In some ways, I was always honest; even from my earliest years I could never bring myself to use money which I had acquired in questionable ways; many a time I tried, but principle was always stronger than desire. Six or eight months ago, Lieutenant GeneralⒶtextual note Nelson A. MilesⒺexplanatory note was given a great dinner partyⒶtextual note in New YorkⒺexplanatory note, and when he and IⒶtextual note were chattingⒶtextual note together in the drawing-room before going out to dinner he said,

“I’ve known you as much as thirty years, isn’t it?”

I said,

“YesⒶtextual note, that’s about it, I think.”

He mused a moment or two and then said,

“IⒶtextual note wonder we didn’t meet in Washington in 1867; you were there at that time, weren’t you?”

[begin page 151] I said,

“YesⒶtextual note, but there was a difference; I was not known then; I had not begun to bud—I was an obscurity; but you had been adding to your fine Civil War record; you had just come back from your brilliantⒶtextual note Indian campaign in the FarⒶtextual note West, andⒶtextual note hadⒶtextual note been rewarded with a brigadier-generalship in the regular armyⒺexplanatory note, and everybody was talking about you and praising you. If you had met me, you wouldn’t be able to remember it now—unless some unusual circumstance of the meeting had burnt it into your memory. It is forty years ago, and people don’t remember nobodies over a stretch of time like that.”

I didn’t wish to continue the conversation along that line, so I changed the subject. I could have proven to him, without any trouble, that we did meet in Washington in 1867, but I thought it might embarrass one or the other of us, so I didn’t do it. I remember the incident very well. This was the way of it:

I had just come back from the Quaker City Ⓐtextual note Excursion, and had made a contract with BlissⒶtextual note of Hartford to write “The Innocents Abroad.”Ⓐtextual note Ⓔexplanatory note I was out of money, and I went down to Washington to see if I could earn enough there to keep me in bread and butter while I should write the book. I came across William SwintonⒶtextual note, brother of the historianⒶtextual note, and together we invented a scheme for our mutual sustenance; we became the fathers and originators of what is a common feature in the newspaper world now—the syndicate. We became the old original first Newspaper Syndicate on the planetⒺexplanatory note; it was on a small scale, but that is usual with untried new enterprises. We had twelve journals on our list; they were all weeklies, all obscure and poor, and all scattered far away among the back settlements. It was a proud thing for those little newspapers to have a Washington correspondence, and a fortunate thing for us that they felt in that way about it. EachⒶtextual note of the twelveⒶtextual note took two letters a week from us, at a dollar per letter; each of us wrote one letter per week and sent off six duplicates of it to these benefactors, thus acquiring twenty-four dollars a week to live on—which was all we needed, in our cheap and humble quarters.

SwintonⒶtextual note was one of the dearest and loveliest human beings I have ever known, and we led a charmed existence together, in a contentment which knew no bounds. SwintonⒶtextual note was refined by nature and breeding; he was a gentleman by nature and breeding; he was highly educated; he was of a beautiful spirit; he was pure in heart and speech. He was a Scotchman, and a Presbyterian; a Presbyterian of the old and genuine school, being honest and sincere in his religion, and loving it, and finding serenity and peace in it. He hadn’t a vice—unless a large and grateful sympathy with Scotch whisky may be called by that name. I didn’t regard it as a vice, because he was a Scotchman, and Scotch whisky to a Scotchman is as innocent as milk is to the rest of the human race. In Swinton’sⒶtextual note case it was a virtue, and not an economical one. Twenty-four dollars a week would really have been riches to us if we hadn’t had to support that jug; because of the jug we were always sailing pretty close to the wind, and any tardiness in the arrival of any part of our income was sure to cause us some inconvenience.

I remember a time when a shortage occurred; we had to have three dollars, and we had to have it before the close of the day. I don’t know now how we happened to want all that money at one time; I only know we had to have it. SwintonⒶtextual note told me to go out [begin page 152] and find it—and he said he would also go out and see what he could do. He didn’t seem to have any doubt that we would succeed, but I knew that that was his religion working in him; I hadn’t the same confidence; I hadn’t any idea where to turn to raise all that bullion, and I said so. I think he was ashamed of me, privately, because of my weak faith. He told me to give myself no uneasiness, no concern; and said in a simple, confident, and unquestioning way, “theⒶtextual note Lord will provide.” I saw that he fully believed the Lord would provide, but it seemed to me that if he had had my experience—

But never mind that; before he was done with me his strong faith had had its influence, and I went forth from the place almost convinced that the Lord really would provide.

I wandered around the streets for an hour, trying to think up some way to get that money, but nothing suggested itself. At last I lounged into the big lobby of the EbbittⒶtextual note House, which was then a new hotel, and sat down. Presently a dog came loafing along. He paused, glanced up at me and said, with his eyes, “Are you friendly?” I answered, with my eyes, that I was. He gave his tail a grateful little wag and came forward and rested his jaw on my knee and lifted his brown eyes to my face in a winningly affectionate way. He was a lovely creature—as beautiful as a girl, and he was made allⒶtextual note of silk and velvet.Ⓐtextual note I stroked his smooth brown head and fondled his drooping ears, and we were a pair of lovers right away. Pretty soon Brigadier GeneralⒶtextual note Miles, the hero of the land, came strolling by in his blue and gold splendors, with everybody’s admiring gaze upon him. He saw the dog and stopped, and there was a light in his eye which showed that he had a warm place in his heart for dogs like this gracious creature; then he came forward and patted the dog and said,

“He is very fine—he is a wonder; would you sell him?”

I was greatly moved; it seemed a marvelousⒶtextual note thing to me, the way Swinton’sⒶtextual note prediction had come true. I said,

“Yes.”

The General said,

“What do you ask for him?”

“Three dollars.”

The General was manifestly surprised. He said,

“Three dollars? Only three dollars? Why that dog is a most uncommon dog; he can’t possibly be worth less than fifty. If he were mine, I wouldn’t take a hundred for him. I’m afraid you are not aware of his value. Reconsider your price if you like, I don’t wish to wrong you.”Ⓐtextual note

But if he had known me he would have known that I was no more capable of wronging him than he was of wronging me. I responded with the same quiet decision as before,

“No—three dollars. That is his price.”

“Very well, since you insist upon it,” said the General, and he gave me three dollars and led the dog away, and disappeared up stairsⒶtextual note.

In about ten minutes a gentle-faced middle-aged gentleman came along, and began to look around here and there and under tables and everywhere, and I said to him,Ⓐtextual note

[begin page 153] “Is it a dog you are looking for?”

His face was sad, before, and troubled;Ⓐtextual note but it lit up gladly now, and he answered,

“Yes—have you seen him?”

“Yes,” I said, “he was here a minute ago, and I saw him follow a gentleman away. I think I could find him for you if you would like me to try.”

I have seldom seen a person look so grateful—and there was gratitude in his voice, too, when he conceded that he would like me to try. I said I would do it with great pleasure, but that as it might take a little time I hoped he would not mind paying me something for my trouble. He said he would do it most gladly—repeating that phrase “most gladly,”—Ⓐtextual noteand asked me how much. I said—

“Three dollars.”

He looked surprised, and said,

“Dear meⒶtextual note it is nothing! I will pay you ten, quite willingly.”

But I said,

“No, three is the price”—and I started for the stairs without waiting for any further argument, for SwintonⒶtextual note had said that that was the amount that the Lord would provide, and it seemed to me that it would be sacrilegious to take a penny more than was promised.

I got the number of the General’s room from the office clerkⒶtextual note, as I passed by his wicket,Ⓐtextual note and when I reached the room I found the General there caressing his dog, and quite happy. I said,

“I am sorry, but I have to take the dog again.”

He seemed very much surprised, and said,

“Take him again? Why, he is my dog; you sold him to me, and at your own price.”

“Yes,” I said, “it is true—but I have to have him,Ⓐtextual note because the man wants him again.”

“What man?”

“The man that owns him; he wasn’t my dog.”

The General looked even more surprised than before, and for a moment he couldn’t seem to find his voice; then he said,

“Do you mean to tell me that you were selling another man’s dog—and knew it?”

“Yes, I knew it wasn’t my dog.”

“Then why did you sell him?”

I said,

“Well that is a curious question to ask. I sold him because you wanted him. You offered to buy the dog; you can’t deny that. I was not anxious to sell him—I had not even thought of selling him, but it seemed to me that if it could be any accommodation to you—”Ⓐtextual note

He broke me off in the middle, and said,

“ Accommodation Ⓐtextual note to me? It is the most extraordinary spirit of accommodation I have ever heard of—the idea of your selling a dog that didn’t belong to you—”

I broke him off there, and said,

“There is no relevancy about this kind of argument; you said yourself that the dog [begin page 154] was probably worth a hundred dollars, I only asked you three; was there anything unfair about that? You offered to pay more, you know you did. I only asked you three; you can’t deny it.”

“OhⒶtextual note what in the world has that to do with it! The crux of the matter is that you didn’t own the dog—can’t you see that? You seem to think that there is no impropriety in selling property that isn’t yours provided you sell it cheap. Now then—”Ⓐtextual note

I said,

“Please don’t argue about it any more. You can’t get around the fact that the price was perfectly fair, perfectly reasonable—considering that I didn’t own the dog—and so arguing about it is only a waste of words. I have to have him back again because the man wants him; don’t you see that I haven’t any choice in the matter? Put yourself in my place. Suppose you had sold a dog that didn’t belong to you; suppose you—”

“Oh,” he said, “don’t muddle my brains any more with your idiotic reasonings! Take him along, and give me a rest.”

So I paid back the three dollars and led the dog down stairsⒶtextual note and passed him over to his owner, and collected three for my trouble.

I went away then with a good conscience, because I had acted honorably; I never could have used the three that I sold the dog for, because it was not rightly my own, but the three I got for restoring him to his rightful owner was righteouslyⒶtextual note and properly mine, because I had earned it. That man might never have gotten that dog back at all, if it hadn’t been for me.Ⓐtextual note My principles have remained to this day what they were then. I was always honest; I know I can never be otherwise. It is as I said in the beginning—I was never able to persuade myself to use money which I had acquired in questionable ways.

Now then, that is the taleⒺexplanatory note. Some of it is true.Ⓐtextual note