| weed>; in I'aet, we should go Itack to that really uni'orlunah' period when women were wilhonl dress-makers, and man's cjiief 1 f i 40 Object in Jife was to christen animals as he mot them, and to abstain from apples, wis- dom, and full dross." " The Idiot is right/' said tlio Bihlioma- "mc. " It NvouM not he a very good thin.^ for the world if cNc-y day were Sunda^t \\ ^^-a^y ,s a necessity of life. I am will >ng to admit this, in the face of the fact that uash-day mc.ds are invariably atrocious. Contracts would bo void, as a rvde, because ^"n<'<'>y IS a dies non." "A what ?"aslced the Idiot. " A non-existent day in a business sense " put in the ScJiool-Master. "Of course," .aid the landladv, scornful- tiiat •' ■' '"''''"" '''"' ''"""'' "">'"''"^ ^^'"^^^ "J^'«'"''"a.[aine," returned the Idiot, ris- in^' from his chair, and pulting a handful of MV.vt crackers in his pocket-- (hen T must P"t .n a claim for $104 from vou, having boenrhargcdatthernteofonodollaradav or K.I ,/,V, ,,,,,, i„ j,,^, ^^^.^, ^.^.^^^.^ J |^^^^-_ been with you." ;Mndnn for (h(« inn.hes you .arrv nuav fron. I 47 lung the breakfast table every morning in your ])ockets/' " in tliat event we'll call it off, madaini"," returned the Idiot, as with a courtly bo'w and a plea.'^ant smile he left the room. '' Well, 1 call him ' off/ " was all the land- lady could say, as the other guests took their departure. And of course the School-Master agreed with her. VII "Our streets appear to be as far from perfect as ever/' said the Bibliomaniac with u s.gii, as ho looked out tlirough the window at the great pools of water that gathered in the has.n.s made by the sinking of the Bel- gian bloek, "We'd hotter go back to the cowpaths of our fathers." "There is a great deal in what you say," observed the School-Mast(>r. "The cow path has all the solidity of mother oarth ';'"! r.mo of the distracting noises we .et iro.u the pavements that obtain to-dav ' ]♦ •s porons and absorbs I be moisture, 'rbc Jielgnm ])avement i. l.aky, an.l lets it ru.i Tl r 'f'''' ^^'^ flight do far worse than to go back—-" "Kxeuse me for having an opinion," said tlH'Id.ot, "but the man of enterprise can't afford to indulge in the luxury of tla- som- 49 from Willi tidow 'd in Bcl- ' tlio lav," C'OW- irth, V ruv run jrso aid m't tin- uolent coupath. It is too quiet. It con- duces to sleep, which is a luxurv business men cannot afford to indulge in too freely. Man must be up and doing. The prosperity of a groat city is to my mind directly due to its noise and clatter, which elfectually put a stop to na|)))ing, and keep men at ail tini's wide awake." "This is a Welsh-rabbit idea. T fancy," said the School-Master, (piieily. H,. haj overheard the Idiot's confidc-nces'. as revealed to the genial Tml)il)er. regarding th(> sources of some of his ideas. " Xot at all," returned the Idiot. " These ideas are beef— not Welsh-rabbit. They are the result of much thought. If vuu" will put your mind on the subjeci, vou' will see for yourself that there is more iii my theory than there is i.i yours. Th(> prosperity of a locality is the greater as the noise in its vi- cinity increases. It is in the (piiet neigh- borhood that man stagnates. Wlu"re do "we fiiul great business houses? Wla.re do we ^ud great fortunes made? Where ath may be able to drink milk, j,ut he iiev^r wears diamonds." "'All ihat you say is very true, but it is not ba.*ed on any fundamental jjrinciple. It h m F>eeau8^ it happens to be so," returned th« Hehool-Master. - If it were man's habit to have the MrocU laid out on the old cow- patti principle in his cities he would be quite &» energetic, quite as pro(*i>orous, as he is "No fundamental principle involved? There is the fundam^mtal winciple of all Imsiness succesH involved," mid tW Idiot, warming uj) to his subject. *"* What h the basic quality in tlie good bus-ine^ man' Alertness. What i> ' ,dertne«f. *? Wade- awak^ishne^s. In tliis town it is imp^^ible ior a man to sloop after a stated Itour, and 1 51 for no otlicr roiison than Ihat the clatter of the pavoinents prevents him. As a i)roinotei- of aJertnoss, whore is your cowpatii ? 'J'Jie covpaths of the Catskills, and we all know the mountains arc ridiiled hy 'em, didn't keej) Kij) \an Winkle awake, and I'll wager Mr. Whitochoker here a year's board that there isn't a man in his congregation who can sleej) a half-honr — much less twenty years — with Broadway within lioaring dis- tance. " I tell you, Mr. Pcdagog," he continued. " it is the man from the cuwpath who gets buncoed. It's the man from the cowpath who can't make a living even out of what he calls his 'New York Store.' It is the man from the cowpath who rejoices because he can sell ten dollars' worth of shee])'s-wool for five dollars, and is happy when lu> goes to meeting dressed up in a four-dollar nuit of clothes that has cost him twenty." " Your llieory, my young friend," observed the School-Master, " is as fragile as this cup "— tap])ing his col!ee-cup. "The coun- tryman of whom you s])eak is up and doing long U'fore you or 1 or your wuccessful mer- «*hunt, who has Ma.ved great on noise as you :1 •^ U. S I 52 put it, is awake. JI xho early bird catches the worm, what becomes of vour theory "'" "The early bird does get the bait/' replied the Idiot. " But he does not catch the fi.l, and I 11 offer the board another wager that the Belgian block merchant is wider awake at 8 A.M., when he first opens his eyes, than his suburban brother who gets uj> at five is all n to be, not be- cause I am. You are what you are because you are, because if you were not, you would not be what you are." " Your logic is delightful," said the School-Master, scornfully. "I strive to please," replied the Idiot " But I do agree with the Bibliomaniac that our streets are far from perfection," he add- ed. " In my opinion they should be laid in strata. On the ground-floor should be the sowers and telegraph pipes ; above this should be the water-mains; then a layer for trucks; 53 then a broad stratum for carriages, above u-hich should bo a projuenude for pedes- trians. The promenade for pedestrians should be divided into four sections— one for persons of leisure, one for those in a hurry, one for peddlers, and one for beggars." " Highly original," said the Bibliomaniac. "And so cheap," added the School-Mas- ter. " In no part of the world," said the Idiot, in response to the last comment, "do we get something for nothing. Of course this scheme woidd be costly, but it would in- crease prosperity — " " Ha ! ha ! " laughed the School-Master, sa- tirically. " Laugh away, but you cannot gainsay my point. Our prosperity would increase, for we should not be always excavating to get at our pipes; our surface cars with a clear track would gain for us rapid transit, our truck-drivers would not bo subjected to the temptations of stopping by the wayside to overturn a coupe, or to mn down a pedes- trian; our fine equipages would in conse- quence need fewer repairs; and as for the pedestrians, the beggars, if relegated to 54 thomsclvos, wouUl be forced out of ))usine.s a« would also the street-peddlers. The inen ni a hurrj would not be delayed by louncr. CTS beggars, and peddlers; and the Icmgers would derive inestimable benefit from the arrangement in the saving of wear and tear on their clothes and minds by contact with the busy world." '^ It would bo delightful/' acceded the School-Master, "particularly on Sundav. when they wore all loungers." " ' " y^y" replied the Idiot. " It would be delightful then, especially in summer, when eovm.u unii an a^^ning to shield promenad- ers ff. ,. (1,0 sun." Mr. I'-Jagog sighed, and the Biblionumi- ac wearily declining a second d,p of coffee, left the table with the Doctor, earnestlv dis^ cussmg with that worthy gentleman the causes of weakmindedness. VIII " Tiiehe's a friend of mine up noar River- dale," said the Idiot, as he unfolded his nap- kin and let his bill flutter from it to the floor, " who's tried to make a name for himself in literature." "What's his name:" asked the Biblioma- niac, interested at onee, " That's just the trouble. He hasn't made it yet," replied the Idiot. '^ He hasn't suc- ceeded in his courtship of the Muse, and be- yond himself and a few friends his name is utterly unknown." " What work has he tried ? " queried the School-Master, pouring unadmonished two portions of skimmed milk over his oatmeal, " A little of everything. First he Avrote a novel. It had an immense circulation, and he only lost $300 on it. All of his friends n ^Hi %. %^ «> *6^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V A S' c^ :/ ^ «:/. A 1.0 !r I.I ^ 1^ 12.0 25 2.2 L25 i 1.4 1.8 1.6 om. JS'^} >.^ Sciences Corporation s. :0^ Sv <^ \\ ^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. MS80 (716) S73-4S03 ^ o i/.A i 56 look a copy-I-vo gol ono that ho gave mc_ "1 I iH'lK.v,.. t«„ hundred fovvspajxT^ wore l-or.u,m ,. ono„sh to secure the hook for re' ohUin '^'':""■•■ ''°»S'" '»■<'. "..J tried to ^^U, the halanee of the edition, hut didn't ha enough „,„,„,,. ,,,^,^^ „.^^ ,.|if . .utgrat,eat,o„isu.orea,,ttodedete ",; to «treuglh.'n a hank a.rouni '■ wil.'.„',""'l ""' ?''"■'■'"' "' ^■•^"■""■•dinarilv «i»e an oh»erval,„„ fr„,„ „„,, ,„ „,„„„,||:. "--,■• said the Sohool-Jlaster, eowir ' Ihank vou," returned the Idiot. " But I unk your remark i» rather eontradietory. }" "■""'''""""•"".V ox,,eet «i.,o ohserva- .o« from the unusually umvise; that is, if •>"rteaeh,„gthattI,ee.|,ressio„.„nus„al- ly """■'^■^■' »'l>ut another f„nu„r (I,,.,.,. pr-.»M,n • usually wise • is eorreel. R„t „« "assaying, when the genial inslru,.|„r of youth mterrui.ted me „i(h his llatterv " 'ont.nuedlheldiot. "gratifiealionisgrati- h'.t : "I' T;' !',"'"- ^" '">' ''■''■ "'■'"''■■'1 ...the had hotter give up novel-writing and tryjokos iro kept at that a year, and man- ..J,'ed to elear his po»tago-..tamps. His j„kes ;-■-,. good, l„„ ,,„ ,.,,„,■„ j,„ „,^ ^J^^ ^■ <1'" '''l.lors. Kdilors ar<. peouliar. Thev 3^ O o •y. n H s K en n lan H ( & ;l 57 have no respect for age — particularly in the matter of jests. Some of my friend's jokes had seemed good enough for Plutarch to print when he had a puhlisher at his mercy, but they didn't seem to suit the high and mighty products of this age who sit in judg- ment on siU'li things in the comic-paper of- fices. So he gave up jokes." '' Does he si ill know you ? '' asked the land- lady. " Yes, madame," observed the Idiot. " Then he hasn't given up all jokes,'' she retorted, with fine scorn. " Tee-he-hee ! " laughed the School-Mas- ter. " Pretty good, Mrs. Smithers — pretty good." "Yes," said the Idiot. "That is good, and, l)y Jove ! it differs from your butter, Mrs. Smithers, because it's entirely fresh. It's good enough to print, aiid I don't think the butter is.'" "What did your friend do next?"' asked ilr. Whitechoker. " lie was employed l>y a funeral director in Philadelphia to write obituary verses for niemorial cards." '• And was he successful?'' ■i i 58 "Fot a time; but he lost his position be. cause of an error made by a eareless compo- ^tor ni u marble-yard. JFo had written •"Here lie., tl.e l.oro of a hundred furUuJ Approximatea he u i,o,.fe,.t ,„a„r Ho fou-.l.t for country and his country. nL^.ts And ,„ the hottest battles led the vanV"'' "Fine in sentiment an.l in e.veeution ' " observed Mr. Wliiteelioker. ';j'-|'lv so;- returned the ]dio(. ^^ j^.t !^^^'"theeompos,torinihemarl,le-yardgot t c>n,n-aved on the UKmunu-nt, nu iV^^nd to paj the b.Il received the monument, the qnatrain read. ' " ' Here lies the hero of a lun.died fli..hts- Approximated he a perfect one" He fought his country and his country -s rights And uu he hottest battles led the run."- ' ''Anrul!"ejar.u]a((.d the .Minister ''dreadful! "said the lamllady,for.e(f in. to be sarcastic. *" "What happened?" asked the School- iW aster. ",";." ''"•' '""'^'^'^'^^ of <'ourse, uithoul a ''"'"' l'"^-""'"'"<'om,,any failed the next Afe I I I >> ii ! 15 "•he gave up jokks'" ill i li'i i" *' " '"^"^JiPWW 59 ■itf week, so he couldn't make anything by suing for what they owed him." " Mighty hard luck/' said the Biblioma- niac. " Very ; but there was one bright side to the case," observed the Idiot. " He man- aged to sell both versions of the quatrain af- terwards for five dollars. He sold the origi- nal one to a religious weekly for a dollar, and got four dollars for the other one from a comic paper. Then he wrote an anecdote about the whole thing for a Sunday news- paper, and got three dollars more out of it." "And what is your friend doing now ? " asked the Doctor. " Oh, he's making a mint of money now, but no name." " In literature? " " Yes. He writes advertisements on sp^- ary," returned the Idiot. " lie is writii^tt now a recommendation of tooth-powder in Indian dialect." " Why didn't he try writing an epic? " said the Bibliomaniac. "Because," replied the Idiot, "the one aim of his life has been to be original, and he couldn't reconcile that with epic poetry." no At which roinark thv ].i,v]lo i . if y stooped ')ill froni 'nd osten- tho Idiot. s pocket, and roll- ''Jy stnck mdor the ^ with it, IX " I've just been reading a book," l)egan the Idiot. ''' I thought you looked rather pale," said the Sehool-Master. " Yes," returned the Idiot, cheerfully, " it made me feel pale. It was about the pleas- ures of country life; and when I contrasted rural blessedness as it was there depicted with urban life as we live it, I felt as if my youth were being thrown away. I still feel as if I were wasting my sweetness on the desert air." " Why don't you move ? '' queried the Bib- liomaniac, sup;;\ . tively. " If I were parely selfish I should do so at once, but I am, like my good friend Mr. Whitechoker. a slave to dutv. I deem it mv duty to stay here to keep the School-Master fuUv informed in the various branches of reach of ono of lus con.orvative liabits ■ to aa™t Mr. M-hitecLokcr i„ „i. en „'„ t "ga,n.,t vKo at this tahio and elscnvhore tt g.ve the Bibliomaniac the honeflt of my „,! v.ee in regard to those prceious littlo tomes le no longer b«ys-to mala. life worth the ™g for an of ,oMo say nothing of en ! d» r,lyh,gh standard of tl>is house by means of the hard-oarned stipend I pay to her cvorv JMondaj- morning/' ulXr^^^"'"'^"^''''^''""''^ the School. _-Every Monday/' returned tlie Idiot. Iha IS, of course, every Monday that I pay. The things one gets to eat in tlie country the air one breathes, the utter freedom from restraint, the thousand and more things one enjoys in the suburbs that are not at- tainable here-it is these that make my heart yearn for the open." "Well, it's all rot," said the School-Mas- ter impatiently. - Country life is ideal only m books. Books do not tell of runnin- for trains through blinding snowstorms; writers d o a I 03 do not expatiate on the delights of waking on cold winter nights and finding your piano and parlor furniture afloat because of bursted pil)es, with the plumber, lil' ^"<^r»'"^^ before H.V „ u,nler to tluuv out tlie boiler so lon^ «« the ni,.ht eonun. finds „.e s. d n "I gc^d.Io.ofthe,asIo,: What'l^i/^ h cell r every week, if, on the other hand 'mt cellar ^..ins thereby a fertility t t Jvocps J ts floor sheeny soff ..n 7 "^ • . . , '"'^^".S sou, and n is ho 'iile out I' liand, y that on— an spring, i-mow- irough T tell )f our n this t — )in I ( '"a MTTI.K GAHDEN ok my own, WIIKllK 1 niUI.D RAISK AN OCCASIONAL CAN OK TOMATOKs'" \t-A 1 1 M il tv i G5 in-door gankn-patch, as it were. Do you happen to recall one ? "' " No," returned the Doctor; "and it is a good thing there isn't. There is enough sickness in the world without bringing any of your rus ideas in urhe. I've lived in the country, sir, and I assure you it is not what "'THE GLADSOME CU( li OF THK LAWN-MOWER ' " it is written up to be. Country life is mis- ery, melancholy, and malaria." " You must have struck a profitable sec- tion. Doctor," returned the Idiot, taking possession of three steaming buckwheat t til', il 00 cakes o the dismay of .Afr. Wliitechoker, who And I should have supposed that vour m^od business sense M-oukl have restnuncl vou ironi leaving." jrhen the countryman is poor-ahvavs poor continued the Doctor, ignoring the ittiot s sarcastic comments. T rt^'l^^''^ ''''°"''*' ^^^ '^>' ol^^^^rved the , f , '^ •'^'^' ^^-^v you (lid i,„t stav; for Jhnt shall it profit a man to save a patient ^f^praetice, like virtue, is to l.e its o^vn re- " }/;"r suggestion, sir," retorted the J)oc- :,,^'r^'^'V^^^^"'J^^'^^Jthy frame of niind." Ihats all rig).t,])oetor.'' returned the d ot; hut p ease do not diagnose the case an> further. T can't afl'onl an expert opin- ion as to my mental condition. But to re- turn to our subject : you tno gentlemen ap- Poar to have had in,i,a]>py (-xperienees in country hfe-quiteditrerent from tl.o.e of a Jnend of mine who owns a farm, llo docn't mve to run for trains; he is independent of I>Iumbers, because the only pipes in his house are lor smoking ].urposes. The farm pro- tl"«>s corn enough to ^.ep his f.milv sup- 07 ' 1 vou plied all the year round and to iiell a balance at a profit. Oats and wheat are harvested to an extent which keeps the cattle and de- clares dividends besides. He never sulTers from the cold or heat. He is never afraid of losing his house or barns by lire, because the whole fire department of the neighboring village is, to a man, in Icve with the house- keeper's daughter, and is always on hand in force. The chickens are the envy and pride of tlie county, and there are so many of them that they hav(> to take turns in going to roost. The pigs are the most intelligent of their kind, and are so hai)py they never grunt. In fact, everything is lovely and cheap, the only thing that hangs high being the goose." " (^lite an ideal, no doubt," put in the School-Master, scornfully. " 1 suppose his is one of those model farms with steam- pipes under the walks to melt the snow in winter, and of course tlicn^ is a vein of coal irrowimr ritiht ui) into his furnace ready to be lit."' "Yes," observt'd the Bibliomaniac; "and no doubt the chickens lay eggs in every j^tylo— poached, fried, scrambled, and boiled. rr if: i i: 08 The weeds in tlie garden grow so fast, I sup- pose, that the3^ pull themselves up by the roots; and if there is anything left undone at the end of the day I presume tramps in dress suits, and courtly in manner, spring out of the ground and finish up for him with out charge." ^•'I'll bet he's not on good terms with his , neighbors if he has everything you speak of in such perfection. These farmers ^c^t frightfully jealous of each other," asserted the Doctor, with a positiveness that seemed to be born of experience. "He never quarrelled with one of them in Ins life," returned the Idiot. "He doesn't know them well enough to quarrel with them; in fact, I doubt if he ever sees them at all. He's very exclusive." " Of course he is a born farmer to crot everything the way he has it," suggesred Mrs. Smithers. " ^o^,^ he isn't. He's a broker," said the Tdiot, "and a very successful one. I see him on the street every day." ""Hoes he employ a man to run the farm ? " asked the Clergvman. "No," returned the "idiot, "he has too 69 much sense and too few dollars to do any such foolish thing as that." "It must he one of those self-winding stock farms," put in the School-Master, scornfully. " But I don't see how he can be a successful broker and make money oif his farm at the same time. Your statements do not agree, either. You said he never had to run for trains." " Well, he never has," returned the Idiot, calmly. " He never goes near his farm. He doesn't have to. It's leased to the husband of the house-keeper whose daughter has a crush on the fire department. He takes his pay in produce, and gets more than if he took it in cash on the basis of the Xew York vegetable market." " Then you have got us into an argument about country life that ends—" began the School-Master, indignantly. " That eiuls where it leaves off," retorted the Idiot, departing with a smile on his lips. "He's an Idiot from Idaho," asserted the Bibliomaniac. " Yes ; l)ut I'm afraid idiocy is contagious," observed the Doctor, with a grin and sidelong glance at the School-Master. i f ^ 'ill! I m •^' -•••<*»»- If ,1 if ii I. X " GooD-MORxixG, gontlemcn/' said the Idiot, as he seated himself at tJie breakfast- tahle and ghmeed over liis mail. " Cood-morning yourself," returned the Poet. " You have an unusually large num- ber of letters this morning. All checks. I hope ? " " Yes," replied the Idiot. " All checks of one kind or anotlier. :Mostly checks on am- bition—otherwise, rejections from my friends the editors." "Y'"ou don't mean to say that you write for the papers ? " put in the School-Master, with an incredulous smile. "I try to," returned the Idiot, meekly. "If the papers don't take 'em, I find theiu useful in curing my genial friend who im- bibes of insomnia." " What do you write — advertisements ? " (pKTied the Bibliomaniac. A- I Tl '' No, Advertisement writing is an art to which I dare not aspire. It's too great a tax on the brain/' replied tlie Idiot. " Tax on what ? " asked the Doctor. He was going to squelch the Idiot. " The brain," returned the hitter, not ready to be squelched. " It's a little thing people use to think with. Doctor. I'd advise you to get one." Then he added, " I write poems and foreign letters mostly." " I did not know that you had ever been abroad," said the Clergyman. " I never have," returned the Idiot. " Then how. niav I ask," said :\Ir. White- i f "'YOU don't mean to say that you WRITE FOU THK PAPERS?' " iU ■ ^. .' 72 I cholcGr, severely, "how can yon write for- eign letters ? '' "With my stub pen, of course/' replied the Idiot. "' How did you suppose — with an oyster-knife?" The Clergyman sighed. "I should like to hear some of your po- ems,'' said the Poet. " Very well," returned the Idiot. " Here's one that has just returned from the Bengal Montlihj. It's about a writer who died some years ago. Shakespeare's his name. You've hoard of Shakespeare, haven't you, Mr. Ted- agog?" he added. Then, as there was no answer, he read the verse, which was as follows : SETTLED. Yes! Shakespeare wrote the plays— 'tis clear to me. Lord Bacon's claim's coiulenined before the bar. He'd not have penned, " what fools these mortals be! " But — more correct — "what fools these mortals are! " " That's not bad," said the Poet. " Tlianks," returned the Idiot. " I wish you were an editor. I wrote that last spring, M i ClMM M ] 73 and it has been coming back to mo at the rate of once a week ever since." "It is too short," said the Bibliomaniac, " It's an epigram/' said the Idiot. " llow many yards long do you think epigrams should be?" The Bibliomaniac scorned to reply. "I iigreo with the Bibliouumiac/' said the School-Master. "It is too short. People want greater quantity." " Well, here is quantity for you," said the Idiot. ''■ (Quantity as she is not wanted by nine comic papers I wot of. This poem is called : '"THE TUKMNG OF THE WOKM. " ' How hard my fate perhaps you'll feather in, My dearest reader, when I tell you that I entered into this fair world a twin — The one was spare enough, the other fat. " ' I was, of course, the lean one of the two, The homelier as well, and consequently In ecstasy o'er Jim my parents flew, And good of me was spoken accident'ly. " ' As boys we went to school, and Jim, of course, Was e'er his teacher's itivorite, and ranked Among the lads renowned for moral force. Whilst I was every day right soundly spanked. i h Hi 74 " ' Jim had an iinycl face, but lliorc lio Plopped. I never k »^<'\v a lad who'd sin bo oft And h)ok so like a branch of heaven lopped From off the parent trunk tliat grows aloft. " ' 1 seemed an imp — indeed 'twas often said That I resembled much Beelzebub. My face was freckled and my hair was red— The kind of looking ))oy that men call scrub. " ' Kind deeds, however, were my constant thouyiit; In evlM-ytliing I did the best I could; I said my prayers thrice daily, and I sought In all my ways to do the right and good. " * On Saturdays I'd do my Llonday's sums, While Jim would spend the day in search of fun; He'd sneak away and steal the neighbor's plums, And, strange to say, to earth was never run. " ' Whilst I, when study-time was haply through, ^^'ould seek my brother in tlie neighbor's orcliard; Would find the neighbor thero with anger blue, And a« the thieving culprit would be tortured. " ' The sums I'd done he'd steal, this lad forsaken. Then change my work, so that .> i>;ilLry f.,ur Would be my mark, whilst he ha'T ov.j- '. i-'H The maximum and all the pri/.es bore. it ]wmL ^Wl \ a j i I m 75 " ' In later years wo loved the sclf-Hame maid; We soiit her little presents, sweets, hoiKjuets, For which, alas! '(was I that always paid; And Jim the maid now honors and obeys. " * We entered polities — in difTereiit roles, And for a minor ollice eacli did run. Twas I was left— left hadly at the polls, I5eeause of fishy things that Jim had done. •"When Jim went into business and failed, 1 signed his notes and freed him from the strife. Which bankruptcy and ruin hath entailed On them that lead a queer financial life. " ' Then, penniless, I learned that Jim had set Aside before his failure — hard to tell! — .V half a million dollars on his jxt — His Mrs. Jim — the former lovely Nell. ■'f I 1 " 'Tliat wearied me of .Hm. It may be right For one to bear another's cross, but I Quite fail to see it in its pro]»er light, Jf that's the rule man sliDidd be guidtnl by. \\ '"And since a fate perverse has had the wit To mix us u]> so (hat the one's deserts TTp(m (he shoulders of tlie other sit, No mutter liow (he other one it hurts. il I 1i 76 T am rpi^olvoil in take somo jnortal'H life; Just wlion, or wlicio, or liow, I do not rock, So long as law will end tms horrid strife And twist my dear twin brother's sinful nod " There," Sciid the Idiot, jnitting down the mnnnscript. " How's that ? " "T don't like it," said IMr. Whitechoker. "It is immoral and vindictive. You shoidd accept the hardships of life, no matter how nnjiist. The conclusion of your poem hor- rifies mo, sir. T — " " Have you tried your hand at dialect poetr}' ? " asked the Doctor. "Yes; once," said the Idiot. "I sent it to the Great Western Wcckhj. Oh yes. Here it is. Sent hack with tlianks. It's an oc- tette written in ci^'ar-])ox dialect." "In wh-a-at?" asked the Poet. "Cifrar-l)ox dialect. Here it is: "*0 "Manuel j^aroia alonzo, Colorado I'spocial II. ("lay, Invincihlo flora nlphonzo, Cijjarofto panatolla ol roy, Vi<'loria roina soleotas — () Iwofor madura j,'rando— () oonohns nsouro porfoctaH, Yn»i drivo all my sorrows away.'" 5 I ■I I 77 " Ingenious, but vicious," said the School- Master, who docs not smoke. "Again thanks. How is tliis for a son- net?" said the Idiot: " '■ When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I sunuiion up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste : Then (an I drown an eye, unused to flow, For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, And weep afresh love's long since cancel'd woe, And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight : Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I now pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think of thee, dear friend! All losses are restored and sorrows end.' " " It is bosh ! " said the School-Master. The Poet smiled quietly. " Terfect bosh ! "' repeated the School-Mas- ter, "/.nd only shows how in weak hands so beautiful a tiling as the sonnet can be made ridiculous." " What's wrong with it? " asked the Idiot. "It doesn't cont'^-in anv though! — or if it 'f is 1 '' ;■ I 1 ■{ 78 does, no one can tell wliat the thoii-ht is i our rhymes are atrocious. Your plu-ase- ology is ridiculous. The wliole thing is bad "lou'll never get anybody to print it." ''I do not intend to try/' said the Idiot meekly, ' ^^ " You are wise," said the School-Master, to take my advice for once." "^Xo, it is not your advice tluit restrains mo, said the Idiot, drvlv. "It is the f.-!ct that this sonnet has already been printed." "In the name of Letters, where?" cried the School-Master. " In the collected works of William Siiake- spcaro," replied the Idiot, (piietly. The Poet laughed; Mrs. Smithers's eves filled with tears ; and the School-Master for once had absolutely nothing to say. -; XI ti .! "Do you believe, Mr. Wliitcchokcr/' said the Idiot, taking his place at the table, and holding his plate up to the light,, apparently to see whether or not it was immaculate, whereat the landlady sniffed comtemptu- ously — " do you believe that the love of money is the root of all evil? " " I have always been of that impression," returned Mr. Whitechoker, pleasantly. " In fact, 1 am sure of it," he added. " There is no evil thing in this world, sir, that cannot be traci.'d back to a point where greed is found to be its maiu'Spring and the source of its strength." " Then how do you reconcile this with the scriptural story of the forbidden fruit? Do you tbink the apples referred to were figures of speech, the true import of which was that Adam and lOve had their eves on the original surplus?" ft '. t I lii, I*- i 80 "Well, of course, there you begin to — ah — you seem to mc to be going back to the — or — the — ah — " " Original root of all evil/' prompted the Idiot, calmly. "Precisely," returned Mr. Whitechoker, with a sigh of relief. " Mrs. Smithers, I think I'll have a dash of hot water in my coffee this morning." Then, with a nervous glance towards the Idiot, he added, address- ing the Bibliomaniac, "I think it looks like ram. Referring to the coffee, Mr. White- choker?" queried the Idiot, not disposed to let go of his victim quite so easily. " Ah — I don't quite follow you," replied the j\Iinistor, with some annoyance. " You said something looked like rain, and I asked you if the thing you referred to was the coffee, for I was disposed to agree with you," said the Idiot. " I am sure," put in ]\[rs. Smithers, " that a gentlenum of Mr. AVhitcchokor's refine- ment would not make any such insinuation, sir. He is not the man to quarrel with what is set before him." "I ask your pardon, madame," returned I .-'■ m UM .^l""!'" "holding his platk up to the mght" ^'1 r ■. li i1 ill. 81 the Idiot, politely. " I hope that I am not the man to quarrel witli my food, either. Indeed, I make it a rule to avoid unpleas- antness of all sorts, particularly with the weak, under M'liich category we find your coffee. I simply wish to know to what Mr. Whiteehoker refers when i • says ' it looks like rain.' " " I mean, of course," said the Minister, with as much calmness as he could com- mand — and that was not much — " I mean the day. The day looks as if ii might be rainy." *• Any one with a modicum of brain knows what you meant, Mr. Whiteehoker," volun- teered the School-Master. " Certainly," observed the Idiot, scraping the butter from his toast ; " but to those who have more than a modicum of brains my reverend friend's remark was not en- tirely clear. If I am talking of cotton, and a gentleman chooses to state that it looks like snow, I know exactly what he means. He doesn't mean that the day looks like snow, however; he refers to the cotton. Mr. Whiteehoker, talking about coffee, chooses to state that it looks like rain, 8 y ':i, II ■ t r 82 which it undoubtedly docs. I, realizing that, as Mrs. Smithers says, it is not the gentleman's habit to attack too violently the food which is set before him, manifest some surprise, and, giving the gentleman the benefit of the doubt, afford him an op- portunity to set himself right." "Change the subject/' said the Biblio- maniac, curtly. " With pleasure," answered the Idiot, fill- ing his glass with cream. "We'll change the subject, or the object, or anything you choose. We'll have another breakfast, or another variety of biscuits frappe — any- thing, in short, to keep peace at the table. Tell me, Mr. Pedagog," he added, "is the use of tlio word ' it ' in the sentence ' it looks like rain,' perfectly correct ? " " I don't know why it is not," returned the School-Master, uneasily. He was not at all desirous of parleying with the Idiot. " And is it correct to suppose that ' it ' refers to the day — is the day supposed to look like rain ? — or do we simply use * it ' to express a condition which confronts us?" " It refers to the latter, of course." " Then the full text of Mr. Whitechoker's h ^\ ili I HKMKVK YOU I) HI.OW OIT TItK fiAS IN YOUR ItKIl llOd.M ' " «;5 remark is, I supjioso, tliat Ulie rainy condi- tion of tlie atniospliere which confronts \\s looks like rain? ' " " Oil, I suppose so," sighed the School- ]\raster, wearily. " Kather an unnecessary sort of statement that!" continued the Idiot. "It's some- thing like asserting that a man looks like himself, or, as in the case of a child's primer — " ' See the cat ? ' " ' Yes, I see the cat/ "'What is the cat?' " ' The cat is a eat. Scat cat ! ' " At this even Mrs. Smithers smiled. " I dt)n't agree with ^Ir. Pedagog," put in the Bibliomaniac, after a pause. Here the School -Master shook his head warningly at the Bibliomaniac, as if to indi- cate that he was not in good form. " So I observe," remarked the Idiot. "You have upset him comi)letely. See how Mr. Pedagog trembles?" he added, address- ing the genial gentleman who occasionally imbibed. "I don't mean that way," sneered the Bibliomaniac, bound to set Mr. Whitochokcr 84 straight. " I mean that tlic word ' it/ as em- ph)vcd in tliat sentence, stands for day. The day looks like rain.'' " Did you ever see a day ? " queried the Idiot. "Certainly I have/' returned the Biblio- maniac. "What does it look like?" was the calmly put question. The Bibliomaniac's impatience was here almost too great for safety, and the manner in which his face colored aroused consid- cral)le interest in the breast of the Doctor, who was a good deal of a specialist in apoplexy. " Was it a whole dav vou saw, or onlv a half-day?" persisted the Idiot. , "You may think you arc very funny/' retorted the Bibliomaniac. "I tliink vou are—" " Now don't get angry," returned the Idiot. " Th(>re are two or three things I do not know, and T am anxious to learn. I'd like to know how a day looks to one to whom it is a visible ol)ject. If it is visible, is it tangil)le? and if so, how does it feel? I never felt n day myself." «5 " The visible is always tangible," asserted the School-Master, recklessly. "How about a red-hot stove, or mani- fest indignation, or a view from a mountain- top, or, as in the case of the young man in the novel who ' suddenly waked,' and, ' look- ing anxiously about him, saw no one? ' " re- turned the Idiot, impcrturbably. " Tut ! •' ejaculated the Bibliomaniac. " If I had brains like yours, I'd blow them out." "Yes, I think you would," observed the Idiot, folding up his napkin. " You're just the man to do a thing like that. I believe you'd blow out the gas in your bedroom if there wasn't a sign over it requesting you not to." And fdling his match-box from the landlady's mantel supply, the Idiot hurried from the roon.. and soon after left the house. t m % I in f XII " If my fatlicr hadn't met with reverses—" the Idict began. "Did you really have a father?" inter- rupted the Sehool-^raster. "I thought you were one of these self-inade Idiots. How terrible it must be for a num to think that ho is responsible for vou ! " "Yes," rejoin-d the Idiot; "my father finds it rather hard to stand up under his responsibility for me; but he is a brav(> old gentleman, and he manages to bear the burden very well with the aid of my mother— for I have a mother, too, Mr, P(>dagog. A womaidy mother she is, too, with all the natural fol- lies, sueh as fondness for and belief in her boy. Why, it would soften your heart to see how she looks on me. .She thiidcs I am the most everlastingly brilliant man she ever know— excepting father, of eourse, who has ) ?« i 'his fairy stoiuks wkhe told him in wonns op tkn SVLLAIILKS' " I' if 'f I .1 87 always been a hero of heroes in lier eyes, lie- cause he never rails at misfortune, never spoke an nnkind word to her in his life, and just lives gently along waiting for the end of all things.'' "Do you think it is right in you to de- ceive your mother in this way — making her think you a young Xapoleon of intellect when you know you arc an Idiot?" observed the Bibliomaniac, with a twinkle in his eye. " Why certainly I do," returned the Idiot, calmly. "It's my place to make the old folks happy if I can; and if tiiinking mo nineteen different kinds of a genius is going to fill my mother's heart with happiness, I'm going to let her think it. What's th(; use of destroying other people's idols even if wo do know them to be hollow mockeries? Do you think you do a praiseworthy act, for in- btance, when you kick over the lieathen's stone gods and leave him without any at all ? You may not have noticed it, hut I have — that it is easier to pull down an idol than it is to rear an ideal. I have had idols shat- tered myself, and I haven't found that the pedestals they used to occupy have been rented since. They are there yet and emp- f if M "i aft I I i I If !f !' W ii 88 ty— standijig as monuir.cntr, to what once seemed good to me — and I'm no liappior nor no better for being disillusioned. So it is witli my mother. I let her go on and lliink me perfect. It does her good, and it does me good l)ecause it makes me try to live np to that idea of hers as to what I am. If she had the same 0[)inion of me that we all have she'd be the most miserable woman in the world." " We don't all think so l)adly of yon,'" said the Doctor, rather softened by the Idiot's remarks. " N"o,"' put in the Bibliomaniac. " You are all right. You breathe normally, and you have nice blue eyes. You are graceful and pleasant to look upon, and if you'd been born dumb we'd esteem vou very lii'^hlv. It is only your manners and your theories that we don't like; but even in these we are dis- posed to believe that you are a Avell-mean- ing child." " That is precisely the way to put it," as- sented the School-Master. "You are harm- less even when most annoying. For my own part, I think the most objectionable feature about you is that you suffer from that un- I I I I THOUGHT MV FATIIKU A MEAN SPIRITED ASSASSIN ' " r « ! 80 fortunately not uncommon malady, extreme youth. You are young for your age, and if you only wouldn't talk, 1 tliink we should got on famously together." "You overwhelm me with your compli- ments/' said the Idiot. " I am sorry 1 am so young, but I cannot be brought to believe that that is my own fault. One must live to attain age, and how the deuce can one live when one boards ?"' As no one ventured to reply to this ques- tion, the force of which yory evidently, how- ever, was fully appreciated by ]\[rs. Smithers, the Idiot continued : " Youth is thrust upon us in our infancy, and must be endured until such a time as Fate permits us to account ourselves cured. It swoops down upon us when we have neither the strength nor the brains to resent ii. Of course there are some superior per- sons in this world who never were young. Mr. Pedagog, I doubt not, was ushered into this world with all three sets of teeth cut, and not wailing as most infants are, but dis- cussing the most abstruse pliilosophical problems. His fairy stories were told him, if ever, in words of ten syllables; and his fa- i^n I ; I ; i:, Hi MJ i' 00 ther's first remark to him was doubtless an inquiry as to his opinion on the subject of Latin and Greek in our colleges. It's all right to be this kind of a ba))}' if you like that sort of thing. For my part, I rejoice to think that there was once a day when I thought my father a mean-spirited assassin, because he wouldn't tie a string to the moon and let me make it rise and set as suited my sweet will. Babies of ]\Ir. Pedngog's sort arc fortunately like angels' visits, few and far between. In spite of his stand in the matter, though, I can't help thinking there was a great deal of truth in a rhyme a friend of mine got off on Youth. It fits the case. He said : " ' Youtli is a state of bein<( we attain In early years; to some 'tis but a crime — • And, like the mumps, most agf'd men complain, It can't be caught, alas! a second time.' " '"'Your rhymes are interesting, and your reasoning, as usual, is faulty," said the School-Master. " I passed a very pleasant childhood, though it was a childhood devoted, as yon have insinuated, to serious rather than to flippant pursuits. I wasn't particularly I!- 91 fond of tag and hide-and-seek, nor do I think that even as an infant I ever cried for the moon." "It would have expanded your chest if you had, Mr. Pedagog," observed the Idiot, quietly. "So it would, but I never found myself short-winded, sir," retorted the School-Mas- ter, with some acerbity. "That is evident; but go on," said the Idiot. " You never passed a childish youth nor a youthful childhood, and therefore what ? " " Therefore, in my present condition, I am normally contented. I have no youthful fol- lies to look back upon, no indiscretions to regret; I never knowingly told a lie, and — " "All of \Miieh proves that you never \.<'yq young," [lut in the Idiot; "and you will ex- cuse mo if I say it, but my father is the model for me rather than so exalted a per- sonage as yourself. He is still young, though tunied seventy, and I don't believe on his owu account there ever was a boy who played hookey more, who prevaricated oftencr, who purloined others' fruits with greater fre- quency than he. He was guilty of every 9 ■ f .ii i' 11 it' iU 92 crime in the calendar of youth ; and if there is one thing that doliglits liim more than another, it is to sit on a winter's night he- fore the crackling log and tell ns yarns ahout his youthful follies and his boyhood indiscre- tions."' "But is ho normally a happy man?" queried the School-Master. " Xo." " Ah ! " " Xo. He's an fi?^normally happy man, because he's got his follies and indiscretions to look hack ujion and not forward to." "Ahem!" said Mrs. Smilhers. "Dear me!" ejaculaled Ur. Whitechoker. Mr. Pedagog said nothing, and the break- fast-room was soon deserted. K! k 9" XIII There was an air of suppressed excite- ment about Mrs. Smithers and Mr. Pcdagog as they sat down to breakfast. Something had happened, but just what that something was no one as yet knew, aUiiough tlie genial old gentleman had a sort of notion as to what it was. " Pedagog has been good-natured enough for an engaged man for nearly a week now," ho whispered to the Idiot, who had asked iiini what he supposed was up, " and I have a half idea that Mrs. S. has at last brought liini to the point of proposing." "It's the other way, I imagine," returned the Idiot. " You don't really think she has rejected him, do yon?" (pu-ricd the genial old g(>n- tlenum. "Oh, no; not by a great deal. I mean "I 94 tliat I tliink it vory likely ihjit he has brought her lo the point. This is loap-year, you know,"' said Iho Idiot. "Well, if I were a botfing man, which I haven't been since night before hisl, I'd lay you a wager that they're engaged," said the old gentleman. "I'm glad you've given uj) belling," re- joined the Idiot, "because I'm sure I'd take the bet if you ofTered it— and then I believe I'd lose." "We are to have Philadelphia spring ehickens this morning, genllemen," said Mrs. Smithers, beaming u])on all at the table. " It's a s])ecial treat." ^ "Which we all a])preciale, my dear Mrs. Smithers," observed the Jdiot, with a cour- teous bow to his landlady. '''And, by the way, why is it Ihal Philadelphia s|)ring chickens do not ai)pi'ar nnlil autumn, do you suppose? Fs it because Philadelphia spring doesn'l ixvt around nnlil it is aulumn every- wh.ere else ? " "X(\ I Ihink -not.'" said the Doctor. "I think it is because I'hiladelphia sjiring chick- ens are not sunicienlly hardened lo be able to stand the strain of o.xportation much be- »f ill I i Mrus. 8. nuoionr iini to tiii: point ok I'uorosiNu ' " 95 j> fore September, or else riiiladclpliia people do not get so sated with such delicacies as to permit any of the crop to go into other than Philadelphia markets before that period. For my part, I simply love them." "So do I," said the Idiot; "and if Mrs. Smithers will pardon me for expressing a preference for any especial part of the piece de resistance, I will state to her that if, in helping me, she will give me two drumsticks, a pair of second joints, and plenty of the white meat, I shall be very happy." "You ought to have said so yesterday, said the School-Master, with a surprisingly genial laugh. " Then Mrs. Smithers could have prepared an individual chicken for you." " That would be too much," returned the Idiot, "and I should really hesi*^'ite to eat too luuch spring chicken. I mn-er did it in my life, and don't know what the effect would be. Would it bo harmful, Doctor?" " I really do not know how it would be," answered the Doctor. " In all my wide ex- perience I have never found n case of the kind." " It's very rarely that one gets too mucli • li no if' .' u i spring chiekGn;' said .Mr. WhitcdiolvGr. "I haven't had any experience with patients as my friend the Doctor lias; hut I have lived in many hoarding-houses, and I have never yeUvnown of any one even getting enough." " Well, perhaps we shall have all we want this morning," said Mrs. Smithers. " 1 hope so, at any rate, for I wish this day to he a memorahle one in our house. lirr-Veda-^-o-r has something to tell you. John, will 3X,u announce it now ? " " Did you hear that ? " whispered the Idiot. " She called him ' John.' " "Yes," said the genial old gentleman. " I didn't know Pedagog had a first name hefore." " Certainl3',my dear— that is, my very dear Mrs. Smithers," stammered the School-Mas- ter, getting red in tiie face. " The fact is, gentlemen— ahem !— I— er— we— er— that is,' of course— er—]\rrs. Smithers has er- ahem ! — Mrs. Smithers has asked me to he her— I— ^"i"— T should say I have asked Mrs. Smithers to he my hush— my wife, and— er — she — " " Hoorah ! " cried the Idiot, jumping up from the tahle and grasping l\v. Pedagog hy IIOOIUII !' CRIKI) TUK IDMT, fiUASPINO MK. I'|.:i.Ao Idiot, after the other guests had ex- pressed their satisfaction with the turn af- fairs had taken. "Let's retire from business ■'■"1 c'hange the Smithers Home for Boarders Jnlo an T^:ducational Institution." " J' or what purpose?" queried the Biblio- maniac, "Everything is so lovely now," explained the Idiot, "that I feel as though I never Avanted to leave the house again, even to win a fortune. If we turn it into a college and nistruct youth, we need never go outside the u-cnt door excepting for pleasure." 99 "Whore Will the money and (l:M-n..,r.u.(ors come from?" asked Mr. Wlutcd.ok... . ^^""''^y- i'^-o"! Pupils; and after we^et going maybe somebody will endow n< \ • for instruetors, I think we know enougl/to bo mstr^Ietors ourselves," replied the Idiot. For instanee: Pedagog's University. John Pedagog, President; Alonzo B. Whit'eehoker Ch.p am; Mrs. Smithers-Pedagog, Matron lorProlessor of Belles-lettres, th.. Biblio- jnanzac, assisted by the Poet; Medieal Lec- tures by I)r. Cap,,,,. Chemistry taught by our genial friend who oeeasionally inrbibes Chair m General Information, your humble servant. Why, we would be overrun with pupds and money in less than a year." "A very good idea," returned Mr I'^hi gog. "I have often thought thai a nice lit- sehool eould be started here to advantage though I must confess that I had .lifTen^u' Ideas on the subject of the instructors. You uiy dear Idiot, would be a great deal mor.: usef ul as a Professor Emeritus - "Hm!" said the Idiot. '"It sound. in,ghtywell-INx> no doubt I should lik^^ ^hat IS a Professor Emeritus, Mr. Peda: ii i 100 " He is a professor who is paid a salarj^ for doing nothing." The whole tahle joined in a hmgh, the Idiot included. '* By Jove ! ]\Ir. Pedagog,'' he said, as soon as ho could speak, "you are just dead right about that. That's the place of places for me. Salary and nothing to do ! Oh, how I'd love it ! " The rest of the breakfast was eaten in silence. The spring chicken^ were too good and too plentiful to admit of much waste of time in conversation. At the conclusion of the meal the Idiot rose from the table, and, after again congratulating Mr. Pedagog and his fiancee, announced that he Avas going to see his employer. "On Sunday?" queried Mrs. Sraithers. "' Yes ; I want him to write me a recom- mendation as a man who can do nothinsr beautifully." " And why, pray ? " asked Mr. Pedagog. "I'm going to apply to the Trustees of Columbia College the first thing to-morrow morning for an Emeritus Professorship, for if anybody can do nothing and draw money for it gracefully I'm the man. Wall Street 101 4 is too wearing on my nerves, and I'm going to leave it/" lie replied. And in a moment ho was gone. " I lil-c him," said Mrs. Smithcrs. " So do I," said Mr. Pedagog. " He isn't half the idiot he thinks he is." id THE IDIOT 'I ill TO WILLIAM K. OTIS /- 1. THE IDIOT For some weeks after the happy event which transformed the popular Mrs. Sraithers into the charming Mrs. John Pedagog all went well at that lady's select home for sin- gle gentlemen. It was only proper that dur- ing the honey-moon, at least, of the happy couple hostilities between the Idiot and his fellow-boarders should cease. It was expect- ing too much of mankind, however, to look for a continued armistice, and the morning arrived when Nature once more reasserted herself, and trouble began. Just what it was that prompted tlie remark no one knows, but It happene come and 115 announce, 'Mrs. Pedagoir's Select Home for Gentlemen is at the do.)r, Mr. Idiot.' I could step right out of my office into my charming little bedroom up in the how, ami the time usually expended on the cars c.uld he de- voted to dressing for tea. Then we could stop Ml at the court-house for our legal friend; and as for Doctor (Capsule, wouhln't he revel in driving this boarding-house ahout town on his daily rounds among his patieiiisV" " Wiiat would becotue of mv office hours?" ask.-d the Doctor. " If this house were whirls ing gi(hlily all about the city from mortiing until night, I ,h,„'t know what woid.l become of my office patients." "They might die a little sooner or live a little longer, that is all," said the Miot. " If tbey weren't able to find the house at all, howccr, I think it would be better for us, for •nuch as I admire you, Doctor, I think your office hours are a nuisance to the rest of us. I liad to elbow my way out of tlie house thi,H n»orning between a double line of sull'erer« I'l'un mumps and iutluen/.a, and other pleas- ingly affiicted patients uf yours, ami I didn't like it v« ry much," * " I scd his hand to Mr. I'edagog and ivtin«i from the >^<'cnc. II "Let's write a book," suggested the Miot, as he took his place at tlie board and unfolded his napkin. "What about V^' asked the Doctor, with a Ht.;ile at tlie idea of the Idiot's thinking of embarking on literary pursuits. " About four hundred pages long," said the I riencc, and that means a great deal, I can tell v,.u, for in the course of my career us an instructor <.f youth 1 have encountered many idit)ts." "Were they idiots before oi after hav.ug drank at llu; fount of yoijr learning K asked the Idiot, placidly. iVIr. Pcdanog glared, and the Idiot was ap- parently satislh-d. To make Mr. Pedagog i i ■ u 118 glare appeared to be one of the cluefest of his ambitions, " Von will ivindly remember, jMr. Idiot," said Mrs. Peda.,'oy mind, the latter is the truth. Ii is u^r table, because we buy it, and I am forced to believe that some of us pay for it. I am prepared to admit that if Mr. JJrief, for instance, is delin«pu.nt in his wi-ekly payments, his interest in the table re- verts t« you until he shall have li(piidated. and h« is not privileged to say a won] that yoii do not approve of; but I, for instance, who Biuce January l«t have hci-n compelled to pay in advance, am at U-a^i ^ole lesse.-, and for the time being propri,.t..r of the porfion for LSIl P efcst of Idiot," hat ]\rr. insinua- plaee," ouc," re- tlieJoss, 1 as to or Dot, tj;ather- iig tlie i-atlier regale i under ' life to ' latter ive buy e of us that if in liis l)Ie re- idated, I at you [», who to pay m\ for on for which I have pai.l. y..,, ,„,, ,,,,, .^ ^^ ^^^, 1 have entered into j.os.session, and while i„ P'^sess.on, as a nmtter of rii^ht and not on HufTerance, haven't I the privilege of freedom of speech ?" "Vou certainly exercise the privilege whether you have it or not," snapped Mr. 1 e< I agog. Tr'\^^''II'J ^''''''■'' "' ^^^^>-cist'," said the l^liot. Exercise brings strength, and if ex- ere.s.ng the privilege is going to strengthen Jt, oxerc.se it I shall, if I have to hire a gvm- n.'.s„nn for the purpose. iJut to return to iM>-.s. I edagog's ren.ark. It, l,rings up another question that has n.ore or less interested me J^ecause Mrs. Sn.iJ.ers rnarri..! Mr. Pe,lago<. do we lose all of our rights in Mr. Peda-ro.." J>efore the happy event that reduced" o'Jir number from ten to nine " "We are still ten, are we not?" asked Mr. Whitechoker, counting the guests. "Not if My, IV.Iagog and the late Mrs feuHthers have become one," said the Idi ,t. "But, as I was saying, before the happy event that rcluced our number from ten to n.nc vv(* wer,. permitted to address our frien.l Pedagog in any terms we saw «t, and when- ever he became suHiciently i.iterested to in- i'!i If M liiO ! I i (lulgo ill repartee we were j)rivilege(l to re- turn it. Have we relinquished tliat privileo-e? I don't remember to iiave done so." " It's a question worthy of your giant in- tellect," said :Mr. Pedagog, scornfully. " For myself, I do not at all object to anything you may choose to say to me or of me. Your assaults are to me as water is to a duck's back." "I am sorry," said the Idiot. "I hate family disagreements, and liere we have Mrs. Pedagog taking one side and Mr. Ped- agog the other. Jaut whatever decision may ultimately be reached, of one thing Mrs. Pedagog must be assured. I on princijjle side against Mr. Pedagog, and if it be the wish of my good landlady that I shall refrain from playing intellectual battledore and shut- tlecock with her husband, whom we all re- vere, I certainly shall refrain. Hereafter if I indulge in anything that in any sense re- sembles repartee with our landlord, I wish it distinctly understood that an apology goes with it." " That's all right, my boy," said the School- Master. " You mean well. You are a little new, that's all, and we all understand you." " I don't understand him," growled the 1^1 ivilege? Doctor, still smarting uiu]vv tlio naolloction of former breakfast-table (liseonifitures. <' I Avislj we could get liim translated." " If you prescribed for me once or twice I think it likely I should be translated in Nhort order," retorted the Idiot. "I wonder liow I'd go translated into French ?" "You couldn't be expressed in Freneli " put in the Lawyer. " it woul.l take some barbarian tongue to do you justice." "Very well," said the Idiot. "Proceed. Do me justice." "I can't begin to," said Mr. IJrief, angrily. ^^ ''That's what I thought," said the fdiot. "That's the reason why vou always do me such great injustice. You lawyers always have to be doing something, even if it is only holding down a cltair so that it won't blow out of your office window. If you haven't any justice to mete out, you take another tack and dispense injustice with lavish hand. However, I'll forgive you if you'll tell mo one thing. What's libel, Mr. IJrief?" "None of your business," growled the Lawyer. " A very good general definition," said the Idiot, apj)rovingly. " If there's any business in the world that I should hate to have known as mine it is that of libel. I think, however, your definition is not definite.' What I wanted to know was just how far I could go with remarks at this table and be safe from prosecution." "Nobody would ever prosecute you, for two reasons," said the lawyer. "In a civil action for money damages a verdict against you for ten cents wouldn't be worth a rap, because the chances are you couldn't pay. In a crim- inal action your conviction would be a bad thing, because you would be likely to prove a corrupting infiuence in any jail in creation. Besides, you'd be safe before a jury, anyhow. You are just the sort of idiot that the intel- ligent jurors of to-day admire, and they'd acquit you of any crime. A man has a right to a trial at the hands of a jury of his peers. I don't think even in a jury-box twelve idiots equal to yourself could be found, so don't worry." "Thanks. Have a cigarette?" said the Idiot, tossing one over to the Lawyer. " It's all I have. If I had a half-dollar Ishould pay you for your opinion ; but since I haven't, I oifer you my all. The temperature of my coflFee seems to have fallen, Mrs. Pedagog. Will you kindly let me have another cup ?" i! 11 1 CEBTaINLV. I ASKKD FOH ANOTHKB CD!'" IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 11.25 ^ us, mil 2.0 U ill 1.6 Sciences Corporation 33 WIST MAIN STREIT WEBSTER, N.Y. 14SB0 (716) •72-4$03 // ^/ .> ^^' f^'^^^ W^.. b> i^4. i< (A ^^ iV V \\ l\ sb laa " Certainly, said Mrs. Pedagog. "Mary, get tlie Idiot another cup." Mary did as slie was told, placing tlie empty bit of eliina at Mrs. Pcdajjfog's side. "It is for the Idiot, Mary," said Mrs. Ped- agoif, coldly. "Take it to him." " Eini)ty, ma'am ?" asked the maid. " Certainly, Mary," said tlie Idiot, perceiv- ing Mrs. Pedagog's point. "I asked for an- other cup, not for more coffee." Mr.s. l*edag()g smiled (piietly at her own joke. At hair-splitting she could give the Idiot ])oints. "I an\ surprised that Mary should l)ave thought I wanted more coffee," continued the Idiot, in an aggrieved tone, " It shows that she too thinks nie out of my mind." *' You are not out of your mind," said the Bibliomaniac. "It wotdd be a good thing if you were. In replenishing your mental sup- ply you might have tlie luck to get better quality." " I ]»robably should have the lucL," said the Idiot. " I have had a great store of it in my life. From the very start I have had luck. When I think that I was born myself, and not you, I feel as if I had had more tlian my share of good-fortune — more luck than the Sri 1 1 i Hi .24 law allows. IIow much luck does the law allow, Mr. I J lief?" " Jjo.sh !" said Mr. J5ricf, with a scornful wave of his hand, as if he were riddinjr liim- self of a troublesome gnat. "Don't bother me with such mind-withering questions." " All right," said the Idiot. " I'll ask you an easier one. Why does not the world rec- ognize matrimony?" Mr. Whitechoker started. Here, indeed, was a novel proposition. "I — I— must confess," said he, "that of all the idiotic questions I — er — I have ever liad the honor of hearing asked that takes tlie—" "Cake ?" suggested the Idiot. " — palm !" said Mr. Whitechoker, severely. "Well, perhaps so," said the ^ \ " jJut matrimony is the science, or the , or what- ever you call it, of making two people one, is it not ?" "It certaiidy is," said Mr. Whitechoker. " But what of it ?" "The world does not recogni/e the unity," said the Idiot. " Take our good proprietors, for instance. They wen; made one by your- self, Mr. Whitechoker. I had the pleasure of being an usher at the ceremony, yielding the hi t tl • V "DEMAMta HLKKIB t'OK iwo" aWf 125 position of best man gracefully, as is m}^ wont, to the Bibliomaniac. He was best man, but not the better man, by a simple process of reasonino-. Now no one at tliis board disputes that Mr. and Mrs. Pedagogare one, but how about the world? Mr. Peda- gog takes Mrs. l\Mlagog to a concert. Are they one there ?" " Why not ?" asked Mr. Brief. "That's what I want to know — why not? The world, as represented by the ticket-taker at the door, says they are not— or implies that they are not, by demanding tickets for two. They attempt to travel out to Niagara Falls. The railroad people charge them two fares ; the hackman charges them two fares ; the hotel bills are made out for two people. It is the same wherever they go in the world, and I regret to say that even in our own home tliere is a disposition to regard them as two. When I spoke of there being nine persons here instead of ten, Mr. Whitc" choker himself disputed my point— and yet it was jiot so much his fault as the fault of Mr. and Mrs. Pedagog themselves. Afrs. Pedntiog seems to cast doubt upon the unity by provid- ing two separate chairs for the two halves that make up the charming entirety. Two \i I 1Q6 cups are proviti(Hl for iluir coffee. Two forks, two knives, two spoons, two portions of :ill the delicacies of the season whieii are lavished upon us out of season — generally- after il — fall to their lot. They do not ob- ject to being called a happy couple, when they should be known as a happy snigle. Now what I want to know is why the world does not acce})t the shrinkage which has been pronounced valid by the church and is recog- nized by the individual ? Can any one here tell me that V" No one could, apparently. At least no one endeavored to. The Idiot looke '• i- I : It i oome.lians, anrl I've mot Ntnv York Central stars, and I can as.s.nv' you they each repre- sent a distinct type. The tracredians, as a i-ulo, are quiet meek indivio:ir,l would be to me an extremely objec— " " Now the come.lians," resumed the Idiot Ignoring Mr. Whitechoker's retnark-"ihe co^ medians are vc-ry ,li(ferent. Thev are twice as bloclthirsty as the murderers of the ^' "^"^ I think Ml, ledagog ought to sue the Department of lubheAVorksfor libel. If she hasn't a case no maligned person ever had." "What are you saying, sir?" queried the landlady, innocently. . "^/'^y'" returned the Idiot, pointing out into the street, "that y.u ought to sue the De- partment of Public W orks for libc"l. They've got tl.eir sign right up against your house. i\o Thorough Fare is what it says. That's libel, isn't it, Mr. Brief?" "It is certainly a fatal criticism of a board- Hig^house," observed Mr. IJrief, with a twinkle 'n his eye, "but Mrs. Pe.lagog could hardly secure damages on that score." m m ■ff 'i f 188 "I don't know about that," returned the Idiot. " As I understand it, it is an old max- im of the law that the greater the truth the greater the libel. Mrs. Pedagog ought to re- ceive a million— By-the-way, what have we this morning?" " We have steak and fried potatoes, sir," replied Mrs. Pedagog, frigidly. "And I de- sire to add, that one who criticises the table as much as you do would do well to got his meals outside." "That, Mrs. Pedagog, is not the j^oint. The difficulty I find here lies in getting my meals inside," said the Idiot. "Mary, you may bring in the mush," ob- served Mrs. Pedagog, pursing hor lips, as she always did when she wished to show that she was offended. "Yes, Mary," put in the School - Master ; " let us have the mush as quickly as possible — and may it not be has completed his labors on it by givititr it up. He is a very thorough sort of a fellow, and he intended to make the article comprehen- sive, but he found he couldn't, because, judir- ing from comments of men like you, for in- stance, he was forced to ct.m-ludJ that there never was a neio joke. Hut, as I was saying the other mornino- " "Do you really remember what \o\\ say ^" sneered Mr. Pedagog. •• You must have a great memory for trifles." "Sir, I shall never forget vou," said the Idiot. "But to revert to\vhat I was saving the other morning, I'd like to begin lift- all over again, so that I could prepare myself for the profession of architecture. It's the greatest profession in the world, and one which is surest to bring immortality to its successful follower. A man may write a splendid book, and become a great man for a while and within certain limits, but the cdiances are that some other man will come along later and sui)plant him. Then the book's sale will die out after a time, and with tliis will come a diminution of its autiior's reputa- 140 tion, in extent anyway. An actor or a great preacher becomes only a name after his death, but the arcliiteet wlio builds a cathedral or a fine public biiildinir really erects a monu- ment to his own memory.'" "He does if he can build it so that it will stay up," sjvid the Bibliomaniac. "I think you, however, are better oflf as you are. If you had a more extended reputation or a last- ing name you would probably be locked up in some retreat ; or if you were not, posterity would want to know why." "I am locked up in a retreat of Nature's making," said the Idiot, with a sigh. "Nat- ure has set around me certain limitations which, while they are not material, might as well be so as far as my ability to soar above them is concerned— and it's well she has. If it were otherwise, my life would not be safe or bearable in this company. As it is, I ani happy and not at all afraid of the effects your jealousy of me might entail if I were any better than the rest of you." " I like that," said Mr. Pedagog. M thought you would," sai«i the Idiot. "That's why I said it. I aim to please, and for oui-v seem to have hit the bul Ts-c-ye. Mary, kindly break open this biscuit for me." li Ul " Ilavo you ideas on the subject of archi- tecture that you so desire to becoTnc an arch- itect?" pose, Mr. Idiot, a man should come to you and say : ' Idiot, we have a fund of |iHOO,000 in our hands, actual cash. We think of build- ing a cathedral, and we think of employing you to draw up our plans. Give us some idea of what we should do.' Do you mean to tell me that you could say anything reasonable or intelligent to that man V" " Well, that depends upon what you call reasonable aiid intelligent. I have never been al)le to find out what you mean by those terms," the Idiot answered, slowly. " Hut I could tell him something that I consider rea- sonable and intelligent." " From your own point of view, then, as to reasonableness and intelligence, what should you say to liim ?" "I'd make him out a plan providing for the investment of his *S()0,000 in five-per- m ■ U2 iJ ! I ( ■ cent, gold bonds, wliich would bring him in an income of 840,000 a year ; aftt^- which I should call his attention to tlie fact that $40,000 a year would enable liim to take 10,- 000 poor children out of this sweltering city into tlie country, to romp and drink fresh milk and oat wholesome food for two weeks every summer from now until the end of time, which would build up a human structure that might be of more benefit to the world *' :iu any pile of bricks, marble, and wrought -iron I or any other architect could conceive of," said the Idiot. " The structure would stand up, too." "You call that architecture, do you ?" said Mr. Pedagog. " Yes," said the Idiot, " of the renaissance order. Hut that, of course, you term idi- ocy—and maybe it is. I like to be that kind of an idiot. I do not claim to be able to build a cathedral, however. I don't sup- pose I could even build a boarding-house like this, but what I should like to do in archi- tecture wouhl be to put up a |i5000 dwelling- house for 1(5000. That's a thing that luTs never been done, and I think I might be able to do it. If I did, I'd patent the plan and make a fortune. Then I shoul.l like to know i£? him in cr which fact that take 10,- ring city ink fresh ivo weeks I of time, (lire that I rid tV.aii ly'ht-iron fiive of," lid stand u ?" said laissanco erm idi- be that be able )n't Kuj>- 111 se like n archi- wcllinir- hat has be able Ian and to know 143 enotio-h about the science of planning a build- ing to find out whether my model hotel is j)racticable or not." "You liavo a model hotel in your mind, eh ?" said the Bibliomaniac. "It must be a very small hotel if it's in his mind," said the Doctor. "That's tantamount to saying that it isn't anywhere," said 3Ir. Pedagog. "Well, it's a great hotel just the same," said the Idiot. "Although I presume it would be expensive to build. It would have mov- able rooms, in the first place. Each room would be constructed like an elevator, with appliances at hand for moving it up and down. The great thing about this would bo that persons could have a room on any Hoor they wanted it, so long as they got the room in the beginning. A second advantage w^ould lie in the fact, that if you were sleeping in a room next door to another in which there was a erying baby, you could j.ull the rope and go uj) two or three flights until you were free from the noise. Then in case of fire the room in which the fire started coidd be lowered into a sli fJ^JioMy:' !:' •■ " YOt FISH ALL DAY, AND HAVE NO LUCK " 149 IM don't catch a thing. You fall in the water perhajis, and lose your watch, or your fish- hook catches in your coat-tails, with the re- sult that you come near casting yourself in- stead of the fly into the hrook or the pond, as the case may be. lY-rhaps the hook doesn't stop with the coat-tails, but goes on in, and catches you. That's awfully unlucky, espe- cially wlien the hook is made of unusually barby barbed wire. "Then, again, you may go fishing on some- body else's preserves, and get arrested, and sent to jail overnight, and hauled up the next morning, and have to pay ten dollars fine for poaching. Think of Mr. Pedagog being fined ten dollars for poaching ! Awfully unfort- unate !" Kindly leave me out of your calcula- tions," returned Mr. Pedagog, with a flush of indignation. " Certainly, if you wish it," said the Idiot. " We'll hand Mr. Brief over to the police, and let /lim be fined for poaching on somebody else's preserves— although that's sort of im- possible, too, because Mrs. Pedagog never lets us see preserves of any kind." " We had brandied peaches last Sunday night," said the landlady, indignantly. I'X ii iiJi 150 ^nr ji lb I "Oh yos, so we did," returned the Idiot. "That must have been wiiat the Bibliomaniac had taken," he added, turnincr to tlie genial gentleman wiio occasionally imbibed. " You know, we thought lie'd been— ah~lie'd been absorbinof." "To what do you refer?" asked the Biblio- maniac, curtly. "To the brandied peaches," returned the Idiot. *' Do not ].ress me further, please, be- cause we like you, old fellow, and I don't be- heve anybody noticed it but ourselves." "Noticed what ? I want to know what you noticed and when you noticed it," said the Bibliomaniac, savagely. " I don't want any nonsense, either. I just want a plain state- ment of facts. What did you notice ?" "Well, if you must have it," said the Idiot slowly, «'my friend who imbibes and I were' rather pained on Sunday night to observe that you— that you had evidently tak(.n somethincr rather stronger than cold water, tea, or Mv. Pedagog's opinions." " It's a lilM'l, sir !— a gross libel !" retorted the Bibliomaniac. " II„w did I show it? That's what I want to know. How— did~T -show-it? Speak up quick, and loud too. ilow did I show it?" 4 tlK OOILD BE HKAHR THROWtNO THINGP ABOUT r 4 ' ' m 151 "Well, you went iip-stairs after tea." "Yes, sir, I did." "And my friend who imbibes and I wore left down in the front hall, and while we were talkinnr there j'oii j)ut your head over the ban- isters and asked, ' Who's that down there ?' Remember that ?" "Yes, sir, I do. And you replied, ' :,Ir. Auburnose and myself.' " " Yes, And then you asked, ' Who are the other two ?' " ''Well, I did. What of it?" " Mr. Auburnose and I were there alone. That's what of it. Now I put a cliaritable construction on the matter and say it was the peaches, when you fly off the handle like one of Mrs. Pedagog's coftee-cups." "Sir!" roared the Bibliomaniac, jumping from liis chair. "You are the greatest idiot I know." "Sir!" returned the Idiot, "you flatter me. But the liiblionianiac was not there to hear. He had ruslud from the room, and during the deep silence that ensued he could be heard throwing things about in the cham- ber overhead, and in a very few moments the banging of the front (lo(»r and scurrying down I •ril tl)o brown -stone stops showed that he had gone out of doors to cool off. "It is too bad," said tlie Idiot, after a M'liile, "that he has such a quick te?nper. It doesn't do a bit of good to get mad that way. ire'll be uncomfortable ail day long, and over what ? Just because I attem[)ted to say a good word for him, and announce the restora- tion of my confidence in his temperance cpial- ities, he cuts up a iiigh-jinks tiiat makes ev- erybody uncomfortable. "But to resume about this fish business," continued the Idiot. " Fish—" " Oh, fish be hanged !"sai sm HE WAS NOT MURDKRED" *|. I i I 'III I ■'!( 157 ly the same things day after day. So many columns of murder, so many beautiful sui- cides, so much sport, a modicum of general intelligence, plenty of fires, no end of embez- zlements, financial news, advertisements, and head-lines. Events, like history, repeat them- selves, until people have grown weary of them. They want something new. For in- stance, if you read in your morning paper that a man has shot another man, you know that the man who was shot was an inoffen- sive person who never injured a soul, stood high in the community in which he lived, and leaves a widow with four children. On the other hand, you know without reading the account that the murderer shot his victim in self-defence, and was apprehended by the de- tectives late last night ; that his counsel for- bid him to talk to the reporters, and that it is rumored that he comes of a good family living in New England. "If a breach of trust is committed, you know that the defaulter was the last man of whom such an act would be suspected, and, except in the one detail of its location and sect, that he was prominent in some church. You can calculate to a cent how mu^ch has been stolen by a glance at the amount of space de- IM ni •1 1 ir.s M voted to till' account of tlic crime. Loaf of bread, f wo lines. Thousand dollars, ten lines, iriindred thousand dollars, half-eolimin. Mill- ion dollars, a full eolumn. Five million dol- l.irs, half the front pas^n', wood-cMit of the em- bezzler, and two editorials, one leader and one Itarai^raph. "And so w'ith evorythini;. We are creat- ures of habit. The expected always happens, and newspapers are dull because the events they chronicle are dull." "Granting the truth of this," put in the School -Master, "what do you propose to do?" "Get up a newspa|)er that will devote its space to tellintr what hasn't hap|)ened." " That's been done," said the JJibliomaniac. "To a much more limited extent than we think," returned the Idiot. "It has never been done consistently and truthfully." " I fail to see liow a newspaper can be made to prevaricate truthfully," asserted Mr. Whitechoker. To tell the truth, he was great- ly disappointed with the idea, because he could not in the nature of things become one of its beneficiaries. "I liaven't suggested })revarication," said the Idiot. "Put on your front page, for in- ,'■': V SUPEUINTENDENT SMITIIKKH HAS NOT AHSCONDKD " 1' 'i 1 1'. m * 159 Stance, an item like this: 'George Rronson, colored, aged twenty -nine, a resident of Thompson Street, was caught cheating at poker last night. He was not murdered.' There you tell what has not happened. There is a variety about it. It has the charm of the unexpected. Then you might say: 'Curious incident on Wall Street yesterday. So-and- so, who was caught on the bear side of the market with 10,000 shares of J. B. & S. K. W., paid off all his obligations in full, and retired from business with $1,000,000 clear.' Or we might say, 'Superintendent Smithers, of the St. Goliath's Sunday-school, who is also cash- ier in the B^rty-eighth National Bank, has not absconded with 14,000,000.'" " Oh, that's a rich idea," put in the Scliool- Master. "You'd earn $1,000,000 in libel suits the first year." "No, you wouldn't, either," said the Idiot. "You don't libel a man when you say he hasn't murdered anybody. Quite the con- t^'iry? y«" c!il' attention to his conspicuous virtue. You are i.. reality commending those who refrain from criminal practice, instead of delighting those who are fond of depart- ing from the paths of Christianity by giving them notoriety." 15 )>''. i ^ I i 1 h li KM) *' But I fail to see in what respect jAfr. IVhI- agog and I are essential to your (scheme," said the Bibliomaniac. "I must confess to some curiosity on my own jiarl on that i)oint," added the School- IMaster. '' Why, it's perfectly clear," returned the Idiot, with a conciliating smile as he prepared to depart. "You both know so much that isn't so, that I rather rely on you to lill up." lhI- ol- he ed at VII A NEW boarder had joined the circlo about Mrs. Pedagog's breakfast -tabK'. He had vhat the Idiot called a three-ply name— which was Richard Henderson Warren— and he was by profession a poet. Whether it was this that made it necessary for him to board or not, the rewards of the muse being rather slender, was known only to himself, and he showed no disjjosition to enlighten his fel- low-boarders on the subject. I lis success as a poet Mrs. Pedagog found it hard to gauge; for while the postman left almost daily nu- merous letters, the envelopes of which showed that they cariu^ from the various periixlicaU ui the day, it was never exactly clear whether or not the missives contained remittances or rejected manuscripts, though the fact that Mr. Warren was the only boarder in the bouse who had re(|uested to have a waste- basket a«lded to the furniture of his room i! tl ll Wi seemed to indicate that they contained tlie latter. To this request Mrs, Pedagog liad gladly acceded, because slie liad a notion that therein at some time or another would be found a clew to the new boarder's past his- tory — or possibly some evidence of such du- plicity as the good lady suspected he nught be guilty of. She had read that Byron was profligate, and that Poe was addicted to drink, and she was impressed with the idea that poets generally were bad men, and she regarded the waste-basket as a possible means of protecting herself against any such idiosyn- crasies of her new-found genius as would operate to her disadvantage if not looked after in time. This waste-basket she made it her daily duty to empty, and in the privacy of her own room. Ilalf-finisiied "ballads, songs, and snatches" she perused before consign- ing them to the flames or to the large jute bag in the cellar, for which the ragman called two or three times a year. Once ]\Irs. Peda- gog's heart almost stopped beating when she found at the bottom of the basket n printed slip beginning, " J7ie Eilitor rcf/fefn that the enclosed linen are unuiuiilahle,''^ and closing with about thirteen reasons, any one or all »k k;;! songs, of wliicli niiglit liiivo been the main cause of the poet's disappointment. Had it not been for the kindly clause in the printed slip that insinuated in graceful terms that this rejec- tion did not impl\' a lack of literary merit in the contribution itself, the good lady, knowing well that there was even less money to be made froni rejected than from accept- ed poetry, would have been inclined to re- quest the poet to vacate the premises. The very next day, however, she was glad she liad not requested the resignation of the poet from the laureateship of her house ; for the same basket gave forth another printed slip from another editor, begging the poet to acce})t tlie enclosed check, with tlianks for liis contribution, and asking him to do- ])osit it as soon as j.'racticable — which was pleasing enough, since it implied that the poet was the possesso" of a bank account. Now INIrs. Pedagog was consumed with cu- riosity to know for how large a sum the dieck called — which desire was gratified a few days later, wlu-n the inspired boarder j)aid hit week's bill with three one-doliar bills and a check, signed by a well-known publisher, for two dollars. I ii •', * Hi 1 1, j; ua n By the boarders tliemsolves tlie poet was regarded with much interest. The School- Master had read one or two of Iiis effusions in the Fireside Corner of the journal he re- ceived weekly from his home up in Xew England— effusions which showed no little merit, as well as indicating that Mr. Warren wrote for a literary syndicate ; Mr. White- choker had known of him as the young man who was to have written a Christmas'' carol for his Sunday-school a year before, and who had Unished and presented the manuscript shortly after New-Year's day ; while to the Idiot, Mr. Warren's name was familiar as that of a frequent contributor to the funny papers of the day. " I Avas very much amused by your poem in the last number of the Ohm-ver, Mr. War- ren," said the Idiot, as they sat down to breakfast together. " Were you, indeed ?" returned Mr. War- ren. " I am soi-ry to hear that, for it was intended to be a serious effort." "Of course it was, Mr. Warren, and so it appeared,'* said the School-Master, with an indignant glance at the Idiot. " It was a very dignified and stately bit of work, and I must congratulate you upon it." wfi m (? '■!' TllK INSl'IKKU UOAUUKU TAID IllS DILL li' w 'J I lfi5 " I didn't mean to give offence," said the Idiot. " I've read so much of yours tl)at was purely humorous that I believe I'd laugh at a dirge if you sliould write one ; but I really thought your lines in the Observer were a burlesque. You had the same thought that Rossetti expresses in 'The Woodspurge': ' The wind flapped loose, tlie wind was still, Shaken out dead from tree to hill ; I bad walked on ut the wind's will, I sat now, for the wind was still.' That's Rossetti, if you r -member. Slightly suggestive of ' Blow Ye Winds of the Morn- ing ! Blow ! Blow ! Blow !' but more or less pleasing." "I recall the poem you speak of," said Warren, with dignity ; "but the true poet, sir — and I hope I have some claim to be con- sidered as such — never so far forgets himself as to burlesque his masters." " Well, I don't know what to call it, then, when a poet takes the same thought that has previously been used by his masters and makes a funny poem — " " But," returned the Poet, warmly, " it wa8 not a funny poem." " It made me laugh," retorted the Idiot, If! ill i I- \\ J " and that is more than half the professedly funny poems wo j^^et nowadays can do. There- fore I say it was a funny poem, and I don't see liow you can deny that it was a burlesque of Rossetti." " Well, I do deny it in toto:' "I don't know anything about denying it in toto;' rejoined the Idiot, "but I'd deny it in print if I were you. I know plenty of people who think it was a burlesque, and I overheard one man say — he is a Rossetti crank — that you ought to be ashamed of yourself for writing it." " There is no use of discussing the matter further," said the Poet. "I am innocent of any such intent as you have ascribed to me, and if people say I have burlesqued Rossetti they say what is not true." "Did you ever read that little poem of Swinburne's called 'The Boy at the Gate'?" aske. the Idiot, to change the subject. " I have no recollection of it," said the Poet shortly. ' "The name sounds familiar," put in Mr. Whitechoker, anxious not to be left out of a literary discussion. " I have read it, but I forget just how it goes," vouchsafed the School-Master, forower, to direct the conversation at Sunday morning's break- fast into si»iritual rather than into temporal matters. So, as Mrs. Pedagof^ was pouring the coffee, Mr. Whitechoker hegjui : "Do you gentlemen ever pause in your every -day labors and thought to let your minds rest upon the future — the possibili- ties it has in store for us, the consequences which—" "No mush, thank you," said the Idiot. Then turPiing to Mr. Whitechoker, he added : "I can't answer for the other gentlemen at this board, but I can assr. • ' -on, Mr. White- choker, that I often do so. It was only last night, sir, that my genial f.iend who ind>ibes and I w(!re discussing tiie future and its j»oh- *iibilitii's, and I venture to assert that there is no more ])r()fital»Ic food for reflection any- where in the larders of the mind than that." " Lartlei's of the mind is excellent," said the SclioobM.ister, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice. "Perhaps you would luyt mind open- 173 ing tlie door to your mental pantry, and let- ting us |»eep within at the stores you keep there. I am sure that on the subject in hand your views cannot fail to be original as well as edifying." " I am also sure," said Mr. Whitechoker, somewhat surprised to hear tlie Idiot speak as he did, having sometimes venturee.I by vour noticin- it. But science has everythino: to do with it It is science that is going to make the future great. It is science that has annihilated di.si.ince, and the anni- hilation has just begun. 'J'wenty years ago it was hardly possible for a .nan standing on one side of the street to make himself heard on the other, the acoustic properties of the at- mosphere not being what they should be. To- day you can stand in the" pulpit of your church, and by nieajis of certain scientific ap- paratus make yourself heard in Boston, \,.u- Orleans, or San Francisco. JTas this no bear- ing on the future? The time will come, Mv. WhiteclH.ker, when your missionaries will Ix^ .iblct.. sit in their comfortable rectories, and nng up the :;eath.M. in foreign .-limes,' and convert them ..v.r (he telephone, without run- ^hoJv Qi; -sotne " YOi; CAN MAKK VOlltSKI,K JIKAllI) IN SAN KItANCISCO " im ^f nn 1 ^HH |«Vj. ■ wF 1 ili.^ ir.'i ning the slightest danger of falling into the SOU]), which expression I use in its literal rather than in its metaj)horical sense." "But — " interru})ted Mr. Whitechoker, "Now wait, please," said the Idiot. "If science can annihilate degrees of distance, who shall say that before many days science may not annihilate degrees of time? If San Francisco, thousands of miles distant, can be brought within range of the ear, why cannot 1990 be brought before the mind's eye ? And if 1990 can be brought before the mind's eye, what is to prevent the invention of a prophet- ograph wliich shall enable us to cast a hor- oscope which shall reach all around eternity and half-way back, if not further?" " You do not understand me," said Mr. Whitechoker. " When I speak of the future, I do not mean the temporal future." "I know^ exactly what you mean," said the Idiot. " I've dealt in futures, and I am famil- iar with all kinds. It is you, sir, that do not understand me. My claim is perfectly plausi- ble, and in its results is bound to make the world better. Do you suppose that any man who, by the aid of my prophetograph, sees tha on a certain date in the future he will be hanged for niurdei is going to fail to provide himself 170 with an alibi in regard to that particular miir- dor, and must wo not admit that liavinjr pro- vidod liimself with tliat alibi he will of ne- cessity avoid blnr>.T ^,Hl^ ji,,,] go avoid the gal- lows ? Ti'.iii s reasonable. So in regard to all the thousand and one other peccadilloes that go to make this life a sinful one. Science, by a purely logical advance along the lines al- ready mapped out for itself, and in part al- ready traversed, will enable men to avoid the pitfalls and reap only the windfalls of life ; we shall all see what terrible consequences await on a single misstep, and we shall not make the mipstep. Can you still clxim that science and the future have nothing to do with each other ?" "You are talking of matters purely tern- poral," said Mr. Whitechoker. " I have ref- erence to our spiritual future" "And the two," observed the Idiot, "are so closely allied *hat we cannot separate them. The proverb bout looking after the pennies and letting the pounds take care of them- selves applies here. I believe that if I take cure of my teniporal future — which, by-the- way, does not exist— aiy spiritu./i future will take care of hm , and if science places the hereafter 1 ore us_and you admit that even fell lUK l'K0rHKTO(JIUl'H now it ia before us — all wo have to do is to take advantage of our opportunities, and mend our lives accordingly." " But if science shows you what is to come," said the School-Master, " it must show your fate with perfect accuracy, or it ceases to be science, in which event your entertaining notions as to reform and so on are entirely fallacious." " Not at all," said tiie Idiot. " We are ap- proaching the time when science, which is much more liberal than any other l)ranch of knowledge, will sacrifice even truth itself for the good of mankind." " You ought to start a paradox company," suggested the Doctor, " Either that or make himself the nucleus of an insane asylum," observed the School- Master, viciously. " I never knew a man with such maniacal views as those we have heard this morning." " There is a great deal, ^Lr. Pedagog, that you have never known," returned the Idiot. "Stick by me, and you'll die with a mind richly stored." Whereat the School-Master left the table with such manifest impatience that Mr. White- choker was sorry he had started the conversa- tion. i (I f ITS The genial gonllcniaii wlio occasionally im- bibed and the Idiot withdrew to the latter's room, where tlie former observed : " Wliat are you driving at, anyliow? Wliere did you get those crazv i»■ things that 1«1 has kept you linnronntr i„ this vale of tears was that you have always olio wed tobarvo. I never did that, and I never shall do it, he- cause I deem it a detestable diversion." "I didn't say anytliitin^ of the sort," re- torted Mr. l*(Mhitr,,ir, gcttiiiir ,vd \u tliG faoe. "I never said that I clKwt-d tobaceo in anv form." ^ "Oh, come!" said tli.- Mi„i, wiU, wd|. feigned impatienee, "what's the use cf talk- ing that way ? We all heard what you said. and r have no doubt that it came as a shock to every member of this a.ssemblage. It cer- tainly was a sh(»ck to me, because, with all my Weaknesses and bad habits, I think to- bacco-chewing unutterably bad. The worst part of it is that you chew it in every f(.rm. A man who chews ehewing.t..bacco only may some time throw off the habit, but whJn one gets to be such a victim to it that he chews nj) cigars and cigarettes and plugs of pi,„. tobacco, it seems to me he is incurable. It i . not only a bad habit thet. ; it amounts to a vice." Mr. Pedagog was getting apupi.Hiic. •■ Vnii know well enough that I n.-ver said the words y . i'J 1 V •'t with an irritatliiij sliako of his head, as if ho were eoiifhkMitially hintiii.i:^ to tiio Scliool- Master to korp ial «iiK's- ci'o lias, I m ' eating h in OIK! jartU'tl as 'SIlllK' tlu' jilish the yuii I'Vcr ictor, Mr. It I hat wunl.s ho was oviclontly dosirous of jiurling at the Idiot. " It is, indeed," said the Idiot. " I knew a man oucv. who smoked one little pipeful of it, and, while under its influence, sat down at his tahle and wrote a stoi-y of the supernat- ural order that was so jnrood that evervhody said he must have stolen it from I'ue or some other master of the weird, and now nobody will have anytliinris>,n. I thtMigbt I was sit- ting (.n .1 rock d.'wri in tlie d«'|>tlii*. Tin- stars twinkled luMlalizjiigly nhove mv. Thev invite*! me to fre«^«loiij, kn..uinir ^h:tt \'mu\{)ui f AVCTi' bail tract form ' said the >rse. I'lie 'ir .surplus fill strug- ot, with a ry of that and I've rd ho pro- II are wcl- d reaming rdest kind hing had Lie as indi- nnd threw in to piilf. of wliich I dosed itents ajid then what liff<'(i me I was »it- th«. ruv irie. They ' 'recdmn "i GiusPKn ir IN Mv TWO hands" r fv lit i ^i im h I ! its V i I T \ 185 was not attainable. Then I blew a rinn- of smoke from my mouth, and it began to rise slowly at first, and then, catching in a cur- rent of air, it flew upward more rapidly, widening constantly, until it disappeared in the darkness above. Then I had a thought. I filled my mouth as full of smoke as possi- ble, and blew forth the greatest ring you ever saw, and as it started to rise I grasped it in my two hands. It struggled beneath my weight, lengthened out into an elliptical link, and broke, and let me down with a dull thud. Then I made two rings, grasping one with my left hand and the other with my right—" "And they lifted you out of the pit, I sup- pose ?" sneered the Bibliomaniac. " I do not say that they did," said the Idiot, calmly. "But I do know that wlien I opened my eyes I wasn't in the pit any longer, but up-stairs in my hall-bedroom." " IIow awfully mysterious !" said the Doc- tor, satirically. " Well, I don't approve of smoking," said Mr. Whitechoker. "I agree with the Lon- don divine who says it is the pastime of per- dition. It is not prompted by natural in- stincts. It is only the habit of artificial civilization. Dogs and horses and birds get along without it. Why shouldn't man V" flJ l\' lii 18(! _ " Ileal- ! Iicar !" cried Mr. Pcdagog, clap- ping his liands ai)pr'>viiigly. ''Where? where?" ])ut in the Idiot. " That's a great argument. Dog's don't put up in boarding-houses. Is tlie boarding- house, tlierefore, the result of a degraded, artificial civilization? I have seen educated horses that didn't smoke, but I have never seen an educated horse, or an uneducated one, for that matter, that had even had the chance to smoke, or the kind of mouth that would enable him to do it in case he had the chance. I have also observed that horses don't read books, that birds don't eat mut- ton-chops, that dogs don't go to the oj»era, that donkeys don't play the i)iano~at least, four-legged donkeys don't—so you might as well argue that since horses, dogs, birds, and donkeys get along without literature, music, mutton-chops, and }>ian()-playing — " "You've covered music," put in the Law- yer, who liked to l)e precise. "True; but ])iano- jilaying isn't always music," returned the Idiot. "You might as well argue because the beasts and the birds do without these things man ought to. Fish don't smoke, neither do they join the police-force, therefore man should nei- ^( "piano-playing isn't always music" "/Ml",, ^^ ■>%. A^ >0. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) y A :a '^Z ^^ 4|P "^^ #/ f/. 1.0 I.I 2.2 IfrlM ill I lis 11^ IL25 ill 1.4 18 1.6 rnoiograpriic Sciences Coiporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY M580 (716) a7i-4S03 #^ V ^^ ^ o 1S7 tlier smoko nor become a guardian of the peace." " Nevertheless it is a pastime of perdition," insisted Mr. Whitechoker. " No, it isn't," retorted the Idiot. " Smok- ing is the business of perdition. It smokes because it has to." "There! there!" remonstrated Mr. Peda- goff. * " You mean liear ! licar ! I presume," said the Idiot. " I mean that you liave said enough !" re- marked ]\Ir. Pedagog, sliarpl3\ "Very Mell," said the Idiot. "If I have convinced you all I am satisfied, not to say gratified. Hut really, Mr. Pedagog," he added, rising to leave the room, " if I were you I'd give up the practice of chewing — " "Hold on a minute, Mr. Idiot," said Mr. Whitechoker, interruj)ting. He was desirous that Mr. Pedagog should not be further irri- tated. "Let me ask you one question. Does your old father smoke ?" " No," said the Idiot, leaning easily over the back of his chair-" no. What of it ?" "Nothing at all— except that perhaps if he could get along without it you might," suggested the clergyman. 'i I |l! i H 18S "He couldn't get alone: without it if lie knew what good tobacco was," said the Idiot. " Then why don't you ijitroduee him to it?" asked the Minister. " Because I do not wish to make him un- happy," returned the Idiot, softly. " He thinks his seventy years have been the haj)- piest years that any mortal ever had, and if now in liis eeventy-first year he discovered that during the whole i)eriod of his manhood lie had been deprived through ignorance of so great a blessing as a good cigar, he'd be- come like the rest of us, living ^in anticipa- tion of delights to come, and not finding ap- proximate bliss in living over the past. Trust me, my dear Mr. Whitechoker, to look after liim, lie and my mother and my life are all I have." The Idiot left the room, at"' Mr. Pedagog put in a greater i)art of th. xt half-hour in making i»ersonal Htatements to the remain- ing boarders to the effect that the word he used was eschewed, and not the one attribu- ted to him by th<' Idiot. Strar)ge to say, most of them were already aware of that fact. , X il " The {)rogrc6S! of invention in this country has been ver\' retnarkable," said ^Mr. PedafOfr as he turned his attention from a scientific weekly ho liad been r<'ading to a towering pile of buckwheat cakes that Mary had just brought in. "An P^nglislunan has just dis- covered a means by which a ship in distress at sea can write for help on tlie clouds." "Extraordinary!" said Mr. Whitechoker. " It might be more so," observed the Idiot, coaxing the platterful of cakes out of tlio School-]\raster'9 reach by a dextrous move- ment of his liand. "And it will be more so some day. The time is coming wlien the moon itself will be used by some enterj)rising American to advertise his soap business. I haven't any doubt tliat tlie next fifty years will develop a stereopticon by means of which a picture of a certain brand of cigar may be projected through space until it seems to bo |!i I ■ 'ill IfJ! f, V.k) m i • ill i held between the tooth of the man in the moon, with a printed legend below it stating that tliis is Toofnrjivers Best, HoUed from Hand-made Tohaceo, Warranted not to Crock or Fade, and for sale b,, All Tobacconists at M/hteen for a JHnier "You would call that an advance in in- vention, eh r asked tlie School-Master. " Why not?" queried the Idiot. "Do you consider the invention wliich would enable man to debase nature to the level of an advertising medium an ad- vance?" "I should not consider the use of the moon for the dissemination of good news a debase- ment. If the cigars were good— and I have no doubt, that some one will yet invent a cheap cigar that is good-it would benefit the human race to be acquainted with that fact. I think sometimes that the advertise- ments in the newspapers and the ])eriodicals of the day are of more value to the public than the reading-matter, so-called, that stands next to them. I don't see why you should sneer at advertising. I shouM never have known you, for instance, Mr. Pedagog had It not been for iMrs. Pedagog's advertisement offering board and lodging to single gentle- an in the it fitating lli'd from 't to Crock conists at ice in in- ter. )n which •e to the an ad- ^lie moon I (lebase- ^ I have invent a I benefit 'ith that Ivertise- I'iodieals '■■' public t stands should t'l- have og, had isenient gentle- "the moon ITSKLK will UK IISKI)' ;ii ij' .;/,» Jl u 5 I 1 c ■ [■If ■ '^F^ 1 h 191 men for a consicleration. Nor would you have met Mrs. Stnithers, now your estimable Avife, yourself, had it not been for that ad- vertisement. Why, then, do you sneer at the ladder upon which you liave in a sense clinibetl to your })resent happiness ? You are un<^rateful." "How you do rainifv I" said Mr. Pedaccotr. *'I believe there is no subject in the world which you cannot connect in some way or an- other with every other subject in the world. A discussion of the merits of Shakespeare's sonnets could be turned by your dextrous tongue in five minutes into a quarrel over the comparative merits of cider and cod-liver oil as beverages, with you, the chances are, the advocate of cod-liver oil as a steady drink." "Well, I must say," said the Idiot, M'ith a smile, "it has been my experience that cod- liver oil is steadier than cider. The cod ^iver oils I have liad the pleasure of abso.'j'ng have been evenly vile, while the ciders tnat I hijve drank have been of a variety of good- lU'ss, badness, and indifferentness which has brought me to tlu' point where I never touch it. IJut to return to inventions, since you de- sir(! to limit our discussion to a single sub- i. * ! 103 ject, I think it is about tlic most interesting lit'ld of si)eculation iiniiginablc." "Tiiere you are right," said Mr. I'edagog, approvingly. '"There is absolutely no limit to the possil)ilities involved. It is almost within liie range of possibilities tliat some man may 3'et invent a buckwheat cake that will satisfy your abnormal craving for that delicacy, which the ])resent total outi)ut of this table seems unable to do." Here Mr. l'eda-h places will drop down slowly, an7 ocean must oiico have rolled. We know that wliero the worhl is now all sunshine and flow- ers great glaeiers stood. What causea how they came there. It may have been the Massachusetts Bay of a pre- historic time, for all we know. It may have been an antediluvian Coney Island, for all the world knows. Who shall say that this little ujiset of mine found here an oyster-bed, shook all the oysters out of their bed into space, and left their clothes high and dry in a locality which, but for those garments, would seem never to have known the oyster in his prinu' ? Ofl' in Westdiester County, on the top of a liigh hill, lies a rock, and in the U|)permost portion of that rock is a so-called jiot-hole, made by nothing else than the drop- f m IIP '■ i\ ' i' ! fl « ; 1) i '\M ■ * iM 1 1!)S ping of water of a brook and tlio swirling of pebbles thercjji. It is now beyond tlie reach of anytliing ij) (he sliape of water save that which falls from the heavens. It is certain that this pol-hole was never made by a boy with a watering-j)ot, by a hired man with a hose, by a workman with a drill, or by any rain-storm that ever foil in Westchester Coun- ty, There must at some time or another jiave been a stream there; and as streams do not flow uphill and bore pot-holes on mountain- tops, there must liave been a valley there. Some great cataclysm took jdace. For that cataclysm nature must l)e iield resjwnsible mainly. IJut what i.romjited nature to raise hob with Westchester (V)unty millions of years ago, and to let it sleep like Kip Van Winkle ever since? Nature isn't a freak. She is depicted as a woman, but in spite of that she is not whimsical. She does not act upon impulses. There must have been some cause for her behavior in turning valleys into liills, in transforming huge cities into wastes of sand, and oyster-beds into shell (piarries; and it is my belief that man was the contrib- uting cause. He tapped the earth for natural gas ; 111' bored in and he bored out, and he bored nature to de.ah, and then nature rose Ift'l wirlijig of tlio reach siivt' that is otTtain by a boy ati with a >r by any iter Coun- thor have IS do not nountain- ley there. For that sponsible e to raise llions of Hip Van a Ireak. spite of s not act ■en some h'ys into o wasteH piarries ; ct)ntrib- !• natural , and he nre rose up and smote him and his cities and his oys- ter-beds, and she'll do it again miless we go slow." "There is a great deal in what you s;»y," said ^Ir. Whitechoker. " Very true," said Mrs. Ped:igog. " But T wish he'll stop saying it. The last three dozen cakes have got cold as ice while he was talking, atid I can't ail'ord such reckless waste." "Nor we, ]\[rs. I'edagog," said the Idiot, with a pleasant smile; " for, as I was sayijig to the Bibliomaniac this morniiiLT, your buck- wheat (^akes are, to my mind, the veiy high- est development of our modern civili/ation, and to have even one of them wasted sei'Uis to me to be a crime against Nature herself, for which a second, third, or fourth shaking up of this earth would bi- an inadeipnite pun- ishment." This remark so pleased ^[rs. Pedagog that she ordered the cook to send up a fresh lot of cakes; and the guests, after eating them, adjourned to their various duties with light hearts, and digestions occupied with work of groat imi)ortance. [If XI ^ I woNDKu Nvliat would liavG liappcnod if Columbus had not discovered America?" said the IJihIiomaniac, as the comi»any prepared to partake of the morning meal, "He would have gone iiome disappointed " said the Idiot, with a look of surprise on his face, which seemed to indicate that in Ids opinion the Bihliomaidac was very dull-witted not to have solved the problem for himself. "He would have gone home disappointed' and we uould now be foreigners, like most other Americans. Mr. Pcdagog wouhl doubt- loss be insinu-ting the young scions of the aristocracy of Tipperary, Mv. Whitechoker would be Archbishop of Canterbury, the IJib- liomaniac would be raising bulbs in Holland and — " ' "And you would be wandering about with llio other wild men of JJorneo at the present time," put in the School-Master. "TUE UIULIOMANIAC WOULD UK UAISINW ULLBS " i V '.:o\ "No," said the Idiot. "Not quite. I should be dividinj^ my time up between Hol- land, France, Switzerland, and Spain." "You are an international sort of Idiot, eh ?" queried the Lawyer, with a chuckle at his own wit. "Say rather a cosmopolitan Idiot," said the Idiot. "Among my ancestors I number in- dividuals of various nations, tliougli I sup- pose that if we go back far enough we were all in tile same boat as far as that is con- cerned. One of my great-great-grandfathers was a Scotchman, one of them was a Dutch- man, another was a Spaniard, a fourth was a Frenchman. What the others were I don't know. It's a nuisance looking up one's an- cestors, I think. They increase so as you go back into the past. Every man has had two grandfathers, four great-grandfathers, eight great-great-grandfathers, sixteen great-great- great-grandfathers, thirty-two fathers raised to the fourth power of grcat-grandness, and so on, increasing in number as you go further back, until it is hardly possible for any one to throw a brick into the pages of liistory with- out hitting somebody who is more or less re- sponsible for his existence. I dare say there is a streak of Julius Ciesar in me, and I ^1 Nl: If Ml J. C ! 11 J 'I i Si, '■ 1l II liaven't a doubt that if our friend Mr. Peda- gog bei'e were to take the trouble to investi- gate, he would find that Ca?sar and Cassius and Brutus could be numbered among bin early progenitors — and now that I think of it, I must say that in my estimation he is an un- usually amiable man, considering how diverse the nature of these men were. Think of it for a minute. Here a man unites in liimself CjBsar and Cassius and Brutus, two of whom killed the third, and then, having quarrelled together, went out upon a battle-field and slaughtered themselves, after making extem- poraneous remarks, for which this miserable world gives Shakespeare all the credit. It's worse than the case of a friend of mine, one of whose grandfathers was French and the other German." " How did it affect him ?" asked Mr. White-, choker. '* It made him distrust himself," said the Idiot, with a smile, " and for that reason he never could get on in the world. When his Teutonic nature suggested that he do some- thing, his Gallic; blood would rise up and spoil everything, and vice versa. He was eternally quarrelling with himself. He was a victim to internal disorder of the worst sort." 20;3 Ir. IVda- 3 investi- i Cassias iiong his ink of it, is an un- w diverse ink of it n himself of whom uarrelled field and g extera- tniserable dit. It's nine, one and the r. White-. said the eason he ^Vhen his do some- and spoil eternally victim to agog, wearily, instance. "And wliat, pray, finally became of him ?" asked the Clergyman. "He shot himself in a duel," returned the Idiot, with a wink at the genial old gentk^ man who occasionally imbibed. "It was ver}^ sad." " I've known sadder things," said Mr. Ped- ' Your elaborate jokes, for They are enough to make strong men weep.' "You flatter me, Mr. Pedagog," said the Idiot. " I have never in all my experience as a cracker of jests made a man laugh until he cried, but I hope to some day. lint, really, do you know I think Columbus is an im- mensely overrated man. If you come down to it, what did he do? He went out to sea in a ship and sailed for three months, and when he least expected it ran slam-bang up against the Western Hemisphere. It was like shooting at a barn door with a Gatling gun. He was bound to liit it sooner or later." "You doji't give him any credit for tenac- ity of purpose or good judgment, then?" asked Mr. liritf. " Of course I do. Plonty of it. He stuck to his ship like a hero who didn't know how :3()l V »! I to swim. /lis judgment was groat, ITe bad too much sense to go buck to Spain witliout any news of sometliing, because lie fully un- derstood that unless be iiad something to show for the trip, there would have been a irreat lauijh on Queen Isabella for selling her jewels to provide for a ninety -day yacht cruise for him and a lot of common sailors, which would never have done. So he kept on and on, and finally some unknown lookout up in the bow discovered America. Then Co- lumbus went home and told everybody that if it hadn't been for his own eagle eye emigra- tion wouldn't have been invented, and world's fairs would have been local institutions. Then they got up a parade in which the King and Queen graciously took part, and Columbus be- came a great man. Meanwhile the unknown lookout who did discover the land was knock- ing about the town and thinking he was a very lucky fellow to get an extra glass of grog. It wasn't anything more than the absolute jus- tice of fate that caused the new land to be n.'imed America and not Columbia. It really ought to have been named ailer tlvat fellow u}) in the bow." " But, my dear Idiot," put in tue Biblio- maniac, " the scheme itself was Columbus's 2nr> own. lie evolved the tlieory that the earth is roiiiid like a ball." "To quote JNIr. Pedagog— " began the Idiot. " You can't quote trie in your own favor," 8na|)j)ed the Soliool-Master. " Wait until I have tinisliiMl," said the Id- iot- "I was oidy going to (|Uote you by say- ing 'Tiid !' that's all ; and so I n-poat, in the words of ."Mr. Pedagog, tult, luM ! Evolved the theory ? Why, niiui, how coidd lie hi Ip evolving the theory? 'i'luri' was the sun ris- ing in the east every morning and setting in the west every night. What else was then to believe? That somebody put the sun out ever}^ night, and sneaked back east with it under cover of darkness ?" "But you forget that the wi^c men of the day laughed at his idea," said Mv. Pedagog, surveying the Idiot after the fashion of a man who has dealt an adversary a stin'»'inf blow. "That only proves what I have always said," replied the Idiot. " Wise men can't tind fun in anything but stern facts. Wise men always do laugh at truth. Whenever I advance some new proposition, you sit up there next to Mrs. Pedagog and indulge in It) JfV '^■'^^»»«W)tfrW't^«J«KV--- !(. , 1W, tutt-tutterances of tlio most intolerant sort. If you liad boon one of tlie wise men of Co- lumbus's time there isn't any doubt in my mind that when Columbus said the earth was round, you'd liave remarked tutt, tutt, in Spanish." There was silence for a minute, and then the Idiot began au^ain. "There's another point about this wliole business (hat makes me tired," he said. " It oidy goes to ]»rove the conceit of these Europeans. Here was a great continent inhabited by countless peoj)le. A European comes over hero and is said to be the discoverer of America and is glorified. Statues of him are scattered l)rt)ad- cast all over the world. Pictures of him are ])rinted in the newspapers and magazines. A dozen different varieties of portraits of him are printed on postage-stamps as l»ig as circus posters — and all for what? IJecause he discovereil a land that millions of Indians had known ahout for centuries. On the oth- er hand, when Columbus goes back to Spain several of the native Americans trust their ])reci()us lives to his old tubs. One of these savages must have been the first American to discover Euro|»e. Where aie the stntiics of the Indian who discovered Europe ? Wlieic are the postage-stamps showing how he looked 207 on the (lay wlien Europe first struck his vis- ion ? Where is anybody spending^ a billion of dollars gcttiiiL,' up a world's fair in com- menHU'atiou of Lo's discovery of Europe?" "He didn't know it was Europe," said the Biblioinaniae. "Columbus didn't know this was Ameri- ca," retorted the Idiot. "In fact, ('oIuml»us didn't know auythill<,^ lie didn't know any better than to write a letter to Queen Isal)el- la and mail it in a keg that never turned up. Ill' didn't even know how to steer his old boat into a real solid continent, instead of getting ten days on the islaiul. He was an awfully wise man. He saw an island swarm- ing with Indians, and said, 'Why, this must be India!' And worst of all, if his pictures mean anytliing, he didn't even know enough to choose his face and stick to it. Don't talk ('olinnbus to me unless you want to prove that liU'k is the greatest factor of success." " Ill-luck is sometimes a factor of success," said Mr. IVdagog. "You are a success as an Idiot, which appears to me to be extreme- ly unfortunate." "I don"t know about that," said the Idiot. "I adapt myself to my com[»any, and of course — i» •'., 'M^'m 208 "Tlicii you are a school - master atiionnf (^oliool-tnastors, a lawvcr ainoiiLT l;n\ \ its, and BO forth V" (iiu'ric'd the Hihlioinaiiiac. " What are you when your couiiiany is made up of widely divei'se eliaracti'rs V" asked Mr. Brief before the Idiot had a chance to re[)ly to the liibliouianiac's ({ues- tion. " I try to he a widely diverse character my- self." "Autl, tryinij; to sit on in;niy stodN, ■' i and hecome just an Idiot," said Mr. Tei hi <.:;<* "-?• "That's accortlinii: to the way you looii. at it. I ]>ut my company to the test in the cru- cihh' of my mind. T analyze the characters of all about me, aiul whatever (piality pre- dominates in tlu> jM-ecipitate, that I become. Tiius in the presence of my employer and his office-boy I become a mixture of both — some- thing of the emj)loyer, sonu'thing of an oilice- boy. I run errands for niv employer, and boss the oflice-boy. With you iLrentlenien I j/;o ihroui^li tiie same |)rocess. The iliblio- miiniac, the Scliool-Master, .Air. IJrief, and the rest of yi'U have been cast into the crucibh-, and I h.ive tried to approxim:ite the result." " Ami are an Idiot," said the Sehool-.Master. "It is your own name for me, gentlemen," it istiT ariioDf!; linvyi'i's, and Iliac. (•()m|iaiiy is cliaracters?" [tlidt had a aniac's cliaractt'i's (piality pri'- at I bi'i'oinc. lover and his I)of h — -sonR'- r of an o|]i(!(!- nploycr, and ircnilt'tncn I The r.ihlio- hief, and the the enicihle, the result." •hool-Master, genlietnen," DiDN r KNOW i:n(H (ill lo cikiiisk iii.s (iwN vwv. 200 returned the Idiot. "I presume you have recognized your composite self, and have cliosen the title uceordinyly." "Von were a little hard on me tliis morn- insjf, weren't you V" asked the genial old gen- tleman who occasionally imbibed, that even- ing, wlien lie a?id the Idiot were discussing the morning's chat. "I .lidn't like to say anything about it, but I don't think you ought to have thrown me into the crucible with the rest." "I wish you hatl spoken," said the Idiot, warmly. "It would have given me a chance to say that the grain of sense that once or twice a year leavens the lump of my idiocy is directly duo to the ingredient furnished by yourself. Here's to you, old man. If you and I lived alone together, what a wise man I should be !" And then the genial old gentleman went to the cupboard and got out a bottle of port-wine that he had been preserving in cobwebs for ten years. This he opened, and as he did so he said, "I've been keeping this for years, Miy boy. It was dedicated in my youth to the thirst of the first man who truly ajipre- ciated me. Take it all." ml 1. ft m :! Ki ;i 1 210 "I'll divide with you," returned the Idiot, with a smile. '• For really, old fellow, I think you— ail— I think you ai)preciate yourself as much as I do." II )i y # JAMIUUb UAVK 10 UK SKKN Tu ' XII "I woxDKR M'liat it costs to run a flat':"' said tlie Idiot, stirring his coffee with the salt-spoon — a proceeding which seemed to indicate that he was thinking of something else. " Don't you keep an expense account ?" asked the Bibliomaniac, slyly. " Hee-hee !" laughed Mrs. Pedagog, "First-rate joke," said the Idiot, with a smile, "But really, now, I should like to know for liow little an apartment could be run. I am interested." Mrs. Pedagog stopped laughing at once. Tlie Idiot's words were ominous. She did not always like his views, but she did like his money, and she was not at all anxious to lose him as a boarder. " It's very expensive," she said, firmly. " I shouldn't ever advise any one to undertake living in a Hat. Rents are high. Butcher 2V2 I • ij I ' iifn! bills aro enormous, because the butchers have to pay cominissloiis, not only to tlie cook, so tliat she'll use twice as rnucli lard as slie can, and f,Mve away three or four times as much to the poor as slie ouglit, but janitors have to be seen to, and elevator-boys, and all that. Groceries come high for tlie samv reason. Oh, no! Flat life isn't the life for anybody, I say. Give me a good, first-class boa -ding- house. Am I not riglit, John ?" " Yes, indeed," said Mr. Pedagog. " Every time. I lived in a fiat once, and it was an awful nuisance. Above me lived a dancing- master who gave lessons at every hour of the day in the room directly over my study, so that I was always being disturbed at my work, while below me wa;j a music- teacher wiio was practising all night, so that I could hardly sleep. Worst of all, on the same fioor with me was a miserable person of convivial tendencies, who always mistook my door for his when he came liome after midnight, and who gave some cpiite estimable people two floors below to believe that it was I, and not he, who sang comic songs between three and four o'clock in the morning. There has not been too much love lost between the Idiot and myself, but I cannot be so viu- h'' ii 213 dictive as to recommcml liiin to live in a flat." " I can bear testimony to tlie same effect," put in iMr. Brief, who was two weeks in ar- rears, and anxious to conciliate his landlady. " Testimony to the effect that Mr. Pedagog sang comic songs in tiie early morning?" said the Idiot. "N()"^ens('! I don't be- lieve it. I have lived i.i this house lor two years with Mr. Pedagog, and I've never heard him raise liis voice in song yet." "I didn't mean anything of tlic smt," re- torted Mr. Brief. "You know I didn't." " Don't apologize to me," said the Idiot. " Apologize to Mr. Pedagog, He is the man you have wronged." "What did he say?" put in Mr. Pedagog, with a stern look at ^Ir. Brief. "I didn't hear what he said." "I didn't say anylhing," said the lawyer, "except that I could bear testimony to the effect that your experience with flat life was similar to mine. This ytning person, with liis customary nerve, tries to make it a[)pear that I sai(] you sang comic songs in the early morning." " I try to do nothing of the sort," said the Idiot. " I simply expressed my belief that fit 214 ( i' in spite of what you said Mr, Pedagog was innocent, and I do so because my experience with him lias taught me tliat lie is not the kind of man who w^ould do that sort of thing. lie has neither time, voice, nor in- clination. He has an ear — two of them, in fact — and an impressionable mind, but — " " Oh, tutt !" interrupted the School-Master. " When I need a defender, you may spare yourself the trouble of flying to my rescue." " I know I tnai/,'' said the Idiot, " but with me it's a question of can and can't. I'm will- ing to attack you personally, but while I live no other shall do so. Wherefore I tell Mr. Brief plainly, and to his face, that if he says you ever sang a comic song he says what is not so. You might hum one, but sing it— never !" " We were talking of flats, I believe," said Mr. Whitechoker. "Yes," said the Idiot, "and these persons have changed it from flat talk to sharp talk." " Well, anyhow," put in Mr. IJricf, " I lived in a flat once, and it was anything but pleas- ant. I lost a case once for the simple and only reason that I lived in a flat. It was a case that required a great deal of stratef»'v on my part, and I invited my client to my 815 niv home to unfold my plan of action. I got in- terested in the scheme as I unfokled it, and spoke in my usual impassioned manner, as though addressing a jury, and, would you believe it, the opposing counsel happened to be visiting a friend on the next floor, and my eloquence floated up through the air-shaft, and gave our whole plan of action away. We were routed on the point we had sup- posed would pierce the enemy's armor and lay him at our feet, for the wholly simple reason that that abominable air-shaft had made my strategic move a matter of public knowledge." " That's a good idea for a play," said the Idiot. "A roaring farce could be built up on that basis. Villain and accomplice on one floor, innocent victim on floor above. Plot floats up air-shaft. Innocent victim overhears; villain and accomplice say 'ha ha' for three acts and take a back seat in the fourth, with a grand transformation showing the conspirators in the county jail as a flnale. Write it up with lots of live-stock wandering in and out, bring in janitors and elevator- boys and butchers, show up some of the hu- mors of flat life, if there be any such, call it A Hole in (he Flat, and put it on the s.age. 210 ; ')'i i * / i i 1 i /^; 1 : 'l <| ' ' ■' f , r' 1 » 1 I 1 Nine ImiKlrca ni.«?lits is tlio very shortest run it coukl have, which at fifty dolhirs a niglit for tlK' autlior is *45,000 in good hard dollars. ]\Ir. Poet, the idea is yours for a fiver. Say tlie word." "Thanks," said the Poet, with a smile ; " I'm not a dramatist." "Then I'll hav.; to do it myself," said the Idiot. " And if I do, good-bye Shakespeare." "That's so," said Mr. Pedagog. Nothing couhl more elfectnally ruin tlie dramatic art than to have you write a i)lay. Peo])le, see- ing your work, would say, here, this will nev- er do. The stage must be discouraged at all costs. A hypocrite throws the ministry into disgrace, an ignoramus brings shame upon ediK-ation, and an unpopular lawyer gives the bar a bad name. I think you are just the man to ruin Shakespeare." "Then Pll give up my ambition to become a i)laywright and stick to idi.)ey," said the Idiot. "Hut to conic back to flats. Your feeling in regard to them is entirely different from That of a friend of mine, who has lived in one for ten years. He thinks flat life is ideal. His ehihlren can't fall down-stairs, be- cause there aren't any stairs to fall down. His roof never leaks, because he hasn't any hortt'st run iirs a night ard dollars, tiver. Say smile; "I'm 11',"' said the laUesiieare." ;. Nothing ramatic art Pooi)U', sct'- liis will nt'v- u-aged at all linistry into ihanie upon rev gives the are just the m to become •y," said the flats. Your •oly diflferent ho has lived s flat life is wn-stairs, he- ) fall d(»\vn. (' haMi'l any "my KUHJCKNCK KLOATKU i:P THK AntSilAI'T" M. i''ii> It . i n ^ *. I i Hi' i( '' HI ■'" • f ir ) is m^ i d 217 roof to leak ; and when lie and liis family want to go off anywhere, all he has to do is to lock his front door and go. Burglars never climb into his front window, because tlioy are all eight flights up. Damp cellars don't trouble him, because they are too far down to do him any injury, even if they over- flow. The cares of house-keeping are reduced to a minimum. His cook doesn't spend all her time in the front area flirting with the postman, because there isn't any Vront area to his flat ; and in a social way his wife is most delightfully situated, because most of her friends live in the same buil.ling, and in- stead of having to hire a carriage to go calling in, all she has to do is to take the elevator and go from one floor to another. If he pines for a change of scene, he is high enough up i» tl'c air to get it by looking out of his windows, over the tops of othcV buildings, into the green fields to the north, or looking westward into the State of New Jersey. In- stead of taking a drive through the Park, or :i walk, all he and his wife need to do is' to take a telescope an.l follow some little sylvan |»;ilh with their eyes. Then, as for expense, he finds that he saves .noney by means of a co-operative scheme. lor instance, if ho 21S ;! 'J ^^^ '^Ji^'4 wants shad for dinner, and lie and his wife cannot eat a wliole one, lie goes shares on the shad and its cost with his neighbors above and below." " Yes, and his neighbors above and below borrow tea and ^'gi^s and butter and ice and other things whenever they run short, so that in tliat way he loses all he saves," said Mr. Pedagog, resolved not to give in. " He does if he isn't smart," said the Idiot. "I thought of that myself, and asked him about it, and lie told me that he kept ac- count of all that, and always made it a point after some neighbor had borrowed two pounds of butter from him to send in before the week was over and borrow three ])ouiids of butter from the neighbor. So far his books show that he is sixteen pounds of butter, seven })Gunds of tea, one bottle of vanilla extract, and a ton of ice ahead of the whole house. He is six eggs and a box of matches be- hind in his egg and match account, but under the circumstances I think he can afford it." " I»ut," s'lid Mrs. IV'd.igog, anxious to know the worst, "why — er — why are you so inter- ested ?" "Weil," said the Idiot, slowly, " I— er— I am contemplating a change, Mrs. Pedagog — 211) 11(1 liis wife larc's on tlie bors ubovo ■ and bt'low aiul ice and lort, .so that ■<," said ^Ir. d the Idiot. asked him le kept ac- e it a point two pounds re the week Is of butter books sliow utter, seven ilia extract, hole house. Hatches be- t, but under afford it." ous to know on so inter- , " T— ,.,—1 Pcdagog — a change that would till me— I say it sincere- ly, too— with regret if—" The Idiot paused a minute, and his eye swept fondly about the table. His voice was getting a little husky too, ]\[r. Whitechoker noticed. "It would fill me with regret, I say, if it were not tliat in taking up liouse-kceping I am — I am to have tlie assistance of a better-half." " What ?" cried the Bibliomaniac. " You ? You are going to be— to be married ?" "Why not?" said the Idiot. "Imitation is the sincerest flattery. Mr. Pedarrosj mar- •/ OCT ries, and I am going to flatter him as sincere- ly as I can by following in his footsteps." " May I— may we ask to whom ?" asked Mrs. Pedagog, softly. " Certainly," ;said the Idh.t. " To Mr. Bar- low's daughter. Mr, Barlow is — or was— my employer." "Was? Is lie not now? Are you going out of business?" asked Mv. Peda'^oo-. "No; but, you see, when I went to see Mr, Barlow in tlie matter, he told me that lie liked me very much, and he had no doubt I would make a good husband for his daugh- ter, but, after all, he added that I was noth- ing but a confidential clerk on a small salary, and he thought liis daughter could do better." !."20 ,If *f "She couldn't (ind a better fellon-, Mr, Idiot," said Mrs. Pedagog, and Mr. Ped'ajro^r rose to the occasion by nodding his entire acquiescence in the statement. " Tliank you very much," said the Idiot." " 'J^hat was precisely wliat I told Mr. liarlow, and I suggested a scliemo to him by which his sole objection could be got around." " You would start in business for yourself ?" said Mr. Whitechoker. "In a sense, yes," said the Idiot. "Only the way I put it was that a good confidential clerk would make a good partner for him, and lie, after thinking it over, thought I was right." "It certainly was a characteristically novel way out of the dilemma," said Mr. Brief, Avith a smile. "I thought so myself, and so did he, so it was all arranged. On the 1st of next month I enter the firm, and on the ir)th I am— ah— to be married." Tiie company warmly congratulated the Idiot upon his good- fortune, and he shortly left the room, more overcome by their felici- tations than he had been by their arguments in the past. The few days left pa.ssed quickly by, and ^,i ?*'! I'llow, JMr. liis entire lie Idiot." r. IJailow, l)y which md," rourself?" ;. ''Only >nfidontial for him, tjht I was ally novel \h: Brief, 1 ho, so it xt month im — ah — lated the e shortly cir felici- I'guments ^ by, and i! 'J01 there came a breakfast at Mrs. Pedaooir's house that was a mixture of joy and sadness —joy for his happiness, sadness that that table should know the Idiot no more. Among the weddin.ir.oifts was a handsome- ly bound series of volumes, iiu'liidiuir a cy- c'lopanlia, a dictionary, and a little tmju' of poems, the first output of the Poet. These eame tocrether, with a card insciihed, "From your Friends of the Breakfast 'I\d)l,.,^' of whom the Idiot said, when .Airs. Idiot asked for informatioti : "They, my dear, next to yourself and my parents, are the dearest friends I over had. We must have them up to breakfast some morning'." " Breakfast ?" (pu'ried Mrs. Idiot. "Yes, my dvar,"' he replied, simj)ly. "I should be afraid to meet them at any other meal. I am always at my best at breakfast, and they — well, they never are." TIIK KM)