[begin page 162]

“Tell him to go to hell!”

“So that was the message the footman brought you from the Admiral!”Ⓐalteration in the MS said Shipman, keeping as straight a face as he could, for he saw that his friend the young poet-artistⒶalteration in the MS was deeply wounded, therefore this was not a proper time for levity. He loved the poet-artistⒶalteration in the MS better than he loved any other creature; loved him as a mother loves her child; loved to touch him, pat him, look into his eyes, loved to listen to his voice, knew his footstep from any other, and thrilled to it. And so, for him, this was not a time to laugh, this was not a time to add a pang to that smarting wound. He made him sit down on the sofa by him, laid a caressing hand upon his knee, and said, “You have been so excited, George, that you haven't been altogether clear in your narrative. You called at the Admiral's house—that much is clear—you sent in your request for a ten-minute interview—Ⓐalteration in the MSthat is clear, too—the footman came back with an invitation—”

“Yes”—bitterly—“invitationⒶalteration in the MS to go to hell!”

“Clear again. But the rest of it is confused. You think you have explained to me how you came to go there without an introduction, and you also think you have made me understand what your project was, but it's a mistake; I didn't get it. You are calmer, now, George; tell me the whole thing; maybe I can help you.”

[begin page 163]

“No,” said George, “You are mistaken as to the project, I only said I had a project, I didn't tell youⒶalteration in the MS what it was. I was coming to that. It is great and fine and will be costly; it may be a dream, but it is a noble dream—that I know.” The thought of it lit the poet's deep eyes asⒶalteration in the MS with a sunbeam. “I went there to ask him to subscribe to it.”

“What is the project?”

“A monument.”

“A monument?”

“Yes.”

“To whom?”

“Adam.”Ⓐalteration in the MS

Shipman was caught unprepared, and he burst out with—

“Gr-reatⒶalteration in the MS Scott!”

He was almost startled from his base, but he immediatelyⒶalteration in the MS followed his give-awayⒶalteration in the MS exclamation with a remark intended to express pureⒶalteration in the MS admiration, and “save his face,” which it did. The poet was visibly pleased, and said—

“I'm so glad you like the idea, David.”

“Why, I couldn't help but like it, George. I think it's one of the greatest and most unusual ideas I have ever heard of. I wonder it has never been thought of before.”

“So do I. But I am glad it wasn't.”

“You may well be. It is an august idea, there's nothing to compare with it, nothing that approaches it. None butⒶalteration in the MS Ⓐtextual note a poet's mind could ever have conceived it!” and he seizedⒶemendation the dreamer's hand and crushed into it the rest of the enthusiasm he was persuading himself to feel.Ⓐalteration in the MS

“It is wonderful, isn't it, David?” said George, flushing with pleasure.Ⓐalteration in the MS

“Boy, it's great! And you will succeed, too.”

“Do you really think so, David?”

“Think it? I know it! Another couldn't, but you willⒶalteration in the MS. Because your heart is in it; and when your heart is in a thing, George,Ⓐalteration in the MS you've got the words to match, words that persuade, words that convince. Is that a list of people you hope to round-up? Give it to me.”Ⓐalteration in the MS

He ran his eye down it.

“Do you know any of these, George?”

“Well, no—I don't.”

[begin page 164]

“It's no matter, I know them, and I'll steer you. It's a large thing, and will take us both. I'll furnish the bait, and you'll land the fish. Tell me—what was your plan? As regards the Admiral, for instance.”

“Plan, David? Why—I hadn't any.”

“Hadn't any plan! How did you mean to go at him?”

“I was only going to tell him the idea, and ask him to subscribe. That was all.”

“And you a perfect stranger! Why, George, that was no way to do. How could you be so innocent? Don't you know that in all cases where you are interested and the other person isn't, there are four thousand wrong ways to go at him, and only one right oneⒶalteration in the MS?”

“Why, no, I didn't know it. It wouldn't ever have occurred to me, David. Do you mean that the one right way to go at one person is the same Ⓐalteration in the MS way to go at all the others?”

“Broadly speaking, yes. You must apply the same persuader in all the cases.”

“DavidⒶalteration in the MS, you surely can't mean all?”

“Yes, all. The whole human race.”

“David, if you are not joking, what is the one right way?”Ⓐalteration in the MS

“Purchase. Bribery. Bribery and corruption.”

The poet was dumb for a minute—paralysed. Then he said, gravely—

“I was in earnest, David. It isn't kind to treat it like this.”

Shipman laid an affectionate hand upon his shoulder, and said—

“Forgive me, lad, I meant no harm, I wouldn't hurt you for the world—you know that. I was too abrupt, that was all. It misled you. I was not joking, I meant what I said, and what I said is true—I give you my word it is. Now, as soon as I come to expl—”

“But David! Look at that list. Think what you are saying. The purest people, the noblest people, the—some of them not rich, but there isn't goldⒶalteration in the MS enough in KlondikeⒶemendation to—”

“Money? Dear me, I didn't say anything about money—I wasn't thinking of it. I—”

“Why, David, you said—”

“Buy? Bribe? So I did, but I didn't say buy with money.”

“Oh, well, goodness knowsⒶalteration in the MS I don't know what you are driving at. If you think you know, yourself, I do wish you—”

“I do know, George, I do indeed. What I was meaning was, that [begin page 165] every human being has his price, every human being can be bought—”

“Now you are saying it again! yet you said, only a minute ago—”

“Hush! Let me talk. You interrupt me so, I can't arrive anywhere. Now then, the thing is perfectly simple. Listen. EveryⒶalteration in the MS human being has a weak place in him, a soft spot. In one it is avarice—you buy him with money; inⒶalteration in the MS another it is vanity—you beguile him through that;Ⓐalteration in the MS in another it is a compassionate heart—you work him to your will through that; in another—a mother, for instance—Ⓐalteration in the MSit is adoration of a child, perhaps a crippled one, an idiot—she sells a politician her husband's vote for a judas-kiss bestowed upon her bratling; she doesn't know she is being bribed, but she is; the others don't suspect that they are selling themselves, but they are. It is as I tell you: every person has his price, every person can be bought, if you know where his weak spot is. Do you get the idea now?”

There was no answer; the poet was lost in thought. The burden of his thought was: “How true it is, no doubt . . . .Ⓐalteration in the MS poor human nature! . . . . what children we are—and don't know it, don't suspect it . . . . the proudest of us, the biggest of us, purchasable! . . . . purchasable with a toy! . . . . Even theⒶalteration in the MS old Admiral, too?—bronzed by the storms of all the seas,Ⓐalteration in the MS old, white-headed, beloved of his friends as Arthur was by his knights, brave as Launcelot, pure as Galahad . . . . what might his price be!”Ⓐalteration in the MS

Meantime Shipman had retired to his denⒶalteration in the MS with the list, and was making skeletonⒶalteration in the MS notes. He finished them, thenⒶalteration in the MS sat musing a moment.Ⓐalteration in the MS His thoughts ran something like this:

“God knows it's the insanest idea that ever . . . . but it's colossal, there's no denyingⒶalteration in the MS that . . . . and new—oh, yes indeed, there's nothing stale about it!Ⓐalteration in the MS . . . . How can he be so serious overⒶalteration in the MS it? But he is. He sees only the dignity of it, the grandeur of it; to him it has no frivolous side, to him there is no glimmer of the humorous about it. My,Ⓐalteration in the MS but he is innocent!Ⓐalteration in the MS—poet to the marrow, dreamer, enthusiast . . . . conceive of his selecting these people to place such a project before, and strike them for contributions! No matter, they are bribable—for this queer project or any other, if he follows myⒶalteration in the MS instructions—borrowed from Lord Bacon—Ⓐalteration in the MSand concentrates his forces upon their weak spots.”

A minute or two later he was saying to his pupil:

“Now then, here we have the campaign planned out. TakeⒶalteration in the MS these [begin page 166] notes, and think them overⒶalteration in the MS at your leisure—they point out the weak spots of each person in your list—come whenever you like, andⒶalteration in the MS we will elaborate the matter with talk. To each in turn I will certify you before your visit—then you will be expected, and your road will be smooth.”

“Oh, it's ever so lovable in you, David!”

“I know it. First,—and right away—Ⓐalteration in the MSyou will assault the Admiral again. I will telephoneⒶalteration in the MS him. As you didn't give your name before, he won't know it was you he sent that invitation to.” The poet colored, and shiftedⒶalteration in the MS his body nervously, but saidⒶalteration in the MS nothing. “Now I will post you about the Admiral. He is a fine and bluff old sailor, honest, unworldly, simple, innocent as a child—but doesn't know it, of course—knows not a thing outside of his profession, but thinks he knows a lot—you must humor that superstition of course—and he does know his Bible, (just well enough to misquote it with confidence,)Ⓐalteration in the MS and frankly thinks he can beat the band at explaining it, whereas his explanations simply make the listener dizzy,Ⓐalteration in the MS they are so astronomicallyⒶalteration in the MS wide of the mark; he is profoundly religious, sincerely religious, but swears a good deal, and competently—you mustn't notice that; drinks like a fish, but is a fervent and honest advocate and supporter of the temperance cause, and does what he can to reclaim the fallen by taking the pledge every now and then as an example, with the idea that it is a great encouragement to them; he can't sing, but he doesn't know it—you must ask him to sing; is a composer—good land!—and believes he is a musician;Ⓐalteration in the MS he thinks he is deep, and worldly-wise, and sharp, and sly, and cunning, and underhanded, and furtive, and not to be seen through by any art, whereas he is just glass, for transparency—and lovable? he is the most lovable old thing in the universe.”

“My word,Ⓐalteration in the MS what a person! David, is he insane?”

“He? If he is, heⒶalteration in the MS has never suspected it. And the man that suggests it to himⒶalteration in the MS will do well to take a basket along to carry what's left of him home in. Do you want a basket? There's one in the other room.”

“No. I am not going to need it. David, he seems to have quite a lot of vulnerable points—bribable points—”

“No he hasn't. He has only one. I haven't spoken of it yet. These others are to show you what to talk about, whenⒶalteration in the MS you get started, and how to talk—they are aids, helpers, and very useful—but the one I [begin page 167] haven't mentioned is the one that opens the door to his heart and puts him up for sale. That one, properly handled, will thaw him out and start his talking-mill—then you've got him!”

“I see! It's his magnificent achievements, his illustrious record, his great deeds in the war, his—”

“No, it isn't; it's his cat.”

The poet was paralysed again, for a moment; then he regainedⒶalteration in the MS his voice—

“His cat?” Ⓐalteration in the MS

“That's it. You get at him through his cat. He is bribable through his cat, but in no other way. In all other ways, his probity is adamant, he is as chaste as the drivenⒶalteration in the MS snow, he is unpurchasableⒶemendation. But don't forget the cat. Work the cat; work him for all he is worth. Go along, now; I will telephone the Admiral you are on the way.”Ⓐalteration in the MS

The Admiral

He was eighty years old. Tall; large; all brawn, muscle and health; powerful bass voice, deep and resonant.Ⓐalteration in the MS He was born at sea, in the family's home, which was a FairhavenⒶalteration in the MS whaleship, owned and commanded by his father. He was never at school; such education as he had, he had picked up by odds and ends, and it was rather a junk-shop than a treasury; though that was not his idea of it. He had very decided opinions upon most matters, and he had architected them himself. Sometimes they were not soundⒶalteration in the MS, but what they lacked in soundness they generally made up in originality.

He spent seventy years at sea, and then retired.Ⓐalteration in the MS He had now been retired ten years.Ⓐalteration in the MS He had never served in a warship, and did not get his title from the government; it was a token of love and homage, and was conferred upon him by the captains of the whaling fleet.

He was sitting in anⒶalteration in the MS arm-chair when George entered, and close at hand were various objects which were necessary to his comfort: grogⒶalteration in the MS, a [begin page 168] Bible, a Dibdin, a compass, a barometer, a chronometer, pipes, tobacco, matches, and so on. His ancient face was mottled with pinks, reds, purples and intermediate tints, and wrinkled on the plan of a railroad map; his head was wonderfully bald and slick and shiny and dome-like, and stood up out of a fence of silky white hair in a way to remind one of a watermelon in a bucket. Friends who liked to pester him said—Ⓐalteration in the MSnot in his hearing, but to get it reported to him—that the flies used to slip, on his baldness, and fall and cripple themselves, and that in his native good-heartedness he rigged shrouds, made of thread, so that they could go aloft and return without risk.Ⓐtextual note

He motioned George to a chair, then snuggled back into his own, with a contented grunt, and began to examine his guest with a calmⒶalteration in the MS and unblinking and prejudiced eye. This silent inquest was a little embarrassing for the guest; an effect whichⒶalteration in the MS was distinctly enhanced when the AdmiralⒶalteration in the MS presently began to reinforce it with audible comments—under the impression that he was thinking to himself:

“Pale . . . . slim . . . . anemicⒶemendation Ⓐalteration in the MS . . . . half-fed . . . . timid. Lawyer? . . . . doctor? . . . . school-teacher? No. Not those. Hard to make him out. . . . . Good enough face, all but the eye. Has a malignant eye. What's his game, should you say? Has a game, of course; they all have. . . . . Wants my influence, I reckon—most of them do. Wants to get a billet in the navy. They all think I've been in the navy . . . . . .Ⓐalteration in the MS Job where he'll have a salary and nothing to do . . . . it's the usual thing. Well, to come down to business, what does this oneⒶalteration in the MS want, do you reckon? Paymaster? no. Captain's secretary? no. Those require work. Not in this one's line. . . . . Ah, ten to one he wants to be chaplain. Yes,Ⓐalteration in the MS that's it. Well, I'll beat his game.” Without taking his eye from the uncomfortable poet the Admiral reached for a pipeⒶalteration in the MS, lit it, and resumed. “That chair makes him squirm. They all squirm when they sit in that chair. They think I put them in it by accident.Ⓐalteration in the MS . . . . Chaplain—him! Probably couldn't expound a miracle to save his life. But that's nothing, I've never seen one that could. No—and when I show them the trick they are jealous, and resent it; and they feel their ambition stirring in them, and they pipe to quarters and clear for action, and start in all cocky and conceited andⒶalteration in the MS do their idiotic damdest to put me in the wrong; and when I break in and tell them to go to— [begin page 169] I say!—” (this in a trumpet-blast that made the poet jump), “can you expound the miracles?”

“Can I, sir?”

“Yes, you. Can you do it?”

“Really, I am afraid not, sir.”

The Admiral stared at him with astonishment, the sternness in his face perceptibly relaxing a little, and mutteredⒶalteration in the MS to himself—audibly—“a modest one, at last!—I never expected to see it.” Then to the poet, with the eager light of controversy rising in his eyes—

“Try it, young man, try it! Let's see what you can do;Ⓐalteration in the MS take any in the lot—pick your own miracle, and make sail. Try an easy one, first-off.”

George found himself feeling relieved and measurably comfortable all at once. The Admiral's soliloquy and David's instructions had furnished him a safe cue, and he knew how to proceed. He said, with judicious humility—

“Anywhere but here,Ⓐalteration in the MS Admiral Stormfield. But here, if you will excuse me—”

“And why not here?”

“Because David Shipman warned me. He said ‘Keep out of that subject if you don't want to come to grief, you would only expose yourself; Admiral Stormfield could give any man of your calibre ninety in the game and win out with one hand tied behind him.”

“Did he say that? Did he?” The old gentleman was profoundly pleased.

“Yes, that is what he said. And he—”

The cat came loafing in—just at the right time, the fortunate time. George forgot all about the Admiral,Ⓐalteration in the MS and cut his sentence off in the middle; for by birth and heredity he was a worshiper of cats, and when a fine animal of that speciesⒶalteration in the MS strays into the cat-lover's field of vision it is the one and only object the cat-lover is conscious of for one while; he can't take his eyes off it, nor his mind. The Admiral noted the admiration and theⒶalteration in the MS welcome in George's face, and was a proud man; his own face relaxed, softened, sweetened, and became as the face of a mother whose child is being praised. George made a swift step, gathered the cat up in his arms, gave him a hug or two, then sat down and spread him out acrossⒶalteration in the MS his lap, and began to caress his silken body [begin page 170] with lingering long strokes, murmuring, “Beautiful creature . . . . wonderful creature!” and such things as that, the Admiral watching him with grateful eyes and a conquered heart. Watching him, and talking to himself—aloud:

“Good face—full of intelligence . . . . good eye, too—honest, kind, couldn't be a better one . . . . a rare person, and superior—superior all around—very different from the run of lubbers that come here leggingⒶtextual note for influence—tadpoles that think they are goldfish—”

And so on and so on. What was become of the poet's “malignant eye” all of a sudden?Ⓐalteration in the MS If the question entered the Admiral's head at all, it created no disturbance there,Ⓐalteration in the MS aroused no concern; the Admiral's latestⒶalteration in the MS view of a thing was the only one he cared for; he had never been a slave to consistency.

The caressingⒶalteration in the MS of the purringⒶalteration in the MS cat went on,Ⓐalteration in the MS its flexile body hanging over at both ends, its amber eyes blinking slowly and contentedly, its strong claws working in and out of the gloved paws in unutterable satisfaction, the pearl-lined ears taking in the murmured ecstasies of the stranger and understanding them perfectly, and deeply approving them, the Admiral looking on enchanted, moist-eyed, soaked to the bone with happiness.

By and by he sprang up abruptly and shook himself together with the air and look of one who is pulling himself out of a dream, and began to move briskly about, muttering, “Manners? What the hell have I been thinking about?—and him a guest?”

He got a feather-duster and zealously dusted offⒶalteration in the MS a leathern arm-chair that had no dust on it, handling the duster not like a housemaid who is purifying furniture but like a chief of police who is dispersing a mobⒶalteration in the MS with a club; then he polished the leather with his silk handkerchief until it was as shiny as his own head; finallyⒶalteration in the MS he stood asideⒶalteration in the MS and said, with a wave of his hand—Ⓐalteration in the MS

“Do me the honor. I'm ashamed. I don't know how I came to give you that chair, it's not fitting for the likes of you.”

George began a polite protest, and got as far as that he was “quite comfortably seated, and—” The Admiral interrupted, with a burst as of thunder—

“Do as I tell you!” and the poet had accomplished the change before the curtains had stopped quaking.

[begin page 171]

The Admiral was pacified, and muttered to himself, “he don't mean any harm, all he wants is discipline—hasⒶalteration in the MS been brought up loose and harum-scarum, the way they do on land.” Meantime he was busy stuffing a pipe. He handedⒶalteration in the MS it to George, lifted a leg, gaveⒶalteration in the MS a strenuous forward-rake upon its under-halfⒶalteration in the MS with a match—successfully; in fact that kind of a rake would have lit a nail. He held the match to the pipe, while he worded another apology—

“You mustn't mind—I never meant any unpoliteness, but just as I was going to reach for a pipe for you, Bags came a-loafing in, and when a cat comes my way I forget myself for a minute.”

“So do I!” responded the poet, eagerly. “Why, I shouldn't ever be able to keep my head, with a cat like this one anywhere between me and the horizon.”

The emphasis on that word fell with a most pleasant thrill upon the Admiral's ear, and he said, with affectionate prideⒶemendation Ⓐtextual note in his tone—

“Now he is a daisy, ain't he?”

The response to thisⒶalteration in the MS was up to standard. The Admiral, chattingⒶalteration in the MS comfortably about his cat, and weaving into the meshes of his themeⒶalteration in the MS another apology as he went along, got a little table and placed it between his chair and George's, set bottle and glasses on it, seated himself,Ⓐalteration in the MS brewed a couple of punches, remarked, “now we'll take a bit of comfort,” thenⒶalteration in the MS got some photographs of the cat out of his pocket and spread them out on the table for inspection. The cat was interested at once. He leaped upon the table, sniffed at the bottle and at each punch in turn, then arched his neck, curved a paw, and flirted the photographs off the table one at a time, the Admiral observing the performance admiringly, and remarking, “graceful? it ain't any name for it!” The cat bent down over the edge, inspecting the fallenⒶalteration in the MS cards longingly and turning his lively head this way and that, then he cast an eloquent glance at the Admiral, who said, “he's asking me to get them for him, you see?” and proceeded to pick them up and replace them, saying “notice that thankfulness in his eye and the way he acts? talk ain't any plainer;” the cat eagerly flirted them off as fast as they were restored, the Admiral remarking “notice that? You'll see he'll keep it up as long as it int'rests him—always does.” The patient picking-up and the cheerful flirting-off continued for a minute or two, then the cat sat upⒶalteration in the MS and began to lickⒶalteration in the MS his paws and use them to rake forwardⒶalteration in the MS [begin page 172] his ears and scrub hisⒶalteration in the MS cheeks,Ⓐalteration in the MS paying no further attention to the replacing of the cards. “You notice?” said the Admiral, with a successful prophet's satisfaction, “didn't I tell you he would? oh, I know him, I reckon! now I'll show you the pictures.”

But he was disappointed. The cat lay down andⒶalteration in the MS stretched himself out lengthwise of the table, which was only about two and a half feet long—stretched himself to his utmost length, with each end of him projecting a trifle beyond the edge. His body covered the cards and left but scant room for the bottle and glasses. The Admiral sighed, and said—

“Well, I wanted to show them to you, but it ain't any matter; there's plenty of time, and maybe he'll think of something else he wants to do, pretty soon. Often he does. Every night when we play cards on this little table—me and my grand-niece or her AuntⒶemendation MarthaⒶalteration in the MS—he comes and spreads out all over it the way he's doing now, and is mostⒶalteration in the MS uncommonly in the way; you have to play on him, you know, because there isn't any other place, he flats out so; and if he gets a chance he flirts off the tricks with his paw;Ⓐalteration in the MS and if he lays down on a trick, the game's up; you can't get at it, because he don't like to be disturbed. . . . Well, we can talk, anyway, whilst he's thinking up something fresh to do— say! now the light's coming just right—look at him! ain't he the very blackest object that ever cast a gloom in the daytime? Do you know, he's just solid midnight-black all over, from cutwaterⒶalteration in the MS to tip-end of spanker-boom.Ⓐalteration in the MS Except that he's got a faint and delicate little fringeⒶalteration in the MS of white hairs on his breast, which you can't find at all except when the light strikes them just right and you know where to look. Black? why, you know, Satan looks faded alongside of Bags.”

“Is that his n—”

“Look at him now! Velvet—satin—sealskin; can't you pick them out on him? Notice that brilliant sheenⒶalteration in the MS all down his forrard starboard paw, and a flash of it in the hollow of his side, and another one on his flank: is it satin, or ain't it?—just you answer me that!”

“It is satin, it's exactly the name for it!”

“Right you are. Now then, look at that port shoulder, where the light don't strike direct—sort of twilight as you may say: does it just pre-cisely counterfeit imperial Lyons velvet, forty dollars a yard, or don't it: come!”

[begin page 173]

“It does, I take my oath!”

“Right, again. The thickest fur and the softest you ever s— there! catch it in the shadow! in the deep shadow, under his chin—ain't it sealskin, ain't it? ain't it the very richest sealskin youⒶalteration in the MS—say! look at him now. He's just perfect now; wait till he gets through with that comfortable long summer-Sunday-afternoonⒶalteration in the MS stretch and curls his paw around his nose, then you'll see something. You'll never know how black he is, nor howⒶalteration in the MS big and splendid and trim-built he is till he puts on his accent. . . . . Th—thereⒶalteration in the MS it is—just the wee tip of his pink tongue showing between his lips—now he's all there!Ⓐalteration in the MS—sheen and gloom and twilight—satin, sealskin, velvet—and the tip of his tongue like a fire-coalⒶalteration in the MS to accent him, just the blackest black outlay this side of the sub-cellars of perdition,—now I ask you honest, ain't he?”

The poet granted it, and poured out praise upon praise,Ⓐalteration in the MS rapture upon rapture, from his sincere soul, closing with—

“He is the last possibility of the beautiful! But oh,Ⓐalteration in the MS Admiral! how did you ever come to name him—”

“Bags? Sho, that's not his name, it's only his nom de plume. His name's Bagheera.”

“Bagheera!Ⓐalteration in the MS AdmiralⒶemendation, I could hug you for that! And he's worthy of it, too. If anybody can add anything to that praise, all right, let him try.”

“You forgive me, don't you?” said the Admiral, oozing gratification from every pore; “I reckon I knew what I was about when I promoted him to that.” He rose and moved toward his book-shelves. He took out a volume and patted its brown back.Ⓐalteration in the MS “Here she is,” he said.Ⓐalteration in the MS “Kipling. Volume VII, Collected WorksⒶalteration in the MS. Jungle Book. ImmortalⒶalteration in the MS?”

“It's the right word, Admiral,Ⓐalteration in the MS in my opinion.”

“You bet you! It'llⒶalteration in the MS outlast the rocks. Now I'm going to read to you out of this book. You look at the cat, and listen: ‘A black shadow dropped down into the circle. It was Bagheera the Black Panther, inky black all over,’—now notice, keep your eye on the cat—‘inky black all over, but with the panther markings showing up in certain lights like the pattern of watered silk.’ There—don't he fill the bill? ain't he watered silk? look at his high-lights—look at his twilights—look at his deep glooms! Now you listen again: ‘He had a voice as soft as wild honey dripping from a treeⒶtextual note, and a skin softer than down.’ Bags!”

[begin page 174]

The cat raised a sleepy head, and delivered an inquiring look from a blinking eye.

“Speak!”

The cat uttered a quivery-silveryⒶalteration in the MS mew.

“You hear that? is it soft as wild honey dripping from a tree? fills the bill don't it? Times, it is thatⒶalteration in the MS rich and soft and pathetic and musical you wouldn't think it wasⒶalteration in the MS a cat at all, but a spirit—spirit of a cat that's gone before, as the saying is.Ⓐalteration in the MS You ought to hear him when he's lonesome and goes mourning around empty rooms hunting for us; why, it just breaks your heart. And he's full of talent; full of tricks and oddities that don't belong in a cat's line, which he invented out of his own head.”

“Could I see him do some of them?”

“—sh Ⓐalteration in the MS !” said the Admiral, putting his finger to his lips. “ChangeⒶalteration in the MS the subject. He seems to be asleep, this last half-a-minute,Ⓐalteration in the MS but that ain't any proof; it's just as likely he's awake, and listening. In that case you couldn't get him to do a thing. He's just like a child about that; the more you want him to show off, the more he won't do it to save your life.”

“Admiral, is he so bright that he—”

“Understands? Every word!”

“I think, myself,” George began, doubtfully, “that someⒶalteration in the MS animals understand a good deal of what we say—”

The Admiral stepped over and whispered at the poet's ear—Ⓐalteration in the MS

Every word! Wasn't that what I said?”

“Yes, but—”

“I said it, didn't I? Well, it means par. He understands every word. Now I'll prove it”—still whispering. “It's a fad of his, to play with fire, and—”

“What, a cat play with fire?”

“Not so loudⒶalteration in the MS! Yes; it's because he found out that other cats don't. That's the way he's made—originality's his long suit; he don't give a damnⒶalteration in the MS for routine; you show him a thing that's old and settled and orthodox, and you can't get him to take any int'rest in it, but he'll trade his liver for anything that's fresh and showy. Now I'll light a little alcohol lamp and set it over yonder on the floor, and if he hasn't [begin page 175] overheard us he'll put it out with his paw when he gets up; but if he is shamming and listening, now, he'll put up a disappointment on us, sure:Ⓐalteration in the MS he'll go over and give it an indifferent look and pass by on the other side, like the Good Samaritan.”

The little lamp was dulyⒶalteration in the MS lighted and placed, and the experimenters waited, in a solemn silence, for the result. Pretty soon—

“Watch him!” said the Admiral. “He's turning on his back to— look at that! when he gets that stretch completed and everything taut, he'll be twice as long as you think he is. There—how is that? as long and stiff as a deer-carcass that's frozen for transportation, ain't it?Ⓐalteration in the MS Notice the flash of that sheen on his garboard strake, port side of his keelson,Ⓐalteration in the MS just forrardⒶalteration in the MS of the mizzen channels—ain't that a gloss for you! Now then—stand by for a surge, he's going to gape. WhenⒶalteration in the MS he gets his mouth full-spread, look in, and see how pink he is inside, and what a contrast it is to his thunder-black head. There you are! ain't it pretty? ain't it like a slice out of a watermelon? . . . . Now—stand by again— he's going to break out his spinnaker.”Ⓐalteration in the MS

The cat rose, added some fancyⒶalteration in the MS touches to his luxurious stretch, then he skipped to the floor and started across the room, making long final stretch-strides which extended first one hind leg and then the other far to the rear—then he discovered the lamp, and made straight for it with strong interest. The Admiral whispered, in high gratification—

“I bet you he didn't hear a word we said! Come, this is luck!”

The cat approached to within a foot of the lamp, then began to circle warily around it and sniff at it.

“It's the way he always does,” whispered the Admiral, “he'll attack it in a minute.”

The cat presently stopped, stood high, raised a paw—

“You see that? ain't it a pretty curve? he'll hold that paw that way as much as a half-a-minuteⒶemendation, measuring his distance—sometimes he'll hold it out as straight as a stunsl-boom and—there, see him strike? Didn't fetch it this time, but you'll see he'll neverⒶalteration in the MS let up till he does.”

“Admiral, he burnt his fur; I smell it.”

“That's nothing, he always does; he don't care. Another whack!Ⓐalteration in the MS ain't it graceful? ain't it resolute, ain't itⒶalteration in the MS determined? He's going to try with the other paw, now. He was left-handed when he was born, but [begin page 176] I learnt him ambidexterousness when he was little. . . . .Ⓐalteration in the MS There!—that was a good spat,Ⓐalteration in the MS you could hear it!Ⓐalteration in the MS That's four—aboutⒶalteration in the MS next time he'll fetch it. . . . . There!Ⓐalteration in the MS what'd I tell you?—he's done it.”

The cat gave his paws a lick or two, then loafed off to a cornerⒶalteration in the MS and stretched himself out on the floor. George said he could not have believed in this extraordinary performance if he hadn't seen it; that he had never heard of a cat before that would attack fire. He wanted to know who taught him.

“Nobody. It was his own idea. Took it up when he was a kitten. But never mind that—that ain't the thing that's before the house.” The Admiral gave his head a prideful toss, and added, “the thing that is before the house is, did I prove it? That's the thing for you to answer: did I, or didn't I?”

“Prove what?”

The Admiral was a little nettled.

“Come! what did I start out to prove?”

“Well, I don't qui—I—”

“You've forgot, by gracious!—Ⓐalteration in the MSthat's it—forgot it a'ready! Didn't I say he understood every word? Didn't I say I would prove it? Well, then—have I, orⒶalteration in the MS haven't I?”

George began to stammer and hesitate, showing that the proof had missed him; that he didn't know what it consisted in, and was fighting for time and revelation. The Admiral was surprised at his stupidity, and said with severity—

“Didn't I tell you, that if he was actually awake and overhearing us he would understand every word andⒶalteration in the MS wouldn't do a thing? Well, didn't he put out the lamp? Now then, what does it prove? It proves that he didn't overhear us, don'tⒶemendation it?Ⓐtextual note And that proves that he understands every word when he does overhear, don't it?Ⓐalteration in the MS I knew perfectly well I could prove it, I told you so before.”

The Admiral had him under his severe and unrelentingⒶalteration in the MS eye, and so he was obliged to confess the “proof,” for diplomacy's sake, though deep down in his heart he couldn't seem to see any convincing connection between the evidence and the alleged fact. However, he had wit enough to throw out a nicely buttered remark which beguiled the Admiral away from the danger-line and saved the situation: he said it [begin page 177] was perfectly wonderfulⒶalteration in the MS the way the Admiral could “argue.” The old gentleman melted to that rather gross contribution; he was pleased to the midriff,Ⓐalteration in the MS and said complacently—

“Well, they all say the old man can do a tidy thing in that line now and then, but I don't know—I don't know.”

The poet followed up his advantage with more butter, and still more butter, until all possible peril was overpassed, and quite new and safe ground reached. To-wit, music. The poet was fond of it, the Admiral was fond of it—here was a new tie; the two men were already friends, through the ministrations of the cat, their mutual passion for music added several degrees of Fahrenheit to the friendship; by this time the Admiral had dropped all formalities and was calling the poet by his first name. Also, he was requiring George to come often—“the oftener the better.” George was more delighted than he could tell in words. It seemed a good time to bring forward his great project, and he did it. His delivery accomplished, he watched the Admiral's face with anxious solicitude. That patch-quiltⒶalteration in the MS remained calmⒶalteration in the MS. No lights, no shadows, no changes of any kind moved across its surface. The Admiral was thinking. Thought he was thinking. He was often calm and expressionless, like that, when he thought he was thinking. After a silence so extended that the poet was beginning to lose heart and wish he had not venturedⒶalteration in the MS so soon, the Admiral lifted his glass and said gravelyⒶalteration in the MS—

“I have examined it, I have looked it all over in my mind, carefully. I see the grandeur of it. Drink!—then we will talk.”

The poet was profoundly relieved; his spirits revived, and he cried—

“Thank you, thank you, Admiral, for being willing to discuss it!”

“Willing, yes, and glad to. Discussion throws light. I always want to discuss a thing, no matter how well I am disposed to it; it's best to feel your way on a strange coast, so I always take soundings.”

“It's the wise course—I know it. I wish I did it more myself.”

“You'll come to it—you're young, yet, and we don't learn such things early.” HeⒶalteration in the MS disposed himself comfortably, and took a pipe, and passed one to George; then he resumed. “A monument to Adam, says you. Very well, let's look at the case. Now then, I'm going to admit, to start with, that of all the minor sacred characters, I think the most of Adam. Except Satan.”

[begin page 178]

“Satan?”

“Yes. Jimmy differs. That's all right, it'sⒶemendation her privilege.”

“Her?”

“Yes—her. What of it? She's an orphaness. Also, Aunt Martha differs. That's all right, too, it'sⒶemendation her privilege—although she's only a second cousin, and not an aunt at all. It's what we call her—aunt. Yet she's no more an aunt than you be, although she's a PrisbyterianⒶtextual note. It's only a formality—her being an aunt is. It's only her being it through being a second cousin to some of our ancestors, I don't know which ones. But she's gold!—and don't you forget it. She's been with me twenty years; tenⒶalteration in the MS at sea, and ten here on land.Ⓐalteration in the MS She has mothered Jimmy ever since she was a baby.”

“Ever since—since—she was a baby?”

“Certainly. Didn't I just say it?”

“I know; but I mean, which she?”Ⓐalteration in the MS

“Which sheⒶalteration in the MS? What are you talking about with your which Ⓐemendation Ⓐalteration in the MS Ⓐtextual note she?”

“I—well, I don't quite know. I mean the one that was a baby. Was she the one?”

The Admiral nearly choked with vexation; his face turned storm-blueⒶalteration in the MS, its railroad-lines turned fire-red and quivered over it like lightnings; then he did the thundering himself:

“By God, if you say it again I'll scalp you! you've got me so tangled up that I—say! can you understand this? Aunt Martha—SHE—understand?—mothered Jimmy ever since she was a baby—ever since SHE was a baby! SHE—get it?”

The poet—still uncertain—gaveⒶalteration in the MS up, and falselyⒶalteration in the MS indicated comprehension with a strenuous nod, to pacify the Admiral and avert war. Things quieted down, then, and the Admiral growled his satisfaction:

“I'm glad. Glad I've succeeded. It's been admitted before this, that I can state a thing pretty limpid when I try. . . . . Very well, then. As I was saying, she did the thing I said. And nobody could have done it better—I'll say that, too. Jimmy's twenty-one,Ⓐalteration in the MS now. Baby on shore, first; then all of a sudden an orphaness, and so remains to this day, althoughⒶalteration in the MS at sea ten years, as I told [begin page 179] you before. Aboard my ship. Along with Aunt Martha, who fetched her. I've been her father, Martha's been her mother; mother, old maid, and a Prisbyterian, all at the same time, a combination to beat the band. Heart of gold, too, as I told you before. SixtyⒶalteration in the MS years old, and sound as a nut. As for the name, I thought of it myself. I gave it to her.”

“Martha is a good name,” suggested the poet, in order to say something, it being his turn.

“Martha? Who said anything about Martha? Can't you keep the run of the ordinariest conversation?—say, can't you?”

“Oh, I—you see—well I understood you to say that she—”

“Hang it, what you understand a person to say hasn't got anything to do with what the person says, don't you know that? I was talking about Jimmy—my grand-niece.”

“Oh, I see, now. I quite misunderstood, before, for I thought you said she was only twenty-one,Ⓐalteration in the MS and—”

“I did say it! George, take something; damned if you don't need it; your mind is failing. Now then, listen, and I'll try to put it so that even you can understand it. Aunt Martha is sixtyⒶalteration in the MS—second cousin out of sourcesⒶalteration in the MS of antiquity—old maid, Prisbyterian from cat-heads to counter—get it? Very well. Jimmy is twenty-oneⒶalteration in the MS—grand-niece—ex-fathered by me, ex-mothered by Martha—orphaness to this day—orphaness to this day—get it? Very well. Now we come to the place where you stuck: it was her I named, not Martha—get it? Named her James Fletcher Stormfield; named her for her little brother that had gone before, as the saying is. It broke my heart when he went—the dearest little fellow! but I saved the name, and there's comfort in that, I can tell you. As long as I've got Jimmy and the name, the world ain't going to get blacker than I can stand, although she's nothing but an orphaness when all'sⒶalteration in the MS said and done, poor little thing. But—gold, all gold, like our Aunt Martha out of the geological period. Got it all, now,Ⓐalteration in the MS haven't you George?”

“All, and a thousand thanks, Admiral—you're ever so good.”

He stopped with that, and thought he would economise words whenever he could, now, so as to keep out of trouble, and also trick the Admiral into sticking to his subject. The Admiral resumed:

“Now that we've got that settled, we'll return back to Adam and see if we can pull him off. I wish Aunt Martha was on deck, but it's her watch below. You see, she— Bags!” In the midst of the black velvet mask two disks of fire appeared—gleamed intensely for a moment, then the mask closed upon them and blotted them out. “He heard me, you [begin page 180] see. Bags! turn out and tell your Aunt Martha to report in the chart room.” The Admiral waited a moment, the fires did not reappear; then he explained, regretfully: “That's the way with a cat, you know—any cat; they don't give a damn for discipline. And they can't help it, they're made so. But it ain't really insubordination, when you come to look at itⒶalteration in the MS right and fair—it's a word that don't apply to a cat. A cat ain't ever anybody's slave or serf or servant, and can't be—it ain't in him to be. And so, he don't have to obey anybody.Ⓐalteration in the MS He is the only creature in heaven or earth or anywhere that don't have to obey somebody or other, including the angels. ItⒶalteration in the MS sets him above the whole ruck, it puts him in a class by himself. He is independent. You understand the size of it? He is the only independent person there is. In heaven or anywhere else. There's alwaysⒶalteration in the MS somebody a king has to obey—a trollop, or a priest,Ⓐalteration in the MS or a ring, or a nation, or a deity or what not—but it ain't so with a cat. A cat ain't servant nor slave to anybody at all. He's got all the independence there is, in heaven or anywhere else, there ain't any left over for anybody else. He's your friend, if you like, but that's the limit—equal terms, too, be you king or be you cobbler; you can't play any I'm-better-than-you on a cat—no, sir! Yes, he's your friend, if you like, but you've got to treat him like a gentleman, there ain't any other terms. The minute you don't, he pulls his freight. And he—say! you get that new tint?—on the curve of his counter—see it? delicate coppery mist, faint as dream-stuff—just like you catch it for a second in a mesh of the purple-black hair of a girl when the slant of the sun is right, ain't it so? Gone, now. Aunt Martha says—George, you'll like Aunt Martha.”

“I'll be gladⒶalteration in the MS to, Admiral, and I'm sure I shall.”

“Oh, yes, you will, there's no doubt about it.” After a moment, he added, casually, “she has a ferocious temper.”

“Is that so?”

“The worst there is. I wouldn't blame her, for she didn't make her temper, it was born in her; I wouldn't blame her if she didn't hide it; but I have to blame her for that, because it's deception.”

George tried to say the kindly and modifying thing—

“Maybe she is only trying to keep it down, Admiral, instead of concealing it—and there should be merit in that.”

[begin page 181]

“No, I know her—she just hides it, lets on it ain't there; she don't let a sign of it slip. She's deep, Martha is; you could be with her years and years and never find out she had it if I hadn't toldⒶalteration in the MS you.” A silence ensued; George could not think of any appropriate thing to say. The Admiral added, “she swears a good deal.Ⓐemendation” George started, but ventured nothing. “You can't break her now,” continued the Admiral, “it's too late; she's sixty,Ⓐalteration in the MS you see, and she's been at it twentyⒶalteration in the MS years. Picked it up from the sailors.”

George thought of saying, “and from you, perhaps?” but concluded to stay on safe ground, now that he was doing well. He had been wanting to know Aunt Martha, on account of her heart of gold, but he hoped for better luck, now. He was afraid of her. The Admiral drifted tranquilly along with his treasonable revelations.

“Well, she's been through a lot, poor thing, and it's only right to make allowances. You see, she got a blight.”

Pause.

“A blight?”

“That's it.” (Pause.) “Got a blight.”

This conversation was difficult.

“Got—er—got a—”

“That's it. Blight.” (Pause.)Ⓐalteration in the MS “Early.”

“How—er—how sor—unfortunate.”

“Right again. She wasn't quite seventeen, he was just the same age.”

“Oh—I see: unhappy love-passage.”

“Yes, that was the trouble. Reefing a gasket in a gale, and fell off the foretogallantstunslboom. No-o—come to think, that was another one—the first one. This one's boat was smashed by a bull whale after he was struck, and a wave washed him down his throat—unhurt. He was never seen again.”

“How dreadfulⒶalteration in the MS!”

“Yes. You don't want to speak of it to her, she can't bear it.”

“I can easily believe it, poor lady.”

“No, she can't. It blighted her. Blighted yet. They were to 've been married as soon as he got to be mate, and he was already boat-steerer. It's the uncertainty that makes her life so mournful.”

“Un—What uncertainty?Ⓐemendation”

[begin page 182]

“About his fate, you know.”

“Why—I thought he went down the whale's throat?”

“Yes, that's it; that's what happened to him, poor boy.”

“Yes, I understand that, but what I meant was, what was the uncertainty?”

“Why—well, as to what went with him after that, you know.”

“Why, Admiral, there couldn't be any uncertainty as to that, could there?”

“I don't rightly know. At bottom, as between you and me, I don't think him likely to turn up again, but I don't say it, of course, and—”

“Does anybody think it likely that he—”

“She does; yes, she can't give up the hope that he'll fetch around yet, poor thing. She's to be pitied, I think.”

“Indeed with all my heart I pity her. It is one of the saddest things I have ever heard of. But surely, after all these many many unrevealing years she—”

“No, nothing can convince her. You see, she's a Prisbyterian, and it makes her feel near to Job in the whale's belly—nearer than you and me can ever feel, not being situated like her—and she can't help feeling that what's happened once can happen again.”

“True—but in that other case it was only three days, whereas in this one it is a whole generation and more.Ⓐalteration in the MS The cases are very different.”

“I know it, but she holds to it that Job was old, and maybe, being superannuated, that way, he would have struck the limit before this, but her Eddy being young and hardy it could be different with him. But I know you wouldn't ever find any way to comfort her anyhow,Ⓐalteration in the MS because he was the only one the whale got. The others escaped, you see, and got drowned.”

George struggled with this proposition, but could not work his way through the fog of it. He finally said—

“I don't quite see how his being the only one the whale got affected his unhappy case either one way or the other.”

“That's what I think; but she keeps brooding over his being in there so long without any company. So lonesome, you see.”

“I—yes—yes, I seem to see it, but I should not have thought of that,” said George, bewildered.

[begin page 183]

“Well, it troubles her, every time she thinks of it. So dark in there, you see, and nothing doing. Night all the time, you know, and such a sameness and so dull. She longs to be with him.”

George was not able to drum up a comment.

“Yes, it's a hard life for her, George; hard for her, hard for him, if he's there yet, which is far from likely, in my opinion, and I've thought it over a good deal. She always sees him the same way.”

“How do you mean, Admiral?”

“Young, you know—not seventeen. Sees him the same way: young, fresh, rosy, brim full of life and the joy of it; always sees him the way he was when she saw him last, swinging down the road after his kiss, with his white ducks, and his tarpaulin with a dangling ribbon, and his blue neck-scarf, and his blue-bordered broad collar spreadingⒶemendation upon his shoulders; sees him like that, with theⒶalteration in the MS sunset painting him all red and gold and glorious—the last sight of him she was ever going to see, George.”

“How pitiful, how pathetic!”

“Yes, that is what I say. Sees him always just so—blooming, boyish, beautiful. Always the same—neverⒶalteration in the MS adds a day; stands still in his youth, and she gets old and older, and gray and grayer, and—”

“That's pitiful, too!”

“It's the right name for it, George. Well, for ten yearsⒶalteration in the MS it was sweetheart and sweetheart; then she reconnized that she was outgrowing him—twenty-seven too old for seventeen—so she had to make a change; so she gradually got to regarding him as her son.”

“How curious!”

“Yes. Well, that was all right and satisfactory till she drifted away from him wider and wider till last year she reconnized that the whole gap between them was fortyⒶalteration in the MS-two years; then she shifted him to grandson. And there he is now. If she lives, he's good for a twenty-year rest. Then she'll promote him again. George, she's had a bitter hard time, and I want you to try to overlook her defect and feel the best and charitablest you can towards her, considering everything.”

“O, God knows I would not add a pain to her sorrows for anything this world has to give!”

“I'm glad to hear you say that, George, it shows you've got a good [begin page 184] heart. Jimmy's always kind and gentle to her. She's got the devil's own temper, too, but never shows it. I want you to know Jimmy.”

“I shall be g—glad to, I'm sure.”

It didn't sound quite like it.

“She'll play the penola for you. She's musical, like the rest of the breed. When she's a little further along I'm going to learn her to work the squawkestrelle. Say! look at him! look at his eyes!—locomotive head-lights, ain't it? Look at his attitude: whole body advanced and rigid; one front paw lifted and curved and motionless—looks so, but it ain't; he's putting it down, but you can't detect any motion to it; he's letting on that I'm a bird and he's creeping up on me and I don't know it; see him whimper and whickerⒶalteration in the MS with his lips and not make anything but just barely a little flicker of sound—a cat never does that but when it's slipping up on a bird and lusting after it; starboard paw's down at last—lifting the port one, now, but you can't perceive it; see him glare at me—never budges his eyes from me nor winks; six feet to come, and it'll take him five minutes; see him droop his belly, now, most to the floor, and whimper with his mouth and quiver his tail; I'll turn my face away, now and let on I don't know there's any danger around—it's part of the game—he expects it.”

By and by the catⒶalteration in the MS completed his imperceptible journey; then squatted close to the floor, worked his haunches and twitched his lithe tail a moment, then launchedⒶalteration in the MS himself like a missileⒶalteration in the MS from a catapult and landed with a smashing impact upon the Admiral's shoulder. Before he could be seized he was away again. The Admiral was as vain of the performance as if it was the world's last wonder and he the proprietor of the sole miracle-monger that could achieve it.

“Does it every day!” said he. “Often he—come in!”

It was Aunt Martha. Seeing the stranger, she was going to retreat, but the Admiral gripped her by the hand and led her in, saying cordiallyⒶalteration in the MS—

“Don't you mind,Ⓐalteration in the MS it's nobody but George. Here she is, her own self, George—Martha Fletcher, heart of gold, chief mateⒶalteration in the MS, brains of the house—there!Ⓐalteration in the MS ain't she a daisy?” He swept her figure with an admiring look, gave a wave of his hand as if to say, “what did I tell you?—up to sample, ain't she?” then he bustled her into a chair and finished the introduction.

[begin page 185]

The poet had been expecting to be afraid of her if chance should some dayⒶalteration in the MS bring him face to face with her, but he was pleasantly disappointed. There was nothing formidable about her, nothing to frighten any one; on the contrary, she was charming. Her hair was white and wavyⒶalteration in the MS and silky, she had a softⒶalteration in the MS voice, her face was beautiful with the beauty of kindliness, humanⒶalteration in the MS sympathy and the grace of peace, and upon her sat a gentle dignity whichⒶalteration in the MS any could see belonged to her by right of birth. The Admiral beamed affection and admiration upon her, and the poet could not help doing the same—tempered, in some degree, by the remembrance of what he had heard about her profanities and her temperⒶalteration in the MS. His interest in her grew by swift stages, and in no long time he found himself condoning those defects, and even trying to believe they were not really defects at all, but only eccentricities, and not important. By and by she arrived at the errand she had come about: she wanted to advertise for a lodger. George pricked up his ears.

The Admiral said there was no occasion—there was moneyⒶalteration in the MS enough, and to spare. Aunt Martha said, no matter, the empty rooms were a reproach—some one ought to be enjoying them; even a charity-lodger who paid nothing would answer; she was not particular, as to that, but it was on her conscience that those good rooms were going to waste—and so she gently stuck to her point. The Admiral wavered, then surrendered, saying—

“All right, Aunt Martha, you would have it your own way sooner or later, anyhow,Ⓐalteration in the MS you are so obstinate when you are set. Go ahead and advertise.”

She thanked him sweetly, and rose to go. George thought that now was his chance or never; so he made bold to say—

“If the Admiral would be willing, Miss Fletcher, do you think you could try me for a month and see if I would do? I amⒶalteration in the MS leaving my lodgings to-day.” Which was not true.

“The very thing!” This from the Admiral. “Get your kit aboard and begin right away. I'll not let herⒶalteration in the MS overcharge you.”

“Abner, I was not going to do it,—you knowⒶalteration in the MS that,” said the aunt in gentle reproach.

“Yes, you had it in your mind, I saw it. GoⒶalteration in the MS and fetch your things, George, you can look to me for protection. Another plate for supper, Martha—you hear?”

[begin page 186]

GeorgeⒶalteration in the MS brought his belongings and delivered them to the old sailor who did duty as the Admiral's butler, bos'n, second mate and one thing or another,Ⓐalteration in the MS then he called on his friend David and reported his great luck in securing lodgings in the Admiral's house.Ⓐalteration in the MS David asked why he had needed to do that, and George explained:

“It took me two hours to get him down to Adam and the monument, and that is as far as I've got, he scatters so. I hope to land him, but it will take time. He's worth it, though; he's worth no end of effort, I think. So I call it good luck that I got the lodgings. And there'sⒶemendation Ⓐalteration in the MS another reason: I was lonesome where I was.”

“Well, that's at an end, now, sure!” said David. “Sure—whether you like each other or not.”

“I'll tell you our talk, David, then you can judge which it is.”

WhenⒶalteration in the MS he had finished, David conceded that the new relationship did not seem to have anything cold about it. Then he added:

“You have done well, George, you have indeed. Well and judiciously. You've gone far with the Admiral. It is good diplomacy and a creditable performance. I hope you will land him, and I also believe you will.”

“I am glad to hear you say it, David. It will take time, as I've said,Ⓐalteration in the MS but that's nothing; it's not going to be dull.”

“Oh, on the contrary. Inasmuch as you want society, you are in even better luck than you think for, George.Ⓐemendation”

“How is that? AreⒶalteration in the MS you thinking of Aunt Martha?”

“No—outsiders. ProtégésⒶemendation of the Admiral.”

“Protégés?”

“Yes. Life'sⒶtextual note failures. Shipwrecks. Derelicts,Ⓐalteration in the MS old and battered and broken, that wander the ocean of life lonely and forlorn.Ⓐalteration in the MS They all drift to him; and are made welcome.”

“David, it is beautiful! He didn't mention this.”

“He? No, he wouldn't be likely.”

“Then it's all the more beautiful!”

“So it is. They drop in on him, whenever they please, and he comforts them. A poor old pathetic lot.”

“I want to see them, David; I'd like to know them.”

“Well, you will, if the Admiral sees that sort of spiritⒶalteration in the MS in you. Other Other- [begin page 187] wise not. It is thought that he helps them with his purse as well as with his sympathies; in fact, between you and me, I know he does, but you will keep this knowledge to yourself. He's a man, George—he's a whole man. There's delicacies in him that you wouldn't suspect, he seems so rough.”

“I suspected them, the minute the cat came in, David!” said George, proud of his penetration. “Delicacies are of the heart; and the minute the cat came in, his heart was exposed. He was not much better than a pirate when he was talking to himself before that; but afterwards it was very different. And a good deal of a relief to me, too. Once he started to reveal to me how Bags stands in the matter of morals, but changed the subject when Bags let an eye fall open, showing that he wasn't asleep. I recognizedⒶemendation, then,Ⓐalteration in the MS that what he had been going to let out was something shadyⒶtextual note, or partially so, and he didn't want to hurt Bags'sⒶemendation feelings.”

“It was like the Admiral. Privately his friends have a name or two for his house,—half a dozen, in fact—Ⓐalteration in the MSfounded on his special compassion for life's failures—ironical names, but there's no sting in them: ‘Haven of the Derelict,’ ‘Refuge of the Broken Reed’—that'sⒶalteration in the MS a couple of them.”

“Why, they're lovelyⒶalteration in the MS, David! It's the lead of irony transmuted into the gold of homage. Do you—”

“Wait—I want to give you a point, while I think of it. Talk temperance—general temperance—with the Admiral, if you want to—he likes the subject—but don't go into the history of it; at least don't go away back; don'tⒶtextual note go back as far as Father Matthew. Because mentionⒶemendation Ⓐalteration in the MS of that name is a thing he can't stand. It has been tried. By an ignorant person. Ignorant and innocent. He was fooled into doing it by a friend of the Admiral's who knew a secret and tender spot in the old mariner'sⒶalteration in the MS history and wanted to get some effects out of it without taking the risk of putting his own finger on it. They say that the eruptionⒶemendation of profanity that ensued lasted several hours and has not been equaled since Vesuvius buried Herculaneum. Do as I tell you: leave Father Matthew alone—let the Admiral's volcano sleep.”

“All right, I will, but tell me about it. Why should the name rouse him so?”

“Because it reminds him of an incident of his early life which he hates the memory of. It was like this. AwayⒶtextual note back, fifty or sixty years [begin page 188] ago, when the Admiral was about twenty-five, he came back from a three-year voyage to find a melancholy change at home inⒶalteration in the MS New Bedford and Fairhaven: Father Matthew, the great apostle of temperance, had been sweeping New England like a prairie-fire, and everybody had joined the Father Matthew Societies and stopped drinking. When Stormfield realized the situation, his heart almost broke. Not a comrade would drink with him, he had to drink all alone, and you know what that means to a sociable soul. He wandered the streets disconsolate, bereft, forsaken; nobody wanted his company, the girls cutⒶalteration in the MS him, he was not asked to the parties and the dances.

“And heⒶtextual note had come home so triumphant, so joyful! For he had been promoted from mate to captain, and was full of the glory of it, and now there was nobody interested in his honors, no one cared to hear about them.Ⓐalteration in the MS He endured his sufferings as long as he could, then he broke his jug and surrendered, and sent in his name to be balloted for atⒶalteration in the MS the Father Matthew Society's next meeting.Ⓐalteration in the MS That same night his crew arrived—Portuguese and Kanakas from the Azores—and at daybreak in the morning he sailed.

“He was gone three years. He was firm; he drank not a drop the whole time, but it was a bitter hard battle, from the first day to the last—with the grog circulating among those brown men every few hours, and his mouth watering for it unspeakably! For he had begun to repent of what he had done before he was out of sight ofⒶalteration in the MS land; heⒶtextual note repented every day and all the days, for three years—and mostⒶalteration in the MS deeply of all on the last one, which was fearfully cold, with a driving storm of wind and snow, and he had to plow the fleecy deck and face the gale, dry—oh, so dry! and those brown people comforting themselves with hot grog every little while and he getting the whiff of it; and so, the minute he made port he bought a jug and rushed to the Society and hit the secretary'sⒶemendation Ⓐalteration in the MS desk with his fist and shouted—

“ ‘Take my name off your cussed books, I'm dying of a three-years' thirst!’Ⓐalteration in the MS

“The secretary said, tranquilly—

“ ‘Hasn't ever been on—you were black-balled.’Ⓐemendation Ⓐalteration in the MS

“Those are the facts, George.” That far in his talk DavidⒶalteration in the MS was serious; possibly he was serious in the rest of it; most people would have [begin page 189] doubted it; George might have doubted it himself if he had been differently made. “YouⒶalteration in the MS would think, George,Ⓐalteration in the MS that after the incident had had a year's wear, the soreness would have passed out of it and left nothing behind but a text for the Admiral to joke about; it is what would have happened if anybody else had been in the Admiral's place, but in his case it did not happen. With him it has remained a serious matter, andⒶalteration in the MS when you consider the make of him you can understand why. ToⒶalteration in the MS him the thing stands for one thing only: bitterⒶalteration in the MS loss, irreparable loss. Suppose a happy bridegroomⒶemendation should lie in a trance three years: would not he recognizeⒶemendation that he could never catch up, in this life? Well, that is the way the Admiral feels.”

There was a sigh, and George said—

“I am glad you have shown me this aspect of it, David. At first I saw only one side, and so it seemed funny, but I see now that it is not. It would pain me to laugh at it now; I think it would pain any one who has any heart.”

“Yes, I am sure it would. George, he has borne this sorrow for fifty years, without outward complaint; borne it with dignity, borne it with a certain composure. One cannot reflect upon this and not revere him.”

“You could not say a truer thing than that, David. I feel just as you do about it.”

“In a large sense it is a blighted life. Yet it has been blest to him, and richly blest to others, for it has borne precious fruit. It has made him the friend and brother of all upon whom disaster and blight have fallen;Ⓐalteration in the MS out of it has grown the ‘Haven of the Derelict,’Ⓐemendation the ‘Refuge of the Broken Reed.’ ”

“David,” said George, deeply touched, and awed, “that incident of theⒶalteration in the MS long ago was not an accident, it was meant, and it had a purpose. The handⒶalteration in the MS of Providence was in it—I know it, I see it. It was noⒶalteration in the MS earthly hand that black-balled him.”

“I have never doubted it,” said David, impressively;Ⓐalteration in the MS “there are no accidents, all things have a deep and calculated purpose; sometimes the methods employed by ProvidenceⒶalteration in the MS seem strange and incongruous, but we have only to be patientⒶalteration in the MS and wait for the result: then we recognize that no others would have answered the purpose, and we are rebuked and humbled.”

[begin page 190]

From George's DiaryⒶalteration in the MS

IⒶalteration in the MS was in time for supper. The Admiral sat at the head of the table, Aunt Martha at the foot; IⒶalteration in the MS and the cat (the latterⒶalteration in the MS on a high baby-chair) sat on one side, and Jimmy and a middle-aged lady in rather loud and aggressive young-girl dress on the other. The Admiral made the introductions. He called the elderly girl the Marcheeza di Bianca —“otherwise White,” he added, “Eyetalian for White.” The marchesa corrected his pronunciation—

“Markayza,” she said, unpleasantly.

The Admiral was not troubled. He nodded at meⒶalteration in the MS and said, tranquilly—

“In a way, she's right; they say it that way over there, they being backward in their spelling, but over here it's not right, because the Constitution don't allow it. The Constitution says we'veⒶalteration in the MS got to pronounce words the way they are spelt.” Jimmy and the aunt glanced upⒶalteration in the MS at him doubtfully, (or maybe it was reproachfully,)Ⓐalteration in the MS and the marchesa opened her mouth—“Close it!” said the Admiral fiercely, and was obeyed. “It's spelt the same as cheese, and when I heave it out, cheese it is.” He glared around, from face to face. “Any objections?”

None were offered. The ancient sailor-butler was serving. He was tall, grave, grizzled, muscular, he wore sailor-clothes, was stiff-legged on the near side,Ⓐalteration in the MS and had the gaitⒶalteration in the MS of a carpenter's compass when it is semi-circlingⒶalteration in the MS its course across a ground-plan; for one of hisⒶtextual note legsⒶalteration in the MS was made of wood, or iron, or some other rigidⒶalteration in the MS material. The Admiral and his family called himⒶalteration in the MS Bos'nⒶemendation, and he always answered “aye-aye, s'r,” regardless of sex. George noticed that he skipped the cat. The Admiral noticed that George noticed. He explained:

“Bags don't eat with the rest of the family, he waits, and eats by himself. It's his own idea. But he most always comes and looks on, because he likes company, and wants to hear the talk. Often he takes a hand in it himself.”

[begin page 191]

Jimmy and the aunt cast that mysticⒶalteration in the MS glance at him again. It seemed to me that it might mean “Remember, there is a stranger present; he is not used to you, and will misunderstand.” If thatⒶalteration in the MS was the look's message, there was nothing to show that it reached port; the Admiral went on talking about the cat's interest in dinner-conversations and participation in them, and pretty soon he was enlarging. It did notⒶalteration in the MS take him long to enlarge to where he was giving samples of what the cat had actually said on one or another occasion. Then the ladies seemed to give it up. They looked resigned; and I did not see them employ that glance any more. I felt sorry for them, but there was nothing I could do; at least nothing but try to relieve the situation by changing the subject. I did that a couple of times, but it did no good, the Admiral changed it back as soon as it suited him. He got to reporting political and theological views—of the cat's—which were manifestly beyond and above a cat's reach, and although I could easily see that this distressed his ladies and made them bend their heads and look at their plates, he did not seem to be aware of it himself. He quoted remarks—of the cat's —which were often discreditable and sometimes profane, and then made the matter worse by approving and defending them. It was a sufficiently embarrassing situation. Now and then he would throw out a remark of the cat's that was really and extravagantly outrageous; then he would look aggressively around upon the company, as if he wereⒶemendation expecting a revolt, and wishing for it. But it never happened, and he had to put up with his disappointment the best he could. He realizedⒶalteration in the MS that there was doubt in the air, and it annoyed him, and made him want to remove it. Instead of reasoning the matter with us, he sought refuge in a transparent absurdity; he asked the cat if he had quoted him correctly. The cat always said something back; then the Admiral would castⒶalteration in the MS a lurid look of triumph upon the company and say, “I reckon thatⒶalteration in the MS settles it!” whereas it settled nothing, for we could not understand the cat. But we had to leave it his way, there was no other course. By help of our silence, which he translated into assent, he was able to establish all his points. This pleased him, and made him periodically happy, and saved us from getting flung out of the window.

When the dinner was ended, with its procession of alternatingⒶalteration in the MS storms and calms, fearful perils and blessed rescues, I realized that I had had an interesting time, and said so. The Admiral was perceptibly [begin page 192] flattered and gratified, and confessed, on his part, that he had seldom participated in a more informing and satisfying “discussion.” That was his word. IfⒶalteration in the MS he had searched the dictionary through, he could not have found a more fiendishlyⒶalteration in the MS inappropriate one. It was the kind of discussion a saw has with a saw-log. My indignation rose, for a moment, for it was very trying to have him empty that offensive word upon me in that bland way, but I held my peace and put my feelings away, and it was better so. ToⒶtextual note have challenged the word would merely have brought on another discussion—Ⓐalteration in the MSof his kind—with no profit to any one.

He wasⒶalteration in the MS feeling good and sociable, now, and we all wentⒶalteration in the MS to his parlor in a promisingly comfortable condition of mind. Under the pleasant influences of punch and pipe the Admiral presently broke ground on the monument scheme of his own volition,Ⓐalteration in the MS and explained it to the ladies. It produced effects—one could see it in their faces. The Admiral then proceeded,Ⓐalteration in the MS without waiting for comments:

“When you come to consider the minor sacred characters, it seems to me that Satan and Adam—”Ⓐalteration in the MS

“Abner!” This from Aunt Martha, with gentle surprise.

“Now thenⒶtextual note, what's the matter with you Ⓐalteration in the MS?”

“Abner, Satan is not one of the sacred characters.”

“The h—alifax he ain't!”

“Why, no, he isn't. ButⒶalteration in the MS don't lose your temper, dear heart.”

The mild admonition and the affectionate epithet modified the Admiral, and he dropped into what I suspected was his favorite argumentative planⒶalteration in the MS of hunting an objection down:

“Martha, ain't he in the Book?”

“Yes.”

“Martha, is it a holy Book?”

“Yes.”

“ All Ⓐalteration in the MS holy?”

“Yes, it is all holy.”

“Is there another word for it?”

Aunt Martha hesitated; as one might who is becoming uncertain of his ground. The Admiral took notice, gave a complacent nod, and furnished the word himself:

“ Sacred Ⓐalteration in the MS Scriptures, ain't it?”

[begin page 193]

“Ye-s.”Ⓐalteration in the MS

“ The Ⓐalteration in the MS, ain't it?”Ⓐalteration in the MS

“I—I know; yes.”

“What does the Ⓐalteration in the MS stand for? The only Ⓐalteration in the MS one that's sacred, ain't it?”Ⓐalteration in the MS

Aunt Martha's gun was silent.Ⓐalteration in the MS

“ WellⒶalteration in the MS, then!” and he began to tally-off the conceded points on his fingers, point by point: “One, it's in the Book—you give in to thatⒶalteration in the MS. Two, the Book's holy Ⓐalteration in the MS Ⓐemendation.Ⓐtextual note Three,Ⓐalteration in the MS it's all Ⓐalteration in the MS holy, says you. FourⒶalteration in the MS, it's the sacred Ⓐalteration in the MS Scriptures. Five,Ⓐalteration in the MS it's the Ⓐalteration in the MS sacred Scriptures. Grand total: holy, all holy, sacred, the Ⓐalteration in the MS sacred. Very well, then; when a thing is so utterly and altogether and absolutely and uncompromisingly and all-solitary-and-alone sacred, without any competition in the business, how are you going to make out that there's anything in it that ain't Ⓐalteration in the MS sacred? You just answer me that, if you think you can!”

This burst of remorseless logic seemed to wither Martha. One might imagine her a rumpled and collapsed flag that has been hauled down; whereas the Admiral looked as pleased as a mine might that has done its job well and blown up an assaulting party. Smiling benignantly upon the wreckage, he was about to start his talk again, when the marchesa sniffed and dropped a comment:

“Putting buttons in the contribution-plate don't make them holy.”

Martha and Jimmy glanced at her. As to what the glances meant I could not be sure, but to me they seemed to mean, “ Don't Ⓐalteration in the MS do that!” Then, before the Admiral could open up on the marchesa—which he was evidently going to do—Jimmy said, persuasively—

“Please begin over again, UncleⒶemendation Abner, I want to hear all I can about the monument before bedtime, and no one can make it so interesting as you.”

The storm-cloud flittedⒶalteration in the MS out of his face and he went at his work at once, quite evidently gratified by that justⒶalteration in the MS remark.

“As concerns Satan and Adam, I was going to say I rank them about on a par among the minor prophets, and—”

“Prophets!” scoffed the marchesa, and was going to enlarge, when the Admiral turned a warning eye upon her and put the ends of his thumbs and of his middleⒶalteration in the MS fingers together in the form of an open mouth—for a moment, then impressively brought the parts together, [begin page 194] thus closing that mouth. The marchesa closed hers. The Admiral resumed:

“I rank them about on a par, as regards intelligence. And yet Satan was one of the oldest of the sacred characters, and therefore—”

He stopped and glanced around, apparently to see if that word was going to be attacked again. It didn't happen.

“The idea that he ain't a sacred character! Suppose youⒶemendation Ⓐalteration in the MS handle him in a humorous lightsome way justⒶalteration in the MS once,—only just once—Ⓐalteration in the MSin a magazine, if you want to know! You'll have all the pulpits and deacons and congregations on your back in a minute, in the correspondence-columns, for trifling in that unsolemn way about a person that's in the Bible. Haven't you seen it? Don't you know it's so?”

Nobody ventured dissent.Ⓐalteration in the MS

“You know mighty well it is. That's the reason you don't try to call the hand. Very well then. As I was saying, Satan was very old and experienced, yet he didn'tⒶalteration in the MS outrank Adam in intelligence, which was only a child, as you may say, though grown up. How do I make it out? I will tell you. Satan offered all the kingdoms to our Savior if he would fall down and worship him. Did he own them? No. Could he giveⒶalteration in the MS title? No. Could he deliver the goods? No. Now I'll ask you a question. If a slave was to go to a king and offer to trade him his own kingdom for a dollar and a half, how would we rank him for intelligence? Way, way, way down! ain't it so?”

He polled the company; there was not an oppositionⒶalteration in the MS vote.

“Carried. Now then, I'll ask you another question. Can you find anything anywhere in Satan's history that's above that mark, for intelligence? No. In the Middle Ages he was always building bridges for monks in a single night, on a contract—and getting left. Ain't it so? And always finishing cathedrals for bishopsⒶalteration in the MS in a single night, on a contract—and getting left. Ain't it so? And always buying Christian souls, on contracts signed with red Christian blood—and getting left. Every time. Can you find a case where they didn't do him, as the saying is? There isn't one. Did he ever learn anything? No. Experience was wasted on him. Look at his trades; he was as inadequate in the last one as he was when he first started. Finally—Ⓐalteration in the MSI'll ask your attention to this: didn't he start in to convert this whole world to sinⒶalteration in the MS and pull in everybody and range them under his banner? Certainly. Hasn't he been [begin page 195] hard at it for centuries and centuries? Certainly. Well, how does the thing stand now—is it his world? No, sir! if he has converted ninetenths of it it's the most you can say. There! Now then, you answer me this: is he one of life's failures?” He paused, took a drink, wiped his lips thoughtfully, and added: “ One Ⓐalteration in the MS of them? why, he's It!”

Then the idea of Satan's being a life's failure seemed to touch him, and he said with a little quiver in his voice:

“Well, he's out of luck—like so many—like so many—and a body has to pity him, you can't help it.”

I was not expecting to be moved by any gentle word said about Satan, but the Admiral surprised me into it. It was ridiculous, but at the moment it seemed a natural thing and a matter-of-course. Well, I suppose that it isn't so much what a man says that affects us as the way he says it. I will make a note of it.

The Admiral began—

“We will now examine Adam. As far as—”

The soft rich note of a Japanese temple-bell interrupted: “plung-plung—plung-plung—plung-plung—plung-plung!” Then the bos'n's deep voice pealed through the house—Ⓐalteration in the MS

“E-i-g-h-t bells—starboard watch turn out!”

“Divine service,” said the Admiral, and rose and took his place behind a stand that had some religiousⒶalteration in the MS books on it. The young girl Jimmy seated herself at the piano, which was equipped with a pianola attachment. Footsteps were heard approaching, and a rustling of gowns, and several servants entered softly and stood against the wall. The Admiral read a prayer from the Episcopal prayer-book, and did it nobly. To me it seemed a marvelous performance. Where did he get that great art, that rare art? David says there are only a hundred and thirteen people in the world who know how to read. When he hears the Admiral he will add one to his list.

Then the Admiral read a familiar hymn. This was the first time that the deeps and graces and sublimities of that hymn were everⒶalteration in the MS revealed to me. The congregation—save the Admiral—sang the piece, Jimmy playing it with the pianola-thing which the renowned musical professionals puffⒶalteration in the MS so much. Then the Admiral prayed a prayer of his own make. With a word or two it invoked a blessing upon the national government. Next, it implored salvation for the “anchor watch”— [begin page 196] apparently a brevity-title for his college of derelicts; then he implored salvation for hisⒶalteration in the MS mother and father,Ⓐemendation dead a generation ago;Ⓐalteration in the MS then for theⒶalteration in the MS household, servants and all; then for meⒶalteration in the MS. He paused, now, and there was silence for some seconds. Then he bowed his head, and added in a low voice—

“And humbly I beseech, O Lord,Ⓐalteration in the MS salvation for one other . . . . not named.”

It startledⒶalteration in the MS me. Who was the unnamed one? Ah—Satan? No. I put that out of my mind. The sentiment for Satan had of course been an accidental thing born of his discourse about him, and not permanent. Then—why, it must have been himself! I was sorry. It suggested theatrical humility—show-offⒶemendation Ⓐalteration in the MS humility, for people to admire—and he so finely and faultlessly genuine, so worshipfully genuine, up to that moment!Ⓐalteration in the MS It was as if the robes of an image of gold had blown aside and exposed legs of clay. I wasⒶalteration in the MS sorrier than I can tell. I went to bed depressed.

From George's Diary, a Week Later

This is not a dull house. The human interest is pervasive here, pervasive and constant. I did not know, before, how interesting our race can be; I only knew how uninteresting it can be. I see, now, that it was uninteresting merely because I had no close contact with it, and not because the people of my acquaintanceship were commonplace. In a single week I have come to doubt if there are Ⓐalteration in the MS any uninteresting people. Certainly most people are commonplace,Ⓐalteration in the MS—a word which, taken apart and examined, merely means that their tastes, ideals, sympathies and mental capacities are below your standard—a word which contains and conveys the fact that those people are dull to you—but when you get on the inside of them—well, I begin to think that that is quite another country. If to be interesting is to be uncommonplace, it is becomingⒶalteration in the MS a question, with me, if there are any commonplace people.

[begin page 197]

Broadly speaking, my previous contacts have been with persons whose ways and standards did not tally with mine, and I thought that that was the reason their company was a weariness to me. But I see that that could have been a mistake. If I had happened to get at their insides I think I should have found interesting things hidden there. Books?Ⓐalteration in the MS Yes, books. So the bos'n says. He saysⒶalteration in the MS a man's experiences of life are a book, and there was never yet an uninteresting life. Such a thing is an impossibility. Inside of the dullest exterior there is a drama, a comedy,Ⓐalteration in the MS and a tragedy. The bos'n says thereⒶalteration in the MS is no exception to the rule. But how difficult it is to get at those poems!

My life was dull before luck got me into this house; I had only outsides to contemplate, but here it is the other way. Here I have opportunity to penetrate beyond the skin. The contacts with the household are frequent, and the same is the case with the derelictsⒶalteration in the MS and their intimates. As a rule I have not had friends before, but only acquaintances; they talked the news and gossip of the day—which was natural—and hid their hurts and their intimate joys—which was also natural—and so I took them for light-weights and commonplace, and was not glad of their society. Lord, they all had their tragedies!Ⓐalteration in the MS Ⓐemendation—every one of them, but how could I suspect it?

Formerly if a person had said to me, “Would you like to know SmithⒶalteration in the MS the letter-carrier?” it would not have occurred to me to say yes. ButⒶalteration in the MS I should say it now, believing as I now do that a man's occupation is not a mirrorⒶalteration in the MS of his inside; and so I should want to know Smith and try to get at his interior, expecting it to be well charged with interest for me.

The fact is, I do know Smith the (ex-)letter-carrierⒶemendation, though it is only by accident that I have used him as an illustration. He is a derelict. I asked him to sit, and am paintingⒶalteration in the MS his portrait. He is from a distant State and city. His youngⒶalteration in the MS wife is there. He is silent and abstracted, and usually sits apart, with his head bent, and thinks his thoughts,Ⓐalteration in the MS and does not smile. When he supposed I was meaning to charge him for the portrait he looked up, pulled his wandering mind home with an effort, and said no, he had no money; I explained that it was not a matter of money, I only wanted to paint it for practice and he could have it when it was done. The idea did not seem to take hold. [begin page 198] I could see that he was vaguely wondering what use it could be to him; he looked up vacantly—the problem had baffled him; I said “for your wife”—then his eyes filled.

The first sitting thawed him a little; before the second one was ended he was telling me how he was occupying himself and how the Admiral came to run across him and add him to his accumulation of human wreckage; in the third sitting the thawing reached still further into his mass and he talked about his boyhood and his parents, his playmates and his brothers and sisters; in the fourth the melting was nearlyⒶalteration in the MS complete and he talked freely and trustingly of some of theⒶalteration in the MS things hidden away in the deeps of his heart—Ⓐalteration in the MSsuch as the happinessesⒶalteration in the MS of his married life, and how Mary looked, and how she talked, and what her opinions were, on this and that and the other matter of moment, and how sterling she was, and how saneⒶalteration in the MS, and how good-hearted, and all that; and in the fifthⒶalteration in the MS—in the fifth the last ice-shield broke away and out came the tragedy! There is always one, if you can get at it. Often it looks trivial on paper, but never is trivial when it trickles out before you tinged with heart's blood.

This tragedy will look trivial to an outsider. It cannot be put in words that could save it from that. The conventions are in the way; they blur our vision, and keep us from perceiving that the sole tragic thing about a hurt is the hurt itself and its effect upon the sufferer, not the noble or ignoble factorsⒶalteration in the MS and conditions involved in the infliction of it. The presentⒶalteration in the MS tragedy is a brief story. This is what happened.

Smith was nineteen years old, and was already a journeymanⒶalteration in the MS machinist, with a year's savings laid up. He had a good reputation as a workman, a good wage, a permanent job, and a sweetheart to his taste. He had reached the very top of his ambition, his dearest dream was realized; he was grateful, proud, satisfied, happy, to a degree beyond any words of his to express. His family were proud of him, his friends were proud of him; this was the best and the most that a duke or a king could have,Ⓐalteration in the MS and so he believed he felt just as kings feel. What could he want more? Nothing.

He lived, moved, and had his being in this delicious incense, the approval, amounting to deference, of his family and friends. He and they were all of humble estate—mechanics and laborers.Ⓐalteration in the MS His father was a day laborer and unschooled; his mother took in washing;Ⓐalteration in the MS his [begin page 199] Mary's people were conditioned in like way; her father was a pavior, her mother a washerwoman, Mary was a helper. The two families lived high up in mean tenement houses.

Young Smith had given himself a pretty fair education, by sitting up nights,Ⓐalteration in the MS and was fond of study. He and Mary spent their evenings in study together. They married—he nineteen and she a year younger. They went on with their studies, and were perfectly happy. For a year. Smith repeated that. “For a year.”

I noted it; it foretold disaster. There was a competitive examination, for the office of letter-carrier. Smith entered the competition—“just to see what he could do,” he said; he did not need the place, and did not want it. To his and Mary's astonishment—and joy—he came out on top and got it! With something near to a moan he added, “that was where our ruin began—lord, if I had only lost it!”

The pride and exultation of the two families and the friends exceeded all bounds. Smith'sⒶalteration in the MS and Mary's happiness soared to the limit of human endurance; they thought they felt as kings feel when accident promotes them to emperorship. When Smith appeared for the first time in his uniform the families and the friends did not stop with admiration, they were awed; so awed that they acted more likeⒶemendation strangers than friends; they were constrained, their tongues were crippled, they talked disjointedly, they were embarrassed, and they embarrassed him. He was an officer of the government of the United States, and they were—what they were; they could not bridge the chasm. It took the old-time easy familiarity all out of them.

That was the beginning of the tragedy. Next, the uniform introduced certain compulsions. AmongⒶalteration in the MS other things, it—I can't recal his precise words, I wish I could, for they were beyond all art for innocent quaintness; but the sense of them was this: it raised them to a higher and more exactingⒶalteration in the MS social plane than they had been occupying beforeⒶalteration in the MS and they had to live up to the change, which was costly. I risked a delicate question and asked him who these exclusives might be—though of course I did not use that word. The inquiry did not disturb him; he was quite simple and frank about it, and said—

“Shop-clerks, sales-ladies, and such. And there was a steamboat mate and a type-writer.”

Mary had to get some suitable clothes. Smith had to take to cig- [begin page 200] arettes —he had not smoked at all, before. Also, he had to rise above five-cent drinks, which made treating a noticeable burden. He paused, at this point,Ⓐalteration in the MS reflected, then recalled another detail—collars; he had to wear white ones.

The next step was inevitable: they had to move into better quarters, they must live up to the uniform, and to the new social altitude. Slight as the added rent was, it was a burden. They visited their new associates, and were visited by them. This had a foreseeable result: it presently broke off intercourse with the old friends,Ⓐalteration in the MS for between these and the new people were several inharmonies—discords in the matter of clothes and manners, furniture, upholstery, ideals, interests, and so on. WhenⒶalteration in the MS the two classes met at Smith'sⒶemendation there were embarrassments and a frost. Intercourse between the Smiths and theirⒶalteration in the MS ancient and cordial friends ceased, by and by, and the couple were leftⒶalteration in the MS to the new people andⒶalteration in the MS a frivolous and empty and cheerless life.Ⓐalteration in the MS

Next stage. The added expenses were infinitely trifling,Ⓐalteration in the MS—would have seemed so to the reader's ear, at any rate—but no matter, they strained Smith's purse beyond its strength. He could not bear to reveal this to Mary, and he didn't. When he was depressed and sore and she put her arms about his neck and begged him to tell her what was the matter, he said it was headache and made him feel a little down. Then, with a loving desire to cheer him up, she would take the worst way she could have found: she would invite their fashionables to cake and tea, and make another expense. When at last he was at his wits'Ⓐemendation end—

“What do you reckon I did?” he asked, looking at me out of what one might have mistaken for the face of a dead man, so wan and white it was. “Lord God forgive me, I began to rob the letters!”

Mary did not know, nor suspect—until the black day when the officers came, and tore himⒶalteration in the MS from her clinging arms and his heart almost broke under the misery of hearing her despairing shrieks and moans and sobs.

He was in prison two years. When he got out, not even his light fashionables would associate with him, and they had cut Mary long before. The brand was upon him, the machinists' unionⒶalteration in the MS rejected him, he could get no work. For three years he “has been in hell.” The wordsⒶalteration in the MS are his. He has drifted hither and thither, and earned bread [begin page 201] when he could. But for the Admiral, who happened upon him when he was at hisⒶalteration in the MS lowest, death by starvation would have been his fate, he thinks. It is seven monthsⒶalteration in the MS since he last saw Mary; and then she did not know him. AⒶalteration in the MS fall on the ice injured her spine, and she is a helpless invalid. Her mind has failed.Ⓐalteration in the MS She is in the tenement again, with her old father and mother.Ⓐalteration in the MS

From George's Diary—the Same Day

At this point I shifted the subject, for it was bearing too hard upon the young fellow's spirits—and upon mine too. I tried a reference toⒶalteration in the MS the monument, hoping that the change would change his mood. It did. At the mere mention of Adam's name hisⒶalteration in the MS temper rose with a flash, and it was wonderful to see what a customarily reserved man can do with his tongue when an inspiring theme comes its way. It was like Vesuvius in eruption. Lava, flame, earthquake,Ⓐalteration in the MS sulphurous smoke, volleying explosions—it was all there, and all vindictive and unappeasable hostility andⒶalteration in the MS aversion. I sat enchanted, dumb, astonished, glad to be there, sorry when the show was over.

One wouldⒶalteration in the MS have supposed Smith was talking about an intimate enemy—an enemy of last week, ofⒶalteration in the MS yesterday, of to-day, not of a man whom he had never seen, and who had been dust and ashes for thousands of years. The reason for all this bitter feeling? It was very simple.

“He brought life into the world,” said Smith. “But for him I shouldⒶalteration in the MS not have been born—nor Mary. Life is a swindle. I hate him.”

After a panting moment or two he brought forth another surprise for me. To-wit, he was unreservedly and enthusiastically in favor of the monument! In a moment he was in eruption again. This time it was praises of Adam, gratitude to Adam, exaltation of his name. The reason of this attitude? Smith explained it without difficulty:

“He brought death into the world. I love him for it.” After a little he muttered, like one in a reverie, “death the compassionate . . . . the [begin page 202] healerⒶalteration in the MS of hurts . . . . man's only friend . . . .” He was interrupted, there—the bos'n came in for a sitting.

The bos'nⒶalteration in the MS didn't think much of me the first day or two, because there was an impression around (emanating from David,)Ⓐalteration in the MS that I was a poet; but when he found that my trade was artist in paints the atmosphereⒶalteration in the MS changed at once and he apologised quite handsomely. He had a great opinion of artists, and said the Admiral was one. I said I was glad, and would like to see his pictures, and the bos'n said—introducing a caution—

“That's all right, but don't let on. When you want anything that's privateⒶalteration in the MS out of the Admiral, don't let on. He might be in the mood, and he mightn't. As soon as the mood takes him he'll open up on it himself—you'll see—but not any sooner. There ain'tⒶalteration in the MS anybody that can unlock him on a private lay till he's ready. Not even MissⒶalteration in the MS Jimmy, not even Aunt Martha.”

I said I should remember, and be careful. I repeated that I was glad the Admiral was an artist. The bos'n responded, with feeling and emphasis.

“An artist he is—I can tell you that. Born to it, I think. And he ain't onlyⒶalteration in the MS just an artist, he's a hell of an artist!”

The form of a compliment has nothing to do with its value—it is the spirit that is in it that makes it gold or dross. This one was gold. This one was out of the heart, and I have found that an ignorantⒶalteration in the MS hot one out of the heart tastes just as good as does a calm, judicial, reasoned one out of an educated head. I hope to be a hell of an artist myselfⒶalteration in the MS some day, and hear the bos'n concede it.

As I was saying, the bos'n arrived. The ex-postman went away. I settled myself for a stage-wait. The bos'n was just from the looking-glass, but no matter, he would prink again; his first sitting had taught me this. But it was no matter, he couldn't well be uninteresting, no matter what he might be doing, for he was good to look at; besides, he was generally talking, and his talk was not borous. He was past sixty, but looked considerably younger, and had a fine and tallⒶalteration in the MS figure and an athletic body—a most shapely man when standing before the glass, with his artificial leg quiet. He had a handsome face and an iron jaw, and that tranquil and business-like eye which men and tigers have so [begin page 203] much respect for. He isⒶalteration in the MS very likeableⒶalteration in the MS. We chatted while he prinked. Mainly about Smith. Presently I said I was sorry to see that Smith was a pessimist.

“A whichimist?” inquired the bos'n, turning a glance of interest at me over his shoulder, while rearranging for the fourth time the sailor-knot in his flowing neckerchief.

“Pessimist.”

“Good word. As good as they make. What's a pessimist?”

“The opposite of an optimist.”

“Another one. What are they both?”

“An optimist is cheery and hopeful—looks on the bright side of things. A pessimist is just the other way. Smith has no business to be a pessimist, he is too young.”

“Is—Ⓐalteration in the MSis he? What's your age, Mr. Sterling?”

“Twenty-six.”

“What'sⒶalteration in the MS his?”

“About the same.”

He came and took his seat and arranged his pose.

“He oughtn't to be a pes—pes—”

“Pessimist. No, he oughtn't. He has had trouble, he is in trouble, but at his age he oughtn't to give himself up body and soul to his sorrows. He ought to be more of a man. Shutting himself up to selfishly brood over his troubles and pet themⒶalteration in the MS and magnify them is a poor business, and foolish. He ought to look on the bright side of life.”

“Now then,” said the bos'n, “I'll set you right. Aunt Martha set me right when I was thinking the same as you, and I'll pass it along—then you'llⒶalteration in the MS see the rights of it, too.Ⓐalteration in the MS Smith's made on another pattern from you. Well, he can't help that. He didn't make his pattern, it was born to him, the same as yours was born to you. Smith don't brood mainly over his troubles; he's built so's 't he's got to suffer and sweat over everybody else's. You read the papers, don't you?”

“Yes.”

“So does Smith. Do you read the telegraph news—all of it?”

“Yes, all of it.”

“This morning, as usual?”

“Yes.”

[begin page 204]

“How did you feel, after it—cheerful?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Comfortable?”

“I—well, I don't remember that I didn't.”

“All right. It's the difference between you and Smith. He can't read the paper and not break his heart. Other people's troubles near kill him. It's because he was born tender, you see—not indifferent.” I winced a little.Ⓐalteration in the MS He took up the paper and began a search, turning it this way and that, and still talking along. “You see, if a person shuts himself up inside of himself and don't worry about anybody's troubles but his own, he . . . . I can't seem to find the telegraphs . . . . he can get to be considerable of an octopus—”

“Optimist.”

—“optimist, by and by, you know; and manly, and all that . . . . oh, now I'm striking the telegraphs . . . . and can look on the bright side of life and . . . . here they are! . . . . admire himself.”

He uttered that vicious sarcasm so absently and so colorlessly that for a quarter of a second I hardly felt its teeth go in; then the bite took hold. I tried to look unaware, but I probably merely lookedⒶalteration in the MS ashamed, and sorry I had exposed my self-complacency so brashly. He began to read the head-lines; not with energy and emphasis, but with a studied seeming of indifference and lack of interest which I took for a hint that perhaps that was my way of reading and feeling such things:

“Child crushed by mobile before its mother's eyes.”

“Factory burned, 14 young work-girls roasted alive; thousands looking on, powerless to help.”

“Little Mary Walker not found yet; search relaxing; no hope left; father prostrate, mother demented.”

“Aged couple turned out in the snow with their small effects by landlord for lack of rent-money; found at midnight by police, unconscious; rent-money due, $1.75.”

I recognized all these items; I had already read them, but only with my eyes, my feelings had not been interested, the sufferers being strangers; but the effect was different, now. The words were the same, but each of them left a blister where it struck. I was ashamed, and begged the bos'n to stop, and said I was a dog, and willing and even anxious to confess it. And so he softened, and put away the paper and said—Ⓐalteration in the MS

[begin page 205]

“Oh, I beg pardon; but as you saidⒶalteration in the MS you'd already read them, I thoughtⒶalteration in the MS it wouldn't be any harm to—to—whyⒶalteration in the MS, Smith was up at daylight reading them. And b'god he was near toⒶalteration in the MS crying over them!”

“Hang it, so am I, now, but—but—well, I never took the thing in, before.”

“Oh, that's all right,” said the bos'n, soothingly, “you ain't to blame, you can't help the way you're made. And Smith, he can't help the way he's made. Land, he takes the whole suffering world into his heart, and it gives him hell's-bells, I can tell you! Why, Mr. Sterling, that man takes into his inside enough of the human race's miseries in a day to last a real manly man thirty years!”

“Oh, rub it in, I'm down,Ⓐalteration in the MS rub it in!”

“No,”—appealingly—“don't talk like that, Mr. Sterling, I'm not saying anything, I'm only trying to show you that a person ain't to blame that's madeⒶalteration in the MS—made—well, that's made the way you be. So's 't you'll feel good.”

“Oh, thanks, it's ever so kind of you!Ⓐalteration in the MS I haven't felt so good in a year.”

“Now I'm right down glad of that. Say—Mr. Sterling, Smith ain't twenty-six, he's sixty.”

“Lord, I understand, I understand!”

“Yes, that breed—people that's made that way—people that have to bear the world's miseries on top of their own—why, it makes them old long before their time; they can't find any bright side of life. Lord, yes, it makes them old, long, long before their time. But it's different with your make, you knowⒶalteration in the MS; you might live a thou—”

“Oh, let up,Ⓐalteration in the MS and change the subject! Haven't I said I'm a dog? Well, then, have some pity!”

George's Diary—Continued

The past few days have been like all the days I have spent in this house—full of satisfactions for me. Every day the feeling of the day before is renewed to me—the feeling of having been in a half-trance all [begin page 206] my life before—numb, sluggish-blooded, sluggish-minded—a feelingⒶalteration in the MS which is followed at once by a brisk sense of being out of that syncope and awake! awake and alive; aliveⒶalteration in the MS to my finger-ends. I realize that I am a veteran trader in shadows who has struck the substance. I have found the human race. It was all around me before, but vague and spectral; I have found it now, with the blood in it, and the bones; and am getting acquainted with it. That is, with the facts of it; I had the theories before. It is pleasant, charming, engrossing. Incidentally,Ⓐalteration in the MS I am also getting acquainted with myself. But it is no matter, it could not well be helped, the bos'n is around so much. I do not really care.Ⓐalteration in the MS

I have notⒶalteration in the MS lost my interest in the monument—that will stay alive, there is no fear as to that—Ⓐalteration in the MSbut the human race has pushedⒶalteration in the MS it to second place.

The Admiral, of his own motion, is allowing me to use what he calls the ward-room as a studio. It is spaciousⒶalteration in the MS and airy, and has plenty of light. The derelicts and the friends of the derelicts have the freedom of it, night and day. They come when they please, they sit around and chat, they smoke and read,Ⓐalteration in the MS and the Admiral “pays the freight,” as the slang phrase goes. And they sit to me. They take an interest in each other's portraits, and are candid with criticisms. They talk to me about themselves, and about each other. Thus I get the entire man—four-fifths of him fromⒶalteration in the MS himself and the other fifth from the others. I findⒶalteration in the MS that no man discloses the completing fifth himself. Sometimes that fifth is to his credit, sometimes it isn't;Ⓐalteration in the MS but let it be whichever it may, you will never get it out of the man himself. It is the make of the man that determines it. The bos'n says there are no exceptions to this law. He says every man is a moon and has a side which he turns toward nobody: you have to slip around behind if you want to see it.

I began on the Admiral's portrait this morning. Every derelict that happened in was at once interested. They sat around and kept one eye on the brush, the other on the sitter, and talked. It was very pleasant. “Uncle 'Rastus” was one of the group—'Rastus Timson. He is a colored man;Ⓐalteration in the MS 70 years old; large, compact, all big bone and muscle, very broad-shouldered,Ⓐalteration in the MS prodigiously strongⒶalteration in the MS—can take up a barrel of beer and drink from the bung; shrewd,Ⓐalteration in the MS good-natured, has a sense of humor; gets up his opinions for himself, and is courageous enough to change [begin page 207] them when he thinks he has found something better; is plain, sincere, and honest; is ready and willing to debate deep questions, and gets along pretty well at it; has a pronounced Atlas-stoop, from carrying mighty burdens upon his shoulders; wears what is left of a once hat—a soft ruin which slumpsⒶalteration in the MS to a shapeless rumple like a collapsed toy balloon when he drops it on the floor; the remains of his once clothes hang in fringed rags and rottingⒶalteration in the MS shreds from his booms and yard-arms, and give him the sorrowfullyⒶalteration in the MS picturesque look of a ship that has been through a Cape Horn hurricane—not recently, but in Columbus's time. He lives by such now-and-then whitewashing jobs as he can pick up; was a Maryland slave beforeⒶtextual note the War. In those distant times he was a Dunker Baptist; later, a modified Methodist; later still, a Unitarian, with reservations; he is a freethinker now, and unattached—“goesⒶalteration in the MS in a procession by himself, like Jackson's hog,” as the bos'n phrases it. A good man and a cheerful spirit; the other derelicts like him; his is a welcome face here.

He lives at “Aunty Phyllis'sⒶalteration in the MS” humble boarding house, where the derelicts Jacobs and Cully put up—“the Twins,” as the bos'n calls them. Aunty PhyllisⒶalteration in the MS was bornⒶalteration in the MS and brought up in Maryland—Eastern Shore. She was a slave, before the War.Ⓐalteration in the MS She is toward seventy,Ⓐalteration in the MS stands six feet one in her stockings, is as straightⒶalteration in the MS as a grenadier, and has the grit and the stride and the warlike bearing of one. But, being blackⒶtextual note, she is good-natured, to the bone. It is the born privilege and prerogative of her adorable race. She is cheerful, indestructibly cheerful and lively; and what a refreshment she is! Her laugh—her breezy laugh, her inspiring and uplifting laugh—is always ready, always on tap, and comes pealing out, peal upon peal, right from her heartⒶalteration in the MS, let the occasion for it be big or little; and it is so cordial and so catching that derelict after derelict has to forget his troubles and join in—even the ex-postman.

She is a Methodist, and as profoundly and strenuously religious as Uncle 'Rastus isn't. The pair are closeⒶtextual note friends in other things, but in the greater matter of religion—well, they debate that. Pretty much all the time; at least AuntyⒶemendation Phyllis debates it and 'Rastus listens; he does not get much chance to air his side. There is apparently but one text:Ⓐalteration in the MS are there such things as special providences, or aren't there? Aunty Phyllis “knows” there are, 'Rastus denies it. It is going to take time to [begin page 208] settle this. Both belligerents were on hand to-day, and of course there was a debate; but when I began on the Admiral's portrait the new interest suspended it.

After some general chat the Admiral drifted into the matter of the monument, and I was gladⒶalteration in the MS of that, for his views regarding Adam had only been hinted, as yet, not developed.

“As concerns Adam in general,” said the Admiral, “I have been thinking him over, several days, and I have to stand where I stood before; I have to rank him with the minor sacred characters, like Satan. But I want to be fair to Adam, andⒶalteration in the MS I make allowances; he hadn't had Satan's experiences, he hadn't Satan's age; if he had have hadⒶalteration in the MS, I don't say but what it mightⒶalteration in the MS have been different. But we have to judge by the facts we have, we can't go behind the record; we have to look at what he did, not at his might-have-dones. Adam was only a child, when you do him square justice, and so I don't hold him down to the mark the way I do Satan—I make allowances. Now then, you want to put Adam out of your minds,Ⓐalteration in the MS and take another child—it's the only way to get a right focus on the situation and understand it, because you've always been bred up to the fact that Adam was a full grown man, and so you forget to remember that he could be a man and a child both at the same time, and was. Well, put another child in his place. You say to that child, ‘let this orangeⒶalteration in the MS alone.’ The child understands that—ain't it so? Ain't it so, Aunty Phyllis?”

“Yes, marse Stormfield, de child un'stan'.”

“Next, you say to the child, ‘if you disobey, arrested development and ultimate extinction shallⒶalteration in the MS be your portion.’ What does that mean, Aunty Phyllis?”

“Umhh! Bless yo' soul, honey, if I was to die for it I couldn't tell you!”

Of course those long words compelled her wonder and admiration and brought out of her a powerful laugh—it was her way of expressing applause.Ⓐalteration in the MS

“What does it mean, 'Rastus?”

“Deed'n'deed, I don't know, marse Stormfield.Ⓐalteration in the MS”

“Why don't you know?”

“Becaze I hain't everⒶalteration in the MS struck dem words befo'Ⓐalteration in the MS.”

[begin page 209]

“Very well, that was the case with Adam. How was he going to know what ‘surely die’ meant? Die! Ⓐalteration in the MS He hadn't ever struck that word before; he hadn't ever seen a dead creature, there hadn't ever been a dead creature for him to see; there hadn't ever been any talk about dead things, because there hadn't ever been any dead things to talk about.”

He paused, and waited for the new idea to take hold. Presently Aunty Phyllis said—

“Well, dat do beat me! But it's so—I never see it befo'. It's so, sure as youⒶalteration in the MS bawn. Po' thing, it didn't mean nothin'Ⓐalteration in the MS to him, no mo'n de 'restedⒶalteration in the MS distinction mean to me when I hain't ever hearn 'bout it befo'.”

The other derelicts granted that this was a new view, and sound. Sound and surprising. The Admiral was charmed. He resumed.

“Now then, Adam didn't understandⒶalteration in the MS. Why didn't he come out and say so? Why didn't he ask what ‘surely die’ meant?Ⓐalteration in the MS Wouldn't he, if he had felt scared? If he had understood those awful words he would have been scared deaf and dumb and paralysedⒶemendation, wouldn't he? Aunty Phyllis, if they had been said to you, you would have left the apple alone, wouldn't you?”

“Yes, marse Stormfield, I mos' sholy would.”

“I wouldn't tetched it if it was de las' act,” said Uncle 'Rastus, fervently.

“Very wellⒶtextual note, it shows that he didn't suppose it was anything serious. The same with Eve. Just two heedless children, you see. They supposed it was some little ordinary punishment—they hadn't ever had any other kind; they didn't know there was any other kind. And so it was easy for Satan to get around them and persuade them to disobey.”

The mother-heart of Aunt Phyllis was touched, and she said—

“Po' little Adam—po' little Eve! It was de same like my little Henry:Ⓐalteration in the MS if I say, ‘dah you is, a-snoopin' 'roun' dat sugar agin; you dast to tetch it once, I lay I'll skin you!’ 'Cose de minute my back's turned he's got de sugar; 'caze he don't k'yer nothin' for de skinnin', de way I skun him. Yes-suh, I kin see it all, now—dey didn't k'yer nothin' for de skinnin', de way de good Lord allays skun 'em befo'.”

Uncle 'Rastus highly admired this speech, and admittedⒶalteration in the MS it, which greatly pleased Aunt Phyllis. 'Rastus added—

“It's plain to me, dey warn'tⒶalteration in the MS fa'rlyⒶemendation treated. If de' was a Adam—which [begin page 210] people says nowadays de'Ⓐalteration in the MS wasn't. But dat ain't nothin', justice is justice, en I want him to have de monument.”

“Me too!” from Aunt Phyllis.Ⓐalteration in the MS

Two new converts.Ⓐalteration in the MS I was prospering. The Admiral proceeded with his examination of Adam.

“As far as I can see, heⒶalteration in the MS showed up best in naming animals. Considering that he hadn't ever seen any animals before, I am of the opinion that he did it very well indeed, as far as he got. He had a sure touch, on the common ones—named them with insight and judacity,Ⓐalteration in the MS and the names stick, to this day, after allⒶalteration in the MS the wear and tear they've been through; it was when he struck the big ones and the longⒶalteration in the MS ones that he couldn't cash-in.Ⓐalteration in the MS Take the ornithorhyncus, for instance.”Ⓐalteration in the MS

The music of it and the majestic outlandishness of it broke AuntyⒶalteration in the MS Phyllis up again, and it took her a while to laugh out her admiring astonishment.Ⓐalteration in the MS

“Ornithorhyncus.” The Admiral paid out the great word lingeringly; it tasted good to him. “As we know, he skipped the ornithorhyncus. Left him out of the invoice. Why?”

He looked blandly around for answers. The others showed diffidence about entering the field, but Aunty Phyllis ventured—

“'Fraid of him, I bet you! I wouldn't gone anear him, not for pie!”

'Rastus turned upon her and said argumentatively—

“You old fool, what doesⒶalteration in the MS you know about him?”

“You mineⒶalteration in the MS yo' manners, 'Rastus Timson, er I lay I'll take 'n wipe de flo' wid you! What does I know 'bout him! I reckon I knows dis much: dey never gin him no name like dat less'n he deserve it. So dahⒶalteration in the MS, now!”

'Rastus—with the grateful air of one who has received new light—

“Well, it—yas, it sutt'nly do look reasonable. When a body git a name like dat, a body deserve it.”Ⓐalteration in the MS (Thoughtful pause.) “Same like Phyllis.”

The Admiral lifted his hand, and Phyllis quenched the battle-light in her eye, and reserved her retort. The dipsomaniacⒶemendation Strother, a dreamy and melancholy wreck, muttered absently, with a sigh—

“Ornitho . . . tho . . . rhyncus. Sounds like . . . like . . . well, I know I've had it.”

[begin page 211]

The Admiral resumed—

“In my judgmentⒶalteration in the MS the alphabet was just beginning to accumulate, in that early day, and there wasn't much of it yet, and so it seems reasonable that he had to skip it because he couldn't spell it.” The company did not need to speak out their praise of this striking and happy solution, their faces did the office of their tongues, and did it with an eloquence beyond the arts of speech. After a little, JimsonⒶalteration in the MS Flinders—young colored gentleman—stenographer, sub-editor of his race's paper—Ⓐalteration in the MS visitorⒶalteration in the MS—dressy—thinker, in a way—somewhat educated—said, with honest admiration—

“Why, it's so simple and plain and dead-sure, that what makes me wonder, is, that there didn't somebody hit on it long and long ago.”

This brought emphaticⒶalteration in the MS nods of agreement and approval, and the Admiral could not entirely conceal his pleasure. He took up his theme again.

“Adam skipped a lot of the creatures. This has been the astonishment of the world for—well, from away back. Ages, as you may say. But you can see, now, how it was. He didn't want to skip, he wanted to do his honest duty, but there he was—he hadn't the ammunition. He was equipped for short names, but not the others.Ⓐalteration in the MS If a bear came along—all right, he was loaded for bear. There was no embarrassment. The same if a cow came along; or a cat, or a horse, or a lion, or a tiger, or a hog, or a frog, or a worm, or a bat, or a snipe, or an ant, or a bee, or a trout, or a shark, or a whale, or a tadpole—anythingⒶalteration in the MS that didn't strain his alphabet, you know: they would find him on post and tranquil; he would register them and they would passⒶalteration in the MS on, discussing their names, mostⒶalteration in the MS of them pleased—such asⒶalteration in the MS leopards and scarlet tanagers and such, some of them pained—such as buzzardsⒶalteration in the MS, and alligators, and so on, the others ashamed—such as squidsⒶalteration in the MS, and polecats, and that kind; but all resigned, in a way, and reconciled, reconnizingⒶalteration in the MS that he was new to the business and doing the best he could. Plain sailing, and satisfactory, you see. ButⒶalteration in the MS in the course of trade, along comes the pterodactyl—”

There was a general gasp.

“Could he spell that? No, sir. Solomon couldn't. Nor no other early Christian—Ⓐalteration in the MSnot in that early time. It was very different from now,Ⓐalteration in the MS in those days. Anybody can spell pterodactyl now, but—”

[begin page 212]

The eager and the ignorant interrupted the Admiral and asked him to instruct them in that formidable orthography,Ⓐalteration in the MS but he shivered slightly and hastenedⒶalteration in the MS on, without seeming to hear—

—”but in those old early geological times the alphabetⒶalteration in the MS hadn't evenⒶalteration in the MS got up to the Old Red Sandstone period yet, and it was worse in Adam's time, of course; so, as he didn't want to let on that he couldn't spell it, he just said, ‘Call again, office hours over for to-day,’ and pulled down the shades and locked up and went home, the same as if nothing had happened.

“It was natural, I think, and right enough, too. I would have done it; most people would. Well, he had a difficult time, limited the way he was, and it is only fair for us to take that into account. Every few days along would come an animal as big as a house—grazing along, eating elephants and pulling down the synagogues and things:Ⓐalteration in the MS ‘DinosauriumiguanodonⒶalteration in the MS,’ says Adam; ‘tell him to come Sunday;’ and would close up and take a walk. And the very next day, like enough, along comes a creation a mile long, chewing rocks and scraping the hills away with its tail, and lightening and thundering with its eyes and its lungs, and Eve scoopsⒶalteration in the MS up her hair over her arm and takes to the woods, and Adam says ‘Megatheriomylodonticoplesiosauriasticum—give him his first syllable and get him to take the rest on the instalment plan,’ which it seems to me was one of the best ideas Adam ever had, and in every way creditable to him. He had to save some of the alphabet, he couldn't let one animal have it all, it would not have been fair, anyway.Ⓐalteration in the MS

“I will say it again, I think Adam was at his level best when he was naming the creatures, and most to be praised. If you look up your fossiliferous paleontology, I acknowledgeⒶalteration in the MS you will have to admit that where he registeredⒶalteration in the MS one creature he skipped three hundred and fifty, but that is not his fault, it was the fault of his alphabet-plant. You can't build a battleship out of a scrap-heap. Necessarily heⒶemendation Ⓐalteration in the MS couldn't take the whole of one of those thirteen-syllabers and pay spot cash; the most he could do was to put up a margin. Well, you know what happens to that kind of financing.”

[begin page 213]

George's DiaryⒶtextual note—Continued

At this point the marchesa came tripping girlishly forward from the otherⒶalteration in the MS end of the ward-room, the bos'nⒶemendation half-spiraling along after her, pivoting on his game leg—with a corky squeak—Ⓐalteration in the MSand fetching a curve with his good one, in accordance with the requirements of his locomotion-plant. The poor old girl was girlishly indignant about something—one could see it in her eyes and in her manner. She came straight to the Admiral and broke into his discourse with a complaint against the bos'n. Another man would have been annoyed; the Admiral was not.Ⓐalteration in the MS He is frequently a little sharp with the marchesa, but as a rule he soon softens and looks remorseful and begins to betray his discomfort and repentance in ways which beg forgiveness without humbling him to the spoken prayer. It is a mystery; I don't understand it. She is fretful, offensive, ungracious, disagreeable, ungrateful, impossible to please, and I can't see why these people don't fly out at her every day and giveⒶalteration in the MS her what she deserves. But they don't. They put up with it, they are mistakenly gentle with her, and of course she goes right on. Every time I think the bos'n is going to let her have it, he most strangely doesn't. He says irritating things to her whenever he can think of any to say, but there is no viciousness in them, no temper; often they are merely idiotic, yet he is not idiotic. He doesn't seem to know they are idiotic; they seem to drop out of him without intention and without consciousness. But they irritate the marchesa, and then he doesn't seem to understand why they should. If he would give her a dressing-down once, it would do her good. And he is quite competent.Ⓐalteration in the MS But no, she can't seem to exasperate him into a harshness. The same with Jimmy and Aunt Martha: they are persistently and devilishly kind to her, in spite of all she can do. They even strain the human possibilities to be benevolent to her: for they go with her daily on her long and objectless tramps about the streets, and she in that [begin page 214] outrage that she wears—tricked out in a gay and girlyⒶalteration in the MS costume which is all of twenty years too young for her;Ⓐalteration in the MS and stared at, and she and her escort laughed at, by everybody that comes along, of course. What can the mystery be? Every time I think the bos'n is going to explain it, he doesn't. The same with Jimmy and Aunt Martha. And they are all like what the bos'nⒶalteration in the MS said about the Admiral: if you want to get at his privacies, wait till it suits him to start the subject himself—you will get nothing byⒶalteration in the MS trying to start it. Every night the Admiral prays for the salvation of that unnamed person again, and I would like to know if it is himself, but I suppose I must wait until some member of the family starts the subject. This only keeps my curiosity fretting, and does no good. I have to assume that it is the Admiral, and it is not pleasant—a bluff and open self-appreciation is more in his line.Ⓐalteration in the MS

The marchesa's temper was pretty well up; she was flushed, and her lips quivered nervously. The Admiral listened patiently to her charges; respectfully, too, though there was nothing in them. It turned out that she and the bos'n had been having a scrap over the Rev. Caleb Parsons—again. This was a visitor—not a derelict. He is whatⒶalteration in the MS we call a “regular,” as distinguished from casualⒶalteration in the MS visitors to the Anchor Watch. He isⒶalteration in the MS disliked. That isⒶalteration in the MS enough for the marchesa: she always managesⒶalteration in the MS to like—or think she likesⒶalteration in the MS—whoever or whatever is dislikedⒶalteration in the MS by the rest of us. So she is championingⒶalteration in the MS Mr. Parsons in these days—just as she had championed Satan until the Admiral took him under his wing that night, then she turned against him, horns, hoofs and all,Ⓐalteration in the MS and was so bitter that she said she wouldn't lend him a shovel of coal if he was freezing to death. That is what the bos'n said she said, but she denied it and was in a great fury about it, and said she never said coal at all, she said brimstone. As if that made any great difference!Ⓐalteration in the MS And she complained to the Admiral and said the bos'n was always distorting her words and making them seem worse than they were, and she wanted him punished; whereas the bos'n complained that she was always distorting his words. And he was right. So was sheⒶalteration in the MS. Both of them were persistently guilty of that same offence.

As I have said, the Watch did not like Rev. Mr. Parsons; it was not becauseⒶalteration in the MS he wasn't a good enough man, and well-meaning, but because he hadn't any talent and was over-sentimental. He was always getting [begin page 215] thunderstruck over the commonest every-day things the CreatorⒶalteration in the MS did, and saying “Lo, what God hath wrought!” The bos'n called him Lo, for short, the Anchor Watch adopted it, and this aggravated the marchesa, and she added it to her list of grudges against the bos'n, and between them they made it do good service in their debates. It was upon trifles like this that the marchesa livedⒶalteration in the MS and throve.

As usual, the present charges were of no consequence,Ⓐalteration in the MS and not worth coming to the Admiral about, but he listened, good man, without fret. She wanted the bos'n put in irons—a thingⒶalteration in the MS she was always longing to accomplish, but she never could. She had two or three of these little charges this time. To begin with, she said she was remarking upon Mr. Parsons's early historyⒶalteration in the MS and how good he was, and at last had his reward and heard God call him to His ministry; and sheⒶalteration in the MS said the bos'n interrupted her and said it was probably an echo, the call wasⒶalteration in the MS from the other direction—

And sheⒶalteration in the MS was going on to give the bos'n down the banks, when the Admiral put up his hand for silence. Then he sat there and thought it out. Thought it out, and gave his verdict. To this effect: that the sky can't produce an echo, for the skyⒶalteration in the MS is made of air and emptiness; a call coming from below would haveⒶalteration in the MS to have somethingⒶalteration in the MS hard and solid to hit against and rebound from, otherwise it would keep on going and never be heard of again: so, as this call was heard, it is proof that it did not comeⒶalteration in the MS from below; not coming from below, it could not be an echo, and wasn't; not being an echo, it had to come down from above, and did; therefore, the bos'n was “in the wrong, and is decided against. But there is no punishment, no harm being intendedⒶalteration in the MS. We will pass to the next charge if you please, madam.”

The marchesa blazed out and denounced the verdict as beingⒶalteration in the MS “rotten with nepotism;” and on top of that she shook her little nubbin of a fist in the Admiral'sⒶalteration in the MS face and called himⒶalteration in the MS plainly and squarelyⒶalteration in the MS a “hardened and shameless old nepot.”

The Admiral winced, but made no retort. Everybody was shocked and offended, and Aunty Phyllis spoke out without reserve and said it warn't to nobody's credit to live on the Admiral's goodness and hostility and then call him a teapot. The marchesa would have resented this, and Aunty Phyllis cleared for action andⒶalteration in the MS invited her to come on, [begin page 216] but the Admiral interfered. Then once more he asked for the next charge, andⒶemendation theⒶtextual note marchesa furnished it:

“He said I was so deaf I couldn't read fine print.”

The Admiral's face clouded up and heⒶalteration in the MS gave the bos'n a severe look and said—

“Tom Larkin, what do you say to this charge?”

The bos'n answered, without bitterness, but in a wounded tone—Ⓐalteration in the MS

“I give you the honest truth, sir, I never said it. She is always distorting my words.Ⓐalteration in the MS All I said was, that she was so near-sighted she couldn't hear it thunder.”

The Admiral went away down downⒶalteration in the MS Ⓐtextual note into this difficult thing with a patience and a judicial calm that were beyond belief. He reasoned it out, detail by detail, and decided that both parties were in the wrong—because:

“Deafness has nothing to do with reading fine print—it is a matter of vision, not auricularity. Therefore the charge has no legal standing, no basis; it fallsⒶalteration in the MS to the ground of its own weight. The defendant was in the wrong to make it, it not being true; but the plaintiff cannot claim that it is a slander, because, true or untrue, it is merely an infirmity, and innocent of criminality, all infirmities being visitations of God and visitations of God being not actionable, by reason of lack of jurisdiction. The other charge is of the same nature, substantially. Whether true or false, the act of not being able to hear it thunder on the part of a near-sighted person is not reprehensible, because not intentional, not dependent the one upon the other, and both coming under the head of infirmities—hence properly recognizable asⒶalteration in the MS visitations of God and not actionable, thereforeⒶalteration in the MS not slanderous, by reason of lack of jurisdiction. And so it is manifest that both parties to theseⒶalteration in the MS charges are guilty: the defendant for making them with probableⒶalteration in the MS intent to slander, and the plaintiff for claiming them as slanders when they are not slanders because based upon infirmities and not avoidable. And both parties are innocent, of a necessity, considering the circumstances; the defendant being innocent of accomplishing his probable design, and the plaintiff through not being able to convict him of it, although such was her intention. The cases are dismissed.”

Sometimes he makes my head ache, it is so difficult to understand him.Ⓐalteration in the MS And I can't see how he understands himself, when he strips and [begin page 217] goes floundering out into these tumbling seas of complexities, but he probably does; thinks he does, I know; and certainly he always gets through, and wades ashore looking refreshed and all right.

George's Diary—Continued

I had the hope that we were going to get back to Adam, now, but it failed. The marchesa was not in any degree satisfied with the way things had gone with her, and she could not reconcile herself to the idea of leaving them so; and so she begged for one more chance. The Admiral sighed, and told her to go ahead; go ahead, and try to let this be the last, for the present. Whereupon she accused the bos'n to this effect:

“He said I said the lack of money is the root of all evil. I never said it. I was quoting, and said the love of money is the root of all evil.”

The Admiral's eyes flashed angrily and he burst out with—

“Another of your damned trivialities! Now look here, marcheesa—”Ⓐalteration in the MS

He stopped there. His lips remained parted, the fireⒶalteration in the MS in his eyes sank downⒶalteration in the MS to a smoulder. He sat like that—thinking—and he had that far-away look which comes upon him when something has hit his thought a blow and stunned it, or sent it wandering in other fields. In the stillness he loomed there on his raised platformⒶalteration in the MS like that, looking like a bronze image, he was so motionless. We sat looking at him, and waiting. You could hear the faint wailingⒶalteration in the MS of the winds outside, rising and falling, rising and falling, you could catch the rumble and murmur of the distant traffic. Presently he muttered, as to himself—

“The lackⒶalteration in the MS of money . . . . the lack Ⓐalteration in the MS Ⓐemendation Ⓐtextual note . . . . is the root of all evil. The . . . .”

He fell silent again. There was no passion in his face, now; the harshness had passed out of it and left only gentleness. As one in a reverie, his eyes began to drift to this figure and that and the other, and dwell a little space upon each—dreamily, and no words uttered. Naturally my gaze journeyed with his.

LordⒶalteration in the MS, those pathetic figures! Here, and thereⒶalteration in the MS and yonder they hung [begin page 218] limp upon their chairs, lost to the present, busy with the past, the unreturning past—Ⓐalteration in the MSthere, brooding,Ⓐalteration in the MS they hung,Ⓐalteration in the MS the defeated, the derelicts! They all had a droop; each a droop of his own, and each telling its own story, without need of speech. How eloquent is an attitude—how much it can say! When a silence falls, we who are alive start out of our thoughts and look about us, but it descends upon these dead-in-hopeⒶalteration in the MS like the benediction of night, and conveys them gently out of this workaday world and the consciousness of it.

There sat Strother the dipsomaniac, his graying head drooped,Ⓐalteration in the MS gazing at the floor—and not seeing it. He was awake only a moment ago, he is dreaming now, already. A flabby ruin, his flesh colorless and puffy with drink, his nerves lax, his hands uncertain and quivery. You would not think it, but he was a man, once; and held up his head with the best; and had money to waste—and wasted it; and had a wife who lived in the light of his eyes; and fourⒶalteration in the MS children who loved him with a love that made him proud, and paid him a homage that made him humble, so innocent and honest and exaggerated it was. Well, his money is gone, the respect of men is gone, his self-respect is gone, his lifeⒶalteration in the MS is bankrupt;Ⓐalteration in the MS of all his possessionsⒶalteration in the MS nothing is left but five accusingⒶalteration in the MS graves, and memories that tearⒶalteration in the MS his heart!Ⓐalteration in the MS

Near by, droop “the Twins.” They are always together. In a bygone timeⒶalteration in the MS Jacobs was rich, and his money made him happy—happier than anything else could have made him. Cully was his coachman. Speculation impoverished Jacobs; sudden and great wealth came to Cully from a departed Australian uncle, and Jacobs became Cully's coachman. By and by, speculation made a pauper of Cully. Now in their gray age they are derelicts. The Admiral finds odd jobs for them when he can, their brother derelicts helping in this when opportunity offers. They board cheaply with AuntyⒶalteration in the MS Phyllis's humbleⒶalteration in the MS colored waifs and hand-to-mouths, and come here to dream their great days over again, and count up the money they used to have, and mourn over this and that and the other disastrous investment,Ⓐalteration in the MS and reason out, for the thousandth time, just how each mistakeⒶalteration in the MS came to be made, and how each and all of them could have been so easily avoided if they had only done so and so. Then they sigh and sorrow over those dreary “onlies”Ⓐalteration in the MS . . . . and take up the tale again, and go wearying over it, and over it, and [begin page 219] over it,Ⓐalteration in the MS in the same old weather-worn and goalless track, poor old fellows!

Other derelicts sit drooping, here and there—the forgotten ex-Senator, once so illustrious and so powerful; the ragged General, once so great, once so honored—long ago; the Poet, once so popular and so prosperous, untilⒶalteration in the MS he took a stand for straight talk and principle, and lost his place on the magazine and never could get another start. And so on and so on, derelict after derelict—a melancholy landscape to cast your eye over. And beyond them, walkingⒶalteration in the MS wearily to and fro, to and fro, to and fro, likeⒶalteration in the MS a tired animal in a cage, is Peters the inventor. He is always doing that. I wonder when he rests? If you speak to him he gives you a dazed look and a wan smile, and takes up his dreary tramp again. He scraped and scraped, spent and spent, and was always going to get his great invention launched—next month—the month after, sure— then, oh, thenⒶalteration in the MS the roses would come back to his young wife's cheeks, and she would have silks to her back, only just wait a little while! And he saw her youth pass, and age come, and the patient face fade toward the inevitable—and that came, and left him forlorn, to fight his fight alone. Always the vision was risingⒶalteration in the MS before him of a capitalist—a capitalist who would give his great invention to the world and add another splendid factor to its advancing civilization and its fabulous forces. There was nothing needed but that capitalist—who never came. In his desperation, Peters committed a forgery, and sat in a prison five years, eating his heart out.Ⓐalteration in the MS Now he walks the floor, and dreams of what might have been—what might have been—what might have been! if only the capitalist had come!

The ex-postman haunts his neighborhood—out of a natural fellow-feeling for him, perhaps; and droops his head and dreams of his ruined life, and of howⒶalteration in the MS it came about.

The Admiral was still gazing, lost in thought. He came to himself, now, and said, very quietly—

“The lack of . . . . both are true! The case is dismissed.”

I thought it a good verdict, but the marchesa was of another opinion—mainly because she was disappointed again, most likely—and she began to rail against it fiercely. Nobody interrupted her, and she kept it up until she ran out of vitriol. But it did good service. Its electricity [begin page 220] cleared the air; droveⒶalteration in the MS away the gloom, and let in some cheerfulness. We all felt better, the Admiral chirked up and was himself again. I think he was grateful to the marchesa; he looked so, and he said to her, in almost a petting way, as it seemed to me—

“Let it go, marcheesa, put it behind you and let's go about and try a slant up to wind'ard, so to speak, and forget about it—change the subject, you understand, if we can find one. It'sⒶalteration in the MS wholesome—a change is—if a person hits it right.”

Two or three suggested a return to Adam, and wanted to hear the rest aboutⒶalteration in the MS Ⓐtextual note him, in case there was anything lacking to make his rehabilitation complete. It flattered the Admiral, and he looked nearly as gratified as he was.

“Well,” he said, reflectively, “let me see. Since you want it, I think there's a word more that I would like to say. Only just a word, in palliation of his simpleness and unworldliness, as you may say. Eve's, too.Ⓐalteration in the MS I think it was beautiful, the amount they didn't knowⒶalteration in the MS about common ordinary things. Take the matter of clothes, for instance. It is perfectly astonishing, the way they would go about like—Ⓐalteration in the MSlike that. And perfectly unconcerned, too.Ⓐalteration in the MS But I am not reproaching them for it—no, just the contrary. They areⒶalteration in the MS to be praised. They had the right kind of modesty, to my mind—the kind that ain't aware of itself. I think it's a much better sort than these statutes that standⒶalteration in the MS around in parks with a fig-leaf on to set a good example. I believe it's a mistake. Who ever follows it? Nobody.Ⓐalteration in the MS Adam and Eve didn't think about their modesty, didn't fuss about it, didn't even know they had it;Ⓐalteration in the MS and so it was sound modesty, real modesty; whereas some people would have gone blustering around.Ⓐalteration in the MS The more I think of those beautiful lives of theirs, the more I lean to the idea of the monument.

“And there's other reasons. Adam is fading out. It is on account of Darwin and that crowd. I can see that he is not going to last much longer. There'sⒶalteration in the MS a plenty of signs. He is getting belittled to a germ—a little bit of a speck that you can't see without a microscope powerful enough to raise a gnat to the size of a church. They take that speck and breed from it: first a flea, then a flyⒶalteration in the MS, then a bug, then cross theseⒶalteration in the MS and get a fish, then a raft of fishes, all kinds,Ⓐalteration in the MS then cross the whole lot and get a reptile, then work up the reptiles till you've got a supply of [begin page 221] lizards and spiders and toads and alligators and Congressmen and so on, then cross the entire lot again and get a plant of amphibiums,Ⓐalteration in the MS which areⒶalteration in the MS half-breeds and do business both wet and dry, such as turtles and frogs and ornithorhyncuses and so on, and cross-up again and get a mongrel bird, sired by a snake and dam'd by a bat, resulting in a pterodactyl,Ⓐalteration in the MS then they develop him, and water his stock till they've got the air filled with a million things that wear feathers, then they cross-up all the accumulated animal lifeⒶalteration in the MS to date and fetch out a mammal, and start-in diluting again till there's cows and tigers and rats and elephants and monkeysⒶalteration in the MS and everything you want down to the Missing Link, and out of him and a mermaid they propagateⒶalteration in the MS Man, and there you are! Everything ship-shape and finished-up, and nothing to do but lay low and wait and see if it was worth the time and expense.

“Well, then, was it? To my mind, it don't stand to reason. They say it took a hundred million years. Suppose you ordered a Man at the start, and had a chance to look over the plans and specifications—which would you take, Adam or the germ? Naturally you would say Adam is business, the germ ain't; one is immediate and sure, the other is speculative and uncertain. Well, I have thought these things all over, and my sympathies are with Adam. Adam was like us, and so he seems near to us, and dear. He is kin, blood kin, and my heart goes out to him in affection. But I don't feel that way about that germ. The germ is too far away—and not only that, but such a wilderness of reptiles between. You can't skip the reptiles and set your loveⒶalteration in the MS on the germ; no, if they are ancestors, it is your duty to include them and love them. Well, you can't do that. You would come up against the dinosaur and your affections would cool off. You couldn't love a dinosaur the way you would another relative. There would always be a gap. Nothing could ever bridge it. Why, it gives a person the dry gripes just to look at him!

“Very well, then, where do we arrive? Where do we arrive with our respect, our homage, our filial affection? At Adam! At Adam, every time. We can't build a monument to a germ, but we can build one to Adam, whoⒶalteration in the MS is in the way to turn myth in fifty years and be entirely forgotten in two hundred. We can build a monument and save his name to the world forever, and we'll do it! What do you say?”

[begin page 222]

It was carried, with a fine enthusiasm; and it was beautiful to see the pleasure beam out all over the Admiral when that tribute burst forth. My own pleasure was no less than his; for with his favor enlisted in my enterprise, it was recognizable that a great step had been made toward the accomplishment of the grandest dream of my life.

The Diary Continued

Ten days later Ⓐemendation. The derelictsⒶalteration in the MS get a certain easment by talkingⒶalteration in the MS to me about their sorrows.Ⓐalteration in the MS I can see it. I thought it was because my sympathy was honest and prompt. That is true, it is a partⒶalteration in the MS of it, the bos'n says, but not all of it. The rest of it, he says, is, that I amⒶalteration in the MS new. They have told their stories to each other many times, for griefⒶalteration in the MS is repetitious; and this kind of wear eventually blunts a listener'sⒶalteration in the MS interest and discourages the teller,Ⓐalteration in the MS then both parties retire within their shells and feed upon that slow-starving diet, Introspection. But a new ear, an untired ear, a fresh and willing and sympathetic ear—they like that!

About a week ago theⒶemendation Ⓐalteration in the MS bos'n said another thing:

“They've all one burden to their song, haven't they?”

“Yes. Sorrow.”

“Right enough, but there's more than one kind of sorrow. There's the kind that you haven't helped to bring about—family bereavements, and such; and then there's the kind that comes of things you did, your own self, and would do so different if it was to do over again.”

“Yes, I get the idea. That kind is repentance. It's when you have done a wrong thing.”

“You've got the name right—repentance. But you don't cover enough ground with it. Repentance ain't confined to doing wrong, sometimes you catch it just as sharp for doing right.”

I doubted that, and said it was against experience.

“No—against teaching,” the bos'n retorted. “You get taught, right [begin page 223] along up, that if you always do the rightest you can, your conscience will pat you on the back and be satisfied; but experience learns a person that there's exceptions to the rule. We've got both kinds here.”

We couldn't argue it any further, because there was an interruption. Aunt Martha of the welcome face and the lovely spirit shone in upon us like another sunbeam, for a moment, to say the Admiral wanted the large Atlas and couldn't find it, and did the bos'n know where it was? Yes, and said he would go and send for it right away, adding, “it got left behindⒶalteration in the MS at Hell's Delight when we broke camp there—I forgot it.”

That was a private summer resort, instituted by the Admiral for the derelicts. Hell's Delight was not its official nameⒶalteration in the MS; in fact it never had one. In the beginning the Rev. Lo-what-God-hath-WroughtⒶalteration in the MS had called it “The Isles of the Blest,” and every one liked it, but when the bos'n got to referring to it by that other name it was soon adopted because it was short and unpretentious, and the pretty one fell into disuse and was forgotten.

I began to take note, and presently found that the bos'n was right about the conflicting sources of repentance. The revealments of my sitters showed that several of them were penitentsⒶalteration in the MS of the class that regret and grieve over righteous things done. It cost me a pang to have to register these exceptions to the fairer and pleasanter law of my teachingⒶalteration in the MS and training, but it had to be done, the hard facts of experience put in their claim and stood by it and made it good.

For instance, there was the case of Henry Clarkson, Poet: the derelictⒶalteration in the MS with the deep eyes, the melancholy eyes, the haunting eyes, the hollow face, the thin hands, the frail figure—draped in that kind of clothes that hang, droop, shift about the person in unstable folds and wrinkles with every movement, take a grip nowhere, and seem to have nothing in them. He is old, yet is not gray,Ⓐalteration in the MS and that unpleasant incongruity makes him seem older than he really is; his hair is long and black, and hangs lank andⒶalteration in the MS straight down beside his face and reminds one of Louis Stevenson.Ⓐalteration in the MS

The first stage of his life went well enough. He struggled up, poor and unaware of it,Ⓐalteration in the MS his heart full of the joy of lifeⒶalteration in the MS and the dance-musicⒶalteration in the MS of hope, his head full of dreams. He climbed and climbed, diligently, [begin page 224] laboriously, up through mean employments, toward a high and distant goalⒶalteration in the MS, and there was pleasure in it. He kept his eye fixedⒶalteration in the MS steadily on that goal, expecting to make it, determinedⒶalteration in the MS to make it, and he didⒶalteration in the MS make it; and stood on that high place exultant,Ⓐalteration in the MS and looked out over the world he had conquered with his two hands. Far down on the earthⒶalteration in the MS stood the memory of him, the vision of him—shop-boy, errand-boy, anything you please; and here he stood, now, on this dizzy alp, at twenty-eight,Ⓐalteration in the MS his utmost ambition attained:Ⓐalteration in the MS literary person, risingⒶalteration in the MS poet, first assistant editor of a magazine!

It was a wonderfulⒶalteration in the MS thing to see, how the old dead fires flamed up in his eyes when he got to that proud climax and stood again in fancyⒶalteration in the MS upon that greatⒶemendation Ⓐalteration in the MS Ⓐtextual note summit and surveyed his vanquished world! And he lingered there lovingly, and told me all about the sublimities of the position, and the honors and attentions it brought him; told me how the greatest in the region round aboutⒶalteration in the MS fellowed him with themselves, and familiarlyⒶalteration in the MS chatted and laughed with him, and consulted him on largeⒶalteration in the MS affairs; and how there was a seat for him at the dais-table of every banquet, and his name on the program for a stirring poem;Ⓐalteration in the MS and how satisfied with him the aging editor-in-chief was, and how it was well understood and accepted that he was to be that great functionary's successor, all in good time . . . .

He wasⒶalteration in the MS so eager, so earnest, so inspired, so happy, so proud, in the pouring forth of these moving memories,Ⓐalteration in the MS that he made me lose myself! I was no longer I, he was no longer the mouldering derelict:Ⓐalteration in the MS he lived his sumptuous and coruscating romance over again under my eyes, and it was all as ifⒶalteration in the MS I was in itⒶtextual note and livingⒶalteration in the MS it with him! How realⒶalteration in the MS it was!

Then all of a sudden we crumbled to ashes, as it were! For his tale turned down-hill on the sunset side; his voice and his face lost their animation; the pet of fortune, the courted of men, was gone, the fadedⒶalteration in the MS derelict was back again—all in a moment. It seemed to make a chill in the airⒶalteration in the MS.

He told me how his ruin came about, and how little he was expecting it, how poorly prepared for it. EverythingⒶalteration in the MS was goingⒶalteration in the MS well with him. He had recently seen one of his grandest dreams come to fruit:Ⓐalteration in the MS he had issued his poems in a volume; a fine large step for a person who had [begin page 225] been of the ephemerals before;Ⓐalteration in the MS he felt that permanent fame, real fame, even national fame,Ⓐalteration in the MS was close ahead of him, now. The poems wouldn'tⒶalteration in the MS bring money,Ⓐalteration in the MS but that was nothing, poems are not written for that. And he had made still another large step—his idol had appointed the wedding day. The pair had been waiting until the editorial salary should reach a figure that would support two in a fairly adequate way. It had reached it, now, and would by and byⒶalteration in the MS double with the impending chief-editorship. Well, it was at this time of all times, when the poet's sun was blazing at high noon, that the disaster fell.Ⓐalteration in the MS

He madeⒶtextual note a discovery one morning, while reading proof. It was an article in praise of an enterprise which some unusually good people were getting up for the profit of the working girl, the mechanic, the day laborer, the widow, the orphan—for all, indeed, who might haveⒶalteration in the MS poor little hoards earning mere pennies in savings banks. These could get into the enterprise on the instalment plan, and on terms so easy that the poorestⒶalteration in the MS could not feel the burden. For the first year the dividend would be ten per centⒶemendation—not a mere possible or probable ten per cent, but “guaranteed.” In the second year this would certainly be increased by fifty per cent, and in all probability doubled. Parties proposing to subscribe for the stock must lose no time. It could be had at par during thirty days; after that, for thirty days, the price would be 1.25; after which the price would be augmented by another 25.

The discoverer was as happy as Columbus. He had saved the magazine!Ⓐalteration in the MS But for the accident that he had happenedⒶalteration in the MS to be reading proof that morning, to relieve the proof-reader of a part of his burden and hastenⒶalteration in the MS the “make-up,” this vile masked advertisement would almost certainly have gone into the forms, escaping detection until too late. He carried the poisonous thing to the sanctum, and laid it before the chief editor. Without a word; for he did not want to betray his joy and pride in his lucky achievement. The chief ran his eyeⒶalteration in the MS over the opening paragraph, then looked blandlyⒶalteration in the MS up and said—

“Well?”

That was all. No astonishment, no outraged feelings, no—well, no nothing. Just tranquillity. Not even a compliment to the discoverer. Young Clarkson was very much surprised—not to say stunned. It took him a little while to find some words to say. Then, said he—

[begin page 226]

“Please read a little more of it, and you will see that it is reallyⒶalteration in the MS a masked advertisement—smuggled past the staff by the advertising agent, without doubt.”

“Umm. You think so, do you?”

“I feel sure of it, sir. It came near getting into the forms; I stopped it just in time.”

“You did, did you?”

“Yes, sir.”

The chief's manner was very calm, very placid, almost uncomfortably so.

“Mr. Clarkson, have you been officially authorized to stop articles?” A faint red tinge appeared in the chief's cheek and a just perceptible glimmer as of summer lightnings in his eye when he said this.Ⓐalteration in the MS

“Oh, no, sir, certainly not! I only thought—”

“Then will you be kind enough to tell me why you took it upon yourself to stop this one?”

“I—I—why, I hardly know what to say, I am soⒶalteration in the MS—so unpre—I thought I was doing the magazine a great service to stop it—and timeⒶalteration in the MS was precious.”

“Umm. What was your objection to the article?”

“If you would only read it, Mr. Haskell! then you would see what it is, and you would approve what I did. I meant no harm, I was only—If you willⒶalteration in the MS read it, you will see that it is just the old wreckedⒶalteration in the MS “Prize-Guess” swindle hidden under a new name. It robbed hundreds of thousands of poor people of their savings before, and is starting out now to do the like again. The magazine's moral character and reputation are without spot, and this article could heavilyⒶalteration in the MS damage these great assets; and so I at once—”

“Yes, you did. . . . . Well,Ⓐalteration in the MS well, let it go, I think you meant well. Sit down; I will throw some light.”

Henry took a seat, wondering what kind of light he was going to get. The chief said—

“I do not wish to mince matters, and I will be perfectly frank. This is a great and prosperous periodical; to continue so, it must sail with the times. The times are changing—we must change with them, or drop behind in the race. Very well, this is Ⓐalteration in the MS immoral advertising and iniqui- [begin page 227] tous , but the others are engaging in it, and we've got to fall into line. Our board of directors have so decided. It pays quintuple rates, you see; that hits them where they live.Ⓐalteration in the MS It is odious, it is infamous, it kept me awake several nights, thinking of the shame of it—that this should come upon my gray headⒶalteration in the MS after an honorable life! . . . .Ⓐalteration in the MS But it is bread and butter; I have a family; I am old, I could not get another place at my time of life if I should lose this one; I must stick to it while my strength lasts. I have had principles, and have never dishonored them—you will grant me that?”

“Indeed I do—oh, out ofⒶalteration in the MS my heart!”

“Well, they are gone, I have turned them out of doors—I could not afford them. Ah, you stung me so, when you brought this accusing thing here! I was getting wonted to my chains, my slavery, by keeping them out of sight. I wanted to strike you for reminding me.”

“Forgive me! I did not know what I was doing.”

“Oh, it wasn't you—it wasⒶalteration in the MS myself, slapping my own face over your shoulder, so to speak. I haveⒶalteration in the MS succumbed, Benson has succumbed. He wrote that article—by command of the directors.Ⓐalteration in the MS Henry, you have a good place here. In time you will step into my shoes, Benson into yours. I will not advise you—that is, urge you—I cannot venture such a responsibility as that—but if you are willing to stay with us under the new conditions, I shall be glad—more glad than I can say. Will you stay?”

“It is hard to part with you, sir, for you have been a good friend to me, but I feel I must not stay. Indeed I could not. I could not bear it.”

“How right you are, my boy, how absolutely right! I am grown so uncertain of my species of late that I was afraid—half afraid, at any rate—that you would stay. You are young, you can get another place—this world is for the young, they are its kings.”

Henry went to the counting-room, got his money, left his resignation, and went forth into the world a clean man and free.

Then, proud and light of step, he went to his bride-elect, and told her his news. . . .

Those dots are to indicate that a blank in Henry's tale occurred at that point.

I felt that blank. The derelicts are always leaving such. They skip a [begin page 228] great episode—maybe the greatest in their lives—and pass, without dropping so much as a crumb of that feast, to their next stage. You get not a trace of that episode except what your imagination can furnish you.Ⓐalteration in the MS

Henry supposed he could get a new berth right away. He was mistaken; it did not happen. He went seeking, from town to town. ForⒶalteration in the MS a while he was merely surprised at his non-success;Ⓐalteration in the MS but by and by he was dismayed. Terror succeeded dismay. They turned him out of his lastⒶalteration in the MS boarding house; his money was all goneⒶalteration in the MS. He wandered everywhither—further and still further away, subsisting as he could, doing what he could find to do, in whatever corner of the earth he chanced to be—shoveling sand, scouring pavements, sawing wood, selling papers, finally doing clog dances and general utility in a “nigger” show.

After three years of this, he surrendered; from AustraliaⒶalteration in the MS he wrote Mr. HaskellⒶalteration in the MS and begged for his place again, saying he was done with virtue and its rewards, and wanted to eat dirt the rest of his days.

After a month or two the answer came—from Benson: HaskellⒶalteration in the MS was dead, Benson was chief, now, and sorry there was no vacancy on the staff.

It is thirty-three years since Henry resigned, on that proud day, that unforgettableⒶemendation day; he has never had another literary situation since. He has wandered and wandered, regretting, lamenting, and at last he is here, member of the Anchor Watch, a forlorn and cheerless derelict—with all hope of better things gone out of him long ago.

So ends his tale. Now then, he is one of those people the bos'n classified to me: people who do a thing they know to be clearly right, absolutely right and clean and honorable, and later come to grieve over it and repent it. Henry has been miserably grieving over that good and righteous act of his for thirty years. Benson is well off, influentialⒶalteration in the MS, important, honoredⒶalteration in the MS, stands high in his guild from one ocean to the other,Ⓐalteration in the MS is a deacon or a churchⒶalteration in the MS committee or something, and has children and a grandchild. It makes me wretched to see this poor derelict clasp his headⒶalteration in the MS with his handsⒶalteration in the MS and impotentlyⒶalteration in the MS cry out in his anguish—

“Oh, to think I could be in his place, if only I had not been such a fool—oh, such a fool, such a vain, stupid, conceited fool! Oh, why did I ever do that insane thing!”

[begin page 229]

It seems a tragic tale to me. I think it is tragic. When he finished it my mind ran back over it and againⒶalteration in the MS I saw him make his eagerⒶalteration in the MS climb, a hopeful and happy boy; and I climbed with him, and felt for him, hoped for him; when he stood on his great summit a victor, I was there, and seemed to be in the sky, we were so far aloftⒶalteration in the MS and the spread of plain and mountain stretched so wide and dwindledⒶalteration in the MS to such dreams in the fadingⒶalteration in the MS distances; and I turned with him when his trouble came; I wasⒶalteration in the MS with him when he reached the abyss, his life ruined, his hopes all dead—and behind us that stately summit still glittering in the blue!

How could it affect me like that?Ⓐalteration in the MS how could it seem a tragedy to me? Because it containedⒶalteration in the MS a disappointed life, and the woe of a human heart—that was all.Ⓐalteration in the MS Apparently that is all that is necessary to make tragedy; apparently conditions and altitudes have nothing to do with the size and the reality of the disaster—they are conventions, their measurements are without a determining standard.

If I had gone into particulars about that “summit,” the conventions would have belittled the tragedy and made it seem to youⒶalteration in the MS inconsequential. ButⒶalteration in the MS I will furnish the particulars now. The summit was a summit to the boy who made the fight for it,Ⓐalteration in the MS and to the man who conqueredⒶtextual note itⒶalteration in the MS and lost it; but it would not have been a summit to you who are reading this. The magazine was a religious periodical in an interior city; as important as any other religious magazine, but a place on its staff or at the staff's head would not have been considered a Matterhorn by the average budding hero.Ⓐalteration in the MS

Yet—towardⒶalteration in the MS it this poor defeatedⒶalteration in the MS poet has looked for thirty years, and seen it coldly glinting in the sky, and wished he had thrown away his fatal honor and stayed there—there where would be with him now, in his lovelessⒶalteration in the MS age, those children and that grandchild, destined for him, lost to him by his own act, whose facesⒶalteration in the MS he has never seen and will never see. To him this is tragedy.

[begin page 230]

Diary—Continued

There is a new face or two every day—gone the next, perhaps. When they are derelicts, they are usually membersⒶalteration in the MS of the Watch who have been off wandering in the world for refreshment. Some are gone a week, or a month or two, some are gone half a year. Then they come back eager to see the old stay-at-homesⒶalteration in the MS and tell their adventures; they bring fresh new blood, you see, and are very welcome. There are perhaps thirtyⒶalteration in the MS stay-at-homes. These lodge not far away, and they driftⒶalteration in the MS to the house at one time or anotherⒶalteration in the MS every day and every night when the weather will let them. Their desultory occupations are not much of a hindrance. They use the ward-room as a club; they loafⒶalteration in the MS in and out at their pleasure; from breakfast till midnight some of them are always on hand, weather or no weather; on pleasant nights, and at the Admiral's twoⒶalteration in the MS Sunday services, they gather in force. MembersⒶalteration in the MS only, and the household,Ⓐalteration in the MS are allowed at those services. A good while ago chanceⒶalteration in the MS visitors used to come, some out of general curiosity, some to stare at the derelicts, some to hear the Admiral read, and get the thrill of his organ-voice and his expression. He would not have that; so no visitors get in, now, not even the “regulars,” with the exception of Lo and two or three other clergymen. Some of the aged derelicts who had a religion once, haven't anyⒶalteration in the MS now, but they all come. It is their tribute of reverence to the Admiral, and does them credit.Ⓐalteration in the MS Once, in the days when outsiders were admitted, one of the strangersⒶalteration in the MS smiled superciliously when the Admiral mispronounced a word; Bates, the infidel, who sat near, leaned over and whispered to him, “Straighten your face—if you want any of it left when you leave this place!” He was obeyed; he was a man-o'-warsman before his derelict days, and can still furnish to an offender the kind of look that carries persuasion with it. TheⒶalteration in the MS bos'n says all the derelicts are loyal to the Admiral.

The flitters—Members that come and go—are very numerous. They [begin page 231] bring tales and tidings from all over the continent and from all about the globe. It is astonishing, the miles they cover, and the things they see and hear and experience. My days here seem rather a briskⒶalteration in the MS dream than a flesh-and-bloodⒶalteration in the MS reality. I believe I have not had a dull dayⒶalteration in the MS yet, nor one that hadn't partⒶalteration in the MS of a romance in it somewhere.

The bos'n claims that there isn't an entirely bad person in the whole Membership, flitters and all. He says there is a good spot in each one; that in a lot of cases many people can't find it and don't, but that the Admiral can and does—every time; and Martha too. He says it isn't smartness, it's instinct, sympathy, fellow-feeling—which isⒶalteration in the MS to say, it is a gift, and has to be born in a person, can't be manufactured. He says it can be trained, and developed, away up—but you have to have the gift to start with, there's no other terms.

I said it would probably puzzle a person to find the good spot in the marchesa.

“No,” he said, “she's got it. She lovesⒶalteration in the MS children; she'll do anything for a child—anybody's.”

“Give it candy, perhaps. Is that it?”Ⓐalteration in the MS

“More than that—go through fire for it.”

“Bos'n, aren't you romancing, now?”

“No—there's those that sawⒶalteration in the MS her do it. It was a tenement house. She went in and helped, just like a fireman—she did indeed. A woman with a child in her arms slumped down on a hall floor,Ⓐalteration in the MS smothered by the smoke. AⒶalteration in the MS fireman saved her, but the marcheesa saved the child. She gathered it up and fetched it down three iron fire-escape ladders,Ⓐalteration in the MS through black smoke that hid her half the time, the crowd cheering; andⒶalteration in the MS that mother was laying for her at the bottom and nearly hugged the life out of her when she got down, being one of those Irish mothers with a heart in her the size of a watermelon,Ⓐalteration in the MS and the crowd cheered her over and over again,Ⓐalteration in the MS and the firemen said she was a brick; and she's honorary member of No. 29 ever since,Ⓐalteration in the MS and can wear the badge and goⒶalteration in the MS in the procession and ride the engineⒶalteration in the MS if she wants to—yes, sir,Ⓐalteration in the MS and welcome.”Ⓐalteration in the MS Ⓐemendation

“My word!”

“Good spot, ain't it?”

“I should say so! Who could ever have believed it?”

[begin page 232]

“Well, she's so full of ginger and general hellishness a person naturally wouldn't—but there 't is, you see. You can't ever tell what's in a person till you find out. Look at Satan, for instance.”

“Satan?”

“Oh, helm-a-lee—hard-a-portⒶemendation!Ⓐalteration in the MS Of course I don't mean the sacred one, I mean the derelict that thinks he's it. Now to look at his wild eye and hear him talk, you'd think there's nothing in him but everlasting schemes for hogging money—hogging it by the cart load, the ship load, the train load, though dern seldomⒶalteration in the MS it is he sees a cent that's his own—yet he's got his good spot, Martha will tell you so. Why, the very reason he's so unfamiliar with a cent is that the minute he's got it he gives it away to any poor devil that comes along. It's the way he's made, you see; it's his good spot; they've all got it. Including you.”

“Thanks, awfully! What is my good spot?”

“Damned if I know. But you've got it—everybody has. You know a cat's passion is fish.Ⓐalteration in the MS Particularly somebody else's fish. There's an awful lot to a cat—anybody knows that. NowⒶalteration in the MS then, you can train a cat up, in an ecclesiastical way, till it is that sunk in righteousnessⒶalteration in the MS you couldn't any more get him to break the Sabbath than you could get a cowboy to keep it; but all the same, you lay a fish down and turn your back and there ain't realⒶalteration in the MS religion enough in that whole ornithological species to save that cat from falling. Especially a tomcat. For they're the limit, you know. Look at Bags. He don't miss the services, does he? No; you couldn't get him to. And as for self-sacrifice, why, inⒶalteration in the MS the coldest weather he'llⒶalteration in the MS quit a warming-pan to sleep on a sermon.Ⓐalteration in the MS It shows you how earnest he is; it shows you how anxious he is to do just right. But all the same, although he looks purified, he ain't transmuted all through, and when the time of stress comes you'll find there's hunks of unconverted cat in him yet. Now you lay out a fish handy, and you'll see. He would hog that fish if it was his last act. Well, what fish is to a cat, cigars are to Satan—just a wild unmeasurable passion. So you know by that, that for him to give away his last cigarⒶalteration in the MS is to give away his blood—Ⓐalteration in the MSain't it so? Well, I've seen him do it! It's just as I told you—there's a good spot tucked away somewhere in everybody. You'll be a long time finding it, sometimes, if you ain't born to it, like the Admiral and Martha, but I haven't spent twenty years with that pair, and ten of it here and in Hell's Delight, not to get convinced it's so.”

[begin page 233]

I said I felt bound to believe him, “but who is this Satan—and where is he?”

“Oh, there's no telling. He's a flitter. But he'll turn up; he's never gone for very long. I was thinking he was here when you came, but I remember, now, he was just gone. He's a busy cuss—as busyⒶalteration in the MS as the other one.”

“Why do they call him by that name?”

“They? Because it's what he calls himself. He thinks he is Satan.”

“Oh—I understand it, now.”

“Understand what?”

“Why, the reason of it. He's crazy.”

The bos'n gave me a solemnly inquisitive look, and then translated the look into words:

“Well . . . . are you acquainted with anybody that ain't?”

“That ain't? What do you mean?”

“Oh, when you come down to it fine, there's some that ain't as crazy as others, but as far as I've come along the roadⒶalteration in the MS I haven't run across any yet that was perfectly straight in their minds. You see, everybody is a little crazy—some about one fool thing, some about another, and nearly all of them harmless—but as for a person that ain't anyⒶalteration in the MS way crazy at all, damn'd if there's any such!”

“Oh, come!”

“Well, now, honor bright, do you know anybody that's right down sane—to the bottom?”

“Very well, then, honor bright, I am quite sure I am,Ⓐalteration in the MS myself.”

“Oh, you—with your Adam monument!”

I thought that this was carrying jesting a little too far; so I made a stiff bow whose meaning could not be easily misunderstood, and strode away pretty haughtily.Ⓐalteration in the MS

[begin page 234]

DiaryⒶtextual note Continued

Perhaps it wasⒶalteration in the MS natural enough and human enough for the Poet to feed daily for thirty years upon the memory of a disaster which wrecked his life, and for the GeneralⒶalteration in the MS, the ex-Senator, the inventorⒶalteration in the MS Ⓐtextual note and others of our derelicts to do the same. But is it natural and human for a couple of persons to keep up a mereⒶalteration in the MS dispute that long?—a dispute that can never be settled?—a dispute about a matterⒶalteration in the MS of not the least consequence?

Well, natural or unnatural, we have a case of it here. Thirty years ago Uncle 'Rastus hired himself out to work on a farm on top of a high hill in a New England State, and there he found Aunt PhyllisⒶalteration in the MS, who was the farmer's cook. They at once began to dispute about the question of special providences, and from that day to this they have continued the debate whenever there was opportunity.Ⓐalteration in the MS

Two years later, luck added another matter to argue about. They discussed it a few weeks; dropped it, took it up again a year later; and again after twoⒶalteration in the MS or threeⒶemendation years; once more after a longer interval; then gave it a rest—apparently for good and all. But not so. After a quiescent interval of as much as half a decade,Ⓐalteration in the MS they got out that hoary mossback once more, to-day, and gave it a final overhauling. This aged contention had its origin in a heroic act performed by 'Rastus twenty-eight years ago. These are the details.

One summer afternoon a pair ofⒶalteration in the MS visitors drove up from the town down below in the valley—the charming and beautiful young wife of a wealthy citizen, and her child, aged two years.Ⓐalteration in the MS Toward sunset the lady started homeward. The horse was young and nervous,Ⓐalteration in the MS and unacquainted with hill-work. The farmer and his family stood on the porch and watched the start with some uneasiness. There was a straight stretch of slanting road for a third of a mile, downward from the house, and the first half of it was visible from the porch, but at that point a curtain ofⒶalteration in the MS trees intervened and hid the rest.

[begin page 235]

The buggy made the first two or three hundred yards at a safe gait, then it began to move faster—faster—still faster; soonⒶalteration in the MS it began to fly; then the dustⒶalteration in the MS rose up in a cloud and hid it, just as it was reaching those intervening trees. It was a narrow road; at the end of the straight slant there was a very sharp turn and an unfenced precipice.

The farmer said, “Oh, my God, there is no hope for them—no power on earth can save their lives!” and he and his family sprang from the porch and went racingⒶalteration in the MS down the hill through the dust-cloud—not to help, but to mourn; not to save, but to seek the dead and do such reverent service as they might. When they reached that sharpⒶalteration in the MS elbow, —right there, right at that deadly spot—they saw, dimⒶalteration in the MS and spectral in the settling dust, the horse standing at ease, with 'Rastus at its headⒶalteration in the MS, and nobody hurt!

It was unbelievable—clearly unbelievable—yetⒶalteration in the MS it was so. 'Rastus had been coming up from town with his farm-team, and had halted at the turn to rest. He heard a noise, and looked up the road and saw the dust-cloud sweeping down upon him. When the interval between him and it had diminished to fifty steps, he got a vague glimpse of the horse's head, and understood. With an undisturbed head, and all his wits about him, he stepped to the right spot and braced himself; and the next second he grabbed the flyingⒶalteration in the MS horse and stood him up on his hind legs!

The news sped to the town, but was not believed. Every one said the feat was impossible; that it was beyond the strength of the strongest man on the continent. But no matter, itⒶalteration in the MS had actually been performed, the proofs of it were unassailable, and had to be accepted. The newspapers applauded it; for several days people climbed up from the town to look at the spot, and wonder how the incredible thingⒶalteration in the MS was done; 'Rastus was a hero; there wasⒶalteration in the MS not a white man norⒶalteration in the MS a white woman in the region round aboutⒶalteration in the MS who was ashamed to shake hands with him; wherever he appeared the people took him by his horny black hand and gave it a good grip, and many said, “I'm proud to do it!” Last happiness of all, the rich man handed 'Rastus his check for a thousand dollars—the first time in his life that 'Rastus hadⒶalteration in the MS ever owned above thirty dollars at one time.

Then that dispute began. Aunt Phyllis charged 'Rastus with cheating. He was indignant, and said—

[begin page 236]

“It's a lie. Who has I cheated?”

“Dat gen'lman. De ideaⒶalteration in the MS o' you takin' a thousan' dollars! De hoss en harness en buggy warn't wuth it, en you knows it mighty well.”

“Woman, what's de matter wid yo' brains?Ⓐalteration in the MS What is you talkin' 'bout?”

“Nemmine 'bout my brains,Ⓐalteration in the MS you stick to de pint, dat's all. You ain't gwyneter dodge it whah I is. You cheated, en I ain't gwyneter let you fo'git it, mindⒶalteration in the MS I tell you!”

“I didn't!”

“You did!”

“I didn't!”

“You did! Dey warn't wuth mo'n eightⒶalteration in the MS hund'd dollars—anybody'll tell you so. Now look at dat. You save' eight hund'd dollars for de gen'lman, en take a thousan'. It's cheatin', dat's what it is. No Christian wouldn't ‘a’ done it, nobody but a low-down inf'del would. S'pose you was to die—right now? Dat's it—s'pose you was to die?”

“Well, s'pose I was to? Den what?”

“Ain't you got no shame, 'Rastus? How'd you like to 'pear up dah, wid dem two hund'd dollars stickin' to yo' han's?”Ⓐalteration in the MS

“I'd hole my head up, dat's what I'd do. Hain't you got no sense, can't you gitⒶalteration in the MS nothin' thoo yo' head? You's got de whole thing hindside fust—can'tⒶalteration in the MS you see dat?”

“Who? me? How has I got it hindside fust?”

“Becaze you keep arguin' dat de gen'lman gimme de thousan' dollarsⒶalteration in the MS for savin' de hoss en de buggy, but if you had any sense you'd know he didn't gimme it for dat, at all.”

“De nation he didn't!”

“No, he didn't.”

“Well den, you 'splain to me what he did give it to you for, if you think you kin.”

“Why, for savin' his fambly.”

“For savin' his fambly, you puddn'head!”

“Yes, for savin' his fambly. Anybody'll tell you so.”

“In my bawnⒶalteration in the MS days I never see sich a numskull. 'Rastus, don't you know it don't stan' to reason? Now you pay 'tention—I's gwyneter show you. It's a new hoss en a good one, ain't it?”

[begin page 237]

“Yas.”

“Cost five hund'd en fiftyⒶalteration in the MS dollars, didn't it?”

“Yas.”

“New buggy, ain't it?”

“Yas.”

“Cost two hund'd en fifty, didn't it?”

“Yas.”

“Dat make eight hund'd widout de harness, don't it?”

“Yas.”

“You save' de whole outfit, didn't you?”

“Yas.”

“Dat's eight hund'd dollars wuth ain't it?”

“Yas.”

“Now den, we's got down to de fambly. How much is de lady's clo'es wuthⒶalteration in the MS?”

“How's I gwyneter know?”

“Well, I knows. Dey's spang-bang new, en dey cost a hund'd enⒶalteration in the MS sebenty-fo' dollars. How much is de chile's clo'es wuth?”

“I don't know nothin' 'bout de chile's clo'es.Ⓐalteration in the MS”

“Well, I does. Dey cost twenty-five dollars. So, den, all de clo'es cost a hund'd en ninety-nine, ain't it?”

“Oh, yas, yas, yas, I reckin so. Git done wid de business!”

“Now den, what's de lady wuth?”

“Lan', you make me tired wid dis foolishness! How's I gwyneter know what she's wuth?”

“What's de chile wuth?”

“I don't k'yer nothin' 'bout it, en I ain't gwyneter say nothin' 'bout it.”

“Now den, I's gwyneter come back to de harness. I knows what de harness cost, and so does you, en I's gwyneter c'rect you if you tries to fo'gitⒶalteration in the MS en make a mistake 'bout it.Ⓐalteration in the MS What did de harness cost, 'Rastus?”

“It cost—cost—”

“I has my eye on you, 'Rastus.”

“Cost fifteen dollars. . . . Damn de harness!”

“Now den, 'Rastus, de fac's is all in. All de thousan' dollars is 'counted for. You been 'cusin' me o' gittin'Ⓐalteration in the MS de matter hindside fust, en [begin page 238] it hurt me to hear you say dat, 'caze it make it seem like I ain't got good sense; but 'Rastus, de figgers shows you was in de wrong en I was in de right. Dey shows you he didn't give you de thousan' dollars for savin' de fambly, he give it to you for savin' de truck. En he didn't pay full up, nuther, 'cazeⒶemendation he owes you fo'teen dollars on de harness!”

. . . . It all happened twenty-eight years ago, when these dear old things were young—only forty. 'Rastus bought a farm for sixteen hundred dollars, paid a thousand down and borrowed the six hundred on mortgage. During eighteen years, by working sixteen hours a day and watching the penniesⒶalteration in the MS and economising on clothes and tobacco, he made enough to pay the interest each year and reduce the mortgage-debt ten dollars per annum; then the rheumatism claimed him for her own and he gave the property to a nephew and wandered out into the world. He turned up here, in the course of time, and has been free of the ward-room ever since, and has hadⒶalteration in the MS the Anchor Watch's privileges here andⒶalteration in the MS in Hell's Delight—as good a man and as contented a soul as I know. The nephew still runs the farm, pays the interest, and in ten years has reduced the mortgage by thirtyⒶalteration in the MS dollars. The child that survived the runaway through 'Rastus's once famous miracle has a prosperousⒶalteration in the MS huband and a family, is beautiful in character and in person, is happy, and to this day does not know that any one ever saved her life.

As I have said, that long-neglected dispute was resurrected to-day. At the close of it Aunty Phyllis had a happy idea, and fetched it out with glee, and confidence, and vast expectations. But 'Rastus was loaded, that time! Phyllis said—

“You is de man dat's allays sayin' de' ain't no sich thing as special providence. If 'twarn't for special providence, what would ‘a’ went wid dat buggy en harness? Who put you in dat road, right exackly in de right spot, right exackly at deⒶalteration in the MS right half-a-second?—you answer me dat, if you kin!Ⓐalteration in the MS”

“Who de nation sent de hoss Ⓐalteration in the MS down dah in sich a blame'Ⓐalteration in the MS fool fashion?Ⓐalteration in the MS”Ⓐtextual note

[begin page 239]

From Intermittent Diary

I have skipped a week. Trifles of interestⒶalteration in the MS got in the way, and it was easier to skip than to write. One of the trifles was a “regular”—Stanch-field Garvey, called “Governor.” The title dates from away back, years and years ago. He served four years as SecretaryⒶalteration in the MS of a territoryⒶemendation, and meantime as Acting Governor twice or thrice, during brief absences of the actual Governor. Once “Governor” Garvey, always Governor Garvey; once General on a Governor's staff, always General; once justice of the peace for a year, always “Judge” thenceforth to the grave—such is our American system. We have a thoroughly human passion for titles; turning us into democrats doesn't dislodge that passion, nor even modify it. A title is a title, and we value it; if it chance to be pinchbeck, no matter, we are glad to have it anyway,Ⓐalteration in the MS and proud to wear it, and hear people utter it. It is music to us.Ⓐalteration in the MS

Governor Garvey is eighty years old, but does not look nearly so old. He is a good six feet high, and very slender; he has the bearing of a gentleman; his hair is short and thick, and is silver-white; his face is Emersonian, and he has intellect, but as it isⒶalteration in the MS of an ill-ordered and capricious and unstable sort, his face mis-states and over-states its character and bulk. However, his eyes correct these errors. They are kind and beautiful and unsteady, and they tell you he is weak and a visionary. He is not a derelict, but that is because the Admiral saved him from it several yearsⒶalteration in the MS ago by getting him a job as rough-proof reader on an evening paper—an easy berth which pays him ten dollars a week and supports him. He has a bed and an oil stove in a small room in a tenement house, and is his own chambermaid and cook.

He began life as a printer's apprentice in a western city. He was sixteen or seventeen, then, and had a common-school education of a meagre sort, which he tried to enlarge by studying, nights. Without serious success; for he was shavings, not anthracite. That is to say, that [begin page 240] whatsoever thing he undertook, he went at it in a blaze of eagerness and enthusiasm and burnt the interest allⒶalteration in the MS out of it in forty-eight hours, then dropped it and went at something else in another consuming blaze. During the four years of his apprenticeship he carried his conflagrations into the first chapter of every useful book in the Mechanic's Library, but never any further than that in any instance. And so, whereasⒶalteration in the MS he picked up a slight smattering of manyⒶalteration in the MS breeds of knowledge, his accumulation was valueless and unusable, it was a mere helter-skelter scrap-heap.

For a week or two, in the beginning, he had a burning ambition to be a Franklin; so he lived strictly on bread and water, studiedⒶalteration in the MS by the firelight instead of using candles, and practised swimming on the floor. Then he discarded Franklin, and imitated somebody else a while. This time an orator; and went around orating to his furniture with pebbles in his mouth. Next, he proposed to be a great lawyer, and with this idea he read Blackstone a couple of weeks. Next, with an earnest desire to make men better and save them from the pains of that fierce hell which all believed in in those days, he studied for the ministry for a while. But his path was beset with difficulties. Not his path, his wash; for heⒶalteration in the MS washed from one religion to another faster than he could keep count, and never landed on the shore of any one of them long enough to dry his feet. He has kept up these excursions all his life. He has sampled all the religions, he has been an infidel, he is a Christian Scientist, now. I mean, this week.

Nobody could ever tell what he would do next. His friends and family expected much of him, for he was bright above the average, but he disappointed every hope of theirs as fast as it was born. He was always dreaming—of doing good to his fellow-man, as he supposed—whereas at bottom his longing was for distinction, though he didn't suspect it. When he was studying to be a Franklin, he copied Franklin's brief and pregnant rules of conduct and stuck them in the frame of his mirror. He lived by them until he recovered from the Franklin disease, then he lived by the next model's rules, and the next and the next. When a model hadn't a set of rules, he supplied him with one. In his time he has lived by more different kinds of rules than has any other experimenter in right and rigid conduct. He has a set now, drawn from “Science and Health,” and thinks he understands what they mean.

[begin page 241]

When he was twenty years old, he resolved upon a visit to his people. They lived in a village a hundred miles away. It was in the winter time. He gave no notice that he was coming. He thought it would be romantic to arrive at midnight, and surprise them in the morning. This was not well conceived, for the family had moved to another house, and the one which they had been occupying was now occupied by an old doctor who hadn't any romance in him, and by his two maiden sisters who had long ago outlived their romantic days. Stanchfield slipped into the house the back way, and up stairs with his boots in his hands. He undressed in the dark in his room, and got into bed with the old maids, whom he supposed were his brothers. Presently one of themⒶalteration in the MS said, drowsily—

“Mary, don't crowd so!”

Stanchfield began to scramble out, and he was feeling very sick and scared, and much ashamed. He had been nurturing a beard, and one result of this was that the other maid cried out “There'sⒶalteration in the MS a man in the bed!” and both maids began to scream. Stanchfield fled, just as he was, and met the doctor on the stairs, with a candle in one hand and a butcher knife in the other. An explanation followed, and the doctor brought the clothes.

Two or three nights afterward, Stanchfield sat in his room at home, reading, also dreaming. At four in the morning he started out to call on a young lady—without looking at the clock. He hammered on her door a good while, then her father appeared, shivering in his dressing-gown, learned his business, admitted him to a freezing parlor, and satⒶalteration in the MS there silent and lowering for an hour—waiting for an opportunity to say something cruel. At last Stanchfield timidly asked when Miss Louise would be down.

“As soon as she's done dressing for breakfast! Won't you wait?—oh, do!”

Stanchfield was in the town a fortnightⒶalteration in the MS. In that time he joined the Sons of Temperance, agreed to make a speechⒶalteration in the MS at a temperance mass meeting, and meantime heⒶalteration in the MS furnished the mottoes for the torchlight procession; but when the time came he was on the other side and made an impassioned plea for unlimited whisky.

When he was twenty-three and had been a journeyman printer a year, he returnedⒶalteration in the MS to his village home, bought the weekly paper for five [begin page 242] hundred dollars, borrowing the money at ten per cent, and at once reduced the subscription price one half. He made a clean paper, and worked hard; but he got but a meagre subsistence out of it for his widowed mother and her young family. He paid his interest every year, but was never able to pay any of the principal. At the end of six years he gave the paper to his creditor and moved to another town. There he bought a part of a paper on credit, and fell in love with a girl in a neighboring townⒶemendation and engaged himself to her.Ⓐalteration in the MS A few weeks afterward he engaged himself to a girl in his newⒶalteration in the MS home-town. He found himself in a difficulty, now, and did not quite know how to get out of it. It seemed to him that the right way, the honorable way, would be for him to go and explain to girl No. 1 and abide by her decision as to what he should do. He told his project to girl No. 2, who remarked that he would marry her—and now—and he could afterward go and explain to No. 1 at his leisure, if he wanted to.

So said, so done. No. 2 was a good and patient and valuable wife to him—as far as any wife could be valuable to such a weather-vane. After three years he gave his share of the paper to his creditor and moved to another town, where he bought a wee little business, on credit, and at once cut prices till there was no profit in it. He scrambled along for four years, meantime making and losing friends continually by changing his religion and his politics every three months; then he chanced upon a new opening. In his apprenticeship-days, eighteen years before, a great lawyer had taken an interest in him, and this acquaintanceship came good, now. The lawyer got him appointed Secretary of one of the new territoriesⒶalteration in the MS Ⓐemendation.

He made a good Secretary, for he performed his duties well and faithfully, and was a strictly honest man where honest men were scarce. He was very popular, he had the confidence and the friendship of the whole territory, and for four years he and his wife knew to the full what comfort and happiness were. Then the territory was elevated to Statehood. There was much fussing at slates for otherⒶalteration in the MS State officers in his party, but none about the Secretaryship: no one thought of giving that post to anybody but him.

But he had to have a freak on nomination-night—he wouldn't have been himself if he had failed of that. He would not go to the conven- [begin page 243] tion .Ⓐalteration in the MS For two reasons: he thought candidates ought to keep away from conventions—they ought to leave the delegates unembarrassed to choose the candidates. Also, the convention was to meet in a liquor saloon, and he could not conscientiously enter there, for his turn to be a prohibitionist had come around again, lately. His friends could not persuade him, his wife could not persuade him. Very well, the thing happened which all expected except himself: he was left off the ticket.

A few months later the State assumed command,Ⓐalteration in the MS the territory went out of business, and he with it. There was nothing for him to do; he could find no employment. By and by he and his wife gave up and went home—expensively; so recklesslyⒶalteration in the MS expensively that they spent all their savings on the road. Poor creatures, they had never had a real holiday in their lives, before, and knew they might never have another one. It turned their heads and abolished their prudence.Ⓐalteration in the MS For thirty years Garvey'sⒶalteration in the MS friends stood by him, for he was good at heart, and without stain, and well beloved. During all that time they found place after place for him, but he lost them all. Lost them by throwing them away to hunt for something better. He always gave satisfaction to others, but could never be satisfied himself.

Eight years ago his wife died. After that, heⒶalteration in the MS hadⒶemendation nothing to care for,Ⓐalteration in the MS nothing to live for, and he went wandering. Her devotion had been his stay and support; such courage as ever he had hadⒶalteration in the MS she gave him; after each of his thousand failures she lifted him out of his abysses of despondency and found for him a new hope. For three years he drifted in a starless gloom, rudderless; then the Admiral found that proof-reading jobⒶalteration in the MS for him, and he holds it yet; his old hankering to throw away good things to hunt for better ones is dead in him. He spends all his evening with the Anchor Watch, and has, for company and sympathisers,Ⓐalteration in the MS the General, the ex-Senator, the Poet, and one or two other derelicts who look back upon a special disaster which ruined their lives, and which they only live to regret and repent and mourn over. From the day that the Governor stood stanchly by his principles and lost the SecretaryshipⒶalteration in the MS he has lamented that righteous act, and cursed it and bitterly grieved over it. It has wrung his heart for forty years. If he could only get back there and have that chance again! That is the dirge he sings. That, and how much of sorrowⒶalteration in the MS and privation and humiliation he could [begin page 244] have saved his patient and faithfulⒶalteration in the MS wife if he had not been such a fool, “oh, such a fool!” And who knows? she might be with him now and blessing him! Ah, yes; and what would he not give to see that dear face once more! And so he murmurs along, and it is pitiful to hear.Ⓐemendation Ⓐtextual note

Intermittent Diary—Continued

Interrupting myself to gossip about the Governor has made a blank where the Plum Duff occurred. ByⒶalteration in the MS help of Jimson Flinders the colored stenographer and sub-editor, I can fill it now. The bos'n says plum duff is the sailor's luxury-dish in whaleships, and is a dough pudding with raisins in it, as distinguished from dough pudding plain. It is served once a week—usually on Sundays. DuffⒶalteration in the MS is probably the fo'-castle way of pronouncing dough; and a good enough way, too, if it be righteous to pronounce tough tuff. Plum Duff, here in the Haven of the Derelicts, is the Anchor Watch's name for Entertainment-Night. And well named, too. It is the night that has the intellectual raisins in it, and is as welcomeⒶalteration in the MS here as is plum duff at sea.

The weather was bad, but no matter, we had a full house. All the derelicts were present, all the “regulars,” and all the “casuals”Ⓐemendation—in fact, everybody possessing the high privilege of assisting at Plum Duffs. We had as many as fifty people on hand. This time the feature of the evening was to be a lecture, in the form of a story, illustrated by “living pictures” thrown upon a screen. Subject, “The Benevolence of Nature.”Ⓐalteration in the MS Lecturer, Rev. Lo-what-God-hath-Wrought. Edgar Billings, amateur naturalist, was to manage the picture-machinery. He stood at one end of the great room with his apparatus, and the lecturer stood by the vast white screen at the other.

The idea of illustrating the story was a late thought; so late that there was no time for lecturer and illustrator to go over the ground in detail together, but apparently this kind of particularity was not going to be needed. Lo gave Billings a synopsis of the story, and Billings said [begin page 245] it was a plenty; said he had just the pictures for it, and could flash the right one onto the canvas every time, sure, and fit every incident of the tale to a dot as it went along. Billings is an earnest and sincere and good-hearted creature, but hasn't much judgment.

First we had some music, as usual, Jimmy doing the pianola-business and the Admiral the orchestrelle, then the lecturer began. He said it was most wonderful, most touching and beautiful, our dear old Mother Nature'sⒶalteration in the MS love for her creaturesⒶalteration in the MS—for all of them, from the highestⒶalteration in the MS all the way down the long procession of humbler animated nature to the very worms and insects. He dwelt at some lengthⒶalteration in the MS upon her unfailingⒶalteration in the MS goodness to her wardsⒶalteration in the MS, and said he wishedⒶalteration in the MS especially to note one feature of it, her intricateⒶalteration in the MS and marvelous system of providing food for the animal world; her selectionⒶalteration in the MS of just the right and best food for each creature, and placingⒶalteration in the MS each creature where its particular kind of food could never fail it. Her tenderⒶalteration in the MS protection, he said,Ⓐalteration in the MS was over all—the humble spider, the wasp, the worm, all the myriads of tiny and helpless life, were under her watchfulⒶalteration in the MS eye, and partakers of her lovingⒶalteration in the MS care. By Mr. Billings's help he would exhibit this love as exercised toward two or three of the lowliest of these creatures, and would ask the house to remember that the same love and the same protection were exercised in the same way toward the unspecified myriads and millions that creep and fly about the earth. Should these little creatures be grateful? Yes. If we understood their language we should hear them express that gratitude, should we not? Without a doubt, yes, without a doubt. Might he try to put himself in their place and speak for them? He would make the effort, putting it in the form of a little story.

The room was then darkened; an intensely bright great circle appeared upon the white screen; the lecturer began to readⒶalteration in the MS:Ⓐemendation

The Story

Once there was a dear little spider, who lived in a web pleasantly situated, and was expecting a family; and sheⒶalteration in the MS was very happy—happy, and tenderly grateful to the dear Mother Nature that gave her so lovely a world to live in, and surrounded her with so many comforts, and made her little life so sweet and beautiful—Ⓐalteration in the MS

[begin page 246]

Instantly a wide-spreading web appeared upon the screen, and in the middle of it a hairy fatⒶalteration in the MS spider as big as a watermelon, with bunches of crumpled legs which seemed to be all elbows. It made the audience start,Ⓐalteration in the MS it was so alive, and sharp-eyed and real. The lecturer glanced at it, looked uncomfortable, and moved a little away. After a pause to recover his serenity, he resumed his reading.

She was lonelyⒶalteration in the MS, and sweetly sad, for her dearest, her heart's own, her young husband,Ⓐalteration in the MS was absent, and she was fondlyⒶalteration in the MS dreaming of him and longing for his return—

A smaller devil of the spider species—evidently the husband—appeared on the frontier of the web, took a hesitating step or two toward his wife, then changed his mind and began to crawl slowly and almost imperceptibly backward toward foreign partsⒶtextual note.Ⓐalteration in the MS

She was very hungry, for she had been without food for a whole day; but did she lose faith? did she complain, as we too often do? No; droppingⒶalteration in the MS her eyes meekly,Ⓐalteration in the MS she murmured, “Our dear Mother Nature willⒶalteration in the MS provide—”

A sudden commotion on the screen attracted all eyes.Ⓐalteration in the MS With a rush which brokeⒶalteration in the MS the smooth web into waves the big wife swept down upon the poor cowering little husband, and as she sunk her fangs into him and began to suckⒶalteration in the MS he struggled and squirmed in so pitiful a wayⒶalteration in the MS that many of the audience turned away their eyes, not being able to bear the sightⒶalteration in the MS of it. There were some subdued and scarcely audible chucklings here and there, but they lasted only a moment.Ⓐalteration in the MS The lecturer took one glance, and looked embarrassed—as one could see, for his face came within the circle of light—also he looked as if he was not comfortable in his stomach. Soon he went on with his reading. He had to stick to his text; he was not a person who could change it to meet an emergency.

Now came an event which filled her mother-heart with joy—the birth of the expected family.Ⓐalteration in the MS Out from the silken bag attached to her body poured a flood of little darlings, dainty little spiderlings, hundreds and hundreds of them, and she gathered them to her maternal breast in a raptureⒶalteration in the MS of gratitude and joy—

And in an instant there it was, on the screen!—a mighty swarm of friskyⒶalteration in the MS little spiders the size of horseflies—Ⓐalteration in the MSjust a tumultuous confusion of ten thousand legs all squirmingⒶemendation at once. They attacked their mother. [begin page 247] She tried to get away, but they overflowed her, overwhelmed her, and began to chew her legs and her bodyⒶalteration in the MS—a horrible sight! The lecturer did not take a look this time. No, he made a half-motion to do it, but changed his mind and went on reading.

Her first thought, poor little mother, was, how should she find food for her nine hundred little darlingsⒶalteration in the MS; but her second was, “NatureⒶalteration in the MS will provide.” What a lesson for us it is! Ah, my friends, when the larder is empty and in our despair we know not where to turn, let us remember the faith of this humble insect and imitate itⒶalteration in the MS and be strengthened by it; let us be brave, and believe, with her, that nourishment will be provided for our little ones.Ⓐalteration in the MS

At this moment, dear friends, arrived a wasp. In a sunny meadow she had digged a hole and prepared a cosy home for the dear offspring she was expecting. Now she was abroad to secure food for that offspring.Ⓐalteration in the MS Her happy heart was singing, and the burden of that grateful song was, “NatureⒶalteration in the MS will provide.” She hovered over our mother-spider, then descended upon her—

Instantly it was on the screen! A wasp the size of a calf swooped down upon wide-spreading wings, gripped the struggling mother-spiderⒶalteration in the MS, and slowly drove a sting as long as a sword, deep into her body.Ⓐalteration in the MS The audienceⒶalteration in the MS gasped with horror to see that hideous weapon sink in like that and the spider strain and quiver and rumple its legs in its agony,Ⓐalteration in the MS but the lecturer ventured no look; he went right on with his reading.

The spider was not killed, my friends,Ⓐalteration in the MS it was only rendered helpless. That was the intention. It was to serve as food for the wasp's child, and would live a week or two—until half eaten up, in fact. She deposited an egg on the spider'sⒶalteration in the MS body, carried her preyⒶalteration in the MS to her dark home in the ground, crammed the prisoner in there and went for more, radiant with that spiritual joy whichⒶalteration in the MS is the reward of duty done. In two days the wasp's child was born, and was hungry; and there at handⒶalteration in the MS was its food, the melancholy spider, faintly struggling and weary. With a deep hymnⒶalteration in the MS of gratitude to kind andⒶalteration in the MS ever-watchful Nature, whoⒶalteration in the MS allows none of her childrenⒶalteration in the MS to suffer, the larva gnawed a hole in the spider's abdomen, and began to suck her juices while she moaned and wept—Ⓐalteration in the MS

Straightway the revoltingⒶalteration in the MS banquet was pictured upon the screen, the [begin page 248] larva munching its way,Ⓐalteration in the MS most comfortable and content, into the spider's vitalsⒶalteration in the MS,Ⓐemendation and the helpless spider feebly working its legsⒶalteration in the MS and probably trying to think of a grateful sentimentⒶalteration in the MS to utter that would not sound too grossly insincere.

Has the spider been forgotten? is the spider forsaken in its time of sorrow and distress? Ah, no, my friends, neither sheⒶalteration in the MS nor any other creature is ever forgotten or ever forsaken. Soon the spider will have the reward of its patience, its faith,Ⓐalteration in the MS its loving trust. In six days the half of it will have been eaten up, then it will die, and pass forever to that sweet peace, that painless repose which is provided for all, howsoever humble and undeserving, who keep a contented spirit and cheerfullyⒶalteration in the MS do the duties allotted to them in their sphere. IⒶalteration in the MS will now show you, with Mr. Billings's help, how wonderfully we have been provided with yellow fever and malaria by the ministrations of a humble little mosquito which—

And so on, and so on. It would take me too long to write down the rest of it, but it was very interesting. Everybody was pleased, and many said they shouldn't want to eat anything for a week. It seemed to me that it was a most charming and elevating entertainment, and others thought the same, and said it was ennobling. They said they never should have thought of such waysⒶalteration in the MS to feed animals, and regarded it as most intelligent and grand. I think the Rev. Mr. Lo will stand on a higher plane with us hereafter than he did before. Many shook hands with him and congratulated him, and he was greatly pleased and thankful. Bates the unbeliever conceded that the lecture had given him a new view of the benevolence of Nature.Ⓐalteration in the MS