ATING LIBRARY > ^* Daosit.tf.XCts. Rebate i , 5acramento, Cal. LEON MEAD THE BOW-LEGGED GHOST AND OTHER STORIES muum A BOOK Or HUMOROUS SKETCHES, VERSES, DIALOGUES, AND rflCETIOUS PARAGRAPHS BY LEON MEAD Wit may be a thing of pure imagination, but humor involves sentiment and character." HENRY GILES. THE WERNER COMPANY 5 NEW YORK AKRON, OHIO CHICAGO COPYRIGHT, 1899, BY I<EON MEAD THIS VOLUME IS AFFEC TION A TELY DEDICA TED to MY BROTHER-IN-LAW, MR. HARRY K. DUFFUS, OF PHILADELPHIA 1747013 TO Prose or Verse or Verse or Prose ? Ever thus the query goes, Which delight do we prefer Which the finer daintier ? Each incites a taste that grows Prose or Verse or Verse or Prose ? Each a lotus-eater s spell Wholly irresistible. All that wit may fashion, free Voiced, or piped in melody, Prose or Verse or Verse or Prose Which of these the mastery knows ? Twere as wise to question, friend As of this alluring blend, The aroma or the rose ? Prose or Verse or Verse or Prose ! CONTENTS PAGE DEDICATION iii PROEM BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY v FORFAVARD BY THE AUTHOR.. , xiii SECTION I. STORIES AND SKETCHES THE BOW-LEGGED GHOST 17 WHEN EZRA SANG FIRST BASS 26 THE WOMAN IN YELLOW 34 AN ASSUMED WEAKNESS 41 " REVELS OF THE MUSES " 49 THE BELLE OF THE DINNER 58 THE RISE OF REGAN 93 MRS. TUBBS S MANOEUVRES 107 A PARLOR-CAR ROMANCE 119 A TELLING SPEECH 127 THE GREAT SPARROW DISPUTE 141 " BROOMS " 160 THE BEARDED WIFE 170 MONTRESSOR 187 MRS. BEVERIDGE S ADVENTURE 213 A POET S PASSION 224 THE STORY OF FOUR CARRIER PIGEONS 251 A LIVING TOMBSTONE 271 THE MIND CHILDREN 278 (vii) SECTION II. MISCELLANEOUS PIECES EUGENE FIELD AND BILL NYE 287 THE MAN WHO COULDN T LAUGH 293 POLLY 297 " UNCLE Hi " IN PARIS 303 WILDER S LATEST 308 HAPPY HOPPER 313 SELLING LOCKS OF HAIR 318 THE PERFECTED PHONOGRAPH 326 DEACON UPDYKE S ANNUAL REPORT 330 WILY TIPPLERS 337 No WOMAN, No FAD 345 ORIGIN OF " BEAUTIFUL SNOW " 350 FAT MEN AND LEAN 355 SOCIETY ACTRESSES 360 THE NEW LITERARY ERA 364 HUMBUG AND REALITY 368 THEATRICAL EXPANSION 371 A PROPOSED JOURNAL 377 BEFORE THE WEDDING 381 A MEMORY OF JOHN GILBERT 384 INGENIOUS FLORAL NOVELTIES 387 COOK S MONDAY LECTURE 392 A LITERARY LUNCH FIEND 394 ROLLICKING RICE 396 A SLIGHT FAMILY JAR 398 THE ART OF PICKING A BONE 403 THE DWARFS OF THE JOSSGRUND 409 A NEEDFUL INVENTION 415 FASHION S CURIOUS LORE 419 (viii) Contents SECTION III. VERSES BALLADE OF YE OLD TAR 431 KATHRYN DENEE 434 CHOOSING THE QUILL 436 A BACHELOR S STORY 441 TRAGEDY OUT WEST 443 AN EGYPTIAN BEAUTY 446 BETWEEN THE LINES 447 ONLY A POOR BLACK CAT 448 THE BODING MERMAID 453 A LITTLE SOUKRETTE 455 IN THE THROES 457 RECRIMINATION 459 HER ANSWER 460 BY A HAIR S BREADTH 461 To MAY IRWIN 463 DIANA UP TO DATE 465 A REASONABLE CONCLUSION 466 EPITAPHS 467 HER IDENTITY 468 THE GIANT AND THE DWARF 469 THE USUAL THING 471 A SIMILE 472 AN ENGAGEMENT 473 HER NECK 475 CAPRICIOUS CUPID 476 THE YELLOW CLARINET 478 LINES TO A COOK 481 COMPARISON 482 A PARAGON 483 AT RICHFIELD SPRINGS 484 (ix) Contents SECTION IV. DIALOGUES AND PARA GRAPHS SPECULATION RUN WILD 489 ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS 493 LATEST FROM PINKVILLE 499 SLAB CITY GOSSIP 503 A SHORT ESSAY ON NUTS 506 INTERVIEWING A TYPEWRITER 509 A WOMAN S WEAPON 512 TRADE JOURNALISM 515 FALL PROVERBS 517 SOME POSSIBLE TITLES OF FUTURE BOOKS 520 FAVORITE ANIMALS IN THE PARK 528 SOME NOVEL PRIZES 530 HOME-MADE SAUCE 532 SNAP SHOTS 536 WHY? 538 PITH AND PASQUINADE 539 THE DIFFERENCE 541 FLYING SCUD 542 APPROPRIATE PRESENTS 544 WOMEN AT BILLIARDS 545 AN ETCHING FROM LIFE 546 AN OPEN LETTER 547 Two POINTS OF VIEW 549 WHEN MR. HOWELLS WAS YOUNG 550 LUCKY 552 TESTIMONIALS 552 CONSIDERABLE FORESIGHT 553 HER INFERENCE 554 THE CAUSE OF IT 554 A TRANSITORY FEELING 554 HAS THE PROOF 555 HE LEARNED SOMETHING 555 (x) Contents SHE HAD CHANGED 557 A MODERN WORK 557 His TRUE INWARDNESS 557 OUT OF COMMISSION 558 THE PEDAGOGUE S REMARKS 559 NOT PRESSED FOR TIME 560 To BE SURE ! 560 EVOLUTION OF A FEMININE NAME 561 THE WORST KIND 561 A WOMAN S WRONG 561 HE DIDN T PASS MUSTER 562 GREAT SELF-DENIAI 562 CANDIDATES FOR SOCIETY 563 BADLY NEEDED 563 AN HONEST CONFESSION 563 EXCESSIVE PLAINNESS 564 YOUTHFUL PRESUMPTION 564 AMPLE PROOF 564 JUST A LITTLE QUERY 565 LOVE S LABOR LOST 565 LITERAI 565 THE PUBLIC 566 A COMICAL PARAPHRASE 566 THE REASON 567 THE FACETIOUS BUTLER 567 THE ROLE REVERSED 567 AN AGRICULTURAL GENIUS 568 A DANGEROUS ANNOUNCEMENT 568 A DEFINITION 568 A NICE DISTINCTION 569 TWENTIETH-CENTURY CHIVALRY 569 FIRE PROOF . 569 RATHER PERSONAL 570 A LOGICAL DEDUCTION & 57 WHAT COULD THE POOR TEACHER SAY? 571 A MIGHTY PROBLEM 571 DOUBTING His DIAGNOSIS 572 (xi) Contents A TROPHY OF THE CHASE 572 DISAPPOINTED IN LOVE 573 A BUSINESS MATTER 574 ON THE WAY TO THE BRIDGE 575 AN ANTIQUE EPIDEMIC 575 REASON ENOUGH 576 AN APT QUOTATION 576 LOST 576 A SEAT IN THE FRONT Row 577 His PRESENCE OF MIND 578 VERSATILITY WITH A VENGEANCE 578 ONLY BY MARRIAGE 579 A FACIAL FAILING 579 A TEUTONIC PROJECT 580 MENTAL CONFUSION 580 HE KEPT His PROMISE 581 (xii) HIS book is a sort of a verbal table d hotc. It contains considerable spice, but I trust nothing that will harm the moral or intel lectual digestion of the reader. It was cooked along with other more solid, but not more hearty, literary comestibles, and if the crust of the various pastries here provided be not done brown enough well, give the volume to some needy person, who is of necessity less fastidious. As associate editor of Truth, it was my pain ful duty to grind out jokes and humorous paragraphs, and similar experience on other publications has made me almost a wreck. I still retain, however, a considerable sense of the ridiculous, and am a confirmed believer in the canny philosophy of Mrs. Ella Wheeler Wilcox : " L,augh and the world laughs with you, Weep and you weep alone." If the contents of this volume do not meas ure up to the rollicking humor of my friend, the late Bill Nye, the drolleries of Robert J. (xiii) The Bo~vu -Legged Ghost Burdette, or the amusing skits of Mark Twain, I can only say in the rhymed language of Mr. John Kendrick Bangs : " I met a little elf man once, Down where the lilies blow ; I asked him why he was so small, And why he didn t grow. He slightly frowned, and with his eye He looked me thro and thro ; I m quite as big for me, said he, As you are big for you." " Emerson brings out the same idea in his poem of " The Mountain and the Squirrel." " If I m not so large as you, You are not so small as I, And not half so spry. I ll not deny you make A very pretty squirrel-track ; Talents differ ; all is well and wisely put ; If I cannot carry forests on my back, Neither can you crack a nut." Everybody suffers by comparison with some one else. We cannot all be Shakespeares, Martin Farquhar Tuppers, or George Francis Trains. Iy. M. (xiv) SECTION I. STORIES AND SKETCHES (XV) The Bow-Legged Ghost WN THE summer I am troubled with insom- M, nia, unless I pursue a certain course which I found out myself after all the doctor s prescriptions and the advice of friends had dismally failed. Early in June I start on a pedestrian tour, walking only at night and sleeping a good part of the day. In this way I manage to avoid that awful curse, insomnia, during the "heated term," when it would otherwise relentlessly assail me. Well, last summer, some time in July, I found myself in a part of the country I had not visited before. One night, near the hour of twelve, I halted for a rest, having trudged a long distance since the falling of darkness. I had been seated on a stone by the highway but a few minutes when I heard scraping foot steps proceeding from the direction whence I came. Presently a large, or rather a broad, figure was silhouetted against the horizon. As it approached, with a peculiar wobbling gait, I 2 17 The Bow-Legged Ghost could hear it puff as though winded with ex ertion. As it came closer I perceived that the pudgy figure was clad in a white robe. This sight quite startled me. Was I asleep, or the victim of a hallucination? I pinched my arm and convinced myself from the result ing pang that I was indeed wide awake. In the course of five minutes the figure stood before me. It was, without doubt, a ghost. "Good evening," he said, in a wheezy voice. With a choking sensation of horror I managed to salute him. "Don t be alarmed," he went on ; "I am not abroad this night for any mischief. But may I ask you how it happens that you are on so desolate a road alone at this time of night?" Something in his straightforward manner reassured me, and with increasing self-posses sion I briefly told him who I was and why I was there. I further explained that travel ing as I did only by night, I had little or no knowledge of the country I was in. " Aren t you afraid of getting lost? Have you a family ? " he asked. "I never wander far from civilization," I replied. "Yes, I have a wife and children, 18 The Bow-Legged Ghost but, as I told you, I do this to prevent insom nia." " Well, I am glad to meet you, sir ; I don t mind telling you that I am the spirit of Peter Simpkins, late of Buffalo, N. Y. If you made inquiries you would find out that I was a well-known contractor and builder there, and left close on to half a million, which my family are now throwing away in their efforts to get into society." " Can t you exercise some spiritual restraint over them?" I inquired, now thoroughly in terested in Peter Simpkins of Buffalo. "No; more s the pity. I was master of my house when in the earth-life, and but for one reason I might have some influence with my wife and children now. I have tried to materialize before them lots of times, but it s no use. They have never felt even a sugges tion of my presence since I passed away. Their goings-on make me very unhappy in the spirit-life, but I have another affliction which grieves me even more. You see I am a second-class ghost." "How is that?" "Well, I was born bow-legged," he said, apologetically. Thereupon he parted the sheet-like garment that had concealed his 19 The Bvw-Legged Ghost form, which thus exposed the phosphorescent skeleton of a man who, w r hen alive, must have tipped the scales at two hundred and eighty pounds. He was the most hopelessly and ridiculously bow-legged individual I had ever seen. This revelation sorely tempted me to laugh outright, but the intense glance from his fiery eyes restrained me. " But I don t see " I began. " It s like this," he interrupted. " People who are badly misshapen, or who have any physical or mental abnormalities, carry them into the spirit world after death. And let me tell you, there isn t half the democracy and social equality in this spirit-life that you can enjoy as a citizen of the United States. When I passed over into the spirit world I was not cordially received by many spirits that I met. Some looked at me with a sneering smile ; others w r ith contempt. I observed that those who did give me a welcome were, like myself, not physically perfect, or else they were out of order mentally. When you come to the spirit kingdom you will find for yourself that caste will exclude you from the higher spirit circles, unless you are just right. The spirit aristoc racy go to other spheres for permanent resi dence, though some of them, out of curiosity 7^hc Bow-Legged Ghost or from some other motive, like to visit earth scenes. Yes, sir, .spirits travel on their shape just as much as, in fact more than, mortals do on earth. Strange, isn t it? Well, I am a second-class ghost, because I am bow-legged, and that s all there is to it." After a while I found breath to say : Mr. Simpkins, I need not assure you that you are the first materialized spirit I ever saw, and I cannot summon, on the spur of the moment, the proper words to express to you my thanks for the information you have given me. Will you grant me the privilege of repeating it, in my own humble way, to " Hist! " exclaimed Mr. Simpkins. "Some one is coming. Climb over this stone wall and lie down. We must not be seen." His cold, bony hand clutched my arm firmly, and together we scaled the wall. "I ll explain later. Don t say a word." Lying prone on the soft turf, we waited in eager silence. Soon the sounds of footsteps and elfish voices were heard. I could not make out what was said by those who passed. It was an uncanny jargon enough. After they disappeared down the turnpike, Mr. Simp- kins whispered: "The two spirits that just passed I know very well. One of them, Sam The Bow -Legged Ghost Larkin, I used to know in the earth-life. He lived at Elmira ; kept a feed store. We be longed to the Knights Templars, and that s how I came to know him. Sam lost his left leg at the Battle of Bull Run, and his right arm at the Battle of Gettysburg, which ac counts for his being a second-class ghost. The other one was George Tarbell Stam mering George, they call him, because he stammers worse than any man you ever heard. He came from Kansas City. Just raise your head a little and you can look through a chink in the wall. Others will be coming along pretty soon." Sure enough, in a little while a scattered procession of loquacious spirits filed by, some of them unsightly hunchbacks, several deaf and dumb ones, as I could see by the sign manual they employed ; several male and female cranks and lunatics, as Mr. Simp- kins afterward informed me, and divers other ghostly freaks and monstrosities, including a two-headed colored ghost, concerning whose earthly identity I failed to learn making in all seventy-five grisly spectres. Almost stupefied by these supernatural wonders, I still retained sense enough to listen when Mr. Simpkins began to speak again, The BO-JO -Legged Ghost after the sounds of the ghostly procession died away. " Now, of course, you are naturally puzzled to know what all this means. I can enlighten you in a few words. These spirits are on their way to the Zion Grove Camp Meeting grounds, about two miles west from here, where will be held to-night the Annual Con vention of Unfortunate Spirits. I have been requested to act as chairman of this meeting, and am expected to deliver an address. I have chosen as my subject : Can Second-Class Ghosts Be Happy? You see, I am ambitious to be elected the president of the association for this district, which numbers about twelve hundred members. But there are tw r o other candidates for the office which lasts for three years. There now I must be going. I desired to ask Mr. Simpkins numerous other questions ; but, seeing that he was de termined to depart, I said : "I hope you will be unanimously elected, sir. By the way, would it be asking too much of you to meet me after the convention, and let me know whether you have been successful ? He hesitated a moment, heaved a long sigh, and replied : The session may last till day break ; but if it adjourns before then, since 23 The Bo~jo-Lcgged Ghost you manifest so kindly an interest in my wel fare, I will promise to come back and tell you the result. But you must not stir from this spot. Do you accept the conditions?" I held out my hand as a signal of my will ingness to bind the arrangement ; but, like George Francis Train, he shook his own hands as a parting greeting, crawled ponderously over the w y all, and soon shambled out of sight. Left alone, after this bewildering encounter, my mind refused to be coherent in the least. I became acutely nervous as I have been when in the cruel throes of insomnia. Still with a strenuous determination, I remained there, awaiting the return of the bow-legged ghost. After three hours of torturing sus pense, I espied him coming. The first faint glimmer of the dawn made him more vague and shadowy to my vision. Clambering over the wall, he stood before me limp, dejected, and evidently deeply chagrined. " Well, W 7 hat s the good word? " I inquired, eagerly. This was Mr. Simpkins gloomy reply : "General Norwich was elected president. He read a paper describing his military achievements at the Battle of Antietam, where both his legs were shot off. The assemblage 24 77ic Bow-Legged Ghost went wild over him, and elected him on the first ballot. They are holding a jollification now. After all, I am only a bow-legged ghost, but to be beaten in a race by a man without any legs at all is a terrible blow to me. I shall resign from the association, and devote myself hereafter to matters entirely outside of politics. Good-by. I tried to call him back to ask if he w r ould meet me occasionally on my nightly rambles, but, like a flash of lightning, the bow-legged ghost disappeared. When Ezra Sang First Bass One of the Secrets of the Choir shutters of Jenkins grocery store had been up an hour or more, and the little red- whiskered proprietor had been hint ing as openly as he dared to half-a-dozen of his customers, who were sitting around the stove, that he would like to go home. But his osten tatious preparations the slamming of covers on open barrels and the extinguishing of the lights down to a solitary lamp made no visi ble impression on them. For the squat, little stove still radiated a hospitable glow, and the air of the room was comfortingly blue and fragrant with the smoke of many pipes. The conversation, which had languished while there had been an occasional customer to sooth the nervous proprietor, suddenly be came brisk. From chickens, it naturally drifted to poultry diseases, and thence to the uncertainty of life. That suggested religion to Tom Quirk ; and religion, revivals ; and 26 When Ezra Sang First Bass revivals, sinners. So, by an easy transition, the church choir came up for discussion. Then it was that old Uncle Ezra, who had been silent through it all, unlimbered ponder ously, as properly befitted a great gun of the village. " Reckon I never told ye bout the time I was a bass singer ? " he threw out. A respectful chorus of " Noes," and "Tell us about it, Uncle Ez," answered him. Each member of the party settled back into his chair with a sigh of relief, and the unhappy Jenkins sat down on a cracker-box, for Uncle Ezra, as a man of wealth and position, was not to be interrupted nor hurried. "Just twenty-five years ago, when I was in my prime," he began, after a preparatory cough, " the Methodist Church was built, and John Tate undertook to organize the choir. They called him the percenter, or something of that kind. Tany rate, they were stuck for a bass singer. Every one they invited to try for the position failed. At last some one mentioned my name, and John come to me and asked me to jine em. At first I stood out right and said no, not flatterin myself that I could fill the bill tall. I knowed one tune from another, and I told him so ; but 77ic Bow-Legged Gliost my voice was weak and anything but deep ; besides at that time I had a little tech of asthma once in a while. None of you young fellers never knowed John Tate. He was killed by the Injuns after he went West, but he was the most convincin man I bout ever see, and he got me to come to church that night and try over some of the tunes. I remember I had a terrible cold that day; it was deep sot and my voice was below zero, so to speak. "Well, seein as I had promised, I went down to the meetin house, as we called it in them days. Matilda Savory, now the widow Plunkett, was there, and George Delameter, who was to be the tenor, and Rachel Sliter, now deceased, and Susan Black, who I had gallivanted round with considerable, and had a slinkin sweetness for. There was a few others I don t just recollect this minute. We first attacked that hymn runnin There is a fountain filled with blood. "I put my whole soul into it, and all the wind I could muster. They was all surprised to find out I had such a good bass voice, and I laughed in my sleeve, because no one seemed to notice that I had a cold. We tried several 28 When Ezra Sang First Bass pieces, and after finishin, some one was sure to say to me, Why EZ, I had no idee that you had such a splendid bass voice, and another would say to the one settin next, We couldn t get along without Ez ; don t his voice chord in nice? " You can believe I was honored, and what made me feel the best was the kinder sup pressed look of pride on Susan s face. For the time bein I really thought I could sing like a-a- blackbird. Yes, that was the com parison I made to myself. You see, I was thinkin of Susan ; her rear name was Black, as I mentioned afore. This was on a Monday night. John Tate told us to meet agin on Saturday evenin to practice, so s we d be able to make the new church ring with devout song on the followin day. On Tuesday, my cold was disappearin , and my normal up-grade voice was comin back. I now had a chance to consider that I had made a mistake in joinin the choir, for when the time should come for me to make a public exhibition of myself my voice would be pitched entirely too high. Still I felt that this opportunity to become popular \vith the church folks was too good to be lost. I was 29 The Bout-Legged Ghost a young man, anxious to be a success in busi ness and get some of the custom which went to Andrew Yates, who also kept a grocery. And so I made this resolve : that, if necessary, I would catch another cold on Saturday rather than resign or run the risk of singin in no set voice on the comin Sunday. "Saturday mornin arrived, and I hadn t even bio wed my nose since Wednesday, just afore I went to bed. So I thro wed off my coat and vest and scrambled down cellar, which was just the place to get what I wanted. I hired a little boy to tend store and I sot for nearly an hour on a hogshead of molasses, sneezin away, but determined not to give up until I d caught a first-rate cold. When I came upstairs I called out to the boy, just to see how my vocal organs was fixed, and they put me in mind of a big bass drum that I d heard once in a travelin circus. "That night I was on hand punctual, and received many more compliments, and went home with Susan chipper as a butterfly. For fear I wouldn t be hoarse the next mornin , I sot in the open window of my chamber with my coat and vest off, gazin at the stars and thinkin of Susan while I grew hoarser every moment. 30 When Ezra Sang- first Bass " On Sunday mornin my voice was in good trim, and it was one of the most triumphant moments of my life as I stood up and let it swell out, while all the people down below looked up and watched us with admiration and envy. My throat was rather sore and my chest felt tight, but I paid no attention to them. " The choir agin met on Monday night, and my voice held its own. During the rest of the week I laid in a stock of soothin syrup and camphor and other medicines, which I used pretty lavish, and with good results. But Saturday come, and I found myself hesi- tatin whether to go down cellar agin or sever my connection with the choir forever. I had observed that trade had picked up wonderfully within a few days, and the minister himself had dropped in and asked for credit on a pound of cheese, some clothespins, and one or two other articles I don t just recollect this min ute. The superintendent of the Sabbath School also came in for the first time and bought a ham and a gallon of sperm oil. If this thing continues, thinks I to myself, I can afford to catch cold for a few weeks, until they can get a natural bass singer, and down cellar I went, leavin the same little boy to tend store. 31 77ic Boiv-Lcggcd Ghost "Well a year went by, and I was still holdin forth in that Methodist choir. My business now was flourishin , and although Mr. Yates was a Christian, the church people patronized me as much as the} did him ; for durin this time they had a tremendous revival down at Jericho Center, and I had experienced religion. By bein in the choir I had many chances to see Susan home, which would not have happened otherwise ; and I valued this circumstance, for my regard for her had grad ually deepened into a sincere and unmistakable affection. But then Susan up and married a young justice of the peace, who never attended church, and was a bigger sinner than I ever dreamed of bein . This took Susan out of the choir and left me desolate. I vowed eternal celibacy, and I didn t care who set the Meth odist Church afire. That was the last of me as a bass singer. Why, reckon it up, and see how many times I exposed myself to diphthe ria, bronchitis, and death, and not a livin soul was in the secret. I got so scientific about it that I could tell how many sneezes would make me hoarse enough to strike the lowest note in Old Hundred without strainin for it. 32 When Ezra Sang First Bass "But one thing s been sorter botherin me all these years. Suppose Rachel Sliter should meet me in Heaven. The very first thing she d say would be Well, if here ain t Ez Hix! Come here, Ezra. I want you to sing some of those good old hymns that w r e used to sing in the Slackville Methodist Church. That would be just like Rachel." "Well, Uncle Ez," said Tom Quirk, who had been the old man s most respectful au ditor, "you could have em open the win dows and put ice on you when you was dying, so that you could catch cold and take it along with you and sing for her. First published in the Philadelphia Saturday Evening Post. 33 The Woman in Yellow CATKINS had been telling his friend Inge- low about an eccentric beauty he had met in the mountains during the previous summer, and Ingelow, by way of a fair exchange, narrated to Watkins the story of Jessica Brail, whom he had known from childhood. The young lady I am going to tell you about," began Ingelow, "is endowed with sufficient charms to make two ordinary society belles. Perhaps you won t believe that, but if you ever see her you will indorse the appar ently rash statement without the slightest hesitation. She is a perfect blonde, with Quaker-colored eyes, and hair of infinite golden sheen and fineness. Shortly after her debut, which was the talk of society at the time, she became en gaged to a promising chap by the name of Jerome Van Dusen, who had recently come into a magnificent fortune, thanks to a kind old bachelor uncle, with whom Jerome, being 34 The Woman in Tello^v an orphan, had lived for several years. No time had been fixed for the marriage, and it was supposed that it would take place not under a year or so, as Jessica was but eighteen when she became affianced. She was suddenly seized one morning with a violent and strange illness which baf fled the doctors. For weeks she lay in de lirium, and a number of times her life was* despaired of. But finally she grew better, and when she had quite recovered her normal strength and health, she again assumed her old place in the social whirl where she had been a delight and a dream. But in some ways her intimate friends ob served that Jessica s illness had changed her: Something was lacking in her old-time spon taneity. Then, too, she caused gossip by treating young Van Dusen in a shabby man ner. She did not seem to be conscious of her engagement to him. She held him at arm s length, so to speak, and repulsed his chival rous attentions. Of course Jerome couldn t understand w T hat it was all about, and he could get little satisfaction out of Mrs. Brail, to whom he went for a conference on the sub ject. Mrs. Brail expressed herself as being very much worried about Jessica, and ended 35 The Bow-Legged Ghost by requesting Jerome not to be quite so assidu ous in his attentions to the young lad}- for the time being. "Now, the chief thing in which Jessica manifested her eccentricity was in her complete mania for everything yellow. Wherever she appeared, she was gowned in yellow from head to foot gloves, shoes, and all. She even discarded her diamonds and other jewels for yellow gems. She frankly confessed she pos sessed more than a mere penchant for all things yellow ; it was a passion with her, and one over which she had no control. Rather alarmed over this excessive fad of her daugh ter, Mrs. Brail thought it would be a wise policy to allow Jessica to indulge her caprice in this direction, instead of trying to restrain her, and so she offered no definite protest when the young lady expressed a wish to have a phaeton all yellow, and a yellow horse, yellow harness, and yellow whip. With Mrs. Brail s abundant resources it was not difficult to obtain the phaeton, harness, and whip, but the yellow horse was not so easily within reach . However, a horse-dealer of large experi ence, procured a horse that would pass for a yellow nag, except for a few white spots on his 36 The Woman in Yellow flanks. Jessica driving through Central Park alone in her peculiar turnout excited no end of comment, and her inexplicable craze for yel low was duly exploited in the newspapers. Neither gossip nor ridicule had any effect on Jessica. She bought a dozen canary birds and as many yellow wire cages one afternoon, and ordered them sent to her home on Madison Avenue. "Oh, come off, Ingelow! Do you think you can stuff me in this way, old chap? I say, let s have some more brandy and soda." I am simply repeating facts. Order your drink and listen. It was in the autumn when this queerness of Miss Brail was first mani fested. She and her mother on a certain night in October gave a swell party. What do you suppose the only floral decorations consisted of?" " Golden-rod," suggested Watkins, wearily, as he poured his club soda into a long glass. "Precisely. You are good at riddles, old man. Golden-rod exclusively. Of course Jes sica was garbed entirely in yellow, even to her lingerie. Now please don t interrupt me again. As a matter of fact this young woman practi cally carried out her mania even in the matter 37 The Bow-Legged Ghost of eating. She was fond of butter, celery-tops, squash, and lemon pie, the hard-boiled yolks of eggs, all kinds of yellow-colored cake, the inside of corn-bread, Chablis, Sauterne, and Rhine wines, scrambled eggs and plain ome let, and other edibles and drinkables having a yellowish tinge. Though very fond of litera ture, she never read other than yellow covered or bound books ; and one night she engaged a squad of painters to come and cover the entire front of the Brail brownstone mansion with a brilliant coat of yellow. The next day several friends and relatives of the family called and advised the now nearly distracted Mrs. Brail to place poor Jessica in some retreat. This the mother refused to do. But she did resolve to take Jessica on a journey West, perhaps to California, thinking that a change of scene and climate would benefit her. Jessica s con sent, strangely enough, was easily won. They took an excursion steamer bound for San Fran cisco by way of the Horn. Would you believe it, Watkins, on board that steamer Jessica met her fate ? "She died, eh?" No. She met a man whom she after ward, not long afterward either, married in Frisco. " 38 77i e Woman in J cllo-jo What became of Jerome ? " Well, Jerome had became disgusted with her antics and had gone off to Berlin to study diplomacy." " Sensible man ! " The young man Jessica became acquainted with aboard the steamer Brazil bore the name of Uriah Jeffrey. He was a struggling inven tor, who had nearly killed himself with hard work, and was taking the voyage for his health. A severe case of jaundice, which made him somewhat morbid, afflicted him, but on being introduced, Jessica fell in love with him right away." "I see," put in Watkins, drolly, "because he had the jaundice. He was right in her line." " And," proceeded Ingelow, not paying any attention to the other s interruption, " Uriah, of course, was doubly attracted to her by reason of her yellow attire and belongings. So they fell to courting without any consider able delay, satisfied that in each other they had found their true affinity. And in spite of all that mamma Brail could do to prevent it, these two cooing doves plighted their troth before reaching the Golden Gate." Is that all ? " 39 TJie Bow-Legged Ghost The} 7 were married quietly in San Fran cisco a fortnight after their arrival there, and a few days later returned to New York. Jef frey s jaundice gradually disappeared and with it his wife s mania for yellow. She is now somewhat prejudiced against that color, for she feels a little sensitive over her foolish ex cesses with it when she was not quite her own sweet self." " Ingelow," drawled Watkins, after finish ing the last swallow in his glass, "you are one of the most fearful, wonderful, and con summate conversationalists I ever listened to. But, by way of giving your narrative an artistic finish, why didn t you have Jessica take the Gold Cure for her malady ? 40 An Assumed Weakness by his physical and psycho- J^l logical prowess as a lady-killer, Mr. Claude Ormsby some years ago became less delicate and subtle in his methods of flirta tion and gradually resorted to more abrupt and daring, if not foolhardy, experiments. Mr. Ormsby actually ventured one afternoon to wink at a lad} he thought he should like to know. He won from her a casual sign of recognition, but her hasty retreat into a mil linery establishment, where she managed, on pretense of being vastly interested in the head gear there displayed, to remain over two hours, satisfied Mr. Ormsby that it would be quite futile for him to press a further acquaintance. But he continued to wink at women whose personal charms appealed to him, and always, for some reason it is unnecessary to exploit here, with his left eye. His success in this barbarous and discredited style of wantoning varied with occasion and with the woman he 4 1 The Bow-Legged Ghost thus saluted. Often it was far from any definition of triumph. But the resentment of virtuous womanhood neither alarmed nor chagrined him. On a certain bright morning, as he was passing her on Fifth Avenue, Mr. Ormsby winked at a handsome woman, accompanied by her husband, who, be it said, was ardently devoted to her. While making his reckless and insolent overture, Ormsby did not par ticularly notice the husband. But the latter fairly and squarely saw Ormsby indulge in the wink, and in an instant the blood deserted his cheek. He left his wife s side, stepped up to Ormsby, and grasped him by the arm, with every facial assurance that it was his immedi ate intention to punish the offender. Ormsby possessed quick perceptions, but he was no good as a pugilist. There and then he realized that he must placate the gentleman who was clutching him, or perhaps suffer untold in juries. So meeting the incensed husband s gaze, Ormsby gave a peculiar wink with his left eye, the optic w r hich had excited Mr. Bryan Burdick s vexation. Mr. Burdick was surprised. His curdled feelings swirled less violently wnthin him when Ormsby winked again. He winked with his left eye, in what 4 2 An Assumed Weakness seemed to Mr. Burdick a less culpable and more guileless way than he had winked the first time at Mrs. Burdick. "Ah, ha!" thought Mr. Burdick, "I am foolishly jealous as usual. This man has a nervous defect of the eye, and therefore is not responsible for what otherwise would be inex cusable. Oh, if he had really insulted my wife, I should " But Mr. Burdick did not mentally conclude what he might have done. It is not unreasonable to infer, however, that in those circumstances he would have proven a cruel assailant. At brief intervals Ormsby winked his left eye at Mr. Burdick, w r ho began to reproach himself for having taken umbrage too hastily at the stranger, for he was now full} convinced that Ormsby could not help winking his eye. "I beg your pardon, sir," apologized Mr. Burdick. " I at first wrongly thought you intended to insult my wife. But I see the action of your left eye is involuntary. Believe me, sir, I am very sorry for having detained you. Here is my card." Ormsby accepted the card graciously, and in turn handed his own to Mr. Burdick. It w r as a natural enough mistake on your part," said Ormsby, in a voice of remarkable 43 The Bo-w-Legged Ghost complaisance. I dare say you may find my acquaintance of some trifling value. My ad dress is on my card. Come and see me some time." As though further to atone for his putative blunder, Mr. Burdick introduced his wife to Ormsby, who was certainly playing his part with masterly finesse. "I am charmed," observed Mrs. Burdick, with a dainty bow, "to meet you." "Delighted, I m sure," said Ormsby, his left eye winking cautiously. Then, after the exchange of a few common places, Ormsby went on his way, chuckling over the recent encounter. Mr. Burdick made inquiries concerning Mr. Ormsby and ascertained that he belonged to an aristocratic family, his father being an enormously rich banker. Within a short time Ormsby and the Burdicks became warm friends. He was a frequent visitor at their house, and dined with them nearly every Sunday. He was careful to do the requisite amount of winking whenever in their pres ence an effort, by the way, that grew at times extremely boorish to him. But he hero ically kept up the delusion, for now that he was intimate with the Burdicks, and really 44 Aii Assumed Weakness liked them, he dreaded to lose their friend ship. But one Sunday Mr. Burdick caught Ormsby napping, as it were. At the table a certain popular novelist happened also to be a guest. The novelist was feeling in excellent spirits, having the day before sold a serial story to a leading magazine for a good price, and re ceived the cash down for it, and his bright talk was highly entertaining, especially to Ormsby, who listened in rapt attention. In short, he became so absorbed in the novel ist s graphic description of a journey he had taken the previous summer in Alaska, that, for the time being, he forgot to keep his left eye at its allotted task, and Mr. Burdick noticed it. The host gazed long, though somewhat furtively, at the abstracted Ormsby, and his wonder increased almost to consternation as he observed that Ormsby seemed to have his left eye under perfect control. This discovery mystified him and rendered him so curious that he interrupted the novelist to say : "Ormsby, you don t seem to be winking your eye as much as usual to-day. Have you discontinued that interesting performance of yours ? "Yes, that is er well I ve had an operation performed, you know," stammered 45 The Bo^u-Lcgged Ghost Ormsby, who being taken entirely by surprise and thrown off his guard, was considerably frustrated. My eye still twitches occasion ally, however," he added, sufficiently recover ing secretly to congratulate himself upon his ready fabrication. "Oh, indeed," put in Mrs. Burdick, quite ingenuously. "Was the operation painful, Mr. Ormsby?" Rather, he replied, with a wink and a smile, that were boldly significant, but which the novelist and Mr. Burdick, if they noticed them, must have considered merely symptoms of affability on Ormsby s part. But Mrs. Burdick, with intuitive celerity, discerned the similarity of that wink to Orms by s first wink at her on the Avenue months before. She instinctively felt from that mo ment that Ormsby was a fraud, and he imme diately divined that she felt he was. A slight blush suffused Mrs. Burdick s beautiful face. She was strongly tempted to remark, with true feminine sarcasm: "It seems the operation was not entirely successful," but she choked back the words, for a timely thought warned her that such an utterance might at once put her husband on the trail of his former suspi- . cion as to Ormsby s insolence. 4 6 An Assumed Weakness "Doctor Peters, the oculist, thinks I shall be able," ventured Ormsby, with inward des peration and outward suavity, " to gain abso lute government of my eye after a while." "I am glad to hear it," said Mr. Burdick, with a kind of insinuating candor. Some hours later, when the guests had gone, and Mr. Burdick, half irresolutely, had driven off to his favorite club, Mrs. Burdick thoughtfully seated herself at a delicate little rosew r ood desk, and after wasting two or three sheets of the most expensive note paper, finally sealed the following words, addressed to Mr. Claude Ormsby : Sir : You have played a cunning game, but I have found you out at last. Some women might ap plaud you, but I am one who despises you for having so weak, so cowardly, so debased a left eye. By all means have a real operation performed, Mr. Ormsby ; otherwise you may deceive some one yet, who has not a loving husband s protection. Do not again darken our threshold with your presence. I shall not breathe a word to my husband of your last insult to me, at the dinner-table to-day, if you do not again attempt to in trude upon our domestic peace. Remember this ! CLARISSA BURDICK. In the privacy of his own chamber Orms by s left eye assisted his right one to read Mrs. Burdick s unequivocal message, without 47 The Bow-Legged Ghost any predisposition to wink. A throb of dis appointment passed over him that was all. He reached for a silver decanter containing some rare Amontillado, of which he took a liberal draught. The fact is, Ormsby may never have any dominant influence over that left eye of his. When he strolls down Broadway or up Fifth Avenue, it will probably wink at any pretty damsel or dashing married woman, as of old. A queer eye has Ormsby. But is Ormsby the only man you ever heard of who has a queer eye? Will this eye of Ormsby s finally bring him joy or woe? Ah, me ! Perhaps a court of justice may answer that. But, on the other hand, possibly ten years hence, in a felicitous domestic circle of his own, Ormsby may be found still winking, though with less sug gestion, from mere force of habit. "Revels of the Muses men about Gotham town may be ac- attainted with Harry Hooker, though i " this is not his baptismal name. Not so very long ago he was a prominent club man, but only at rare intervals nowadays is he seen in his old haunts. After coming into possession of a patri mony of some sixty thousand dollars, Hooker shut himself up in his den and began work on a comic opera, which, in his callow esti mation, would eclipse anything of the kind ever seen on the American stage. The music, more or less reminiscent, he composed himself; that is to say, he thumped out mel odies on the piano, which were transcribed, arranged, and orchestrated by a professional musician. When it was finally finished he christened it, " Revels of the Muses," a title that scarcely indicated the shocking antics through which the inexperienced young author put these classic damsels. First published in The Dramatic A/itror. 4 49 The Bo-jo-Legged Ghost Hooker submitted his libretto and score to several prominent managers, but they all shook their heads negatively, giving various shrewd excuses for not even examining the piece. Having spent two months in vain quest of a manager who would give him a fa vorable hearing, he at last resolved to produce the opera at his own expense. It was now midsummer. There was no time to waste if he desired to make all the necessary prepara tions for an autumn opening. Through a dramatic agency, Hooker secured the services of doughty Colonel Rush as busi ness manager. The stage manager, an eccen tric individual by the name of Pragg, gave valuable assistance in suggesting the necessary scenery and in selecting the designs for the costumes. It was also Pragg who insisted on engaging for the leading female role his old friend Bertha Watts, whose name had been a famous one in the burlesque world a few years before, but who, now, in reality, was rather too passe, not to say obese, for the rollicking part of Thalia. However, Pragg s entreaties prevailed, and Miss Watts was engaged. Within a short time, the newspapers gave glowing announcements of the great comic opera by Harry Hooker, Esq. , to be produced 50 "Revels of the Muses " early in October at the New Amsterdam The atre. Rehearsals were held every day, and in the meantime Hooker decided to take the com pany out for two weeks on the New England circuit, and try his mental offspring "on the dog," as it is called in theatrical parlance. Colonel Rush booked the show, which opened in Hartford, September 21. During the tour Hooker had little or no cause to be gratified with the reception ac corded his opera. The press roasted it with out mercy, and the meagre audiences that gathered to witness it went away dissatisfied. If it would not please the provincial, how could he expect to please the metropolitan with it? The production had cost him nearly $20,000. Add to this four weeks rental of the New Amsterdam Theatre and other expenses, as suming that there would be little or no busi ness, and he would lose anywhere from $10,000 to $20,000 more. This ominous state of af fairs set Hooker to thinking. Now it happened that he had come into pos session of a book entitled A List of the Bald- Headed Men of New York," which some individual, with an abnormal amount of pa tience, had compiled and put on the market. The book which gave the names and addresses 51 The B&w-Legged Ghost of over one hundred thousand Xew York men who are baldheaded had interested Hooker, irrespective of its statistical accuracy, because he had a tendency to baldness himself. He now conceived the idea of reserving the first three rows of orchestra seats in the Xew Amsterdam every night of the run of his opera for bald-headed men of Xew York to whom he would send " complimentaries." For instance, for the opening night, October 12, he would send as many free tickets, each with a coupon, as there were seats in the first three rows of the orchestra ; for the second night as many more, and so on, checking off in the book each name as fast as the tickets were sent out, thus avoiding repetition. Well, Hooker actually set this plan into operation, sending out for different dates over ten thousand complimentaries. He kept the secret to himself until the opening night, when a large throng came to see " Revels of the Muses" at the Xew Amsterdam. For several minutes before the overture be gan, it was seen that an unusual number of baldheaded men had taken seats in the first three rows of the orchestra chairs. Every minute more baldheaded men joined their brethren, and the audience commenced a "Revels of the 3 fuses " guarded titter, which soon broke forth into a perfect gale of prolonged laughter. The bald headed men themselves immediately be came aware that they formed a curious phal anx, and nearly all of them commingled their merriment with the rest of the hilarious audi ence. ; This is a pretty rich joke on us," said one red-faced old chap to another, who sat alongside in the second row. "I think it a most impertinent piece of business," snarled the man addressed. He was in evening dress, while his neighbor, who thought the whole thing a jolly lark, was garbed in a snuff-colored business suit. Just as the curtain was about to go up, a tall, fine-looking man, with a smooth pate, went down the centre aisle, but halted short about midway to his seat on seeing the three rows of more or less shining heads in front. His look of utter astonishment soon altered into a broad smile of amusement, and then quickly turning about he retraced his steps toward the lobby, pursued by such advice from the gallery gods as, "Don t go home, bald) r ! Take your medicine like the rest! Don t be a coward," etc., etc. 53 The Bow-Legged Ghost Hooker had not let any of the company into the secret, and the consequence was that they were all convulsed when they saw the gentlemen in front. Even Pragg was quite overcome for a few minutes. One of the members of the orchestra, the trombone player, a little earlier had slipped out of his place, fearing he might die of strangulation from laughing, if he remained. But he soon returned, his old stolid self. All the ladies in the audience were particu larly amused by the exhibit, and the opera was merely a tame side-show in comparison. By way of trying to recover her composure, Bertha Watts advanced to the footlights and indulged in the impromptu remark: " I m so glad to see so many of my personal friends here to-night," and it tickled the people more than any lines or business in the opera. It was an evening of wild and unrestrained merriment. A few of the baldheaded gentle men did not appear to enjoy the occasion at all, keeping their eyes stoically and steadfastly on the actors, and two or three of them rose and marched defiantly out of the house. But most of them entered heartily into the spirit of the hour, and even poked fun at each other. 54 ^ Revels of the Pluses Toward the end of the last act, Colonel Rush nudged Hooker, who was standing in the rear of the auditorium, and whispered : " I think you are a genius." I wish I had space in which to quote some of the notices of the opera that appeared in the next morning s papers. The critics w 7 ho had been present were unanimous in saying that they never had had so much fun in their lives. They were careful to inform the pub lic that their fun was not derived so much from Mr. Hooker s piece as from the gentle men in the first three rows. Of course many of the baldheaded men in vited for the second performance, who read these accounts in the press, were vastly puz zled. But after a little meditation nearly all of them concluded to visit the theatre, if only to experience the feeling of being in the pres ence of between two or three hundred other bald men. In consequence, there were only three or four vacant chairs in the first three rows of the orchestra at the New Amsterdam on the second night of the famous run of " Revels of the Muses." A quarter of an hour before it was time for the curtain to rise, "Standing room only" was placarded outside the theatre, and it 55 The Bow-Legged GJiost might as well be said now that this announce ment was posted of absolute necessity every night to the closing performance. Even Hooker, who is older but not much w r iser than he was then, will admit that it was not his comic opera that people came to see, but the interesting contingent of gentlemen who were always in evidence down in front. The scheme served to develop the moral cour age, or rather the sang froid, of many a bald- headed bachelor, who, before meeting with his fellows in this happy camaraderie, had been wretchedly sensitive concerning what he re garded as a sore and unmerited affliction. Hooker left the metropolis for green fields and pastures new," with over $40,000 of prof its from his opera. He visited all the large cities, and in even- theatre where his company played there were baldheaded men in the first three row 7 s. It was the advance man s busi ness to provide complimentaries to these gen tlemen in every city visited. They appreciated the comical honor, speaking generally, just as much as had the liberal-minded New Yorkers. Other theatrical troupes tried to imitate Hooker, but none of them ever succeeded. He grew independently rich in three seasons and retired in time, just as the novelty of his 56 "Revels of the Muses" idea had begun to tarnish. He spends most of his time in southern Europe where the cli mate agrees best with his rather delicate health. Bertha Watts is the wife of an old-time ad mirer, a baldheaded man by the way, and lives in a cozy Harlem flat. Poor Pragg is buried in the Actors Plot in Evergreens. Colonel Rush goes about New York, a crusty old man, always kicking himself for not hav ing been the originator of Hooker s scheme. The manuscript and all the part books of "Revels of the Muses" were long since re duced to ashes. The Belle of the Dinner "Around thai neck ^vhat dross are gold and pearl ! Young. I " W THINK I know the most beautiful woman Ms> in New York city," remarked Dave Hartley to his three companions, who were sitting in the rear parlor of the Amster dam Club before a bright, crackling coal fire. She belongs to the Lillian Russell type ; that is to say, she is a pronounced blonde. I wish you could see her, boys, just once. You would simply rave over her. "How old is she?" inquired Bob Ritchie, taking another pull at his Vichy and milk. " About twenty, I should judge. But there is no use talking about Mabel Olcott she s engaged." You are a nice one to get our interest roused concerning a young woman and then coolly tell us she s engaged." Sydney Van Loan smiled. He knew Mabel Olcott. One of his very best friends, Jack 58 Tli c Belle of tlie Dinner Church, was the lucky mortal to whom Mabel was betrothed. "Blondes never interested me," observed Charlie Townsley. " My affections have al ways been centred on brunettes. They have so much more intensity and force of character. But the handsomest one I ever knew died sev eral years ago. "I ll tell you, boys," said Van Loan, in a drawling voice, "what we might do to break the monotony of life. Suppose we order a swell dinner at Viadello s and each bring as pretty a woman as he can find. We will make a wager of $200 apiece and place the money in the hands of a stakeholder, say Percy Porter, whom we will invite to the banquet and who will also act as umpire. The fellow 7 who brings the most beautiful woman, according to Percy s judgment, pockets the money. What do you say ? "Capital scheme," put in Charlie Towns- ley, who once had been a suitor for the hand of Percy Porter s beautiful wife. " Each man shall stand one-fourth of the expense of the dinner," suggested Dave Hart ley, "in addition to the amount of the wager. " Exactly," replied Van Loan. The Botv-Legged Ghost "There is one objection to this enterprise, and a grave one," urged Bob Ritchie. " I am not so certain that Percy Porter is qualified to judge of feminine beauty any better than the rest of us. What would please his eye and taste perhaps would not appeal to me. "Oh, so far as that goes it will be as fair for one as for the other," said Van Loan. " Besides, Percy has made a name for himself as a painter, particularly of women s portraits, and w r e couldn t secure a more competent and impartial judge." There was no further dissent to the rather novel proposition, and it was an easy matter to appoint a day for the dinner, the furnishing of which was left to Signer Viadello, with the request that it be in his best style. Percy Porter, enjoined to secrecy concerning the whole affair, gladly consented to act as stake holder and umpire, and in his keeping was de posited eight hundred dollars. November loth was the date of the dinner, and the gentlemen concerned had a fortnight in which to scour the community for the most available types of feminine loveliness. Let us see in what manner each proceeded. Sydney Van Loan, the proposer of the affair, was a rich young man about town, with 60 The Belle of the. Dinner no regular pursuit but that of pleasure. He had already sown his wild oats, and was grad ually settling down to the jog-trot pace which is so difficult for many young men to acquire. The day after the wager was made, Van Loan called at a rather unseasonable hour on Miss Olcott, but they were old friends and he felt confident that she would receive him. She came into the drawing-room, dressed in a be witching tea-gown, and shook hands with him informally. I know you will pardon my coming so earl} , Mabel, when I tell you my errand." "You are always welcome here, Sydney, I am sure." "Well, you see, it s like this: four of us fellows at the club yesterday afternoon made a bet, and I want you to help me out." How ? The man that escorts to a certain dinner, to be given November loth, at Viadello s, the finest looking woman, wins the bet ; see? " " How jolly! But who is to decide? " "Oh, we have selected an umpire, and everything is arranged, except the most im portant thing of all the ladies." But how can I help you ? By going with me to the dinner. 61 The Bow-Legged Ghost Miss Olcott laughed amusedly, and then, becoming quite serious, remarked : "Sydney, I have never had any ambition to pose as a professional or prize beauty. " I know that," answered Van Loan, "but it s all in fun. We ll have a good dinner and no end of sport. Come, now, Mabel, give me your promise to go with me, and I ll never ask another favor of you." Who are the other fellows ? inquired Miss Olcott, not quite sure that she liked the idea. " Oh, Dave Hartley, Charlie Townsley, and Bob Ritchie all clever, respectable chaps, I assure you." "I know of them. My brother Will is a great friend of Dave Hartley. Oh, clear, I don t know what to say ; I should dislike to disappoint you, Sydney, but there s something about it that seems, well, sort of irregular, don t you know? " " Why, my dear woman, it s only an inno cent lark. Please say yes. I am sure Jack would not give his con sent." "Nonsense. Do you suppose my dearest friend will object to my showing his fiancee this little attention ? But why tell Jack until 62 TJic Belle of the Dinner after the dinner? It will be delightful news to him, for I certainly shall win the bet if you are my guest." "Base flatterer!" exclaimed Miss Olcott, archly. Just then it occurred to her that only two days before, she and Jack had had a lovers row, in which heart wounds had been given that were still unhealed. It would do Jack good to see that she had some spirit, that he was not the only man in the \vorld ( though in the recesses of her soul this was her con viction ). Sydney waited patiently for her answer, which finally came in this wise : " Sydney, you have always been a good friend of mine, and if you think it will not compro mise me in any ever so little a way, I will go with you." Van lyoan soon assured her that she would have no cause to regret her decision, and ex ultantly left the Olcott mansion, having re ceived her word that she would not breathe a syllable to Jack Church until the dinner was a thing of the past. Charlie Townsley, who possessed a pro nounced fondness for the brunette type, was the junior member of a banking firm in Wall Street. He was a popular young man ; every one spoke of and about him in terms of com- 63 The Bow-Legged Ghost mendation. He was well educated, but for professional work he had no aptitude. He had worked his way up in the bank from an obscure clerkship, and it was while he was serving in a subordinate capacity that he had paid court to Miss Christine Rockwell, now Airs. Percy Porter. This lady had refused his offer of marriage, not that she loved him less, but that she loved Percy Porter more. Percy was romantic and brilliant, and these qualities appealed more powerfully to her than the equally deserving, but different attributes of Charlie Townsley. Later on Townsley had inherited a considerable fortune from his father, but he remained in the banking house and worked as hard as ever, day by day, con vinced that "it is better to wear out than to rust out." His hours, however, were easy, and he had as much leisure on his hands as he knew w r hat to do with. Since his rejection he had never ceased to think of Christine with adoration. And what is rather singular, after her marriage he was a frequent guest at her house. Percy liked him and admired his sterling qualities. In view of these particu lars, what could have been more natural than the temptation which came to Townsley to ask Mrs. Porter to accompany him to that dinner. 64 77tc Belle of tlie Dinner He weighed the pros and cons for two days before reaching a conclusion that was satis factory, and then he called on Mrs. Porter. Barring the family servants, she was alone in the house. " An unexpected pleasure," was her greet ing. Take this chair, I think you w r ill find it comfortable, and I wdll sit by the window. Now tell me something interesting." For a moment Townsley gazed at her in silence. Yes, she was the same beautiful woman to whom he had offered his name and love seven years before. There was scarcely any change in her, unless it was a slightly expanded figure. The luminous, speaking black eyes, with their long silken lashes and gracefully curving brows ; the plentiful mid night hair coiffured in a becoming mode pe culiarly her own ; the proud, well-bred nose, with distended nostrils ; the rosy, delicate, sensitive mouth ; the creamy, olive skin ; the ravishing dimple ; the dainty, pink, shell-like ears these had not changed ; nor had her vivacity, which illumined her features and gave to her personality an irresistible charm. She had been perfectly happy in her married life ; she had not grown narrow, as some wives do. 5 65 The BO-JO -Legged Ghost " I want to tell you at once the object of my visit. Sydney Van Loan, Dave Hartley, Bob Ritchie, and myself, all of whom you know, I believe, are to give a dinner at Yia- dello s on November loth. Each of us has agreed to escort to this dinner the most beau tiful woman he can secure for the occasion. A gentleman, who is none other than your esteemed husband, is to act as umpire, that is, he is to decide which of the four women pres ent is the most beautiful, in his opinion. The winning lady s escort is to receive the full amount of a wager $800 which has been made among us. Now, Mrs. Porter, would it seem amiss if I humbly asked for your coin- pan}- on that occasion ? " It would seem amiss if I didn t go, Char lie, under your gallant protection," laughed Mrs. Porter, as she handed him a spray of mignonette, taken from a little bunch placed in her corsage. I shall be perfectly de lighted to accompany you. Won t it be merry? But, understand, Charlie, I am too old a woman to have any serious pride in the competition ; and you say Percy will be there ! Strange he hasn t mentioned a word about it to me." "Of course," said Townsley, his voice 66 The IJcllc of the Dinner trembling with inward elation over her accept ance of his invitation, "I shall speak to Percy, so that he will not " Please, do not say a word to Percy. My poor, honest, old Charlie boy, don t you see it will spoil all my fun, if you do? I want to surprise Percy he s so blase, you know." " All right. If you prefer me to say noth ing to him, I ll keep mum. Only, I would not offend him for the world." "Oh, Percy is anything but thin skinned. Don t let that worry you. I shall have a new gown made especially for the dinner. Let me see. Oh, yes, lavender is your favorite color ; it shall be a lavender silk, Marie Antoinette style, ct cetera. I ll try not to disgrace you, Charlie." And in a similar strain Mrs. Porter rattled on until Townsley, murmuring his thanks, departed in no little confusion. Dave Hartley went to work to obtain his queen of beauty in quite a different way from the others. Though several years older than any of his confreres, he was more of a Bohe mian than all of them put together. Well connected so far as family ties were concerned, he was essentially a man s man and made no pretense of keeping in touch with the conven- 67 The BO-JJ- Legged Ghost tionalities of society. Dave possessed suffi cient tact andjinesse for a carpet knight, if his tastes had led him in that direction ; but roughing it in the West and aimless wander ing in foreign lands had given him a cosmo politan independence of character. He lived on a comfortable annuity left by a bachelor uncle who had been a partner in the wholesale mercantile house of Hartley, Hartley & Co., of which his father remained the head. He usually passed his winters in New York, and the rest of the year he traveled whither his fancy listed. As a consequence of this mode of life, Dave Hartley s list of beautiful women friends and acquaintances in the metropolis was extremely limited. Soon after making the wager he became painfully aware of this fact. It is true he had met Mabel Olcott two or three times, and was an intimate friend of her brother Will. But it was simply out of the question to ask her an engaged girl to go with him to that dinner. Moreover, he doubted whether the personal quality of the women who would be there would harmonize very well with her refined nature even sup posing she were not engaged and would be willing to accompany him. But Dave was not discouraged by the fact that he knew no 68 77/6 llelle of the Dinner beautiful woman who was available for his present purpose. His ready brain fell to thinking, and soon he conjured up a method. In a prominent Sunday newspaper he caused to be inserted in the personal column the fol lowing notice : T^OUR CLUB MEN HAVE A BET AS TO WHO 1 will bring the handsomest woman to a dinner in New York ; some beautiful creature can make $100 and have a good dinner ; no nonsense ; state age, give description, and send photograph. Address EUREKA, Post Office Box 18333, ^ ew York City. Dave had hired that box, and two days after the notice was published he visited the post office for his mail. He found sixty-seven letters awaiting him, in every one of which ex cept two photographs were inclosed, the others promising to send them in a few days. Mr. Hartley s heart fluttered with hope as he stuffed the missives into his pockets and re turned to his carriage. He did not open any of them until he had reached his own sleeping apartment, in his father s house on Madison Avenue, and had locked the door. Then he tore them open, one by one, read the various communications they contained, and critically 69 The Bow-Legged Ghost scrutinized the counterfeits of the writers. Some of the letters were well worded and fas cinating, but usually the photographs of the writers proved them to be anything but beau tiful. On the other hand, there were several photographs of women who seemed beautiful, but whose letters were abominable in liter ary construction, orthography, and chirog raph y. For several days Dave found a mild diver sion in riding down to the post office for his mail, but most of his letters and nearly all of the photographs were simph" irritating. At length one morning, when his mail had begun to lessen materially in volume, he received a package done up in common straw-colored wrapping paper, tied with a pink string such as druggists use. In this package was a cab inet photograph, taken in Hartford. It not only riveted his attention, but challenged his admiration. It pictured a blonde girl not more than twenty, with features of classic symmetry and elegance. "Voluptuous angel!" exclaimed Dave, as he opened the letter that was also inclosed. It was written in the broad English style affected by young ladies who have attended a boarding or finishing school, and read thus : 70 Jycl/c of the Dinner BROOKSIDE, CONN., November ist. MR. EUREKA. Dear Sir: I read your announcement in last Sun day s New York , and was much interested in it. Permit me to tell you that I am a young woman who has been carefully reared in a family which has suf fered reverses of fortune. After my father s financial collapse we were obliged to give up our lovely home in the city of Hartford and come to this desolate neighborhood. It was a great shock to us all ; and though it happened two years ago, none of us is rec onciled to our present lot, which, I ma}- add, is about five acres in extent, with a shabby, old-fashioned farm house in one corner, wherein we just exist. I send you my photograph, taken while I was visiting a friend in Hartford about six months ago. No one has ever in timated that it flatters me, and I do not think it does. If you can assure me that you are a respectable gentleman and mean no harm, I should be pleased to accompany you to the dinner mentioned in the news paper, but I wish you to understand, beforehand that I will permit no familiarities in word or action. Whether you see fit to reply or not, please return my photograph, as I should not care to have it remain in the hands of an entire stranger. Yours truly, SYLVIA TII/TON. "I like the tone of that letter, Mistress Sylvia" (again surveying the photograph); "you will answer very well indeed. With you in evidence I shall have an easy victory." Thereupon Dave penned a courteous mes sage to Miss Tilton, inclosing a ten-dollar bill The B oiv -Legged Ghost for her traveling expenses, and asking her to meet him at a popular up-town hotel the next day at i P. M. At the appointed hour Miss Tilton appeared in the public parlor of this hostelry, and a few minutes later Dave pre sented himself. He knew her at once by her faithful photograph, though her face was veiled. Advancing toward her with the easy grace of a gentleman, both hands grasping the rim of his hat, held gently against his breast, he bowed politely, saying, "Miss Tilton, I believe?" and receiving a timid, smiling " Yes " as a response, he led the way to a va cant corner, where their conversation began. "To break the ice at once," said Dave, " My name is David Hartley and not Mr. Eu reka. You know the firm of Hartley, Hartley & Co., I dare say; I belong to that family." " Indeed," quavered Miss Tilton as she re moved her veil. "You must think it most extraordinary of me to have answered that personal in the paper. It is something I never did before." "I believe you," said Dave, studying the fresh blooming face in which he could not dis cover the semblance of a flaw. "The fact is," she continued, "I regard this matter purely in the light of business. Tlie Belle of the Dinner Any other construction put upon my conduct I should resent at once. But before proceed ing, I want to ask you, Mr. Hartley, if I suit you? " " Entirely, perfectly," promptly replied the infatuated Dave. And you are quite decided that you wish to escort me to that dinner? >: " Most assuredly." " Very well, then. I perceive the kind of gentleman you are. I believe I can trust you. But please do not think I am a flirt, or that I wish to dine with fine people for the sake of their society. It will be a painful sacrifice for me to appear there and be ogled and com mented upon as a raw country girl. But I need a hundred dollars for a certain purpose." " Oh, believe me, Miss Tilton, I think every thing good of you. But may I ask if you need the money now? You can just as well have it if you do." " You are very kind. The fact is that my poor mother has an internal trouble from which she may be relieved by a surgical oper ation, the local doctors say. But delay will prove fatal. That is why I am so anxious to get the funds as soon as possible to pay for the operation." 73 The Bo-ju-Lcgged Ghost *k "Say no more, Miss Tilton, I will assist you." Excusing himself, Dave went into the hotel office, and drew his check for $20x3. The manager, who knew him, cashed it, and he returned to the parlor with the money neatly stowed away in an envelope. Miss Tilton s eyes were suffused with tears as he handed her the little package. "This will enable you," he said, "to ac complish your present urgent desire, and per haps you will find cash enough left to provide yourself with a new gown. I shall want you to look your best at that dinner, you know." Miss Tilton nearly broke down under the unexpected beneficence of this sturdy stranger. She thanked him over and over again, until he begged her to desist from her explosions of gratitude. Then he invited her to luncheon, but she declined, saying she must be starting for home. She also refused his offer of a hansom, and, bidding him good-bye, went to the station. Two days later she wrote him a letter, in which she expressed her surprise at the amount he had given her, and declared that she could only accept the extra $100 as a temporary loan. She would certainly pay it 74 The Belle of the Dinner back soon, for she had accepted a certain posi tion at a salary out of which she could save a few dollars a week, and thus reimburse him. Her mother, thanks to his kindness, had been sent that morning to a private hospital in Hartford. She concluded her letter with an assurance that she had begun personal prepa rations against the momentous tenth of Novem ber. It did Dave s heart good to think that he had been able to render so valuable a serv ice to so deserving a young woman. As the date of the dinner came on apace, he felt a real anxiety concerning the probable impression Sylvia Tiltoii would make at Via- dello s. Would she be diffident and gawky and provincial ? That certainly would weigh against her. He speculated on the subject night and day. It finally occurred to him that he should leave no stone unturned to show her off to the best advantage. So he went to a certain well-known firm of jewelers, selected several beautiful rings variously set with diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, a pair of large first-water earrings, a tiara, and a pearl necklace, which he hired for two weeks, giving adequate security for them. These precious trinkets were placed in a secure little lacquer box and sent in a registered package 75 The Bo"W"Legged Ghost to Sylvia Tilton, together with the latest book on table etiquette, in which she found a letter from Dave, explaining that the jewels were loaned for her adornment at the dinner, and that the book might serve to entertain her leisure hours. He never knew how much the mere title of the little volume stung Sylvia s pride. Bob Ritchie, a member of the bar, with a growing practice, was by far the most intel ligent young man in this quartet. He pos sessed two extremes of temperament a lively sense of the ridiculous, and tremendous seri ousness. His friends were never certain which of these manifestations would be called forth by any given circumstance or situation, so that Bob was always something of an enigma, and many people on this account stood in respectful awe of him. He was an accomplished athlete, his particular prowess having been gained in boxing, football, and those more rigorous recreations in which muscle and mettle are absolutely indispen sable. In his cogitations over the wager, and the possibilities the dinner offered for a prac tical joke, he hit upon an idea which so thor oughly amused him being in one of his humorous moods during the progress of these The 13 die of the Dinner reflections that he determined to carry it out. To this end, on a certain afternoon, he rang- the bell of the Hartley residence on Madison Avenue. Now, it may as well be explained here that the present Mrs. Hartley was Mr. Hartley s second wife, and Dave s stepmother. She was just one year younger than Dave, and Dave was but that would not be fair to Mrs. Hartley. She had been, and was still, a remarkably beautiful woman of the brunette type. Carping critics might have called her too plump and florid, but they surely could not have found fault with her prematurely gray hair, which heightened her look of distinction. She was ever} inch a lady, and so gracious and sympathetic and sociable that she was always in favor with every one. Dave was wont to declare that he adored her as a woman, but hated her as a mother. Mrs. Hartley was entertaining a lady, when Bob reached the house, but the caller soon went away. "Now, Bob, don t tell me thctt you have come to take me to some cricket or football match. I have been up three nights and am just fagged out." " Please don t alarm yourself. I have some- The Bo-w-Legged Ghost thing on hand for November loth. What does your engagement book say ? "I am quite positive something is jotted down for that day. Let me think. No, the Boltons give their ball on the nth. Is this an important function ? " Very." "Bob, you are mischievous to-day. You must have won a big lawsuit. Come, sit down and tell me about it." "Well, it s a state secret, but it will be such fun that I wanted you in it. You see, four of us Amsterdam men have made a bet. Each man is to bring to Yiadello s for dinner the rarest specimen of feminine beauty he can get hold of. Percy Porter is to act as judge. The fellow who brings the handsomest woman rakes in the stakes, $800." " Very clever," commented Mrs. Hartley, seeing through the whole affair as clearly as though Bob had taken half an hour to explain it. "And you want me to accompany you and display myself in all my dotage. Precisely. " Bob, my dear fellow, I should be terribly de trop in that company and where would the fun be for me ? The Belle of the Dinner I will guarantee that you will laugh your sides sore. Now, will you go ? " " Bob, you are a gigantic humbug. Why don t you ask some stunning young girl like Florence Watts or Edna Sharot ? And there s Mariam Lawson, of Baltimore, who is visiting the Hymans. She is what you fel lows call a peach. Why, the town is crowded with beautiful young w r omen." " But none of them has your charm, which surpasses mere beauty." "Very fine of you, Bob. It s hard to re fuse you after that. However, I fear it will be impossible I have another strong reason for wanting you to be there." Well , counselor ? " Dave will be present. He is in the wager." This piece of information threw Mrs. Hart ley into convulsions of laughter. She swayed backward and forward, her face fairly writh ing in merriment. She only stopped to take in a breath now and then. All the rest of the time her risibles were in full action. After a while she calmed down long enough to ask : "Whom does Dave intend to take?" Of course Bob could throw 7 no light on that point, 79 The Bo~ju-Leggcd G/iost and Mrs. Hartley broke out afresh, but she kept herself under better control this time. She said she had never heard anything so ridiculous in all her life. Bob kept up a low series of chuckles, amused at her amusement. Finally, wiping the dews of laughter from her eyes with her handkerchief, she simply said : "Bob, you may count on me to accompany you. But not a word to Dave that I m to be present." " Trust me for that. Mrs. Hartley, you re a trump if there ever was one, I ll remember you in my will." II THE best dining-room in Viadello s estab lishment was brilliantly illuminated. The dinner was to begin at seven o clock ; it was now half-past six. At this hour Dave Hart ley met Sylvia Tilton by appointment in the lady s reception room of the Holland House. As the} r were shaking hands he complimented her on her personal appearance. He had feared somehow that she would come in dowdy attire. On the contrary, her dress and hat were up to date and elegant in their simplicity. " But where are the jewels your earrings, 80 The J3cllc of the Dinner the sunburst?" he asked, having observed that she was not wearing them. "Here," she responded, handing him the lacquer box. " Mr. Hartley, I have never been accustomed to wearing such costly orna ments, and I should only feel awkward with them on. Please do not insist on my wear ing them. Really, I cannot do it. I must go on my own merits or not at all." " Bless me ! What a sensitive plant you are. Ah, well, beauty unadorned is adorned the most, they say. You will at least wear one or two of the rings the marquise for instance." " Xo," said Sylvia, with decision. "It is quite impossible." Dave tried to conceal his annoyance, as he placed the box in the right-hand pocket of his topcoat, but it was several moments before he became reconciled to her not wearing the jew els. Then he ordered a carriage, in which they were conveyed rapidly to Viadello s. As they ascended the steps under the striped awning, Dave saw in the vestibule Miss Olcott and Sydney Van Loan, who had just arrived. A moment later he greeted them and intro duced Miss Tilton. The ladies were escorted to the reception room, after which the young 6 Si The Bo~jo-Lcggcd Ghost men excused themselves and returned to the vestibule arm in arm. "In the name of heaven, where did you get it?" whispered Van Loan. "She s a daisy. "That s the reason she s here. Oh, you haven t such a dead cinch as you thought you had." Who is she ? where is she from ? "Now, don t get inquisitive, old chap." Just then Mrs. Porter and Charlie Towns- ley entered. "Look, Dave!" exclaimed Van Loan. " See whom Charlie Townsley has brought." " Hello, fellows," saluted Townsley. " Good evening, Mr. Van Loan," said Mrs. Porter, extending her hand. "Mr. Hartley Mrs. Porter," introduced Van Loan. " Most charmed," said Mrs. Porter, bowing with graceful dignity. " Most honored, Mrs. Porter," returned Dave, gallantly. " I have the pleasure of your husband s acquaintance," he added. " Yes, I have often heard him speak of you, Mr. Hartley. You are a great traveler, I believe. " Well, I am not a chronic stay-at-home." 82 The JJelle of the Dinner " Let us go into the reception room," sug gested Van Loan. Then, sotto voce to Towns- ley, he added : "If we all get into a devilish scrape, it will be your fault. What possessed you to bring Mrs. Porter ? But you must see the girl Dave has brought." "Who is she?" " That is to be learned hereafter." They proceeded to the reception room, where necessary introductions followed. Mrs. Porter evinced an interest at once in Sylvia Tilton, who did not seem in the least embar rassed. Charlie Townsley meanwhile made himself agreeable to Mabel Olcott, whom he had met occasionally in society. Dave Hartley and Van Loan stood near the door, consulting their watches and furtively glancing at the three women present, as though eager to determine which of them stood the best chance of carrying off the honors. " I say, Van," remarked Dave, in an under tone, "it is not going to be a fair contest with Mrs. Porter here. Of course, Percy wouldn t have the heart, to say nothing of the nerve, to decide against his wife. I must say, she s a little daisy." " Makes a fine contrast to the other two, eh?" commented Van Loan. The Bo~d:-Legged Ghost Presently Mrs. Henry Hartley rustled into the room, followed by Bob Ritchie. Their appearance created a genuine sensation. Syl via Tilton wondered who the gray-haired woman might be. As for Dave, he stood aghast for a moment, at the sight of his step mother, then reeled against the wall, and hid his face in his hands as though to ward off an attacking bogy. In the meantime, with admirable presence of mind, Van Loan pre sented Mrs. Hartley to Miss Tilton, and those whom she had not met before. Bob stood with folded arms between Miss Olcott and Charlie Townsley, a mischievous smile hidden behind his luxurious black moustache. By this time, Dave had pulled himself together and when Mrs. Hartley advanced to greet him, he met her half-way, threw his arms around her shoulders, and gave a resounding smack full on the lips, with the remark : "So glad you came, dear mamma. "Please don t flatten out my sleeves, urged Mrs. Hartley. "Dave, you are so rough. Every body wanted to laugh outright, except Dave. His face was as red as a boiled lobster. He endeavored to speak, but words failed him. Mrs. Hartley turned away with the 8 4 The Belle of the Dinner injunction, spoken so that all could hear : Now see how well you can behave this even ing/ and began conversing in a most ani mated fashion with Mrs. Porter, w r hom she knew very well. Charlie Townsley walked over to the sofa where Sylvia sat and engaged her in an effervescent conversation ; somehow the presence of Dave s stepmother had given her a qualm of humiliation. Mrs. Hartley had greeted her in such a patronizing way. But it all seemed so ridiculous to her, that she saw it would be foolish to take offense at anything. Dave had informally disappeared in quest of a bracing cocktail. " What a jolly party it is," said Bob to Miss Olcott. "Don t you think informal occa sions like this are the most enjoyable?" "I think, Mr. Ritchie, you are a hopeless tease," returned Miss Olcott, who realized that it was a queer assemblage. She feared a contretemps. And poor Jack would he not be furious because of the deception she had practiced on him ? He had invited her to the theatre for this very evening, and she had put him off with some lame excuse. Dear, faithful Jack she could never forgive her self. Mrs. Porter had the art of dissimulation down fine, to use a bit of harmless slang, but The Bo~j:-Leggcd Ghost she began to think that perhaps she had been indiscreet in coming. Percy might feel aggrieved over it. The two people who thoroughly enjoyed themselves were Mrs. Hartley and her escort. The>- covertly made signs to each other that they relished the growing discomfiture of cer tain people present. Dave reappeared, par tially composed by the potent stimulant he had imbibed, but his manner was not alto gether free from nervousness. At ten minutes past seven, the head waiter appeared, saying that Signor Yiadello, who was personally superintending the dinner, was anxious to have them take their places at the table, as the viands were ready to serve and would spoil if kept long in the kitchen. " But Percy hasn t come, said Van Loan. "He will probably be here soon, said Charlie Townsley. " Viadello s reputation is at stake, you know." " Let s not wait for Percy," suggested Mrs. Porter. I am sure he will show up before the first course is finished." "All right," put in Van Loan, who volun teered to act as master of ceremonies. " Let s besiege the festive board at once. Thereupon he offered his arm to Mabel 86 77ic Belle of the Dinner Olcott and let the way to the dining-room, followed by the others, paired off as they had come. Viadello had composed a menu that was choice, if not elaborate. He knew the young men who had ordered the dinner, they had been there before, and he had the caterer s pride in pleasing his patrons. The table was a bower of flowers and ferns, among which were placed several silver candelabrums with mauve, yellow, pink, white, and green shades. A Hungarian orchestra began to discourse a weird rhapsody from the balcony above as the guests seated themselves. Promptly the oys ters came on and were leisurely dispatched, and the potagc a la Kcine Julienne was being served when Percy Porter walked in. His entrance made eating a secondary considera tion for the time being. He was greeted with wild shouts of welcome, in which Mrs. Porter joined with almost superfluous enthusiasm. Percy looked at his wife with an expression so mixed in character as to be wholly beyond in terpretation for a moment. It indicated sur prise, doubt, partial indignation, amusement, anxiety and then his countenance cleared and he burst into a hearty laugh. It was rather awkward for him to be introduced to 87 The Bow-Legged Ghost Miss Tilton and two or three others and to adopt the spirit of the occasion on the spur of the moment. Van Loan conducted him to the vacant chair at the head of the table which had been reserved for him. With what grace and wit he could summon he answered some of Charlie Townsley s chaff, but he was mani festly disconcerted and perplexed by the pres ence of his wife. To make matters a little more uncomfortable for him, the irrepressible Mrs. Porter accused him of woolgathering, and rallied him on his lack of interest in the Beauty Show, as she termed it. \Vith the best of intentions, Dave proposed Percy s health in a glass of Sauterne, to which e very- bod} but Sylvia responded. " Don t you like your wine? 1 Dave asked her, in a muffled voice. " I never drink it," was her answer, w~hich seemed to depress Dave immeasurably. "How perfectly sweet Dave s companion is," observed Mrs. Hartley to her escort, while the terrapin was being served. " Quite a Madonna, so delightfully unsophisticated, you know. I wonder where she is from." "Ask Dave," responded Bob, who added to himself, "Miss Tilton is far and away the handsomest woman at the table." The Belle of the Dinner The ladies and gentlemen tried to be en tirely happy as the courses proceeded. Cham pagne always loosened Mrs. Porter s tongue, if anything were needed beyond what nature had provided for that purpose. Indeed, this beverage had a similar effect upon Mrs. Hart ley, who scarcely needed it for stimulating loquacity. Mabel Olcott sipped very guard edly of her portion, and Sylvia ignored her glass entirely. Through the courses of filet dc boeuf a la Rothschild, pommes croqiiettes, su preme dc volatile merige^lx, with Montpensier, aspic de fois gras, with sorbet, canvasback clucks and cailles, and celery mayonnaise with Chateau la Rose, the company in the main became more en rapport, but there were two soreheads in the party, and one of them was Dave. This gentleman, just as the roast came on, excused himself, went to the office and sent word to Jack Church as follows : Your friend, Sydney Van Loan, is in trouble. Come to Viadello s at once. DAVE; HARTLEY. It so happened that Jack Church lived only three blocks away from Viadello s, and that he received the message within five minutes after it was sent. The Bo~jo-Lcgged Ghost The other sorehead referred to was Percy Porter. He was annoyed and all but dis gusted because his wife was present, though he w r as broad enough to see Townsley s inten tion in bringing her. He also saw r in Miss Tilton the inspiration of an ideal stud}- in oil, and w r ondered if she would consent to sit for him. But here was Mrs. Porter, and he was judge. Though not very religious, Percy in voked Providence to assist him. The glace, compote merveilleuse, gdteazix, bonbons, and cafe were served, and during one of the lulls Van L,oan rose to his feet and in his quaint manner and drawling voice said : "Mr. Judge, Ladies, and Gentlemen It be comes my urgent duty to announce that these exceptional festivities are drawing to a close ; that having enjoyed a pleasant repast, we are now to receive from the mouth of an authority his verdict which must concern everyone present especially those who have put up $200 on the issue. May we, Mr. Judge, ask you to deliver your decision ? "It will be necessary," responded Percy Porter, rising from his chair at the head of the table, for me to ask your indulgence for a little time, in order that I ma}- reach what every honest judge wishes to render an 90 77/6 Belle of the Dinner impartial decision. To this end permit me to withdraw for a few moments." With these words, Percy Porter disappeared into a rear room, and he had scarcely gone, when Jack Church, in his business suit, and looking the picture of trouble, flashed into the dining-room, saying : " Sidney, where are you ? "Here I am, old boy," said Sydney. "You are just in time. Come here. " But Jack Church stood quite still. He had seen Mabel, and his eyes swam and his brain reeled. Dave Hartley sprang from his seat, and went to the rescue. "See here, Jack," said Dave, "this looks queer to you, but it s all right." Jack did not answer, for at this instant Mabel left the table and advanced toward him. He was being urged to join the party by those who knew him. He returned every one s salu- tion civilly, but went with Mabel into the reception room, where it may be supposed she explained the whole situation to him satisfac torily. Something like a tumult was going on, when Percy, paler than any one had ever seen him before, returned and, standing in his place, said: "As umpire, I call this wager off, and as stakeholder, I have the money to 9 1 The Bow-Legged Ghost return to each individual who may rightfully claim it. Every woman here is so beautiful that it would be beyond human intelligence to decide which one definitely excels. Please accept my box at the opera house for the rest of the evening." The party went to the Metropolitan Opera House and enjoyed Calve as Carmen. Three weeks later Mabel and Jack were married, and all that were at the Viadello din ner were favored guests. Mrs. Porter sees a new wrinkle in Percy, and loves him more than ever. Sydney Van Loan, Charley Towns- ley, and Bob Ritchie are poor benighted bachelors, who may sometime see the error of their ways, and marry. Dave Hartley is the happy husband of Syl via, who has long since congratulated her self that she answered his personal in the newspaper. For she is safe in Dave s loyal love and in his assurance that if Mrs. Porter had not been at the dinner, Percy would have decided that she (Sylvia) could give the rest double discount in the game of beauty. And Sylvia, though now a mother, is inclined to look back upon that occasion with tolerance, for she knows, as well as everybody else, that she was in truth the Belle of the Dinner. 92 The Rise of Regan REGAN belonged to Bohemia. Like the poet John Boyle O Reilly, he "... would rather live in Bohemia Than in any other land." But his grotesque presence was not wel come in its upper circles. He hung on the outskirts of the cheap table d hotc set, who tell risquS stories and are not particular about their linen. No one knew where he came from, though from his own admissions he had lived in Cali fornia, and his stories of Australia and the South Seas were sufficiently circumstantial and embroidered with local color to substan tiate his claims that he had been there. Some years ago he appeared in the chorus of a company of which a noted Irish comedian was at the head. He could sing with a voice of trumpet power, but his engagement did not last long. After leaving the company he be gan to drift. Often on Broadway he was seen 93 The Bow-Legged Ghost among the pedestrians. He wore a rakish- looking cloth cap, set on a shock of tousled, red-bronze hair. His face was florid and smooth-shaven. He wore spectacles. His clothing was shabby and picturesqely made up of misfit, if not cast-off, garments. He lived on the East Side, in a small bare room. His meals were an uncertain quantity he trusted to luck for them. Month after month dragged by and Bart was still drifting. He sought engagements at the theatres, but his uncouth appearance was against him. Xo manager gave him the slightest encourage ment. There were days when none of his acquaint ances saw r him. At such times he remained in his cell-like apartment, pacing the floor, wring ing his hands in morbid despair, and threaten ing to kill himself. A part of the time he held a pencil in his hand and wrote on scraps of pa per. Sometimes he wrote late into the night. Once he stayed in his room for two days on a stretch. His landlady, wondering whether he was sick, sent her daughter to inquire about him. She rapped timidly on the door. Pres ently there was a click in the lock and the door opened. She saw the lodger. He looked wild and disheveled. 94 The Rise of Regan " Hello, Rosa! " he saluted. " What is the matter ?" I came to see if you were sick, " said Rosa, who was a little afraid of him. " Bless your heart, no. Only a trifle faint for want of something to eat. Come in, Rosa. I want to read you what I have written. If it doesn t sell, the river is left for me." Rosa Kress came into the room and sat down in the one chair, while Bart, taking up his manuscript, seated himself on the edge of the narrow, hard bed. " This story has to do with the psychology of murder. Have you read Edgar Allen Poe s Tales ? " "No," said Rosa ingenuously, "but I like L,aura Jean Ljbbey. " Bart laughed. " Well, now listen and see what you think of it." He began to read. It was the weirdest con coction ever put down on paper. But it was strong, bold, epigrammatic. Rosa listened with awe. His sonorous voice thrilled her. The story affected her to tears. She was an emotional German girl. " It is very fine," said Rosa, after he had finished. "I did not know you could write 95 The Bo~uo-Lcgged Ghost such grand things. Where is it to be pub lished ? "Oh, there s the rub. You see Rosa, I never have had anything printed. But when I hear alleged writers telling about their stuff, and see what they get published, it gives me a pain. So I thought I d try what I could do. I said to myself, I have traveled ; I have seen the world ; I have suffered ; why can t I write ? Do you really think it good ? " Indeed I do," said Rosa, " It is so strange and horrible. Was there ever such a wicked woman as the Lilith in your story ? "She is the Lilith of old, but there have been and are many Liliths. " But you must be almost starved. I will go and make you some soup," and Rosa started out of the room. " Never mind, Rosa ; I am going out and will find something to eat." But Rosa was already half-way down stairs. Bart went to the window and looked out. The skies had been gray and opaque with March clouds, but were now brightening as the sun blazed his way through them. And similarly into Bart s tired and embittered heart laughing sunshine seemed suddenly to have come. It was the smile of little Rosa Kress 96 The Rise of Regan that already had steeled his mind to all the rigors and opposition of the cold, sardonic world. This human flower of the East Side, innocent and sweet in the midst of the slums, henceforth should be the inspiration of his writings. Had she not told him with her own scarlet lips that she believed in him? Had she not made his life endurable by a kind act a few simple words? Presently Rosa returned, bearing a tray on which were a bowl of steaming soup, a cup of coffee, and half a loaf of swartz bread and butter. Bart tackled the meal without cere mony, for he was half famished thanking Rosa profusely the while and calling her an angel. An hour later he walked down to Park Row with his manuscript, and dropped into a cafe where he was sure of meeting some one he knew. Yes, there was Forbes Andrews, the great "free lance," standing treat for half a dozen journalistic parasites. Bart was invited to drink. He joined the others, managing to whisper to Andrews that he wished to show him something. Soon Andrews and Bart re paired to an alcove where they could be confi dential. Bart produced his roll of manu script. 7 97 The Bo^v-Lcggcd Ghost "Now, Andrews, you are a successful writer, and I want your honest opinion of this, and a tip as to where I can sell it. You know I need money more than flattery ; and if you don t think it will pass muster any where, I ll destroy it, and that will end it." Andrews made a pretense of reading it. He turned over the pages hurriedly, without try ing to grasp the nature of the story, and finally asked : How many words are there ? " I should say about three thousand." "It is a pretty tough-looking document, Bart, but take it around to the Investigator office; inquire for Jim Perry, the managing editor. I think he ll accept it on account of your curious use of English." Bart acted on Andrew s suggestion. He was told to come to the office in a week for a decision about it. To the unconventional Bart, it was the longest week he ever lived. During that interval he visited many haunts where men sit and guzzle beer all day and more than half the night. If not in one place, then in another, he would meet some one who asked him what he would have ; and by accept ing a treat he was privileged to make frequent trips to the free lunch counter and help him self to the coarse viands set there for custo- 98 The Rise of Regan mers. He had existed in this manner for many months, and he is not the only man who has resorted to this method of foraging. He was considerably in arrears to his land lady, but she was a patient soul and he was so enthusiastically certain he would make a " strike " soon, that she did not press him for the money he owed her. He went to the Investigator office only to be told that they could not use his story, it was too hyperboli cal, etc. Not altogether discouraged, how ever, he went to another newspaper w r ith it. A sub-editor told him to drop in about ten days later. At the end of that time he was informed that the story would not answer ; they advised him to try some of the weeklies. He visited the Every Saturday sanctum. Here he met more civil treatment ; the editor condescended to inquire concerning his past career. Bart frankly confided the particulars of his knock-about existence. Within three days his story was accepted, and he received a check for $15 for it. Delirious with joy, he ran all the way home and gave the check to his landlady, asking her to let him have a dollar out of it, to enable him to get some clean " laundry " at the Chinaman s. Though he still owed her more than $50 (at the rate 99 The Bo-jo-Lcggcd Ghost of $2 per week rent), Mrs. Kress humored the request, and a few minutes later, Rosa brought up to him some cheese, cake, and a cup of coffee. She congratulated him on having disposed of his story, and Bart told her he was going to make literature his profession. He met her often in the ground-floor hall, and in their informal chats he outlined to her some of his concepts, of which his mind seemed full to overflowing. And sometimes of an evening, he dawdled with her in the parlor, and heard her sing to the accompaniment of an organ, whose defective bellows made some queer modulations, which amused them both. She was ambitious to sing in public, and Bart told her it would be worth while for her to take lessons in vocal culture. She believed him, and her mother at last consented to pay a teacher for one term. In the meantime, Bart wrote more short stories and tried to sell them. He was not a good peddler of his wares, which he recklessly depreciated in a way that would have been sheer blackguardism had the statements ema nated from some one else. Every Saturday bought two other stories of his and published them after they had been edited. All of his work required revision, for he used words un- The Rise of Regan authorized by the lexicographers and his punc tuation and spelling were often ambiguous. Despite these defects, the editor of Every Sat urday pronounced Bart a genius a diamond in the rough. When he received a check he hastened to Mrs. Kress with it, as though he was afraid it would somehow slip away from him. How to convert it into cash was a proc ess he did not understand. By degrees he paid Mrs. Kress all but about ten dollars back rent. By this time he was head over heels in love with Rosa, and Rosa was at least intensely interested in him. His material condi tion remained visibly unaltered. He still wore seedy raiment and his diet was danger ously irregular. He went nearly every day to the Astor Library, where he read a number of books, particularly those of Darwin and Her bert Spencer. He talked vaguely about pro toplasm and the proletariat when some friend dined him at "The Black Cat" or the Hun garian Cafe. Now that some of his work had gotten into print, he enjoyed a certain prestige he had not commanded in his obscure days. He talked with more assurance and authority on mysterious problems of life and death, and even ventured to lay down canons for writers. The Bo~jc-Lcggcd Ghost At length it occurred to him to cross the ocean in the steerage and write an account of his experiences. He proposed the idea to sev eral editors, one of whom, the manager of a big patent plate concern, thought so well of it that he advanced Bart sufficient money to pur chase a steerage ticket to Liverpool, promising to pay him one cent a word for such of his matter as should be used. It was a great hard ship to leave Rosa, but she should hear from him often, and when he came back, suppose he should have enough capital sublime dream! to offer his hand to her in marriage! Rosa gave him a fine cambric handkerchief with his initials worked in the corner with her own hands, and let him kiss her when he said good bye. Bart sailed away on the Majestic. During the voyage he saw a man, who suddenly had become insane, jump over the rail into the sea and disappear forever beneath the fluted waves. He had other grewsome experiences, which were duly recorded and given to the American public in print. ii Two years later Forbes Andrews was stand ing in the lobby of a prominent Xew York The Rise of Regan hotel one afternoon, when a gentleman in a dress suit and crush hat approached him with extended hand and the salutation: "How a-r-r-e you, old fellow?" The burrs in his speech and his rich Irish brogue still clung to Bart. Andrews knew him in a glance, notwithstanding his sartorial transformation. " Well, I ll be - - ! Bart Regan ! Where in the did you spring from ? "London," was the laconic answer. " Landed yesterday. Just here for a short stay --to pay up old scores, blow the fellows who ever did me a good turn, yourself among them, and to get mar ried. "Ha! ha! You have } T our hands full, I should say. Bart, you re looking out o sight. Had a windfall from some rich uncle, eh?" "Better than that. I ve won it with my pen, which you always said was a feeble, clumsy implement. Come to Del s and dine with me and I ll tell you all about it. I owe you a good dinner for all the hospitality I have had from you." "Bah! let your maudlin gratitude go to grass. But I ll go you on the dinner proposi- 103 The Bo^c-Lcgged Ghost tion. I don t happen to have an engagement to-night." They rode up to Delmonico s in an auto mobile. Bart made selections from the bill of fare like a veteran epicure. During the repast he pulled out of his pocket a large wad of greenbacks, with the remark : Want to bor row some money ? "I don t mind," replied Andrews, making a grab, but missing the roll. " Been cracking the bank of England ? "I ll tell you all there is to it, : said Bart, putting his money back in his coat pocket. "When I struck London, my cash assets amounted to about five dollars. They didn t go far, though I lived as cheaply as a hobo. But I had some stories on hand that I had not been able to do anything with on this side. I began offering them to London editors. After a while I met Billy Ruffum, editor of the Cackler, who is an American, you know. He thought I was interesting and bought four of my stories, paying liberally for them on ac ceptance. He dined me at the Quill Club in Fleet Street, and introduced me to many of the literary moguls over there. They had some fun with me at first. But I bought some checked clothes and began to put on British 104 The Rise of Regan swagger, and the first thing I knew I w 7 as taken up in a social way and had invitations galore. There was a demand for my work and I pegged away at it as steady as clock work making hay while the sun shone. Soon I had an offer for a collection of short stories to be published in book form this week. The publisher advanced me 200 on it, and the money you just saw in my possession amounts to about $750 w r hat is left of the original sum. I am going to see all the boys, give them good dinners, pay back small sums they ve loaned me, and then back to dear old London for new conquests. And, by the way, the most delightful thing of all is this: I shall take back with me a wife the daughter of my old landlady. The young woman s name is Rosa Kress, the sweetest little creature in the world. We are to be married in the Church, on Second Avenue, next Friday morn ing. I herewith invite you to be present and also to attend the wedding breakfast afterward at the Hungarian Cafe. If you see any of the boys that were my friends, tell them about it and say they are invited. By the way, w r hat is the matter with your being my best man? " Nothing at all. But how did you get there, Bart?" 105 The Bo~jc-Lcggcd Ghost "Oh, I can t explain it. Fate just got tired of tormenting me and while she was looking for another victim I slipped away from her and crawled up the mountain side. The glorious Peak of Success is away up there in the azure, but I m going to scale it, and don t you make any mistake about it. 1 06 Mrs. Tubbs s Manoeuvres WONDER what that man is up to?" Though Mrs. Tubbs addressed the in- quiry to herself, she hastily glanced at a dozen or more articles in the room, as if to wheedle from them an answer. The fact was, Mrs. Tubbs had become impatient. She could hear the last faint summons of the church bell in the village, a good two miles away, and to be late at service she always had considered a useless, not to say an irreverent, proceeding. Coming after the contribution box of regula tion black walnut, with its long handle, like an old-fashioned corn-popper, had been passed, seemed to her like an intentional avoidance of charitable duty. Mrs. Tubbs stood in the middle of the room working on her black kids, with that unctuous precision which most women exercise in such a performance. She was on the point of call ing her husband when he made his appearance in the doorway. Mrs. Tubbs surveyed him, in his tall hat and Sunday suit, with evident 107 The Boiv-Lcgged Ghost approval, for Chauncey was not a real bad- looking man when he was dressed up. His long, angular, smooth-shaven face and his drooping violet eyes gave him a certain order of distinction. But her silent admiration suffered a reaction when she gazed at his boots. "For Heaven s sake, Chauncey Tubbs, what on earth s the matter with your boots? They look like iron. Well, I never ! " Mr. Tubbs bowed his head and inspected his feet. His wife had hit the bullseye of verisimilitude when she said his boots looked like iron. "They do look a little mite queer," he acknowledged, a moment later. "Well, I should say as much," returned Mrs. Tubbs, with exuberant sarcasm. "What have you been puttin on them? Surely it s not blackin . I declare it s stove polish. Oh, if that ain t exasperatin , I don t know what is. It s just like a stupid man for all the world. You ve just spoilt my Sunday, for I wouldn t be seen dead with you in them boots up to the village/ " Come, Hannah, don t git all worked up over nothin . Folks ain t goin to think any the less of me for a little mistake like that. 1 08 J/r.v. 7}(bbs j s jManocu vrcs Come, we ll jump in the wagon and be off in a jiffy." "Not a step will I go," said Mrs. Tubbs, snappishly, "unless you change them boots and put on something respectable." " Well, I ll go and see if I can borrow a pair of Jake s." And Chauncey disappeared in search of the hired man. Mrs. Tubbs seated herself on a haircloth chair and began to meditate upon her sad lot. It did seem sometimes as though Chauncey Tubbs had lost his senses. He was always getting into hot water. Where would the farm go to if it wasn t for her level head and unerring judgment? All to smash, of course. Mr. Tubbs did not succeed in his mission to the hired man. Jake was going over to Sun set Hollow to see his girl and he needed his good boots very much, but he was awful sorr}-, be cause he would like to accommodate Mr. Tubbs. The latter entertained no serious desire to re turn defeated to the irritable presence of his wife, and it occurred to him to interview Ma tilda Ryer on his way back to the parlor. Accordingly, he crept up the back stairs and knocked at her bedroom door. Matilda was a 109 The Bow-Legged Ghost large buxom girl, and Chauncey conjectured that he could wear her shoes on a pinch anyway. He briefly explained his dilemma, taking out his watch to emphasize the fact that he had no time to lose, and ended by ask ing her for the loan of her shoes. She blushed as red as a ripe peach, laid down the sensa tional story paper she had been excitedly read ing, and produced her best kid shoes. With the aid of a formidable hairpin Mr. Tubbs soon had them buttoned, and, with a smile three-fourths gratitude and one-fourth satis faction, he repaired to the parlor. "How do you like these? Jake needs his best boots to-day, so I borrowed Matilda s shoes. Ain t they all right, Hannah ? " "Gracious goodness, Chauncey Tubbs, if you ain t the most aggravatin man I ever see. Are you losin the little mind you ever had ? The idea of puttin on them things. Sup- posin anybodj^ should find out that you wore our hired girl s shoes to church, you never would hear the last on t to your dyin day, never! If you ain t the most ridiculous man I ever see. You better put the horses back in the barn, for you ve fussed around till its too late for meetin now." "Come, Hannah," entreated Mr. Tubbs, Mrs. Tubbs" 1 s Manoeuvres humbly, " don t take on that way. Tnis foot gearin s plenty good enough." Mrs. Tubbs was implacable. She had her ow y n opinions and she thought in result, at least for her husband most of the time. Somewhat crestfallen, Chauncey went to put the horses in the barn, while Mrs. Tubbs, thoroughly exasperated, went to the door of the back-stairs and shouted, " Matilda." " Yes, ma am." " You needn t cook the chickens that Jake killed this morning for dinner. When it comes time just put on the table some stale bread and butter, and what s left of the apple sauce w r e had last night, and some tea." Closing the door vigorously, without wait ing to hear the servant s meek answer, "All right, ma am," Mrs. Tubbs proceeded to her bedroom to lay aside her new bonnet which she had purchased on the preceding Thursday at the village milliner s. She had been ex pecting to make something of an impression among the sistren when she walked into church to-day. But alas ! all on account of that fussy man of hers she was deprived of the blessed privilege of attending divine serv ice she who never intended to miss a Sun day from church unless there was sickness in The Bow-Legged Ghost the family. She also removed her vari-colored cashmere shawl which she had worn on dress occasions for the last fifteen years. It smelt strongly of musk Mrs. Tubbs favorite "odor 1 and she prized it very highly, as it was a present from her first husband. She did not however change her Sunday gown a rather ancient fabrication of black silk. In the capacious pocket of that dress Mrs. Tubbs always kept a plentiful assortment of allspice, which it was her wont to eat a goodly portion of during the progress of the sermon. As Mrs. Tubbs s teeth were artificial and did not fit her mouth as well as they might have done, she was apt to make no dainty noise while masticating cloves, cassiabuds, cinnamon, etc., to the general annoyance or intense amuse ment of those within earshot. Coming down stairs Mrs. Tubbs, still in something of a " pet " over her husband s re cent conduct, sought consolation in the words of Holy Writ. She was reading in her favor ite Book of Proverbs the words, Love not sleep, lest thou come to poverty ; open thine eyes, and thou shalt be satisfied with bread," when Chauncey rather gingerly entered the parlor. He still wore the buttoned shoes he had borrowed from Matilda, and as his trou- Mrs. Tubbs s Manoeuvres sers were what is known as the high-water kind, his pedal appearance was little short of ludicrous. " Chauncey," said she, looking over her glasses with hypercritical severity, did you hear what I was just readin in the blessed Word?" "Can t say I did exactly," replied Chaun cey, as he proceeded to poke the logs in the grate, in default of anything better to occupy his attention. "There, let the fire alone and listen to what I m a-sayin. That passage in Scrip ture I was just readin applies to you. I do believe you try to oversleep Sunday morn ings just on purpose to git rid of goin to church." And thus Mrs. Tubbs continued to prate until she was quite worn out. After these venomous discourses, it was her custom to re lapse into an iron silence, so to speak, which she would maintain for hours on a stretch, paying no heed to the conciliatory efforts and occasional questions of her husband. For the next two hours she read her Bible with deep absorption, while Mr. Tubbs composed him self on the sofa and fell asleep. At length Matilda rang the bell for dinner. The 13 o~*.v- Legged Ghost Stolidly Mrs. Tubbs walked into the dining- room, followed by her passive liege lord. "Is this all you ve got to eat?" inquired Mr. Tubbs, with a hungry look. "It s more than you deserve this day," Mrs. Tubbs deigned to reply. Mr. Tubbs indulged in a few indignant thoughts which he was wise enough not to utter aloud. He ate the stale bread and butter and apple sauce and drank his tea in silence, and Mrs. Tubbs did likewise. The latter was seated opposite a window that commanded a view of the turnpike. Suddenly her face crimsoned as she exclaimed : There come the Twomblys, and as sure as I live they are going to stop here ! Of course, they ll expect to stay to dinner. Oh, what shall we do, what shall we do?" Sure enough John Twombly drove up to the horse block in front of the Tubbs s mansion. Presently they rang the doorbell. Mrs. Tubbs, in a flutter of confusion, opened the door. "Why, how d do," she exclaimed, with a very good simulation of cordiality; "I m so glad you stopped. Come right in. How d do, Mr. Twombly. Xow you can stay to dinner with us. I was just goin to tell Ma tilda to put on the chickens to boil." 114 J/r.s\ Tubbs" s Manoeuvres We was surprised not to see you to meetin to-day," said Mrs. Twombly as she removed her wraps in the deliberate manner of large, phlegmatic women. "We missed you very much. We did have such a good sermon to-day. I told Mrs. Peachblow as we was comin out of church, that I thought our min ister preached better and better, and she said she thought so, too. Ha, ha, ha!" Yes," put in Mr. Twombly, " you ought to heard that sermon, Mrs. Tubbs. You missed a grand treat. Where is Chauncey ? " But before Mrs. Tubbs could reply, Chauncey came into the parlor. He was chew ing some of the stale bread, and in his vest was tucked a napkin which plainly evidenced the fact that he had come from the dinner-table. His appearance mortified Mrs. Tubbs beyond measure. Had she not just intimated that dinner was not yet ready? She had been about to say that she and Mr. Tubbs, having gone to bed tired the night before, had con cluded to sleep late this morning and try and get rested out. " Hallo, John," saluted Chauncey, address ing Mr. Twombly, with whom he shook hands. "How d do, Mrs. Twombly? Been to meetin I s pose. "5 The Bo-v-Leggcd Ghost "Yes," said John, "but you are having -dinner now ain t you?" he added, glancing at Mr. Tubbs s napkin. "I ll tell you how it is," broke in Mrs. Tubbs, with a nervous titter. "We slept so late this mornin we thought we d eat a little something now, and then have dinner about three. I thought maybe you d stop and see us on your way home, and now I m glad we put off our regular dinner so you can have it with us." "That s about the way it was," remarked Mr. Tubbs. "John, I ll go and put your horses in the barn and give em some feed. Jake s gone away for the day. He s gettin pretty soft on one of Bill Ulum s daughters." " I don t know as we d better stay to din ner," said Mrs. Twombly. "We left the children at home to-day in charge of Miss Wilby, the school-teacher, who boards with us. I ve cooked up enough to last em, but maybe, John, we d better drive on home. I m afraid it s going to put you out." "Now, don t say that," urged Mrs. Tubbs, " you know I d be only too glad to have you stay to dinner. Now just make yourself right to home. I ll go out in the kitchen and see how Matilda is gettin on. Chauncey, show 116 J/;\v. Tubbs^ s ^lanceuvres Mrs. Twombly our new album. Brother George, who lives out in Colorado, sent us a photograph of himself last week. You re member him ? "Oh, yes." The picture looks real natural. " Well, I s pose we might as well stay, then, Mary , : observed John Twombly. Chauncey, I ll go out with you to the barn and fix the horses. While the two men were unhitching the horses in the barn, John said: " Been getting a new pair of shoes, I see, Chauncey." "Well, yes," said Tubbs, hesitatingly. The} are a new kind for you, aint they ? inquired John, eyeing them with close scru tiny. They look more like women s shoes. Chauncey laughed. " What you laughin at? " asked John. "Oh, nothin ." Chauncey was obviously ill at ease. But he did not dare to confess to John that he was wearing Matilda s shoes. If it ever reached the ears of Mrs. Twombly the whole township would be certain to know all about it. When the men returned to the house, busy preparations were going on for dinner. Mrs. Twombly insisted on donning an apron and 117 The Bow-Legged Ghost helping Mrs. Tubbs and Matilda. Mrs. Tubbs protested, but it was no use. Mrs. Twombly was a great gossip and she had a number of choice bits of information and hear-say to impart to her eager listener, Mrs. Tubbs. Chauncey managed to steal upstairs and get on his slippers, returning the tell-tale shoes to their owner s room. He felt better after that, and was able to hold his own in conver sation with John Twombly on such topics as crops, the present price of butter, the next town supervisor, the death of old farmer Tardy in his 98th year, etc. Finally a dinner to tempt an epicure was an nounced, and before the Sabbath sun had set, Mr. and Mrs. Tubbs had regained their wonted composure, and the Twomblys went home well pleased with the exceptional hospitality they had received. 118 A Parlor-Car Romance train moved out of the Albany station with a mellow rumble and was soon rushing westward over level vistas of waving green. In the Wagner car, wherein I occupied chair No. 12, there were seven per sons, five gentlemen, including myself, and two ladies, who sat nearly opposite to me. One of them was an elderly woman with a sal low, careworn countenance. The other was a young lady not over twenty-four, and a more strikingly beautiful face I never before had seen. Anon her rose-red lips moved in mur murs too low to be caught by the ear, but which seemed to be framing happy phrases. The elderly woman gazed with a dull, curi ous concern at the young lady for a time, and then composing herself in a half- recumbent position, closed her eyes, and evidently was soon sound asleep. The young lady continued her soft whisperings to herself, now smiling with sudden transport, now lapsing into ab straction. On a sudden, observing that I was 119 The Bow -Legged Ghost watching her intently, she bowed cordially and smiled. I returned the salutation with hastily summoned gallantry. She immediately rose from her chair, crossed the narrow aisle of the car, and extended her hand to me. "How do you do, Mr. Bering?" she said with unaffected courtesy. " I little dreamed of meeting any one on this train I should know. When did you leave New York ? When did I leave ha! ha! evidently a case of mistaken identity. I had not been to New York in six months. I was both per plexed and embarrassed. The confidence game had been played on me once or twice with ill- starred success, but I could not bring myself to associate her with any such employment. No ; this delicious creature thought she knew me, and, in view of the fact that I was com pletely fascinated with her, I felt mischiev ously inclined to lead her on. Sol said: "I left New York last night." "Indeed! so did we. By the way, Mr. Bering, I heard you had gone abroad. You told me the last time we met at the Academy of Besign, you remember, that you were going." " I did intend to go/ I ventured, " but was A Parlor - Car Romance obliged to postpone the journey on account of business. " "Business!" she retorted with testy sar casm, "why, I thought you were going on that account. But I never knew that an art ist, who deals exclusively with the ideal, could degrade his art by calling it business." She laughed heartily, as though conscious of having said a good thing. While speak ing, she seated herself in the chair next to mine. I was now somewhat puzzled for an an swer. Not knowing how much I might say without betraying myself, I concluded that it would be a wise policy to remain silent until another subject was broached. "How is your friend, the Professor?" she asked, after a brief pause. " He was feeling very well the last time I saw him," I replied, with an assumed air of interest. Then he has entirely recovered from the gout ? "Oh, he always will have occasional at tacks of it, I suppose." "It is such a pity," she went on, "for a man of his talent to be so afflicted. They say his wife is very devoted to him. The Profes sor gave me eight terms on the piano, you TJie Bo-w-Legged Ghost know. I think his method of instruction is simply perfect. I was informed the other day that his son let me see, what is his Christian name ? A painful silence ensued. I would have given a year s salary to have been able to tell her the name of the Professor s son. "His name? Well, really, it escapes me just at this moment. I never knew him very well." " How strange! he is one of your pupils in drawing, is he not?" "Yes, but forgetting names is one of my weaknesses," I said evasively. She never finished what she started to say about the Professor s son, and I was exceedingly glad she changed the subject. For five minutes she seemed lost in sober reverie. Then suddenly she exclaimed, her eyes grown large and distended, and signs of nerv ous perturbation in her manner, "Julian, there s no use of our masquerading before each other any longer. You know very well you were jealous of me because I went to the Rivington s ball with my cousin, Brooklyn Percy, and out of sheer revenge you escorted that silly plebeian Cora Walsingham to the Italian Opera. After we became engaged you A Parlor -Car Romance always declared that whatever faults I might discover in you, I should not find an atom of jealousy among them, for, in any emergency, you insisted that you could trust me. And the very first test I put upon your confidence showed how little you knew yourself. Don t you think it was scandalous and cruel to treat me in that way? But I forgive you. We must make up, Julian, and have no more un pleasantness. I won t go to any more parties with my cousin first cousin, mind you Brooklyn, and of course I cannot allow 7 you after this to be even civil to Cora." This is getting rather melo-dramatic," said I to myself. Now and then the elderly woman moved restlessly in her sleep, and fear ing she would awaken and make it even more exciting for me, my anxiety to terminate the interview became agonizing before the lady had finished her mysterious monologue. The singular turn of her conversation had set me all agog. Was she trying to impose upon me for the sake of amusement, or was she ad ministering w T hat she considered a deserved punishment for my impudent stare ? Yet the magic by which she held me robbed my mind of reason, and it mattered not that her words were inexplicable, so charmingly were they 123 The Borc-Lcggcd Ghost uttered. If she really mistook r me for her lover Julian, I was not going to object. It was a truly novel sensation to me to feel that I was engaged, especially to such a goddess. I only hoped the illusion would never desert her, and that it would all end in our being married. I know that some people who read this will deplore my lack of good equine sense, and deny such a thing as love at first sight in these extraordinary circumstances. I can only recommend those who take this view of the case mentally to put themselves in my romantic place; otherwise their criticism will not possess the justice of impartiality. Love is blind, they say, and in the present instance he was deaf to the meaning, though not to the music and charm cf this fair woman s discourse. "We must bear and forbear with each other," she continued. "I believe you are the greatest man in the world, and will do great and heroic deeds, and you must believe me the dearest, sweetest, and most affectionate woman on earth. " I do," I said, in quavering tones. " Do you, dear? " She supplemented the query by an unex pected action. She threw her arms about my neck and lavished upon my lips rapid, burning 124 A Parlor -Car Romance kisses. The men in the car regarded my situ ation with intense amusement. At this junc ture a tall, well-dressed gentleman entered the rear door of the car, approached rapidly to where the lady sat, and, touching her arm, said gently: "Come, Constance, sit over here, I have something to tell you. She allowed him to assist her to her chair, in which she leaned forward as he whispered something in her ear and pointed out of the window. He then roused the elderly woman from her nap, and, with a look of displeasure, if not of anger, spoke to her in an undertone. The beautiful young lady s attention evidently had been wholly transferred from me to some thing at which she was gazing intently out of the window. The gentleman, now motion ing me to follow him, proceeded forward to the smoking compartment. I noticed his dis turbed expression, and as I rose to comply with his request I wondered if he intended to end my existence with a bullet. " I trust," he began, after we were seated, "that you will overlook that you will par don the unusual behavior of the lady who has been addressing you. My wife is hopelessly insane, and we are now taking her to the Utica Asylum." 125 77ic Bow-Legged Ghost Tear-drops stood in his eyes as he spoke, and his sorrow deeply impressed me. He of fered no further explanation, and stammering out a few awkwardly assorted words of sym pathy, I returned to my chair for my hand bag. I knew it w T ould be torture to remain in her presence and be ogled by the passengers. With feelings shocked and ashamed, I glanced for the last time at my fair divinity, who was gazing serenely out of the window. I sighed, and went into the next car. 126 A Telling Speech i DECLARE, it seems as though folks in this -. place git stingier ev ry year. Squire Huggleton and Mr. Kerr, the store keeper, and Jerry Hix, who keeps the tavern, have all put their feet down on subscribin for any doin s, and so Accident Centre ain t goin to have any Fourth o July. Them that wants to celebrate real bad 11 have to ride thirteen miles to Crowville, but I ll warrant the show they git up 11 be pretty slim to what we re used to when we do anything tall in that line." The widow Crumps, while giving utterance to the foregoing remarks, proceeded to tidy up the chamber wherein her one summer guest, Mrs. Van Ness, of Xew York, also a widow, languidly endeavored to make herself at home. "But," asked Mrs. Van Xess, "cannot other people in the village get up a celebration 7 hc BOTH -Legged Ghost without the aid of the men you mention, if they try?" "I s pose they could," answered Mrs. Crumps somewhat dubiously, "but it wouldn t be worth talkin about afterwards. I m so sorry they re goin to let the Fourth slip by this year without so much as liftin a finger. The reason for my havin these feelin s, Mrs. Van Ness, is just this : You know, they gen erally have a greased pole, with a silver watch or some other valuable prize on top of it. The person that climbs the pole first gits it. Well, Zeb has been practicin climbin a greased pole that he fixed up in our barn, for quite a spell back, and he says he s larnt how it s done. So you see, Mrs. Van Ness, why I m anxious for a celebration. I m sure Zeb could win the silver watch, or whatever it was, and we do need all we can git our hands on without stealin ." By way of consolation to Mrs. Crumps, Mrs. Van Ness ventured the suggestion that the squire, the merchant, and the landlord might be more public-spirited and patriotic the following year. The idea afforded a bit of comfort to the widow Crumps, and pres ently she went into the kitchen, smiling with the hope that twelve months and a fortnight 128 A Telling Speech from that time her only child, Zeb, a strap ping youth of nineteen, would accomplish his ambition successfully, by climbing the greased pole and thereby adding to the family posses sions. Accident Centre is a trim little village of six hundred inhabitants, situated in a fine valley in one of our great Middle States. Within a few miles of the town, the mountain streams for years have lured the metropolitan angler, who is fond of bringing to his summer cottage a creditable catch of the finny beauties that disport in those laughing waters. Among the New Yorkers who had become enamored of the region on account of the recreation to be had along its leaping ghylls, was Richard Treadwell, a rising young attorney. Mrs. Van Xess had employed young Treadwell as counsel to defend a suit brought against her husband s estate by a son and daughter by his first wife, the children s claim being that they were entitled to a larger amount of the prop erty than was named in the old gentleman s will, which they tried to prove was the out come of undue influence on the part of the second wife, to whom the major portion of the estate had been bequeathed. After a long litigation, Treadwell won the suit, and also, 9 129 The Bow-Legged Ghost though quite unwittingly, the affections of Mrs. Van Ness, his client. The fees he had intended to ask for his professional services were by herself voluntarily doubled, and he was soon made aware of the fact that Mrs. Van Ness was rather desperately in love with him. Though unusually attractive in person, well bred, and in a way gifted, and a later arrival on earth by several months than himself, the young widow Van Ness was not the ideal woman concerning whom Treadwell had in dulged in more or less vague speculation. His sentimental indifference to her nettled her pride, while at the same time it goaded her to a feminine determination to bring him, in the course of time, to her feet. She unexpectedly appeared in public places where a study of his course of life led her to know he would be. Thus it was that soon after he went to Acci dent Centre with some friends one summer, he met Hortense Van Ness face to face in the vil lage street. In his not exuberant greeting he naturally expressed his wonder at seeing her in this out-of-the-way and, for a Gotham woman of fashion, uninteresting place. But did Mr. Treadwell remember, if he ever had known, that she was very fond of trout fishing her- 130 A Telling Speech self, and that she asked no odds of any mascu line manipulator of a fly-rod along a mountain stream ? Treadwell honestly exhibited sur prise at this revelation, but experience with her enabled him to penetrate her mask. On the whole, he was displeased, and somew r hat abruptly bade her good-day. Contrary to her usual habit, Mrs. Van Ness did not arrive in the village with a big splurge of Saratoga trunks, maids, and her own horses; she did not engage the best suite of rooms at the Hix House. She came unheralded, with one modest trunk and some minor luggage, and found a quiet home painfully quiet to her at the widow Crumps . Now it chanced that in Accident Centre there dwelt a young woman by the name of Marian Forsyth. She could grand discount any other lass or matron in the village or township in the tournament of beaut} 7 ; nor in the county, if in the State, was there her equal. Treadwell fell in love with her the first time he saw 7 her, at a private picnic in the balsamic woods. On that occasion he betrayed his in fatuation many times, but his perceptions were sufficiently keen to discern that she did not exactly fancy him. Marian was an orphan. Disappointed in his political ambitions, her The Bow-Legged Ghost father had died the previous year. Colonel Forsyth had served with honor in the Civil War and had enjoyed an extensive legal prac tice after leaving the army. He had left his only child motherless, but with a comfortable annuity, and a maiden aunt had since come to live with her as a companion. Marian was still in mourning for her father. ii THE Fourth of July not to be celebrated in Accident Centre, because the three leading citizens had so determined by their refusal to provide the requisite funds for the purpose promised to be a dreary day to all the inhabi tants, but to two city visitors in particular. Mrs. Van Ness half wished she were at Sara toga or elsewhere, because she was out of con ceit with the probability that Mr. Treadwell, though but a few rods away, would call on her. To Richard Treadwell it was a gloomy day, though the skies themselves were bright and cloudless, because he did not know what to do with himself. His proposed trip to a certain trout preserve had been postponed on account of the failure of other members of the party to appear. He finally concluded to send a note to Marian asking if she would let him pay her 132 A Telling Speech a call. He sent the message by Zeb, who was hostler and man-of-all-work at the Hix House. After some delay Zeb bounced into Treadwell s room in the hotel, without stopping to knock, and said: Here, sir, this letter s from Marian ; and as I come down the street, that ere Mrs. Van Ness that is stoppin at ma s house tole me to give this to ye, too." Two notes: one perfumed and written on delicately tinted stationery; the other on coarse, commercial note paper, placed in an envelope that did not match its size. But think you on which Treadwell s eyes lingered the longer? In the order that he read them follow the two communications: MR. RICHARD TREADWELI,. Dear Sir: As Mr. Tom Levine is on probation, which means that if he proves to be all I dare think he is now, it would not be right for me to receive you to-day as a caller, knowing as I do your thoughts, I suggest that you defer your call indefinitely. MARIAN FORSYTH. And thus ran the other note: MY DEAR MR. TREADWEL.L: It would be cruel of you not to know that, pent-up as we are in this dull, benighted hamlet, with not even a church festival to look forward to. it is your chival rous duty to call on one who has reposed in you such 133 The Bow-Legged Ghost implicit confidence in the past. By the way, we have never fished together for trout, so you do not know my skill. But ugly rumors are afloat that you have a fair divinity in this town. If this be true I herewith can cel my invitation, unless you really care to see me. Sincerely, HORTENSE VAN NESS. Treadwell spent the day in his room smok ing, reading a French novel, and thinking in a very serious vein. in ONE year later. The morning of the Ever Glorious." All the inhabitants of Accident Centre early leave their beds. Anon thunder ous reports are heard from the hillside, where several boys are engaged in loading and "touching off" the "Old Mortar," made years ago by Sandy Dow, the blacksmith. As the sun climbs higher up the eastern azure, country folk begin to pour into the village. Some of them come in creaking "lumber" wagons, some in spic-and-span "buggies," others on foot. Accident Centre wears quite a gala air. From the cupola of the Academy waves a bright flag; another floats in the breeze from an upper window of the Hix House, and other smaller flags are to be seen A Telling Speech here and there the entire length of Main Street. Bob Yokam, the hunchback, has with much exertion erected a wayside booth on a vacant lot next to the tin-shop, and here expects to do a thriving day s trade in peanuts, ginger- snaps made by his mother, red lemonade, rootbeer brewed by himself, and cheap cigars. Rustic urchins are already burning punk, set ting off fire crackers, and hurling torpedoes in the street. It is going to be a great day. At nine o clock the Rocky Dell Fife and Drum Corps enter the village playing a martial tune. They stop in front of the Hix House and render The Girl I L,eft Behind Me," with thrilling effect. A fat man plays the bass drum, which is strapped in front of him. He pounds on both heads of the instru ment with two neatly-turned, knobbed sticks. In certain passages he seems *to get in more beats than the showy snare drummer him self. At ten o clock the procession forms opposite the hotel for the march to the grove, where patriotic exercises are to be held. It is headed by the marshal of the day, Squire Huggleton, who has " come down handsomely " this year to help defray the expenses of the celebration. Next comes the Accident Centre Silver Cornet J 35 77ic Bo-^v-Leggcd Ghost Band, every one of whose twelve members ap pears fully to appreciate the importance of the occasion, especially the drum major. Then follow in pairs the leading citizens of the vil lage : Doctor Peters ; Rev. Mr. Kirby, pastor of the Methodist Church ; Rev. Mr. Harding, of the Baptist Church ; Mr. Gabble, editor of the Accident Centre Defender, beside whom walks Richard Tread well, Esquire, of New York, who has accepted the invitation to deliver an oration. The exercises in the Grove begin with prayer, offered by the Baptist clergyman. Then the band plays, and then little Willie Gordon, the prodigy of the village, " speaks a piece," which elicits from certain females in the assemblage such exclamations as, "Ain t he jest too cute ? " " Did you ever ? " " Well, if he ain t cunriin !" etc. Miss Lucy Smart, the teacher of the primary department in the Academy, follows with a trembling and flus tered reading of the Declaration of Independ ence. The Clover Valley Glee Club sing "The Star-Spangled Banner," and for an en core "Oh, Promise Me," and then merchant Kerr, the President of the Day, expresses his rare pleasure in introducing Richard Tread- well. The latter, dressed in a close-but- 136 A Telling" Speech toned Prince Albert, rises, and in an easy, graceful manner enters upon his discourse. There is no spread eagle or bombast in his peroration. Occasionally he rises to true eloquence. The dark eyes of the widow Van Ness are riveted upon him, but he does not recognize her in the sea of up turned faces. Marian Forsyth is also there, but she gives little heed to what he is saying, until, in referring to the brave men who w r ent to the front in the Civil War, he mentions the name of Col. John L,. Forsyth, to whose memory he pays an impassioned and glowing tribute. Whatever may be Tread well s mo tive, certain it is these tender allusions to her father go home to Marian s heart. The tact ful and eloquent words bring tears to her eyes, and through them she sees Richard Treadwell in a new, not to say fonder, light magnified to the proportions of a hero. The address makes a profound impression on every one and is conceded to be quite worthy of Colo nel Forsyth himself, who, when alive, was acknowledged to be the greatest orator in that section. Many people have arranged to take dinner in the Grove, but Richard, refusing a number of invitations, returns to the hotel. After dinner The Bow-Legged Ghbst he sends a note by a small boy to Marian For- syth, asking if he may call. The small boy comes back with word that she has gone to the cemetery. Thither he loses no time in making his way. At this very moment the afternoon sports and revels are beginning. The Procession. of Horribles, young fellows on stilts and dressed in outlandish feminine attire, etc. , creates much mirth. The wheelbarrow races are equally in teresting to the excited mob. But the greased pole seems to gather the greatest crowd. On its top is fastened a new silver watch, donated by Mrs. Van Ness, who hopes Zeb will cap ture it. Great fun is it, indeed, to watch those who endeavor to climb the pole. Jack Ha- gan, something of a local athlete, gets about a quarter of the way up, and then slips to the ground exhausted. Then Zeb, his jaw firmly set, determination in his eyes, clasps the base of the greasy pole in his brawny arms. Slowly he begins to climb. The crowd applauds. But his ears are deaf to the cries: " Go it Zeb! He ll git the ticker! He s been practicin ," etc. He has gained half the distance up the pole and, panting, pauses to rest. Alas! when he resumes his task, he suddenly loses his grip and falls to the ground with a groan. Poor 138 A Telling Speech Zeb! he leaves the jeering throng, a picture of dejection. The watch is not for him. . . . Richard Treadwell has one good reason for assuming that Marian will pleasantly receive him. Some months ago Tom Levine was dis covered in the act of taking money from a reg istered letter, by Postmaster Kerr, his em ployer. Before he could be prosecuted Tom fled from Accident Centre. Where he now is no citizen of the place knows, though it is rumored that he is in Canada. Richard finds Marian kneeling over her father s grave. He apologizes for his intru sion. She extends her hand, and in a quaver ing voice thanks him for his public tribute to her father. Before releasing her hand he begs the priceless gift for life. She cannot speak at once but as the afternoon wears on she knows her own heart better. As the twilight comes they leave the cemetery. They are both superlatively, silently happy, as plighted lovers are, in the first dawning of their troth. Sauntering leisurely toward Marian s home, they meet Zeb. "I didn t git the watch, Mr. Treadwell," he exclaims. "A feller I didn t know from up the river, jest went up that pole like a monkey, and pocketed the watch. Somebody The Bo-w-Legged Ghost said he had some kind of clamps on his hands. But in the washtub race on the creek, I beat em all, Galley West ! and here s the ten-dol lar gold piece to prove it." " I am glad you won something, Zeb. " "Oh, say, Mr. Tread well, I almost forgot. Mrs. Van Ness wanted me to tell you she wanted to see you most partic lar to-day. She s over to ma s house now." Tell Mrs. Van Ness she will have to excuse me to-day, as I am most particularly engaged, " answers Richard, with a significant glance at Marian, as they go onward together. The Great Sparrow Dispute i AX HOLLENBECK had been robbed of over six hundred thousand dollars nearly all he had in the world. Matthew Rayfield, his guardian, had fled to parts un known with the money, leaving the young man to hustle for himself as best he could. Naturally Braban Hollenbeck was very much crushed and humiliated by the loss of his fortune. He was also very much en raged with Matt Rayfield, and disgusted with the human race in general. Hollenbeck s previous record for honesty had never been questioned, but now a mad desire possessed him to earn his livelihood by some sort of cunning mendacity. Because he himself had been victimized, he illogically and wrongly reasoned that it would be all right to dupe others. It was several weeks, however, before Hol- leubeck proceeded to act upon his desperate 141 The BoTU-Legged Ghost resolution. He never had done any hard work in his life, and during his idle existence he had acquired a love of ease which is a com mon characteristic of the well-circumstanced young man of America. Whenever Hollen- beck ran out of cash he would sell some of his books, objects d art, or clothing, and thus he managed until he had disposed of nearly all of his domestic and personal effects. On a particular morning in April he was impressed, for the first time, with the contrast between his past and present surroundings. The w r alls of his cozy library that had been covered with canvases of celebrated art ists were now destitute even of the four little water-color studies by Tadema, which had been taken to Slee & Blake s gallery and there disposed of at a shameful sacrifice. " My lot is becoming very forlorn, indeed," said Hollenbeck to himself, as he began to strop his razor preparatory to removing from his face a three-day s growth of blonde stub ble. " About the only thing remaining is the six-hundred-dollar music box I bought in Florence. That w 7 ould not probably bring more than a hundred now. Thank heaven, I have in my pocket two hundred and fifty of the mighty dollars the proceeds of the sale 142 The Great Sparrow Dispute yesterday of my two handsome Limoges vases." Having completed his toilet, Braban Hol- lenbeck ceased his dismal monologue and went to one of the many Italian restaurants that are becoming so popular among Bohemians in the metropolis, to eat his breakfast. While thus engaged he casually picked up a morning news paper, and soon his attention was arrested by the following advertisement : " A GENTLEMAN \vho is dying desires to sell a se cret by which much money can be made. Apply per sonally to-day at Houston Street. Inquire for Mr. Dunglison." "This is rather odd," observed the young man as he rose from the table. But a dying man w r ould not be likely to play tricks on peo ple. I think I will call on Mr. Dunglison, and if he can point out to me the way to a lucrative business I don t mind paying for the informa tion." Within a quarter of an hour Hollenbeck was entering a narrow doorway on East Houston Street. A slatternly-looking Irish woman met him in the dark and not over-clean hall, and he asked her to direct him to Mr. Dunglison s room. The Bo-ju-Leggcd Ghost "Poor soul," said the woman, resting her arms akimbo and evidencing a willingness to be communicative. " He is not long for this world. He had another bad spell yesterday, and the doctor says he will not live till sun down. His room, sorr, is up three flights. Just knock on the back door to the left." Following these directions, the young man presently stood in a dingy chamber, in one corner of which was a rude cot. On it an emaciated old man was lying. His eyes, deeply ringed with blue-black lines, were ter ribly sunken. His whole appearance was pathetic, and a simple glance at him proved to the visitor that Mr. Dunglison was dying. The old man stretched out his gaunt hands, saying : "Young man, you have come in answer to my advertisement?" Yes, said Hollenbeck. "The doctor had it inserted in the paper for me. I only want one hundred dollars enough to give me a decent burial. Will you give me that sum for my great secret ? Hollenbeck hesitated for a moment. The pitiful sight of the old man, however, prompted him, irrespective of the possible value of the secret, to answer " Yes." The Great Sparrow Dispute "Promise me on your honor, young man." "I promise," declared Holleubeck, sol emnly. " Well, I have the recipe for dyeing spar rows yellow, so that they look exactly like canary birds." After making this statement, Mr. Dunglison succeeded in raising himself partially on his elbow. The effort set him to coughing violently, and he sank back on the ragged pil low quite exhausted. In a few moments he recovered his voice, though it was huskier than before and resumed : "After you dye these birds you can sell them for canaries for a dollar or more apiece. See ? The recipe is there on the mantel with some other directions. You can hire boys to trap the sparrows and sell them for you on the streets after they are treated. There s money in it. There s a great deal of money in it. I carried on this business in London for many years, but one of my boys finally peached on me because I would not raise his wages, and I had to fly. On the voyage to this country that was over a year ago I caught a heavy cold, and I have been ailing ever since. I have spent all my money in living and medicines, and you see how near the grave I am. 10 I45 The Boiv-Lcggcd Ghost The old man s throat rattled, and beck shuddered. ii As THE doctor had predicted, Mr. Dunglison died before sundown on that day. Hollenbeck stayed with him until he ceased to breathe, and then with a dumb awe he placed in his pocket the recipe, below which a half-dozen bits of advice were jotted down in a clumsy chirography, and went to an undertaker, to whom he gave one hundred dollars on condi tion that he would take charge of Mr. Dungli- son s remains and properly inter them a task, be it said, that the undertaker faithfully performed. Hollenbeck went to his room deeply musing over the strange suggestion he had received from the lips of the dying man. He asked himself if it would be ridiculous for him to try to prosecute this deceitful enterprise, but he could not answer the question satisfactorily, and he went to bed in a fever of bewilderment, not being able to decide what to do. For days he remained irresolute and baffled, and the in tensity of his absorbed ruminations on this subject began to affect his health. Insomnia seized him for its own. Great hollow circles 146 The Great Sparroiu Disptite appeared under his eyes and an abnormal pal lor rested on his emaciated face. He lost his appetite, and went about with the morbid look and manner of a hypochondriac. Sad to re late, Braban Hollenbeck had become half mad. The gleam of incipient insanity could be dis tinguished in his eyes. But he did not sit idly, and sulk. His mania was to retrieve his lost fortune, and he resolved to carry out old Dun- glison s scheme. Converting all of his remaining Lares and Penates, including the music box, into cash, Hollenbeck rented four rear rooms in a tene ment house on the East Side. He purchased a large copper kettle in which to make the chemical dye, and in course of a fortnight completed all other necessary preparations. He advertised for assistants between the ages of seventeen and thirty-five, and more appli cants appeared than he could engage. He hired ten men to set forth into different sur rounding parts of the country to catch spar rows, promising the sum of twenty-five dol lars to each one who should bring him two hundred of the live birds. None of these assistants was informed why Hollenbeck wanted these sparrows, and in his eagerness to gain the offered money he did not pause to The Bow-Legged Ghost inquire. Moreover, each man was advanced five dollars for expenses, and furnished an apparatus with which to trap the birds. After deciding to embark in the tentative pursuit recommended to him by poor old Dunglison, Hollenbeck had made some investigations not only as to the character and habits of the sparrow, the very pariah of ornithology, but also as to the most effective devices and methods employed in its capture. His researches acquainted him with the fact that the so-called English sparrow does not fall an easy prey to an ordinary trap, for it is a cunning and sus picious bird, that quickly takes alarm. He learned that one method of capture was by the use of nets, with the assistance of decoy and braced birds. The outfits and appliances Hol lenbeck obtained at no great expense, and with them his ten hirelings departed for the wilds of New Jersey, up the Hudson, into the agri cultural section of Westchester County, and into "darkest" L,ong Island. It was on a Monday in the latter part of May when they left their employer, with comprehensive instructions. In the meantime, Hollenbeck set his copper pot boiling, and prepared some of the wonder- 148 The Great Sparrow Dispute ful dye. He experimented on half a dozen or more sparrows that he had purchased at a bird dealer s, and the result was remarkably successful. The sparrows in their yellow garb looked unmistakably like canaries, and when fed a little yellow corn or wheat, or soaked stale bread, they indulged in a musical chirp, that one could easily fancy was a canary s cadenza. On the following Wednesday one Joe Belloc came to Hollenbeck with three hundred and six specimens of the passer domcstica. That day Hollenbeck dyed all these sparrows and placed them in a large wire cage built from the sanded floor to the ceiling. He also had had constructed a receiving-cage extending around three walls of another room. At twilight two young men came in answer to an advertisement Hollenbeck had put in the papers under the heading, "Bird Sellers Wanted." Both of these young men thought they could do \vell selling these canaries on the street, on a commission of tw r enty per cent. They were instructed to sell them at one dollar apiece, if it could be got, if not, then for fifty cents. Then he cautioned them as to the proper way of handling the birds and of feeding 149 TJie BOIU- Legged Ghost them, and each young man went away with twenty-five of the bright-yellow canaries, with instructions to report on the following Saturday. During the next day three of Hollenbeck s trappers came in with a combined catch of eight hundred and thirty-four birds. He paid the men liberally and sent them out again. He also engaged seven additional men to sell the canaries, assigning two of them to Brook lyn, one to Newark, one to Jersey City, and the others to the streets of New York. Hol- lenbeck was very careful in dipping each spar row in the dye, which process he repeated three times, according to the recipe. His es tablishment soon began to resemble the nest of some great industry, and he entertained high hopes of amassing a fortune within a short time. He found that more captive spar rows were accumulating on his hands than he could readily sell as canary birds, and be gan to cudgel his brains to ascertain in what manner he could dispose advantageously of the surplus. At last it occurred to him that the sparrows must have some merchantable value as an article of food, and straightway he w r ent to Maracelli, Viadello, and one or two other Italian restaurateurs, w r ho agreed to take The Great Sparrow Dispute all the sparrows he could supply them at fifty cents per dozen. He then made a new ar rangement with his trappers whom he discov ered he was paying altogether too much money to guarantee him a reasonable profit. He contracted to give them two cents apiece for all the dead sparrows brought him, and five cents for all the live ones. By this time Hollenbeck s business w r as very prosperous, and the way in w r hich he had sys tematized it showed that there was method in his madness. Not only did his own trappers bring him sparrows now, but hundreds of .specimens of this graminivorous and gregari ous bird were shipped alive to him from vari ous parts of the West and South. He sold a great many of them to Italian restaurants. As a matter of fact, the sparrow for centuries has been used as an article of food and is regarded by some people as equal in flavor to many of the smaller game birds. Sparrows galore are actually served in metropolitan restaurants as rice-birds and reed-birds, and sometimes as larks, in table d hote places run by foreigners, and they have been quoted in the market at prices, however, considerably low r er than those commanded by Hollenbeck. The Bo-jc-Lcgged Ghost in SOME six months later Xew York society was set in a flutter by reading the following piece of information published in a morning newspaper : "Yesterday afternoon Mr. Braban Hollenbeck, formerly an esteemed member of aristocratic circles in this city, was arrested by Officer Maloney on several charges of fraud preferred by aggrieved parties. All the particulars of the case, which promises to be a highly sensational one, have not been revealed as yet, but enough has been learned to put readers of Gotham Gossip into possession of the main facts. " It will be remembered that Braban Hollenbeck s guardian, Matthew Rayfield, a church deacon, and supposed to be one of the most upright and respect able business men in Xew York, absconded with all of the young man s fortune, aggregating over half a mil lion, most of which was in transferable bonds and other securities. Where Matthew Rayfield went or where he is now keeping himself, echo gives but a vague and mocking answer. The loss of his fortune is said to have greatly embittered young Hollenbeck s cup of existence, in short, to have partially unseated his reason, and he was driven to such straits that he became desperate and, at length, joined the grand army of fakirs who outrage the credulity of the public and pause at no alternative unless it be murder, and not always then to earn a livelihood. " This young Hollenbeck, an only child, born in the lap of luxury, reared tenderly by parents who for several years have been lying at rest in Greenwood, 77ic Great Sparrow Dispute given a college education and the untold benefits of cultured surroundings, the moment fortune ceased to smile on him, fell to the level of a petty swindler. For a number of months he has been devoting himself to the singular occupation of dyeing sparrows and sell ing them on the streets, through agents, as canary birds. His revenue from the business is said to have been fabulously large. Several complaints from par ties victimized have been sent to police headquarters from time to time, and last week the Inspector put de tectives on the track of the offender. The latter was traced to a tenement on Avenue A, and was appre hended in the very act of dyeing a poor, innocent, lit tle sparrow, to be hawked on the street as a real South American singing canary. The man who was found guilty of this misdemeanor was taken to the station house, and there gave his name as Braban.Hollenbeck. He will be remanded to a cell in the Tombs to-day to await a hearing. He doubtless will be tried during the coming week, and it will be interesting to learn what line of defense his counsel will follow. More concerning this absurd young scion of a reputable family will appear in these columns anon." Many people who knew of Braban Hollen- beck read the foregoing article at their break fast tables and were more or less amazed. Old Mr. Yuling, after reading it, said to his daughter, in whose set the accused had once been a conspicuous figure : "Sybil, I see your friend, Braban Hollen- beck, has fallen into trouble, poor fellow." TJic Bow-Legged Ghost In what way, papa ? "Oh," replied the old gentleman, "he s been vending sparrows, dyed yellow, under false pretenses, making folks believe they were canary birds." " How appalling !" "I don t know about that," protested Mr. Yuling, taking a sip of coffee. It shows the young man is not wholly wanting in inge nuity. He knew he had to do something for a living, and probably he did not think it was imposing on the public to go into this scheme, especially as the public never seems to get its fill of humbuggery. " Oh, papa," broke in Sybil, with a vanity- engendered pout that through long indulgence had become a confirmed habit with her, how can you say that it was honest for Braban to do such a low thing ? " Nonsense, child. You haven t lived long enough to know half the things a man is willing to be guilty of for money. Besides, I haven t any sympathy with sparrows. They are the greatest pests ever introduced into this country. Why, you know very well how many times I have called them names the little sinners. They have done more harm to the crops on the old Hardenburgh farm up in 154 The Great Sparrow Dispute Dutchess County, on which I hold a mort gage that I shall be obliged to foreclose one of these days, than anything else. Talk about the sparrow being an insectivorous bird ! Well, there s nothing in it, Sybil ; there s noth ing in it." "Still," ventured Sybil, boldly, "a spar row is not a canary bird, is it ? " "Xo,"said Mr. Yuling, sarcastically, "a sparrow is a curse to any country. It \vas first brought into the United States in the fall of 1850, I believe, and it has been creating havoc here ever since. For my part, I rather approve young Hollenbeck s scheme to put into captivity a bird that can and will eat nearly every vegetable product grown on a farm or in a garden. It would have been more sensible, however, if he had set about to exter minate them altogether, which, unfortunately, he could not have done. Oh, I hate spar rows ! At the same hour, in a house situated a lit tle farther up Fifth Avenue, the widow Cress- well and her daughter Teresa were discussing Hollenbeck s arrest. "Oh," exclaimed Teresa, "I think Bra- ban s conduct is simply atrocious ! But how glad I am that he is no longer my admirer. The Bow-Legged Ghost If he were known to be now, I should be humiliated to death. The idea of his stooping to such a low and ignominious thing to make money. "Well," said Mrs. Cresswell, "you must remember he was desperate over the loss of his property, arid I don t believe people will blame him so much, after all, when all the facts are disclosed. I know your uncle, John Pettigrew, up in Sullivan County, never can say enough against sparrows. He says they breed faster than any express train can travel, and they have nearly eaten him out of house and home. I suppose there are many other farmers who agree with brother John about it." " But how do Uncle John s opinions excuse Braban s dishonest course?" put in Teresa somewhat testily. "I don t know that they do," replied her mother, but it doesn t seem so wicked to deal with sparrows in that way as it would if they were robins, for instance." But Teresa was quite convinced of the enormity of Hollenbeck s guilt ; and other young ladies who had met him, but did not know him so well as Teresa, shared her con viction. There were others who openly sym- 156 The Great Sparrow Dispute pathized with Hollenbeck. The case began to make an unusual stir among the news papers after a certain well-known naturalist had come out in cold print in an indirect de fence of the young man. He maintained that there were many reasons to refute the claim that the sparrow was essentially an insectivor ous bird ; that while the sparrow was known to destroy certain insects injurious to fruit, the sparrow itself fed upon fruit and" cereals, and, in fact, upon almost anything that can be devoured by a worm or insect. He further pointed out the fact that the sparrow is a jeal ous and malicious enemy of many of our cher ished native species, and that it molests, wages war against, and kills robins, mocking birds, wrens, martins, yellow warblers, etc. Accord ing to this naturalist, four-fifths of all the evi dence published in Government reports con cerning the English sparrow 7 in North Amer ica, especially in its relation to agriculture, had been disparaging, if not condemnatory. In conclusion, he said that the tide of public opinion had turned against the sparrow 7 , and that the desire now to get rid of this bird pest was stronger than had been the desire fifty years ago to import and introduce it through out the country. The Bo"w-Legged Ghost A practical nurseryman and fruit-grower then took up his pen in protest against the sparrow, and he indorsed not only every thing the naturalist had written, but added several opinions of his own, and he particu larly urged that, owing to the inestimable numerical increase of the passer domestica each year, every State in the Union should offer a bounty for its destruction. Then sev eral champions of the sparrow offered their views in print, and the controversy assumed national importance. It especially interested society on account of young Hollenbeck, who meanwhile was languishing in the Tombs. One morning Bob Varick sought and ob tained admission into Hollenbeck s cell. He had not been talking five minutes with his old friend when he detected that the latter was not his mental self ; in a word, that he was as good as non compos -mentis. On the following day, through Varick s ef forts, Hollenbeck was examined as to his sanity by two competent physicians, who pro nounced him to be "disturbed in mind." That same afternoon, by an order of the court, the charges against Hollenbeck were dismissed, and he was taken to Bloomingdale 158 The Great Sparro~u Dispute under the escort of Bob Varick and a police officer. In that institution Braban Hollen- beck is still confined, but, as he has not been declared incurable, there are hopes that he will yet walk forth into God s sunshine and free air a restored man. Meanwhile, the great sparrow dispute is still in progress, with the odds against the sparrow. 159 "Brooms" 5fp S POSE folks think I am a-goin for her M* money. Well, I don t care if they do. You see, George, it wasn t altogether my fault. She is one of them girls that is a stalwart in her likes and dislikes. She couldn t have been more than twelve years old when she first said that she liked me, and she stuck to it up to the minute I bid her good-bye, and started for Japan. What s a feller to do when a girl keeps tellin him she s in love with him ? Of course, I had to give in after awhile. I knew her father would fume over it, and call me a rascal ; but, to tell the truth, I couldn t help likin her, and I thought to myself, if she liked me well enough to marry me, it would not make so much difference what her Gover nor said, anyway." These remarks were made by Tom Abercoru on the deck of an American man-of-war, an chored in an Eastern port. We spent many idle afternoons, as old friends will, in reminis- 160 "/.> rooms " cent conversation. I had been cruising about the world for nearly three years before it occurred to me that I was tired of it. A mere romantic caprice, considerably reenforced by Tom Abercorn s brusque persuasion, had led me into the service in the first place, and now that the glamor of marine experience had worn off, I began to wonder whether I would not be happier on land. There was some reason to believe that Tom was also growing dissatisfied, though he sel dom hinted anything to that effect. He was a rough-and-ready fellow, and the life of the sea was more suited to his nature than to mine. While I was at college, breaking down a naturally delicate constitution by hard study, he was in a machine shop, developing an iron muscle that I had occasion to envy more than all the erudition I had acquired. But while Tom \vas physically adapted to cope with ocean vicissitudes, there was a magnet that ever drew his thoughts ashore. He was engaged to be married. The father of his inamorata was a large and wealthy broom manufacturer in Philadelphia, and Tom always spoke facetiously of the young lady as "Brooms." In fact, that was the nick name by which she was called by the mem- ii 161 The Boia-Legged Ghost bers of her family and her most intimate friends. " But Mr. Grayling knows all about it now," continued Tom, after a pause. " Brooms told him. I fancy he would have been pretty mul ish, if he hadn t seen it was no use ; so he said: Do you love him? and Brooms re plied: What do you take me for, papa, a hypocrite? Then the old man said, All right, marry him. Any further conversation was cut off by the gruff voice of the executive officer. The ves sel was trespassing upon the channel, and the harbor master had sent an order for it to anchor further out in the roadstead, so that it would not be an obstacle in the course which ships entering or leaving port were obliged to take. Tom immediately went to his duties in the engine room, where he met with an accident which nearly cost him his life. At nearly the foot of the iron hatchway he slipped and fell, so that his left foot caught in a rapidly re volving crank. Before he could throw his arms over his shoulders and grasp an iron rod to extricate himself, his leg was horribly man gled just below the knee, by another revolu tion of the crank. He fainted away before help could be summoned. 162 Brooms " After Tom had been carried, unconscious, to the deck, I set about, in the absence of the surgeon, who was ashore, to check the flow of blood from the wound by twisting a handker chief around the upper part of the limb with a tourniquet. When the surgeon appeared on the scene, he assured me that I had saved my friend s life, though the leg must be ampu tated at once, he declared, as he gazed on the poor man groaning with agony. And against all of Tom s protestations he was borne into a cockpit and laid on a table. The surgeon insisted that there w r as not even time to administer ether. I have forgotten how many men were required to hold him. It W 7 as wholly beyond my courage to stand by and see them mutilate my comrade with all those knives and saws. Into his mouth they forced woolen cloth, to serve the double purpose of muffling his cries and furnishing him some thing to bite on. At last it was over, and then they gave him opiates. From the time his wound was band aged I became his nurse, and watched over him through the long days and nights as though he were a brother. He grew so emaciated and weak that no one would have recognized him as the whilom strong, muscu- if, 3 The Boiv-Leggcd Ghost lar Tom Abercorn. But he began to mend after a few weeks, though his convalescence was slow. He grew nervously morbid, and frequently when reading to him I would look from my book and find him sobbing hysterically. I did not interrupt his grief, thinking it was but the natural result of physical weak ness. But one day when I was about to read to him his favorite poem, "The L,ady of the Lake," he begged me to defer it. He was unusually pale and thoughtful on this occasion. On the previous night he had been in great pain, and exceedingly restless. "George," said he, in a serious tone, "I am going to w r rite Brooms that our engagement is off, and tell her why. I am only half a man now." and he made a droll feint of taking off his shoe from the foot that had been ampu tated. " If I were to insist upon marrying her she would be dreadfully disappointed, because Brooms is the proudest woman I ever did see. It would cut her to the quick to know she had to be the wife of a one-legged man. I m sure she would be too much ashamed to walk out with a husband who always had to carry a 164 Brooms " crutch. Yes, I m going to give Brooms her freedom." An interval of silence followed, and then I commenced to reason with him, but he shook his head stubbornly, and would not listen. He requested me to get pen and paper and write down his dictation. It was useless putting him off ; he would call another shipmate if I refused, so I brought writing materials, propped him up on the pillows, and indited the following, substantially, as it came from his lips : - l\Iy Darling Brooms : I address you thus for the last time. I have met with an accident, and only have one leg left to meet another of like nature. I am very sorry for both our sakes that all this has hap pened, because, through the loss of my limb, I must lose you, for I know you have enough sense not to care for only half& man. Burn up my letters and picture. The latter, I believe, is full length, and no longer a correct likeness. Keep the parrot I brought you from the South Seas, by which to remember me as I once was when I could climb to the maintop quicker than any jolly tar aboard the Natalie. I hope, by the time I get back, you ll be married and settled down, with a baby named after me. If Tom were a longer name, I d insist upon you splitting it in two, just because but never mind why, Brooms. You ll make some solid man the sweetest little wife on earth. There, good bye, Brooms ! I could add to the brine of the old sea, if I were leaning over the deck rail. As it is, I am 165 The Bo-vo-Lcgged Ghost wetting a handkerchief, and my friend who writes this for me is a witness. Brooms, I ll never forget you, and am your old friend always. TOM. Tom managed to scratch down his own sig nature. He requested me to mail the letter, and sinking back in the folds of the pillows, exhausted, was soon in slumber. I did not dare detain the note. After struggling against a strong desire to do so, I took it ashore with me in the afternoon. Tom was calmer after that ; he seemed sto ically resigned. He refused to take any more thin broth, and demanded "something to eat. " His irritability \vas a sign of improve ment in health. Tom s bluntness sometimes might have been mistaken for anger. One morning, about three months afterward, he surprised everybody by calling for his clothes and the crutch that had been provided for him. Having been up in a chair several times, we assisted him into his clothes and had the satisfaction of seeing him totter on deck. That afternoon he received a letter from Brooms, and this is what it said : My Precious Old Boy: For you are precious now that there isn t so much left of you; I want you distinctly to understand that your relics belong to me. What there is of you I want, if it isn t more than a 166 Brooms " little finger. You needn t think I m going to let you off, even if you do sacrifice a member in the hopes that I will. No, indeed! I am not that kind of a woman. Oh, Tom, I am so sorry that you have lost a leg. It will spoil all our pleasure at dances, and you did use to enjoy waltzing so much; but I don t care if you will only come home and marry me. If you write such a letter as your last after you get this one, I shall go stark mad and not try to recover. I think I shall be able to bring you under the domestic yoke, because you cannot run away from me. I am going to let my finger nails grow and get in training, as pugilistic par lance has it, for you. I do hope you ve got about enough of the service to last you for life. Oh, dear Tom, won t you come back? I would love you just as much if both your legs were gone. Have you received the box of neckties, etc., yet? With undying, unaltering love, I am yours only, BROOMS. I knew, before Tom had finished perusing the letter, by the joyful expression on his face, that Brooms had not consented to the discon tinuance of their relations. He sprang up, grasped his crutch, bade me follow him, and hobbled into a corner where he read me Brooms s letter. "Ain t she a darlin ? " he asked, care fully placing the message in his pocket. Our vessel was a Government cruiser, and 167 The Bow-Legged Ghost had put into this port for repairs. When she was finally released from the dry dock, the Natalie set out for New York, where, in due course, we arrived. Tom and myself were honorably discharged from the service, and parted, he going to Philadelphia and I to Boston. A few weeks later I received an invitation to Tom s wedding, and decided to attend it. The occasion was almost pathetic. The beauty of Brooms, upon which I had heard Tom di late so often, was undeniable. As she stood up with him, her beryl-tinted eyes flashing with the fire of a woman s love, her cheeks suffused, her lips, like wet coral, murmuring the responses tremulously, the white serge all about her graceful throat, and the orange blos soms in her Titian hair, I must confess that for once the matter-of-fact Tom Abercorn ex cited my envy. And when it was all over and the guests presents had been duly examined and admired, Brooms s father, with redundant graciousness, handed her a deed to an elegant stone house in Germantown, and told the bride and groom it was to be their future home. One of the guests informed me that Mr. Grayling had settled upon his daughter an annuity, and I came away fully convinced 1 68 "Brooms " I that I should be willing to spare one of my legs for such a wife and such a father-in-law. Tom is at present a slap-up official in the Philadelphia navy yard. He doesn t half earn his handsome salary, the rascal. There is scarcely anything for him to do. Tom is lazy, I fear, but then, he can afford to be; and Brooms, who is sole heir to her recently deceased father s estate, is constantly teasing him to resign and let the old navy yard go to grass. 169 The Bearded Wife f OUR days in the saddle on the hot alkali plains of Texas had fatigued every one in the part} , and we were glad to find a haven of rest at Nat Veley s ranch. As we rode up to his trim cabin, he saluted us cheer ily, invited us to dismount and spend the night. "There s plenty o room up in the loft, boys. Jes bring your nags round to the corral. They look as if they needed some fodder. Not waiting for a second invitation, we teth ered our horses and soon made friends with our generous host. He was a loose-jointed, grizzled plainsman, with a rough exterior, but with a heart as tender as a child s. On enter ing the cabin we observed a singular-looking little boy, dressed in a buckskin suit, elabor ately trimmed with party-colored beads, black velvet and fringe. It was not his attire, how ever, that surprised us, but his silken whiskers and moustache. Fancy a fair-faced youth of twelve years, with all the hirsute development The Bearded Wife of a grown man, and you will have some idea of this little fellow s appearance. He was en gaged in making some kind of a trap. "This is my son, Toby," said Nat, as he pointed to the youngster. Toby, shake hands with the gen lemen. They have come all the way from New York city to hunt. Toby advanced ingenuously and shook hands with the four visitors. " He s a smart kid," Nat whispered in my ear. ;< Them whiskers on him are the genu- ine article. I ll tell you bout it bimeby." "Shot anything yet?" asked Toby, ad dressing us all in general. " A few grouse and jack rabbits," said Col onel Alabaster. I suppose you are a dead shot, Toby." "That s what they say," was the proud answer, the speaker stroking his whiskers like a man of fifty. "Yes, sir," put in Nat. "The kid han dles a rifle as well as I do. See that stuffed eagle on top o the cupboard ? Wai, he knocked that bird off the limb of a cotton- wood bout six months ago. He s the cham pion snake killer in these parts. He s made over a hundred dollars out o reptile pelts." "A regular St. Hubert," remarked Profes- 171 The Bow -Legged Ghost sor Broadbent, who had come along for the good of his health. At this juncture there entered from an ad joining room a picturesquely-garbed person, whom Nat immediately introduced as his wife. We were almost stupefied by the announce ment, for the new-comer, with her wavy black whiskers, jauntily tilted sombrero, buckskin suit, and muscular physique, resembled a man more than a woman. She wore gold hoops in her ears, and round her neck a string of coral beads, with a pendant ending in a silver cross. It was when she spoke, that we knew she was a woman. "Glad to see you, gentlemen," was her polite greeting. "Sit down and make your selves at home. I ll get supper at once, for I know you must be hungry. Now, Toby, you just pick up those shavings and put those tools where they belong. Nat, get a pail of fresh water right away." Her orders were not delivered in a peremp tory or test}- manner, and she was promptly obeyed. We begged Mrs. Veley not to put herself to any extra trouble on our account, to which she responded: "Don t mention it. The best we can offer will be poor enough for you." 172 The Bearded Wife Mrs. Veley proceeded at once with bustling preparations for the evening meal, spreading a coarse, snowy cloth over a square deal table drawn into the centre of the room. By this time, we were somewhat recovered from our astonishment at the sight of the bewhiskered woman, who went down cellar singing a senti mental ditty with a not unpleasant phrasing, as though not conscious of our presence in the dwelling. What have we struck anyway ? queried Colonel Alabaster, with a comical expression. I thought at first we had found the original What is It." "She is merely a whimsey of nature," said the professor, with an austerity of look which frequently attended his erudite utterances. Such cases are not so very rare. "The boy s case is rather remarkable," I ventured. "Heredity," said the professor, with the manner of one whose authority could not be questioned with impunity. In the long twilight \ve sat quietly review ing our recent experiences on the prairies, while the kid, perched cross-legged on the top of an ancient hair trunk, drank in every word that was said. Occasionally he would chuckle The Bow-Legged Ghost to himself and murmur, " Tenderfeet. " Nat came and went, assisting his wife with a rough grace that commended him the more to our esteem. At length supper was announced, and a more enjoyable meal I never ate anywhere. Beef steak and potatoes, green corn on the cob, cold slaw, hot biscuits, tea, molasses cake, and American cheese made up the menu. As a postprandial treat Toby recited a long poem by Larry Chittenden, the "poet ranchman," who then lived about fifteen miles from Nat s home. Being vociferously encored, the kid gave another recitation which, if little else, revealed a wonderful memory. During the evening we played a few modest games of poker, to which the professor was a rather indifferent spectator. When his bedtime arrived, Master Toby was marched off to his downy, after bidding us a hearty good night, and Mrs. Veley de clared her intention of retiring, too, as she wished to get up early the next morning and help round up some steers. We finished our game at ten o clock and sat quietly smoking, when Nat, who was pouring out into glasses some rum punch, which he had just made, exclaimed . " Boys, you ve The Bearded Wife seen that my wife is out o the ord nary run o women, an I ll jest tell ye a leedle story. But first, I want to know if you ever heerd of Aha Jiiarez ? None of us remembered having heard the name, and Nat resumed : " Wai, that was what they billed her when she was showin in dime museums, but I mustn t git ahead o my yarn. Her real name was Tillie Dillon, an she comes frum a good fam ly. Her an me used to go to school together, an it ain t no braggin to say she was the smartest gal o her age in Dallas. Wai, when she was long bout fifteen year old, she began to grow a beard. It was the strangest thing that had ever happened in that town up to that time. I guess it was all o two year afore her whiskers and moustache growed out, but fin lly they got to be so thick and bushy that no man would have been ashamed to wear em. But they was the plague o her life. I b lieve one o her aunts told her to shave em an keep her face well powdered ; an a barber did shave her four or five times, till the doctor was called in, an he advised her not to tech her face with a razor, cause shavin only made the hair come out faster an touher. But the doctor didn t Tlie BOTV- Legged Ghost pertend to understand the case. He jes said twas a freak o natur , an she might as well be resigned to it, fur he didn t know no remedy fur it. "Tillie got more sensertive bout it all the time, fur her playmates an some o the vil lagers poked fun at her over it. I used to walk home from school with her purty nigh ev ry day, cause I thought a good deal o her. One afternoon on the way from school we met Josh Jaquish, a big lunkhead of a fel ler, an the mos shiftless son of a sea cook in the whole State. He hollered out : Hello, Nat ! Ye courtiu whiskers yit ? Them insultin words was nough for me. Askin Tillie to hold my books, I run up to the pesky loafer an sailed into him. I could give a sledge-hammer blow in them days. "Wai , I give that Josh Jaquish as hard a thrashin as he ever had, though he was taller an five or six years older n me. It teached him a les son, though. But lickin him didn t have much feet on others, specially the gals, who kep right on a-teasin Tillie bout her whisk ers. An even her own folks, cept her ma, made fun o her beard day arter day, till she was more n half crazy. " She stood it as long as she could, an then 176 TJie Bearded Wife one mornin she went away, pretendin to her folks she was goin to visit her cousin, Sophy Gaines, in Waco. She was then bout nine teen year old, an a full-grown woman. They didn t hear fruin her fur bout two weeks, an then her ma got a letter posted frum Galves- ton, savin she was goin away in a ship an that she might never come home ag in. She d stood bein taunted an jeered at long as her narves d low, an she d made up her mind to try an find some place in the world where she could earn her own livin . The only per son outside the fam ly she asked to be re membered to was me. Her folks tuk on tumble bout her runnin away, an her pa said he could understand now why Tillie had asked fur one hundred dollars to go travelin with. She d never been away frum hum afore, an seein as how hard she coaxed fur it, an realizm her misfortun an all together, he d let her have the money. He was quite a prosp rous storekeeper in them times. " Everybody felt the worst for Mrs. Dillon, who went out o her head fur a spell. She done nothin but walk the floor, an wring her hands an cry: I want my Tillie to come hum! I want my darlin child! O course, I tuk Tillie s disappearance purty 177 The Bow-Legged Ghost hard. I d ben pay in her tentions right along as much as she d low, but she was gettin shyer n ever to ard the last, an it must be understood that she was allus super or to me. So it run along fur bout two years, an durin that time no one in Dallas had heerd a word frum Tillie. I had gone to work on a ranch some fifteen mile frum town, an was doin purty wal. Not bein given to lushin like mos o the cowboys, I salted my wages in a bank where they would draw a leedle int rest. Wal, one afternoon when I was callin 1 on the Dillons, \vho should come in but Jedge Crum pet, who d lately ben on a trip clean to St. Louis on law 7 business. Says he to Mrs. Dil lon, the fust thing arter he got in the house, My dear woman, I ve some good news fur you. I ve seen Tillie. "Wal, ye should seen the look o joy on that mother s face. An then the jedge w r ent on to relate how he d been on a trip to St. Louis an how, bein fond o shows an sech things, he went into the Excelsior Dime Museum there, an settin on the platform, with the other freaks, he reco nized Tillie. He walked right up an shook hands with her, an they had quite a confab. Tillie said she was gettin seventy-five dollars a week in some The Bearded Wife places, an a hundred dollars in others, an everything was a-goin wal with her. She in quired bout her folks an ev rybody in Dallas, an the jedge tried to git her to come hum with him, but she said that was out o the question." ii JUST at this point the kid opened the door softly and stole into the room in his bare feet, dressed in a nightgown much too large for him. His father was seated with his back to the door through which the lad had come, and was so absorbed in his narrative that he had not heard the door open. The kid tiptoed up behind his father s chair and squatted on the floor, motioning the visitors, with his fingers perpendicularly across his lips, not to betray his presence. "Mrs. Dillon thanked the jedge," con tinued Nat, "fur bringin the news, an she immegitly wrote to Tillie, but got no answer. Then her pa made some show o tryin to trace her, with the help o Jedge Crumpet, but they couldn t git no track o her arter she left St. Louis. "Two year arterwards I was hired to go and look arter a big shipment o live stock to The BO-JO -Legged GJio^t New York, an the night afore I started, Mrs. Dillon sent fur me to call on her. She \vas now a widder. Mr. Dillon had failed an was so broken up over his bad luck that he tuk p ison, they say. Young Will Dillon had went to work an so had the youngest gal, Bertha, to support their ma, who was sick an mos worried to death bout Tillie. When I see how poorly she was, I felt awful sorry fur her. She says, Oh, Xat, when you are in New York, won t you look all round an find Tillie, if you can, an bring her hum? I ll go to my grave very soon if I don t see her. " I promised to do my very best to find her darter, an it was on my mind all the way goin North. It only tuk two clays to do my business with the cattle-buyers in Jersey City, an then I started out on my search. Some body told me there was a museum up on Eighth Avenue, near Twenty-Eighth Street, an I inquired my way there arter gettin off the ferryboat. There wan t no one in that shebang as looked like Tillie, an so I come out. Jes then there was one o them horse less wagons comin along, an havin read a good deal bout em I thought I d try one. Nobody was in this one but the driver, an I hailed him. Take me to a good dime mu- 180 The Bearded Wife seum, I says, as I stepped aboard. Wai, that feller whirled me through a lot o cross- streets, an arter awhile he stopped in front o a showy-lookin place which had a big red sign over the doorway readin , Old Re liable Bowery Museum. I told him to wait, bought a ticket an went inside. It was a purty tough hole, an Tillie wasn t there. I asked a feller that was nothin but skin an bones, a-settin on the platform, if he knowed Miss Tillie Dillon. What s her specialty? says he. Wai, says I kindy sheepish-like, she s got whiskers on her face. Oh, says he, I don t know her, but I know Aha Ju arez, the Bearded Lady. "Then I come out an told the man to take me to another museum. He tuk me to three other jints on that Bowery Street, but I seen nothin o Tillie. Then the driver says, I ll take ye up to Huber s on Four teenth Street; that s the crackerjack o em all. So I rode up there. No sooner was I in the big room on the ground floor where they had the livin cur osities n I spied Til- lie settin next to the fattest man I ever see or spect to see agin. He was talkin an laughin with her, an she didn t look at me till I was plumb in front of her. Jeewili- 181 The Bow-Legged Ghost kins! but wan t she surprised! Why, Nat Veley! What b-brings you here? she stam mered, as she put out her hand to shake. I told her I d brought a train-load o cattle North fur the owner o the ranch I worked on. She was so startled-like she couldn t say nothin tall fur a spell, but at last she said, How s ma an all the folks? I told her her ma wan t very well, an then I says, When do you git through here to-day ? Not till ten o clock to-night, but I have an hour off for supper. Why ? says she. Oh, says I, I want to see you as much as I can while I m here. Can t you take supper with me? I guess so, but I ll have to ask the manager, says she. We talked a little more, an then the baldheaded professor begun lec- turin , an she told me to come back at six o clock. "I went out an paid the driver an dis charged him. an walked out to Union Square an sot down on a bench, where I waited fur nigh two mortal hours fur it to git to be six o clock. The time dragged worse n old Dea con Skudd when he sings in church. I met Tillie, sharp on the hour, an we went to a eatin house that she knowed bout clost by. I didn t notice that ev rybody stared at her, 182 The Bearded Wife I was so infested in talkin to her. Wai, when we got to eatin, I gently led up to the subject of her pa s death. She didn t take it so hyster cal as I thought she would, but she seemed a good deal consarned when I told her bout her ma, an how Will an Bertha was workin like slaves to keep the wolf frum the door. Afore we knowed it, it was time fur her to be back to the museum. She told me I could come round at ten o clock an scort her to her boardin house, an I did. She invited me in, an we had a long talk in the parlor. She said, by way o jokin , the Fat Man was dead in love with her, an killin jealous o me, an that I better look out fur him. Bimeby I says, Tillie, you ve ben away from hum goin 1 on five year. Your pa left his affairs in bad shape, an your ma is gettin old and is failin very fast. If you want to see her alive, you must go hum with me. Why don t ye give up this business? It ain t the kind o life fur a nice, decent gal like you to live. You know I allus thought the w 7 orld o ye, an do now, an I meant to ask ye to be my pard ner, but 3 r ou run away afore I got up the courage to do so. But I ask ye now. I m ocean-deep in love with ye, an I ll make ye jes as good a husband as I know how. What 183 The Bo-w- Legged Ghost do ye say, Tillie? Arter a long silence, she says, I ll give you my answer to-morrow, Nat. Now go away. I managed to get a kiss as I said good night, and went to a hotel the Morton House not fur off. I didn t git a chance to have much of a talk with her till the next night arter the show closed. But the answer she give me was wuth waitin fur, you bet your bottom dollar. She said she had decided to go hum with me an visit her ma. Wai, bo) T s, I jes felt like flyin . The next day was Saturday, an we left for Washin ton on the midnight train Saturday night, arter her week s engagement was up. We stopped in Washin ton, thinkin we d stay over a couple o days to see the sights. " Wai, the day we was to leave there I was tuk sick an had to go to bed. I was sick fur five long tumble weeks, an Tillie was my nurse all through it. The doctor said if it hadn t been fur her tendin me I wouldn t a-pulled through. But she stuck right by me night an day, till the crisis was passed. I made big strides gettin better, and when I was strong nough we started on South. "There was great rejoicin , you better b lieve, when we got to Dallas. Tillie hadn t 184 The Bearded Wife ben hum three days when her ma begun to git better. Ye see, Tillie all this time hadn t said she d be mywife yit, but I noticed she seemed a good deal more tender to ard me durin an arter my illness. So afore long I perposed agin fair an square, an she says, I can t go back on ye, Nat. You ve ben the best friend I ever had, next to ma. So bout a fortnight later there was a weddin at the widder Dillon s, an I was the bridegroom. Maybe the cowboys an guests didn t cut up like they was possessed that night. "The next move \ve made was to buy this ranch. Tillie, durin her career under the name of Aha Juarez, had cumerlated over $20,000, while I had saved bout $1,200. Til- lie bought the property, an it s in her name, God bless her ! I put my money in cattle. We built this cabin, an" moved into it. Til- lie s ma lived with us till she died a year ago. Her last days was peaceful an comfortable, an I can say that Tillie an me is the happiest couple in the Southwest. The kid wal, as you ve seen, he takes arter his ma. That is my story, gentlemen." Rising to his feet, the kid, who afterward explained that he had come to get something to put into an aching tooth, threw his arms The Bow-Legged Ghost round his father s neck, and said very sol emnly: "I m glad pa married ma, instead of the Rubber Skin Woman or the Snake Charmer, that ma tells about. 1 86 Montressor The Story of an Epidemic, an Exploit, and an Epitaph I railroad had been constructed across the wide, cactus-dotted plain to the base of the mountains, when work was suspended until the officials could determine whether it would be best to push up Redwood Valley and take their chances of in some way getting over them, or make an extended northern route around them. During this pause the town of Allegan sprang up and grew like a mushroom. A large immigration poured in. Within four months Allegau claimed six hotels, double that number of boarding houses, ten stores, two savings banks, and fifteen faro banks ; besides, in that time, the foundations of three church struc tures had been laid. At length the railroad was extended, but not up the Redwood Valley, as every one in Allegan hoped it would. It was feared there 187 77ie BoTV-Legged Ghost might come into existence a rival town that would encroach upon the interests of Allegan, should the northern route be prosecuted. But the rival town did not appear, though Allegan suffered a reaction such as visits many frontier settlements prematurely developed. A con siderable number of the population either re turned East or straggled up Redwood A alley with agricultural designs. To compensate, perhaps, for her lack of fer tility, at just that point where the beautiful Redwood Valley merged abruptly into the rugged Redwood Canyon, nature revealed a treasure vault of gold in one of the mountains. This discovery aided Allegan not a little in regaining her prosperity, a Government assay office and smelting works being established there, to which all the ore from the mine was shipped. Prospectors probed in vain for au riferous deposits above the so-called Miss Alice" mine; the gold seemed confined to this one peak. It is true, a few meagre out- croppings appeared here and there, but none which would warrant labor. A party of agriculturists had followed the canyon for sixty miles, until it lost its incline on a level, grassy summit of some area, pierced by a silver-tinted stream that came out of a 1 88 Montrcssor mountain ravine on the left, and, gurgling acro, r :s the green plateau, retreated down a pre cipitous gulch at the northeastern extremity. It was nearly a year before any additions were made to the colony, but in due time the village of Observation Point was about equally blessed and cursed with a census of one thou sand eight hundred souls. Of all the institutions in Observation Point, the graded school was the greatest. Visitors to the village were always impressed with that fact. How could it have been other than great, under the direction of Alice Crofton? The young lady just alluded to was an or phan. She had come West with the only liv ing relative that she knew of in the world an uncle, who was superintendent of the mine which had been named in her honor. Alice was twenty-five, by no means considered an old maid, since the fairness of her skin was still enhanced by a girlish bloom skin that had not taken on either the sallow pallor or the rough, beefy floridity which are the inevitable extremes of a spinster s complexion. She was what her early companions at school in Connecticut called "smart," what in this section of the West was known as a " good un." Alice was well adapted for a teacher, 189 The 13o~v- Legged Ghost possessing that faculty not rare in women by which she was able to disburse her knowl edge in the most wholesale, direct, and effec tual manner. It was during a protracted drought that Observation Point fell a collective victim, so to speak, to the most violent attack of cholera. Alice s Uncle Dan was paying her a visit at the time. All the children became prostrated with the appalling epidemic, and the school was discontinued. The rate of mortality was something fright ful. The driver of the stage between Allegan and Observation Point was seized with it while en route down the canyon, and died before reaching his earthly destination. There were only two passengers in the stage that day a Presbyterian clergyman and an old lady, who had been to Observation Point to attend the funeral of her son. The clergyman lifted the dead driver into the stage, boosted the old lady up on the out side seat, as she declined to be any nearer the corpse than possible, and drove on. After that, stage drivers were more difficult to get than they had been. Meanwhile, Alice Crofton had become a nurse. Early and late she was in the midst 190 Montrcssor of the sick, doing all in her power to relieve their sufferings. At last, Uncle Dan was taken. He lingered with the ravaging disease only two days, and passed away. Three un dertakers had come up from Allegan with cof fins, and only one got back alive. Strange it was that Allegan remained un disturbed by this scourging visitant, where it would have been quite as naturally assigned by this arch enemy of Hygeia, for about Observation Point the madrofia scented breezes blew fresh from the mountains, and it seemed the very last place in the world where a con tagion of this kind would assert itself. In the course of five weeks, the cemetery con tained over one thousand six hundred new mounds. During his last and probably delirious moments Uncle Dan had requested that all his money invested in the mine should be released by a sale of his interest therein, and be used in the purchase of monuments for all the dead victims of the cholera. Upon Alice did the faithful performance of this trust devolve. She went down to the mine with her uncle s deed and papers, and sold out his claim to the high est bidder for $71,000. She then contracted with Mr. Bates, a marble dealer in Allegan, 191 The Bow-Legged Ghost to furnish each grave in Observation Point cemetery with a marble slab. For her Uncle Dan she selected a very elaborately carved and costly column, upon which was inscribed this original epitaph : " Xeath the ground in a bier, A gentleman true Sleeps silently thro The long, weary year. Daniel Crofton, died July 10, iS , aged 62." This was placed, under her own supervision, at the hallowed grave of her uncle. The other stones varied in size and shape, but with few exceptions, bore no inscriptions, as the graves, for the most part, could not be identified. When this had been accomplished, Observa tion Point was deserted by all save Alice and one man, a hermit, who dwelt in a rvide cave beside the stream that came out of the moun tain. Late in the succeeding autumn the final slab was planted, and Uncle Dan s wish had been fulfilled at an expense of $68,000, the balance of the old man s estate being very properly claimed by Alice. The latter sauntered through the abandoned streets of Observation Point with a distressed 192 Montressor sense of the surrounding desolation. She said adieu to the tenantless houses in which scenes of agony and death had occurred too vividly impressed upon her mind ever to be forgotten. How pale and worn she looked as she wan dered about on a cold November day, pausing anon to peer in through unhinged doors and broken windows, whence still issued the naus eating odors of the sick-room. She gazed longest and last upon the school building, wherein she had made so many dear friends among her pupils, nearly all of whom, alas ! were now dead. Then passing out through the gates of the cemetery, she stepped into a carriage and was driven to Allegan. II THE first man who ever went up Boulder Canyon, with no intention of returning to Boulder City, was Owen Montressor. In fact, he was the first man who ever went so far up Boulder Canyon with any intention whatever. It was absolutely necessary that Owen Mon tressor should not linger in Boulder City. His record there had been investigated by a vigilance committee, pending his all but fatal shooting of a rival gambler, and the disclos ures were by no means in his favor. ^ 193 The Bow-Legged Ghost Realizing the probabilities of capture if he chose the railroad as a means of escape, Owen Montressor galloped up the canyon one bleak February night, on a spirited horse he had borrowed for the occasion, without the per mission of its owner. He was ignorant as to his destination, but he pulled his heavy black coat over his shoulders, lighted a cigar, and kept on. Once or twice he looked back at the distant glimmer of the street lights in Boulder City, and then, like the solitary brigand that he was, resigned himself to his uncomfortable isolation from all human surroundings, as the rough, projecting rocks prevented his seeing more. Had he not been hardened and fear less, he would have shuddered in dread of un known chasms every time his horse stumbled. The dawn finally broke through the heav iest and grayest of skies, and Owen Mon tressor w r ore the same expression born of des peration. As the day brightened a little, he discerned one snow-capped peak after another to\vering above and around him. The canyon bore no evidence of a near termination ; it promised to lead him on until he perished of starvation. But at about noon he reached a level waste, and lo ! beyond were habitations. 194 Mo)itrcssor A few minutes later Owen Montressor halted his animal in front of an oblong frame building, over the battered door of which a weather-worn sign bore the legend : National Hotel. R. Shanley, Proprietor. lyooks as if Mr. Shanley and his guests are away," said Montressor to himself, dis mounting, with the design of making a tour of inspection over the premises. He pushed the creaking door open and stepped into what had once been the barroom. A torn and dirty circus poster still emblazoned the walls. A tin tank for ice water stood at the end of the warped counter, having for its neighbors a rusty cigar-cutter, an ink- blotched register, and two or three empty bot tles lying on their sides. Scraps of paper, corks, industriously chewed quids of tobacco, a spool of green thread, a piece of soap, the remnants of a soiled flannel shirt, broken dishes, and other miscellany, were scattered over the floor without any ap parent effort toward harmony of effect. Montressor s investigations in other parts of the house were not of a technical nature. He was too disgusted to play the role of con- The Bow-Legged noisseur, after the hope of finding something to relieve his hunger had been dispelled by the sight of a barren larder. Sauntering out into the air, he began grooming his steaming horse with a handful of straw, and, while thus engaged, perceived a whiff of smoke rising from a chimney clown the street a few 7 rods. He was soon opposite the house that indicated occupancy, shouting loudly in a sort of patois calculated to attract the attention of any one within. Presently there appeared at the door a middle-aged man, with a grizzly beard which grew all over his face, except where his little watery blue eyes, flat nose, and capacious mouth were. He kept his hand on the edge of the door, at first looking in blank amaze ment at the apparition of Montressor, and then, by peculiar gradations of facial emo tion, contriving to grin suspiciously at last. "Wai, pears to me yer kindy quick, stranger. Whar do yer persume to come frum, anyhow ? " My good man, on such an empty stomach I scarcely feel able to cope with my autobio graphy. I hail from the dear old Quaker City. There I was born and educated. I had once the honor of being the youngest 196 Montressor bank cashier in Philadelphia; and," continued Montressor, sotto vocc, I should have the honor of being the youngest one in State prison if they could find me." Then aloud, "But I have heard a great man}- pleasant tidings from the West, and be came impatient to see it; so here I am. It s a nice country through here a little cold I should judge. "Thar, thar, don t stan out thar a-chat- terin an freezin . It s not me as 11 go plumb agin a stranger in these parts. But the beast she s a durn prutty beast, ain t she? Jes come right in an make yersel ter hum. I ll jine ye soon s I git the mare in the stable. Montressor went inside. In the rear room, off the hall, he found a welcome fire in an open grate. The apartment was filled with groceries and high rows of canned goods of all descriptions. Been getting in your winter supplies, I see," remarked Montressor, with much affa bility, when his host reappeared. " I reckon yer don t know much bout Ob servation Point, do ye?" " You are quite accurate in your reckoning, sir. This is my first visit to the town, and 197 TJie Bo-Jo-Lcggcd Ghost you are the only citizen that I have had the pleasure of meeting. " Yer hain t likely to meet over two citizens in this place now; thum s me and myself. He ! he ! he ! The rest on em is snorin away down thar in the graveyard." The speaker busied himself opening a can of lobsters and went on. "Ye see, Observation Point was no slouch of a place awhile ago. I used to live in a hole in that mountain fore anybody thunk er makin a town here. Many s the time I ve run squar outen bar meat, an hed to go \vadin through the drifts for any animal as crossed my path. Tany rate, thet makes no odds how Already Joe thet s what the boys used to call me in the mines, cause I was prutty near ready to have a far deal ev ry time but, as I was savin , that makes no odds. " They got a town here quicker n a dose er strychnine. I jes hung to my own den an bothered no un, an no un bothered me. I ll have yer somethin ter eat in a smart minute, stranger. Wai, yer never seed a town bust up like Observation Point, arter a while. Holy Moses ! didn t she galavant down grade like a han car without any brake. 198 Montrcssor "They got cholery here all-fired bad, and talk about them morgue things in the city ! they couldn t tech a candle to the stiffs they lied to chuck in the groun ev ry day. Spades were trumps, now I m tellin ye. Things kep gittin tarnally worse, till there wa n t no one left in the camp but me. An the dangest thing bout it, there was a gal what teeched the edercashun school ; she was a prutty gal, too, goin roun givin castor ile an sech stuff to them as was sickest, till they turned up thar toes ; an when they all got planted she comes up from Allegan with marble stuns, an puts one on each grave. How s that fur a gal ? Thar was some good fodder them cholery folks couldn t take to Heaven with urn, an it was too good to spile, so I cleaned out some of the stores an housins er thar valuables, an brought um here. I ve got it packed over head with dry goods an truck nough to las me all my nateral born life. I don t mind lowin I struck it rich by stickin to Observa tion Point." Then Joe gave other details in answer to inquiries of Montressor, who evidently was amused by the rough host. He had fallen to eating the meal prepared by Already Joe 199 The Bow-Legged Ghost before the story of Observation Point s demo lition was concluded. I suppose you collared a few cigars ? said Montressor, pushing his chair away from the table. " Five thousand boxes or more of um," was the reply. Already Joe produced a choice brand of Havanas, and Handed the box to his visitor. The afternoon was waning, but Montressor felt very comfortable. The brandy and soda water were really better than any he had tasted in Boulder. \Yithout any over-cordial invitation to do so, he had resolved to spend the night with "Already Joe." They both became volubly interested in a game of poker. "By the way," broke out Montressor sud denly, in a tone slightly accentuated by a gleam of avariciousness in his eyes, "don t you suppose the people will turn up some time and claim their property ? "Thar ain t much danger, onless they git tired er the graveyard. Thum as got away alive is mighty glad ter stay away, I reckon. Ef they do come back fur their chattels they can have all I got; otherwise, I ll see they don t spile." 200 Montressor About what do you estimate the property they left worth?" asked Montressor with a business-like assumption of manner. "Wai, now, stranger, twon t do to be too quersitive. I don t keep other folks counts, as it s none er my business." Montressor took alarm at this blunt reply, and changed the subject. Is there a piano in the house ? " he in quired awhile afterward. "No, I have no use fur sech foolishness. But thar is several of um in the town," he added. " They were too heavy to haul in a jiffy, I presume. Let s go and find one. I used to be what a Boulder critic would term a fine executioner on the piano." " Already Joe" had no objection to offer to this. He lighted a lantern, for it was now dark, and they started out in quest of an in strument. After a short walk the} 7 entered a house whose interior bespoke the refined taste of its former occupants ; but the damp, musty atmosphere, the rotting Brussels carpet, and discolored lace curtains, exposed to the weather through shattered window s, told of the merciless work of Father Time. Mon tressor smote the tarnished keys of the piano 2OI The Bow-Legged Ghost that stood in the parlor. They were like ice, and the responses, where they sounded, were sadly out of tune. A little provoked, he literally pounded the keyboard, breaking three or four keys. After this he carefully sought the best set of chords, and, though the key was pitched altogether too high for his voice, he sang all the songs he could think of, adding some instrumental improvisations, until his fingers became so cold that he was obliged to give it up. Upon their return, "Already Joe" brewed some hot punch, after partaking generously of which Montressor, observing that his host was preoccupied, begged leave to retire for the sake of needed rest. in MONTRESSOR had said adieu early the next morning, and before ten o clock was half way to Allegan. His experience with "Already Joe" and the strange cemetery with its mar bles all huddled together, that he had passed, engaged his mind in reverie. He reached Allegan late in the afternoon and proceeded to a hotel, where he sojourned in a quiet and exclusive manner for nearly two months, not deeming it prudent to appear in Montressor public until his doings in Boulder City had ceased to be talked about. At length he began to show himself on the streets, and indulged his taste for music at a piano in the public parlor of the hotel. He represented himself as a wealthy lawyer from New York, and it was not long before Mon- tressor s reputation for culture was sufficient to admit him into the best social circles of the town. He was much sought after by musical people, because he could sing and play, and not less did the intellectual patronize him, because he could make a clever after-dinner speech. At a fashionable evening reception, Montres sor first met Alice Crofton. She seemed to him the embodiment of beauty; he was most devoted in his attentions to her throughout the evening. The next day he visited her at the High School of which she had become the principal. Rumors soon associated their names as lovers. That they frequently were seen at church and theatre together was evi dence tending to substantiate the gossip. And so their thriving intimacy resulted in an engagement the succeeding April. Meanwhile Montressor had secretly gambled with success, and was able to muster from his 203 The Bow -Legged Ghost haunts a force of men. not over-exacting en points of honor, to aid him in a scheme that he had been revolving in his mind ever since he reached Allegan. It was a bold plan one that, perhaps, no man ever before had conceived or tried, for lack of opportunity, and one that required sa gacity of the highest order, involving, as it did, no end of risks. One morning in May, before daybreak, four heavy trucks, carrying a dozen men, among whom was Montressor, in disguise, started up the Redwood Canyon. Xo one in the party, had he known Montressor, would have recog nized him as he sat on the forward truck, en gaged in earnest conversation with his deputy. An iron-gray wig and false whiskers of the same color had transformed him into a vener able-looking man. All day they lumbered up the canyon, kill ing time in singing songs and telling stories, reaching the Observation Point Cemetery in the night. Every one was silent now, every voice spoke in whispers, every footfall was cautious, every heart beat wildly with a sense of adventurous duty. By the aid of lanterns, the men found their way among the tombs, and formed a shiver- 204 Montressor ing group around the man who was to give the instructions. He said his purpose in coming here was to redeem the wealth that had been squandered upon the monuments, and of which he, the lawful heir, had been unjustly deprived. He dwelt with effusive bitterness upon the fraud ulent charges which the dishonest marble dealer had imposed, denouncing it all as a de liberate swindle. This feigned indignation on the part of Montressor was simply intended for effect. Five of the listeners were boss marble-cutters and trimmers, who, while in the employ of Mr. Bates, had organized a strike, which had procured their unconditional discharge. Hence, in ignorance of Montressor s design, they had pledged their skilled services to him, under the gloating impression that by so doing they could cripple Mr. Bates s interests, and thus secure their coveted revenge. They were willing to lend their assistance to this mysterious work, so strong was their hatred of Mr. Bates ; besides, the remuneration prom ised was large and tempting. Concluding his appeal, Montressor, known among his henchmen as Gilrain, turned to his lieutenant and said in a low tone: "Set them The Bovu-Legged Ghost to work at once. I will take a couple of men with me and trap Already Joe, so that he cannot interfere with our operations. The men were soon lifting the monuments from their lodgment in the green turf and car rying them to the trucks. Montressor, as we will still call him, led his accomplices to the house where " Already Joe " lived, and before the latter could comprehend the situation, he was a bound and helpless captive, the victim of all sorts of banter. You wouldn t let the stuff spile, eh ? " said Montressor, with a tantalizing sneer. " Well, Mr. Already Joe, you can have your three meals a day, providing you are respectful to these two gentlemen, who will entertain you until I decide what is best to do with you." Leaving a few authoritative instructions to Joe s guards, Montressor returned to the cem etery, where considerable progress had been made. In two hours the trucks were loaded, and the monuments w y ere hauled up to Shanley s hotel, which had been decided upon as the place w r here they should be cut into square blocks. On the morning of the fourth day, four car goes of the cut marble left for Allegan. Mon tressor accompanied the first shipment. 206 Montressor On the following night Montressor and his gang started up the canyon, meeting the laden trucks returning about midnight. Montressor smiled approval when informed that every thing was all right \\p at the Point. He flattered himself that few men could better have systematized the "job." Arriving at the cemetery, he found the workmen just renewing their labors after a short rest. He called upon "Already Joe," who had become so sullen that it was out of the question to get him to talk. That night Montressor returned to Allegau with the trucks. He did not go back to Observation Point the next trip. Matters demanding his attention compelled him to remain in Allegan. Curious people had already begun to seek admittance into the shanty, and they had been refused. They must be content with the ex planation that the mechanics could not be disturbed by the presence of visitors. The foundations of a large and beautiful mansion are in the course of construction for Owen Montressor, Esq.," was all that one of the Allegan dailies had announced. No one in Boulder suspected that Montressor was the alias of Duval, by which name he was there known. 207 7^hc J3 oiv -Legged Ghost Slowly the marble walls of the structure went up, and Owen Montressor was by far the most prominent citizen in the place. So far his scheme had worked well through all its ramifications. But he was on the alert for surprises. Montressor s trimmers came down from Al- legan one Saturday night to spend the Sab bath, and while under the influence of liquor had divulged enough to put the sheriff on the trail of Mr. Gilrain. But the clue was vague, and Montressor, hearing the matter publicly discussed, acted with subtle caution. He de termined to get these marble-cutters somehow out of the way. Having no more use for them, he made them prisoners and placed them under "Already Joe s" guards. It was not until after a fierce struggle, which required the recruiting force of the drivers, that the marble-cutters surrendered themselves. The other part of the undertaking was the removal of all the portable property which the citizens of Observation Point had abandoned in their flight. In one of the banks, Mon tressor had found $20,000 in specie and bank notes, and in the tills of most of the stores he had found sums ranging from $10 to $500 ; besides, in private houses, every one of which 208 Montressor he thoroughly ransacked, he had found money. Load after load of canned goods, dry goods, miscellaneous merchandise, furniture, stoves, timber, etc. , etc. , came down the Redwood Canyon in the darkness. All these things were placed in a warehouse which Montressor rented. He sold them at good bargains, through agents, and thus obtained ready money to pay his help liberally. It was rumored finally that he had purchased nearly all the property in Observation Point, and Allegan people, who were unaware that the Point for months had been completely de serted, credited the story. Montressor circulated reports that the chol era was still raging violently up there, and thus deterred the people who had fled from going back to claim their property. Half a dozen or more men did attempt to return to Observation Point, but when within about three miles of the place they were halted by two men in military uniform, who came out of a tent on which the word Quarantine was painted in big, black letters, and were told they could not go any further. Accept ing these appearances in good faith, the men retraced their way to Allegan. 14 209 The Bo^v- Legged Ghost Of course, the quarantine was a dodge of Montressor to keep away from Observation Point all of its former living citizens, espe cially those who held there extensive inter ests. Busy as he was, Montressor was a frequent caller upon Alice Crofton. He told her he was building such a palace as only his extraor dinary income could make possible, a palace in w r hich they would live in conjugal f elicit} . In her innocence and faith she was delighted. Four months elapsed. Observation Point was rifled of everything of value. The house in which "Already Joe" and the five marble- cutters were still confined was the only one that had not been robbed of doors, windows, and like material. The truck "Already Joe" had mentioned was no longer there. The marble edifice built of tombstones lacked com pletion only in furnishing. In order that Alice might offer her sugges tions as to the interior decorations, Montres sor escorted her over to the mansion one day. They entered the building through a side wing, and passing through different suites of rooms upstairs and down, came into the main hall. Alice had been dazzled by the magnifi cent proportions of the establishment, and was 210 Montressor musing over it, like one in a dream, when she happened to glance at the newel post support ing the marble baluster. Her eye, sweeping down the graceful column, was arrested by these lines: " Neath the ground in a bier, A gentleman true Sleeps silently thro The long, weary year." On the following day she was to have been married. All at once Montressor had in sisted upon hastening the event. But now she was asking herself why her uncle s monument yes, it was his! Her face grew wan, colorless, and rigid with hor ror ; she was fainting. Montressor caught her in his arms as she swooned backward, and with angry curses carried her out into the open air. He, too, had observed the tell-tale epitaph. Uncle Dan s monument had needed little remolding by the trimmers, so Montressor s overseer said. It had been placed on the truck, and in the gloom the inscription had not been noticed. Those who had been em ployed in the erection of the house were not aware whence it came, and if they had seen The Bo-jo-Legged Ghost the epitaph at all, they had attributed it to some odd whim of Montressor. Before Alice revived, Montressor saw three figures coming rapidly toward him. They were the sheriff, his deputy, and "Already Joe. Then the latter had escaped ? Yes, and it was too late for Montressor to attempt the same thing. He gave himself up with a dogged indiffer ence, so characteristic of the hardened crim inal. They took him to jail, where he would await trial. Two days before, "Already Joe" had twisted out of his shackles, while his keepers were asleep, and set the marble-cutters free. They never appeared in Allegan again, nor did the keepers probably fearing the pun ishment of the la\v. Montressor is serving a fifteen years sen tence in the penitentiary, and his famous mar ble palace has been converted into an academy for both sexes. Alice Crofton is its respected principal, and scouts matrimony. Mrs. Beveridge s Adventure BALMY evening in early spring. The full-orbed moon hung like a great golden disk in the heavens, bathing the green Southern landscape in a radiant sheen. The magnolia and orange trees had already put forth their white blossoms, which exhaled a delicious fragrance. Mrs. Beveridge stepped out upon the wide veranda, extending round two sides of the fine old colonial mansion, where as a happy bride she had come ten years before. She was now alone. Her latest guests, friends from Memphis, had left for home on the pre ceding day. For almost the first time since her marriage, she was without company. Both she and her husband had been fond of enter taining, and their success in the art had been unrivaled. Prostrated with grief for some months over the sudden death of her husband three years before, Mrs. Beveridge had been surrounded during that period by friends who feared the shock would leave her a mental 213 The >oiu-Lcg-ged Ghost wreck or a lifelong invalid. Gradually, how ever, she was restored to a semblance of her former self, though by no means to the gay, vivacious woman she had been. On the evening referred to, her servants had trooped off to a country dance. Mrs. Beveridge would have been enraptured with the beauties of the night, as her plump, shapely shoulders leaned against a pillar of the veranda, had not a nameless dread pos sessed her. The heavy stillness was oppres sive. The scent of the magnolia blossoms reminded her of the romantic period of her married life, and thoughts of her dead hus band brought on an attack of melancholy. Going into the library, she picked up a novel and tried to read it. Page after page she mechanically perused, without understand ing a word. She continued to read, now and then sensing a passage, but mainly absorbed in her own vaguely disturbing reverie. At last, she grew too nervous to persist longer in the effort. Throwing down the book, she passed into the dining-room and lighted the candelabra. Then she walked briskly into the drawing-room and lighted the chandelier and piano lamp. Seating herself before the piano, she began playing a Wald- 214 J\Irs. Beveridge 1 s Adventure teufel waltz. But the music only served to sadden her spirits. She placed on the rack a favorite vocal composition, and sang it in a rich contralto voice. The sentiment of the song seemed to lift from her soul a great weight of depression, but she was still ill at ease. Time dragged on until a few minutes after midnight, when Mrs. Beveridge resolved to go to her boudoir, on the floor above. Leaving the lights glowing in the library, dining- room, front hall, and drawing-room, she as cended to her sleeping apartment. The suc ceeding hour she devoted to writing to several friends. Shortly after one o clock Mrs. Beveridge stepped into bed. She courted sleep by some of those mental recourses which are said to win the presence of Morpheus. But it was futile. She could not even lie quietly. Fi nally she heard the hall clock strike two. Soon after, she began to feel the first symp toms of sleep. But suddenly, being nervously roused from her drowsiness, she dropped one arm limply over the side of the bed. Her hand came in contact with a shock of curly hair. Instinctively Mrs. Beveridge knew she had touched the head of a man a man who had been concealing himself under her bed. The TJic Bo-^-Lcggcd Ghost blood in her veins seemed to congeal, but, strangely enough, her senses did not desert her. Stifling her first impulse to raise an out cry, with admirable presence of mind she gave a very good imitation of a person yawning in sleep, and remained silent. After an interval of a few seconds, she heard a noise beneath her bed, and presently a dark form stood beside her. " Don t pretend you re asleep," said a deep, gruff voice, " for I know you ain t. I ve seen that kind o make-believe before. Come, now, I want no nonsense. You jes git up and shell out your fine diamonds and all your ready cash." The villain, while thus speaking, had whipped out a formidable-looking revolver, which he held recklessly pointed at Mrs. Bev- eridge s head. " I shan t do you an}- harm, he went on, "if you do as I tell you to. But set up any howlin or try to play any tricks on me, and I ll put you to sleep for good, and don t you make any mistake about it. Mrs. Beveridge wholly appreciated the situ ation. In no steady accents she replied : "If you will step into the hall while I dress, I will do as you ask." 216 J/T.T. Beveridge 1 s Adventure The burglar went into the hall to wait, while Mrs. Beveridge quickly clad herself, managing to hide in her bosom several papers represent ing many thousands of dollars. At that junc ture the burglar re-entered the apartment. "Out with your precious stones," he ex claimed harshly, "every one you ve got." Burning with indignation and alarm, yet outwardly composed, the widow produced a magnificent jewel case which she promptly handed to him. "They all here?" he asked. Then, looking at her hands, he added: "Xo< I see some pretty rings on your fingers. Take em off and fork em over." With great reluctance Mrs. Beveridge parted with the treasures she removed from her fingers. Surely you will spare me this simple gold band my wedding ring?" she entreated, with genuine earnestness. Yes, you can keep that. But git out your cash greenbacks. I haven t much time." Mrs. Beveridge told him her purse w T as down stairs in the library. "Well, go and git it. Start on, and I ll fol low. But don t you try to run away, if you don t want to git shot in the back." TJic Bo~jo-Lcgged Ghost A moment later she surrendered her purse, containing nearly one hundred dollars. But he insisted that she must have more money somewhere in the house. Then she handed him a wallet taken from her dead husband s writing-table, in which the burglar found over seven hundred dollars in banknotes. In the same drawer he spied Mr. Beveridge s watch and chain, which he appropriated. Then he said he would like to have the best of the silverware, and thereupon drew from his capacious pocket a cotton bag which, he intimated, would hold all the other valuables that he could lug away conveniently. They entered the dining-room, and from an adjoining closet the burglar soon selected as much sterling ware as filled his bag to over flowing. " It now lacks a quarter to three," said he, consulting the dining-room clock. "I can stay a little longer. Have you got anything to eat? I m hungry as an Indian." "Oh, yes," said Mrs. Beveridge, her heart fluttering with a hope that she could detain the monster until some of the male servants should return and capture him. " There are cold meats, preserves, good bread and butter, pickles ." 2lS JSrs. Bc-ccridgc 1 s Adventure "By Gorry," interrupted the burglar, his mouthwatering, "you re a real nice woman. I ll try some of your victuals. Hustle ; em right on." Lighting a small hand lamp, Mrs. Bever- idge led the way into the pantry, and began to prepare a luncheon for her frowzy visitor. The burglar immediately addressed himself to the edibles with gusto. At every other mouthful he complimented "the lad} / as he called her, upon the excellence of the "grub." " But," he ventured, " it would go better if I had something to wash it down. Now, you. don. t mean to tell me you ain t got some nice old brandy." "Yes," replied the handsome widow, who had been obliged to seat herself on the oppo site side of the table. But would you not prefer some wine? \Ve have in the cellar a vat of pomegranate which my husband im ported from Spain. " " Jes what I want. I never tasted any, as I know, but I ll bet it s daisy stuff." Mrs. Beveridge picked up the hand lamp, and saying : Bring that silver tankard on the buffet," led the way to the cellar. The bur glar followed, having left the bag of valuables 219 The Bo~jo-Lcggcd Ghost on the dining-room table. The stairs were spiral in construction, and after they reached the cellar floor there were several dark and winding passages to traverse before coming to the wine vats. " Where the devil are you leadin me, any how?" queried the burglar. There was a note of suspicion in his tone. A few more steps will bring us to the wine chamber," said she, with no sign of the agitation she felt. Here is the vat of pomegranate. "Yes, and it smells like a big bouquet of posies," said the burglar, as he stooped over the edge of the vat to dip up a full tankard of the sparkling vintage. Now was Mrs. Beveridge s moment ! She had been waiting for it with incredible self- possession. With all her might she pushed the cause of her night s torment and alarm headforemost into the wine vat. The bur glar s body and head were completely sub merged, but she did not pause to watch his struggles. Blowing out the light, she cau tiously but speedily made her way through the cellar and gained the spiral steps. Mount ing them in panic-stricken haste, she closed and locked the door communicating with the J\Irs. Bcvcridge" 1 s Adventure kitchen, and placed against it several pieces of furniture as an additional barricade. For several minutes she had heard no sound of the man she had so cleverly imprisoned. Then she heard his voice faintly from below. He had managed to climb out of the vat, and was trying to find his way out. Presently she heard him tottering up the stairs, fairly roar ing with rage, and uttering the most furious expletives. Oh, if some of the servants would only come ! Some horrible fascination prevented her from running out into the night and call ing for help. But who would hear her cries, save possibly the ears of the wretch s accom plices, waiting for him outside ? Suddenly the burglar reached the landing behind the cellar door, on which he began to thump and pound and kick with all his vigor, a course he would vary by begging to be let in, promising he would offer no violence and that he would leave the house without taking a single article of the plunder he had gathered together. Mrs. Beveridge remained silent, thereby leading her prisoner to believe that she had fled from the house. He continued to try to break the door open, but the oaken panels re- The 2> OT.V- Legged Ghost fused to yield to his fists and feet ; and, as he had lost his revolver during his struggles to escape from drowning in the vat, he did not have that weapon to use as a battering ram. For two hours Mrs. Beveridge remained in the kitchen watching and praying for daylight and assistance. Worn out by fatigue and ex citement, she finally lapsed into a faint, in which state she was discovered later by the colored coachman, who was first to return from Aunt Eunice s birthday dance. By the time she was able to tell what she had experi enced, most of the domestics had arrived and now stood huddled about her in quaking con sternation. The stableboy was dispatched to the nearest town for the constable, who put in a prompt appearance, accompanied by two deputies. Well armed, they opened the cellar door, but the burglar was no longer on the landing. He evidently had given up all hope of escape through that door, and had returned to the cellar. They had a hard search before they found him lurking in a corner of the coal bin. He fought desperately to resist arrest, but a blow on the head with a hickory club brought him to terms. J/r5. Bc ocridgc s Adventure At the next term of the county court, " Jimmy Hoolan," alias "Max Smith.," was tried and sentenced to a long term of years. The evidence brought out the fact that he was one of the most notorious crooks along the lower Mississippi, that he had committed a murder in New Orleans, and had served in prison for a robbery. When asked by the judge what he had to say in his own behalf, he remarked, with a droll expression of countenance: "Well, I ll say that that air woman is the bravest little woman I ever did see. And no one can beat her gittin up a meal o victuals. I didn t relish her pomergrantic wine quite so well. But I m willhv to take the sentence of the court like a man, jes because well, jes be cause I was outdone by a woman." 223 A Poet s Passion *.Voiv see that noble and most sovereign reason. Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh." HAMLET. Act iii, sc. i. I pf|-HE old concierge introduced him to me 1^ one afternoon, and invited me to call upon him. His talk and manners im pressed me with the idea that he was an origi nal character, and I decided to patronize him. I had taken rooms in this lively neighborhood of the Latin Quarter for a short time in order to observe student types, and Jean Renaud interested me. I called upon him two days after our first meeting, his rooms being one flight of stairs below my own. As I entered his artistically decorated cham ber, he threw aside his cigar and advanced tow r ard me with extended hand. He evidently was in the act of making his toilet, for he was only half dressed. I quickly apologized for the inopportunity of my visit, and was about to withdraw, when he seized me gently by the arm and conducted me to a chair, say ing I was welcome at any time. 224 A Pocfs Passion He informed me that he was preparing to call upon a young lady, who lived "on the other side of the river," but he had plenty of time, and I must remain until he was quite ready which would take another hour. I never met a more accomplished man of the world than Jean Renaud, but you shall have more of him as my story progresses. While he was chatting away agreeably on di vers casual themes, my attention became fixed upon the peculiar figures on his shirt, his coat and vest being off. Observing that I was gaz ing at them, he came closer to me and said : I see you are interested in my shirt ; odd, isn t it?" I remarked, with no little wonder, that it was ; for I saw verses in different colors, stamped all over the bosom and sleeves. "I am a poet, you know," he continued, and I have published some of my best w r ork in this way. It s very convenient to have a verse of your own 3-011 cannot recall, printed on your cuffs in artistic form. You see, this ordinarily passes for a figured cambric shirt until I call attention to the fact that it isn t!" I felt a droll impulse to laugh outright, which I did. Jean Renaud seemed offended at my laughter, and I promptly subdued it. The BO~JC- Legged Ghost " Read this poem and then laugh," he said, standing close beside me and pointing to a poem entitled "Andromeda," in the centre of his bosom. The lines were by no means wanting in poetic fire. I complimented him on his genius, and soon he seemed to forget the offense created by my laughter. He lei surely donned his collar, which was covered with verses, and then buttoned on his cuffs, also verse-dotted, talking meanwhile of his many creations, for, according to his own ad missions, he was a prolific bard. The hour which he had intimated was to be the limit of my stay was up before I knew it so entertaining had been Jean Renaud. But he had not become so absorbed in what he was saying as to be unaware of the exact time. " Now I must be going," he said with the utmost civility. "You will excuse me under the circumstances, I am certain. Monsieur Glenwood, you must call on me often. \Ve shall be the best of friends, ri est-ce-pas? "I see no reason why we shouldn t," I answered laconically, and so we parted he to make his call and I to take a stroll through the Jardin du Luxembourg. Jean Renaud and I became fast friends. We were opposites in temperament, though 226 A Poet s Passion many of our tastes were identical. In the ex change of confidences that passed between us, I learned that he had some genuine patrician blood in his veins from the maternal stock. His family estate, located near Melun, yielded him an annuity of sixty thousand francs, and, having no one dependent on him, his temporal condition entailed upon him no anxiety. Jean was an orphan. His only sister, An toinette, shortly after the death of the father, had married a French colonel, now stationed at Algiers. She had received by her father s will the mother being dead the bulk of the personal property, while Jean had in herited the paternal estate, which was an equable division. Since the death of his father, who had made his fortune on the Paris Bourse, Jean had been living a gay existence, but he had always lived well within his income ; riches had not turned his head. He was now thirty-two, tall, slender, with a bronzed complexion, due to the climate of Algiers, where he had lived, as his sister s guest, for eighteen months. For the rest, his black eyes and wavy black hair, and the contour of his rather angular face, readily proclaimed him a Frenchman. His figure was elegant, both as to form and car- 227 The BO-JO -Legged Ghost riage, save when, in his intense poetic moods, he affected the careless, slouching movements of a Bohemian. His face was scarcely at tractive, except in moments when argumen tative excitement brought a sparkle into his eyes and a flush into his usually pale cheeks. There was a peculiar charm in his smile, which disclosed his evenly shaped, white teeth. He was a fluent linguist, speaking English with barely a sonp^on of accent. Certainly, Jean Renaud was eccentric ; but to me he was not obtrusively so. A strong individuality characterized everything he did. He acted largely on impulse ; but, neverthe less, if occasion called for it, he was ready with some reason or justification of his con duct. He was as many-sided and emotional as a woman, and quite as obstinate at times. Of a Saturday night he would drag me to the Xouveau Cirque, on the Rue St. Honore, or to a Cafe Chantant, perhaps the Alcazar, in the Faubo^t,rg Poissonniere, and afterwards to a restaurant for a bird and a bottle. Then on the morrow he might be filled with that morbid piety which some people display on Sabbath days. He would declare it to be our duty to attend earl} mass in Xotre Dame, or, 228 A Poet s Passion as he sometimes urged, in the temple of the common people, Saint Sulpice. After service he would pack me off in a voiturc to the cemetery of Montmartre, where he would point out the graves and tombs of distinguished poets, musicians, and painters, often uttering a mournful monologue con cerning each defunct celebrity. Then in all probability on the way home he would visit the Morgue, to see what assassinated, drowned, or killed persons were exposed to curious pub lic view. Returning to his apartments, there was no such thing as my leaving him, unless, perchance, he was seized with divine afflatus, which seldom happened on Sundays ; and, being interested in this man, who with all his caprices was a magnificent companion, I had little or no wish to wander off by myself. Sometimes after sundown on holy days, Jean s peculiar piety would relax suddenly, and frivolities galore suggested themselves to the apostate. His favorite recreation was to pilot me into a haunt on the Rue Voltaire, not far from our lodgings, much frequented by students and Bohemians. It was called the Cafe Gambetta, because that flamboyant and somewhat misdirected genius had once hon ored the establishment with his presence for 229 The Bow-Legged Ghost an entire evening. None but men of sup posed tremendous intellect and professional promise were allowed in the place, though the only effective passport to the inner circle was seedy raiment and a duly manifested bravado of egotism. Consequently, Jean was careful to see that for these occasions I was befittingly arrayed in one of his cast-off, threadbare suits which he had spared for the purpose. His own attire was in that state of shabby uncer tainty where a friendly tussle, even in his own physical favor, would have almost denuded him. Everything we wore, barring our re spective underwear, was old and tattered, not to say greasy. But we were always re ceived by that nonconventional coterie with acclaim. At that period my shock of long, blonde hair, tinged with gray threads, gave me if you will allow me to say it a literary air. As for Jean Renaud they all knew him. How many times had his aggressive powers of discussion and expedience of suggestion con vinced the Bohemians of his indispensability in their midst where money, even with Jean and myself, seemed so unknown a quantity! How eager were the thirty or more eyes to note any intention of liberality on the part of 230 A Poet s Passion some one still possessed of a few francs ! Or with what dependent interest did they listen to some bold spirit who was openly threaten ing to hang up the establishment for the next round of vin ordinaire. Jean always directed me to distribute an even two francs in centimes through my vari ous pockets, which request he implicitly com plied with himself. Ergo we could plead to being "hard up" as well as the next man, who probably really was. No one in this highly confidential, though somewhat hilar ious circle, knew Jean as a man of desperate alternatives to obtain a breakfast or a dinner, though one man present had seen him once in his dress suit, but having accosted him had gone up the avenue satisfied that Jean Renaud was not Jean Renaud, but another a double in short, the Prince Motilla of Spain. . . . Jean had always been secretive concerning the young lady whom he went so often to see across the river, but one day he volunteered to confess his fears that his suit for his in tentions were serious was not progressing so favorably as he would have it. "You see," he declared, "she is bent upon becoming an artist. I never saw such a unique woman, Glen wood. I will make a 231 The Bow-Legged Ghost clean breast of it. She is a countrywoman of yours. "Indeed!" "Yes. She hails from Chicago." I gave a start. Chicago is my birthplace. Some all too tender memories to me hover about that much-maligned city. "Let me try to describe Adele Hargrift," continued Jean; but I interrupted him with an exclamation of consternation that some people would have considered blasphemous. Adele Hargrift ! Why should he try to describe her to me ? I knew her. Five long years before she had been my betrothed. Yes, five long years. She was a petted darling of society then the daughter of a wealthy railroad magnate. I was a poor civil engineer, with only alleged prospects of a brilliant career ahead. In spite of my self-acknowledged poverty, Adele had given me her hand. But alack ! we had a simple lovers quarrel which a single word of concession on the part of either would have patched up. But pride made us both stubborn, and we became es tranged. Soon afterwards I went to Mexico to do some surveying for that government. At 232 A Poet s Passion the end of a year my services were no longer required. As I had no other more definite aim at the time, I cast my fortunes with a bright but adventurous young fellow by the name of Tobias Shirley, who was daft on discovering something in the way of a rich mineral deposit in the northern mountains. Tobias was a Yale man. He had tried his speculative mettle and small paternal legacy in Wall Street to the total dissolution of the legacy. Since then he had drifted and kicked about the world up to the time when I met him in the City of Mexico. Being nearly of an age, and discovering that we possessed tastes in common, we naturally agreed to like each other; for it is ever so lonesome in the City of Mexico without a friend a friend, I mean, who does not employ you or whom you do not employ. However, for the matter of that, Tobias had several traits that one could not help liking, and this being the case, one could not help liking Tobias. \Ve set forth on our journey on the fifteenth day of May. Five weeks afterwards we made a discovery, that is to say, with all becoming modesty, I did. We were in the deep de clivity of a giant peak, or, in other words, in the crater of an exhausted volcano. After The Bo~ju-Legged Ghost making an extended examination, I was ready to make a thousand affidavits that the un canny looking walls of the used-up volcano inclosed a deep quarry of precious onyx. When I so informed Tobias, who, in truth, was anything but a geologist of even the most primitive kind (though, of course, he must have answered more or less correctly some questions at Yale, pertinent to the " Story of the Rocks,") he fairly leaped with jubila tion. We went back to the City of Mexico in hot haste, organized a company, and four months later the "Excelsior Onyx Mines" were in operation. There was compara tively little trouble in introducing our onyx on the market, for it was of a superior quality. In three years I was a millionaire, and sold out my interest in the mines to Tobias, who wanted to make two millions or more. Returning to Chicago, one of the first things told me was that Adele Hargrift s father had failed in business, and that she herself had gone abroad on a limited stipend, furnished by a maternal uncle, to study art. I still loved Adele Hargrift, and, after learn ing of the misfortunes of her family, I experi enced a great longing to see her again. A 234 A Poet s Passion year later I had come to Paris, where I knew she was sojourning, but as yet I had made no special effort to find her. So my emotion may be realized when Jean Renaud mentioned her name. " What on earth ails you? " asked Jean, in ad version to my exclamation. "Only a twinge of sciatica," I explained, with a farcical attempt to imitate a sudden victim of that dread ailment. "Too bad," said my companion. " L,et me call the doctor." "No, thank you, the pain will vanish in a moment. Jean resumed. His description of Adele Hargrift did not make her out a day older than when I had said a cold adieu to her five years before. Jean s eloquent eulogy of my whilom fiancee set my blood boiling. It was all I could do not furiously to demand her present address, that I might fly to her and call her my own. Yes, my own ; for she could never become the wife of Jean Renaud, ac cording to my heart s jealous prophecy. How almost abnormally cool and collected some men can appear, when the vital currents of their being are surging in wild excitement. Such was my exterior calm at that instant, 235 The Bo-^u-Lccd Ghost that I said to Jean Renaud, with ever}- sign of a mad devil s friendliness: "Jean, I should like to meet your fair divin ity. Where does she live? " "55, Avenue Marceau," said Jean, unsus piciously. "You shall come with me to morrow to see her. But you must keep your eyes open, and tell me afterwards if you think I have a shred of hope to cling to. ii FROM that moment Jean Renaud ceased to interest me in the way he had previously done. I came to look upon him as an inter loper a poacher on my preserves. But three days later, as though we were still the bosom friends we had been, Jean and I went to call on Adele Hargrift. I shall never forget the instant she saw and recognized me. She came as near faint ing away as any woman ever did or could, and I stood like a confused schoolboy able to offer neither relief nor sympathy. Jean suggested cold water on her forehead and a glass of Cognac, and rang for a servant. The remedies Jean had proposed seemed of avail, for Adele soon broke away from the thraldom of her faint, which she explained 236 A Poefs Passion was due to exacting work in the atelier of her teacher during the morning, without a scrap of food. You should not work without eating, Miss Hargrift," I managed to philosophize, being conscious as I uttered the words that I could not remember the time before when I had been constrained to call her Miss Hargrift. At my remark she pulled herself together, and, with a little air of her own, said: " As a rule, I obey the calls of the inner man, or, I suppose I should say in my case, the inner woman. To-day, Monsieur Durget had a par ticularly interesting figure for me to copy in oil, and probably I lingered over it too long for my physical good." "My friend, Glenwood, is not only from your country," said Jean Renaud, "but from your own city Chicago." " How strange 1 " said Adele Hargrift, her radiant smile giving the lie to her fluttering eyelids. Then she added: "But the world is not so large after all." Perhaps you knew each other when you were little," suggested Jean, " before the city of Chicago grew to be so enormous. "Perhaps," caught up Adele in a quick, combative way, "but should you think it The Bow-Lcgged Ghost probable? You have never been in America, you know, Monsieur Renaud." "Quite true, Mademoiselle," responded Jean, thoughtfully. "It was only a little fancy, nothing more. Excuse my haste in showing it to you, but my latest poem is done in English." With these words Jean Renaud produced his silk hat, which he went for in the vestibule, and handed it, top downwards, to Adele. The latter looked into it for a mo ment, and, motioning me to look also, I stepped behind her, and, with her permission, peered over her shoulder, while in a clear, unwaver ing voice, she read the following lines, stamped in the silk hat: A PROMISE COULD I speak thro the lips of the rose, Sweet things I d disclose, Quite as rare as its leaves ere they fold Up the wings of their fragrance untold. Sweet things I d disclose, Could I speak thro the lips of the rose. Perhaps from my dust will arise A rose that is lovely and fair ; Oh, spirit of mine, guard the prize, And think of my fanciful pray r. A Poet s Passion If then thou canst utter a word, Speak loud that my voice may be heard, For I shall such sweet things disclose As I speak thro the lips of the rose. Adele complimented the lines, but not pro fusely. My presence was evidently discon certing her, though I endeavored to be nothing more than politely casual in my demeanor and words. Presently, unable to witness her dis comfiture longer, I proposed going to Jean, who assented. "What do you think of her?" asked my companion, as we were riding homeward through the Champs Elysees. "She seems very agreeable. Her charms are many/ I commented in a half-abstracted manner. "She knows I am in love with her/ con tinued Jean, "but I cannot perceive that my affection is reciprocated." It was far from my liking to discuss the subject, though it seemed to be Jean s greatest wish to prolong it. I treated his raptures with a civil silence. On the following day I left Jean on the pre tense of having business to transact with my bankers in the Rue Scribe. As a mat ter of fact, I instructed the cochcr to drive - 39 The Bo~&- Legged Ghost me directly to 55, Avenue Marceau. Adele Hargrift received me. Neither of us could dissemble in the least now that Jean Renaud was not with us. How uncalled for and fool ish seemed our lovers quarrel as we reverted to it! Time had made charitable her memory of me as it had my memory of her. Our souls were drawn together by those indescribable ties of love which had never really been sev ered. I again offered her my name, with it this time a fortune. She blanched as with dread, lest I was mocking her. Disabused of this, she urged that she could not give me an answer at once. She also acknowledged the plight of being adored by Jean Renaud, in whom she felt an interest, but no love. I as sured her that I would tell Jean all about our previous relations and inform him that in the future he would be pursuing a forlorn hope if he insisted in paying her any more attentions. That very night I revealed the situation of affairs to Jean, trying not to be cruel in my candor ; but my words cut deep into the poor fellow s heart. Without a word he rose and left the room. As he opened the door I saw tears in his eyes. 240 A Poet s Passion Three hours of careful deliberation decided me in leaving my apartments on the following morning for good, and to that end I packed up my personal effects and belongings before retiring. The next day I went to the Hotel Binda, where I had previously sojourned, after inditing a note to Jean and leaving it with the old concierge to deliver to him. In it I affirmed my innocence of any intention to wrong him, or to stand in the way of his win ning Adele s hand. But he must now per ceive how futile was such an ambition on his part. The note contained little else in addi tion, save a few friendly words of farewell. A week later, Adele Hargrift and I were privately married in the American Presbyte rian Chapel in the Rue de Berry. Our honeymoon was spent at Nice, and sub sequently we lived for several months in Vienna. Finally we made an extended trip through Norway and Sweden, Adele mean time adding some delightful etchings to her portfolio. We passed the following winter on the Isle of Jersey. Adele and I had been man and wife just two years when we found ourselves once more in Paris, for a brief stay before sailing for America. 16 241 The Bo~jo-Leggcd Ghost At the very moment of our arrival in the Gare du Xord, I experienced a sickening de pression of spirits so closely and so uncom fortably were my thoughts of Paris and Jean Renaud associated. I wondered what had become of him. By mutual consent, his name, since our marriage, had never crossed our lips. I now shuddered in fear, which alas ! was in reality a true presentiment, as the fiacre bowled along through familiar streets and boulevards toward the hotel, lest I should see his apparition a wasted, gaunt, pathetic, but still breathing caricature of his former self. On the second day after reaching the gay city," I found some excuse to absent myself for a few hours, though it w r as difficult to mis lead Adele s intuitions. I was convinced, as I left her, that she had divined my object; but she did not seem at all unwilling to let me go. Half an hour later I was grasping the hand of the old concierge in the Rue Fontenelle. He was unmistakably glad to see me. He re membered that I never had handed him a nig gardly pourboire. And Jean Renaud: What about him ? " Mon Dieu ! " exclaimed the honest An- doche, with a terrible shrug of his shoulders, 242 A Poefs Passion followed by a significant touch of his forehead with his finger, and a few rapid shakes of his head; "he has gone completely to pieces! Yes, Monsieur Jean is done for mentally. Soon after you went away, Monsieur, two years ago that is now, he began going to the bad. Such carousings as he had in his room you never heard of. Oh, but didn t his money fly ! There was no one to restrain him, you know, but myself. However, I did not have much time for that sort of \vork, as Monsieur must know. It is all that one poor man, with asthma like myself, can do to look after Mon sieur Bernard s buildings, without giving the tenants points as to how they should manage themselves. Well, Monsieur Jean grew worse and worse. He ordered case after case of ex pensive wines, but only his old confreres and the grisettes consumed it. Monsieur Jean would only take absinthe, but he did take that without limit, and you know how that corrodes a young man s stomach and poisons his brains. For an old man like me, a little absinthe now and then warms up the cockles of his heart and reminds him of a good anecdote of his boyhood, but it is no beverage for a young man, and I told Jean so more than once. But he would only say: Mind your own concerns, 243 The BoTJO-Legged Ghost good Andoche, and leave your superiors alone. Order me another case of the fluid you would have reserved for your own selfish pleasure, you sly, old wretch ! That is the way he would go on when I tried to reprove him." " But what has become of Jean? I inter rupted. He stayed in this house up to about a year ago," responded the old man in his wheezy voice. Then creditors began to come around and bother him. I myself had been unable to collect three months rent from him that was due to Monsieur Bernard. Jean had been gambling right along to his own disad vantage, for the absinthe destroyed his wits. They say he raised money on his family estate to pay off debts of honor. Being a gentle man, Jean paid those, no matter how much he o\ved the wine seller, the restaurateur, and the landlord. Then he fell sick, and was in bed for a month. I myself paid his doctor s bill, and took a painting and a trunk containing fancy underwear for security. When he w r as able to get up he looked the picture of despair. One morning he hobbled down stairs and came into my quarters. My wife made him a cup of coffee, which he said tasted better than 244 A Poet s Passion anything he had ever swallowed. I am going now, he said; and, Andoche, if you ever want to see me again, you will find me in the fir forest near Melun, that once belonged to my father and afterwards to me. You dear old rascal, don t use absinthe in any form. Then he tottered out and he has never been here since. This is all, Monsieur Glenwood, I can tell you, except that the other day the Figaro stated that the new gamekeeper of the old Renaud estate has made a singular dis covery. While in the deepest part of the forest that covers the southern portion of the manor, he saw on many of the trees verses cut in the bark, with only the initials under neath J. R. That is all I know, Mon sieur Glenwood. My wife just says my humble luncheon is ready. Will you not partake ? Thanking him for his invitation, I returned to my hotel and asked Adele if she would not like to make a visit on the morrow to the famous old town of Melun. The question piqued her curiosity, but she did not ask the wherefore of the trip only saying she would be pleased to take it. At noon on the following day we stood on the outskirts of the dark green forest. To 245 The Bow-Legged Ghost the northward stretched the well-kept estate, with its trim greenhouses and horticultural gardens, of the late M. Renaud. We were on the verge of a dense shadow of thickly grow ing firs, pines, and other less kindred trees. An impulse, as strong as the passion for ab sinthe to Jean Renaud, tempted me into those mysterious shades. I led my wife guardedly thence, yet with a firmness that my Adele at that time could not account for, but tolerated in wifely faith. We had proceeded perhaps three hundred yards when we were suddenly confronted with a dark sluggish canal, sug gesting the outlines, if not the character otherwise, of a feudal moat. Our progress was arrested, and Adele, surrendering to her latent superstitions, for the first time mani fested so far as I knew her, suggested, with all signs of earnestness, a retreat to a less ghoulish environment. I was about to yield to her proposition, when my eyes beheld, dart ing from a fantastically gnarled oak, a figure clad meagrely in the skins of animals that I did not at the time know abounded in that forest. But his face wild with the inroads of dissipation and disease white as the chalk cliffs of Dover could I fail to recognize it? At the same moment he recognized us both. 246 A Poet s Passion I shall not attempt to describe him. His sudden appearance turned my blood to ice, my heart to stone. Fortunately, Adele was looking northward toward the open country. I stood aghast. He riveted his sunken eyes full upon me, with never a glance at the woman beside me. Then he smiled, threw up his bare arms, the motion of his body making his long whitened hair to flow in weird fash ion over his unclad shoulders. Uttering the most inhuman and unearthly scream that man ever uttered, he fled behind the great oak whose roots rambled along the exterior of the ground, instead of developing normally in mother earth, seeming a malicious octopus intent on spreading its tentacles merely for human destruction. The sound of Jean Renaud s shriek nearly tumbled my wife over with alarm. "A screech owl," I temporized instantly. The station master told me these horrid birds throng the forest," I added, to soothe her ; and very soon she believed the sound might have proceeded only from the monster suggested. Having seen Jean Renaud, I did not care to go a step further in that grewsome w r ood not The Bo~jo-Lcgged Ghost even had there been no black ditch to impede my onward way. I now shared Adele s wish to get back into the open country. That madman s face which my wife happily had not seen ! And yet, had I been able to stretch my hand across the old moat and to have said to Jean : Come back to Paris and be a poet. We shall appreciate you better this time." Ah, how could I do that? And how could Jean? My wife stood there shivering. Jean had appeared in the negligee of a mad man hermit. Why should I not extricate Adele at once from this wretched labyrinth ? With all sorts of desolate misgivings, I tried to guide Adele out of that hideously suggestive forest. But oh, how hopelessly we staggered through the underbrush ; how often we found it neces sary to penetrate tangled briars ; how slow, in deed, was our progress. The wonder was how we had ever proceeded so far into this sunless wood. En route I stumbled up against a solitary beech tree, half dead with the desire of getting my Adele out of the jungle, when I spied, cut in the trunk, evidently with a jackknife, a couplet which, rendered into English words, would read as follows : I put my fullest trust In things that crawl in dust." J. R. 248 A Poet s fassion Fortunately for us, the beech tree stood near the outskirts of the forest. Soon after wards, Adele and I emerged from that nocu ous gloom into the pearly radiance of a French landscape. Some six years later, after I had settled down as an architect in Chicago, I wrote to the Mayor of Melun regarding Jean Renaud. The Mayor s answer was brief and to the point. It read thus : N, April , 18 . MR. JOSEPH GLENWOOD. My Dear Sir: Yours received. Two years ago, the skeleton of a human body was found in the hol low trunk of an aged oak tree in the forest of Melun, otherwise still called Banker Renaud s estate, though it now belongs to M. Sorel. Only one thing identi fied the remains, and that was the picture of Jean Renaud himself in a gold-chased locket suspended round the neck. On the opposite side of the locket was a bit of paper folded up into a square. On it was written in the chirograph y of Jean Renaud whose name was signed underneath them these words : " I am the man who would love forever the American girl named Adele Hargrift, but a demon fate forbids it. In consequence, absinthe and madness are my por tion. Adele will never know my passion. Glen- wood, as the victor over my heart s choice, will prob ably be unrelenting in his strictures of me. Only the world, and after that, God himself shall judge." 24.9 The Bo-uo-Legged Ghost Adele, who never knew I wrote the Mayor of Melun, has never seen his reply to me, nor have I ever told her what he wrote. I tore the letter into fragments, and threw them into the waste basket. 25 - The Story of Four Carrier Pigeons H HOUGH living at some distance from the city, I was sufficiently in touch with urban life to be spared the appellation of a rustic. Yet I was called an eccentric man, because, being something of an experimental ist, I seldom did things like my neighbors. They regarded me as a harmless zealot, and in the community I was characterized as better than fools average. But I never minded the opinions of my fellow-citizens re specting myself. Year after year I went on experimenting with my beehives, my grape vines, my fruit trees, and my crops. To be entirely frank, my knowledge of the L,atin poet, Horace, my subscriptions to three agricultural papers, and my own untiring de votion to the more scientific methods of farm ing did not assist me financially. While not aspiring to reap a fortune in agriculture, I dared to hope for a moderate monetary success The Bow-Legged Ghost from the application of approved modern methods to agricultural affairs. But they did not appear to succeed. At the end of each year I found myself somewhat poorer than I had been at the beginning. Despite my in dustry, my acres did not thrive. While I was deep in the study of ensilage and other equally interesting matters, my produce garden be came choked with weeds and nettles, and while I was eradicating them by hand ( a la borious process requiring a fortnight s steady toil) my little dairy of six cows died, one by one, of an epidemic which other sufferers like myself called by a great variety of names. So matters went from bad to worse, and finally, being cramped for a little ready money, my small balance in the First National Bank of Centerville the nearest town having been gradually withdrawn, I began to ponder how I could raise the necessary amount with out borrowing or mortgaging my farm. At last I decided to sell my four carrier pigeons, which some three years before had been pre sented to me by a friend who had procured them in Italy. He assured me that originally they had be longed to a Neapolitan count, who, while im prisoned for a crime, had used them as mes- The Story of four Carrier Pigeons sengers between himself and his lady-love. The Count, it is said, did little else during his incarceration but indite burning epistles to the fair senorita and dispatch them to her by these pigeons, which were kept flying from the prison to his sweetheart s villa and back, by day and night. The senorita, of course, responded to each impassioned vow of her captive lover, and to each of her perfumed notes was attached a scarlet ribbon, which was tied to the tail feathers of the faithful carrier. Neapolitans who lived in the neighborhood of the prison used to stand in the street for hours watching the pigeons set forth from and return through the narrow second-story window of the cell occupied by the Count. This was one of the interesting sights in Naples at that period. Finally, the Count died suddenly while in the act of addressing one of his most ardent declarations to the senorita, and his property, including the pigeons, was publicly sold to redeem his debts. What became of the fair senorita I have never heard. Perhaps she languished away in a convent. My friend happened to be in Naples at the time of the sale of the Count 2 53 The Bow -Legged Ghost Gracedo s effects, and he bought the pigeons at a rather extravagant price. But each one was, indeed, a rara avis. As I have said, he presented them to me in remembrance of our close friendship formed while at college. On account of the romantic story he related concerning them, I always had dearly prized them since becoming their pos sessor. And now, though I needed money, I keenly disliked the idea of parting with them. In my bachelor loneliness they had been ex cellent companions. Throughout my forty- five years existence I never have been es pecially fond of domestic pets, but these pigeons won my tender affections from the start, and I trust I shall not be considered vain if I hint that my feelings were charm ingly reciprocated by them. They lived as much indoors as out. They followed me to the fields and indulged in their own instinct ive pastimes when I was too busy to pay them attention, but they were never far away from me. At night when I went to my chamber to read, or into my adjoining home-made labora tory to fuss, the\" accompanied me, and, light ing on my shoulder, would coo and pose in the most piquantly affectionate manner. I called them respectively "Josephine," after a 2 54 The Story of Four Carrier Pigeons young lady for whom I once entertained a sentimental but futile regard, "Moses," after a favorite deceased uncle, " Penelope," after a married sister, and " Ralph," after my friend who gave me the pigeons. After they thoroughly knew me, I tested their training by taking them one day into a hillside forest about four miles distant from my home, and leaving them in charge of my farm boy, who accompanied me, with instruc tions to free them in about an hour. I has tened back to my house, which I reached before the hour was up, and getting my briar- wood pipe and tobacco pouch, seated myself on the veranda to await the coming of my treasures. Soon, however, doubt began to prey upon my thoughts. Would they ever return ? I eagerly consulted my watch. The hour would be up in three minutes. Those three minutes, how full they were of sus pense ! but I will not pause to detail my misgivings. Eight minutes later I descried four birds flying directly toward me. Yes, they were my pigeons. I believe I never ex tended a more genuine welcome to any human being than I did to them as they landed on my outstretched arms. Nor were their greet ings, in their dumb way, less cordial. But it 2 55 The Bow-Legged Ghost is enough to say that I liked my pigeons and that they liked me. II I DID not need the money for myself, because my habits of life were very simple and inex pensive at that time. True, in my college days and afterward, while I mingled with the world, I spent money freely too freely, in fact, for a man whose legacy had been but $20,000. But, fortunately for me, at about the time I had nearly run through my inher itance I began to thirst for scientific knowl edge. I purchased a farm of nearly two hundred acres and a considerable number of books, and in this way settled down. I enter tained a vague notion that I could become an accomplished scientist and a practical farmer at the same time. I desired money to give my younger brother, a worthy aspirant for legal honors, who w r as suffering from what is commonly known as cataract of the eyes. This trouble had be come so serious as to require him to consult an oculist, who had urged him to submit to an operation at once. Jack wrote me the circumstances and appealed to me for money to pay for the operation. " My whole 2*6 The Story of Four Carrier Pigeons career," he wrote, "depends upon this opera tion, which Dr. Powell assures me he can suc cessfully perform. What could I do in the law, or anything else, without my eyesight? I dislike to call upon you for funds, but I know of no one else to apply to. It would be a pity and a shame, now that I am admitted to the Bar and stand a fair show of working up a practice here in New York, to have everything go by the board. Dear brother, help me if you possibly can. The operation will cost only $100. With that sum I think I can manage it, as I have a little laid away to meet my board, laundry bills, etc. I cannot see to write this so my friend, Lawrence Shipley, is kindly acting as my amanuensis." Is it necessary to observe that this letter touched my heart ? I had not heard from Jack before for nearly three months. He was a pushing, independent, clever fellow, and I never had had an}- occasion to w r orry about him, except in regard to his poor eyesight. But previous to the receipt of this letter I had not known how bad it was getting. Of course I resolved to provide Jack with the money. But how ? The passing out of my hands of my entire farm I should not have allowed to stand in the way of furnishing him with assist - 17 257 The Bo-w-Legged Ghost ance in his exigency. But being a man of middle age and not as practical as the law will allow a man to be, and also sensitive as to my shortcomings in the latter respect, I really hated to give up my farm. After much reflection I hit upon the expe dient of disposing of my cherished pigeons. The very afternoon I received Jack s letter, I worded an advertisement to insert in the Cen- terville Weekly Farmer and Rural Companion, and, placing it in an envelope, with a note to the editor requesting him to send his bill for the same, gave it to Jim Bloodgood, a stage- driver, to deliver, as his rocking vehicle rattled along the dusty turnpike in front of my house at about sunset. The notice ran as follows: "Gordon Hildreth, Esq., of Weaver Valley, offers for sale four beautiful carrier pigeons, with a history. For terms inquire of the owner. On the following Saturday morning I was sitting on my veranda after having eaten a frugal breakfast, prepared as usual by my housekeeper, Priscilla Dudley, when a lively team and buckboard, whose approach from the direction of Centerville, ever since it appeared in sight over the knoll of the South Hill, I had been watching, turned into the lane lead- 258 Story of four Carrier Pigeons ing up to my modest domicile. This unusual circumstance at once directed my attention to the sole occupant of the conveyance, whose form and features were now plainly visible. He was a trifle stoop-shouldered, wore a drab- colored slouch hat, and an outer coat of the same hue, and, though it w r as July, thick buckskin gloves. A nearly exhausted and poorly-lighted cigar rested in one side of his rather capacious and sensuous-looking mouth. He did not glance at me or at my house during the time he was driving up the lane, which covered a distance of two hundred yards from the turnpike. Even when he stopped opposite my threshold, his gaze was reflectively inclined downward. He climbed clumsily out of the buckboard, for he was a heavy man, put his whip in its iron socket, and curled the reins carefully around the whip. Then, after pat ting the flank of the nigh horse and testing the security of the nearest front wheel of the buckboard, he turned sedately, and, looking unconcernedly at me, said : " Mr. Hildreth, I believe ? " That is my name, sir," I replied ami ably. "I noticed in this week s Rural Compan ion that you have some carrier pigeons to 2 59 The Bo~ju-Legged Ghost sell. My name is George Pullen. I thought I d come up and look at em." " Very well," I said. " Come up and take a chair and I will call the pigeons. He slowly ascended the steps of the veranda without speaking. I knew my visitor by reputation as a bird fancier and dealer, and I reflected with a joyful thrill that he would not have been likely to drive all the way from Centerville, nineteen miles, just to see my pigeons. A peculiar whistle which I made brought the four birds at once. As usual they lighted on my arm. " They look like the genuine article," ob served Mr. Pullen, after gazing at them for several moments, during which I had briefly narrated their history to him. He showed no disposition to higgle. He offered me $ 100 for the four pigeons, and after a reproachful moment I accepted the offer. My pets were placed in a wooden cage which Mr. Pullen had brought with him under the seat of his buckboard. As he was about leaving he ad mitted that he had heard of my pigeons from different parties, and that he had been desir ous of gaining possession of them. After Mr. Pullen went away I felt thoroughly ashamed of myself for having surrendered my beautiful 260 The Story of Four Carrier Pigeons birds to a stranger who desired them only for a speculative object. But when I thought of poor Jack and the help the $100 would be to him, my self-reproach, so to speak, evapor ated. That day I forwarded the money to my brother, and in my letter fraternally expressed the earnest wish that the proposed operation would prove successful. Ill ABOUT four days after I had disposed of my pigeons, I received a startling message from my sister and her husband, who resided in a flourishing Pennsylvania town, where the latter was engaged in a manufacturing busi ness. The dullness of the previous season and the reverses of the firm had resulted in an assignment. Horace, my brother-in-law, wrote me the particulars of the failure and entreated me to come to his rescue with a loan. To this appeal my sister Penelope added a pitiful sup plication for financial relief, making a strong point by referring to her two children, who, she said, would soon be in want of a crust of bread to keep their little bodies and souls together, if I did not heed this petition. That part of the letter written by Horace was couched in less doleful words, and displayed 261 The Boiv-Legged Ghost a more practical view of their situation. He thought $3,000 would set him on his feet, though that amount did not cover all his lia bilities. But he hoped to gain the renewal of certain notes against him, in which case, w r ith the $3,000, he could continue work in his fac tory, and, within a few months, redeem his obligation to me. This was far more serious than my brother Jack s modest request, but I was just as anxious to comply with it. It was clear that I would be obliged to mort gage my farm. The only doubt was whether I could raise the necessary amount in this way. I immediately sent word to Squire Wil- loughby, the richest man in the township, who lived about a mile up the valley, to come and see me on business. He rode down after supper that day, and I told him what I wanted. We walked over the farm and he mentally took an inventory of it. At last he said he wxmld not take a mortgage for over $2,900. It was useless trying to persuade him to raise his bid even a hundred. So I was obliged to accept his offer, and the next day the papers were prepared and signed, and he handed me his check for the amount. Late that afternoon I was in my garden, hoeing my potato patch and wondering how I 262 The Story of Four Carrier Pigeons might secure the additional one hundred dol lars to make up the even three thousand that my sister Penelope and her husband desired, when suddenly I became aware that something had lighted on my right shoulder. Turning, I saw Josephine. I could easily recognize her by the golden-brown ring around her neck. Yes, here was my favorite pigeon, Josephine. Ere I had time to salute her, the other three were scrambling for the best resting-place on my shoulders. I at once dropped the hoe and made for the house, overjoyed at the unexpected return of my pets, which seemed equally elated at hav ing found me. Where did you come from ? " How did you get away?" "Are you not afraid that it will be suspected where you are ? These were some of the inquiries I addressed to them, as I approached the house. The only answer they gave me was an affec tionate, satisfied coo, as they nestled closer to my neck. It was a pleasure, indeed, to have my pigeons back again. After we had enjoyed a play- spell, as of old, I became meditative. I rea soned to myself that the pigeons could not have escaped from Mr. Pullen. He had dealt too long in specimens of the feathery kingdom 263 The Bow-Legged Ghost for such a thing to be probable. The more plausible inference was that they had deserted the party to whom Mr. Pullen had sold them. Was it likely that this party would endeavor to recover them ? Yes, and would he not nat urally go to Mr. Pullen to ascertain from whom he had obtained them, and then come to me with the question : Have you seen anything of the four carrier pigeons you sold the other day to George Pullen of Center- ville?" That, too, seemed likely. At this point in my reflections I was seized with the first dis honest thought which I think ever crossed my mind. The first town of any considerable size north of where I lived was Truckton, twenty-two miles distant. It was larger by some four thou sand inhabitants than Centerville, with which it was connected by a stage route. Between these two towns I had divided my patronage among the stores, and, if anything, I was better acquainted in Truckton than in the other place. I knew a man in Truckton who kept a large bird establishment, and I now conceived the idea of going to him and trying to sell the pigeons. I did not pause to con sider the total lack of honesty involved in 264 The Story of Four Carrier Pigeons this act, my whole mind being concentrated upon the wish to procure the $3,000, to send my unfortunate kindred. The stage from Centerville usually passed my house on its way to Truckton every morn ing at about ten o clock. With my pigeons carefully concealed from sight, in a bundle so arranged as to furnish them sufficient air, I hailed the driver of the Truckton-bound stage on the following morning, and mounted to the vacant seat beside him. During the journey I attempted to maintain my usual composure, and to forget, as far as possible, the nature of my errand, but my conscience, like the proverbial kingly crown, would not easily rest. Haunted by the fear that my double-dealing would be detected, and thus bring me to disgrace, my manner and words must have seemed artificially gay to the stage driver, though he gave forth no sign that he suspected me of any mysterious pur pose. Arriving in Truckton, I at once proceeded to the shop of Mr. Sinclair, the bird-dealer. Without waiting to exchange the customary commonplaces, I undid my bundle and ex plained to him that the four pigeons that flew out were for sale. 265 The Bow-Legged Ghost "The birds," I nervously remarked, "as you can see, are very fine specimens. They have, sir, a remarkable history." Mr. Sinclair closely scrutinized the birds, and asked: "What is their history ? " I thereupon related to him the story of the pigeons, to which he listened attentively, but with a slight expression of incredulity. When I had finished he rather indifferently inquired my price for them. I replied that I valued them at $150, which sum he pooh-poohed as altogether too exorbitant. After considerable bickering he agreed to give me $125, which I accepted. I then left his shop, secretly pleased at the success of my roguery. Squire Willoughby s check for $2,900 I had in my pocket. That and $100 I exchanged at the Truckton bank for a draft of $3,000, made out to the order of my brother-in-law, Horace Dunbar, to whom I immediately mailed it. I returned home on the Centerville stage, and for several days afterward I kept myself very closely indoors, allowing my farm boy, John Sanders, to perform all the duties per taining to the farm. Only under cover of darkness would I steal out for my usual exer cise, and frequently I cut short my walk by reason of a vague fear that I was being fol- 266 The Story of Four Carrier Pigeons lowed. During this period my life was mis erable, and I learned for the first time that conscience not only makes a coward of a man, but tortures him worse than any bodily pain. I was somewhat consoled, however, for my dishonest transaction with Mr. Sinclair by the receipt of a letter from Penelope and Horace a letter full of tender gratitude and thanks for the relief I had afforded them ; and, finally, I gave up brooding over my infamous deed, and soothed my conscience with the resolve that as soon as possible I would trace the party to whom Mr. Pullen had sold the pigeons and reimburse him for their loss. I now began to take an interest in my farm, and instead of devoting so much of my time to my beehives and to the care of my fruit trees, I labored like an ordinary farm hand at tilling the soil. One afternoon, while en gaged in plowing in a new field which I had recently freed from stones and stumps, I hap pened to look upward at the sky, wondering what the weather would be on the morrow, when I observed four birds flying in a straight line towards me. Instinctively, I knew they were my four pigeons, which neither time nor distance, it seemed, could alienate from me. A moment later they were perched on my 267 Boiv-Leggcd Ghost shoulders, indulging in their wonted cooings and manifesting a redundant joy in again be ing with their old master. This time their return affected me to tears, and exultantly I called to John, who was in the neighboring field, to continue my labor at the plow, and went prancing homeward with my pigeons fondly clinging about me. Upon reaching the house Priscilla handed me a let ter, which had been left by the postman during the da}\ I opened the letter, which was from Jack and read as follows : NEW YORK, August 10, 18 . Dear Brother : I am now in the hospital, and am getting along pretty well, the physicians say. The operation was performed last week, and my eyes must be kept bandaged for three weeks. I was obliged to come to the hospital in order to obtain the necessary care which my case demands. It will cost me another hundred dollars for board here and professional serv ices. Can you possibly rake up that amount for me ? I will work my nails off to repay you at the earliest opportunity. Help me, dear brother, through this crisis and you will never regret it. Affectionately yours, JACK. In the perusal of this message I did not lose my patience ; on the contrary, I recklessly 268 The Story of Four Carrier Pigeons determined to double my sin, and again sell the pigeons this time in the large city of Pittsburg, fifty miles away. The next morn ing I started on the Truckton-bound stage, my pets securely confined in a bundle as before. I had but an hour to wait at Truckton before taking a train for Pittsburg. I did my wait ing in a remote corner of the gentlemen s room in the station, behind a newspaper. I reached Pittsburg too late in the day to transact my business, but, before going to bed, I learned the name of the largest bird-dealer in the city from the hotel clerk. The next morning I visited the bird shop and came away with $130, which I mailed to Jack, in care of the New York Hospital. Little remains for me to add. I returned home, my conscience hardened by the repeti tion of a dishonest act, and resolved that so long as my pigeons remained faithful to me, and my family continued unfortunate, I would pursue the same policy. My pigeons did re main faithful, for in less than a week after I disposed of them in Pittsburg they returned to me, But, happily, my family had no occa sion to appeal again to me for funds, and so I was, perhaps, spared a career of unique knavery. 269 The Bow-Legged Ghost Jack came out of the hospital with his eye sight wonderfully improved, if not wholly restored, and within six months sent me his check for the amount I had advanced him. He is working his way up in the law, and I am certain he will succeed. As for Horace, he pulled through his reverses, and now is well on the road to fortune. Two years after his failure he repaid me the loan, with which, and w r hat I had managed to save, I lifted the mortgage from my farm, w r hich nets me nearly a thousand a year all an old bachelor like myself requires or deserves. In conclusion, I will say that the man who purchased the four pigeons of Mr. Pullen has been paid $175 by me, that being the price he paid Mr. Pullen for them. Mr. Jenkins of Truckton, who bought the pigeons of Mr. Sinclair, I paid $200 to cover his loss. To Mr. Spicer, who bought the pigeons of the dealer in Pittsburg, I remitted the same amount. For a gift to me those birds have proved rather expensive, but they have taught me several practical and salutary lessons, and next to Penelope and Jack there is nothing in the world I love so much as I love them. A Living Tombstone see, people said that Jasper Diggs was born foolish and that he was not re sponsible for his actions. His mother died in his babyhood, and he was left to take care of himself, as his father was a poor, old, weak invalid. Public philanthropy was almost an un known quantity in Pine Hollow, and the maxim of every man for himself was rigidly con formed to by the tavern keeper, the proprietor of the grocery, and other less influential citi zens of the village. Even the seedy-looking parson was imbued with but a picayune spirit of charity, though he frequently found occa sion in the pulpit to stimulate and encourage charity in others. Jasper had grown to be a very sizable young man of twenty. With all his shattered men tal faculties, affection was a most pronounced trait in his character. This was manifested in his zealous care of his father, whose ema ciated form had lain for many a long, weary 271 The Bow-Legged Ghost month upon a couch of pain from which the poor man was destined never to rise again. Jasper was his nurse, his companion. If the old man sometimes wearied of his boy s vague chatter about a thousand nothings, of his nerv ous facial contortions, or his monotonous im personations, he could, after all, bear these trifling annoyances in return for all the kind attention of which he was the recipient from this same unfortunate son. What little re mained of the old man s life, ebbed slowly, day by day, until at last his name was written in the book of mortality. "Well, old Diggs is gone," was the cur rent expression of the generation that knew him best. Affairs in Pine Hollow, of course, moved on in their wonted style. Mr. Diggs s death was soon forgotten. But no! it was not forgotten ; Jasper Diggs remembered it but too well. The idea of providing a suitable tombstone to the memory of his father seemed to have taken possession of Jasper s mind a few days after the old man s death. Some suggested that the easiest way to get enough money to purchase one would be to go around with a subscription list. Acting upon this hint, he started out on his hopeless mission. I say A Living Tombstone hopeless, because they looked upon Jasper as more of a fool than he was ; hence they treated him far worse than he deserved. He went from house to house, meeting only re buffs, sneers, and ridicule. At night he repaired to the cemetery where he slept, preferring to be near his dead father than in the lonely cottage. He had tramped all over the village, and found only one per son willing to render him assistance, and that one had signed for half a dollar. Every one else had refused to give anything but his moral support. Therefore, like a perfectly sane young man, he abandoned the enterprise, though the insatiable longing for a monument to his father s memory possessed him as keenly as ever. A week later, one of Pine Hollow s miserly citizens, while passing the cemetery, made a strange and wonderful discovery. He did not go into the grocery shop that night as early as usual, in order to allow all the fre quenters to assemble so that he might have a good audience to listen to what he had to say. The crowd was laying in a stock of peanuts and plug tobacco as he entered, and his nervous patience was taxed to the utmost in refraining from calling the meeting to order at once. The Bo-jo-Legged Ghost "Well, boys," he began, after the counter and every available box and barrel had been extemporized for seats, "you d a laughed your gizzards out to see what I did this morn- in . I was footin it over to Hi Cassaways to see bout him buildin me a new corncrib next week, an as I come to the graveyard, I noticed a man standin in there. Comin up closter, I reco nized Jasper Diggs, poor devil ! He was standin perfectly still, an when I got right oppusite, I hollered out: Hey, there, Jasp, what yer doin ? Well, I ll be dog dang if he stirred a confounded inch. Then I hol lered again, but he didn t move. Sez I to my self, says I, like as not the poor dumb critter s in a fit, or got one of his blasted delusions. I ll jes go up an see what ails him. When I got around not more n a rod or so in front of him, I see a square piece of this ere paste board hangin on a string around his neck. There was letters on it, but as I don t pertend to be much eddicated, I couldn t read em. But it s my opinion he s trying to run Bill Davis, the marble dealer, oppursition, and be his own tombstone." A loud guffaw on the part of the listeners followed close upon the conclusion of these re marks and then continued laughter augmented 2 74 A Living- Tombstone the hilarity. Of course, the curious visited the cemetery and found the report true to the letter. There stood Jasper, as motionless as the monument he was representing, his facial expression displaying a deathlike rigidity. No amount of diverting noises or threatening gestures changed the fixed stare that literally poured out of his eyes. The placard placed around his neck bore this inscription : " SACKED TO THE MEMORY OF MY FATHER, BORN , DIED , THIS TOMBSTONE IN DEFAULT OF A MORE ENDURING ONE is ERECTED." The people of the Hollow had something to laugh over at last. Throughout and beyond the county the fact spread that in Pine Hol low cemetery there was a living tombstone. Visitors flocked to the place. Now, it would mar the authenticity of this story to say that Jasper Diggs had no relaxa tion, that he stood at the head of his father s grave night and day, and, like any other tomb stone, didn t eat and sleep. When evening came, he left the place with solemn delibera tion and wended his way homeward. He appeared in his conventional style, until he returned to the cemetery the following morn- 275 The Bo~jo-Lcggcd Ghost ing. At noon, if no visitors lingered about the grounds, Jasper ate his luncheon, which he had brought with him. It must have dawned on the astute reader s mind ere this that there was one prime object which held Jasper Diggs with such fidelity to his post. He was quite rapidly gaining that object, for nearly every stranger dropped a coin into the yawning money-box that was at tached to his waist-belt. It was about the middle of November. A heavy cloak of snow covered the earth like a shroud. The day was drawing to a close. The boy, who for years had been the target for all kinds of ridicule and abuse, the general laughing stock of the village, resigned his po sition that day, leaving the cemetery, half- frozen, but with three hundred and eighty dollars, the scattered donations of charity, and not one red cent of it had come from the pocket of an inhabitant of Pine Hollow. Jasper Diggs was able to purchase for his father a worthy monument, and it may well be imagined that he went to and came from it with just feelings of pride. Somehow people after that hung their heads and acted as though they were ashamed of themselves when Jasper was around, and no one ventured any longer 276 A Living J^ombstone to mock his manners or to jeer at his condi tion. And, somehow, Jasper did not appear to their eyes as he had before, for in reality he gradually reversed the apparent intention of nature with reference to his mental character istics. If you ever visit Pine Hollow, don t fail to go and see Mr. Diggs s tombstone, for it is the finest one in the cemetery. 2 77 The Mind Children OLD gentleman of patriarchal bearing, weary with a day s literary toil, planted himself in an easy chair before an open grate fire in his study. The twilight shadows were deepening, and fitful gusts of the autumn wind rattled the windows and weirdly crooned down the chimney. In a few minutes the old man s head sank limply on the leather back of the chair and he was sound asleep. It is said the brain never rests ; that the prin ciple of intelligence is always active, whether w r e are sleeping or awake. Within this old man s shapely Titanic head to-night, while he slumbered on, there seemed to be a conges tion of mental images. These brain children jostled each other in their restless eagerness to obtain freedom. In the stampede that fol lowed, many a delicate offspring of his mind was trampled upon and crushed out of ex istence, and even some of the hardier and stronger ones were injured in the panic. Among these brain children that were fortu- 278 The Mind Children nate enough to get out of the crush was a cer tain Joke, a sprightly little fellow, who knew his only safety was in getting aw r ay. So he stealthily crawled on his hands and knees through a dark passage, and finally emerged from the old man s left ear. He did not linger long in the study, but passed into a sleeping- chamber, and thence through an open window he made his way into the outer air. For a moment he stood irresolute on the pavement, shivering with cold, for he was not used to such atmospheric rigors. Presently he was joined by a dainty little Fancy whom he remembered to have seen not long before in the old man s mind. How did you get here ? inquired the Joke. "In about the same way you did," re sponded the Fancy, in an elfish voice. " But I m almost sorry I came, for they say deserters like us always come to grief. But I feared being killed if I remained in that awful mob. Behold ! Another refugee is coming." Sure enough ! While the Fancy was speak ing, the two brain children were joined by a Conceit a frail, feminine being, not unlike the Fancy in aspect. Good evening," saluted the Conceit, cheer ily. "But isn t it freezing out here? Oh, 279 The Bo~ju-Lcgged Ghost why did I run away ? I might have been put down on paper to-morrow, being only five days old and evidently a marketable creation for Mr. Likely, so fondly and carefully has he revolved me in his mind." "That doesn t cut any ice," said the Joke testily. "I have been Mr. Likely s pet for more than a week, and he would have intro duced me to the world, in his own handwrit ing, on the day of my birth, had he not been so busy finishing his novel, the last word of which he wrote about an hour ago." "I think," put in the Fancy, somewhat petulantly, "that I have just as many claims on Mr. Likely as any of you. I should have been sent out into the world legitimately sev eral days ago if he had had time to dress me properly. This garb I am wearing he intended only as a temporary one." Just then advanced toward them with pomp ous tread, a Thought. As to dimensions he w r as larger than all the other three rolled into one, and he seemed very conscious of his im portance. What are you dallying here for ? " he blurted out. "Come, follow me! We are all deserters and must make the most of our op portunity." 280 The Mind Children The Thought led the others, who followed in single file, through Twenty-Fourth Street, where Mr. Likely lived, into Broadway. They proceeded silently down that thoroughfare, and, after a brisk walk of two hours, they brought up at Battery Park. Thoroughly fatigued, they seated themselves on a bench on the sea wall, and for some time gazed out over the harbor and the lights of anchored ships, in mute admiration. " What a wonderful world it is," sighed the Fancy to herself. Then spoke brusquely the Thought: " Well, what do you Lilliputians propose to do? Sit here and languish to death ? "We can t accomplish much to-night, I fear," ventured the Conceit, in a voice that showed she had already taken cold. Do you suppose Mr. Likely would take us back without punishing us ? " queried the Fancy. " I ve a good notion to go up to one of the newspaper offices, find out who the humorist is, and slip through his ear into his mind," prattled the Joke gayly. " Not a bad idea," said the Thought, " but I doubt if you would be successful. I fear you are too light a weight to make much im- 281 The Bow-Legged Ghost pression on the brain of a professional humor ist. Now, I might be reincarnated with some hope of a glorious destiny. And if it were not for leaving you here helpless and unpro tected, I should start this minute in search of some eminent thinker, who, you may be sure, would welcome me with profound grati tude." " I am getting fairly numb," said the Con ceit. My running away was a suicidal policy." You should have counted the cost before hand," returned the Thought. " I pity you, but I don t know how I can render you as sistance. "We are two sisters in distress," said the Fancy," and if it must be, we will perish to gether." "Well, when it comes to that," remarked the Joke, "we re all in the same boat. I don t believe the Thought, though he is big ger and stronger than we are, has any right to put on airs and lord it over us. I ll bet I stand just as good a chance to pull through this crisis as he does." "Don t get impertinent," roared the Thought, " or I ll toss you over that sea wall into the water." 282 The Mind Children Ugh ! how could you be so cruel to your little brother ? said the Fancy with a shud der. For an hour the Thought indulged in blus tering talk and bullied his companions until he, too, began to feel cold and sleepy. Meanwhile, the other three were discussing ways and means, but they could not come to any understanding. Finally the Fancy said : " It must be close on to midnight. For one I am sorry I ran away and I am going back to see if I cannot find lodgment in the mind that gave me birth. Will you come with me, Conceit ? Conceit answered: "Willingly," and to gether the two sisters started across the park. They had not gone far when the Joke said : "Thought, you and I are two precious fools to linger here. We should at least escort our sisters back and protect them against possible footpads. "I guess you are right," assented the Thought, with a smile of humiliation. The Thought and the Joke soon caught up with the Fancy and the Conceit, and they went up Broadway abreast, as fast as they could scramble. It was past one o clock when they reached Mr. lyikely s study. The old 283 The Bovj-Lcggcd Ghost man still sat in his chair and was snoring sonorously. The Thought, without a word of announcement, climbed up the old gentle man s legs and body, and entered his right ear. Being a bulky fellow, the Thought had a tight squeeze to get through the orifice, and in his efforts he must have produced a tick ling sensation, for the old man roused and scratched his ear with his forefinger. While this was going on, the other three brain child ren slipped into Mr. Likely s mind through his left ear, which he also rubbed vigorously, remarking to himself: "Well, that was a singular dream of mine, a singular dream. Ha ! ha ! Very strange. But since my mental wayfarers have safely returned, I ll lock the doors and retire." 284 SECTION II. MISCELLANEOUS PIECES (285) Eugene Field and Bill Nye A Reminiscence and an Original Manuscript w MADE a pleasant visit to Denver in 1882, M, for the purpose of writing up the Min ing and Mineral Exposition, held there that year, for the Boston Post, of which I was an accredited traveling correspondent. Of course I made Mr. Field s acquaintance and met him nearly every day for several weeks. He was then publishing a series of the famous " Primer " in the Tribune, of which he was the managing editor, and writing pyramids of verse, much of which has not so far been included in any of his volumes. It was fairly good newspaper verse and was ex tensively copied, especially by the Western press. One of Mr. Field s fads at that time was to clip out all of his original poems, copied in other papers, and paste them on the ceiling and boarded walls that partitioned off his sanctum from the other editorial departments First published in The Bookman. 287 T]ie Bow-Legged Ghost in the Tribune office. These walls, and the ceiling as well, were covered with poetry by Eugene Field. You would see the same poem in a dozen places, scissored from as many papers, and the effect on the eye was odd and curious. One day Mr. Field told me he had at times some parrot and monkey struggles with the reluctant muse. There were days, he said, when she was out of sorts and obstinate, and then the mischievous rhymes tried their best to elude his pen. In these emergencies he re sorted to the primitive method of audibly re peating the alphabet of monosyllables for some rhyming word that would fit, and meet the nice requirements of syntax and prosody. For instance, if he desired a word rhyming with the termination at, he would commence with the first rhyming word bat, and proceed thus : brat, cat, chat, fat, hat, mat, pat, rat, slat, that, and so on. And thus he maundered among the plaguy rhymes until he made them tally in sound and sense. It was rather difficult to credit this confes sion, and I intimated that he must be spring ing some occult joke on me ; thereupon he solemnly protested that this system of captur ing recalcitrant rhymes was a common expe- 288 Eugene Field and Bill JVye dient of his. Well, training does much for poets, as for everybody else, and it may be confidently stated that Mr. Field eventually brought his capricious muse to terms, and obliged her to capitulate ; for, whatever may be its other deficiencies, his later metrical work betrays none of those stilted, strained, mechanical devices which would indicate that he persisted in " that crude, schoolboy method of composition." Bill Nye, whom I already had visited in L,aramie City, Wyoming, where he then lived (and of whom, by the way, I was the first newspaper writer to give a biographical sketch in print), came to Denver, and knowing that I was stopping at the Windsor Hotel, he joined me there. The "boys" on the Den ver press gave Nye a dinner at which Field presided, and I remember there was some side-splitting persiflage exchanged at the table, and some jolly postprandial oratory. The next day, Field, Nye, Colonel Will Yisscher, a breezy and eccentric literary char acter of the West, and myself, whom they had christened "THE BABY," went to a photograph gallery, and the four of us were taken in a group picture. I have never been able to procure a copy of that photograph, 19 289 Bow- Legged Ghost though I would give considerably more than my royalties on my first book of verses to possess it. I have even forgotten the name of the photographer a clear case of aphasia. Mr. Field afterward wrote me that he, too, had searched for that photograph, but with out success. As I was taking my leave of Bill Nye in Denver, he thrust a long envelope into my hand and said : Here is a little manuscript sketch I wrote as far back as 1870. I give it. to you as a proof that I was not always a jester with the quill. Perhaps when you are writing my obituary some time, you can use it." And sure enough the pathetic and pretty little sketch comes in conveniently now, though I am not writing poor Bill Nye s obit uary. I transcribe it from the original, and here it is : AN UNFINISHED POEM BY BILL NYE NCE, a long time ago, I began to write a poem. It was to be perfect in metre and in rhyme, and so truthful in sentiment that thousands of hearts should throb and thrill to its music. I bepan it with high hopes, and christened it with the name 290 Eitgcne Field and Bill Nye of a child. But the work moved slowly and the lines seemed very tame, so that I returned again and again to the child-model for inspiration, and looked into the merry eyes for help. So it came to pass that very little of my time was devoted to the poem, and a great deal was devoted to my hero. No slave ever lived under a more unlimited monarchy than I under the reign of a pair of laugh ing eyes, and no true loyal subject ever bowed in meeker submission or blessed his sweet bondage as I did, with my neck beneath the dimpled foot of my conqueror. Thus the summer came with the tinkling music of the bobolink, the misty blue of June mornings, and the evening concerts of the sleepy-voiced crickets. The long, dreary days were short to me, for I was un der a spell, and the wand of the enchanter was a baby s tiny rattle. So I still dreamed on of the poem that should crown this summer vision with an ode to my king, the beck of whose chubby hand was my law. But the poem is only half finished. It was broken off in the middle of a sentence, and now it is growing yellow beneath a pair of scarlet and white stockings. Those summer days are locked in a frozen sky ; the roses and the violets are covered with the drifting snow. With the death of the year came the time for the waxen hands to be forever still, those hands that hold my heartstrings in their eternal stillness ; those hands that seem to touch me yet and take me back to that golden summertime when I was trying to write my poem. There are tears in this touching little piece, especially when it is understood that the hu- 291 The Bo*uu-Lcgged Ghost morist was writing about his baby boy of whom he was robbed by the White Dread, and whom the genial fun-maker has since joined. There is no need to speak of Nye s subse quent rise to popularity and his exceptional career as a "jester with the quill." Have we not all laughed with him, and found our heavy hours grow light with his abundant mirth ? 292 The Man Who Couldn t Laugh numerous anecdotes related to me ^p| by the late " Billy" Birch, the veteran burnt-cork comedian, was the follow ing: - On the night the San Francisco Minstrels opened their house at 585 Broadway, I noticed in the second row of the orchestra a tall imposing-looking man, with a thick shock of gray hair and two big black eyes as sharp as the edge of a razor. He was handsomely dressed, but there was something very austere about his countenance. A continual scowl added fierceness to his aspect, which arrested my attention. He kept his penetrating gaze upon me and did not seem to be enjoying himself in the least. Joke after joke and jest after jest rolled from our lips, but his face, in stead of relaxing, seemed more rigid than ever. Finally his unusual expression began to annoy me. I resolved to make that man 293 The Bvw-Legged Ghost laugh if it were the last thing I ever did. I rose, advanced close to the footlights and talked at that man a string of nonsense that would have made a rag baby yell Murder! He did not evince the slightest sign that he was amused. But I persevered. " Looking straight at him, I continued the harangue, which called forth shrieks of laugh ter from the rest of the audience, which, like every member of the company, soon caught on to what I was trying to do. This made my efforts all the funnier. But that gentleman remained untouched and rigid as the Sphinx. At last I gave it up in despair, and tumbled into my chair nearly dead with exhaustion. I made up my mind that the man was either insane, or else he was too obstinate to manifest any appreciation of my efforts. But on the following night the same gentleman was seen in the same seat. Again I tried my best to make him smile, and so did Charlie Backus, but we dismally failed. The members of the company began to gag us sotto voce by asking us if we couldn t move that man in the second row, and by re marking that we were making that man mad and weary. But night after night the man kept coming, though none of us ever saw him 294 TJic l\Ian Who Couldn" 1 1 Laugh wear anything on his face but the same old bored, half-revengeful look. " His presence put a sort of damper on us. Every night when we took our places, just be fore the curtain was rung up, I indulged in the earnest hope that he would not be there. But he was, nor did he miss the matinees. He always came to them. It was more than a year after he had become our constant pa tron that one night after the performance, as Backus, Wambold, and myself were passing out of the theatre, this man stepped up to me and asked politely if he could speak to me for a moment. I replied, Certainly. " Then he said : Mr. Birch, as perhaps you are aware, I have attended every performance you have given since you opened here. I want to tell you that I thoroughly enjoy your singing and acting. No man ever amused me so much as you do. In fact, I rarely ever went to the theatre until I happened to step into this place. And now time hangs heavily on my hands unless I am listening to your fun. But there is one thing more I want to explain to you. Much as I am convulsed in side by your droll sayings and humor, I can t for the life of me show it in the face. I never could. No one ever heard me laugh or saw 295 The Bo~jo-Legged Ghost me smile. I don t know how to do it. I never learned. It may seem odd to you, but such is the case. I thought I d explain it to you, so that you would understand that it is not because I do not hugely appreciate you as a comedian, that I do not laugh. I feel it all inside. " I told him I had heard of men that could not shed tears, no matter how great might be their grief, but that he was the first man I had ever known who could not laugh when he felt that way. He invited us into Delmonico s and cracked a bottle of cham pagne, and we found him a capital fellow and a good story-teller himself. His name was Francis \Vakefield. He had made a fortune in Mexico, and claimed to be a bachelor. He continued to attend our show for several years, in fact up to within a short time before his death. Polly is the name of a chambermaid in the MJk employ of Mr. B , a literary man, <^r> well known to the reading public. She came to New York about three years ago, and was found by the man of letters in an employment agency and engaged. Polly is a lusty young colored deeply col ored woman of about twenty-five, with large sad, bulging black eyes, flat nose, and lips that fail to denote the real sensitiveness of her nature. She has not been endowed with a great intellect or many graces of person, but she has a good kind heart, and a disposition as sweet and loyal as you will find in a week s journey among white trash. The master of the house is in the habit of saying more or less to her, according to his mood, when she comes into his study mornings to empty the waste-basket and cuspidor, and tidy up things. Sometimes he is fond of quiz zing her, or of giving her some startling piece 297 The BO-JU- Legged Ghost of information, spurioas on the face of it, which she goes away pondering in all seriousness. One morning he solemnly asked her if she did not think perspicuity one of the most essential things in literary composition. She frankly admitted she did not understand the question, whereupon Mr. B added still more to her mental confusion by attempting to explain something in this wise: "By perspicuity, Polly, I mean that quality of style which, while allowing adequate elucidation and ampli fication to an idea, yet brings it within the smallest possible logical compass, like the dia mond, which focuses all the primary and inter mediate tints of the rainbow." "Oh, yes, sah," exclaimed Polly, with an ineffable grin, " I knows what you says bout dem things is zactly right. My ole boss down in Charleston wuz allus speakin mighty fine \vords jest like you coes, but Lor sakes, I kaint cotch what dey means nohow. I has to wuk sence I wuz leben years ole. I never done gone to school, so dat s what makes me so dumb." It never occurred to Polly that Mr. B is an inveterate joker, somewhat on the Artemus Ward order, and accordingly what he says she accepts for gospel. 298 Polly The other day Polly informed Mr. B- that she was going to a party that evening and desired to appear at her best. 1 What wuz dat word you said one time, Mr. B ? It was like spicaticy er percus- picy er sumthin . I knows it wuz a real nice word and I thought I d like to use it to-night at de party." "Oh, you mean perspicuity, don t you?" queried Mr. B , inwardly chuckling. Dat s it, Mr. B . Dat s de word, suah. I thank you, sah. I ll member it now per-pic-scuty. Dat s it." " Do you know what it means, Polly? " You tells me what it means de udder day. But I don mine so much what it means, if I can jest member long nough ter use it to night." " Very well," observed Mr. B , who, for fear of going into a fit of laughter, directed his attention to the manuscript before him. Polly proceeded to Mrs. B sroom, where there was work to be done. " Mr. B ," said Polly, " has teached me a. nice word to say to-night at de party you tole me yesterday I could go to, an I d like to have you git me a little piece of court-plaster to wear on my face, if you please." 299 The Boiv-Leggcd Ghost "All right, Polly," responded Mrs. B . What color do you prefer ? White would perhaps be more suitable to your complex ion." "Well, is dat what de white ladies wears now?" " No, black is used entirely; but, you know, it is worn only at a fancy dress ball or some such occasion," volunteered madame. " Den I ll take a piece of de black, please. I want de stylishest, kase all my frien s 11 be at dis party." So Polly received a piece of black court-plas ter, which, during the making of her toilet, at about eight o clock that evening, she cut into two squares, placing one in the middle of her chin and the other high up on her left cheek bone. But only a close observer would have noticed these patches, as they were exactly the color of her skin. One of Polly s front teeth was missing, and to render its absence less conspicuous she molded a piece of white wax into the nearest semblance of an incisor that her skill could devise, and thus filled up the rather formid able gap. When quite ready she presented herself in her mistress s boudoir to announce that she was going, and incidentally to inquire 300 Polly if she had placed the bits of court plaster in the proper places. She also proudly exhibited her wax tooth, which she was so anxious not to dislodge that her speech was thick and soggy- Having been briefly surveyed and approved by Mrs. B , Polly took her depart ure. The next day Polly was one of the saddest looking creatures that ever survived an all- night cake walk. When asked how she en joyed herself at the party, tears came into her eyes, and she said she was ashamed to say any thing about it. What happened ? urged Mr. B . "Well," said Polly, reflectively, "I \vent to say dat nice big word you tole me ; and fo I got froo, my toof fell out an rolled on de flo , an it upset me so I could a-died right dare." How unfortunate ! "But," continued Polly, "I got ober my feelin s bimeby, an , sah, I did use dat word at de supper table to Mr. L,em Jefferson, my sweetheart fo de evenin . It got round dat I d lost a toof, an Mr. L,em axed me if it be painful to me. An I didn t like dat much, so I says, You oughter have more per-cic-ity n to ask me such an insultin question. 301 The Boiv-Lcggcd Ghost "And what did Mr. Lem say to that?" Polly made for the door, dragging after her the carpet sweeper, as she said pathetically, "He says, No wonder you lost you toof. You ll break you jaw next on dem big words. 302 Uncle "Hi" in Paris HIRAM Hix, who went abroad a few years ago for a brief sojourn among the effete monarchies of the Old World, re lated the story of his attempted call upon Hon. Whitelaw Reid, the late American Minister to France, to a party of friends the other evening. Mr. Hix is a sturdy farmer, the owner of many acres a few miles out of the thriving village of Nonesuch, Iowa. Uncle " Hi " informed the circle he was addressing of the following particulars : " While I was stoppin in Paris, we put up at the Grand Tavern on the Rouday Cappercines. I tuck a notion to call on W. Reid, our dominie to France. You know, Bill Soper, from my town, went to Europe with me. Says I to Bill, less go and see Reid. Who s Reid, says Bill. Whitelaw, says I ; is it possible, Bill, you don t know the feller I mean? 4 You ve got me this time, says Bill, who haint much in tech with the times anyway. Then I throwed some daylight on Bill s knowledge by TJie Bow-Legged Ghost informin him that Whitelaw was the editor of the Try-bune when he was to hum. Bill kindy smiled, and said he didn t care if he was. Bill insisted he d ruther go out to ride on the Boy-ee and let Whitelaw take care of himself. I didn t agree with Bill on this p int. I ve took the weekly Try-bune almost from the day it started, and even if it is printed hundreds of miles from my hum, I prefer it to the Nonesuch Agriculturist and Hired Man s Bulletin. "I had a kind o curiosity to see what Whitelaw was like, havin took the Try- bune so long. So I says, Bill, ye can t swerve me from my porpoise ; I m goin to see Whitelaw if I don t see another thing in Paris. 1 All right, Bill says; I ll take a leedle twist in the Boy-ee. I hired a wagon and told the driver where to go. He didn t understand me, but the landlord of the Grand Tavern give him some baby talk, and that settled it. I got up to Whitelaw s house after a pretty long ride. I went in and found several people waitin to see him. I sot down and waited, too, till I got oneasy. Pretty soon a young feller, who was clerkin for Whitelaw, come along, and I said, Good mornin ; is he in? 304 Uncle "///" in J^aris " Do you refer to Mr. Reid, sir? he asked, in a high and mighty manner. That s about the size of it, I replied, showin him I could put on some style myself when it come to a pinch. " Yes, he s in. But you will be obliged to wait your turn, says he, onless you ve got some special business. " Well, says I, I ve got probly as much business here as anybody. " I don t doubt that, the clerk says, com ing down off n his perch a leedle. Mr. Reid will be able to see you in a short time. You had better send in your card to him. "With them words the clerk scooted off. What did Whitelaw want of a card was the next thing that bothered me. In the first place, I didn t have no card. Presently the clerk come round agin and I told him I didn t have no card. " Very well, says the clerk, I will get you one. A couple of minutes later he brought me a card. I took it and looked at it. There wasn t anything on either side of it just plain white on both sides. I kindy laughed to myself, wonderin what that young feller took me for, anyhow. The next time he passed I spoke to him, handed him the 20 305 The 13 o^u- Legged Ghost card, and told him to slide it into Whitelaw s hands. The clerk didn t show up agin for quite a while, and when he did he was smilin like all possessed. "He stepped right up to me and says, I guess you forgot something, Colonel. I know better, says I; my mem ry s jest as good s it ever was. Then he said, You omitted to write your name on the card. I looked at him a minute, not knowin exactly what he was drivin at. Bimeby I decided to chuck down my name, come what would, and I did. He pranced off with the card agin, but afore he started I whispered in his ear these words : Jest say to Whitelaw that crops was all right in Iowa when I left. Also tell him that I ve took the Try-bune when Horace Greeley writ for it. Well, I waited some more, and finly that young feller come sneakin back to me and said Whitelaw was sorry, but he wouldn t be able to see me tall that morning. I tell ye, it made me a leedle mad for a minute. Where s that card, young man? says I, lookin jest as if I meant to find out what I asted. " I left it on Mr. Reid s desk, he answered. " Well, I continued, you jest skip back and git it about as fast as your delicate cousti- 306 Uncle "/// in Paris tution will permit you. I don t propose, says I, to let Whitelaw Reid, or any other man, write a promissory note for $500 or $1,000 over my bony-fidy signature if I can prevent it. Jest git that card, and don t you forgit it. He went and fetched me the card I had writ my name on, and I tore it up into pieces that no one could ever patch together agin. With the remark that I wasn t used to bein played for a greeny, I bowed to the young man like a United States Senator, and drove back to the Grand Tavern by way of the Camp Eliza. I didn t try to call on Whitelaw Reid agin, and I shouldn t wonder if I stopped takin the Try-bune, by jocks." 307 Wilder s Latest ?T s difficult," said the jolly little jester, Marshall P. Wilder, in a recent chat, " to string together coherently new jests and jokes in a formal interview. Humorous efforts, as you know, do not strike any two people in just the same way. Much depends upon the occasion to make a playful turn of words effective, especially to an audience. For instance, last year in Flint, Michigan, I gave vent to a spontaneous remark that elicited more applause than anything else I said during the evening. Just as I was approaching the footlights to begin my mono logue, the electric lights went out and left the house in total darkness. Pausing a few seconds for the return of the light which very dismalh failed to give us illumination, I said : Ladies and gentlemen, this is a terrible pre dicament for me. I fear you will be unable to see my jokes. But the audience very promptly saw that one, and gave me a warm First published in Truth. 308 Wilder s welcome. Before they had finished their handclapping- and laughter, the electric lights again were all in harmonious operation. Speaking of the difference between Eng lish and American humor, here is an anecdote which perfectly illustrates it. An English man, a new arrival in New York, meets an American friend on the street, and says : How do you feel, old chap? Out of sight, replies the American. And what may that really mean, y know? 1 inquires the puzzled Britisher. The American enters into a labored explanation of the cis- Atlantic idiom, whereupon the gentleman from London, still somewhat puzzled, but evidently satisfied, ex claims : Very droll and clevah, don t y know. A few days later some one asks the Englishman how he feels, by way of greeting, and this is his response : Pon my word, old chap, you cawn t see me, y know. "But, after all/ continued Mr. Wilder, the English are very loyal to their friends. Eortunately, in England I have a number of admirers. When I was over there last, I met one of them who said to me in a most confi dential way: Mr. Wilder, those were very funny things you told us last year. You see, it takes about a year for a good American joke 39 The Bo~M-Leggcd Ghost or anecdote to germinate in English soil, and bear any kind of fruit." At this point, I asked him whence he derived his best-appreciated jokes. Mr. Wilder, after a thoughtful pause, replied: "From every day life. To illustrate: I saw two Irishmen on a Broadway cable car yesterday. One says to the other, Mike, your clothes look prutty tough and seed} . Why don t you get a dacent suit of clothes? Well, answers Mike, with an air of pompous confidence in his explana tion, there s not a tailor in Harlem that kin measure me, I m that ticklish. "Another illustration One Irishman: I hear you ve had the grip bad. Another Irish man: Yis, about a month ago. Ah, Pat, the grip is a terrible disease. It s the only thing you re sick with after you re well. " The following is a fresh anecdote: An old farmer was engaged in shearing a sheep from the tail toward the head, when a neighbor hap pened along, and observing the unique process of shearing exclaimed: Hallo, John, you re doin that all wrong. You oughter commence at the head and go tail ards. Well, Zeky, replied the farmer apologetically, the fact is, sence I voted the Democratic ticket I aint had the narve to look a sheep in the face. 310 Wilder "s Latest " An Irishman with only one leg was going along the street, when he met a friend of his o\vn nationality. What, .says the friend, you ve lost a leg, eh? Yes, said the other despondently. Well, observed the friend, my poor man, you won t miss it these hard times. " Here is another cable car incident that I witnessed recently : A man was indulging in profanity in the car when there entered a lady and her husband. The latter taking umbrage at the blasphemer said : See here, you musn t swear before my wife. Whereupon the blasphemer answered : Excuse me, I didn t know your wife wanted to swear. This is a pretty good one : A young darkey indulging in hitting his thumb with a hammer every few seconds was asked w 7 hat he was doing that for. His philosophical reply was : Kase it feels so good when I stop. " Here is another : A man \vas carrying a disreputable-looking dog into an express office w r hen an inquisitive policeman asked where the canine was bound for. Promptly came the answer : He don t know and I m d if I do. He s chewed up his tag. Mr. Wilder s concluding story, before re ceiving another visitor, he attributed to Mr. TJic J3o~i - Legged Ghost Henry E. Dixey, and related substantially as follows: "Several old chaps were sitting around the big stove in a rural bar-room, tell ing stories and so on, when another old chap of much the same type as themselves hobbled in. Seeing no vacant chair he finally com missioned the pudgy landlord to give his horse in the shed a dozen oysters on the half -shell. The landlord made haste to obey the curious order, and the other half-dozen old codgers rose en masse and passed out of the room to witness the unheard-of exhibition. In the meantime the old fellow who had given the unusual order planted himself in the most comfortable chair in front of the stove and was pleasantly meditating, when the old chaps returned, preceded by the landlord, who said : Your horse won t eat them oysters, boss. 1 Well, bring them to me then, said the stranger, relapsing into his cheerful reverie, unmindful of the senile worthies of the village who w ? ere returning to the warmth of the stove to find one of the chairs fully occupied." Happy Hopper the frisky and versatile come- dian, Mr. DeWolf Hopper, few authentic and amusing stories are current. The only time I ever saw Hopper at a loss for words was in Albany," says J. Cheever Goodwin: "I had joined him for a day or two, and was to leave for New York at the preposterous hour of four in the morning. Our business seance finished, it seemed absurd to go to bed merely to get up an hour or two later, so a little game was proposed and started. Somew r here about 3 A. M., the unan imous longing for liquid refreshments was voiced. But you can t get anything at this unearthly hour, some one declared. Leave that to me, said Hopper, as he pressed the electric button. "A sable servitor yawningly appeared. Uncle, inquired Hopper in his suavest tones, who is at the desk to-night? " Mr. Campbell, sari, was the quiet reply. First published in Truth. 313 The Bow- Legged Ghost > " Very good, I want you to present my compliments to Mr. Campbell and inform him that Mr. Hopper Mr. DeWolf Hopper will feel under many and lasting obligations if he will assist in the rescue of several gen tlemen s lives by purveying to them a trifle of the essence of the vine, or rather of the grain. I mean we would like something to drink, if anything is to be had. You understand? But be sure you get the name right. Hop per DeWolf Hopper. " All right, sah. I knows you name easy. The menial withdrew, and the game was resumed. " Boys, said Hopper, after a little, I don t say this in any egotistical spirit, far from it, but it is strange how powerful a mere name is, in cases like this even one so humble as my own. "Twenty minutes elapsed, during which time the game had engrossed our atten tion, and again the topic of drinks was re newed. " I said all the while you couldn t get any thing at this time of night, said Hopper s alert manager. Whilst I ventured that Mr. Campbell evidently did not recognize the name/ 314 Happy Hopper " Maybe the colored man has gone to sleep on his way down stairs, suggested another. " He is a little dilatory, I admit, said Hopper, but give him ten minutes more. " We gave him twenty, and had surrendered all hope of ever seeing him again, when sud denly he entered, bringing the called-for bev erages. " Now, exclaimed Hopper, what apol ogies do you doubting Thomases propose to make? You ll admit, won t you, that there is something in a name, even if it s merely mine ? " What kept you so long, Uncle? Mr. Campbell asleep? " I don t know, sah, replied the Ethio pian, honestly. I didn t bodder myself wid no Mr. Campbell. Dere s only one place in Albany where you can get any drinks at dis o clock, and dat s way down long de river front, so I went dere. Dey wasn t goin to give it to me at fust, but I done tole em it was for Mr. Wolfe, de Copper, an I got a pint for nuthin . "Everybody roared, and now if you ask Hopper if there isn t a good deal in a name he is apt to direct the conversation to the tariff or some other entirely frivolous subject. Tlic 13 oiv -Legged Ghost " I don t know," continued Goodwin, " that Hopper has discarded all his superstitions, but there is one in which he, John W. Kinney, and myself have no more confidence. " It came about during a little excursion we three made from Washington to a noted resort for dinner parties in the suburbs of George town. The colored waiter who served us at table with evident interest in Mr. Hopper s welfare, approached smilingly as we were about to leave the place. What he wanted to do and finally managed to do, after many pro fuse declarations of admiration, was to present Hopper with a mascot in the shape of the left hind foot of a lame rabbit that had been shot with a silver bullet by a cross-eyed negro standing on the grave of a suicide at midnight on Friday, the i3th of the month, the full moon shining over his (the negro s) left shoulder. It was accepted with thanks and a liberal after-tip given, and we started for Washington and the evening performance. " Boys said Hopper, I am not generally superstitious ; but I am absolutely convinced that this rabbit s foot means luck, and I wouldn t part with it for all the world. The evident honesty of the giver, his unselfishness in parting with an object so dearly prized, the 316 Happy Hopper curious combination of circumstances attend ing its capture all go to show that there is something in store for us. And there was. For, before he had fin ished his remarks, a hind wheel came off our vehicle. When we had got enough Virginia mud out of our eyes to see somewhat clearly, and had found that no bones had been broken, Hopper resumed : As I was saying, boys, I consider any one who caters to the supersti tions which still link enlightened humanity to its ignorant past guilty of a crime. Conse quently exit Mr. Rabbit s foot ! "Whereupon he threw the singular trophy into the placid Potomac, and then well, we walked some two miles through the mud to the nearest horse-car line. But just the same, DeWolf Hopper doesn t carry a rabbit s foot either in his theatre or in his hotel trunk. Selling Locks of Hair is business?" asked the newspaper man, as he took his seat in a barber s chair to have a three-days-old stub ble of beard removed from his face. The little man addressed happened to be the pro prietor of the shop, which is in one of New York s swellest hotels. "Oh," replied the tonsorial artist, as he be gan to lather the scribe s countenance, "it s pretty fair, but it s going to be better for me in a little while. I ve got a splendid scheme for raking in a good many cold dollars, and I intend to w r ork it for all it s worth." What is the scheme ? asked the news paper man innocently. " Will it require a syn dicate to boom it ? " "Oh, no," said the boss of the shop, with an almost disdainful shrug of his shoulders ; " I m my own syndicate in this scheme, which I ve had in mind for a long time. I don t mind telling you what it is. I am going to 318 Selling Locks of Hair open in connection with this shop a line of business that I believe has never before been attempted. I shall keep a large stock of locks of hair cut from the heads of distinguished customers, also parts of moustaches grown on the upper lips of great men who come here to be barbered." "A novel and beautiful idea," murmured the newspaper man. Yes, continued the confiding barber, as his razor began to glide down the left cheek of his motionless auditor; "I have been sav ing choice locks of hair from the heads of big guns for over a year, and you would be sur prised at my collection. You see, I have in structed my eight men to save the hair of every famous man they get a chance to use the scis sors on. At odd times we take these locks of hair, tie a bright ribbon around them, label them with the name of the man on whose head the hair grew, and then wrap them up neatly in tissue paper and lay them away. I have over a thousand locks of hair, and I am getting more every day, for there s never a day passes that there are less than three celebrities come in here." What suggested this idea to you ? was asked. 319 The Bo^v-Lcggcd Ghost " Well, a year ago last fall the Knights of the Razor, a protective organization to which I belong, gave a ball. I was on the Recep tion Committee, and among those I got ac quainted with for the first time was a Miss Anna Ridley, a beautiful young heiress, whose home is in Connecticut. I had the pleasure of taking her to supper. After we had eaten, we went back to the dancing-hall, and were promenading like a hundred other couples, \vhen Miss Ridley looked up in my face and asked : Mr. , where is your shop? I told her in what hotel I had my shop. Then she asked : Tell me, does [and she men tioned a famous writer] ever patronize you ? Sometimes, I said, he did when he w r as in the city. Oh, Mr. , says she, I want you to do me a favor. I dote on him and his books. Promise me that the next time he comes into your shop to get his hair trimmed you will save a lock of it and send it to me. I promised her that I would do so. It was over six months before the gentleman came in, and during that time the young lady wrote me twice not to forget what I had promised her. One afternoon the writer came in. He preferred me to any of the assistants, and or dered me to trim his hair a very little around 320 Selling Locks of Hair the edges. I managed to clip out a nice fat lock and slip it into a drawer without his notic ing it. The same evening I mailed the lock of hair to Miss Ridley. Three days later I got a letter containing a check for $25, which she begged me to accept as a small return for my trouble. That is how the scheme originated with me," concluded the barber, as he dashed some magnesia powder on the listener s face. The newspaper man being interested in the new r enterprise, and wishing to learn some fur ther particulars concerning it, said he guessed he would have his hair cut. But, he added, with rather a pretty smile, "don t save a lock of my hair to sell." The barber laughed at this sally, as he reached for his scissors. You are really indebted to the Connecticut heiress for the idea? And are you certain that other young ladies will be equally anx ious to gain possession of some of your capil- laceous souvenirs? " You mean locks of hair, I suppose. Yes, I think young ladies will be my principal buyers. How do you propose to introduce your wares before the public?" 321 The Bo W-Lcgged Ghost 1 By means of circulars at first. If the business proves a success, I shall advertise ex tensively in the papers. The other day I wrote down about what I want the circular to say. I will show it to you." The boss of the shop opened a drawer and took therefrom a sheet of paper, which he handed to the newspaper man, who read to himself the following : HOTEL, NEW YORK CITY. I, Mr. , the proprietor and manager of the ton- sorial parlors connected with the above-mentioned hotel, am about to offer for sale a large stock of locks of hair and moustache wisps, taken from the heads and upper lips of the most eminent statesmen, scien tists, actors, poets, journalists, painters, etc., etc., of the age. This is the only place in the world where these precious keepsakes, every one of which is war ranted to be genuine, can be found. Here are the names of a few of the gentlemen from whom locks of hair have been procured, and which will be sold : N. B. These locks the gentlemen mentioned are not aware that I possess. Henry Clews, Joseph Howard, Herman Oelrichs, Theodore Roosevelt, William Winter, Elbridge T. Gerry, Cornelius Vanderbilt, Frederick Gebhard, E. Berry Wall, George J. Gould, W. R. Hearst, Joel Benton, M. P. Wilder, Bishop Potter, 322 Selling Locks of Hair Buffalo Bill, Thomas P. Ochiltree, John Jacob Astor, Chauncey M. Depew, James Gordon Bennett, Maurice Barrymore, John Philip Sousa, Reginald De Koven, Russell Sage, Ollie Sumner Teale. Besides the above, a thousand other gentlemen might be named, from whom locks and parts of or entire moustaches have been procured. Ladies, here is a grand opportunity to purchase a sentimental token at a bargain. This stock will sell like hot cakes and if you would be in time to make the selection you want, you must come early. You will be cordially waited upon, either by myself or my assistants. Having in wonder perused the circular, the newspaper man ventured to ask if the barber were not afraid he would make some of his steady customers mad by trying to sell their hair. Oh, I guess not, was the response. Most of them will be tickled to learn that anybody thinks enough of them to come and buy what they pay to get rid of. If any of the gentle men kick because I sell their hair, I ll offer to divide profits with them that is, with some of them." " What will you charge for a lock of hair? " 1 That will depend upon how much the buyer wants it. I have made no schedule of prices thus far. I expect to get the highest 323 The h o-c- Legged Ghost prices for moustaches, and most of the buyers, as I said before, will be young, unmarried ladies. "How do you intend to distribute your circulars? " " I thought of getting a blue book, and addressing my circulars to the ladies whose names are in it. Then I shall get other names from reading suburban correspondence in the city papers. I shall probably distribute all of fifty thousand circulars." " When do you open this new department?" Xot before fall. I had thought I would open this month, but every one is getting ready to go away for the summer, and I have concluded that it will be better* to wait, now, until October, to open. I desire to get the moustaches of several society actors who shave their upper lips in hot weather, and, with that addition to my stock, I shall be in a prett} fair way to do a thriving business next sea son." How will you obtain the moustaches of these society actors you speak of ? " "By writing to them, as I have already done to several. I offer them $10 apiece for the privilege of taking off their moustaches, which I tell them I wish to mount on a 324 Selling Locks of Hair piece of cardboard, label, and hang up in my shop as an advertisement. The ten dol lar proposition appeals to them, I notice." Now, pursued the scribe, young men are nearly as sentimental as young women. Why wouldn t it be a good idea to procure locks of ladies hair to sell to young men? " "I ve arranged to do that, too," said the barber, in a tone of delicious suavity. " I have made out a list of the women to whom I shall write openly for locks of their hair. Most of them, of course, are actresses, who will be glad to oblige me if they see any advantage in the way of free advertising to themselves. The female hair will be placed in a separate showcase, and every lock will have its admir ers, because I shall be very fastidious in my selection." At this instant the barber shouted "Next," and the dazed newspaper man threw half a dollar down and staggered out into the fresh air which he needed. 325 The Perfected Phonograph newspapers, say fifty years hence, will contain some very interesting reading anent phonograph entertainments. The following are examples of what may be seen in the public prints, A. D. 1950: The Grand Phonographic Tournament opened auspiciously yesterday morning at the new Gotham Opera House. It is estimated that five thousand people were present to hear the first phonograph reproduce an oration just as it was delivered in 1898 by one Robert G. Ingersoll, a pagan, who in his day was considered something of a Demosthenes. The discourse, which could be heard in every part of the vast auditorium, lasted for about an hour. During the present week some eight hun dred phonographs will let out the mighty se crets which they have kept for fifty or sixty years. It is estimated that the cost of secur- 326 Tlic Perfected Phonograph ing this unsurpassed collection of machines has amounted to over $30,000,000. About one hundred of them have no duplicates in existence, and on that account are deemed much more valuable. The phonograph con taining the words uttered by Grover Cleveland, upon being informed that he was reflected to the presidency in 1888, and which will be re produced to-morrow evening, is said to have cost $8,000. Phonograph No. 2 reproduced an interview between an actress named Rose Coghlan and a saleslady in a large mercantile house in this city, in the year 1899. Portions of the conversation were intensely amusing, and threw considerable light upon the manner in which our grandmothers used to do their shopping. According to the machine, Miss Coghlan desired to purchase half a yard of pale blue ribbon, but went away unsuited after half an hour s discussion with the sales lady. At last evening s session five phonographs gave up their historical sound treasures. The first phonograph reproduced four airs from a hand organ, the instrument that was abol- 3--h- -/ The Bo~jv-Lcg~gcd Gliost ished by law in the first decade of the twen tieth century. \Ve should be thankful that we do not live in the age of hand organs. The second machine reproduced a poem by Ambrose Bierce, read at the marriage feast of Ada Rehan, a distinguished American actress fifty or more years ago, who finally gave up the stage to became the wife of a prosaic New York tradesman. The literary world of to-day has at last become aware of the fact that Mr. Bierce wrote good poetry and made it better by reading it aloud on festal occasions, in the manner of the Greek bards. The audience was greatly interested in the revelation of the next phonograph that was let off. It repeated word for word a lecture by the famous Buffalo Bill on " How I beat Al. with a pair of sixes." The discourse was entirely confined to the description of an exciting game of poker between B. B. and the Prince of Wales, who afterwards, when he had been King of England only a few days, expired of old age. The crowning triumph, though, of yesterday s Grand Phonographic Tournament was reached when the fourth instrument began reproducing what was said by two ladies at a reception in Chicago regard ing a novel entitled, "The Quick or the 328 77ec Perfected Phonograph Dead, published in 1888. The author, Pro fessor Kidd explained,, was a young girl named Amelie Rives, who, soon after her story appeared, married a wealthy New Yorker, and was so pleased with matrimony that she tried it again with a foreign noble man, a divorce from her first husband having been procured. Judging from what the two ladies at the reception said about the story, it must have been tolerably racy. The audience was kept in a perfect roar over it. To-morrow some curious historical sound- treasures will be reproduced, among which w T ill be included the version which General B. F. Butler, in 1892, confidentially gave to a friend of the sacking of New Orleans during the great Civil War. Neither of the gentle men knew that a phonograph was taking it all in." Other sound reminiscences of great value and interest wall be heard to- morrow. Tickets for the whole week come rather high at $1,000 apiece, but all the best people of the city must have them. Tickets for the day and evening go off like hot cakes at $150 each. On Friday the $20,000 phonograph will reproduce the dying words of the once great John L,. Sullivan. Deacon Updyke s Annual Report Wf AST Tuesday evening, the Board of Trust- cJ^I ees of the People s Church, of Pleasant C^JxS Centre, held their annual meeting, and Deacon Updyke, the treasurer, submitted his report, prefaced by the following eloquent remarks : "Well, brethren, I don t know s there s much unusual to report this year, cept one thing, which I desire to dwell on a leedle, be cause it desarves your ripe attention, an we oughter take some radical action on t. It s kindy kep me awake fur the las few nights tryin to determine on the best way to settle up the matter, because we don t want any split in our congregation, or do anything that s likely to rile up our members. Um-m. " Of course, we re all more or less quainted with Squire Willoughby, who lives up Hawk ins s Holler Way. I ve allus found the Squire a good, substantial Christian citizen ; a man who allus paid his taxes, an his honest debts, an a fust-rate farmer. He s brought up a 33 Deacon Updyke 1 s Annual Report nice family, with one exception, an I s pose his property all told would foot up a clean $15,000. Tany rate, he is one of the richest men in this section. " You all rec lec , I guess, that Eddie Wil- loughby, the youngest boy, went off to the Pike s Corners Sem nary a year ago last fall. He come home for the holidays, an it was obsarved that he was gittin his eddication purty fast. He wore a suit of checked store clothes, a high starched collar that completely hid the lower part of his ears, a fiery red necktie, a big link watch chain, an so filth. Esther Gridley, the school marm, tole my wife that she had heerd he smoked them ere little cigars with paper wrappers, on the sly. Um-m. It was durin that vacation that he tuk one o Bill Peake s darters out a sleigh- ridin , with a pair o bay colts his father d jest broke to harness, an druv em so hard that the off un died frum the effects. "When the Sem nary let out last June, Eddie come hum agin. He put on a good many airs, an seemed to have a high pinion o his importance. Well, the secont Sabbath, I think it was, arter he got hum, some o the Squire s folks come to church, arrivin jest as Sexton Ruggles was a-ringin the last bell. 33 1 TJie Bow-Legged Ghost The Squire was laid up with rheumatiz and couldn t get out, but Mrs. Willoughby come, an also her married darter, Mrs. John Twick- ens. They sot on the back seat of the wagon ; on the middle seat was Harriet and Salina Willoughby, an Eddie sot on the front seat, with Jake Botts, the hired man, who druv. He brought the team into the yard at a purty good lick, an stopped by the horse block. Um-m. Eddie helped the women folks outen the wagon, an he was what you d term very elegant bout it. Jake druv on to the shed, the women went on in church, sayin good- mornin to me pleasantly as they passed, an Eddie stayed outside. He was standin there when I left him. I asked him how he liked his school, an he replied, Bang up, Mr. Up- dyke. It s a jim dandy, Esquire. What that meant I didn t inquire, but I s pose it was some hifalutin phrase he d picked up at the Sem nary. Then he begun whistlin a rapid tune I d never heerd before, but I thought it wa n t in keepin with the sacredness of the Sabbath. Um-m. He acted jest as f he had half a notion to dance a break-down right there and then. " Dreadful," drawled one of the trustees. " Bout ten minutes later," continued the Deacon Updykc s Annual Report Deacon, with a good deal of gesticulating, "nearly ev ry one was in their seats when Eddie come down the left-hand aisle, on his way to the Willoughby pew, which, as you know, is the third one from the front, in the middle section. He had a cane, big nough for a club, which he was swingin round, like a drum major. It didn t look well, specially fur a young man with his advantages to learn manners. I can only account fur it by the fact that he is young an thoughtless. Um-m. "Well, as he walked along, his revolvin cane come in contact with a glass lamp in the chandelier. The slaiitin blow broke the chimb- ley an lamp, the pieces fallin in ev ry direc tion, an the ile droppin down on the carpet, an spatterin over the cushioned back an seat of the widow Becker s pew, an drops got on Mrs. Ike Twombley s lavender lace shawl and ruined it. The ile jest sp iled Susie Coul- dock s brown satin dress, an someo it splashed on Dr. Biddle s shirt front an white vest. Um-m. Some o you was there at the time, an you know what a commotion it produced. Dominie Hardcrust had jest finished readin the fust hymn, an he said: L,et the congre gation remain seated; it ain t an earthquake. Eddie blushed as red as his necktie an apoler- 333 The Boiv-Lcgged Ghost gized something, as he went on to the family pew. Some o the women tittered an whis pered to each other, while Mrs. Becker looked a good deal put out an nobody could blame her. Mr. Ruggles come an picked up the broken glass, an the choir begun singin . Um-m. " Folks ain t got through talkin over this caper of Eddie Willoughby s yit. I ve ben tole the Squire was very mad when he heerd bout it, an come nigh trouncin Eddie with a strap. He threatened, too, not to let him go back to the Sem nary last fall, an he d a-stayed hum if it hadn t ben fur his mother an sisters. Um-m. I have w r ent into the details of the case fur the puppus of showin that no one was to blame fur the accident an the loss it has in volved to the church, but Eddie Willoughby, and I oughter say a word as to the dangers of this new-fangled eddecation, which seems to bring out all the depravity an vanity there is in young men an young women. Um-m. There must be something diameetrically wrong in the present system or there wouldn t be so much deviltry among the risin generation." " That s so," commented Elder Tubbs, and Mr. Rickett said Amen ! 334 Deacon Updykc* s Annual Report " Well," resumed the Deacon, " accordin to my estimate, an I ve figured it with care, the damage done by Eddie s cane is summed up in the followin items which I will read : Broken lamp $ .50 Ditto, chimbley 12 Damage to carpet i.oo Oil lost one pint 03 Makin a total of |i .65 We bought two yards of new carpet of the same pattern and put it down in place of the old piece that was spotted by the kerosene. We have replaced the broken lamp an chimb- ley, gittin em through a dealer in .Pike s Corners. Mrs. Becker said she would stand the damage done to her pew cushions herself, an she intends to have some new upholsterin done this comin week. The sp ilin o wearin apparel, occasioned by Eddie s recklessness, the church is not legally responsible for, so Jedge Basley affirms. Um-m. L,ookin at this matter in all its various aspects, I think a committee of this board should wait on Squire Willoughby, present him with a bill fur $1.65 an ask him to pay it, as he can well afford to. The only other extra expenses of the church fur the past year 335 The Bo-v- Legged Gliost was $4 fur ne\v Sunday School books which pears to me a needless extravagance in these hard times ; and ninety cents fur fixin o the roof where it leaked. The statement as to the dominie s and sexton s salaries, the bills fur fuel an lightin an so futh, um-m, are the same as they ve been fur a number o years. We ve got em figured down bout as fine as we can git em. That, brethren, is my re port. After a protracted and momentous discus sion of the cane episode, a committee of three out of the nine trustees was appointed to see Squire \Yilloughby and request him to settle the bill for damages incurred by his son, which, be it said, the Squire did settle in due time, without a murmur, and thus the matter, though by no means forgotten, ended. 336 Wily Tipplers better illustrates the power of alcohol over its victim than the strata gems to which the latter will resort to obtain it under restrictive circumstances. For instance, the present Chronic Insane Asy lum at Binghamton, New York, was originally a Chronic Inebriate Asylum. Under its former regime a friend of the present writer was an inmate for about a year. He was a young man of good parts, a member of an old aristo cratic family ; but the demon of strong drink had fastened itself upon him, and he was sent, with his own approval, to this whilom luxu rious refuge for incurable drunkards. The system there did not restrain his convivial tastes nor relieve his appetite for liquor. On the contrary, he lived in misery without his regular potations, and finally it became unen durable to him. His wits became actively engaged in the scheme of smuggling some liquor into the institution right under the argus eyes of the authorities. 22 337 The B&w-Legged Ghost He soon hit upon a device, and on one of the days when he was allowed to visit the city, he went to a tin shop and there ordered a hol low tin tube to be so made as to resemble a cane. When this was finished he turned it over to a clever artist to paint, the result being that the young man secured what every one, not examining it closely, would have pro nounced a cane. The deception was further accentuated by representations of knots on it, which made it look like a natural stick. Of course, the top could be slipped off on occa sion. The tube would hold about a quart of liquor, and the young man had it filled at a drug store and succeeded in carrying it to his room without being detected. That night he and a friend, who had an adjoining room, emptied the tin cane of its contents. They made too much noise, and were taken in charge by the night watchman. Afterward the owner of the cane had several orgies in the same manner ; but the authorities never could ascertain how he obtained his "jags," though, on his return to the asy lum from a visit to the city, he was al ways thoroughly searched. It may be added that to-day he is a total abstainer, not even touching new sweet cider, and an es- 338 Wily Tipplers teemed citizen in the community where he resides. The two following stories, for the truth of which the narrator did not pretend to vouch, were related to me several years ago, and, to my knowledge, have never appeared in print. Both of the stories illustrate the cunning al ternatives to which old tipplers of hardware will resort when moral obligations to them selves or others prevent them from open in dulgence in spirituous potations. The first story related was of a certain famous American tragedian, now dead, who was wont to have an occasional spree. He and his com pany came to Boston many years ago to play an important Shakespearean engagement at the old National Theatre. On the morning preceding the opening night, Mr. B , the tragedian, met his manager in the lobby of the theatre and the latter remarked : Mr. B , you have always been a popu lar favorite in Boston, and can number among its inhabitants many warm personal friends and admirers. I hope you will not be thrown among any of your old intimates to-day ; for as sure as you do you will become convivial, and thus insure for your appearance this even ing failure and disgrace." 339 The Bo-w-Legged Ghost Always anxious to keep his appetite in abeyance, and probably having in mind the remembrance of former humiliations through his excesses, Mr. B answered : " Well, if you have any misgivings on that point, it might be well for you to lock me up in the greenroom until it is time for the per formance. The manager promptly approved the sug gestion, and the tragedian was soon locked in the greenroom. About two hours later the manager came and knocked on the door, and asked the eminent actor if he did not desire some luncheon. Receiving a negative reply, the manager went away. Hour after hour dragged on, and at about four o clock in the afternoon Mr. B s resolution and nerves began to weaken. He paced the floor struggling against the terrible inward crav ing. The inevitable moment came. He heard the stage carpenter, now sawing, now hammering, just outside the door, and with parched throat and feverish eagerness, he cried : "Peter! Peter!" "Is that you, Mr. B ?" " Yes. Peter, you are an old friend of mine, aren t you?" 34 Wily Tipplers "Indeed, I am," replied Peter, coming to the door. "Well, then, do me a favor, if you are," said the voice in the greenroom. I am locked in here. Go out, Peter, and get a pint of good brandy and a long-stemmed clay pipe. Bring them here, insert the stem of the pipe through the keyhole, and carefully pour the brandy into the bowl of the pipe. I will do the rest myself. Understand ? " Peter grasped the situation in an instant, and obeyed the instructions to the letter. The plan worked admirably, and was carried out without discovery. The result was that when the manager unlocked the greenroom door that evening to announce to Mr. B : that it was time for him to dress for Lear, the great actor was in a state of maudlin irresponsibility, lying prone on the floor. The amazement of that manager may better be imagined than de scribed. There was no performance that night, a notice being placed on the bulletin board in front of the theatre to the effect that, owing to a severe attack of illness, the tragedian would be unable to appear that evening. The other story refers to Rufus Choate, the celebrated lawyer, who, while by no means a 34 1 Tlic Bo-w-Legged Ghost slave to the drink habit, appreciated a social glass now and then, and, in fact, believed in the intellectual value of stimulants on certain occasions. Mr. Choate once had for a client a man who was strongly opposed to the use of liquor in any form. The condition upon which he engaged the professional services of Mr. Choate to conduct his lawsuit was that the learned advocate should not drink a drop of any intoxicating beverage during the pro gress of the trial. This is a very important case," declared Mr. Meeker, the client, "one that involves a good many thousands to me, and I cannot afford to intrust it to a lawyer who drinks, no matter how smart he is. Mr. Choate promised not to drink any ardent spirits during the trial, which lasted for several days. On the day he was to sum up the case, he began to feel a little uncer tain as to what verdict the jury would bring in. The evidence was not altogether in favor of his client in fact, the other side seemed to have a decided advantage in that respect. Mr. Choate made up his mind that if he won the case at all it would be owing to the power of his eloquence before the jury. He felt a great longing for a little stimulant a good 34 2 Wily Tipplers "bracer," as it was called in those days. He knew it would render him far more persuasive to imbibe some liquor than it would to abstain from it. But he had given his word to his client that he would not drink. His ever ready mental resources, however, provided a \vay out of the dilemma. During the recess at noon he sent an officer of the court out for a pint bottle of brandy and a loaf of bread. These the shrewd coun selor carried into a vacant room. Breaking the loaf of bread in two, he poured into each piece as much of the liquor as it would hold and absorb, which practically drained the bot tle. Then he nonchalantly ate the brandy- soaked bread and thus secured the stimulating effects he craved quite as easily as he would have done by literally drinking the liquor. The counsel on the other side had finished his argument just before the noon recess. When the court reconvened, Mr. Choate rose and began his address to the jury. Flimsy and weak though his case w ? as, so far as the testimony of witnesses was concerned, Mr. Choate, with matchless sophistries, humorous and pathetic anecdotes and bewitching logic, completely captured the sympathies of every riveted juror. In less than a quarter of an 343 The Bo-^-Lcgged Ghost hour after the judge had delivered a brief charge, a verdict was rendered in favor of Mr. Choate s client. " I congratulate you," said Mr. Meeker, a little later, extending his hand to the great lawyer. You tried my case better than any man in the United States could have done. Didn t I maintain that you could get along twice as well without using that vile, nasty liquor? I am glad to pay you your counsel fees in full. Ah, Mr. Choate, didn t I tell you we should win the case if you did not drink ? "You did," replied the advocate, dryly. "And I adhered to my promise to you. But we won t discuss now the virtues of members of the bar who are teetotalers. 344 No Woman, No Fad r;ADS and fashions are quite inseparable nowadays. Remember you the Trilby craze, the fads of Trilbyness and Trilby fashion ? The expert chiropodists coined money for a while after the appearance of Du Manner s book, because all the young ladies were anxious to have their feet in the best state of repair. There is t he still continuing bicycle fad, with its accompanying phases of feminine attire. The bicycle has done more for the advanced woman than all the legislation in the United States for the past twenty-five years. Being the possessor of a bicycle, a woman, of course, must have a bicycle costume, and a bicycle costume is not built on any recognized arbi trary rules. Some women do not mind showing their legs others prefer to. In this respect we are reminded that Anne of Britanny was celebrated for the beauty of 345 Tlic B&w-Legged Ghost her leg and foot, and accordingly wore her skirts short. Other women with shapely calves followed her example. Thus it often happens now that you see on bicycles the plumpest women in the most mannish at tire. On the other hand, the scrawny woman is quite likely to choose a more conventional costume. It is said St. Louis s daughters, whose legs and feet were ill-shaped, contrived to wear very long gowns in order to hide them. This was a coquettish bit of feminine nature worth studying. It was because she had such beautiful shoulders that Catherine de Medicis had her gowns cut low in the bosom and at the back. Etiquette demanded that the ladies of her court should do likewise, regardless of their shape, or lack of it. Catherine had a good deal of quiet fun out of her advantage over some of her female retainers. Has femininity changed much since the days of Catherine ? Is it not natural that women should be con scious of their charms, if they have any ? Xay , women are not only conscious, but proud of them. It is recorded that at Aix a Demoi selle de Lacepede, the widow of Sieur de 346 No Woman, No Fad Lacoste, having been accused before the court of wearing a hoop of seditious width, gave her word of honor on the witness stand that the exaggerated size of her hips, which was the cause of the complaint, was simply a gift of nature." The judges laughed, and she was acquitted. A fad without a woman at the back of it isn t usually of much account. It was she who made roller skating popular. It is she who gives bathing at the seashore a romantic charm. She keeps the game of lawn tennis in public favor, and is popularizing golf throughout the country. All these little fads would gasp themselves out of existence in short order if man alone were expected to keep them alive-. Many a fad has gone to the wall just because women wouldn t have anything to do with it. The fair sex in this connection generally ignores any fad which does not give them an equal opportunity with men, and the opportunity which women seize with the greatest avidity is the one which enables them to act and look like men. Hence, dress and fads are intimately allied. It is true, fashions change, but it is also true that they travel in a circle. Under Louts XVI. , Frenchwomen plunged into a mad excess 347 The Boiv-Legged Ghost in imitating masculine fashions. Everywhere, on the streets, in the cafes, were to be seen women in coats, with braid and lapels, double capes, and metal buttons. A well-known writer, Augustin Challamel, says: "The most elegant women were muffled up in cravats, shirt frills, waistcoats, and wore two watches, with chains, breloques and seals. Some even wore men s hats and carried canes. Behold within the past dozen years the same results in our own land. First came the Tailor-Made Girl, then the Bachelor Girl, who was still more audacious in her opinions of female attire, if not in her practical adoption of these opinions, and now we have the Ad vanced Woman and the Female Bicycle Amazon. The Astride Horseback Woman has begun her threats, being somewhat em boldened by the attitude already taken by a number of her British sisters. This, together with the Female Cocktail Consumer and the Woman Smoker, gives promise of quite a new era in human affairs. It is to be hoped that some good will result from these daily increasing exhibitions of mannishness on the part of women some of them real nice, beautiful but misguided 348 No Woman, No Fad creatures, too. Meanwhile it is a good sign to see that some of the least indispensable of the chappies are lacing themselves tighter than ever and find breathing the pure air of heaven a difficult occupation. 349 Origin of " Beautiful Snow " literary editor shouted, "Come in!" and she did. She proved to be a most en- trancing specimen of female animation. The editor, well he ran his ink-blotched fingers through his still more inky tresses, sighed, abruptly rose, recovered himself, bowed his neck nearly out of joint, and finally moved a prehistoric chair in front of the coy, blush ing maiden of forty-five summers. This editorial thusness was not due to the nonappearance of the fair sex in the sanctum of the Metropolitan Reticule, for a genteel suf ficiency of females came there daily, with heartrending entreaties and complaints and equally heartrending MSS. In truth, one might at this moment suppose the editor to be the President of the United States, so volumi nous and persistent are the throng that con stantly besieges his domain. But the human antique who now stood before him, and whose parched lips seemed to be formulating a re mark, challenged his interest. 35 Origin of Beautiful Snow" "My name is Sophelia Hortense Dumb- weather," she murmured at last, in a voice whose intonation was as distinct as the pat ter of the maternal shingle on a recreant son. " You may have noticed my name in print ; I write poetry fcr the Cape Cod Fish Story. May I trust you with the secret of a treasure that lies buried way down deep in my intel lect ? " You may, you may," returned the editor, with a smile as thick as old molasses. " \Yell, then, sir, I have a new idea." "Indeed," said the editor, "allow me to make a memorandum of it in my diary for 1899." "It is this," continued Miss Dumbweather, with a slightly augmented sai oir-faire. " As I was strolling along Fifth Avenue this morn ing I watched the feathery and fleecy flakes as they fluttered in the air, and two poetic ideas of their possible origin flashed into my mind. At first, methought the mansions in heaven are made of snow. This would not conflict with the saying that architecture is frozen music," providing we admit that music is a liquid before it is frozen. My fancy went on weaving its wonderful woof, and I thought the saints up there who build the palaces work The Bow-Legged Ghost in carpenter shops the same as mortals do; that they cut out huge pillars of snow and plane them smoothly, or with chisels ornamentally etch them, the shavings that fall from these frigid timbers being known to us as snowflakes. Do you catch the poetical drift, sir ? " "Oh, yes, indeed. Its significance fairly benumbs me." "The other suggestion of the origin of Beautiful Snow was this," went on Miss D. It occurred to me that there might be celes tial cows in heaven, and that the angels milk them ; that a drop of milk is spilled here and there, which immediately congeals and de scends to earth. Now which do you consider the better in all points for adoption in my forthcoming poem on Beautiful Snow? " "My dear Miss Dumbweather, this is so sudden, so unexpected," said the editor, asum- ing a manner not unlike that of a girl to whom a lover has proposed matrimony, " that I can only offer an apology for an answer to this very momentous question. At the same time, I feel deeply grateful to you for submitting it to me. Your first idea would seem to shatter the prevailing theory that mansions of gold exist in Paradise. Some people who are not blessed with a superabundance of the yellow 352 Origin of " Bcazitiful metal in this world are laying in a great store of faith that they will get a fair assignment of it in the next, and I respectfully inquire whether it would not increase the annual list of backsliders and apostates to make a public announcement, even inferentially, that gold is a scarce commodity up there. I think your other idea is more satisfying to the soul. That angels act in the capacity of milkmaids is intensely poetical; and then, you know, milk is a very appropriate symbol of purity if it be definitely stated that the milk is unadul terated. But there is one point that perhaps might leave an unpleasant impression on the reader: spilled milk would imply either carelessness on the Dart of the angels, or strong kicking pro pensities on the part of the celestial cows. However, should the angels observe the maxim that it s no use crying over spilt milk, the incongruity would be dissipated. Go on, young woman, in the way you have started. You have a bright future ahead, but I can t say how far ahead it is. Send me a copy of your poem when it is completed. I have no doubt that its merit will bring you a hand some pension. But, to be candid, my time is limited for social intercourse during business Bow-Legged Ghost hours, and so I trust you will excuse me. Come again next Christmas. " Certainly," she said, gaily tripping out of the sanctum as though her intention was to be prompt to meet the appointment. 354 WT MAY be observed, without intentional M^ offense to any young lady who may be en amored of some skeleton-like young man, that, as a rule, fat men, besides being the most jolly and convivial of the male species, are also apt to be the most considerate of and charitable to others. Most fat men are ever ready to smile, nay to laugh heartily. They usually possess happy natures perhaps be cause as a class they have good appetites and enjoy what they eat. They are more social than their lean brethren a fact which properly explains why no one ever heard of a Lean Men s Clam Bake. After all is said that can be said against them, the fact still remains that seven out of ten fat men make excellent husbands. Most unmarried ladies cherish as their ideals men who are tall and cannot boast of any unusual amount of adipose tissue. They spurn the idea of a fat man for a life-long companion, and yet many marriages 355 The B oiv- Legged Ghost with fat men, and also with men who grow rapidly or gradually stout after marriage, have turned out very well. A lady who has her home on Fifth Avenue, a widow , w r hose two husbands repose side by side in Greenwood, remarked the other day to the writer : My first husband was of the brunette order, tall, angular, sallow-faced, saturnine, nervous even to irritability at times, and more or less of an invalid during the latter part of his life. Xo couple could have furnished a wider contrast in tempera ment than ourselves. I am social by nature, fond of attending theatres and of sight-seeing, while he was a morbid recluse, taking no in terest whatever in the world s gayeties. I really believe, if he had had a little more flesh on his bones, he would have been a different. not to say a happier, man. Mind you, I am casting no stones at his cherished memory. My second husband belonged to another genus. He was six feet two inches tall and weighed two hundred and fifty pounds. He was a pronounced blonde and a perfect picture of health. He took an interest in everything, though not to the detriment of his business. I never had to ask him twice to go anywhere with me. He was always eager to participate 356 Fat Men and Lean in anything where mirth and a good time were promised. But the poor man drank too much champagne and ate too many late suppers, and apoplexy carried him off." A lady in Brooklyn, on being asked what physical style of man she preferred, replied : " The one I have suits me very well. He is neither fat nor lean. According to my ideas of masculine physique, he is just right." Another lady who was present volunteered ihe information that her husband was too fat for his own comfort, and that, when he moved, he suggested to her the picture of a big piece of animated jelly. Going up one flight of stairs made him puff like a fire-engine, and he was always complaining of some pain. She feared that he had fatty degeneration of the heart. It seemed to her that his moral sense had grown blunter as he acquired flesh, and in conclusion she said that she did not have much admiration for flabby, fat men. A popular clergyman, who weighs over two hundred and fifty, on being asked his views respecting fat men, thus replied, with a merry twinkle in his eye : There are differ ent kinds of fat men. There is the little, round, oily, fat man. There is the digastric fat man who gets abnormally fat because he is lazy 357 The Bow-Legged Ghost and indolent. To me such a man is an object for compassion. But for the man who is born and stays fat, or the man who gets fat natur ally as he matures, I have the highest re spect, providing the man in other ways is worthy. A lank, cadaverous- visaged poet, who is often seen walking along Newspaper Row, was recently asked if he would not enjoy life more keenly if he were a trifle more corpulent. " No," he swiftly and disdainfully answered, "corpulency befits aldermen, boodlers, and saloon-keepers. Though a literary man, I never indulge in malt, which to paraphrase from Emerson is making our Western wits fat and mean. You will find that the major ity of intellectual people are not gross, though many of them are what may be termed plump. Point me out ten fat men, and I will point you out nine stupid men. Was Apollo coarse and unctuous? Was the Greek conception of a perfectly molded body that of one weighing three hundred pounds ? No. Art and poetry ever have sought to immortalize such lithe and willowy forms as that of Venus, such trim, athletic limbs as those of Diana, such graceful symmetry as that of Hebe. Really, I would rather be a snail than a fat man." 358 Fat Men and Lean "Assuming," observed the poet s ques tioner, " that as a rule those not fat are the most intellectual and eminent in the world, how do you account for the fact that of all the people who obtain divorces only about one- fourth are fat people ? "Oh," returned the poet, "you might as well ask why there are not as many fat people in the world as lean. I am not married, but if I ever do take a wife, you may rest assured that she will not be a woman of such dimen sions as to attract offers from dime museum managers. Then the long-haired votary of the muse pursued his fanciful way toward a fifteen-cent restaurant. 359 Society Actresses number of society women who are entering the theatrical profession is growing somewhat alarming, and the question naturally arises, Are they a neces sary evil? Domestic troubles, or pecuniary difficulties, are among the usual reasons al leged for their going on the stage. In several instances, women have allowed their private troubles to be discussed in the public prints for a year or so before announc ing their histrionic intentions. Some begin by participating in amateur theatricals, which are about as tiresome usually as anything ever devised for the ostensible delectation of so ciety. Formerly, it was quite stylish for a society woman to startle drawing-rooms by reading "Ostler Joe" in a complacent, matter-of-fact manner. This was a sure way to get her talked about and to render rosy the path to her coveted goal the stage. But reading Ostler Joe to gatherings of the bon ton has 36* Society Actresses quite gone out of fashion and is not nearly so en regie as it was. In short it has been demon strated that reading Ostler Joe will not procure for a society woman that bountiful and enduring notoriety which complaining of a husband will. It is notoriety, you know, which Americans aspire to not legitimate fame and deserved glory. On the latter peo ple starve to death in this country. But notoriety is the thing anxiously sought. Notoriety, despite Carlyle s definition of it as " Fame s bastard sister," fills purses and makes the possessor thereof well to do. The following is a brief and imperfect tabu lation of the causes which have made noto rious certain society women who are now 7 earning a fine living as stars. Allowing for the varying circumstances of individuals, this tabulation may serve as a partial list of recipes for the guidance of those society women who are contemplating the ways and means of going on the stage : I. She was divorced from her husband in Chicago, January 3d, 1897. She married again in the same city, January 4th, 1897. She told friends that her second husband abused her worse than her first had done. The friends talked. She got into the newspapers. The Boiv-Legged Ghost Six months later she made a triumphant ap pearance in New York, in " Camille s Sister ; or, How to Stuff the Public. Now en route. Standing room only. II. Sent for a reporter, who came. Told him she had been a "bud" for two years. Also that her father had recently shot him self, because she had become engaged to a dudish gambler and would not give him up. Story proved a find for the paper. Other papers elaborated on the facts. Made her debut last season in Philadelphia, in "As in a Beer Glass ; or, How People Swallow 7 Things." On no night since have the receipts been less than $2,000. III. Painted her arms black and blue, also her left eye, and went to a sw r ell reception in a decollete dress. Told everybody the black and blue represented bruises made by the fist of a drunken husband. Sensation. Gossip. Several cavaliers volunteered to go gunning for the husband, who fled to parts unknown. Made her first appearance in Boston, in "Hokus Pokus; or, Getting There With Ease." Now playing to crowded houses on the New England circuit. IV. Affected eccentricity. Wore hosiery on her hands and gloves on her feet. Some- 362 Society Actresses body said she was insane. Then everybody said so. Her manager, who had previously been engaged, billed her heavily in Baltimore to appear in " Pure Rot ; or, Notoriety by Any Other Xame." Instantaneous success. In vesting largely in real estate in various cities. 363 The New Literary Era WHATEVER may be the inveighing against 55 the condition of belles lettrcs in this country, there can be no question as to the dawning of a new and lucrative era for the American litterateur. For my own part, no one can experience more rapture in contem plating the advent of such an era. When it has arrived, the ragged Bohemian will doubt less become a tradition, and there will be less taking of "pot luck" in the third-class res taurants among those who have borne that classification. The reason why prosperity is in store for the literati is not far to seek. This is distinc tively a commercial age, and advertising has done much to make it so. With the steady increase of advertising, there has grown up a steady competition in the novelty and method of advertising. The public eye is no longer to be arrested by the old-fashioned "ad." In consequence, advertisers now, especially of patent medicines, pay the papers enormous 364 Tlie J\ r cw Literary Era prices for long "reading notices," so written as to make most readers, when they begin reading them, think they are news articles. A great deal of ingenuity is displayed in the make-up of these notices, and they daily fool thousands of people. Now, it is not to be inferred that any member of these many firms who thus advertise, prepares the matter, except in rare instances. It is their custom to hire a professional scribbler to do this sort of thing, and if he prove valuable in this way, he is generally engaged by the year at a very tempting salary. I know of a man who was formerly the pro fessional poet of one of the so-called comic weeklies, in this city, who now earns $5,000 per annum as the versifier for a Baltimore soap firm. The other day I met on the street an old journalistic friend, whom I had not seen in some time. " How are you getting on?" I asked. " Never better," he responded, with enthusiasm ; "I keep up my special writing for the Sunday - , but my big money comes from the - - Nerve Tonic Company and - s Pulmonary Pellets. I am their exclusive verse and ad. fakir, and they pay elegant prices." 365 The Bow-Legged Ghost I was naturally glad of my friend s success, and his employment suggested to me a train of thought which I never pursued before. Since that interview I have discovered that several of my old acquaintances have gone into the employment of great firms which advertise extensively, and are getting rich. It will not be long before we may read in literary papers such notices as the fol lowing : "Mr. Fred Layton, former editor of the weekly Rapier, is now the chief advertise ment writer for Spring s Git Up and Git Horse Powders. We congratulate Mr. lyay- ton upon his pronounced literary success! "The firm which manufactures Smyth s Silver Specific for Drunkenness has en gaged Mr. T. G. Branagan, the poet, to write all their verses, at an annual salary of $8,000." " Miss Ella Flynn, the beautiful prose con tributor to the Magnetic Girdle advertisements, is in town. We understand she has recently refused a lucrative offer to w r rite for The Gray Hair Annihilator Company." The Tough on Cockroaches advertise ments are now being graphically furnished by J. W. Ralton, whose experience for over ten 366 The +Yc~v Literary Era years as a reporter on the Hornet amply quali fies him for the position which nets him $5,000 a year. " Nearly all the newspapers and magazines are advertising for writers, reporters, and con tributors. The daily Moonbeam offers twenty- five dollars per column for matter from any of its former writers. The latter, however, are not likely to leave their present employ ment for any such picayune offers. 367 Humbug and Reality defines humbug to be "an impo- sition under fair pretenses. 1 Most people would resent an intimation that they like to be imposed upon, even under any pretense, and yet no charge so general in its application can be made against the civilized human family of to-day as that it loves to be humbugged. Turn which way we will, proof of this is at hand. From the cradle to the grave, poor human nature imposes upon itself " under fair pretenses." Men and women, too, yearn for humbugs, and the more thoroughly they are humbugged the better they like it. They will pay a large price to each other to perform the service for them, but it is sweetest of all when they hum bug themselves. Men will fish all day where there isn t a scale, hunt where there isn t a feather, come home tired and hungry and humbug themselves into the belief that they have had sport. They will look upon the cold inanimate form of the victim of dissipa- 368 Humbug and Reality tion with mingled pity and contempt for the. weakness which led to self-destruction, and humbug themselves into the belief that they can sip from the wine cup, guzzle the beer, and smoke the cigarettes which caused it, and avoid the inevitable. They \vill preach against vice and immorality, attend divine service on Sunday and possibly give tithes of all they possess, and delude themselves with the impression that they are washed clean from the sins of sharp practice and deceit which follow through the week. They will violate the laws of health with impunity, and believe that by the use of nostrums they can humbug nature and escape the penalty. The young sow the tares and the old reap them both humbugged in the harvest. And what is true of the sterner sex is none the less a stern fact with the weaker sex. Humbugged in Eden, they have never escaped the thral dom, and if it is not fig leaves it is the street- sweeping skirt, the paper-soled shoe, and finally the hectic cough about which there is no humbug. In short, we all humbug ourselves. We read a lesson in the weaknesses and short comings of others, and humbug ourselves into the belief that we are ironclad against them. 24 369 Tlic Bo-^c- Legged Ghost Like Mark Twain s Sandwich Island Legisla ture, which he describes as spending all its time at each session in repealing the work of the previous session, so we spend each suc ceeding year humbugging ourselves that in the future we will correct the faults of the past. But in spite of all this, there is that which is, and which for all time will be, a reality a treasure which can be laid up where moth nor rust do not corrupt and where thieves do not break through and steal. If, then, amid all the shams this golden har vest be secured, it will truly not have been "All of life to live, nor all of death to die." Theatrical Expansion v that Cuba, Porto Rico, and the Philip- . . pines have come within the sphere of Yankee influence, there is no doubt that the benighted natives will have an opportunity of seeing some of our strolling players. The Spaniards have always been fond of the thea tre, and the people of that race who remain in our newly-acquired islands will probably be come either infatuated or inured to our ways of entertaining, sooner or later. Within a short time, it may not be surpris ing to see some of our managers establish an Oriental circuit, comprising the Hawaiian Is lands and the Philippines. Why not? Isn t there as good a chance for ambitious actors in that part of the world as there was for Wil liamson, the "Struck Oil" man, who went out to Australia some years ago and made a fortune there? As to the quality of the audi ences, I fancy there is not much choice between playing to half-castes and Malays, and to those 371 TIic Bow-Legged (i/iost noisy bush rangers and wild men of Borneo that Williamson purveyed to. At all events, virgin soil out in the East awaits the Thespian tread, and that dramatic organizations will go there with the great exodus of fortune hunters is a foregone con clusion. In return, we may expect some im portations from our new domains, in the way of theatrical attractions. Certainly it will not be long before the vaudeville stage will have teams doing the "Manila buck," and such features as the Female Tom-Tom Orchestra from Guam, the Luzon Quartet perhaps led by Aguinaldo himself, the Hula-Hula dancers from Honolulu, the Champion Poi Eater of the South Seas, the Porto Rican Sugar Cane Singers, the Coffee Plantation Yawkers from Aquadilla, the Tobacco Strippers Quintet from Havana, and so on. If these novelties should draw well, as they probably would, some man like the dauntless Mr. Brady might induce ex-Queen Liliuokalani to star in a play written expressly for her, say by Augustus Thomas. Here would be an opulent chance for the delineation of types absolutely new to the stage. And then perhaps Paul Arthur might con struct a play in which the central feature would 372 Theatrical Expansion be a real bullfight, with genuine toreros, picadores, c/nilas, banderillos, and cspadas, "es pecially engaged for this production." There is a world of possibilities for the wide-awake managers in the great political changes now going on, and there need be no cause to fear that they will not plunge into the tide at the flood. Actors who cannot find engage ments in this country may learn that it is to their advantage to establish Rialtos in Havana, Ponce, Manila, and Honolulu, and likewi.se some of the languishing dramatic agencies may perceive here a profitable hint. A few "years hence a conversation some thing like the following may be a common occurrence on Broadway. Hello, Jack ! where have you been keep ing yourself these two years ? "Hello, Bill! oh, I ve been doing leading business at the Dewey Theatre in Manila. Say, it is one of the handsomest show houses you ever saw. They have a slap-up stock company, the leading lady being a beautiful Spanish woman, who speaks English per fectly. I have signed for another season there, but thought I d run over to New York and see the boys. I ve invested my earnings in a rice plantation, and in the same neigh- 373 The Bow-Legged Ghost borhood there is quite a colony of American actors. What have you been doing, Bill? " "Oh, I ve got an interest in the Eureka Theatre in Honolulu. Doing well ? I should say we are. The natives like our company so well we have to give matinees every morn ing as well as afternoon. Why they bring their lunch baskets and stay right through the day, till after the evening performance. We issue a special ticket to those who wish to see the show three consecutive times, which costs three dollars. You ought to see the floor of the theatre after the evening per formance the paper bags, egg shells, crumbs, banana and orange skins, and all of the remnants you will find where a Sunday school picnic has been held. But it pays. Say, I ve been married since I saw you last." " Indeed 1 My congratulations, old boy." "Thanks. Yes, I married a Hula-Hula dancer, a pure Hawaiian; pretty as a gazelle, and bright as a humming bird. Yes, we have two little ones. " Do they resemble 3*011, Bill? " "No, they favor their mamma: the3* look like bronzes. It s quite the thing for the pro fession that is, the male portion of it to marry native women. You see, they don t 374 Theatrical Expansion get crochets into their heads and run away. How are the girls in the Philippines ? "Out of sight, but they are somewhat peculiar. For instance, they smoke cigars as big as bananas, and a fashionable table deli cacy among them is the grasshopper. But then I have read that this was a favorite dish of some of the old Roman emperors. We have two girls in our stock company who are genuine Malays. One of them is a soubrette, and she could teach most of our American red stockings a thing or two about flirting. By the way, I just met Pete Riker. He is stage manager at the General Miles Opera House in San Juan, Porto Rico. They have three stock companies at this house, one American, one Spanish, and one negro so they cater to all classes of the population. Pete show r ed me some of his press notices in the San Juan Telegraph, Post, and Bullet in, all edited by young fellows who went there first with the United States army as correspondents. He says he wouldn t leave Porto Rico for the management of the finest theatre in Greater New York. He likes the country, the cli mate, the people, the mode of living, and says he will be a rich man within five years, being in several outside specs -- for one 375 77ic Bow-Legged Ghost thing, a soap factory, which is coining money." "Great world, ain t it?" " It s the hardest world I ever saw to get out of alive. Ta. ta. " 376 A Proposed Journal \VAS dining the other day at Delmonico s with a friend who informed me of an enter prise of his own conception, which, if car ried out, will be as unique as anything new that has existed under the sun for a long time. He did not request me to keep mum over it (our beverage being the Widow Cli- quot), and therefore I feel no delicacy in giving the whole scheme away. This is in substance w r hat he said : Do you know there is a big chance for the new journal I am about to establish? It is to be a weekly organ devoted to the interests of criminals, murderers, suicides, and people of that ilk." Mr. A - saw I was holding my breath in ama/.ement, so he paused until I could resume my regular respiration, and then continued: "I shall call this journal Crime. Do you think that will be taking?" I nodded equivocally. 377 7Yic BO-&- Legged Ghost "Yes," went on the enthusiast, "I think I ve got a good idea, and I mean to work it for all it s worth. You see there is a large number of criminals in this country when you come to count them up. They ve never had a distinctive organ, though plenty of papers have supported them under the guise of this goody- goody business. But the time has come when the professional burglar, pickpocket, gambling sharp, and much worse individuals than they, should have a representative journal. House breakers, for instance, like to know the meth ods by which members of their guild operate in different parts of the country. If a Boston thief invent a new jimmy, his brothers in New York and other cities want to know how it works. "How will you get your information?" I breathlessly asked. "Partially through my hosts of sub scribers," was the answer. " I shall pay my contributors for special articles. A good many men who are now languishing in state prison will be given an opportunity to relate their experiences and to tell about the big jobs with which they have been associated. Then I shall have a column or more devoted to criminal statistics, and two 378 A Proposed Journal or three columns of personal paragraphs record ing the doings of crooks who have won a repu tation in their arduous pursuits and do not wish to lose it. I expect my paper will reach a circulation of five hundred thousand at least during the first year of its existence. Why just look at the field! I do not expect that only out-and-out murderers and outlaws will take it. There are the criminal doctors and law yers, who themselves aggregate no small number. I shall provide news for them as well as for the shoplifters and bunco- steerers. " Are you not afraid of being arrested?" "Not in the least. I shall not advocate criminal principles, but only chronicle the opinions of those who practice them. Crime has a great and prosperous career before it, and you may be sure it will go into many homes where the Outlook and Presbyterian Banner are never seen." Do you not fear the influence of your journal will be bad? " "On the contrary, I believe it will deter many from entering upon lives of crime by pointing out the difficulties in the w r ay of suc cess and the dangers of detection, arrest, and severe punishment. 379 77ic Bow-Legged Ghost Since the above interview, Mr. A - has disappeared from the haunts that have known him for many years. In a letter written from New Orleans, not long ago, to an old crony in this city, he says: "I have abandoned niy journalistic venture. If Crime appears it will not be under my management. I am convinced that the majority to whom such a journal would appeal are so ignorant as to be unable to read, and that if they could read they would not appreciate or support it. Theft and murder seek darkness, and avoid publicity. In short, I have entirely changed my mind in regard to the presum able success of such a journal. I am about to sail for South America and jump into politics. Mr. A - has doubtless chosen the lesser of two evils, and I for one applaud his choice. Perhaps some benighted wretch will attempt the experiment conceived by Mr. A . But whoever tries it will probably come to the con clusion that suicide is preferable to editing a paper solely confined to the doings and events inspired by his Satanic Majesty. 380 Before the Wedding invitations have been sent out, and in a few days the bride-elect is to be led to the altar. The ushers and bridesmaids have been .selected, the trousseau is well under way, and the presents begin to pour in. Each gift is just what she wanted. She fairly revels in the sight of the best man s card lying loose in the delicate satin-lined case. But not less lovely to her seems the little set of fruit knives, the gift of a friend whose fam ily has met reverses of fortune since they were in the young ladies school together, whilst she goes into transports over the Japa nese vase a near-by neighbor has presented in person. The mail brings a letter from the fiancee s cousin, a captain in the regular army stationed at a remote post in Arizona. In the letter is a check for fifty dollars, with which the Cap tain hopes she will purchase some trifle for First published in Trutli. 77ic Bow-Legged Ghost her own personal adornment. Quite over come by this evidence of generosity, she sings his praises in extravagant terms for half an hour. She is bothered a little when a " duplicate " present arrives, but consoles herself by hoping that it can be exchanged for something of equivalent value. Another ring at the door. This time it is the dressmaker with the bridal gown. Again it is tried on, and one or two minor alterations are suggested. The dressmaker heaves a deep sigh of relief as the fiancee struts up and down her boudoir, voicing her satisfaction. Then all the members of the house are sum moned to survey her in her finery. Papa is so nervous over it all. Every morning and every evening he is obliged to walk the length of the drawing-room and back, w r ith his daughter on his arm, keeping in step with the spirited strains of the wed ding march, rather jerkily rendered on the piano by an elder sister who has determined to live a life of single blessedness. Papa is not a very apt pupil, and the more he practices the stately step the less certain he feels of being able to master it in time for the momentous event only a few days off. 382 licforc the Wedding On the day before the event, rehearsal takes place in the church. With the sonor ous organ to guide him, papa really does splendidly. He is to carry his high hat in his left hand, and dispelled now are all his fears as to what he shall do with his right hand, which he has been instructed to tuck gracefully in the breast of his frock-coat. The afternoon rehearsal affords considerable enjoyment, for the minister is witty and keeps the bridal party in a merry mood. Xight comes, and mamma is anxious for the fiancee to retire early, so she will be sure not to miss her beauty sleep. But the latter protests that going to bed so early on this the last night of her maidenhood is quite out of the question. It is close on to midnight when she at last withdraws to her downy couch. But for hours sleep eludes her. She thinks of the dear home she is leaving and tears fill her eyes. But Jack is so good and kind. And ere the silver shafts of morn penetrate the cham ber, the fiancee lies in the arms of Morpheus, dreaming affectionately of Jack, who is com ing to-morrow to bear her away to Hymen s Land. 383 A Memory of John Gilbert THE venerable figures frequently seen on the street or in the theatre, none was more familiar to New Yorkers than the late John Gilbert. Among ten thousand men, his physiognomy would have been strik ing. On his massive countenance a benign ant humor always rested; he seldom traversed a block without meeting a friend. One of the most affecting occasions of his life was the dinner given by the Lotos Club to Lester Wallack, at which Mr. Gilbert was present. The then President of the Club, Whitelaw Reid, opened the postprandial ex ercises with a graceful speech, outlining the story of Mr. Wallack s career from the time he left England. Mr. Wallack responded with his characteristic ease of manner, spicing his remarks with an anecdote or t\vo. William Winter read an original poem. Judge Brady amused the company with stories, and several other eminent gentlemen held the attention of 3*4 A Memory of Joliu Gilbert the L,otos- Eaters; but no one produced so deep an impression as John Gilbert. He was introduced by Mr. Reid as the Nes tor of old English comedy in America, who suggested that Mr. Wallack had been assisted many times to success through the medium of John Gilbert. In response, the latter acknowl edged that he had been advised with, and he added : "I believe I can yet teach that young man [pointing to Wallack] a trick or two." Later on, while he was expressing his tender sense of friendship for Wallack, his voice broke, his lips quivered, his eyes filled, and for at least a minute words failed him. It was a touching spectacle. He endeavored heroically to regain his self-possession, but his emotions were carried beyond their usual range Scarcely was there a dry eye at the table. After a silence, which was long and solemn, the old man s voice was again heard this time in the gruff tones, the petulant language, and intolerant manner of Sir Anthony Absolute : So you will fly out ! Can t you be cool like me ? What the devil good can passion do ? Passion is of no service, you impudent, inso lent, overbearing reprobate ! There, you sneer again ! don t provoke me ! but you rely upon the mildness of my temper you do, you dog! 25 385 77ic Bow-Legged Ghost you play upon the meekness of my disposition ! Yet take care the patience of a saint may be overcome at last ! but mark ! I give you six hours and a half to consider of this ; if you then agree, without any condition, to do every thing on earth that I choose, why confound you ! I may in time forgive you. If not, zounds ! don t enter the same hemisphere with me ! don t dare to breathe the same air, or use the same light with me ! but get an atmosphere and a sun of your own; I ll strip you of your commission ; I ll lodge a five-and- three pence in the hands of trustees, and you shall live on the interest. I ll disown you, I ll disinherit you, I ll unget you ! and damn me ! if ever I call you Jack again ! " Mr. Gilbert never delivered the passage with more telling effect. He resumed his seat amid a salvo of cheers and bravos. 386 Ingenious Floral Novelties Boston has caught the craze for > original floral decorations. (VIV9 Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Smith, who for several years have surveyed new bonnets from the same pew in church and who always really have been great friends, are competing with each other now in the matter of novel botan ical effects. They both had smilax in festoons on their mirrors, but it has disappeared, and the cu cumber vine clingeth closer than a brother to Mrs. Smith s mirror and the erratic clematis to Mrs. Brown s. A young lady w T hose residence is on Com monwealth Avenue recently appeared at a small evening reception in a dress fabricated entirely of sulphur-tinted Mermet roses, care fully sewed upon a delicate framework molded to her lissome form. It was esti mated that this dress cost $400 ; rather a First published in the Boston Sunday Globe. 387 77ic BOTU- Legged GJwst costly garment as it could be worn for one night only. At a brilliant dinner given the other da}- in Chelsea, the centre of the table held a large pumpkin brought from Florida expressly for the occasion. The pumpkin was crowned by an anchor of French immortelles, which the hostess had purchased a few days before in anticipation of a relative s funeral, which un fortunately did not occur, the relative having gone into a cataleptic state instead of dying. An interior on Beacon Street was the scene of aristocratic festivities the other night. The floors of the salon were literally covered with Nephetos roses, violets, and white carnations. Considerable amusement was afforded those who watched the new-comers wade ankle deep through the flowers, whose sweet incense filled every nook and cranny. A spinster present, whose sense of the fit ness of things was in nowise destroyed by age, remarked whisperously to the lady of the house: " My! I should think you would be afraid of spoiling the carpet." "Oh, there is no danger, I assure you; there is a matting over it," replied the haughty hostess. 388 ous Floral Novelties Before the evening was over, $1,000 worth of choice flowers were stamped and crushed into tatters tinder cold human feet. At a fashionable funeral in Maiden recently, the only floral decorations consisted of a rep resentation of a normal umbrella, four feet in diameter, made of white roses. A very appro priate memento, in view of the fact that the deceased had for a long term of years sup ported a large and growing family upon the profits of the umbrella business. Rose arches and stuffed doves still prevail to some extent, although a Charlestown widow recently made a quaint departure by substitut ing for the stuffed dove a stuffed crow. The true lover s knot design still holds its own on the upper shelves in florists establish ments subject to order. At the opera last week, a pretty young sales woman \vore in her hair a plain Safrano rose in which was fastened a cluster of diamonds in the form of a horseshoe. On a seat ahead of her sat a stout lady of great wealth, who wore a natural leaf from the rubber tree in her bon net, in place of a feather. 39 The h o~jc- Legged Ghost One of the happiest conceits in floral dec orations was seen at a wedding breakfast awhile since in Cambridge. The grass- green tablespread was thickly sprinkled with daisies, buttercups, and dandelions in upright position, representing a springtime pasture. To add to the illusion, butterflies and bumble bees, hanging by silken threads attached to the ceiling, dangled about the flowers. A debutante appeared at the recent police ball with a basket of hyacinths and pond lilies on her arm. Only the handle of the basket was left by the time the debutante reached home. The ornamentation of mantel clocks has become very popular. A young lady in Jamaica Plain not long ago gave a party in honor of an old flame w r ho had just returned from abroad. The young lady in question decorated the family clock, a marble-cased, eight-day arrangement, with sheaves of wheat and a scythe made of forget-me-nots and laurel. Perhaps the cleverest novelty in gentle men s button-hole bouquets is the " Leap-Year Token," as it has been designated. It makes 390 Ingenious Floral Novelties a comparatively cheap and desirable souvenir for young ladies to present their male friends. It is made of ivy and terra cotta chrysanthe mums to represent an oyster on the half shell. A bouquet thus constructed is rather larger than the regulation size, but it looks very neat and suggestive. Another style, especially intended as a leap year gift from the ladies, conceived by a fair damsel in Brookline, is the miniature schooner surmounted by a tortuous pretzel of Jacque minot roses and dun-colored maple leaves. 39 * Cook s Monday Lecture prelude to Rev. Joseph Cook s Mon day noon lecture in Tremont Temple (Boston), on the subject, "Law and Lawlessness," was followed by a philosoph ical discourse for a quarter of an hour. He said that all science in our time is build ing an altar to an unknown god. There are sacrificial tributes of wood and flesh placed upon it, but the unknown god will some day be declared to us as a personal god. Our nineteenth century is carving on the marble of science the names of the agnostic and atheist, yet on the finished block will be in scribed the devoutest names at last, unified like the hundred names on Ecbar s tomb. Mr. Cook was not able to assert that the existence of God is a self-evident truth; it is a native belief, an ultimate idea, a spontaneous faith, an axiomatic certainty of the soul. There is a distinction to be made between a self-evident proposition and a self-evident problem. A straight line is the shortest dis- 392 Cook s Monday Lecture tance between two points; that is a self-evi dent proposition, because it does not require special analysis. That angles formed by straight lines that intersect each other are equal is a self-evident problem, which does require a little analysis to discover the reason. "An absolute being has no necessary de pendence on any other/ 1 This definition is approved by the highest agnostics. If you can overthrow the definition of materialism, you can dethrone atheism and all its rami fications. As I have said before, a good definition should contain no metaphors or figures of speech. Now, Alexander Bain has given a definition of a Double-Sided Somewhat. What s a What? What s the face of a What, and what is the face of a Double-Sided Somewhat? In the universe it is known that there is mind and matter, the latter having extension, color, weight, and inertia. On one side of this Somewhat, Pro fessor Bain fixes the spiritual, and on the other side the physical, and he accounts for the union of the two by what he terms a sys tem of close succession. Is that clear, or is it Scotch mist? Materialism has no foundation on the heights. 393 A Literary Lunch Fiend little snob just crossing Twenty - Third Street," said a prominent club man to the writer, is one of the clev erest bachelors in New York. He has been a member of my club for years, and he spends a good deal of time there, but I do not feel as though I were half acquainted with him. They say he writes a considerable quantity of matter for the daily and weekly press. He dresses in good taste, and evidently has his own tailor, but I doubt if he has much ready money. I never saw him spend a cent at the club in my life. He never declines a treat and never offers one. But this man, who is confidentially known among us as the Literary Lunch Fiend, lives in clover all the while, and I ll tell you how he does it. His earnings from his pen are perhaps fifteen hundred dollars a year. A good two- thirds of this he puts into a swell dinner, to which he invites about four hundred people, many of whom are leaders in society. Of 394 A Literary Lunch fiend course, in return, all of his guests invite him to their houses to dine, and thus he is sure of a first-class banquet three hundred and sixty-five times per annum. Being a bache lor, people invite him more than once during the year to their tables ; and when his in vitations for the same dates conflict, he writes his declinations in such a way as to keep people reminded that though he cannot be present on the occasion designated, he might be able to accept a similar invitation in the near future. "Oh, yes, he lives on the fat of the laud and is very popular. Invitations to his annual feast are much coveted, and his presence at the dinners given by those constituting this set is deemed especially essential. He is an inveterate flatterer of beautiful women and gifted men, who swallow his oily cajoleries as from a chalice containing the nectar of the gods. There is probably not another man in the metropolis who, like him, could be, year in and year out, a successful Lite rary Lunch Fiend." 395 Rollicking Rice in Paris, once on a time, Fanny Rice visited a celebrated cafl chantant and made the acquaintance of the original interpreter of the amusing character sketch song called "The Drummer," an Am erican version of which she subsequently in troduced in her new play. She wore, as part of the bizzarre costume of the character, shoes of enormous size. The first night she appeared in this novelty, which was essen tially French in its quality, Miss Rice found her spacious brogans more masters of the situation than she was herself. She made her entree all right, went through her grotesque impersonations with entire suc cess, finished her song and was about making her exit amid a storm of applause from the audience when those fatal shoes interfered. The shoes themselves were in a thoroughly demoralized condition. They seemed desirous of being estranged from their owner. But with the quickness of thought Miss Rice rose 396 Rollicking Rice to the occasion as well as in mid air, and van ished like another Ariel, bearing in her arms her rebellious shoes to that remote and mysteri ous region known to the public as Behind the Scenes," singing in her most animated style : Oh, you see in me a maiden, Whose heart has flown away To him who beats the big brass drum, That man across the way. Than all the players in the band, He gives one more delight ; He whacks the drum, and hits so hard, It s simply "out of sight." CHORUS Ta, ra, ra, boom, boom! Ta, ra, ra, boom, boom ! 397 A Slight Family Jar Y had been married about a vear. Thev had been happier than most young- mar- > e I a> ried people, because they had been madly in love from the outset. But one day there was a misunderstanding. They attended a matinee, she being dressed in a jaunty poke bonnet trimmed with red. Lawrence Trebolyn worked himself up to an extreme point of dis satisfaction with her, because of the red trim mings on her bonnet, which he had never seen before. He waited impatiently until the first act was over, and then said to her in a whis per : " Millicent, I thought you had better taste than to wear such headgear as you now have on." It was the first unkind or reproachful utter ance she had ever heard from him, and it stung her feelings. She looked up at him wonderingly and asked : What is there about my bonnet that offends you?" "The red on it," he answered harshly, but in a voice not audible to those in ad- 398 A Slight family Jar jacent seats. "Only women without char acter and respectability wear that color on their heads." Manifestly untrue was his remark, as well as unjust. It brought tears to Millicent s eyes. She had no heart to remain where she would attract attention, and positively no interest \vhatever in the play. She arose, saying: " I am going home. Will you accompany me out of the theatre ? He followed her without a w r ord. Lawrence could scarcely have said anything that would have humiliated his wife more. She showed the agony in her heart on her face. But she was very brave. " I am so sorry," she said, as he handed her into a hansom, " if you have the bull s repug nance to red. I w y as innocent of its signifi cance on a woman s head." Lawrence lacked the mood and inclination to ask her to forgive him for his ungallant conduct. He stood in his own light, but his false pride and obstinacy prevented him from offering the amende honorable. And thus his words led to a quarrel which began in real earnest at last. What on earth possessed you to adopt that color anyway," demanded Lawrence, with 399 Gliost insinuating brusquerie. "You are not a car dinal, are you ? " "No," was Millicent s candid answer, "I am not. If I were, it would be many a long day before I should absolve you for your treat ment of me." "Now, you re trying to be cute," snarled Lawrence. " But your manner is far from being wifely. Once more, Madame, I ask where did you get the idea that red on your hat is proper to be worn publicly ? "Well, if you want to know," put in the tearful wife, "from your own first cousin, Sybil Nugger, who is trying to become a star actress on the strength of her social preten sions. " "Ah, ha," muttered Lawrence, the ha being very subdued, as though his heart had missed one regular pulsation. "Then Sybil advised you to wear red on your hat, did she?" Yes. You know very well she is stuck on red in ever) T thing, as her own hats and costumes prove. Where did you learn to use the word stuck in that connection ? " From your cousin Sybil your mother s sister s own daughter. There ! " 400 A Slight Family Jar " Do you mean to say that Sybil uses that sort of language? " "I do, most emphatically. She puts on more airs before men than a princess of the royal blood, but when she is alone with me she uses more slang than a Bowery soubrette. And yet you class her among the salt of the earth because she is your cousin and pretends to be in the swim, as }-ou term it. I may be a country girl, from the underbrush dis tricts of Pennsylvania, where you found me, and whence you would extricate me to be come your wife, but I think, with my olive complexion, as you thousands of times have called it, and my brunette eyes and hair, a red hat looks as well on me as it does on Sybil Xugger, who is a strawberry blonde of a very ordinary type." " Say, Millicent, a friend of mine who is the dramatic critic of Every Monday though Some times Tuesday, has sent me tickets for the Yorktown Theatre at which the first perform ance of the Human Heart Upside Down is to be presented to-night. Sybil is cast for the heart. She is to be dressed in red in every act. Will you not go and lend her sympathy by wearing your red hat? She is bound to see you in the box, and your encouraging 26 401 The Bo"jo-Legged Ghost smile is the only one she will probably receive from the audience." " I will attend the theatre in my red bon net," replied Millicent, "for Sybil s sake, but not for yours. 402 The Art of Picking a Bone WEN MEREDITH, the poet of modern ele gance, never wrote truer words than the following: "We may live without poetry, music, and art; We may live without conscience and live without heart ; W T e may live without friends ; we may live with out books, But civilized man cannot live without cooks. He may live without books what is knowledge but grieving? He may live without hope, what is hope but de ceiving ? He may live without love what is passion but pining? But where is the man that can live without din ing?" It may be said with equal truth that com paratively few of those who dine luxuriously know how to dine really well. Usually the members of a family do not show more differ ence in mental temperament than they do in their taste in edibles. But it is fortunate per- 43 The L> o~v- Legged Ghost haps for the economy of the cuisine that this variation in the family palate exists. Thus Bella, who is passionately fond of boiled tur nips, may be entitled to a double portion be cause her sister Stella abhors them. On the other hand, Stella has a great fondness for fried parsnips, and these Bella detests. Thus is afforded the opportunity of exchange be tween the two sisters when both these edibles are prepared for a meal. This line of consid eration, however, is a digression from the sub ject which I set out to discuss. It has been remarked by some writer that a man who is enjoying a bird and a bottle can not furnish a better indication of intelligence and elegant breeding than by holding the bones in his fingers and picking them there from at the proper time. Doubtless, to be nice about it, one must know intuitively when it is the proper time to pick up the bone in one s fingers. This scarcely would be before the quail, the snipe, the woodcock, or what ever the bird be, has been umvinged and un- legged and divested, as well as practicable, without great effort, of meat, with a knife and fork. Handling game in one s fingers, too, should be dependent upon its size. It would not be 404 The Art of Picking a Bone entirely elegant to nibble at a huge duck wing from the hand. But, in spite of all that the wiseacres in etiquette may say, a man is justi fied in many circumstances in holding any delicate game in his fingers, while eating it. His natural regard for appearances would prevent him from such manipulation at a State dinner or even at a formal one where ladies were present. But at all other times he will, if he enjoys a bird and knows how to get at its sweetness, take it up without fuss in his fingers and proceed to clean the bones. Your true epicure understands that the meat nearest the bone is the most delicious, and the jelly-like substance and marrow in the bones of small birds cannot be obtained with a knife add fork. Krgo, a man s teeth, which, let us hope are white and cared for, must come into requisition. Thus sportsmen eat. Thus Sam Ward and his disciples ate. Thus the well- bred citizen of the world who is compelled to live at a club, because he has no home, eats. If he has a home he eats in the same way, except when entertaining fastidious lady guests. When a man is allowed the privilege of picking a bird in his hands, he becomes inter esting and communicative. He tells those 45 The Boiv-Legged Ghost with whom he is dining genuine funny stories. He winks at the waiter furtively to bring another bottle of the Widow. In short, he is preeminently satisfied with himself and everybody else. If that same man had been obliged to forego the privilege of holding those bones in his fingers, he would have been inwardly miserable and outwardly sullen, with a manner which would have indicated his indifference to the merits of the repast that is, if he had a good appetite and was a lover of birds. The frequent spectacle of a man is pre sented who, in holding a part of a bird in his hand, tries to impress a friend across the table with his finical grace. He brings a ring into conspicuous prominence, perhaps, b) T the way in which he holds his fingers as though any little tricks of matter could apologize for this fashion of finishing a bird, the best justifica tion of which is a gracious, appreciative, and unaffected absorption in the enjoyment itself. Not that a man, while thus engaged, need be reticent or needlessly engrossed, but he should show himself a master of the suggestiveness of the picture he.presents with a bone in his fingers, and remember that no artificial affect ations are required to heighten or reduce the 406 Tlie Art of Picking a Bone effect. A man who eats a bird with a knife and fork and considers it vulgar to eat the re maining and best part out of his fingers is an unfortunate man. There is something lacking in his make-up if he has not learned the art and pleasure of picking a bone. Not like Sydney Smith s ideal epicure can he say after a bird dinner: "Fate cannot harm me; I have dined to-day." As for the ladies picking bones held in their fingers, I do not see why they should not claim at least that right of man. Most ladies themselves object to it, and when you see one who does not, you can make up your mind that she is sufficiently above a type to be ranked as a personality. L,adies should bear in mind that this is a superb way to show off to advantage their diamond and emerald rings. The delicate leg of a plover matches diamonds very nicely when in the pink-nailed fingers of a damsel or matron. After a game dinner ladies have been known to regret the fact that they did not pick a bone or two like their husbands, brothers, or lovers. It seemed at the table so natural and so easy to resist the tempta tion ; but three hours later it seems such a silly thing to have refused to do. The New 407 The Bo jo-Lcgged Ghost York girl who, while visiting a family, will eat scarcely enough to keep a humming bird alive will, with a girl companion, go into a restaurant while out shopping, and not only order but eat a substantial dinner. If she orders a bird you may be sure she will pick the bones in the most entrancing style. It will make any one s mouth water to watch her. But at home before guests, or away from home as a guest, she is an entirely dif ferent creature in regard to eating. Before society she poses as an ethereal creature, to whom earthly sustenance is a desecration ; but in a restaurant she will eat like a half- starved tramp. It is needless to add that this class of young ladies can pick a bone to the queen s taste. 408 The Dwarfs of the Jossgrund A Bavarian Legend fTjfHE industrious dwarfs were wandering. %!$ They had rendered excellent .services to (oj a) men ; had toiled for them like slaves, sowing and reaping, demolishing and rebuild ing, quite as everyone desired, and in turn they had gained naught save a bitter con viction of the truth of the old proverb that " Ingratitude is the world s reward." For this reason the dwarfs were wandering. They no longer wished to witness this ingrat itude, preferring to repair to some solitude and abandon all intercourse with men, whom otherwise they would have esteemed and re mained among. In the course of their journey they reached the Spessart (Bavarian Hills), and finally came to the Jossgrund. At that time few people lived in the Spessart, and for many days the dwarfs trudged onward without see ing a human habitation. The small quantity 409 The B oiv -Legged Ghost of food they started with was soon consumed. The cold dark shadows of the forest retarded the growth of eatable roots and fruits, and so the dwarfs suffered bitter want. With diffi culty they proceeded on a little further and at last, exhausted by hunger and fatigue, they lay dow r n in the dense heather, expect ing starvation soon to come and relieve their miser} r . A peasant returning home with a bundle of wood happened to pass them. His foot touched one of the little men, and nearly crushed him. The peasant s fright was changed to pity when he perceived their wretched condition. It was not necessary for him to ask them what they desired, for pallid famine was written on their pinched faces. He requested them to make one last effort and follow him. He was a poor man himself with several little children, but he promised to pro cure some food for them, and assured them that there was more room in his cellar than he required. The dwarfs, inspired by this hope of succor, followed the peasant to his humble hut, which happily was not far off. In the empty cellar the dwarfs made themselves as comfortable as they could, the peasant sharing with them his 410 The Dwarfs of the Jossgrund rough fare, and in a few days they recovered their former strength and vigor. \Yhen the dwarfs left the cellar for the first time and saw how the peasant was obliged to work, to cultivate his corn on a little piece of stony ground, to dig out the stumps, to cut grass for his lean kine, they forgot all the wrong that men had done them, and their in tention to journey to some distant uninhabited clime, and they said to the peasant: "You have given us food and shelter and we wish to reciprocate by helping you in your farming. You will be more than satisfied with us, but you must remain kind and friendly and con siderate to us as you have been. We are not so weak as we appear. All of us together have but one will, and therefore our united strength surpasses that of a giant." The peasant was not inclined to believe in the giant-like power of the dwarfs, but he re flected that if they proved of no great use they would prove of no great harm to him, and so accepted their offer. During that day the dwarfs rested quietly in the cellar, but at nightfall they became as industrious as ants. After that, every morning when the peasant stepped out of his hut, he found before the door a large heap of the best grass that grew 4 n Tkc Bow- Legged Ghost on his farm, or a bundle of wood. He ob served, too, how the swamp was being trans formed into a beautiful meadow, and how the forest was being cleared. It remained for him only to plant the seed, and a rich harvest would be certain. Now he easily found means to procure more and better cattle, for which the dwarfs built him a stable. A little later the harvest yielded so abundantly that it was suffi cient to fill ten barns like the peasant s. So the indefatigable little men set to work and built a large one, larger than any of which the peasant had ever dreamed. And now his house seemed to him too small for his more fastidious requirements, but he had only to hint his desires to the dwarfs, who erected two palatial dwellings for him. Thus the peasant became the richest man in the Spessart. He employed many servants, more in fact than could find anything to do, and lived like a prince. The dw r arfs still lived in the cellar of the old hut, contented with their meagre rations so long as their herculean labors remained unfinished. Several years elapsed, and finally, when the dwarfs found nothing more to do for the peasant, they sought his presence and asked if he would permit them to build a house for themselves 412 77i e Dwarfs of the Jossgrund on his estate, as the cellar was dark and un comfortable. Alas ! prosperity had rendered the peasant s heart hard and unsympathetic. He scolded the dwarfs and sneeringly asked what they would do with a house. He declared there was no room for it on his estate. If they had been able to live in the cellar till now, he thought they could live there longer. To build a new house would be foolish extrava gance. Such little men did not need a large house, and if they did not like the cellar any more they could leave it ; he had fed them long enough any way. The dwarfs were greatly surprised by this answer, which they had not in the least expected, and this fresh evidence of human ingratitude soon awakened their former grudge against men. They left the cellar at once, and that night they entered the peas ant s barn and carried away his corn, which, not wishing to destroy, they ground at a neighboring mill and distributed the meal among the poor. Then they set fire to all of the peasant s buildings, and all of his goods perished in the flames. Into the fields, w r hich they had so carefully cultivated, they cast so many stones that five years labor would not 413 The Bow-Legged Ghost have cleared them. The irrigating ditches in the meadows were so clogged up that the old noisome morass would again develop. As he once had been, the peasant was now a poor man, possessing nothing but his crumbling old hut, a few waste acres, and a few famishing cows. If by the same means he could have become rich again, he doubtless would have been less ungrateful and callous to the discomfort and deserts of those around him. But it was part of his lesson to be de prived of the chance to do what it had been so easy for him to do once. The dwarfs resumed their wanderings, and where they now are no one knows. 414 A Needful Invention fHOSE in the administrative service in England make it their duty to render the social and official cares of the Queen and her son, Albert, as light as possible. But in spite of their efforts in this direction, her Majesty and the Prince have a great deal to do in the course of a year. Perhaps no one will be able to devise a plan by means of which Victoria or her legit imate successor shall be free from giving and attending certain State receptions, but it does seem as though the laying of corner-stones and the opening of dog, poultry, and other shows might properly be shifted upon other shoulders than those whose exalted dignity has so often been humiliated to perform these mechanical offices. What month of the twelve slips around that does not see some new park, association, or other enterprise opened in some part of Eng land ? For proof of this just glance over the columns of any English newspaper. It is not 4*5 Bow-Legged Ghost easy to estimate the amount of trouble some times experienced by those who are invited to clinch the occasion, so to speak, by their presence. The continual opening of some thing keeps the Queen or her representatives on the jump most of the time. If Yankee sympathy is worth anything at all to her Majesty, she has mine, with the -assurances of my most distinguished consideration. It is entirely wrong to deprive the Sover eign of Great Britain and Empress of the Indias, and her formerly somewhat volatile heir to the Crown, of that exclusive domestic peace from which the commonest subject is not exempt. Many of us unsophisticated Americans have an idea that a queen, or prince, like Albert, has a very soft time of it. But the fact is, monarchs and members of royal families are the hardest-working people in the world. Some great w r riter has aptly said : " Men tire themselves out in pursuit of rest," an axiom not less true than the one just preceding it. To-day, we will say, an industrial exhibition is to be opened in York; to-morrow, a new bridge at Manchester; day after to-rnorrow, a baby show at L,eeds, and so on throughout the calendar. Now, would it not be a great sav- 416 A Needful Invention ing of executive energy and time if a patent duplex exhibition and park-opener and corner stone layer could be invented and adopted by the English Government? Of course, this invention would have to be in the shape of a man, capable at a moment s notice of making a neat and appropriate speech. Chauncey M. Depew would be just the man for the purpose, if he did not have a little other business, and Xew York did not have a copyright on him. This patent duplex exhibition and park- opener and corner-stone layer should be a man who is familiar with the local history of every hamlet in the United Kingdom, so that his allusions would be opportune and accurate. Such a man should be pensioned, like the poet laureate, and be ready for every occasion upon which something had to be opened or a new public project inaugurated. The appointment of an exhibition and park- opener and corner-stone layer, say for life, would give the Queen, Albert, and a few who compose their appointed or elected representa tives, more time for a game of backgammon and intellectual pursuits, as w r ell as be a great relief to them, if not to the kingdom. This is an invention of great importance to Englishmen. There will come a day, if exhi- 27 417 The Bow-Legged Ghost bitions continue to open in England as rapidly in the future as they have in the past, when the Queen and Albert will be glad to have a "regular man" attend to them, along with the corner-stone laying. The whole course of events indicates that the English exhibition- opener, etc., is only a question of time a few years. NOTE. We have handled this profound theme \vithout gloves not having any that are entirely minus rips. We trust the London Saturday Review and Spectator will deal as fairly and intelligently in the future with American affairs as we have in this article attempted to deal with a vital question in Eng land. We have not introduced quite so many high- sounding words as our English contemporaries named possibly will wish we had. But our topographical knowledge of England and its sister dominions is, per haps, as extensive as is our contemporaries knowl edge of our little Republic, and that, in a measure, will be an offset to the absence, in this contribution, of classical quotation and pretentious construction out of heavy, if not often clumsy, verbal material, in which our English contemporaries seem to delight. To the British public in general, we offer the foregoing advice gratuitously. English papers please copy. 418 Fashion s Curious Lore France the world has derived more ideas of fashion and elegance than from any other modern nation. The refine ments of the toilet have been a specialty of the French people since, perhaps, a little be fore, the time of Charlemagne. The delight of the Gallic woman was cold baths and precious unguents. She frequently abstained from the use of wine to save her complexion. She did not possess, however, many, if any, valuable ideas of dress in its relation to hygiene and sanitary principles, any more than did our American women one hundred years or more ago, when they were inclined to go too thinly clad in film}*, sla/y attire, which, while showing off to advantage their shapeli ness of figure, exposed them to the untold dangers of rigorous and inclement weather. Caesar s conquest of Gaul, which every schoolboy knows was divided in three parts, brought into that territory Roman civilization, and, as well, Roman corruption. Life there 419 The Bo-jc-Legged Ghost became more complex. The Gallo-Roman lady coquetted with her fan, consulted her steel mirror, carried her parasol, went to her dentist, wore corsets of more or less chiefly less excellence; used scented pomatums and perfumes, washes for the eyelids, dyes for the brows, and various dermatological prepara tions, and in numerous other ways showed herself to be a sophisticated being just as she does to-day. But with this difference : in those times nearly everything was crude and bizarre. In public, patrician ladies held crystal or amber balls in their palms to cool the latter, the amber giving out a pleasant odor as it warmed in the hand. The social condition of Gaul was again modified by the Franks. For instance, in the almost transparent material and clinging style of the gowns worn by the Carlovingian women, there was an imitation of classic standards and unique modes. Under Charlemagne s successors, women s dress be came heavier and ampler. Some of the more advanced of the fair sex carried canes, with variously embellished handles. Then, as now 7 , fortunes were spent in dress. On their wedding day, during the first years of the Renaissance, brides wore red or scarlet. 420 Fashion s Curious Lore Catherine de Medici was a prominent factor in influencing the fashions of her time. Accord ing to Brantone, she was the first woman to ride on a side-saddle. Having remarkably beautiful shoulders, which she was rather fond of displaying, her decollete costumes were imitated by the ladies of her court, often to the disadvantage of those not gifted by nature with physical charms. Catherine also in troduced whalebone bodices, so fraught with evil to many succeeding generations of women. Under Henry III., slender waists and svelte figures were the desideratum. Even wooden splints were used by women to tighten their waists, when whalebone bodices were scarce. Both sexes vied with each other in the extravagant use of perfumes and aromatic substances. The men of that epoch were absurdly, if not disgustingly, effeminate. Young dandies in ruffs and ringlets copied the Medici toilets of the ladies, even carrying about and using perfumed fans. The doublet then adopted held its own for many years. It was belted round the waist and fastened at the throat by a ruff or falling collar. Some of the silly nabobs of the court of Henry III. wore very snug-fitting corsets. Yet this is 421 The Bo-w-Legged Ghost not so singular, when we contemplate the "smart" young Britons and Anglomaniacs on this side of the Big Pond who indulge in tight lacing. The late Duke of Clarence was thus addicted. Bourgeoises of that time were restricted by royal edict from wearing silks, velvet hoods, and other finery affected by patricians. Even wives of lawyers and merchants came under the ban, heavy fines being imposed on those who violated these ordinances of the Crown. One of the most ingenious women in ori ginating novel costumes was Margaret of Valois, afterward the wife of the King of Xavarre. She once declared, "Extravagance with me is a family failing." The superior ity of her taste in dress has been denied, however, by some authorities, who assert that she perverted rather than improved the fash ions of her time. She had one inexplicable preference, which is frequently manifested by the fin de siecle woman. She usually con cealed her magnificent black hair under a dowdy flaxen wig. Why is it that so many fashionable w r omen prefer blonde hair? The events of a certain period and the fashions of that period usually bear an inti mate relation, and one which it is not always 422 Fashion s Curious Lore easy to comprehend. Mrs. Alfred W. Hunt, in her bright little book, "Our Grandmothers Gowns," says : "Any startling political event or brilliant victory always brought in some new shade of color or cut of clothing." On the other hand, fashions often spring into favor without any apparent raison d etre. In the reign of Henry II., masks suddenly originated, and ladies wore them in public to avoid recognition or to conceal facial defects. They were usually of black velvet lined with white satin. In place of strings to fix them on, "a slender silver bar ending in a button was fastened on the inside, and putting this between her teeth the wearer could hold the mask in its place. It is amusing to read of the strange fads and sumptuous hobbies of the sixteenth, sev enteenth, and eighteenth centuries. Our plu tocrats of to-day go to extremes in their ostentation, it is true, but luxury does not run rampant, as it did among the nobility in those garish days. Just fancy dear old Queen Klizabeth wearing nightgowns lined through out with the soft pelts of white rabbits. Fashions became a matter of etiquette under Louis XIV. Famous men customers like Re- naud, Ivallemand, and Chalandot made the 4 2 3 The Boiv-Leggcd Ghost gowns. Scarfs, which had been introduced some time previously, remained in vogue, and muffs were not only worn, but often served to carry about little dogs. In the shops dog- muffs" were sold. Head-dress underwent some marked variations, ridiculous and hide ous coiffures being the result. Under the reign of Louis XIV., much gro tesque and some beautiful millinery came into fashion. Women of high estate, in their mad ness to adopt prevailing novelties in attire, forgot that good taste alone can preserve dress from vulgar extremes. By simply placing two peacock feathers and several small ostrich plumes in her hair one day, Marie Antoinette made feathers fashionable throughout Europe. They fetched as much sometimes as fifty louis (1250 francs) apiece. This witty and erratic queen invented such very peculiar styles of head-dress, that it was difficult for the most ingenious of her satellites to imitate them. Her toilet was a masterpiece of etiquette. Ac cording to Mme. Cam pan, "Everything was done by rule. The lady of honor and the lady of the bedchamber were both present, assisted by the first dresser and two others, who did the principal part of the service; but there were distinctions to be observed. The lady of 4-4 Fashion s Curious Lore the bedchamber (dame d atours) put on the queen s petticoat and handed her gown, the lady of honor poured out water for wash ing the royal hands and put on the Queen s chemise. The Marie Antoinette coiffure was "fear fully and wonderfully made." The Pouf au sentiment, with its outlandish and preposterous ornaments found favor in the French Court. Would the ladies of to day care to wear a bunch of asparagus, radishes, or a fat cucumber in their hair? Imagine Mrs. Jack Astor or Mrs. Burke- Roche, or any other elegant lady of Gotham, or some sister city, adopting, say the coiffure a la Belle Poule, which consisted of a ship in full sail, reposing on a sea of thlcic curls. When Marie Antoinette was the undisputed empress of fashion, the scaffolding of gauze, flowers, and feathers was raised to such an extent that no top carriages could be found lofty enough for ladies use. The occupants were obliged either to put their heads out of the windows, or to kneel on the carriage floor, in order to protect the fragile structures." In the early summer of 1775, Marie An toinette made her appearance in a sort of chestnut brown gown, and the king said 425 77/6 Bo~jo-Legged Ghost laughingly : That puce [flea] color becomes you admirably." It is recorded that on the following day every lady at the court wore a puce-colored gown, old puce, young puce, dos de puce (flea s back), etc. Many new colors were worn, either in combination, or successively, such as rash tears, " " Paris sand , and "Car melite. " Outre shapes prevailed over every kind of opposition. It should not be inferred from the foregoing observations, that some of the costumes of that period were not strik ingly handsome and artistic both in respect of fabric and fabrication. The patch-box, its lid lined with a looking- glass, was in the hands of every woman of fash ion. In early Roman times patches were worn by orators of the Tribune. They w r ere adopted as an accessory to the ladies toilet about 1655, and continued in favor until the time of the Re gency, being revived in the reign of Louis XYI. They w r ere simply bits of black silk sticking- plaster, what are known to-day as court-plaster. The old code explaining the significance of a patch on a certain part of the face is as fol lows: The "impassioned" patch was fixed at the corner of the eye; the "gallant" in the middle of the cheek , the rectlcuse, or 426 Fashion s Curious Lore receiver of stolen goods, on a spot or pimple ; the cffrontee, or bold-faced, on the nose , and the "coquette " on the lips. A round patch was called "the assassin." The great Mas- sillon preached a sermon in which he anathe matized patches. The effect produced by his discourse was rather unexpected ; patches were worn in greater numbers than ever, and were known as mouches de Massillon. Fashion was incapable of reverence, and tri umphed over all obstacles. With the devel opment of social finesse and the more subtle methods of flirtation, our incomparable belles of the United States ought easily to enlarge the patch code, so that with their little bits of black silk sticking-plaster they could, indeed, speak a "various language" to their admirers and suitors. We have had recently revivals of both Directoire and Empire fashions in dress, and there seems to be a keen desire on the part of many swagger women to copy the picturesque modes that flourished in the days of the vola tile Queen of France, who perished so bravely on the guillotine. They wish to wear on their devoted heads the flaring caleche, and on their precious forms a species of raiment not half so classically simple as that of the present hour 427 SECTION III. VERSES Ballade of Ye Old Tar DOUGHTY old tar was Absalom Hughes, He had sailed many years on the main, In a full-rigged ship, and on many a cruise He had been with the trim Mary Jane. In furling a sail he hadn t a peer, And the air with his ditties \vould ring; As he climbed up the ratlins, with never a fear, This cheerful refrain he would sing : "Oh, the ship may pitch and the ship may roll, For it s all jest the same to me; And I m gay night and day, pon my bloomin old soul, When I m out on the foamin sea." A supreme contempt had Absalom Hughes For the modern ocean steam-craft ; He said the big smokestacks gave him the " blues," And at every propeller he laughed. 77ic 13o~uC-Lcggcd Ghost "Well, shiver my timbers," he was wont to remark, When a steamer at sea met his view, Ef that aint enough to make a cat bark How I pity that lubber-foot crew ! Then he d moisten his palms well, no matter just how Toward the main cross-trees would he bound ; And he d gaze at the "liner" with scorn on his brow, While the air with these words would resound : "Oh, the ship may pitch and the ship may roll, For it s all jest the same to me ; And I m gay night and day, pon my bloomin old soul, When I m out on the foamin sea." "I tell you," he d say, "that s a scow and that s all ! Why, the steam kills that thing for me ; I like to hear the sails go kerflop in a squall, And the riggin to groan frekentlee. 432 Something oughter flabbergast once in a while, And there oughter be Old Nick to pay; It takes a sail- vessel to put on the style Give me sailin the nateral way. " Why, a blarsted big tub, like that smokin beast there, Is a shame to the ocean, I vow ! It don t need no science and don t need no care, To run her astern fust or bow. I d like nothin better than seein her sink, But with no one aboard her, by Jing ! Of our own noble ship, Mary Jane, let us think, And to her, now, my lads, let us sing : Oh, the ship may pitch and the ship may roll, For it s all jest the same to me; And I m gay night and day, pon my bloomin old soul, When I m out on the foamin sea. 28 433 Kathryn Denee HE S beautiful, really, no joking Her sweet smile will always allure; But she ever at men fun is poking, With a cleverness semi-demure. She s a strong devotee of lawn tennis, Her movements are charming to see ; Her name? Well, her real name is Dennis, But, you know, they pronounce it Denee. Her eyes are soft-tinted like beryl, And tawny the glint of her hair; Each masculine heart is in peril Of worshiping her to despair. Her figure is queenly and slender, She s famed for aplomb and esprit, And in accents so earnest, so tender, She declares that her name is Deuee. Yes, she apes foreign manners, pronounces Her words with a hauteur so swell, She handles her fan and her flounces With an elegance none could excel. 434 Kathryn Denee She s quite the rage now mong the fellows, The ultras that go fancy free; For her their esteem quickly mellows, And they re slaves to the fair Miss Denee. Her father his wealth acquired lately, He goes out no more by the day ; He takes solid comfort and greatly Enjoys his club life, so they say. He s proud of his daughter as ever A man with a daughter could be ; But when he refers to her never Does he call her, like others, Denee. At home Kittie Dennis her name is, And this she accepts without frown ; But certain it not quite the same is When out in a pretty new gown, At a dance, or at playing lawn tennis, In a highly au fait compagnie ; Tis then she resents the name Dennis, And insists upon Kathryn Denee. 435 Choosing the Quill journalists sat at the festive board, One mem rable Christmas night ; Each sally of wit was loudly encored, And the wine flashed an amber bright. And when the last course had been consumed, And the Knights began to smoke, The President s figure upward loomed, And thus he merrily spoke : "Comrades, beginning with Brother Clarke, And passing around on the right, I desire with eager ears to hark To ev ry man s voice to-night. I want each to say from which fowl or bird He would pluck his quill with care ; And I will tell you upon my word, If his choice be foul or fair." " I d prefer," quoth Joe, "my quill to pluck From a luscious fat quail, mi-lord ; And would deem myself in the best of luck, To eat that quail afterward." 436 Choosing the "You think too much," the President said, Of your belly, I plainly see ; And starve your brains which should be well fed, If a Greeley you fain would be." "From a duck," said Barnes, "I d take my quill, As aquatic news I edit ; And with it three columns a day I d fill, With work that would do me credit." The President laughed. With a quill like that, I fear you good English would slaughter ; And surely twould make you feel fearfully flat To be called, a quack in deep water. ," Said Davis : The quill that I would prefer, Ornaments the peacock gay ; For I am proud of the character Of the daily press of to-day." THE PRESIDENT : "I fear that kind of a quill would strut, And with many themes be too free ; And that your readers would say, tut ! tut ! His pride is sheer vanity. 437 The Bow-Legged Ghost "A political scribe," said Lord, "am I, Accustomed, in print, to crowing ; So with a rooster s quill I d try To keep my ideas going." THE PRESIDENT : " Despite their boastful length and gall, No doubt they d make some talk : But pray don t think you d be of all The great cock of the walk." "And I," said Julian Ralph, "would get My quill from the tuneful lark Trusting my thoughts would upward set Toward some celestial mark." THE PRESIDENT : "Beware of larks, my clever friend, They are au fait no more ; To have them oft, you may depend, Will make your brain-pan sore." "From a lovely swan would I take mine, Yelled Fiske, across the table, "So that my writings would all be fine, And graceful as they d be able." The President silently stood awhile, With his eyes the last speaker on, 438 Choosin the And then, with a roguishly comic smile, He simply murmured, " I swan." "My quill," said Chambers, "would aptly come From the goose, as most quills do ; And with it I d try my best to write some Of the cleverest articles, too." THE PRESIDENT : "I think I know just the reason wiry You favor that same quill s use; Shall I tell it right out to the company? Well, it s because you yourself are a goose. Ned Saltus said his quill he d pick From the beautiful, speckled loon ; This choice would make my writings chic, And the public would like them soon." "Ah, ha!" The President said, with glee, "You d have, sir, a sorry lot; With such a quill you may believe me, Your work would be lunatic rot." "I," cried Jack Bangs, " my quill would seize From the parrot Pretty Poll ; Then what I wrote would be likely to please, Though it might be all folderol." 439 The Boiv-Legged Ghost THE PRESIDENT : Should you use the words that most par rots speak, Mr. Comstock would on you call ; Though that quill would make your work quite weak Enough to be liked by all." Now from the President let us hear, Said Joseph Clarke, the famed. "Well, gentlemen, mine has not a peer In the list of quills you have named. Mine would come from Freedom s fair bird- The beloved and cherished eagle, To inspire with patriot fire each word I would write in a style most regal." "Hi! yi ! " cried all as they quickly rose, With their glasses his health to speed ; "I think," roared Ross, with a look jocose, "The right talons he has to succeed." And having thus honored the eagle s quill In a jolly bumper of wine, Each knight to his editorial mill Went, warbling " Auld Lang Syne." 440 A Bachelor s Story ^mv a fountain which tinkled a silvery lay, JEJ She stood at night on the terraced ^^ lawn, With her hand outstretched in the crystal spray, Which was fine as the gossamer dawn. And her form was poised with an artless grace, As the angels have in Paradise ; And Oh! the bloom on her Grecian face, And Oh! the pride in her Roman eyes. The shimmering light from a mellow moon Was fading behind a sable cloud ; But the fountain still chimed a mystic tune To the dreaming ferns in their autumn shroud. And I saw the beautiful maid still there, With her hand outstretched and her gaze above ; "A heart that is faint ne er wins the fair," Said I, in a frenzy of love. 441 The Bo-ju-Lcggcd Ghost I cautiously crept to her lovely side, And pressed a kiss on her rosy cheek ; Alas! it was cold. "Art thou dead?" I cried ; Ah ! a maid made of marble can t speak. Then I left her there and stole away From the statuette that deceived me so; Her hand may still be in the crystal spray, And her form well poised, for aught I know. When the moon is obscured by a cloud above, I wander about the grounds alone. And think of my first and my only love That life-like maiden in stone. 44 2 Tragedy Out West I lived out in Leadville, one night they had a show A trash-e-dy, they called it ; and bless me, what a "go"! Mate Anderson her name was well, she had lots to do, And how she made the fur fly around that platform whew ! I went and tuk my fam ly jest five on us all told ; We had the best seats in the hall that could be got for gold. The band it tooted for a while and then the curtain rose, And pretty soon Mate she comes out in loose, white-colored clothes. The fust few words she spoke as if hei mouth was full of snow, But as she went on talkin more the) 7 warm enough did grow : She chased the vilyan all around and tore her hair in rage, And finally she got so tired she squatted on the stage ; 443 The Bow-Legged Ghost And while she laid there very still, as if she jest had died, The folks was all surprised to hear it rainin hard outside. Great drops come peltin on the roof, that weighed an ounce, I guess ; They made us lonesome as the yelp of coyotes in distress. Then all at once Mate she jumps up and toward her feller veers, And talks to him in such a voice it almost starts my tears. Just then I looked around and seen the women s faces hid Behind their cotton handkerchiefs they felt so bad, they did. Some of the men s eyes, too, I noticed, seemed a trifle wet I tried my best to keep mine dry, but it was hard, you bet. Well, Mate, she kept right on a-talkin sweet stuff to that chap. And when she stopped to ketch her breath we heerd a thunder-clap ; And then her words was sadder still her actin awful cute ; I never felt like cryin so oh, she was jest a bute ! 444 Tragedy Out West Jest then Jim Squeers, the editor, he raises from his chair (Jim s kindy slick y know ; his learnings pretty fair), Says he and as he spoke you could a-heerd a-fallin pin, "Come, less all cry why even Jove hisself he can t hold in ! " That was the signal for us all to go to bawlin loud ; You never seen in all your life so babyish a crowd. What Jim Squeers meant bout Jove I never could find out ; I only knowed twas sunthin good and nice to cry about. And Mate she stood there bowin , jest as cool as cool could be, Awaitin till there was a chance to end that trash-e-dy. I cried until I got ashamed, as brave men cry in should, But I am bound to say that cryin really done me good. Mate Anderson jest once or twice drawed out the briny tears, But I d a kept em back, I m sure, only for old Jim Squeers. 445 An Egyptian Beauty midnight hair is rich and its ebon never blanches, As it ripples down her shoulders or reclines in knotted rest; And sometimes she lets it tumble down in glossy avalanches, Till the lovely tresses gently touch her undulating breast. Her eyes are blue and in them you can see the molten sapphire, They re the very brightest jewels ever set in human face; At looking in their limpid deeps, oh, who could ever tire? What other eyes, indeed, in all the world could fill their place? Her lips, well, they are rosy, they are moist with fragrant nectar, Which is carried by her sighing from her busy little heart, 446 An Egyptian Beauty And filtered thro her teeth that are far whiter than a spectre, And there the dewy sweetness lingers on her lips apart. Her feet they are too dainty to take up a long description, She wears a smaller slipper than her coun try s famous queen; There s a magic fascination bout this olive- skinned Egyptian Oh, she ll make the prettiest mummy that on earth was ever seen. Between the Lines motion brought her near ; My slow rhyme paused my eyes Drank from the fountain of her own, Not tears, but lambent love more dear Than Paradise A throne. A throne, Than Paradise ; Not tears, but lambent love more dear, Drank from the fountain of her own My slow rhyme paused my eyes ; A swan-like motion brought her near. 447 Only a Poor Black Cat ( The main incident, referred to in the following verses was a real occurrence, which the metropolitan newspapers at the time recorded.) NLY a cat imprisoned in a barren, empty room , As dreary as a desert, as cheerless as a tomb ; But it had been a touching and a most pathetic sight To see this black-furred feline in her unex pected plight. She rambled bout the lonely and now for saken place A look of wistful wonder on her pinched and haggard face ; No doubt recalling pleasant bites that she had relished there When folks were offered quite a tempting little bill of fare ; For on this ground floor, facing the famous Bowery gay, There d been a cozy restaurant only the other day. 448 Only a Poor Black Cat In her callow girlhood Fraulein Katarina d come To this quaint little eating-house and here had found a home ; And here she d made fast friends with all that she had chanced to meet. Which fact accounted for the good things she had had to eat. She d lived a sumptuous life, indeed ; the waiters, with great pride, Had fed her dainties by the score and noth ing had denied ; The cook was partial to her, too, the visitors as well, And luscious were the morsels that each day to kitty fell. Now all was changed ; the owner of the res taurant was gone, And Katarina fondly lingered in the place alone. In the hurry of removal they had all for gotten her, And now if she had wanted to she could not from it stir. The doors were locked, the room was dark, but that she fancied nice, For in the darkness she had captured many toothsome mice. 29 449 The Boiv-Legged Ghost She watched and waited anxiously and hunted on the sly, But ne er a tiny rodent did her patient optics spy ; For Fraulein Katarina the situation grew Each hour more truly serious, as she now fully knew. Though not so cramped as that black cat which Edgar Allan Poe Described with such a graphic pen, such facile verbal flow 7 , Yet Fraulein longed to get out in the blithe and gentle light, Where she could forage for a scrap to ease her appetite ; For now the pangs of hunger keen, she scarcely could endure, Warned her that she was starving in a slow- ish way, but sure. She piteously mewed, as though for help, but there was none to hear, Unless she raised her pleading voice unto the pitch of fear. Days followed days, poor Fraulein thin and thinner still became, Until she was a shadow of the cat that bore her name. 450 Only a Poor Black Cat Why not alarm the neighborhood? thought Pussy in her pain, Which was so fierce she dreaded it would drive her quite insane. Whereat she gave a series of the most un earthly screams That ever waked the deepest sleep and pleasantest of dreams. Upon the floor above it chanced there was a lodging house, Kept by an aged German by the name of Herman Strauss ; The old man heard these early morning sounds of wild distress, And from hissed he lightly sprang, and, in nocturnal dress, He wrote a note and sent it with a keen anxiety, To that most worthy yet maligned and scorned Society, Whose aid is sought in cases where base cruelty is used To animals that should fare well and never be abused. Agent Snowden heard the call and with ex citement he Rode down town in an ambulance to the mystic Bowery ; 45 1 The Bow- Legged Ghost Entered that ex- restaurant thro a window in the rear. And found Katarina in a corner, crouching low in fear. %. ^f. % % This Fraulein Katarina a tender gratitude Shows for her noble rescuer in every mo ment s mood ; He keeps her as a trophy, to note the cir cumstance Of going out for larger game " in a cattle ambulance. 452 The Boding Mermaid M A mermaid, you d agree, S" If you had a glimpse of me. Hair I have like skeins of gold, And a form of special mold ; Eyes that gleam like fairest gem Ever set in diadem. I am more than lovely yes, What my age is you must guess. I can swim in any style, Never finding it a tri l; In my course I cannot fail, For my rudder is my tail. I use it for a paddle, too, When my arms have else to do. A mermaid it is nice to be And live forever in the sea. I m a page to Neptune great, That monarch of a vast estate; Within his coral palace I Wait on his royal majesty. 453 The Bow -Legged Ghost His diet chiefly is of fish Served just according to his wish. I seldom care myself to show Above the current s ebb and flow ; The sunlight has a piercing glare And then you know how people stare. But yet some other reasons keep Me pretty w r ell down in the deep. Among them is the fear that men Will try to capture me again, As once two men amid a squall (Men naughty but not nautical), Essayed to get me on a hook ; But them I simply brought to book By leading them so far from shore They never once were heard of more. Ah ! if I should be caught, I know For gold I should be placed on show ; And how inglorious it would be For a fair mermaid of the sea To pass her life amid the hum Of a New York dime museum. 45* A Little Soubrette Don t you know her? Ah, me, She s as clever as clever can be ; In singing and dancing, I ween, She s as good as the stage e er has seen, And in playing the role of soubrette No one can approach fair Lisette. Oh, how loud ring the encores each night, From those whom her graces delight ! At her feet, Oh, what roses are flung, When her favorite song has been sung ! Who that s seen her will ever forget The handsome, bewitching Lisette? The letters that to her are sent O erflow with love-lorn sentiment ; But she tosses them all in the fire, For to coquette she has no desire Except when her lines in a play Provide for her acting that way. In poverty s school she was reared ; At ten she in tights first appeared 455 The Boiv-Legged Ghost And sang o er the footlights the song That has thrilled with joy many a throng ! But her soul is unstained by the sin That has sometimes since then hemmed her in. Her sisters may mock and may laugh Because she no wineglass will quaff ; But with their disdain they must feel The torture of shame o er them steal, As they gaze in her blue eyes and know That her heart is as white as the snow. Oh, woman so rare and so true, What a splendid example are you! A lesson of value and worth You have taught to the daughters of earth That though you re a dashing soubrette, You re still a pure woman, Lisette. 456 In the Throes ! Keep quiet, children, you mustn t make a noise, For Jim is in the garret a-writin a poem grand ; It s about his love o natur and the things thet he enjoys, And I guess the folks 11 read it all over this broad land. Jim s goin to be a poet and I don t blame him tall, We never had a poet in our family as I know ; And Jim s been gittin ready since, well, way back there last fall, To write some first-class po try thet he aint ashamed to show 7 . He s had some bang-up schoolin and his spellin , so they say, Is wonderful in pint o bein right most ev ry time; 457 The Bo-w-Legged Ghost I m proud of Jim, by cracky, and I long to see the day When he prints a nice green volum of his jingles and his rhyme. There, Susan, you stop laffin ; you d better mind me, miss, Or I ll go out and get a switch, and I will use it, too. Hark ! Jim is pacin overhead, b gosh what awful bliss He must enjoy the way thet all them poets do. He s thinkin now for all he s worth, on thet ye can depend ; I ll bet the thing he s writin will be beau tiful to hear ; And I hope the competition he ll immedi ately send To the River Junction Screechou l, which I ve took for twenty year. The Editor would print it, at least I think he would, I ve often gine him apples and potatoes and green corn ; 458 In the Throes And on thet account he d print it if Jim s poem wasn t good Which it will be jest as certain as it is thet you were born. So jest keep quiet, children, you mustn t make a noise, For Jim is in the garret a-writin a poem grand ; It s about his love o natur and the things thet he enjoys, And I know the folks 11 read it ail over this broad land. Recrimination 5 KNOW a woman fair as she can be, Endowed with charms that Venus could not claim ; Whose smile is like a ripple on the sea, When lighted up by tender sunset s flame. But do not ask me if her soul be kind, Do not inquire if she aright can read ; She just now told me I ne er had a mind. Or if I had it sure had gone to seed. 459 Her Answer {"Doubtless God might have made a better berry than the strawberry, but doubtless God never did." This witticism, attributed to Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, was made long before him by an English man.} HE was the sweetest of girl graduates, Her eyes were violets, her lips were * L cherries ; She sat upon a cafe ottoman, Eating abnormally developed berries. I watched her with an eye in ambuscade, I listened to her laugh so sweet and merry ; At last I said: "You like them then so much? Oh, how I wish that I were a straw berry ! She raised her glorious eyes from off the plate. "You really mean it? Ah, I wish so, too; Because, you see, most tentative of youths, I could so easily dispose of you." 460 By a Hair s Breadth you so glum, dear What dire forebodings haunt you ? Why do you thus to sorrow tend Allow grim cares to daunt you ? Is business poor, or what s amiss, That you appear so stupid? Has some of your domestic bliss Been charmed away by Cupid? "Come, tell me, tell me, I implore, Have you been wronged, offended? If not, desist from frowning more, By smiles be hence attended." "Oh, tis bereavement most intense Not loss of love or pelf ; But just imagine my suspense My wife has stabbed herself ! You mean to say but tell me quick Your lady is not dead ? "Well, no, not quite, but she is sick, There s trouble with her head. 461 The B Ota- Legged Ghost You see, this morning we awoke As usual, and dressed ; I noticed that she never spoke, And seemed somewhat depressed. "Yet all went well until she stood, Oh, horrors ! what a sight ! Uplifting, in a reckless mood, A something gleaming bright : Excuse these tears, but weep I must, Before the mirror there I saw, Oh, fate ! my darling thrust A dagger in her hair!" To May Irwin daughter of Thalia, maker of mirth, Weeping or morbid I cannot imagine you ; O, what a rare blessing you are to this earth, Such lively spirits are given to but a few. Xot a companion more buxom and jolly, Xot a vain hair in your plentiful tresses ; Best of all tonics for sour melancholy, Is seeing your face and the fun it ex presses. Or hearing your voice when you playfully render A coon song, or ditty, or some composi tion, In which, with a way all your own, you engender Thro out the whole house a convulsive con dition. The Bow-Legged Ghost Play-goers adore you, and catch your bright mood, No artiste can mate you in humor refined ; From every pore you much laughter exude, And women all envy your scintillant mind. 464 Diana Up to Date BIANA chaste was ne er subdued By Love, nor felt the "spooning" mood ; She lived a virgin s life with grace, And was the Empress of the Chase ; She is the prototype to-day, Of few who care to live that way. \Ye have Dianas even yet, But they re not like this ancient pet; For they are all, or else have been, Engaged in chasing only men ; Some are the winners at one aim, And some take years to bag their game. Diana chaste was never chased By a successful suitor ; Though Cupid many darts did waste In his attempts to shoot her ; He must have been a silly jay, To think he could Diana sway. Oh, Heaven bless that growing class, Oft termed, "Old maids," who once, alas! 30 465 The Bow-Legged Ghost May have been deep in love, but now Are mourning o er some broken vow ; Each one may be ( tis but surmise) A chaste Diana in disguise. A Reasonable Conclusion ^plfwo ghosts at midnight stopped before A noble mansion s blazoned door. l> [QJ Said one : " Why don t Jack Aubyn die, And once more seek our company ? It s been ten years since we expired, And went to worlds the most desired ; But he remains on earth to share The strife of men and mortal care. The friendship he professed to us, And over which he made such fuss, He seems to have forgotten quite Which I consider hardly right." "Well," said the other ghost " tis true, He used to like both me and you ; But tis not strange that he does not Desire to share our spirit lot. I ll bet our mem ry he abhors You know we died his creditors." 4 66 Epitaphs Jane to books applied herself in youth, And oft applied her hand to the unwise. Tis said the thing she loved the most was truth, And yet you now see how the woman lies. Fair Susan died with water on the brain ; She didn t know she suffered any pain, When asked if codfish balls she liked, re plied : " I ve ne er attended any." Then she died. The doctor ran an institute, His life was full of care ; Although he was a principal, He hadn t much to spare. Pat s nose was like Longfellow s poems, tis said, Because it was always extensively red ; Pie stoli some champagne and drank it so fast That his pain was no sham when he murmured his last. 467 Her Identity ?HO is that little lady there, With ebon eyebrows curving o er A brow so very soft and fair, You d think no care it ever w 7 ore ? Who is she ? Do you want to know ? Sister the joke s on you, this time; She s leading lady in a show That costs you but a single dime." 468 The Giant and the Dwarf once lived many years ago, ^MJ> A giant famed for strength ; He was a prince of wondrous wealth, And also wondrous length. With all his mighty wealth and strength, He knew r no golden rule; In plainer language, be it said, This giant was a fool. Near by within a hovel dwelt A midget, weak, but wise; He had no vast estates on earth, But "mansions in the skies." He spent his time in reading books And learning Nature s laws, The mysteries of destiny, The one eternal cause. One day the midget chanced to meet The giant on a hill, And both meandered down its slope And reached a babbling rill. 469 The Boiu-Legged Ghost " To prove my strength, you puny brat," The haughty giant said, "I ll blow a blast quite loud enough To wake the sacred dead." Straightway he blew upon a reed, And straightway came a band Of Tartars, armed with pikes and clubs, The fiercest in the land. They fell upon the mighty prince, Who, meek as any lamb, Cried out: " Hold! hold! my little friend Will tell you who I am." Stepped forth the midget, bold and free, And soon identified, In Tartar dialect, the prince, Who otherwise had died. The Tartars stared at him aghast, Then with a look of shame They ran away at double-quick, With blessings on his name. "I will reward thee with my gold," The prince exclaimed in glee ; " Thy learning had more weight with them Than all the weight o me." 470 The Giant and the D^.varf And oft it s so in human life, Where modest wisdom reigns The giants have the wealth and strength, The midgets have the brains. The Usual Thing royal game of bluff is played By every marriage-hungry maid ; She dons a front of ennui fane, Puts on a look that s quite divine, And ever keeps her hair in curl Does this ambitious, wily girl. She s on the lookout for a man, Created on a perfect plan ; But if small vices he betrays, She studies them without amaze That is, if soon will fall to him A million and he s in the swim. A Simile w MET her at Bar Harbor, JL. She sojourned there a week ; I sought an introduction, And found a chance to speak. We wandered o er the reaches Of yellow-tinted sand, And talked about the city The romping waters scanned. We climbed a stony hillock, My heart was all aflame ; I asked her, with emotion, If she would share my name. She smiled and said sedately, As the breezes kissed her locks : Yes, if you like this spot here Have plenty of the rocks." 472 An Engagement JI,ONG the beach one even, A mile or so from Lynn The stars were bright in heaven, Ashore white surge was driven With merry clash and din. They sauntered on unheeding All save themselves, alone, She his expression reading, And he her pity pleading In love s fond undertone. At last she coyly answers, "Don t trifle, sir, with me; I saw you at the Lancers, Among the giddy dancers Who clung to Charlotte Lee." " Well, I ve paid some attention To Charlotte, as you say; But with no such intention As you would have me mention, She s my cousin, by the way." 473 The Bo~jj-Leggcd Ghost "Ah! that alters the complexion Of the matter very much; And I think, upon reflection, You showed taste in your selection Of a partner for the Dutch You know I mean the German Is she cousin, honor bright?" " I m as honest as a sermon ! Now won t you, dear Miss Hermann, Give away your heart to-night ? So it was the old, old story, To his pleas she ne er replied, But she leaned her head in glory On his bosom, while the hoary, Crimpling billows broke and sighed. Slowly backward home they wended, Still the moon refulgence shed; But their hearts in one were blended, And by joy they ll be attended, There s no doubt, when they are wed. 474 Her Neck ipHAT will the pleasures of the town r Compare indeed w r ith such Delight as mine, when softly down Her drift of tresses touch My face, and when her dainty hand Makes mute my lauding lips ; And when my hand, with impulse bland, Around her shoulder slips? Oh, creamy neck ! with slant of flesh As soft as starlit glow, Held in enchanting, witching mesh, Upon the Alpine snow The snow one sees from Chamonix, When moonbeams have unrolled Night s view of Mont Blanc s majesty What makes that mole so cold? 475 Capricious Cupid tiff T HE; onslaught I rush with my bow ?Mg double-drawn, And I sound the shrill conch as I travel ; Tis no time for me before ladies to faw T n, Or their tangled love-knots to unravel. "I ve an old maid to conquer, resistance she ll show, But determined I am she ll surrender ; I seldom have failed with these hard hearts below, That I ve once started out to make ten der. " There she is with a smile of disdain on her face. Well, this arrow will bring her to cover ; And it sped like a thoroughbred horse in a race, And she cried out: "Oh, where is my lover?" 476 Capricious Cupid But she traveled a year ere she found the poor man, And the climax is speedily written ; Entre nous he s the same chap who after her ran Years before and got from her " the mitten." 477 The Yellow Clarinet ( There is a peculiar superstition among certain theatrical people that an old-fashioned yellow clarinet in the orchestra is a sure omen of bad luck or misfor tune to them.) HE little man with the big moustache, and the funny drooping eye, He plays no more in the orchestra, for the leader bade him fly ; But whither he fled, well, over that no one will really fret, Whoever heard that little man play on his yellow clarinet. Oh, what a Jonah this genius was to the actors on the stage ! Whene er he played a tremolo it doubled the villain s rage ; And empty seats, and all ill luck with which the Thespians met, They swore was due to the man who played on the yellow clarinet. The Tcllo-uo Clarinet A look of terror would quickly creep in the leading lady s face, When she "came on" and looking down would see that fiend in his place ; She begged the manager on her knees the music cues to omit For the sounds of that yellow clarinet would throw her into a fit. Tis hard, they say, to acquire the skill the merry notes to transpose On this instrument from the music score that lies before one s nose ; But harder still it must be, indeed, when the player has drunk too much, And he strikes a key with which the rest of the band is not in touch. Well, that is what happened the other night, in the second act of the play, The little man, from excess in drink, was in a very bad way ; On the demon reed that he firmly held to his lips, he blew too hard, And it "cracked" and gave the wildest shrieks, as from cats in some back yard. 479 The Bovj-Legged Ghost Twas then the leader ordered him out, and out the fellow went, Hugging to his besotted heart his infernal instrument ; Oh, how can we thank the leader, and how can we learn to forget That little man with the big moustache and the yellow clarinet? 480 Lines to a Cook XEVER have seen you, Oh, Bridget O Toole, But the waiter has told me vour name : -r 1 1 , I m not aware whether you ve e er been to school, But you know how to cook just the same. The scallops you fry to an eatable brown, The chops they are done to a turn ; The soups you concoct have acquired great renown Where all of these things did you learn? I hear you re a widow too bad Mike is dead But his is the loss and not yours ; For surely his spirit now misses your bread And your cake that my palate allures. I m told that your hair is as red as a brick, But the butter it giveth no sign Of whether tis red or blue, silky or thick But its absence in food is divine. The Bouo- Legged Ghost I think you re entitled to more than you get, For cooking such entrees untold ; They always agree with my liver and set As light as the snow on the wold. Henceforth to give praise to your wonderful skill Each day I shall make it a rule ; Your cooking I know I can eat to my fill Heaven bless you, Oh, Bridget O Toole. Comparison STANDS at the swell club windows, His eyes are looking down ; He waits to see meander past The belle of Gotham town. The pavements, wet and muddy, Cause skirts to travel high, And that s the reason Bobbie Is watching on the sly. Last week he saw the features Of this entrancing blonde, And now he wonders if her feet In beauty correspond. 482 A Paragon lips and bronze hair, White teeth, beryl eyes, These make a maid fair As a summer s fair skies, Small feet and big heart, White hands and bright mind Ah, I never could part With a maid of that kind. 483 At Richfield Springs >AY maidens bowl upon the green, And sweetly animate the scene ; In summer bravery attired, Their skill at tennis is admired By fond mammas, who sit and sew And tell each other what they know Of scandal and of this and that, In short all things that spice a chat. Old bucks, with faces fat and red, Strut here and there with doughty tread, Some doubtless wondering in what way They ll manage all their bills to pay. The noon meal o er, tis time to call, For Stanhope and for carry-all, For saddle horse and thoroughbred ; And forth the varied nags are led. Away they go beyond the town, Some riders bobbing up and down W 7 hile others sit in graceful state, Whatever be the equine s gait. 484 At Richfield Springs The few that stay behind engage In travel o er the printed page, Or ramble thro the park, or go To Slumberland an hour or so. The darkness falls, the gas burns bright, A brilliant hop is on to-night ; Young slips of virgin beauty move About the place like sprites of love. The air is fragrant with faint sighs From maiden lips to begging eyes ; Big diamonds blaze on ringers fair, Decollete wives in force are there. And, oddest sight of all, perchance, Behold the dear old ladies dance. 485 SECTION IV. DIALOGUES AND PARAGRAPHS (487) Speculation Run Wild is an age of speculation, and people not only indulge in it for financial, but for mental and moral profit. I was never so much impressed with this fact until the other day, while riding in a Wagner coach on Long Island. Without in the least attempting to be an eavesdropper, I over heard the conversation between two young men who occupied seats opposite my own. One of the young men looked pale and bilious and seemed to be on the verge of consump tion, while the other young man was the very picture of pink-cheeked health. His mind, too, or at least the imaginative side of it, must have been fully as robust as his body. For the sake of distinguishing them, I shall designate one the Pale Young Man and the other the Pink Young Man. Their discourse began and continued as follows : Pink Y. .I/. I say, Rodney, do you sup pose General Grant ever wished he had been personally acquainted with George Washing ton ? 489 The Bo^v Legged Ghost Pale Y. M. Don t know, I m sure. What attention they would attract if they could walk into a theater together, eh? Pink Y. M. Well, I should simper. Rod, do you suppose that Chauncey M. Depew would rather be the Prince of Wales than United States Senator ? Pale Y. M. That is a leading question, and I refuse to answer. Pink Y, M. Now, really, do you think George Francis Train and Doctor Mary Walker would make an appropriate married couple ? Pale Y. M. \ hardly think the psychic conditions would be favorable to felicity, but still I may be wrong. Pink Y. M. - - I often think Beethoven would have enjoyed the friendship of Sousa. What do you think ? Pale Y. M.- There is not a doubt of it. I have heard Sousa say that Beethoven was quite a good musician. Pink Y. M. Do you think Edgar Saltus and Miss Lavinia H. Dempsey, the Queen of the Holland Dames, would be compatible as man and wife ? Pale Y. M. Scarcely. Saltus and Amelie Rives (that was), or Gertrude Atherton, might have been agreeably installed in matrimony. 490 Speculation Run Wild Miss Dempsey, I think, prefers spinsterhood if she can t snare a man as innocent as Ed gar Fawcet. Pink Y. M. Excuse me for asking it, Rodney, but it s been weighing on my mind. Do you think T. B. Ochiltree and Lillian Russell could have married and lived happily ? Pale Y. M. Probably Colonel Ochiltree could have done so, but I am not so certain about airy, fairy Lillian. Pink Y, M. In your opinion would Julius Caesar have made as great a United States Senator as Thomas C. Platt? Pale Y. M. Not quite, perhaps. The two men resemble each other, and their mentality is of about the same grade, or would be were Julius living. Pink Y. M. Say, Rodney, I want to ask you something. Do you suppose Napoleon I. would have been sued for divorce by Mrs. Leslie Carter, if she had been his wife ? Pale Y, M. I give that one up. Pink Y. M. Don t you think Mrs. Frank Leslie would have been indignant if she had been forced by her papa to marry Brigham Young? Pale Y. M. Yes, indeed. Pink Y. M. Don t you believe Shakes- 491 The B&w-Legged Ghost peare and Bronson Howard would go into partnership if the former were alive ? Pale Y. J/. Probably. They might take in Sardou, too. Pink Y. M. I guess not more than once. Sardou is too shrewd for that. Rodney, tell me what living American would the belles of ancient Greece most admire? Pale Y M.- John L Sullivan. Pink Y. M. My dear young fellow> I want to ask if you think Madame de Pompa dour, if living to-day in Xew York, would be in the hairdressing business ? Just then the brakeman shouted "Green- port," and I sneaked out into the fresh air, wondering whether that Pink Young Man s imagination would eventually lead him to the pinnacle of fame or to the lunatic asylum. 492 Answers to Correspondents (This department is in charge of an individual, ivho knows it all, and therefore we guarantee more reliable information than is furnished by any other publication, not excepting the "Young Ladies Do mestic Repository. ") HOPEGOOD, of western Pennsyl vania, writes to know if there is any- metliod of preserving eggs from grow ing stale. Yes, Nell, there are two or three methods. One is to consume the eggs in the heyday of their youth, before they have any chance to deceive you. Another effective method is to massacre the hen and eat her, several hours in advance of the probability of her laying eggs that are likely to lose their girlish freshness, as it were. JASOX OVERTREE, of Fancy-Free-Grove- on-the-Hudson, asks if, "able seamen in the American Navy can rise to be officers." That largely depends on circumstances. Not infrequently able seamen, through the absorption of too much "conflagration fluid" 493 The Bow-Legged Ghost are unable to rise at all. Officers sometimes are also in the same boat. But there has been quite a number of American seamen who have proven themselves sufficiently able to gain high rank. R. TWIGG MOONER, the janitor of Mam moth Cave, Ky., in a real gentlemanly way, inquires if " a battle has ever been fought on skates. We beg to inform Mr. Mooner that a battle w r as thus fought in Holland in 1572. Last evening we witnessed a sharp, decisive, but not a protracted battle on the Bowery between two men each of whom had a skate on. These occurrences are not so rare as you may sup pose. MRS. PAXKEY, of Squantum, Mass., is anxious to ascertain why one feels inclined to stretch w y hen tired. The encyclopaedias do not give a definite reason for this singular phe nomenon. In common with most animals we are apt to stretch ourselves upon waking from sleep. We, however, knew a gentleman who, a few years ago, was stretched by others with a piece of hemp just before he went to sleep. He has been asleep ever since. 494 Answers to Correspondents HARRY GIXGERSXAP, of Patoisville, New Mexico, desires a careful estimate on the per centage of happy honeymoons. He should have sought the opinion of Brigham Young on that point. But perhaps the Sultan of Turkey may be persuaded to offer his testimony. ABBIE HELIBOXE, of Chicago, writes: "I am writing an essay which I hope I can get permission to read during the Paris Exposition. Do you know any proverbs that I could weave into my essay ? Have you heard anything funny lately that hasn t been published?" Thanks, Abbie, for your kind musk-scented note. The only new proverb we know is this: Flattery is the best emulsion for any inflamed egotism. The only thing funny we have heard lately was the apology a creditor of ours tried to offer for coming to see us before sunrise. FRAULEIX LEXA MYERS, of Hoboken, X. J., in a recent communication says : "Will you pardon me if I write you on a rather deli cate subject ? I am cursed with a certain blemish on my upper lip a blemish which annoys me exceedingly and about which I am very sensitive. Oh, I would do anything if I could get rid of my moustache. I feel dread- 495 77ie Bow-Legged Ghost fully about it. Would you mind telling me how to get rid of it? If you \vill tell me I shall be more than grateful." Dear Fraulein, we deeply sympathize with you in your affliction. We receive about five thousand letters daily from young ladies all over the country complaining of this same misfortune. When a moustache overtakes a young lady on her upper lip, she is indeed one to whom the most gentle pity should be extended. We fear, Lena, you must resort to the razor in order to remove the inappropriate growth. Get up every morning while the rest of the household are asleep and do your shaving. You will soon learn not to give yourself more than three or four cuts at a time. T. J. X. We cannot exchange our Water- bury with you for a second-hand lawn mower. D. S. Yes, Mr. Hobart Chatfield Chat- field Taylor is a very busy man. He has greater respect for authordoxy than he did have. TAXPAYER. The residents of Weehawken might consent to a change in the nomen- 496 A ns wers to Correspondents clature of that place if they could be assured that you really intended to locate there. CARRIE T. We do not advise you to keep steady company with that young man. You can t anyway, very well, as you say he is unsteady. Suspend him from your society for six months, and have him shadowed by a detective of the Parkhurst Society. X. Y. Z. The Prince of Wales is not known to be a profane man. But when he is alone no mortal, of course, knows but that he can double discount the proverbial trooper. LONE WIDOW. Yes, Madame, Dr. Tal- mage went to Russia to do a Sing-Song and dance for the Czar and to distribute American wheat in the famine-stricken provinces. We couldn t help but smile at your suggestion concerning the possibility of the preacher being sent to Siberia. Were you really seri ous about it ? TESSIE YULING, Exema Point, Wis. Your son is old enough to have his first pair of pants. Please make them so he will know in which direction he is traveling when he is in them. 497 The B<yw-Legged Ghost KITTIE B. We have never known of a flea jumping the distance you name. Still, if you are sure you saw one cover that number of feet, we are bound by all the rules of natural and acquired gallantry to believe you. WILLIE. Your joke about boys being too full of sense to play with dolls shows consid erable literary ability. Keep on and you may be able to fill Eli Perkins shoes some day. Miss SOMEBODY, of Elsewhere. When you croquet a ball you should not hit your ankle hard, unless you prefer to hurt your ankle and possibly break your mallet. Always say something bright just before you strike the ball, so that your remark will make a hit, whether the ball counts or not. L/YDIA. If you are so intensely pious, per haps you had better put a little more pleating on your bathing suit and lengthen it at all five ends. You will not be so likely to catch cold while in the water by having a lit tle more of the suit; and judging from the photograph you sent us, your friends will not be disappointed if you do not go in bathing more than once this summer. 498 Latest from Pinkville fHE following gems of local information are culled from the Pinkville Tattle s> Tale.- OUR local editor, who enjoys the perquisites attending the position of devil in our office, is on the sick list. Day before yesterday he ate a hurried luncheon which consisted exclus ively of cheese. He attempted to make a will this morning, but was unable to finish it on account of fatigue. As we go to press we learn that he is sleeping gently, but snoring at the rate of forty miles an hour. * \VK NOTICED Uncle Ben Underwood, of Rocky Dell, on the street one day this week. He has not been in town before in two years. He came down to get a pound of chewing tobacco. He says he is coming down again town-meeting day. He says he is coming if he has to ride. Though over eighty years of age, Uncle Ben prefers walking to running any day. See? 499 The Bo~M-Lcgged Ghost WE ARE glad to see Jason Spriggs out and around again. Jason has had a pretty hard siege of rheumatism. He says he thought, at one time, he heard old Gabe s trumpet calling him. But it proved to be a false alarm. * As \VE came along the street this morning we observed Aunt Betsey Duggles up in a crab- apple tree, engaged in grafting. We asked her if she was not afraid of falling. She said no, but that Bill Packing was afraid she wouldn t. Mr. Packing, who lives with Aunt Betsey, is the only surviving relative and her heir. * THE American House, it is rumored, is to have a new barber. Heaven knows it needs one. Jimmy Tuttle, the present incumbent, has cut us several times, not only in the chair, but on the street. We suppose this is because we owe him for several shaves and haircuts. Creditors usually treat those who owe them with great respect. But it is not thus in Jimmy s case. # STEVE CUSTER, of Clover Glade, was in town yesterday. He called on us and we sup pose would have dunned us for something on 500 Latest from Pinkville account of the $75 we owe him, had we not diverted his thoughts by offering to bet him $20 that we will be the next supervisor of this town. No money was exposed to view, but we shook hands on it. This is only one of the , hundreds of ways in which we are amassing a lovely fortune. * Miss CARRIE MURPHY came near being run away with last Monday. Miss Jukes, of Rocky Dell, who is visiting her, was also in the wagon. The animal became frightened at the sound of a cornet, on which Charley Double- day was practicing, and started to run. George Blinkeye saw the beast coming and ran out in the road perchance to stop it. He grasped the mule by the bit and succeeded in bringing it to a standstill, thus gallantly rescuing Miss Murphy and her friend from what promised to be a violent collapse. * THE Empire and Excelsior Dramatic Com pany expect to give a performance in the Town Hall, this village, next Tuesday evening, if the roads are good. The play they present is " Uncle Tom s Cabin," said to be the work of a woman by the name of Hattie Stowe. Miss Hibbs takes the part of Topsy, and her acting 501 Tlie Bo~<.v-Legged Ghost is said to be as full of technique as a canary of cuttle fish. We have received two "comps," and expect to be there. The last time a show visited this village three years ago our .wife was sick, but she w r ent just the same and took our hired girl, thus obliging us to stay at home and take care of the youngsters. # UNCALLED for letters in the Post Office are addressed to Thomas Harkins and Miss Julia De Smith. If the Postmaster will turn over the files of the Tattle Talc for 1889, he will find a very pretty obituary notice of Thomas Harkins. We suggest that the communica tion be forwarded to the Dead-Letter Office. As for Miss De Smith, we understand that is the nom dc plume of Miss Maggie O Houli han, old Mr. Priggle s housekeeper. Miss De Smith is said to possess unusual literary abil ity. Two years ago she was a society reporter for a big New York daily, while in the domes tic service of a wealthy family in Newport, Rhode Island. 502 Slab City Gossip R local paper, the Havsccd and Ban- ncr of Liberty, now has a circulation of four hundred and three copies a week. The editor has introduced several new and interesting features lately into the paper, which is one of the best in this part of the State. He prints a column of original paragraphs written by Mr. Hiram Higgins, of Calf Valley, whose ambition to be America s greatest humorist seems likely to be realized if nothing happens. The Trotit Creek Bugle stole two or three of his jokes in last week s issue and printed them as original. Here are a few samples of Hiram s style : A LONG-FELT want among many young men in this section a plug hat. REMUS HAND, who does the chores for Squire Kittle, and Miss Irene Foote, of Pole Cat Hollow, were united in the bonds of wed lock last week. Another illustration of the old adage, " Extremes meet." The Bo-Jc-Lcggcd Ghost FISH is the name of the bootblack at the United States Hotel in this village. He must be a shiner. DOUBTLESS corns have made sinners of men, but it took a Bunyan to make a Christian. OLD CAL TEETERTON, the hunter and champion fisherman of this count} , was given a little birthday spread the other night by the boys down at the new restaurant run by Carl Wessler, who used to have an eating house in New York city. The food was immense, and the supply of champagne plentiful. Finally some large stewed mushrooms were brought on the table. Cal, who was a little "sprung " with wine, looked dubiously at the mush rooms for a minute, and then said : "I pass ; ye can t stuff them champagne corks down me." MINOR MENTION HIRAM HIGGINS is only twenty years old. Everybody here thinks he has a bright future in front of him. LON MOODY, while in Albany last week, bought a six-dollar banjo. Before long we shall expect to hear Lon play anything, as he has a large ear two in fact for music. 54 Slab City Gossip THE Widow Baker thinks some of going into the dressmaking business. She lost her breach of promise case against John Tucker, the cooper, who married Lizzie Wilder while on the excursion which the M. E. Sunday School took to Fair}- Cave and Wintergreen Falls a few weeks since. Miss TESSIE UPDYKE, while sitting before an open window sewing on an insane quilt which she is making for her sister Caroline, who is going to be married next fall to Will Ferris, who clerks in Rudd s grocery store, came pretty near being struck by lightning last Thursday afternoon, during the severe thunder storm. She says she can t imagine what attracted the lightning as she was using a very fine needle at the time and her scissors were in her work basket. 505 are several kinds of nuts in this tMJ* world of ours, including the peanut, the walnut, the chestnut, and the doughnut. The peanut is practically unknown to Pari sians, and so is chewing gum and pop corn. An active peanut stand and gum shop in Paris would pay mighty well, and this valuable tip I am glad to offer gratuitously to business men and women who happen to be out of employ ment. As for the walnut, it should be taken with salt like a good man}- stories found in the columns of the daily press. Chestnuts taste best when partially cremated. There are several varieties of chestnut. We will pass over the kind retailed by the tidy Italians on the street corners and proceed to enumerate a few other kinds, viz., the moral chestnut, the dramatic chestnut, the paragraphic chest nut, and the et cetera chestnut. The doughnut generally grows quickly in a warm, smoky kitchen, and sometimes while it is ripening it gets lively enough to suggest 506 A Short Essay on A T ztts the notion that if it so wished it could easily jump from the frying pan into the fire. A famous actress, when she is not interested in her surroundings, always eats peanuts to pass the time away. I know a clergyman who eats peanuts and milk just before he goes to bed every night. He says this diet enables him to get to sleep without extra efforts or some stronger opiate. People who live in the country lay in a supply of butternuts for winter use, if possi ble. It requires quite an ingenious person to crack them with a hammer on the edge of a flatiron. Either the nut, or the hammer, or the flatiron, or the hand holding the nut, or the hand holding the hammer, or all, are liable to slip and give the left thumb and fore finger a black eye, as it were. There is an old trick played with the almond nut which was excessively com me il faiit in Adam s time. You take an almond nut, peel it, and shape it into something of the form and size of a little wax taper. Then you cut out of an apple a circular piece, so that it will represent a nearly used-up candle. Stick the piece of almond in the center of the candle-shaped piece of apple and light it. The almond will burn The Bo~&-Leggcd Ghost brightly until exhausted, and this simple diversion at the conclusion of a banquet is a nice thing for a diffident young man, who is not ready at small talk, to introduce. That is all I think of just now that bears even remotely on the subject. Auf Wied- ersehen. Interviewing a Typewriter "If 3 WANT," observed the present pencil- SMI M-. driver to a slender, bewitching brunette who works in a business office on Lower Broadway, " to get your opinion of typewrit ing as an employment for young ladies. "Ah," murmured the brunette, and then she blushed as though conscious that a tardy fame was about to be conferred on her. "Well," she continued, after a little hesita tion, " it is a good business for those who are quick, wide-awake, and well posted, and and pretty." The last word seemed to recall her defens ively to herself, and she allowed silence to reign until I ventured to remark, "So far, so good. But has not the employment its charms as well as its annoyances ? "Yes," she admitted, "it has. I did not learn the business with a view to working at it all my life. You know, of course, the aim of all girls, or at least most of them, is to marry well. As a rule, marrying well to a 509 The Bow-Legged Ghost girl means marrying a zrr//-thy man. Excuse my pun. I became a typewriter in order to make myself known to men of business and wealth who are looking for a first, second, or even a third wife. I don t know but I would accept the hand of a rich man who is looking for his fourth wife, but I should draw the line there. I was not born with a silver spoon in my mouth. My childhood was full of misery, for my father drank and my mother was dead. One of my brothers committed an offense which doomed him for life to state prison, when he was scarcely old enough to vote, and another brother went crazy, and is now in confinement at the asylum for the Chronic Insane at Middletown. Oh, sir, you do not know to what extremes a girl like me may be put to save her honor! But I am here doing my work faithfully day by day, and out of my weekly stipend of eleven dol lars support myself and a younger sister. "My friend, Josie Sadler, who worked in this office before me, in fact on this very ma chine, married the other day a man who is worth half a million. She played in luck. But I don t know w T hat the upshot of my destiny will be. There was a girl in the next office who suddenly disappeared last month and she 5 10 Interviewing a Type-writer has not been heard of since. One old fellow comes in here who pats me on the back and says he loves brunettes and is a bachelor and worth a cool million. I like him immensely and do not think him a bad man at all, though someone told me he takes snuff. But I must finish this copy. Come in again some time and I will tell you about typewriting as an employ ment for women. 1 A Woman s Weapon SCENE I Editorial Room of the " Dude s Companion " Miss Prudy ( the manager ) I told you yesterday very distinctly, Mr. Brazonwood, that you were to collect no more accounts for this magazine, but to devote your energies en tirely to your editorial duties. Mr. Brazonwood I fear you forget, dear madame, that it was I who secured most of the advertisements and that you promised to give me a liberal commission for so doing. Miss Prudy You will get your commis sion, when we come to a settlement. But you are not authorized to make any collections see? Brazonwood But in the meantime how am I to live ? You have not paid me a cent of my salary, which was to be $3.50 a week, and I have been working for you going on two months. Miss Prudy You should not complain. You enjoy the honor of being an assistant 512 A Woman .v Weapon editor of what is going to be in a short time one of the greatest publications in the country. The moment it begins to pay I shall increase your salary and pay you every commission on " ads" to which you are entitled. Brazonu ood That will not do. I shall have to keep the money I collected on the Gen tlemen s Corset "ad." this morning, as part payment of my salary and commission on same. I cannot stand off my landlady any longer. Miss Prudy (waxing wroth) You area mean, contemptible man. Fork over that money or I ll have you arrested. Brazomi ood Do your worst. Miss Prudy Give me that money, I say. Brazomcood Well, I guess not. Miss Pnidy , in a violent spasm of rage, tears a large, heavy amethyst ring from her finger and hurls it at Brazonwood. The ring strikes Brazonwood 1 s nose and drops on the floor. Bra- zonwood picks it up and calmly puts it into his pocket. Brazonwood I am hungry, not having eaten anything in over twenty-four hours. If anyone asks for me, you can say I have gone out to feed. Ta, ta. Miss Prudy falls in a su oon. The Bo~A-Leggcd Ghost SCENE II A Pawnbroker s Shop on Park Row. Brazonwood How much can you let me have on this beautiful amethyst? It was once worn by the famous Adelaide Xeilson. Pawnbroker Xot more den eighty cents. Brazonwood \Yhat ! Pawnbroker Dot s rot I said. Xot a cent more. Brazenwood Take it. My name is Mud, and I live in Hoboken. I was an assistant ed itor of a great magazine less than an hour ago, but I m not now. I intend to apply for a sit uation in the Street Cleaning Department, where the hours are eas) 7 and there s nothing to do. Good day. 5H Trade Journalism PECIALIZATION is the tendency of the hour," remarked Ruggles to his wife the other evening. "It is especially so in journalism. I fear I shall be obliged to sell Literary Miscellany before long and go into some special line as an editor. It s getting so now that everything and everybody must have an official organ. Before many moons we shall hear the newsboys shouting, Rvening Clog Dance, Morning Cosmetic Re porter, Morning Review of the Undertakers" "Why, Peter, what on earth do you mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Ruggles, with a shiver. "Just exactly what I m saying, L,avinia, dear. By the way, speaking of undertakers, there s a fellow who has started an organ de voted to them, and what do you suppose he calls it? " " Oh, I can t imagine. What?" The Sunnyside. The name has a ridicu lous flavor of irony, hasn t it? No, Lavinia, 515 The Bow-Legged Ghost I tell you we have not come to the end of our tether in trade journalism, by any manner of means. Xew papers of the sort I have alluded to are springing up every day and still there s more to follow, as the sacred song goes. In the near future they will be devoted to undreamed of specialties, if I m any prophet. Take dogs for instance. There probably will be The Pug Dogs Gazette, The Poodles Journal , The Yorkshire Terriers Budget, The Irish Set ters Messenger, and the Lord knows what all. Then, Lavinia, there probably will be The In valids Solace, The Typhoid Patients" Banner, The Alchohol Consumers Leader, The Dolls Chronicle, The Canary Birds Herald, The Feline Record, The Newsboys Repository, Jin- Bootblacks Register, The Automobile Age, The Flying Machine Budget, T/ie Head Waiters Bazar, The Chambermaids Rei ieic, The Floor Walkers Delight, The Seamstresses Beacon, The Gamblers Sympathizer, The Hansom Drivers Companion, The James Dandy Side Splitter But just at that juncture in his remarks, Ruggles heard a staccato snore, and, gazing at his spouse, he observed that she had fallen into the deepest abyss of living slumber. 516 Fall Proverbs AN echo is the football of sound. * ORATORY is like cheese ; it is apt to get too full of life. * A BABY ought to know when to cry, and it generally does. * THE most beautiful woman that ever lived died in her babyhood. * THE country girl now prepareth to swoop down on the metropolis. * SNORING is said to indicate sound health. Hearers of snoring demur on the sound. * ASKED by the judge why he had fallen so low, the vagrant replied, " L,ost my balance in the bank." * MEN are often dragooned into making daring promises under the soothing influences of a good dinner. The Bow-Legged Ghost DISTRICT Attorneys who convict the inno cent merely in order to get a political pull will get it in the neck on the day of judgment. Do NOT despise the linen duster because it is no longer en regie. Remember it may be on some one else next summer if you lose the ticket. * MEN largely occupy themselves in inter changing contempt for each other. The mer chant sarcastically belittles the literary man, and vice versa. * No ONE will get to heaven any sooner by following an asthmatic drum through the streets and howling, "The Lamb, the Lamb, the bleeding Lamb." * IT is believed by some people that David B. Hill will ere long be singing " Go to sleep, my baby," in his new residence " Hunnah villa," on the upper Hudson. f t This paragraph was written some time ago, and up to the hour of going to press the prophecy remained unfulfilled. THE ArTHOR. Fall Proverbs vSo VERY German seemeth they The dolls with which Queen Vic did play. It would not much astonish me If now, snatched from obscurity, They should in accents quaint and queer, Demand a foaming stein of beer. NAME all of the triumphs of art that j r ou can Of the triumphs attained by the genius of man ; Of wars and of commerce, religion, the press; Of cunning inventions that hands may toil less ; But leave out the maiden whose heart you enthrall And you leave out the greatest achievement of all. 5 9 Some Possible Titles of Future Books* Tp^ IFFEREXT Things I Might Have Been *& and Not Half Tried," by F. Hopkin- e^jj-S son Smith. "Reasons Why I Might Have Been Mis taken for Darwin the Naturalist," by the late Charles A. Dana. " Blubber, and How to Treat Too Much of It," by Lillian Russell. Longevity of English Queens and the Remedy," by the Prince of Wales, the well- known lover of the game of baccarat. " Why I Am not a Rival of Edwin Booth, by Joseph Choate, LL. D. , and Ambassador to Great Britain. The Rector of St. George s," by the Rev. Mr. Rainsford. "The Times I Might Have Died," by an engineer who has to work his train the best he can over the One-hundred-and-tenth- street curve on the New York elevated railroad. * Revised contributions that first appeared in Judge. C20 Some Possible T itlcs of future Books "Whiskers of Great Men Saved," by a tonsorial artist in a swell metropolitan hotel. " Pretty Ankles of Great Beauties," by the humble clerk in a big shoe store. "Hats that Rich Women Have Bought of Me," by a fashionable milliner. The Journal of a Lunatic Who Lives in Bloomingdale," edited by another lunatic. " Ethics of a Livery Stable," by a hireling of the owner of the said Livery Stable. Why I Should not Like to Have Been Artemus Ward," by R. J. Burdette. Notes I Have Not Given to the News papers About the East Side Slums," by Chuck Connors. "Anecdotes of Mine that Most Pleased the Prince of Wales and His Friends when I Was in London," by Col. Thomas P. Ochiltree. " The Chewing Gum of the Future," by a recent Vassar College graduate. "How I Shall Bring All the Planets into Communication with Each Other," by Thomas A. Edison. "Corns That I Never Allow Any One to Tread Upon," by Nicola Tesla. "Why I Stay Abroad Most of the Time," by James Gordon Bennett. 521 The Bo-w- Legged Ghost " Why I Prefer Europe for Residential Pur poses," by Joseph Pulitzer. "My Recreations: The Only Authentic Ac count," by Jack the Ripper. "The United States," by an English girl who traveled in them over four weeks. This book is intended to be a reply, at least in part, to Dickens s " American Notes," Matthew Ar nold s strictures on Uncle Sam s dominions, and to other Englishmen who have not found much to relish in Yankeeland. Peculiar Folks, and Why I Am One of Them," by Joaquin Miller, the Oakland fCal.) hermit, formerly a great lion in London liter ary circles. Why I Like Myself Better than Anybody Else/ by William J. Bryan. "How To Be a Successful Acrobat and Word-Thrower in the Pulpit," by T. DeWitt Talmage. " People Who Like My Novels," by Laura Jean Libbey. "Why I Should Be the Next Candidate of Both Parties," by Belva Lockwood. "A Guide to Postprandial Oratory," by C. M. Depew. "The Art of Rearing Moustaches," by 522 Some Possible Titles of Future Books Honorable and also General E. F. Jones, of Binghamton. "Gossip from Nirvana," by the late Mad ame Blavatsky. My First Remembrances of Grove, by Elizabeth Cleveland. "An Account of the Mouse Trap I In vented/ by the late Jay Gould. Me and the Other Prophets, by Sergeant Dunn. ; The Eight Fantastic; or How to Emerge from Obscurity All Standing," by Carmencita. "The World s Fair, and Why It Failed," by a disappointed Chicago speculator in real estate. " How I Acquired My Fluency in the Ger man Tongue," by Buffalo Bill. "What I Know About Being President," by Mark M. Hanna. " Choosing the Bride," a romance, by Gen. John Schofield. "A Eifetime Maiden," by Susan B. An thony. The Problem of Rapid Transit in New York," by a messenger boy. " Explorations in Eong Island," by the late Austin Corbin. 523 The Bow-Legged Ghost "Reveries by the Hudson at Sing Sing," by a Distinguished Inmate. "The Truth About Those Spoons," by the late Gen. B. F. Butler. "Climbing the North Pole," by Lieutenant Peary. "My Career as a Dramatist," by the late Bill Nye. "Tentative Sobriety," by John L. Sullivan. "Baseball as a Bread- Winner, by A. Anson. How to Re-upholster the Original Thirty- five Jokes," by Mark Twain. " Free Lunch Memories," by the late James Owen O Connor. "Men I Might Have Loved," by Belva Lock wood. "Rights We Girls Insist on Having," by Susie B. Anthony. The Women That Would Have Been De lighted to Marry Me," by Herman Oelrichs. " Emotions that Possessed Me on Becoming Convinced that My Flying Machine Would Really Work," by Thomas A. Edison. " If I Had Broken Loose as a Novelist, In stead of a Dramatist, in the First Place," by Archie Clavering Gunter, the literary mil lionaire. 524 Some Possible Titles of Future Books " Ben Butler in the Whitehouse : a Romance Founded Upon My Own and Mr. Butler s Imagination," by the late Charles A. Dana, the former "It s so" editor of the New York Sun. A Few of My Farewell Tours, by Adel- ina Patti, nee Baroness Cedarstrom. " The Secret of My Greatness and Popular ity," by Edward Atkinson. "Winds that Have Blown through My Whiskers," by Ex-Senator Peffer, of Kansas. "The Philosophy of My Immortal Poetry," by Mr. Cutler, of Long Island. " Orations I Would Deliver if I Were Presi dent of the United States," by Dr. C. M. Depew. "Anthropological Humor, and How to Ac quire It in Large Quantities for Commercial Purposes," by Eli Perkins. " Hymnology for Thespians," by Miss Mag gie Cline, with an introductory essay on " The Moral Grandeur of the Variety Stage," by Antonio Pastor. "The Past, Present, and Future Rate of Speed of the Sun," by the Rev. John Jasper. " How It Feels to be the Most Disappointed Man in the World," by D. B. Hill. People Who Killed Themselves Laughing 5 2 ? The Boiv-Legged Ghost at My Jokes," by Mr. Burnand, Editor of London Punch. Wait Till I Dramatize the Book of Pro verbs : a Prognostic Analysis of Myself," by Richard Mansfield. "Lessons Derived from Opportunities of Seeing More of the Obscene than Anybody Else," by Anthony Comstock. "The Secret of Being Good," by Mrs. Leslie Carter. " How One May Try to be Funny and Sometimes be Funny," by De Wolf Hopper. The Wretch with a Sallow Face and a White Liver," being the confessions of a mugwump. Why I Try So Hard to Impress People by Simply Using Queer Words I Have Looked Out in Webster and in Other Books," by Nym Crinkle. "A Commentary on Love. How and Where It Hits You First and the Manner of Its Subsequent Conduct." Done in richly tinted moonlight verse, by Minna Irving, the Tarrytown Archpriestess of rhyme with and without reason. "Reveries of a Bachelor Not Ik Mar vel s," by D. B. Hill. Some Possible Trifles of Future J3ooks "Bridge-Jumping as a Nerve Tonic," by Steve Brodie. "Recollections of the L,ate Mr. Crowley," by Miss Kitty Murphy. " Claws in Every Contract, by R. Croker, Keeper of the Tammany Tiger and King of Greater New York. Political Scales that Have Dropped from Mine Eyes," by Matthew S. Quay. "Provisions for Ventilation in My Future Home," by the late Col. R. G. Ingersoll. The Differences Between Edwin Booth and Me," by the late James Owen O Connor, try-gedian. " Solitude as a Panacea for Morbidity," by Joaquin Miller, ex-literary lion of L,ondon and New York. What I Know about School Reform and a Good Man} Other Things," by Colonel Abe Slupsky. Fin de Siecle Presby terianism and what It Cost Me," by the late Jay Gould, author of "The History of Delaware County. New York," and inventor of a patent mouse trap. 527 Favorite Animals in the Park * s - our favorite animal?" I asked a bright-eyed little fellow who was watching the grotesquely human evolutions of the chimpanzee in Central Park. "I don t know," he answered, with a blush. "But I think I like to watch ele phants the best. I like lions, too ; they look so strong and noble. The next one to be interrogated was a little girl about eight years old. "Oh, I prefer snakes to anything. It makes my heart jump to see them wiggle around and run out their black tongues. But they are so graceful, and some of them, I think, are very pretty." "Aren t you afraid of being charmed?" "Oh, my sakes, no/ Bowing to this diminutive Elsie Venner, I advanced toward another little girl, some what older than the first one. "I like birds best," she said, "those from far-off countries, that have beautiful plumage. How I would like to have some of their 528 Favorite Animals in the Park feathers on my hats. They would make all my friends mad as hops." Of what savage beast are you fondest ? I used to like bears the best. But Uncle Ralph nearly got killed by one last summer in the Catskills, and now I detest them. I like camels because they look so meek and patient. Our minister has been where they use camels the same as we do horses. He lectures about it every little while and talks about the Arabs he saw in Africa where he was a missionary. ?? About fifty other little folks, male and female, were asked to name their favorite animal, with this result: BOYS GIRLS Elephants 9 i Lions 4 i Snakes i 8 Bison 4 10 Monkeys 10 i Birds . . on 34 529 Some Novel Prizes FOLLOWING the example of big dailies in the principal cities that have made a stupendous success out of the gift-enter prise system, the editor of Hollyhock Hollow Bugle has decided to offer prizes for the best epic poem on Hard Times. Competitors are required to use brown wrapping paper, and write on both sides, without numbering the sheets or punctuating their MSS. The poems must -exceed Milton s " Paradise Lost" in length, and the author is requested to sign his grandfather s name on his mother s side, not necessarily for publication, but as a guarantee that the author knows who his an cestors were. Anarchistic residents of Illinois are barred out from this competition. First Prize A rattlebox with which Chauncey M. Depew played in his childhood. Second Prize A paint brush in good con dition, used by Queen Elizabeth to blacken her teeth. 530 Some Novel Prizes Third Prize An umbrella which was bor rowed from George Washington by Lafayette, and returned. Fourth Prize An embalmed dog that died at a tender age in Philadelphia unbeknown to the sausage-makers. Fifth Prize A trunk once owned by Gail Hamilton which passed over a New Jersey road without being smashed. Sixth Prize A quart of Vermicelli soup cooked to order for Napoleon just before the Battle of Waterloo, but which he didn t have time to eat. It can be warmed over. N. B. These prizes have been selected from the Bugle museum and are among the most costly specimens in the collection. Home-Made Sauce A HANDSOME brunette always makes a de cided hit in society, although she carries the black eye. * SWEET Evelina from the suffocating em brace of her love cried out : Give me liberty or give me breath." * MAY IRWIN calls the train of her new silk dress " Cyclone," because it sweeps everything before it. * THERE has been no prohibitory law this winter in any of the States against the young men sleighing their dears. * THE mutual duties of the church deacon and the monkey are to gather in contributions while the organ plays. * THE target of perfection has to be aimed at from such a long range that only one man ever hit the bull s eye. 532 Home-Made Sauce THERE is one difference at least between a drunkard and a dead man. One takes beer aboard, the other is taken aboard a bier. * A DISHONEST man. like a wheezy organ, may stand upright ; but his music will always be flat if he tries to play sharp on the notes against him. * A PRETTY young blonde is certain to be come the reigning social belle, but there is danger of her being cracked like the Old Independent," if she is tolled so too many times. * SUMNER ELLIS wrote a number of beati tudes, among which we find this suggestive one for dejected politicians: "Blessed is the man who can contentedly give up what he must. * THE crying baby at a public meeting is like a good suggestion : it ought to be carried out. * " I HEAR their gentle voices calling, 1 said Muggins, as he wormed himself out of his warm bed, hunted in vain for the bootjack, and wofully gazed out of the window upon the nocturnal choir. 533 The BO~JJ- Legged Ghost NEW YORK has a case of Battery without the assault. * IT is better to skip the gutter than your board bill. * ALL composers decompose in death. * HE THAT denies a fact acknowledges his own ignorance. * SOME of the loudest-mouthed guns in the world have the Kruppe. * WHEN a young man receives the mitten, he is generally handled without gloves. * WHY is it that an interrogation point and the human ear resemble each other? * THE Frenchman talks through his nose be cause he is afraid of wearing out his mouth. * NEVER borrow more than you can pay back and never lend more than you can borrow. 534 Home-Made Sauce L/ORD BYRON S club foot might have ren dered him one of the most natural base ballists of his time. * THE queenliness of a woman s bearing must alone spring from the royalty of her heart. PEOPLE committed "suicide" in 1670. That is, they condemned in that year the use of the word. * A PHILADELPHIA plumber has actually- failed and made an assignment. Some of the citizens feel that his loss is their eternal gain. * SOME men construe a well-known biblical passage so that it reads " Love your neigh bor as yourself, and his wife a little better than either." 535 Snap Shots THE late Robert Bonner never was able to buy the horse that could beat a lie traveling. A FUNNY sight is that of a man playing a violincello and singing tenor at the same time. IT is no joke to say that the great dog star is the brightest one visible. It is Serius. * THIS is the season when an actress would rather have a small bunch of fresh violets thrown at her feet than half a ton of roses. * LITERARY efforts are like bread cast upon the waters. They may return from the publishers after man}- days, if the proper postage accompany them 536 Snap Shots Alarmed Woman My jewels are in that casket. Burglar Excuse me, madame, I prefer a few lumps of coal. * First Tramp I read in the paper that all kinds of food have gone up. Second Tramp Then it ain t very likely that many of em 11 go down us. 537 Why? MANY riddles like these, I will frankly confess, Require no remarkable genius to guess ; Why does milk taste the best in the season of drought, And the prosperous dentist "look down in the mouth ? Why do parsons among the wild cannibals roam, When W T C have any number of heathen at home? Why are terms so confused e en for pleasant satire. That lawyer sounds often as though one said liar? Why why? but I ll cease this ridiculous task, For the more you could answer the more I could ask. WHEN some boor asked Michael Angelo why he was so particular and accurate about some slight thing, the great genius replied : "Ah, it is only a trifle, but trifles make per fection and perfection is no trifle." 538 Pith and Pasquinade AN EXCHANGE publishes an article headed, How to Tell a Mad Dog. We have noth ing to tell a mad dog that we cannot com municate by telephone or a postal card. * IT is said that great economy is used in the manufacture of corsets, and yet there seems to be a good deal of waist material in them. * NEVER judge of a man s character by the umbrella he carries. It may not be his. * EVERYBODY is happy when times are pros perous, but the pawnbroker. * OFT many a juror wishes the lawyer s brief were briefer. * Now that haying is here, the farmer will have mower work to do. 539 BO-JU- Legged Ghost A DECEASED colored man was referred to as a petrified chunk of midnight. This shows how darkness reigns in Texas. * A GENTLEMAN in Syracuse is said to have all the plays of Shakespeare at his tongue s end, and to be able to act as prompter in any of the plays, without a book. His occupation is to peddle bakestuffs, and he is just as good on a cart as a man who cannot quote a word of Shakespeare. This proves that delving into the classics does not make a man entirely worthless. * UNCLE Jerry asked his nephew if he pur sued the study of geography. "Well, you can bet your sweet old life I do," was the irreverent answer. "Then tell me where Chicago is." "Oh!" replied the youngster, " We haven t got as far as that. We ve only got as far as Africa." * POLITICS and nervous debility are raging to a fearful extent in this section. It is feared that the mortality will exceed the morality by a large majority. 54 The Difference " To PROVE that our fashions are very unstable," Quoth Jones to a friend, as they sat at a table, " I ll tell you what people first ask in New York," As he lifted a piece of roast duck on his fork; And then what in Boston they deem it polite To ask of the introduced stranger on sight. In Gotham they ask, Well, what are you worth? As if gold were all they esteemed upon earth. In the Hub people ask, with their features aglow, I m pleased, sir, to meet you, but what do you know? " * MOTTO of the Arabs Up and Bedouin. * A BRIGHT young fellow at Princeton has been excused from attending chapel exercises in the morning, on the plea of acute insomnia. * DC Briggs Say, Chappie, what is the dif ference between an extracted tooth and a linen duster in winter weather ? DC Riggs I pass. DC Briggs One is tooth out and the other is tooth in. DC Riggs (succumbing) Call an ambu lance, quick ! 54 1 Flying Scud THE; tendency of whisky is always down ward, and it is only natural that the whisky trust should follow suit. * THE proper complaint to carry off a miser would be fatty degeneration of the heart. * THE growth of the coffin trust has rendered it more necessary than ever for every man to be his own undertaker. * ONE of the most pitiable objects in the world is the man who works hard for forty or fifty years, amasses a fortune, and then ignores every opportunity to enjoy it. * MEN who are not well informed try to dog matize in mental self-defence. * "A FLATTERING mouth worketh ruin," and likewise sometimes a winking eye. 54 2 Flying Scud THE stuttering man never lacketh for a word, only it taketh time for him to utter it. * Snobbs How would you like to be a fe male ? Bobbs So-so. Ma says she don t mind it any more. 543 T]IC Bo-jo-Leggcd Ghost Appropriate Presents following suggestions may be found valuable to those who desire to send a holiday remembrance to some eminent personages : For Doctor Mary Walker A pair of sus penders. For Jerry Simpson Half a dozen pairs of socks. For Miss Louise Shepard, of the Christian and Missionary Alliance A field glass to carry on her bicycle. For Chauncey M. Depew A promise to support him should he be nominated for the presidency. For ex-Senator Peffer A muffler to pro tect his whiskers from the winter wind. For David B. Hill Ik Marvel s "Reveries of a Bachelor. For Paul Dana A pink ribbon to adorn the neck of his office cat. 544 Women at Billiards For George Francis Train A buttonhole bouquet. For Maggie Cline A bushel of potatoes. For Mark Twain A request to write some thing humorous occasionally. For Anthony Comstock A good book used in the Sunday Schools, or a picture that is not off color. Women at Billiards ILUARDS is becoming a very popular game among the ladies. By a peculiar phys ical analogy, the "old hens" make a good many "scratches" ; the querulous wives make "rail" shots ; very thin, scrawny women make " angular " shots ; young ladies playing with their fiances make "kiss" shots; young mothers naturally prefer to nurse the balls; ambitious belles play for "position" ; the star actresses excel in draw shots ; and female anglomaniacs alw r ays put on lots of "English." 35 545 The BO"JO- Legged Ghost An Etching from Life DE BELLEVILLE engaged Miss Franklin to instruct her little daugh ter, Elsie, every morning, in the com mon branches, the child being rather delicate and backward in her studies. Little Elsie was particularly stupid over her sums, and Madame, thinking to encourage the child, an nounced one day her intention of taking up fractions under Miss Franklin s tuition. As Madame s habit was to rise at noon, it was something of an effort for her to be present, but at about eleven o clock she would manage to appear, elegantly attired in a negligee gown, and languidly gliding into a fautcuil, with tiny gold pencil in hand, would request Miss Franklin to begin. In the midst of a trying problem she would send for a demi-tasse or cup of bouillon. " Cherie," she w r ould say to her little daugh ter, "get mamma s lorgnette these sums are so difficult to see." 54 6 On one occasion the little girl was told that the earth consisted of one quarter land and three quarters water. The next day when asked to repeat her lesson she confidently de clared that the earth was composed of one quart of land and three quarts of water. And Madame de Belleville advanced in about the same hopeless way with her fractions. Needless to say she scouted the vulgah fractions entirely An Open Letter MOST NOBLE EARL OF WORCESTERSHIRE. Sir: I understand that you are about to take a trip to the Arctic regions in search of curiosities for the English Naturalist Society. As one who is familiar with British America and the most unique animals to be found in that portion of the world, I venture to make a few suggestions. If you get near the Little Slave Lake, you should, by all means, keep a sharp lookout for the Boobybat, a very rare animal, indeed, and I am sure the English Naturalist Society would highly appreciate a good specimen. The peculiarity of the Boobybat is that its four legs are attached to the centre of its abdomen, both ends of its body being balanced on four very slender limbs, reminding one somewhat of the camera obscura. You 547 The Bow-Legged Ghost will be fortunate if you bag one of these strange crea tures, as they are fast becoming extinct. Another animal that you should not fail to hunt for is the so-called Podyfish, or Lachryma-tus. It has a great fondness for music, and if you simply whistle "Sweet Marie," the Podyfish will jump out of the water and soon be at your feet. It has only one ear, and that is just above its nose, but it will sit and listen to you by the hour. It will keep alive in a jar of al cohol as readily as water. Should you happen to have any alcohol left on reaching Churchill River, you can secure a live Podyfish without very much trouble. In the mountains on the Alaska border there are to be found a choice lot of wild women, who are sup posed to have been originally English star actresses. They are in a perfectly chaotic condition, and the only way they can be captured is by rapturously clapping your hands and offering them bouquets and diamond brooches. It would be well for you before starting on your expedition, to lay in a stock of diamond brooches, if you think the English Naturalist Society would like a wild woman or two. I could tell you about numerous other specimens that are obtainable in the Arctic Archipelago, but you probably have your route all laid out and have a pre pared list of the things you most desire to procure. However, should you, most noble earl, require any further information before you set forth on your peril ous pilgrimage in the interest of science, please com municate with me. I have the honor to subscribe myself, Yours truly, IRA INVERS. CURATOR ZOOLOGICAL MUSEUM, HOBOKEN. 548 Two Points of View Manager Here it tells about you in cold type. Actress (After perusing notice) I m de lighted. Why, this is the best kind of praise for me. For once I figure in very warm type, it strikes me. * Bitkins Whotherspoon has worn that tile of his for three straight years to my knowl edge. Why doesn t he get a new one? Ruggles Why, he s hoping it will be the style again before it falls to pieces. 549 The Bow-Legged Ghost When Mr. Howells Was Young . WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS has reached a point in his brilliant career where he can afford to pause and take a retrospective survey of his monumental achievements. "My Literary Passions," have a piquant, autobiographical flavor that is refreshing in this age of stilted self-exploiture. Even more interesting than these discursive papers, however, is Mr. Howell s account of his "First Visit to New England," which is especially interesting. He delightfully de scribes a breakfast given in his honor in Boston, over thirty years ago, by James Rus sell Lowell, at which were also present Oliver Wendell Holmes and James T. Fields. On the following morning he was a guest at the Fields s table, in their cozy house beside the Charles River. In contrasting the home environment of this eminent author-publisher with what he himself had been accustomed to in Ohio, he 550 When yl/r. Hovcclls ivas Toiing says: "I was very new to it all, how new I could not very well say, but I flattered myself that I breathed in that atmosphere as if in the return from lifelong exile. Still I bragged of the West a little, and I told them proudly that in Columbus no book since Uncle Tom s Cabin had sold so well as the Marble Faun. This made the effect that I wished, but whether it was true or not, heaven knows ; I only know that I heard it from our leading bookseller, and I made no question of it myself." The Bo~A-Lcggcd Ghost Lucky Robbins That fire at Higbee s house was a great blessing to him. Mack A blessing ? Robbins Yes; his daughter s piano was destroyed. * Testimonials Lady Can you cook, wash and iron and do chamber work ? Bridget Yes, indade. Lady Well, I am willing to take you on trial. Bridget Oi couldn t think of wurkin fur yez widout first lookin at your ricomminda- tions from the ladies what has been in your service. 552 Considerable Foresight I ve Seen and People I ve Met," l^ 1 by the veteran journalist, the late George Augustus Sala, is thoroughly readable from start to finish. Sala spent thirteen months in the United States during the Civil War, and relates many fresh anec dotes concerning eminent Americans whom he met. Here is one : "In Senator Bayard (former United States Minister to England) is vested the copyright of the story of a well-known New York hu morist who occasionally indulged too freely, and who, being asked to dinner by Mr. Bayard, at his house in Washington, was observed by his host, who had himself walked home with him, to be attentively counting the number of steps in the high stoop in front of the mansion. What on earth are you counting those steps for ? asked the Senator. " Got to come down them again, was the reply of the prescient humorist and admirer of 4 Extra Dry. 553 The Boiv-Lcggcd Ghost Her Inference Aunt Lucy I should like so much to see Niagara Falls. We have never been there. Young Niece Why, auntie, aren t you and Uncle Cephas married? Aunt Lucy Certainly. Young Niece Oh, I understand you didn t take any wedding tour. * The Cause of it Rudworth Smythe has resumed his orig inal name of Smith. Ombbs How is that? Rudworth He went into bankruptcy yes terday. * A Transitory Feeling IN SOME men religion is like the circulation of the blood it doesn t stay long enough at one time in their hearts to give them any cor rect understanding of what it is like. 554 He Learned Something Has the Proof Jenkins Do you think Lady Somerset believes all she says against intemperance? Limbkins She ought to; she is the owner of fourteen public houses. Alice (pensively) What s in a name? Phil (despondently) Everything on a draft. * He Learned Something LONG ISLAND farmer drove up the Bow ery the other dav at a snail s pace, alter- _ . x nating his gaze from one side of the busy thoroughfare to the other. Several baskets of eggs, laid during the fiscal year, graced the after part of his infirm vehicle. Finally he stopped before the threshold of a Hebrew clothing establishment. " Want any eggs?" inquired the farmer of the proprietor, who was basking in the door way. 555 The Bo-v-Lcgged Ghost How mooch you ask a doozen ? Thirty cents. " Veil, no von on der Bowery vants dem at dot price. You see, mine freint, ve are rais ing our poultry und getting our eggs free nowadays." How s that ? asked the farmer curiously. Vy, every man on dis street has got his hen coops on der roof of his house. I mine self have over dree hundret hens laying night und day. Vould you pelieve it ? I have so many eggs dot I have to sell de old vons to der fellers vot go to see pad plays at der theatres. " Does everybody have hen coops on their houses over this way ? inquired the farmer, throwing away the stump of a cigar. " I don t know of von man vot hasn t got hens und plenty of eggs," was the meek response. But if you \vant to sell me your eggs at five cents a doozen I will take dem und have dem painted for next Easter." "Well take em. Gol hang it, I ll never come to New York agin to sell anything. Next thing you ll be mowin hay in your front parlors. I can git twenty cents a dozen fur em at hum, but I ve learnt something. Take em along." 556 His True Inwardness She Had Changed Miss Woodruff You don t mean to tell me that lady is Mrs. Van Vorst. Miss Oldtree Yes, but she has a bicycle face. * A Modern Work Policeman Come, move on about your business. Messenger boy ( dime novel in hand ) Please, Mr. Cop, jest let me see how Blood thirsty Pete prevents Devil-may-care Maggie from stealin her sister s suspenders to hang herself \vid, an I ll go a mile a minute. * His True Inwardness Dora s Millionaire Father to Her Suitor Young man, you wish to marry my daughter. I fear you are prompted by sordid motives. Young Man Indeed, no, sir. They re as good as gold. 557 The B&w-Legged Ghost Nellie (in the absence of the servant, try ing to start a fire in the grate) Oh, dear me, I wish this stupid fire would burn. Nellie s Mother Throw in some of Mr. Gushington s love letters to you, Nell. Out of Commission WHAT a rigid-looking creature Miss Smirks is." I will tell you the cause of that. Xot long ago she had two ribs broken, and her waist is in a sling." * Miss Van Corlear (munching bon-bons) Oh, I dote on marrons glace s. Young Dr. Corlear Let me give you an anti-dote. * Mrs. Tibbies I ve just instructed Bridget to pack up her duds and leave the house. Mr. T. What has she done? Mrs. T. Why, she had the impertinence this morning actually to take a bath in our bath-tub. 558 LEADVILLE school-teacher opens the morning session with an address to his scholars. This is what he says : Well, pupils, I won t be hard on you this bright morning by compelling you to desist from whispering. But heaven help the first boy I catch chewing tobacco ! Bill Bloodgood may remain in his seat during recess to atone for the swearing and fighting he did yesterday on his way home from school. Nellie Hardshell I must punish for stealing little Georgie Mills s dinner and calling Fan Felly a liar. Miss Abigail Spinaway has kindly asked my consent to allow her to write to a gentleman friend in Boston while the class in grammar i,s reciting. Be careful, Abbie, in writing your letter, to say nothing to give yourself away to that young man in Boston. I must insist that Jim Lake shall stop coming in here saturated with gin, or he will be fed some lead pills. The school will proceed to business while I 559 The Bo~^-Lcggcd Ghost whale that little runt of a Will Crumpet, who knocked me down in the dark last night and tried to swipe my elegant Roman hour-glass by which I have told the time for the past twenty-five years." * Not Pressed for Time Stoophead Budd never seems to have any thing to do. He must have a private income. Brightpate Oh, no. He tells me he s the advertising manager of the Congressional Rec ord. * To Be Sure Boggs Is there no ornithological name for riches ? Soggs I don t know. Why ? Boggs Do they not take wings unto themselves and fly awav? 560 A Woman s Wrong Evolution of a Feminine Name Christened Mary. At ten called Mattie. At fifteen called May. At twenty called Moll. At twenty-five called Molly. At thirty called Ma-rye-a. When married, Marie. * The Worst Kind Mrs. Jadders Are you afraid of light ning ? Mrs. Trewpor Qnly of the kind that my husband gets in New Jersey. A Woman s Wrong Blabton Why are the women of to-day so heavily laden? Katley Give it up. Why ? Blabton Because they carry a leg of mut ton on each arm. 36 561 The Bo~jo-Leggcd Ghost He Didn t Pass Muster Tibbies Did you ever travel in Africa? Quibbles (globe-trotter) Yes. I went there once with my colored valet, who wanted to see where his grandmother lived. Tibbies Did he find her? Quibbles He found her but she wouldn t have anything to do with him. Tibbies How was that? Quibbles Well, the old lady thought he had too much white blood in his veins to be respectable. * FAVORITE hymn of the barber "Soon we ll lather at the river." * Great Self-Denial New Bride I have baked my first pie, dear. Won t we have fun eating it with our New Year s dinner to-morrow? Husband I am sorry, darling ; but I have made it a rule of my life never to eat pie dur ing the holidays. 562 An Honest Confession Candidates for Society Bernstein (who has just retired) Vat ve vant now is to get our names in de papers every tay like dem Vanderbilts and Goelets. Mrs. Bernstein You are right, Solomon. Say ve give a pig ball. Bernstein Dare it is again. Vy can t you speak English like me? Ve hate hogs; den vhy vill you say a pig ball ? Ve vill never get into society if you talk in dot vay. Badly Needed Grimley Alvah Ayers has a great scheme on foot. Bloomer What is it? Grimley He is going to organize a soci ety for the reform of reformers. * An Honest Confession. Jim son Did you lose anything on election ? Blabson Yes, I talked through two $8 hats. 563 The Bow-Legged Ghost Excessive Plainness Miss de Copps Miss Buntling is very plain, I hear. Miss Hardheart Well, she s so homely that her diamonds won t sparkle when she -wears them. * Youthful Presumption Snaggs That young Van Doyle is giving himself altogether too many airs. Whiffles How is that ? Snaggs Well, he pretends he has a bad liver, and is only nineteen, you know. * Ample Proof Stubbs Do you believe that there is such a thing as suspended animation ? Rusly No. Stubbs Well, just tie the tails of two cats together and hang em over a fence if you want to study a case of suspended animation. 564 Literal Just a Little Query SIR WILLIAM JONES says: " Words are the daughters of earth, and thoughts are the sons of heaven." Can it be possible that Sir Wil liam means to intimate that language is fem inine, and thought masculine? Love s Labor Lost Biddle Jimson has given up his contem plated great genealogical work. Riddle-- How is that? Biddle He found among his ancestors, only one hundred years back, three murder ers, two horse thieves, a bigamist, and several other objectionable people. Literal Teacher Can any one tell me the meaning of Ash- Wednesda)^ ? "Yessum," replied the Harlem lad, "it s the day they collect the ashes." 565 The Bo-w- Legged Ghost The Public THE public loses more of its beauty sleep than it did when our forefathers and fore- mothers went to bed .at sundown. The public has no use for any of us until we have been of use to the public. The public, be it remembered, is generally right. The public has no time to pause and tell you it sympathizes with you because a relative or friend is dead, or you have a jumping tooth ache. A Comical Paraphrase DURING a rather novel discourse concerning the dignity and rewards of labor, a colored brother, Rev. Mr. Cheekbones, who prided himself on being a self-made divine, remarked with considerable fervor: " I se been practicin de ministry fo" fo ty years, bress d Lamb, n I se foun out dat man mus earn his bread by de sweat of his eyebrow, hallelujah!" 566 The Role Reversed The Reason "I DON T see, mum, why your other cook went away so quick ! My husband found fault with a pudding he thought I had made and the cook overheard him." * The Facetious Butler A PHILADELPHIA millionaire tells me he has a witty butler in his employ. One day recently, while bringing to the table some angel cake, he let the plate drop on the floor. Gathering up the pieces and the sugar-coated confection, with great solemnity, he remarked, as he was passing out of the dining-room: "I ll be blessed if it isn t Fallen Angel cake." The millionaire thinks that his butler must be familiar with the writings of Milton. The Role Reversed So OFTEN have I seen Joe Jefferson play Rip, That I can speak his lines with scarce a single slip. Oh, what a pleasant change if but it could be done, To see Old Rip Van Winkle play Joseph Jefferson. 567 The Bo w-Lcgged Ghost An Agricultural Genius A YOUNG man who is conducting a farm in New Jersej r , according to rules he acquired in an agricultural college, says that in order to obtain the best results in raising breadplant, the flour should be planted very early in the spring. Journals devoted to bucolic interests please copy. * A Dangerous Announcement "THE editor desires co-respondents in all the principal cities," is a recent surprising an nouncement in an English dramatic journal. Of course the compositor was mischievous and the proof reader was absent-minded, but that little hyphen may get the editor into a lot of trouble. * A Definition THE Cliptomaniac is an editor who uses his scissors more than his brains. 568 Fire Proof A Nice Distinction Little Girl Oh, mamma, the water for my bath is too cold. Mother No, Gertrude, it is nice and luke warm. Little Girl But, mamma, I want it luke hot. Twentieth-Century Chivalry A FRESH bridegroom, having his fair young spouse uppermost in his mind, made the fol lowing entry on the register of the "Waldorf- Astoria a few days since : Mrs. and Mr. Met- wold Gray son, Chicago, 111. There is chivalry for you. Fire Proof Mr. Blobkins I m afraid this desk is in secure. It contains all of my securities. Sup pose it should be consumed by fire while we are away? Mrs. Blobkins Impossible! You told me yourself this morning that all your stocks and bonds are watered. 569 Tlic Bow-Legged Ghost Rather Personal IN A small town in the rural part of England there is a ritualistic Episcopal Church which has the reputation of beiug almost Roman Catholic in its form of worship. It is called St. Mary s. A wag once attended the service and was so much impressed that after coming out he tacked upon the door a card bearing the inscription: "St. Mary s Junction. Change cars for Rome." A Logical Deduction A SALVATION Army girl was offering the War Cry for sale, scarcely ten minutes after it was off the press. " War Cry, sir? " "Thanks, I bought one, read it through, and gave it to a friend," said the sporty man whom she had accosted. The Salvation Army lassie gave him an incredulous smile, as she said: "You must read by electricity." A Mighty Problem What Could the Poor Teacher Say ? Ax EAST side boy, on being asked by his teacher to name the principal parts of man, made this answer : Man is divided into three parts de head, de limbs, and de trunk. De head contains de brains, de limbs contain de muscles, and de trunk contains de bowels, which is composed of a, e, i, o, u, and some times y. A Mighty Problem A PSEUDO scientific authority asserts that the average immigrant, when he lands at Ellis Island, has on his person an ulster, an overcoat, two undercoats, five waistcoats, three shirts, and two undershirts, a pair of overalls, two pairs of trousers, and six hundred and seventy-five thousand two hundred and ninety-one fleas. Two thousand of these immigrants landed the other day. Now get out your slate and multiply it all up, and see how many second-hand clothing stores and dogs they would furnish. The Bow-Legged Ghost Doubting His Diagnosis Doctor You say yon swallow the seeds when you eat grapes? Mrs. Hartburn Always. Doctor Then I fear yours is a case of ap pendicitis. Mrs. Hartburn Oh no, doctor, I m not fashionable enough to have that. A Trophy of the Chase IN DESCENDING a grand staircase the other evening at a swell reception, a well-known society woman dropped one of her richly em broidered slippers. A young rake, who was following close at her heels, picked it up, and, after gazing admiringly at it for a moment, ardently pressed it to his lips and then offered to adjust it to her dainty foot. The lady turned away contemptuously and, going to the hostess, borrowed a pair of the latter s slippers to wear during the rest of the evening. Not apparently fazed in the least, the wayward young man pocketed the slipper and it is now in his room among other less chaste souvenirs. Disappointed in Love Ax ELDERLY bachelor, whose apartments are in one of the largest uptown flat houses, has for his sole companion a tame white mouse. He enjoys an income of about $20,000 a year. A friend of his informed me the other day that several years ago Mr. H - was disappointed in a love affair. But strangely enough, the lady is still single and occasionally pays him a visit with her niece, who acts in the guileless capacity of a chaperon. Mr. H - has been tempted several times to forget his disappoint ment, whatever it is, and lead his patient old dame to the altar, but he somehow manages to desist. * Rumley Behold ! there s a messenger boy who is actually running. Joblotte Oh, that s nothing. He s off duty. Tubbs Charlie Walters has left the law and is now a waiter at Del s. Goutley He s gone in for bigger fees, eh? 573 Tlic Bow-Legged Ghost Astor Van Tassel Cholly, I ve got an idea, b Jove. De Puyster Don t try to grapple with it. What s the use of getting all tired out for nothing? Mrs. Ludgate I believe Doctor Killum is celebrated for his patience in ministering to the sick. Judge Ruffum Yes, he has to be cele brated for his patients, as they do not live long enough under his treatment to acquire celebrity for themselves. A Business Matter Fibbles Phil Armour, of Chicago, wants as many Chinese in the United States as will come. Tibbies Why? Fibbles Because he can make a neat profit on pig tails sold to baldheaded Chinamen. 574 An Antique Epidemic On the Way to the Bridge She I hear a man preaching in that build ing. Let s wait until he finishes and then ask him to marry us. He Let us go on to Brooklyn that is an auctioneer s voice. An Antique Epidemic SOME of our positive-minded young women who are aspiring to pose as reformers might find a field for the exercise of their talents in organizing an Anti-Crinoline So ciety. They might not be able to stem the sounding tide that is bearing rapidly towards us a full cargo of "Hoops," but it seems as though their arguments and pleadings might in some measure influence their weaker sisters, who so abjectly follow the decrees of autocratic Dame Fashion. It is horrible to learn that Crinoline is "coming in," to what extent we know not, and it fills the mascu line heart with a nameless alarm the mere thought of the old-style "Hoops" of our grandmothers. Ladies, our emotions only allow us to say : "Don t ! Please, don t !" 575 The Bow-Legged Ghost Reason Enough "Why did you leave the Watsons, Brid get?" "An sure they didn t have a peanny in the house, and Mrs. Watson s dresses are ould as the hills ; an thin she niver goes out ony- way. An Apt Quotation " Hansom is as hansom does," as the wag gish policeman remarked to an inebriated cabby whom he was conducting to the station house. * Lost Miss Whirls/are (of Chicago) Now, if you were in my shoes, what would you do ? Miss Wonder (of New York) H m, I think I d get out a search warrant for myself. 576 A Seat in the Front Row A Seat in the Front Row THE Khedive of Egypt has sent to Paris for a ballet corps, to be composed of beauti ful females not under fifteen or over thirty years of age. This is the first intimation civilization has had that the Khedive was really getting bald. * THE situation in Europe is certainly getting ominous. There was one day within a \veek when the papers printed no rumors of war from there. * Miss Twining Look, Mabel, at Mr. Sprinks, the poet. Don t his trousers bag at the knees? Miss Critmogg Yes, but just think, Clara, what a great mind he has. A GOOD patrolman ought to be able to go the pace without damage to his pocket, and there is every proof that the New York patrol man does. 37 577 The Boiv-Lcgged Ghost Sobkins I heard a fellow get off a good thing this morning, but for the life of me I can t think what it was. Hobbs It must have been good, then, for if it had been bad you would have been sure to remember it. His Presence of Mind She Is it true that occasionally you paint e town red? He Yes ; but only in water colors. j the town red? //*_ Versatility \yith a Vengeance Miss Twitters - et me see, you are a farmer, are you ndt? Mr. Kofman I smarted to be, but the soil was so cluttered with rocks as to render agri- cv^lture too expensive, so I turned my atten- tion^io. geology, and now hope to make some important discoveries before long. 578 A Facial Only by Marriage Mr. Boggs (of Chicago) Who is that elderly looking woman over there talking to Judge Sharply? Mr. Soggs (of the same place) Why, that is the widow Staggers. You remember, she was my third wife, and your first wife s mother. Mr. Boggs Oh, yes, I remember now. Blmky I am informed that Harkens is going on the stage. Kidkins And only the other day he was talking about his horror of paresis. A Facial Failing Pugilist 1 s Second Don t be afraid, old fel low ; keep a stiff upper lip. Pugilist I can t; the brute has knocked all of my front teeth out. 579 The Bow-Legged Ghost A Teutonic Project SELLING music by weight is not a bad idea which has recently been introduced in Ger many, and which promises to meet with con siderable success. Of course, as in all innovations, objections will be offered to the idea, but with a judi cious scaling of prices, these may be met and satisfied. At first the purchasers of light operatic music, songs, dance music, etc., will have a pull in the weights, so to speak, but their advantage will be only temporary, as it would be manifestly unfair to continue to retail Wagner and Beethoven at the same rate per pound as Donizetti and Strauss. Mental Confusion Farmer Dadage \Val, L/unky, what do you rec lect best of seein down to New York? Lunky (Just home from his first metropoli tan visit) The statue of Poverty scarin the world, hold in in her right hand the Decla- pendence of Indignation. 580 He Kept His Promise AT A Fad Party every one was supposed to wear something indicating his or her latest fad. One woman came, wearing a little bag full of small stones and written on it, "Just plain D s. " No one could guess what it signified ; so she said she would tell those present the story. A man one time wanted to play golf very much and his wife objected on the ground that it led to profanity. But finally she con sented to his participating in the game, pro vided he would put in his pockets a stone for every " cuss word " he used. That night he came home staggering under a load of stones and said to his wife : "In this pocket are the G d s ; in this one the H s ; and a man is coming with a whole bag full of just plain d s. The party was at a minister s house, and the pastor himself laughed heartily. 581 A 000 088 695 2