FROM 
 
 PILLAR 
 
 POST 
 
 JOHN 
 
 KENDRICK 
 
 BANGS
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 \y
 
 FROM PILLAR TO POST
 
 "I shall have to borrow some of your 
 manly courage to carry me through.'
 
 FROM PILLAR TO POST 
 
 LEAVES FROM A LECTURER'S NOTE-BOOK 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN KENDRICK BANGS 
 
 Author of "The HouaE-BoAX on the Styx," Etc. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 JNO. R. NEILL 
 
 t«««v^»A»^ 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE CENTURY CO. 
 
 1917
 
 Copyright, 1916, by 
 The Century Co. 
 
 Copyright, 1915, by 
 Associated Sunday Magazines Incorporated 
 
 Published, March, 1916
 
 r.. 
 
 TO 
 
 THAT WISE COUNSELLOR 
 
 AND STERLING FRIEND 
 
 J. HENRY HARPER 
 
 6331G4
 
 PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 I could not let these random notes of a delight- 
 ful experience go forth into the world without ex- 
 pressing in some way my deep appreciation of the 
 valued services rendered me in my ten years of 
 platform work by my friends of the Lyceum Bu- 
 reaus. In office and in the field they have labored 
 strenuously, often affectionately, and always loy- 
 ally, on my behalf. But for their interest some of 
 the most cherished experiences of my life would 
 have been beyond my reach. If sometimes in 
 their zeal to keep me busy they have booked me in 
 Winnipeg on Monday night, in New Orleans on 
 Tuesday night, with little side-trips to San Diego, 
 California, and Presque Isle, Maine, on Wednes- 
 day and Thursday, not to mention grand finales 
 at Omaha and Key West on Friday and Saturday, 
 I view that sequence rather as a tribute to my agil- 
 ity than as a matter to be unduly captious about. 
 It is a manifestation of a confidence in my powers 
 to overcome the limitations of time and space that 
 I think upon with an expanding head, if not with
 
 Prefatory Note 
 
 a swelling heart, and whether this required anni- 
 hilation of distance has been wholly agreeable or 
 not it has enabled me to see more of my own coun- 
 try than I otherwise could have seen, and to that 
 extent, I hope, has made a better American of me. 
 
 Wherefore before beginning our ramble from 
 Pillar to Post I record here in testimony of my 
 gratitude to them the names of Arthur C. Coit, and 
 Louis J. Alber, of the Coit Lyceum Bureau of 
 Cleveland, Ohio ; of Frank A. Morgan, of the Mu- 
 tual Lyceum Bureau, of Chicago ; of Kenneth M. 
 White, of the White Entertainment Bureau of 
 Boston ; of S. Russell Bridges, of the Alkahest Ly- 
 ceum System of Atlanta, Georgia ; of J. B. Pond, 
 Jr., and that tried friend both in the Lyceum field 
 and out of it, William C. Glass, of the J. B. Pond 
 Lyceum Bureau of New York. 
 
 Thanks are due to the publishers of Every Week 
 for courtesies extended, and finally I desire to 
 inscribe a word of affectionate esteem for my 
 friends, J. Thomson Willing, and that inspiring 
 editorial guide and mentor, William A. Taylor, of 
 the Associated Sunday Magazines, under whose 
 genial direction these papers were first presented 
 to the public. jQjjj^ Kendrick Bangs.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 I GETTING USED TO IT 3 
 
 II SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY 23 
 
 III GETTING THE LEVEL 40 
 
 IV THE GOOD SAMARITAN 61 
 
 V A VAGRANT POET 83 
 
 VI BACK-HANDED COMPLIMENTS 98 
 
 VII FRIENDS OF THE ROAD 116 
 
 VIII CHAIRMEN I HAVE MET 134 
 
 IX CHANCE ACQUAINTANCES 155 
 
 X HUMORS OF THE ROAD . ., 175 
 
 XI MINE HOST 196 
 
 XII PERILS OP THE PLATFORM 220 
 
 XIII EMBARRASSING MOMENTS 243 
 
 XIV "SLINGS AND ARROWS" 266 
 
 XV EMERGENCIES 290 
 
 XVI A PIONEER MANAGER 318
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " I shall have to borrow some of your manly courage 
 to carry me through " , Frontispiece 
 
 " It was indeed a pretty sight to me ! " 21 
 
 " Yes, and you are fifty years behind us in every other 
 
 respect!" 28 
 
 I knew that I had met a " Southern Gentleman " . .31 
 "The consciously superior person cannot last long on 
 
 the lecture platform " 43 
 
 " If there 's anything you want to know about Darwin's 
 
 Origin of Species, you ask me ! " 60 
 
 " I cannot say that his first remark was wholly cordial " 70 
 " I 'm an Ohio man, and I '11 cash the check for you on 
 
 your looks " 'i 9 
 
 In the last stages of poverty 85 
 
 " Suffering Centipedes ! " he cried. " That man must 
 
 have been brought up on the bottle ! " . . . .93 
 
 " The lecturer must deliver the goods ! " 100 
 
 " They may ' go to sleep in his face '" 103 
 
 "I have been after 'em, suh; but it ain't no use" . . 122 
 " These men on the engines are great characters " . . 130 
 " Pile it on so thick that the lecturer has to struggle 
 
 hard to make good" 136 
 
 "The last I saw of my kindly host" 145
 
 List of Illustrations 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " When he got through I could have qualified for a 
 
 college degree on the subject of straw hats" . . 162 
 
 " She ast me was you so very comical," said he . . . 171 
 "If yo 're dealin' in brains, hit ain't likely yo' got 
 enough to gib any away " 185 
 
 " A Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Locomo- 
 tives would have had them indicted then and there" 191 
 
 " If it were possible to sweep a room clean with a 
 
 welcoming wave of the hand — " 199 
 
 " Cannot sleep comfortably between the sheets of 
 William James's pragmatic philosophy, dry as 
 they are" 202 
 
 " If he had shifted his chewing gum to the other side, 
 
 we should have plunged into the river " . . . . 227 
 
 " Laughter where tears would have been more appro- 
 priate" 239 
 
 " I found the building wholly dark " 24.7 
 
 " But what was the point of this little joke last night? " 264 
 " My grinning countenance stared back at me unflinch- 
 ingly" 276 
 
 " I was the sudden recipient of a blow on top of my 
 head" 283 
 
 " A craving to settle lingering doubts as to my right 
 to be there" 298
 
 FROM PILLAR TO POST
 
 FROM PILLAR TO POST 
 
 GETTING USED TO IT 
 
 «T CANNOT imagine a more disagreeable way 
 4. of qualifying for the income tax," said one of 
 America's most noted after-dinner speakers to me 
 when at a chance meeting he and I were discussing 
 the joys and woes of the lecture platform. I must 
 admit that in a way I sympathized with him ; for 
 I knew something of the sufferings endured for 
 days and nights prior to one's own public appear- 
 ance as an after-dinner or platform speaker. 
 
 There was a time many years ago, upon which 
 I look back with wonder that I ever came through 
 it without nervous prostration, when I suffered 
 those selfsame mental agonies as the hour ap- 
 proached for the fulfilment of one of those rash 
 promises which men fond of the sound of their 
 
 S
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 own voices make months in advance to those subtle 
 flatterers wlio would lure them from the easy soli- 
 tudes of silence into the uneasy limelight of after- 
 dinner oratory. Not without reason has a certain 
 wit, whose name is unfortunately lost to fame, re- 
 ferred to the chairs behind the guest table on the 
 raised platform at revelries of this nature as " The 
 Scats of the Mighty and Miserable." 
 
 These sufferings involve a loss of appetite for 
 days in advance of the event ; a complete derange- 
 ment of the nervous system, with no chance of re- 
 covery for at least ten days preceding the emer- 
 gent hour, since sleep either refuses to come to 
 one's relief altogether, or coming brings in its train 
 a species of nerve-racking dream which leaves the 
 last estate of the weary slumberer worse than the 
 first. The complication is far more difficult to 
 handle than that involved in the maturity of a 
 promissory note which one is unable to meet; for 
 there are conditions under which a tender-hearted 
 creditor will permit a renewal of the latter sort 
 of obligation, and this thought provides some sort 
 of rift in the cloud of a debtor's despair. 
 
 But in the matter of public speaking there is no 
 such comforting possibility. Nothing short of 
 
 4
 
 Getting Used to It 
 
 inglorious flight, painful accident, or serious ill- 
 ness, can save the signer of that promissory note 
 for twenty-five hundred personally conducted after- 
 dinner words from being called upon to pay in full 
 the moment the note falls due. He can't even 
 plead to be permitted the payment of one para- 
 graph on account, and the balance in thirty days. 
 
 The contract can neither be evaded, postponed, 
 nor sublet. It is then or never with him, and while 
 no great harm would come to the world if ninety- 
 nine and seven-eighths per cent, of the after-dinner 
 speeches of the ages had gone unspoken, no man 
 of the right, forward-looking, upstanding sort, 
 whether his speeches be good, bad, or, like the most 
 of them, merely indifferent, may wilfully or com- 
 fortably permit a promise of that nature to go to 
 protest. 
 
 Yes, I sympathized with that excellent gentle- 
 man. I have known him to take to his bed three 
 days before the ordeal, tremblingly approach the 
 banquet board, rise to his feet, his nerves taut as a 
 G string, his knees quaking in the merciful seclusion 
 of the regions under the table, and then, with 
 hardly a glimmering of consciousness of what he 
 was doing or saying, his whole being thrilled with 
 
 5
 
 F?^om Pillar to Post 
 
 terror, acquit himself brilliantly, to return home 
 at the conclusion of his trial physically and nerv- 
 ously prostrated. 
 
 One of the happiest recollections of my platform 
 work, nevertheless, had to do with just such a shiv- 
 ering, quivering condition. It was many years ago 
 — back in the mid-'90's of the last century, that 
 so-called crazy end-of-the-century period, which 
 inspired Max Nordau's depressing treatise on De- 
 generacy, and yet now seems so gloriously sane in 
 contrast to what is going on in the world at the 
 present time. 
 
 In some mysterious fashion I had succeeded in 
 writing what the literary world is pleased to term 
 a " best seller," and was in consequence enjoying 
 a taste of that notoriety which inexperienced youth 
 so often confounds with immortality. One result 
 was a tolerably persistent demand that I exhibit 
 myself at one of those then popular functions 
 known as Authors' Readings. This was a form 
 of entertainment almost as barbarically cruel as 
 those ancient ceremonies in which Christian mar- 
 tyrs were thrown into an arena to demonstrate 
 their powers In combatting irritated tigers, and 
 
 6
 
 Getting Used to It 
 
 such other blood-thirsty beasts of the jungle as the 
 ingenious fancy of the management might suggest. 
 It was, in a manner of speaking, a sort of Lit- 
 erary Hagenbeck Show, whither the curious among 
 the readers of the day were lured in sweet Char- 
 ity's name by the promise of a personal perform- 
 ance by real literary lions, with an occasional wild 
 goose or two wearing temporarily the gorgeous 
 plumage of the Birds of Parnassus, thrown in to 
 make the program longer. 
 
 Invited to take part in one of these affairs, and 
 feeling that for posterity's sake it was my duty 
 to rivet my firm grasp upon Fame by keeping 
 such company as my remotest great-grandchild 
 could wish to have me known by, I carelessly ac- 
 cepted as if it were easy to comply, and all in 
 the day's work of a new sun dawning upon the 
 horizon of letters. 
 
 But when the fateful evening arrived a " change 
 came o'er the spirit of my dream." Two dread 
 situations arose which bade fair to drive me either 
 into the nearest sanatorium, or to the obscurity of 
 the deepest available jungle. Had I yielded to my 
 immediate impulse, I should have flown as far afield 
 as the Virginia negro who, upon being advised to 
 
 7
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 leave town lest he suffer certain extreme penalties 
 for his misdeeds, replied that he was " gwine, an' 
 gwine so fur it '11 cost nine dollars to send a postal 
 card back." 
 
 On one side of the curtain at the great metro- 
 politan hall where the Readings were to be held sat 
 nearly three thousand hungry readers, waiting to 
 see six unhappy authors prove whether or no they 
 could read their own productions and survive ; and 
 on the other side of the curtain were five real Im- 
 mortals and my sorely agitated self. My fellow 
 sufferers that night were Dr. Silas Weir Mitchell, 
 Dr. Henry Van Dyke, William Dean Howells, the 
 lamented Frank R. Stockton, and the ever unfor- 
 gettable Mrs. Julia Ward Howe. 
 
 It was rather godlike company for a mere mor- 
 tal like myself, and as I gazed upon them I real- 
 ized, perhaps for the first time, the magnificent dis- 
 tances that lie between Yonkers-on-Hudson and 
 Parnassus-by-Helicon. Frozen from heel to toe 
 by the thought of having to appear before so vast 
 and critical an audience, the complete refrigeration 
 of my nervous system was accomplished by the 
 thought of even temporary association with those 
 fixed stars in the firmament of American Letters. 
 
 8
 
 Getting Used to It 
 
 Instead of a burning torch on the heights of Olym- 
 pus, I felt myself more of a possible cinder in the 
 public eye. One might be willing to appear before 
 a Court of Literary Justice in the company of any 
 one of them, but to assume equality with five such 
 household words all at once, and especially before 
 an audience many of whose members had from time 
 immemorial known me as " Johnny " — well, to 
 speak with frankness, it got on my nerves. 
 
 My condition was like that foreshadowed by a 
 good old neighbor of mine up on the coast of 
 Maine, who when I asked him one morning if he 
 ever felt nervous when the thunder was roaring, 
 and the lightning was striking viciously, replied, 
 " No, I hain't never felt nervous : / 'm jest plain 
 dam sTieert to death! " If the exits from the 
 stage had not been guarded, I should have fled ; 
 but there was no escape, and while I awaited my 
 turn to go out upon the platform I paced the back 
 of the stage, concealed from the public gaze by a 
 drop scene, shaking from head to foot with a nerv- 
 ous chill. I can scarcely even now bring myself 
 to believe that there was a seismograph anywhere 
 between the northern and southern poles so callous 
 as to fail to register my vibrations. 
 
 9
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 It became evident as the moment approached 
 that I should be utterly unable to go out upon the 
 platform and do anything but dance: not after 
 the graceful manner of Mr. and Mrs. Vernon 
 Castle, but of Saint Vitus himself. To have held 
 a book, even so light a one as my own, in my 
 shaking hand would have been physically impossi- 
 ble, and then, just as I was about to seek out the 
 chairman of the committee of arrangements, and 
 plead a sudden stroke of some sort, I felt a 
 womanly arm thrust through my own, and a soft 
 white hand was laid gently and soothingly upon my 
 wrist. I glanced to my side, and there stood Mrs. 
 Julia Ward Howe, her lovely eyes full of sympa- 
 thy, touched with a joyous reassuring twinkle. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Bangs," said she, with a slight catch 
 and tremor in her voice, *' do you know I am so 
 nervous about going out before all those people to- 
 night that I really believe I shall have to borrow 
 some of your manly courage and strength to carry 
 me through ! " 
 
 A marvelous transformation of nervous attitude 
 was the immediate result, a determination to rush 
 to the aid of a lady flying a signal of distress sum- 
 moning all my latent courage to her cause. A 
 
 10
 
 Getting Used to It 
 
 realization of the lovely tactfulness of her ap- 
 proach and its true significance, and the prompt 
 response of my sense of humor, not yet quite dead, 
 to the exact facts of the situation, made a man 
 of me for the time being — a man who would dare 
 the undarable, attempt the unattainable, and if 
 need be, as the eloquent African preacher once 
 observed, " onscrew the onscrutable." Nervous- 
 ness, cowardice, muscular vibrations, and all dis- 
 appeared like the mists of the night before the 
 radiance of the dawn in the face of that gracious 
 woman's tactful humor, and later on I went forth 
 to my doom so brazenly, and smiling so confidently, 
 that one critic in the next morning's newspaper 
 intimated without much subtlety of phrasing that 
 I enjoyed myself far more than my audience did. 
 It would be too much to say that Mrs. Howe's 
 timely intervention on my behalf effected a per- 
 manent cure of my nervousness in platform work ; 
 but it has helped me much to overcome it ; for many 
 a time since, when through sheer weariness, or 
 for some purely psychological reason, I have ap- 
 proached my work with uneasy forebodings, the 
 memory of that delightful incident has come back 
 to me, and I have invariably found relief from my 
 
 11
 
 Frojii Pillar to Post 
 
 fears in the smile which it never fails to bring 
 to my lips, and to my spirit as well. 
 
 I do not know that it would be a good thing 
 for any public speaker ever to approach the emer- 
 gent hour with entire assurance and utterly cal- 
 loused nerves. Such a condition might well be- 
 speak an indifference to the work in hand which 
 would result either in a purely mechanical delivery, 
 or one so careless as to destroy the effect of the 
 lecturer's most valuable asset — a sympathetic 
 personality. I recall far back in my college days, 
 in the early '80's of the last century, meeting at 
 one of my fraternity conventions that inspiring 
 publicist, the late Senator Frye of Maine. In the 
 course of a pleasant chat, having myself to ap- 
 pear before the convention with a committee report 
 the following morning, and feeling a trifle uncer- 
 tain as to how I was going to " come through," 
 I asked the senator if he was ever a victim to 
 nervousness when making a public address, and his 
 answer was very suggestive. 
 
 " Always, my lad," said he, " always ! I have 
 been making public speeches off and on now for 
 twenty-five or thirty years, and even to-day when 
 I rise up to speak in the United States Senate, 
 
 12
 
 Getting Used to It 
 
 or on the stump, my knees shake a little under 
 me. And I 'm glad they do, Son," he went on sig- 
 nificantly ; " for if they did n't, I should begin to 
 feel that the days of my usefulness were over, for 
 it would mean that I really did n't care whether 
 I got through safely or not." 
 
 So it was that up to a certain point I sympa- 
 thized with my friend the distinguished after-din- 
 ner speaker when he intimated that the lecture plat- 
 form was no bed of roses. For one of his nerv- 
 ous organization and temperament it would be 
 impossible. It would make a nervous wreck of 
 him in a short while, and in the end would shorten 
 his life, even as it has shortened the span of many 
 another robust spirit; such as the late Alfred 
 Tennyson Dickens, for instance, who in very truth 
 succumbed to the exactions of travel and of a 
 lovely hospitality that he knew not how to resist. 
 
 But for myself there is so much in the work 
 that is inspiring, so much that is pleasing in the 
 human relationships it makes possible, that but for 
 the discomforts of travel I could really feed upon 
 it spiritually, and seek no happier diet. I defy 
 any man to be a pessimist on the subject of Ameri- 
 can character after a season or two on the lecture 
 
 13
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 platform ; provided of course that he is a reason- 
 ably sympathetic man, and is so constituted in 
 matters social that he is what the politicians call 
 a " good mixer." 
 
 To the man who is not interested in the human 
 animal, and insists upon judging all men by his 
 own rigid and narrow standards, measuring souls 
 by a yardstick, as it were, the work can never be 
 a joy; but if he is broad enough to take people 
 as he finds them, looking for the good that lies 
 inherent in every human being, and judging them 
 by the measure of their capacity to become what 
 they were designed to be, and are honestly trying 
 to be, then he will find it full of a living and a 
 loving interest almost equal to that of the "joy 
 forever." 
 
 Pasted in my spiritual hat is a little rime by one 
 whose name modesty forbids my mentioning, run- 
 ning: 
 
 I can't be what Shakespeare was, 
 I can't do what great folks does; 
 But, by Ginger, I can be 
 
 ME! 
 And among the folks that love me 
 Nothin' more 's expected of me. 
 
 14
 
 Getting Used to It 
 
 The wandering platform speaker who will heed 
 the intimations of that little rime, and seize the 
 friendships in kind that surely await his coming 
 in all parts of this great, genial country of ours, 
 will find a wondrous store of happiness ready to 
 his hand. If in addition to this he will cultivate 
 the habit of looking for good in unpromising 
 places, and of resolutely refusing to admit the 
 power of small irritations to destroy his peace 
 of mind, he will get along nicely. The latter of 
 course requires resolution of a kind that is per- 
 sistent in the face of unremitting annoyances. To 
 say that these annoyances do not exist would be 
 idle ; but not half so idle as the act of giving them 
 controlling importance in the making or the un- 
 making of a day's happiness. 
 
 The sooner one who travels the Platform Path 
 learns to suspend judgment as to his fellow beings, 
 and to suspect the fallacy of the obvious, the bet- 
 ter it will be for him, and for his personal comfort. 
 The first conspicuous lesson I had in this particu- 
 lar was out in Arizona on my first extended tour 
 in our wonderful West in 1906. I found myself 
 one afternoon on my way from Los Angeles to 
 Phoenix. After having satisfied the inner man 
 
 15
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 with an excellent Fred Harvey luncheon — an edi- 
 ble oasis always in a desert of indigestibility — I 
 had retired to the smoking car for that spiritual 
 refreshment which comes from watching the smoke 
 wreaths curl upward from the end of a good cigar. 
 
 Unhappily for the quality of that refreshment, 
 I was no sooner seated in the smoking room that 
 I perceived that I was surrounded by men who, 
 judging by surface indications, were hopeless vul- 
 garians. Among them were three especially whose 
 conversation was even lower than their brows. I 
 think I can best describe their conversation by 
 saying that in all probability Boccaccio's lady 
 companions out Fiesole way, at the time of the 
 plague that drove the Florentine Four Hundred 
 beyond the city limits, would have fled blushingly 
 before it, taking refuge by preference in the pure, 
 undefiled Rolloisms of the Decameron itself; while 
 poor old Rabelais, not always a master of reticence 
 in things better left unsaid, would, I am sure, have 
 joined a literary branch of the I. W. W. in sheer 
 rebellion, rather than sully the refinement of his 
 pen by taking down any part of it. 
 
 One has to listen to a great deal of this sort of 
 thing en route, and pending the discovery of some 
 
 16
 
 Getting Used to It 
 
 kind of vocal silencer that shall render such com- 
 munications as noiseless as they are corrupting to 
 good manners, or a portable muffler which the un- 
 willing listener may place over his ears, the wan- 
 dering platform performer who has not yet 
 reached a point where he can give up his cigar and 
 be happy must needs endure them. Indeed he is 
 doing well if he is not lured into a shamefacd en- 
 joyment of such talk ; for it must be admitted that 
 some of the traveling companions one meets thus 
 by chance have rare powers as story-tellers, and 
 pour forth at times most objectionable periods 
 with a smiling enthusiasm almost fetching enough 
 to tempt a Simeon Stylites down from the top of 
 his pillar into the lower regions of their alluring 
 good fellowship. 
 
 Neither a prig nor a prude am I; but on this 
 particular occasion the gross results of the con- 
 versation were so very gross as to preclude the 
 possibility of there being any " net proceeds " of 
 value, and I fled. 
 
 On returning to my place in the sleeper I no- 
 ticed in the section directly across the aisle a hand- 
 some Englishwoman, traveling with no other com- 
 panion than a little daughter, a child of about 
 
 17
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 three and a half years of happy, bubbling youth. 
 The little one was seated on her mother's lap, and 
 was enjoying a " let 's pretend " drive across coun- 
 try, using the maternal lorgnette chain in lieu 
 of the ribbons wherewith to guide her imaginary 
 steeds. 
 
 An hour passed, when a boisterous laugh from 
 the rear of the car indicated the approach of the 
 three barbarians of the smoker, who to my disgust 
 a moment later settled themselves in the section 
 directly in front of mine, and to my dismay began 
 apparently to take a greater interest in the lady 
 across the aisle than the ordinary usages of polite 
 human intercourse warranted, lacking a formal 
 introduction. 
 
 I have never posed as a Squire of Dames, and 
 I have a wholesome distaste for such troubles as 
 an unseeing eye enables a man to avoid ; but the 
 intrusion of these Goths, not to say Vandals, upon 
 the lady's right to travel unmolested was so ob- 
 vious that I could n't help seeing and inwardly re- 
 senting it. The woman herself treated the situa- 
 tion with becoming coolness and dignity, showing 
 only by a slight change of color, and now and then 
 a vexed biting of the lips, that she noticed it at all ; 
 
 18
 
 Getting Used to It 
 
 but the cooler she became the more strenuous be- 
 came the efforts of the barbarians to " scrape an 
 acquaintance." 
 
 I held an inward debate with myself as to my 
 duty in the premises. I did not care to get into 
 a row ; but the ogling soon became so pronounced 
 that it really seemed necessary to interfere. I 
 reached out my hand to ring for such reinforce- 
 ments as the porter and the conductor might be 
 able to bring to our assistance, when to ray aston- 
 ishment the worst offender of the three rose from 
 his seat, and stepped quickly to the lady's side — 
 and then there was revealed to me the marvelous 
 wisdom of the old injunction, " Judge not, that ye 
 be not judged " ; for the supposed ruffian, whom 
 I would a moment before have willingly, and with 
 seeming justification, thrown bodily from the train, 
 with the manner of a Chesterfield in the rough 
 lifted his hat and spoke. 
 
 " You will excuse me for speaking to you, 
 ma'am," he said, and there was a wistful smile on 
 his lips and a tenderness in his eye worthy of a 
 seemingly better cause, " but I 'm — I 'm what 
 they call a drummer, a traveling man, and I 've 
 been away from home for three months. I 've got 
 
 19
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 a little girl of my own at home about the same 
 age as this kid of yours, and I tell you, ma'am, 
 you 'd ease off an awful case of homesickness if 
 you 'd let me play with the little lady just for a 
 few minutes." 
 
 The mother's heart seemed to go right out to 
 him, as did mine also. She smiled graciously, and 
 handed over her little daughter to the tender 
 mercies of that group whose presence I had fled 
 only a short while before — and for the rest of the 
 afternoon that Pullman sleeper was transformed 
 into a particularly bright and joyous nursery that 
 echoed and reechoed to the merry laughter of 
 happy childhood. 
 
 If there is an animal of any kind in the zoos 
 of commerce that those men did not impersonate 
 during the next two or three hours I do not know 
 its name, the especially objectionable barbarian 
 transforming himself instantly on demand into an 
 elephant, a yak, a roaring lion, a tiger, or a leop- 
 ard changing its spots as actively as a flea, and 
 all with a graceful facility that Proteus himself 
 might well have envied. And later, when night fell, 
 and weariness came with it, in the dusk of the twi- 
 light it was indeed a pretty sight to me, and a 
 
 20
 
 Getting Used to It 
 
 sight that smote somewhat upon my conscience 
 for my over-read}^ contempt of the earher after- 
 noon, when my gaze fell upon the figure of an ex- 
 
 ' 'It was indeed 
 a pretty sight 
 to me ! ' ' 
 
 hausted drummer, his ej^es half-closed, sleepily 
 humming a tender lullaby to a tired little golden- 
 haired stranger who lay cuddled up in his arms, 
 fast asleep, with her head upon his breast. 
 
 I like to think that that little incident was a 
 
 21
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 valuable contribution to my education in the sci- 
 ence of brotherhood. It has not perhaps pro- 
 duced in my soul a larger tolerance of the in- 
 tolerable in casual conversation, but it has served 
 to warn me against the dangers of snap judgments, 
 and has certainly broadened my sympathies in 
 respect to my fellow man in my chance meetings 
 with him upon the highways and byways of life, 
 whence sometimes, in the loneliness of my wander- 
 ings, I have gathered much comfort, and reaped 
 harvests in friendliness which otherwise I might 
 have lost. 
 
 22
 
 II 
 
 SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY 
 
 IN traveling about the country, and especially 
 in the South, I have been impressed with the 
 wisdom of the character in Owen Wister's delight- 
 ful story of " The Virginian," who when another 
 man applied an unspeakable name to him leveled a 
 revolver in the speaker's face, and said, " When 
 you call me that, say it with a smile ! " (I quote 
 from memory.) A moment on the road is made 
 cheerful or difficult by the manner in which things 
 are said, and the wanderer's homesickness is either 
 relieved or deepened by the manner of a chance 
 remark, which brings cheer if it be smiling, and a 
 deeper sense of loneliness if it be otherwise. 
 
 Throughout the South I have never felt quite so 
 far away from home as in some parts of New 
 England less than a hundred miles from my own 
 rooftree, and I think that this is due largely to 
 the positive effort on the part of the average 
 
 23
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 Southern man or woman to maintain the tradi- 
 tional courtesy and hospitality of the South to- 
 ward the stranger within its gates. It is only 
 semi-occasionally that one finds in some sour-na- 
 tured relic of other days any other attitude than 
 that of smiling welcome, and even with the ther- 
 mometer ranging close to the zero mark I have 
 learned why the Southland is in spirit anyhow 
 the " Land of Roses." 
 
 It must be admitted, however, that when the de- 
 parture from the attitude of cordiality is made it 
 is done thoroughly, and with a sort of reckless 
 truculence which the wary traveler will be wise to 
 ascribe solely to its individual source. 
 
 In the winter and spring of 1913 there was a 
 great deal of work cut out for me in the Southern 
 territory, and during my travels there, which in- 
 volved the crossing and recrossing of every State 
 in the section except Kentucky, from the Atlantic 
 coast to the Mexican border, I encountered much 
 in the way of human experience that is delightful 
 to remember, and very little that I would rather 
 forget. It was upon this trip that two incidents 
 occurred which showed very clearly the difference 
 between a cutting retort smilingly administered 
 
 24
 
 Southern Hospitality 
 
 and that other kind of peculiarly rasping repartee, 
 born of a soured nature that has confirmed its 
 acid qualities by pickling itself in a mixture of 
 equal parts of gloomy self-sympathy over fancied 
 wrongs, and — well, not grape juice. 
 
 There is a kind of tonic dispensed in certain 
 of our prohibition States by licensed drugstores 
 and carried by suffering patients in small black 
 bottles, secreted in their hip pockets, like deadly 
 weapons — which indeed they are (whence, possi- 
 bly, we get the term " hipped " as descriptive of 
 the ailment of the sufferer) — which does not ex- 
 actly mellow the disposition of the consumer, what- 
 ever glow it may impart to his countenance. 
 
 One morning I found myself on my way from 
 Natchitoches, in Louisiana, a lovely survival of a 
 picturesque old French trading post, a perfect 
 home of roses, both human and floral, which will 
 ever remain a garden spot in my memory, to 
 Shreveport. It was in the middle of May, and the 
 whole country was a delight to the eye, with its 
 lovely greens and lush spring coloring. I was re- 
 turning from a lecture before the State Normal 
 School, and while sitting in the smoking car enjoy- 
 ing my weed was introduced to a gentleman (I 
 
 9.5
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 use the word carelessly, and without positive 
 conviction) whom everybody had been calling 
 " Judge." I am glad to say that I did not catch 
 his last name. I do not even know whether or 
 not he was really a judge, or, if he were, what he 
 was a judge of. He reminded me more of the 
 judges I have read of in fictional humor than any 
 I have ever seen on the bench, and from his general 
 attitude toward his fellows on the train I gained 
 a tolerably clean-cut impression that he tried his 
 " cases " in solitary state, rather than in that more 
 open fashion which is such a bad example to the 
 young, and productive of that ruinously extrava- 
 gant disease known as " treating." I may be do- 
 ing the man an injustice, but I am none the less 
 trying to sketch him as I saw him. He had the 
 manner and manners of the solitary reveler, and 
 the generally " oily," but not suave, quality of his 
 makeup confirmed my Impression that any love of 
 temperance he might manifest was purely academic, 
 or, as one of our leading statesmen might put it, 
 " largely psychological." Desirous of starting 
 things along pleasantly after my Introduction to 
 the judge, I remarked upon the marvelous beauty 
 of the country. 
 
 S6
 
 Southern Hospitality 
 
 " Everything is beautifully green about here," 
 I said. " It is a positive pleasure to look out on 
 those lovely fields." 
 
 " Glad you like 'em," said the judge, helping 
 himself to a generous mouthful of tobacco. 
 
 " Well, you see," said I, " I come from Maine, 
 Judge, and I am particularly fond of the spring, 
 and we don't get ours until late. I guess," I 
 added, " that in respect to that we are about a 
 month and a half behind you people down here." 
 
 " Yes," said he explosively, " and, hy God! you 
 are 'fifty years hehmd us in every other respect! " 
 
 It was a kindly and tactful remark, and I was 
 duly edified. If he had said it smilingly, I should 
 have been happier, and would have been inclined 
 to enter upon a half-hour of jovial banter on the 
 subject of the respective merits of our several 
 States ; but there was a truculent self-confidence 
 about his honor's " atmosphere " that foreshad- 
 owed little in the way of a satisfactory issue had 
 I ventured to carry the discussion further. I 
 simply withdrew within myself, like a turtle, fin- 
 ished my cigar in silence, and returned to my seat 
 in the chair car, convinced that in whatever line of 
 action the judge was really an expert — law, his- 
 
 27
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 torj, economics, or what-not — he at least knew 
 how to put a cork in a bottle, and jam it in so tight 
 that nothing could get out of it — I being the 
 bottle. 
 
 'Yes, and you are fifty years be- 
 hind us in every other respect 1" 
 
 As I sat for the rest of my journey in that chair 
 car my mind reverted to another incident that had 
 occurred two months earlier. The inviting causes 
 were similar ; but the party of the second part was 
 a very different sort of individual. The judgq 
 was said to be prosperous, the owner of many acres 
 
 28
 
 Southern Hospitality 
 
 of fertile sugar land, and had, or so I was in- 
 formed, a professional income of fifteen thousand 
 dollars a year. One would think he could have 
 afforded to be genial under such conditions. The 
 other was a man bent and broken under the stress 
 of his years and his trials, coming home, after a 
 lifetime of failure, to pass his remaining days, 
 manifestly few in number, amid the scenes of his 
 youth. What few locks were left him were gray, 
 and he limped painfully when he walked. He had 
 served on the Confederate side during the war, 
 and still carried with him the evidences of sacri- 
 fice. 
 
 I met him on the railway platform at a little 
 junction town in Southern Tennessee. I was en 
 route to a small college town in Upper Mississippi. 
 We had had a long and tedious wait upon the fast 
 decaying station platform, hoping almost against 
 hope that at least day before yesterday's train 
 would come along and pick us up, whatever might 
 be the fate of the special combination of wheezy 
 engine and spring-halted cars due that morning. 
 As I nervously paced the dragging hours away I 
 noticed this old fellow limping anxiously about, 
 making over and over again of everybody he met 
 
 29
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 the same inquiry as to the probable arrival or non- 
 arrival of our train ; and now and then he would 
 hobble with difficulty over to a small soap box, 
 with a slatted top, which stood just outside the 
 baggage room, in which there was imprisoned a 
 poor, shivering, and I fancy hungry, little fox ter- 
 rier, whining to be let out. 
 
 " Never mind, Bobby," the old man would 
 whisper through the slatted top of the box. 
 " 'Taint gwine to be much longer now. We '11 
 be home soon." 
 
 The kindly attitude of the old man toward the 
 unhappy little animal touched me more deeply than 
 his own poverty-stricken condition, and so, yield- 
 ing to a friendly impulse, I stood by him for a 
 moment and spoke to him. 
 
 " It 's a long wait," said I. 
 
 " Oh, well," he said cheerfully, straightening 
 himself up stiffly, " it 's so near the end I ain't 
 complainin'. I been waitin' fohty yeahs for this, 
 Brother." 
 
 " Forty years ? " I repeated. 
 
 " Yes, suh," he replied, " fohty long yeahs, suh. 
 I ain't been home since the end o' the wah, suh. 
 An' now I 'm comin' back, an' I reckon after I git 
 
 30
 
 Southern HosjntaliU/ 
 
 thar thar ain't a gwlne to be but one mo' journey, 
 suh, bcfo' I 'in through." 
 
 ^^-^i 
 
 I knew 
 that I had 
 met a 
 ^^ "Southern 
 Gentleman.' 
 
 " You mean — " I began. 
 
 " I 'm comin' home to die, suh," he said. " Not 
 that I 'm a gwine to be in any hurry to do it," 
 
 31
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 he added, with a winning smile, " but I 'ni tiahcd o' 
 wandcrin', an' what 's left o' my time hyah, suh, 
 '11 pass mo' pleasantly back among the old scenes." 
 
 I endeavored to cover up my emotions by offer- 
 ing the old man a cigar. 
 
 " I thank you, suh," he said, taking it. " I 'm 
 very fond of a good seegyar, though I don't git 
 'em any too often, suh. Are you a Tennessee man, 
 suh?" 
 
 " No," said I. " I come from Maine. That 's 
 a good way from here." 
 
 And then it came. The old fellow gave a great 
 chuckle, and reached out his hand and seized me 
 by mine. 
 
 " I want to shake your hand, suh," he said with 
 rare cordiality. " The last time I see a Maine 
 man, suh, was duriri' the wah, oiru I was chasin' 
 him with a gun. He was a darned good runner; 
 but I ketched him, an' I 'm glad I did, fo' he was 
 a dam sight better feller than he was a runner! " 
 
 I must confess that when later in the day I saw 
 the old gentleman get off the train in the midst 
 of a welcoming multitude of old friends, with his 
 battered old suitcase in one hand, and the slatted 
 soap box containing the yelping Bobby in the
 
 Southern Hospitality 
 
 other — all his earthly possessions — I was glad 
 to feel that he had come " home " ; and as he 
 waved a feeble but courteous adieu to me from 
 the platform as the train drew out I knew that I 
 had met a Southern gentleman of a peculiarly true 
 and lovable sort. 
 
 One finds much in these little jaunts in the 
 Southland to appeal to one's sense of humor; but 
 after all there is much more that appeals to one's 
 sympathies. I had the pleasure of riding once 
 in Louisiana on a train in company with an old 
 Confederate soldier, who made me as completely 
 his prisoner in the shackles of affectionate regard 
 as he might, because of his powerful build, have 
 made me a prisoner in fact had we met face to face 
 on the field of battle. He was a man of convic- 
 tions ; but he was always so thoroughly the hon- 
 est-hearted gentleman in presenting his points of 
 view that, although we differed radically upon al- 
 most every matter of present political interest, I 
 found for the moment, anyhow, a sweet reasonable- 
 ness in his principles. His manner was so calm, 
 and gracious, and transparently sincere, that I 
 found him wholly captivating. 
 
 His chance remark that he hoped to attend the 
 
 33
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 great Confederate reunion shortly to be held at 
 Chattanooga, or Chattanoogy, as he called it 
 (there is always a soft, caressing accent in the real 
 Southerner's discourse that changes a mere word 
 or name into a term of endearment), naturally 
 brought up a reference to the great conflict, 
 and I took a certain amount of human pleasure 
 out of the old man's present content with the 
 general situation, as shown in the naive state- 
 ment with which he began to talk on the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 " You know, suh," said he, " I feel pretty well 
 satisfied with the way things turned out, even 
 though at the time, suh, I did n't want 'em to turn 
 out just that a-way." 
 
 " We are undoubtedly stronger as a nation to- 
 day than if it had turned out differently," I 
 ventured. 
 
 " Yes, suh," he said. " If we 'd got away, suh, 
 it would n't ha' been long bcfo' the principle o' the 
 right o' secession havin' been established, we 'd all 
 ha' been secedin' from each othah, suh; and after 
 the States had done all the secedin' they could the 
 parishes would ha' begun secedin' from the States ; 
 an' the towns would ha' seceded from the parishes 
 
 34
 
 Southern Hospitality 
 
 — until the whole damn country would ha' landed 
 in Mexico ! " 
 
 " I never thought of it in that light before," 
 I smiled ; " but I guess you 're right." 
 
 " An' that ain't all, neither, suh," he went on. 
 " I 'd ha' felt a great sight worse about it if we 'd 
 been licked, suh. If we 'd been licked in that great 
 fight, suh, I don't think I 'd evah have got ovah 
 it, suh." 
 
 I maintained a discreet silence ; for I could not 
 but feel that I was on the verge of a great philo- 
 sophical discovery. 
 
 " When a fellah 's licked, suh," the old man went 
 on, " he just natcherly kain't help feelin' sore, suh ; 
 but if lie 's merely ovalipowaJied, suh — why that ^s 
 very different." 
 
 There may be minds to which that distinction 
 is too subtle to be either obvious or convincing; 
 but the more I have thought it over since the more 
 has it seemed to me to involve a profound philoso- 
 phy which would make the world happier were it 
 more widely accepted by those suffering from re- 
 verses of fortune. To me there was a whole sermon 
 in that brief utterance, and the difference between 
 being " licked " and being " merely overpowered " 
 
 35
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 has been one out of which I have derived no end 
 of comfort myself in hours of difficulty. To be 
 whipped is one thing; to be merely overcome is in- 
 deed another ! 
 
 Nor was the old man's kindly feeling concerning 
 the God of Things as They Are, as expressed in 
 words, mere lip service ; for in the course of our 
 morning's chat other things developed which I am 
 glad enough to put upon record for Northern eyes. 
 
 " I wish," said he, " that you might stay ovah 
 hyah at my home a day or two, suh, and let me 
 take you to one of our Post meetin's, suh. We 'd 
 make you more than welcome." 
 
 " Yank though I be, eh? " I laughed. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, suh," he replied. " We ain't got 
 anything against you on that score, suh. My first 
 meetin' with Yanks in a not strictly fightin' capac- 
 ity was once when a half a dozen of 'em took 
 me prisoner. I found myself surrounded by 'em 
 one day durin' the wah when I was doin' picket 
 duty, and the way they run me in was a caution, 
 suh. They bein' six to one, I just let on that I 
 was satisfied if they was." 
 
 " And what did they do to you ? " I asked. 
 
 " They near killed me, suh, with seegyars, and 
 
 36
 
 Southern Hospitality 
 
 mo' real food than I 'd seen in six months," ho said 
 with a chuckle. " The' was n't anything they had, 
 from plug tobacker and seegyars up to a real meat 
 dinner that I did n't git mo' 'n my faiah share 
 of." 
 
 " And how long did they keep you ? " I quer- 
 ied. 
 
 " Fo' as long as I was willin' to stay, suh," was 
 his reply. " The minute they see I was beginnin' 
 to feel oneasy they run me back to the line again, 
 and turned me loose. Speakin' about Yanks," he 
 went on, " we 've got five of 'em buried in our own 
 Confederate graveyard in the cemetery, suh; and 
 I 'm kind of afraid it won't be long befo' they 's 
 six of 'em. One of yo' old soldiers from up No'th 
 come down here f o' his health last year ; but he 's 
 gone down steadily, and I reckon it ain't for long 
 that he '11 be with us. When we heard he was an 
 old soldier our Post sent him to the hospital, and 
 he 's dyin' there now. He seemed to feel so bad 
 about the idee o' bein' buried in the Potter's Field 
 that we voted to give him a grave with the rest of 
 the boys, and when he goes he '11 lie with soldiers, 
 like he 's allers wanted to do." 
 
 I could not find any words in the languages 
 
 37
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 known to me, dead or alive, to express what I felt, 
 and so I kept silent. 
 
 " He won't be forgotten, neither, after he gits 
 there," the old fellow went on, " We have our 
 Memorial Day, just as you have your Decoration 
 Day, and every year we go up to the lot and deco- 
 rate the graves of 'em all, Yank or Johnny, just 
 the same. We put a little Confederate flag at the 
 head of every grave that holds one of our own ; 
 and every one o' them Yanks has a little flag at 
 the head of his grave too, only his is the flag he 
 fought for, just as ours is the flag we fought for. 
 It 's a pretty sight, my friend," he added softly, 
 " with them five little American flags flutterin* 
 away among the sixty or seventy others." 
 
 Verily this Southern hospitality is no vain thing, 
 no mere empty show, or ingratiating veneer to 
 make a spurious article seem real. Personal inter- 
 est may sometimes rest at the basis of a seeming 
 courtesy. Selfishness may lie often at the bottom 
 of a superficial graciousness of manner assumed 
 for the moment to conceal that very selfishness ; but 
 the hospitality that leads a body of old soldiers to 
 grant at their own cost, and to take care of with 
 their own loving hands, a green resting place, a 
 
 38
 
 Southern Hosintality 
 
 last sanctuary, for a former foe, that indeed is 
 an unselfish, genuine kind of hospitality which, like 
 the peace of God, passeth all understanding. 
 
 S9
 
 Ill 
 
 GETTING THE LEVEL 
 
 ONE of the more serious dangers confronting 
 the platform speaker is the presumption 
 that his audience will not prove sufficiently intelli- 
 gent to grasp him when he is at what he thinks is 
 his best. I use the word " presumption " advis- 
 edly ; for it is sheer presumption and nothing else, 
 and I may add that if my experience has taught 
 me anything, it is that it does not pay to be so 
 presuming. If there is trouble anywhere in " get- 
 ting one's stuff over," as the saying is, the fault 
 will be found in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred 
 to be with the lecturer, and not with his audience. 
 My most earnest advice to those platform speak- 
 ers who feel it necessary to " get down to the level " 
 of an audience, instead of feeling an inward urge 
 to climb up to it, is that they give up the platform 
 altogether, and take up some other occupation 
 where conscious superiority really counts ; say that 
 
 40
 
 Getting the Level 
 
 of head waiter in a New York restaurant, for in- 
 stance, or possibly that of Hterary critic on the 
 staff of a periodical, whose chief concern is pink 
 socks, lavender neckties, and the mysteries of lin- 
 gerie. In these occupations conscious superiority 
 is an essential of success ; but on the lecture plat- 
 form the consciously superior person cannot in the 
 very nature of things last very long: not in this 
 country, anyhow ; for, as I have studied the Ameri- 
 can people face to face for the past ten years in 
 every State of the Union, I have learned that their 
 capacity for pricking a bubble of pretense on sight 
 is surpassed only by their high appreciation of a 
 speaker who immediately gets into the atmosphere 
 of the special occasion confronting him. 
 
 For my own part, I have come to believe that 
 each occasion establishes its own " best," and that 
 the chief duty confronting me is to measure up to 
 the " best " demanded by that occasion if I can. 
 For this reason one's lecture should be a moder- 
 ately flexible affair, which can be so adjusted to 
 each and every occasion that it fits an audience as 
 nicely as a tailor-made garment. A lecture writ- 
 ten out beforehand and committed to memory can 
 never quite fulfil these requirements. It becomes 
 
 41
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 not a lecture, but an essay ; not platform work, 
 but literary work ; should be read, not heard ; and 
 in its delivery becomes not a sympathetic talk, man 
 to man, but a mere recitation. 
 
 No one would be so foolish as to deny, however, 
 that audiences do vary materially in their capacity 
 to take in the subtler points of a lecture " fired " 
 at them from the platform. I should not think of 
 using the same phrases in a talk before a gathering 
 in an East Side settlement house in New York 
 that I would use before the ladies of a Browning 
 Club in the vicinity of Boston, or before a body 
 of college professors, or vice versa. But if I were 
 fortunate enough to be asked to address all three, 
 I should endeavor to vary the wording of my dis- 
 course according to the several needs of each, and 
 base my notion of my " best " upon the demands 
 of those particular needs. I confess also that if 
 in one single audience all three classes of listeners 
 were represented, I should not hesitate to put my 
 thought into the language required by the capac- 
 ity of the East Siders to understand, and be fairly 
 assured of pleasing everybody ; for it is my obser- 
 vation of the ways of ladies addicted to Browning, 
 and of gentlemen of the academic kind, that they 
 
 42
 
 Getting the Level 
 
 are after all very human, and enjoy simplicity of 
 discourse quite as much as the other sort. 
 
 There is greater sincerity in *' playing to the 
 
 ^o 
 
 'The consciously superior 
 person cannot last long 
 on the lecture platform," 
 
 ^-9 K Heifct 
 
 gallery " than most of the critics of that habit 
 dream of, and personally I would rather fall short 
 of the expectations of the boxes than fail in the 
 eyes of the gallery, where reticence in the expres- 
 sion of critical opinion is not exactly a conspicu- 
 ous virtue. To put it more plainly, I should in- 
 
 43
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 finitely prefer the humiliation of seeing a highborn 
 lady falling asleep in an orchestra chair because 
 of the bromidic quality of my talk, than be re- 
 minded of the same by flying vegetable matter con- 
 signed to me by some dissatisfied individual sitting 
 up among the " gods." 
 
 An amusing, if somewhat radical, contrast in 
 audiences befell my lot several years ago in the 
 brief space of sixteen hours. In that time I suc- 
 cessively addressed the Harvard Union at Cam- 
 bridge on a Tuesday evening, and the ladies of a 
 Woman's Club in a Boston suburb the following 
 morning. The audience at the Union was gath- 
 ered in the wonderfully beautiful auditorium of 
 Memorial Hall, and contained not less than twelve 
 hundred particularly live wires, undergraduates 
 mostly, almost fresh from the football field, or at 
 least still under the influence of its system of ex- 
 pressing approval. 
 
 As I mounted the rostrum bedlam broke loose: 
 not necessarily as a tribute to myself, but because 
 frenzy is the modern collegiate way of making a 
 visitor feel welcome. Thunderous noises never yet 
 classified shook the rafters — noises ranging from 
 the hoarse clamor of an excited populace at the 
 
 44
 
 Getting the Level 
 
 finish of some great Olympian event, to the some- 
 what uncertain cackle of a freshman voice chang- 
 ing from soprano to bass. Pandemonium did not 
 reign: it poured. Not since I visited the London 
 Zoo and witnessed there a fight between two caged 
 lions to the excited, clamorous interest of all the 
 other beasts imprisoned there, have I heard such a 
 variegated din as greeted me on that occasion, and 
 I realized sympathetically for the first time per- 
 haps the true significance of Theodore Roosevelt's 
 " dee-lighted " smile when as President of the 
 United States he took his annual stroll across the 
 football field at a Harvard and Yale game, and lis- 
 tened to the " voice of the people." So contagious 
 was it that I had all I could do to keep from join- 
 ing in myself and only the necessity of saving my 
 voice for my lecture prevented me from being my- 
 self heard above the din. 
 
 That noise was the keynote of the evening, I 
 think I may say with due modesty that my lecture 
 had one or two touches of humor in it — three or 
 four, in fact — varying in character from the 
 " scarcely perceptible subtle " to the " inevitably 
 obvious," with other sorts sandwiched in between, 
 and none of them was lost ; although I was not per- 
 
 45
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 mittcd to finish many of my sentences. The 
 nudicnce seemed to get in ahead of me every 
 time. 
 
 The situation reminded me in a way of the 
 grandstand finish of a poor paralyzed old darky 
 named Joe, of whom I was once told by a Pullman 
 car porter on my way through Montana. Joe had 
 been a famous sportsman in his day ; but now mis- 
 fortune had overtaken him, and he lay bedridden, 
 wholly unable to use his legs, and awaiting the end. 
 Several of his friends, taking pity on him, resolved 
 to give him the joy of one last glorious coon hunt. 
 
 They put him on a stretcher and carried him 
 out into the country where that luscious creature 
 " abounded and abutted." The dogs were let 
 loose, and finally showed unusual activity at the 
 base of a tall tree ; but, to the dismay of all, the 
 game turned out to be no coon, but a particularly 
 hungiy, sore-headed, old she-bear. 
 
 As the roaring beast clambered down after her 
 tormentors, Joe's litter bearers, terrified, dropped 
 their burden and made off down the road in coward 
 flight, and it was not until an hour after they had 
 reached home in safety that they thought of the 
 possible fate of their paralytic friend. Conscience- 
 
 46
 
 Getting the Level 
 
 stricken, they resolved to go to Joe's home and 
 break the news of their cowardly behavior to the 
 presumable widow. The good woman met them at 
 the door. 
 
 " What yo' niggahs want round here dis time o' 
 night ? " she demanded. 
 
 " We come to tell yo' 'bout Joe, Mis' Johnsing," 
 said the embarrassed spokesman. 
 
 " Yo' kain't tell me nothin' 'bout Joe what Ah 
 don' know a'ready," replied Mrs. Johnson coldly. 
 
 " Yas 'm ; but yo' don' know whar Joe is. 
 Mis' Johnsing," persisted the speaker. " We 
 done — " 
 
 " Yas, Ah do know whar Joe is," retorted the 
 lady. " He 's upstairs in he bed." 
 
 " In he bed? " echoed the astonished visitors. 
 
 " Yass," said Mrs. Johnson. " Joe come in 
 ovah an hour ago hollerin' like a bullgine fohty 
 yahds ahead o' de dawgs." 
 
 I think I may say without exaggeration that 
 that Harvard Union audience even beat Joe's rec- 
 ord ; for they were twice " fohty yahds ahead o' de 
 dawgs " all the way through, and as for " holler- 
 in' " they were not so much like one single " bull- 
 gine " as like a whole roundhouse full of them, 
 
 47
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 aided and abetted by a couple of boiler factories 
 in full blast. 
 
 And then, only sixteen hours later, came the ad- 
 dress at the Woman's Club ten miles out of Bos- 
 ton ; the same lecture, in a quiet drawing room, be- 
 fore forty ladies who embroidered and crocheted 
 while I talked, and here the point that had raised 
 the roof and shaken the foundations of the Har- 
 vard Union was greeted by the tapping of a 
 thimble against the wooden frame of an embroidery 
 hoop! 
 
 I cannot say which of the two varieties of ap- 
 proval pleased me more ; but I will say that no 
 idea of talking " up " or " down " to my audience 
 occurred to me on either occasion : it was rather a 
 matter of " getting across." 
 
 One never can tell save by the " feel " of things 
 in the hour of action how they are going to turn 
 out. Only this last season I found myself, through 
 a misapprehension of the character of my engage- 
 ment, standing before an audience in a New Eng- 
 land amusement park on a Sunday afternoon. I 
 will say frankly that if I had known that I was to 
 be a sideshow to a Ferris Wheel and a scenic rail- 
 way, with pink lemonade on tap everywhere, and 
 
 48
 
 Getting the Level 
 
 " all for ten cents," I should not have accepted tlie 
 engagement. While I have admired them at a re- 
 spectful distance, I have never envied the wild man 
 of Borneo or the bearded lady their opportunities 
 for personal enrichment ; but on this occasion in 
 some way or other I had gained an impression that 
 my date had been arranged by, and was to be under 
 the auspices of, a combination of church interests, 
 designed to offset the evils of Sunday afternoon 
 idleness in a manufacturing town. It was a mis- 
 understanding, however, that I now rej oice in ; 
 for, amusement park or not, sideshow or main 
 ring, I found it an enjoyable and educating ex- 
 perience. 
 
 I approached it in fear and trembling, especially 
 when I noticed as I was awaiting my " turn " the 
 vast quantities of chewing gum that were being 
 sold to my audience by the inevitable boy with the 
 basket. There is always something disconcerting 
 to a public speaker in the constant, simultaneous, 
 and automatic movement of other jaws than his 
 own, and in the face of a collective jaw, made up 
 of sixteen hundred lowers that chewed as one, I 
 feared that mine, singly and alone, would find the 
 odds against it overpowering. Strange to say, 
 
 49
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 however, my real fear on this occasion was not on 
 the score of my audience, but whether I should be 
 able to acquit myself creditably before them. I 
 have fondly hoped that my little talk contained a 
 message, and as I observed these seekers after 
 pleasure slowly gathering, and taking their places 
 on tiers of pine benches under the kindly shade of 
 a row of noble pines, it occurred to me that if there 
 was any fruitful soil for my message anywhere it 
 was in the hearts of just such people as sat before 
 me — toilers, the humbler folk, the men and women 
 whose lives had been too busy with bread-and-but- 
 ter problems for the acquirement of culture, and 
 whose sole opportunity for amusement, uplifting 
 or otherwise, came on these very Sunday after- 
 noons. 
 
 There were men and boys there who under other 
 conditions might have been idling on street cor- 
 ners. I counted three Chinese, several Japanese, 
 and a half-dozen Negroes in my audience. A 
 dozen women had their babies with them, and many 
 a small kiddie, too young to chew gum without ex- 
 posure to the peril of swallowing it, nibbled and 
 absorbed ginger cookies as I watched them. The 
 question became not were they good enough for 
 
 50
 
 Getting the Level 
 
 me, but could I convince them that I was good 
 enough for them. It was not a question of " get- 
 ting down to their level," but of my own ability to 
 climb up to the level of my opportunity. For the 
 time being whatever superiority there was was al- 
 together on their side, and the point was how I 
 could prove myself the real thing, and not the 
 artificial; how I could find the common denomina- 
 tor which would enable us to get on " like a house 
 afire " together. 
 
 As I was speaking the solution came — and a 
 mighty simple one it turned out to be ; for it lay 
 wholly in the simplest possible use of the English 
 language. " Cut out the big words," I said to 
 myself. " Cut out all unfamiliar terms. Get 
 right down to good old Anglo-Saxon. Drop such 
 jawbreakers as differentiate, terminology, intima- 
 tions, implications, and psychological." My chief 
 hope became that I might once more at least meas- 
 ure up to that condition which was clearly set forth 
 a great many years ago by a Western chairman, at 
 a time when I was too much of a novice to do 
 my work even passably well, who said to me 
 as we walked to my hotel after the lecture was 
 over : 
 
 51
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 " We don't care so much for your lecture, Mr. 
 Bangs ; but we like you, and we 're going to have 
 you back." 
 
 Whether or not my plan was successful I shall 
 not attempt to say ; but I may be pardoned, per- 
 haps, for recording here one of the most delight- 
 ful compliments I have ever had, paid me by a 
 threadbare workingman who came up behind me 
 as I was leaving the park that afternoon, and put 
 his arm through mine as he spoke. 
 
 " Are you goin' to speak here to-night, 
 Brother? " he said. 
 
 " No," said I. " I am hurrying off to Boston 
 on the five o'clock train." 
 
 " Well, I 'm sorry," said he. " I wanted to 
 come out and hear ye again." 
 
 Bearing upon the cultivation, or lack of it, of 
 the average American audience, I recall a remark 
 made to me several years ago by a well-known poet 
 from the shores of Britain, who had come here to 
 lecture on the Celtic Renaissance. 
 
 " I have had a most delightful surprise," said 
 he, " in the wonderful amount of real culture that 
 I have found in the United States, and especially 
 in the smaller communities. Why, do you know," 
 
 52
 
 Getting the Level 
 
 he added, " when I first started in on my work I 
 supposed that I should have to spend at least half 
 of my time explaining to my audiences just what 
 a Renaissance was, and the rest in consideration 
 of the Irish movement ; but I had n't been here a 
 week before I discovered that for the most part the 
 people I was to talk to knew quite as much as I 
 did about the history of the movement, and I had 
 all I could do to shed any new light on it what- 
 
 soever." 
 
 He had, fortunately for himself, made the dis- 
 covery at a critical part of the " lecture game," 
 as some people delight to call it, that it was up to 
 him to keep climbing, and not waste any of his 
 valuable time trying to descend to a lower level, if 
 he wished his discourse to be favorably regarded 
 in this country — a discovery that I devoutly 
 wish some of our modern editors and theatrical 
 managers, who think they must cater exclusively 
 to a " lowbrow " audience, as they call it, a clien- 
 tele made up out of the whole cloth of their own 
 imaginings, might make. 
 
 Our wonderful West frequently affords illumi- 
 nating incidents demonstrating the real truth, as 
 discovered by our distinguished visitor. I remem- 
 
 53
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 bcr going a few years ago into a small community 
 in Iowa, where possibly the English lecturer would 
 have looked for very little in the way of what he 
 would consider learning. When sitting in the 
 office of the chaimian of the lecture committee, a 
 particularly alert young man, a lawyer, and a 
 graduate of the Harvard Law School, the door 
 opened, and a splendid specimen of physical man- 
 hood, a typical pioneer in appearance, stalked in. 
 The chairman introduced me to him. 
 
 " Mr. Bangs," said he, " I want you to know 
 my father." 
 
 The caller gave my hand a grip that even now 
 makes my fingers ache every time I think of it. 
 He then led me to a comfortable, leather-covered 
 arm chair, and, after almost shoving me into its 
 capacious depths, seated himself directly in front 
 of me. 
 
 " Sit down, young man," said he. " I want to 
 talk to you." 
 
 " Fire ahead ! " said I. " And thank you for 
 calling me a young man. I 've been feeling a trifle 
 old for a couple of days." 
 
 " Well, you are young compared to me," he 
 said. " I 'm eighty." 
 
 54
 
 Getting the Level 
 
 " Good Lord ! " said I. " You don't look over 
 sixty, anyhow." 
 
 " No," he smiled, " I don't — but that 's loway. 
 I 've been farmin' out here for nigh onto seventy 
 years, and we 're all too busy to grow old. We 
 live forever in loway. It 's the grandest country 
 on the footstool." 
 
 I did n't feel at all inclined to dispute him, con- 
 sidering his more than six feet of towering height, 
 the fresh, healthful hardness of his weatherbeaten 
 face, the breadth of his shoulders, and depth of 
 his chest. I contented myself with agreeing with 
 him. And I did n't have to work hard to do that, 
 either ; for I have known magnificent Iowa as a 
 most salubrious State for many years. 
 
 " Well, you see, sir," I said, " we can't all pick 
 out our birthplaces. I was born in New York 
 through no choice of my own. Some are born at 
 birthplaces, some achieve birthplaces, and others 
 have birthplaces thrust upon them — which last 
 was my case." 
 
 " Same here," said he. " I was born in Ohier ; 
 but my folks moved out here when I was a babby. 
 I 've lived here ever since — and I 'm glad of It. 
 Of course I hain't had your advantages in gettin' 
 
 55
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 an eddication — most o' mine 's in my wife's name 
 — but I 've got some, and I 've had to work so 
 dam hard to get it that sometimes I think I appre- 
 ciate it just a leetle more than you Eastern boys 
 do who have it served to you on a silver platter. I 
 did n't know how to read till I was twenty-five." 
 
 " I congratulate you," said I. " Considering 
 the sort of things the greater part of our young 
 people are reading to-day, I wish that condition 
 might prevail a little more widely than it does." 
 
 " That 's it," said he. " When a thing comes 
 too easy we 're not likely to make the best of it. 
 When I think of how I had to sweat to learn to 
 read you don't ketch me wastin' any o' my talents 
 in that direction on trash." 
 
 " Then," I put in, " the chances are you 've 
 never read any of my books." 
 
 " Not many of 'em," he answered ; " but one or 
 two folks I know has read 'em, and they tell me 
 there 's nothin' dcelyterious about 'em. But I 
 tell ye it was some work for me to get the knack 
 o' rcadin'; but when it come it come! Ye see, 
 when I first come out here they was n't any schools, 
 and they was n't any too much help around in those 
 days, either. What with farmin', and diggin' food 
 
 56
 
 Getting the Level 
 
 out o' tlie ground, and fightin' Injuns, they 
 was n't much spare time for children to spend in 
 schools, even if we 'd a had 'em. But along about 
 the time I was twenty-three years old we started 
 one. We built a little schoolhouse, and then we 
 sent East for a schoolmarm, and when she come she 
 boarded up at our house, and I celebrated by fallin' 
 head over heels in love with her." 
 
 " Good work ! " said I. 
 
 " You bet it was good work ! " he blurted out, 
 with an admiring glance at his son. " It was the 
 best work I ever done, and the best part of ic was 
 she liked me, and the first thing we knew we got 
 married. Well, sir, do you know what happened 
 then? You're a smart man, and you won't need 
 many guesses. It was the very thing we might ha' 
 foreseen. The idee o' me, the husband o' the 
 schoolmarm, not knowin' how to read — why, it — 
 was — simply — pree — posterous ! " 
 
 I don't believe Colonel Roosevelt ever put more 
 sj^rupy electricity into the first syllable of his fa- 
 mous " deelighted " than that old gentleman got 
 into the pre of his '' preeposterous." 
 
 " Yes, sir," he ran on, " and there was no way 
 out of it but that she should teach me to read. 
 
 57
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 And she did! It was a tough proposition for tliat 
 wonderful teacher of mine ; but her patience finally 
 pulled us through, and at the end of about a year 
 I was ready to tackle 'most any kind of stunt in 
 the way of a printed page. And then the burning 
 question arose. Now that I know how, what in 
 Dothan shall I read? That's a big problem, my 
 friend, to a young feller that has earned his right 
 to literature by the sweat of his brow. I was n't 
 goin' to waste any of my new gift on flashy stufT. 
 What I wanted was the real thing, and one mornin' 
 the problem was solved. A copy of a weekly paper 
 come to the house, with an advertisement in it of a 
 book called ' The Origin of the Species,' by a feller 
 named Darwin, costin' two dollars and a half. 
 That was some money in those days ; but somehow 
 or other that title sounded good and hefty, and I 
 sent my little two-fifty by mail to the publisher, 
 and within a week or two ' The Origin of the 
 Species ' was duly received, and I went at it." 
 
 " And what did you make out of it.'' " I asked, 
 my interest truly aroused. 
 
 " Nothin' — not the first dam thing at first," 
 said the old gentleman ; " except it made me won- 
 der if I had n't lost my mind, or something. I sat 
 
 58
 
 Getting the Level 
 
 down to read the thing, and by thunder, sir, I 
 could n't make head nor tail out of it ! I 'd al- 
 ways thought I knew something about the English 
 language ; but this time I was stumped, and it made 
 me mad. 
 
 " ' There 's something happened to me,' I said 
 to my wife. ' I 've read this darned first page 
 here over five times, and I 'm blest if I can get a 
 glimmer of anythin' out of it.' She smiled and 
 advised me to try something easier ; but, ' Not — 
 on — your — life! ' says I. ' I 've been through 
 fire and famine and wind and blizzard in my day. 
 I 've seen the roof over my head burnt to a cinder 
 by savages, and I 've fit Injuns, and come nigh 
 bein' scalped by 'em, and in all my life, my dear,' 
 says I, ' I hain't never been stumped yit, and I 
 don't preepose to begin now, specially by a page 
 o' printed words, said to be writ in the English 
 language — not — on — your — life!^ 
 
 " So I went at it again. I read it, and I re- 
 read it. I wrastled with every page, paragraph, 
 and sentence in that book. Sometimes I had to 
 put as much as five days on one page — but by 
 Gorry, son, when I got it I got it good, and when 
 it come it come with a rush — and now — " 
 
 59
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 The old man paused, drew himself up very 
 straight, and squaring his shoulders he leaned for- 
 ward and put his hands on my knees. 
 
 'If there's any- 
 thing you -want 
 to know about 
 Darwin's Ori- 
 gin of Species, 
 you ask me!" 
 
 " And noWy my friend," he said, his eye flashing 
 with the joy of victory, *' if there '5 aiifjthing yon 
 want to know about Darwin's Origin of the Species 
 — you — just — ask — mel " 
 
 60
 
 IV 
 
 THE GOOD SAMARITAN 
 
 IF there is any man in this wide world who 
 doubts the beauty and heart significance of 
 the Parable of the Good Samaritan, he need only 
 go out upon the lecture platform to have his eyes 
 opened. I know of no workers in the whole field 
 of human effort this side of tramphood itself who 
 need more often the intervention of the Good Sa- 
 maritan to get them out of trouble than the follow- 
 ers of that same profession. 
 
 Indeed, I shall not even except the profession of 
 the Hobo ; for there is a certain license granted to 
 this latter sort of Knight of the Road that is 
 denied to us of the Lyceum Circuit. We are prone 
 to forgive a hungry tramp for breaking into a cas- 
 ual hencoop in search of the wherewithal to satisfy 
 the cravings of an empty stomach, and when his 
 weary bones demand a bed there are numerous ex- 
 pedients to which he may resort without loss of 
 
 61
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 dignity. I doubt, however, that if Dr, Hillis, or 
 the Hon. Champ Clark, or my humble self, were 
 ever caught red-handed with a farmer's fowls dan- 
 gling by their legs from our fists, or were to be dis- 
 covered stealing a nap in the soft seclusion of a 
 convenient hayloft, we should get ojff quite so easily 
 as do poor old Dusty Rhodes and his famous 
 colleague Weary Waggles. 
 
 Even as do our less loquacious brothers who foot 
 it across country, and earn their living by making 
 after-dinner speeches to sympathetic farmers' 
 wives, so also do we more advanced members of the 
 Fraternity of Wanderers have often to throw our- 
 selves upon the tender mercies of others to get us 
 out of the unexpected scrapes into which the most 
 careful of us sometimes fall. Life is ordinarily 
 no very simple thing, even to the man who lives all 
 his days in one spot, and knows every curve, crook, 
 and corner of his special surroundings. How 
 much more complicated must it become, then, to 
 him who has to change his spots every tAventy-four 
 hours, and day after day, night in and night out, 
 readjust himself to new and unfamiliar conditions! 
 
 For the most part our troubles, such as they 
 are, have to do with the natural perversity of train 
 
 62
 
 The Good Samaritan 
 
 schedules, or unexpected visitations of Nature 
 which will disarrange the most carefully forecast 
 calculations of men. In the machinery of our ex- 
 istence there are probably more human cogs in- 
 volved, which require our own individual attention, 
 than in any other known mechanism. Even the 
 actor on the road is better looked after than are 
 we ; for he has a manager to arrange for his trans- 
 portation, to look after his luggage, and to attend 
 to all the little things that go to make or mar the 
 comfort of travel while we of the platform go out 
 wholly upon our own, unattended, and compelled at 
 all times to shift for ourselves. 
 
 I have been in many a scrape en route myself; 
 but so far none of them has found me without some 
 personally devised expedient for my relief, or the 
 aid of a chance Good Samaritan, whose constant 
 nearness in the hour of need has convinced me that 
 there are many more of his kind in existence than 
 most people are willing to admit. I have almost 
 gone so far at times as to believe in the " interven- 
 tion of Providence," and would quite do so did I 
 not feel the idea somewhat belittling to the Divine 
 Intelligence that orders our goings out and our 
 comings in. 
 
 63
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 On one occasion in the Far West I was so close 
 to a scene of actual murder that I might readily 
 have been held as a material witness, and escaped 
 that great inconvenience only by pursuing the ex- 
 ceedingly difficult policy of holding my tongue — 
 always an arduous proposition for a professional 
 talker. I have faced starvation on a delayed train 
 in Oklahoma, starvation setting in in my case after 
 fifteen hours without food, and been suddenly re- 
 lieved by the wholly chance appearance, at the tail 
 end of the train, dropping seemingly out of the 
 mysterious regions of Nowhere, of an Italian driv- 
 ing a Avagonload of bananas across the track, just 
 as the train was starting along on another intermin- 
 ably foodless stretch ; an Italian who with re- 
 markably quick wit — in response to the lure of a 
 new, shining silver dollar tossed into his wagon — 
 heaved a bunch of his stock large enough to feed an 
 orphan asylum on to the back platform. 
 
 I have even been threatened with complete anni- 
 hilation, physical and spiritual alike, by a man 
 big enough to carry out his threat, unless I would 
 join him in a cocktail at six o'clock in the morning, 
 and escaped my doom, not as a great many read- 
 ers may think, by accepting the invitation, but 
 
 64
 
 The Good Samaritan 
 
 only through the timely intervention on my behalf 
 of the blessed gift of sleep, which descended sud- 
 denly, and without apparent cause, upon my con- 
 vivial adversary before he had time to carry out 
 his amiable intentions looking toward my removal 
 from the face of the earth. 
 
 But there have been other times when nothing 
 short of the sudden appearance of the Good Sa- 
 maritan himself has saved me from disaster. Two 
 of these instances I recall with feelings of grati- 
 tude, and I record them here with sincere pleasure, 
 since it may be that my willing helpers may read 
 what I have written about them, and learn from 
 the record something of the lasting quality of my 
 grateful appreciation of their courtesy. 
 
 The first of these incidents occurred in the dis- 
 tant city of Los Angeles on a memorable afternoon 
 when I was to all intents and purposes stranded ; 
 not for the lack of ready money, but for the want 
 of transportation necessary to get me from where 
 I was to the haven where I was critically needed at 
 that moment. It was a matter of making a train 
 or losing a whole chain of profitable engagements, 
 arranged in such sequence that if one were lost the 
 others would in all probability go also. 
 
 65
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 I was due to lecture in the beautiful California 
 city on a Wednesday evening, and was to go thence 
 to Salt Lake City for a Friday night lecture. Un- 
 fortunately for me it happened that on Tuesday 
 I was booked at Tucson, Arizona, and with a 
 strange carelessness of consequences somebody had 
 thrown a glass of water on the tracks of the South- 
 ern Pacific Railroad, and thereby completely de- 
 moralized the roadbed. I do not wish to libel that 
 useful railway system ; but at that time the casual 
 impression of the traveler on the Southern Pacific 
 was that its rails had been laid on water, and were 
 ballasted with quicksand. It should be added in 
 justification of the conditions that the irrepressi- 
 ble Salton Sea, a body of water that has no known 
 parentage in the matter of sources, or real destiny 
 in the matter of utility, and acts accordingly, had 
 been on one of its periodic rampages, the proper 
 handling of which had taxed to the uttermost the 
 ingenuity of the engineers on whose shoulders the 
 responsibility for the line rested. It was Nature 
 who was to blame, and not the authorities. 
 
 At any rate, however, there were such serious 
 delays on my way from Tucson to Los Angeles 
 that, scheduled to lecture at the latter city at eight 
 
 66
 
 The Good Samaritan 
 
 P.M. on Wednesday evening, I did not arrive there 
 until four o'clock on Thursday morning, and even 
 a Western audience will not submit to any such 
 delay as that. Thanks to the quick wit of my 
 principals, who stood to lose a considerable stake 
 by my failure to appear, another lecture was ar- 
 ranged for Thursday afternoon at one o'clock, al- 
 though my train for Salt Lake was scheduled to 
 leave at two-forty-five. The plan was for me to 
 take a carriage out to the lecture hall, about forty 
 minutes' drive from the center of activity, to go 
 upon the platform promptly at one o'clock, to 
 condense my talk into one hour, to leave the plat- 
 form at two, and drive hurriedly over to the San 
 Pedro station, and catch my train with five minutes 
 to spare. 
 
 The first part of the program was carried out to 
 the letter, and at five minutes after two I was at 
 the entrance of the hall ready for my drive to the 
 station. But there was no carriage or vehicle of 
 any other known sort in sight. Through some 
 misunderstanding either on my part or on that of 
 the local managers, the carriage that brought me 
 out had not waited, and there was no substitute to 
 be had within reach. What to do became a most 
 
 67
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 embarrassing question. The succeeding dates had 
 been arranged in such a way that if I failed to 
 catch that train to Salt Lake City my whole tour 
 would come down with a crash. 
 
 Fortunately there was a rather fine boulevard 
 running in front of the hall, a rare temptation to 
 speeders both in motors and with horseflesh; and 
 as my managers and I were standing on the curb, 
 expressing our opinion as to the intelligence of 
 hackmen in general and ourselves in particular, 
 and hopelessly scanning the horizon in search of 
 relief, there suddenly emerged out of the gloom, 
 coming along at a rapid pace, a horse lover, seated 
 in a light wagon, and driving a big bay trotter of 
 no mean abilities. He was striking nothing poorer 
 than a two-forty gait, and as he loomed bigger 
 and bigger as he drew nearer he looked like a run- 
 away avalanche; but .as he came the idea flashed 
 across my mind that here was my only salvation. 
 I therefore sprang out into the middle of the road, 
 directly in his path, and waved my arms violently 
 at him. The driver drew in his reins with a jerk, 
 and man, horse, buggy, and all came to a sliding, 
 grinding stop. I cannot say that his first remark 
 was wholly cordial. 
 
 68
 
 The Good Samaritan 
 
 " What the dash is the matter with you ? " he 
 roared. 
 
 I panted out my explanation — how my car- 
 riage had not come, how much depended on my 
 catching my train, and how completely I had relied 
 on him. 
 
 " Oh, that 's it, eh? " he said, amiably calming 
 down. " I thought you 'd escaped from a lunatic 
 asylum or something. Jump in. I can't take you 
 all the way to the station, because I 've got an en- 
 gagement myself at two-fifteen; but I'll land you 
 at the hotel in a jiffy." 
 
 I needed no second bidding, and in a moment 
 we were bounding along at breakneck speed in the 
 direction of the city. We covered the distance 
 that had consumed forty minutes before the lec- 
 ture in twelve minutes, and all seemed well — only 
 it was not well ; for, arriving at the hotel, I found 
 myself still fifteen minutes distant from the rail- 
 way station, and not a taxi or other kind of cab 
 to be had. What was more, the electric roads 
 were blocked by a fire or something farther up the 
 street. I was as badly off as ever ■ — and then en- 
 tered the Good Samaritan! 
 
 As I stood there in front of the hotel making 
 
 69
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 sundry observations, most of them unprintable, 
 concerning the quality of my luck, a man of fine 
 appearance came out of the hotel and stepped 
 quickly across the sidewalk to a large touring car 
 that stood awaiting him by the curb. He opened 
 the door, and after seating himself in the tonneau 
 leaned forward t)o give his instructions to his 
 chauffeur, when I was- seized with the inspiration 
 that here indeed was truly my White Plope. 
 Again I took my chances. I sprang forward, laid 
 my hand gently on his arm, and blurted out : 
 
 " Excuse me, sir, but my name is Bangs — 
 John Kendrick Bangs. I am out here lecturing, 
 and if I don't catch that two-forty -five train for 
 Salt Lake City I shall, lose half a dozen engage- 
 
 "I cannot Bay that his first remark was wholly cordial." 
 
 70
 
 The Good Samaritan 
 
 ments. If you have ever read any of my books 
 and liked them, sir, you will be willing to do me a 
 service. If you 've read 'em and not liked them, 
 you '11 be glad to get me out of town. Won't you 
 be a Good Samaritan and give me a lift to the sta- 
 tion? Yow 're my only hope! " 
 
 " Sure thing ! " he answered without an instant's 
 hesitation, opening the door. " Get in — and, 
 James," he added, turning to the chauffeur, " the 
 San Pedro station, and never mind the speed limit." 
 
 I clambered into the car as quickly as I could, 
 and the car fairly leaped forward. 
 
 " It 's mighty good of you," said I breathlessly 
 as we sped along. 
 
 " Don't mention it, Mr. Bangs," said my host. 
 " Glad to be of service to you. I read your 
 * House-Boat-on-the-Styx ' once with a great deal 
 of pleasure ; but there 's one thing about you that I 
 like a great sight better than I do your humor." 
 
 "What's that?" I asked. 
 
 '* Your nerve, sir," he replied, handing out a 
 cigar. 
 
 We caught the train with eight minutes to spare, 
 and as it drew out of the station I realized possibly 
 for the first time in my life that in my particular 
 
 71
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 line of business nerve is a vastly better asset than 
 nerves, and I have faithfully cultivated the one and 
 resolutely refused to admit the existence of the 
 other ever since, to my very great advantage. 
 
 It may not be without interest to record here 
 that in spite of all my trials and tribulations at 
 Los Angeles, the Salt Lake City engagement was 
 lost. Our engine broke down in the wilds of Ne- 
 vada, and we did not reach Salt Lake until long 
 after midnight the following night. Nevertheless 
 I kept my hand in ; for in response to the request 
 of some of my fellow passengers I delivered my lec- 
 ture that night in the observation car of the stalled 
 train in the Nevada hills, to an audience made up 
 of fifteen fellow travelers, the train crew, and a 
 half-dozen Pullman porters. 
 
 I hesitate to think of what might have been my 
 fate had I employed similar tactics to get me out 
 of such troubles in New York or Boston, or some 
 other of our Eastern cities. The chances are that 
 my name would have been spread upon the blotter 
 of some police court as a disorderly person ; but in. 
 our great West — well, things seem somehow very 
 different out there. There are not so many sky- 
 scrapers in that part of the country, and the hori- 
 
 72
 
 The Good Samaritan 
 
 zon of humanity may therefore be a little broader ; 
 and perhaps too the strugglers out there are closer 
 to the period of their own trials and tribulations 
 than we are here in the Kast, and become in conse- 
 quence more instantly sympathetic when they see 
 the signal of distress flying before them. 
 
 The second incident occurred nearer home. It 
 was in Ohio, at the time of the floods that wrought 
 such havoc in Dayton and thereabouts in the 
 spring of 1913. I had lectured the night before 
 at Ironton, and on my way to Cleveland was to 
 all intents and purposes marooned at Columbus. 
 Much doubt existed as to whether traffic out of 
 Columbus was at all possible, so completely demor- 
 alized were all the railroads centering there. It 
 is a cardinal principle with lyceum workers, how- 
 ever, to make every possible eff^ort to get through 
 to their engagements at whatever inconvenience or 
 cost. So in spite of the warnings of subordinate 
 officials I took my chances and went out on a morn- 
 ing train which passengers took at their own peril, 
 through scenes of dreadful desolation, and over 
 a disquietingly soggy roadbed, until the train 
 reached an Ohio city which I shall not identify by 
 name here. While I have no hard feelings against 
 
 73
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 it, or against any of its citizens, I cannot bring 
 myself to speak of it in terms of " endearment," 
 as I should much prefer to do 
 
 At this point our train came to a standstill, and 
 the announcement was made that it would be im- 
 possible to get through to Cleveland because all the 
 bridges had been washed away. Motoring over 
 for the same reason was out of the question, and 
 the engagement was lost. I immediately repaired 
 to the telegraph office and sent off several de- 
 spatches — to the Cleveland people, announcing 
 my inability to get through; to my agents, telling 
 them of my plight; and to my family, assuring 
 them of my safety. These telegrams broke my 
 " financial back " ; for when I had paid for them I 
 found myself with only forty cents left in my 
 pocket, marooned possibly for days in wettest 
 Ohio, hungry as a bear, and not a friend in sight. 
 
 I did not worry much over the situation, how- 
 ever; for on several other occasions when I found 
 myself penniless in the West and in the South I 
 had not found any trouble in getting some one to 
 cash my check. So, after assuring myself that 
 my train would be held there for at least two or 
 three hours before returning to Columbus, I set 
 
 74.
 
 The Good Samaritan 
 
 off blithe-heartedly to secure the replenishment of 
 my pocket. In the heavy rain I walked up the 
 main thoroughfare of the little city, and to my 
 great relief espied a national bank on one of the 
 four corners of its square. I walked boldly in and 
 addressed the cashier, telling him my story with a 
 few " well chosen words." 
 
 " I thought possibly," said I, as he listened with- 
 out too great a display of interest, " that in view 
 of all these circumstances you would be willing to 
 take a chance on me, and cash my check for twenty- 
 five dollars." 
 
 " Why, my dear sir," he replied, " this is a 
 bank! " 
 
 I restrained a facetious impulse to tell him that 
 I was surprised to hear it, having come in under 
 the impression that it was a butcher shop, where I 
 could possibly buy an umbrella, or a much needed 
 eight-day clock. 
 
 " I know," I contented myself with saying, smil- 
 ing the while. " That 's why I came here for 
 money." 
 
 " Well, you 've come to the wrong place," he 
 blurted out. " We are not running an asylum to 
 give first aid to the injured! " 
 
 75
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 " Thank you, sir," I replied. " You are quite 
 right, and perhaps I should not have asked such a 
 favor — but I 'II tell you one thing," I added. 
 " To-morrow or next day when the Governor of 
 this State issues his appeal for aid for the stricken, 
 as he surely will, you will find that the financial 
 men in that part of the world where I come from 
 are running just such institutions, and when that 
 golden horde for the relief of your people pours 
 in from mine I hope it will make you properly 
 ashamed of yourself, if you are not so already." 
 
 It was as fruitless as reading a Wordsworth 
 sonnet on nature to a rhinoceros ; for all he did 
 was to grunt. 
 
 " Humph ! " said he, and I walked out. 
 
 Another bank was soon found, where I secured 
 not accommodation but a more courteous refusal. 
 The president of the bank was one of the most 
 sympathetic souls I have ever met, and would 
 gladly cash anybody's draft for me ; but my own 
 check, that was out of the question. He was a 
 trustee of the funds in his charge — poor chap, ap- 
 parently without a cent of his own on deposit. 
 However, he was courteous, and vocally sympa- 
 thetic. He realized very keenly the difficulties of 
 
 76
 
 The Good Samaritan 
 
 my position, and actually escorted me as far as the 
 door to see me safely to the perils of the pave, ex- 
 pressing the hope that I would soon find some way 
 out of my difficulty. I returned to the train, ate 
 thirty cents' worth of sardines in the dining car, 
 gave the waiter a ten-cent tip, and repaired to 
 the smoking compartment absolutely penniless. A 
 number of others were gathered there, and we 
 naturally fell into discussing the day's adventures. 
 
 "Well," said I, "I've just had one of the 
 strangest experiences of my life. I 've been in all 
 parts of the United States in the last eight years, 
 and never until to-day have I found a place so poor 
 in sympathy, and easy money, that I could n't get 
 my check cashed if I happened to need the funds. 
 Why, I 've known a Mississippi hotelkeeper who 
 was so poor that his wife had to do all the cham- 
 bermaid's work in the house, to go out at midnight 
 to borrow twenty-five dollars from a neighbor to 
 help me out; but here, with this flood knocking 
 everything galley west, I can't raise a cent ! " 
 
 And I went on and narrated my experience with 
 the two national banks as recorded here. 
 
 "Well, by George!" ejaculated one of the men 
 seated opposite to me, slapping his knee vigorously 
 
 77
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 as I finished. " I 'm an Ohio man, sir, and I blush 
 for the State. I '11 cash your check for you on 
 your looks. How much do you want.'* " 
 
 " Twenty-five dollars," said I. 
 
 " All right," he said, pulling a well-filled wallet 
 from his pocket, and counting out five five-dollar 
 bills. " There 's the stuff." 
 
 I thanked him, and drawing my check handed 
 it over to him. He took it, and glanced at the 
 signature. 
 
 " What? " he exploded. " The Idiot? " 
 
 This was the title of one of my books. 
 
 " Guilty ! " said I. 
 
 " Here, you ! " he cried, pulling his wallet again 
 from his pocket, and holding it wide open, display- 
 ing a tempting bundle of ten-dollar bills within. 
 " Here — just help yourself! " 
 
 And yet there are people in this world who ask 
 if " literature " pays ! 
 
 About the most Samaritan of the Good Samari- 
 tans I ever encountered I met in February last in 
 one of the most flourishing of our northwestern 
 cities. He was a Samaritan with what the modern 
 critic would call a " kick " to him — or at least 
 it struck me that way. As I made my way north- 
 
 78
 
 The Good Samaritan 
 
 ward from Minneapolis to fill my engagement there 
 I was seized with a terrific toothache which for the 
 time being destroyed pretty nearly all my interest 
 
 "I 'm an Ohio man, and I '11 cash 
 
 the check for you on your looks." 
 
 in life. The offending molar was far back in the 
 region of the wisdom section, and inasmuch as it 
 had been somewhat loose in its behavior for several 
 days I decided to be rid of it. All my efforts to 
 extract it myself were unavailing, and finally after 
 a last desperate effort to pull it out myself I re- 
 turned to my chair in the Pullman car and in- 
 formed the Only Muse who upon this trip was See- 
 ing America with me that our first duty on reaching 
 
 79
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 our destination was to find a dentist and get rid of 
 it. 
 
 " I hope you will be careful to get the right kind 
 of a man," said she. " We can't afford any quack 
 doctors, you know." 
 
 At this moment a charming woman seated on the 
 opposite side of the car leaned over and said, 
 
 " I do not wish to intrude, but I have seen how 
 you were suffering, and I just overheard your re- 
 mark. Now my son-in-law is a dentist, and we 
 think he is a good one. He is coming to meet me 
 at the station, and I think possibly he will be will- 
 ing to help you." 
 
 I thanked the lady, and expressed the hope that 
 he would. 
 
 On our arrival at the station the young man ap- 
 peared as was expected, and my kindly chaperone 
 presented the case. 
 
 " He has been suffering dreadfully, James," she 
 said, " and I told him you would pull his tooth out 
 for him." 
 
 " But, my dear mother," said the young man, 
 "• we are in a good deal of a hurry. We have an 
 engagement for to-night. My office is closed, and 
 we are not dressed for — " 
 
 80
 
 The Good Samaritan 
 
 " Thanks just the same," said I. " I am sure 
 jou would help me if you could — maybe you will 
 do the next best thing. I can't lecture unless I 
 have this confounded thing out." 
 
 " Lecture ? " said he. " You are not John Ken- 
 drick— " 
 
 " Yes ■ — I am," said I. 
 
 " Oh," said he, " that 's different. You are our 
 engagement. Come up to my office, and I '11 fix 
 you up in a jiffy." 
 
 So we marched five long blocks up to his office, 
 where I was soon stretched out, and the desired 
 operation put through with neatness and despatch. 
 
 " Well, doctor," said I as he held the offending 
 molar up before me tightly gripped in his forceps, 
 " you have given me the first moment of relief I 
 have had all day. My debt in gratitude I shall 
 never be able to repay, but the other I think I can 
 handle. How much do I owe you ? " 
 
 " Nothing at all, Mr. Bangs," he replied. 
 " Nothing at all." 
 
 " Oh, that 's nonsense, doctor," I retorted. 
 " You are a professional man, and I am a stranger 
 to you- — you must charge something." 
 
 " Oh, no, Mr. Bangs," said he, smilingly. 
 
 8X
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 " You are no stranger to me. I have been read- 
 ing your books for the past twenty years, and it 's 
 a positive pleasure to pull your teeth." 
 
 8^
 
 A VAGRANT POET 
 
 THE inimitable and forever to be lamented Gil- 
 bert, in one of his delightful songs in Pina- 
 fore, bade us once to remember that — 
 
 Things are seldom what they seem — 
 Skim-milk masquerades as cream; 
 Highlows pass as patent-leathers; 
 Jackdaws strut in peacock's feathers. 
 
 The good woman who sang this song — little 
 Buttercup, they called her — was in a pessimistic 
 mood at the moment ; for had she not been so she 
 would have reversed the sentiment, showing us with 
 equal truth how sometimes cream masquerades as 
 skim milk, and how underneath the wear and tear 
 of time what outwardly appears to be a " high 
 low " still possesses some of the glorious polish of 
 the " patent leather." Everywhere I travel I find 
 something of this latter truth; but never was it 
 more clearly demonstrated than when on one of 
 my Western jaunts I came unexpectedly upon an 
 
 83
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 almost overwhelming revelation of a finely poetic 
 nature under an apparently rough and unpromis- 
 ing exterior. 
 
 It happened on a trip in Arizona back in 1906. 
 My train after passing Yuma was held up for sev- 
 eral hours. Ordinarily I should have found this 
 distressing ; but, as the event proved, it brought to 
 me one of the most delightfully instructive ex- 
 periences I have yet had in the pursuit of my plat- 
 form labors. As the express stood waiting for 
 another much belated train from the East to pass, 
 the door of the ordinary day coach — in which I 
 had chosen to while away the tedium of the morn- 
 ing, largely because it was fastened to the end 
 of the train, whence I could secure a wonderful 
 view of the surrounding country — was opened, 
 and a man apparently in the last stages of poverty 
 entered the car. 
 
 He was an oldish man, past sixty, I should say, 
 and a glance at him caused my mind instinctively 
 to revert to certain descriptions I had heard of the 
 sad condition of the downtrodden Westerner, con- 
 cerning whose unhappy lot our friends the Popu- 
 lists used to tell us so much. He looked so very 
 poor and so irremediably miserable that he excited 
 
 84.
 
 A Vagrant Poet 
 
 my sympathy. Upon his back there lay loosely 
 the time-rusted and threadbare remnant of what 
 had once in the days of 
 its pride and freshness 
 been a frock coat, now 
 buttonless, spotted, and 
 fringing at the edges. 
 His trousers matched. 
 His neck was collarless, 
 a faded blue polka-dotted 
 handkerchief serving as 
 both collar and tie. His 
 hat suggested service in 
 numerous wars, and on 
 his feet, bound there for 
 their greater security with 
 ordinary twine, were the 
 uppers and a perforated 
 part of the soles of a 
 one-time pair of congress 
 gaiters. As for his face — well, it brought vi- 
 vidly to mind the lines of Spenser — 
 
 His rawbone cheekes, through penurie and pine, 
 Were shronke into his jawes, as he did never dyne. 
 
 The old fellow shambled feebly to the seat ad- 
 
 85 
 
 In the last stages of poverty.
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 joining my own, gazing pensively out of the win- 
 dow for a few moments, and tlien turning fixed a 
 pair of penetrating blue eyes upon me. " Pretty 
 tiresome waiting," he ventured, in a voice not al- 
 together certain in its pitch, as if he had not had 
 much chance to use it latterly. 
 
 " Very," said I carelessly. " But I suppose 
 we 've got to get used to this sort of thing." 
 
 " I suppose so," he agreed; " but just the same 
 for a man in your business I should think it would 
 be something awful. Don't it get on your 
 nerves ? " 
 
 "What do you know about my business?" I 
 asked, my curiosity aroused. 
 
 " Oh," he laughed, " I know who you are. I 
 read one of your books once. I 've forgotten what 
 it was about ; but it had your picture in the front 
 of it, and I knew you the minute I saw you. Be- 
 sides I was down in Tucson the other day, and — 
 you 're going to lecture at Tucson Tuesday night, 
 are n't you ? " 
 
 " I am if I ever get there," said I. " At this rate 
 of speed I 'm afraid it '11 be season after next." 
 
 " Well, they '11 be ready for you when you ar- 
 rive," he chuckled. " They 've got your picture 
 
 86
 
 A Vagrant Poet 
 
 plastered all over the place. It 's in every drug- 
 store and saloon window in the town. They 've 
 got it tacked onto every tree, hydrant, hitching 
 post, billboard, and pump, from the railway sta- 
 tion out to the university and back. I ain't sure 
 that there ain't a few of 'em nailed onto the ash 
 barrels. You can't look anywhere without seeing 
 John Kendrick Bangs staring out at you from the 
 depths of a photographer's arm chair. Fact is," 
 he added with a whimsical wink, " I left Tucson to 
 get away from the Bangs rash that 's broken out all 
 over the place, and, by Jehosaphat ! I get aboard 
 this train, and there sets the original! " 
 
 I laughed and handed the old fellow a cigar, 
 which he accepted with avidity, biting off at least 
 a quarter of it in his eagerness to get down to busi- 
 ness. 
 
 " I 'm not so bad as I 'm lithographed," I said 
 facetiously. 
 
 " So I see," he replied, " and it must be some 
 comfort to you to realize that if you ever get down 
 and out financially you 've got a first-class case 
 for libel against the feller that lithographed 
 you." 
 
 He puffed away in silence for a minute or two, 
 
 87
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 and then leaning over the arm of his scat he re- 
 opened the conversation. 
 
 " I saj, Mr. Bangs," he said, rather wistfully, I 
 thought, " you must read a great deal from one 
 year's end to another — maybe you could recom- 
 mend one or two good books for me? " 
 
 It was something of a poser. Somehow or other 
 he did not suggest at first glance anything re- 
 motely connected with a literary taste, and I tem- 
 porized with the problem. 
 
 " Why, yes," I answered cautiously. " I do 
 run through a good many books in the course of 
 a year ; but I don't like to prescribe a course of 
 literary treatment for a man unless I have had time 
 to diagnose his case, and get at his symptoms. 
 You know you might n't like the same sort of thing 
 that I do." 
 
 " That may be so too," he observed cooll3\ 
 " But we 've got some time on our hands — sup- 
 pose you try me and find out. I 'm willin' to 
 testify. Fire ahead — nothin' like a few experi- 
 ments." 
 
 " Well," said I, " personally I prefer biography 
 to any other kind of reading. I like novels well 
 enough ; but after all I 'd rather read the story of 
 
 88
 
 A Vagrant Poet 
 
 one real man's life, sympathetically presented, than 
 any number of absorbing tales concerning the 
 deeds and emotions of the fictitious creatures of a 
 novelist's fancy. I like Boswell better than Field- 
 ing, and Dr. Johnson is vastly more interesting to 
 me than Tom Jones." 
 
 " Same here," said my new friend. " That 's 
 what I 've always said. What 's the use of puttin' 
 in all your time on fiction when there 's so much 
 romance to be found in the real thing? The 
 only trouble is that there ain't much in the way 
 of good biography written these days — is 
 there.? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, there is," said I. " There 's plenty of 
 it, and now and then we come upon something that 
 is tremendously stimulating. I don't suppose it 
 would interest you very much, but I have just fin- 
 ished a two-volume life of a great painter — it is 
 called ' Memorials of Edward Burne-Jones,' writ- 
 ten by his wife." 
 
 The old man's face fairly shone with interest as 
 I spoke, and reaching down into the inner pocket 
 of his ragged coat he produced a time-smeared, 
 pocket-worn envelop upon which to make a memo- 
 randum, and then after rummaging around in the 
 
 89
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 mjsterious recesses of an over-large waistcoat for 
 a moment or two he brought forth the merest stub 
 of a pencil. 
 
 "Who publishes that book? " he askea, leaning 
 forward and gazing eagerly into my face. 
 
 " Why — the Macmillan Company," I replied, 
 somewhat abashed. " But — would t/ou be inter- 
 ested in that ? " 
 
 And then came the illuminating moment — I 
 fear its radiance even affected the color of my 
 cheeks when I thought of my somewhat patroniz- 
 ing manner of a moment before. 
 
 " I guess I would be interested in that ! " he re- 
 plied with a real show of enthusiasm. ** / *ve al- 
 ways been interested m that wliole PrerapJiaelite 
 movement! " 
 
 I tried manfully to conceal my astonishment ; 
 but I am very much afraid that in spite of all my 
 efforts my eyes gave my real feelings away. I 
 swallowed hard, and stared, and the old man chuc- 
 kled as he went on. 
 
 " They were a great bunch, that crowd," he ob- 
 served reflectively, " and I don't suppose the world 
 realizes yet what we owe to them and their in- 
 fluence. Burne-Jones, William Morris, Madox 
 
 90
 
 A Vagrant Poet 
 
 Brown, Holman Hunt, and Rossetti — I suppose 
 you know your Rossetti like a book? " 
 
 I tried to convey the impression that I was not 
 without due familiarity with and appreciation of 
 my Rossetti; but I began to feel myself getting 
 into deeper water than I had expected. 
 
 " There 's a lot of fine things in poetry and in 
 paint we 'd never have had if it had n't been for 
 those fellows," the old man went on. " Of course 
 there 's a lot of minds so calloused over with the 
 things of the past that they can't see the beauty 
 in anything that takes 'em out of a rut, even if it 's 
 really old and only seems to be new. That 's al- 
 ways the way with any new movement, and the fel- 
 low that starts in at the head of the procession 
 gets a lot of abuse. Take poor old Rossetti, for 
 instance, how the critics did hand it to him, espe- 
 cially Buchanan — the idea of a man like Robert 
 Buchanan even daring to criticize Rossetti's 
 * Blessed Damozel ' ! It 's preposterous ! It 's 
 like an elephant trying to handle a cobweb to find 
 out how any living thing could make a home of it. 
 Of course the elephant could n't ! " 
 
 I quite agreed that the average elephant of my 
 acquaintance would have found the average cobweb 
 
 91
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 a rather insecure retreat in which to stretch his 
 weary length. 
 
 " Do jou remember," he went on, " what Bu- 
 chanan said about those lines? — 
 
 "And still she bowed herself and stooped 
 
 Out of the circling charm 
 Until her bosom must have made 
 
 The bar she leaned on warm. 
 
 He said those lines were bad, and that the third 
 and fourth were quite without merit, and almost 
 without meaning! Fancy that ! — 
 
 " Until her bosom must have made 
 The bar she leaned on warm 
 
 almost without meaning! Suffering Centipedes ! " 
 he cried indignantly. " That man must have been 
 brought up on the bottle ! " 
 
 I think I may truthfully say that from that point 
 on I listened to the old man breathlessly. Bu- 
 chanan's monograpli on " The Fleshly School of 
 Poetry " though wholly out of sympathy with my 
 own views has long been a favorite bit of literary 
 excoriation with me, comparable to Victor Hugo's 
 incisive flaying of Napoleon IH, and to have it 
 spring up at me thus out of the alkali desert, 
 through the medium of this beloved vagabond, was 
 
 92
 
 A Vagrant Poet 
 
 indeed an experience. Instead of conversing with 
 my friend, I turned myself into what theatrical peo- 
 ple call a " feeder " for the time being, putting 
 questions, and now and then venturing a remark 
 
 "Suffering Cen- 
 tipedes ! " he 
 cried. "That 
 man must 
 have been 
 brought up on 
 the bottle 1" 
 
 sufficiently suggestive to keep him going. His 
 voice as he ran on gathered in strength, and waxed 
 tuneful and mellow, until, if I had closed my eyes, 
 I could almost have brought myself to believe that 
 it was our much-loved Mark Twain who was speak- 
 ing with that musical drawl of his, shot through 
 
 93
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 and througli with that Ijrical note which gave his 
 voice such rare sweetness. 
 
 From Rossetti mj new-found friend jumped to 
 Whistler — to whom he referred as " Jimmy " — 
 thence to Watts, and from Watts to Ruskin ; from 
 Ruskin he ran on to Burne-Jones, and then harked 
 back to Rossetti again. 
 
 Rossetti now seemed to become an obsession 
 with him ; only it was Rossetti the poet instead of 
 Rossetti the painter to whom he referred. In a 
 few moments the stillness of that sordid coach was 
 echoing to the sonnet of " Lost Days " : 
 
 " The lost days of my life until to-day, 
 What were they, could I see them on the street 
 Lie as they fell? Would they be ears of wheat 
 Sown once for food but trodden into clay? 
 Or golden coins squander'd and still to pay? 
 Or drops of blood dabbling the guilty feet? 
 Or such spill'd water as in dreams must cheat 
 The undying throats of Hell, athirst alway? 
 I do not see them here; but after death 
 God knows I know the faces I shall see — 
 Each one a murder'd self, with low last breath; 
 'I am thyself — what hast thou done to me?' 
 'And I — and I — thyself (lo! each one saith) — 
 ' And thou thyself to all eternity.' " 
 
 His voice trembled as he finished, and a long 
 silence followed. 
 
 94f
 
 A Vagrant Poet 
 
 "Pretty good stuff, that, eh?" he said, at 
 length. 
 
 " Fme ! " said I, suddenly afflicted with a pov- 
 erty of language quite comparable to his own in 
 the way of worldly goods. 
 
 " Takes you here, however," said he, tapping 
 his forehead. " Makes you think — and somehow 
 or other I — I don't like to think. I 'd rather 
 feel — and when it comes to that it 's Christina 
 Rossetti that takes you here." He tapped his left 
 breast over his heart. " She 's got all the rest of 
 'em skinned a mile, as far as I 'm concerned. I 
 love that ' Up Hill ' thing of hers — remember 
 it.? — 
 
 " Does the road wind up-hill all the way ? 
 
 Yes, to the very end. 
 Will the day's journey take the whole long day? 
 
 From morn to night, my friend. 
 
 "But is there for the night a resting-place? 
 
 A roof for where the slow dark hours begin. 
 May not the darkness hide it from my face? 
 
 You cannot miss that Inn. 
 
 "Shall I meet other wayfarers at night? 
 
 Those who have gone before. 
 Then must I knock, or call when just in sight? 
 
 They will not keep you standing at the door. 
 
 95
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 "Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak? 
 
 Of labor yoii shall find the sum. 
 Will there be beds for me and all who seek? 
 
 Yea, beds for all who come. 
 
 " Ah, me ! " he said. " I 've got a deal of 
 heartening- out of that, and then some day when 
 things don't seem to go just right, I sing for my 
 comfort that song of hers: 
 
 " When I am dead, my dearest. 
 
 Sing no sad songs for me; 
 Plant thou no roses at my head. 
 
 Nor shady cypress tree: 
 Be the green grass above me, 
 
 W^ith showers and dew-drops wet, 
 And if thou wilt, remember. 
 
 And if thou wilt, forget. 
 
 *' I shall not see the shadows, 
 
 I shall not feel the rain. 
 I shall not hear the nightingale 
 
 Sing on, as if in pain: 
 And dreaming through the twilight 
 
 That doth not rise nor set. 
 Haply I may remember. 
 
 And haply may forget." 
 
 The train had long since started on toward our 
 destination, the old fellow discoursing gloriously 
 as we ran along, I utterly unconscious of every- 
 thing save the marvelous contrasts of that picture 
 — a seemingly wretched vagabond, held in the 
 
 96
 
 A Vagrant Poet 
 
 grip of a relentless poverty, pouring forth out of 
 the depths of a rich mind as rare a spiritual dis- 
 quisition as I ever remember to have enjoyed. 
 Our destination finally reached, I held out my 
 hand to bid him good-by. 
 
 " I can't thank you sufficiently," I said, " for a 
 wonderful hour. I want you to do something for 
 me. You see you have the advantage of me. 
 You know who I am; but I don't know who you 
 are. Won't you tell me your name, that I may 
 add it to the list of my friends ? " 
 
 The old fellow's eyes filled with tears. He laid 
 his hand gently on my shoulder. " My young 
 friend," he said, his voice growing hoarse and, 
 husky again, " who I am is one of the least im- 
 portant things on the face of God's beautiful 
 green earth. What is really important is the kind 
 of man I am. / am one of those unfortwnates who 
 started in life at the top of the ladder and moved 
 in the only direction he thought was left open to 
 him.''* 
 
 He seized my hand, gave it a soft, seemingly af- 
 fectionate pressure, and walked away, leaving me 
 standing alone, and I have not seen nor heard 
 from him since. 
 
 97
 
 VI 
 BACK-HANDED COMPLIMENTS 
 
 IN a previous chapter of these rambling rem- 
 iniscences I have said that I defied any really 
 human man to return from a lecture season in this 
 country in a pessimistic frame of mind. To this 
 defiance I would add another. I defy any man pos- 
 sessed of a hide anywhere short of that of a rhinoce- 
 ros, or a head of a thickness less than solid ivory, to 
 return from a tour of our country with any greater 
 sense of his own importance than he is entitled to. 
 There are a good many plain truths spoken in 
 the presence of the lecturer by the good people to 
 whom he is consigned, especially in our delight- 
 fully frank West, where they seem to have ac- 
 quired the knack of drawing a clean-cut distinc- 
 tion between the lecturer as a man and the lecturer 
 as a lecturer. Discourtesy is never encountered 
 anywhere. At least in the ten years of my plat- 
 form experience, with nearly a thousand public 
 
 98
 
 Bach-Handed Compliments 
 
 appearances to my credit, I have met with it only 
 twice, and on both occasions in Eastern communi- 
 ties ; a proportion so negligible as to amount really 
 to nothing. Hospitality to the man has always 
 been cordial ; the attitude toward the lecturer re- 
 spectful. But in the showing of this respect there 
 is no slopping over, though now and then there is 
 an atmosphere of reserve in its manifestation which 
 serves the lecturer better in the line of criticism, 
 if he is capable of sensing its significance, than 
 any amount of outspoken condemnation. 
 
 There is one element in the work of the Man on 
 the Platform that is in itself of the highest disci- 
 plinary value, and that is that in all circumstances 
 he must deliver his goods himself. There is noth- 
 ing vicarious about the operation. No substitute 
 can relieve him of that necessity. The man who 
 writes books, or makes shoes or motor-cars, can 
 sit apart and let others face whatsoever blame 
 may be visited upon a middle man for defects of 
 workmanship ; but for the lecturer there is no such 
 happy shifting of responsibility. If people find 
 his discourse dull, they either get up and walk 
 out, or, as the saying is, they " go to sleep in his 
 face." 
 
 99
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 Occasionally, however, an ostentatiously em- 
 phatic expression of disapproval gives the man on 
 the platform a chance to redeem himself. It is 
 told of Henry Ward Beecher that on one occasion 
 something he had said proved so offensive to one 
 
 'The lecturer 
 must deliver 
 the goods I" 
 
 '••»«•«-. 
 
 of his auditors, who happened to be sitting in the 
 front row of a large and reverberant auditorium, 
 that the individual rose bruskly and walked out. 
 As a sort of underscoring of his disapproval the 
 protesting soul was aided by a pair of new shoes 
 that squeaked so audibly as he strode down the 
 aisle that they distracted the attention of every- 
 
 100
 
 Bach-Handed Compliments 
 
 body. Mr. Beeclier immediately stopped short, 
 and waited until the dissatisfied person had faded 
 through the doorway and the last echo of his suf- 
 fering boots had died away, and then, with a be- 
 nignant smile, recited that good old nursery rime 
 so dear to the hearts of our childhood : 
 
 Rings on his fingers. 
 
 And bells on his toes; 
 He shall have music 
 
 Wherever he goes. 
 
 It was a bit of ready repartee that captivated 
 the audience, and if there were present any others 
 who later found themselves in a protesting mood it 
 is pretty certain that they waited for a safer oc- 
 casion upon which to manifest it. Mr. Beecher 
 on his feet was never a man to be trifled with. 
 
 On a stumping campaign myself a number of 
 years ago I was confronted by a somewhat similar 
 condition. An allusion to a statesman whom I 
 greatly admired elicited a decided hiss from a 
 group of hostiles seated under the gallery of a 
 rural opera house. I silenced the hiss by pausing 
 in my remarks and appealing to the janitor to 
 " turn off* that steam radiator," since the hall was 
 evidently already too hot for the comfort of some 
 
 101
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 of tlic audience. It was not particularly deft, 
 but it served the purpose, and we heard no more 
 from that particular quarter for the rest of the 
 evening. 
 
 It is a safer rule, however, for the speaker to 
 try to conciliate the hostile element, and it has 
 been a rule of mine for the last five years to en- 
 deavor to locate such centers of frigidity as may 
 be found before me, and then direct all my energies 
 toward " thawing them out." Popular as the plat- 
 form is in all parts of the country to-day, there 
 is always present in every community a small 
 leaven of at least reluctant men who are dragged 
 unwillingly to the lecture halls by their enthusi- 
 astic wives, when, if they were only permitted to 
 have their own way, they would be resting tran- 
 quilly at home, slippers on feet, feet on fender, 
 book or favorite newspaper in hand, and a sweet- 
 scented briarwood pipe for company. It is not 
 difficult to locate these sufferers. They are such 
 conscious martyrs that they immediately betray 
 themselves, and as a rule while my chairmen are 
 introducing me to my audiences I scan the rows 
 of faces before me in search of them. 
 
 They have certain unmistakable earmarks that 
 
 102
 
 Back-Handed Compliments 
 
 betray them to the sympathetic eye — which, with 
 all due modesty, I may claim mine to be ; for, while 
 I love lecturing, being lectured to or at, as the case 
 may be, bores me to extinction. I am like those 
 doctors who rejoice in the opportunity to ampu- 
 tate another man's leg, but would not give seven 
 cents to cut off one or both of their own. 
 
 The first of these earmarks is the expression of 
 the face, which is either one of hopeless resigna- 
 tion, or full of lowering, one might almost say 
 vengeful, contempt, as if the owner of the face 
 were calling down inwardly all the wrath of 
 Heaven upon the lecturer in particular, and the 
 whole lyceum movement in general. With both 
 these expressions go arms tightly folded across 
 the breast, as though the sufferer were really try- 
 ing hard to hold himself in. 
 
 
 'They may 'go to sleep in his face.' " 
 
 103
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 The second almost certain manifestation is in 
 the physical relation of the sufferer to the chair 
 in which he sits. He makes it bear the heavy ma- 
 terial burden of his despair by sitting not as Na- 
 ture intended that he should sit, but as nearly 
 upon the small of his back as the available space 
 at his disposal will permit. If he occupy an aisle 
 seat, he sits wholly on the small of his back, with 
 his legs crossed, and his hands tightly clasped 
 across his freer knee. 
 
 Once located, this man is the special person that 
 I go after. It becomes my persistent effort, and 
 in so far as I can master the situation my determi- 
 nation, to win his reluctant heart. If I can only 
 get him sitting up like a vertebrate animal, using 
 his spine like a prop instead of like a hammock, 
 and returning my gaze with a gleam of interest, 
 I am happy. If I can get him not only to sit up 
 but to lean forward with his head cocked to one 
 side, much as a horse will cock its ears when some- 
 thing unexpected comes within the range of its 
 vision, I feel that I have scored a triumph. I 
 should say that at a rough guess in eight cases out 
 of ten the effort is successful, although there have 
 been ninth and tenth cases that have chilled me to 
 
 104
 
 Back-Handed Compliments 
 
 the marrow, and sent me home with an uncomfort- 
 able sense of failure. 
 
 Mj lamented friend, the late R. K. Munkit- 
 trick, an American humorist who never really re- 
 ceived the full measure of appreciation to which 
 his delicious humor entitled him, once when we 
 were " reading " together one night at Albany, 
 scoring a fiasco so complete that we could only 
 laugh over it, put the situation before me in terms 
 so wholly comprehensive that I have never forgot- 
 ten it. 
 
 " See that red-headed chap in the fourth 
 row ? " he whispered, as the chairman was in- 
 dulging in some extended remarks concerning 
 our greatness to which we could never hope to live 
 up. 
 
 " You mean the pall bearer with the green neck- 
 tie? " I asked, 
 
 " Yes," said Munkittrick, " he 's the one." 
 
 "Well — what of him?" said I. 
 
 " Oh, nothing," grinned Munkittrick, " but I '11 
 bet you seven dollars and forty-seven cents he 's 
 bet the boxoflfice fifty cents we can't make him 
 laugh." 
 
 I may record with due humility that if good old 
 
 105
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 INIunkittrick's surmise was correct our highly 
 chromatic but otlierwise funereal friend won his 
 bet. I doubt we could have moved him with dyna- 
 mite. 
 
 But these gentlemen serve a highly useful pur- 
 pose. They keep us with our feet on the earth, 
 and prevent us from soaring too high in our own 
 estimation. 
 
 Another effective factor in this disciplinary ele- 
 ment in platform work is the " back-handed " 
 compliment that leaves the party of the second 
 part suspended like Mahomet's coffin, midway be- 
 tween heaven and earth, and in some uncertainty 
 as to exactly where " he is going to get off." I 
 have rejoiced in several such. The great State of 
 Pennsylvania, which has " officially " done so 
 much for the platform by its liberal appropria- 
 tions for teachers' institutes, enabling the school 
 centers to secure the services of speakers of high 
 cost who would otherwise be beyond their reach, 
 is responsible for one of these. 
 
 It occurred some three years ago, and grew out 
 of an unexpected summons by wire from one of 
 the largest cities of the Quaker State asking me 
 to " fill in " for Dr. Griggs, who because of sudden 
 
 106
 
 Back-Handed Compliments 
 
 indisposition was unable to meet his engagement 
 in a large and important course there. It was 
 an emergeacy call, which fortunately found me dis- 
 engaged, and willing to serve. 
 
 The chairman of the occasion was a delightful 
 individual, with a considerable fund of dry humor, 
 and his introduction was a gem of subtle wit. It 
 occupied about fifteen minutes, the first five of 
 which were devoted to matters pertaining to the 
 course ; the second five to a well deserved eulogy of 
 Dr. Griggs for his inspiring lectures and the up- 
 lifting nature of his work, coupled with an ex- 
 pression of the intense disappointment which he, 
 the chairman, knew the audience must feel on 
 learning that the good doctor could not be pres- 
 ent. I thought he rather rubbed the " disap- 
 pointment " idea in a little too vigorously ; but I 
 tried not to show it, and sat through that part 
 of the chairman's remarks with the usual stereo- 
 typed smile of satisfaction at hearing a colleague 
 so highly spoken of. This done, the chairman 
 launched himself upon a four-minute discourse 
 upon what he called " The Age of Substitu- 
 tion." 
 
 " You know, my friends," said he, " that this 
 
 107
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 great age in whicli we live is so rich in resources 
 that at times when we cannot immediately lay our 
 hands on some particular article we ^happen to 
 want there is always to be found somewhere a 
 ju^t as good as article to take its place. If you 
 desire a particular kind of porous plaster to soothe 
 an all-too-self-conscious spine, and the druggist 
 you call upon for aid does not chance to have it 
 in stock, he invariably has another at hand which 
 he assures you will do quite as well. So it is with 
 the nerve foods, breakfast foods, corn plasters, 
 face powders, facial soaps, suspenders, corsets, 
 liver pills, and lecturers. If we have n't what you 
 want, we have something just as good in this Age 
 of Substitution. So is it with us to-night. While 
 we may not receive the all-wool-and-a-yard-wide 
 spiritual uplift that Dr. Griggs would have given 
 us, we are privileged to listen to the near-silk hu- 
 mor of a substitute, who, the committee in charge 
 venture to hope, will prove to be just as good as 
 the other. We of course don't know that it will 
 be ; but we live in hope as well as on it, and, lack- 
 ing the great satisfaction that I had expected to 
 be mine in presenting Dr. Griggs to you this even- 
 ing, it still gives me a certain melancholy pleasure 
 
 108
 
 Bach-Handed Co7npliments 
 
 to introduce to this audience that highly mercer- 
 ized near-speaker, Mr. Just-as-Good-as K. Bangs, 
 on whose behalf I bespeak your charity and your 
 tolerance." 
 
 As a rule I like to play a little with my chair- 
 men ; but I deemed it unwise on this occasion to 
 " monkey with a buzz saw," and plunged directly 
 into the work in hand without venturing upon 
 the usual facetious preliminaries. I felt that I 
 had enough work cut out for me already, and for 
 an hour and a half exerted myself strenuously to 
 be just as good as I could be, neither more nor 
 less. Then, when it was all over, and my case was 
 in the hands of the jury, a charming woman, with 
 a delectable smile on her face, came rushing up 
 to the platform. She seized my hand and shook 
 it vigorously as she spoke. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Bangs," she said with an enthusiasm 
 so delightful that I listened eagerly for the 
 honeyed words to come, " we are so glad you came ! 
 You have made our disappointment complete! " 
 
 Another incident I prefer not to locate other 
 than by saying that it was in the West — and 
 where the West begins no man may say. I know 
 a New York lady to whom it begins at the Cort- 
 
 109
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 landt street opening of Mr. McAdoo's Hudson 
 River tubes, who has no notion at all that any- 
 thing lies beyond save the names of a few cities 
 that mean nothing to her, and the Rocky Moun- 
 tains. With others it begins on the banks of the 
 Mississippi. Once in the heart of Iowa, when I 
 was speaking to a young college student there on 
 the glorious opportunities of the West, in the hope 
 of making him see hoAV much I appreciated the 
 wonderful country in which he lived, the young 
 man staggered me with the reply : 
 
 " Yes, sir, I believe you are right. Mt^ father 
 wants me to go West when I get through with 
 my work here.'* 
 
 So it would seem that the old rime about the 
 
 little insect — 
 
 Every flea has a little flea to bite hira, 
 And so it goes ad infinitem — 
 
 may very well be adapted to the uses of those 
 good souls who now and then try to reach the 
 infinity of westernness. But there is another 
 poem more directly applicable to some conclusion 
 as to the problem, which I like to think of in 
 moments when I am reflecting upon its cordial 
 welcome to me: 
 
 110
 
 Bach-Handed Compli7nents 
 
 Out where the hand clasp 's a little stronger, 
 Out where a smile dwells a little longer — 
 
 That's where the West begins. 
 Out where the sun is a little brighter, 
 Where the snows that fall are a trifle whiter. 
 Where the bonds of home are a wee bit tighter — 
 
 That 's where the West begins. 
 
 Out where the world is in the making. 
 Where fewer hearts with despair are aching — 
 
 That 's where the West begins. 
 Where there's more of singing and less of sighing; 
 Where tiiere 's more of giving and less of buying. 
 And a man makes friends without half trying — 
 
 That 's where the West begins. 
 
 The author of those lines, who was, I believe, 
 Arthur Chapman of Denver, seems to me to have 
 come closer to a solution of the problem than any 
 other. For our own purposes just now, however, 
 let us say that the incident to which I wish to 
 refer took place in that part of the West which 
 lies between Sandy Hook and the Golden Gate. 
 
 My audience in this particular spot was de- 
 lightfully responsive ; so much so that I was all 
 of two hours in the delivery of a lecture that 
 ordinarily takes me an hour and a quarter to de- 
 liver. It was as exhilarating as a cross-country 
 run, with turf and skies just right. But for the 
 pauses made necessary by the interruptions in ap- 
 
 111
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 preciation I should have galloped across the finish 
 line in less than an hour. So stimulating in fact 
 was the readiness of the good people before me to 
 take what I had to say and run away with it, that, 
 while I was immortally tired when I went out 
 upon the platform, when I finished I could have 
 started in and done it all over again with 
 zest. 
 
 But even with so pleasing a background of re- 
 sponsiveness, there was one young man seated in 
 the front row who was a source of particular pleas- 
 ure to me. He was a rather distinguished look- 
 ing youth, with flashing eyes, and somewhat long- 
 ish blond hair, and a physique that suggested a 
 modern Viking. There was something in his face 
 that suggested the scholarly habit — occasionally 
 his expression was wistfully questioning. His 
 eyes never left my face while I was speaking, and 
 his physical attitude, forward-leaning, and a trifle 
 tense, seemed to betoken an interest in what I had 
 to say that was more than gratifying, and his 
 mouth was kept half open, ever ready for action. 
 If there was to be anything to laugh at, he at 
 least was not going to be caught napping, or in 
 any way unprepared, if by keeping his mouth 
 
 112
 
 Back-Handed Compliments 
 
 open he could remove all obstacles that would have 
 prevented tht easy flow of his mirth. 
 
 And his laugh ! I wish I might have a rubber 
 record of that laugh to secrete in an automatic 
 machine located somewhere in the middle of my 
 lecture halls, so that in response to the pressure 
 of an electric button it could be let loose at cer- 
 tain psychological moments. It was as infectious 
 a laugh as I ever listened to, and there were times 
 when its contagion brought me perilously close to 
 seeming to laugh at my own jokes — which is a 
 dangerous thing for a lecturer to do, and con- 
 trary to the technic of the " business," which re- 
 quires humorous periods to be delivered with a 
 face solemn to the point of the funereal. It had 
 really musical modulations, rising from pianissimo 
 to fortissimo on the wings of nicely graded cre- 
 scendos, and returning whence it had come with a 
 sort of rippling gurgle that was mighty fetch- 
 ing. 
 
 Finally not only was nothing I had in mind lost 
 upon him, but he actually appeared to discover 
 subtleties of wit in my discourse of whose pres- 
 ence I had not myself had the slightest suspicion. 
 It is hardly necessary to say that he was pleasing 
 
 113
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 unto my soul, and naturally enough I spoke of 
 him afterward to my chairman. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Bangs," said the chairman as wc 
 walked back to the hotel together after the lecture 
 was over, " what did you think of your audience 
 to-night? Some responsiveness there, all right, 
 eh?" 
 
 I was impulsively enthusiastic enough to say 
 that I thought it was a " corking good audience." 
 " If they were all like that," said I, " this work 
 would be as easy as cutting calves-foot jelly with 
 an ax." 
 
 " I thought you liked them," said he. " Our 
 people here are appreciative, and they believe the 
 laborer is worthy of his hire in showing it." 
 
 " I '11 put Blanksville down in my red-letter 
 book," said I. " But tell me who and what is that 
 rather distinguished looking young man with the 
 longish blond hair and snappy eyes, who sat in the 
 aisle seat of the front row next to the white-haired 
 old lady with an audiphonc? He had a wistful 
 sort of face, and — " 
 
 " Oh, I know who you mean," said the chair- 
 man. " He 's So-and-So. What about him — he 
 didn't bother you, I hope.'* " 
 
 114.
 
 Bach-Handed Compliments 
 
 " On the contrary," said I, " I loved him. He 
 was about the most appreciative chap I ever talked 
 to. He fairly hung on every word I spoke, and 
 when it came to a funny point I 'm blest if he 
 did n't meet me more than halfway ! " 
 
 " Yes," said the chairman, " he would. He 's 
 half-witted." 
 
 My swelling head immediately resumed its nor- 
 mal proportions, and when I left Blanksville the 
 following morning the only discomfort I found in 
 wearing my regular hat was that in some way or 
 other it seemed to have grown a little too large 
 for me, and showed a tendency to settle down over 
 my ears. I have nevertheless comforted myself 
 with the thought that sometimes the difference be- 
 tween half-wittedness and genius is so slight to 
 the eye of the familiar beholder that wise men 
 are not infrequently believed by their neighbors to 
 be fools. My young friend after all may have been 
 a poet, and, like some prophets, " without honor 
 in his own country." 
 
 115
 
 VII 
 
 FRIENDS OF THE ROAD 
 
 IN the days of my cynicism I used to laugh in 
 my sleeve, and occasionally in print, at the 
 ways of the politicians and statesmen en route, 
 who have their pictures taken hobnobbing with 
 locomotive engineers, trainmen, and Pullman por- 
 ters. Since I have myself become a professional 
 wanderer and have come into closer, somewhat en- 
 forced, fellowship with these individuals I laugh 
 at the politicians and statesmen no more. On the 
 contrary I commend them, and I think with ap- 
 preciation and gratitude of a poem by George 
 Sterling, one of our real voices to-day calling 
 down blessings on the heads of these " workers 
 of the night" to whose watchful care we who 
 travel intrust our lives. 
 
 One who makes only occasional journeys by 
 rail is not likely to think very much about the 
 man at the throttle ; but when one has practically 
 
 116
 
 Friends of the Road 
 
 lived on the rail for two or three months run- 
 ning, not only the man at the throttle, but the 
 man at the switch, the flagman, the fireman, the 
 conductor, and the Pullman porter as well, come 
 to be in a very real sense members of his fam- 
 
 iiy. 
 
 Mr. Carnegie's hero medals are often bestowed, 
 and worthily, upon men who on sudden impulse 
 have performed some deed of heroism and self-sac- 
 rifice for the benefit of others; but I have yet to 
 hear of one of these desirable possessions being be- 
 stowed upon the flagman who, in the face of a rag- 
 ing blizzard, at midnight, the thermometer at zero, 
 leaves the comparative comfort of the rear car, 
 and walks, whistling for company, back some four 
 or five hundred yards along the icy track, and 
 stands there with his red lantern in hand to warn 
 a possibly advancing train behind of danger 
 ahead. 
 
 When the ice-incased wires are down, and the 
 signal and switch towers are out of commission 
 because of the rampageous elements, how many of 
 us who lie comfortably asleep in the warm berths 
 of our stalled trains give so much as a thought to 
 the man outside in the freezing cold of the night, 
 
 117
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 keeping tlic switches clear that we may proceed, 
 or to the flagman at the rear, shelterless before 
 the storm, who stands between us and disaster? 
 Most of us, I fancy, do not think of them at all, 
 and I fear that many of us so occupy ourselves 
 with self-sympathy on these occasions that we find 
 no words of commendation in our hearts for any- 
 body connected with the whole railway system ; 
 but rather words of condemnation for that system 
 and everybody connected with it, from the inno- 
 cent stockholder looking for dividends, all the way 
 down to those poor devils who have forgotten un- 
 der the stress of demoralizing conditions to fill 
 the water tanks that we may drink and get 
 our fair share of the nation's supply of typhoid 
 germs. 
 
 For myself, I can truthfully say that the re- 
 mark of a railway official made to me many years 
 ago in response to one of my complaints has of 
 late years gathered considerable force and signifi- 
 cance. This gentleman was a nciglibor of mine, 
 and one Christmas he presented me with an annual 
 pass on the Hudson River Railraod. It was a 
 delightful gift, and I used it witli enthusiasm. 
 One morning, however, as he and I sat together on 
 
 118
 
 Friends of the Eoad 
 
 a local train that had in some mysterious way 
 managed to lose four hours on a thirty-minute 
 run, I turned to him and said: 
 
 " Charlie, sometimes I wish I had never accepted 
 that confounded old pass of yours. I 've bar- 
 tered my freedom of speech for a beggarly account 
 of empty minutes. If it was n't for that blankety- 
 blank pass, I could tell you what I think of your 
 blinkety-blink old road. Here we are four hours 
 late on a thirty-minute run ! " 
 
 " Why, my dear boy," he replied with an am- 
 iable smile, " you are dingety-dinged lucky to get 
 in at all ! " 
 
 Individually I have experienced so much kindli- 
 ness and courtesy at the hands of the personnel of 
 our railroads in all parts of the United States 
 that I sometimes get real satisfaction out of shar- 
 ing with them the discomforts of travel. I have 
 discovered without half trying that there are pro- 
 found depths of friendliness in them which need to 
 be given only half a chance to manifest them- 
 selves. Rarely indeed have I met with discour- 
 tesy at their hands, and many a weary hour has 
 been cheered by their native wit. For the most 
 part, naturally, my contact has been with the 
 
 119
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 station agent and the conductor — and the Pull- 
 man porter. 
 
 While I deplore the abuses of tipping in this 
 and other countries, I have rarely grudged the 
 Pullman porter his well earned extra quarter. 
 Perhaps the general run of us have not had the 
 time, nor the inclination, to acquaint ourselves 
 with the difficulties of the Pullman porter's job. 
 We don't realize that with a car full of people 
 ten passengers will want the car cooled off, ten 
 others will want a little more heat, five will com- 
 plain that there is too much air, five others will 
 complain that there is too little; and poor Ras- 
 tus, ground between the two millstones of com- 
 plaint, has to make a show of pleasing every- 
 body. He above all others would be justified in 
 announcing as his favorite poem those fine old 
 lines : 
 
 As a rule a man's a fool: 
 When it 's hot he wants it cool ; 
 When it 's cool he wants it hot — 
 Always wanting what is not. 
 
 I recall one fine old darky once on a train run- 
 ning into Cleveland, who was very unhappy over 
 a complaint of mine that, with a car crowded to 
 
 120
 
 Friends of the Road 
 
 the limit with women and children, some cigarette 
 fiend had vitiated what little air there was in the 
 car by smoking in his berth. I was awakened 
 at three o'clock in the morning by the oppressive 
 odor of burning paper and near-perique. There 
 is no mistaking the origin of that aromatic nui- 
 sance, and my gorge rose at the boorish lack of 
 consideration that the smoker showed for the com- 
 fort and convenience of his fellow travelers. I 
 pressed the button alongside my berth, and a mo- 
 ment later the porter was peering in at me through 
 the curtains. 
 
 " Look here, John," said I in a stage whisper, 
 " this is a little too much ! Somebody in this car 
 is smoking cigarettes, and I think it 's a condemned 
 outrage. With all these ladies on board it seems 
 to me that you ought to insist that the man who 
 can't restrain his passion for cigarettes should 
 get off at the next stop and take the first cattle 
 car he finds running to where he thinks he is go- 
 ing. 
 
 " Yas, suh," returned the porter sadly. " It 's 
 too bad, suh, an' I 've tried my bes' to stop 'em 
 twice, suh." 
 
 " Well, by George ! " said I, sitting up. " If 
 
 121
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 they won't slop for you, maybe they will for me. 
 If any man aboard this car thinks he can get 
 away with a nuisance like this — " 
 
 " Yas, suh," said the porter; "but that's jest 
 whar de trouble comes in, suh. 
 I been after 'em, suh ; but it 
 ain't no use. In bofe cases, 
 suh, it was de ladies deirsefs 
 dat was a-doin' all de smokin', 
 suh." 
 
 And he grinned so broadly 
 as I threw myself back on my 
 pillow that when I finally got 
 to sleep again I dreamed of 
 the opening to the Mammoth 
 Cave, through a natural as- 
 sociation of ideas. 
 
 Occasionally one finds some 
 trouble in keeping ahead of 
 the Pullman porter in the 
 j^yjjj^'^'' ' matter of repartee. There 
 use.""° used to be on the night run 
 to Boston a venerable chap, black as the ace of 
 spades, but patriarchal in his dignity, of whom I 
 was very fond. He was as wide awake at all 
 
 122 
 
 "Iliave 
 been after
 
 Friends of the Road 
 
 hours of the day and night as though sleep had 
 not been invented. Like most of his class, he was 
 inclined to bestow titles on his charges. 
 
 " Yo' got enough pillows, Cap'n ? " he asked on 
 one occasion, after he had fixed my berth. 
 
 "Yes, Major," I replied, putting him up a peg 
 higher. " But it 's a cold night, and I think an- 
 other blanket might come in handy." 
 
 " All right, Cunnel," said he, adding to my 
 honors. " I '11 git hit right away." 
 
 " Thank you. General," said I, as he returned 
 with the desired article. 
 
 " Glad to serve yo'. Admiral," said he with deep 
 gravity. 
 
 " And now, Bishop," said I, resolved to keep 
 at it until I scored a victory, " suppose — " 
 
 " Hoi' on, mistuh ! " he retorted instantly. 
 " HoP on ! Dey ain't mo'n one puhson in de Uni- 
 verse whut 's higher 'n a bishop, an' I knows 
 mighty well yo' ain't Him ! " 
 
 Our dusky brothers not infrequently fill me with 
 a sense of consolation in difficult moments. Two 
 such cases occur to me at this writing; one in my 
 own experience, and the other in a story I heard 
 in the South last winter, the mere thought of which 
 
 123
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 has many times since served to soften my woes in 
 troublesome moments. 
 
 The first occurred several years ago, when the 
 steel passenger cars first came into commission. 
 Being myself of a somewhat inflammable nature, 
 I make it a rule to travel on these in preference 
 to the old-fashioned tinder boxes of ten years ago 
 whenever I can. On this particular occasion, 
 however, on a hurried midwinter night run, I 
 found myself in a highly ornate, lumbering Pull- 
 man of the vintage of '68. It was an essentially 
 mid-Victorian affair, and in the matter of decora- 
 tion was a flamboyant specimen of the early A. 
 T. Stewart period of American interior embellish- 
 ment. 
 
 Those whose memories hark back that far will 
 remember that the Pullman Company's money at 
 that time was largely expended on lavish ornamen- 
 tation of a peculiarly assertive rococo style, con- 
 sisting for the main part of an eruption of gew- 
 gaws which ran riot over the exposed surfaces of 
 the car like a rash on the back of a baby. The 
 external slant of the upper berth in these cars was 
 ever a favorite surface for this particular kind 
 of gew-gawsity, and no occupant of a lower berth 
 
 124<
 
 Friends of the Road 
 
 known to me ever succeeded in getting safely into 
 bed, or out of it, without having one or more of 
 these lovely patterns imprinted on the top of his 
 head with more force than delicacy. In collisions 
 the occupant of one of these varnish-soaked orgies 
 of fretwork had about as much chance of escaping 
 unscathed as what a dear clerical friend of mine 
 in a lay sermon once characterized as " a celluloid 
 dog chasing an asbestos cat through the depths 
 of purgatory." Whenever I find myself on one 
 of these cars I think instinctively of just three 
 things, and in this order — my past life, my pos- 
 sible permanent future, and my accident insurance 
 policy — and try to comfort myself by playing 
 both ends against the middle. 
 
 In my haste on this occasion I had not particu- 
 larly noticed the characteristics of the car until 
 I attempted to remove my shoes to retire. As I 
 sat up after untying the laces I was brought to a 
 painful realization of the oldtime nature of the 
 vehicle by having impressed most forcibly upon 
 the top of my head the convolutions of an empire 
 wreath, carved out of pine splints, and embossed 
 with gold leaf, which served to give Napoleonic 
 dignity to the upper berth when not in use. The 
 
 125
 
 Froin Pillar to Post 
 
 jar, plus the ensuing association of ideas, brought 
 to my mind an uneasy realization of the probable 
 truth that the car was of antique pattern, about 
 as solid as any other box of potential toothpicks, 
 and as fireproof as a ball of excelsior soaked with 
 paraffin. At the moment the porter happened to 
 be passing with the carpet-stepped ladder to assist 
 a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound traveling man into 
 the berth overhead, and I addressed him. 
 
 " See here, porter ! " said I. " What kind of 
 car do you call this, anyhow? Isn't this the 
 car Shcm, Ham, and Japhet took when they moved 
 back to town from Ararat? " 
 
 " Yas, suh," he answered. " She suttinly am 
 an ol' timah, suh." 
 
 " Well, I don't feel exactly safe, George," said 
 I. " Are n't there any steel cars on this train ? " 
 
 " Oh, we 's all safe enough, suh," said George, 
 with the assurance of one who is so well intrenched 
 that no foe on earth could possibly get at him. 
 " De cyar behind an' de cyar in front, dey 's bofe 
 steel, suh." 
 
 I had never expected to enjoy in this life the 
 sensations that I suspect are those of a mosquito 
 when he finds himself caught between the aveng- 
 
 126
 
 Friends of the Road 
 
 ing palms of a horny-fisted son of toil, who has 
 at last got a pestiferous nuisance where he wants 
 him ; but I must confess that such were my sen- 
 sations that night; and every time the train came 
 to a sudden stop in its plunging through the 
 dark I had a not too comfortable sense that when 
 the steel front of the car behind finally came to 
 meet the iron end of the car ahead, through the 
 unresisting mass of splinters and Empire wreaths 
 between, I would personally, in all likelihood, more 
 closely resemble a cubist painting of a sunset on 
 the Barbary Coast than a human being. I imag- 
 ine that what really carried me uninjured through 
 the nervous ordeal of that night was the amused 
 view I took of good old George's notions as to 
 what constituted absolute safety. 
 
 The other incident, as narrated to me by a fel- 
 low traveler, has given me much comfort in exas- 
 perating moments. In sections of the South and 
 West the engineers have not as yet mastered the 
 art of stopping or starting their trains gently. 
 When they stop they stop grindingly, with jolts 
 and jars sudden and violent enough to send a 
 snoring traveler full of stored up impetus head 
 first through a stone wall; or, if it be in the day- 
 
 127
 
 From Pilla?' to Post 
 
 time, with a jerk of such a nature as would snap 
 his head off completely if the latter were not so 
 firmly fastened to his neck. It is a method that 
 may do very well for freight, but for passengers 
 and dynamite it has its disadvantages. 
 
 It was on a line renowned for its jarring methods 
 that the incident of which my friend told me is 
 alleged to have occurred. A train made up of day 
 coaches and Pullman sleepers broke through a 
 wooden trestle and landed in a frightful mass 
 of twisted wreckage on the bottom of a ravine 
 some eighty feet bielow. The wrecking crew 
 worked nobly, and after several hours of heroic 
 effort came to a crushed and splintered sleeper at 
 the base of the ruin. There amid the debris, sleep- 
 ing peacefully, with a beam across his chest, lay 
 the porter, wholly unhurt, and dreaming. He 
 was even snoring. The foreman of the wrecking 
 crew, with suitable language expressing his amaze- 
 ment at the miracle, finally succeeded in getting 
 Sambo half awake. 
 
 " Wh-whut 's de mattah .'' " stammered Sambo, 
 sitting up, and gazingly dazedly at the ruin on 
 every side. 
 
 "Matter.''" echoed the foreman. "Why, 
 
 128
 
 Friends of the Road 
 
 Jumping Jehoshaphat, man ! Don't you know 
 that this whole dod-gasted train has fallen through 
 the trestle ? It 's a wonder you were n't killed. 
 Didn't you feel anything?" 
 
 " Why, yas, boss," said Sambo. " I did feel 
 sumpin' kind o' jolty; but I fought dey was jes' 
 a-puttin' on de dinah at Jackson." 
 
 So it is that nowadays when these jolting, jar- 
 ring notes come along to vex my soul I no longer 
 lose my temper as I used to do, but think rather 
 of that old darky and " de dinah at Jackson," 
 and wax mellow, feeling that that story alone, true 
 or not, is a full justification of all the sufferings I 
 or others have had to endure at the ungentle hands 
 of the freight engineer at the passenger throttle. 
 
 These men on the engines are great characters, 
 and whenever I can get into touch with them I do 
 so. In some of my zigzagging trips hither and yon 
 in the Middle and Northwest I often find myself 
 back to-day on some train or other that has car- 
 ried me along on some previous trip, and it is fre- 
 quently much like a family reunion when I meet the 
 crew for a third or fourth time. " Glad to see you 
 back," is a familiar greeting from conductors, 
 engineers, flagmen, and porters alike. There is 
 
 129
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 one diner on a Western run that I have visited so 
 frequently that I receive all the kindly special at- 
 tention one used to look for at an inn to which he 
 was a constant visitor ; and I think it all grew out 
 of the fact that the first time I traveled on that 
 particular car I summoned the man in charge to 
 complain of the pie. 
 
 " I don't like to com- 
 plain," said I ; " but this 
 pie — 
 
 " What 's the matter 
 with the pic? " he asked, 
 bristling a little. 
 
 " Why," said I, " it 's 
 so confoundedly good 
 that even a whole one 
 could n't satisfy me ! " 
 
 Ever since the registry 
 of that complaint I have 
 really had more than the 
 law allows on that par- 
 ticular car. Preferential treatment that would 
 fill the Interstate Commerce Commission with an- 
 guish is always mine. Neither the rack nor all 
 the fires of the Inquisition could extract from me 
 
 130 
 
 "These men on 
 the engines 
 are great 
 characters."
 
 Friends of the Road 
 
 its precise identity, lest its kindly crew be fined 
 for ovcrcourtesy to a specific individual. 
 
 But to return to the engineers : I have always 
 cherished the memory of a stolid old graybeard 
 in command of a special train circumstances once 
 compelled me to hire in order to meet an Arizona 
 date for which there was no possible regular con- 
 nection by rail. My special started from Phoenix 
 shortly after midnight of a stormy day, to carry 
 me down to Maricopa, there to connect with an 
 early morning express into Tucson. The train 
 consisted of an engine and a single day coach. 
 Inasmuch as it was mine for the time being, and at 
 considerable cost, I decided to exercise my pro- 
 prietary rights and ride on the engine. A heavy 
 rain which had been falling all day had changed 
 the dry, sandy beds of the Salt and Gila rivers 
 to torrential streams, to the great disadvantage of 
 the roadbeds. We literally seemed to be feeling 
 our way along in the dark, until suddenly the 
 clouds broke away and a glorious moon shed its 
 radiance over everything. Just at this point the 
 engineer with a startled exclamation seized the 
 throttle and brought us to a disquietingly abrupt 
 stop. He whispered a word or two to the fireman, 
 
 131
 
 Frojri Pillar to Post 
 
 who immediately descended from the cab and ran 
 on ahead along the track until he was completely 
 lost to sight. 
 
 " What 's the trouble? " said I somewhat appre- 
 hensively, as the engineer began examining his ma- 
 chinery. 
 
 " Oh, nothing," said he. " I 've just sent Bill 
 ahead to see if the bridge is still there." 
 
 " Bridge? Still there? " I queried. " There 's 
 nothing wrong with the bridges, I hope." 
 
 " Well — I dunno," said he. " Look over 
 there," he added with a wave of his hand off to 
 the left of us. I peered across the stream in the 
 direction he had indicated, and there in the bright 
 light of the moon I could see that two huge iron 
 spans of the Santa Fe bridge had been completely 
 undermined by the fierce flow of the waters, and 
 now lay flat on their sides in midstream. 
 
 " Ooo-hoo ! All right ! " came the voice of the 
 fireman from the dark ahead. 
 
 I sat transfixed and speechless as the engineer 
 started slowly ahead and moved at a snail's pace 
 along the soggy road. We came to the bridge, 
 which was still standing, in a few moments ; but 
 oh how it swayed as we inched our way across ! I 
 
 132
 
 Friends of the Road 
 
 should have felt safer if that train and I were ly- 
 ing together in a hammock. We fairly lurched 
 across it, and I should not have been at all sur- 
 prised if at any moment the whole structure had 
 collapsed under our weight. Finally we got 
 across in safety, and my heart condescended to 
 emerge from my boots. 
 
 "By George, Mr. Engineer!" said I. "If 
 there 's any more like that, I guess I '11 get off and 
 walk the rest of the way." 
 
 " All right, mister," said the engineer cheer- 
 fully. " If you prefer the company of rattle- 
 snakes and Gila monsters to mine, go ahead — 
 and may the Lord have mercy on your soul ! " 
 
 I decided to remain. 
 
 133
 
 VIII 
 CHAIRMEN I HAVE MET 
 
 SOMETIMES the Gentleman in the Chair is a 
 Lady, but more often he is a man, and, 
 strange to relate, contrary to the general impres- 
 sion of the comparative methods of the sexes, the 
 ladies are vastly more direct in their introductions 
 than their Brothers in Suffering. Women are 
 seldom oratorically inclined. Men are invariably 
 so — or at least chairmen are. And as a result 
 an introduction to an audience by a woman is 
 likely to become more of an " identification of the 
 remains " than an illuminating explanation of the 
 speaker's right to be where he is ; while the men 
 " pile it on " to such an extent that the lecturer 
 has often to struggle immortally to make good the 
 chairman's kindly declarations on his behalf. 
 
 Personally, with all due respect to the Lady 
 Chairman, I prefer the masculine method: not be- 
 cause I like to hear myself exalted to the tipmost 
 
 134
 
 Chairmen I Have Met 
 
 point of the blue vault above ; for I do not. It is 
 hard work to sit still before five hundred people 
 with a smug expression of countenance and hear 
 oneself compared to Dickens and Thackeray, and 
 Shakespeare and Moses, to the distinct disadvan- 
 tages of that noble quartet of literary strugglers ; 
 and I have never ceased to sympathize with An- 
 thony Hope, who on a postprandial occasion some 
 years ago when I was sitting next to him, after 
 listening to a few eulogistic remarks by a speaker 
 in which he was made to appear the greatest Light 
 of Literature since the beginning of time, lifted 
 the tablecloth, glanced under it, and in a muffled 
 tone murmured, " My God, Bangs ! Is n't there 
 any way out of here? I cawn't live up to all 
 this ! " 
 
 Nevertheless, I do prefer the men's method, be- 
 cause it gives me more time in which to study my 
 audience, and, in so far as I may, adjust myself 
 and my discourse to the special problem confront- 
 ing me. In the one case (introductions by 
 women) it is as if one were suddenly seized by the 
 scruff of the neck and thrown overboard without 
 even time to say one's prayers ; in the other the 
 victim is slowly and pleasantly carried upward 
 
 135
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 from the level of fact on the wings of kindly fancy 
 to a pinnacle of unearned increment of glory, and 
 
 left there to shift for him- 
 self: to soar higher if he 
 have afflatus enough to at- 
 tain loftier heights, or to 
 slide back to where he be- 
 longs as gracefully as may 
 be. 
 
 I have often thought as 
 I have sat and listened to 
 these delightful flights of 
 eulogy — so like the obitu- 
 ary notices we read in the 
 newspapers after a great 
 man dies — of the great dis- 
 advantages of those upper 
 realms. It is very lonely 
 and cold up there, and 
 while the old saw is undoubtedly correct, and 
 there is plenty of room at the top, let it be 
 recorded by one who has more than once been 
 summarily hauled thither as involuntarily as unde- 
 servedly, that it is elbow room only, with mighty 
 little solid earth on which to rest one's feet. The 
 
 136 
 
 —ya»- 
 
 "Pile it on so thick that 
 the lecturer has to 
 struggle hard to make 
 good."
 
 Chairmen I Have Met 
 
 poet who invented the expression " the giddy 
 heights " knew what he was talking about, and one 
 has but to go out on the lecture platform and try 
 to stand gracefully on those abstract peaks to 
 have it proved to his entire satisfaction. 
 
 But there is another reason why I prefer the 
 chair-vian to the (^BAY-'woman, and it has to do 
 solely with the technic of lecturing. No one who 
 has ever lectured can deny the apprehension of 
 the first five minutes of the effort. Those five 
 minutes are perhaps the most critical period of the 
 evening. If the attack is not right, the whole af- 
 fair is likely to come down with a crash ; for first 
 impressions count perhaps more than they should 
 with the average audience. If the attack is good, 
 and the lecturer can " make himself solid " with 
 his audience at the very beginning, structural 
 weaknesses and an occasional dull or dragging mo- 
 ment will be forgiven later, because those who lis- 
 ten have come to like the speaker personally, and 
 decline to let him fail unless he really insists upon 
 doing so. 
 
 Now the technic of this attack, I should say if 
 I were retained to write a Primer for Lecturers, 
 involves the chairman most materially. He is the 
 
 137
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 tangible hook on whicli the alert lyceumite almost 
 invariably either hangs or supports himself in 
 those first five minutes. Human nature is so con- 
 stituted that people like a pleasantry at the ex- 
 pense of some person or of some thing with which 
 they are personally familiar. It grows out of the 
 love of the concrete — which is a failure of us 
 all, I fancy — and in every community there are 
 always at least two concrete things that are 
 sure winners for the lecturer — the chairman of 
 the evening, and the railway system upon which 
 the inhabitants of the community depend. Jests 
 broad or subtle at the expense of either are re- 
 ceived with howls of joy. 
 
 On my first transcontinental trip, made ten 
 years ago, I never failed to receive an immediate 
 response from my audiences when I referred to the 
 letters N. P. R. R., the abbreviated form for the 
 Northern Pacific Railroad, as really signifying a 
 " Not Particularly Rapid Route " ; and in other 
 sections of the country served by those charming 
 corporations the shortest cut I know to the affec- 
 tions of the people is through a bald or ribald jest 
 at the expense of the Erie or the Baltimore & 
 Ohio Railroad.
 
 Chairmen I Have Met 
 
 The chairman, however, is an equally safe 
 proposition. He is either a very popular man in 
 town, or directly the reverse, and in either case his 
 neighbors enjoy a little joke at his expense. Nat- 
 urally the joke, to be successful, must have to do 
 with something peculiar to the moment, which the 
 lecturer must find in the chairman's opening re- 
 marks. Obviously one cannot be so freely face- 
 tious with a woman as with a man, and if he has 
 been properly brought up does not even wish to 
 be so. So that the Lady Chairman invariably 
 leaves the speaker with a restricted field of opera- 
 tions at the outset. 
 
 Of course in all these reflections I am speaking 
 merely of the lecturer who seeks popular rather 
 than academic favor, which is frankly my own 
 case. I should infinitely prefer to find myself 
 liked by a miscellaneous audience rather than by a 
 limited company of scientificos who are profes- 
 sionally more interested in things of the head than 
 of the heart. It is better to be human than great, 
 and I care more for Humanity than for the Hu- 
 manities. 
 
 At a rough estimate I should say that in the 
 last ten years I have been the beneficiary of the 
 
 139
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 services of not less than eight hundred chairmen, 
 and in that whole list I can recall but one that I 
 did not like, and no doubt he was a most likable 
 fellow. He was a clergyman and a man of infor- 
 mation, if not education; but he seemed to think 
 that because somebody had once intimated that I 
 was a " humorist " (a title that I have neither laid 
 claim to, nor specially desired to win) I must nat- 
 urally be reached only by a downward climb from 
 his own dignified heights. There are individuals 
 in this world who conceive humor to be a somewhat 
 undignified pursuit, their own education in that 
 branch of human action having been confined to a 
 study of the antics of the circus clown, and they 
 are likely to deny to humorists even the right to 
 the use of correct English. 
 
 " Well," said this special chairman unctuously 
 when we met for the first time, " you are from New 
 York, I understand." 
 
 " I have been a New Yorker," I said noncom- 
 mittally. 
 
 " I suppose you know Ilowells, and Mark 
 Twain, and all that bunch? " he went on, conde- 
 scending to use the kind of language with which 
 he of course assumed I was most familiar. 
 
 14^0
 
 Chairmen I Have Met 
 
 And it was just there that I took a violent dis- 
 like to the man. The word hunch, as apphed to 
 Mr. Howells and Mark Twain by one of his pre- 
 sumed education was not pleasing to my soul, 
 though I should have loved it from a cowboy. It 
 was as if somebody had referred to " those tal- 
 ented cusses, Carlyle and Emerson," and I sim- 
 mered slightly within. 
 
 " Well," I replied, " I 've known Howells and 
 his gang for ages — bunked with the whole kit and 
 caboodle of 'em for nearly twenty years — ■ and 
 you can take it from me they 're a nifty herd I 
 But the other — who was the other man ? " 
 
 " Mark Twain," said he. 
 
 " I seem to have heard the name somewhere," 
 said I ; " but I don't think I 've ever met him, or 
 at least I don't remember it. New York 's a 
 pretty big place, you know, and you can't be 
 expected to know everybody. What was his 
 line.? " 
 
 I am not sure, but I think the reverend gentle- 
 man woke up at that point. At any rate he gave 
 me no clue as to Mark Twain's identity. He 
 turned away, and excused himself on the ground 
 that he wanted to see if the audience was " all in." 
 
 141
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 " Don't bother," I called after him. " It will 
 be all in when I get through with it." 
 
 But he never cracked a smile. I presume there 
 were refinements of slang with which he was not 
 familiar. 
 
 As to the others, however, I find as I run the 
 noble army over in retrospect that many have 
 won their way into my affections, and none are 
 remembered save pleasantly. Several of them 
 stand out preeminently for acts of self-sacrificing 
 kindness on my behalf; notably one gentleman in 
 Iowa who drove me over a distance of eighteen 
 miles after midnight through a raging blizzard, re- 
 quiring the unremitting efforts of four sturdy 
 horses to pull us through, in order that I might 
 catch a train back East and be with my children 
 at Christmas time, and he was not a particularly 
 emotional man, or anything of a sentimentalist, at 
 that. 
 
 I shall never forget the spur of his answer to 
 a remark I made to him that night on our way 
 from the hotel to the lecture hall. The snow was 
 falling lightly when he arrived, but the distance 
 to the hall was so short that we walked it. As 
 we came to the public square I noticed that hitched 
 
 142
 
 Chairmen I Have Met 
 
 to the white railing about the county courthouse 
 that stood in the middle thereof were some thirty 
 or forty teams, harnessed to farm wagons of va- 
 rious types, large and small. It was already after 
 eight o'clock, and I was surprised to find the 
 wagons there at so late an hour. 
 
 " Your people work late, Mr. Robb," said I, 
 as we sauntered along. 
 
 " What do you mean by that? " he inquired. 
 
 " Why," said I, " those wagons over there. 
 Is n't it a trifle late for your farmers to be in 
 town ? " 
 
 " Oh," he said, " those wagons — why no, Mr. 
 Bangs. Those wagons are here for pleasure, not 
 on business. They have brought in a good part 
 of your audience. Some of your people to-night 
 have driven in from as far as twenty miles to hear 
 you." 
 
 My heart sank. " Great Scott! " I ejaculated. 
 " Twenty miles, eh ? On a night like this — I — 
 I hope I '11 be good enough for that." 
 
 " / hope so! " was his laconic response. 
 
 The rejoinder was as the prick of a spur, and 
 by its aid, as well as with the assistance of a de- 
 lightfully receptive gathering of listeners who had 
 
 143
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 traveled far to have a good time, and meant to 
 have it anyhow — a characteristic of your West- 
 erner — we pulled through in good condition. 
 
 When all was over this noncommittal lowan 
 bundled me up in a borrowed fur overcoat, and in- 
 sisted on taking that all-night drive with me 
 through the raging storm that I might be sent 
 safely and rejoicing back to my youngsters await- 
 ing my coming on the Atlantic coast. It was 
 shortly after four in the morning when my train 
 drew out of the distant station, and the last I 
 saw of my kindly host he was standing on the 
 railway platform, knee deep in the snow, in the 
 spotlight of a solitary white electric lamp, hat in 
 hand, and waving his farewells and good wishes 
 for me and mine. 
 
 I rejoice to say that he has remained my friend 
 over the eight or nine years that have since 
 elapsed, and if by any chance he shall read these 
 lines I trust they will serve to prove to him that 
 my affection, as frequently expressed in my letters 
 to him, is still quite as strong and as deep as one 
 with his capacity for friendliness could possibly 
 wish it to be. And I wish to add that his figure 
 as it stands out in my memory has become a sym- 
 
 144
 
 Chairmen I Have Met 
 
 bol to me of the kindness, and 
 courtesy, and friendliness of 
 the great-hearted people who 
 dwell in what he and his fel- 
 lows properly and pridefully 
 refer to always as " God's 
 Own Country." 
 
 Another Iowa chairman, 
 whose charming companion- 
 ship and courtesy I shall al- 
 ways remember, will not mind, 
 I am sure, if I record here a 
 most amusing " break " that 
 he made at our first meeting, 
 which, I hasten to add, he 
 more than redeemed after- 
 ward when the stress and 
 strain of the evening relaxed. 
 He dwelt in what appeared to 
 be a most flourishing little 
 city in the northern part of 
 the State. I had arrived there 
 early in the afternoon, and was 
 so much impressed by the^ 
 clean-cut appearance of every- 
 
 145 
 
 ■ifk 
 
 m 
 
 L^i 
 
 II 1, 1 
 
 ^M"
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 thing I saw that I lingered upon the streets long 
 after I should have sought my couch to rest up 
 for the evening. The streets were as clean as a 
 whistle. The dwellings were attractive in design 
 and setting, and the business blocks were of a dig- 
 nified if not massive style of architecture. Best 
 of all, if I could judge from those I saw to-ing 
 and fro-ing upon the streets, the people them- 
 selves were alert and active. 
 
 In view of all this apparent prosperity I was a 
 trifle surprised when the chairman arrived at the 
 hotel to find him rather depressed. He was a 
 clergyman, and at first glance seemed to be suffer- 
 ing from profound melancholy ; so very profound 
 indeed that I deemed it my duty to try to cheer 
 him up. 
 
 " What a fine, prosperous little city you have 
 here, Doctor," said I with genuine enthusiasm. 
 " I 've put in the greater part of the afternoon 
 looking the place over, and I tell you it has filled 
 me with joy." 
 
 " Humph ! " said he gloomily. " It looks pros- 
 perous, but — it ain't! It 's a bank-made town. 
 The banks got here first, and induced people to 
 come and settle on easy terms, and the terms 
 
 146
 
 Chairmen I Have Met 
 
 have n't turned out quite so easy as they might. 
 There 's hardly a man in this town that is n't up 
 to his chin in debt." 
 
 " Oh, well, what of that.? " said I, still resolved 
 to win out on a tolerably hopeless proposition. 
 " Of course debt is a bad thing ; but sometimes it 
 acts as a spur. Your people are a bright and 
 brainy looking lot. It won't take them long to 
 settle up." 
 
 " Oh, they look bright and brainy," he returned 
 sadly ; " but thei^ ain't! There is n't one man in 
 ten '11 understand a half of what you say to them 
 to-night." 
 
 " Look here. Doctor ! " said I, beginning to wax 
 a trifle chilly myself, especially in the regions of 
 my pedal extremities. " What are you trying to 
 do, discourage me? " 
 
 " Oh, no," he replied, with a mournful shake of 
 his head. " If I 'd been trying to discourage you, 
 I 'd have told you about our lecture hall. It 's 
 without any exception the meanest thing of its 
 kind on the American continent. Why," he 
 added, holding out his hands in a gesture of utter 
 despair, " why, if we had a lecture hall that was 
 only halfway decent, we could afford to have some- 
 
 147
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 body out here to talk to us that would be worth 
 listening to! '^ 
 
 The cliainiian who in the exuberance of his own 
 eloquence forgets the name of the individual he is 
 introducing, even though he has announced that 
 that name is a " household word," is no creature 
 of the imagination, and if the stories that are told 
 of him seem hackneyed, it is not because they are 
 so frequently told, but because they happen so 
 frequently in the experience of all platform speak- 
 ers, and in almost identical manner. Even so 
 well known a man as Mr. Bryan has suffered 
 from this, one enthusiastic admirer in New York 
 having once, after a skyscraping peroration, 
 led up with climacteric force to the name 
 of " our Peerless Leader, William J. Bren- 
 nings." 
 
 In my own platform experience I have had 
 chairmen come to me at the last moment and con- 
 fess with most childlike frankness that they have 
 never heard of me before, asking me to help them 
 out because they really did n't know *' what in 
 Tophet to say." One individual out on the Pa- 
 cific Coast approached me one night about ten 
 minutes before the lecture was scheduled to begin, 
 
 148
 
 Chairmen I Have Met 
 
 and revealed to me his terrible embarrassment over 
 this latter situation. 
 
 " I did n't know until half an hour ago that I 
 was to present you to our people to-night," said 
 he, " and to tell the honest truth, Mr. Bangs, / 
 never heard of you before. Will you please tell me 
 wJio you are, and what you are, and why you are.? 
 And is there anything pleasant I can say about 
 you in introducing you to your audience .? " 
 
 " Well," said I, " if I had known I was to have 
 the privilege of preparing the obituary notice 
 you are to deliver over my prostrate remains while 
 I lie in state upon the platform to-night, I should 
 have written out something that would have been 
 mighty proud reading for the little Bangses when 
 I sent marked copies of to-morrow morning's 
 papers back East to show them what a great man 
 their daddy is in the West. But I have n't time 
 to tell you the whole story of my past life, and 
 there are certain sections of it I would n't tell you 
 if I had. I have been a Democrat in New York and 
 a Republican in Maine." 
 
 " You might at least make a suggestion or two 
 to help me out, though," he pleaded. 
 
 " Oh, yes," said I, " there are plenty of pleas- 
 
 149
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 ant things you can say about me. In the first 
 phice, you can tell that audience that — " 
 
 " Hold on a moment, Mr. Bangs," he inter- 
 rupted, raising his hand to stop me. " Just one 
 minute, please ! You ^ve got to remember that I 
 am a clergyman and must speak the truth! " 
 
 I resolved to let him go his own gait, and com- 
 forted him by telling him he could say whatever 
 he pleased, and that I would " stand for it." 
 
 And I must confess he acquitted himself nobly. 
 In his hands I became one of the Princes of Let- 
 ters, the titles of whose many books were too well 
 known to need any enumeration of them there, and 
 as for my name — why, it would be an imperti- 
 nence for him even to mention it, " because, my 
 friends," said he, " I am perfectly well aware that 
 that name is as familiar to you as it is to me." 
 
 Another good gentleman in the South, sum- 
 moned to do duty as chairman at the last moment, 
 sought no aid either from myself or from " Who's 
 Who," trusting, like the good Christian he was, ut- 
 terly to Holy Writ. He began most impressively 
 with selections from the Book of Genesis. " In 
 the beginning God created the earth," said he, 
 and then he ran lightly over the sequences of cre- 
 
 150
 
 Chairmen I Have 3Iet 
 
 ated tilings until he had ushered the birds of the 
 air, the beasts of the field, and the fishes of the 
 sea on to the stage, and thence with an easy jump 
 he came to myself. 
 
 " And then, my friends," he said, with an im- 
 pressive pause, " the Creator felt that He should 
 create something to have dominion over all these 
 things that He knew were good — a creature of 
 heart, a creature of soul, a creature of in-till-ect, 
 and so He made man. IMy friends, it is such a 
 one that we have with us to-night who will speak 
 to you upon his own subject as only he can do. 
 It gives me great pleasure to introduce to you the 
 speaker of the evening, who is too well known to 
 you all to need any further eulogy on my part." 
 
 The good gentleman then retired to a proscen- 
 ium box at the right of the stage, where he at once 
 proceeded to fall asleep, and snored so lustily that 
 everybody in the house was delighted, including 
 myself — although, to tell the truth, I envied him 
 his nap, for I was immortally tired. 
 
 One of the dearest of my chairmen was a fine 
 old gentleman in West Virginia, to meet and know 
 whom was truly an inspiration. He was a pro- 
 found scholar, and had enjoyed the rare privilege 
 
 151
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 in a long <and useful life of knowing intimately' 
 some of the demigods of American literature. His 
 reminiscences of Emerson, and Oliver Wendell 
 Holmes, and Longfellow, and Hawthorne, and 
 others of our most brilliant literary epoch, were 
 a delight to listen to, and I was sorry when the 
 time came for us to go out upon the platform. 
 It would have been a greater treat for that 
 audience to listen to him than to me, and I heartily 
 wished we might exchange places for the moment. 
 Like a great many others of my chairmen, this 
 gentleman experienced some difficulty in getting 
 the title of my lecture, " Salubrities I Have Met," 
 straight in his mind. More than once during our 
 little chat together he would pause and say: 
 
 " What is the title of your talk again? It has 
 slipped my mind." 
 
 " Sal-u-bri-ties I Have Met," I would say. 
 
 " Tell me again — is it Salubrities or Celebri- 
 ties? " he w^ould ask. 
 
 " Salubrities," I would reply. And tlien I 
 would spell it out for him, " S-A-L-U-lMl-I- 
 T-I-E-S, Salubrities. Not in any case Celebri- 
 ties, or you will spoil my opening." 
 
 " I '11 try to remember it," he would say, with 
 
 152
 
 Chairmen I Have Met 
 
 a mistrustful shake of his head as if he feared it 
 was impossible. " It 's rather elusive, you know." 
 
 " Perhaps I had better write it down on a slip 
 of paper," I said at the last. 
 
 " Oh, no," he replied. " I think I have it now 
 
 — Salubrities, Salubrities, Salubrities — yes — 
 I — I think I have it." 
 
 We walked out upon the platform, and the dear 
 old gentleman began a short address so filled with 
 witty and pleasant things that I have ever since 
 wished I could have had a stenographer present to 
 take it down in shorthand. It would have formed 
 an excellent standard of conduct and achievement 
 worthy of any man's striving. And then he came 
 to my subject. 
 
 " And to-night, ladies and gentlemen," he said, 
 " Mr. Bangs has come to us to give us his famous 
 lecture on — ahem — on — er — he has come, I 
 say, to give us his inimitable talk on — er — on 
 
 — er — " 
 
 I leaned foi'ward, and tried to give it to him in a 
 stage whisper ; but was too late. His impetus car- 
 ried him on to destruction 
 
 " — his delightful talk on Lubricators He Has 
 Met," said he. 
 
 153
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 Without any jealousies let me confess that that 
 observation was truly the hit of tlie evening. The 
 bulk of the audience had been themselves so mysti- 
 fied by tlie possible significance of the word Sa- 
 lubrities that they knew the title by heart, and we 
 began the evening with a roar of laughter that 
 made us all friends at once. And as a matter of 
 fact no harm was done ; for " Lubricators I Have 
 Met " was quite as good a title as the other, for 
 my Salubrities are men and women who have made 
 the world happier, and better, and sweeter, by their 
 kindliness and graciousness, and what in the world 
 could be more fitting than that the people who do 
 that should be called Lubricators.'' 
 
 154.
 
 IX 
 
 CHANCE ACQUAINTANCES 
 
 THE delightful author of that most appealing 
 story, " The Friendly Road," had only to 
 scratch the surface of things a little to find many 
 a golden nugget of friendliness and courtesy in the 
 mines of the human spirit. As I look back on my 
 many thousands of miles of travel in this country 
 I find myself able to say with equal confidence that 
 on the Roads of Steel, and the lanes tributary 
 thereto, where few of us would think to look for 
 such things, I too have found my golden nuggets 
 without more than half-trying to find them. 
 I have already spoken of my friends among the 
 trainmen, to whose fidelity and watchful care I 
 have owed my safe transit and my comfort in many 
 a long and weary stretch. They have been an 
 abundant source of happiness to me ; but there 
 have been others still, in whose wit and fraternal 
 companionship, and illuminating discourse, I have 
 
 155
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 found both pleasure and profit. Many of these 
 have been the chance acquaintances of the smoker 
 and the observation car en route. 
 
 It does not happen often here in the East that 
 we make friends " by rail." Possibly it is because 
 the distances traversed are comparatively short. 
 Perhaps too it is due to the Eastern Reserve, which 
 is a State of Mind, just as the Western Reserve 
 has become several States of Being. I know that 
 the democratic Westerner traveling in the East 
 finds us apparently cold and unresponsive; though 
 I doubt we are really so. We are merely hurried, 
 and possibly worried; too preoccupied to notice 
 the many little opportunities for friendly inter- 
 course that a railway journey presents. 
 
 It is my own impression that the distance to be 
 traveled has largely to do with this difference of 
 manner between the Eastern man and his brother 
 from the West. The average Easterner who has 
 never penetrated the West farther than Sandy 
 Hook has no real conception of the magnificence 
 of those distances about and beyond the Missis- 
 sippi Valley. At times when for reasons of busi- 
 ness or pleasure I have gone from nij' home in 
 Maine to my encampment in New York, between 
 
 156
 
 Chance Acquaintances 
 
 the hours of six p.m. on a Tuesday, say, and six 
 A.M. of the following Wednesday, I have passed 
 through six separate American commonwealths : 
 but in those Far Western stretches I have time and 
 again spent my full twenty-four hours upon the 
 road without in any wise finding myself subject to 
 the rules and regulations of the Interstate Com- 
 merce Commission. 
 
 Out of this rises, naturally enough, a differ- 
 ence in attitude toward one's fellow travelers. 
 There comes to be a greater sense of a settled 
 community interest on the longer journey, which 
 brings with it greater inclination for social inter- 
 course with one's neighbors of the sleeper. 
 
 One of the conspicuous results of my contact 
 with humanity on the road has been that I have 
 come to hold a very high respect for the traveling 
 man ; so high indeed that where ten years ago I 
 should probably have spoken of him in the terms 
 of our American vernacular as a drummer, I have 
 now definitely ejected that word from my vocabu- 
 lary, save in its narrower meaning as applied to 
 that overnoisy person who beats that most un- 
 musical musical instrument, the drum, in our mod- 
 ern bands. These commercial travelers average 
 
 157
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 high in character and in intellect, and the man 
 who keeps his ears open while in their company 
 can hardly fail to learn much from their discourse. 
 The best of them know their own special lines from 
 the ground up, and if my observation of them is 
 correct the very least of them are authorities on 
 human nature. 
 
 I do not wish to boast, but I think that if some 
 emergency should arise requiring me to prepare 
 ofFhand an article on suspenders, straw hats, auto- 
 mobiles, or canned tomatoes, I could qualify as an 
 apparent authority, anyhow, from things I have 
 heard directly from the good fellows pursuing 
 those particular lines, or have overheard in their 
 chats with others, in the smoking cars. More than 
 once I have left a symposium conducted by a group 
 of these gentlemen almost obsessed with the notion 
 that our universities might be better qualified to 
 do their real work in life if the average college pro- 
 fessor were able to " get his stuff over " as hu- 
 manly, as clearly, as entertainingly, and as ef- 
 fectively as do the bulk of these advance agents of 
 the American industrial world. They are, accord- 
 ing to their several capacities, full of their subject, 
 saturated with it, enthusiastic over it, and wholly 
 
 158
 
 Chance Acquaintances 
 
 unreluctant when they get even half a chance to 
 reveal their knowledge to a ready listener. 
 
 I have met men on the road who were as eloquent 
 on the subject of men's underwear as I should like 
 to be on the necessity of a cheerier spirit in meet- 
 ing the trials of life, and one effervescent soul on 
 a Pacific Coast trip once held me and mine spell- 
 bound by his remarkable disquisition on the spirit- 
 ual influence of comfortable shoes, talking for a 
 longer time than I have ever yet listened willingly 
 to a sermon on some seemingly less homely topic. 
 And as authorities on the state of the nation, 
 political, commercial, and spiritual — well, any 
 kind of administration, Republican, Democratic, 
 Progressive, would not do badly were it to summon 
 a congress of these individuals to meet annually at 
 Washington, to confer with it, to inform it, and to 
 lay before it anything having directly or remotely 
 to do with " things as is." 
 
 They are by nature diplomats, by instinct ora- 
 tors, and of necessity they are profound students of 
 human nature. They have to be adaptable to cir- 
 cumstance, ready of resource, and full of tolerance. 
 I take off my hat to them, and heartily congratu- 
 late the business interests of the United States to- 
 
 159
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 day upon the high character and quality of man- 
 hood of this splendid army in the field of commerce. 
 
 One of these good fellows several years ago en- 
 livened me for many weary hours on a tedious 
 journey from Kansas City to Minneapolis. The 
 journey was full of annoying mishaps, thanks to 
 a habit some of our Southern and Western rail- 
 way people have, lacking roses and other fresh 
 flowers, of strewing freight wrecks in my path. 
 It is an expensive tribute ; but I would willingly 
 go without it. 
 
 On this occasion my friend and I dined together, 
 breakfasted together, characterized our luck in a 
 beautiful commingling of strong language to- 
 gether, and together we watched the painfully slow 
 operations of the train wreckers removing that 
 tributary debris from the tracks. He was buoy- 
 ant and undismayed by trial, and for hours he 
 orated eloquently upon his subject, which hap- 
 pened to be straw hats. When he got through, 
 had I taken notes, I could have qualified for a Uni- 
 versity degree upon that subject if I had sought 
 an S. T. D. (Doctor of Straw Tiling). 
 
 The vast gulf that separates the near-Panama 
 from the real thing became perfectly clear to me 
 
 160
 
 Chance Acquaintances 
 
 then, if it had never been so before, and I knew 
 how it had come about that a New Yprker could 
 buy a Panama hat for two dollars and fifty cents 
 on Eighth avenue which on Fifth avenue would 
 cost him ten dollars ; and why a three-dollar Leg- 
 horn purchased in Cliicago was inferior to a 
 ninety-five dollar Leghorn manufactured in New- 
 ark, New Jersey, was made so obvious that I have 
 worn neither since. His discourse was lucid, pic- 
 turesque, convincing, and so completely compre- 
 hensive that women's hats became no more of a 
 mystery to me than are those which our truck 
 horses wear in midsummer with their ears sticking 
 up through holes in the crown. As we drew near 
 our destination I suddenly observed a smile break- 
 ing out on his lips, and a decided twinkle in his eye. 
 
 " Good Lord! " said he. " I 've only just real- 
 ized that I have been talking you deaf, dumb, and 
 blind for nearly twenty-four straight hours, with- 
 out giving you a chance to slide in a word edge- 
 wise. I hope I have n't made you think life 's 
 nothing but a hat to me? " 
 
 " On the contrary," said I, " I 've learned a lot. 
 You 've made life worth living." 
 
 " I get so infernally interested in my business," 
 
 161
 
 Fro 771 Pillar to Post 
 
 said he apologetically, " that sometimes I don't 
 realize that maybe the other fellow has something 
 to say too. I meant to have asked you this morn- 
 ing, but I forgot. What 's your line? " 
 
 I was 
 seized with a 
 jocular im- 
 pulse, and I 
 answered in- 
 s t a n t 1 y 
 " Na t u r a 1 
 gas." 
 
 He looked 
 at me with a 
 puzzled ex- 
 pression. 
 "Natural 
 gas ? " he re- 
 p e a t e d. 
 " That 's a 
 queer busi- 
 ness. How 
 do you make deliveries ? " 
 
 " Come around to the lecture hall with me to- 
 night and I '11 show you," said I. 
 
 162 
 
 'When he 
 got through 
 I could have 
 qualified for 
 a college 
 degree on 
 the subject 
 of straw 
 hats."
 
 Chance Acquaintances 
 
 He threw his head back and roared with laugh- 
 ter. *' By George ! the dinner 's on me ! " he said. 
 
 He accompanied me to the hall that evening, and 
 sitting in the front row gazed at me quizzically all 
 through my labors — full of sympathy and under- 
 standing, however — and after the affair was over 
 and he joined me for my return journey to the 
 hotel he slapped me hard on the back. 
 
 " Some gas, all right ! " said he. " I would n't 
 blow that out if I could ! " 
 
 Which I took to be one of the most genuine com- 
 pliments I have ever received. 
 
 I have never in any of my trips felt myself in 
 danger of assassination, and yet one of these 
 chance acquaintances of mine involved me by his 
 love of practical joking in an implied ultimatum 
 from a stranger of a most awe-inspiring nature. 
 In leaving a California city some years ago I found 
 myself seated with a group of other travelers just 
 inside the rear door of the observation car. The 
 train had come to a sudden standstill alongside a 
 row of flourishing olive trees, and the traveling 
 man (if I remember correctly he was to Suspenders 
 what Darwin was to the Origin of Species) jumped 
 from the platform and plucked a handful of their 
 
 163
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 fruit from branches overhanging the border of 
 the road. Three of those he passed in to mc, and 
 in the innocence of my young heart I immediately 
 plumped one of them into my mouth, and bit into 
 it. 
 
 The result I shall not attempt to describe. Our 
 dictionaries have at least a dozen separate and dis- 
 tinct terms signifying that which is bitter, no sin- 
 gle one of which is adequate even to intimate the 
 taste of that olive. There are such expressions as 
 "gall and wormwood"; there are adjectives in- 
 volving such qualifications of taste as " ac- 
 rid," " nauseous," " sharp," " tangy," " sting- 
 ing," " rough," and " gamy." None suffices. 
 I have tasted rue, I have tasted aloes, I have 
 tasted quassia, and I have nearly died of squills. 
 As a small boy I once started in to chew 
 a four-grain quinine pill that had been rolled with 
 no ameliorating ingredient to take off the tang of 
 it. But never in my life before or since have I 
 tasted anything comparable to that olive for pure, 
 unadulterated acerbity. It was an Ossa of Gall 
 piled on a Pelion of Wormwood — I might say 
 that it represented the complete reunion of that 
 Gall which the historians of the past have told us 
 
 164
 
 Chance Acquaintances 
 
 was " divided into three parts " — and I suffered 
 accordingly. 
 
 But when I saw that traveling man's eye full of 
 twinkling joy fixed upon me I resolved not to let 
 him know that the horrid thing was not the most 
 exquisite bit of ambrosial sweetness that had ever 
 been perpetrated upon my paralyzed palate. I 
 simply chewed quietly ahead, externally as calm 
 and as placid as any cow that ever fletcherized her 
 cud. 
 
 "How is it?" asked another traveler, sitting 
 alongside me. 
 
 " Delicious ! " said I. " Have one." 
 
 And I handed him over one of my two remaining 
 olives. He was as innocent as I, but not quite so 
 self-controlled. Even as I had done, he too 
 plumped the olive into his mouth, bit into it — 
 and forthwith exploded. I shall not repeat here 
 the appeal to Heaven that issued from his lips 
 along with the offending olive itself. Suffice it to 
 say that although there were several ladies present 
 it was verbally adequate. And then out of the 
 depths of the car, from a physical giant lolling at 
 ease in a plush-covered arm chair, came a deep, 
 basso-profundo voice. 
 
 165
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 " I 'd kill any man 'who did that to me! " it said, 
 with a vicious aspirate at the beginning of the 
 word kill. 
 
 But there was no murder done, and before night 
 as our train rolled over into Nevada we were as 
 happy a family as one will be likely to find under 
 any kind of roof in the far-off days of the millen- 
 nium. 
 
 It is not often that we look for fine literary and 
 other distinctions in the minds of men engaged in 
 the humbler pursuits of life, and yet from two of 
 my chance acquaintances en route, both barbers, 
 I have gathered subtleties of line that have re- 
 mained with me impressively ever since. The first 
 of these worthy toilers and subconscious philoso- 
 phers I discovered in a Chicago hotel in 1905. I 
 was on my way into Iowa for a week of one-night 
 stands, having come almost directly from one of 
 the most delightful of my literary opportunities 
 — Colonel George Hai-vey's dinner in honor of 
 Mark Twain's seventieth birthday. 
 
 The stains of travel needed to be removed, and 
 I sought the aid of the hero of my tale, a stocky 
 little chap, whose face suggested an ancestry part 
 Spanish and part East Side New York. I will say 
 
 166
 
 Chance Acquaintances 
 
 that judged externally I should not have cared to 
 meet him in a dark alley after midnight ; but in- 
 wardly he turned out to be a pretty good sort of 
 fellow. His speech was pure vernacular. 
 
 As he was cutting my hair I glanced over the 
 supplement to that week's issue of " Harper's 
 Weekly," at that time under Harvey's control, 
 devoted to a full account of the Mark Twain din- 
 ner both in picture and in text. In turning over 
 the leaves to see what kind of melon-shaped head 
 the flashlight photographer had given me I came 
 upon the counterfeit presentment of the group of 
 which I had been a member, and was relieved to 
 find that the print had treated me fairly well, and 
 that instead of looking like a cross between a pro- 
 fessional gambler and a train robber, as most of 
 my published portraits have made me appear, the 
 thing was recognizable, and in certain unsuspect- 
 ing quarters might enable me to pass as a reputa- 
 ble citizen. The snipping of the scissors back of 
 my ear suddenly ceased as I gazed upon my alleged 
 " liniments " — as an old friend of mine used to 
 call them — and the barber's voice broke the still- 
 ness. 
 
 " Say," he said, pointing with the scissors point 
 
 167
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 to the portrait of myself, " that guy looks sump'n 
 like you, don't he? " 
 
 " He ought to," said I. " Me and him 's the 
 same guy." 
 
 "Well whaddyer know about that!" he ejacu- 
 lated. "Really?" 
 
 " Yep," said I. 
 
 " And you 're from New York, eh? " he went on, 
 resuming his labors. " What 's the name? " 
 
 I enlightened him, and received the inevitable 
 question. 
 
 " Whaddyer think of Chicago? " 
 
 It had happened that every visit I had made to 
 Chicago for several years had shown that city 
 almost completely hidden beneath a pall of sooty 
 cloud and lake fog ; so I answered him accordingly. 
 
 " Why, I like Chicago very much," said I, " very 
 much indeed; but there is room for improvement 
 here, of course. For instance, Chicago is dark, 
 and gloomy, and cold. Now over in New York," 
 I added, " we have a little round, yellow ball that 
 is hauled up into the sky out of the wilds of 
 Long Island every morning, and it is so arranged 
 that it moves in a perfect semicircle through the sky 
 at the rate of about sixty seconds a minute. It is a 
 
 168
 
 Chance Acquaintances 
 
 wonderful invention. It sheds light on everything, 
 on everybody, and sort of warms things up for us, 
 and unlike most things in New York it does n't 
 cost anybody a cent. Best of all, when the day 
 is over, and we want things darkened up a bit so 
 that we can go to sleep, the little ball sinks out of 
 sight over on the western side of the city." 
 
 " Aw go wan ! " he put in. " I know what you 
 mean — you mean the sun." 
 
 "Yes," said I; "that's just what we call it. 
 
 You 've evidently heard of it before — but why 
 
 don't you have something of the kind out here.'' " 
 
 His reply was a mixture of a snort and a 
 
 sniff. 
 
 I then went on my journey into Iowa, and at the 
 end of about ten days was back in Chicago once 
 more, and in need of further renovation I again 
 sought the assistance of my tonsorial friend. 
 After a cordial greeting he said: 
 
 " Say — I told my wife how I 'd fixed you up 
 the other day, and she 'd heard of you before. 
 You wrote a book called ' Tea and Coffee ' once, 
 didn't cha.P" 
 
 " Something like that," I replied. " It was 
 called * Coffee and Repartee.' " 
 
 169
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 " Well, anyhow, whatever the thing was called, 
 she 'd read it," said the barber. 
 
 " I have met two other people who have done the 
 same thing and lived ; so don't worry," I observed. 
 
 " Whaddyer suppose she ast me ? " he queried. 
 
 " I give it up," said I. "What?" 
 
 " She ast me," said he, " was you so very comi- 
 cal, and I told her no, 7ie ain't so damned comical, 
 but he 's a hell of a kidder! " 
 
 I may be wrong, but it has ever since seemed to 
 me that there was a particularly nice distinction 
 involved in this spontaneous estimate of my char- 
 acter, and it may be that a great many of our 
 American humorists, so called, would be more 
 aptly described as kidders. Our guying propen- 
 sities, and the tongue-in-the-cheek style of humor 
 so prevalent to-day, suggest the thought anyhow 
 that the term kidder is more discriminating than 
 that of humorist, as signifying the qualities of a 
 Cervantes, a Rabelais, a Swift, or a Mark Twain. 
 
 It was in a South Carolina barber shop that the 
 second nicety came unexpectedly upon me. I had 
 looked for a certain quaint philosophy and humor 
 among the negroes of the South, and must confess 
 to considerable disappointment in not finding much 
 
 170
 
 Chance Acquaintances 
 
 of it. The picturesque article in the African line 
 that has so delighted us in the fiction of our mas- 
 ters of the pen from the South seems either to have 
 vanished completely from the 
 face of the earth or to be 
 a trifle shy in the revelation 
 of itself to outsiders. At 
 any rate I found little of it 
 in my wanderings in that 
 territory; although a some- 
 what disagreeable 
 amount of self- 
 conscious quaint- 
 ness, " for revenue 
 only," was not 
 wanting among 
 negroes encoun- 
 tered. 
 
 But this white 
 
 m^s 
 
 'She ast 
 me was 
 you so 
 very 
 
 comical," 
 said he. 
 
 u -^ 
 
 barber, an anemic little man, whose lazy drawl 
 and languid manner bespoke anytliing but in- 
 dependence of spirit, and in whose presence I 
 instinctively thought of the term " white trash," 
 gave me in full measure what I had looked for 
 in the sons of Ham. After sitting in his chair 
 
 171
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 for a few minutes I mentioned casually that South 
 Carolina had a " fine Governor," referring to an 
 individual named Blease, who at that time, occupied 
 the high seat at Columhia, and of whose gyroscopic 
 talents I had yet to find a South Carolinian of 
 standing who was proud. 
 
 " I ain't got no use fo' Mistuh Blease, suh," the 
 man replied, stroking his razor up and down the 
 strop with a vigor entirely out of keeping with his 
 presumed character. If I had been a blind man, I 
 should have felt sure he was a negro, such was his 
 accent. 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that," said I. " It would 
 be pleasant to find somebody in the State who has 
 some use for him ; but so far it all seems to be the 
 other way." 
 
 " No, suh, I ain't got no use fo' him, suh," con- 
 tinued the barber. " I don't like his kind, suh. 
 I have shaved Mistuh Blease many a time, suh, an' 
 when he was runnin' fo' Governah he came in hyere 
 most every day, suh. One mornin' I says to him, 
 ' Mistuh Blease,' says I, ' you 'd ought to be a 
 mighty proud man, suh, runnin' fo' Governah of 
 South Cyarolina, suh, an' sure to git it. That 's 
 an honah, suh,' I says, ' fo' yo' and yo' children 
 
 172
 
 Chance Acquaintances 
 
 and yo' children's children to be proud of.' And 
 what do you suppose he answered, suh? ' To 
 Blank with the honah ! ' says he. ' What the blank 
 do yo' suppose I caiah fo' the honah? ' 
 
 " And I \'e nuiwer give him tJie honah, suh; no, 
 suh. 3Iis-tuh Blease done got elected, and I 've 
 shaved him twenty times since, suh ; but he 's nuv- 
 ver had the honah from me, suh. I 've nuvver 
 called him Governah yit, suh; hut it 's been Mistuh 
 Blease every time, suh! " 
 
 It was when I was recovering from this loyal as- 
 sertion of the little man's respect for the Common- 
 wealth of his birth that the stillness of the shop was 
 broken by the excited voice of a tall, lantern- jawed 
 individual with a distinct type of accent, who came 
 rushing in from the street. 
 
 " Anybody round hyah knows what it costs to 
 beat up a niggah in this hyah State? " he cried. 
 
 I gasped, and the barber paused languidly in his 
 ministrations, holding his razor poised like the 
 sword of Damocles over my head, while he reflected. 
 
 " Why," said he, " I dunno aigsactly ; but the 
 las' time the co'hts decided the question I think it 
 was ten dollahs, suh." 
 
 " All right," said the intruder, starting to the 
 
 173
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 door. " If it don't come to no moh'n ten dollahs, 
 I '11 do it. Up home in Ferginia, where I conic 
 from, it never costs moh'n five ; but I 'm willin' to go 
 as high as fifteen. A coon down hyah at my 
 bohdin' house done give my wife some back talk this 
 mornin', an if it dori't cost moh'n fifteen dollahs I 'm 
 gwine to throw the critter outen de winder! " 
 
 174.
 
 HUMORS OF THE ROAD 
 
 IT appears to be the habit of every age to la- 
 ment its own dearth of humor, and in our own 
 time we have not been exempt from the charge that 
 we have no humorists. It is my own candid opin- 
 ion in respect to this matter that we are confronted 
 by a paradox in that we have so many humorists 
 that in effect we seem to have none ; so much of 
 humor that in the very surfeit of it its brilliance 
 does not appear ; in short, that because of the trees 
 we cannot see the wood. 
 
 A period that has produced a Dooley, and an 
 Ade, and an Irvin Cobb, and a Bert Leston Tay- 
 lor, Is surely not poor in humorous possessions of 
 a scintillating character, whether we demand that 
 our humor shall be a product of pure fun or 
 of profoundly serious thinking. J. Montgomery 
 Flagg in picture and in text is as much a master 
 of effervescent foolery as ever was either John 
 
 175
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 Phoenix or Artemas Ward ; and in the humor that 
 is designed to interpret life itself I find an endless 
 store of it in the works of Wallace Irwin, of Mon- 
 tague Glass, of Miss Edna Ferber, and of Mrs. 
 Alice Hegan Rice; the last two, by the way, form- 
 ing a complete refutation of the preposterous no- 
 tion that women are devoid of the sentiment that 
 cheers but does not inebriate. And as for the wits, 
 if Oliver Herford were as lonely among wits as he 
 is unique, I should still feel that we were rich be- 
 yond measure in that form of humor which is for 
 the most part intellectual, of the mind rather than 
 of the emotions. 
 
 But even if the charge were true — which of 
 course it is not — that we no longer have any pur- 
 veyors of humor of the first class upon whom we 
 may rely for a service as regular as is our supply 
 of milk, butter, and eggs, we could still lay the 
 flattering unction to our souls that American life 
 is full of humor. If any one doubts the fact, let 
 him throw himself headlong into the Lyceum Seas 
 and find out from personal contact. To me it 
 seems to crop up everywhere, and whether I travel 
 north, south, east, or west I find it in great 
 abundance — humor conscious, and humor uncon- 
 
 176
 
 Humors of the Road 
 
 scious ; humor of the mind, and humor of the heart, 
 or pathos ; humor of situation, and the humor in- 
 volving a mere play upon words ; humor in all its 
 infinitely varied qualities, and of a character most 
 appealing. Writing a short while ago of an al- 
 leged similar condition in another field of letters, 
 that of lyric poetry, I permitted myself the fol- 
 lowing rather sentimental reflections : 
 
 No singers great are here to-day? 
 
 Perhaps ! Let the indictment stand. 
 I hear no strong voice on the way, 
 
 No lilt from some immortal hand; 
 And yet as on the silver mere 
 
 I float, and towering hillsides scan, 
 Deep in my heart I seem to hear 
 
 Again the merry pipes of Pan. 
 
 No lyrics worthy of the name 
 
 Are sung to-day by living men? 
 Perhaps ! Yet naught is there of shame 
 
 That we have not old Herrick's pen. 
 For as I wander 'neath these skies 
 
 As fairly blue as skies can be 
 And gaze into two special eyes. 
 
 All life a lyric is to me. 
 
 With equal truth and sincerity I could say 
 much the same in respect to humor, and indeed I 
 might properly even go further. I could not per- 
 haps say that all Americans, or even many Amer- 
 
 177
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 icans, are lyrists; but I should not fall far short 
 of the mark were I to say that most Americans 
 are humorists. In my travels I come across occa- 
 sional " nonconductors," as a clever woman of my 
 acquaintance once called a certain social light 
 who was as impervious to wit as is the rhinoceros 
 to the sting of a gnat ; but they are few and far 
 between. For the most part I have found natural 
 born humorists on nearly every bush. 
 
 In a previous chapter I have confessed to some 
 disappointment in the quality of the humor of the 
 negro as I have encountered it in Southern climes ; 
 but there have been, nevertheless, delightful rifts 
 in that cloud. I recall an aged son of Ethiopia 
 who called for me one wintry morning at four 
 o'clock to drive me from my hotel at Greenville, 
 South Carolina, to the railway station. He was 
 a ragged old fellow, and with his snowy, wool-cov- 
 ered head composed a study in black and white 
 worthy of the brush of any of our best limners of 
 character. He was as communicative as he was 
 ragged, and confided to me at the very beginning 
 of our acquaintance that he had moved away from 
 Charleston to become a resident of Greenville be- 
 cause down in Charleston he could n't eat " pohk " 
 
 178
 
 Humors of the Road 
 
 (which I took to be pork) without having to take 
 to his bed ; while in the more salubrious climate of 
 Greenville he could " swaller a whole ham at a set- 
 tin', an' nebber hyear a woid from dat old ham 
 forebber after." His name, he told me, was " mos' 
 gin'rally George " ; but he " war n't biggetty " 
 about what people called him, since he was willin' 
 to come *' ef dey on'y jes' whistled." 
 
 The early morning hours were coid and dreary, 
 and I found my fur-lined horse blanket, as I have 
 come to call my faithful winter overcoat, none too 
 warm. Noting George's rather inadequate pro- 
 vision against the chill winds, I advised him to 
 wrap his dilapidated old lap-robe about his shoul- 
 ders. 
 
 " Ah 'm all right. Boss," he replied. " Don't 
 yo' worry erbout me. Dis yere old obercoat o' 
 mine ain't much to look at; but hit's on de job 
 jes' de same." He gave a most amusing chuckle. 
 " Yo 'd ought to hyear mah fambly takin' on er- 
 bout dis yere old obercoat ! " he said. " Dey 's 
 kind o' proudy folks, an' dey don't like it. Dey 
 says hit don't look neat ; but Ah tell 'um Ah 'm a 
 gwine t' wear hit jes' de same, neat er no neat — 
 de undahtakah, he meh yo' look neat! " 
 
 179
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 From which I deduced that George was not only 
 a humorist, but in a fair way to qualify as a phi- 
 losopher as well. 
 
 Two days later I happened to be at Atlanta, 
 Georgia, over Lincoln's Birthday, and it pleased 
 me beyond measure to find printed on the first page 
 of one of the prominent daily newspapers of that 
 beautiful city a three-column cut of Abraham Lin- 
 coln, with a suitable tribute in verse from one of 
 America's leading syndicate poets. I had myself 
 for reasons of taste, and in order to give no of- 
 fense to my kindly hosts throughout the South- 
 land, omitted from my discourse passing references 
 to certain great figures of the Civil War; but on 
 seeing this very notable recognition by his old- 
 time adversaries of the great virtues of our mar- 
 tyred President, I hesitated no longer in respect 
 to these references, and from that time on re- 
 verted to the original form of my talk. 
 
 After eating my breakfast on this morning of 
 the eleventh I dallied for awhile in the office 
 of the massive Georgian Terrace Hotel, smoking 
 my cigar, and glancing over the news in the paper. 
 As I was about to toss the paper aside a fine old 
 type of your Southern gentleman seated himself 
 
 180
 
 Humors of the Road 
 
 on the divan alongside of me, and in the usual 
 courteous fashion of the country gave me a morn- 
 ing salutation. I responded in kind, and then 
 tapping my paper observed: 
 
 " That is a fine picture of Lincoln." 
 
 " Yes, suh, a verruh fine picture, suh," he re- 
 plied. " I never had the honah of seein' Mistuh 
 Lincoln, suh; but from all I hyear, suh, he must, 
 have resembled that picture pretty close, suh." 
 
 " It is a delight to me to find it in one of your 
 Southern newspapers," said I, " especially in one 
 so influential in the South as this." 
 
 " Yes, suh," he answered. " It shows that the 
 South is not slow to recognize genius, suh, wher- 
 ever it is found, suh. But," he added, " there is 
 no occasion for surprise, suh. We have always 
 appreciated Mr. Lincoln's greatness down hyear, 
 and we have admiahed him, suh; tJiough "we have 
 had reason to believe that durin'' the late onpleas- 
 antness, suh, he was considWahle of a Northern sym- 
 pathizah, suh.^' 
 
 Conspicuous in my memory for both his con- 
 scious wit and his unconscious humor is a strap- 
 ping negro I encountered at a junction down in 
 Alabama last winter. I was marooned there for 
 
 181
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 five weary hours, receiving at the hands of its na- 
 tives as high a courtesy and as fearful food as I 
 have ever yet had presented to me. The colored 
 porter at the hotel had a face as black as the ace 
 of spades, and as childlike and bland as it was 
 black. He seemed to take a tremendous interest 
 in me, especially in my fur overcoat, which he ap- 
 peared to think must " ha cost as much as eight 
 dollahs," and he plied me with questions as we 
 stood on the railway platfomi waiting for my 
 train into Birmingham for a full hour that nearly 
 drove me to despair. I have not space for that 
 illuminating interchange of ideas in all its verbal 
 fullness ; but paii; of it ran in this wise : 
 
 " Whar yo' come from.^ " 
 
 " Maine," said I. 
 
 "Maine?" he repeated. "What's Maine?" 
 
 " Why, Maine — Maine is a State," said I. 
 " And it 's a nice one too," I added. 
 
 " Oh, yaas," he said. " Hit 's ober yander, 
 ain't it? " he continued, with a wave of his 
 hand sweeping enough to take in the whole uni- 
 verse. 
 
 " Yes," said I, " away over yonder. It 's down 
 East." 
 
 " Got any children ? " he queried. 
 
 182
 
 Humors of the Road 
 
 " Yes," said I, " I 've got two sons in Detroit, 
 and — " 
 
 " Dee-troit, eh? " he interrupted. " Yaas, suh, 
 Ah 've heerd o' Dee-troit. Dee-troit 's a nice 
 State too — a mighty nice State — a nice State to 
 have two sons at, Ah reckon. So yo' was born in 
 Dee-troit, was yuh.^* " 
 
 " No," I replied, " I was n't born at Detroit ; I 
 was born at Yonkers — " 
 
 " 0-o-oh ! So yo' was born at Yonkers, was 
 yuh.'* Yaas, suh — Yonkers! Ah don't know 
 much erbout Yonkers ; but All guess Yonkers is a 
 nice State too, ain't it.'' " 
 
 " Well," I laughed, " yes — Yonkers is a pretty 
 nice State too — what you might call a Comatose 
 State; but—" 
 
 " Yaas, suh — Ah 've heern tell dat Yonkers 
 was one o' dem cummytoe States, an' Ah guess 
 dat 's a pretty good kind ob a State to be bohn in. 
 What yo' sellin'.'' " This with a hasty glance at 
 my suitcase. 
 
 " Brains," said I. 
 
 " Lawsy me ! Sellin' brains, eh ^ " said he. 
 " Waal, suh. Ah 'm sorry. Yo' look so kind o' 
 set up Ah thought yo' was a-sellin' seegyars. 
 
 183
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 Yaas, suh — Ah 'd hoped jo' was." He gazed 
 wistfully along the shining rails. " Dem seegyar 
 drummahs is mighty free wid deir samples, suh," 
 he continued, " and Ah been a hopin' yo 'd be able 
 to spar' me a han'ful like de res' ob 'em does. But 
 ef yo 're dealin' in brains, hit ain't likely yo' got 
 enough to gib any away." 
 
 I may add that his disappointment was short- 
 lived ; for before we parted I took him across to 
 the general store that fronted on the railroad 
 track, and by the judicious expenditure of a quar- 
 ter bought him a supply of his favorite brand large 
 enough to last him a week. A single one of them 
 would have done for me forever. 
 
 Repartee has always been a characteristic gift 
 of the American people, due no doubt to a political 
 system that turns almost every community into a 
 debating society at least once a year, and some- 
 times oftener. Readiness of verbal retort has 
 thereby become an inheritance that grows richer in 
 the squandering of it. It has been a quality so 
 conspicuous that it has led a great many people, 
 justly or otherwise, to assert that there are more 
 really good jokes to be found in the course of a 
 year in the columns of the " Congressional Rec- 
 
 184.
 
 Humors of the Road 
 
 ord " than in the cleverest of the world's comic 
 papers. However this may be, I know that one 
 of the zestful things about a lecturer's life is the 
 jestful thing that lurks at his side almost every- 
 where he turns. 
 
 I have had many proofs of this in my own wan- 
 derings ; some direct, and some at long range. An 
 amusing instance of the long-range retort oc- 
 curred some years ago when I found in my mail one 
 morning a letter from a 
 gentleman living in Wy- 
 oming, an entire stran- 
 ger to me, who said that 
 he had heard from a 
 friend that I wrote 
 after-dinner speeches 
 for others as part of 
 my professional work. 
 
 Somehow or other [he con- 
 tinued] I have managed to 
 get a reputation as a wit 
 which I don't deserve; but 
 I 've got to live up to it, or 
 go under. Now it has oc- 
 curred to me that since you 
 are in the business of writ- 
 ing after-dinner speeches for 
 others you might turn out 
 three crackajacks for me. 
 
 185 
 
 "If yo 're 
 dealin' in 
 brains, hit 
 ain't likely 
 yo' got 
 enough to 
 gib any 
 away.' '
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 So, without beating about ttie bush any longer, I want to 
 ask you what you would charge me for three ripsnorters 
 lasting about a half an hour each, si)caking at the rate of a 
 hundred and fifty words a minute, on the subjects of 
 '"Our Glorious Comonwealth," "The Star-Spangled Ban- 
 ner," and "The Ladies." If your terms are not too high, 
 I shall be glad to give you the order. 
 
 I cannot say whether my sensations upon read- 
 ing this delightful communication were more of 
 amazement or of amusement, but after due delib- 
 eration I decided to answer the letter in a facetious 
 spirit. 
 
 I have your esteemed favor of Thursday last [I wrote], 
 and beg to say that my regular charge for a single speech 
 such as you require, suitable for delivery before a mixed 
 gathering of ladies and gentlemen, has invariably been 
 $1,000 in the past; but since your proposition is more or 
 less on a wholesale basis, and business is slack, I will make 
 an exception in your case and give you the special terms 
 of $750 per, f. o. b. I must insist, however, that you re- 
 gard these terms as strictly confidential; for it might in- 
 volve me in serious complications if Mr. Choate, and Gen. 
 Horace Porter, and Senator Blank were to learn that I 
 was cutting rates. They have been among my best cus- 
 tomers for many years, and for their own sakes, as well as 
 for my own, I do not wish to lose their trade. 
 
 This letter, which I felt tolerably sure would end 
 the matter once and for all, was mailed, and within 
 a week brought me the following telegraphic re- 
 sponse : 
 
 186
 
 Hwmors of the Road 
 
 If you write Senator Blank's speeches, I don't want one 
 from you at any price. 
 
 It added not a little to the poignancy of this re- 
 tort that the telegram was sent " collect." 
 
 Another example of ready American facetious- 
 ness cheered a dull day for me last year in Tennes- 
 see. I was booked to lecture before a charming 
 collegiate community at Blue Mountain, Missis- 
 sippi, and to get there from Memphis was required 
 to make a railway connection at a curious little 
 town called Middleton. Middleton was an amaz- 
 ing concoction of piccaninnies, waste paper, inac- 
 tive whites, and germ suggestion. Mr. Goldberg, 
 the cartoonist, would probably have referred to it 
 if he had been along with me as the town that put 
 the Junk in Junction, and upon its dilapidated 
 railway platform I was compelled to wait for six 
 mortal hours, hungry and thirsty, but fearing to 
 assuage the one or quench the other for fear of 
 internal complications beyond the reach of medical 
 science. If I had never believed in the hookworm 
 before, I became an abject coward in the fear of it 
 then. 
 
 Middleton's chief excuse for being appeared to 
 be that it was the terminus of a featherbed affair 
 
 187
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 called the New Orleans, Mobile & Chicago Rail- 
 way, possibly in ironic reference to the fact that as 
 far as I could learn it did not touch any point 
 within two hundred miles of any one of those 
 cities. I imagine that the mileage of the New Or- 
 leans, Mobile & Chicago Railway, or at least that 
 particular section of it, was somewhere between 
 thirty-seven and thirty-eight miles linear measure ; 
 though in the matter of jolting, careening, sliding, 
 skidding, and galumphing along generally, its emo- 
 tional mileage was incalculable, and the effect of 
 a ride from Middleton at one end to New Albany 
 at the other on the liver surpassed that of all the 
 great transcontinental systems rolled into one. 
 
 From what I could gather in casual conversa- 
 tion with such bureaus of information as were 
 available at Middleton its trains ran anywhere 
 from twenty-seven hours to a year and six months 
 late. I will say on behalf of its management, how- 
 ever, that after trying it once I concluded that it 
 was a miracle it ran at all. Three or four times 
 in the course of my waiting I decided to give up 
 the quest of Blue Mountain altogether and to re- 
 turn to Memphis ; but hope has always sprung eter- 
 nal in my breast, and each resolution to quit the 
 
 188
 
 Humors of the Road 
 
 game was superseded by some kind of optimistic 
 spiritual reassurance that held me true to my ob- 
 ligations. 
 
 Ultimately my optimism was justified, and a 
 panting little combination of whirring wheels and 
 iron rust wheezed into view, dragging a passenger 
 car of I should say the vintage of 1852, and a 
 shamefully big and modem freight car after it. A 
 Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Locomo- 
 tives would have had everybody connected with the 
 institution indicted then and there, and I was 
 again strongly inclined to give up my effort to get 
 through. It seemed the very height of inhuman- 
 ity to ask that poor little engine to carry my added 
 weight. I should have much preferred to lift it 
 tenderly in my arms from the track, and put it 
 into the freight car, and pull the train to Blue 
 Mountain myself; at any rate, that seemed the 
 most reasonable and the only really kind thing to 
 do at the moment. 
 
 Nevertheless I boarded the train, having first in- 
 vested fifty cents in twenty-fours' worth of postal 
 card accident insurance at the ticket office window 
 and mailed it to mj' executors. In a couple of 
 hours we were sliding and bumping down grade 
 
 189
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 through an oozy morass over tracks ballasted with 
 something having the consistency of oatmeal mush 
 liberally diluted with skim milk. We slid over the 
 first half-mile in about fifteen seconds, thanks to 
 the weight of that shameless freight car at the 
 rear, which pushed the rest of us along at a terrific 
 rate of speed; but things were averaged up when 
 we came to an upgrade, which, on a rough estimate, 
 I should say we accomplished at the rate of about 
 a mile a week. After awhile the conductor ap- 
 peared — a nice, genial, kindly soul, who inspired 
 me with a confidence I had not yet managed to ac- 
 quire in the road itself. He was so smiling and 
 serenely unaffected by what loomed dark as dan- 
 gers to me that I was soon feeling rather ashamed 
 of myself for being so full of coward fears, and it 
 was not long before in my mind I was singing those 
 beautiful lines of Browning: 
 
 The year's at the spring. 
 And day's at the morn; 
 Morning's at seven; 
 The hillside's dew-pearled; 
 The lark 's on the wing ; 
 The snail's on the thorn; 
 God 's in his heaven — 
 All 's right with the world ! 
 
 And as I was humming this comforting assur- 
 
 190
 
 Humors of the Road 
 
 ance to myself there broke upon 
 the silence of the car the follow- 
 ing colloquy : 
 
 " Howdy, Sam ! " this from 
 a fellow traveler sprawled com- 
 fortably in the seat just back 
 of me. 
 
 r 
 
 'A Society 
 for the 
 Prevention 
 of Cruelty 
 to Locomo- 
 tives would 
 have had 
 them in- 
 dicted then 
 and there." 
 
 
 " Howdy, Jim ! " this from the 
 smiling conductor. 
 
 " How long you been with this ==^ 
 hyere road, Sam ? " asked the fel- 
 low traveler. 
 
 " Seven years last March, Jim," replied the con- 
 ductor. 
 
 "My Gordy Sam!" cried the fellow traveler, 
 
 191
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 sitting up. " This must be your second trip! " 
 As for subtle humor of a ratlicr sly sort, per- 
 haps the best example I know of was a little jest 
 perpetrated at the expense of one to whom I shall 
 refer as my Only Muse, who, I rejoice to say, ac- 
 companies me upon most of my trips. She was 
 with me once in Iowa when we were stranded at an 
 interesting little railway crossing for several 
 hours. The place consisted wholly of some stock- 
 yards, a general store, and a small wooden cot 
 which passed for a hotel, in which we found every 
 comfort that courtesy could provide, even if some 
 of the rather material necessities of life were lack- 
 ing. 
 
 We took dinner at the hotel. Seated opposite 
 us at table were two farmers, one a handsome mid- 
 dle-aged man,' and the other a man wizened and 
 gray, with a weather-beaten face, and a kindly eye ; 
 seventy years old, I imagine, but still as active and 
 as interested in life as a boy, as all lowans, irre- 
 spective of foolish years, seem to be. One or two 
 little courtesies of the table started an acquaint- 
 ance, and naturally enough I was asked my busi- 
 ness in the State. 
 
 " Oh, I am out here lecturing," I said. 
 
 192
 
 Humors of the Road 
 
 " Well, we 're farmers," said the old man. 
 
 Now the Only Muse takes a great interest in 
 farming. She raises herself most of the vegeta- 
 bles we consume at home, and one of my ambitions 
 has always been to set her up as the presiding 
 Deity over a real farm some day when the lure of 
 the platform no longer operates to drag me off 
 into distant scenes. She had taken a course of 
 lectures on farming at Columbia University, and 
 was enthusiastically full of the subject at the time. 
 Wherefore it happened that when my vis-a-vis an- 
 nounced that he was a farmer it was the best kind 
 of opening for the conversational powers of the 
 Only Muse — which to say the least are generally 
 adequate — and she made the most of it. She 
 talked of apples, corn, cows, and bees. She di- 
 lated eloquently upon the value of persistent " cul- 
 tivation," and as I sat listening admiringly to her 
 evidently masterful handling of her varied sub- 
 jects I suddenly became conscious of the old man's 
 eye twinkling across the table at me, and then, as 
 the Only Muse paused to catch her breath for fur- 
 ther disquisition, he leaned forward, and with 
 seemingly innocent curiosity asked: 
 
 " Which one o' ye does the lecturing " 
 
 193
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 I trust that the outburst of merriment that 
 greeted his query conveyed to his mind with per- 
 fect clarity the fact that there arc no professional 
 jealousies in my household. 
 
 At any rate this, with the wonderfully witty re- 
 sponse of a distinguished railway president to cer- 
 tain reflections I had made in an after-dinner 
 speech on his road, appeals to me as one of the 
 most delicately subtle bits of wit I have encoun- 
 tered anywhere in real life — which life on the 
 road undoubtedly is. 
 
 That the reader may judge for himself if the 
 railway president was wittier than the Iowa farmer 
 or not, I will close this chapter with a short narra- 
 tion of that incident. 
 
 The gentleman in question was Daniel Willard, 
 president of the Baltimore & Ohio, who on an oc- 
 casion in New York listened courteously to some 
 facetious observations I had to make on the sub- 
 ject of the wonders of the B. & 0., and two days 
 later heaped coals of fire upon my head by send- 
 ing me by mail a pass over his railroad. I was of 
 course delighted; but before using it decided to 
 read carefully the " conditions and limitations 
 named on the reverse side," under which it was is- 
 
 194
 
 Humors of the Road 
 
 sued. I turned the treasure over and read the fol- 
 lowing : 
 
 This pass will be accepted for transporta- 
 tion WHEN ACCOMPANIED BY CERTIFI- 
 CATE of Company's Agent, attested by office- 
 stamp, that the bearer has presented evidence 
 of being HOPELESSLY INDIGENT, DES- 
 TITUTE, AND HOMELESS, or an INMATE 
 OF A CHARITABLE OR ELEEMOSYN- 
 ARY INSTITUTION, a SOLDIER or 
 SAILOR about to enter either a NATIONAL 
 HOME or "A HOUSE BOAT ON THE 
 STYX," or otherwise qualified as entitled to 
 free transportation under Federal or State 
 Laws. 
 
 I do not remember whether or not I ever 
 thanked Mr. Willard for this courtesy; but if I 
 did not I do so now, and beg to assure him that I 
 would not exchange that little document to-day 
 for a controlling interest in his road. I am not 
 much of a business man, but I have a keen sense of 
 relative values. 
 
 195
 
 XI 
 
 MINE HOST 
 
 Whoe'er has traveled life 's dull round. 
 Where'er his stages may have been, 
 
 May sigh to thinli he still has found 
 The warmest welcome at an inn, 
 
 SO wrote William Shenstone, a minor poet of 
 England in those brilliant days that pro- 
 duced Addison, and Swift, and Richard Steele, 
 and our own great philosopher and humorist Ben- 
 jamin Franklin. I used formerly to sympathize 
 deeply with the poet's sentiment, so charmingly 
 expressed, and in a certain way I do so still; but 
 in the last decade, involving so much wandering, 
 and so many inns of varied degrees of excellence, 
 I have found that my sympathy with Shenstone's 
 thought has undergone considerable modification. 
 I should indeed sigh to think that I had found my 
 warmest welcome at an inn ; but I should hesitate 
 to indorse any sentiment that would seem to un- 
 derestimate the value of the whole-souled, genial 
 
 196
 
 Mine Host 
 
 character of Mine Host, as I have encountered 
 him in all parts of the United States. 
 
 While I cannot truthfully say that I think we 
 Americans have a genius for hotel management, 
 such as our cousins of Switzerland, for instance, 
 appear to have, I can at least say that I believe we 
 have a natural aptitude for a peculiarly delight- 
 ful kind of spontaneous hospitality, of which I 
 have been for years the grateful beneficiary. If a 
 hotel were a thing of the spirit solely, I should say 
 that the hostelries of the United States, taking 
 them by and large, approximate perfection ; but 
 unfortunately one cannot impart tenderness to a 
 steak with cordial smiles, freshness to an egg with 
 a twinkling eye, or the essential properties of cof- 
 fee to a boiled bean with a pleasant word ; and if 
 in the South and Middle West it were possible to 
 sweep a room clean with a welcoming wave of the 
 hand, and to set a mobilized entomology in full re- 
 treat with the fervor of an advance in friendliness, 
 I should not think so often, perhaps, upon the 
 possible duties of local Boards of Health in re- 
 spect to the American hotel situation. 
 
 I hasten to add, however, that this situation, 
 hopeless as it at times appears to be, brings forci- 
 
 197
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 bly to my mind that ancient chestnut set forth in 
 
 the sign in the Far Western churcli, — 
 
 DON'T SHOOT THE ORGANIST: 
 HE IS DOING THE BEST HE CAN— 
 
 for I verily believe that in nine cases out of ten 
 the landlords of the nation are in point of fact 
 doing the " best they can," and in many mstances 
 in the face of heart-breaking discouragement. 
 They are themselves quite aware of their deficien- 
 cies, as was once clearly established in the inscrip- 
 tion I saw in front of an Oklahoma caravansary as 
 I passed through on the Katy-Flyer, to the fol- 
 lowing effect: 
 
 THE SALT AND TOOTHPICKS SERVED AT THE 
 
 SAINT JAMES ARE AS GOOD AS THOSE 
 
 AT ANY HOTEL IN AMERICA 
 
 Our American communities, unfortunately, have 
 not yet awakened to the economic fact that a good 
 hotel is about as valuable an asset as a town can 
 have. An enterprise that might very properly, 
 and for the general good, be subsidized by the 
 Board of Trade, or even by the town itself, is left 
 to private initiative ; usually with barren, if not 
 bankrupting, results. 
 
 New England is slowly awakening to this need, 
 
 198
 
 Mine Host 
 
 and within the last few years a number of fine hos- 
 telries have been established, with the backing of 
 real civic interest, and under trained management ; 
 but very few of even the most progressive Western 
 and Southern Communities seem as yet to have 
 taken so vital a matter into consideration. They 
 have good will and courtesy enough among them 
 to run a thousand highly 
 acceptable caravansaries, 
 and I have sometimes 
 wished that some of their 
 individual qualities 
 might in some way 
 be engrafted upon 
 our more sumptu- 
 ous Eastern ho- 
 tels, where one is able 
 to get anything one is 
 willing to pay for, ex- 
 cept the feeling that 
 somebody somewhere in 
 the hotel is glad he 
 came. 
 
 I do not know how 
 many thousand library 
 
 199 
 
 "If it were possible to sweep a 
 room clean with a welcoming 
 wave of the hand — "
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 buildings our great Ironmaster has caused to be 
 built in this country — and we who write books 
 have cause to be grateful to him for having pro- 
 vided such rarely beautiful mausoleums for the final 
 interment of our cherished productions — but I 
 have often wished that his generous pursestrings 
 had been loosened on behalf of hospitality, rather 
 than exclusively for the perpetuation of current 
 fiction and books of reference that nobody ever 
 uses. Before the trusts are finally curbed I hope 
 that one or two more swollen fortunes may be pro- 
 duced, and that the owners thereof may be in- 
 spired to carry the light of living into communities 
 in need of something of the sort, by building hotels 
 for them, in which clean rooms suitably aired, and 
 good food properly cooked, may be provided for 
 those who have to travel, and are so constituted 
 that they cannot eat poetry, nor sleep comfort- 
 ably between the sheets of the lamented William 
 James's incursions into pragmatic philosophy, dry 
 as they unquestionably are. 
 
 How next to impossible it is for our good land- 
 lords in certain sections of the land to conduct 
 their business profitably was once brought to my 
 attention by a little incident in a town not many 
 
 200
 
 Mine Host 
 
 leagues from Atlanta, Georgia. I found myself 
 seated one evening at table opposite a traveling 
 man of most man^elous gastronomic fortitude. 
 For his supper he ordered cereal and cream, two 
 fried eggs " done on both sides," some bacon, " a 
 little of that steak," German fried potatoes, some 
 baked beans, a bit of kippered herring, milk toast, 
 preserved peaches, hot biscuit, sponge cake, and a 
 cup of coffee. After the commissariat had re- 
 sponded faithfully, and the table had been duly 
 decorated with the serried ranks of " bird-bath " 
 dishes containing the bulk of the enumerated edi- 
 bles, a third party arrived, and an old friendship 
 between himself and my vis-a-vis was renewed. 
 
 " Well, Tommy, old man, it 's ninety-seven 
 moons since I saw you last ! How 's things ? " 
 said the newcomer. 
 
 " Oh — pretty good," said my vis-a-vis wearily. 
 " Business is good enough ; but I ain't feelin' very 
 well myself" 
 
 "What's the trouble — caught cold.''" asked 
 the newcomer. 
 
 " No," said the other. " I 'm just feelin' sort 
 o' mean — my stummick don't seem just right. I 
 guess I been worki/n' too hard." 
 
 201
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 " You 'd ought to eat milk toast," said the new 
 arrival. 
 
 " Yes," said Tommy. " / 've ordered some.'' 
 
 At this point the waitress came up for the new- 
 comer's order. 
 
 " I 'm too tired to order, Jennie," said he. 
 " Just you bring me the same as he has, and see 
 that the buckwheats are hot." 
 
 " Gee! Buclaeheats! " cried Tommy. " / 
 did n't know there was huckzvheats — bring me a 
 stack of 'em too, Jennie! " 
 
 And all of this was on the American plan, at the 
 
 •Cannot sleep comfortably between tlio sheets of William 
 James's pragmatic philosophy, dry as they are." 
 
 202
 
 3Iine, Host 
 
 rate of two dollars for three meals and a night's 
 lodging! I am afraid my friend of the uncertain 
 digestive organs belonged to the same gastronomic 
 school as a famous war correspondent I met at my 
 club many years ago. He was an Englishman, 
 and was delightfully enthusiastic about every- 
 thing he had found in America except our hotels. 
 
 " And even they would n't be so bad," said he, 
 *' if it was n't for that beastly American plan upon 
 which they 're run. Why, out in San Francisco I 
 actually had to eat and eat and eat until I was 
 positively ill, to get ahead of the game ! " 
 
 Traveling Americans are inclined to criticize 
 the hotels of foreign countries for their lack of 
 bathroom facilities, and I recall an occasion in 
 Rome some years ago when I found the act of tak- 
 ing a dip in the one bathroom the hotel provided 
 almost as formal a function as a presentation at 
 the Vatican, involving a series of escorts from my 
 room to the dark little hole on an upper floor where 
 the tub was kept, far greater in number than those 
 involved in my progress from the American col- 
 lege to the papal presence. 
 
 Indeed, the only occasion I can recall when in a 
 foreign country I was able to get a bath without 
 
 203
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 encountering all sorts of obstacles was also in 
 Rome, four years ago, when I endeavored to order 
 a bottle of mineral water in mj choicest Italian, 
 and got a bath instead, the whiskered male cham- 
 bermaid of whom I ordered it having little famil- 
 iarity with his own tongue as " she was spoke " by 
 an American. 
 
 But precisely similar conditions exist in this 
 country. An eminent singer in one of his famous 
 poems lamented the difficulty of getting the Time, 
 the Place, and the Girl together; but if he had 
 ever gone on the Chautauqua circuit in this land 
 I fear he would have written also of the well nigh 
 impossible operation of getting the Time, the 
 Place, and the Tub together ; and I may add that 
 I wish a law might be passed requiring hotels that 
 do provide bathing facilities to supply also at 
 least one towel that is visible to the naked eye. 
 
 The story of the man who asked an Indiana 
 hotel clerk to " give " him " a room and a bath," 
 to be greeted by the instant response, " We 'II 
 give you the room; hut you 11 have to wash your- 
 self " contains quite as much truth as humor. I 
 had to forego my dip in a Southern hotel on one 
 morning because " the last feller that took a hath 
 
 204
 
 3Iine Host 
 
 here run off with the key to the door," and then 
 on the following morning when the bathroom door 
 had been forced open I found the tub constructed 
 of tiles, with a lush growth of morning glory vines 
 sprouting up between them. When in an Ohio 
 hotel several years ago, having insisted upon a 
 room with a bath, I found the latter in a dark 
 cubbyhole whose doors and windows had evidently 
 not been opened for months. Atmospherically 
 speaking, the Black Hole of Calcutta was a thing 
 of sweetness and light compared to it. Nearly 
 suffocated, I struggled with the frosted-glass win- 
 dow at one side of the cell for several minutes, and 
 finally with a supreme effort got it up: only to 
 find that it opened on an inner corridor of the 
 hotel. 
 
 And be it recorded that the heating facilities are 
 quite on a par with these. The heating apparatus 
 of most hotels is either missing altogether, or 
 terrifying in character. The latter sort is espe- 
 cially in evidence in the natural gas regions, where 
 that useful commodity is used with an airy care- 
 lessness that inspires dreadful forebodings. 
 
 I shall never forget my first introduction to 
 natural gas as a heating proposition. It was in an 
 
 205
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 historic edifice in Ohio, which I shall not name ; for 
 it has already been sufficiently advertised by its 
 " loving friends." Suffice it to say that by some 
 strange oversight of Nature it still stands. To 
 get to my room, in the first place I was compelled 
 to rise several flights in an elevator whose lift was 
 as uncertain as its years, and then with the aid of 
 a hallboy to thread an intricate maze of interlock- 
 ing corridors alongside of which the Dedalian 
 Labyrinth was simplicity itself. Arrived finally in 
 the room assigned to mc, I found it dark, damp, 
 and cold. 
 
 " How about a little heat here. Son.'* " said I, 
 appealing to the hallboy. 
 
 " Sure ! " said he. 
 
 The boy faded into the gloom of the far end of 
 the room, leaned over, and tugged away vigorously 
 for a few moments on a screw in the baseboard, 
 and then standing back about two feet he began to 
 bombard the wall with lighted matches — the kind 
 which light only on the seat of a bellboy's trousers. 
 I shall not attempt to say how many of these he lit 
 and threw at the wall before anything happened. 
 It seemed to be an appalling number, and consider- 
 ing the manifest inflammability of the building, 
 
 206
 
 Mine Host 
 
 and the height of my room from the ground, it 
 made me very nervous. 
 
 " What the dickens are you doing? " said I. 
 
 But there was neither time nor need for his 
 answer. One well projected match seemed to hit 
 the particular bullseye he was aiming at. There 
 came a boom and a flash, and in a second I saw a 
 half-dozen sizable flames creeping upward from the 
 floor to a point about breast high on the wall, 
 where by some strange miracle the conflagration 
 stopped. 
 
 " Nacheril gas ! " said the boy, with a grin, as 
 he departed. 
 
 It had been my intention to remain overnight in 
 that city ; but when I realized that that same proc- 
 ess was probably going on in at least a dozen 
 other apartments, above, beside, and below me, I 
 suddenly decided to return to New York on the 
 night train. I will take my chances on the future 
 life ; but while I live, breathe, and have my being 
 upon this terrestrial orb I believe in getting fire 
 risks down to their lowest reducible minimum by 
 adopting a policy of complete avoidance. 
 
 Our clever newspaper humorists have made a 
 good deal of capital out of the haughty hotel clerk 
 
 207
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 with the diamond stud; but I must confess that I 
 have never yet encountered this individual in the 
 wide swath of my wanderings. Save in one or two 
 places, I have found on the contrary a genial solici- 
 tude for my welfare, wholly undecorated as to 
 shirt-front — often indeed without the shirt-front 
 itself — which has more than offset such shortcom- 
 ings as were characteristic of the inns over whose 
 desks they presided. 
 
 On one occasion in Indianapolis I encountered 
 what seemed at first to be a heartless lack of ap- 
 preciation and cordial recognition on my arrival ; 
 but it was more than compensated for in the end, 
 and I should add was rather the result of a too 
 high expectation on my own part than the fault of 
 the man behind the register. I had long wished to 
 visit Indianapolis, largely because of its national 
 reputation as a literary center. A State that has 
 produced so many authors of high distinction as 
 have come out of Indiana, with her General Lew 
 Wallace, her James Whitcomb Riley, Charles 
 Major, Meredith Nicholson, George Ade, Booth 
 Tarkington, and those two purveyors of whole- 
 some fiction and good, clean humor, the Mc- 
 Cutcheon brothers, is entitled to some of the lau- 
 
 208
 
 3Iine Host 
 
 reled interest of a literary Mecca, and I registered 
 at the Claypool in my boldest hand, quietly and 
 confidently expecting some immediate recognition, 
 such as a not altogether unknown worker on the 
 slopes of Parnassus might expect to receive on ar- 
 riving at Olympus. 
 
 The room clerk whisked the register round and 
 studied the inscription for a moment. " What 's 
 that — Boggs ? " he inquired. 
 
 " No," said I, my crest falling a bit, " Bangs — 
 John Ken — " 
 
 " Oh," said he, bringing his hand down heavily 
 on the bell. " Front, show this gentleman to 
 number three hundred and nine." 
 
 He tossed a key to the bellboy, which the latter 
 caught with the dexterity of a Buck Ewing, the 
 prize catcher in the ball games of my young man- 
 hood, and holding my diminished head as high as 
 I could I followed him to the elevator, devoutly 
 wishing that Riley or Ade might happen in and 
 fall upon my neck, and show that low-browed room 
 clerk a thing or two he would n't forget in a hurry. 
 
 And then came a sort of amende honorable. 
 Scarcely had I got settled in number three hundred 
 and nine when a second bellboy arrived, bearing a 
 
 209
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 note addressed to " Mr. John Henry Banks," 
 neatly typewritten, and reading as follows: 
 
 Dear Sir. — If you wish a table for the display of your 
 sami)les and a plug key for the protection of the same, 
 please apply at tlie office. 
 
 Respectfully, The Claypool. 
 
 It was a salutary experience, and in my subse- 
 quent visits to the Athens of America I have ap- 
 proached it in an appropriate spirit of humility 
 and respect. And philosophically I have tried to 
 comfort myself with the thought that after all it 
 would not be very surprising if a scuttleful of coal 
 arriving at Newcastle were to find its coming a 
 matter of small importance to those good people 
 who dig that useful commodity out of the bowels 
 of the earth at the rate of ten carloads a minute. 
 Why should a mere writer of books arriving at In- 
 dianapolis expect to create any special commotion, 
 when it is a well known fact that you could not 
 possibly heave a brick in any direction in that 
 charming city without hitting an author.^ 
 
 I think that for sheer originality in his craft, as 
 well as for his human interest, I must award the 
 palm among innkeepers I have met to a vigorous 
 old fellow who either ran, or was run by, a hotel I 
 
 210
 
 Mine Host 
 
 once visited in South Dakota. He was known to 
 most people as " Conk " : not because of the rather 
 hard shell one had to penetrate to get at him, but 
 because it was the first syllable of his last name. 
 
 His hotel was a two-story brick structure, sadly 
 in need of a Noachian Deluge for its preliminary 
 renovation, and built upon the pleasing lines of 
 an infant penitentiary. This illusion was faith- 
 fully carried out by the rooms within, which had 
 many of the physical qualities of the cells of com- 
 merce. The hotel had a dining room; but Conk 
 had given up serving meals therein, and had also 
 as far as I could observe abandoned everything 
 else in the way of service as well. 
 
 My Muse and I arrived several hours before 
 dawn, and after wandering hand in hand for 
 twenty or thirty minutes along invisible highways 
 reached the edifice. We registered, and were 
 ushered to a pigeonhole on the second tier by a 
 large, yellow-haired youth, who was trying to 
 keep awake and mop up the office floor simultane- 
 ously, succeeding only indifferently in both opera- 
 tions. The particular cell set apart for our ac- 
 commodation was lit by a half-candlepower bulb 
 with a pronounced flicker, which shed a dim, re- 
 
 211
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 llgious light upon a walled-in space about ten feet 
 square. In this there was a double bed, a nonde- 
 script piece of furniture which suggested a col- 
 lision between a washstand and a bureau, a rocking 
 chair that refused to rock, and a cane-bottomed 
 arrangement of perilous spindles that would n't do 
 anything else. After I had disposed of our two 
 suitcases and my typewriting machine the only 
 solution of another difficulty that immediately 
 arose was to leave our feet out in the hall. 
 
 As soon as I noted the rather limited character 
 of our accommodations I repaired below, to see if 
 there was not available something a trifle more 
 roomy : to find only the satisfaction involved in the 
 contemplation of the tow-headed six-footer lying 
 asleep on a bench exchanging dreamy nothings with 
 his mop, which he held hugged tight to his breast. 
 With persistent effort I might have awakened the 
 mop ; but the tow-headed youth was too far gone 
 into the land of dreams to be recalled by anything 
 short of a universal cataclysm. I therefore crept 
 sadly up the stairs to our cell, and we reclined on 
 the double bed until dawn, at which time the merci- 
 ful providence of the half-candlepower bulb was 
 completely revealed unto us ; for if we had been 
 
 212
 
 3Iine Host 
 
 able to see that bed in its dim light no power on 
 earth, not all the mobilized armies of the world 
 could have induced us to lie down upon it. 
 
 An hour later we breakfasted on ham and eggs 
 at a stand-up all-night lunch counter which we 
 located after much wandering, and then, return- 
 ing to the hotel, Brother Conk in all his muscular 
 majesty dawned upon the horizon of my life. I 
 can best describe him by saying that whatever he 
 might do in action, a camera fiend would have 
 found in him a perfect model for a snapshot of the 
 long-looked-for White Hope. He was huge and 
 indescribably red. His name should have been 
 Rufus, and the hand of Esau was a smoothly 
 shaven thing alongside of the Conkian fist. He 
 had a penetrating, yet rolling eye that would have 
 subjugated a Kaiser with a single glance. He was 
 scrutinizing his fingernails as we entered his pres- 
 ence, and in view of my supreme ambition to re- 
 main a hero always in the eyes of my Muse I saw 
 her safely deposited in our hermetically sealed re- 
 ceiving vault above before venturing to address the 
 gentleman. This done, I started in to pay my 
 respects to Mine Host. 
 
 I don't suppose you could let us have a larger 
 
 213 
 
 a
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 room," said I tentatively, my words coming with a 
 husky falter. 
 
 " I dunno what room ya got," was the gruff re- 
 sponse, one of the rolling eyes settling full upon 
 both of mine. 
 
 " We 're in nun-number thirty-two," I ventured 
 meekly. 
 
 " Well, thirty-three 's an inch and a half wider," 
 said he, biting off a hang nail. " Ya can move 
 inta that if ya wanta." 
 
 It hardly seemed worth while, and considering 
 that in respect to matters other than its size, or 
 lack of it, we already knew the worst as to thirty- 
 two, we left thirty-three unvisited on the principle 
 that 
 
 — makes us rather bear those ills we have 
 Than fly to others that we know not of. 
 
 There were enough wings loose in number thirty- 
 two to enable us to fly anywhere on the face of the 
 earth; but we decided not to avail ourselves of 
 them. 
 
 *' Never mind, my dear," said I. " Sufferance 
 is the badge of all our tribe." 
 
 And the Only Muse merely laughed, and with 
 feminine exaggeration comforted me with the as- 
 
 214.
 
 Mine Host 
 
 surance that " it might be worse." I suppose it 
 might have been ; though I don't know how. Any- 
 how I sat down on the rockless rocker, drew an 
 overdraft on the bank of cheer, and proceeded to 
 read aloud that fine story of Fiona Macleod's about 
 the good old North Countryman who every morn- 
 ing walked out upon his breezy headland and 
 *' took off his hat to the beauty of the world." 
 
 Later in the day the chairman of the lecture 
 committee called to pay his respects, and in the 
 course of our conversation I told him of my ex- 
 perience with Conk. 
 
 " I congratulate you most heartily," said he, 
 laughing. " You came off rather better than an 
 exchange professor from Germany who came out 
 here last year to give a course of lectures at 
 our agricultural college. He asked Conk in his 
 pleasant German way for more spacious quarters, 
 and Conk's answer was, ' Sure I can give ya more 
 space.'' And taking the professor's suitcase in 
 one hand, and the professor in the other, he rushed 
 them both to the front door, threw the suitcase 
 out into the street, and, pushing the professor 
 gently out after it, remarked, ' There — / guess 
 there 's room enough for ya out there.^ " 
 
 215
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 Whether the chairman was a mind reader or not 
 I do not know ; but I do know that in response to 
 my telepathic calls for help he turned to the Only 
 Muse and suggested that in view of certain possi- 
 bilities which might incapacitate me from filling 
 my engagement at the lecture hall that night we 
 had much better move over to his house, where we 
 would find a warm welcome. 
 
 " That 's fine ! " said I, rising with alacrity. 
 " Just you take her over with you now, and I '11 see 
 Conk, and pay my bill, and come over as soon as 
 I can with our luggage." 
 
 The plan was promptly carried out, and after 
 seeing the Only Muse safely on her way to other 
 quarters I went to number thirty -two, gathered up 
 our traps, and with trepidation in my soul ap- 
 proached the landlord. This time I found him 
 sitting in the oflSce, before the window, staring 
 Nature out of countenance. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Landlord," I said, as afFably as I 
 knew how, "I — I 've come to — to settle up. It 
 seems we were expected to stay with Dr. and Mrs. 
 Soandso. We ^— - er — we did n't know it when 
 we arrived "-^ and I — I 'm sorry to leave you ; 
 but — er ^ — but of course — " 
 
 216
 
 3Iine Host 
 
 " Thanic God! " the landlord returned ex- 
 plosively, rising and seizing my hand in a viselike 
 grip that even to remember two years later causes 
 me anguish. " That 's the first good news I 've 
 had to-day. I been running this blankety blank 
 blank joint for seven years now, and it 's cost me 
 over thirty thousand dollars already, and every 
 time I see a blinkety blank blank boarder come in 
 through that front door it makes me so dashed sick 
 that I feel like nailin' the blankety blank door up 
 so tight old Beelzybub himself 'd have to come 
 down through the chimbley to get inside ! " 
 
 It was at this point that Conk and I parted 
 company at the beginning of what I am inclined to 
 think might have ripened into a lifelong friend- 
 ship. I had got his point of view! Strange as 
 his conception of hospitality seemed superficially 
 to be, there was reason in him, and I began to per- 
 ceive that he had some mighty good points. 
 Frankness was one of them, and gratitude, and 
 one of the incidents of his career as narrated to 
 me later by one of his neighbors was convincing 
 proof that, in sporting parlance, the old fellow 
 was a good loser. 
 
 It seems that a certain traveling man of great 
 
 217
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 nerve force stopped overnight some years ago with 
 Conk, probably occupying number thirty-two. It 
 was a fearfully hot night, and the room became 
 unbearably stuffy. For a long time the suffering 
 guest strove to open the window, but without re- 
 sults. Prayer, condemnation, muscular force, all 
 alike were powerless to move it. Finally in des- 
 peration the unhappy visitor threw on his dressing 
 robe, and stalked down to the office to make com- 
 plaint. 
 
 " It 's hotter than Tophet in that room of 
 mine," he protested, " and I 've been monkeying 
 with that dodgasted window of yours for the last 
 hour, and the dinged thing won't give an inch ! " 
 
 " Well, if ya can't move it, why in Dothan dont- 
 cha kick it out? " retorted Conk coldly. 
 
 " All right, I will," said the guest, returning to 
 the furnace above. 
 
 And he did. Glass, frame, and sash were 
 kicked with all the power of an angry man into a 
 mass of wreckage never again to be redeemed. 
 
 " Well," said the guest the following morning, 
 as he started to leave for the station, " what 's the 
 tax.^* What do I owe you? " 
 
 *' Not a blamed cent! " gruffed Conk. " You 're 
 
 218
 
 Mine Host 
 
 the first son of a sea cook that 's ever had the 
 nerve to call my bluff, and b^/ Henry you don't 
 pay a nickel into my till except over my dead 
 body! " 
 
 If I have seemed in any wise severe in my treat- 
 ment of Conk in this tribute to his memory, I am 
 sorry. The material facts could hardly be glossed 
 over; but as for the man himself I am truly glad 
 to have met him. I would n't have missed him for 
 a farm. He was not much of a Chesterfield; but 
 he had his own ways, and they gave me a thrill. 
 The joyous, almost grateful courtesy with which 
 he put me out of his front door was a thing to re- 
 member, and I in turn am everlastingly grateful to 
 him for letting me out on the ground floor instead 
 of seizing me by the left leg and dragging me up 
 through the skylight, and throwing me off the roof. 
 He could have done it easily, and I am sure it was 
 only the intrinsic, if considerably latent, nobility 
 of his soul that restrained the impulse to do so 
 that I am confident he felt. 
 
 219
 
 « 
 
 Y 
 
 XII 
 
 PERILS OF THE PLATFORM 
 
 OURS must be an extra hazardous occupa- 
 tion," said a chance acquaintance on a little 
 trip through Ohio last year. " Do you carry any 
 insurance? " 
 
 " Yes," said I. " I have an excellent accident 
 insurance policy, and it is a great comfort. Some- 
 times on dark nights when I am suddenly 
 awakened by some catastrophic quivering of my 
 berth, as if a young earthquake had come aboard, 
 and realize that the train has probably left the 
 track, and is traveling ahead at a mile-a-minute 
 clip over the rocky bed of some mountain stream, 
 it is a real pleasure to me to foot up the sum total 
 of the affluence that will be mine if we fail to strike 
 a switch somewhere that will get us back on the 
 main line again." 
 
 " Affluence is good," said he ; " but it won't be 
 yours — not if you break your neck." 
 
 220
 
 Perils of the Platform 
 
 " Oh, I never think of that," said I. " I think 
 only of the possibility of injuries, and from that 
 point of view the accident insurance policy is a 
 joy forever. It makes you think so well of your- 
 self, and as you lie off in your berth figuring on 
 two legs and a couple of arms at five thousand 
 dollars apiece, twenty toes and fingers at two 
 hundred and fifty a digit, with your neck valued at 
 twenty-five thousand dollars, you begin to feel 
 that a man is n't such a worthless creature after 
 all. I suppose even my nose is worth something." 
 
 "Great Scott!" he ejaculated. "Do toes and 
 fingers come as high as that ? " 
 
 " They do," said I. " I 've carried a policy 
 assuring me a market for them at that rate for the 
 last five years, and if I lose them in a railway 
 smash-up, in a taxicab, in a trolley, or in a public 
 elevator somewhere, the quotation doubles. Under 
 certain contingencies my fingers and toes have a 
 market value of ten thousand dollars." 
 
 " Heavens ! " he cried. " Have you ever had 
 any luck? " 
 
 From his point of view I presume I have not had 
 any " luck " ; but I am content, satisfied, and even 
 grateful that so far the exigencies of travel have 
 
 221
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 not required me to collect anything on my policy, 
 or compelled me to sacrifice any of my digital col- 
 lateral even at what seem to be par or premium 
 prices. 
 
 But ray friend was not altogether wrong in re- 
 garding the occupation of an itinerant lyceumite 
 as a hazardous one. If one were to conjure up a 
 picture of the gods of evil shooting darts at human 
 targets, one might think that, a moving object 
 being harder to hit than one that is definitely 
 fixed, the former would prove a better risk than 
 the latter; but it is one of the paradoxes of life 
 that this is not the case, unless of course the snip- 
 ing fates are better sharpshooters than profes- 
 sional artillerists. 
 
 The possibilities of accident to one who is con- 
 stantly moving from pillar to post on American 
 railways, many of them starved to death in the 
 name of Progress, and unable to maintain an 
 equipment that is even moderately safe ; on steam- 
 boat lines many of whose vessels are little more 
 than resin-soaked tinderboxes, over-crowded wath 
 pipe and cigarette smokers, and speeding through 
 fog-bound waters at night as though the Evil One 
 himself were just astern in pursuit of the Captain ; 
 
 222
 
 Perils of the Platform 
 
 sleeping in hotels constructed of Georgia pine, on 
 mattresses stuffed with excelsior, with matches 
 that, like flies, will light on anything in sight, 
 strewn about on every side, — well, to commute 
 this sentence, the possibilities of accident to such 
 a one are of such a sort that " age cannot wither 
 nor custom stale their infinite variety." 
 
 And as for the lecture halls, one now and then 
 encounters a place where it seems as though it 
 were a vain-glorious tempting of fate to enter it. 
 I recall one marvelous hall in one of the most cul- 
 tured sections of New England, in a town not more 
 than seventy-five miles from Boston, the home of 
 one of America's most famous schools, and the 
 capital of a State that has produced men of 
 worldwide eminence, which in any Court of Com- 
 monsense would have been indicted as a menace 
 to the public welfare. It was reached by a climb 
 of two flights of stairs, the first scarcely wide 
 enough for two people to walk up abreast, and 
 the second rising from the end of a dimly lighted 
 corridor up six steps to a landing whence ran on 
 each side two other sections of four or five steps 
 each to a second landing, with still a third turn 
 and another climb before the auditorium floor was 
 
 223
 
 From Pillai' to Post 
 
 reached ; and all this in an ordinary brick build- 
 ing, erected long before fireproof construction was 
 even thought of. 
 
 My lecture in this architectural device of Beelze- 
 bub was delivered before an audience of four 
 hundred people, just one week after the terrible 
 disaster at Boyerstown, Pennsylvania, in which I 
 know not how many lives were lost in a fire started 
 by the explosion of a cinematograph machine. As 
 I stepped upon the stage I inquired of my escort 
 if there were any fire escapes on the building, and 
 was informed that a huge iron door at the rear of 
 the stage opened upon one. I was moderately 
 relieved until I tried to open the iron door, only 
 to find it locked — and the janitor had left the key 
 at home! I may add that if my memory serves me 
 correctly — and it does — this ingeniously de- 
 signed atrocity was pleasantly and appropriately 
 known as Phenix Hall. Absit omen! 
 
 In the main, however, the lecture halls of 
 America are rather fine affairs. In the State of 
 New York and on the other side of the Mississippi 
 River I have found splendid auditoriums, acousti- 
 cally perfect, well ventilated, and as nearly safe as 
 human ingenuity can make them. The high 
 
 224
 
 Perils of the Platform 
 
 schools of New York and Massachusetts, and the 
 flourishing educational institutions of the West, 
 have set a pace which other communities would do 
 well to follow: not so much for the sake of the 
 itinerant platformist as for the " safety, honor, 
 and welfare " of their own sons and daughters. 
 In Houston, Texas, where there is a municipally 
 owned free lecture and music course on Sunday 
 afternoons, beginning in October and running 
 through to May, is one of the finest auditoriums I 
 have ever seen anywhere. It seats in comfort and 
 safety an audience of eight thousand, and neither 
 New York, Boston, Philadelphia, nor even Chicago, 
 has anything comparable to it. 
 
 I have indeed had luck according to my own 
 conception of it, on trains traveled on, and in re- 
 spect to trains missed as well. I have been in two 
 railway smash-ups, in the first of which the car 
 behind mine was overturned and reduced to kin- 
 dling in the twinkling of an eye, and miraculously 
 without serious injury to any one ; and in the other 
 the engine directly in front of the car in which I 
 was sitting, having endeavored to jump a frozen 
 switch, succeeded only in landing upon its own 
 back, leaving my car teetering to and fro for 
 
 225
 
 Fi'otti Pillar to Post 
 
 a moment as if undecided whether to roll down 
 an embankment, or to remain poised on its off- 
 side wheels like a ballet girl balanced upon one 
 tangoing toe. If the gentleman who sat beside 
 me on that occasion had shifted his chewing gum 
 to the other side, I think we should have gone 
 plunging down that embankment into the river ; 
 but fortunately he was too paralyzed with fear 
 even to do that, and we remained fixed, safe as ever 
 was the intrepid Blondin when he essayed to walk 
 across Niagara Falls on his slack wire. 
 
 As for the trains missed, it was only an over- 
 prolonged discussion of the mysteries of golf be- 
 tween myself and a past-master of putting at 
 Haverhill, Massachusetts, which caused me to miss 
 by ten seconds a section of the Portland Express 
 to New York that five hours later landed in a ditch 
 somewhere in Connecticut. 
 
 In respect to perils by water there are the 
 steamboat perils, and those more insidious dangers 
 that come from too free indulgence in the only 
 kind of beverage the wise platformist dares adopt 
 as a steady tipple. These latter perils I have 
 tried to reduce to a minimum by having a billion 
 and a half typhus germs mobilized within to patrol 
 
 226
 
 Perils of the Platform 
 
 my system, so that any skulking bacilli seeking to 
 spread revolutionary ideas in my midst, and gain- 
 
 "If he had shifted his chewing gum to the other 
 side, we should have plunged into the river." 
 
 ing admittance thereto through my taste for ice 
 water, will be seized and duly throttled ere they 
 have time to lay the foundation for an eifective 
 propaganda. 
 
 227
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 But there is no inoculation against the perils of 
 steamboats ; although I have been in imminent 
 danger only once in this way, and in its ultimate 
 results even that was far more amusing than terri- 
 fyi^^g'' I was on my way to Boston by the Fall 
 River boat when the incident occurred. The night 
 was foggy, and I retired early. The faithful craft 
 kept steadily on her way, feeling her path through 
 the dark waters of the sound. I slept only fitfully 
 until midnight, when weary Nature at last asserted 
 herself, and I fell into a profound slumber. At 
 four in the morning, however, I was awakened 
 rudely by a fierce shriek of the whistle, a seem- 
 ingly quick reversal of the engines, a very decided 
 shock as of an impact with some heavy body, 
 followed by a grinding sound, and much shout- 
 ing. 
 
 I sprang from my berth, and glancing out of the 
 window could see nothing but grimly gray fog. It 
 was the work of a moment to jump into my shoes 
 and bathrobe, and go speeding out into the main 
 saloon. 
 
 "Any danger. Porter?" I inquired of a wide- 
 awake gentleman of color, who was leaning over the 
 stair-railing. 
 
 228
 
 Penis of the Platform 
 
 " Not unless yd' goes asho\ Kuhnnel,'"' he replied 
 with a grin. " Dis is Newport." 
 
 But there are perils other than these which must 
 be taken into account in reckoning up the hazards 
 of the profession — or perhaps in view of the eter- 
 nity of the chase it were better called a pursuit. 
 They include exposure to almost every kind of 
 catastrophe mentioned in the Litany, from battle, 
 murder, and sudden death, through hunger and 
 thirst, to the tapering point of mere necessity and 
 tribulation. 
 
 I have nearly starved with teeming granaries on 
 every side of me. Once in a delightful mid-New 
 York community which I have since revisited and 
 come to hold in affection, I found myself after a 
 long, tedious, and foodless journey at a hotel where 
 the table was frankly impossible. I arrived late, 
 and out of an ample bill of fare there was nothing 
 left but a few scraps of preserved fish, and not very 
 well preserved at that. If fish could be personified, 
 this particular bit of piscatorial cussedness might 
 have passed as the Rip Van Winkle of the Sea, so 
 long had it evidently been since it left its home in 
 the depths. The merest glance at it filled the eye 
 with visions of serried ranks of ptomaines, armed 
 
 229
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 cap-a-pic for trouble. It waved the red flag of 
 digestive anarchy from the end of every bone and 
 fin, and fortunately for nie the very pungency of 
 its aroma took care of my hunger for the moment. 
 One sniff appeased my appetite for any kind of 
 food. 
 
 Later, when the chairman of the committee 
 called and invited me to take a drive with him 
 about the town, even though I had had nothing to 
 eat for nearly twelve hours, I accepted. At the 
 end of our drive we stopped at the chairman's 
 home, a delightfully comfortable, newly built 
 house, which he had designed himself and of which 
 he was justly proud. As we entered his dining 
 room a natural association of ideas caused my ap- 
 petite to return with renewed vigor, and I thought 
 I saw a chance for at least one good meal that 
 day. 
 
 " By Jove, Doctor ! " said I, " what a pretty 
 room this is ! " And then I added, with all the 
 pathos I could put into my voice, " You don't 
 know what a joy it is to get a glimpse now and 
 then of a real home dining room after eating day 
 after day in some of these fearful country hotels. 
 I don't want to seem unduly critical, but really I 
 
 230
 
 Perils of the Platform 
 
 got the worst dinner at the Bhthcrs House to-day 
 that I 've ever had." And I stood expectant. 
 
 " Well," he said reflectively, " you 'II get a 
 worse supper! " 
 
 And lo, it was so. 
 
 A similarly distressing moment one morning 
 out in Montana once brought me a more satisfac- 
 tory tribute. My train was hours late, and no 
 preparations had been made by the usually con- 
 siderate management of the Northern Pacific Rail- 
 road for the refreshment of the inner man. There 
 was neither diner nor buff'et on the train, and as 
 the morning wore on toward noon I became fam- 
 ished to the extent of positive pain and general 
 giddiness. To my supreme relief, however, along 
 about half-past eleven o'clock the train drew into 
 the little station of Livingston, where connections 
 are made by travelers to the Yellowstone. As we 
 drew slowly in the welcome sign of " LUNCH 
 ROOM " greeted my vision ; but the train did not 
 stop until we had passed the sign by at least a 
 hundred yards. Finally when we came to a stand- 
 still I rushed to the rear platform of the train, 
 and was about to jump off when the conductor 
 intervened. 
 
 231
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 ti 
 
 Where are you going? " he asked. 
 For food," said I. " I 'm nearly dead for a 
 cup of coffee." 
 
 " We 're not going to stop any time," said he, 
 with a glance at his watch. " We 're seven hours 
 late as it is." 
 
 " Oh, come now. Conductor!" said I. "Five 
 minutes more is n't going to hurt anybody — " 
 
 " All right," said he, " go ahead. Only when 
 you hear the whistle blow don't lose a minute, 
 hungry or no hungry." 
 
 With that understanding I sped to the lunch 
 counter, and in a few moments had a roll and a 
 steaming cup of coffee before me; but, alas for all 
 human expectations ! the coffee was so fearfully 
 hot nothing but a salamander could have hoped 
 to drink it with safety, and I had hardly taken one 
 scalding sip of it when the whistle blew sharply. 
 There was but one thing to do, and I did it. I 
 poured the coffee into my saucer and drained as 
 much as I could of it from that, thrust the roll 
 into my pocket, and darted after the train, which 
 had already begun to move slowly, conscious all 
 the while of the soft thud of pattering feet, like 
 those of the white rabbit in " Alice in Wonder- 
 
 S32
 
 Penis of the Platform 
 
 land," behind mc. I caught the train, seizing the 
 rear platfoi-m rail with one hand, and when swing- 
 ing myself on board was projected almost flat on 
 my face by another passenger who suddenly devel- 
 oped like an infant battering ram at the rear. He 
 was a little man, and his breath came in appro- 
 priate pants. Both completely winded, we gazed 
 into each other's eyes. 
 
 " Bub-beg pardon," he gasped. " I dud-did n't 
 mean to bub-bump into you. Very grateful to 
 you — yuh — you saved my life ! " 
 
 " Saved your life.? " said I. " How so.? " 
 
 *' Why," said he, " I was nearly gone for want 
 of my coffee, and the stuff was so infernally hot I 
 could n't drink it, and then when I saw you pour- 
 ing yours out into your saucer, I says to myself, 
 ' Well, if a swell-lookin' guy like that kvn do that, 
 I kin, — ari' Vgosh, I did! " 
 
 A not infrequent source of terror to the plat- 
 form speaker, if not a real peril, is the small boy 
 one encounters en route, singly and alone or in 
 groups. I am glad to say that I have always de- 
 lighted in him, and so far, despite the possibilities, 
 none of my contacts with him has resulted disas- 
 trously ; but, while nobody ever need mark him 
 
 233
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 "FRAGILE," it is none the less true that he 
 should be handled with care, and kept right side 
 up if possible, for the sake of the general comfort. 
 
 One of these youngsters once gave me a supreme 
 example of intrinsic honesty which I shall never 
 forget. I met him on the evening of my lecture 
 in the town of Everett, Massachusetts. I had 
 somehow got the notion that Everett was farther 
 afield from Boston than it really is, and starting 
 early I arrived at the high school hall a full hour 
 before the advertised time. The building was 
 dark, and every door was locked ; so that for some 
 thirty or forty minutes I was compelled to pace 
 the sidewalk in front of it, awaiting the arrival of 
 somebody who could let me in. After several 
 turns up and down the street I was accosted by a 
 bright-faced little urchin who held a ticket for my 
 lecture in his hand. 
 
 " Want to buy a ticket for to-night's lecture, 
 mister.'' " said he. 
 
 " No, son," said I. " I 've heard this lecture 
 several times already, and I would n't go through 
 it again for seven dollars." 
 
 "Gee!" he ejaculated. " // ifs as had as 
 that, I guess I 'd better tear tins' up." 
 
 234.
 
 Perils of the Platform 
 
 And he destroyed the ticket on which he had 
 doubtless expected to realize much soda-water 
 money before my very eyes, and went whistling 
 along upon his honest Httle way. 
 
 Perhaps this little lad does not come properly 
 under the head of Hazards ; but in one of the 
 larger cities of Arkansas I once came upon a group 
 of boys who did, and they kept me in a state of 
 trepidation for a goodly part of the evening. It 
 happened that simultaneously with my arrival in 
 town there arrived also a snowstorm that for that 
 section of the country was a heavy one. Heavy 
 or light, it brought with it enough snow to provide 
 these forty-odd youngsters with the kind of oc- 
 cupation that all healthy-minded youngsters find 
 to their taste — that of snow-balling passersby. 
 When my motor arrived at the lecture hall the boys 
 were on hand, and for two or three minutes the 
 car was the object of a fierce fusillade of icy mis- 
 siles that nearly put the chauffeur out of commis- 
 sion. The committee hustled me into the hall with 
 no more damage than one rather slushy splosh of 
 snow perilously close to my neck. 
 
 " It 's a shame, Mr. Bangs," said the chairman, 
 " and I apologize. These boys are n't a bad lot; 
 
 235
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 but they are irrepressible. I 'd advise you to go 
 slow with them to-night. They 've broken up two 
 lectures already." 
 
 " Gracious ! " said I. " Do they attend the lec- 
 tures ? " 
 
 " Yes," said the chairman. " By arrangement 
 with the school authorities they have the first two 
 rows reserved for them free." 
 
 And sure enough when I walked out upon the 
 platform there they were, two solid rows of them, 
 eying me like hungry birds of prey ready to 
 pounce upon a particularly luscious morsel. I 
 should have fled if flight had been possible; but it 
 was not, and I looked forward to an hour and a 
 half of trial. But as the chairman was introduc- 
 ing me an idea popped into my head which I am 
 glad to say saved the day — or rather the night. 
 Instead of my usual opening I addressed a few 
 words to the boys. 
 
 " It is an awful shame, my young friends," said 
 I, " that the requirements of this lecture course 
 and the necessities of my own engagements compel 
 you and me to waste such a delightful evening as 
 this indoors. I feel just as badly as you do about 
 it ; for while what few hairs I have are gray, I give 
 
 236
 
 Penis of the Platform 
 
 you my word that I 'd rather go into a good redhot 
 snowball fight with you than listen to the finest lec- 
 ture that was ever delivered. If I did n't have to 
 go on to Memphis to-night, I 'd ask the commit- 
 tee and the audience to postpone this lecture un- 
 til the snow melts, so that I could show you 
 what a corking shot I am at any old beaver hat, 
 moving or fixed, that ever crowned a mortal 
 head." 
 
 The effect was instantaneous. A wave of en- 
 thusiasm swept over the lads, and the only inter- 
 ference I had from them during my talk was a 
 somewhat too-ready inclination on their part to 
 help me along with laughter and applause at points 
 where tears and silence would have been more ap- 
 propriate. Moreover, when at the close of my 
 lecture I started with some reluctance to leave the 
 hall, instead of the volley of arctic ammunition 
 that I had expected, I found those youngsters lined 
 up twenty on a side between the door and my motor 
 with their hats off, forming a little alley of honor 
 for me to tread, giving me three rousing cheers as 
 I departed. 
 
 From which somewhat trying experience I de- 
 duce that there is a good deal more latent courtesy 
 
 237
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 in Young America than certain despairing critics 
 of modern manners would have us believe. It may 
 be that the reason why we do not find it oftener is 
 that we do not ourselves give it the opportunity to 
 express itself. 
 
 I have spoken of our exposure to " battle, mur- 
 der, and sudden death," and to some it may have 
 seemed an exaggeration to claim anything of the 
 sort as a platform peril; and yet there was one 
 occasion upon which I was so uncomfortably tan- 
 gent to such conditions that they seemed all too 
 real. It was in one of our far western States. 
 Scheduled to lecture there at eight p.m., my train 
 did not reach the town until nine-forty-five. I 
 had telegraphed news of my delay ahead, and my 
 audience with rare courtesy had voted to remain 
 at the hall until I arrived. 
 
 I dressed on the train, and on descending from 
 it was whisked to the opera house in a prehistoric 
 hack, which shed one of its wheels en route, spill- 
 ing the committee and myself into the road, but 
 without damage; while my Only Muse went on to 
 the hotel, a two-story affair, where she secured ac- 
 commodations for the night. Later, on the con- 
 clusion of my talk, on my arrival at the hotel, I 
 
 238
 
 Penis of the Platform 
 
 .'^^. 
 
 ' 'Laughter where 
 tears would have 
 been more 
 appropriate." 
 
 found the Muse sitting up in bed, pallid as a ghost, 
 with a revolver at her side. 
 
 "What on earth is the matter with you?" I 
 demanded, more than startled at the sight. 
 
 She hardly needed to answer ; for almost as I 
 spoke from a saloon located immediately under- 
 neath our room came the sharp crack of pistols. 
 
 239
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 Somebody below there was engaged in the pleasing 
 occupation of " shooting up " the place. Not 
 having seen the plans and specifications of the 
 hotel, I did not know how thick the floor was, or 
 what were the prospects for a sudden eruption of 
 bullets through the carpet. It was not any safer 
 to venture out either ; for there was no telling how 
 far the trouble might spread. So I jumped into 
 bed and trusted to a combination of Providence, 
 floor, and hair mattress to hold me immune. The 
 disturbance did not last long, however, and shortly 
 after midnight all was quiet, and sleep came. 
 
 Two hours later we were awakened by a snarl- 
 ing quarrel going on directly under our window. 
 Two men were applying epithets of an uncompli- 
 mentary nature to each other, when suddenly one 
 of them passed the bounds of even occidental tol- 
 eration. He called the other a name that no 
 right-minded man could be expected to stand, and 
 we heard three sharp cracks of a revolver zipping 
 out in the air. We sprang from the bed and 
 rushed to the window, and there lying flat on his 
 back, on a light fall of snow, in the glare of an 
 electric lamp, was a man, with a gradually widen- 
 ing red spot staining the white of the road on 
 
 240
 
 Perils of the Platform 
 
 which he lay. There was no sign of an assailant 
 anywhere ; but in a few moments, in absolute, al- 
 most ghostly silence, black figures appeared from 
 seemingly everywhere, and bent over the fallen vic- 
 tim. We could hear low whisperings, and then 
 suddenly one of the black figures detached him- 
 self from the group, and ran off down the street, 
 returning shortly with a covered carriage. Into 
 this the murdered man was placed, the carriage 
 was driven off, the snow muffling the feet of the 
 horses, the black figures vanished as silently as 
 they had come, and all that was left of the traged}' 
 was the red spot in the snow. 
 
 We had heard tales of witnesses to similar dis- 
 turbances being detained for months under surveil- 
 lance, practically prisoners of the law, pending the 
 trial of the guilty, and were in no mind to suffer 
 a similar experience ourselves. Wherefore when 
 morning came we rose with the first glimmer of 
 dawn, packed our suitcases, and, asking no ques- 
 tions of anybody, departed for other scenes on the 
 earliest milk train we could catch ; which hap- 
 pened, fortunately, to be going in the right direc- 
 tion for us. 
 
 Personally I have a horror of the Zeppelin and 
 
 241
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 its powers to make things uncomfortable from its 
 aerial thoroughfares ; but as between it and the 
 perils of being shot up from below by playful 
 spirits in a frontier saloon I think I shall choose 
 the Zeppelin if the choice must be made. At any 
 rate, if either emergency should ever again enter 
 into my life, I trust I shall have a bomb-proof roof 
 overhead, or an armor-plated hair mattress under- 
 neath me ; for I have no taste for a last end in 
 which a coroner will be called upon to decide 
 whether the victim of the affair was a mortal be- 
 ing, or a lifeless combination of porous plaster and 
 human sieve. 
 
 243
 
 XIII 
 EMBARRASSING MOMENTS 
 
 I SHALL never forget the expression of serene 
 immunity from care on the face of one of 
 my editorial chiefs when some years ago I told him 
 that I was very much embarrassed by certain ar- 
 rangements he himself had made over my head. 
 They were such arrangements as to make my posi- 
 tion frankly impossible. 
 
 " You have embarrassed me more than I care to 
 say," said I. 
 
 " Embarrassment is a sign of weakness," he re- 
 plied calmly. " Don't ever be embarrassed." 
 
 " But what can I do ? " said I. " You have 
 made these arrangements, and — " 
 
 " Well, if I were you," said he, smiling, and put- 
 ting considerable emphasis on the you, " rather 
 than admit that anything under heaven embar- 
 rassed me I 'd tell me to go to the devil with my 
 arrangements." 
 
 243
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 I took him at his word. Wc both laughed, and 
 the immediate awkwardness vanished. While I 
 cannot truthfully say that telling him to " go to " 
 was a wholly satisfactory ultimate solution of all 
 our difficulties, I have as a matter of policy 
 adopted that attitude toward troublesome things 
 ever since, to the material advantage at least of 
 my own peace of mind. I have found the philoso- 
 phy involved a workable one, and more than help- 
 ful to me in the pursuit of my platform labors, es- 
 pecially that part of it involving the " laugh." 
 
 It certainly rescued me from a deal of unhap- 
 piness over a wasted date a year or so ago in Michi- 
 gan, for which I was in no sense to blame, and 
 which, had the various parties been inclined to 
 quarrel over misfortune, might have resulted in 
 much unpleasantness. 
 
 Following a Wednesday night engagement in 
 mid-Ohio was a Thursday night in a more or less 
 remote section of the Wolverine State. To reach 
 the Thursday night scene of action I was required 
 to rise at five o'clock in the morning and travel 
 with one or two awkward changes of trains to Fort 
 Wayne, going thence to Kalamazoo, and from 
 there by a way train to the point in question. It 
 
 2U
 
 Emharrassing Moments 
 
 was a long, tedious drive of a day, and when I 
 reached Kalamazoo I unburdened myself vigor- 
 ously to the Only Muse to the effect that if any- 
 body, anywhere, would offer me a job as third as- 
 sistant manager of a tolerably stationary peanut 
 stand at two dollars a week, payable in deferred 
 promises, I should consider the offer a most tempt- 
 ing one. 
 
 My comfort was not at all enhanced by my dis- 
 covery on reaching Kalamazoo that I had com- 
 pletely misread the timetables, and that instead of 
 arriving at our destination at five in the afternoon, 
 leaving me plenty of time for rest, refreshment, 
 and change of clothes, the only possible train, even 
 if it ran on time, could not get me through to the 
 haven of my desires until five minutes before eight, 
 with the lecture scheduled to begin at eight-fifteen. 
 So I rested, refreshed, and dressed at Kalamazoo, 
 and perforce traveled over the last stage of that 
 wearisome journey in full evening dress, slowly 
 but surely accumulating en route a sufficient sup- 
 ply of soot, cinders, grit, and other appurtenances 
 of travel on a soft-coal, one-horse railroad, to 
 make me appear like a masterpiece of spatterwork 
 when I arrived at the farther end. 
 
 245
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 By some odd mischance, never as yet satisfac- 
 torily accounted for, the train got through on 
 time. The Only Muse and I hastily boarded an 
 omnibus, and were whisked through the impene- 
 trable depths of a dark night to the hotel, whence, 
 after seeing her properly bestowed, I hastened to 
 the Auditorium where the lecture was to be 
 held. To my surprise when I got there I found 
 the building wholly dark. There was not a sign 
 of life anywhere about it. I banged, whacked, 
 and thundered on the door like an invading ar- 
 tillery corps ; but with no response of any sort. 
 But a glance up the street a moment later re- 
 lieved the pressure of my woe ; for there my 
 vision was cheered by a brilliantly lighted 
 church. 
 
 " Of course," I thought, " the Auditorium is too 
 small to accommodate the audience, and they 've 
 changed over to the church." 
 
 I glanced at my watch, and discovered that I 
 had two minutes to spare. A goodly sprint 
 brought me panting to the front door of the edi- 
 fice, and with some unnecessary noise, perhaps due 
 wholly to the impetuosity of my approach, I burst 
 in upon the assembled multitude — to find, alas ! 
 
 246
 
 Embarrassing Moments 
 
 that the very sizable audience gathered there with 
 their heads bowed, and listening to an eloquent 
 appeal for blessings desired by a gentleman wear- 
 ing a long frock coat and 
 a white necktie, were not 
 for me. To my chagrin 
 I soon learned that I had 
 come within an ace of 
 breaking up a prayer 
 meeting — if I may be al- 
 lowed the use of such in- ^>i 
 congruous terms in the ^a^lllpl'lflj' 
 phrase. I backed out as 
 gracefully as I could, and 
 collided with a late comer. 
 
 " Is there more than 
 one Auditorium in this 
 town ? '* I whispered, after 
 apologizing for my reac- 
 tionary behavior. 
 
 " Oh, yes," he re- 
 plied politely, " there 
 is the Auditorium, 
 and the High School 
 Auditorium." 
 
 I found 
 
 the 
 
 building 
 
 wholly 
 
 dark." 
 
 247
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 " Well, would you mind telling nie where thcj 
 arc ? " I queried. 
 
 " That is the High School Auditorium up 
 there," he said, pointing to the Egyptian darkness 
 I had just left. "The other is three squares 
 down, where you see all those electric lights." 
 
 Whether I thanked the gentleman or not I do 
 not know. I hope I did ; but in the hurry of my 
 departure I fear I seemed discourteolis. Another 
 speedy dash, which left me completely winded, 
 brought me to the other Auditorium, and there in 
 the full glare of an electric spotlight, assisted in 
 its quest of publicity by a hoarse-tongued barker 
 with a megaphone, I was confronted by a highly 
 colored lithograph, showing a very pink Mabel, 
 Queen of the Movies, standing before a very blue 
 American soldier tied to a tree, shielding him from 
 the bullets of a line of very green Mexicans, under 
 the command of a very red villain, holding a very 
 mauve sword in his very yellow hand, and bidding 
 them to " Fire ! " If I was expected to take any 
 part in the thrilling episode that appeared to be 
 going on inside, there was nothing in the chromatic 
 advertising outside to indicate the fact; though I 
 confess I was becoming painfully conscious of cer- 
 
 248
 
 E77} harrassing Moments 
 
 tain strong resemblances between my very breath- 
 less self and that very blue American trooper tied 
 to the tree. 
 
 " Excuse me," said I, addressing the barker, 
 " but is there to be a lecture here to-night? " 
 
 " Not so 's anybody 'd notice it," said he. 
 " These Is the movies." 
 
 " Well — tell me — is there a lecture course of 
 any kind In this town that you know of? " I asked. 
 
 " Sure ! " said he. " Miss So-and-So down at 
 the library Is runnin' a lecture stunt of some kind 
 this year. You '11 find the library on Main Street, 
 opposite the hotel." 
 
 Again, late as it was, the skies cleared, and I 
 moved on to the library, completing the circuit of 
 vast numbers of blocks to a point almost opposite 
 the spot I had started from fifteen lifelong minutes 
 before. I arrived in a state of active perspiration 
 and suspended respiration that did not seem to 
 promise much in the way of a successful delivery 
 of ray lecture that night. I hoped the Library 
 Auditorium would not prove to be a large one ; 
 for in my disorganized condition I did not feel 
 capable of projecting my voice even into the shal- 
 lows, to say nothing of the sometimes unfathom- 
 
 24.9
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 able deptlis of endless tiers of seats. And my 
 hope was realized ; in fact it was more than real- 
 ized, for there was n't any Library Auditorium at 
 all. 
 
 The citizens of that town had a library that was 
 devoted rather to good literature than to archi- 
 tectural splendor. Their books were housed in an 
 ordinary shop, or store. It was deep, narrow, 
 and bookishly cozy, and at the far end of it, seated 
 at a generously large table, engaged in knitting, 
 was a charming lady who glanced up from her nee- 
 dles as I approached. 
 
 " Pardon my intrusion, madam," I panted, " but 
 can you tell me where I can find Miss So-and-So ? " 
 
 " I am Miss So-and-So," she replied graciously. 
 
 " Well," said I, " I am Mr. Bangs." 
 
 Her knitting fell to the floor. "Why — Mr. 
 Bangs ! " she replied, with a gasp almost equal to 
 my own. " I am very glad indeed to see you ; but 
 what are you doing here? " 
 
 "I — I 've come to lecture," I said weakly, al- 
 most pleadingly. 
 
 "To lecture?" she echoed. '^ Why, your lec- 
 ture is not to be until a week from to-night! ' * 
 
 " Then I am afraid we shall have to get my as- 
 
 250
 
 Em harrassing Moments 
 
 tral body to work," said I ; " for a week from to- 
 night I shall be at Hiawatha, Kansas. How do 
 you propose to have the lecture delivered — by 
 long distance telephone, or parcels post? " 
 
 We gazed into each other's eyes for a moment, 
 and then — we both laughed. It seemed the only 
 thing to do. 
 
 Gallantry forbids my saying which of us had 
 made the mistake under the terms of the written 
 contract. Suffice it to say that two months later 
 I returned to that good little town, and was re- 
 ceived like a conquering hero by an audience that 
 in its cordiality more than compensated me for the 
 distressing effects of an " unlectured lecture." 
 
 What promised to be a more serious complica- 
 tion occurred about a month later in Florida, where 
 in pursuance of instructions from my Southern 
 managers I arrived at Daytona on a Monday, to 
 open the flourishing Chautauqua Course, which 
 has become a permanent feature of life at that at- 
 tractive Southern resort. The seriousness of the 
 situation grew out of the quality of the genius and 
 the nature of the popularity of the other individ- 
 ual involved, who was no less a personage than 
 the Hon. William Jennings Bryan. Any minor 
 
 251
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 star in the platform firmament who comes into col- 
 lision with the planetary splendor of this Monarch 
 of Modern Loquacity has about as much chance 
 of escaping unscathed as a tallow-dip would have 
 in a passage at arms with the sun itself. 
 
 There is no escaping the fact that Mr. Bryan is 
 the idol of the Chautauqua Circuit, and it is 
 equally true that every bit of the success he has 
 achieved therein he has earned many times over. 
 I am not, never have been, and see no possibility 
 of my ever becoming, a devotee of Mr. Bryan's 
 political fortunes ; but as a platform speaker he 
 is far and away the most brilliant and likable per- 
 sonality in the public eye to-day. He is an expert 
 in playing upon the emotions of an audience, large 
 or small — preferably large — as ever was Dud- 
 ley Buck in the manipulation of the keys and stops 
 of an organ, and he can at will strike chords in 
 the human heart as searchingly appealing as any 
 produced by an Elman or a Kreisler on the vio- 
 lin, or a Paderewski at the piano. 
 
 The keynotes of his platform work are a seem- 
 ing sincerity and a magnetic humanness that are 
 irresistible, and no individual who has ever listened 
 to him in matters outside of political controversy,
 
 Embarrassing ^foments 
 
 however reluctant to admit his greatness, has 
 failed to fall beneath the winning spell of man, 
 matter, and method. He is an interesting person- 
 ality, and has a greater number of points of con- 
 tact with the general run of humanity than any 
 other public speaker of to-day. It is a stimulat- 
 ing thing to know that in this line of human en- 
 deavor he has got his reward in the assured 
 position he holds in a movement at which it is the 
 fashion in some uninformed and cynical quarters 
 to sneer, but which in point of fact has had a su- 
 premely awakening effect upon the American peo- 
 ple, and for which we are all of us the better 
 off. 
 
 " All of which," as a friend of mine once put it 
 after I had expressed myself in similar terms con- 
 cerning Mr. Bryan, " is some tribute for a narrow- 
 minded, hide-bound, bigoted, old standpat, reac- 
 tionary, antediluvian Republican to pay to a hated 
 rival ! " 
 
 I was frankly appalled on arriving at Daytona 
 to find the town placarded from end to end with 
 posters announcing Mr. Bryan's appearance there 
 that evening — my evening, as I had supposed it 
 to be. I did not know exactly what to do. I 
 
 253
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 knew perfectly well what would happen to me if it 
 came to a hand-to-hand contest for possession of 
 the stage. Physically, with Mr. Bryan and my- 
 self left to decide the matter for ourselves, after 
 the fashion of a pair of bantam white hopes, I felt 
 that I might have a fairly good chance to win out ; 
 for I am not altogether without brawn, and in the 
 matter of handling a pair of boxing gloves am prob- 
 ably quite as expert as the late Secretary of State ; 
 but nobody outside of Matteawan would be so 
 blind to commonsense as to expect an audience 
 anywhere either to stand neutral or to indulge in 
 a policy of " watchful waiting " with such a con- 
 test going on on the platform. 
 
 My first impulse in the circumstances was to get 
 out of town as quickly and as quietly as I could, 
 and forget that there was such a place as Daytona 
 on the map ; but a careful scrutiny of my letter of 
 instructions reassured me. The date, according 
 to the supreme managers at Atlanta, was clearly 
 mine, and I decided at least to go down with colors 
 flying. I have never run from my o\vn litho- 
 graphs, and I saw no reason why I should flee from 
 Mr. Bryan's. I got in touch with the local com- 
 mittee as soon as possible, and soon had at least 
 
 254
 
 Emharrassina Moments 
 
 the solace of companionship in my misery. They 
 were as upset about it as I was. 
 
 " But, Mr. Bangs," protested the chairman, al- 
 most with tears in his eyes — his voice was full of 
 them — " you are n't due here until to-morrow 
 night." 
 
 " I don't see how that can be," I replied unfeel- 
 ingly. " You know perfectly well that I am not 
 twins, and only twins can appear in two places at 
 once. I am to lecture at Miami to-morrow night." 
 
 I handed the gentleman my letter of instruc- 
 tions, confirming my statement. It was all down 
 in black and white. 
 
 " It 's a perfectly terrible situation," said the 
 chairman, tears even springing from his brow, 
 " and I 'm blest if I know what to do ! " 
 
 " There is only one of three things to be done," 
 said I. " The first is to let me sit in the audience 
 to-night and listen to Mr, Bryan, collecting my fee 
 on the ground that I have earned it by holding my 
 tongue — which is some job for a man primed with 
 unspoken words. The second is to let Mr. Bryan 
 and myself go out on the platform and indulge in 
 a lecture Marathon, he at one side of the stage, I 
 at the other, talking simultaneously, the one that 
 
 S55
 
 'From Pillar to Post 
 
 gets through first to get the gate money. The 
 third and best is for you to telegraph Mr. Bryan 
 and find out direct from him what his understand- 
 ing is as to the date." 
 
 The first or the last of the propositions would 
 have suited me perfectly ; for I should have been 
 delighted to listen to Mr. Bryan whether I was 
 paid for it or not — and most assuredly had Mr. 
 Bryan himself laid claim to the date no power on 
 this earth could have lured me into a dispute over 
 its possession. I am too proud of this life to risk 
 its uncertain tenure for the brief glory of an hour 
 on a preempted platform. 
 
 I am glad to say that before dusk the complica- 
 tion was cleared off ; for, the third alternative hav- 
 ing been accepted by the committee, Mr. Bryan 
 was caught on the wire, and replied instantly to 
 the effect that he was to lecture that night on some 
 such subject as " The Curse of Wealth " at Palm 
 Beach, where many sufferers from that particular 
 blight are annually gathered together in large 
 numbers. The skies immediately cleared, and I 
 went out that night before a packed house, the un- 
 witting beneficiary of widespread advertising on 
 Mr. Bryan's behalf, and enjoyed myself very 
 
 256
 
 Emharrasdng Moments 
 
 much ; although as I sped along I could " spot " 
 here and there in the audience individuals who, 
 having come to hear Mr. Bryan, like Rachel weep- 
 ing for her children, " refused to be comforted." 
 
 My only lasting regret was that my contract did 
 not call for the payment to me of fifty per cent, of 
 the boxoffice receipts. I have no doubt there were 
 people there that night who thought, and possibly 
 still think, that I stole that audience. And per- 
 haps I did ; but I was no more responsible for the 
 theft than was poor little Oliver Twist, who found 
 himself at unexpected places at unlooked for hours 
 through the efforts of those " higher up." I may 
 add too in all sincerity that if Mr. Bryan himself 
 feels, or felt, in any way aggrieved over what he 
 might call my " unearned increment " in listeners, 
 I will gladly exchange fees with him. I will un- 
 hesitatingly, at his request, and by return mail, 
 send him my check for the full amount received by 
 me on that somewhat nervous occasion if he will 
 send me a postoffice order for the amount received 
 by him the evening after. 
 
 Embarrassments of a less poignant character 
 frequently arise in the matter of unexpected calls 
 for service, for which the public generally assumes 
 
 257
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 the platform speaker to be necessarily always pre- 
 pared, but for which as a matter of fact no amount 
 of preparation could adequately fit any man built 
 on the old-fashioned plan in respect to his nervous 
 organization. One of these affairs came into my 
 experience a decade ago, when, crossing the Atlan- 
 tic Ocean on that high-rolling ocean greyhound, 
 the Lucania, I was drafted by an overzealous com- 
 mittee of arrangements to preside over one of those 
 impromptu entertainments got up on shipboard 
 for the benefit of the widows and orphans of those 
 who go down into the sea in ships. To these more 
 than worthy enterprises gratitude for benefits re- 
 ceived has always made me a w illing contributor ; 
 but to participate in them has ever been a trial. 
 I would rather lecture before the inmates of a 
 deaf and dumb asylum with a sore thumb. 
 
 The company aboard a transatlantic liner is al- 
 ways, to say the least, " mixed " in the matter of 
 nationality ; and, while one might be willing to 
 " make a stab " at being witty before a gathering 
 all English, all French, all German, or Pan-Amer- 
 ican, woe be unto him who vaingloriously attacks 
 the risibles of a multitude made up of all these 
 widely varying racial elements! Their standards 
 
 258
 
 Embarrassing Moments 
 
 of humor are as widely divergent as are their sev- 
 eral racial strains, and one might as well try to sit 
 on four stools at once with perfect composure as 
 expect to find the " Chair " under such conditions 
 comfortable. One has to acquiesce in such de- 
 mands, however, or be set down as disagreeable, 
 and when the committee approached me in the mat- 
 ter they received a much readier yes than I really 
 wished to give them. 
 
 The night came, and I found myself at the head 
 table in the dining saloon working for dear life to 
 keep the thing going. There was a pretty slim 
 array of talent, and from one end of the program 
 to the other there was nobody to hang a really 
 good joke on, even if I had had one to hang. A 
 chairman can always be facetious at the expense 
 of distinguished people like Chauncey M. Depew, 
 Henry James, or Mr. Caruso, and " get away 
 with it " ; but the obscure amateur cannot be han- 
 dled with brutal impunity. I think I may say 
 truthfully that no man ever worked harder at the 
 pumps of a sinking ship than I did that night. 
 And to make matters worse there was a heavy roll- 
 ing sea on, and, while I never suffer from seasick- 
 ness, the combination of motion and nerves made 
 
 259
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 me uncomfortably conscious of an insurgent midst 
 as I forged hopelessly ahead. 
 
 Finally, however, there came a rift in the cloud 
 of my despair. A pleasant little cockney ballad 
 singer who was coming over to America for a sea- 
 son in vaudeville volunteered to sing a ballad. It 
 was well sung, and most pathetic. It depicted in 
 dramatic fashion the delirium of an old British 
 veteran, who, as the hour of death approached him, 
 was fighting over again in fancy the battles of his 
 youth. The refrain of the ballad was Bring me 
 the old Martvni, and I shall die in peace! — refer- 
 ring of course to the rifle that for a period of years 
 up to 1890 had been the official weapon of Tommy 
 Atkins. I made the most of so obvious a lead, and 
 before introducing the next number on the pro- 
 gram thanked the singer for his dramatic render- 
 ing of so fine a story. 
 
 " But, my friends," said I, " that ballad saddens 
 me in more respects than one. I have long be- 
 lieved in international brotherhood. In common 
 with my friend Conan Doyle and others who have 
 advocated the hands stretched across the sea, I 
 have been in sympathetic accord with the idea of 
 universal brotherhood ; but now and then certain 
 
 260
 
 Einharrassing ^foments 
 
 little things crop up that, insignificant in them- 
 selves, show us none the less how radically far 
 apart we really are. This splendid old British 
 warrior calling for his Martini is a case in point, 
 and I am sure my own compatriots here to-night 
 at any rate will realize the vast gulfs of separation 
 that exist between the Britons and ourselves when 
 I ask them what they would bring to a dying 
 American soldier, delirious or otherwise, if he were 
 to call for a Martini." 
 
 The point took with the Americans ; but the oth- 
 ers, charming Frenchmen, delightful Gennans, 
 cultivated Englishmen, stared at me in stolid 
 silence, and one or two of them shook their heads 
 as if bewildered. It was a hard situation, and I 
 slammed the rest of the evening through without 
 further attempts at playfulness, retiring to the se- 
 clusion that my cabin granted an hour later, re- 
 solved never again to serve as presiding elder at a 
 vaudeville show either on land or sea. 
 
 I felt almost as solemnly embarrassed as I did 
 one evening in Pennsylvania, later, when my lec- 
 ture was opened with prayer and I heard a good 
 clergyman begging the Lord to " show His mercy 
 upon the audience gathered here," to " protect 
 
 261
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 them from all suffering, and in His infinite wisdom, 
 if it were His will, to enable the speaker of the 
 evening to rise to his opportunity." 
 
 But there was an after result of that Martini 
 jest which more than made up for the depression 
 that followed its failure to strike home. I write 
 of it, however, with some diffidence ; for I am con- 
 vinced that some reader somewhere will observe 
 that the incident is only another variation of 
 Senator Depew's famous tale of the Englishman 
 who wanted to know what really was the matter 
 with the mince pie. As a matter of fact it is the 
 twin brother of that famous anecdote ; but, while I 
 am perfectly willing to think the Depew story 
 really happened, I know that mine did, and I there- 
 fore record it. 
 
 The morning following the impromptu concert 
 I was pacing the deck of the steamer when one of 
 the more distinguished passengers aboard, an 
 English army officer, who occupied at that time, 
 and still holds, an important post in British mili- 
 tary circles, stopped me. 
 
 " Mr. Bangs," he said, holding out his hand, " 1 
 want to thank you for a charming evening last 
 night, and to express my admiration for the de- 
 
 262
 
 Emharrassing Moments 
 
 liglitful way in which you carried off your diflBcult 
 honors. It was really most interesting." 
 
 " Thank you, General," said I. " That is very 
 nice to hear. I thought it fell rather flat." 
 
 " Not at all, not at all," he rejoined; " though, 
 to speak quite frankly, there was one of your jests 
 that I — I — I did n't really get. What humor 
 you have, sir, I think I appreciate. During a 
 period of convalescence in the Transvaal somebody 
 sent me a copy of your ' House Boat on the Styx,' 
 and I — I — I found it very amusing ; but this 
 joke last night — after the little chap had sung 
 that ballad — about the dying veteran you know 
 — it quite escaped me. Er — what would they 
 bring cm American soldier who called for a 
 Martvni? " 
 
 " Well, General," said I, restraining an impulse 
 to be amused, " I might explain, and explain and 
 explain the point to you, giving you a chart in full 
 detail, exploiting the theory of the thing as fully 
 as possible, without satisfactory results. It is a 
 case where an object lesson will demonstrate in a 
 minute what no amount of abstract argument 
 could convey in a year. If you will come with me 
 into the smoking room, I '11 show you exactly what 
 
 263
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 ' 'But what was 
 the point of 
 this little joke 
 last night?" 
 
 nine out of ten people in America would give to a 
 
 soldier crying aloud for a Martini." 
 
 We repaired accordingly to the smoking room, 
 
 and in response to my order the steward shortly 
 
 il placed two 
 
 misty Mar- 
 tini cocktails 
 before us, 
 
 "There 
 you are. 
 Genera 1," 
 said I, smil- 
 ing, " that 's 
 what!" 
 
 He gazed 
 at the ]Mar- 
 tinis a mo- 
 rn e n t , and 
 then he fixed 
 his handsome 
 eyes on me. 
 There was a 
 merry twin- 
 kle in them, 
 and after he
 
 Embarrassing Moments 
 
 had swallowed the object lesson he leaned over 
 with a broad smile and spoke. 
 
 " I am very much afraid, Mr. Bangs," said he, 
 " that that idea you Americans have that we 
 British are sometimes a trifle sluggish in our per- 
 ception of the subtler points of an American jest, 
 bristling as they often do with latent significance, 
 is not altogether without justification. In order 
 to show you how completely, how fully, I appre- 
 ciate the excellence of your witticism I would sug- 
 gest that we have two more.'" 
 
 I draw no conclusions of an invidious nature from 
 this little episode ; for I recall with pain, and some 
 contrition, an American audience in a prohibition 
 section of one of our Eastern States before whom I 
 had the hardihood to tell that story on a hot sum- 
 mer night three years ago, only one of whose six 
 hundred members saw the point, and he did n't dare 
 laugh for fear that by doing so he might risk his 
 reputation for sobriety — or so he informed me 
 for my consolation later in the evening as he and I 
 zig-zagged together down an ice-covered moun- 
 tain-road to the railway station in a rattling mo- 
 tor car driven by a chauffeur who had apparently 
 confounded his own stomach with the gasoline tank. 
 
 265
 
 XIV 
 
 "SLINGS AND ARROWS" 
 
 ONE'S democracy receives a pretty severe test 
 on the road, and I am indeed sorry for the 
 man who is always so solicitous for his own dignity 
 that the free and easy habits of the American of 
 Today affront him. The lecture platform is no 
 place for what Doctor Johnson's friend Richard 
 Savage would doubtless in these days have char- 
 acterized as " the tenth transmitter of a foolish 
 pride." 
 
 A people like ours, made up of a hundred million 
 sovereigns, and actuated for the most part, in their 
 social intercourse at least, by a spirit of frater- 
 nity, mixed with a very decided inclination to be 
 facetious, forms a somewhat bristling environment 
 for the supersensitively self-centered. If such a 
 one contemplates the invasion of the lyceum terri- 
 tory, as a friend and brother let me advise him to 
 spend at least a year in some social settlement 
 
 266
 
 " Slings and Arrows " 
 
 where he may be inoculated with sundry useful 
 social germs, as a preventive of much misery ahead. 
 He must get used to much familiarity of a sudden 
 sort, and realize fully that our American world, 
 while it respects ability, and withholds from it no 
 atom of its due appreciation, is in no particular a 
 respecter of mere persons. 
 
 In respect to " having to be shown " we are by a 
 large majority " from Missouri," and it will never 
 do for the lyceumite to try to hedge himself about 
 with any fences of false dignity. The palings of 
 those fences may be sharp, and connected with 
 barbed wire ; but the American citizens of the hour 
 walk through them, or vault them, as easily as if 
 they were not there. And it is all very harmless 
 too ; for no man's real dignity has ever yet suffered 
 from any assaults other than his own. 
 
 I recall an incident of my travels in the Dakotas 
 some years ago that brought this situation home to 
 me very vividly. I was on my way to a county 
 seat in one of those vast twin commonwealths on 
 a rather sluggish way train, and found among my 
 fellow travelers three very live human beings who 
 had apparently just met after a long separation. 
 One of them was a rather stout little man, with a 
 
 267
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 fresh, boyish face ; another was a tall and spare 
 ferret-eyed individual who might have posed as an 
 acceptable model for a picture of Sherlock Holmes ; 
 and the third was a well built young giant, a 
 veritable blond Samson, full of the boisterous 
 spirits of young manhood. 
 
 The three sat across the aisle from me, and inas- 
 much as Nature had not seen fit to supply their 
 vocal organs with soft pedals, or pianissimo stops, 
 I became an unwitting, though not unwilling, 
 listener to their conversation. It was amusing, 
 clean, and bristling with good-fellowship, though 
 not wholly Chesterficldian in character. Finally 
 the Sherlock Holmes man, turning to the stout 
 little chap, who was sitting next to the car window, 
 observed : 
 
 " Well, old man, you 're lookin' a heap better 
 than ya did the last time I saw ya." 
 
 " Yes," said the stout little man, " I 'm feeling 
 better. I 've been on a diet for the past six 
 months." 
 
 And here the stalwart young blond Samson 
 playfully interposed. " Well, it was about time, 
 ya big, fat stuff ! " he said. " Ya had a stummick 
 on ya big enough for sixteen men." Whereupon 
 
 268
 
 " Slings and Arrows " 
 
 he proceeded to jam the little man's derby hat down 
 over his eyes. 
 
 Ordinarily this would be regarded as a rather 
 commonplace, unenlightened conversation ; but its 
 application to my point came the following morn- 
 ing, when, having several hours to spare before de- 
 parting for other scenes, I went into the county 
 courthouse to watch the litigation in progress 
 there. It was a scene full of interest, and the pro- 
 ceedings were conducted on a plane of dignity 
 quite in keeping with the highest traditions of the 
 bench, everything going on decently and in order. 
 But the interesting and possibly amazing thing 
 about it to me was the sight that greeted my eyes 
 in the person of the Sherlock Holmes man of the 
 day before, conducting an eloquent argument be- 
 fore the stout little man of the train, who was no 
 less a person than — the Presiding Justice! And 
 the young giant who had called him a big, fat stuff, 
 and jammed his hat down over his eyes, was the 
 court stenographer! 
 
 I had the pleasure of lunching with all three of 
 them later in the day, and a finer lot of true-blue 
 American citizens I have not met anywhere else, 
 before or since. 
 
 269
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 If one has any purely physical peculiarity of an 
 obvious nature, he must get reconciled to having 
 it used as a hook for his discomfiture, or his delec- 
 tation, according as his own attitude toward the 
 slings and arrows of life causes him to take them. 
 In my own case perhaps the most conspicuous 
 personal idiosyncrasy I present physically to the 
 eye of the casual beholder is an almost abnormal 
 lack of hirsute adornment ; always a favorite point 
 of attack by facetiously inclined chairmen, by 
 whom I have been eloquently likened to the " im- 
 perishable Alps " for that I lacked " vegetation " 
 on my " summit," to a " heliograph on the Hills of 
 Letters," and by one I was called " the legitimate 
 successor of the lamented Bill Nye, the Original 
 Billiard Ball on the Pool Tables of Modern 
 Humor." 
 
 Most of my delectable misadventures in respect 
 to this deficiency have naturally occurred in the 
 barber shops of the nation, and it has been sur- 
 prising to me, as an interested student of American 
 humor, to note how full of variety are the spon- 
 taneous outbursts of the Knights of the Razor 
 everywhere upon that seemingly barren topic. 
 
 One barber in Wisconsin, to whom I facetiously 
 
 270
 
 "Slings and Arrows" 
 
 complained that he should not charge me full price 
 for a haircut when there was so little to cut, came 
 back immediately with, " Ah, but you see I had to 
 work overtime to find it ! " 
 
 Another in Boston, after shaving me, inquired, 
 " Now how do you want your hair brushed? " 
 
 " Brush it back like that young man's in the 
 next chair," said I, pointing to a Harvard student 
 with a perfect mop of hair, resembling a huge 
 yellow chrysanthemum, which the neighboring art- 
 ist was brushing laboriously back from the youth- 
 ful forehead. 
 
 " Humph ! " said my friend. " I '11 try ; but, 
 take it from me, it 'II take a blistering long time to 
 brush your hair back! " 
 
 But the readiest bit of repartee that I recall in 
 respect to this shortcoming was that of a Phila- 
 delphia barber two years ago, who was trying to 
 make me presentable for my audience that night in 
 the Witherspoon Hall University extension course, 
 where I was to deliver a series of lectures on 
 American humorists. 
 
 " Now," said he, running his hand over the back 
 of my head after he had attended to my other 
 needs, " how do you want your hair fixed? " 
 
 271
 
 Front Pillar to Post 
 
 " In silence, and without humor," said I. " I 
 am approaching my fiftieth year in this world, and 
 since thirty I have been as you see me now. In 
 the course of those twenty intervening years I have 
 heard about every joke on the subject of baldness 
 that the human mind has been able to conceive at 
 least fifty thousand times." 
 
 " I guess that 's right," said he. " You are 
 pretty bald, ain't you ? " 
 
 " I am, and I am not at all ashamed of it," I 
 returned. " My baldness has been honestly ac- 
 quired. I have not lost my hair in dissipation, 
 or by foolish speculation, but entirely through 
 generosity of spirit. / have given my Imir to my 
 chUdren."^ 
 
 " Gee ! " he ejaculated with fervor. " You must 
 have the diwle of a large family! " 
 
 I made use of that incident in my lecture that 
 night as a convincing demonstration that what- 
 ever had happened to the humor of the professional 
 humorist, as a natural gift of the American people 
 that branch of humor known as repartee was still 
 running strong. 
 
 Intentionally or otherwise, I think the best joke 
 ever perpetrated upon me in respect to my lack of 
 
 272
 
 "Slings and Arrows" 
 
 capillary attraction occurred at Bellingham, in 
 the State of Washington, up near the Vancouver 
 line, back in 1906, when I made ray first trip to the 
 Pacific Coast. I was the" victim that season of a 
 particularly distressing window card, got up in a 
 great hurry from a most unsatisfactory photo- 
 graph, and designed to arouse interest in my com- 
 ing. It greeted me with grinning pertinacity 
 everywhere I looked. 
 
 I am skeptic on the subject of window cards 
 anyhow. I could never convince myself that 
 printed cuts are really effective instruments of 
 publicity, and I vow with all the fervor of which I 
 am capable that they are a nuisance and a trial to 
 what the public call " the talent." I also know 
 that in at least one instance they bade fair to work 
 adversely to my interests, as was shown in a letter 
 received by me many years ago from an unknown 
 correspondent in Kansas City, who addressed me 
 thus: 
 
 My Dear Sib. — I inclose herewith a copy of a so-called 
 photograph of yourself published in this morning's Kansas 
 City " Star," and I want to know if you really look like that. 
 The reason I write to inquire is that yesterday was my 
 little boy's birthday, and his grandmother presented him 
 with a copy of one of your books. I haven't had time to 
 read the book myself; but I have taken it away from Wil- 
 
 273
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 lie, and shall keep it pending your reply, for if you do look 
 like this, you are no fit person to write for children. 
 
 I must confess that a single glance at the muddy 
 reproduction of a long discarded photograph con- 
 vinced me that my naive correspondent was not a 
 whit more careful of his parental responsibilities 
 than the situation justified. I might readily have 
 passed, if that photograph were accurate, for a 
 professional gambler, or a highly probable future 
 candidate for the Rogues' Gallery. 
 
 But, whether the platform worker is helped or 
 retarded by this indiscriminate plastering of public 
 places with his counterfeit presentment, com- 
 mittees seem to think it necessary, and we there- 
 fore provide them with the most pulchritudinous 
 pictorial composition that Art, unrestrained by 
 Nature, can produce. 
 
 But the one I used in 1906 was a most unflatter- 
 ing affair, and I grew heartily sick of it as my tour 
 progressed. At Bellingham it was oppressively 
 omnipresent. It seemed as if I had erupted all 
 over the place. It greeted me in the railway 
 station when I descended from the train. Two of 
 them hung in the hotel office when I entered, and as 
 I walked up the street after luncheon I overheard 
 
 274
 
 '' Slings and Arrows " 
 
 sundry unrcgenerate youths remark, " There he 
 goes ! " and " That 's him ! " and " Oh, look who 's 
 here ! " derisively, until I could almost have wrung 
 every juvenile neck in town. On one corner I 
 found it in a laundry window, labeled, " John Ken- 
 drick Bangs at the Normal School Tonight," and 
 placed immediately beneath this was a brown paper 
 placard inscribed in great, red-chalk letters with 
 the words, "HELP WANTED." Farther up 
 the street I found it in a millinery shop window, 
 pinned beneath a composite creation of Bellingham 
 and Paris which was not particularly becoming to 
 my pictorial style. 
 
 But the climax was reached when I found it in 
 a drug-store window, where the window dresser 
 had placed it over another placard, the advertise- 
 ment of a well known patent remedy. My picture 
 covered the whole of the patent medicine placard 
 except its essential advertising line at the bottom, 
 and as I stood there staring at myself through 
 that plate glass window my grinning countenance 
 stared back at me unflinchingly, and underneath 
 it was the legend, 
 
 HIRSUTERINE DID THIS AND WE 
 
 CAN PROVE IT. 
 
 275
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 In gratitude to the perpetrator of that horrific 
 joke let me say that I have used the incident as 
 the opening anecdote in my Salubrity lecture evei' 
 since, and I really believe it has had as much to do 
 with making me persona grata to my audiences 
 as any other feature of my discourse. 
 
 A tolerably effective arrow that struck fairly 
 
 on the bullseye 
 of over-self-ap- 
 
 llt^^fesr' 
 
 
 preciation came 
 to me out of the 
 dark of a well 
 intended compli- 
 ment in a prom- 
 inent New Jer- 
 sey city several 
 yearsi ago. I 
 had lectured be- 
 fore a fairly 
 appreciative au- 
 dience, seated 
 conspicuously in 
 the midst of 
 which was a 
 young man 
 
 276
 
 "Slings and Arrows" 
 
 whom I recognized as the very courteous and 
 affable room clerk of the hotel at which I was 
 stopping. He and his friends formed a nucleus 
 of appreciation which more than compensated me 
 for the barbed glances of one or two unwilling 
 auditors dragged thither reluctantly, probably 
 from more alluring indulgences in bridge or draw 
 poker at their clubs. Both my heart and head ex- 
 panded under the influence of their continuous 
 enthusiasm, and my emotions of satisfaction were 
 intensified when on my walk back to the hotel I 
 heard the friendly room clerk, stalking just ahead 
 of me, exclaiming enthusiastically: 
 
 " Did n't I tell you he 'd be good ? By George ! 
 I read one of his books once, and I 've wanted to 
 see him ever since." 
 
 It was all very nice, and I hugged the pleasant 
 intimations of his remark to my breast all through 
 my dreams that night. But the morning brought 
 disillusionment, and a mighty poignant shaft 
 entered into the soul of me. After eating my 
 breakfast I stepped to the hotel desk to pay my 
 bill, and was there beamingly greeted by the room 
 clerk. 
 
 Well, Mr. Bangs," said he, with out-stretched 
 
 277 
 
 «
 
 n 
 ii 
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 hand, " that was a fine talk you gave us last night, 
 and I enjoyed every minute of it. But I knew it 
 would be good." 
 
 " Thank you," said I, my chest expanding a 
 bit. 
 
 I 've only read one of your books," he went on ; 
 
 but it gave me a lead on you. I don't want to 
 flatter you, but — well, it was the funniest book I 
 ever read, and I 've been wondering if you would 
 write your autograph in it for me." 
 
 " Surely," said I, not only willing to please him, 
 but quite anxious to see which of my books it was 
 that had filled him with such enthusiasm. 
 
 " I have it here," said he, taking the volume out 
 of a drawer. 
 
 " Good ! " said I. " Let 's have it." 
 
 He handed it to me, and I glanced at it. It was 
 a copy of Jerome K. Jerome's " Three Men in a 
 Boat, not to Mention the Dog! " 
 
 " No flattery at all," said I, my growing conceit 
 falling back to par. " I 'm glad you like it." 
 
 And then for the first and only time in my life I 
 committed forgery. I took the book to a writing 
 table near at hand, and inscribed the flyleaf with 
 " Appreciatively yours, Jerome K. Jerome." And 
 
 278
 
 "Slings and Arrows" 
 
 as I left the hotel the last sight that greeted mj 
 eyes was my kindly deputy assistant host study- 
 ing that inscription with a look of extreme bewilder- 
 ment on his screwed-up countenance. 
 
 Apropos of this incident it is rather curious how 
 frequently my name and that of Jerome K. Jerome 
 have been confounded. I have always considered 
 it a compliment, and I sincerely hope Jerome him-: 
 self will not mind it. I suppose the identity of our 
 initials J. K. is responsible for it, and possibly the 
 fact also that Jerome's " Three Men in a Boat " 
 and my own " House-Boat on the Styx " were 
 published at about the same time. One of the 
 most amusing incidents based upon this confusion 
 of identity occurred in California last spring. I 
 was spending Easter Sunday at that remarkable 
 hostelry, the Mission Inn at Riverside, feeling that 
 in some way in despite of my deserts I had got into 
 heaven, and quite convinced that I could stand an 
 eternity of it if the particular atmosphere of that 
 wonderful Sunday were typical of life there. The 
 inspiring Easter sunrise service on Mount Rubi- 
 daux was over, and I was resting comfortably in 
 the office when a young woman paused at my side, 
 and said, 
 
 279
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 " You will excuse me for speaking to you, sir, 
 but your face bothers me." 
 
 " I am very sorry, Madame," said I, " but it has 
 bothered me too for over fifty years." 
 
 " Oh, I don't mean that way," she answere'd 
 quickly. " I mean that I can't place it." 
 
 " Well," said I, trying to smile, " you really 
 don't have to. It is already located." 
 
 " But I don't know where I have seen it before,'' 
 she pleaded. 
 
 " Nor do I," said I, " but I think I can reassure 
 you on that point. Knowing myself as I do I can 
 assure you that it must have been in a perfectly 
 respectable place." 
 
 " I wish you would stop fooling," she retorted, 
 a trifle impatiently. " I want to know who you 
 are. You see I 'm of a rather nervous tempera- 
 ment, and when I see a familiar face and cannot 
 remember the name of the individual who — er — 
 who goes with it, sometimes it keeps me awake all 
 night." 
 
 " It would be too bad to have that happen," 
 said I, " and inasmuch as I am not at all ashamed 
 of my name I shall be delighted to tell you what it 
 is. It is Bangs — John Kendrick Bangs," 
 
 280
 
 a 
 
 " Slings and Arrows " 
 
 Oh — I know," she cried, her perplexity fad- 
 ing away, " You are the man who wrote ' Three 
 Men in a Boat.' " 
 
 And the dear lady seemed to be so pleased over 
 the honor of meeting so distinguished an author 
 that I really had n't the heart to undeceive her. 
 
 I have always thought of my young friend the 
 room-clerk far more kindly than of another New 
 Jersey host whose airy nonchalance in what was 
 to me a moment of some seriousness struck me as 
 being almost arctic in its frigid non-acceptance of 
 responsibility for untoward conditions. I had put 
 up over-night in his jerry-built hostelry, and all 
 had gone well until breakfast time. I was seated 
 at table enjoying my frugal repast, when without 
 warning from anybody I found myself the sudden 
 recipient of a heavy blow on the top of my head, 
 and upon emerging from the rather dazed psy- 
 chological condition in which the blow left me dis- 
 covered that I was covered from head to foot with 
 plaster, and that my poor but honest poached egg 
 had become a scrambled one, mixed with the im- 
 palpable dust of a shattered bit of molding. 
 
 A glance heavenward showed whence my trouble 
 had come. A section of the ceiling about four 
 
 281
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 feet square had come loose, and liad landed upon 
 me. I could think of no better way to voice my 
 protest against such an intolerable intrusion upon 
 my rights of privacy at mealtimes than by giving 
 the hotel manager an object lesson then and there 
 of what was going on under his roof. So I rose 
 from the table and walked directly to the office 
 just as I was. 
 
 " Great Scott ! " said my host, as I loomed up 
 before him like a glorified ash heap. " What 's 
 happened to you? " 
 
 " A part of your condemned old ceiling has 
 fallen on me, that 's what ! " I sputtered somewhat 
 wrathfully. 
 
 " Oh, that's it, eh? " he replied, with a smiling 
 grace which I hardly appreciated at the time. 
 " Well, we don't do that for everybody, IMr. 
 Bangs," he added ; " but seeing it 's you we won't 
 make any extra charge." 
 
 I thanked him for his consideration. " I 'd like 
 to buy this hotel," I added. 
 
 " Well, it 's for sale," said he. " Like to run it 
 yourself? " 
 
 " No," said I. " I thought it might be some fun 
 to buy a Panama fan and blow it down." 
 
 282
 
 " Slings and Arrows " 
 
 With which we parted forever. I have returned 
 to the gentleman's bailiwick several times since ; 
 but never again have I entered the portals of that 
 hostelry, for fear that by the careless dropping of 
 my tooth-brush or a cake of soap I might cause 
 the complete col- 
 lapse of the struc- 
 ture, with the pos- 
 sible destruction 
 of innocent lives ; 
 though if I were 
 assured that in 
 falling it would 
 land only on that 
 landlord's head I 
 think I would will- 
 ingly go out of 
 my way to hire 
 an aeroplane some 
 night and drop a 
 pebble upon its 
 roof from a height 
 of three or four 
 feet. Tliis is not 
 
 283
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 so vindictive as it seems, either; for it would not 
 hurt that landlord over-severely. You could drop 
 a much heavier weight than that hotel upon any 
 bit of solid ivory within reach without hurting 
 the ivory unduly. 
 
 A less sordid, and indeed wholly inspiring, in- 
 cident along similar lines occurred three years ago 
 at Georgetown, Texas, when on a terrific night 
 in February, which I shall never forget, I stood 
 for a few minutes face to face with what might 
 have proved an appalling tragedy. As I look 
 back upon the incident now it seems to mc to 
 have been at once the most thrilling, and at the 
 same time the most stimulating, moment of my 
 life. 
 
 I had arrived at Georgetown early in the after- 
 noon, and simultaneously with my coming — and, 
 as some of my critics may intimate, possibly be- 
 cause of it — there arrived also one of those 
 dreaded windstorms known in that section of the 
 world as a norther. Perhaps the Texans are so 
 used to these outbursts of Nature that they take 
 them as all in the day's work; but to myself, un- 
 used to anything more boreally disturbing than an 
 occasional nor'easter on the Maine Coast, it was 
 
 284
 
 '^Slings and Arrows" 
 
 extremely disturbing. I did not dare walk on any 
 of the sidewalks, fearing that the loudly rattling 
 signboards of commerce might be precipitated upon 
 me. One of the best liked literary friends of my 
 younger days had passed from intellectual bril- 
 liance of a most promising sort into permanent 
 mental darkness through the falling upon his head 
 of a swinging sign in New York, and I had come to 
 regard such possibilities with dread. 
 
 The Muse and I consequently spent the after- 
 noon indoors in a qui^'cring but substantial and 
 well kept hotel, whose courteous landladies neither 
 the Muse nor I will ever fail to remember with 
 affectionate esteem. As I rode in an omnibus to 
 the lecture hall that night, I rejoiced in the 
 heaviness of the vehicle, which otherwise must have 
 been overturned by the heavy blasts to which it was 
 subjected. 
 
 When I reached the college I found the audi- 
 torium on the third floor of the main building in 
 almost total darkness, the only light coming from 
 an oil lamp standing on a piano at one end of 
 the stage. The wind had put the electric light- 
 ing apparatus temporarily out of commission ; but 
 students were at work upon it, and I was assured 
 
 £85
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 that all would be well if I would defer my lecture 
 for a little while. To this of course I consented ; 
 for, however pleasing it may be to talk to one 
 person in the dark, there is no pleasure in address- 
 ing a multitude of people into whose eyes one is 
 unable to look. 
 
 After fifteen minutes of waiting the electric 
 lights suddenly gleamed forth, and I was gratified 
 to see before me an audience of substantial size, 
 made up for the most part of students, with a fair 
 proportion of the townspeople scattered about 
 here and there. The college was a coeducational 
 institution, and the boys and girls were in fair 
 measure paired off in congenial fashion. 
 
 With the restoration of the light the president 
 of the college stepped to the front of the platform 
 and presented me to the audience, after which I 
 rose and approached the footlights to begin. But 
 never a word was I permitted to speak ; for as I 
 started in the howling wind outside seemed to re- 
 double in its fury and intensity. There came a 
 sudden loud grinding and ripping sound, and a 
 huge part of the roof was lifted bodily upward, 
 and then dropped back with a crash. One heavy 
 beam fell squarely in one of the aisles without 
 
 286
 
 ''Slings and Arrows'' 
 
 injury to any one, though two feet off on either 
 side it would have killed the occupants of the aisle 
 seats, and from all parts of the great room big 
 chunks of plaster and lathing fell in upon the 
 audience. 
 
 There was present every element of a tragedy of 
 fearful proportions ; but from that assembled multi- 
 tude of young people came not even a scream, and 
 on every side I saw stalwart young Texans of To- 
 day and To-morrow rise up from their seats, and 
 lean over the girls sitting crouched in the chairs 
 he side them, taking oil the weight and woe of that 
 falling ceiling upon their own manly shoulders! 
 It was a magnificent exhibition of readiness of 
 resource, self-control, and unselfish cliivalry. Al- 
 most instantly with the first shock the president of 
 the college, with a calmness at which I still marvel, 
 rose from the chair behind me and confronted the 
 gathering. 
 
 " Now, my young friends," said he, speaking 
 with amazing rapidity, each word enunciated as 
 incisively as though spoken with lips of chilled 
 steel, " remember — this is one of the emergencies 
 you are supposed to be trained to meet. There is 
 no telling how serious this situation is ; but let us 
 
 287
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 have no panic. Rise and walk out quietly, and 
 without too much haste." 
 
 The youngsters rose and marched out of the hall 
 in a fashion tliat would have delighted the soul of a 
 martinet among drill masters, down three flights of 
 stairs to the campus, silently, and without the 
 slightest outward manifestation of the fear that 
 must have been in the hearts of every one of them. 
 
 There had appeared in one of America's best 
 magazines only a few months previously a scathing 
 arraignment of the young American of To-day, in 
 which the girls were indicted as being frivolous, 
 lacking in self-control, and full of selfishness, and 
 the American boy was held up to public scorn as 
 knowing naught of respect for authority, and 
 wholly deficient in the quality of chivalry for which 
 the youth of other times had been noted. I wished 
 then and I wish now that the good lad}'^ who spoke 
 so witheringly on that subject could have witnessed 
 what I looked upon that night in Texas. I think 
 she would have modified her utterance at least, if 
 indeed she would not have changed her point of 
 view completely. She would have made her asser- 
 tions less sweeping, I am convinced ; for she would 
 have learned from that episode, as I have learned 
 
 288
 
 ''Slings and Arrows'* 
 
 from my contact with the youth of this land, not 
 only in Texas but elsewhere, that save for a super- 
 ficial element, fortunately not very large, the 
 American youth of to-day, boy or girl, is in the 
 main a strong-fibered, self-controlled, unselfish, 
 chivalrous product which would be a credit to any 
 nation, anywhere, at any time, past, present, or 
 future. 
 
 In conclusion let me say that when I returned to 
 Georgetown the following season to deliver my 
 undelivered lecture I was introduced to practically 
 the same audience as " the man who brought down 
 the house without even opening his mouth." 
 
 Which shows that not only are youthful chivalry 
 and self-control not dead in Texas, but that 
 American humor likewise is in flourishing condition 
 in that truly imperial State of our Union. 
 
 289
 
 XV 
 
 EMERGENCIES 
 
 QUICK thinking on and off the platform is 
 quite essential to the happiness of the man 
 on the road. The sniping fates are always after 
 him, in small ways as well as in large, and he must 
 keep himself in a state of constant readiness either 
 to dodge their flying shafts, or with some suddenly 
 devised shield of resourcefulness to render himself 
 arrow proof. 
 
 Sometimes the successful warding off of a flying 
 missile sped from the bow of some malign goddess 
 of mischance becomes the making of the man, as in 
 a case once reported to me by a gentleman in 
 Montana when after my lecture at Billings he and 
 I were laughing over the complete capture of my 
 audience by a big gray tomcat that had entered 
 the lists against me. This privileged creature had 
 leaped into the chair immediately behind me, and 
 begun massaging his face in true feline fashion, to 
 the intense delight of a most amiable gathering. 
 
 290
 
 Emergencies 
 
 I suppose that if I had known what was gohig on 
 behind mc, I should have tried to rise to the oc- 
 casion on the spur of the moment ; but not knowing 
 it I read on, in blissful unconsciousness of the fact 
 that a series of living pictures was flashing across 
 the vision of my audience directly to the rear. 
 The only sensation experienced at the time by my 
 innocent self was one of supreme pleasure and satis- 
 faction that my audience had at last awakened to 
 the beauty of my discourse, and was manifesting in 
 most gratifying fashion its appreciation of even 
 the subtlest of my points. When at the close of 
 the reading the real truth was revealed to me I 
 merely smiled, and never for a moment let on that 
 until the chairman spoke of the animal I had not 
 suspected its presence. 
 
 " We admired your composure, Mr. Bangs," 
 said the chairman. " A good many men would 
 have been rattled by such an intrusion as that ; 
 but you went right on without a break. In 
 fact, if you don't mind my saying so, you 
 were better after the cat than you were before he 
 came." 
 
 " Oh, well," said I, " we have to get used to that 
 sort of thing. The trained lecturer really ought 
 
 291
 
 Frovi Pillar to Post 
 
 to be able to go on even if a young earthquake were 
 to fall upon him. Do you always try your 
 lecturers on a cat? " I added. 
 
 "Well, I hadn't thought of it that way," he 
 laughed ; " but as a matter of fact we most 
 generally do. That cat belongs to our janitor, 
 and he 's pretty sure to turn up somewhere during 
 the evening. One year we had a man out here 
 giving some recitations, and I tell you old Tom 
 helped him out considerably. He was rolling 
 along through some funny speech or other, when 
 the cat jumped upon the platform, washed his face 
 two or three times, scratched his ear for a minute, 
 and then with his eye fixed on the audience he 
 walked straight over the electric footlights to the 
 other side of the stage and disappeared. The 
 audience roared and the recitationist stopped, 
 gazed with mock indignation at the people for a 
 second or two, and then addressing me he said, 
 * Mr. Chairman, I understood that this was to be a 
 monologue — not a catalogue.' Of course it 
 brought down the house, and ever since then that 
 man has been about the most popular number our 
 lecture course has ever had." 
 
 As a standard of emergency repartee I am in- 
 
 29a
 
 Emergencies 
 
 clined to think this incident sets the high-water 
 mark. 
 
 The intrusion of four-footed creatures on the 
 line of vision at lectures is unfortunately not rare. 
 Lecturers have no terrors for mice and rats, and 
 just as every hall is provided with a janitor, or 
 janitrix, so is every caretaker provided with a cat, 
 as a preventive of rodential troubles. I have got 
 so used to their presence, however, that I no longer 
 bother about them. As long as they leave me 
 alone, and hold their tongues, I am content to have 
 them disport themselves as they please, in the 
 public eye or out of it. But a dog is another 
 proposition altogether. 
 
 Personally I like dogs better than I like cats ; 
 but for platform purposes I prefer the feline to the 
 canine intrusion. One knows pretty well in ad- 
 vance what a cat will do ; but a dog is a most un- 
 certain quantity. The cat's attentions are likely 
 to be general, or, if not, centered wholly upon his or 
 her own toilet — washing her face, manicuring her 
 ears, pursuing her tail — but the dog too fre- 
 quently takes a direct personal interest in the chief 
 performer of the occasion. And while I should 
 never think of attributing critical faculties to any 
 
 S93
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 kind of dog, they sometimes have a way of express- 
 ing wliat might pass for opinions, worthy or un- 
 worthy, concerning the work in hand, in no un- 
 certain tones. 
 
 As evidence of this I recall an afternoon devoted 
 not long since to the reading of one of Browning's 
 exceedingly difficult masterpieces, in the presence 
 of a number of ladies and one highly intelligent 
 Irish terrier. The poem was Browning's " Christ- 
 mas Eve and Easter Day," full of beauty and of 
 inspired thought, but not easy reading, and re- 
 quiring unusual concentration of mind to get out 
 the full measure of its charm. My small audience 
 was most appreciative, and as I approached the 
 climacteric I was feeling tolerably well satisfied 
 with the results, when this keenly critical terrier 
 suddenly rose from his resting place, stationed 
 himself deliberately before me, stretched himself 
 until it almost seemed that one could hear his 
 bones crack, and sent forth upon the mystery- 
 laden atmosphere about as expressive a whining 
 yawn as one might expect from the Seven Sleepers 
 themselves, all rolled into one, and too early 
 awakened from their slumbers — and there the 
 " climacteric " rests to this day. 
 
 294.
 
 Emergencies 
 
 I never finished the reading, and what had been 
 an hour of higlJj concentrated mysticism reached 
 its sixtieth second in a wild roar of hilarious re- 
 lief. 
 
 A less comfortable moment involving a canine 
 intruder occurred at Binghamton, New York, back 
 in 1898, when I suffered the double intrusion of a 
 secret society initiation going on overhead, which 
 may or may not have been made interesting to the 
 initiates by the presence of the proverbial goat, 
 and the sudden appearance upon the stage of a 
 huge bulldog of terrifying aspect. 
 
 Above me was every indication, in sound at 
 least, of a wild creature *' abounding and abutt- 
 ing " upon the whole length of the superimposed 
 floor, accompanied by muffled yells, presumably 
 from the despairing throats of brothers elect. 
 But this was as nothing in its effect upon my peace 
 of mind to the sudden development of that bulldog 
 in our midst. He came in through the open door 
 of the hall, and walked deliberately down the center 
 aisle, and thence up the steps to the platform 
 whereon I was engaged in the pleasing occupation 
 of " Reading from My Own Works." Bright as 
 I had fondly hoped these works would be thought, 
 
 ^95
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 they immediately went dark in the face of that 
 undershot jaw with its gleaming white teeth, the 
 drooling lip, and the eager, curious eye on each 
 side of the squat nose, fixed intently upon my quak- 
 ing self. Whether I continued to read or merely 
 extemporized I do not now recall — in fact, I really 
 never knew — I simply know that I continued to 
 make sounds with my vocal organs, one eye on the 
 pages of my book, the other glued to the lower jaw 
 of the intruder. 
 
 The latter, after satisfying his visual percep- 
 tions as to my superficial virtues and defects, 
 seemed to find it necessary to satisfy also some 
 inward nasal craving to settle certain lingering 
 doubts in his mind as to my right to be where he 
 found me, and to that end he proceeded to place his 
 squat nose hard up against the calf of my leg, and 
 to sniff vigorously. 
 
 By what strange mercy it was that I did not 
 kick him, then and there, with results that I hesi- 
 tate even now to dwell upon, I don't know. The 
 supremely important facts are that I did not kick 
 him, but droned quaveringly on through my work, 
 and soon learned happily from a scarcely sup- 
 pressed snort that he considered me too contempt- 
 
 ^96
 
 Emergencies 
 
 ible for further attention. He departed, going 
 out as he had come, through the open doorway, 
 and left me again in control of the situation, if not 
 wholly of myself. When he had completely faded 
 into the outer darkness I paused and said ; 
 
 " Ladies and Gentlemen, I appreciate deeply 
 your tribute of regard ; but let me tell you frankly 
 that I prefer flowers, even vegetables, to bulldogs. 
 If you have any further four-footed tokens of your 
 esteem in store for me, I beg that you will send 
 them by special messenger to my office in New 
 York, or by mail to my residence in Yonkers, the 
 address of which you may secure from the chair- 
 man on your way out of the hall at the conclusion 
 of my reading." 
 
 The ultimate results of this incident were far 
 from happy. I naturally told the story, together 
 with some other amusing details of my visit to 
 Binghamton, to friends at my club later, not any 
 more in confidence than they are related here, and 
 as good-naturedly as their diverting quality ren- 
 dered appropriate ; and the fact that I had done 
 so coming to certain Binghamtonian ears, I was 
 placarded in one of the Binghamton papers as 
 being " no gentleman," " an ungrateful guest," 
 
 297
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 and so on, ad lih.y in consequence of which Bing- 
 hamton and I no longer speak as we pass by. 
 
 For this I am sincerely sorry, 
 but none the less must rest con- 
 tent. I do not think I should 
 care to return there even 
 if I were asked, for fear 
 that in pursuance of their 
 system of tribute they 
 might try my courage 
 upon the lineal descendant 
 of that goat 
 above stairs, or 
 possibly upon 
 some actively in- 
 clined bull, play- 
 fully unleashed 
 as to my right to be there." in my Vicinity as 
 
 a test of my composure if not of my good manners. 
 The minor matter of dress is frequently the 
 cause of emergency calls for help from embarrassed 
 lyceumites, and to get out of predicaments in 
 which mistakes of packing under the pressure of 
 hurry place us sometimes taxes our resources to 
 the uttermost. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle once told 
 
 298 
 
 'A craving 
 
 to settle 
 lingering doubts
 
 Emergencies 
 
 me of an amusing complication along these lines 
 by which he was confronted in a New Jersey com- 
 munit}', whither he had gone to dine with and ad- 
 dress the students of a famous school. 
 
 On his arrival at the scene of action Dr. Doyle, 
 as he was then known, discovered to his dismay 
 that in the hurried packing of his suitcase he had 
 forgotten to put in his evening coat. Everything 
 else was there ; but his swallowtail was missing. 
 Now Sir Arthur is not only a distinguished novel- 
 ist and story writer, but is a particularly punc- 
 tilious and tactfully courteous gentleman as well; 
 and, having heard stories of other Britons com- 
 ing to this country and attending functions given 
 in their honor in tweeds, as if we Americans knew 
 nothing of the niceties of dress, was careful always 
 to avoid giving offense himself by similar vagaries. 
 So, rather than seem contemptuous of the conven- 
 tionalities on this occasion, the doctor pleaded a 
 headache as his excuse for not appearing at din- 
 ner, and in the interval of time thus gained trans- 
 formed his blue serge traveling coat into a per- 
 fectly good dinner jacket, or Tuxedo, as some do 
 call it, with properly rolling lapels, by cutting off 
 the buttons and rolling the front of liis coat back 
 
 299
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 into a broad lapel effect; pressing the resulting 
 garment into stayable shape by putting it between 
 the mattresses of his bed, and lying on them for 
 an hour. 
 
 I cannot say that I have ever found myself mas- 
 ter of any such wonderful ingenuity when face to 
 face with a similar predicament; but in Austin, 
 Texas, two years ago I suffered from a condition 
 that for the time being seemed quite as poignantly 
 distressing. 
 
 My trunk had been despatched from San An- 
 tonio to Houston, and I was " living in my suit- 
 case." With only twenty-five minutes to spare 
 before I was due upon the platform, I found my- 
 self without shirt studs, and at the moment with- 
 out anything at hand to use as an acceptable sub- 
 stitute. A hurried visit to the main street and 
 some of its tributaries divulged nothing in the 
 nature of a haberdashery or a jeweler's shop that 
 had not been closed for the night. 
 
 I was in a terrific quandary ; but the Only Muse, 
 alwaj's a resourceful person, reminded me of Oli- 
 ver Herford's expedient many years before in 
 using in a similar emergency a set of brass-headed 
 manuscript fasteners. Fortunately I had with 
 
 300
 
 Emergencies 
 
 me several bits of manuscript that were held to- 
 gether by these useful little contrivances — small 
 pieces of metal with shining brass caps, backed by 
 flexible flanges to hold the caps in place. These 
 were inserted in the buttonholes of my shirt in 
 most satisfactory fashion, and in a few moments 
 as far as externals were concerned I presented as 
 goodly an appearance as any man rejoicing in the 
 eff'ulgent glory of three lustrously golden studs. 
 
 With a sigh of relief I then turned to put on 
 my white waistcoat, only to discover, alas ! that 
 that too was missing, nor was there any sign any- 
 where of any other kind of vest that could do duty 
 convincingly, or even acceptably, with a claw- 
 hammer coat. Again I flew precipitately down 
 the stairs, this time to the kindly room clerk in the 
 hotel office. I explained my predicament to him 
 in a few well chosen words, ending up with: 
 
 " Have n't you a white vest you can lend me? " 
 " Certainly I have," said he, and together we 
 repaired to his room in quest of the needed gar- 
 ment. He soon found it, and I returned rejoicing 
 to my room, the treasure hugged tightly to my 
 breast ; but when I came to try it on I discovered, 
 what I had overlooked in the agitation of the mo- 
 
 301
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 ment, that as eight is to thirty-two, so was the 
 room clerk^s fagade to mine! I could get into the 
 vest ; but no compressor ever yet invented could so 
 adjust my physical proportions to the garment 
 that it would come within four inches of meeting 
 in front. 
 
 " What the deuce am I going to do ? " I cried, 
 sinking into a chair in despair. 
 
 " Slit it up the back, and I '11 pin it on you," 
 suggested the ever-ready Muse. 
 
 " But it is n't mine," said I. 
 
 " Buy it," said she. 
 
 In an instant I had the room clerk on the 
 telephone. " Will you sell me that vest ? " I 
 asked. 
 
 " Why — no," he said. " I don't want to sell 
 it." 
 
 " But I need it in my business," I pleaded. 
 
 " Well, you 've got it, have n't you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I 've got it all right," I replied ; " hut I 
 can't get into it without putting a yard of extra 
 width i/n the back. Come on — be a good fellow 
 and sell it to me," I added with all the pathos that 
 I could summon. 
 
 " No," he answered with a chuckle, " no — I 
 
 302
 
 Emergencies 
 
 could n't sell it to you ;hut 1 11 give it to you with 
 all the pleasure in the world! " 
 
 In this fashion was the emergency met, and I 
 went out before my audience that night on time in 
 improvised raiment pinned on to my person, " a 
 thing of shreds and patches," and blazoning as to 
 my shirt front with all the resplendent gilt of three 
 brass tacks, all of which brought vividly to my 
 mind the words of Antonio in " The Merchant of 
 Venice " : 
 
 O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! 
 
 It may seem to the casual observer that such 
 matters as shirt studs and white waistcoats are of 
 too slight importance to worry a speaker; but a 
 " whole date " was once saved to me by the fact 
 that I wore a high silk hat, which caused a kindly 
 livery-stable keeper to drive me eighteen miles 
 from a stranded railway train through a blizzard 
 to the town of my destination, because he judged 
 from my hat that I was a member of a favorite 
 mvnstrel troupe that was to perform there the same 
 night. When he discovered that I was only one 
 of " them lecture fellers," for whose free tickets 
 he had no use, he was terribly disappointed. 
 
 303
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 Anyhow, an audience likes a man to be wholly 
 himself, and cares little for a speaker who modifies 
 his dress according to his ideas of how they wish 
 him to look. A popular and prominent candidate 
 for Governor of New York once lost a large num- 
 ber of votes that might have elected him because 
 in addressing a gathering of workingmen at an 
 East Side rally, the night being insufferably hot, 
 he took off his coat and collar, and spoke to them 
 in his shirt sleeves. The men were deeply of- 
 fended. They significantly asked if he would have 
 taken off his coat in the presence of a fashionable 
 uptown audience, and would have none of his pre- 
 sumed assumption that they were any less worthy 
 of his respect, or careful of their own dignity, than 
 his so-called smarter, better-class people. 
 
 I have always found the full evening dress and 
 high collar of an effete civilization wholly com- 
 fortable, and wear them accordingly wherever I 
 lecture, whether it be in the rarefied social atmos- 
 phere of high academic circles, or in a mining 
 camp where there dwell possibly rougher, but none 
 the less genuine, human folk. I think that in the 
 latter environment indeed it is a positive aid to 
 success to do so ; for there can be no doubt that 
 
 304
 
 Emergencies 
 
 reduced to its essentials the evening dress of the 
 modern male creature is really a funny thing, and 
 in an evening devoted somewhat to humor any ele- 
 ment that is in even the least degree mirth-provok- 
 ing does not come amiss. 
 
 Perhaps the most overpowering sense of being 
 confronted by an emergency came to me again 
 back in 1898 out of an experience that turned out 
 to be critical only in my own imaginings. Most 
 of our troubles are, I fancy, imaginary — purely 
 psychological, as the modern phrase has it — but 
 while they are on they are none the less acute for 
 all that. On the occasion of which I write, at a 
 more than feverish moment in our relations with 
 Spain and Cuba, I was summoned to lecture at the 
 attractive little port of Brunswick, Georgia. It 
 was here, by the way, that I first had the pleasure 
 of seeing my name on a hotel bill of fare, which in 
 the platform world is the height of fame, just as 
 in the theatrical world it is the acme of distinction 
 for a star to see his name pasted on an ash barrel, 
 or spread across the hoardings of a ten-acre lot 
 full of tin cans and other undesirable bric-a-brac. 
 They had me down on the supper bill among the 
 hot breads, somewhat like this : 
 
 305
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 HOT BREAD 
 
 Tea Biscuit. Corn Muflins. Graham Gems. 
 
 Popovers. 
 
 John Kendrick Bangs, Casino, To-night. 
 
 But that was not the Emergent Moment of 
 which I would speak. This came later, at the 
 conclusion of my lecture, when a young man who 
 in the dim light of the street was scarcely percepti- 
 ble, intercepted me as I left the hall. 
 
 " Mr. Bangs," said he, " I have come here from 
 Captain Maguffy of the Samuel J. Taylor, to pre- 
 sent his compliments to the skipper of the ' House- 
 Boat on the Styx.' The captain was detained 
 from your lecture to-night, to his very great re- 
 gret; but he wishes you would drop all formality 
 and join him at supper." 
 
 Knowing neither Captain Maguffy (the name is 
 a substitute for the real one) nor his ambassador, 
 I thanked the latter, saying that while I was 
 grateful for his courtesy I was really very tired, 
 had much work ahead of me, and begged to be ex- 
 cused. 
 
 " The captain never takes no for an answer," 
 persisted the young man. " He will be terribly 
 disappointed if you don't come, and as a matter 
 
 306
 
 Emergencies 
 
 of fact, counting surely upon your good fellow- 
 ship, he has made special preparations for you." 
 
 Unfortunately — or fortunately, as it later 
 turned out — among other serious defects in my 
 education I have never been taught the firmer uses 
 of the negative. I have never been able to say 
 no to anybody as if I really meant it, and it has 
 involved me in more difficulties than I care to re- 
 cord here or elsewhere. In any event, my regrets 
 growing fainter and fainter, and Captain Ma- 
 guffy's ambassador's insistence more and more 
 marked, the sum total of some thirty-two nega- 
 tives soon developed into one positive affirmative. 
 
 « All right," I said finally, " I '11 run in on the 
 captain; but only for a moment, just long enough 
 to shake hands, say howdido, and get back to bed. 
 I must be in bed by midnight as a matter of prin- 
 ciple." 
 
 The ambassador thereupon assisted me into one 
 of those indescribable one-horse " shays " that seem 
 to sprout in the vicinity of Southern railway sta- 
 tions and hotels about as lushly as mint in the 
 patches of the Carolinas. I used to think when I 
 was a resident of Yonkers that the Hudson River 
 Valley was a sort of hack heaven, whither all sorts 
 
 307
 
 'Prom Pillar to Post 
 
 of deceased vehicles went when they died ; but sev- 
 eral tours of the South since have convinced me 
 that that idea was mere presumption on my part. 
 The South, as well as the Hudson River Valley, 
 fairly burgeons with vehicular antiques that would 
 delight the soul of an archseologist anxious to find 
 the connecting link between the carriages of the 
 Caesars and those of Andrew Jackson and his suc- 
 cessors up to the merry days of Hayes. 
 
 The particular rattledy-bang old combination 
 of wabbling wheels and hair-erupting cushions into 
 which I was ushered was drawn by a white horse, 
 and driven by a colored man. The horse was so 
 very white that it could hardly be seen on the white 
 coquina roads, and the negro was so black that 
 he was equally imperceptible against the back- 
 ground of the night; so that I seemed to be float- 
 ing through the night enjoying sensations similar 
 to those of a man on his first journey in an aero- 
 plane. The whole eff*ect was eery in the extreme, 
 especially as we drove and drove and drove, and 
 floated and floated and floated, without apparently 
 getting anywhere. 
 
 Then, of a sudden, I became terribly uneasy. 
 The thought flashed through my mind, "Why, 
 
 308
 
 Emergencies 
 
 here you are, all alone, after ten o'clock at night, 
 in a strange country, going to see a man you never 
 heard of before, in company of an individual whose 
 name you have n't asked, and whose face you have 
 seen only dimly in the dark ! You are known to 
 have several hundred dollars in your pocket, and 
 nobody under Heaven but yourself and your com- 
 panion knows where you are, or in what kind of 
 company." It really seemed time for a diplomatic 
 " hedge." 
 
 "Where is Captain MagufFy's house.''" I in- 
 quired as a starter, after we had driven for an 
 overlong time. 
 
 " Newark, New Jersey," was the consoling re- 
 ply, but soberly made. 
 
 " Well — I don't feel equal to a drive that far," 
 I said dryly. " I supposed when I accepted this 
 invitation that your captain was living around the 
 corner somewhere." 
 
 " No," said my companion. " He 's aboard his 
 boat — the Samuel J. Taylor." 
 
 "His boat.''" I cried. "Oh, come now, my 
 friend — if I 'd known that — well, really, I think 
 we 'd better turn back." 
 
 " Not now," said he. " We 're almost there." 
 
 309
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 " But why docs n't the captain keep his boat 
 closer to civilization ? " I queried. " Is n't there 
 room for him closer to town? " 
 
 " Yes, there 's plenty of room closer to town," 
 replied my strange acquaintance, " but the cap- 
 tain prefers to be closer to the sea in case he needs 
 to make a quick get-away. He and the govern- 
 ment are n't on the best of terms. Between you 
 and me, he 's doing a little stunt in filibusteri/ng, 
 and the folks up at Washington are getting sus- 
 picious." 
 
 My heart sank into my boots and then re- 
 bounded to my throat. " You should have told 
 me all this before we started," said I. 
 
 " Well, I should have," said he ; " but — well, I 
 was afraid if I did you would n't come, and the 
 captain told me not to come back without you. 
 What he says goes with me." 
 
 I could think of only one word. The simple 
 term kidnapped flashed across my mind, and then 
 the pleasing little phrase, so nice for a headline. 
 Held for Ransom, burned itself into my nerve. 
 The beating of my heart sounded like the muffled 
 tread of that invisible steed ahead on the coquina 
 road. I glanced out of the chaise to see what my 
 
 310
 
 Emergencies 
 
 chances of escape might be in case I made a break 
 for liberty, and saw off to the right of me the 
 lines of a rotting pierhead, and the towering masts 
 of a huge schooner that was moored to its decaying 
 piling. At the inner end of the pier was a white- 
 washed shed. Everything in sight except the 
 driver, the chaise, and my future looked white — 
 a ghastly, ghostly white that made me think of 
 all the tales of horrid spooks I had ever heard. 
 Here the carriage came to a sudden halt, and 
 a tall black figure loomed up from behind the 
 shed. 
 
 " Did you get him? " came a deep bass voice out 
 of the night. 
 
 " You betcha ! " was the reply from my compan- 
 ion. 
 
 I descended from the carriage, and my con- 
 ductor led the way along the rotting stringpiece 
 of the pier, a little more than a foot wide, the chill 
 waters of St. Simon's Sound lapping about six 
 feet below on each side, and the dark figure from 
 behind the shed immediately to the rear. I was 
 completely a captive. A moment later we came 
 to a narrow gangplank leading to the broad, holy- 
 stoned deck of the schooner, in the fore part of 
 
 311
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 which was an open liatchway, out of which there 
 streamed a steady shaft of yellow light. 
 
 " Down this way, please," said my companion 
 as we reached the hatchway. 
 
 Tremulously I followed him down the steps, and 
 in a moment found myself — in the prettiest, dain- 
 tiest, little, white and gold parlor one could have 
 hoped to find anywhere outside of a mansion de- 
 signed for a Marie Antoinette, or a Madame de 
 Maintenon ! Everywhere was gold and white — 
 chairs, walls, table — and set in the panels of the 
 walls (built in) were a half-dozen exquisite little 
 water-color paintings, all in most perfect keeping 
 with the general color scheme of the room ; and on 
 each side of a door leading to an adjoining apart- 
 ment, impassive as two bits of sculpture, stood two 
 negroes of gigantic size, not an inch under six feet 
 in height — two veritable genii out of the pages 
 of the Arabian Nights, but clad in blue flannel 
 coats with brass buttons, white duck trousers, and 
 glazed white hats with black vizors. 
 
 It was really a wonderful picture; but I had 
 hardly had time to take it in when from behind me 
 again the bass voice of the figure behind the shed 
 broke upon my hearing. 
 
 312
 
 Emergencies 
 
 " Welcome, O Skipper of the Stygian House 
 Boat, to the Samuel J. Taylor J " it said, and 
 quickly turning I found myself gazing into the 
 dark, flashing eyes of my host. If the white and 
 gold cabin had amazed me, the captain completely 
 took my breath away. He looked as if he had 
 just come in from a five o'clock tea on Fifth ave- 
 nue — frock coat, dark gray trousers, all of per- 
 fect fit, white waistcoat, lavender tie with an ex- 
 quisite pearl pin stuck carelessly into its soft folds, 
 and in his hand the very latest thing in imported 
 high silk hats ! He was the beau ideal of your 
 conventional gentleman of society. As I have 
 said, I was breathless, and consequently speech- 
 less, for a moment ; but I did manage at the end of 
 a few seconds to blurt out : 
 
 " Am I — am I awake. Captain ? " 
 
 " Well — if you 're not, we 've plenty of room 
 and time for you to sleep it out," he replied. 
 
 " But this cabin — this saloon — these — these 
 water colors ! " I went on. 
 
 " A little fancy of my wife's," said mine host. 
 " She fitted it all up herself. The water colors, 
 by the way, are all her own work. Rather nice, I 
 think. She was a pupil of a fellow Centurion of 
 
 313
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 yours, Mr. ." Here he mentioned one of our 
 
 famous artists, a member of my club, and a painter 
 of rare distinction. 
 
 My desire to get away had become less keen ; but 
 I deemed it wise nevertheless to make the effort. 
 I still needed some reassurance as to my safety. 
 
 " Well, Captain," said I, " it has been a pleas- 
 ure to meet you, and I hate to run ; but I have had 
 a hard day of it, and I 'm very tired. I have come 
 just to shake hands with you and say howdido, be- 
 fore turning in for the night." 
 
 " Oh, you must n't go until you have broken 
 bread with me," said he. 
 
 " I told him he could be in bed by twelve if he 
 wanted to," interposed my conductor. 
 
 " All right," said the captain. " We '11 live up 
 to your promise. You may serve the supper at 
 once," he added, turning to the two genii at the 
 door, who had not stirred a muscle through the 
 whole conversation. 
 
 Then began the service of a supper in which for 
 the first time I tasted the joys of alligator pears, 
 the sweets of real grapefruit made into salad, the 
 full possibilities of Moro crabs a la Newburg, 
 alongside of which even my beloved Maine lobsters 
 
 314
 
 Emergencies 
 
 are dull and dreary reptiles, and of many other 
 delightful edibles as well, with my choice of a liquid 
 refreshment as if from the cellar of a Lucullus — 
 and through it all the captain talked. 
 
 He told me of his interest in the Cuban struggle 
 for independence ; how he had gone first to Havana 
 as correspondent for an American newspaper with 
 a decided leaning toward Spanish interests ; how 
 he had resigned rather than write the kind of ma- 
 terial his chiefs demanded. 
 
 He told me then how he had at last decided to 
 help the Cuban cause with arms, and with what 
 money he had; how he had chartered this lumber 
 schooner and gone ostensibly into the lumber 
 business to cover his real activities ; and how everv 
 time he set out from Brunswick laden with lumber 
 consigned to some other port he always took time 
 to run over to Cuban waters, and carry weapons 
 and ammunition to the insurgents. 
 
 " And what has Uncle Sam had to say to all 
 these activities ? " I asked. 
 
 " He 's getting a little suspicious," laughed the 
 captain. " Once I thought he 'd got me, too. I 
 had a thousand rifles and ten thousand rounds of 
 ammunition in hand for the boys, the other day 
 
 315
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 and while I was being towed out to sea by a tug 
 the Vesuvius, which had been watching me for sev- 
 eral days, fired a shot across my bows and stopped 
 me. They sent a search party aboard — and I 
 tell you, sir, they were a mighty thorough lot ! 
 There was n't a nook or cranny of the Samuel J. 
 Taylor those fellows did n't turn inside out. Not 
 an inch from topmast to keel escaped the official 
 eye ; but they found nothing, and I was allowed to 
 go on." 
 
 " But how," said I, " did you manage to conceal 
 the stuff? " 
 
 " Oh, that was simple," laughed the captain. 
 " They went through the Samuel J. Taylor with a 
 fine-tooth comb ; but they forgot to search the tug. 
 We transferred the guns later, and forty-eight 
 hours afterward they were in the hands of the 
 Cubans." 
 
 It was five o'clock in the morning when Captain 
 MagufFy delivered me at my hotel. 
 
 " Good-by, Captain," said I. " For a few mo- 
 ments I was afraid you were going to kidnap me — 
 and now, by George! my only regret is that you 
 didn't!" 
 
 He laughed heartily. " Well," he said, " if you 
 
 316
 
 Emergencies 
 
 really mean that, come back on board. / think it 
 can he arranged^ 
 
 But freedom was too sweet, and besides I had to 
 make my living; so I reluctantly bade the captain 
 good morning, and have thought of him affection- 
 ately ever since. 
 
 3n
 
 XVI 
 A PIONEER MANAGER 
 
 NO record made by a grateful pen of the joys 
 and trials of the lecture platform could be 
 complete without some reference to the spiritual 
 benefits made possible by the profession of " Gad 
 and Gab," as Mr. Strickland Gillilan, the astute 
 author of " Off Ag'in, On Ag'in, Finnigin," him- 
 self a happy worker in the vineyard of peripatetic 
 eloquence, calls it, in the matter of friendships. 
 Both as a producer and as a consumer of the plat- 
 form product I have been the beneficiary of many 
 friendships and acquaintances that I now hold 
 among the cherished memories of my professional 
 life. As I think of them now they rush in upon 
 me with such tidal force that I find myself unable 
 for lack of space to treat of them in this volume, 
 and they must be left for other pages. And yet in 
 the light of grateful reasoning it becomes clear that 
 I should not close this portion of my story with- 
 
 318
 
 A Pioneer Manager 
 
 out some reference to one splendid soul, to whom 
 primarily I owe all the happiness in this line of 
 human effort that it has been my privilege and my 
 blessing to enjoy, James B. Pond — the good old 
 major, who during his long and busy career as an 
 organizer and manager was guide, mentor, and 
 friend, always faithful, always true, to the Man on 
 the Platform. He was a big man in every way, 
 physically as well as spiritually. The only misfit 
 about him, if there were any, perhaps was in the 
 size of his heart, which was, I suspect, too large 
 even for his gigantic frame. If any man was ever 
 born to be a pioneer in any kind of human 
 endeavor requiring tenacity of purpose, scru- 
 pulous integrity, courage in the face of trial, 
 tolerance of the shortcomings of others, and a 
 dogged insistence upon " quality," that man was 
 Major Pond, and he looked it. 
 
 If I were a painter, and wanted a model for one 
 of those sturdy Americans who were not afraid of 
 anything, and went out into the wilds of a new 
 and dangerous country with all the zest of a boy 
 on the trail of a fox, to hew by main strength a 
 way that civilization might follow in his train, I 
 should seek no further than that huge, strengthful 
 
 319
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 figure, massive, graceful even in its ungainliness, 
 surmounted by the frank, vigorous, hewn face 
 that from its deep-set eyes flashed determination 
 and kindhness ahvays. Somehow or other Major 
 Pond always made me think of the days of Forty- 
 nine, and when he first dawned, or I should perhaps 
 better say loomed, on the horizon of my life, I be- 
 gan first to sense the smallness of a mere library 
 as a world in which to live, and to think of those 
 vast, remoter stretches where men did not read and 
 write romances, but lived them. 
 
 My first contact with Major Pond was as a con- 
 sumer of the things he had to sell, and I came soon 
 to learn that the stamp of his approval was the 
 hallmark of excellence. The major's imprint 
 upon a circular was enough for me, and in several 
 years of our relation as buyer and seller he never 
 failed me; and the merest cursory glance at the 
 list of men and women for whom he stood sponsor 
 in the lyceum field shows why. It was a marvelous 
 galaxy of humans, many of them now passed im- 
 perishably into the pages of history, for whom the 
 major did yeoman service in this country, 
 beginning with Wendell Phillips, Charles Sumner, 
 and Henry Ward Beecher, and ending with Mat- 
 
 320
 
 A Pioneer Manager 
 
 thew Arnold, Henry M. Stanley, Julia Ward 
 Howe and that Prince among men, the never-to- 
 be-forgotten John Watson, dear to the hearts of 
 readers everywhere as Ian Maclaren. 
 
 The service of the manager of the Major Pond 
 type was not a mere perfunctory business service 
 only, but was of a more or less intimate personal 
 nature as well. The major was not content to 
 make a booking for a celebrity at some distant, 
 well nigh inaccessible point, and then shoot him out 
 into the dark unknown to take care of himself, and 
 get along as best he might. On the contrary, he 
 went along himself when he could, and what hard- 
 ships were to be faced he shared, and those that 
 might be staved off by a little kindly care and 
 foresight he shielded his people from. It was thus 
 that he built up not only the most notable list of 
 lecturers the world has yet known, but at the same 
 time surrounded himself with a circle of gallant 
 friends, who came to think of him with rare affec- 
 tion. 
 
 Tliis intimate personal contact with men of un- 
 usual distinction gave him a fund of reminiscence 
 that was a never-failing source of delight to his 
 friends. To Mr. Gladstone, Pond's stories were 
 
 321
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 so tremendously appealing that during one of the 
 major's visits to London the great British states- 
 man requested permission to have a stcnograplier 
 take them down just as they fell from the lips of 
 the picturesque old American. Concerning Henr}^ 
 Ward Beecher and Mark Twain the major could 
 talk forever, and the little sidelights his fund of 
 anecdote concerning them cast upon the person- 
 ality of these two men were invariably appealing. 
 
 Worn by the nervous strain of a hard bit of 
 lecturing before the major's own friends and neigh- 
 bors one night many years ago, I was privileged 
 to sit and gather refreshment and peace of mind 
 in the joy of one of the major's reminiscent mono- 
 logues lasting well into the early hours of the 
 morning, with which he regaled me upon my return 
 to his hospitable house. I was unhappily con- 
 scious of not having done my work particularly 
 well that night — in fact I had had to lecture from 
 a manuscript, which is always fatiguing both to 
 speaker and to audience, and I hardly dared ask 
 the major what he thought of my performance — 
 but after awhile in his fatherly way he broached 
 the subject himself. 
 
 " It was a good lecture, Bangs," he said, " and 
 
 322
 
 A Pioneer Manager 
 
 some day, maybe, you will -find time to make it 
 shorter." 
 
 "What is a good lecture, Major, anyhow?" I 
 asked, hoping that from such an authority as he 
 must by now have become I should get some clue to 
 a possible short cut, if not to success, at least 
 away from failure. 
 
 He threw himself back in his chair and laughed. 
 " That reminds me. Bangs," said he. " Maybe 
 you 'd like to know what Horace Greeley con- 
 sidered a good lecture — at any rate it is the only 
 answer to your question that I know. Greeley 
 and Henry Ward Beecher and I were on our way 
 to Boston once, and as we passed through Bridge- 
 port, Connecticut, Greeley, glancing out of the 
 car window, said, * Hello, here 's Bridgeport, the 
 home of P. T. Barnum! Nice town, Beecher. I 
 gave a successful lecture here once.' 
 
 " ' What do you call a successful lecture, 
 Greeley ? ' asked Mr. Beecher. 
 
 " ' Why,' said Greeley, ' a successful lecture is 
 where more people stay in than go out.' " 
 
 As for the major's relations with Mark Twain, 
 there was always so much of the spirit of prank- 
 some boyhood in them both that their days to- 
 
 323
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 gcthcr, when Clemens was so bravely working to 
 clear off the indebtedness of the publisliing house 
 that he had unnecessarily but chivalrously as- 
 sumed as his own, must have been something of a 
 romp, despite the unquestioned hardships of such 
 persistent travel. 
 
 As a specimen of the playful spirit in which the 
 two men went at their work I recall a story told 
 me that night by the major of how in a far west- 
 ern State, owing to a delayed train, they were kept 
 waiting on a railway station platform for several 
 hours. 
 
 " Look here, Pond . '' said Clemens after much 
 dreary waiting. " You may not know it, but this 
 is a violation of our contract. You agreed to 
 keep me traveling, and tliis ain't traveling : it 's 
 just nothing but pure, cussed condemned loaf- 
 ing!" 
 
 "All right, Mark," said the major. "Just a 
 second and I '11 fix you out." 
 
 The major walked up to the end of the plat- 
 form, where there was an empty baggage truck 
 standing in front of the baggage room door. This 
 he pushed along to where Clemens was standing, 
 and then picking the humorist up in his arms he
 
 A Pioneer 3Ianager 
 
 put him on board the truck and wheeled him up 
 and down the platform, to the astonishment of the 
 gathered natives, until the train came in, thus 
 filling his contract to the letter, as was his in- 
 variable custom. 
 
 Nor shall I ever forget the major's delightful 
 characterization of the platform work of Matthew 
 Arnold. 
 
 " Arnold spoke from a manuscript," said he. 
 " It was a printed affair, done in large letters on 
 ordinary cap paper, and bound up in a portfolio. 
 This he insisted on having on an easel at his right 
 hand. After bowing to his audience he would 
 fasten his eyes on the manuscript and then turn 
 and recite a sentence from it to the people in front. 
 Then he would go back to the manuscript again, 
 corral another sentence, and recite that. And so 
 it went to the end of the show — and all in a voice 
 that nobody could hear! " 
 
 The major paused a moment, and chuckled. 
 
 " General and Mrs Grant attended the first 
 Arnold lecture at Chickering Hall," he said. 
 " The place was packed ; but I got them seats, 
 well back, but the best there were. After Arnold's 
 lips had been moving without a sign of a word that 
 
 325
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 anybody could hear for ten or fifteen minutes the 
 General turned to Mrs. Grant and said, ' Well, 
 my dear, we 've seen the British Lion at least ; but 
 inasmuch as we cannot hear him roar I guess we 'd 
 better go home ! ' Grant was known as the silent 
 man," continued the maj or ; " but Arnold gave 
 him a pointer on how a man could be silent and 
 talking at the same time." 
 
 The major was a great believer in the value of 
 Author's Readings by what he used to call " run- 
 ning mates," — teams, as the vaudevillains have it. 
 He had had great success with such combinations 
 as Mark Twain and George W. Cable, Thomas 
 Nelson Page and F. Hopkinson Smith, and Bill 
 Nye and James Whitcomb Riley. Trotting in 
 double harness had proved in these cases most 
 profitable for every Dody concerned, and the major 
 was constantly in search of new alliances. How 
 his ordinarily sane judgment ever came to be 
 warped to such point that he could think of me in 
 such a connection I cannot even pretend to surmise ; 
 but it did happen that in the mid-nineties of the 
 last century he began singing a siren song in my 
 ears, to which in an hour of greed and weakness I 
 yielded, the burden of whose refrain was that 
 
 326
 
 A Pioneer Manager 
 
 R. K. Munkittrick of Puck, a man with a rare gift 
 of buoyant humor, and I could make a fortune for 
 everybody if we would only consent to " trot " 
 together. 
 
 I had no particular illusions as to my abilities ; 
 but the fact that Major Pond believed I could do 
 it was enough for me. If the Gaekwar of Baroda 
 should ever assure me that a cracked bit of Pitts- 
 burg plate glass was a diamond of fairest ray 
 serene, I should be inclined to think there was 
 something in it so long as he was n't trying to sell 
 it to me, and so when Major Pond was willing to 
 stake his professional reputation on it that Mun- 
 kittrick and I would make a highly acceptable 
 platform constellation it was not for me to refuse 
 to twinkle. 
 
 I shall never forget the experience. The 
 horrors of it were such that the Day of Judgment 
 itself have possessed small terrors for me since. 
 We were tried out at Albany, New York, before an 
 audience of sixty people, in an auditorium capable 
 of seating three thousand. Everything seemed to 
 go wrong, and on our way up to Albany Munkit- 
 trick managed to catch a cold which left him terri- 
 bly hoarse upon our arrival at the old Delavan 
 
 327
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 House in New York's capital city. To overcome 
 tills hoarseness Munkittrick bought a box of 
 troches of a well known brand, but instead of tak- 
 ing one or two of them he devoured the whole box 
 in about twenty minutes, as if they had been gum- 
 drops or marshmallows, with the result that his 
 tongue began to swell up, and by eight o'clock 
 when we were due on the platform that essential 
 factor of clarity of enunciation was " too big for 
 the job," if I may so put it, occupying not less 
 than seven-eighths of the available space inside of 
 Munkittrick's mouth, all of which, combined with 
 the natural nervousness of a debut, put us quite 
 out of commission. 
 
 As a matter of fact we should never have gone 
 out upon the platform ; but we did, and while the 
 chairman was announcing to the scattered multi- 
 tude in front that we were the greatest combina- 
 tion of wit, eloquence, and humor the world had 
 ever known, not even excepting Nye and Riley, 
 who had so often delighted Albany audiences in 
 the past, Munkittrick and I sat there quivering 
 with fear, not even daring to look at each other. 
 I do not believe that even the Babes in the Wood 
 themselves looked upon their prospects with 
 
 328
 
 A Pioneer Manager 
 
 greater dread. It was an awful evening ; so awful 
 that before it was over a frivolous reaction set in 
 which I truly think was the only tiling that enabled 
 us to push it through to the bitter end. 
 
 Of course it was a failure. We knew that al- 
 most before we began ; but it was borne in upon 
 us at the end by the fact that the chairman, who 
 had invited us to join him in a little supper after- 
 ward to meet a few of his friends, vanished as if 
 the earth had opened up and swallowed him, and 
 not a crumb of his supper or the hem of his gar- 
 ment did either of us ever see again. Fortunately 
 we had been paid In cash before we went out upon 
 the stage. If it had not been so, or had we been 
 paid by a check on which payment could have been 
 stopped, I doubt if either of us would have realized 
 a penny on the transaction. Moreover, I did not 
 venture to call upon the major for at least a week, 
 and even then my meeting with him was merely 
 casual. I bumped against him on the street in 
 front of his office in the Everett House. 
 
 " Hello, Bangs ! " said he. " Have a good time 
 at Albany?" 
 
 " Fine ! " said I. " The town is full of charm- 
 ing people." 
 
 329
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 " Well — I 'm glad somebody enjoyed it,"" said 
 the major. 
 
 " Any more bookings ? " said I. 
 
 " No," said the major, with a far-away look in 
 his eye. " Fact is, old man, times are sort o' hard, 
 and after thinking the matter over I 've decided 
 that I guess we 'd better put oiF our drive for new 
 business until — well, until some other season." 
 
 And that was all the chiding I received from 
 that kindly soul! 
 
 Several years elapsed before I resumed profes- 
 sional relations with Major Pond, and the incident 
 that brought about that resumption has always 
 seemed to me to be most amusing, and to bring out 
 in vivid colors the quality of the major's temper. 
 Indeed it was about as illuminating a little farce- 
 comedy as one would care to see. 
 
 It happened that somewhere about the beginning 
 of this century I was invited to prepare for a 
 New York newspaper syndicate a series of satirical 
 biographies of prominent personages of the day. 
 The series was called " Who 's What and Why in 
 America." I was doing a great deal of other work 
 at the time, and the managers of the syndicate fell 
 in readily with my expressed view that lest my 
 
 330
 
 A Pioneer Manager 
 
 name should seem to appear too frequently, and in 
 too many competing quarters, it would be best 
 that for this venture I should use a pseudonym. I 
 therefore did the work over the pen name of 
 Wilberforce Jenkins. The series was very well 
 received, and for over a year was one of the most 
 popular syndicate features running, as a result of 
 which Wilberforce Jenkins began to receive a great 
 many letters from a great many people — so many 
 as almost to make me personally jealous of his 
 growing fame. Among other communications re- 
 ceived was one from Major Pond, which ran some- 
 what like this: 
 
 New York, March 12, 1901. 
 Wilberforce Jenkixs, Esq. 
 
 Dear Sir. — I have been reading with a great deal of in- 
 terest your sparkling biographies of the Men of To-day in 
 the New York " Blank." I don't want to flatter you, but 
 you have more real humor in your thumb than all the rest of 
 the funny men of the day rolled into one have in their 
 million and a half fingers. Have you ever considered the 
 desirability of using your gifts on the lecture platform? If 
 you have, let me know. If you can talk half as well as you 
 write, you will be a winner. Come and see me some day 
 and talk it over. I think we can do business together. 
 
 Very truly yours, James B. Pond. 
 
 The situation was too rich to neglect, and I re- 
 solved to have a little innocent fun with the major. 
 
 331
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 I repaired almost immediately to the telephone and 
 rang him up. The connection made, I inquired: 
 
 "Is this Major Pond?" 
 
 " Yes," was the reply. " Who are you ? " 
 
 "Major J. B. Pond of the Pond Lyceum 
 Bureau .P " I continued. 
 
 "Yes, I'm Major Pond. Who's this talk- 
 ing.? " he answered. 
 
 " I am Wilberforce Jenkins, the Who 's What 
 and Why man, Major," said I. 
 
 " Well — say, old man," said he, with a pleas- 
 ant touch of enthusiasm in his voice, " I 'm mighty 
 glad to hear from you. That 's A-1 stuff you are 
 running in the Blank. Did you get my letter? " 
 
 " Yes," said I. " That 's why I am ringing you 
 up." 
 
 " Good ! " said he. " Ready to talk turkey, are 
 you ? " 
 
 »> 
 
 "Well — I don't know about that. Major, 
 said I hesitatingly. " Of course I know who you 
 are, and the kind of things you do ; but — well, to 
 be quite frank with you, I don't know whether I 
 want to do business with you or not." 
 
 "Oh!" said the major. "That's it, is it? 
 Well — what seems to be the matter? " 
 
 332
 
 A Pioneer Manager 
 
 " Oh, nothing much," said I. " Only I was 
 talking with a man about you the other day, and 
 from one or two things he said — " 
 
 " What did he say? " the major blurted out. 
 
 " Well, to begin with, he said you were an old 
 palaverer," said I. *' He intimated that there was 
 a good deal of what you might call hatwork in the 
 quality of your conversation. He said he 'd done 
 business with you once, and while he liked you 
 personally you were not all you seemed to think 
 you were as an impresario." 
 
 " Who the deuce ever told you that ? " de- 
 manded the major. " You say he did business 
 with me once? " 
 
 " So he said," said I. " And he was pretty out- 
 spoken about it too. He told me his tour with you 
 was a rank failure." 
 
 " I 'd like to know his name," said the major, 
 and I could almost hear the dear old gentleman 
 biting into the wire. 
 
 " Well, I guess he would n't mind my telling," 
 said I. " There was n't anything particularly 
 confidential about our talk. His name is Bangs 
 — John Kendrick Bangs." 
 
 My name came back at me over the wire like an 
 
 833
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 explosion of dynamite. " Bangs! " retorted the 
 major. "Good Lord — Bangs! Docs he call a 
 trip up to Albany and back a tour.? / guess he 
 •was a failure! I can tell you things about Bangs 
 as a platform performer that '11 show you mighty 
 quick whose failure it was, and if you want to 
 bring him along to hear what I have to say on that 
 subject, brm^ /lim. The idea! My Heavens, old 
 man — why, he — " 
 
 "Oh, never mind all that, Major," said I. 
 " I 'm only telling you what he said. I don't have 
 to take it all as gospel truth, you know." 
 
 " Well I guess not! " snorted the major. 
 
 " Now I 'm very busy these days," I continued, 
 " and I really have n't got time to go to your office ; 
 but if you will take lunch with me to-morrow at the 
 Century Club, about one o'clock, we can talk this 
 thing over." 
 
 " I '11 be there," said the major. " One o'clock 
 sharp, and meanwhile if you run across J. K. tell 
 him with my compliments that he can go to thun- 
 der. Tour! I like that ! " 
 
 " All right. Major," said I. " Don't fail me." 
 
 And there our telephone conversation closed. 
 The following morning I arranged at the club to 
 
 334.
 
 A Pioneer Manager 
 
 have the major ushered into the reception room in 
 case he called and asked for Wilberforce Jenkins, 
 and as the hour approached I lingered around to 
 see the fun. 
 
 Faithful to the minute the major arrived at 
 one o'clock, inquired for Mr. Jenkins, and was re- 
 quested to wait in the reception room, since Mr. 
 Jenkins had not yet come in. After he had been 
 sitting there for about five minutes I decided that 
 the time for action had arrived; so I walked into 
 the reception room myself. 
 
 "Why — hello, Major!" said I, as cordially 
 as I really felt. " How are you these days ? " 
 
 " I 'm all right," he said coldly, ignoring my 
 outstretched hand. 
 
 " What are you doing here ? " I asked. 
 
 " I don't know that that 's any of your business, 
 Bangs," said he, bridling up ; " but I don't mind 
 telling you that I 've come to meet a man who when 
 it comes to writing real humor has got you skinned 
 eight billion miles." 
 
 " Good ! " said I. " Who is this eighth wonder 
 of the world.'' " 
 
 " His name," said Major Pond, " is Wilberforce 
 Jenkins." 
 
 335
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 " Oh, Lord ! " said I. " That faker? Well, I 
 am at least glad to know what jour standards of 
 humor are." 
 
 " Faker? " retorted the major. " You seem to 
 have some gift for saying nice things about your 
 friends, Bangs," he added witheringly. 
 
 " Friends ? " said I, with a laugh of scorn. 
 " You don't call that idiot Wilberforce Jenkins a 
 friend of mine, do you? You must think I let my- 
 self go pretty cheap." 
 
 " Well, he seemed to think you were a friend of 
 his — at least he told me so — but of course a man 
 may be mistaken in respect to that," he observed 
 significantly. 
 
 " Well, don't you believe a word he says. 
 Major," said I. " I know Wilberforce Jenkins all 
 the way through, and he and truth aren't upon 
 speaking terms. You say he has invited you here 
 to meet him ? " 
 
 " To take lunch with liim," said the major. 
 
 " Well of all the pure unmitigated nerve! " said 
 I. " That shows you what sort of fellow Jenkins 
 is. Why, Major, he is n't even a member here! 
 He has a ten-day card from me ; but that does n't 
 entitle him to invite you or anybody else here. 
 
 336
 
 A Pioneer Manager 
 You 'd better come upstairs and have lunch with 
 
 me." 
 
 " I '11 starve first! " said the major. 
 
 " Oh, all right," said I. " If you won't, you 
 won't ; but I '11 bet you five dollars right now that 
 Wilberforce Jenkins does n't come ! " 
 
 "I don't bet," said the major. "I gave up 
 gambling after that toivr of yours up to Albany 
 and back. It does n't pay." 
 
 I retired to a writing table at one end of the 
 room, and pretended to be busy at letter writing 
 for some ten or fifteen minutes, keeping one sly eye 
 on the major the while. He was visibly chafing. 
 Now and then he would take out his watch, and 
 gaze intently into its telltale face. Then he would 
 rise and inspect the pictures on the walls. When 
 half-past one came and there was no Wilberforce 
 Jenkins in sight his patience was manifestly near 
 its end, and regarding that as the psychological 
 moment I again approached him. 
 
 " ' He cometh not, she said,^ " I quoted in my 
 most plaintive tones. " And what 's more, Major, 
 he won't never be here. He never kept a promise 
 or an engagement in his life. Come along — 
 change your mind and take lunch with me." 
 
 337
 
 From Pillar to Post 
 
 " / would n't lunch with you if — " he began. 
 
 And then I burst out laughing. I could not 
 carry the farce a bit further. "Major," said I, 
 " the reason why I know all about this Wilberforce 
 Jenkins and his general unreliability is very sim- 
 ple — / am Wilberforce Jenkins myself. '' 
 
 The old gentleman gasped. His face was r 
 study for a moment, and then with a great laugh 
 he sprang to his feet, and seized me by the arm. 
 " Here, Bangs," he said, " get your hat and come 
 along with me ! We '11 eat at Delmonico's." 
 
 "But you said just now you wouldn't take 
 lunch with me," I protested. 
 
 " Yes, but by Simeon," he retorted, " / never 
 said th^it you would n't take lunch with me, and by 
 the Eternal you 'II come or I 'II carry you! " 
 
 And the only hatchet that ever threatened our 
 friendship was buried on the instant. 
 
 Major Pond was indeed a rare and a loyal 
 spirit. He always credited James Redpath with 
 being the Father of the INIodern Lyceum, and per- 
 haps he was right. The Modern Lyceum owes 
 much to James Redpath ; but as for me I prefer to 
 award its paternal honors to Major Pond. His 
 interest in it, and his affectionate attitude toward 
 
 338
 
 A Pioneer Manager 
 
 those he helped along its sometimes rugged path, 
 were too strictly fatherly to warrant any lesser 
 title at the hands of one of its most grateful sons. 
 
 THE END 
 
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