Classic Audiobook Collection - The Best American Humorous Short Stories by Alexander Jessup ~ Full Audiobook [comedy]

Episode Date: October 25, 2022

The Best American Humorous Short Stories by Alexander Jessup audiobook. Genre: comedy Edited and introduced by Alexander Jessup, The Best American Humorous Short Stories gathers a handpicked lineup of classic American tales that prove how many shapes laughter can take. Jessup's opening essay makes the mission clear: these are not merely jokes on the page, but fully crafted short stories where humor is inseparable from character, voice, and surprise. Across the collection, readers move from dry wit and social satire to tall tales and comic misadventure, meeting schemers, innocents, and eccentrics caught in the everyday absurdities of love, money, reputation, and pride. Familiar masters appear alongside lesser-known gems, with stories by writers such as Edgar Allan Poe, Mark Twain, O. Henry, Bret Harte, Oliver Wendell Holmes, and others. From the slippery logic of 'The Angel of the Odd' to the deadpan exaggerations of 'The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County,' the anthology showcases regional flavors and shifting American manners, while keeping the focus on storytelling momentum and sharp comedic timing. The result is a varied, lively listening experience: a tour through American humor at its most inventive, readable, and enduring. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:14:38) Chapter 02 (00:41:58) Chapter 03 (01:22:33) Chapter 04 (02:05:55) Chapter 05 (03:08:30) Chapter 06 (03:57:18) Chapter 07 (04:14:41) Chapter 08 (04:30:51) Chapter 09 (05:15:53) Chapter 10 (05:46:12) Chapter 11 (06:08:37) Chapter 12 (06:52:10) Chapter 13 (07:29:43) Chapter 14 (08:07:26) Chapter 15 (08:41:51) Chapter 16 (09:36:37) Chapter 17 (10:10:46) Chapter 18 (10:28:45) Chapter 19 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

the best american humorous short stories by alexander jessup editor story one the little frenchman and his water lots eighteen thirty nine by george pope morris eighteen o two eighteen sixty four from the little frenchman and his water lots with other sketches of the times eighteen thirty nine by george pope morris look into those they call unfortunate and the closer viewed, you'll find they are unwise. Young. Let wealth come in by comely thrift, and not by any foolish shift. Tis haste makes waste, who grips too hard the dry and slippery sand holds none at all, or little in his hand. Herrick. Let well alone. proverb how much real comfort every one might enjoy if he would be contented with the lot in which heaven has cast him and how much trouble would be avoided if people would only let well alone a moderate independence quietly and honestly procured is certainly every way preferable even to immense possessions achieved by the wear and tear of mind and body so necessary to procure them yet there are very few individuals let them be doing ever so well in the world who are not always straining every nerve to do better

and this is one of the many causes why failures in business so frequently occur among us the present generation seem unwilling to realize by slow and sure degrees but choose rather to set their whole hopes upon a single cast which either makes or marches them forever. Gentle reader, do you remember Monsieur Poupou? He used to keep a small toy store in Chatham, near the corner of Pearl Street. You must recollect him, of course. He lived there for many years, and was one of the most polite and accommodating of shopkeepers. When a juvenile you have bought tops and marbles of him a thousand times. To be sure you have, and seen his vinegar visage of his vinegar visage of him.

lighted up with a smile as you flung him the coppers and you have laughed at his little straight cue and his dimmety breeches and all the other oddities that made up the everyday apparel of my little frenchman ah i perceive you recollect him now well then there lived m pooh-poo ever since he came from dear delightful paris as he was wont to call the city of his nativity there he took in the pennies for his kickshaws there he laid aside five thousand dollars against a rainy day there he was as happy as a lark and there in all human probability he would have been to this very day a respected and substantial citizen had he been willing to let well alone but m poupu had heard strange stories about the prodigious rise in real estate and having understood that most of his neighbours had become suddenly rich by speculating in lots he instantly grew dissatisfied with his own lot forthwith determined to shut up shop turn everything into cash and set about making money in right-down earnest no sooner said than done and our quondam storekeeper a few days afterward attended an extensive sale of real estate at the merchant's exchange there was the auctioneer with his beautiful and inviting lithographic maps all the lots as smooth and square and enticingly laid out as possible and there were the speculators and there in the midst of them stood monsieur poupu here they are gentlemen said he of the hammer the most valuable lots ever offered for sale give me a bid for them one hundred each said a-by-a-bushed a-and-each said a-harm

bystander. "'One hundred,' said the auctioneer, "'scarcely enough to pay for the maps. "'One hundred going, and fifty, gone. "'Mr. H., they are yours, a noble purchase. "'You'll sell those same lots in less than a fortnight "'for fifty thousand dollars profit.' "'Monsieur Poupu pricked up his ears at this

"'and was lost in astonishment. "'This was a much easier way, certainly, "'of accumulating riches than selling toys in Chathamination, street and he determined to buy and mend his fortune without delay the auctioneer proceeded in his sale other parcels were offered and disposed of and all the purchasers were promised immense advantages for their enterprise at last came a more valuable parcel than all the rest the company pressed around the stand and m poupoo did the same i now offer you gentlemen these magnificent lots delightfully situated on long island with valuable water privileges property in fee title indisputable terms of sale cash deeds ready for delivery immediately after the sale how much for them give them a start at something how much the auctioneer looked around there were no bidders at last he caught the eye of m poupoo did you say one hundred sir beautiful lots valuable water privileges shall i say one hundred for you

yesure i will give you one hundred dollars apiece for de lot with the valuable watery privilege st sa only one hundred apiece for these sixty valuable lots only one hundred going going going gone m poupu was the fortunate possessor the auctioneer congratulated him the sale closed and the company dispersed pardona me monsieur said poupu as the auctioneer descended his pedestal you shall excuse me if i shall go to vote your counting-house they're quick to make everything sure mit respect to de lot vit de valuable votary privileges von little bird in de hand he va'orth two and de three'se verae certainly sir valden allan and the gentleman repaired to the counting-house where the six thousand dollars were paid and the deeds of the property delivered m poupu put these carefully in his pocket and as he was about taking his leave the auctioneer made him a present of the lithographic outline of the lots which was a very liberal thing on his pocket and as he was about taking his leave the auctioneer made him a present of the lithographic outline of the lots which was a very liberal thing on his part, considering the map was a beautiful specimen of that glorious art. Pupu could not admire it sufficiently.

There were his sixty lots, as uniform as possible, and his little gray eyes sparkled like diamonds as they wandered from one end of the spacious sheet to the other. Pupu's heart was as light as a feather, and he snapped his fingers in the very wantonness of joy as he repaired to Delmonico's and ordered the first good French dinner that had gladdened his palate since his arrival in America. After having discussed his repast and washed it down with a bottle of choice old claret, he resolved upon a visit to Long Island to view his purchase. He consequently immediately hired a horse in gig,

crossed the Brooklyn ferry, and drove along the margin of the river to the wallabout, the location in question. Our friend, however, was not a little perplexed to find his property. Everything on the map was as fair and even as possible, while all the grounds about him were as undelated as they could well be imagined, and there was an elbow of the East River thrusting itself quite into the ribs of the land, which seemed to have no business there. This puzzled the Frenchman exceedingly,

and being a stranger in these parts he called to a farmer in an an adjacent field mon ami are you a quaint bit dis part of the country eh yes i was born here and know every inch of it ah c'est piet that will do and the frenchman got out of the gig tied the horse and produced his lithographic map de maybe you will give me de kindness to show me de sixty lot which i have bought the de valuable valerie privilege the farmer glanced his eye over the paper yes sir with pleasure if you will be good enough to get into my boat i will row you out to them what dat you say sure my friend said the farmer this section of long island has recently been bought up by the speculators of new york and laid out for a great city but the principal street is only visible at low tide when this part of the east river is filled up it will be just there your lots as you will perceive are beyond it and are now all under water at first the frenchman was incredulous he could not believe his senses as the facts however gradually broke upon him he shut one eye squinted obliquely at the heavens the river the farmer and then he turned away and squinted at them all over again there was his purchase sure enough but then it could not be perceived for there was a river flowing over it he drew a box from his waistcoat pocket opened it with an emphatic knock upon the lid took a pinch of snuff and restored it to his waistcoat pocket as before

pooh-pooh was evidently in trouble having thoughts which often lie too deep for tears and as his grief was also too big for words he untied his horse jumped into his gig and returned to the auctioneer in hot haste it was near night when he arrived at the auction-room his horse in a foam and himself in a fury the auctioneer was leaning back in his chair with his legs stuck out of a low window quietly smoking a cigar after the labours of the day and humming the music from the last new opera monsieur i have much pleasure to find you ch'est vous at home ah poohue glad to see you Take a seat, old boy. But I shall not take the seat, sir. No, why? What's the matter? Oh, beaucoup de matter.

I have been to see the grand lot of what you sell me to-day. Well, sir, I hope you like your purchase. No, monsieur, I no like him. I'm sorry for it, but there is no ground for your complaint. No, sir, there is no ground at all. The ground is all varre. You joke. I'm no joke.

I never joke. I don't even joke. Vole you have the kindness to give me back the money what I pay. Certainly not. Then will you be so good as to take the East River off the top of my lot? That's your business, sir, not mine. Then I make von de mer-evesefer, von grand mistake i hope not i don't think you have thrown your money away in the land no sir but i trot it a vein de vatera that's not my fault yes sir but it is your fault you've von der grand rascal to swind me out of de la jean

hello old pope you grow personal and if you don't keep a civil tongue in your head you must go out of my counting-room where shall i go to ha to the devil for aught i care you foolish old frenchman said the auctioneer waxing warm but there i will not go to the devil to oblige you replied the frenchman waxing warmer you sheet me out of all the doleur what i make in shatham street but i will not go to the devil to oblige you replied the frenchman waxing warmer you sheet me out of all the doler what i make in shatham street but i will not go to the devil for all that. I wish you may go to the devil yourself, you damn Yankee-Dood and I will go and drown myself, to de suite, right away. You couldn't make a better use of your water privileges, old boy. Ah, misericorder, oh, my God, I am abime. I am ruin, I am done up, I am break all into ten thousand little pieces, I am von lame duck, and I shall voddle across the grand ocean for paris this is the only valuable vother privileges that has left me our present poor pooh pooh was as good as his word he sailed in the next packet and arrived in paris almost as penniless as the day he left it should any one feel disposed to doubt the veritable circumstances here recorded let him cross the east river to the wallabout and farmer jay will row him out

to the very place where the poor Frenchman's lots still remain underwater." End of Story 1. Story 2 of The Best American Humorous Short Stories by Alexander Jessop Editor. This Liberbox recording is in the public domain. Story 2 The Angel of the Odd, 1844 Edgar Allan Poe. From the Columbian magazine, October October. October, 1844. It was a chilly November afternoon. I had just consummated an unusually hearty dinner, of which the dyspeptic truffa formed not the least important item, and was sitting alone in the

dining-room with my feet upon the fender, and at my elbow a small table which I had rolled up to the fire, and upon which were some apologies for dessert, with some miscellaneous bottles of wine, spirit, and liqueur. In the morning I had been reading Globber's Leonidas, Wilke's Epigonead, La Martine's pilgrimage, Barlow's Columbiad, Tuckerman's Sicily, and Griswold's curiosities. I am willing to confess, therefore, that I now felt a little stupid. I made efforts to arouse myself by frequent aid of Lafitte, and all failing I betook myself to a stray newspaper in despair. Having carefully perused the column of Houses to Lett and the column of dogs lost, and then

the columns of wives and apprentices runaway, I attacked with great resolution the editorial matter, and reading it from beginning to end, without understanding a syllable, conceived the possibility of its being Chinese, and so reread it from the end to the beginning, but with no more satisfactory result. I was about throwing away in disgust, this folio of four pages, happy work, which not even critics criticize, when I felt my attention somewhat aroused

by the paragraph which follows. The avenues to death are numerous and strange. A London paper mentions the decease of a person from a singular cause. He was playing at Puff the Dart, which is played with a london paper. long needle, inserted in some worsted, and blown at a target through a tin tube. He placed the needle at the wrong end of the tube, and, drawing his breath strongly to puff the dart forward with force, drew the needle into his throat. It entered the lungs, and in a few days killed him.

Upon seeing this I fell into a great rage, without exactly knowing why. This thing, I exclaimed, is a contemptible falsehood, a poor hoax, the lees of the invention of some pitiable penny-aliner, of some wretched concocter of accidents in cocaine. These fellows, knowing the extravagant gullibility of the age, set their wits to work in the imagination of improbable possibilities of odd accidents as they termed them, but to a reflecting intellect, like mine, I added in parentheses, putting my forefinger unconsciously to the side of my nose, to a contemplative understanding, such as I myself possess, it seems evident at once that the marvelous increase of late in these odd accidents is by far the oddest accident of all. For my own part I intend to

leave nothing henceforward that has anything of the singular about it. "'Main gaut, then what a vull you been for that?' replied one of the most remarkable voices I ever heard. At first I took it for a rumbling in my ears, such as a man sometimes experiences when getting very drunk. But upon second thought I considered the sound, as more nearly resembling that which proceeds from an empty barrel, beaten with a big stick. And, in fact, this I should have concluded it to be, but for the articulation of the syllables and words. I am by no means

naturally nervous, and the very few glasses of Lafitte, which I had sipped, served to emboldened me a little, so that I felt nothing of trepidation, but merely uplifted my eyes with a leisurely movement, and looked carefully around the room for the intruder. I could not, however, perceive anyone at all. Hmm, resumed the voice, as I continued my survey. You must be so drunk as de pig-pin, for not see me as I sit here at your side. Hereupon I bethought me of looking immediately before my nose,

and there, sure enough, confronting me at the table, sat a personage non-descript, although not altogether indescribable. His body was a wine-pipe, or a rum-puncheon, or something of that character, and had a truly falsafian air. In its nether extremity were inserted two kegs, which seemed to answer all the purposes of legs. For arms there dangled from the upper portion of the carcass, two tolerably long bottles, with the next out. for hands. All the head that I saw the monster possessed of was one of those Hessian canteens,

which resemble a large snuff-box with a hole in the middle of the lid. This canteen, with a funnel on its top, like a cavalier cap slouched over the eyes, was set on edge upon the puncheon, with the hole toward myself, and through this hole, which seemed puckered up like the mouth of a very precise old maid, the creature was emitting certain rumbling and grumbling noises, which he evidently intended for intelligible talk. "'I say,' said he, "'you must be donk as the pig, for sit there and not see me he sit here, and I say do you most be pigger fool as the goose

for to disbelief what is plint in the print. "'Tis de truth. That it is. Every word of it.' "'Who are you, pray?' said I, with much dignity, although somewhat puzzled. How did you get here, and what is it you are talking about?' "'As for how I come here,' replied the figure, "'that is none of your business, and as for what I be talking about, I be talk about what I think proper, and as for who I be, why that is de very thing I come here for to let you see for yourself.

You are a drunken vagabond, said I, and I shall ring the bell and order my footman to kick you into the street. He-he-he, said the fellow. Oh, dot you can't do. Can't do, said I. What do you mean? I can't do what? Ring de pell, he replied, attempting a grin with his little, villainous mouth. Upon this I made an effort to get up in order to put my threat into execution,

but the ruffian just reached across the table very deliberately, and, hitting me a tap on the forehead with the neck of one of the long bottles, knocked me back into the armchair, from which I had half arisen. I was utterly astounded, and for a moment was quite at a loss what to do. In the meantime he continued his talk. "'You'll see,' said he, "'it is to pass for it still. And now you shall know who I pee. Look at me.

See, I am t' angel of de odd. And odd enough, too, I ventured to reply, but I was always under the impression an angel had wings. T'wing, he cried, highly incensed. What I pee do mit de wing. Mind God, do you take me for a chicken? No, oh no, I replied, much alarmed. You are no chicken, certainly not.

Well, then, sit still and behave yourself, or I'll wrap you again metta me visit. It is the chicken up the wing, and the owl up the wing, and the imp up to wing, and the head toifle up to wing. to angel up not de wing, and I am to angel up da'ad. And your business with me at present is, uh, is—

My pissness, ejaculated the thing. Why, what a low-bred puppy you must be, for to ask a gentleman and an angel apote his business? This language was rather more than I could bear, even from an angel, so plucking up courage I seized a salt-seller which lay within reach and hurled it at the head of the intruder. Either he dodged, however, or my aim was inaccurate, for all I accomplished was the demolition of the crystal which protected the dial of the clock upon the mantelpiece. As for the angel, he evinced his sense of my assault by giving me two or three hard, consecutive wraps upon the forehead as before.

these reduced me at once to submission and i am almost ashamed to confess that either through pain or vexation there came a few tears into my eyes mine got said the angel of the odd apparently much softened at my distress mine gawt de man is it for a drunk or fairy story you must not drink it so strong you must put the water into wine here drink tis like a good veller and don't cry now don't hereupon the angel of the odd replenished my goblet which was about a third full of port with a colourless fluid that he poured from one of his hand-bottles i observed that these bottles had labels about their necks and that these labels were inscribed kirchenwessa the considerate kindness of the angel mollified me in no small measure and aided by the water with which he diluted my port more than that the goodness of the angel mollified me in no small measure and aided by the water with which he diluted my port more than that than once i at length regained sufficient temper to listen to his very extraordinary discourse i cannot pretend to recount all that he told me but i gleamed from what he said that he was a genius who presided over the contriteen of mankind and whose business it was to bring about the odd accidents which are continually astonishing the sceptic once or twice upon my venturing to express my my total incredulity in respect to his pretensions, he grew very angry indeed, so that at length I considered it the wiser policy, to say nothing at all, and let him have his own way.

He talked on, therefore, at great length, while I merely leaned back in my chair, with my eyes shut, and amused myself with munching raisins and flipping the stems about the room. but by and by the angel suddenly construed this behaviour of mine into contempt he arose in a terrible passion slouched his funnel down over his eyes swore a vast oath uttered a threat of some character which i did not precisely comprehend and finally made me a low bow and departed wishing me in the language of the archbishop in gill bias beaucho de bono ee ee a pupeer plus de boncense his departure afforded me relief the very few glasses of lafitte that i had sipped had the effect of rendering me drowsy and i felt inclined to take a nap of some fifteen or twenty minutes as is my custom after dinner at six i had an appointment of consequence which it was quite indispensable that i should keep the policy of insurance for my dwelling-house had expired the day before and some dispute having arisen it was agreed that at six i should meet the board of directors of the company and settled the terms of a renewal glancing upward at the clock on the mantelpiece for i felt too drowsy to take out my watch I had the pleasure to find that I had still twenty-five minutes to spare.

It was half-past five. I could easily walk to the insurance office in five minutes, and my usual siestas had never been known to exceed five and twenty. I felt sufficiently safe, therefore, and composed myself to my slumbers forthwith. Having completed them to my satisfaction, I again looked toward the timepiece, and was half unkind to believe in the possibility of odd accidents when I found that, instead of my ordinary fifteen or twenty minutes, I had been dozing only three, for it still wanted seven and twenty of the appointed hour. I betook myself again to my nap, and at length a second time awoke, when to my utter amazement it still wanted twenty-seven minutes of six. I jumped up to examine the clock and found that it had ceased running.

My watch informed me that it was half-past seven, and, of course, having slept two hours, I was too late for my appointment. It will make no difference, I said. I can call at the office in the morning and apologize. In the meantime, what can be the matter with the clock? Upon examining it, I discovered that one of the raisin stems which I had been fit, filipping about the room during the discourse of the angel of the odd had flown through the fractured crystal and lodging singularly enough in the keyhole with an end projecting outward had thus arrested the revolution of the minute-hand ah said i i see how it is this thing speaks for itself a natural accident such as will happen now and then i gave the matter no further consideration and at my usual hour retired to bed

here having placed a candle upon a reading-stand at the bed-head and having made an attempt to peruse some pages of the omnipresence of the deity i unfortunately fell asleep asleep in less than twenty seconds, leaving the light burning as it was. My dreams were terrifically disturbed by visions of the Angel of the Odd. Me thought he stood at the foot of the couch, drew aside the curtains, and in the hollow, detestable tones of a rum-puncheon, menaced me with the bitterest vengeance for the contempt with which I had treated him. He concluded a long harangue by taking off of his own harangue. his funnel-cap, inserting the tube into my gullet, and thus deluging me with an ocean of

Kyrchenwesser, which he poured in a continuous flood from one of the long-necked bottles that stood him instead of an arm. My agony was at length insufferable, and I awoke just in time to perceive that a rat had run off with the lighted candle from the stand, but not in season to prevent his making his escape with it through the hole. Very soon a strong, suffocating odor assailed my nostrils. The house, I clearly perceived, was on fire. In a few minutes the blaze broke forth with violence, and in an incredibly brief period the entire building was wrapped in flames.

All egress from my chamber, except through a window, was cut off. The crowd, however, quickly propensity. secured and raised a long ladder. By means of this I was descending rapidly, and in apparent safety, when a huge hog, about whose rotund stomach, and indeed about whose whole air and physiognomy there was something which reminded me of the angel of the odd, when this hog, I say, which hitherto had been quietly slumbering in the mud, took it suddenly into his head that his left shoulder needed scratching, and could find no more convenient rubbing-post than that afforded by the foot of the ladder.

In an instant I was precipitated, and had the misfortune to fracture my arm. This accident, with the loss of my insurance, and with the more serious loss of my hair, the whole of which had been singed off by the fire, predisposed me to serious impressions, so that finally I made up my mind to take a wife. There was a rich widow, disconsolate for the loss of her seventh husband, and to her wounded spirit I offered the balm of my vows. She yielded a reluctant consent to my prayers. I knelt at her feet in gratitude and adoration.

She blushed and bowed her luxuriant tresses into close contact with those supplied me temporarily, by Grand Jean. I know not how the entanglement took place, but so it was. I arose with a shining pate, wigless, she in disdain and wrath, half buried in alien hair. Thus ended my hopes of the widow by an accident which could not have been anticipated, to be sure, but which the natural sequence of events had brought about. Without despairing, however, I undertook the siege of a less implacable heart. The fates were again propitious for a brief period, but again a trivial incident interfered. Meeting my betrothed in an avenue thronged with the elite of the city, I was hastening to greet

her with one of my best-considered boughs when a small particle of some foreign matter, lodging in the corner of my eye, rendered me for the moment completely blind. before i could recover my sight the lady of my love had disappeared irreparably affronted at what she chose to consider my premeditated rudeness in passing her by un greeted while i stood bewildered at the suddenness of this accident which might have happened nevertheless to any one under the sun and while i still continued incapable of sight i was accosted by the angel of the audience of the eye who proffered me his aid with a civility which i had no reason to expect he examined my disorder dye with much gentleness and skill informed me that i had a drop in it and whatever a drop was took it out and afforded me relief i now considered it high time to die since fortune had so determined to persecute me and accordingly made my way to the nearest river. Here, divesting myself of my clothes, for there is no reason why we cannot die as we were born, I threw myself headlong into the current, the sole witness of my fate being a solitary crow

that had been seduced into the eating of brandy-saturated corn, and so had staggered away from his fellows. No sooner had I entered the water than this bird took it into his head to fly away with the most indispensable portion of my apparel. Postponing, therefore, for the present, my suicidal design, I just slipped my nether extremities into the sleeves of my coat, and betook myself to a pursuit of the felon with all the nimbleness which the case required, and its circumstances would admit. But my evil destiny attended me still.

As I ran at full speed, with my nose up in the atmosphere, and intent only upon the purloiner of my property, I suddenly perceived that my feet rested no longer upon terra firma. The fact is, I had thrown myself over a precipice, and should inevitably have been dashed to pieces, but for my good fortune in grasping the end of a long guide-rope, which depended from a passing balloon. As soon as I sufficiently recovered my sense, to comprehend the terrific predicament in which I stood, or rather hung, I exerted all the power of my lungs to make that predicament known to the aeronaut overhead, but for a long time I exerted myself in vain. Either the fool could not, or the villain would not, perceive me. Meanwhile,

the machine rapidly soared, while my strength even more rapidly failed. i was soon upon the point of resigning myself to my fate and dropping quietly into the sea when my spirits were suddenly revived by hearing a hollow voice from above which seemed to be lazily humming an opera air looking up i perceived the angel of the odd he was leaning with his arms folded over the rim of the car and with a pipe in his mouth at which he puffed leisurely seeming to be upon excellent terms with himself and the universe i was too much exhausted to speak so i merely regarded him with an imploring air for several minutes although he looked me full in the face he said nothing at length removing carefully his meerschaum from the right to the left corner of his mouth he condescended to speak who pee you he asked and what a toifle you pee do dare to this piece of impudence cruelty and affectation i could reply only by ejaculating the monosyllable help help echoed the ruffian not i did i did is de pottle help yourself unt be tamed with these words he let fall a heavy bottle of kershenveser which dropping precisely upon the crown of my head caused me to imagine that my brains were entirely knocked out impressed with this idea i was about to relinquish my hold and give up the ghost with a good grace when i was arrested by the cry of the angel who bade me hold on

hold on he said don't be in a hurry don't will you pe take de odor bottle and have you pe got sober yet and come to your senses i made haste hereupon to nod my head twice once in the negative meaning thereby that i would prefer not taking the other bottle at present and once in the affirmative intending thus to imply that i was sober and had a positively come to my senses. By these means I somewhat softened the angel. "'Unt you believe ten?' he inquired. "'In t' last? You believe ten in te potability of t'ad?' I again nodded my head in assent. "'Ount you have belief in me to angel of the odd?' I nodded again.

"'Ount you acknowledge that you be to blind drunk and a fool?' i nodded once more put your white hand into your left breeches pocket then in token of your full submission unto t' angel up to odd this thing for very obvious reasons i found it quite impossible to do in the first place my left arm had been broken in my fall from the ladder and therefore had i let go my hold with the right hand i must have let go altogether in the second place my left arm had been broken in my fall from the ladder and therefore had i let go my hold with the right hand i must have let go altogether in the second place I could have no britches until I came across the crow. I was therefore obliged, much to my regret, to shake my head in the negative, intending thus to give the angel to understand that I found it inconvenient, just at that moment, to comply with his very reasonable demand. No sooner, however, had I ceased shaking my head than—

"'Go to ter toyful den!' roared the angel of the odd. In pronouncing these words, he drew a sharp knife across the guide-rope, by which I was suspended, and as we then happened to be precisely over my own house, which during my peregrinations had been handsomely rebuilt, it so occurred that I tumbled headlong down the ample chimney and alit upon the dining-room hearth. Upon coming to my senses, for the fall had very thoroughly stunned me, I found it about four o'clock in the morning. I lay outstretched where I had fallen from the balloon, my head grovelled in the ashes of an extinguished fire, while my feet reposed upon the wreck of a small table, overthrown, and amid the fragments of a miscellaneous dessert, intermingled with a

newspaper, some broken glasses and shattered bottles, and an empty jug of the Shedom Kyrchenweser, Thus avenged himself the Angel of the Odd. End of Story 2. Story 3 of The Best American Humorous Short Stories by Alexander Jessop, editor. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Story 3, The Schoolmaster's Progress, 1844, by Carolyn M.S. Kirkland. From The Gift for 1845, late in 1844, republished in the volume Western Clearing's 1845 by Carolyn M. S. Kirkland.

Master William Horner came to our village to school when he was about 18 years old, tall, lank, straight-sighted, and straight-haired, with a mouth of the most puckered and solemn kind. His figure and movements were those of a puppet, cut out of shingle, and jerked by a stringed, and his address corresponded very well with his appearance. Never did that prim mouth give way before a laugh. A faint and misty smile was the widest departure from its propriety, and this unaccustomed disturbance made wrinkles in the flat, skinny cheeks, like those in the surface of a lake, after the intrusion of a stone.

Master Horner knew well what belonged to the pedagogical character, character, and that facial solemnity stood high on the list of indispensable qualifications. He had made up his mind before he left his father's house how he would look during the term. He had not planned any smiles, knowing that he must board round, and it was not for ordinary occurrences to alter his arrangements, so that when he was betrayed into a relaxation of the muscles, it was in such a sort as if he was putting his bread and butter in jeopardy. Truly he had a grave time that first winter. The rod of power was new to him,

and he felt it his duty to use it more frequently than might have been thought necessary by those upon whose sense the privilege had pauled. Tears and sulky faces and impotent fists doubled fiercely when his back was turned, were the rewards of his conscientiousness, and the boys, and girls too, were glad when working-time came round again, and the master went home to help his father on the farm. But with the autumn came Master Horner again, dropping among us as quietly as the faded leaves,

and awakening at least as much serious reflection. Would he be as self-sacrificing as before, postpone, owning his own ease and comfort to the public good, or would he have become more sedentary, and less fond of circumambulating the school-room with a switch over his shoulder? Many were fain to hope he might have learned to smoke during the summer, an accomplishment which would probably have moderated his energy not a little, and disposed him rather to reverie than to action. But here he was, and all the broader chest-examination.

and stouter armed for his labors in the harvest field. Let it not be supposed that Master Horner was of a cruel and ogreish nature, a baby-eater, a Herod, one who delighted in torturing the helpless, such souls there may be, among those endowed with the awful control of the feral, but they are rare in the fresh and natural regions we describe. It is, we believe, where young men are very. gentlemen are to be crammed for college, that the process of hardening heart and skin together goes on most vigorously. Yet among the uneducated there is so high a respect for bodily strength

that it is necessary for the schoolmaster to show, first of all, that he possesses this inadmissible requisite for his place. The rest is more readily taken for granted. Brains he may have, a strong arm he must have, so he proves the more important claim first. We must therefore make all due allowance for Master Horner, who could not be expected to overtop his position so far as to discern at once the philosophy of teaching. He was sadly browbeaten during his first term of service by a great broad-shouldered lout of some eighteen years or so, who thought he needed a little more schooling, but at the same time felt quite competent to direct the manner and measure of his attempts you'd ought to begin with large hand joshua said master horner to this youth

what should i want coarse hand for said the disciple with great contempt coarse hand won't never do me no good i want a fine hand copy the master looked at the infant giant and did as he wished but we say not with what secret resolutions. At another time, Master Horner, having had a hint for someone more knowing than himself, proposed to his elder scholars to write after dictation, expatiating at the same time quite floridly, the ideas having been supplied by the knowing friend, upon the advantages likely to arise from this practice, and saying, among other things, "'Oh, it will help you when you write letters to spell the words good.' "'Poo,' said Joshua. "'Spelling ain't nothing.

Let him that finds the mistakes. Correct them. I'm for everyone's having a way of their own.' "'How dared you to be so saucy to the master?' asked one of the little boys after school. "'Because I could lick him easy,' said the hopeful Joshua, who knew very well why the master did not undertake him on the spot. can we wonder that master horner determined to make his empire good as far as it went a new examination was required on the entrance into a second term and with whatever secret trepidation the master was obliged to submit

our law prescribes examinations but forgets to provide for the competency of the examiners so that few better farces offer than the course of question and answer of the answer on these occasions. We know not precisely what were Master Horner's trials, but we have heard of a sharp dispute between the inspectors whether A-N-G-E-L spelt Angle or Angel. Angle had it, and the school maintained that pronunciation ever after. Master Horner passed, and he was requested to draw up the certificate for the inspectors to sign, as one had left left his spectacles at home, and the other had a bad cold, so that it was not convenient for either to write more than his name. Master Horner's exhibition of learning on this occasion did not reach us, but we know that

it must have been considerable since he stood the ordeal. What is orthography? said an inspector once in our presence. The candidate writhed a good deal, studied the beams overhead, and the chick-eastern out of the window, and then replied, It is so long since I learnt the first part of the spelling-book that I can't justly answer that question, but if I could just look it over, I guess I could. Our schoolmaster entered upon his second term with new courage and invigorated authority. Twice certified, who should dare doubt his competency.

Even Joshua was civil, and lesser louts, of course. obsequious. Though the girls took more liberties, for they feel even at that early age, that influence is stronger than strength. Could a young schoolmaster think of farrelling a girl with her hair and ringlets and a gold ring on her finger? Impossible, and the immunity extended to all the little sisters and cousins, and there were enough large girls to protect all the feminine part of the school.

With the boys, Master Horner still had many a battle, and whether with a view to this or as an economical ruse, he never wore his coat at school, saying it was too warm. Perhaps it was an astute attention to the prejudices of his employers who love no man that does not earn his living by the sweat of his brow. The shirt-sleeves gave the idea of a manual labor school in one sense at least. It was evident that the master worked, and that afforded a probability that the scholars worked too. Master Horner's success was most triumphant that winter.

A year's growth had improved his outward man exceedingly, filling out the limbs so that they did not remind you so forcibly of a young colts, and supplying the cheeks with the flesh and blood so necessary where moustaches were not worn. had given him a degree of confidence, and confidence gave him power. In short, people said the master had waked up, and so he had. He actually set about reading for improvement, and although at the end of the term he could not quite make out from his historical studies which side Hannibal was on, yet this is readily explained by the fact that he boarded round and was obliged to read generally

by firelight, surrounded by ungoverned children. After this, Master Horner made his own bargain. When school time came round with the following autumn and the teacher presented himself for a third examination, such a test was pronounced no longer necessary, and the district consented to engage him at the astounding rate of sixteen dollars a month, with the understanding that he was to have a fixed home, provided he was willing to allow a dollar a week for it. Master Horner bethought him of the successive killing times, and consequent doughnuts of the twenty families in which he had sojourned the year before, and consented to the extraction.

Behold our friend now, as high as district teacher can ever hope to be, his scholarship established, his home stationary, and not revolving, and the good behavior of the community ensured by the fact that he, being of age, had now a farm to retire upon in case of any disgust. Master Horner was at once the preeminent bow of the neighborhood, spite of the prejudice against learning. He brushed his hair straight up in front, and wore a sky-blue ribbon for a guard to his silver watch, and walked as if the tall heels of his blunt boots were eggshells and not leather.

Yet he was far from neglecting the duties of his place. He was beau only on Sundays and holidays, very schoolmaster the rest of the time. It was at a spelling school that Master Horner first met the educated eyes of Miss Harriet Bangle, a young lady visiting the Engleharts in our neighborhood. She was from one of the towns in western New York, and had brought with her a variety of city airs and graces, somewhat caricatured, set off with year-old French fashions much travestied. Whether she had been sent out to the new country to try, somewhat late, a rustic chance for an establishment, or whether her company had been found rather trying at home, we cannot say. the view which she was at some pains to make understood was that her friends had contrived this method of keeping her out of the way of a desperate lover whose addresses were not acceptable to them if it should seem surprising that so high-bred a visitor should be sojourning in the wild woods it must be remembered that more than one celebrated englishman and not a few distinguished americans have farmer brothers in the western country

no whit less rustic in their exterior and manner of life than the plainest of their neighbors when these are visited by their refined kinsfolk we of the woods catch glimpses of the gay world, or think we do, that great medicine hath with its tinct gilded many a vulgarism to the satisfaction of wiser heads than ours. Miss Bangal's manner bespoke for her that high consideration which she felt to be her due, yet she condescended to be amused by the rustics and their awkward attempts at gaiety and elegance, and to say truth, few of the village merry-makings escaped her, though she wore always the air of great superiority. The spelling school is one of the ordinary winter amusements in the country. It occurs once in a fortnight or so, and has power to draw out all the young people for miles round, arrayed in their

best clothes and their holiday behavior. When all is ready, umpires are elected, and after these have taken the distinguished place usually occupied by the teacher, the young people of the school choose the two best scholars to head the opposing classes. These leaders choose their followers from the Mass, each calling a name in turn until all the spellers are ranked on one side, or the other, lining the sides of the room and all standing. The schoolmaster, standing too, takes his spelling-book and gives a placid yet awe-inspiring look along the ranks, remarking that he intends to be very impartial, and that he shall give out nothing that is not in the spelling-book. For the first half-hour or so, he chooses common and easy words,

that the spirit of the evening may not be damped by the too early thinning of the classes. When a word is missed, the blunderer has to sit down. down and be a spectator only for the rest of the evening. At certain intervals some of the best speakers mount the platform and speak a piece, which is generally as declamatory as possible. The excitement of this scene is equal to that afforded by any city spectacle whatever, and towards the close of the evening, when difficult and unusual words are chosen to confound the small number who still keep the floor, it becomes scarcely less than painful.

When perhaps only one or two remain to be puzzled, the master, weary at last of his task, though a favorite one, tries by tricks to put down those whom he cannot overcome in fair fight. If among all the curious, useless, unheard-of words which may be picked out of the spelling-book, he cannot find one which the scholars have not noticed, he gets the last head down by some quip or catch. Bay will perhaps be the sound, one scholar spells it B-E-Y, another B-A-Y, while the master all the time means B-A,

which comes within the rule being in the spelling-book. It was on one of these occasions, as we have said, that Miss Bangle, having come to the spelling-school, school to get materials for a letter to a female friend first shown upon mr horner she was excessively amused by his solemn air and puckered mouth and set him down at once as fair gain yet she could not help becoming somewhat interested in the spelling school and after it was over found she had not stored up half as many of the schoolmaster's points as she intended for the benefit of her correspondent in the evening's contest a young girl from some few miles distance ellen kingsbury the only child of a substantial farmer had been the very last to sit down after a prolonged effort on the part of mr horner to puzzle her for the credit of his own school she blushed and smiled and blushed again but spelt on until mr horner's cheeks were crimson with excitement and some touch of shame that he should be baffled at his own weapons. At length, either by accident or design, Ellen missed a word, and sinking

into her seat, was numbered with the slain. In the laugh and talk which followed, for with the conclusion of the spelling, all form of a public assembly vanishes, our schoolmaster said so many gallant things to this fair enemy, and appeared so much animated by the excitement of the contest, that Miss Bangal began to look upon him with rather more respect, and to feel somewhat indignant that a little rustic like Ellen should absorb the entire attention of the only bow. She put on, therefore, her most gracious aspect, and mingled in the circle, caused the schoolmaster to be presented to her, and did her best to fascinate him by certain airs and gracious which she had found successful elsewhere.

game is too small for the close-woven net of a coquette. Mr. Horner quitted not the fair Ellen until he had handed her into her father's sleigh, and he then wended his way homewards, never thinking that he ought to have escorted Miss Bangle to her uncles, though she certainly waited a little while for his return. We must not follow into particulars the subsequent intercourse of our schoolmaster with the civilized young lady. All that concerns us is the result of Miss Bangal's benevolent designs upon his heart. She tried most sincerely to find its vulnerable spot,

meaning no doubt to put Mr. Horner on his guard for the future, and she was unfeitedly surprised to discover that her best efforts were of no avail. She concluded he must have taken a counter-poison, and she was not slow in guessing its source. She had observed the peculiar fire which lighted up his eyes in the presence of Ellen Kingsbury, and she bethought her of a plan which would ensure her some amusement at the expense of these impertinent rustics, though in a manner different somewhat from her original, more natural idea of simple coquetry.

A letter was written to Master Horner, purporting to come from Ellen Kingsbury, worded so artfully that the schoolmaster understood at once that it was in a little bit of intended to be a secret communication, though its ostensible object was an inquiry about some ordinary affair. This was laid in Mr. Horner's desk before he came to school with an intimation that he might leave an answer in a certain spot on the following morning. The bait took at once, for Mr. Horner, honest and true himself, and much smitten with the fair Ellen, was too happy to be circumspect. The answer was duly placed, and as duly carried to Miss Bangle by her accomplice Joe Englehart, an unlucky pickle, who was always for ill, never for good, and who found no

difficulty in obtaining the letter unwatched, since the master was obliged to be in school at nine, and Joe could always linger a few minutes later. This answer being opened and laughed at, Miss Bangal had only to contrive a rejoinder, which, being rather more particular in its tone than the original communication, led on yet again the happy schoolmaster, who branched out into sentiment, taffeta phrases, silken terms, precise, talked of hills and dales and rivulets, and the pleasures of friendship, and concluded by entreating a continuance of the correspondence. Another letter, and another, everyone more flattering and encouraging than the last, almost turned the sober head of our poor master, and warmed up his heart so effectually

that he could scarcely attend to his business. The spelling schools were remembered, however, and Ellen Kingsbury made one of the merry company. But the latest letter had not forgotten to caution Mr. Horner not to betray the intimacy, so that he was in honor bound to restrict himself to the language of the eyes hard as it was to forbear the single whisper for which he would have given his very dictionary. So their meeting passed off without the explanation which Miss Bangel began to fear would cut short her benevolent amusement. The correspondence was resumed with renewed spirit and carried on until Miss Bangel, though not overburdened with sense, sensitiveness began to be a little alarmed for the consequences of her malicious pleasantry. She perceived that she herself had turned schoolmistress, and that Master Horner, instead of being

merely her dupe, had become her pupil, too. For the style of his replies had been constantly improving, and the earnest and manly tone which he assumed promised anything but the quiet sheepish pocketing of injury and insolp assault upon which she had counted. In truth, there was something deeper than vanity in the feelings with which he regarded Ellen Kingsbury. The encouragement which he supposed himself to have received threw down the barrier which his extreme bashfulness would have interposed between himself and anyone who possessed charms enough to attract him. And we must excuse him if, in such a case, he did not criticize the mode of encouragement,

but rather grasped eagerly the proffered good without a scruple or one which he would own to himself as to the propriety with which it was tendered he was as much in love as a man can be and the seriousness of real attachment gave both grace and dignity to his once awkward diction the evident determination of mr horner to come to the point of asking papa brought miss bangle to a very awkward pass she had expected to return home before matters had proceeded so far but being obliged to remain some time longer she was equally afraid to go on and to leave off a denouement being almost certain to ensue in either case things stood thus when it was time to prepare for the grand exhibition which was to close the winter's term this is an affair of too much magnitude to be fully described in the small space yet remaining in which to bring out our veracious history it must be slubbered or in haste its important preliminaries left to the cold imagination of the reader, its fine spirit, perhaps evaporating for want of being embodied in words. We can only say that our master, whose school life was to close with the term, labored as man

never before labored in such a cause, resolute to trail a cloud of glory after him when he left us. Not a candlestick nor a curtain that was attainable, either by cold. hoaxing or bribery, was left in the village. Even the only piano, that frail treasure, was wild away and placed in one corner of the rickety stage. The most splendid of all the pieces in the Colombian orator, the American speaker, the—but we must not enumerate—in a word, the most astounding and pathetic specimens of eloquence within kin of either teacher or scholars had been selected for the occasion, and several young ladies and gentlemen, whose

academical course had been happily concluded at an earlier period, either at our own institution or at some other, had consented to lend themselves to the parts and their choicest decorations for the properties of the dramatic portion of the entertainment. Among these last was Pretty Ellen Kingsbury, who had agreed to personate, the Queen of Scots, in the garden scene from Schiller's tragedy of Mary Stuart. And this circumstance accidentally afforded Master Horner the opportunity he had so long desired, of seeing his fascinating correspondent without the presence of peering eyes. A dress-rehersel occupied the afternoon before the day of days, and the pathetic expostulations

of the lovely Mary, Mine all doth hang, my life, my destiny, upon my words, upon the force of tears. Aided by the long veil, and the emotion which sympathy brought into Ellen's countenance, proved too much for the enforced prudence of Master Horner. When the rehearsal was over, and the heroes and heroines were to return home, it was found that by a stroke of witty invention not new in the country, the harness of Mr. Kingsbury's horses had been cut in several places, his whip hidden, his buffalo skins spread on the ground, and the sleigh turned bottom upwards on them. this afforded an excuse for the masters borrowing a horse and sleigh of somebody and claiming the privilege of taking miss ellen home while her father returned with only aunt sally and a great bag of bran from the mill companions about equally interesting here then was the golden opportunity so long wished for here was the power of ascertaining at once what is never quite certain until we have heard it for for for was the power of ascertaining at once what is never quite certain until we have heard it for for

from warm, living lips, whose testimony is strengthened by glances in which the whole soul speaks, or seems to speak. The time was short, for the slaying was but too fine, and Father Kingsbury, having tied up his harness and collected his scattered equipment, was driving so close behind that there was no possibility of lingering for a moment. Yet many moments were lost before Mr. Horner, very much in earnest and all unhoused. unhackneyed in manners of this sort, could find a word in which to clothe his new-found feelings. The horse seemed to fly, the distance was half-past, and at length, in absolute despair of anything

better, he blurted out at once what he had determined to avoid, a direct reference to the correspondence. A game at cross-purposes ensued. Exclamations and explanations and denials and apologies filled up the time which was to have made Master Horner so blessed. The light from Mr. Kingsbury's windows shone upon the path, and the whole result of this conference so longed for, was a burst of tears from the perplexed and mortified Ellen, who sprang from Mr. Horner's attempts to detain her, rushed into the house without out-safing him a word of Edeu, and left him standing, no bad personification of Orpheus,

after the last hopeless flitting of his Eurydichy. Won't you light, Master, said Mr. Kingsbury. Yes, no, thank you. Good evening, stammered poor Master Horner, so stupefied that even Aunt Sally called him a dummy. The horse took the sleigh against the fence, going home, and throughout the master, who scarcely recollected the accident, while to Ellen the issue of this unfortunate drive was a sleepless night and so high a fever in the morning that our village doctor was

called to Mr. Kingsbury's before breakfast. Poor Master Horner's distress may hardly be imagined, disappointed, bewildered, cut to the quick, yet as much in love as ever he could only in bitter silence turn over in his thoughts the issue of his cherished dream, now persuading himself that Ellen's denial was the effect of a sudden bashfulness, now in baying against the fickleness of the sex as all men do when they are angry with any one woman in particular. But his exhibition must go on in spite of wretchedness, and he went about mechanically, talking of curtains and candles and music and attitudes and pauses and emphasis, looking like a somnambulist whose eyes are open but their sense is shut,

and often surprising those concerned by the utter unfitness of his answers. It was almost evening when Mr. Kingsbury, having discovered through the intervention of the doctor and Aunt Sally, the cause of Ellen's distress, made his appearance before the unhappy eyes of Master Horner, angry, solemn, and determined, taking the schoolmaster apart, and requiring an explanation of his treatment of his daughter. In vain did the perplexed lover ask for time to clear himself, declare his respect for Miss Ellen, and his willingness to give every explanation which she might require. The father was not to be put off. And, though excessively reluctant, Mr. Horner had no resource but to show the letters which alone could account for his strange discourse to Ellen.

He unlocked his desk slowly and unwillingly, while the old man's impatience was such that he could scarcely forbear thrusting in his own hand to snatch the papers which were to explain this vexatious mystery. What could even be a man's? equal the utter confusion of Master Horner and the contemptuous anger of the Father, when no letters were to be found. Mr. Kingsbury was too passionate to listen to reason, or to reflect for one moment upon the irreproachable good name of the schoolmaster. He went away in inexorable wrath, and threatening every practicable visitation of public and private

justice upon the head of the offender, whom he accused of having to beckon having to beckon attempted to trick his daughter into an entanglement which should result in his favor. A doleful exhibition was this last one of our thrice-approved and most worthy teacher. Stern necessity and the power of habit enabled him to go through with most of his part, but where was the proud fire which had lighted up his eye on similar occasions before? He sat as one of three judges before whom the unfortunate Robert Emmett was dragged in his shirt-sleeves by two fierce-looking officials. But the chief judge looked far more like a criminal than did the proper representative. He ought to have personated Othello, but was obliged to excuse himself from raving for the handkerchief—the

on the rather anomalous plea of a bad cold. Mary Stewart, being Ed the Bound, was anxiously expected by the impatient crowd, and it was with distress amounting to agony that the master was obliged to announce, in person, the necessity of omitting that part of the presentation, on account of the illness of one of the young ladies. Scarcely had the words been uttered, and the speaker hidden his burning face behind the curtain when Mr. Kingsbury started up in his place amid the throng to give a public recital of his grievance, no uncommon resort in the new country. He dashed at once to the point, and before some friends who saw the utter impropriety of his proceeding

could persuade him to defer his vengeance, he had laid before the assembly, some 300 people, perhaps, his own statement of the case. He was got out at last, half coaxed, half-hustled, and the gentle public only half-understanding what had been set forth thus unexpectedly, made quite a pretty row of it. Some clamored loudly for the conclusion of the exercises. Others gave utterances in no particular choice terms to a variety of opinions as to the schoolmaster's proceedings, varying the note occasionally by shouting, The letters, the letters, why don't you bring out the letters?

At length, by means of much wrapping on the desk by the president of the evening, who was fortunately a popular character, order was partially restored, and the favorite scene from Miss Moore's dialogue of David and Goliath was announced as the closing piece. The sight of Little David in a white tunic, edged with red tape, with a calico's scrip and a very primitive-looking sling, and a huge Goliath decorated with a militia-belt and sword, and a spear like a weaver's beam, indeed, enchained everybody's attention. Even the peccant schoolmaster and his pretended letters were forgotten, while the sapient Goliath, every time that he raised the spear in the energy of his declamation

to thump upon the stage, picked away fragments of the low. ceiling, which fell conspicuously on his great shock of black hair. At last, with the crowning threat, up went the spear for an astounding thump, and down came a large piece of the ceiling, and with it a shower of letters. The confusion that ensued beggar's all description. A general scramble took place, and in another moment twenty pairs of eyes at least were feasting on the choice phrases lavished upon Mr. Horner. Miss Bangal had sat through the whole previous scene, trembling for herself, although she had,

as she supposed, guarded cunningly against exposure. She had needed no profit to tell her what must be the result of a tait-a-tate between Mr. Horner and Ellen, and the moment she saw them drive off together, she induced her imp to seized the opportunity of abstracting the whole parcel of letters from Mr. Horner's desk, which he did by means of a sort of skill which comes by nature to such goblins, picking the lock by the aid of a crooked nail as neatly as if he had been born within the shadow of the tombs. But magicians sometimes suffer severely from the malice with which they have themselves inspired their familiars. Joe Englehart, having been

a convenient tool thus far, thought it quite time to torment Miss Bangal a little, so having stolen the letters at her bidding, he hid them on his own account, and no persuasions of hers could induce him to reveal this important secret, which he chose to reserve as a rod in case she refused him some intercession with his father, or some other accommodation, rendered necessary by his mischievous habits. had concealed the precious parcels in the unfloored loft above the schoolroom, a place accessible only by means of a small trapped door, without staircase or ladder, and here he meant to have kept them while it suited his purposes, but for the untimely intrusion of the

weavers beam. Miss Bangal had sat through all, as we have said, thinking the letters safe, yet vowing vengeance against her confederate for not allowing her to secure them by a satisfactory conflagration. And it was not until she heard her own name whispered through the crowd that she was awakened to her true situation. The sagacity of the low creatures whom she had despised showed them at once that the letters must be hers, since her character had been pretty shrewdly guessed, and the handwriting wore a more practiced air than is usual among females in the country. This was first taken for granted, and then spoken of as an acknowledged

fact. The assembly moved like the heavings of a troubled sea. Everybody felt that this was everybody's business. Put her out! was heard from more than one rough voice near the door, and this was responded to by loud and angry murmurs from within. Mr. Englehart, not waiting to inquire into the merits of the case in this scene of confusion, hastened to get his family out as quietly and as quickly as possible, but groans and hisses followed his niece as she hung half-fainting on his arm, quailing completely beneath the instinctive indignation of the rustic public. As she passed out, a yell resounded among the rude boys about the door, and she was lifted into a sleigh insensible from terror.

she disappeared from that evening and no one knew the time of her final departure for the east mr kingsbury who is a just man when he is not in a passion made all the reparation in his power for his harsh and ill-considered attack upon the master and we believe that that functionary did not show any traits of implacability of character at least he was seen not many days after sitting peaceably at tea with mr kingsbury aunt sally and miss ellen and he has since gone home to build a house upon his farm and people do say that after a few months more ellen will not need miss bangles intervention if she should see fit to correspond with the school Schoolmaster. End of Story 3. Story 4. Of the Best American Humorous Short Stories by Alexander Jessup Editor. This Libervox recording is in the public domain.

Story 4. The Watkinson Evening, 1846, by Eliza Leslie. From Goody's Ladies' Book, December 1846. Mrs. Morland, a polished and accomplished woman, was the widow of a distinguished senator from one of the western states, of which also her husband had twice filled the office of governor. Her daughter, having completed her education at the best boarding school in Philadelphia, and her son, being about to graduate at Princeton, the mother had planned with her children a tour to Niagara and the lakes, returning by way of Boston.

on leaving philadelphia mrs morland and the delighted caroline stopped at princeton to be present at the annual commencement and had the happiness of seeing their beloved edward receive his diploma as bachelor of arts after hearing him deliver with great applause an oration on the beauties of the american character college youths are very prone to treat on subjects that imply great experience of the world but edward moron was full of kind feeling for everything and everybody and his views of life had hitherto been tinted with a perpetual rose-color mrs morland not depending altogether upon the celebrity of her late husband and wishing that her children should see specimens of the best society in the northern cities had left home with numerous letters of introduction but when they arrived at new york she found to her great regret that having unpacked and taken out her small traveling desk during her short stay in Philadelphia, she had strangely left it behind in the closet of her room at the hotel. In this desk were deposited all her letters, except two which had been offered to her by friends in Philadelphia.

The young people, impatient to see the wonders of Niagara, had entreated her to stay but a day or to in the city of New York, and thought these two letters would be quite sufficient for the present. In the meantime, she wrote back to the hotel, requesting that the missing desk should be forwarded to New York as soon as possible. On the morning after their arrival at the great commercial metropolis of America, the Moorland family took a carriage to ride around through the principal parts of the city, and to deliver their two letters at the houses to which they were addressed, and which were both situated in the region that lies between the upper part of Broadway and the North River.

In one of the most fashionable streets they found the elegant mansion of Mrs. St. Leonard, but on stopping at the door were informed that its mistress was not at home. They then left the introductory letter, which they had prepared for this mischance by enclosing it in an envelope with a card, and proceeding to another street considerably farther up, they arrived at the dwelling of the Watkinson family, to the mistress of which the other Philadelphia letter was directed. It was one of a large block of houses all exactly alike, and all shut up from top to bottom, according to a custom more prevalent in New York than in any other city. Here they were also unsuccessful, the servant who came to the door telling them that the ladies were particularly engaged and could see no company.

So they left their second letter and card and drove off, continuing their ride till they reached the Croton Waterworks, which they quitted the carriage to see and admire. On returning to the hotel, with the intention, after an hour or two of rest, to go out again, and walk till near dinner-time they found waiting them a note from mrs watkinson expressing her regret that she had not been able to see them when they called and explaining that her family duties always obliged her to deny herself the pleasure of receiving morning visitors and that her servants had general orders to that effect but she requested their company for that evening naming nine o'clock as the hour and particularly the desired an immediate answer. I suppose, said Mrs. Morland, she intends asking some of her friends to meet us in case we accept the invitation, and therefore is naturally desirous of a reply as soon as possible.

Of course we will not keep her in suspense. Mrs. Denham, who volunteered the letter, assured me that Mrs. Watkinson was one of the most estimable women in New York, and a pattern to the circle in which she was a pattern to the circle in which she moved. It seemed that Mr. Denham and Mr. Watkinson are connected in business. Shall we go? The young people assented, saying they had no doubt of passing a pleasant evening. The billet of acceptance having been written, it was sent off immediately, entrusted to one of the errand-goers belonging to the hotel, that it might be received in advance of the next hour for the dispatch post, and Edward Morland desired the man to get into a man.

omnibus with the note that no time might be lost in delivering it. It is but right, said he to his mother, that we should give Mrs. Watkinson an ample opportunity of making her preparations and sending round to invite her friends. How considerate you are, dear Edward, said Caroline, always so thoughtful of everyone's convenience, your college friends must have idolized you. No, said Edward. They called me a prig. Just then a remarkably handsome carriage drove up to the private door of the hotel.

From it alighted a very elegant woman, who in a few moments was ushered into the drawing-room by the head-waiter, and on his designating Mrs. Morland's family she advanced and gracefully announced herself as Mrs. St. Leonard. This was the lady at whose house they had left the first letter of introduction. expressed regret at not having been at home when they called, but said that on finding their letter she had immediately come down to see them and to engage them for the evening. Tonight, said Mrs. St. Lentard, I expect as many friends as I can collect for a summer party. The occasion is the recent marriage of my niece, who with her husband has just returned

from their bridal excursion, and they will be soon on their way to their residence, Baltimore. I think I can promise you an agreeable evening, as I expect some very delightful people, with whom I shall be most happy to make you acquainted. Edward and Caroline exchanged glances, and could not refrain from looking wistfully at their mother, on whose countenance a shade of regret was very apparent. After a short pause she replied to Mrs. St. Leonard, I am truly sorry to say that we have just answered in the affirmative a previous invitation for this evening. Oh, I am indeed disappointed, said Mrs. St. Leonard, who had been looking approvingly at the prepossessing appearance of the two young people. Is there no way in which you can revoke your compliance with this

unfortunate first invitation? At least I am sure it is unfortunate for me. What a vexatious contra-tom. that I should have chanced to be out when you called, thus missing the pleasure of seeing you at once, and securing that of your society for this evening. The truth is, I was disappointed in some of the preparations that had been sent home this morning, and I had to go myself and have the things rectified, and was detained away longer than I expected. May I ask to whom you are engaged this evening? Perhaps I know the lady. If so, I should be very much tempted to go and beg you from her.

The lady is Mrs. John Watkinson, replied Mrs. Morland. Most probably she will invite some of her friends to meet us. That, of course, answered Mrs. St. Leonard. I am really very sorry, and I regret to say that I do not know her at all. We shall have to abide by our first decision, said Mrs. Morland. by Mrs. Watkinson, mentioning in her note the hour of nine, it is to be presumed she intends asking some other company. I cannot possibly disappoint her. I can speak feelingly as to the annoyance, for I have known it, by my own experience, when after inviting a number of my friends

to meet some strangers, the strangers have sent an excuse almost at the eleventh hour. I think no inducements, however strong, could tempt me to do so myself. I confess that you are perfectly right, said Mrs. St. Leonard, I see you must go to Mrs. Watkinson, but can you not divide the evening by passing a part of it with her and then finishing with me? At this suggestion the eyes of the young people sparkled, for they had become delighted with Mrs. St. Leonard, and imagined that a party at her house must be every way charming. Also, parties were novelties to both of them. If possible, we will do so, answered Mrs. Morland, and with what pleasure I need not assure you.

We leave New York to-morrow, but we shall return this way in September, and will then be exceedingly happy to see more of Mrs. St. Leonard. After a little more conversation, Mrs. St. Leonard took her leave, repeating her hope of still seeing her new friends at her house that night, and enjoining them to let her know as soon as they returned to New York on their way home. Edward Morland handed her to her carriage, and then joined his mother and sister in their commendations of Mrs. St. Leonard, with whose exceeding beauty were united, a countenance beaming with intelligence, and a manner that put everyone at their ease immediately.

She is in evidence, said Edward, how superior our women of fashion are to those of Europe. Wait, my dear son, said Mrs. Morland, till you have been in Europe, and had an opportunity of forming an opinion on that point, as on many others, from actual observation. for my part I believe that in all civilized countries the upper classes of people are very much alike, at least in their leading characteristics. Ah, here comes the man that was sent to Mrs. Watkinson, said Caroline Morland. I hope he could not find the house and has brought the note back with him. We shall then be able to go at first to Mrs. St. Leonard's and pass the whole evening there.

The man reported that he had found the house and had delivered the note. note into Mrs. Watkinson's own hands, as she chanced to be crossing the entry when the door was opened, and that she read it immediately and said, very well. "'Are you certain that you made no mistake in the house?' said Edward, and that you really did give it to Mrs. Watkinson. "'Oh, it's quite sure I am, sir,' replied the man. When I first came over from the old country, I lived with them a while, and though when she saw me to-day she did not let on that she remembered my doing that same she could not help calling me james yes the real word she said when i handed her the billy-do was very well james

come come said edward when they found themselves alone let us look on the bright side if we do not find a large party at mrs wakinson's we may in all probability meet some very agreeable people there and enjoy the feast of reason and the flow of soul we may find the wakinson house so pleasant as to leave it with regret even for mrs st leonard's i do not believe mrs wapkinson is in fashionable society i do not believe mrs wotkinson is in fashionable society said caroline or mrs st leonard would have known her i heard some of the ladies here talking last evening of mrs st leon and i found from what they said that she is among the elite of the leet even if she is observed mrs morland our polish of manners and cultivation of mind confined exclusively to persons of that class certainly not said edward the most talented and refined youth at our college and he in whose society i found the greatest pleasure was the son of a bricklayer in the ladies drawing-room after dinner the morlands heard a conversation between several of the female guests who all seemed to know mrs st leonard very well by reputation and they talked of her party that was to come off on this evening i hear said one lady that mrs st leonard is to have an unusual number of lions she then proceeded to name a gallant general with his elegant wife an accomplished daughter a celebrated commander in the navy two highly distinguished members of congress and even an ex-president also several of the most eminent among the american literati and two first-rate artists

edward morland felt as if he could say had i three ears i'd hear thee such a woman as mrs st leonard can always command the best lions that are to be found observed another lady and then said a third i have been told that she has such exquisite taste in lighting and embellishing her always elegant rooms and her supper-table whether for summer or winter parties is so beautifully arranged all the viands are so delicious and the attendance of the servants so perfect and mrs st leonard does the honours with so much ease and tact some friends of mine that visit her said a fourth lady describe her parties as absolute perfection she always manages to bring together those persons that are best fitted to enjoy each other's conversation still no one is overlooked or neglected then everything at her reunions is so well proportioned she has just enough of music and just enough of whatever amusement may add to the pleasure of her guests and still there is no appearance of design or management on her part and better than all said the lady who had spoken first mrs st leonard is one of the kindest most generous and most benevolent of women she does good in every possible way i can listen no longer said caroline to edward rising to change her seat if i hear any more i shall absolutely hate the watkinsons how provoking that they should have sent us the first invitation if we had only thought of waiting till we could hear from mrs st leonard for shame caroline said her brother how can you talk so of persons you have never seen and to whom you ought to feel grateful for the kindness of their invitation even if it has interfered with another party that i must confess seems to offer unusual attractions

now i have a presentiment that we shall find the wadkinson part of the evening very enjoyable as soon as tea was over mrs morland and her daughter repaired to their toilettes. Fortunately, fashion as well as good taste, has decided that, at a summer party, the costume of the ladies should never go beyond an elegant simplicity. Therefore, our two ladies in preparing for their intended appearance at Mrs. St. Leonard's were enabled to attire themselves in a manner that would not seem out of place in the smaller company they expected to meet at the Watkinsons. Over an underdress of lawn, Caroline Morland put on a white organdy, trimmed with lace, and decorated with bows of pink ribbon. At the back of her head was a wreath of fresh and beautiful pink flowers tied with a similar ribbon.

Mrs. Morland wore a black grenadine over a satin and a lace cap trimmed with white. It was but a quarter past nine o'clock when their carriage stopped at the Watkinson door, door. The front of the house looked very dark, not a ray gleamed through the Venetian shutters, and the glimmer beyond the fanlight over the door was almost imperceptible. After the coachman had rung several times, an Irish girl opened the door, cautiously, as Irish girls always do, and admitted them into the entry, where one light only was burning in a branch lamp. "'Shall we go upstairs?' said Mrs. Morland.

"'And what for would ye go upstairs?' said the girl, in a pert tone. "'It's all dark there, and there's no preparations. "'Ye can leave your things here hanging on the rack. "'It is a party you expectin?' "'Bless it are them, what expects nothing.' The sanguine Edward Morland looked rather blank at this intelligence, and his sister whispered to him, we'll get off to Mrs. Leonard's as soon as we possibly can.

When did you tell the coachman to come for us? At half-past ten was the brother's reply. Oh, Edward, Edward! she exclaimed, and I dare say he will not be punctual. He may keep us here till eleven. Courage, my infant, said their mother, and parley plus d'usement. The girl then ushered them into the back parlour, saying, here's the company. The room was large and gloomy. A checkered mat covered the floor, and all the furniture was encased in striped calico covers, and the lamps, mirrors, etc.,

concealed under green gauze. The front parlor was entirely dark, and in the back apartment was no other light than a shaded lamp on a large center table, round which was assembled the circle of children of all sizes and ages. On a backless, cushionless sofa sat Mrs. Watkinson, and a young lady, whom she introduced as her daughter Jane, and Mrs. Morland, in turn, presented Edward and Caroline. "'Will you take the rocking-chair, ma'am?' inquired Mrs. Watkinson. Mrs. Morland declined the offer, the hostess took it herself, and seesawed on it nearly the whole time. It was a very awkward, high-legged, crouch-backed rocking-chair, and shamefully unprovided with anything in the form of a footstool.

My husband is away at Boston on business, said Mrs. Watkinson. I thought at first, ma'am, I should not be able to ask you here this evening, for it is not our way to have company in his absence, but my daughter Jane over-persuaded me to send for you. what a pity thought caroline you must take us as you find us ma'am continued mrs watkinson we use no ceremony with anybody and our rule is never to put ourselves out of the way we do not give parties looking at the dresses of the ladies our first duty is to our children and we cannot waste our substance on fashion and folly they'll have cause to thank us for it when we die something like a sob was heard from the centre table at which the children were sitting and a boy was seen to hold his handkerchief to his face joseph my child said his mother do not cry you have no idea ma'am what an extraordinary boy that is you see how the bare mention of such a thing as our deaths has overcome him

there was another sob behind the handkerchief and the morlands thought it now sounded very much like a smothered laugh as i was saying ma'am continued mrs wotkinson we never give parties we leave all sinful things to the vain and foolish my daughter jane has been telling me that she heard this morning of a party that is going on to-night at the widow st leonards it is only fifteen years since her husband died he was carried off with the three days illness but two months after they were married i have had a domestic that lived with them at the time so i know all about it and there she is now living in an elegant house and riding in her carriage and dressing and dashing and giving parties and enjoying life as she calls it poor creature how i pity her thank heaven nobody that i know goes to her parties if they did i would never wish to see them again in my house it is an encouragement to folly and nonsense and folly and nonsense are sinful do you not think so ma'am if carried too far they may certainly become so replied mrs morland we have heard said edward that mrs st leonard though one of the ornaments of the gay world has a kind heart a beneficent spirit and a liberal hand oh i know very little about her replied mrs watkinson drawing up her head and i have not the least desire to know any more it is well she has no children they'd be lost sheep if brought up in her fold for my part ma'am she continued turning to Mrs. Morland, I am quite satisfied with the quiet joys of a happy home, and no

mother has the least business with any other pleasures. My innocent babes know nothing about plays and balls and parties, and they never shall. Do they look as if they had been accustomed to a life of pleasure? They certainly did not, for when the Morlands took a glance at them, they thought they had never seen youthful faces that were less gay and indeed less prepossessing. There was not a good feature or a pleasant expression among them all. Edward Morland recollected his having often read that childhood is always lovely, but he saw that the juvenile Watkinsons were an exception to the rule. The first duty of a mother is to her children, repeated Mrs. Watkinson.

till nine o'clock my daughter jane and myself are occupied every evening in hearing the lessons that they have learned for to-morrow's school before that hour we can receive no visitors and we never have company to tea as that would interfere too much with our duties we had just finished hearing these lessons when you arrived afterwards the children are permitted to indulge themselves in rational play for i permit no amusement that is not also instructive my children are so well trained that even when alone their sports are always serious two of the boys glanced slyly at each other with what edward morland comprehended as an expression of pitchpenny and marbles they are now engaged at their game of astronomy continued mrs wotkinson they have also a sort of geography cards and a set of mathematical cards it is a blessed discovery the invention of these educationary games so that even the play-time of children can be turned to account and you have no idea ma'am how they enjoy them just then the boy joseph rose from the table and stalking up to mrs watkinson said to her mamma please to whip me at this unusual request the visitors looked much amazed and mrs watkinson replied to him whip you my best joseph for what cause i have not seen you do anything wrong this evening and you know my anxiety induces me to watch my children all the time you could not see me answered joseph for i have not done anything very wrong but i have had a bad thought and you know mr iron rule says that a fault imagined is just as wicked as a fault committed you see ma'am what a good memory he has said mrs wotkinson aside to mrs wotkinson aside to mrs

Morland. But, my best, Joseph, you make your mother tremble. What fault have you imagined? What was your bad thought? Aye, said another boy, what's your thought like? My thought, said Joseph, was confound all astronomy, and I could see the man hanged that made this game. Oh, my child! exclaimed the mother, stopping her ears. I am indeed shocked. I am glad you repented so immediately. Yes, returned Joseph, but I am afraid my repentance won't last.

If I am not whipped, I may have these bad thoughts whenever I play at astronomy, and, worse still, at the geography game, whip me ma, and punish me as I deserve. There's the Rattan in the corner. I'll bring it to you myself. Excellent, boy, said his mother. You know, I always pardon my children when they are. so candid as to confess their faults." "'So you do,' said Joseph, "'but a whipping will cure me better.'

"'I cannot resolve to punish so conscientious a child,' said Mrs. Watkinson. "'Shall I take the trouble off your hands?' inquired Edward, losing all patience in his disgust at the sanctimonious hypocrisy of this young Bliffle. It is such a rarity for a boy to request a whipping that so remarkable a desire ought by all means to be gratified. Joseph turned round and made a face at him. Give me the Rattan, said Edward, half-laughing, and offering to take it out of his hand, I'll use it to your full satisfaction.

The boy thought it most prudent to stride off and return to the table, and ensconce himself among his brothers and sisters, some of whom were staring with stupid surprise. others were whispering and giggling in the hope of seeing joseph get a real flogging mrs watkinson having bestowed a bitter look on edward hastened to turn the attention of his mother to something else mrs morland said she allow me to introduce you to my younger hope she pointed to a sleepy boy about five years old who with head thrown back and mouth wide open was slumbering in his chair mrs wotkinson's children were of that uncomfortable species who never go to bed at least never without all manner of resistance all her boasted authority was inadequate to compel them they never would confess themselves sleepy always wanted to sit up and there was a nightly scene of scolding coaxing threatening and manoeuvring to get them off i declare said mrs wadkinson dear benny is almost asleep shake him up christopher i want him to speak a speech his schoolmistress takes great pains in teaching her little pupils to speak and stands up herself and shows them how the child having been shaken up hard two or three others helping christopher rubbed his eyes and began to whine his mother went to him took him on her lap hushed him up and began to coax him

this done she stood him on his feet before mrs morland and desired him to speak a speech for the company the child put his thumb into his mouth and remained silent ma said jane watkinson you had better tell him what speech to speak speak cato or plato said his mother which do you call it come now benny how does it begin you are quite right and reasonable plato that's it speak lucius said his sister jane come now benny say your thoughts are turned on peace the little boy looked very much as if they were not and as if meditating an outbreak no no exclaimed christopher let him say hamlet come now benny to be or not to be it ain't to be at all cried benny and i won't speak the least bit of it for any of you i hate that speech only see his obstinacy said the solemn joseph and is he to be given up to speak anything benny said mrs watkinson anything so that it is only a speech all the watkinson voices now began to clamber violently at the obstinate child speak a speech speak a speech speak a speech but they had no more effect than the reiterated exhortations with which nurses confuse the poor heads of babies when they require them to shake a day day shake a day mrs morland now interfered and begged that the sleepy little boy might be excused on which he screamed out that he wasn't sleepy at all and would not go to bed ever i never knew of any of my children behaved so before said mrs watkinson they are always models of obedience ma'am a look is sufficient for them and i must say that they have in every way profited by the education we are giving them

it is not our way man to waste our money in parties and fooleries and fine furniture and fine clothes and rich food and all such abominations our first duty is to our children and to make them learn everything that is taught in the schools if they go wrong it will not be for want of education hester my dear come and talk to miss morland in french hester unlike her little brother that would not speak a speech stepped boldly forward and addressed caroline morland with parley vrase mademoiselle comanse vae madame bautremere ma'me vaux la music ame you la dance bon jour bonsois bon repos compre you to this tirade uttered with great volubility miss morland made no other reply than yes i comprehend very well hester very well indeed said mrs wotkinson you see ma'am turning to mrs morland how very fluent she is in french and she has only been learning eleven quarters after considerable whispering between jane and her mother the former withdrew and sent in by the irish girl a waiter with a basket of soda biscuit a pitcher of water and some glasses mrs wotkinson invited her mother the former withdrew and sent in by the irish girl a waiter with a basket of soda biscuit a pitcher of water and some glasses mrs wotkinson invited her guests to consider themselves at home and help themselves freely saying we never let cakes sweetmeats confectionery or any such things enter the house as they would be very unwholesome for the children and it would be sinful to put temptation in their way i am sure ma'am you will agree with me that the plainest food is the best for everybody

people that want nice things may go to parties for them but they will never get any with me when the collation was over and every child provided with a biscuit mrs watkinson said to mrs morland now ma'am you shall have some music from my daughter jane who is one of mr bangwanger's best scholars jane wotkinson sat down to the piano and commenced a powerful piece of six mortal pages which she had been a powerful piece of six mortal pages which she had been a powerful piece of six mortal pages which she had she played out of time and out of tune, but with tremendous force of hands, notwithstanding which it had, however, the good effect of putting most of the children to sleep. To the Morelands the evening had seemed already five hours long. Still it was only half-past ten when Jane was in the midst of her peace. The guests had all tacitly determined that it would be best not to let Mrs. Watkinson know their intention to go directly from her house to Mrs. St. Leonard's party, and the arrival of

their carriage would have been the signal of departure even if Jane's piece had not reached its termination. They stole glances at the clock on the mantel. It wanted but a quarter of eleven when Jane rose from the piano and was congratulated by her mother on the excellence of her music. Still, no carriage was heard to stop, no door-bell was heard to ring. Mrs. Morland expressed her fears that the coachman had forgotten to come for them. "'Has he been paid for bringing you here?' asked Mrs. Watkinson. "'I paid him when we came to the door,' said Edward. "'I thought perhaps he might want the money for some purpose before he came for us.'

"'Well, that was very kind in you, sir,' said Mrs. Watkinson, but not very wise. There's no dependence on any coachman, and perhaps, as he may be sure of business enough this rainy night, he may never come at all, being already paid for bringing you here. Now, the truth was that the coachman had come at the appointed time, but the noise of Jane's piano had prevented his arrival being heard in the back parlor. The Irish girl had gone to the door when he rang the bell, and recognized in him what she called an old friend. Just then a lady and gentleman who had been caught in the rain came running along, and seeing a carriage drawing up at a door, the gentleman inquired of the driver if he could

not take them to Rutgers' place. The driver replied that he had just come for two ladies and a gentleman whom he had brought from the Astor House. Indeed, and Patrick, said the girl who stood at the door, "'If I was you, I'd be apt to make another penny to-night. Miss Jane is pounding away at one of her long music-pieces, and it won't be over before you have time to get to Rutgers and back again. And if you do make them wait a while, where's the harm? They've a dry roof over their heads, and I warn't it's not the first waiting

they've ever had in their lives, and it won't be the last, neither.' "'Exactly so,' said the gentleman, and regardless of the propriety of first sending to consult the persons who had engaged the carriage, he told his wife to step in, and following her instantly himself, they drove away to Rutgers' place. Reeder, if you were ever detained in a strange house by the non-arrival of your carriage, you will easily understand the excessive annoyance of finding that you are keeping a family out of their beds beyond their usual hour. And in this case there was a double grievance, the guests being all impatience to get off to a better place. The children, all crying when wakened from their sleep,

were finally taken to bed by two servant-maids and Jane Watkinson, who never came back again. None were left but Hester, the great French scholar, who being one of those young imps that seemed to have the faculty of living without sleep, sat both upright with her eyes wide open, watching the uncomfortable visitors. The Morlins felt as if they could bear it no longer, and Edward proposed sending for another carriage to the nearest livery stable. "'We don't keep a man now,' said Mrs. Watkinson, who sat nodding in the rocking-chair, attempting now and then a snatch of conversation, and saying, man still more frequently than usual. Men servants are dreadful trials, ma'am, and we gave them up three years ago,

and I don't know how Mary or Katie are to go out in this stormy night in search of a livery-stable. On no consideration could I allow the women to do so, replied Edward, if you will oblige me by the loan of an umbrella, I will go myself. Accordingly he set out on this business, but was unlawful. unsuccessful at two livery stables, the carriages being all out. At last he found one, and was driven in it to Mr. Watkinson's house, where his mother and sister were awaiting him, all quite ready, with their calishes and shawls on. They gladly took their leave, Mrs. Watkinson rousing herself to hope they had spent a pleasant evening, and that they would come and pass another with her on their return to New York.

In such cases how difficult it is to reply, even with what are called words of course. A kitchen lamp was brought to light them to the door, the entry lamp having long since been extinguished. Fortunately the rain had ceased. The stars began to reappear, and the Morlands, when they found themselves in the carriage and on their way to Mrs. St. Leonard's, felt as if they could breathe again. As may be supposed, they freely discussed the annoyance. of the evening. But now those troubles were over, they felt rather inclined to be merry about

them. "'Dear mother,' said Edward, "'how I pitied you for having to endure Mrs. Watkinson's perpetual mamming and mamming, for I know you dislike the word.' "'I wish,' said Caroline, "'I was not so prone to be taken with ridiculous recollections, but really to-night I could not get that old foolish child's play out of my head. Here come three knights out of Spain to according of your daughter Jane. I shall certainly never be one of those Spanish knights, said Edward. Her daughter Jane is in no danger of being ruled by any flattering tongue of mine, but what a shame for us to be talking of them in this manner.

They drove to Mrs. St. Leonard's, hoping to be yewerely. yet in time to pass half an hour there, though it was now near twelve o'clock, and summer parties never continued to a very late hour. But as they came into the street in which she lived they were met by a number of coaches on their way home, and on reaching the door of her brilliantly lighted mansion, they saw the last of the guests driving off in the last of the carriages, and several musicians coming down the steps with their instruments in their hands. So there has been a dance, then, sighed Caroline. Oh, what we have missed! It is really

too provoking. So it is, said Edward, but remember that to-morrow morning we set off for Niagara. I will leave a note from Mrs. St. Leonard, said his mother, explaining that we were detained at Mrs. Watkinson's by our coachman disappointing us. Let us console ourselves with the hope of seeing more of this lady on our return. turn. And now, dear Caroline, you must draw a moral from the untoward events of today. When you are mistress of a house and wish to show civility to strangers, let the invitation be always accompanied with a frank disclosure of what they are to expect. And if you cannot conveniently invite company

to meet them, tell them at once that you will not insist on their keeping their engagement with you if anything offers afterwards that they think they would prefer, provided only that they apprise you in time of the change in their plan. Oh, Mama, replied Caroline, you may be sure I shall always take care not to betray my visitors into an engagement which they may have caused to regret, particularly if they are strangers whose time is limited. I shall certainly, as you say, tell them not to consider themselves bound to me if they afterwards receive an invitation which promises them more enjoyment it will be a long while before i forget the wadkinson evening and of story four

story five of the best american humorous short stories by alexander jessup editor this liverbox recording is in the public domain story five tit bottom spectacles eighteen fifty four by George William Curtis. From Putnam's Monthly, December 1854, republished in the volume Prue and I, 1856, by George William Curtis, Harper, and Brothers. In my mind's eye, Horatio. Prue and I do not entertain much, our means forbid it. In truth, other people entertain for us.

We enjoy that hospitality of which no account is made. We see the show, and hear the music, and smell the flowers of great festivities, tasting, as it were, the drippings from rich dishes. Our own dinner service is remarkably plain. Our dinners, even on state occasions, are strictly in keeping, and almost our only guest is tit-bottom. I buy a handful of roses, as I come up from the office, perhaps, and Prue arranges them so prettily in a glass dish for the center of the table that even when I have hurried out to see Aurelia step into her carriage to go out to dine, I have thought that the bouquet she carried was not more beautiful because it was more costly. I grant that it was more harmonious with

her superb beauty and her rich attire, and I have no doubt that if Aurelia knew the old man, whom she must have seen so often watching her, and his wife, who ornaments her sex with as much sweetness, although with less splendour than Orelia herself, she would also acknowledge that the nosegay of roses was as fine and fit upon their table as her own sumptuous bouquet is for herself. I have that faith in the perception of that lovely lady. It is at least my habit, I hope I may say, my nature, to believe the best of people rather than the worst. If I thought that all this sparkling setting of beauty, this fine fashion, these blazing jewels and lustrous silks and airy gauzes, embellished with gold-threaded embroidery, and wrought in a thousand exquisite elaborations,

so that I cannot see one of those lovely girls pass me by without thanking God for the vision, If I thought that this was all, and that underneath her lace flounces and diamond bracelets Orrelia was a sullen, selfish woman, then I should turn sadly homewards, for I should see that her jewels were flashing scorn upon the object they adorned, and that her laces were of a more exquisite loveliness than the woman whom they merely touched with a superficial grace. It would be like a gaily decorated mausoleum, bright to sea, but silent and dark within. Great excellences, my dear prue, I sometimes allow myself to say, lie concealed in the depths of character, like pearls at the bottom of the sea. Under the laughing, glancing surface, how little they are suspected.

Perhaps love is nothing else than the sight of them by one person. hence every man's mistress is apt to be an enigma to everybody else i have no doubt that when orelia is engaged people will say that she is a most admirable girl certainly but they cannot understand why any man should be in love with her as if it were at all necessary that they should and her lover like a boy who finds a pearl in the public street and wonders as much that others did not see it as that he did will tremble until he knows his passion is returned feeling of course that the whole world must be in love with his paragon who cannot possibly smile upon anything so unworthy as he i hope therefore my dear mrs prue i continue to say to my wife who looks up from her work regarding me with pleased pride as if i were such an irresistible humorist you will allow me to believe that the depth may be calm although the surface is dancing if you tell me that orelia is but a giddy girl i shall believe that you think so but i shall know all the while what profound dignity and sweetness and peace lie at the foundation

of her character. I say such things to tit-bottom during the dull season at the office, and I have known him sometimes to reply with a kind of dry, sad humor, not as if he enjoyed the joke, but as if the joke must be made, that he saw no reason

why I should be dull because the season was so. And what do I know of Aurelia or any other girl? he says to me, with that abstracted air, I, whose Aurelias were of another century and another's own. Then he falls into a silence, which it seems quite profane to interrupt, but as we sit upon our high stools at the desk opposite each other, I, leaning upon my elbows and looking at him, he, with sidelong face, glancing out of the window, as if it commanded a boundless landscape,

instead of a dim, dingy office court. I cannot refrain from saying, Well, he turns slowly, and I go chatting on, a little too loquacious, perhaps, about those young girls. But I know that Titbottom regards such an excess as venial, for his sadness is so sweet that you could believe it the reflection of a smile

from long, long years ago. One day after I had been talking for a long time, and we had put up our books and were preparing to leave, he stood for some time by the window, gazing with a drooping intentness, as if he really saw something more than the dark court, and said slowly, perhaps you would have different impressions of things if you saw them through my spectacles. There was no change in his expression. looked from the window, and I said, Titbottom, I did not know that you used glasses. I have never seen you wearing spectacles.

No, I don't often wear them. I am not very fond of looking through them, but sometimes an irresistible necessity compels me to put them on, and I cannot help seeing. Titbottom sighed. Is it so grievous a fate to see? inquired I. Yes. through my spectacles he said turning slowly and looking at me with wan solemnity it grew dark as we stood in the office talking and taking our hats we went out together

the narrow street of business was deserted the heavy iron shutters were gloomily closed over the windows from one or two offices struggled the dim gleam of an early candle by whose light some perplexed accountant sat belated and hunting for his error. A careless clerk passed, whistling, but the great tide of life had ebbed. We heard its roar far away, and the sound stole into that silent street, like the murmur of the ocean, into an inland dell.

You will come and dine with us, Titbottom? He assented by continuing to walk with me, and I think we were both glad when we reached the house, and Prue came to meet us, saying, do you know I hoped you would bring Mr. Titbottom to dine? Titbottom smiled gently and answered, He might have brought his spectacles with him, and I have been a happier man for it. Pru looked a little puzzled.

My dear, I said, you must know that our friend Mr. Titbottom is the happy possessor of a pair of wonderful spectacles. I have never seen them, indeed, and from what he says I should be rather a friend. of being seen by them. Most short-sighted persons are very glad to have the help of glasses, but Mr. Titbottom seems to find very little pleasure in his. It is because they make him too far-sighted, perhaps, interrupted Prue quietly, as she took the silver soup-ladle from the sideboard. We sipped our wine after dinner, and Prue took her work. Can a man be too far-sighted? I did not ask the question aloud, the very tone in which Prue had spoken convinced me that he might. At least, I said, Mr. Titbottom will not refuse to tell us the history of his mysterious spectacles.

I have known plenty of magic in eyes, and I glanced at the tender blue eyes of Prue, but I have not heard of any enchanted glasses. Yet you must have seen the glass in which a wife looks every morning, and I have seen, take it, that glass must be daily enchanted, said Titbottom, with a bow of quaint respect to my wife. I do not think I have seen such a blush upon Prue's cheek since, well, since a great many years ago. I will gladly tell you the history of my spectacles, began Titbottom. It is very simple, and I am not at all sure that a great many other people have not a pair

of the same kind. I have never indeed heard of them by the gross, like those of our young friend, Moses, the son of the vicar of Wakefield. In fact, I think of gross would be quite enough to supply the world. It is a kind of article for which the demand does not increase with use. If we should all wear spectacles like mine, we should never smile any more. Oh, I am not quite sure. We should all be very happy. A very important difference, said Prue, counting her stitches. I know my grandfather Titbottom was a West Indian. A large proprietor, and an easy man, he basked in the tropical sun, leading his quiet,

luxurious life. He lived much alone, and was what people call eccentric, by which I understand that he was very much himself, and, refusing the influence of other people, they had their little revenges and called him names. It is a habit not exclusively tropical. I think I have seen the same thing even in this city. But he was greatly beloved, my bland and bountiful grandfather, he was so large-hearted and open-handed,

he was so friendly and thoughtful and genial, that even his jokes had the air of graceful benedictions. He did not seem to grow old, and he was one of those who never appear to have been very young. He flourished in a perennial maturity, an immortal middle age. My grandfather lived upon one of the small islands, St. Kitts, perhaps, and his domain extended to the sea. His house, a rambling West Indian mansion, was surrounded with deep, spacious piazzas,

covered with luxurious lounges, among which one capacious chair was his peculiar. seat. They tell me he used sometimes to sit there for the whole day, his great soft brown eyes fastened upon the sea, watching the specks of sails that flashed upon the horizon, while the abonicent expressions chased each other over his placid face, as if it reflected the calm and changing sea before him. His morning costume was an ample dressing-gown of gorgeously flowered silk, and his morning was very apt to last all day. He rarely read, but he would pace the great piazza for hours, with his hands sunken in the pockets of his dressing-gown,

and an air of sweet reverie, which any author might be very happy to produce. Society, of course, he saw little. There was some slight apprehension that if he were bidden to social entertainments, he might forget his coat, or arrive without some other essential part of his dress, and there is a sly tradition in the Titbottom family that having been invited to a ball in honor of the new governor of the island, my grandfather Titbottom sauntered into the hall towards midnight, wrapped in the gorgeous flowers of his dressing-gown, and with his hands buried in the pockets as usual. There was great excitement and immense deprecation,

of gubernatorial ire. But it happened that the governor and my grandfather were old friends, and there was no offence. But as they were conversing together, one of the distressed managers cast indignant glances at the brilliant costume of my grandfather, who summoned him and asked courteously, did you invite me or my coat? You, in a proper coat, replied the manager, the governor smiled approvingly and looked at my grandfather my friend said he to the manager i beg your pardon i forgot the next day my grandfather was seen promenading in full ball-dress along the streets of the little town they ought to know said he that i have a proper coat and that not contempt nor poverty but forgetfulness sent me to a ball in my dressing-gown He did not much frequent social festivals after this failure, but he always told the story with satisfaction and a quiet smile.

To a stranger, life upon these little islands is uniform even to weariness, but the old native dawns, like my grandfather, ripen in the prolonged sunshine like the turtle upon the Bahama banks, nor know of existence more desirable. Life in the tropics I take to be a placid torpidity. During the long warm mornings of nearly half a century, my grandfather Titbottom had sat in his dressing-gown and gazed at the sea. But one calm June day, as he slowly paced the piazza after breakfast, his dreamy glance was arrested by a little vessel, evidently nearing the shore.

He called for his spy-glass, and surveying the craft, saw that she came from the neighboring island she glided smoothly slowly over the summer sea the warm morning air was sweet with perfumes and silent with heat the sea sparkled languidly and the brilliant blue hung cloudlessly over scores of little island vessels had my grandfather's scene come over the horizon and cast anchor in the port hundreds of summer mornings had the white sea sails flashed and faded, like vague faces through forgotten dreams. But this time he laid down the spy-glass, and leaned against a column of the piazza, and watched the vessel with an intentness that he could not explain. She came nearer and nearer, a graceful specter in the dazzling morning. "'Decidedly I must step down and see about that vessel,' said my grandfather Titbottom.

He gathered his ample dressing-gown around him and stepped from the piazza, with no other protection from the sun than the little smoking-cap upon his head. His face wore a calm, beaming smile, as if he approved of all the world. He was not an old man, but there was almost a patriarchal pathos in his expression as he sauntered along in the sunshine towards the shore. A group of idle gazers was collected to watch the arrival. The little vessel furled her sails and drifted slowly landward, and as she was of a very light draft, she came close to the shelving shore. A long plank was put out from her side, and the debarkation commenced. My grandfather Titbottom stood looking on to see the passengers descend.

There were but a few of them, and mostly traders from this. neighboring island. But suddenly the face of a young girl appeared over the side of the vessel, and she stepped upon the plank to descend. My grandfather Titbottom instantly advanced, and moving briskly reached the top of the plank at the same moment, and with the old tassel of his cap flashing in the sun, and one hand in the pocket of his dressing-gown, with the other he handed the young lady carefully down the plank. That young lady was afterwards my grandmother Titbottom. And so over the gleaming sea which he had watched so long, and which seemed thus to reward his patient gaze, came his bride that sunny morning.

Of course we are happy, he used to say, for you are the gift of the sun I have loved so long and so well. And my grandfather Titbottom would lay his hand so tenderly upon the golden hair of his young bride, that you could fancy him a devout parcy, caressing sunbeams. There were endless festivities upon occasion of the marriage, and my grandfather did not go to one of them in his dressing-gown. The gentle sweetness of his wife melted every heart into love and sympathy. He was much older than she, without doubt, but age, as he used to say with the smile of immortal youth is a matter of feeling, not of years, and if, sometimes, as she sat by his side upon the piazza, her fancy looked through her eyes upon that summer sea, and saw

a young lover, perhaps some one of those graceful and glowing heroes who occupy the foreground of all young maiden's visions by the sea, yet she could not find one more generous and gracious, nor fancy one more worthy and loving than my grandfather tit-bottom. And if in the moonlit night, while he lay calmly sleeping, she leaned out of the window and sank into vague reveries of sweet possibility, and watched the gleaming path of the moonlight upon the water, until the dawn glided over it, it was only that mood of nameless regret and longing which underlies all human happiness,

or it was the vision of that life of society which she had never seen but of which she had often read and which looked very fair and alluring across the sea to a girlish imagination which knew that it should never know that reality these west-indian years were the great days of the family said titbottom with an air of majestic and regal regret pausing and musing in our little parlour like a late Stuart in exile, remembering England. Prue raised her eyes from her work and looked at him with a subdued admiration, for I have observed that, like the rest of her sex, she has a singular sympathy with the representative of a reduced family. Perhaps it is their finer perception which leads these tender-hearted women to recognize the divine right of social superiority so much more readily than that.

and we and yet much as titbottom was enhanced in my wife's admiration by the discovery that his dusky sadness of nature and expression was as it were the expiring gleam and late twilight of ancestral splendours i doubt if mr bourne would have preferred him for bookkeeper a moment sooner upon that account in truth i have observed down town that the fact of your ancestors doing nothing is not considered good proof that you can do anything but prue and her sex regard sentiment more than action and i understand easily enough why she is never tired of hearing me read of prince charlie if titbottom had been only a little younger a little handsomer a little more gallantly dressed in fact a little more of the prince charlie i am sure her eyes would not have fallen again upon her work so tranquilly as he resumed his story i can remember my grandfather titbottom although i was a very young child and he was a very old man my young mother and my young grandmother are very distinct figures in my memory ministering to the old gentleman wrapped in his dressing-gown and seated upon the piazza i remember his white hair and his calm smile and how not long before he died he called me to him and laying his hand upon my head said to me my child the world is not this great sannie piazza nor life the fairy stories which the women tell you here as you sit in their laps i shall soon be gone But I want to leave with you some momento of my love for you, and I know nothing more valuable

than these spectacles which your grandmother brought from her native island when she arrived here one fine summer morning long ago. I cannot quite tell whether when you grow older you will regard it as a gift of the greatest value or as something that you had been happier never to have possessed. grandpapa, I am not short-sighted. My son, are you not human? said the old gentleman, and how shall I ever forget the thoughtful sadness with which, at the same time, he handed me the spectacles? Instinctively I put them on, and looked at my grandfather.

But I saw no grandfather, no piazza, no flowered dressing-gown. I saw only a luxuriant palm tree waving broadly over a tranquil landscape, pleasant homes clustered around it, gardens teeming with fruit and flowers, flocks quietly feeding, birds wheeling and chirping. I heard children's voices and the low lullaby of happy mothers. The sound of cheerful singing came wafted from distant fields upon the light breeze. Golden harvests glistened out of sight, and I caught their rustling whisper of prosperity. A warm, mellow atmosphere bathed the whole.

I have seen copies of the landscapes of the Italian painter Clod, which seemed to me faint reminiscences of that calm and happy vision, but all this peace and prosperity seemed to flow from the spreading palm as from a fountain. i do not know how long i looked but i had apparently no power as i had no will to remove the spectacles what a wonderful island must nevis be thought i if people carry such pictures in their pockets only by buying a pair of spectacles what wonder that my dear grandmother titbottom has lived such a placid life and has blessed us all with her sunny temper when she has lived surrounded by such images of peace my grandfather died but still in the warm morning sunshine upon the piazza i felt his placid presence and as i crawled into his great chair and drifted on in reverie through the still tropical day it was as i had a very chair and as i crawled into his great chair and drifted on in reverie through the still tropical day it was as a as if his soft dreamy eye had passed into my soul my grandmother cherished his memory with tender regret a violent passion of grief for his loss was no more possible than for the pensive decay of the year we have no portrait of him but i see always when i remember him that peaceful and luxuriant palm and i think that to have known one good old man one man who one man who

who, through the chances and rubs of a long life, has carried his heart in his hand like a palm branch, waving all discords into peace, helps our faith in God, in ourselves, and in each other, more than many sermons. I hardly know whether to be grateful to my grandfather for the spectacles, and yet when I remember that it is to them I owe the pleasant image of him which I cherish, I seem to myself. sadly ungrateful. Madam, said Titbottom to Prue, solemnly, my memory is a long and gloomy gallery,

and only remotely, at its further end, do I see the glimmer of soft sunshine, and only there are the pleasant pictures hung. They seem to me very happy, along whose gallery the sunlight streams to their very feet, striking all the pictured walls into unfading splendor. prue had laid her work in her lap and as titbottom paused a moment and i turned towards her i found her mild eyes fastened upon my face and glistening with happy tears misfortunes of many kinds came heavily upon the family after the head was gone the great house was relinquished my parents were both dead and my grandmother had entire charge of me

but from the moment that i received the gift of the spectacles i could not resist their fascination and i withdrew into myself and became a solitary boy there were not many companions for me of my own age and they gradually left me or at least had not a hearty sympathy with me for if they teased me i pulled out my spectacles and surveyed them so seriously that they acquired a kind of awe of me and evidently regarded my grandfather's gift as a concealed magical weapon, which might be dangerously drawn upon them at any moment. Whenever in our games there were quarrels and high words, and I began to feel about my dress, and to wear a grave look, they all took the alarm and shouted, look out for tit-bottom spectacles, and scattered like a flock of scared sheep. Nor could I wonder at it, for, at first, before they took the alarm, I saw strange sights when I looked at them through the glasses. If two were quarreling about a marble or a ball, I had only to go behind a tree where I was concealed, and look at them leisurely.

Then the scene changed, and no longer a green meadow with boys playing, but a spot which I did not recognize and forms that made me shudder or smile. It was not a big boy bullying a little one, but a young wolf with glistening teeth and a lamb cowering before him, or it was a dog faithful and famishing, or a star going slowly into eclipse, or a rainbow fading, or a flower blooming, or a sun-rising, or a waning moon. The revelations of the spectacles determined my feeling for the boys and for all whom I saw through them. No shyness, nor awkwardness, nor silence, could separate me from those who looked lovely as lilies to my illuminated eyes if i felt myself warmly drawn to any one i struggled with the fierce desire of seeing him through the spectacles i longed to enjoy the luxury of ignorant feeling to love without knowing to float like a leaf upon the eddies of life drifted now to a sunny point now to a solemn shade now over glittering ripples

now over gleaming calms, and not to determined ports, a trim vessel with an inexorable rudder. But sometimes, mastered after long struggles, I seized my spectacles and sauntered into the little town. Putting them to my eyes, I peered into the houses and at the people who passed me. Here sat a family at breakfast, and I stood at the window looking in. Oh, motley meal, fantastic vision! The good mother saw her lord sitting opposite, a grave respectable being, eating muffins. But I saw only a bank-bill, more or less crumpled and tattered,

marked with a larger or lesser figure. If a sharp wind blew suddenly, I saw it tremble and flutter. It was thin, flat, impalpable. I removed my glasses and looked with my eyes at the wife, i could have smiled to see the humid tenderness with which she regarded her strange vis-a-vis is life only a game of blind man's buff of droll cross-purposes or i put them on again and looked at the wife how many stout trees i saw how many tender flowers how many placid pools yes and how many little streams winding out of sight shrinking before the trees i saw how many tender flowers how many placid pools yes and how many little streams winding out of sight shrinking before the shrinking before the large, hard, round eyes opposite, and slipping off into solitude and shade, with a low inner song for their own solace.

And in many houses I thought to see angels, nymphs, or at least women, and could only find broomsticks, mops, or kettles, hurrying about, rattling, tinkling, in a state of shrill activity. I made calls upon elegant ladies, and after I had enjoyed the gloss of silk and the delicacy of lace and the flash of jewels, I slipped on my spectacles and saw a peacock's feather, flounced and furbelowed and fluttering, or an iron rod, thin, sharp and hard, nor could I possibly mistake the movement of the drapery for any flexibility of the thing draped, or mysteriously chilled, I saw a statue of perfect form or flowing movement. It might be alabaster or bronze or marble,

but sadly often it was ice, and I knew that after it had shone a little and frozen a few eyes with its despairing perfection, it could not be put away in the niches of palaces for ornament and proud family tradition, like the alabaster or bronze or marble statues, but would melt and shrink and fall coldly away in colourless and useless water, be absorbed in the earth and utterly forgotten. But the true sadness was rather in seeing those who, not having the spectacles, thought that the iron rod was flexible and the ice statue was warm. I saw many a gallant heart, which seemed to me brave and loyal as the

crusaders, sent by genuine and noble faith to Syria and the sepulchre, pursuing through days and nights and a long life of devotion the hope of lighting at least a smile in the cold eyes, if not a fire in the icy heart. I watched the earnest, enthusiastic sacrifice. I saw the pure resolve, the generous faith, the fine scorn of doubt, the impatience of suspense. I watched the grace, the ardor, the glory of devotion. Through those strange spectacles how often I saw the noblest heart renouncing all other hope, all other ambition, all other life, than the possible love of someone of those statues. Ah, me, it was terrible, but they had not the love to give.

The Perian face was so polished and smooth, because there was no sorrow upon the heart, and drearily often no heart to be touched. I could not wonder that the noble heart of devotion was broken, for it had dashed itself against a stone. I wept until my spectacles were dimmed for that hopeless sorrow, but there was a pang beyond tears for those icy statues. Still a boy, I was thus too much a man in knowledge, I did not comprehend the sights I was compelled to see. I used to tear my glasses away from my eyes, and, frightened at myself, run to escape my own consciousness. Reaching the small house where we then lived, I plunged into my grandmother's room, and throwing myself upon the floor,

buried my face in her lap, and sobbed myself to sleep with premature grief. But when I awakened and felt her cool hand upon my hot forehead, and heard the low sweet song, or the gentle story, or the tenderly told parable from the Bible, with which she tried to soothe me. I could not resist the mystic fascination that lured me, as I lay in her lap, to steal a glance at her through the spectacles. Pictures of the Madonna have not her rare and pensive beauty. Upon the tranquil little islands her life had been eventless, and all the fine possibilities of her nature were like flowers that never bloomed. Placid were all her years, yet I have read

of no heroine, of no woman great in sudden crises, that it did not seem to me she might have been. The wife and widow of a man who loved his own home better than the homes of others. I have yet heard of no queen, no bell, no imperial beauty, whom in grace and brilliancy and persuasive courtesy she might not have surpassed. Madam, said Titbottom to my wife, whose heart hung upon his story, your husband's young friend Orillia wears sometimes a chamele in her hair, and no diamond in the ballroom seems so costly as that perfect flower, which, women envy for whose least and withered petal men sigh yet in the tropical solitude of brazil how many a camellia bud drops from a bush that no eye has ever seen which had it flowered and been noticed would have gilded all hearts with its memory when i stole these furtive glances at my grandmother half fearing that they were wrong i saw only a calm lake whose shores was were low, and over which the sky hung unbroken, so that the least star was clearly reflected. It had an atmosphere of solemn twilight tranquility, and so completely did its unruffled surface

blend with the cloudless star-studded sky that when I looked through my spectacles at my grandmother, the vision seemed to me all heaven and stars. Yet as I gazed and gazed, I felt what stately cities might well have been built upon those shores, and have flashed prosperity over the calm, like coruscations of pearls. I dreamed of gorgeous fleets, silken, sailed and blown by perfumed winds, drifting over those depthless waters, and through those spacious skies. I gazed upon the twilight, the inscrutable silence like a god-fearing discoverer upon a new and vast and dim sea, bursting upon him through forest glooms, and in the fervor of whose impassioned gaze a millennial and poetic world arises

and man need no longer die to be happy. My companions naturally deserted me, for I had grown wearily grave and abstracted, and unable to resist the allurement of my spectacles, I was constantly lost in a world, of which those companions were part, yet of which they knew nothing. I grew cold and hard, almost morose. People seemed to me blind and unreasonable. They did the wrong thing. They called green yellow and black, white. Young men said of a girl, what a lovely simple creature!

I looked, and there was only a glistening wisp of straw, dry and black. hollow. Or they said, What a cold, proud beauty! I looked, and lo, a Madonna whose heart held the world. Or they said, What a wild giddy girl! And I saw a glancing dancing mountain stream, pure as the virgin snows whence it flowed, singing through sun and shade, over pearls and gold dust, slipping along unstained by weed or rain or heavy foot of cattle, touching the flowers with a dewy kiss, a beam of grace, a happy song, a line of light, in the dim and troubled landscape. My grandmother sent me to school, but I looked at the master and saw that he was a smooth round feral, or an improper noun, or a vulgar fraction,

and refused to obey him. Or he was a piece of string, a rag, a willow wand, and I had a contemptuous pity. But one was a well of cool, deep water, and, looking suddenly in one day, I saw the stars. He gave me all my schooling. With him I used to walk by the sea, and as we strolled and the waves plunged in long legions before us, I looked at him through the spectacles, and as his eye dilated with a boundless view, and his chest heaved with an impossible desire, I saw Xerxes and his army tossing and glittering, rank upon rank, multitude upon multitude, out of sight, but ever regularly advancing, and with a confused roar of ceaseless music, prostrating themselves in abject homage. Or as with arms outstretched and hair streaming on the wind,

he chanted full lines of the resounding Iliad, I saw Homer pacing the Aegean's, sands in the Greek sunsets of forgotten times. My grandmother died, and I was thrown into the world without resources, and with no capital but my spectacles. I tried to find employment, but men were shy of me. There was a vague suspicion that I was either a little crazed, or a good deal in league with the Prince of Darkness. My companions, who would persist in calling a piece of painted muslin, a fair and fragrant,

flower, had no difficulty. Success waited for them around every corner, and arrived in every ship. I tried to teach, for I loved children, but if anything excited my suspicion and putting on my spectacles, I saw that I was fondling a snake, or smelling at a bud with a worm in it, I sprang up in horror and ran away. Or if it seemed to me through the glasses that a cherub smiled upon me, or a rose was blooming in my buttonhole, then I felt myself imperfect and impure, not fit to be leading and training what was so essentially superior in quality to myself, and I kissed the children and left them weeping and wondering. In despair I went to a great merchant on the island and asked him to employ me.

My young friend, said he, I understand that you have some singular sense, secret some charm or spell or gift or something i don't know what of which people are afraid now you know my dear said the merchant swelling up and apparently prouder of his great stomach than of his large fortune i am not of that kind i am not easily frightened you may spare yourself the pain of trying to impose upon me people who propose to come to time before i arrive are accustomed to you are accustomed to you may spare yourself the pain of trying to impose upon me people who propose to come to time before i arrive are accustomed to arise very early in the morning said he thrusting his thumbs in the arm-holes of his waistcoat and spreading the fingers like two fans upon his bosom i think i have heard something of your secret you have a pair of spectacles i believe that you value very much because your grandmother brought them as a marriage portion to your grandfather now if you think fit to sell me those spectacles i will pay you the largest market price for glasses what do you say i told him that i had not the slightest idea of selling my spectacles my young friend means to eat them i suppose said he with a contemptuous smile i made no reply but was turning to leave the office when the merchant called after me my young friend poor people should never suffer themselves to get into pets. Anger is an expensive luxury, in which only men of a certain income

can indulge. A pair of spectacles and a hot temper are not the most promising capital for success in life, Master Titbottom. I said nothing, but put my hand upon the door to go out when the merchant said more respectfully, Well, you foolish boy, if you will not sell your spectacles, perhaps you will agree to sell the use of them to me. That is, you shall only put them on when I direct you, and for my purposes. Hello, you little fool! cried he impatiently, as he saw that I intended to make no reply. But I had pulled out my spectacles and put them on for my own purpose, and against his direction and desire I looked at him, and saw a huge, bald-headed, wild boar, with gross chops and a leering eye, only the more ridiculous for the high-arched, gold-bowed

spectacles that straddled his nose. One of his fore-hose was thrust into the safe, where his bills payable were hived, and the other into his pocket, among the loose change and bills there. His ears were pricked forward with a brisk, sensitive smartness. In a world where prize pork was the best excellence he would have carried off all the premiums. I stepped into the next office in the street, and a mild-faced genial man, also a large and opulent merchant, asked me my business in such a tone that I instantly looked through my spectacles and saw a land flowing with milk and honey. There I pitched my tent, and stayed till the good man died and his business was discontinued.

But while there, said Titbottom, and his voice trembled away into a sigh, I first saw Preciosa. Despite of the spectacles, I saw Preciosa. For days, for weeks, for months, I did not take my spectacles with me. I ran away from them. I threw them up on high shelves. I tried to make up my mind to throw them into the sea, or or downed the well. I could not. I would not. I dared not look at Preciosa through the

spectacles. It was not possible for me deliberately to destroy them, but I awoke in the night and would almost have cursed my dear old grandfather for his gift. I escaped from the office and sat for whole days with Preciosa. I told her the strange things I had seen with my mystic glasses. The hours were not enough for the wild romances which I raved in her ear. She listened, astonished, and appalled. Her blue eyes turned upon me with a sweet deprecation. She clung to me, and then withdrew, and fled fearfully from the room. But she could not stay away. She could not resist my voice, in whose tones burned all the love that filled my heart and brain. very effort to resist the desire of seeing her as i saw everybody else gave a frenzy and an unnatural tension to my feeling and my manner i sat by her side looking into her eyes smoothing her hair folding her to my heart

which was sunken and deep why not forever in that dream of peace i ran from her presence and shouted and leaped with joy and sat the whole night through thrilled into happiness by the thought of her love and loveliness like a wind-harp tightly strung and answering the airiest sigh of the breeze with music then came calmer days the conviction of deep love settled upon our lives as after the hurrying heaving days of spring comes the bland and benignant summer it is no dream then after all and we are happy i said to her one day and there came no answer for happiness is speechless we are happy then i said to myself there is no excitement now how glad i am that i can now look at her through my spectacles i feared lest some instinct should warn me to beware i escaped from her arms and ran home and seized the glasses and bounded back again to preciosa as i entered the room i was heated my head was swimming coming with confused apprehension, my eyes must have glared. Preciosa was frightened, and, rising from her seat, stood with an inquiring glance of surprise in her eyes.

But I was bent with frenzy upon my purpose. I was merely aware that she was in the room. I saw nothing else. I heard nothing. I cared for nothing, but to see her through that magic glass and feel at once all the fullness of blissful perfection which that would reveal. Preciosa stood before the mirror, but alarmed at my wild and eager movements, unable to distinguish what I had in my hands, and seeing me raise them suddenly to my face,

she shrieked with terror, and fell fainting upon the floor, at the very moment that I placed the glasses before my eyes, and beheld myself, reflected in the mirror, before, which she had been standing. Dear madam, cried Titbottom to my wife, springing up and falling back again in his chair, pale and trembling, while Prue ran to him and took his hand, and I poured out a glass of water. I saw myself. There was silence for many minutes. Prue laid her hand gently upon the head of our guest, whose eyes were closed and who

breathed softly, like an infant in sleeping. Perhaps in all the long years of anguish since that hour, no tender hand had touched his brow, nor wiped away the damps of a bitter sorrow. Perhaps the tender maternal fingers of my wife soothed his weary head, with the conviction that he felt the hand of his mother playing with the long hair of her boy in the soft West Indian morning. Perhaps it was only the natural relief of expressing a pent-up sorrow. When he spoke again it was with the old subdued tone and the air of quaint solemnity. These things were matters of long, long ago, and I came to this country soon after. I brought with me, premature age, a past of melancholy memories and the magic spectacles.

I had become their slave, I had nothing more to fear. Having seen myself, I was compelled to see others properly to understand my relations to them. The lights that cheer the future of other men had gone out for me. My eyes were those of an exile, turned backwards upon the receding shore, and not forwards with hope upon the ocean. I mingled with men, but with little pleasure. there are but many varieties of a few types i did not find those i came to clearer sighted than those i had left behind i heard men called shrewd and wise and report said they were highly intelligent and successful but when i looked at them through my glasses i found no halo of real manliness my finest sense detected no aroma of purity and principle but i saw only a fungus that had fasted a fungus that had fattened my finest sense detected no aroma of purity and principle

but i saw only a fungus that had fattened and spread in a night they all went to the theatre to see actors upon the stage i went to see actors in the boxes so consummately cunning that the others did not know they were acting and they did not suspect it themselves perhaps you wonder it did not make me misanthropical my dear friends do not forget that i had seen myself it made me compassionate not cynical of course i could not value highly the ordinary standards of success and excellence when i went to church and saw a thin blue artificial flower or a great sleepy cushion expounding the beauty of holiness to pews full of eagles half-egals and threepences however adroitly concealed in broadcloth and boots, or saw an onion in an Easter bonnet, weeping over the sins of Magdalene, I did not feel as they felt who saw in all this not only propriety, but piety.

Or when at public meetings an eel stood up on end and wriggled and squirmed lithely in every direction and declared that, for his part, he went in for rainbows and hot water, How could I help seeing that he was still black and loved a slimy pool? I could not grow misanthropical when I saw in the eyes of so many who were called old the gushing fountains of eternal youth and the light of an immortal dawn, or when I saw those who were esteemed unsuccessful and aimless ruling a fair realm of peace and plenty,

either in themselves or more perfectly in another, a realm and princely possession for which they had well renounced a hopeless search and a belated triumph. I knew one man who had been for years a byword for having sought the philosopher's stone, but I looked at him through the spectacles and saw a satisfaction in concentrated energies and a tenacity arising from devotion to a noble dream, which was not apparent in the youths who pitied him in the aimless effeminacy of clubs, nor in the clever gentleman who cracked their thin jokes upon him over a gossiping dinner. And there was your neighbour over the way, who passes for a woman who has failed in her career because she is an old maid. People wag solemn heads of pity, and say that she made so great a mistake in not marrying the brilliant and famous man,

who was for long years her suitor it is clear that no orange flower will ever bloom for her the young people make tender romances about her as they watch her and think of her solitary hours of bitter regret and wasting longing never to be satisfied when i first came to town i shared this sympathy and pleased my imagination with fancying her hard struggle with the conviction that she had lost all that made life beautiful. I supposed that if I looked at her through my spectacles, I should see that it was only her radiant temper which so illuminated her dress, that we did not see it to be heavy sables. But when one day I did raise my glasses and glanced at her, I did not see the old maid whom we all pitied for a secret sorrow, but a woman whose nature was a tropic, in which the sun shone and burrower. And, sang, and flowers bloomed forever. There were no regrets, no doubts and half-wishes, but a calm

sweetness, a transparent peace. I saw her blush when that old lover passed by, or paused to speak to her, but it was only the sign of delicate feminine consciousness. She knew his love, and honoured it, although she could not understand it, nor return it. I looked closely at her, and I saw that, although all the world had exclaimed at her indifference to such homage, and had declared it was astonishing, she should lose so fine a match, she would only say simply and quietly, if Shakespeare loved me and I did not love him, how could I marry him? Could I be misanthropical when I saw such fidelity and dignity and simplicity? You may believe that I was especially curious to look at that old lover of hers through my glasses.

He was no longer young, you know, when I came, and his fame and fortune were secure. Certainly I have heard of few men more beloved, and of none more worthy to be loved. He had the easy manner of a man of the world, the sensitive grace of a poet, and the charitable judgment of a wide traveller. He was accounted the most successful and most unspoiled of men. Handsome, brilliant, wise, tender, graceful, accomplished, rich and famous, I looked at him, without the spectacles, in surprise and admiration, and wondered how your neighbour over the way had been so entirely untouched by his homage.

I watched their intercourse in society. I saw her gay smile, her cordial greeting. I marked his frank address, his lofty courtesy. Their manner told no tales. The eager world was balked, and I pulled out my spectacles. I had seen her already, and now I saw him. He lived only in memory, and his memory was a spacious and stately palace. But he did not oftenest frequent the,

banqueting hall, where were endless hospitality and feasting, nor did he loiter much in reception-rooms, where a throng of new visitors was forever swarming, nor did he feed his vanity by haunting the apartment in which were stored the trophies of his varied triumphs, nor dream much in the great gallery hung with pictures of his travels. But from all these lofty halls of memory he constantly escaped to a remote and solitary chamber into which no one had ever penetrated. But my fatal eyes behind the glasses followed and entered with him, and saw that the chamber was a chapel. It was dim and silent and sweet with perpetual incense that burned upon an altar before a picture forever veiled. There, whenever I chanced to look, I saw him kneel and pray, and there, by day and by night,

a funeral hymn was chanted. I do not believe you will be surprised that I have been content to remain deputy bookkeeper. My spectacles regulated my ambition, and I early learned that there were better gods than Plutus. The glasses have lost much of their fascination now. and I do not often use them. Sometimes the desire is irresistible. Whenever I am greatly interested, I am compelled to take them out

and see what it is that I admire. And yet, and yet, said Titbottom after a pause, I am not sure that I thank my grandfather. Prue had long since laid away her work and had heard every word of the story. I saw that the dear woman had yet one question to ask, and had been earnestly hoping to hear something that would spare her the necessity of asking.

But Titbottom had resumed his usual tone, after the momentary excitement, and made no further allusion to himself. We all sat silently, Titbottom's eyes fastened musingly upon the carpet, Prue, looking wistfully at him, and I, regarding both. It was past midnight, and our guest arose to go. He shook hands quietly, made his grave Spanish bow to Prue, and, taking his hat, went towards the front door. Prue and I accompanied him.

I saw in her eyes that she would ask her question, and as Titbottom opened the door, I heard the low words, And Preciosa? Titbottom paused. He had just opened the door, and the moonlight streamed over him as he stood, turning back to us. I have seen her but once since. It was in church, and she was kneeling with her eyes closed, so that she did not see me.

But I rubbed the glasses well, and looked at her, and saw a white lily whose stem was broken, but which was fresh and luminous and fragrant still. That was a miracle, interrupted Prue. Madam, it was a miracle, replied Titbottom, and for that one sight I am devoutly grateful for my grandfather's gift. I saw that although a flower may have lost its hold upon earthly moisture, it may still bloom as sweetly, fed by the dews of heaven. the door closed and he was gone but as prue put her arm in mine and we went upstairs together she whispered in my ear how glad i am that you don't wear spectacles end of story five

story six of the best american humorous short stories by alexander jessup editor this librivox recording is in the public domain story six my double and How He Undid Me, 1859, by Edward Everett Hale. From the Atlantic Monthly, September 1859, republished in the volume The Man Without a Country and Other Tales, 1868 by Edward Everett Hale, Little Brown and Company. It is not often that I trouble the readers of the Atlantic Monthly. I should not trouble them now, but for the importunities of the my wife, who feels to insist that a duty to society is unfulfilled till I have told why I had to have a double and how he undid me.

She is sure, she says, that intelligent persons cannot understand that pressure upon public servants which alone drives any man into the employment of a double. And while I fear she thinks, at the bottom of her heart, that my fortunes will never be remade, she has a faint hope that, as another Rassilus, I may teach a lesson to future public, from which they may profit, though we die. Owing to the behavior of my double, or if you please, to that public pressure which compelled me to employ him, I have plenty of leisure to write this communication. I am, or rather was, a minister of the Sandemanian connection. I was, I was a minister of the Sandemanian connection. I was settled in the active, wide-awake town of Nagu-davik

on one of the finest water-powers in Maine. We used to call it a western town in the heart of the civilization of New England. A charming place it was, and is. A spirited, brave young parish had I, and it seemed as if we might have all the joy of eventful living to our hearts content. Alas, how little we knew on the day of my ordination, and in those halcyon moments of our first housekeeping, to be the confidential friend in a hundred families in the town, cutting the social trifle, as my friend Halliburton says, from the top of the whipped syllabub to the bottom of the sponge-cake, which is the foundation, to keep abreast of the thought of the age in one's study, and to do one's best on Sunday to interweave that thought with the active life of an

active town, and to inspirit both and make both infinite by glimpses of the eternal glory, seemed such an exquisite forelook into one's life, enough to do, and all so real and so grand, if this vision could only have lasted. The truth is that this vision was not in itself a delusion, nor indeed had to be a bright enough if one could only have been left to one's own business the vision would have accomplished itself and brought out new perahelical visions each as bright as the original the misery was and is as we found out i and polly before long that besides the vision and besides the usual human and finite failures in life such as breaking the old pitcher that came over in the mayflower and putting into the fire the alpenstock with which her father climbed Mont Blanc. Besides these, I say, imitating the style of Robinson Crusoe, there were pitchforked in on us a great rowing heap of humbugs, handed down

from some unknown seed-time in which we were expected, and I, chiefly, to fulfill certain public functions before the community, of the character of those fulfilled by the third row of supernumeraries who stand behind the sepoys in the spectacle of the cataract of the Ganges. They were the duties, in a word, which one performs as a member of one or another's social class or subdivision, wholly distinct from what one does as A by himself A. What invisible power put these functions on me, it would be very hard to tell, but such power there was and is, and I had not. been at work a year before I found I was living two lives, one real and one merely functional,

for two sets of people, one my parish, whom I loved, and the other a vague public for whom I did not care two straws. All this was in a vague notion which everybody had and has that this second life would eventually bring out some great results, unknown at present, to somebody somewhere. by this duality of life, I first read Dr. Wigan on the duality of the brain, hoping that I could train one side of my head to do these outside jobs, and the other to do my intimate and real duties. For Richard Greenough once told me that, in studying for the statue of Franklin, he found that the left side of the great man's face was philosophic and reflective, and the right side, funny and smiling. If you will go and look at the bronze statue, you will find he has repeated

this observation there for posterity. The eastern profile is the portrait of the statesman, Franklin, the western of poor Richard. But Dr. Wiggin does not go into these niceties of this subject, and I failed. It was then that, on my wife's suggestion, I resolved to look out for a double. I was at first singularly successful. We happened to be recreating at Stafford Springs that summer. We rode out one day for one of the relaxations of that watering place to the great Monsupon house. We were passing through one of the large halls when my destiny was fulfilled. I saw my man. He was not shaven. He had on no spectacles. He was dressed in a green-bair round about and faded blue overalls worn sadly at the knee but I saw at once that he

was of my height five feet four and a half he had black hair worn off by his hat so have and have not I he stooped in walking so do I his hands were large and mine and and choicest gift of fate in all he had not a strawberry mark on his left arm but a cut from a juvenile brick bat over his right eye, slightly affecting the play of that eyebrow. Reader, so have I! My fate was sealed. A word with Mr. Hawley, one of the inspectors, settled the whole thing. It proved that this Dennis Shea was a harmless, amiable fellow, of the class known as

shiftless, who had sealed his fate by marrying a dumb wife, who was at that moment ironing in the laundry. Before I left Stafford, I had hired both for five years. We had applied to Judge Pension, then the probate judge at Springfield, to change the name of Dennis Shea to Frederick Inham. We had explained to the judge what was the precise truth that an eccentric gentleman wished to adopt Dennis under this new name into his family. It never occurred to him that Dennis might be more than fourteen years old. And thus, to shorten this preface, when we returned at night to my parsonage at Naguadavik, there entered Mrs. Ingham, her new dumb laundress, myself, who am Mr. Frederick Ingram, and my double, who was Mr. Frederick Ingram, by as good

right as I. Oh, the fun we had the next morning in shaving his beard to my pattern, cutting his hair to match mine, and teaching him how to wear and how to take off gold-bowed spectacles. Really, they were electro-plate, and the glass was plain, for the poor fellow's eyes were excellent. Then in four successive afternoons I taught him four speeches. I had found these would be quite enough for the supernumerary sepoy line of life, and it was well for me they were, for though he was good-natured, he was very very, shiftless and it was as our national proverbs says like pulling teeth to teach him but at the end of the next week he could say with quite my easy and frisky air

one very well thank you and you this was for an answer to casual salutations two i am very glad you liked it three there has been so much said and on the whole so well said that I will not occupy the time. 4. I agree in general with my friend on the other side of the room. At first I had a feeling that I was going to be at great cost for clothing him, but it proved, of course, at once, that whenever he was out I should be at home, and I went during the bright period of his success to so few of those awful pageants that require a black dress-coat, and what the ungodly call after Mr. Dickens, a white choker,

that in the happy retreat of my own dressing-gowns and jackets, my days went by as happily and cheaply as those of another thalaba. And Polly declares there was never a year when the tailoring cost so little. He lived, Dennis, not thalaba, in his wife's room over the kitchen. He had orders never to show himself at that window. when he appeared in the front of the house i retired to my sanctissimum and my dressing-gown in short the dutchman and his wife in the old weather-box had not less to do with each other than he and i he made the furnace fire and split the wood before daylight then he went to sleep again and slept late then came for orders with a red silk bandana tied round his head with his overalls on and his dress-coat and spectacles off if we happened to be interrupted no one guessed that he was frederick ingham as well as i and in the neighbourhood there grew up an impression that the minister's irishman worked day-times in the factory village at new coventry

after i had given him his orders i never saw him till the next day i launched him by sending him to a meeting of the enlightenment board the enlightenment board consists of seventy-four members of whom sixty-seven are necessary to form a quorum one becomes a member under the regulations laid down in old judge dudley's will i became one by being ordained pastor of a church in nagwagvedevic you see you cannot help yourself if you would at this particular time we had had four successive meetings averaging four hours each wholly occupied in whipping in a quorum at the first only eleven men were present at the next by force of three circulars twenty seven at the third thanks to two days canvassing by ockmati and myself begging men to come we had sixty half the others were in europe but without a quorum we could do nothing all the rest of us waited grimly for our four hours and adjourned without any action at the fourth meeting we had flagged and only got fifty-nine together but on the first appearance of my double whom i sent on this fatal monday to the fifth meeting he was the sixty-seventh man who entered the room he was greeted with a storm of applause the poor fellow had missed his way read the street signs ill through his spectacles very ill in fact without them and had not dared to inquire he entered the room finding the president and secretary holding to their chairs two judges of the supreme court who were also members ex officio and were begging leave to go away

on his entrance all was changed presto the by-laws were amended and the western property was given away nobody stopped to converse with him he voted as i had charged him to do in every instance with the minority i won new laurels as a man of sense though a little un punctual and denis returned to the parsonage astonished to see with how little wisdom the world is governed he cut a few of my parishioners in the street but he had his glasses off and i am known to be near-sighted eventually he recognized them more readily than i i set him again at the exhibition of the new coventry academy and here he undertook a speaking part as in my boyish worldly days i remember the bills used to say of of Mademoiselle Celeste. We are all trustees of the New Coventry Academy, and there has lately been a good deal of feeling because the Sandemanian trustees did not regularly attend the exhibitions. It has been intimated indeed that the Sandemanians are leaning towards free will and that

we have therefore neglected these semi-annual exhibitions, while there is no doubt that alchmete last year went to commencement at Waterville. Now, the headmaster at New Coventry is a real good fellow, who knows a Sanskrit route when he sees it, and often cracks etymologies with me, so that, in strictness, I ought to go to their exhibitions. But think, reader, of sitting through three long July days in that Academy Chapel, following the program from Tuesday morning English composition, Sunshine, Miss Jones, round to trio on three pianos duel from opera of midshipman easy marriette coming in at nine thursday evening think of this reader for men who know the world is trying to go backward and who would give their lives that they could help it on

well the double had succeeded so well at the board that i sent him to the academy shade of plato pardon he arrived early on two Tuesday, when indeed few but mothers and clergymen are generally expected, and returned in the evening to us, covered with honors. He had dined at the right hand of the chairman, and he spoke in high terms of the repast. The chairman had expressed his interest in the French conversation. I am very glad you liked it, said Dennis, and the poor chairman, abashed, supposed the accent had been wrong. At the end of the day the gentleman present had been called upon for speeches, the Reverend Frederick Inham first, as it happened, upon which Dennis had risen and had said, there has been so much said, and on the whole so well said, that I will not occupy the time. The girls were delighted because Dr. Dabney, the year before, had given them, at this occasion, a scolding on impropriety of behavior at life. Lyceum lectures. They all declared Mr. Inham was a love, and so handsome. Dennis is good-looking.

Three of them, with arms behind the other's waists, followed him up to the wagon he rode home in, and a little girl with a blue sash had been sent to give him a rosebud. After this debut in speaking, he went to the exhibition for two days more, to the mutual satisfaction of all concerned. Indeed, Polly reported that he had pronounced the trustees' dinners of a higher grade than those of the parsonage. When the next term began, I found six of the academy girls had obtained permission to come across the river and attend our church. But this arrangement did not long continue.

After this he went to several commencements for me, and ate the dinners provided. He sat through three of our quarterly conventions for him. me always voting judiciously by the simple rule mentioned above of siding with the minority and i meanwhile who had before been losing caste among my friends as holding myself aloof from the associations of the body began to rise in everybody's favor ingham's a good fellow always on hand never talks much but does the right thing at the right time is not as un punctual as he used to be he comes early and sits through to the end he has got over his old talkative habit too i spoke to a friend of his about it once and i think ingham took it kindly and so on and so on this voting power of denis was particularly valuable at the quarterly meeting of the proprietors of the nagwadapic ferry my wife inherited from her father some shares in that enterprise which is not yet fully developed though it doubtless will become a very valuable property. The Law of Maine then forbade stockholders to appear by proxy at such meetings. Polly disliked to go, not being, in fact, a hen's rights hen, and transferred her stock to me.

I, after going once, disliked it more than she. But Dennis went to the next meeting and liked it very much. He said the armchairs were very good, the collation good, and the free rides to stockholders pleasant. He was a little frightened when they first took him upon one of the ferry-boats, but after two or three-quarterly meetings he became quite brave. Thus far I never had any difficulty with him. Indeed, being of that type which is called shiftless, he was only too happy to be told daily what to do, and to be charged, not to be forthputting, or in any way original in his discharge of that duty. He learned, however, to discriminate between the lines of his life, and very much preferred these stockholders' meetings and trustees' dinners and commencement

coalations to another set of occasions from which he used to beg off most piteously. Our excellent brother, Dr. Fillmore, had taken a notion at this time that our Sandemanian churches needed more expression of mutual sympathy. He insisted upon it that we were remiss. He said that if the bishop came to preach at Naguadavik, all the Episcopal clergy of the neighborhood were present. If Dr. Pond came, all the congregational clergyman turned out to hear him. If Dr. Nichols, all the Unitarians,

and he thought we owed it to each other that whenever there was an occasional service at a Sandemanian church, the other brethren should all, if possible, attend. It looked well, if nothing more. Now this really meant that I had not been to hear one of Dr. Fillmore's lectures on the ethnology of religion. He forgot that he did not hear one of my course on the Sandemanianism of Anselm.

But I felt badly when he said it, and afterwards I always made Dennis go to hear all the brethren preach when I was not preaching myself. This was what he took exceptions to, the only thing, as I said, which he ever did accept to. Now came the advantage of his long morning nap and of the green tea with which Polly supplied the kitchen,

but he could plead so humbly to be let off only from one or two. I never accepted him, however, I knew the lectures were of value and I thought at best he should be able to keep the connection. Polly is more rash than I am, as the reader has observed in the outset of this memoir, she risked Dennis one night under the eyes of her own sex. Governor Gorge's had always been very kind to us, and when he gave his great annual party

to the town, asked us. I confess I hated to go. I was deep in the new volume of Fyfer's Mystics, which Halliburton had just sent me from Boston. But how rude, said Polly, not to return the governor's civility and Mrs. Gorge's, when they will be sure to ask why you are away. Still I demurred, and at last she, with the wit of Eve and of Semeramis conjoined, let me off by saying that, if I would go in with her and sustain the initial conversations with the governor and the lady staying there, she would risk Dennis for the rest of the evening. And that would be.

was just what we did. She took Dennis in training all that afternoon, instructed him in fashionable conversation, cautioned him against the temptations of the supper-table, and at nine in the evening he drove us all down in the carry-all. I made the grand star entree with Polly and the pretty Walton girls who were staying with us. We had put Dennis into a great rough top-coat without his glasses, and the girls never dreamed in the darkness of looking at him. He sat in the carriage at the door while we entered. I did the agreeable to Mrs. Gorgeous, was introduced to her niece, Miss Fernanda. I complimented Judge Jeffries on his decision in the great case of Dahlney v. Laconia

Mining Company. I stepped into the dressing-room for a moment, stepped out for another, walked home, after a with Dennis and tying the horse to a pump, and while I walked home, Mr. Frederick Inham, my double, stepped in through the library into the gorgeous grand saloon. Oh, Polly died of laughing as she told me of it at midnight, and even here, where I have to teach my hands to hue the beach for stakes to fence our cave, she dies of laughing as she recalls it, and says that single occasion was worth all we have paid for it. gallant eve that she is she joined denis at the library door and in an instant presented him to dr octorlong from baltimore who was on a visit in town and was talking with her as denis came in

mr ingham would like to hear what you are telling us about your success among the german population and denis bowed and said in spite of a scowl from polly i'm very glad you liked it but dr octorlong did not observe and plunged into the tide of explanation denis listening like a prime minister and bowing like a mandarin which is i suppose the same thing polly declared it was just like haliburton's latin conversation with a hungarian minister of which he is very fond of telling quo any sit historia reformationius in hungaria quoth halliburton after some thought and his comfrire replied gallantly in seculo decimo terseo etc etc etc and from decimotertio which means in the thirteenth century my dear little bell and coral reader you have rightly guessed that the question means what is the history of the reformation in hungary to the nineteenth century and a half lasted till the oysters came so was it that before dr octorlong came to the success or near it, Governor Gorgeous came to Dennis, and asked him to hand Mrs. Jeffries down to supper, a request which he heard with great joy. Polly was skipping round the room, I guess, gay as a lark. Occamity came to her in pity for poor Inham, who was so bored by the stupid

pundit, and Ockmety could not understand why I stood it so long. But when Dennis took Mrs. Jeffries down, Polly could not resist standing near them. He was a little flustered till the sight of the eatables and drinkables gave him the same mercy and courage which it gave diggery. A little excited then. He attempted one or two of his speeches to the judge's lady, but little he knew how hard it was to get in even a prompt to there edgewise. Very well, I thank you, said he, after the eating elements were adjusted, and, and you and then did not he have to hear about the mumps and the measles the arnica and belladonna and camemaw flower and dodeca cathom till she changed oysters for salad and then about the old practice and the new and what her sister said and what her sister's friend said and what the physician to her sister's friend said and then what was said by the brother of the sister of the physician of the friend of her sister exactly as if it had been in

olendorf there was a moment's pause as she declined champagne i am very glad you liked it said denis again which he never should have said but to one who complimented a sermon oh you are so sharp mr ingham no i never drink any wine at all except sometimes in summer a little currant spirits from our own currents you know my own mother that is i call her my own mother because you know i do not remember c c c c c till they came to the candied orange at the end of the feast when denis rather confused thought he must say something and tried number four i agree in general with my friend the other side of the room which he never should have said but at a public meeting but mrs jeffreys who never listens expecting to understand caught him up instantly with well i'm sure my husband returns the compliment he always agrees with you though we do worship with the methodists but you know mr ingham c c c c till the move was made up stairs and as denis led her through the hall he was scarcely understood by any but polly as he said there has been so much said and on the whole so well said that i will not occupy the time his great resource the rest of the evening was standing in the library carrying on animated conversation with one and another in much the same way polly had initiated him in the mysteries of a discovery of mine that it is not necessary to finish your sentence in a crowd but by a sort of mumble omitting sibilants and dentals

this indeed if your words fail you answers even in public ex-tempore speech but better where other talking is going on thus we missed you at the natural history society ingham ingham replies i am very gliglum that is that you were m m by gradually dropping the voice the interlocutor is compelled to supply the answers mrs ingham i hope your friend augusta is better augusta has not been ill polly cannot think of explaining however and answers thank you ma'am she is very rare a reason rar an in lower and lower tones and mrs throckmorton who forgot the subject of which she spoke as soon as she asked the question is quite satisfied dennis could see into the card-room and came to polly to ask if he might not go and play all fours but of course she sternly refused at midnight they came home delightedly polly as i said wild to tell me the story of victory only both the pretty walton girl said cousin frederick you did not come near me all the evening we always called him dennis at home for convenience though his real name was frederick ingham as i have explained when the election day came round however i found that by some accident there was only one frederick ingham's name on the voting list and as i was quite busy that day in writing some foreign letters to hall i thought i would forego my privilege of suffrage and stay quietly at home telling denis that he might use the record on the voting list and vote. I gave him a ticket, which I told him he might use if he liked to.

That was that, very sharp election in Maine, which the readers of the Atlantic so well remember, and it had been intimated in public that the ministers would do well not to appear at the polls. Of course, after that, we had to appear by self or proxy. Still, Naguadavik was not in a city, and this standing in a double-kue at town's meeting several hours to vote, was a bore of the first water. And so, when I found that there was but one Frederick Ingram on the list, and that one of us must give up, I stayed at home and finished the letters, which indeed procured for Fathergill his coveted appointment of professor of astronomy at Leavenworth, and I gave Dennis, as we called him, the chance.

Something in the matter gave a good deal of popularity to the Frederick English, and name and at the adjourned election next week Frederick Ingham was chosen to the legislature. Whether this was I or Dennis I never really knew. My friends seemed to think it was I, but I felt that as Dennis had done the popular thing, he was entitled to the honor. So I sent him to Augusta when the time came, and he took the oaths. And a very valuable member he made. they appointed him on the committee on parishes but i wrote a letter for him resigning on the ground that he took an interest in our claim to the stumpage in the minister's sixteenth of gore a next number seven in the tenth range he never made any speeches and always voted with a minority which was what he was sent to do he made me and himself a great many good friends some of whom i did not afterwards recognize as quickly as Dennis did my parishioners. On one or two occasions when there was Wood to Saw at home,

I kept him at home, but I took those occasions to go to Augusta myself. Finding myself often in his vacant seat at these times, I watched the proceedings with a good deal of care, and once was so much excited that I delivered my somewhat celebrated speech on the Central School District Question, a speech of which the State of Maine printed some extra copy. I believe there is no formal rule permitting strangers to speak, but no one objected. Dennis himself, as I said, never spoke at all. But our experience this session led me to think that, if by some general understanding, as the reports speak of in legislation daily, every member of Congress might leave a double to sit through those deadly sessions

sessions, and answer to roll calls, and do the legitimate party boating, which appears stereotyped in the regular list of Ash, Bocock, Black, etc., we should gain decidedly in working power. As things stand, the saddest state prison I ever visit is that representative's chamber in Washington. If a man leaves for an hour, twenty correspondents may be howling, where was Mr. Pendergrass when the Oregon bill passed? And if poor Printergast stays there, certainly the worst use you can make of a man is to put him in prison.

I know indeed that public men of the highest rank have resorted to this expedient long ago. Dumas' novel of the Iron Mask turns on the brutal imprisonment of Louis XIV's double. There seems little doubt in our own history that it was the real General Pierce who shed tears when the delegate from Lawrence explained to him the sufferings of the people there, and only General Pierce's double, who had given the orders for the assault on that town, which was invaded the next day. My charming friend George Withers has, I am almost sure, a double who preaches his afternoon sermons for him.

This is the reason that the theology often varies so from that of the forenoon. But that double is almost as charming as the original. Some of the most well-defined men who stand out most prominently on the background of history are in this way stereoscopic men, who owe their distinct relief to the slight differences between the doubles. All this I know. My present suggestion is simply the great extension of the system, so that all public machine work may be done by it.

but i see i loiter in my story which is rushing to the plunge let me stop an instant more however to recall were it only to myself that charming year while all was yet well after the double had become a matter of course for nearly twelve months before he undid me what a year it was full of active life full of happy love of the hardest work of the sweetest sleep and the year it was full of the heartest work of the sweetest sleep and the year it was full of the year it was full of the whole of active life full of the sweetest sleep and the sleep, and the fulfillment of so many of the fresh aspirations and dreams of boyhood. Dennis went to every school committee meeting and sat through all those late wranglings which used to keep me up till midnight and awake till morning. He attended all the lectures to which foreign exiles sent me tickets, begging me to come for the love of heaven and of Bohemia. He accepted and used all the tickets for charity concerts which were sent,

to me. He appeared everywhere where it was specially desired that our denomination, or our party, or our class, or our family, or our street, or our town, or our country, or our state, should be fully represented. And I fell back to that charming life which in boyhood one dreams of, when he supposes he shall do his own duty and make his own sacrifices, without being tied up with those of other people. My rusty Sanskrit, Arabic, Hebrew, Greek, Latin, French, Italian, Spanish, German, and English, began to take Polish. Heavens! How little I had done with them while I attended to my public duties. My calls on my parishioners became the friendly, frequent, home-like sociabilities they were meant to be, instead of the hard work of a man

goaded to desperation by the sight of his lists of arrears. And preaching! What a luxury preaching was, when I had on Sunday the whole result of an individual, personal week, from which to speak to a people whom all that week I had been meeting as hand-to-hand friend. I never tired on Sunday, and was in condition to leave the sermon at home, if I chose, and preach it ex-tempoor, as all men should do always. indeed i wonder when i think that as sensible people like ours really more attached to their clergy than they were in the lost days when the mathers and norton's were noblemen should choose to neutralize so much of their ministers lives and destroy so much of their early training

by this undefined passion for seeing them in public it springs from our balancing of sex if a spirited episcopalian takes an interest in the almshouse and is put on the poor board every other denomination must have a minister there lest the poor house be changed into st paul's cathedral if a san damanian is chosen president of the young men's library there must be a methodist vice-president and a baptist secretary and if a universalist sunday-school convention collects five hundred delegates the next congregationalist sabbath school conference must be as large lest they whoever they may be should think we whoever we may be are going down freed from these necessities that happy year i began to know my wife by sight we saw each other sometimes in those long mornings when dennis was in the study explaining to map peddlers that i had eleven maps of jerusalem already and to school-book agents that i would see them hanged before i would be bribed to introduce their text-books into the schools she and i were at work together as in those old dreamy days and in these days of our log-cabin again but all this could not last and at length poor denis my double over-tasked in turn undid me it was thus it happened there is an excellent fellow once a minister i will call him isaac's who deserves well of the world till he dies and after because he once in a real exigency did the right thing in the right way at the right time, as no other man could do it. In the world's great football match,

the ball, by chance, found him loitering on the outside of the field. He closed with it, camped it, charged it home, yes, right through the other side, not disturbed, not frightened by his own success, and breathless found himself a great man, as the great delta rang applause. But he did not find himself a rich man, and the football has never come in his way again. From that moment to this moment he has been of no use that one can see at all. Still, for that great act we speak of Isaacs gratefully and remember him kindly, and he forges on, hoping to meet the football somewheres again. In that vague hope he had arranged a movement for a general organization,

of the human family into debating clubs, county societies, state unions, etc., etc., with a view of inducing all children to take hold of the handles of their knives and forks instead of the metal. Children have bad habits in that way. The movement, of course, was absurd, but we all did our best to forward, not it but him. It came time for the annual county meeting on this subject to be held at Naguadabek. Isaac's came round, good fellow, to arrange for it, got the town hall, got the governor to preside, the saint, he ought to have triplet doubles provided him by law, and then came to get me to speak. No, I said, I would not speak if ten governors presided. I do not believe in the enterprise.

If I spoke, it should be to say children should take hold of the prongs, of the forks and the blades of the knives. I would subscribe ten dollars, but I would not speak a mill." So poor Isaacs went his way, sadly, to coax Achmati to speak in Delafield. I went out. Not long after he came back and told Polly that they had promised to speak, the governor would speak, and he himself would close with the quarterly report, and some interesting anecdotes regarding Miss Biffin's way of handling her knife and Mr. Nellis's way of footing his fork. Now, if Mr. Ingram will only come and sit on the platform, he need not say one word, but it will show well in the paper. It will show that the Sandemanians take as much interest in the movement

as the Armenians or the Mesopotamians and will be a great favor to me. Polly, good soul, was tempted, and, she promised. She knew Mrs. Isaacs was starving, and the babies, she knew Dennis was at home, and she promised. Night came, and I returned. I heard her story. I was sorry? I doubted. But Polly had promised to beg me, and I dared all. I told Dennis to hold his peace under all circumstances and sent him down. It was not half an hour more before he returned, wild with excitement in a perfect Irish fury, which it was long before I understood, but I knew at once that he had undone me. What happened was this.

The audience got together, attracted by Governor Gorge's name. There were a thousand people. Poor Gorgeous was late from Augusta. They became impatient. He came in direct from the treason. at last, really ignorant of the object of the meeting, he opened it in the fewest possible words, and said other gentlemen were present who would entertain them better than he. The audience were disappointed, but waited.

The governor, prompted by Isaacs, said, The Honorable Mr. Delafield will address you. Delafield had forgotten the knives and forks, and was playing the Rui-Lopez opening at the chess club. The Reverend Mr. Akmati will address you. Akmati had promised to speak late and was at the school committee. I see Dr. Stearns in the hall. Perhaps he will say a word. Dr. Stern said he had come to listen and not to speak.

The governor and Isaacs whispered. The governor looked at Dennis, who was resplendent on the platform, but Isaac's, to give him his due, shook his head. But the look was enough. A miserable lad. ill-bred, who had once been in Boston, thought it would sound well to call for me, and peeped out, Ingham! A few more wretches cried, Ingham!

Ingham! Still Isaacs was firm, but the governor, anxious indeed, to prevent a row, knew I would say something, and said, Our friend Mr. Inham is always prepared, and though we had not relied upon him, he will say a word, perhaps. applause followed which turned denis's head he rose flattered and tried number three there has been so much said and on the whole so well said that i will not longer occupy the time and sat down looking for his hat for things seemed squally but the people cried go on go on and some applauded denis still confused but flattered by the applause to which neither he nor I are used, rose again and this time tried number two.

I am very glad you liked it, in a sonorous, clear delivery. My best friend stared. All the people who did not know me personally yelled with delight at the aspect of the evening. The governor was beside himself, and poor Isaacs thought he was undone. Alas, it was I.

A boy in the gallery cried, in a loud tone, it's all an infernal humbug, just as Dennis, waving his hand, commanded silence and tried number four. I agree in general with my friend on the other side of the room. The poor governor doubted his senses and crossed to stop him. Not in time, however. The same gallery boy shouted, How's your mother? And Dennis, now completely lost, tried his last shot, number one, vainly.

Very well, thank you. And you? I think I must have been undone already. But Dennis, like another Lockhart, chose to make sicker. The audience rose in a whirl of amazement, rage, and sorrow. Some other impertinence aimed at Dennis broke all restraint, and in pure Irish, he delivered himself of an address to the gallery inviting any person who wished to fight to come down and do so stating that they were all dogs and cowards that he would take any five of them single-handed sure i have said all his reverence and the mistress paid me say cried he in defiance and seizing the governor's cane from his hand brandished it quarterstaff fashion above his head

he was indeed got from the hall only with the greatest difficulty by the governor the city marshal who had been called in and the superintendent of my sunday school the universal impression of course was that the rev frederick ingham had lost all command of himself in some of those haunts of intoxication which for fifteen years i have been laboring to destroy till this moment indeed that is the impression in naugodwavik this number of the atlantic will relieve from it a hundred friends of mine who have been sadly wounded by that notion now for years but i shall not be likely ever to show my head there again no my double has undone me we left town at seven the next morning i came to number nine in the third range and settled on the minister's lot in the new towns in maine the first settled minister has a gift of a hundred acres of land i am the first settled minister in number nine my wife and little paulina are my parish we raise corn enough to live on in summer we kill bears meat enough to carbonize it in winter i work on steadily on my traces of sandemanianism in the sixth and seventh centuries which i hope to persuade philip sampson and company to publish next year we are very happy

But the world thinks we are undone. End of Story 6. Story 7. Of the Best American Humorous Short Stories by Alexander Jessop, editor. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Story 7. A Visit to the Asylum for Aged and Decayed Punsters, 1861 by Oliver Wendell Holmes, 1809, 1894.

From the Atlantic Monthly, January 1861, republished in soundings from the Atlantic, 1864, by Oliver Wendell Holmes, whose authorized publishers are the Houton Mifflin Company. Having just returned from a visit to this admirable institution in company with a friend who is one of the directors, we propose giving a short account of what we saw and heard. The great success of the asylum for idiots and feeble-minded youth, several of the scholars from which have reached considerable distinction, one of them being connected with a leading daily paper in this city, and others having served in the state and national legislatures,

was the motive which led to the foundation of this excellent charity. Our late distinguished townsman, Noah Dow, as is well known, bequeathed a large portion of his fortune to this establishment, being thereto moved, as his will expressed it, by the desire of endowing some public institution for the benefit of mankind. Being consulted as to the rules of the institution and the selection of a superintendent, he replied that all boards must construct their own platforms of operations. let them select anyhow and he should be pleased.

Ine Howe, Esquire, was chosen in compliance with this delicate suggestion. The Charter provides for the support of one hundred aged and decayed gentleman punsters. On inquiry, if there were no provision for females, my friend called my attention to this remarkable psychological fact, namely, there is no such thing as a female punster. This remark struck me forcibly, and on reflection I found that I never knew nor heard of one, though I have once or twice heard a woman make a single detached pun, as I have known a hen to crow. On arriving at the south gate of the asylum grounds I was about to ring,

but my friend held my arm and begged me to wrap with my stick, which I had. did. An old man with a very comical face presently opened the gate and put out his head. So you prefer cane to Abel, do you? he said, and began chuckling and coughing at a great rate. My friend winked at me. You're still here, old Joe, I see, he said to the old man. Yes, yes, and it's very odd, considering how often I've bolted nights. He then, then threw open the double gates for us to ride through. Now," said the old man, as he pulled the gates after us, you've had a long journey.

Why, how is that, old Joe, said my friend. Don't you see? he answered, there's the east hinges on the one side of the gate, and there's the west hinges on the other side. We had no sooner got into the yard than a feeble little gentleman with a remarkably bright eye, up to us, looking very serious, as if something had happened. The town has entered a complaint against the asylum as a gambling establishment," he said to my friend the director. "'What do you mean?' said my friend.

Why, they complain that there's a lottery on the premises," he answered, pointing to a field of that grain, and hobbled away, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he went. On entering the main building, we saw the rules and regulations for the asylum conspicuously posted up. I made a few extracts, which may be interesting. Section 1 of verbal exercises. Number 5. Each inmate shall be permitted to make puns freely from 8 in the morning until 10 at night,

except during services in the chapel and grace before meals. 6. At ten o'clock the gas will be turned off, and no further puns, conundrums, or other play-on-words will be allowed to be uttered or to be uttered aloud. 9. Inmates who have lost their faculties and cannot any longer make puns shall be permitted to repeat such as may be selected for them by the chaplain out of the work of Mr. Joseph Miller.

10. violent and unmanageable punsters who interrupt others when engaged in conversation with puns or attempts at the same shall be deprived of their Joseph Millers and, if necessary, placed in solitary confinement. Section 3. Of Deportment at Meals 4. No inmate shall make any pun or attempt at the same until the blessing has been asked and the company of. are decently seated. 7. Certain puns, having been placed on the index ex-pergatorious of the institution, no inmate shall be allowed to utter them, on pain of being debarred the perusal of punch and vanity fair,

and, if repeated, deprived of his Joseph Miller. Among these are the following. Allusions to Attic Salt when asked to pass the salt-cellar, remarks on the inmates being mustard, etc., etc., associating baked beans with the bennie factors of the institution, saying that beef-eating is befitting, etc., etc. The following are also prohibited, accepting to such inmates as may have lost their faculties, and cannot any longer make puns of their own. Your own hair or a wig, it will be long enough, etc., etc., little of its age, etc., etc., also playing upon the following words,

"'Hospital, mayor, pun, pitied, bread, sauce, etc., etc., etc., see appendix ex purgatorious, printed for use of inmates. The subjoined conundrum is not allowed. Why is hasty pudding like the prince, because it comes attended by its suite, nor this variation to it to wit because the lasses run after it the superintendent who went round with us had been a noted punster in his time and well known in the business world but lost his customers by making too free with their names as in the famous story he said afloat in twenty-nine of four jerrys attaching to the names of a noted judge an eminent lawyer the secretary of the board of foreign missions and the well-known landlord at springfield one of the four jerrys he added was of gigantic magnitude the play on words was brought out by an accidental remark of solomon's the well-known banker capital punishment the jew was overheard saying with reference to the guilty parties he was understood as saying a capital pun is meant which led to an investigation and the relief of the greatly excited public mind the superintendent showed some of his old tendencies as he went round with us

do you know he broke out all at once why they don't take steps in tartary for establishing insane hospitals we both confessed ignorance because there are nomad people to be found there," he said with a dignified smile. He proceeded to introduce us to different inmates. The first was a middle-aged scholarly man who was seated at a table with a Webster's dictionary and a sheet of paper before him. Well, what luck to-day, Mr. Mauser," said the superintendent. "'Three or four only,' said Mr. Mauser. Will you hear him now?

Now I'm here.' We all nodded. don't you see webster errs in the words centur and theauteur if he spells leather leather and feather feather isn't there danger that he'll give us a bad spell of weather besides webster is a resurrectionist he does not allow you to rest quietly in the mould and again because mr worcester inserts an illustration in his text is that any reason why he does that any reason why he does not allow you to rest quietly in the mould and again because mr worcester inserts an illustration in his text is that any reason why mr webster's publishers should hitch one on in their appendix it's what i call a connecticut trick why is his way of spelling like the floor of an oven because it is underbred mauser said the superintendent that word is on the index oh i forgot said Mr. Mouser, please don't deprive me of vanity fair this one time, sir. These are all this morning.

Good day, gentlemen. Then, to the superintendent, adieu, sir. The next inmate was a semi-idiotic-looking old man. He had a heap of block letters before him, and as we came up, he pointed, without saying a word, to the arrangements he had made with them on the table. They were evidently anagrams and had the merit of transposing the letters of the words employed without addition or subtraction. Here are a few of them. Times smite, post, stop.

Tribune, True, Nib, World, Dr. Owl. Advertiser, Race Veridat, is True Red. allopathy all o the pay homeopathy o my pa the m'apha the mention of several new york papers led me to two or three questions thus whether the editor of the tribune was h g really if the complexion of his politics were not accounted for by his being an eager person himself whether window phillips was not a reduced copy of john knox whether a new york foieuetonist is not the same thing as a fellow down east at this time a plausible-looking bald-headed man joined us evidently waiting to take part in the conversation good morning mr wriggles said the superiors said the superiors Superintendent, anything fresh this morning? Any conundrum?" "'I haven't looked at the cattle,' he answered dryly. "'Cattle? Why cattle? Why, to see if there's any corn under em?' he said,

and immediately asked, "'Why is Douglas like the earth?' We tried, but couldn't guess, because he was flattened out at the polls, said Mr. Riggles. A famous politician formerly, said the superintendent. his grandfather was a seashesianist in the revolutionary war by the way i hear the freeze oil doctrines don't go down at new bedford the next inmate looked as if he might have been a sailor formerly ask him what his calling was said the superintendent followed the sea he replied to the question put by one of us went as mate in a fishing schooner why did you give it up because i didn't like working for two masters he replied presently we came upon a group of elderly persons gathered about a venerable gentleman with flowing locks who was propounding questions to a row of inmates can any inmate give me a motto for m berger he said nobody responded for two or three minutes at last an old man whom i at once read recognized as a graduate of our university, Ano 1800, held up his hand.

Ramacute Tidgett. Go to the head of the class, Jocelyn, said the venerable patriarch. The successful inmate did as he was told, but in a very rough way, pushing against two or three of the class. How is this? said the patriarch. You told me to go up Jocelyn, he replied. The old gentleman who had a gentleman who had to be taken. had been shoved about, enjoyed the pun too much to be angry. Presently the Patriarch asked again,

why was M. Berger authorized to go to the dances given to the prince? The class had to give up this, and he answered it himself, because every one of his caroms was a ticket to the ball. Who collects the money to defray the expenses of the last campaign in Italy, asked the patriarch. here again the class failed the war-clouds rolling done he answered and what is mulled wine made with three or four voices exclaimed at once sizzly madeira here a servant entered and said luncheon-time the old gentleman who have excellent appetites dispersed at once one of them politely asking us if we would not stop and have a bit of bread and a little mite of cheese there is one thing i have forgotten to show you said the superintendent the cell for the confinement of violent and unmanageable punsters we were very curious to see it particularly with reference to the alleged absence of every object upon which a play of words could possibly be made The superintendent led us down some dark stairs to a corridor, then along a narrow passage, then down a broad flight of steps, into another passageway, and opened a large door which looked out on the main entrance. We have not seen the cell for the confinement of violent and unmanageable punsters, we both exclaimed. This is the cell, he exclaimed, pointing to the outside prospect.

my friend the director looked me in the face so good-naturedly that i had to laugh we like to humour the inmates he said it has a bad effect we find on their health and spirits to disappoint them of their little pleasantries some of the jests to which we have listened are not new to me though i dare say you may not have heard them often before the same thing happens in general society with this additional disadvantage that there is no punishment provided for violent and unmanageable punsters as in our institution we made our bow to the superintendent and walked to the place where our carriage was waiting for us on our way an exceedingly decrepit old man moved slowly toward us with a perfectly blank look on his face but still appearing as if he wished to speak look said the director that is our centenarian the ancient man crawled toward us cocked an eye with which he seemed to see a little up at us and said saravunt young gentleman why is a-a-a-a-a like a-a-a give it up because it's a-a-a-a-a he smiled a pleasant smile as if it were all plain enough one hundred and seven last christmas said the director of late years he puts his whole whole his whole conundrums in blank, but they please him just as well. We took our departure, much gratified and instructed by our visit, hoping to have some future

opportunity of inspecting the records of this excellent charity and making extracts for the benefit of our readers. End of Story 7. of the Best American Humorous Short Stories by Alexander Jessup Editor. This Liber Fox recording is in the public domain. Story 8. The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, 1865 by Mark Twain. From the Saturday Press, November 18, 1865, republished in the celebrated jumping frog

of Calaveras County and other sketches, 1865. by Mark Twain, all of whose works are published by Harper and Brothers. In compliance with the request of a friend of mine who wrote me from the East, I called on good-natured garrulous old Simon Wheeler, and inquired after my friend's friend Leonidas W. Smiley, as requested to do, and I hereunto append the result. I have a lurking suspicion that Leonidus W. Smiley is a myth, and it is a myth, and it is a that my friend never knew such a personage, and that he only conjectured that if I asked old Wheeler about him, it would remind him of his infamous Jim Smiley, and he would go to work

and bore me to death with some exasperating reminiscence of him, as long and as tedious as it should be useless to me. If that was the design, it succeeded. I found Simon Wheeler, dozing comfortably by the bar-room stove of the dilapidated tavern in the decayed mining-camp of angels, and I noticed that he was fat and bald-headed, and had an expression of winning gentleness and simplicity upon his tranquil countenance. He roused up, and gave me good day. I told him a friend had commissioned me to make some inquiries about a cherished companion of his boyhood, named leonidas w smiley reverend leonidas w smiley a young minister of the gospel who he had heard was at one time a resident of angels camp i added that if mr wheeler could tell me anything about this reverend londonaldus w smiley i would feel under many obligations to him simon wheeler backed me into a corner and blockaded me there with his chair

and then sat down and reeled off the monotonous narrative which follows this paragraph he never smiled he never frowned he never changed his voice from the gentle flowing key to which he tuned his initial sentence He never betrayed the slightest suspicion of enthusiasm. But all through the interminable narrative, there ran a vein of impressive earnestness and sincerity, which showed me plainly that, so far from his imagining, that there was anything ridiculous or funny about his story, he regarded it as a really important matter, and admired its two heroes as men of transcendent genius in finesse. him go on in his own way and never interrupted him once reverend leonidus w hmm reverend le well there was a feller here once by the name of jim smiley in the winter of forty-nine or maybe it was the spring of fifty i don't recollect exactly somehow though what makes me think it was one or the other is because i remember the big flume warrant finished

when he first came to the camp. But anyway, he was the curiousest man about always betting on anything that turned up you ever see if he could get anybody to bet on the other side. And if he couldn't, he'd change sides. Any way that suited the other man would suit him.

Anyway, just so's he's got a bet. He was satisfied. But still he was lucky, uncommon lucky. he most always come out winter he was always ready and laying for a chance there couldn't be no solitary thing mentioned but that feller'd offer to bet on it and take any side you please as i was just telling you if there was a horse race you'd find him flush or you'd find him busted at the end of it if there was a dog fight he'd bet on it if there was a cat fight he'd bet on it if there was a chicken fight he'd bet on it if there was a chicken fight he'd bet on it. Why, if there was two birds sitting on a fence, he would bet you which one would fly first. Or if there was a camp-meeting, he would be there regular to bet on Parson Walker, which he

judged to be the best exorter about here, and he was, too, and a good man. If he even see a straddle-bug start to go anywhere's, he would bet you how long it would take him to get to to wherever he was going to and if you took him up he would follow that straddle-bug to mexico but what he would find out where he was bound for and how long he was on the road lots of the boys here has seen that smiley and can tell you about him why it never made no difference to him he'd bet on anything the dangest feller parson walker's wife laid very sick once for a good while and it seemed as if they weren't going to save her. But one morning he come in, and Smiley up and asked him how she was, and he said she was considerable better, thanked the Lord for his infinite mercy, and coming on so smart that with the blessing of Providence she'd get well yet. And Smiley, before he thought, says,

well, I'll risk two and a half she don't anyway. This year Smiley had a mare. The boys called her the fifteen-minute nag, but that was only in fun, you know, Because, of course, she was faster than that, and he used to win money on that horse, for all she was so slow, and always had the asthma, or the distemper, or the consumption, or something of that kind. They used to give her two or three hundred yards start, and then pass her under way. But always at the fag end of the race she'd get excited and desperate-like, and come cavorting and straddling up and scattering her legs round limber,

sometimes in the air and sometimes out to one side amongst the fences and kicking up more dust and raising more racket with her coughing and sneezing and blowing her nose and always fetch up at the stand just about a neck ahead as near as you could cipher it down and he had a little small bull-pup that to look at him you'd think he warn't worth a cent but to set around and look ornry and lay for a chance to steal something but as soon as money was up on him he was a different dog his under-jawed began to stick out like the forecastle of a steamboat and his teeth would uncover and shine like the furnaces and a dog might tackle him and bully rag him and bite him and throw him over his shoulder two or three times and andrew jackson which was the name of the pup andrew jackson would never let on but what he was satisfied and hadn't expected nothing else and the bets being doubled and doubled on the other side all the time till the money was all up and then all of a sudden he would grab that other dog just by the giant of his hind leg and freeze to it not char you understand but only just grip and hang on till they throwed up the sponge if it was a year. Smiley always come out winter on that pup, till he harnished a dog once that didn't have no hind legs,

because they'd been sawed off in a circular saw, and when the thing had gone along far enough and the money was all up, and he come to make a snatch for his pet Holt, he see in a minute how he'd been imposed on, and how the other dog had him in the door, so to speak, and he appeared surprised, and then he looked sort of discouraged-like,

and didn't try no more to win the fight, and so he got shucked out bad. He gave Smiley a look, as much as to say his heart was broke, and it was his fault for putting up a dog that hadn't no hind legs for him to take hold of, which was his main dependence in a fight, and then he limped off a piece and laid down and died. It was a good pup, was that Andrew Jackson, and would have made a name for himself if he'd lived, for the stuff was in him, and he had genius.

I know it, because he hadn't no opportunities to speak of, and it don't stand to reason that a dog can make such a fight as he could, under them circumstances, if he hadn't no talent. It always makes me feel sorry when I think of that last fight of hisn, and the way it turned out. Well, this year Smiley had rat terriers and chicken-cocks and tom-cats and all of them kind of things, till you couldn't rest, and you couldn't fetch nothing for him to bed on, but he'd match you. He catched a frog one day and took him home, and said he calculated to educate him.

And so he never done nothing for three months, but set in his backyard and learned that frog to jump. And you bet he did learn him too. He'd give him a little punch behind, and the next minute you'd see that frog whirling in the air like a donut, see him turn one Somerset, maybe a couple, and if he got a good star, then come down flat-footed and all right like a cat. he got him up so in the matter of catching flies and kept him in practice so constant that he'd nail a fly every time as fur as he could see him smilers said all a frog wanted was education and he could do most anything and i believe him while i've seen him set daniel webster down here on this floor daniel webster was the name of the frog and sing out flies daniel flies and quicken you could wink he'd spring straight up up and snake a fly off on the counter there, and flopped down on the floor again as solid as a gob of mud, and fall to scratching the side of his head with his hind foot as indifferent

as if he hadn't no idea he'd been doing any more any frog ought to. You never see a frog so modest and straightforward as he was, for all he was so gifted, and when it come to fair and square jumping on a dead level, he could get over more ground at one straddle than any animal of his breed you ever see. Jumping on a dead level was his strong suit, you understand, and when it come to that, Smiley would ante up money on him as long as he had her red. Smiley was monstrous, proud of his frog, and well he might be, for fellas that had traveled and been everwheres, all said he laid over any frog that ever they see. Well, Smiley, kept the beast in a little lattice box, and he used to fetch him downtown sometimes and lay for a bet.

One day a feller, a stranger in the camp he was, come across him with his box and says, What might be that you've got in that box? And Smiley says, sort of indifferent like, Well, it might be a parrot, or it might be a canary, maybe, but it ain't. It's only just a frog. And the feller took it and looked at it careful and turned it round this way and that and says, huh so tis well what's he good for well smiley says easy and careless he's good enough for one thing i should judge he can outjump any frog in calaveras county the fellow took the box again and took another long particular look and give it back to smiley and says very deliberate well he says i don't see enough pints about that frog that's any better than any other other than any other

other frog. Maybe you don't, Smiley says. Maybe you understand frogs and maybe you don't understand them. Maybe you've had experience and maybe you ain't only an amateur as it were. Anyways, I got my opinions and I'll risk forty dollars that he can outjump any frog in Calaver's County. And the feller studied a minute and then says, kind or sad like, well, I'm only a stranger here and I ain't got no frog, but if I had a frog, I'd bet you. And then Smiley says, That's all right, that's all right. If you'll hold my box a minute, I'll go and get you a frog.

And so the feller took the box and put up his forty dollars along with Smilies and sat down to wait. So he sat there a good while thinking and thinking to himself, and then he got the frog out and pried its mouth open and took a teaspoon and filled him full of quail shone. shot, filled him pretty near up to his chin, and set him on the floor. Smiley, he went to the swamp and slopped round in the mud for a long time, and finally he catched a frog, and fetched him in, and give him to this feller, and says,

Now if you're ready, set him alongside Daniel with his forepaws just even with Daniels, and I'll give the word. Then he says, one, two, three, get. him and the fellow touched up the frogs from behind and the new frog hopped off lively but daniel give a heave and hossed up his shoulders so like a frenchman but it weren't no use he couldn't budge he was planted as solid as a church and he couldn't no more stir than if he was anchored out smiley was a good deal surprised and he was disgusted too but he didn't have no idea what the matter was of course the fellow took the money and started away and when he was going out at the door he sort of jerked his thumb over his shoulder so at daniel and says again very deliberate well he says i don't see no pence about that frog that's any better and any other frog smiley he stood scratching his head and looking down at daniel a long time and at last says i do wonder what in the nation that frog throwed off for i wonder if they ain't something the matter with him it appears to look mighty baggy somehow and he catched daniel up by the nap of the neck and hefted him and says why blame my cats if he don't weigh five pounds and turned him upside down and he belched out a double handful of shot and then he sees how it was and he was the maddest man he set the frog down and took out after that feller but he never catched him and

here simon wheeler heard his name called from the front yard and got up to see what was wanted and turning to me as he moved away he said just set where you are stranger rest easy i ain't goin to be gone a second but by your leave i did not think that a continuation of the history of the enterprising vagabond jim smiley would be likely to afford me much information concerning the reverend leonidas w smiley and so i started away at the door i met the sociable wheeler return him and he button-holded me and recommenced well this year smiley had a yeller one-eyed cow that didn't have no tail only just a short stump like a banana and however lacking both time and inclination i did not wait to hear about the afflicted cow but took my leave and of story eight story nine of the best american humorous short stories by alexander jessup editor this libervox recording is in the public domain story nine elder brown's backslide eighteen eighty five by harry stillwell edwards from harper's magazine august eighteen eighty five copyright eighteen eighty five by harper and brothers republished in the volume two runaways and other stories eighteen eighty nine by harry stillwell edwards the century company elder brown told his wife good-bye at the farmhouse door as mechanically as though his proposed trip to macon ten miles away was an everyday affair while as a matter of fact many years had elapsed since unaccompanied he set foot in the city

he did not kiss her many very good men never kissed their wives but small blame attaches to the elder for his omission on this occasion since his wife had long ago discouraged all amorous demonstrations on the part of her liege lord and at this particular moment was filling the parting moments with a rattling list of directions concerning thread buttons hooks needles and all the many c ceteras of an industrious housewife basket. The elder was laboriously assorting these postscript commissions in his memory, well knowing that to return with any one of them neglected, would cause trouble in the family circle. Elder Brown mounted his patient steed that stood sleepily motionless in the warm sunlight, with his great pointed ears displayed to the right and left, as though their owner had grown tired of the life burden their weight inflicted upon him, and was, old soldier fashion, ready to forego the once rigid alertness of early training for the pleasures of frequent rest on arms. And elder, don't you forget them calico's scraps, or you'll be wantin' kiver soon, and no kiver will be a-comin.' Elder Brown did not turn his head, but merely let the

whip hand which had been checked in its backward motion fall as he answered mechanically. The beast he bestrode responded with a rapid whisking of its tail and a great show of effort, as it ambled off down the sandy road, the rider's long legs, seeming now and then to touch the ground. But as the zig-zag panels of the rail fence crept behind him, and he felt the freedom of the morning beginning to act upon his well-trained blood, the mechanical manner of the old man's mind gave place to a mild exuberance. A weight seemed to be lifting from it, ounce by ounce, as the fence panels, the weedy corners, the persimmons sprouts and sassafras bushes, crept away behind him, so that, by the time a mile lay between him and the life-partner

of his joys and sorrows, he was in a reasonably contented frame of mind, and still improving. It was a queer figure that crept along the road that Cherry May morning. It was tall and gaunt and had been for thirty years or more. The long head, bald on top, covered behind with iron-gray hair, and in front with a short-tangled growth that curled and kinked in every direction, was surmounted by an old-fashioned stove-pipe hat, worn and stained, but eminently impressive. An old-fashioned Henry clay cloth coat, stained and threadbare, divided itself impartially over the donkey's back and dangled on his sides. This was all that remained of the elder's wedding suit of forty years ago.

Only constant care and use of late years limited to extra occasions had preserved it so long. The trousers had soon parted company with their friends. The substitutes were red jeans, which, while they did not well match his court costume, were better able to withstand the old man's abuse, for if, in addition to his frequent religious excursions astride his beast, there ever was a man who was fond of sitting down with his feet higher than his head, it was this self-same elder brown. The morning expanded, and the old man expanded with it, for while a vigorously leader in his church, the elder at home was, it must be admitted, an uncomplaining slave.

To the intense astonishment of the beast he rode, there came new vigor into the wax which fell upon his flanks, and the beast allowed astonishment to surprise him into real life and decided motion. Somewhere in the elder's expanding soul, a tune had begun to ring. Possibly he took up the far, faint tune that came from the straggling gang of negroes away off in the field, as they slowly chopped amid the thread-like rows of cotton plants, which lined the level ground, for the melody he hummed softly and then sang strongly, in the quavering catchy tones of a good old country churchman was, I'm glad salvation's free. It was during the singing of this hymn that Elder brown's regular motion-inspired strokes were for the first time varied he began to hold his hickory up at certain pauses in the melody and beat the changes upon the sides of his astonished steed

the chorus under his arrangement was i'm glad salvation's free i'm glad salvation's free i'm glad salvation's free for all i'm glad salvation's free wherever there is an italic the hickory descended it fell about as regularly and after the fashion of the stick beating upon the bass drum during a funeral march but the beast although convinced that something serious was impending did not consider a funeral march a for the occasion. He protested, at first, with vigorous whiskings of his tail and a rapid shifting of his ears. Finding these demonstrations unavailing, and convinced that some urgent cause for hurry had suddenly invaded the elder's serenity, as it had his own, he began to cover the ground with frantic leaps that would have surprised his owner could he have realized what was going on. But Elder Brown's eyes were half closed, and he was singing at the top of his voice. Lost in a trance of divine exultation, for he felt the effects of the invigorating motion,

bent only on making the air ring with the lines which he dimly imagined were drawing upon him the eyes of the whole female congregation, he was supremely unconscious that his beast was hurrying. and thus the excursion proceeded until suddenly a chote surprised in his calm search for roots in a fence corner darted into the road and stood for an instant gazing upon the newcomers with that idiotic stare which only a pig can imitate the sudden appearance of this unlooked-for apparition acted strongly upon the donkey with one supreme effort he collected himself into a motionless mass of matter, bracing his front legs wide apart, that is to say, he stopped short. There he stood, returning the pig's idiotic stare, with an interest which must have led to the presumption that never before in all his very life had he seen such a singular little creature. End over end went the man of prayer, finally bringing up full length in the sand, striking,

just as he would have shouted, Free, for the fourth time, in his glorious chorus. Fully convinced that his alarm had been well-founded, the chote sped out from under the gigantic missile hurled at him by the donkey, and scampered down the road, turning first one ear and then the other to detect any sounds of pursuit. The donkey, also convinced that the object before which he had halted was supernatural, started back violently upon seeing it apparently turned to a man.

But seeing that it had turned to nothing but a man, he wandered up into the deserted fence corner and began to nibble refreshment from a scrub oak. For a moment, the elder gazed up into the sky, half impressed with the idea that the camp-meeting platform had given away. But the truth forced its way to the front in his disordered, standing at last, and, with painful dignity, he staggered into an upright position and regained his beaver.

He was shocked again. Never before in all the long years it had served him had he seen it in such shape. The truth is, Elder Brown had never before tried to stand on his head in it. As calmly as possible, he began to straighten it out, caring but little for the dust upon his garments. The beaver was his special crown of dignity. To lose it was to be reduced to a level with the common wool hat herd. He did his best, pulling, pressing, and pushing, but the hat did not look natural when he had finished. It seemed to have been laid off into counties, sections, and town lots. Like a well-cut jewel it had a face for him, view it from whatever point he chose,

a quality which so impressed him that a lump gathered in his throat, and his eyes winked vigorously. Elder Brown was not, however, a man for tears. He was a man of action. The sudden vision which met his wandering gaze, the donkey calmly chewing scrub buds, with the green juice already oozing from the corners of his frothy mouth, acted upon him like magic. He was, after all, only human, and when he got hands upon a piece of brush, he thrashed the poor beast until it seemed as though even its already half-tanned hide would be eternally ruined. Thoroughly exhausted at last, he wearily straddled his saddle, and, with his chin upon his breast, resumed the early morning tenor of his way.

2. Good morning, sir. Elder Brown leaned over the little pine picket which divided the bookkeeper's department of a Macon warehouse from the room in general, and surveyed the well-dressed back of a gentleman who was busily figuring at a desk within. The apartment was carpetless, and the dust of a decade lay deep on the old books, shelves, and the familiar advertisements of guano and fertilizers which decorated the room. An old stove, rusty with the nicotine contributed by farmers during the previous season, while

waiting by its glowing sides for their cotton to be sold, stood straight up in a bed of sand, and festoons of cobwebs clung to the upper sashes of the murky windows. The lower sash of one window had been raised, and in the yard without, nearly an acre in extent, lay a few bales of cotton with jagged holes in their ends just as the sampler had left them elder brown had time to notice all these familiar points for the figure at the desk kept serenely at its task and deigned no reply good morning sir said elder brown again in his most dignified tones is mr thomas in good morning sir said the figure i'll wait on you in a minute The minute passed, and four more joined it, then the desk-man turned. "'Well, sir, what can I do for you?' The elder was not in the best of humor when he arrived, and his state of mind had not improved.

He waited full a minute as he surveyed the man of business. "'I thought I might be about to make some arrangement with you to get some money, but I reckon I was mistaken.' The warehouse man came nearer. this is mr brown i believe i did not recognize you at once you are not in often to see us no my wife usually tends to the town business while i run the church and farm got a fall from my donkey this morning he said noticing a quizzical interrogating look upon the face before him and fell squire on the hat he made a pretence of smoothing it the man of business had already lost interest how much money will you want mr brown well about seven hundred dollars said the elder replacing his hat and turning a furtive look upon the warehouse man the other was tapping with his pencil upon the little shelf lying across the rail i can get you five hundred but i ought to have seven can't arrange for that amount wait till later in the season and come again money is very tight now how much you cotton will you raise? Well, I count on a hundred bales, and you can't get the seven hundred

dollars? Like to oblige you, but can't right now. We'll fix it for you later on. Well, said the elder slowly, fix up the papers for five, and I'll make it go as far as possible. The papers were drawn. A note was made for five hundred and fifty-two dollars and fifty cents, for the interest was at one and a half percent for seven months. and a mortgage on ten mules belonging to the elder was drawn and signed the elder then promised to send his cotton to the warehouse to be sold in the fall and with a curt anything else and a thank ee that's all the two parted elder brown now made an effort to recall the supplemental commissions shouted to him upon his departure intending to execute them first and then take his written list item by item. His mental resolves had just reached this point when a new thought made itself known. Passers-by were puzzled to see the old man suddenly snatch his headpiece off and peer with an intent and awe-struck air

into its irregular caverns. Some of them were shocked when he suddenly and vigorously ejaculated, Hanna Maria Gemini, gall darn, and blue blazes! He had suddenly remembered, having placed his memoranda in that hat, and as he studied its empty depths, his mind pictured the important scrap fluttering along the sandy scene of his early morning tumble. It was this that caused him to graze an oath with less margin than he had allowed himself in twenty years.

What would the old lady say? Alas, Elder Brown knew too well. What she would not say was what puzzled him, but as he stood bareheaded in the sunlight, a sense of utter desolation came and dwelt with him. His eyes rested upon sleeping Balam, anchored to a post in the street, and so as he recalled the treachery

that lay at the base of all his affliction, gloom was added to the desolation. To turn back and search for the lost paper would have been worse than useless. Only one course was open to him, and it went the leader of his people. He called it the grocery, he invaded the recesses of the dry goods establishments, he ransacked the hardware stores, and wherever he went he made life a burden for the clerks, overhauling showcases and pulling down whole shells of stock. Occasionally an item of his memoranda would come to light,

and thrusting his hand into his capacious pocket, where lay the proceeds of his check, he would pay for it upon the spot and insist upon having it rolled up. To the suggestion of the slave whom he had in charge for the time being, that the articles be laid aside until he had finished, He would not listen. Now you look here, Sonny, he said in the dry goods store. I'm conducting this revival, and I don't need no help in my line. Just you tie them stockings up and let me have them.

Then I know I've got him. As each purchase was promptly paid for and change had to be secured, the clerk earned his salary for that day at least. So it was when, near the heat of the day, the good man arrived at the drugstore, the last and only unvisited division of trade, he made his appearance equipped with half a hundred packages which nestled in his arms and bulged out upon the sections of his clothing

that boasted of pockets. As he deposited his deck-load upon the counter, great drops of perspiration rolled down his face and over his water-logged collar to the floor. There was something exquisitely refreshing in the great, glasses of foaming soda that a spruce young man was drawing from a marble fountain, above which half a dozen polar bears in an ambitious print were disporting themselves. There came a break in the run of customers, and the spruce young man, having swept the foam from the marble,

dexterously lifted a glass from the revolving rack which had rinsed it with a fierce little stream of water, and asked mechanically, as he caught the intense look of the person, and asked, aspiring elder, What syrup, sir? Now it had not occurred to the elder to drink soda, but the suggestion, coming as it did in his exhausted state, was overpowering. He drew near awkwardly, put on his glasses, and examined the list of syrups with great care. The young man, being for the moment at leisure, surveyed critically the gaunt figure, the faded bandana, the antique claw-hammer coat, and the battered stovepipe hat, with a gradually relaxing countenance.

He even called the prescription clerk's attention by a cough and a quick jerk of the thumb. The prescription clerk smiled freely and continued his assaults upon a piece of blue mass. "'I reckon,' said the elder, resting his hands upon his knees and bending down to the list, you may give me sasparilla and a little strawberry. Sasparilla good for the blood this time of year, and strawberries good any time. The spruce young man let the syrup stream into the glass as he smiled affably.

Thinking, perhaps, to draw out the odd character, he ventured upon a jest himself, repeating a pun invented by the man who made the first soda fountain. With a sweep of his arm, he cleared away the swarm of insects as he remarked, people who like a fly in theirs are easily accommodated it was from sheer good-nature only that elder brown replied with his usual broad social smile well a fly now and then don't hurt nobody now if there is anybody in the world who prize himself on knowing a thing or two it is the spruce young man who presides over a soda fountain this particular young gentleman did not even deem a reply necessary

he vanished an instant and when he returned a close observer might have seen that the mixture in the glass he bore had slightly changed colour and increased in quantity but the elder saw only the whizzing stream of water dart into its centre and the rosy foam rise and tremble on the glass's rim the next instant he was holding his breath and sipping the cooling drink as elder brown paid his small score he was at peace with the world i firmly believe that when he had finished his trading and the little blue-stringed packages had been stored away could the poor donkey have made his appearance at the door and gazed with his meek fawn-like eyes into his masters he would have obtained full and free forgiveness elder brown paused at the door as he was about to leave a rosy-cheeked schoolgirl was a rosy-cheeked schoolgirl was a rosy-cheeked schoolgirl was a just lifting a creamy mixture to her lips before the fountain. It was a pretty picture, and he turned back, resolved to indulge in one more glass of the delightful beverage before beginning his long ride homeward. "'Fix it up again, Sonny,' he said, renewing his broad, confiding smile as the spruce young man poised a glass inquiringly. The living automaton went

through the same motions as before, and again Elder Brown quaffed the fatal mixture. What a singular power is habit. Up to this time, Elder Brown had been entirely innocent of transgression, but with the old alcoholic fire in his veins, twenty years dropped from his shoulders, and a feeling came over him familiar to every man who has been in his cups. As a matter of fact, the elder would have been a confirmed drunkard twenty years before, had his wife been less strong-minded. She took the reins into her own hands when she found that his business and strong drink did not mix well, worked him into the church, sustained his resolutions by making it difficult and dangerous for him to get to his toddy. She became the business-head of the family, and he the spiritual.

Only at rare intervals did he ever backslide during the twenty years of the new era, and Mrs. Brown herself used to say that the sugar in his'n turned to gall before the backslide ended. People who knew her never doubted it. But Elder Brown's sinned during the remainder of the day contained an element of responsibility. As he moved majestically down toward where Balim slept in the sunlight, he felt no fatigue. There was a glow upon his cheek-bones and a faint tinge upon his prominent nose. He nodded familiarly to people as he met them, and saw not the look of amusement which succeeded astonishment upon the various faces. When he reached the neighborhood of Balam, it suddenly occurred to him that he might

have forgotten someone of his numerous commissions, and he paused to think. Then a brilliant idea rose in his mind. he would forestall blame and disarm anger with kindness. He would purchase Hannah a bonnet. What woman's heart ever failed to soften at sight of a new bonnet? As I have stated, the elder was a man of action. He entered a store near at hand. Good morning, said an affable gentleman with a Hebrew countenance approaching.

Good morning, good morning, said the elder, piling his bundles on the counter. I hope you're well. Elder Brown extended his hand fervidly. Quite well, I thank you. What? And the little why? Said Elder Brown affectionately retaining the Jew's hand.

Quite well, sir. And the little ones? Quite well, I hope, too. Yes, sir. All well, thank you. Something I can do for you? The affable merchant was trying to recall his customer's name. Not now, not now, thank you.

if you please to let my bundle stay until i come back can't i show you something a hat coat not now be back by and by was it chance or fate that brought elder brown in front of a bar the glasses shone bright upon the shelves as the swinging door flapped back to let out a coatless clerk who passed him with a rush chewing upon a farewell mouthful of brown bread and bologna Elder Brown beheld for an instant the familiar scene within. The screws of his resolution had been loosened. At sight of the glistening bar, the whole moral structure of twenty years came tumbling down. Mechanically he entered the saloon and laid a silver quarter upon the bar, as he said, A little whiskey and sugar! The arms of the bartender worked like a fakers in a side-show,

as he set out the glass with its little little. quota of short sweetenan and a cut-glass decanter, and sent a half-tumbler of water spinning along from the upper end of the bar with a dime in change. Whiskey is higher than it used to be, said Elder Brown, but the bartender was taking another order and did not hear him. Elder Brown stirred away the sugar, and let a steady stream of red liquid flow into the glass. He swallowed the drink as unconcernedly, as though his morning Todd had never been suspended and pocketed the change. But it ain't any better than it was, he concluded as he passed out.

He did not even seem to realize that he had done anything extraordinary. There was a millinery store up the street, and thither with uncertain step he winded his way, feeling a little more elate and altogether sociable. A pretty black-eyed girl, struggling to keep down her mirth, came forward, and faced him behind the counter. Elder Brown lifted his faded hat with the politeness, if not the grace, of a Castilian, and made a sweeping bow.

Again he was in his element, but he did not speak. A shower of odds and ends, small packages, thread, needles, and buttons released from their prison, rattled down about him. The girl laughed. She could not help it.

And the elder, leaning his hand on the counter, laughed, too, until several other girls came halfway to the front. Then they, hiding behind counters and suspended cloaks, laughed and snickered until they reconvulsed the elders vis-a-vis, who had been making desperate efforts to resume her demure appearance. "'Let me help you, sir,' she said, coming from behind the counter, upon seeing Elder Brown beginning to adjust his spectacles for a search. He waved her back majestically. "'No, my dear, no, can't allow it.

You won't sile them pretty fingers. No, ma'am. No, gentlemen, laud the lady, to do such a thing.' The elder was gently forcing the girl back to her place. "'Leave it to me. I picked up bigger things than them. Picked myself up this morning. Balham—'

You don't know Balham. He's my donkey. He tumbled me over his. his head in the sand this morning and elder brown had to resume an upright position until his paroxysm of laughter had passed you see this old hat extending it half full of packages i fell clear enter it just as clean enter it as them things thar fell out in it he laughed again and so did the girls but my dear i wailed half the hide off him for it oh sir how could you indeed sir i did sir i i think you did wrong the poor brute did not know what he was doing i dare say and probably he has been a faithful friend the girl cast her mischievous eyes towards her companions who snickered again the old man was not conscious of the sarcasm he only saw reproach his face straightened and he regarded the girl soberly maybe you're right my dear maybe i oughtn't i am sure of it said the girl but now don't you want to buy a bonnet or a cloak to carry home to your wife well you're whistling now bertie that's my intention set em all out

again the elder's face shone with delight and i don't want no one hoss bonnet neither of course not now here is one pink silk with delicate pale blue feathers just the thing for the season we have nothing more elegant in stock elder brown held it out upside down at arm's length well now that's somethin like will it suit a sort of red-headed woman a perfectly sober man would have said the girl's corsets must have undergone a terrible strain but the elder did not notice her dumb convulsion she answered heroically perfectly sir it is an exquisite match i think you're whittslin again nancy's head's red red is a woodpecks sorrel's only half-way to the color her top knot and it do seem like red ought to suit red nancy's red and the hat's red. Like goes with like, and birds of a feather flocked together. The old man laughed until his cheeks were wet. The girl, beginning to feel a little uneasy, and seeing a customer entering, rapidly fixed up the bonnet, took fifteen dollars out of a twenty-dollar bill, and calmly asked the elder if he wanted anything else. He thrust his change somewhere into his clothes

and beat a retreat. It had occurred to him that he was nearly drunk. elder brown's step began to lose its buoyancy he found himself utterly unable to walk straight there was an uncertain straddle in his gate that carried him from one side of the walk to the other and caused people whom he met to cheerfully yield him plenty of room balaam saw him coming poor balaam he had made an early start that day and for hours he stood in the sun awaiting relief when he opened his sleepy eyes and raised his expressive ears to a position of attention the old familiar coat and battered hat of the elder were before him he lifted up his honest voice and cried aloud for joy the effect was electrical for one instant elder brown surveyed the beast with horror but again in his understanding there rang out the trumpet words drunk drunk drunk drunk drunk drunk drunk he stooped instinctively for a missile with which to smite his accuser but brought up suddenly with a jerk and a handful of sand straightening himself up with a majestic dignity he extended his extended his right hand impressively you're a gall-durn liar balaam and blast your old buttons you can walk home by yourself for i'm danged if you'll ride me er step surely coriolanus never turned his back upon rome with a grander dignity than sat upon the old man's form as he faced about and left the brute to survey with anxious eyes the new departure of his master

he saw the elder zigzag along the street and beheld him about to turn a friendly corner once more he lifted up his mighty voice drunk drunk drunk drunk der runk der runk runk once more the elder turned with lifted hand and shouted back you're a liar balaam galdurn you you're an infamous liar and then he passed from view three upon the steps anxiously awaiting the return of her liege lord she knew he had with him a large sum of money or should have and she knew also that he was a man without business methods she had long since repented of the decision which sent him to town when the old battered hat and flower-covered coat loomed up in the gloaming and confronted her she stared with terror the next instant she had seized him for the lord's sake elder brown what ails you as i live if the man ain't drunk elder brown elder brown for the life of me i can't make you here you crazy old hypocrite you to save an old sinner you black-hearted wretch where have you been the elder made an effort to wave her off woman he said with grand dignity you forget yourself she know where i been swells i do been to town wife and see you what i brought the finest hat o woman i could get look at the color like does it like it's red and you're red and it's a dead match what you mean hey hold on oh woman you hannah you she literally shook him into silence you miserable wretch you low-down drunken sot what do you mean by coming home and insulting your wife hannah ceased shaking him from pure exhaustion

where is it i say where is it by this time she was turning his pockets wrong-side out from one she got pills from another change from another packages the lord be praised and this is better luck than i hoped for oh elder elder elder what did you do it for Why, man? Where is Balaam? Thought of the beast choked off the threatened hysterics. "'Belam?' "'Belham,' said the elder grogily. "'He's in town. The infernal old fool insulted me, and I left him to walk home.'

His wife surveyed him. Really at that moment she did think his mind was gone. But the leer upon the old man's face enraged her beyond endurance. "'You did, did you?' well now i reckon you'll laugh for some cause you will back you go sir straight back and don't you come home without that donkey or you ru at sure's my name is hannah brown alack you alack a black boy darted around the corner from behind which with several others he had beheld the brief but stirring scene put a saddle on her mule the elders gwang back to town and don't you be long about it neither yes'm alec's ivories gleamed in the darkness as he disappeared elder brown was soberer at that moment than he had been for hours hannah you don't mean it yes sir i do back you go to town as sure as my name is hannah brown the elder was silent he had never known his wife to relent on any occasion after she had affirmed her intention supplemented with as sure as my name is hannah brown

It was her way of swearing. No affidavit would have had half the claim upon her as that simple enunciation. So, back to town went Elder Brown, not in the order of the early morn, but silently, moodily, despairingly, surrounded by mental and actual gloom. The old man had turned a last appealing glance upon the angry woman as he mounted with Alex's assistants, and sat in the light that streamed from out the kitchen window. She met the glance without a waver. She means, sure as my name is Elder Brown, he said thickly, and then he rode on.

Four. To say that Elder Brown suffered on his long journey back to Macon would only mildly outline his experience. His early morning's fall had begun to make itself felt. He was sore and uncomfortable. Besides, his stomach was empty, and called for two meals it had missed for the first time in years. When, sore and weary, the elder entered the city, the electric lights shone above it like jewels in a crown. The city slept.

That is, the better portion of it did. Here and there, however, the lower lights flashed out into the night. Moodyly the elder pursued his journey, and, as he was a little bit of it, and as he was a little bit of and as he rode far off in the night there arose and quivered a plaintive cry elder brown smiled wearily it was balaam's appeal and he recognized it the animal he rode also recognized it and replied until the silence of the city was destroyed the odd clamor and confusion drew from a saloon near by a group of noisy youngsters who had been making a night of it they surrounded elder brown as he began to transfer himself to the hungry beast to whose motion he was more accustomed and in the hale fellow well-met style of the day began to bandied jests about his appearance now elder brown was not in a jesting humour positively he was in the worst humour possible the result was that before many minutes passed the old man was swinging several of the crowd by their collars and breaking the pears and breaking the pears and breaking the pears peace of the city. A policeman approached, and but for the good-humoured party, upon whom the

elder's pluck had made a favorable impression, would have run the old man into the barracks. The crowd, however, drew him laughingly into the saloon and to the bar. The reaction was too much for his half-rallied senses. He yielded again. The reviving liquor passed his lips, gloom vanished, he became one of the boys. the company into which elder brown had fallen was what is known as first class to such nothing is so captivating as an adventure out of the common run of accidents the gaunt countryman with his battered hat and claw-hammer coat was a prize of an extraordinary nature they drew him into a rear room whose gilded frames and polished tables betrayed the character and purpose of the place and placed the place and placed applied him with wine until ten thousand lights danced about him. The fun increased.

One youngster made a political speech from the top of the table, another impersonated Hamlet, and finally Elder Brown was lifted into a chair and sang a camp-meeting song. This was rendered by him with startling effect. He stood upright, with his hat jauntily knocked to one side, and his coat-tails ornamented with a couple of showbills, kindly pinned on by his admirers. In his left hand he waved the stub of a cigar, and on his back was an admirable representation of Balaam's head, executed by some artist with billiard chalk. As the elder sang his favorite hymn, I'm glad salvation's free! His stentorian voice awoke the echoes. Most of the company rolled

upon the floor in convulsions of laughter. The exhibition came to a close by the chair overturning. Again Elder Brown fell into his beloved hat. He arose and shouted, Whoa, Baitam! Again he seized the nearest weapon and sought satisfaction. The young gentleman with political sentiments was knocked under the table, and Hamlet only escaped injury by beating the infuriated elder into the street.

what next well i hardly know how the elder found balaam is a mystery yet not that balaam was hard to find but that the old man was in no condition to find anything still he did and climbing laboriously into the saddle he held on stupidly while the hungry beast struck out for home five hannah brown did not sleep that night sleep would not come hour after hour passed and her wrath refused to be quelled she tried every conceivable method but time hung heavily it was not quite peep of day however when she laid her well-worn family bible aside it had been her mother's and amid all the anxieties and tribulations incident to the life of a woman who had free negroes and a miserable husband to manage it had been her mainstay and comfort she had frequently read it in anger page after page without knowing what was contained in the lines but eventually the words became intelligible and took meaning she rested consolation from it by mere force of will and so on this occasion when she closed the book the fierce anger was gone she was not a hard woman naturally fate had brought her conditions which covered up the woman's heart within her her, but though it lay deep, it was there still. As she sat with folded hands, her eyes fell upon what? The pink bonnet with the blue plume. It may appear strange to those who do not understand

such natures, but to me her next action was perfectly natural. She burst into a convulsive laugh, then seizing the queer object, bent her face upon it, and sobbed hysterically. when the storm was over very tenderly she laid the gift aside and bareheaded passed out into the night for a half-hour she stood at the end of the lane and then hungry balaam and his master hove in sight reaching out her hand she checked the beast william said she very gently where is the mule the elder had been asleep he woke and gazed upon her blankly What mule, Hannah? The mule you rode to town. For one full minute the elder studied her face. Then it burst from his lips.

Well, bless me if I didn't bring Balaam and forget the mule. The woman laughed till her eyes ran water. William, said she, you're drunk. Hannah, said he meekly, I know it. The truth is Hannah I— Never mind now. Now, William, she said gently, you are tired and hungry. Come into the house, husband.

Leading Balaam, she disappeared down the lane, and when, a few minutes later, Hannah Brown and her husband entered through the light that streamed out of the open door, her arms were around him, and her face up turned to his. of Story 9. Story 10 of The Best American Humorous Short Stories by Alexander Jessup Editor. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Story 10. The Hotel Experience of Mr. Pink Fluker, 1886, by Richard Malcolm Johnston.

From the Century magazine, June 1886, copyright 1886 by the Century Company, republished in the volume Mr. Absalom Billingsley and other Georgia folk, 1888, by Richard Malcolm Johnston, Harper, and Brothers. 1. Mr. Peterson Fluker, generally called pink for his fondness for as stylish dressing as he could afford, was one of that sort of men who habitually seem busy and efficient when they are not. He had the bustling activity often noticeable in men of his size, and in one way and another had made up, as he believed, for beings so much smaller than most of his adult acquaintance of the male sex. Prominent among his achievements on that line was getting married to a woman who, among other excellent gifts, had that of being twice as big as her husband. fool who? On the day after his marriage he had asked with a look at those who had often said that he

was too little to have a wife. They had a little property to begin with, a couple of hundreds of acres and two or three negroes apiece. Yet, except in the natural increase of the latter, the accretions of worldly estate, had been inconsiderable till now, when their oldest child, Moran, was some fifteen years old these accretions had been saved and taken care of by mrs fluker who was as staid and silent as he was mobile and voluble mr fluker often said that it puzzled him how it was that he made smaller crops than most of his neighbours when if not always convincing he could generally put every one of them to silence in discussions upon agricultural topics this puzzle had led him to not unfrequent ruminations in his mind as to whether or not his vocation might lie in something higher than the mere tilling of the ground

these ruminations had lately taken a definite direction and it was after several conversations which he had held with his friend matt pike mr matt pike was a bachelor of some thirty summers a four-time clerk consecutively in each of the first of the first-time clerk consecutively in each of the the two stores of the village, but latterly a trader on a limited scale in horses, wagons, cows, and similar objects of commerce, and at all times a politician. His hopes of holding office had been continually disappointed, until Mr. John Sanks became sheriff, and rewarded with a deputieship some important special service rendered by him in the late very close canvas. now was a chance to rise mr pike thought all he wanted he often said was a start politics i would remark however had been regarded by mr pike as a means rather than an end it is doubtful if he hoped to become governor of the state at least before an advanced period in his career his main object now was to get money and he believed that official position would promote him in the line of his ambition

faster than was possible to any private station by leading him into more extensive acquaintance with mankind their needs their desires and their caprices a deputy sheriff provided that lawyers were not too indulgent in allowing acknowledgment of service of court process in postponing levies and sales and in settlement of litigated cases might pick up three hundred dollars a good sum for those times a fact which mr pike had known and pondered long it happened just about then that the arrears of rent for the village hotel had so accumulated on Mr. Spouter, the last occupant, that the owner, an indulgent man, finally had said what he had been expected for years and years to say, that he could not wait on Mr. Spouter forever and eternally. It was at this very nick, so to speak, that Mr. Pike made to Mr. Fluker the suggestion to quit a business so far beneath his powers, sell out, or rent out, or tenant out, or do something

else with his farm, march into town, plant himself upon the ruins of Jacob's spouter, and begin his upward soar. Now Mr. Fulker had many and many a time acknowledged that he had ambition. So one night he said to his wife, You see how it is here, Nervy, farm-and somehow don't suit my talons. I need to be flung more among people to fetch out what's in me, than thar's maran, which is getting to be nigh on a grown-up woman, and the child need the society which you bleeds to acknowledge is scarce round here, six mile from town. Your brer Sam can stay here

and raised butter, chickens, eggs, pigs, and so forth. Matt Pike say he just know there's money in it, and special with a housekeeper, careful and economical like you. It is always curious the extent of influence that some men have upon wives who are their superiors. Mrs. Fluker, in spite of accidents, had ever set upon her husband a value that was not recognized outside of this family. In this respect there seems a surprising compensation in human life, but this remark I make only in passing. Mrs. Fluker, admitting in her heart that farming was not her husband's fort, hoped like a true wife, that it might be found in a new field to which he aspired.

Besides, she did not forget that her brother Sam had said to her several times privately that if his brer-pink wouldn't have so many notions and would let him alone in his management, they would all do better. She reflected for a day or two, and then said, Maybe it's best, Mr. Fluker. I'm willing to try it for a year anyhow. We can't lose much by that. as for matt pike i hain't the confidence in him you has still he bein a boarder and deputy sheriff he might accidentally do us some good i'll try it for a year providing you'll fetch me the money as it's paid in for you know i know how to manage that better than you do

and you know i'll try to manage it and all the rest of the business for the best to this provision mr fluker gave consent qualified by the claim that he was to retain a small margin for indispensable personal exigencies for he contended perhaps with justice that no man in the responsible position he was about to take ought to be expected to go about or sit about or even lounge about without even a continental red in his pocket. The new house, I say new, because Tung could not tell the amount of scouring, scalding, and whitewashing, that that excellent housekeeper had done before a single stick of her furniture went into it. The new house, I repeat, opened with six eating boarders at ten dollars a month apiece, and two eating and sleeping at eleven, besides Mr. Pike, who made a special contract.

the conscientious custom was hoped to hold its own, and that of the county people under the deputy's patronage and influence to be considerably enlarged. In words and other encouragement Mr. Pike was pronounced. He could commend honestly, he did so cordially. The thing to do, Pink, is to have your prices regular and make people pay up regular. Ten dollars for eaten just so. for eating and sleeping half a dollar for dinner just so quarter apiece for breakfast supper and bed is what i call reasonable bog as for me i scarcely know how to rig late because you know i'm an officer now and in course i natural has to be away sometimes and on expenses at other places and it seems like some allowance ought by good rights to be made for that don't you think so

why matter of course matt what do you think i ain't so powerful good at figures nervy is supposing you speak to her about it oh that's perfect unuseless pink i'm an officer the law pink and the law consider women well i may say the law she deal with men not women and she expect her officers to understand figures and if i hadn't understood figures mr sanks wouldn't er darn't to pint me his deputy me an you can fix them terms now see here regular board eatin board i mean it's ten dollars an sleepin and single meals is cordin to the figures you've sought for em ain't that so jest so now pink you and me keep a runnin account you are charging for regular board and i allowing to myself credits for my absences according to transient customers and single-mealers and sleepers is that far or is it not far mr fluker turned his head and after making or thinking he had made a calculation answered that's that seems far matt certainly tis pink i knowed you'd say so, and you know I'd never wish to be nothing but far with people I like, like I do you and your wife. Let that be the understanding, then, betwixt us. And pink, let the understanding be just betwixt us, for I've sought enough of this world to find out that a man never makes

nothing by making a blowing horn of his business. You make that others pay a punctual monthly. You and me can settle, whosoever, it's convenient, say three months from today. in course i shall talk up for the house when some ever and whar-soever i go or stay you know that and as for my bed said mr pike finally when someever i ain't here by bed-time you welcome to put any transient person in it and also and likewise when transient custom is pressing and you cramped for bedin i'm willing to give it up for the time being and ratherin you should be cramped too bad i'll take my chances some mores else even if i has to take a pallid at the head of the star steps nervy said mr fluker to his wife afterwards matt pike's a sensibleer an friendlier and a comrade in her feller i thought then without given details of the contract he mentioned merely the willingness of their boarder to resign his bed on occasions of pressing emergency he's talked mighty fine to me and maran answered mrs fluker we'll see how he holds out one thing i do not like of his doing and that's the talking about sim marchman to maran and making game o his country ways as he call em such as that ain't right it may be as well to explain just here that simeon marchman the person just named by mrs fluker a stout industrious young farmer residing with his parents in the country near by where the flukers had dwelt before removing to town

had been eyeing maran for a year or two and waiting upon her fast ripening womanhood with intentions that he believed to be hidden in his own breast though he had taken less pains to conceal them from aran than from the rest of his acquaintance not that he had ever told her of them in so many words but oh i need not stop here in the midst of this narration to explain how such intentions become known or at least strongly suspected by girls, even those less bright than Maran Fluker. Simeon had not cordially endorsed the movement into town, though, of course, knowing it was none of his business, he had never so much as hinted opposition. I would not be surprised also if he reflected that there might be some selfishness in his hostility,

or at least that it was heightened by apprehensions personal to himself. Considering the want of experience in the new tenants, Matters went on remarkably well. Mrs. Fluker, accustomed to rise from her couch long before the lark, managed to the satisfaction of all, regular boarders, single-meal-takers, and transient people. Maron went to the village school, her mother dressing her, though with prudent economy, as neatly and almost as tastefully as any of her schoolmates, while as to study, deportment, and general progress, there was a little,

not a girl in the whole school to beat her. I don't care who she was." Two. During a not inconsiderable period, Mr. Fluker indulged the honorable conviction that at last he had found the vein in which his best talents lay, and he was happy in foresight of the prosperity and felicity which that discovery promised to himself and his family. His native activity found many more objects for its exertion than before. He rode out to the farm, not often, but sometimes, as a matter of duty,

and was forced to acknowledge that Sam was managing better than could have been expected in the absence of his own continuous guidance. In town he walked about the hotel, entertained the guests, carved at the meals, hovered about the stores, the doctor's offices, the wagon and blacksmiths shops, discussed mercantile, medical, mechanical questions with specialists in all these departments, throwing into them all more and more of politics as the intimacy between him and his patrons and Chief Border increased. Now, as to that patron and Chief Border, the need of extending his acquaintance seemed to press upon Mr. Pike with ever-increasing weight.

He was here and there all over the county. at the county seat at the county villages at justices courts at executors and administrators sales at quarterly and protracted religious meetings at barbecues of every dimension on hunting excursions and fishing frolics at social parties in all neighborhoods it got to be said of mr pike that a freer acceptor of hospitable invitations or a better appreciator of hospitable intentions was not and needed not to be found possibly in the whole state nor was this admirable deportment confined to the county in which he held so high official position he attended among other occasions less public the spring sessions of the supreme and county courts in the four adjoining counties the guest of acquaintance old and new over there when starting upon such travels he would sometimes breakfast with his travelling companion in the village and if somewhat belated in the return sup with him also yet when at flukers no man could have been a more cheerful and otherwise satisfactory boarder than mr matt bike he praised every dish set before him bragged to their very faces of his host and hostess and in spite of his absences was the oftenest to sit and chat with moran when her mother would let her go into the parlor here and everywhere about the house in the dining-room in the passage at the foot of the stairs he would joke with moran about her country beau as he styled poor sim marchman and he would talk as though he was rather ashamed of sim and wanted moran to string her bow for higher gain

brer sam did manage well not only the fields but the yard every saturday of the world he sent in something or other to his sister i don't know whether i ought to tell it or not but for the sake of what is due to pure veracity i will on as many as three different occasions sim marchman as if he had lost all self-respect or had not a particle of tact brought in himself instead of sending by a negro a bucket of butter and a coop of spring chickens as a free gift to mrs fluker i do think on my soul that mr Mr. Matt Pike was much amused by such degradation, however, he must say that they were all first-rate. As for Moran, she was very sorry for Sim, and wished he had not brought these good things at all. Nobody knew how it came about, but when the flukers had been in town somewhere between two and three months, Sim Marchman, who, to use his own words, had never bothered her a great

deal with his visits, began to suspect that what few he made were received by Moran lately with less cordiality than before. And so one day, knowing no better in his awkward, straightforward country manners, he wanted to know the reason why. Then Maron grew distant and asked Sim the following question. You know where Mr. Pike's gone, Mr. Marchman? Now, the fact was, and she knew it, that Maron Fluker had never before, not since she was born,

addressed that boy as Mr. The visitor's face reddened and reddened. No, he faltered and answered, No, ma'am, I should say. I don't know where Mr. Pike's gone. Then he looked around for his hat, discovered it in time, took it into his hands,

turned it around two or three times, then bidding goodbye without shaking hands, took himself off. mrs fluker liked all the matchmans and she was troubled somewhat when she heard of the quickness and manner of sim's departure for he had been fully expected by her to stay to dinner say he didn't even shake hands moran what for what ye'd do to him not one blessed thing maw only he wanted to know why i wasn't gladder to see him then moran looked indignant say them words moran no but he hinted em what did you say then i just ask aminin nothin in the wide world ma i asked him if he knew where mr pike had gone and that was answer enough to hurt his feelings what you want to know where matt pike's gone for moran i didn't care about noem ma but i didn't like the way sim talked listen here moran look straight at me you'll be mighty fur off your feet if you let man aunt pike put things in your head that ain't no business to be in there and special if you find yourself a want to know where he's a perambulating in his everlasting meanderans not a cent has he paid for his board and which your pa say he have an understanding with him about allowing for his absentees

which is all right enough but which is now going on to three months and what is coming to us i need and i want he ought your pa ought to let me bargain with matt pike because he know he don't understand figures like matt he don't know exactly what the bargains were for i've asked him and he always begins with a multiplying of words and never answers me on his next return from his travels mr pike noticed a cold in Mrs. Fluker's manner, and this enhanced his praise of the house. The last week of the third month came. Mr. Pike was often noticed before and after meals, standing at the desk at the hotel office, called in those times the bar-room, engaged in making calculations. The day before the contract expired, Mrs. Fluker, who had not indulged herself with a single holiday since they had been in town, left Moran in charge of the house and rode forth, spending part of the day with Mrs. Marchman, Sim's mother. All were glad to see her, of course, and she returned

smartly, freshened by the visit. That night she had a talk with Moran, and, oh, how Maran did cry. The very last day came. Like insurance policies, the contract was to expire at a certain hour. Sim Marchman came just before dinner, to which he was sent for by Mrs. Fluker, who had seen him as he rode into town. "'Hello, Sim,' said Mr. Pike, as he took his seat opposite him. "'You here? What's the news in the country? How's your health?

How's crops?' "'Just moderate, Mr. Pike. Got little business with you after dinner, effin'n you can spare time.' All right, got a little matter with pink here first. T'w'n't take long. see you after immediate sim never had the deputy been more gracious and witty he talked and talked out-talking even mr fluker he was the only man in town who could do that he winked at moran as he put questions to sim some of the words employed in which sam had never heard before yet sim held up as well as he could and after dinner followed moron with some dignity into the parlor they had not been there more in ten minutes when miss Mrs. Fluker was heard to walk rapidly along the passage leading from the dining-room, to

enter her own chamber for only a moment, then to come out and rush to the parlor door with the gig-whip in her hand. Such uncommon conduct in a woman like Mrs. Pink Fluker, of course, needs explanation. When all the other boarders had left the house, the deputy and Mr. Fluker, having repaired to the bar-room, the former said, Now, Pink, for our settlement. as you say your wife thinks we better have one i'd have been willing to let accounts keep on a-running knowing what a straightforward sort of man you was your count if i'm mistaken is just thirty-three dollars even money is that so or is it not that's it to a dollar match three times eleven make thirty-three don't it it do pink or eleven times three just which you please now here's my count on which you'll see pink that not nary cent have i charged for influence i has influenced a considerable custom to this house as you know bordin and transient but i'd done that out of my respects of you and mrs fluker and your keeping of afar i'll say as i've said as i've said as i've done that out of my respects of you and mrs fluker and your keeping of afar i'll say as i'll say as i've

said frequent, a very far house. I let them influences go to friendship, if you'll take it so. Will you, Pink, Fluker? Certainly, Matt, and I'm a thousand times oblige to you, and say no more, pink, on that point of view. If I like a man, I know how to treat him. Now as to the pence of absentees, my business as deputy sheriff has took me away from this inconsiderable town frequent, ain't it? It have, Matt, or, something else more nigh were expecting and just so but a public officer pink when judy call on him to go he got to go in fact he got to goeth as the scripture say ain't that so i s'pose so matt by good rights uh official speaking mr fluker felt that he was becoming a little confused just so now pink i were to have credits for my absentees according to transient and single-meal boarders and sleepers, ain't that so?"

"'I—some of that sort, Matt,' he answered vaguely. "'Just so. Now look here, drawn from his pocket of paper. Item one. Twenty-eight dinners at half a dollar makes fourteen dollars, don't it? Just so. Twenty-five breakfast at a quarter makes six and a quarter, which make dinners and breakfast twenty and a quarter.

Follow me up as I go, Pink. Twenty-five suppers at a quarter makes six, six. and a quarter, and which them added to the twenty and a quarter makes them twenty-six and a half. Foller, pink, and if you catch me in any mistakes in the carrion and adding, pint it out, twenty-two and a half-beds, and I'll say half-pink, because you remember one night when them augusty lawyers got here about midnight on their way to a cart, rather than have you too bad cramped, I rise to make way for two of them. yet as i had one good nap i didn't think i ought to put that down but for half them makes five dollars half and sevenpence and which carried on to the t'other twenty-six and a half

fetches the whole caboodle to just thirty-two dollars and sevenpence but i made up my mind i'd fling out that sevenpence and just call it a dollar even money and which here's the solid silver in spite of the rapidity with which this enumeration of counter-charges was made mr fluker commenced perspiring at the first item and when the balance was announced his face was covered with huge drops it was at this juncture that mrs fluker who well knowing her husband's unfamiliarity with complicated accounts had felt her duty to be listening near the bar-room door left and quickly afterwards appeared before moran and simm as I have represented. You think Matt Pike ain't trying to settle with your paw with a dollar? I'm going to make him keep his dollar, and I'm going to give him something to go along with it. The good Lord have mercy upon us, exclaimed Maran, springing up and catching hold of her mother's skirt as she began her advances towards the bar-room.

Oh, Ma, for the Lord's sake! Sim! Sim! If you care anything for me in this wide world, don't let Ma go into that room. "'Mrs. Fluker,' said Sim, rising instantly, "'wait just two minutes till I see Mr. Pike on some press and business. I won't keep you over two minutes awaiting.' He took her, set her down on a chair trembling,

looking at her a moment as she began to weep, then going out and closing the door, strode rapidly to the bar-room. "'Let me help you settle your board bill, Mr. Pike, by paying you a little one I owe you.' doubling his fist he struck out with a blow that felled the deputy to the floor then catching him by his heels he dragged him out of the house into the street lifting his foot above his face he said you stir till i tell you and i'll stomp your nose down even with a balance o your mean face tain't exactly my business how you cheated mr fluker though upon my soul i never allowed a treflinner low-downer trick but i owed you myself for you're talking about and you're lying about me and now i've paid you and if you only knowed it i've saved you from a gig whippin now you may get up here's his dollar sim said mr fluker throwing it out of the window nervy says make him take it the vanquished not daring to refuse pocketed the coin and slunk away amid the jeers of a score of villagers who had been drawn to the scene

in all human probability the late omissions of the shaking of sims and maran's hands was compensated at their parting that afternoon i am more confident on this point because at the end of the year those hands were joined inseparably by the preacher but this was when they had all gone back to their old home for if mr fluker did not become fully convinced that his mathematical education was not advanced quite enough for all the exigencies of hotel-keeping his wife declared that she had had enough of it and that she and moran were going home mr fluker may be said therefore to have followed rather than led his family on the return as for the deputy finding that if he did not leave it voluntarily he would be drummed out of the village he departed whither i do not remember if anybody ever knew End of Story 10. Story 11 of The Best American Humorous Short Stories by Alexander Jessop Editor. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Story 11 The Nice People, 1890, by Henry Kyler Bunner. From Puck, July 30, 1890, republished in the volume Short Sixes,

stories to be read while the candle burns, 1891, by Henry Kyler Bunner, copyright 1890 by Alice Larnard Bunner, reprinted by permission of the publisher's Charles Scribner's sons. They certainly are nice people, I assented to my wife's observation, using the colloquial phrase with a consciousness that it was anything but nice English, and I'll bet that their three children are better brought up than most of two children corrected my wife. Three, he told me. My dear, she said there were two. He said three.

You've simply forgotten. I'm sure she told me they only had two, a boy and a girl. Well, I didn't enter into particulars. No, dear, and you couldn't have understood him. Two children. All right, I said. said, but I did not think it was all right. As a near-sighted man learns by enforced observation to recognize persons at a distance when the face is not visible to the normal eye, so the man

with a bad memory learns almost unconsciously to listen carefully and report accurately. My memory is bad, but I had not had time to forget that Mr. Brewster-breed had told me that afternoon that he had three children, at present, left in the care of his mother-in-law, while he and Mrs. Breed took their summer vacation. "'Two children,' repeated my wife, and they are staying with his aunt Jenny. "'He told me with his mother-in-law,' I put in. My wife looked at me with a serious expression. Men may not remember much of what they are told about children,

but any man knows the difference between an aunt and a mother-in-law. But don't you think they're nice people? asked my wife. Oh, certainly, I replied, only they seem to be a little mixed up about their children. That isn't a nice thing to say, returned my wife. I could not deny it. And yet the next morning, when the breeds came down and seated themselves opposite us at table, beaming and smiling in their natural, pleasant, well-bred fashion, I knew to a social certainty that they were nice people. He was a nice-looking fellow in his neat tennis flannels, slim, graceful, twenty-eight or thirty years old, with a Frenchy-pointed beard. She was nice

in all her pretty clothes, and she herself was pretty with that type of prettiness which outwears most other types, the prettiness that lies in a rounded figure, a dusky skin, plump, rosy cheeks, white teeth and black eyes. She might have been twenty-five. You guessed that she was prettier than she was at twenty, and that she would be prettier still at forty. And nice people were all we wanted to make us happy in Mr. Jacobus's summer boarding-house on top of Orange Mountain. For a week we had come down to breakfast each morning, wondering why we wasted the precious days of idleness with the company gathered around the Jacobus board. What joy of human companionship was to be had out of Mrs. Tabb and Miss Hugencamp,

the two middle-aged gossips from Scranton, Pennsylvania, out of Mr. Mrs. Biggle, an inderated head bookkeeper and his prim and censorious wife, out of old Major Halkett, a retired businessman, who, having once sold a few shares on commissions, wrote for circulars of every stock company that was started, and tried to induce everyone to invest who would listen to him. We looked around at those dull faces, the truthful indices of mean and barren minds, and decided that we would leave that morning. Then we ate Mrs. Jacobus's biscuit, light as Aurora's cloudlets, drank her honest coffee, inhaled the perfume of the late azaleas with which she decked her table, and decided to postpone

our departure one more day. And then we wandered out to take our morning glance at what we called our view, and it seemed to us as if Tab and Hogan Camp and Halkett and the Biggelses'es could not drive us away in a year. I was not surprised when, after breakfast, my wife invited the breeds to walk with us to our view. The Hogan Camp Biggle-Tab-Halkat contingent never stirred off Jacobus's veranda, but we both felt that the breeds would not profane that sacred scene. We strolled slowly across the fields, passed through the little belt of woods, and, as I heard Mrs. Breed's little cry of startled rapture, I motioned to breed to look up. by jove he cried heavenly we looked off from the brow of the mountain over fifteen miles of billowing green to where far across a far stretch of pale blue lay a dim purple line that we knew was staten island

towns and villages lay before us and under us there were ridges and hills uplands and lowlands woods and plains all massed and mingled in that great silent sea of sunlit green for silent it was to us standing in the silence of a high place silent with a sunday stillness that made us listen without taking thought for the sound of bells coming up from the spires that rose above the trees that rose above the trees that rose above the trees that rose above the trees that rose above the tree-tops. The treetops that lay as far beneath us as the light clouds were above us, that dropped great shadows upon our heads and faint specks of shade upon the broad sweep of land the mountain's foot. And so that is your view? asked Mrs. Breed after a moment. You are very generous to make it ours, too. Then we lay down on the grass, and Breed began to talk, in a gentle voice, as if he felt the influence of the place. He had paddled a canoe in his earlier days, he said, and he knew every river and creek in that vast stretch of landscape. He found his

landmarks and pointed out to us where the Pesayek and the Hackensack flowed invisible to us, hidden behind great ridges that in our sight were but comings of the green waves upon which we looked down. And yet, on the further side of those broad ridges and rises were scores of villages, a little world of country life, lying unseen under our eyes. A good deal like looking at humanity, he said, there is such a thing as getting so far above our fellow men that we see only one side of them. Ah, how much better was this sort of talk than the chatter and gossip of the tab and the Hogan camp, than the major's dissertations upon his everlasting circulars my wife and i exchanged glances now when i went up the matterhorn mr breed began why dear interrupted his wife i didn't know you ever went up the matterhorn it still was five years ago said mr breed hurriedly i-i didn't tell you when i was on the other side you know it was rather dangerous well as i was i was very dangerous well as i was i was very dangerous well as i was

was saying, it looked—oh, it didn't look at all like this. A cloud floated overhead, throwing its great shadow over the field where we lay. The shadow passed over the mountain's brow and reappeared far below, a rapidly decreasing blot, flying eastward over the golden green. My wife and I exchanged glances once more. Somehow the shadow lingered over us all. As we went home, we went home, the breeds went side by side along the narrow path and my wife and i walked together should you think she asked me that a man would climb the matterhorn the very first year he was married i don't know my dear i answered evasively this isn't the first year i have been married not by a good many and i wouldn't climb it for a farm you know what i mean she said i did When we reached the boarding-house, Mr. Jacobus took me aside. You know, he began his discourse, my wife, she used to live in New York.

I didn't know, but I said yes. She says the numbers on the streets runs criss-cross-like, thirty-fours on one side of the street, and thirty-five on t'other. How's that? That is the invariable rule, I believe. Then I say, these here know. new folks that you and your wife seem so mighty taken up with, do you know anything about them?'

"'I know nothing about the character of your borders, Mr. Jacobus,' I replied, conscious of some irritability. If I choose to associate with any of them—' "'Just so, just so,' broke in Jacobus, I hate nothing to say against your sociability, but do you know them?' "'Why, certainly not,' I replied. Well, that was all I was asking you. You see, when he come here to take the rooms,

he wasn't here then, he told my wife that he lived at number 34 in his street. And yesterday she told her that they lived at number 35. He said he lived in an apartment house. Now, there can't be no apartment house on two sides of the same street, can they? What street was it? I inquired wearily.

121st Street. "'May be,' I replied, still more wearily, "'that's Harlem. Nobody knows what people will do in Harlem.' Went up to my wife's room. "'Don't you think it's queer?' she asked me. "'I think we'll have to talk with that young man to-night,' I said, and see if he can give some account of himself. "'But, my dear,' my wife said gravely,

"'she doesn't know whether they've had the measles or not. why great scott i exclaimed they must have had them when they were children please don't be stupid said my wife i meant their children after dinner that night or rather after supper for we had dinner in the middle of the day at jacobuses i walked down the long verandah to ask breed who was placidly smoking at the other end to accompany me on a twilight stroll Halfway down I met Major Halkett. That friend of yours, he said, indicating the unconscious figure at the further end of the house, seems to be a queer sort of a dick. He told me that he was out of business, and just looking round for a chance to invest his capital. And I've been telling him what an everlasting big show he had to take stock in the capitaline trust company.

It starts next month. Four million capital. I told you all about it. oh well he said let's wait and think about it wait says i the capitoline trust company won't wait for you my boy this is letting you in on the ground floor says i and it's now or never oh let it wait says he i don't know what's in to the man i don't know how well he knows his own business major i said as i started again for breeds into the veranda but i was troubled none the less the major could not have influenced the sale of one share of stock in the Capitoline Company, but that stock was a great investment, a rare chance for a purchaser with a few thousand dollars. Perhaps it was no more remarkable that Breed should not invest than that I should not, and yet it seemed to add one circumstance more

to the other suspicious circumstances. When I went upstairs that evening, I found my wife putting her hair to bed. I don't know how I can better describe an operation familiar to every married man. I waited until the last tress was coiled up, and then I spoke. I've talked with breed, I said, and I didn't have to catechise him. He seemed to feel that some sort of explanation was looked for, and he was very outspoken. You were right about the children, that is, I must have misunderstood him. There are only two. But the Matterhorn episode was simple enough. He didn't realize how dangerous it was until he had got so far into it that he couldn't back out, and he didn't tell her, because he'd left her here, you see, and under the circumstances,

"'Left her here!' cried my wife. I've been sitting with her the whole afternoon, sewing, and she told me that he left her at Geneva, and came back and took her to Basel, and the baby was born there. Now I'm sure, dear, because I asked her. Perhaps I was mistaken when I thought he said she was on this side of the water, I suggested with bitter, biting, irony. You poor dear, did I abuse you, said my wife. But do you know, Mrs. Tabb said that she didn't know how many lumps of sugar he took in his coffee. Now that seems queer, doesn't it? It did.

It was a small thing, but it looked queer, very queer. The next morning it was clear that war was declared against the breeds. They came down to breakfast somewhat late, and as soon as they arrived the Biggelses swooped up the last fragments that remained on their plates and made a stately march out of the of the dining-room. Then Miss Huggencamp arose and departed, leaving a whole fish-ball on her plate. Even as Atlanta might have dropped an apple behind her to tempt her pursuer to check his speed, so Miss Hogan-camp left that fish-ball behind her, and between her maiden self and contamination. We had finished our breakfast, my wife and I, before the breeds appeared. We talked it over,

and agreed that we were glad that we had not been obliged to take sides upon such insufficient testimony after breakfast it was the custom of the male half of the jacobus household to go around the corner of the building and smoke their pipes and cigars where they would not annoy the ladies we sat under a trellis covered with a grape-vine that had borne no grapes in the memory of man this vine however bore leaves and these on that pleasant summer morning shielded us from two persons who were in earnest conversation in the straggling half-dead flower-garden at the side of the house. I don't want, we heard Mr. Jacobus say, to enter in no man's privacy, but I do want to know who it may be like that I have in my house. Now what I ask of you, and I don't want you to take it as in no way's personal, is, have you your marriage license with you?

No, we heard the voice of Mr. Breed reply. Have you yours? I think it was a chance shot, but it told all the same. The Major, he was a widower, and Mr. Bigel and I looked at each other, and Mr. Jacobus, on the other side of the grape-trellis, looked at, I don't know what, and was as silent as we were. Where is your marriage-license, married-reader? Do you know?

Four men, not including Mr. Breed, stood or sat on one side or the other of that great trellis, and not one of them knew where his marriage license was. Each of us had had one, the major had had three, but where were they? Where is yours? Tucked in your best man's pocket, deposited in his desk, or washed to a pulp in his white waistcoat, if white waskets be the fashion of the hour, washed out of existence. Can you tell where it is? Can you, unless you are one of those people who frame that interesting document and hang it upon their drawing-room walls?

Mr. Breed's voice arose after an awful stillness of what seemed like five minutes and was probably thirty seconds. Mr. Jacobus, will you make out your bill at once and let me pay it? I shall leave by the six o'clock train, and will you also send the wagon for my trunks?' "'I hain't said I wanted to have you leave,' began Mr. Jacobus, but Brede cut him short. "'Bring me your bill.' "'But,' remonstrated Jacobus, if you ha'—' "'Bring me your bill,' said Mr. Breed. "'My wife and I went out for our morning's walk, but it seemed to us when we looked at our

a view, as if we could only see those invisible villages of which breed had told us, that other side of the ridges and rises of which we catch no glimpse from lofty hills or from the heights of human self-esteem. We meant to stay out until the breeds had taken their departure, but we returned just in time to see Pete, the Jacobus darky, the blacker of boots, the brasher of coats, the general handyman of the house, loading the breed tronks. on the Jacobus wagon. And as we stepped upon the veranda, down came Mrs. Breed, leaning on Mr. Breed's arm as though she were ill, and it was clear that she had been crying. There were heavy rings around her pretty black eyes. My wife took a step toward her.

Look at that dress, dear, she whispered. She never thought anything like this was going to happen when she put that on. It was a pretty delicate, dainty dress, a graceful, narrow-striped affair. Her hat was trimmed with a narrow-striped silk of the same colors, maroon and white, and in her hand she held a parasol that matched her dress. She's had a new dress on twice a day, said my wife, and that's the prettiest yet. Oh, somehow! I'm awfully sorry they're going. But going they were. They moved toward the steps, Mrs. Breed looked toward my wife, and my wife moved toward Mrs. Breed, but the ostracized woman, as though she felt the deep humiliation of her position, turned sharply away, and opened her parasol to shield her eyes from the sun.

A shower of rice, a half-pound shower of rice, fell down over her pretty hat and her pretty dress, and fell in a spattering circle on the floor, outlining her son. skirts, and there it lay in a broad, uneven band, bright in the morning sun. Mrs. Breed was in my wife's arms, sobbing as if her young heart would break. Oh, you poor dear, silly children, my wife cried, as Mrs. Breed sobbed on her shoulder. Why didn't you tell us? We didn't want to be to take it for a bridal couple, sobbed mrs breed and we didn't dream that awful lies we'd have to tell and all the awful mixed-up mess of it oh dear dear

pete commanded mr jacobus put back them trunks these folks stays here as long as they want her mr breed he held out a large hard hand i've arter have known better he said and my last doubt of mr breed vanished and my last doubt of mr breed vanished as he shook that grimy hand in manly fashion the two women were walking off toward our view each with an arm upon the other's waist touched by a sudden sisterhood of sympathy gentlemen said mr breed addressing jacobus bigel the major and me there is a hostelry down the street where they sell honest new jersey beer i recognize the obligations of the situation we five men filed down the street the two women went toward the pleasant slope where the sunlight gilded the forehead of the great hill on mr jacobus veranda lay a spattered circle of shining grains of rice two of mr jacobus pigeons flew down and picked up the shining grains making grateful noises far down in their throats end of story eleven story twelve Of The Best American Humorous Short Stories by Alexander Jessup, Editor. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Story 12.

The Buller-Poddington Compact, 1897, by Frank Richard Stockton. From Scribner's Magazine, August 1897, republished in A Field and A Float by Frank Richard Stockton, copyright 1900 by Charles Scribner's Sons, reprinted by permission of the publishers. I tell you, William, said Thomas Buller to his friend Mr. Pottington, I am truly sorry about it, but I cannot arrange for it this year. Now, as to my invitation, that is very different.

Of course it is different, was the reply, but I am obliged to say, as I said before, that I really cannot accept it. remarks similar to these had been made by thomas buller and william pottington at least once a year for some five years they were old friends they had been schoolboys together and had been associated in business since they were young men they had now reached a vigorous middle age they were each married and each had a house in the country in which he resided for a part of the year they were warmly attached to each other and he had a house in the country in which he resided for a part of the year they were warmly attached to each other and each was the best friend which the other had in this world but during all these years neither of them had visited the other in his country home the reason for this avoidance of each other at their respective rural residences may be briefly stated mr boller's country house was situated by the sea and he was very fond of the water he had a good cat-boat which he sailed himself with much judgment and skill, and it was his greatest pleasure to take his friends and visitors upon little excursions on the bay. But Mr. Pottington was desperately afraid of the water, and he was

particularly afraid of any craft sailed by an amateur. If his friend Buller would have employed a professional mariner of years and experience to steer and manage his boat, Pottington might have been willing to take an occasional sail. but as buller always insisted upon sailing his own boat and took it ill if any of his visitors doubted his ability to do so properly poddington did not wish to wound the self-love of his friend and he did not wish to be drowned consequently he could not bring himself to consent to go to buller's house by the sea to receive his good friend buller at his own house in the beautiful upland region in which he lived would have been a great joy to mr poddington but buller could not be induced to visit him poddington was very fond of horses and always drove himself while buller was more afraid of horses than he was of elephants or lions to one or more horses driven by a coachman of years and experience he did not always object but to a horse driven by poddington who had much experience and knowledge regarding mercantile affairs but was merely an amateur horseman, he most decidedly and strongly objected.

He did not wish to hurt his friend's feelings by refusing to go out to drive with him, but he would not rack his own nervous system by accompanying him. Therefore it was that he had not yet visited the beautiful upland country residence of Mr. Pottington. At last the state of things grew awkward. mrs buller and mrs poddington often with their families visited each other at their country houses but the fact that on these occasions they were never accompanied by their husbands caused more and more gossip among their neighbours both in the upland country and by the sea one day in spring as the two sat in their city office where mr poddington had just repeated his annual invitation his friend replied to him thus william if i come to see you this summer will you visit me the thing is beginning to look a little ridiculous and people are talking about it mr poddington put his hand to his brow and for a few moments closed his eyes in his mind he saw a cat-boat upon its side the sails spread out over the water and two men almost entirely immersed in the waves making efforts to reach the side of the boat

one of these was getting on very well that was buller the other seemed about to sink his arms were uselessly waving in the air that was himself but he opened his eyes and looked bravely out of the window it was time to conquer all this it was indeed growing ridiculous buller had been sailing many years and had never been upset yes said he i will do it i am ready any time you name mr buller rose and stretched out his hand good said he it's a compact buller was the first to make the promised country visit he had not mentioned the subject of horses to his friend but he knew through mrs buller that pottington still continued to be his own driver she had informed him however that at present he was accustomed to his own driver she had informed him however that at present he was accustomed to drive a big black horse which in her opinion was as gentle and reliable as these animals ever became and she could not imagine how anybody could be afraid of him so when the next morning after his arrival mr bullough was asked by his host if he would like to take a drive he suppressed a certain rising emotion and said that it would please him very much When the good black horse had jogged along a pleasant road for half an hour, Mr. Buller began to feel that, perhaps, for all these years, he had been laboring under a misconception.

It seemed to be possible that there were some horses, to which surrounding circumstances in the shape of sights and sounds, were so irrelevant that they were, to a certain degree, entirely safe, even when guided and controlled by an amateur hand. As they passed some meadowland, somebody behind a hedge fired a gun. Mr. Buller was frightened, but the horse was not. William, said Buller, looking cheerfully around him. I had no idea that you lived in such a pretty country. In fact, I might almost call it beautiful.

You have not any wide stretch of water, such as I like so much, but here is a pretty river. Those rolling hills are very chond. and beyond you have the blue of the mountains. It is lovely, said his friend. I never get tired of driving through this country. Of course the seaside is very fine, but here we have such a variety of scenery. Mr. Buller could not help thinking that sometimes the seaside was a little monotonous

and that he had lost a great deal of pleasure by not varying his summers by going up to spend a week or two with Pottington. William said he, how long have you had this horse? About two years, said Mr. Pottington. Before I got him, I used to drive a pair. Heavens, thought, Buller, how lucky I was not to come two years ago. And his regrets for not sooner visiting his friend greatly decreased.

Now, as they came to a place where the stream, by which the road ran, had been damned for a mill and had widened into a beautiful pond. "'There now,' cried Mr. Buller, "'that's what I like, William. You seem to have everything. This is really a very pretty sheet of water, and the reflections of the trees over there make a charming picture. You can't get that at the seaside, you know.'

Mr. Pottington was delighted. His face glowed. He was rejoiced at the pleasure of his friend. I tell you, Thomas, said he, that— William! exclaimed Buller, with a sudden squirm in his seat. What is that I hear? Is that a train? Yes, said Mr. Pottington.

That is the ten-forty up. Does it come near here? asked Mr. Buller nervously. Does it go over that bridge? Yes, said Pottington, but it can't hurt us, for our road goes under the bridge. We are perfectly safe. There's no risk of accident. But your horse! your horse! exclaimed Buller, as the train came nearer and nearer.

What will he do? Do, said Pottington. He'll do what he is doing now. He doesn't mind trains. But look here, William, exclaimed Buller. It will get there just as we do. No horse could stand a roaring up in the air like that. Pottington laughed.

He would not mind it in the least, said he. "'Come, come now,' cried Buller. "'Really, I can't stand this. Just stop a minute, William, and let me get out. It sets all my nerves quivering.' Mr. Poddington smiled with a superior smile. "'Oh, you needn't get out,' said he. "'There's not the least danger in the world.

But I don't want to make you nervous, and I will turn around and drive the other way.' "'But you can't!' screamed Buller. "'This road is not wide enough in that train. is nearly here. Please, stop!' The imputation that the road was not wide enough for him to turn was too much for Mr. Pottington to bear. He was very proud of his ability to turn a vehicle in a narrow place. Turn, said he. That's the easiest thing in the world. See? A little to the right, then a back, then a sweep to the left, and we will be going the other way. And instantly he began the maneuver in which he was such an adept.

Oh, Thomas! cried Buller, half-rising in his seat. The train is almost here. And we are almost, Mr. Poddington was about to say, turned around, but he stopped. Mr. Buller's exclamations had made him a little nervous, and in his anxiety to turn quickly he had pulled upon his horse's bit with more energy than was actually necessary, and his nervousness being communicated to the horse, that animal backed with such extraordinary vigor that the hind-wheels of the wagon went over a bit of grass by the road and into the water. The sudden jolt gave a new impetus to Mr. Buller's fears. You'll upset, he cried, and not thinking

of what he was about, he laid hold of his friend's arm. The horse, startled by this sudden jerk upon his bit, which, combined with the thundering of the train, which was now on the bridge, made him think that something extraordinary was about to happen, gave a sudden and forcible start backward, so that not only the hind-wheels of the light wagon, but the four-wheels and his own hind-legs went into the water. As the bank at this spot sloped steeply, the wagon continued to go backward, despite the efforts of the agitated horse to find a footing on the crumbling edge of the bank. Whoa!

cried Mr. Buller. Get up! exclaimed Mr. Poddington, applying his whip upon the plunging beast. But exclamations and castigations had no effect upon the horse. The original bed of the stream ran close to the road, and the bank was so steep and the earth so soft that it was impossible for the water. the horse to advance or even maintain his footing. Back, back he went, until the whole equipage was in the water, and the wagon was afloat. This vehicle was a road wagon, without a top, and the joints of its box body were tight enough to prevent the water from immediately entering it. So, somewhat

deeply sunken, it rested upon the water. There was a current in this part of the pond, and it turned the wagon down stream. The horse was now entirely immersed in the water, with the exception of his head and the upper part of his neck, and unable to reach the bottom with his feet, he made vigorous efforts to swim. Mr. Poddington, the reins and whip in his hands, sat horrified and pale. The accident was so sudden, he was so startled and so frightened, that for a moment he could not speak a word. Mr. Buller, on the other hand, was now lively and alert. The wagon had no sooner floated away from the shore

than he felt himself at home. He was upon his favorite element. Water had no fears for him. He saw that his friend was nearly frightened out of his wits, and that, figuratively speaking, he must step to the helm and take charge of the vessel. he stood up and gazed about him put her across stream he shouted she can't make headway against this current head her up that clump o trees on the other side the bank is lower there and we can beach her move a little the other way we must trim boat now then pull on your starboard rain poddington obeyed and the horse slightly changed his direction you see said buller it won't do to sail straight across because the current would carry us down and land us below that spot

mr poddington said not a word he expected every moment to see the horse sink into a watery grave it isn't so bad after all is it poddington if we had a rudder and a bit of a sail it would be a great help to the horse this wagon is not a bad boat the despairing poddington looked at his feet it's coming in he said in a husky voice thomas the water is over my shoes that is so said buller i am so used to water i didn't notice it she leaks do you carry anything to bail her out with bail cried poddington now finding his voice oh thomas we are sinking oh that's so sorry said Buller. She leaks like a sev. The weight of the running gear and of the two men was entirely too much for the buoyancy of the wagon body. The water rapidly rose toward the top of its sides. We are going to drown, cried Poddington, suddenly rising. Lick him, lick him! exclaimed Buller. Make him swim faster. There is nothing to lick, cried Poddington, vainly lashing at the water,

for he could not reach the horse's head. the poor man was dreadfully frightened. He had never even imagined it possible that he should be drowned in his own wagon. "'Whoop!' cried Buller as the water rose over the sides. "'Steady yourself, old boy, or you'll go overboard!' And the next moment the wagon body sunk out of sight. But it did not go down very far. The deepest part of the channel of the stream had been passed, and with a bump the wheels struck the bottom. Heavens! exclaimed Buller, we are aground! A ground! exclaimed Poddington, heaven be praised! As the two men stood up in the submerged wagon, the water was above their knees, and when

Poddington looked out over the surface of the pond, now so near his face, it seemed like a sheet of water he had never seen before. It was something horrible, threatening to rise and envelop him he trembled so that he could scarcely keep his footing william said his companion you must sit down if you don't you'll tumble overboard and be drowned there is nothing for you to hold to "'Sit down,' said Pottington, gazing blankly at the water around him. "'I can't do that.' At this moment the horse made a slight movement. Having touched bottom after his efforts in swimming across the main bed of the stream, with a floating wagon in tow, he had stood for a few moments,

his head and neck well above water, and his back barely visible beneath the surface. Having recovered his breath, he now thought it was time to move. move on. At the first step of the horse, Mr. Poddington began to totter. Instinctively, he clutched Buller. "'Sit down!' cried the latter, or you'll have us both overboard. There was no help for it. Down sat, Mr. Poddington, and as with a great splash he came heavily upon the seat, the water rose to his waist. "'Ugh!' said he. Thomas, shout for help. "'No use doing that,' replied Buller, still standing on his nautical legs. "'I don't see anybody, and I don't see any boat.

We'll get out all right. Just you stick tight to the thwart. The what?' "'Feebly asked the other. Oh, the seat, I mean. We can get to the shore all right if you steer the horse straight. Head him more across the pond.' "'I can't head him,' cried Pottington.

"'I have dropped the reins.' "'Good gracious!' cried Mr. Buller. That's bad. Can't you steer him by shouting G and haw? No, said Pottington. He isn't an ox. But perhaps I can stop him.

And with as much voice as he could summon, he called out, Whoa! And the horse stopped. If you can't steer him any other way, said Buller, we must get the reins. Lend me your whip. I have dropped that, too, said Poddington.

There it floats. oh dear said buller i guess i'll have to dive for them if he were to run away we should be in an awful fix don't get out don't get out exclaimed poddington you can reach over the dashboard as that's under water said buller it will be the same thing as diving but it's got to be done and i'll try it don't you move now i am more used to water than you are mr buller took off his hat and asked his friend to hold it he thought of his watch and other contents of his pockets but there was no place to put them so he gave them no more consideration then bravely getting on his knees in the water he leaned over the dashboard almost disappearing from sight with his disengaged hand mr poddington grasped the submerged coat-tails of his friend in a few seconds the upper part of mr buller rose from the water he was dripping and puffing and mr poddington could not but think what a difference it made in the appearance of his friend to have his hair plastered close to his head i got hold of one of them said the sputtering buller but it was fast to something and i couldn't get it loose was it thick and wide asked poddington yes was the answer it did seem so "'Oh, that was a trace,' said Pottington.

"'I don't want that. The reins are thinner and lighter.' "'Now I remember they are,' said Buller. "'I'll go down again.' Again Mr. Buller leaned over the dashboard, and this time he remained down longer, and when he came up he puffed and sputtered more than before. "'Is this it?' said he, holding up a strip of wet leather. "'Yes,' said Pottington.

"'You've got the reins.' well take them and steer i would have found them sooner if his tail had not got into my eyes that long tails floating down there and spreading itself out like a fan it tangled itself all around my head it would have been much easier if he had been a bob-tailed horse now then said poddington take your hat thomas and i'll try to dry mr buller put on his hat which was the only dry thing about him and the nervous pottington started the horse so suddenly that even the sea-legs of buller were surprised and he came very near going backward into the water but recovering himself he sat down i don't wonder you did not like to do this william said he wet as i am it's t ghastly. Encouraged by his master's voice, and by the feeling of the familiar hand upon his pit, the horse moved bravely on. But the bottom was very rough and uneven. Sometimes the wheels struck a large stone, terrifying Mr. Buller, who thought they were going to upset, and sometimes they sank into soft mud, horrifying Mr. Poddington, who thought they were going to drown.

Thus proceeding they presented a strange sight. At first Mr. Pottington held his hands above the water as he drove, but he soon found this awkward and dropped them to their usual position, so that nothing was visible above the water but the head and neck of a horse and the heads and shoulders of two men. Now the submarine equipage came to a low place in the bottom, and even Mr. Buller shuddered as the water rose to. to his chin. Poddington gave a howl of horror, and the horse, with high uplifted head, was

obliged to swim. At this moment a boy with a gun came strolling along the road, and hearing Mr. Poddington's cry, he cast his eyes over the water. Instinctively he raised his weapon to his shoulder, and then in an instant, perceiving that the objects he beheld were not aquatic birds, he dropped his gun and ran yelling down the road toward the mill. But the hollow in the bottom was a narrow one, and when it was past the depth of the water gradually decreased. The back of the horse came into view, the dashboard became visible, and the bodies and the spirits of the two men rapidly rose.

Now there was a vigorous splashing and tugging, and then a jet-black horse shining as if he had been newly varnished, pulled a dripping wagon containing two well-soaked men upon a shelving shore. Oh, I'm chilled to the bones, cried Pottington. I should think so, replied his friend. If you have got to be wet, it is a great deal pleasanter under the water. There was a field road on this side of the pond, which Paddington well knew, and proceeding along this way they came to the bridge and got into the main road.

Now we must get home as fast as we can, cried Pottington, or we shall both take cold. I wish I hadn't lost my whip. Hi now, get along. Poddington was now full of life and energy. His wheels were on the hard road, and he was himself again. When he found his head was turned toward his home, the horse set off at a great rate. Hi there, cried Pottington. I'm so sorry I lost my whip.

said Buller, holding fast to the side of the seat. Surely you don't want him to go any faster than this. And look here, William, he added. It seems to me we are much more likely to take cold in our wet clothes if we rush through the air in this way. Really, it seems to me that horse is running away. Oh, not a bit of it, cried Poddington. He wants to get home, and he wants his dinner.

Isn't he a fine horse? Look how he steps out. "'Steps out,' said Buller. "'I think I'd like to step out myself. Don't you think it would be wiser for me to walk home, William? That will warm me up.' "'It will take you an hour,' said his friend. "'Stay where you are, and I'll have you in a dry suit of clothes in less than fifteen minutes.'

"'I tell you, William,' said Mr. Buller, as the two sat smoking after dinner, "'what you ought to do. You should never go out driving without a life-preserver, a pair of oars. I always take them. It would make you feel safer." Mr. Buller went home the next day because Mr. Pottington's clothes did not fit him, and his own outdoor suit was so shrunken as to be uncomfortable. Besides, there was another reason, connected with the desire of horses to reach their homes, which prompted his return. But he had not forgotten his compact with his friend, and in the course of a week he wrote to Pottington, inviting him to spend some days with him.

Mr. Poddington was a man of honor, and in spite of his recent unfortunate water experience, he would not break his word. He went to Mr. Buller's seaside home at the time appointed. Early on the morning after his arrival, before the family were up, Mr. Paddington went out and strolled down to the edge of the bay. He went to look at Buller's boat. He was well aware that he would be asked to take a sail, and as Buller had driven with him, it would be impossible for him to decline sailing with Buller,

but he must see the boat. There was a train for his home at a quarter past seven. If he were not on the premises, he could not be asked to sail. If Buller's boat were a little flimsy thing, he would take that train, but he would wait and see. There was only one small boat anchored near the beach, and a man, apparently a fisherman,

informed Mr. Pottington that it belonged to Mr. Buller. Pottington looked at it eagerly. It was not very small and not flimsy. Do you consider that a safe boat, he asked the fisherman? Save, replied the man. You could not upset her if you tried. Look at her breadth of beam. you could go anywhere in that boat are you thinking of buying her the idea that he would think of buying a boat made mr poddington laugh the information that it would be impossible to upset the little vessel had greatly cheered him and he could laugh

shortly after breakfast mr buller like a nurse with a dose of medicine came to mr poddington with the expected invitation to take a sale now william said his host i understand perfectly your feeling about boats and what i wish to prove to you is that it is a feeling without any foundation i don't want to shock you or make you nervous so i am not going to take you out to-day on the bay in my boat you are as safe on the bay as you would be on land a little safer perhaps under certain circumstances to which we will not allude but still it is sometimes a little rough and this at first might cause you some uneasiness and so i am going to let you begin your education in the sailing line on perfectly smooth water about three miles back of us there is a very pretty lake several miles long it is part of the canal system which connects the town with the railroad i have sent my boat to the town and we can walk up there and go by the canal to the lake it is only about three miles if he had to sail at all this kind of sailing suited mr pottington a canal a quiet lake and a boat which could not be upset when they reached the town the town the town the town the boat was in the canal, ready for them. Now, said Mr. Buller, you get in and make yourself comfortable.

My idea is to hitch on to a canal boat and be towed to the lake. The boats generally start about this time in the morning, and I will go and see about it. Mr. Pottington, under the direction of his friend, took a seat in the stern of the sailboat, and then he remarked, Thomas, have you a life-preserver on board? You know I am not used to any kind of vessel, and I am clumsy. Nothing might happen to the boat, but I might trip and fall overboard, and I can't swim. All right, said Buller, here's a life-preserver, and you can put it on.

I want you to feel perfectly safe. Now I will go and see about the tow. But Mr. Buller found that the canal boats would not start at their usual time. The loading of one of them was not finished. and he was informed that he might have to wait for an hour or more. This did not suit Mr. Buller at all, and he did not hesitate to show his annoyance. I tell you, sir, what you can do, said one of the men in charge of the boats. If you don't want to wait till we are ready to start, we'll let you have a boy and a horse

to tow you up to the lake. That won't cost you much, and they'll be back before we want them. The bargain was made, and Mr. Buller joyfully returned to his boat, with the intelligence that they were not to wait for the canal boats. A long rope, with a horse attached to the other end of it, was speedily made fast to the boat, and with a boy at the head of the horse they started up the canal. Now this is the kind of sailing I like, said Mr. Pottington.

If I lived near a canal, I believe I would buy a boat and train my horse to tow. I could have a long pair of rope lines and drive him myself. then when the roads were rough and bad the canal would be always smooth this is all very nice replied mr buller who sat by the tiller to keep the boat away from the bank and i am glad to see you in a boat under any circumstances do you know william that although i did not plan it there could not have been a better way to begin your sailing education here we glide along slowly and gently with no possible thought of danger for if the boat should suddenly spring a leak, as if it were the body of a wagon, all we would have to do would be to step on shore, and by the time you get to the end of the canal you will like this gentle motion so much that you will be perfectly ready to begin the second stage of your nautical education.

Yes, said Mr. Poddington, how long do you say this canal is? "'About three miles,' answered his friend. "'Then we will go into the lock, and in a few moments we shall be on the lake.' "'So far as I am concerned,' said Mr. Pottington, "'I wish the canal were twelve miles long. "'I cannot imagine anything pleasanter than this. "'If I lived anywhere near a canal—' "'A long canal, I mean.

"'This one is too short. "'I'd—' "'Oh, come, come now,' interrupted Buller, "'don't be content to stay in the primary school, just because it is easy, when we get on the lake, I will show you that in a boat with a gentle breeze, such as we are likely to have today, you will find the motion quite as pleasing, and ever so much more inspiring. I should not be a bit surprised, William, if after you have been two or three times on the

lake, you will ask me, yes, positively ask me, to take you out on the bay. Mr. Poddington smiled, and, leaning backward, he looked up at the beautiful blue sky. You can't give me anything better than this, Thomas, said he, but you needn't think I am weakening. You drove with me, and I will sail with you. The thought came into Buller's mind that he had done both of these things with Pottington, but he did not wish to call up unpleasant memories and said nothing. About half a mile from the town there stood a small cottage where house-cleaning was going on, and on a fence, not far from the canal, there hung a carpet gaily adorned with stripes and spots of red and yellow.

When the drowsy tow-horse came abreast of the house and the carpet caught his eye, he suddenly stopped and gave a start toward the canal, then impressed with a horror of the glaring apparition, he gathered himself up, and with a bound, dashed along the towpath. The astounded boy gave a shout, but was speedily left behind. The boat of Mr. Buller shot forward as if she had been struck by a squall. The terrified horse sped on as if a red and yellow demon were after him. The boat bounded and plunged and frequently struck the grassy bank of the canal as if it would break itself to pieces.

Mr. Poddington clutched the boom to keep himself from being thrown out, while Mr. Buller, both hands upon the tiller, frantically endeavored to keep the boat from the bank. "'William!' he screamed. "'He's running away with us. We shall be dashed to pieces. Can't you get forward and cast off that line?' "'What do you mean?' cried Poddington, as the boom gave a great jerk as if it would break its fastenings, and drag him overboard.

I mean untie the toe line. We'll be smashed if you don't. I can't leave this tiller. Don't try to stand up. Hold on to the boom and creep forward. Steady now, or you'll be overboard. Mr. Pottington stumbled to the bow of the boat, his efforts greatly impeded by the big cork life-preserver

tied under his arms, and the motion of the boat was so violent and erratic that he was obliged to hold on to the mast with one arm and to try to loosen the knot with the other. But there was a great strain on the rope, and he could do nothing with one hand. Cut it, cut it! cried Mr. Buller. I haven't a knife, replied Poddington. Mr. Buller was terribly frightened. His boat was cutting through the water as never vessel of her class had sped since sailboats were invented,

and bumping along the bank as if she were a billiard ball rebounding from the edge of a table. He forgot he was in a boat. He only knew that for the first time in his life he was in a runaway. He let go the tiller. It was of no use to him. William, he cried, let us jump out the next time we are near enough to shore. Don't do that, don't do that, replied Pottington. Don't jump out in a runaway.

that is the way to get hurt. Stick to your seat, my boy. He can't keep this up much longer. He'll lose his wind. Mr. Pottington was greatly excited, but he was not frightened, as Buller was. He had been in a runaway before, and he could not help thinking

how much better a wagon was than a boat in such a case. If he were hitched up shorter and I had a snaffle bit and a stout pair of reins, thought he, I could soon bring him up, but mr buller was rapidly losing his wits the horse seemed to be going faster than ever the boat bumped harder against the bank and at one time buller thought they could turn over suddenly a thought struck him william he shouted tip that anchor over the side throw it in anyway mr pondington looked about him and almost under his feet saw the anchor

he did not instantly comprehend why buller wanted it thrown overboard but this was not a time to ask questions the difficulties imposed by the life-preserver and the necessity of holding on with one hand interfered very much with his getting at the anchor and throwing it over the side but at last he succeeded, and just as the boat threw up her bow, as if she were about to jump on shore, the anchor went out and its line shot after it. There was an irregular trembling of the boat, as the anchor struggled along the bottom of the canal, then there was a great shock. The boat ran into the bank and stopped. The tow line was tightened like a guitar string, and the horse jerked back with great violence, came tumbling in a heap upon the ground.

Instantly Mr. Pottington was on the shore and running at the top of his speed toward the horse. The astounded animal had scarcely begun to struggle to his feet when Pottington rushed upon him, pressed his head back to the ground, and sat upon it. Hurrah! he cried, waving his hat above his head. Get out, Buller, he is all right now. Presently Mr. Buller approached, very much shaken up.

up. All right, he said. I don't call a horse flat in a road with a man on his head, all right. But hold him down till we get him loose from my boat. That is a thing to do. William, cast him loose from the boat before you let him up. What will he do when he gets up? Oh, he'll be quiet enough when he gets up, said Pottington, but if you've got a knife, you can cut his traces, I mean that rope. But no, you needn't. Here comes the boy. We'll settle this business in very short order now. When the horse was on its feet, and all connection between the animal and the boat had been severed, Mr. Pottington looked at his friend. "'Thomas?' said he. You seem to have had a hard time of it. You have lost your hat,

and you look as if you had been in a wrestling match. I have,' replied the other. I wrestled with that tiller, and I wonder it didn't throw me out. Now approached the boy. "'Shall I hitch him on again, sir?' said he. "'He's quiet enough now.' "'No,' cried Mr. Buller. "'I want no more sailing after a horse, and besides we can't go on the lake with that boat. She has been battered about so much that she must have opened a dozen seams. The best thing we can do is to walk home.'

Mr. Pottington agreed with his friend that walking home was the best thing they could do. The boat was examined and found to be leaking. but not very badly. And when her mast had been unshipped and everything had been made tight and right on board, she was pulled out of the way of tow lines and boats, and made fast until she could be sent for from the town. Mr. Buller and Mr. Pottington walked back toward the town. They had not gone very far when they met a party of boys, who upon seeing them burst into unseemly laughter. "'Mr!' cried one of them. You needn't be afraid of tumbling into the canal.

Why don't you take off your life-preserver and let that other man put it on his head?' The two friends looked at each other, and could not help joining in the laughter of the boys. "'By George, I forgot all about this,' said Boddington, as he unfastened the cork jacket. It does look a little super-timid to wear a life-preserver, just because one happens to be walking by the side of a canal. mr buller tied a handkerchief on his head and mr poddington rolled up his life-preserver and carried it under his arm thus they reached the town where buller bought a hat poddington dispensed with his bundle and arrangements were made to bring back the boat run away in a sail-boat exclaimed one of the canal boatman when he had heard about the accident upon my word that beat anything that could happen to a man no it doesn't replied mr buller quietly i have gone to the bottom in a foundered road wagon the man looked at him fixedly was you ever struck in the mud in a balloon he asked not yet replied mr buller it required ten days to put mr buller's sailboat into proper condition and for ten days mr pottington stayed with his friend and enjoyed his visit very much they strolled on the beach they took long walk

in the back country, they fished from the end of a pier, they smoked, they talked, and were happy and content. Thomas, said Mr. Poddington, on the last evening of his stay, I have enjoyed myself very much since I have been down here. And now, Thomas, if I were to come down again next summer, would you mind, would you mind not? i would not mind a bit replied buller promptly i'll never so much as mention it so you can come along without a thought of it and since you have alluded to the subject william he continued i'd like very much to come and see you again you know my visit was a very short one this year that is a beautiful country you live in such a variety of scenery such an opportunity for walks and rambles but william if you could only make up your mind not to oh that is all right exclaimed poddington i do not need to make up my mind you come to my house and you will never so much as hear of it here's my hand upon it and here's mine said mr buller and they shook hands over a new compact

End of Story 12. Story 13, Part 1 of The Best American Humorous Short Stories by Alexander Jessup, editor. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Story 13, Part 1. Colonel Starbottle for the plaintiff, 1901, by Brett Hart. From Harper's Magazine, March 1901, republished in the volume, Openings in the Old Trail, 1902 by Brett Hart, copyright 1902 by Hutton Mithin Company, the authorized publishers of

Brett Hart's complete works reprinted by their permission. It had been a day of triumph for Colonel Starbottle, first, for his personality, as it would have been difficult to separate the Colonel's achievements from his individuality, second, for his oratorical abilities as a sympathetic pleader, and third, for his functions as the leading counsel for the Eureka Ditch Company versus the state of California. On his strictly legal performances in this issue, I prefer not to speak. There were those who denied them, although the jury had accepted them in the face of the ruling of the half-immused, half-cynical judge himself.

For an hour they had laughed with the colonel, wept with him, been stirred to personal indignation or patriotic exultation by his passionate and lofty periods, what else could they do than give him their verdict? If it was alleged by some that the American Eagle, Thomas Jefferson, and the resolution of 98, had nothing whatever to do with the contest of a ditch company over a doubtfully worded legislative document, that wholesale abuse of the state attorney and his political motives had not the slightest connection with the legal question raised, it was nevertheless generally accepted that the losing party would have been only too glad to have the colonel on their side.

And Colonel Starbottle knew this, as perspiring, florid, and panting, he rebuttoned the lower buttons of his blue frock coat, which had become loosed in an oratorical spasm, and readjusted his old-fashioned spotless shirt frill above it, as he structured. from the courtroom amidst the handshakings and acclamations of his friends. And here an unprecedented thing occurred. The Colonel absolutely declined spiritous refreshment at the neighboring Palmetto Saloon, and declared his intention of proceeding directly to his office in the adjoining square. Nevertheless, the Colonel quitted the building alone, and apparently unarmed, except for his

faithful gold-headed stick, which hung as usual from his forearm. The crowd gazed after him with undisguised admiration of this new evidence of his pluck. It was remembered also that a mysterious note had been handed to him at the conclusion of his speech, evidently a challenge from the state attorney. It was quite plain that the Colonel, a practiced duelist, was hastening home to answer it. But herein they were wrong. The note was in a female hand and simply requested the Colonel to accord an interview with the writer at the Colonel's office as soon as he left the Court.

But it was an engagement that the Colonel, as devoted to the fair sex as he was to the Code, was no less prompt in accepting. He flicked away the dust from his spotless white trousers and varnished boots with his handkerchief and settled his black cravat under his Byron collar as he neared his office. He was surprised, however, on opening the door of his private office, to find his visitor already there. He was still more startled to find her somewhat past middle age, and plainly attired. But the Colonel was brought up in a school of southern politeness, already antique in the

Republic, and his bow of courtesy belonged to the epoch of his shirt-frill and strapped trousers. No one could have detected his disappointment in his manner, albeit his sentiment, were short and incomplete, but the Colonel's colloquial speech was apt to be fragmentary incoherencies of his larger oratorical utterances. A thousand pardons for, having kept a lady waiting, but congratulations of friends and courtesy due to them, interfered with, though perhaps only heightened, by procrastination, pleasure of And the Colonel completed his sentence with a gallant wave of his fat, but white, and well-kept hand. Yes, I came to see you along of that speech of yours.

I was in court. When I heard you getting it off on that jury, I says to myself, that's the kind of lawyer I want, a man that's flowery and convincing, just the man to take up our case. Ah, it's a matter of business, I see, said the Colonel, inwardly relieved, but externally careless, and, may I ask the nature of the case? Well, it's a breach of promise suit, said the visitor calmly. If the colonel had been surprised before, he was now really startled,

and, with an added horror that required all his politeness to conceal, breach of promise cases were his peculiar aversion. He had always held them to be a kind of litigation which could have been obviated by the prompt killing of the masculine offender, in which case he would have gladly defended the killer. But a suit for damages? Damages! With the reading of love letters before a hilarious jury in court was against all his instincts. His chivalry was outraged, his sense of humor was small, and in the course of his career

he had lost one or two important cases through an unexpected development of this quality in a jury. the woman had evidently noticed his hesitation but mistook its cause it ain't me but my daughter the colonel recovered his politeness ah i am relieved my dear madam i could hardly conceive a man ignorant enough to-a throw away such evident good fortune, or base enough to deceive the trustfulness of womanhood, matured and experienced only in the chivalry of our sex. The woman smiled grimly. Yes, it's my daughter, Zady Hooker, so you might spare some of them pretty speeches for her before the jury.

The colonel winced slightly before this doubtful prospect, but smiled. Ah, yes, certainly, the jury, but, my dear lady, need we go as far as that? Can not this affair be settled out of court? Could not this individual be admonished, told that he must give satisfaction, personal satisfaction, for his dastardly conduct to a near relative or even valued personal friend? The arrangement necessary for that purpose I myself would undertake. He was quite sincere. Indeed, his small black eyes shone with that fire which a pretty woman or an affair of

honour could alone kendall. The visitor stared vacantly at him and said slowly, What good is that going to do us? Compel him to perform his promise, said the colonel, leaning back in his chair. catch him doin it said the woman scornfully no that ain't what we're after we must make em pay damages and nothing short of that the colonel bit his lip i suppose he said to gloomily you have documentary evidence written promises and protestations uh love letters in fact no nary a letter you see that's just it and that's where you come in you've got to convince that jury yourself you've got to show what it is tell the whole story your own way lord to a man like you that's nothin startling as this admission might have been to any other lawyer starbottle was absolutely relieved by it the absence of any mirth-provoking correspondence and the appeal solely to his own powers of persuasion actually struck his fancy

he lightly put aside the compliment with a wave of his white hand of course said the colonel confidently there is strongly presumptive and corroborative evidence perhaps you can give me a brief outline of the affair zady can do that straight enough i reckon said the woman what i want to know first is can you take the case the colonel did not hesitate his curiosity was piqued i certainly can i have been i have no doubt your daughter will put me in possession of sufficient facts and details to constitute what we call a brief. She can be brief enough, or long enough, for the matter of that, said the woman rising. The colonel accepted this implied witticism with a smile. And when may I have the pleasure of seeing her? He asked politely.

Well, I reckon as soon as I can trot out and call her. She's just outside, meandering in the road, kinder is. shy, you know, at first. She walked to the door. The astounded colonel, nevertheless, gallantly, accompanied her as she stepped out into the street and called shrielly, you, Sadie! A young girl here apparently detached herself from a tree and the ostentatious perusal of an old election poster and sauntered down towards the office door.

Like her mother she was plainly dressed, unlike her. she had a pale rather refined face with a demure mouth and downcast eyes. This was all the Colonel saw as he bowed profoundly and led the way into his office, for she accepted his salutations without lifting her head. He helped her gallantly to a chair, on which she seated herself sideways, somewhat ceremoniously, with her eyes following the point of her parasol, as she traced a pattern on the car. carpet. A second chair offered to the mother, that lady, however, declined. I reckon to leave you and Zady together to talk it out, she said. Turning to her daughter, she added, Just you tell him all, Zadie! And before the colonel could rise again, disappeared from the room. In spite of his professional experience, Starbottle was for a moment embarrassed. The young girl, however, broke the silence without

looking up. adonarum k hotchkiss she began in a monotonous voice as if it were a recitation addressed to the public first began to take notice of me a year ago arter that off and on one moment interrupted the astounded colonel do you mean hotchkiss the president of the ditch company he had recognized the name of a prominent citizen a prominent citizen a rigid aesthetic taciturn middle old-aged man, a deacon, and more than that, the head of the company he had just defended. It seemed inconceivable. That's him, she continued, with eyes still fixed on the parasol, and without changing her monotonous tone, off and on ever since, most of the time at the free-will Baptist Church, at morning service, prayer-meetons, and such, and at home, outside, or

in the road. Is it this gentleman, Mr. Adonorum Ke Hotchkus, who er, promised marriage, stammered the colonel? Yes. The colonel shifted uneasily in his chair. Most extraordinary, for, you see, my dear young lady, this becomes a most delicate affair. That's what Ma said, returned the young woman simply. yet with the faintest smile playing around her demure lips and downcast cheek.

I mean, said the Colonel, with a pained yet courteous smile, that this, er, gentleman, is, in fact, one of my clients. That's what Ma said, too, and of course your knowing him will make it all the easier for you, said the young woman. A slight flush crossed the Colonel's cheek, as he returned quickly and a little stiffly, on the contrary, it might make it impossible for me to act in this matter. The girl lifted her eyes. The colonel held his breath as the long lashes were raised to his level. Even to an ordinary observer that sudden revelation of her eyes seemed to transform her face with subtle witchery. They were large, brown and soft, yet filled with an extraordinary penetration and prescience.

They were the eyes of an experienced woman of thirty, fixed in the face of a child. What else the colonel saw there? Heaven only knows. He felt his inmost secrets plucked from him. His whole soul laid bare. His vanity, belligerency, gallantry, even his medieval chivalry penetrated, and yet illuminated in that single glance. and when the eyelids fell again he felt that a greater part of himself had been swallowed up in them i beg your pardon he said hurriedly i mean this matter may be arranged amicably

my interest with and as you wisely say my er knowledge of my client mr hotchkis may affect a compromise and damages said the young girl re-addressing her parasol as if she had never looked up. The Colonel winced, and undoubtedly compensation, if you do not press a fulfillment of the promise, unless, he said, with an attempted return to his former easy gallantry, which, however, the recollection of her eyes made difficult,

it is a question of, um, the affections. Which, said his fair client softly, "'If you still love him,' explained the Colonel. Actually blushing. Zadie again looked up, again taking the Colonel's breath away, with eyes that expressed not only the fullest perception of what he had said, but of what he thought, and had not said, and with an added subtle suggestion of what he might have thought. "'That's tellin,' she said, dropping her long lashes again.

The Colonel laughed vacantly. Then, feeling himself growing imbecile, he forced an equally weak gravity. Pardon me, I understand, there are no letters. May I know the way in which he formulated his declaration and promises? Hym-books, said the girl briefly. I beg your pardon? said the mystified lawyer. Hym-books, marked words in them, with pencil, and passed them on to me,

repeated Zadie, like love, dear, precious, sweet, and blessed, she added, accenting each word with a push of her parasol on the carpet. Sometimes a whole line out of Tate and Brady, and Solomon's song, you know, in Sitch. I believe, said the Colonel loftily, that the phrases of sacred psalmody lend themselves to the language of the affections, but in regard to the distinct promise of marriage, was there no other expression? Marriage service in the prayer-book? Lines and words out of that?

All marked, said Zadie. The colonel nodded naturally and approvingly. Very good. Were others cognizant of this? Were there any witnesses? Of course not, said the girl. only me and him it was generally in church time or prayer-meeting once in passing the plate he slipped one of them peppermint lozenges with the letters stamped on it i love you for me to take the colonel coughed slightly and you have the lozange i ate it said the girl simply ah said the colonel after a pause he added delicately but were these attentions

confined to sacred precincts? Did he meet you elsewhere? Eustre pass a house on the road, retinned the girl, dropping into her a monotonous recital, and Eustre signal. Ah, signal, repeated the colonel approvingly. Yes, he'd say, a corral, and I'd say, Carey, something like a bird, you know.

Indeed, as she lifted her voice in imitation, of the call, the colonel thought it certainly very sweet and bird-like. At least as she gave it, with his remembrance of the grim deacon he had doubts as to the melodiousness of his utterance. He gravely made her repeat it. And, uh, after that signal, he added suggestively, "'He'd pass on,' said the girl. The colonel coughed slightly, and tapped his desk with his penholder.

Were there any—' endearments or caresses such as taking your hand or clasping your waist he suggested with a gallant yet respectful sweep of his white hand and bowing of his head a slight pressure of your finger-tips in the changes of a dance i mean he corrected himself with an apologetic cough in the passing of the plate no he was not what you'd call fond returned the girl ah adonarum kahotchkis was not fond in the ordinary acceptance of the word said the colonel with professional gravity she lifted her disturbing eyes and again absorbed his in her own she also said yes although her eyes in their mysterious prescience of all he was thinking disclaimed the necessity of any answer at all. He smiled vacantly. There was a long pause, on which she slowly disengaged her parasol from the carpet pattern, and stood up. I reckon that's about all, she said. Uh, yes, but, uh, one moment, said the colonel vaguely. He would have liked to keep her longer,

but with her strange premonition of him, he felt powerless to detain her, or explain his reason for doing so he instinctively knew she had told him all his professional judgment told him that a more hopeless case had never come to his knowledge yet he was not daunted only embarrassed no matter he said vaguely of course i shall have to consult with you again her eyes again answered that she expected he would but she added simply when In the course of a day or two, said the Colonel quickly, I will send you word. She turned to go. In his eagerness to open the door for her, he upset his chair, and with some confusion that was actually youthful, he almost impeded her movements in the hall, and knocked his broad-rimmed Panama hat from his bowing hand in a final gallant sweep.

Yet as her small trim youthful figure with its simple leggy, horned straw hat, confined by a blue bow under her round chin, passed away before him. She looked more like a child than ever. The Colonel spent that afternoon in making diplomatic inquiries. He found his youthful client was the daughter of a widow who had a small ranch on the crossroads near the new Free Will Baptist Church, the evident theatre of this pastoral. They led a secluded life, the girl being little known. in the town, and her beauty and fascination, apparently not yet being a recognized fact.

The Colonel felt a pleasurable relief at this, and a general satisfaction he could not account for. His few inquiries concerning Mr. Hachkis only confirmed his own impressions of the alleged lover, a serious-minded, practically abstracted man, abstentive of youthful society, and the last man apparently capable of levity of the affections or serious flirtation. The Colonel was mystified, but determined of purpose whatever that purpose might have been. The next day he was at his office at the same hour. He was alone, as usual, the Colonel's office, really being his private lodgings, disposed in connecting rooms, a single apartment reserved for consultation. He had no clerk, Papers and briefs being taken by his faithful body-servant and ex-slave Jim to another firm who did his office work since the death of Major Stryker,

the Colonel's only law partner who fell in a duel some years previous. With a fine constancy, the Colonel had retained his partner's name on his doorplate, and it was alleged by the superstitious kept a certain invincibility also, through the manes of that lamented, and somewhat feared man the colonel consulted his watch whose heavy gold case still showed the marks of a providential interference with a bullet destined for its owner and replaced it with some difficulty and shortness of breath in his fob at the same moment he heard a step in the passage and the door opened to adoniram kahotchkis the colonel was impressed he had a duelist's respect for punctuality. The man entered with a nod, and the expectant inquiring look of a busy man. As his feet crossed that sacred threshold, the colonel became all courtesy.

He placed a chair for his visitor, and took his hat from his half-reluctant hand. He then opened a cupboard, and brought out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Uh, er, slight refreshment, Mr. Hotchkis, he suggested a. politely. I never drank, replied Hotchkiss with a severe attitude of a total abstainer. Ah, not the finest bourbon whiskey, selected by a Kentucky friend? No? Pardon me. A cigar, then, the mildest Havana? I do not use tobacco nor alcohol in any form, repeated Hotchkis aesthetically. I have no foolish weaknesses. the colonel's moist beady eyes swept silently over his client's sallow face he leaned back comfortably in his chair and half-closing his eyes as in dreamy reminiscence said slowly

your reply mr hotchkiss reminds me of a singular circumstance that er occurred in point of fact at the st charles hotel new orleans pinky hornblower personal friend invited "'I'd Senator Doolittle to join him in a social glass. "'Received singularly enough, reply similar to yours, "'Don't drink nor smoke,' said Pinky. "'Gad, sir, you must be mighty sweet on the ladies. "'Ha!' "'The Colonel paused long enough to allow the faint flush to pass "'from Hotchkis cheek, and went on, half-closing his eyes.

"'I allow no-man, sir, to discuss my personal habits,' "'said Doolittle, over his shirt-collar. "'Then I reckon shooting must be one of those habits,' said Pinky, coolly. Both men drove out on the Shell Road back of cemetery next morning. Pinky put bullet at twelve paces through Dolittle's temple. Poor Dew never spoke again, left three wives and seven children, they say, two of them black. "'I got a note from you this morning,' said Hotchkiss, with badly concealed impatience,

I suppose in reference to our case. You have taken judgment, I believe. The colonel, without replying, slowly filled a glass of whiskey and water. For a moment he held it dreamily before him, as if still engaged in gentle reminiscences called up by the act. Then, tossing it off, he wiped his lips with a large white handkerchief, and, leaning back comfortably in his chair, said, with a wave of his hand, The interview I requested Mr. Hotchkiss concerns a subject which I may say is,

uh, um, at present not of a public or business nature, although later it might become both. It is an affair of some delicacy. The Colonel paused, and Mr. Hotchkiss regarded him with increased impatience. The Colonel, however, continued with unchanged deliberation. it concerns a young lady a beautiful high-souled creature sir who apart from her personal loveliness i may say is of one of the first families of missouri and a not remotely connected by marriage with one of my boyhood's dearest friends the latter i grieve to say was a pure invention of the colonels an oratorical addition to the scanty information he had obtained the previous day.

The young lady, he continued blandly, enjoys the further distinction of being the object of such attention from you, as would make this interview really a confidential matter, among friends and relations in present and future. I need not say that the lady I refer to is Miss Zady Juno Hooker, only daughter of Elmira Anne Hooker, Relict of Jefferson Brown Hooker, formerly of Boone County, Kentucky, and latterly of Pike County, Missouri. The sallow, ascetic hue of Mr. Hotska's face had passed through a livid and then a greenish shade, and finally settled into a sullen red.

What's all this about? He demanded roughly. The least touch of belligerent fire came into star-buttles. eyes, but his bland courtesy did not change. I believe, he said politely, I have made myself clear as between a gentleman, though perhaps not as clear as I should to a jury. Mr. Hotchkiss was apparently struck with some significance in the lawyer's reply. I don't know, he said in a lower and more cautious voice, what you mean by what you call

my attentions to anyone, or how it concerns you. I have not exhausted half a dozen words with the person you name, have never written her a line, nor even called at her house. He rose with an assumption of ease, pulled down his waistcoat, buttoned his coat, and took up his hat. The colonel did not move. I believe I have already indicated. to my meaning in what I have called your attentions," said the Colonel blandly, and given you my concern for speaking as a mutual friend. As to your statement of your relations with Miss Hooker, I may state that it is fully corroborated by the statement of the young lady herself in this very office yesterday.

Then what does this impertinent nonsense mean? Why am I summoned here?" said Hotchkiss furiously. "'Because,' said the Colonel deliberately, "'that statement is infamously—' "'Yes, damnably, to your discredit, sir.' Mr. Hotchkiss was here seized by one of those important and inconsistent rages which occasionally betray the habitually cautious and timid man. He caught up the Colonel's stick, which was lying on the table. At the same moment the colonel, without any apparent effort, grasped it by the handle.

To Mr. Hotchkiss' astonishment, the stick separated in two pieces, leaving the handle and about two feet of narrow glittering steel in the colonel's hand. The man recoiled, dropping the useless fragment. The colonel picked it up, fitting the shining blade in it, clicking the spring, and then rising with a face of courtesy, yet of unmistakably genuine pain, and with even a slight tremor in his voice, said gravely, Mr. Hotchkiss, I owe you a thousand apologies, sir, that a weapon should be drawn by me, even through your own inadvertence, under the sacred protection of my roof, and upon an unarmed man.

I beg your pardon, sir, and I even withdraw the expressions which provoked that in Edverdance. Nor does this apology prevent you from holding me responsible, personally responsible, elsewhere for an indiscretion committed in behalf of a lady, my, uh, client. Your client? Do you mean you have taken her case? You, the counsel for the ditch company? said Mr. Hotchkiss, in trembling indignation.

Having won your case, sir, said the Colonel Cooley, the usages of advocacy do not prevent me from espousing the cause of the weak and unprotected. We shall see, sir, said Hotchkiss, grasping the handle of the door, and backing into the passage. There are other lawyers who, permit me to see you out, interrupted the colonel, rising politely, will be ready to resist the attacks of blackmail, continued Hachkis,

retreating along the passage. And then you will be able to repeat your remarks to me in the street, continued the colonel, bowing as he persisted in following his visitor to the door. But here Mr. Hachkis quickly slammed it behind him and hurried away. The colonel returned to his office, and sitting down, took a sheet of letter-pitcher. paper bearing the inscription Starbottle and Stryker, attorneys and counselors, and wrote the following lines. Hooker v. Hotchkis, Dear Madam, having had a visit from the defendant in above, We should be pleased to have an interview with you at 2 p.m. tomorrow, your obedient servants,

Starbottle, and Stryker. This he sealed and dispatched by his trusted servant Jim, and then devoted a moments to reflection. It was the custom of the Colonel to act first and justify the action by reason afterwards. He knew that Hotchkiss would at once lay the matter before rival counsel. He knew that they would advise him that Miss Hooker had no case, that she would be non-suited on her own evidence, and he ought not to compromise but be ready to stand trial. He believed, however, that Hotchkiss feared that exposure, and although his own instincts had been at first against that remedy, he was now instinctively in favor of it. He remembered his own power with a jury. His vanity and his chivalry alike approved of this heroic method. He was bound

by the prosaic facts. He had his own theory of the case, which no mere evidence could gainsay. In fact, Mrs. Hooker's own words that he was bound to be a very fact, he was a very fact, he was was to tell the story in his own way, actually appeared to him an inspiration and a prophecy. Perhaps there was something else, due possibly to the lady's wonderful eyes, of which he had thought much. Yet it was not her simplicity that affected him solely. On the contrary, it was her apparent intelligent reading of the character of her requient lover, and of his own. Of all the Colonel's previous light or serious loves, none had ever before flattered him in that way. And it was this, combined with the respect which he had held for their professional relations,

that precluded his having a more familiar knowledge of his client, through serious questioning or playful gallantry. I am not sure it was not part of the charm to have a rustic femme incomprehese as a client. nothing could exceed the respect with which he greeted her as she entered his office the next day he even affected not to notice that she had put on her best clothes and he had no doubt appeared as when she had first attracted the mature yet faithless attentions of deacon hotchkis at church a white virginal muslin was belted around her slim figure by a blue ribbon and her leghorn hat was drawn around her oval cheek by a bow of the same color she had a southern girl's narrow feet encased in white stockings and kidd slippers which were crossed primly before her as she sat in a chair supporting her arm by her faithful parasol planted firmly on the floor a faint odor of southern wood exhaled from her and oddly enough stirred the colonel with a far-off recollection of a pine-shaded sunday school on a georgia hillside and of his first love aged ten in a short starched frock

possibly it was the same recollection that revived something of the awkwardness he had felt then he however smiled vaguely and sitting down coughed slightly and placed his finger-tips together i have had an interview with mr hotchkis but i regret to say there seems to be no prospect of a compromise he paused and to his surprise her listless company face lit up with an adorable smile. "'Of course! Catch him!' she said. "'Was he mad when you told him?' She put her knees comfortably together and leaned forward for a reply. End of Story 13, Part 1.

Story 13, Part 2 of The Best American Humorous Short Stories by Alexander Jessop Editor. This Livervox recording is in the public domain. Story 13. Colonel Starbuttal for the plaintiff, 1901, Part 2, by Brett Hart. For all that, wild horses could not have torn from the Colonel a word about Hotchkis' anger. He expressed his intention of employing counsel and defending a suit, returned the Colonel,

affably basking in her smile. She dragged her chair nearer his desk. Then you'll fight him, tooth and nail? she said eagerly you'll show him up you'll tell the whole story your own way you'll give him fits and you'll make him pay sure she went on breathlessly i will said the colonel almost as breathlessly she caught his fat white hand which was lying on the table between her own and lifted it to her lips he felt her soft young fingers even through the lyle thread gloves that encased them and the warm moisture of her lips upon his skin. He felt himself flushing, but was unable to break the silence or change his position. The next moment she had scuttled back with her chair to her old position. "'I, uh, certainly shall do my best,' stammered the colonel, in an attempt to recover

his dignity and composure. "'That's enough, you'll do it,' said the girl enthusiastically. "'Lordy! Just you talk—' for me as you did for his old ditch company, and you'll fetch it every time. Why, when you made that jury sit up the other day? When you got that off about the American flag, waving equally over the rights of honest citizens, banded together in peaceful commercial pursuits, as well as over the fortress of official profligate oligarchy, murmured the colonel courteously, oligarchy, repeated the girl quickly, my breath was just took away. I said, him all, ain't he too sweet for anything? I did, honest engine, and when you rolled it all off at the

end, never missing a word? You didn't need to mark them in a lesson-book, but had them all ready on your tongue, and walked out. Well, I didn't know you nor the ditch company from Adam, but I could have just run over and kissed you there before the whole court. She laughed with her face glowing, although her strange eyes were cast down. Alack, the Colonel's face was equally flushed, and his own beady eyes were on his desk. To any other woman he would have voiced the banal gallantry that he should now, himself, look forward to that reward, but the words never reached his lips. He laughed, coughed slightly, and when he looked up again she had fallen into the same attitude as on her first visit, with her parasol point on the floor.

I must ask you to direct your memory to another point, the breaking off of the er-engagement. Did he give any reason for it or show any cause? No, he never said anything, returned the girl. Not in his usual way, no reproaches. out of the hymn-book or the sacred writings? No, he just quit. Eseased his attentions, said the Colonel gravely,

and naturally you were not conscious of any cause for his doing so? The girl raised her wonderful eyes so suddenly, and so penetratingly, without reply in any other way, that the Colonel could only hurriedly say, I see, none, of course. at which she rose the colonel rising also we shall begin proceedings at once i must however caution you to answer no questions nor say anything about this case to any one until you are in court she answered his request with another intelligent look and a nod he accompanied her to the door as he took her proffered hand he raised the lyle thread fingers to his lips with old fashioned gallantry. As if that act had condoned for his first omissions and awkwardness,

he became his old-fashioned self again, buttoned his coat, pulled out his shirt-frill, and strutted back to his desk. A day or two later it was known throughout the town that Zadie Hooker had sued a donorum Hotchkis for breach of promise, and that the damages were laid at five thousand dollars. As in those buccalier, days the western press was under the secure censorship of a revolver a cautious tone of criticism prevailed and any gossip was confined to personal expression and even then at the risk of the gossiper nevertheless the situation provoked the intensest curiosity the colonel was approached until his statement that he should consider any attempt to overcome his professional secrecy a personal reflection with heaven further advances. The community were left to the more ostentatious information of the defendant's counsel, Mezzar's Kitchem and Bilser, that the case was ridiculous and rotten,

that the plaintiff would be non-suited, and the fire-eating starbottle would be taught a lesson that he could not bully the law, and there were some dark hints of a conspiracy. It was even hinted that the case was the revengeful and preposterous outcome of the refusal of Hotchkiss to pay Starbottle an extravagant fee for his late services to the ditch company. It is unnecessary to say that these words were not reported to the Colonel. It was, however, an unfortunate circumstance for the calmer ethical consideration of the subject that the Church cited with Hotchkiss, as this provoked an equal adherence to the plaintiff and starbottle on the part of the larger body of non-churchgoers who were delighted at a possible exposure of the weakness of religious rectitude

i've always had my suspicions of them early candle-light meadens down at that gospel shop said one critic and i reckon deacon hodgegis don't rope in the gals to attend jest for psalm singing then for him to get up and leave the boy before the games have finished and try to sneak out of it said another i suppose that's what they call religious it was therefore not remarkable that the court-house three weeks later was crowded with an excited multitude of the curious and sympathizing. The fair plaintiff, with her mother, was early in attendance, and under the Colonel's advice appeared in the same modest garb in which she had first visited his office. This and her downcast modest demeanor were perhaps at first disappointing to the crowd, who had evidently expected a paragon of loveliness as the Circe of the grim aesthetic defendant who sat beside his counsel. But presently all eyes were fixed on the colonel,

who certainly made up in his appearance any deficiency in his fair client. His portly figure was clothed in a blue dresscoat with brass buttons, a buff waistcoat which permitted his frilled shirt-front to become erectile above it, a black satin stock which confined a boyish turned-down collar around his full neck and immaculate drill trousers strapped over varnished boots a murmur ran around the court old personally responsible had got his war paint on the old war-horses smell and powder were whispered comments yet for all that the most irreverent among them recognized vaguely in this bizarre figure something of an honored past in their country's history and possibly felt the spell of old deeds and old names that had once thrilled their boyish pulses the new district judge returned colonel starbottles profoundly punctilious bow the colonel was followed by his negro servant carrying a parcel of his parcel of his hymn-books and Bibles, who, with a courtesy evidently imitated from his master, placed one

before the opposite counsel. This, after a first curious glance, the lawyer somewhat superciliously tossed aside. But when Jim, proceeding to the jury-box, placed with equal politeness the remaining copies before the jury, the opposite counsel sprang to his feet. I want to direct the attention of the court to this unprecedented tampering with the jury by this gratuitous exhibition of matter impertinent and irrelevant to the issue. The judge cast an inquiring look at Colonel Starbottle. May it please the court, returned Colonel Starbottle with dignity, ignoring the counsel.

The defendant's counsel will observe that he is already furnished with the matter, which I regret to say he has treated in the presence of the court and of his client, a deacon of the church, with a great superciliousness. When I state to your honor that the books in question are hymn books and copies of the holy scriptures and that they are for the instruction of the jury to whom I shall have to refer them in the course of my opening, I believe I am within my rights. The act is certainly unprecedented, said the Judge dryly, but unless the counsel for the plaintiff expects the jury to sing from these hymn books, their introduction is not improper, and I cannot

admit the objection. As defendant's counsel are furnished with copies also, they cannot plead surprise, as in the introduction of new matter, and as plaintiff's counsel relies evidently upon the jury's attention to his opening, he would not be the judge. the first person to distract it. After a pause, he added, addressing the Colonel who remained standing, The Court is with you, sir, proceed. But the Colonel remained motionless and statuess, with folded arms. I have overruled the objection, repeated the judge. You may go on. I am waiting, Your Honor, for the withdrawal by the defendant's counsel of the word tampering. as refers to myself, and of impertinent, as refers to the sacred volumes.

The request is a proper one, and I have no doubt will be acceded to, returned the judge quietly. The defendant's counsel rose, and mumbled a few words of apology, and the incident closed. There was, however, a general feeling that the colonel had in some way scored, and if his object had been to excite the greatest, curiosity about the books he had made his point. But impassive of his victory, he inflated his chest with his right hand in the breast of his buttoned coat and began. His usual high color had paled slightly, but the small pupils of his prominent eyes glittered like steel. The

young girl leaned forward in her chair with an attention so breathless, a sympathy so quick, and an admiration so artless and unconscious that in an instant she divided with the speaker the attention of the whole assemblage it was very hot the court was crowded to suffocation even the open windows revealed a crowd of faces outside the building eagerly following the colonel's words he would remind the jury that only a few weeks ago he stood there as the advocate of a powerful company company, then represented by the present defendant. He spoke then as the champion of strict justice against legal oppression. No less should he today champion the cause of the unprotected and the comparatively defenseless, save for that paramount power which surrounds beauty and innocence, even though the plaintiff of yesterday was the defendant of today.

As he approached the court a moment ago, he had raised the court. his eyes and beheld the starry flag flying from its dome, and he knew that glorious banner was a symbol of the perfect equality under the constitution of the rich and the poor, the strong and the weak. An equality which made the simple citizen taken from the plough and the veld, the pick in the gulch, or from behind the counter in the mining-town, who served on that jury, the equal arbiters of justice with that highest legal luminary whom they were proud to welcome on the bench to-day.

The Colonel paused with a stately bow to the impassive judge. It was this he continued which lifted his heart as he approached the building, and yet he had entered it with an uncertain, he might almost say, a timid step. And why? He knew, gentlemen, he was about to confirm. front a profound, aye, a sacred responsibility. Those hymn-books and holy writings handed to the jury were not, as his honor surmised, for the purpose of enabling the jury to indulge in a preliminary choral exercise. He might indeed say, alas not. They were the damning, incontrovertible proofs

of the perfidy of the defendant, and they would prove as terrible a warning to him, as the fatal characters upon balchazar's wall. There was a strong sensation. Hotchkis turned a sallow green, his lawyers assumed a careless smile. It was his duty to tell them that this was not one of those ordinary breach of promise cases, which were too often the occasion of ruthless mirth

and indecent levity in the courtroom. The jury would find nothing of that here. there were no love-letters with the epithets of endearment nor those mystic crosses and ciphers which he had been credibly informed chastely hid the exchange of those mutual caresses known as kisses there was no cruel tearing of the veil from those sacred privacies of the human affection there was no forensic shouting out of those fond confidences meant only for one but there was he was shocked to say a new sacrilegious intrusion the weak pipings of cupid were mingled with the chorus of the saints the sanctity of the temple known as the meeting-house was desecrated by proceedings more in keeping with the shrine of venus and the inspired writings themselves were used as the medium of amatory and wanton flirtation by the defendant in his sacred capacity as deacon the colonel artistically paused after this thunderous denunciation the jury turned eagerly to the london the jury turned eagerly to the london leaves of the hymn-books, but the larger gaze of the audience remained fixed upon the speaker

and the girl, who sat in rapt admiration of his periods. After the hush, the colonel continued in a lower and sadder voice. There are perhaps few of us here, gentlemen, with the exception of the defendant, who can arrogate to themselves the title of regular church-goers, or to whom these humbler functions of the prayer-meeting, the Sunday school, and the Bible class are habitually familiar. Yet, more solemnly, down in your hearts is the deep conviction of our shortcomings and failings, and a laudable desire that others at least should profit by the teachings we neglect. Perhaps, he continued, closing his eyes dreamily, there is not a man here who does not

recall the happy days of his boyhood, the rustic village spire, the lessons shared with some artless village maiden, with whom he later sauntered hand in hand through the woods as the simple rhyme rose upon their lips, always make it a point to have it a rule never to be late at the Sabbath school. He would recall the strawberry feasts, the welcome annual picnic, redolent with hunks of gingerbread and Sarsparilla. How would they feel to know that these sacred recollections were now forever profaned in their memory by the knowledge that the defendant was capable of using such occasions to make love to the larger girls and teachers, whilst his artless companions were innocently, the court will pardon me for introducing what I am credibly informed, is the

local expression, doing gooseberry. The tremulous flicker of a smile passed over the faces of the listening crowd, and the colonel slightly winced, but he recovered himself instantly and continued, My client, the only daughter of a widowed mother, who has for years stemmed the varying tides of adversity in the western precincts of this town, stands before you today, invested only in her own innocence. She wears no rich gifts of her faithless admirer, is panoplaid in no jewels, rings nor mementos of affection, such as lover's delight to hang upon the shrine of their affections. Hers is not the glory with which Solomon decorated the queen of Sheba, though the defendant, as I shall show later, clothed her in the less expensive flowers of the

king's poetry. the defendant exhibited in this affair a certain frugality of pecuniary investment which i am willing to admit may be commendable in his class his only gift was characteristic alike of his methods and his economy there is i understand a certain not unimportant feature of religious exercise known as taking a collection the defendant on this occasion by the mute presentation of a tip-plate, covered with bays, solicited the pecuniary contributions of the faithful. On approaching the plaintiff, however, he himself slipped a love-token upon the plate and pushed it towards her. That love-token was a lozenge, a small disc. I have reason to believe, concocted of peppermint and sugar, bearing upon its reverse surface the simple words, I love you.

I have since ascertained that these discs may be bought for five cents a dozen, or at considerably less than one-half cent for the single lozenge. Yes, gentlemen, the words, I love you, the oldest legend of all, the refrain when the morning stars sang together were presented to the plaintiff by a medium so insignificant that there is happily no coin in the republic. low enough to represent its value. I shall prove to you, gentlemen of the jury, said the Colonel solemnly, drawing a Bible from his coattail pocket, that the defendant, for the last twelve months,

conducted an amatory correspondence with the plaintiff by means of underlined words of sacred writ and church psalmody, such as beloved, precious, and dearest, occasionally appropriating whole passages which seem deposit to his tender passion. I shall call your attention to one of them. The defendant, while professing to be a total abstainer, a man who in my own knowledge has refused spiritous refreshment as an inordinate weakness of the flesh, with shameless hypocrisy underscores with his pencil

the following passage and presents it to the plaintive. The gentleman of the jury will find it, in the Song of Solomon, page 548, Chapter 2, verse 5. After a pause in which the rapid rustling of leaves was heard in the jury-box, Colonel Starbottle declaimed in a pleading stentorian voice, Stay with me of flagons, comfort me with her apples, for I am sick of love. Yes, gentlemen, yes, you may well turn from those accusing pages, and look at the double-faced defendant.

He desires to be stayed with flaggons. I am not aware at present what kind of liquor is habitually dispensed at these meetings, and for which the defendant so urgently clamored, but it will be my duty before this trial is over to discover it, if I have to summon every barkeeper in this district. For the moment I will simply call your attention to the quantity.

It is not a single drink that the defendant asks for, not a glass of light and generous wine to be shared with his enamorata, but a number of flagons or vessels, each possibly holding a pint measure, for himself. The smile of the audience had become a laugh. The judge looked up warningly

when his eye caught the fact that the colonel had again winced at this moment, mirth. He regarded him seriously. Mr. Hotchkiss's counsel had joined in the laugh effectively, but Hotchkiss himself was ashy pale. There was also a commotion in the jury-box, a hurried turning over of leaves, and an excited discussion. "'The gentleman of the jury,' said the judge, with official gravity, will please keep order and attend only to the speeches of counsel. Any discussion here is irregular and premature, and must be reserved for the jury-room after they have retired.

The foreman of the jury struggled to his feet. He was a powerful man with a good-humoured face, and in spite of his infelicitous nickname of the Bone-breaker, had a kindly simple, but somewhat emotional nature. Nevertheless, it appeared as if he were laboring under some powerful indignation. Can we ask a question, Judge? He said respectfully, although his voice had the unmistakable Western American ring in it, as of one who was unconscious that he could be addressing any but his peers. "'Yes,' said the judge good-humoredly.

We're finding this year of peace out of which the Colonel has just been a-quotin' some language that me and my partners allow ain't ordered to be read out of for a young lady in court, and we want to know of you, as a fair-minded and impartial man, if this is the regular kind of book given to gals and babies down at the meeting-house. The jury will please follow the counsel's speech without comment, said the judge, briefly, fully aware that the defendant's counsel would spring to his feet, as he did promptly. The court will allow us to explain to the gentleman that the language they seem to object to, has been accepted by the best theologians for the last thousand years

as being purely mystic. As I will explain later, those are merely symbols of the church. "'Of what?' interrupted the foreman in deep scorn. "'Of the church.' "'We ain't asking any questions at you, and we ain't taking any answers,' said the foreman, sitting down promptly. "'I must insist,' said the judge, that the plaintiff's counsel be allowed to continue his opening without interruption. You, to defendant's counsel, will have your opportunity to reply later. The counsel sank down in his seat with the bitter conviction that the jury was manifestly against him, and the case as good as lost. But his face was scarcely as disturbed as his clients,

who in great agitation had begun to argue with him wildly, and was apparently pressing some point against the lawyer's vehement apposal the colonel's murky eyes brightened as he still stood erect with his hand thrust in his breast it will be put to you gentlemen when the counsel on the other side refrains from mere interruption and confines himself to reply that my unfortunate client has no action no remedy in law because there were no spoken words of endearment but gentlemen it will depend upon you to say what are and what are not articulate expressions of love we all know that among the lower animals with whom you may possibly be called upon to classify the defendant there are certain signals more or less harmonious as the case may be the ass brays the horse nays the sheep bleats the feathered denizens of the grove call to their mates in more music rondeaux. These are recognized facts, gentlemen, which you yourselves, as dwellers among nature in this beautiful land, are all cognizant of. They are facts that no one would deny. And we should have a poor opinion of the ass who, at such a supreme moment, would attempt

to suggest that his call was unthinking and without significance. But, gentlemen, I shall prove to you that such was the foolish, self-convicting custom of the defendant. With the greatest reluctance and the greatest pain, I succeed in resting from the maidenly modesty of my fair client the innocent confession that the defendant had induced her to correspond with him in these methods. Picture to yourself, gentlemen, the lonely moonlit road beside the widow's humble cottage. It is a beautiful night. sanctified to the affections, and the innocent girl is leaning from her casement.

Presently there appears upon the road a slinking, stealthy figure, the defendant, on his way to church. True to the instruction she has received from him, her lips part in the musical utterance, the colonel lowered his voice in a faint falsetto, presumably in fond imitation of his fair client, Kri. Instantly the knight becomes resonant with the impassioned reply. The Colonel here lifted his voice in stentorious tones. Kerou! Again, as he passes, arises the soft kari.

Again, as his form is lost in the distance, comes back the deep Koro! A burst of laughter, long, loud, and irrepressible, struck the whole courtroom, and before the judge could lift his half-composed face and take his handkerchief from his mouth, a faint curry from some unrecognized obscurity of the courtroom, was followed by a loud corot from some opposite locality. The sheriff will clear the court, said the judge sternly, but alas, as the embarrassed and choking officials rushed hither and thither, a soft carey from the spectators at the window outside the courthouse was answered by a loud chorus of,

Corros, from the opposite windows, filled with onlookers. Again the laughter arose everywhere, even the fair plaintiff herself sat convulsed behind her handkerchief. The figure of Colonel Starbottle alone remained erect, white and rigid, And then the judge, looking up, saw what no one else in the court had seen, that the colonel was sincere, and in earnest, that what he had conceived to be the pleader's most perfect acting and most elaborate irony were the deep, serious, mirthless convictions of a man without the least sense of humor.

There was a touch of this respect in the judge's voice, as he said to him gently, you may proceed, Colonel Starbottle. I thank your honor, said the Colonel slowly, for recognizing and doing all in your power to prevent an interruption that during my thirty years' experience at the bar I have never yet been subjected to without the privilege of holding the instigators thereof responsible, personally responsible. It is possibly my fault that I have failed oratorically to considerably to convey to the gentlemen of the jury the full force and significance of the defendant's signals i am aware that my voice is singularly deficient in producing either the dulcet tones of my fair client or the impassioned vehemence of the defendant's response

i will continued the colonel with a fatigued but blind fatuity that ignored the hurriedly knit brows and warning eyes of the judge try again the note uttered by my client lowering his voice to the faintest of falsetto's was kerri the response was curro and the colonel's voice fairly shook the dome above him another uproar of laughter followed this apparently audacious repetition but was interrupted by an unlooked-for incident the defendant rose abruptly and tearing himself away from the withholding hand and pleading protestations of his counsel absolutely fled from the court-room his appearance outside being recognized by a prolonged kuro from the bystanders which again and again followed him in the distance in the momentary silence which followed the colonel's voice was heard saying we rest here your honor and he sat down no less white but more agitated was the face of the defendant's counsel who instantly rose for some unexplained reason your honor my client desires to suspend further proceedings with a view to effect a peaceable compromise with the plaintiff as he is a man of wealth and position he is able and willing to pay liberally for that privilege while i as his counsel am still convinced of his legal irresponsibility as he has chosen however to publicly abandon his rights here i can only ask your honor's permission to suspend further proceedings until i can confer with colonel starbottle as far as i can follow the pleadings said the judge gravely the king's

case seems to be hardly one for litigation, and I approve the defendant's course while I strongly urge the plaintiff to accept it. Colonel Starbottle bent over his fair client. Presently he rose, unchanged in look or demeanor, I yield your honor to the wishes of my client, and, er, lady, we accept. Before the court adjourned that day, it was known throughout the town that a donorum K. Hotchkiss had compromised the suit for $4,000 and cost. Colonel Starbottle had so far recovered his equanimity as to strut jauntily towards his office, where he was to meet his fair client. He was surprised, however, to find her already there, and in company with a somewhat sheepish-looking young man, a stranger. If the colonel had

any disappointment in meeting a third party to the interview, his old-fashioned courtesy did not permit him to show it. He bowed graciously, and politely motioned them each to a seat. "'I reckoned I'd bring Hiram round with me,' said the young lady, lifting her searching eyes after a pause to the colonels, though he was awful shy, and allowed that you didn't know him from Adam, even suspected his existence. But I said, there's just where you slip up, Hiram,

a powerful man like the colonel knows everything, and I've seen it in his eye. Lordy, she continues with a laugh, leaning forward over her parasol, as her eyes again sought the colonels, don't you remember when you asked me if I loved that old hotchkis, and I told you that's tellin? And you looked at me? Lordy, I knew then you suspected there was a Hiram somewhere, as good as if I told you. Now you, just you get up Hiram, and give the colonel a-and-you-one. good handshake. For if it wasn't for him and his search in ways and his awful power of language, I wouldn't have got that four thousand dollars out of that flirty old hotchkiss,

enough to buy a farm so you and me could get married. That's what you owe to him. Don't stand there like a stuck fool staring at him. He won't eat you. Though he's killed many a better man. Come, have I got to do all the kissing? It is of record that the colonel bowed so courteously, and so profoundly that he managed not merely to evade the proffered hand of the shy hiram but to only lightly touch the franker and more impulsive finger-tips of the gentle zady i offer my sincerest congratulations though i think you overestimate my powers of penetration unfortunately a pressing engagement which may oblige me also to leave town to-night forbids my same I have left the business-meddellment of this case in the hands of the lawyers who do my office-work, and who will show you every attention, and now let me wish you a very good afternoon. Nevertheless, the Colonel returned to his private room, and it was nearly twilight when

the faithful Jim entered to find him sitting meditatively before his desk. For God, Colonel, I hoped to be it. ain't nothin'n't nothin'n'n'n'n'n'n'n'n'n'n'n'n'n'n'n'n'n'n'n'n'n'n'n'n''n'n'''n''''n''''n''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' glass, but I'm a-getting old, and somehow I'm missing poor striker damnably. End of Story 13. Part 2. Story 14 of The Best American Humorous Short Stories by Alexander Jessop Editor. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Story 14 The Duplicity of Hargraves

1902 by O'Henry. From the Junior Muncie, February 1902, republished in the volume Sixes and Sevens, 1911 by O'Henry, copyright 1911 by Doubleday, Page, and Company, reprinted by their permission. When Major Pendleton Talbot of Mobile, Alabama, and his daughter, Miss Lydia Talbot, came to Washington to reside, they selected for a boarding-place a house that stood fifty yards back from one of the quietest avenues. It was an old-fashioned brick building, with a portical upheld by tall white pillars. The yard was shaded by stately locusts and elms, and a katalpa tree in season reigned its pink and white blossoms upon the grass. Rows of high box bushes lined the

fence and walks. the southern style, an aspect of the place that pleased the eyes of the Talbot's. In this pleasant private boarding-house they engaged rooms, including a study for Major Talbot, who was adding the finishing chapters to his book, Anecdotes and Reminiscences of the Alabama Army, Bench and Bar. Major Talbot was of the old, old South. The present day had little interest or excellence in his eyes. His mother. mine lived in that period before the Civil War, when the Talbot's owned thousands of acres of fine cotton land, and the slaves to till them, when the family mansion was the scene of princely

hospitality, and drew its guests from the aristocracy of the South. Out of that period he had brought all its old pride and scruples of honor, an antiquated and punctilious politeness, and, you would think its wardrobe. Such clothes were surely never made within fifty years. The major was tall, but whenever he made that wonderful archaic genuflection, he called a bow, the corners of his frock coat swept the floor. That garment was a surprise, even to Washington, which has long ago ceased to shy at the frocks and broad-brimmed hats of southern congressmen. One of the boarders christened it of Father Hubbard, and it certainly was high in the waist and full in the skirt. But the Major, with all his queer clothes, his immense area of plaited, raveling shirt-bosom,

and the little black string tie with the bow always slipping on one side, both was smiled at and liked in Mrs. Vardaman's select boarding-house. Some of the young department clerks would often string him, as they called it, getting him. started upon the subject dearest to him the traditions and history of his beloved southland during his talks he would quote freely from the anecdotes and reminiscences but they were very careful not to let him see their designs for in spite of his sixty-eight years he could make the boldest of them uncomfortable under the steady regard of his piercing gray eyes miss lydia was a plump little old maid of thirty-five with smoothly drawn tightly twisted hair that made her look still older old-fashioned too she was but antebellum glory did not radiate from her as it did from the major she possessed a thrifty common sense and it was she who handled the finances of the family and met all comers when there were bills to pay the major regarded board bills and wash bills as contemptible nuisances they kept coming in so persistently and so often

why the major wanted to know could they not be filed and paid in a lump sum at some convenient period say when the anecdotes and reminiscences had been published and paid for miss lydia would calmly go on with her sewing and say we'll pay as we go as long as the money lasts and then perhaps they'll have to lump it most of mrs vardamond's boarders were away during the day being nearly all department clerks and business men but there was one of them who was about the house a great deal from morning to night this was a young man named henry hopkins hargraves every one in the house addressed him by his full name who was engaged at one of the popular vaudeville theatres vaudeville has risen to such a respectable plane in the last few years and mr hargraves was such a modest and well-mannered person that mrs vardeman could find no objection to enrolling him upon her list of borders at the theatre hargraves was known as an all-round dialect comedian having a large repertoire of german irish swede and blackface specialties but mr hargraves was ambitious and often spoke of his great desire to succeed in legitimate comedy this young man appeared to conceive a strong fancy for major talbot whenever that gentleman would begin his southern reminiscences or repeat some of the liveliest of the anecdotes hargraves could always be found the most attentive among his listeners for a time the major showed an inclination to discourage the advances of the play-actor as he privately termed him but soon the young man's agreeable manner and indubitable appreciation of the old gentleman's stories completely won him over.

It was not long before the two were like old chums. The Major set apart each afternoon to read to him the manuscript of his book. During the anecdotes Hargraves never failed to laugh at exactly the right point. The Major was moved to declare to Miss Lydia one day that young Hargraves possessed remarkable perception and a gratifying respect for the old regime. when it came to talking of those old days, if Major Talbot liked to talk, Mr. Hargraves was entranced to listen. Like almost all old people who talk of the past, the Major loved to linger over details. In describing the splendid, almost royal days of the old planters, he would hesitate

until he had recalled the name of the negro who held his horse, or the exact date of certain minor happenings, or the number of bales of cotton raised in such a year. But Hargraves never grew impatient or lost interest. On the contrary, he would advance questions on a variety of subjects connected with the life of that time, and he never failed to extract ready replies. The fox-hunts, the possum suppers, the ho-downs and jubilees in the negro quarters, the banquets in the plantation-house hall, when invitations went for fifty miles around, the occasional feuds with the neighboring gentry,

the major's duel with Rathbone Culbertson, about Kitty Chalmers, who afterwards married a thwaite of South Carolina, and private yacht races for fabulous sums on Mobile Bay, the quaint beliefs, impoveridant habits, and loyal virtues of the old slaves, All these were subjects that held both the Major and Hargraves absorbed for hours at a time. Sometimes at night when the young man would be coming upstairs to his room after his turn at the theater was over, the Major would appear at the door of his study and beckon archly to him. Going in, Hargraves would find a little table set with a decanter, sugar-bowl, fruit,

and a big bunch of fresh green mint. It occurred to me, the major would begin, he was always ceremonious, that perhaps you might have found your duties at your place of occupation, sufficiently adduous to enable you, Mr. Hargraves, to appreciate what the poet might well have had in his mind when he wrote, Tired Nature's Sweet Restorer, One of our Southern Juleps. It was a fascination to Hargrave to watch him make it. He took rank among artists when he began, and he never varied the process. With what delicacy he bruised the mint, with what exquisite nicety he estimated the ingredients, with what solicitous care he capped the compound with the scarlet fruit glowing against the dark green fringe, and then the hospitality and grace with which he offered it, after the selected

oat-straws had been plunged into its tinkling depths. After about four months in Washington, Miss Lydia discovered one morning that they were almost without money. The anecdotes and reminiscences was completed. But publishers had not jumped at the collected gems of Alabama's scents and wit. The rental of a small house which they still owned in Mobile was two months in arrears. Their board money for the month would be due in three days. Miss Lydia called her father to a consultation. "'No money,' said he with a surprised look. It is quite annoying to be called on so frequently for these petty sums. Really I—' The Major searched his pockets. He found only a two-dollar bill.

which he returned to his vest pocket. I must attend to this at once, Lydia, he said. Kindly get me my umbrella, and I will go downtown immediately. The congressman from our district, General Fulgham, assured me some days ago that he would use his influence to get my book published at an early date. I will go to his hotel at once and see what arrangement has been made. with a sad little smile miss lydia watched him button his father hubbard and depart pausing at the door as he always did to bow profoundly

that evening at dark he returned it seemed that congressman fulgum had seen the publisher who had the major's manuscript for reading that person had said that if the anecdotes etc were carefully pruned down about one-half in o'clock order to eliminate the sectional and class prejudice with which the book was dyed from end to end, he might consider its publication. The Major was in a white heat of anger, but regained his equanimity, according to his code of manners, as soon as he was in Miss Lydia's presence. We must have money, said Miss Lydia, with a little wrinkle above her nose. Give me the two dollars, and I will telegraph to her. Uncle Ralph for some to-night.

The Major drew a small envelope from his upper vest pocket and tossed it on the table. Perhaps it was injudicious, he said mildly, but the sum was so merely nominal that I bought tickets to the theatre to-night. It's a new war-drama, Lydia. I thought you would be pleased to witness its first production in Washington. I am told that the South has fair treatment in the play. I confess I would like to see the performance myself." Miss Lydia threw up her hands in silent despair.

Still, as the tickets were bought, they might as well be used. So that evening, as they sat in the theatre listening to the lively overture, even Miss Lydia was minded to relegate their troubles for the hour to second place. The Major, in spotless linen, with his extraordinary coat showing only where it was closely buttoned, and his white hair smoothly roached, looked really fine and distinguished. The curtain went up on the first act of a magnolia flower, revealing a typical southern plantation scene. Major Talbot betrayed some interest. "'Oh, see!' exclaimed Miss Lydia, nudging his arm,

and pointing to her programme the major put on his glasses and read the line in the cast of characters that her fingers indicated colonel webster calhoun mr hopkins hargraves it's our mr hargraves said miss lydia it must be his first appearance in what he calls the legitimate i'm so glad for him not until the second act did colonel webster calhoun appear upon the stage When he made his entry, Major Talbot gave an audible sniff, glared at him, and seemed to freeze solid. Miss Lydia uttered a little ambiguous squeak and crumpled her program in her hand, for Colonel Calhoun was made up as nearly resembling Major Talbot as one pea does another. The long thin white hair, curly at the ends, the aristocratic beak of a nose, the crumpled wide, raveling shirt-front, the string tie, with the bow nearly under one ear, were almost exactly duplicated. And then, to clinch the imitation, he wore the twin to the major's

supposed to be unparalleled coat. High-collared, baggy, empire-waisted, ample skirted, hanging a foot lower in front than behind, the garment could have been designed from no other. pattern. From then on the Major and Miss Lydia sat bewitched and saw the counterfeit presentment of a haughty Talbot dragged, as the Major afterward expressed it, through the slanderous mire of a corrupt stage. Mr. Hargraves had used his opportunities well. He had caught the Major's little idiosyncrasies of speech, accent, and intonation, and his pompous courtliness to perfection, exaggerating all to the purpose of the stage. When he performed that marvelous bow that the major fondly imagined, to be the pink of all salutations,

the audience sent forth a sudden round of hearty applause. Miss Lydia sat immovable, not daring to glance toward her father. Sometimes her hand next to him would be laid against her cheek, as if to conceal the smile, which, in spite of her disapproval, she could not entirely suppress. The culmination of Hargrave's audacious imitation took place in the third act. The scene is where Colonel Calhoun entertains a few of the neighboring planters in his den. Standing at a table in the center of the stage with his friends grouped about him, he delivers that inimitable, rambling character monologue so famous in a young man.

magnolia flower at the same time that he deftly makes juleps for the party major talbot sitting quietly but white with indignation heard his best stories retold his pet theories and hobbies advanced and expanded and the dream of the anecdotes and reminiscences served exaggerated and garbled his favorite narrative that of his duel with rathbone culbertson was not omitted, and it was delivered with more fire, egotism, and gusto than the Major himself put into it. The monologue concluded with a quaint, delicious, witty little lecture on the art of concocting a julep, illustrated by the act. Here Major Talbot's delicate but showy science was reproduced to a hair's breath, from his dainty handling of the fragrant weed, the one thousand-tenthsand, the one-thousand,

part of a grain too much pressure, gentlemen, and you extract the bitterness, instead of the aroma of this heaven-bestowed plant, to his solicitous selection of the oaten straws. At the close of the scene the audience raised a tumultuous roar of appreciation. The portrayal of the type was so exact, so sure and thorough, that the leading characters in the play were forgotten. After repeated calls, Hargraves came before the curtain, and bowed his rather boyish face, bright and flushed with the knowledge of success. At last Miss Lydia turned and looked at the major.

His thin nostrils were working like the gills of a fish. He laid both shaking hands upon the arms of his chair to rise. "'We will go, Lydia,' he said chokingly. this is an abominable desecration. Before he could rise, she pulled him back into his seat. We will stay it out, she declared. Do you want to advertise the copy by exhibiting the original coat? So they remained to the end.

Hargrave's success must have kept him up late that night, for neither at the breakfast nor at the dinner table did he appear. three in the afternoon, he tapped at the door of Major Talbot's study. The Major opened it, and Hargraves walked in with his hands full of the morning papers, too full of his triumph to notice anything unusual in the Major's demeanor. "'I put it all over him last night, Major,' he began exultingly. I had my inning, and I think scored. Here's what the Post says.

conception and portrayal of the old-time southern colonel with his absurd grandiloquence, his eccentric garb, his quaint idioms and phrases, his moth-eaten pride of family, and his really kind heart, fastidious sense of honor, and lovable simplicity, is the best delineation of a character role on the boards to-day. The coat worn by Colonel Calhoun is itself nothing less than an evolution of genius. Mr. Hargraves has captured his public. How does that sound, Major, for a first-nighter? I had the honour—the Major's voice sounded ominously frigid,

of witnessing your very remarkable performance, sir, last night. Hargraves looked disconcerted. You were there? I didn't know you ever—I didn't know you ever—I didn't know you— you cared for the theatre. Oh, I say, Major Talbot, he exclaimed frankly, don't you be offended. I admit I did get a lot of pointers from you that helped out wonderfully in the park,

but it's a type, you know, not individual. The way the audience caught on shows that. Half the patrons of that theatre are Southerners. They recognised it. Mr. Hargraves, said the Major, who had remained standing, you have put upon me an unpardonable insult. You have burlesked my person, grossly betrayed my confidence, and misused my hospitality. If I thought you possessed the faintest conception of what is the sign-manual of a gentleman

or what is due one, I would call you out, sir, old as I am. I will ask you to leave the room, sir." The actor appeared to be slightly bewilder. bewildered, and seemed hardly to take in the full meaning of the old gentleman's words. "'I am truly sorry you took offence,' he said regretfully. "'Up here we don't look at things just as you people do. I know men who would buy out half the house to have their personality put on the stage so the public would recognize it.'

"'They are not from Alabama, sir,' said the Major haughtily. "'Perhaps not. I have a pretty. Pretty good memory, Major. Let me quote a few lines from your book. In response to a toast at a banquet given in Millageville, I believe, you uttered and intend to have printed these words. The northern man is utterly without sentiment or warmth, except insofar as the feelings may be turned to his own commercial profit. He will suffer without resentment any imputation cast upon the honor of himself or his loved ones that does not bear with it the consequence of pecuniary loss. In his charity he gives with a liberal hand, but it must be heralded with the trumpet and chronicled

in brass. Do you think that picture is fairer than the one you saw of Colonel Calhoun last night? The description, said the major frowning, is not without grounds. some exag-latitude must be allowed in public speaking and in public acting replied hargraves that is not the point persisted the major unrelenting it was a personal caricature i positively declined to overlook it sir major talbot said hargraves with a winning smile i wish you would understand me i want you to know that i never dreamed of insulting you in my profession all life belongs to me I take what I want, and what I can, and return it over the footlights. Now, if you will, let's let it go at that. I came in to see you about something else.

We've been pretty good friends for some months, and I'm going to take the risk of offending you again. I know you are hard up for money, never mind how I found out. A boarding-house is no place to keep such matters secret. And I want you to let me help you out of the pinch. i've been there often enough myself i've been getting a fair salary all the season and i've saved some money you're welcome to a couple hundred or even more until you get stop commanded the major with his arms outstretched it seems that my book didn't lie after all you think your money will heal all the hurts of honor under no circumstances would i accept a loan from a casual acquaintance and as to you sir i would starve before i would consider your insulting offer of a financial adjustment of the circumstances we have discussed i beg to repeat my request relative to your quitting the apartment

hargraves took his departure without another word he also left the house the same day moving as mrs verdamon explained at the supper-table nearer the vicinity of the downtown theater, where a magnolia flower was booked for a week's run. Critical was the situation with Major Talbot and Miss Lydia. There was no one in Washington to whom the Major's scruples allowed him to apply for a loan. Miss Lydia wrote a letter to Uncle Ralph, but it was doubtful whether that relative's constricted affairs would permit him to furnish help. The Major was forced to make an apologetic address to Mrs. Vardaman regarding the delayed payment for board, referring to delinquent rentals and delayed remittances, in a rather

confused strain. Deliverance came from an entirely unexpected source. Late one afternoon the doormade came up and announced an old-coloured man who wanted to see Major Talbot. The Major asked that he be sent up to his study. Soon an old darky appeared at the doorway with his hat in hand, bowing and scraping with one clumsy foot. He was quite decently dressed in a baggy suit of black. His big, coarse shoes shone with a metallic luster suggestive of stove polish. His bushy wool was grey, almost white. After middle life, it is difficult to estimate the age of a negro. This one might have seen as many years as had Major Talbot. I be bound to you don't know me, Mars Pendleton, were his first words. The Major rose and came forward at the

old familiar style of address. It was one of the old plantation darkies, without a doubt, but they had been widely scattered, and he could not recall the voice or face. "'I don't believe I do,' he said kindly, unless you will assist my memory. "'Don't you remember Cindy's Mose, Mars Pendleton, what migrated immediately after the war?' "'Wait a minute,' said the Major, rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He loved to recall everything connected with those beloved days. "'Sindy's Moes,' he reflected, "'you worked among the horses, breaking the Colts.

Yes, I remember now. After the surrender you took the name of—' "'Don't prompt me—' "'Mitchell!' "'And went to the west—to Nebraska.' yes sir yes sir the old man's face stretched with a delighted grin dat's him that's it new brasca dat's me mose mitchell old uncle mose mitchell dey calls me now old moss your pa g'm me a pair o dem mule-coats when i left for to stop me goin with you remember dem colts maz pendleton i don't seem to recall the colts said the major you know i was married the first year of the war and living at the old Fallingsby place.

But sit down, sit down, Uncle Mose. I'm glad to see you. I hope you have prospered. Uncle Mose took a chair and laid his hat carefully on the floor beside it. Yes, sir. Of late I done murdy famous. When I first got to New Brasca, the folks come all round me to see them mule coats.

They ain't see no mules like them in New Braska. I sold them mules for three hundred. Yes, sir, three hundred. Then I opened a blacksmith shop, sir, and made some money, and bought some land. Me and my old woman done raised up seven chill'em, and all done well except to them what died. For a year ago, a railroad come along and start a town slam up against my land, and sir, Mars Pendleton, Uncle Moes, am worth eleven thousand dollars in money, property, and land. i'm glad to hear it said the major heartily glad to hear it and dat little baby o yore ma's pendleton one that you name miss lydie i be bound dat little tad dun growed up to tell nobody won't know her the major stepped to the door and called lyddy dear will you come miss lydia looking quite grown up and a little worried came in from her room dar now what d'i tell you i know dat baby dun be Plum growed up. You don't remember Uncle Moes, child?

This is Aunt Cindy's Moes, Lydia, explained the Major. He left Sunny Mead for the West when you were two years old. Well, said Miss Lydia, I can hardly be expected to remember you Uncle Moes at that age, and as you say, I'm plum-growed up, and was a blessed long time ago. But I'm glad to see you, even if I can't remember you. And she was, and so was the Major. Something alive and tangible had come to link them with the happy past. The three sat and talked over the olden times, the Major and Uncle Moes correcting or prompting each other as they reviewed the plantation scenes and days. The Major inquired what the old man was doing so far from his home. Uncle Moes am a delicate, he replied, to the Grand Baptist Convention in this city. I never preached none by being a resident elder in the church, and able for to pay my own expenses, they sent me long.

And how did you know we were in Washington? inquired, Miss Lydia. There's a colored man who works in the hotel where I stops, what comes from Mobile. He told me he's seen Mars Pendleton coming out in this here house one morning. What I come for, continued Uncle Moes, reaching into his pocket, besides the side of home, folks, was to pay a Mars Pendleton what I owes him. Yes, sir, three hundred dollars. He handed the major a roll of bills. When I left, old Mars say, take them mule-coats, Moes, and if it gets be so you gets able,

pay for him. Yes, sir, them was his words. The war had done left Old Mars Poe himself. Old Mars being long ago dead, the debt descends to Mars Pendleton. Three hundred dollars. Uncle Moses is plenty able to pay now. When that railroad by my land i laid off to pay for them mules count de money maz pendleton that's what i sold them mules for yes sir tears were in major talbot's eyes he took uncle moses hand and laid his other upon his shoulder dear faithful old servitor he said in an unsteady voice i don't mind saying to you that maz pendleton spent his last dollar in the world a week ago we will accept this money uncle mose since in a way it is a sort of payment as well as a token of the loyalty and devotion of the old regime lydia my dear take the money you are better fitted than i to manage its expenditure take it honey said uncle mose it belongs to you it's talbot money after uncle mose had a good cry for joy and the major turned his face to a corner and smoked his clay pipe volcanically the succeeding days saw the talbot's restored to peace and ease miss lydia's face lost its worried look the major appeared in a new frock coat in which he looked like a wax figure personifying the memory of his golden age

another publisher who read the manuscript of the anecdotes and reminiscences thought that with a little retouching and toning down of the highlights he could make a really bright and salable volume of it altogether the situation was comfortable and not without the touch of hope that is often sweeter than arrived blessings one day about a week after their piece of good luck a maid brought a letter for miss lydia to her room the postmark showed that it was from new york not knowing any one there miss lydia in a mild flutter of wonder sat down by her table and opened the letter with her scissors this is what she read dear miss talbot i thought you might be glad to hear of my good fortune i have received and accepted an offer of two hundred dollars per week by a new york stock company to play colonel calhoun in a magnolia flower there is something else i wanted you to know i guess you'd better not tell major talbot i was anxious to make him some amends for the great help he was to me in studying the part and for the bad humor he was in about it. He refused to let me, so I did it anyhow. I could easily spare the three hundred. Sincerely yours H. Hopkins Hargraves. P. S. How did I play Uncle Moes? Major Talbot, passing through the hall, saw Miss Lydia's door open and stopped.

"'Any mail for us this morning, Lydia, dear?' he asked. Miss Lydia slid the letter beneath a fold of her dress. The Mobile Chronicles came, she said promptly, it's on the table in your study. End of Story 14. Story 15 of the Best American Humorous Short Stories by Alexander Jessop editor. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Story 15, Bargand Day at Tut House, 1905 by George Randolph Chester. From McClure's magazine, June 1905, Copyright 1905 by the SS MacLure Company, republished by the author's permission. Just as the stage rumbled over the rickety old bridge, creaking and groaning, the sun came from behind the clouds that had frowned all the way, and the passengers cheered up a bit. The two richly-dressed

matrons who had been so utterly and unnecessarily oblivious, to the presence of each other, now suspended hostilities for the moment, by mutual and unspoken consent, and viewed with relief the little golden-tinted valley, and the tree-clad rode just beyond. The respective husbands of these two ladies exchanged a mere glance, no more, of comfort. They too were relieved, though more by the momentary truce than by anything else, they regretted very much to be compelled to hate each other, for each had reckoned up his vis-a-vis as a rather proper sort of fellow, probably a man of some achievement, used to good living

and good company. Extreme iciness was unavoidable between them, however, when one stranger has a splendidly preserved blonde wife, and the other a splendidly preserved brunette wife, both of whom have won social prominence by years of hard-fighting and aloofness, there remains nothing for the two men, but to follow the lead, especially when directly under the eyes of the leaders. The son of the blonde matron smiled cheerfully as the welcome light flooded the coach. He was a nice-looking young man of about twenty-two, one might judge, and he did his smiling, though, in a perfectly impersonal and,

correct sort of manner, at the pretty daughter of the brunette matron. The pretty daughter also smiled, but her smile was demurely directed at the trees outside, clad as they were in all the flaming glory of their autumn tents, glistening with the recent rain and dripping with gems that sparkled and flashed in the noonday sun as they fell. It is marvelous how much one can see out of the corner of the eye, while seeming to view mere scenery. The driver looked down as he drove safely off the bridge

and shook his head at the swirl of water that rushed and eddied, dark and muddy, close up under the rotten planking. Then he cracked his whip and the horses sturdily attacked the little hill. Thick overhanging trees on either side now dimmed the light again and the two plump matrons once more glared past the opposite shoulders, profoundly unaware of each other. The husbands took on the politely surly look required of them.

The blonde son's eyes still sought the brunette daughter, but it was furtively done and quite unsuccessfully, for the daughter was now doing a little glaring on her own account. The blonde matron had just swept her eyes across the daughter's skirt, estimating the fit and material of it with contempt so artistically veiled that it could almost be understood in the dark two the big bays swung to the brow of the hill with ease and dashed into a small circular clearing where a quaint little two-story building with a mossy watering-trough out in front nestled under the shade of majestic old trees that reared their brown and scarlet crowns proudly into the sky a long low porch ran across the front of the structure and a complaining sign hung out announcing in dim weather-flecked letters on a cracked board that this was the tut house a gray-headed man in brown overalls and faded blue jumper stood on the porch and shook his fist at the stage as it whirled by what a delightfully old-fashioned inn exclaimed the pretty daughter how i should like to stop there over night

you would probably wish yourself away before morning evelyn replied her mother indifferently no doubt it would be a mere siege of discomfort the blonde matron turned to her husband the pretty daughter had been looking at the picturesque inn between the heads of this lady and her son edward please pull down the shade behind me she directed there is quite a draught from that broken window the pretty daughter bit her lip the brunette matron continued to stare at the shade in the exact spot upon which her gaze had been before directed and she never quivered an eyelash the young man seemed very uncomfortable and he tried to look his apologies to the pretty daughter but she could not see him now not even if her eyes had been all corners they were bowling along through another avenue of trees when the driver suddenly shouted woe there the horses were brought up with a jerk that was well-nigh fatal to the assortment of dignity inside the coach a loud roaring could be heard both ahead and in the rear a sharp splitting like a fusillade of pistol shots then a creaking and tearing of timbers the driver bent suddenly forward get up he cried and the horses sprang forward with a lurch he swung them around a sharp bend with a skilful hand and poised his weight above the brake as they plunged at terrific speed down a steep grave the roaring was louder than ever now and it became deafening as they suddenly emerged from the thick underbrush at the bottom of the declivity caught by gravy ejaculated the driver and for the second

time he brought the coach to an abrupt stop. To see what is the matter, Ralph, said the blonde matron impatiently. Thus commanded, the young man swung out and asked the driver about it. Paints-filled dams busted, he was informed. I been looking for it this many a year, and this here fresh had done it. You see the holler there? Well, there's ten foot of water in it, and it had ought to be stone-dry. The bridge is tore out behind us, and we're stuck here till that water runs out.

We can't get away till to-mary, anyways. He pointed out the peculiar topography of the place, and Ralph got back in the coach. We're practically on a flood-made island, he exclaimed, with one eye on the pretty daughter, and we shall have to stop overnight at that quaint, old-fashioned inn we passed a few moments ago. The pretty daughter's eyes twinkled, and he thought he caught a swift, direct gleam from under the long lashes, but he was not sure. Dear me, how annoying, said the blonde matron, but the brunette matron still stared, without the slightest trace of interest in anything else, at the infinitesimal spot she had selected on the affronting window-shade. the two men gave sighs of resignation and cast carefully concealed glances at each other speculating on the possibility of a cigar and a glass and maybe a good story or two or possibly even a game of poker after the evening meal

who could tell what might or might not happen three when the stage drew up in front of the little hotel it found uncle billy tutt prepared for for his revenge. In former days the stage had always stopped at the Tut house for the noonday meal. Since the new railway was built through the adjoining county, however, the stage trip became a mere 12-mile cross-country transfer from one railroad to another, and the stage made a later trip, allowing the passengers plenty of time for dinner before they started. Day after day, as the coach flashed by with its money-laden passengers, Uncle Billy had hoped it would break down. But this was better, much better. The coach might be quickly mended, but not the flood.

I'm a-goin' to charge him till they squeal, he declared to the timidly protesting Aunt Margaret, and then I'm going to charge him at least a mite more, draught them. He retreated behind the rough wooden counter that did duty as a desk, slammed open the flimsy paper-bound cash-book that served as a register, and planted his elbows uncompromisingly on either side of it. Let him bring in their own traps, he commented, and Aunt Margaret fled, ashamed and conscious smitten to the kitchen. It seemed awful.

The first one out of the coach was the husband of the brunette matron, and, proceeding under instructions, he waited neither for luggage nor women-folk, but hurried straight into the Tut House. The other man would have been neck and neck with him in the race if it had not been that he paused to seize two suitcases and had the misfortune to drop one, which burst open and scattered a choice assortment of lingerie from one end of the dingy coach to the other. In the confusion of rescuing the fluffery,

the owner of the suitcase had to sacrifice her hot-tour. and help her husband and son block up the aisle, while the other matron had the ineffable satisfaction of being kept waiting, at last being enabled to say, sweetly and with the most polite consideration, will you kindly allow me to pass? The blonde matron raised up and swept her skirts back perfectly flat. She was pale, but collected. Her husband was pink, but. collected. Her son was crimson and uncollected. The brunette daughter could not have found an eye

anywhere in his countenance as she rustled out after her mother. I do hope that Belmont has been able to secure choice quarters, the triumphant matron remarked, as her daughter joined her on the ground. This place looked so very small that there can scarcely be more than one comfortable sweet in it. It was a vital thrust. Only a splendidly cultivated self-control prevented the blonde matron from retaliating upon the unfortunate who had muttled things. Even so, her eyes spoke whole shells of volumes. The man who first reached the register wrote in a straight black scrawl, J. Belmont von Kamp, wife and daughter, there being no space left for his address, he put none down.

I want three adjoining rooms, en suite, if possible, he demanded. Three, exclaimed Uncle Billy, scratching his head. Won't two, do you? I ain't got but six bedrooms in the house. Me and Modd sleeps in one, and we're a getting too old for a shake-down on the floor. I'll have to save one room for the driver, and that leads four. You take two now. Mr. Van Camp cast a hasty glance. out of the window. The other man was getting out of the coach. His own wife was stepping on the porch.

What do you ask for meals and lodging until this time to-morrow? He interrupted. The decisive moment had arrived. Uncle Billy drew a deep breath. Two dollars ahead, he defiantly announced. There, it was out. He wished Margaret had stayed to hear him say it. The guest did not seem to be seriously shocked, and Uncle Bill Billy was beginning to be sorry he had not said three dollars when Mr. Van Camp stopped the landlord's own breath. I'll give you $15 for the three best rooms in the house, he calmly said, and landlord tut gasped as the money fluttered down under his nose.

Just take your folks right on up, Mr. Camp, said Uncle Billy, pouncing on the money. The room is the three right along the whole front of the house. I'll be up and make a fire in a minute. Just take the Jonesville banner and the Udickie Clarean along with you. As the swish of skirts marked the passage of the Van Camps up the wide hall stairway, the other party swept into the room. The man wrote in a round flourish, Edward Eastman Ellsworth, wife and son. I'd like three choice rooms en suite, he said.

Gosh, said Uncle Billy regretfully, that's what Mr. Camp wanted. Fust off, and he got it. They ain't but the little room over the kitchen left. I'll have to put you and your wife in that, and let your boy sleep with the driver. The consternation in the Ellsworth party was past calculating by any known standards of measurement.

The thing was an outrage. It was not to be born. They would not submit to it. Uncle Billy, however, secure in his mastery of the situation, calmly quartered them as he had said, and let him splutter all they want to, he commented, comfortably to himself.

Four. The Ellsworth were holding a family indignation meeting on the broad porch, when the Van Camps came contentedly down for a walk, and brushed by them with unseeing eyes. It makes a perfectly fascinating sweet, observed Mrs. Van Camp, in a pleasantly conversation, tone that could be easily overheard by anyone impolite enough to listen that delightful old-fashioned fireplace in the middle apartment makes it an ideal sitting-room and the beds are so roomy and comfortable

i just knew it would be like this chirruped miss evelyn i remarked as we passed the place if you will remember how charming it would be to stop in this dear quaint old inn over night, all my wishes seemed to come true this year. These simple and of course entirely unpremeditated remarks were as vinegar and wormwood to Mrs. Ellsworth, and she gazed after the retreating van camps with a glint in her eye that would make one understand Lucretia Borgia at last. Her son also gazed after the retreating van camp. She had an exquisite figure, and she carried herself with the most delectable grace. As the party drew away from the inn, she dropped behind the elders

and wandered off into a side path to gather autumn leaves. Ralph, too, started off for a walk, but naturally not in the same direction. Edward, suddenly, said Mrs. Ellsworth, I want you to turn those people out of that suite before night. Very well, he said, He replied with a sigh and got up to do it. He had wrecked a railroad and made one,

and had operated successful corners in nutmegs and chicory. No task seemed impossible. He walked in to see the landlord. What are the Van Camps paying you for those three rooms, he asked? Fifteen dollars, Uncle Billy informed him, smoking one of Mr. Van Camp's good cigars, and twiddling his thumbs in huge content. i'll give you thirty for them just set their baggage outside and tell them the rooms are occupied no surree rejoined uncle billy a bargain's a bargain and i'll a llis stick to one i make

mr ellsworth withdrew but not defeated he had never supposed that such an absurd proposition would be accepted it was only a feeler and he had noticed a wince of regret in his landlord he sat down on the porch and lit a strong cigar his wife did not bother him she gazed complacently at the flaming foliage opposite and allowed him to think getting impossible things was his business in life and she had confidence in him i want to rent your entire house for a week he announced to uncle billy a few minutes later it had occurred to him that the flood might last longer than they anticipated uncle billy's eyes twinkled i reckon it can be dead he allowed i reckon a hotel man's got a right to rent his whole house airy minute. Of course he has. How much do you want? Uncle Billy had made one mistake in not asking this sort of folks enough, and he reflected in perplexity. Make me an offer, he proposed. Effin it ain't a nut, I'll tell you. You want to rent the whole place, back lot, and all. No, just the mere house, that will be enough, answered the other with a smile. He was on the

point of offering a hundred dollars when he saw the little wrinkles about Mr. Tut's eyes, and he said seventy-five. "'Sure, you're joking,' retorted Uncle Billy. He had been considered, a fine horse-trader in that part of the country. Make it a hundred and twenty-five, and I'll go you.' Mr. Ellsworth counted out some bills. "'Here's a hundred,' he said. "'That ought to be about right.'

"'Fifteen more,' insisted Uncle Billy. With a little frown of impatience, the other counted off the extra money and handed it over. Uncle Billy gravely handed it back. Them's the fifteen dollars Mr. Camp give me, he explained. You've got the whole house for a week, and, of course, all the money that's taken in is yorn. You can do as you please about renting out rooms to other folks, I reckon. A bargain's a bargain, and I always stick to one I make. Five. Ralph Ellsworth stalked among the trees, feverishly searching for squirrels,

scarlet leaves, and the glint of a brown walking-dress, this last not being so easy to locate in sunlit autumn woods. Time after time he quickened his pace, only to find that he had been fooled by a patch of dogwood, a clump of haw bushes, or even a leaf-strewn knoll, but at last he unmistakably saw the dress, and then he slowed down to a careless saunter. She was reaching up for some brilliantly colored maple leaves, and was entirely unconscious of his presence, especially after she had seen him. Her pose showed her pretty figure to advantage,

but of course she did not know that. How should she? Ralph admired the picture very much. The hat, the hair, the gown, the dainty shoes, even the narrow strip of silken hose that was revealed as she stood a tiptoe. were all of a deep rich brown that proved an exquisite foil for the pink and cream of her cheeks. He remembered that her eyes were almost the same shade, and wondered how it was that women-folk

happened on combinations in dress that so well set off their natural charms. The fool! He was about three trees away now, and a panic akin to that which hunters describe as Buck Ague seized him. He decided that he really had no excuse for coming any nearer. It would not do, either, to be seen staring at her if she should happen to turn her head. So he veered off, intending to regain the road. It would be impossible to do this without passing directly in her range of vision, and he did not intend to try to avoid it. He had a fine manly figure of his own. just passed the nearest radius to her circle, and was proceeding along the tangent that

he had laid out for himself, when the unwitting maid looked carefully down and saw a tangle of roots at her very feet. She was so unfortunate, a second later, as to slip her foot in this very tangle and give her ankle ever so slight a twist. "'Oh!' cried Miss Van Camp, and Ralph Ellsworth flew to the rescue. He had not been noticing her at all, and yet he had started to her side before she had even cried out, which was strange. She had a very attractive voice. "'May I be of assistance?' he anxiously inquired.

"'I think not, thank you,' she replied, compressing her lips to keep back the intolerable pain, and half-closing her eyes to show the fine lashes declining the proffered help she extricated her foot picked up her autumn branches and turned away she was intensely averse to anything that could be construed as a flirtation even of the mildest he could certainly see that she took a step swayed slightly dropped the leaves and clutched out her hand to him ah it is nothing she assured him in a moment withdrawing the hand after he had held it quite long enough nothing whatever i gave my foot a slight wrench and turned the least bit faint for a moment you must permit me to walk back at least to the road with you he insisted gathering up her arm-load of branches i couldn't think of leaving you here alone as he stooped to raise the gay woodland treasures he smiled to himself ever so slightly this was not his first season out either delightful spot isn't it he observed as they regained the road and sauntered in the direction of the tut-house quite so she reservedly answered she had noticed that smile as he stooped he must be snubbed a little it would be so good for him you don't happen to know billy evans of boston do you he asked i think not i am but very little acquainted in boston

too bad he went on i was rather in hope she knew billy all sorts of a splendid fellow and knows everybody not quite it seems she reminded him and he winced at the error in spite of the sly smile that he had permitted to himself he was unusually interested he tried the weather the flood the accident golf books and three good substantial warranted jokes, but the conversation lagged in spite of him. Miss Van Camp would not for the world have it understood that this unconventional meeting, made allowable by her wrenched ankle, could possibly fulfill the functions of a formal introduction. What a ripping queer old building that is, he exclaimed, making one more brave effort as they came inside in the hotel. It is, rather, she assented.

The rooms in it are as quaint and delightful as the exterior, too. She looked as harmless and innocent as a basket of peaches as she said it, and never the suspicion of a smile deepened the dimple in the cheek toward him. The smile was glowing cheerfully away inside, though. He could feel it, if he could not see it, and he laughed aloud. your crowd rather got the better of us there he admitted with the keen appreciation of one still quite close to college days of course the mater is furious but i rather look on it as a lark she thawed like an april icicle it's perfectly jolly she laughed with him awfully selfish of us too i know but such loads of fun they were close to the tat house now and her limp that had entirely disappeared as they emerged from the woods, now became quite perceptible.

There might be people looking out of the windows, though it is hard to see why that would affect a limp. Ralph was delighted to find that a thaw had set in, and he made one more attempt to establish at least a proxy acquaintance. You don't happen to know Payson Kingsley of Philadelphia, do you? I'm afraid I don't, she replied. I know so few Philadelphia people, you see. She was rather regretful about it this time. He really was a clever sort of a fellow, in spite of that smile. The center window in the second floor of the Tut house swung open its little squares of glass flashing jubilantly in the sunlight. Mrs. Ellsworth leaned out over the from the quaint old sitting-room of the Van Camp Apartments.

Oh, Ralph, she called in her most Dothet tones, kindly excuse yourself, and come right on up to our suite for a few moments. It is not nearly so easy to take a practical joke as to perpetuate one. Evelyn was sitting thoughtfully on the porch when her father and mother returned. Mrs. Ellsworth was sitting at the center window above, placidly looking out. Her eyes swept carelessly over the Van Camps, and unconcernedly passed on to the rest of the landscape. Mrs. Van Camp gasped and clutched the arm of her husband.

There was no need. He, too, had seen the apparition. Evelyn, now for the first time, saw the real humor of the situation. She smiled as she thought of Ralph. She owed him one, but she never worried about her debts. She always managed to get them paid, principal, and interest. Mr. Van Camp suddenly glowered and strode into the tut-house. Uncle Billy met him at the door, reflectively chewing a straw, and handed him an envelope.

Mr. Van Camp tore it open and drew out a note. Three-five-dollar bills came out with it and fluttered, to the porch floor. This missive confronted him. Mr. J. Belmont Van Camp. Dear sir, this is to notify you that I have rented the entire Tutte House for the ensuing week and am compelled to assume possession of the three second-floor front rooms. Herewith I am enclosing the $15 you paid to secure the suite.

You are quite welcome to make use, as my guest, of the small room over the kitchen. You will find your luggage in that room. Regretting any inconvenience that this transaction may cause you, I am yours respectfully, Edward Eastman Ellsworth. Mr. Van Camp passed the note to his wife and sat down on a large chair. He was glad that the chair was comfortable and roomy. Evelyn picked up the bills and tucked them into her waist. She never overlooked any of her perquisites.

Mrs. Van Camp read the note, and the tip of her nose became white. She also sat down, but she was the first to find her voice. "'Atrocious!' she exclaimed. "'Atrocious! Simply atrocious, Belmont! This is a house of public entertainment. They can't turn us out in this high-handed manner. Isn't there a law or something to that effect?' "'It wouldn't matter if there was,' he thoughtfully replied.

this fellow Ellsworth would be too clever to be caught by it. He would say that the house was not a hotel but a private residence during the period for which he has rented it. Personally, he rather admired Ellsworth, seemed to be a resourceful sort of chap, who knew how to make money behave itself and do its little tricks without balking in the harness.

Then you can make him take down the sign, his wife declared. He shook his head, decidedly. It wouldn't do, Belle, he replied. It would be spite, not retaliation, and not at all sportsmanlike. The course you suggest would be little us more than it would annoy them. There must be some other way.

He went in to talk with Uncle Billy. I want to buy this place, he stated. Is it for sale? It's artin is, replied Uncle Billy. He did not merely twinkle this time. grinned. How much? Three thousand dollars. Mr. Tut was used to charging by this time, and he betrayed no hesitation. I'll write you out a check at once, and Mr. Van Camp reached in his pocket with the reflection that the spot, after all, was an ideal one for a quiet summer

retreat. Ain't you going to scribble that there, three thousand on a piece of paper, inquired Uncle billy sitting bolt upright eff'n you e'er figgin on that mr camp just you save your time i give a man four dollars for one of em chekin things once an i owe myself them four dollars yet mr van camp retired in disorder but the thought of his wife and daughter waiting confidently on the porch stopped him moreover the thing had resolved itself rather into a contest between elsworth and himself and he had done a little making and breaking of men and things in his own time he did some gatling gun thinking out by the newel post and presently rejoined uncle billy mr tutt tell me just exactly what mr ellsworth rented please he requested the whole house replied billy and then he somewhat sternly added paid me spot cash for it too mr van camp took a wad of loose bills from his trousers 's pocket, straightened them out leisurely, and placed them in his bill-book, along with some smooth yellow backs of eye-bulging denominations. Uncle Billy sat up and stopped twiddling his thumbs. Nothing was said about the furniture was there, suavely inquired Van Camp.

Uncle Billy leaned blankly back in his chair. Little by little, the light dawned on the ex-horse-trader. The crow's feet reappeared. about his eyes, his mouth twitched, he smiled, he grinned, then he slapped his thigh and ha-ha-d. "'No,' roared Uncle Billy. "'No, there wasn't by gum. Nothing but the house.' "'His very own words, chuckled Uncle Billy.

"'Just the mere house,' says he, and he gets it. "'A-boggins a-boggin, and I'll always stick to one I make.' "'How much for the furniture for the week?' "'Fifty dollars.' mr tutt knew how to do business with this kind of people now you bet mr van camp promptly counted out the money drat it commented uncle billy to himself i could a got more now where can we make ourselves comfortable with this furniture uncle billy jerked up all was not yet lost wow he reflectively drawled there's the new bond it ain't been used for nothin yet since i built it two years ago I just hadn't the hot to put the critters in as long as the old one stood up." The other smiled at this flashlight on Uncle Billy's character, and they went out to look

at the barn. 7. Uncle Billy came back from the Tut House Annex, as Mr. Van Camp dubbed the barn, with enough more money to make him love all the world until he got used to having it. Uncle Billy belongs to a large family. Mr. Van Camp joined the women on the porch and explained the attractively novel situation to them. They were chatting gaily when the Ellsworths came down the stairs. Mr. Ellsworth paused for a moment to exchange a word with Uncle Billy.

"'Mr. Tut,' said he, laughing, "'if we go for a bit of exercise, will you guarantee us the possession of our rooms when we come back?' "'Yes, sirree,' Uncle Billy assured him. "'They shan't nobody take them rooms away from me.' you for money marbles nor chalk a bargain's a bargain and i always stick to one i make and he virtuously took a chew of tobacco while he inspected the afternoon sky with a clear conscience i want to get some of those splendid autumn leaves to decorate our cosy apartments mrs ellsworth told her husband as they passed in hearing of the van camps do you know those old-time rag rugs are the most oddly decorative effects that i have ever seen they are so rich in color and so exquisitely blended there were reasons why this poisoned arrow failed to rankle but the van camps did not trouble to explain they were waiting for ralph to come out and join his parents ralph it seemed however had decided not to take a walk he had already fatigued himself he had explained and his mother had favored him with a significant look

she could readily believe him she had assured him and had then left him in scorn the van camps went out to consider the arrangement of the barn evelyn returned first and came out on the port to find a handkerchief. It was not there, but Ralph was. She was very much surprised to see him, and she intimated as much. It's dreadfully damp in the woods, he explained. By the way, you don't happen to know the Whitley's of Washington, do you? Most excellent people. I'm quite sorry that I do not, she replied, but you will have to excuse me. We shall be kept very busy with arranging our apartments. Ralph sprang to his feet with a ludicrous expression. Not the second-floor front suite, he exclaimed.

Oh, no, not at all, she reassured him. He laughed lightly. Honors are about even in that game, he said. Evelyn, called her mother from the hall. Please come and take those front-sweet curtains down to the barn. Pardon me while we take the next trick, remarked Evelyn with a laugh. quite as light and gleeful as his own, and disappeared into the hall. He followed her slowly, and was met at the door by her father.

"'You are the younger Mr. Ellsworth, I believe,' politely said Mr. Van Camp. "'Ralph Ellsworth, yes, sir.' "'Here is a note for your father. It is unsealed. You are quite at liberty to read it.' Mr. Van Camp bowed himself away, and Ralph opened the note which read, Edward Eastman Ellsworth, Esquire. Dear sir, this is to notify you that I have rented the entire furniture of the Tutthouse for the ensuing week, and am compelled to assume possession of that in the three-second-floor-front rooms, as well as all the balance not in actual use by Mr. and Mrs. Tutt and the driver of the stage.

You are quite welcome, however, to make use of the furnishings in the small room over the kitchen. your luggage you will find undisturbed regretting any inconvenience that this transaction may cause i remain yours respectfully j belmont van camp ralph scratched his head in amused perplexity it devolved upon him to even up the affair a little before his mother came back he must support the family reputation for resourcefulness but it took quite a bit of scalp irritation before he aggravated the right idea into being as soon as the idea came he went in and made a hide-bound bargain with uncle billy then he went out into the hall and waited until evelyn came down with a huge arm-load of window-curtains honours are still even he remarked i have just bought all the edibles about the place whether in the cellar the house or any of the surrounding structures in the ground above the ground dead or alive and a bargain's a bargain as between man and man clever of you i'm sure commented miss van camp reflectively suddenly her lips parted with a smile that revealed a double row of most beautiful teeth he meditatively watched the curve of her lips isn't that rather a heavy load he suggested i'd be delighted to help you move the things don't you know it is quite kind of you and what the men would call game i believe under the circumstances she answered but really it will not be necessary we have hired mr tutt and the driver to do the heavier part of the work and the rest of it will be really a pleasant diversion

No doubt, agreed Ralph, with an appreciative grin. By the way, you don't happen to know Maude and Dorothy Partridge of Baltimore, do you? Stunning pretty girls both of them, and no end of swells. I know so very few people in Baltimore, she murmured and tripped on down to the barn. Ralph went out on the porch and smoked. There was nothing else that he could do. Eight. It was growing.

dusk when the elder Ellsworth's returned, almost hidden by great masses of autumn boughs. "'You should have been with us, Ralph,' enthusiastically said his mother. "'I never saw such gorgeous tents in all my life. We have brought nearly the entire woods with us.' "'It was a good idea,' said Ralph. A stunning good idea. They may come in handy to sleep on.' Mrs. Ellsworth turned cold. "'What do you mean?' she gasped. Ralph, sternly demanded his father, "'You don't mean to tell us that you let the Van Camps jockey us out of those rooms after all?' "'Indeed, no,' he airily responded.

"'Just come right on up and see.' He led the way into the suite and struck a match. One solitary candle had been left upon the mantel-shelf. Ralph thought that this had been overlooked, but his mother afterwards set him right about that. mrs van camp had cleverly left it so that the ellsworth could see how dreadfully bare the place was one candle in three rooms is drearier than darkness anyhow mrs ellsworth took in all the desolation the dismal expanse of the now enormous apartments the shabby walls the hideous bright spots where pictures had hung the splintered flooring the great gaunt windows and she gave in she had met with snub after snub and cut after cut in her social climb she had had the cook quit in the middle of an important dinner she had had every disconcerting thing possible happened to her

but this this was the last bale of straw she sat down on a suit-case in the middle of the biggest room and cried ralph having waited for this now told about the food transaction and she hastily pushed the last coming tear back into her eye good she cried they will be up here soon they will be compelled to compromise and they must not find me with red eyes she cast a hasty glance around the room then in a sudden panic seized the candle and explored the other two she went wildly out into the hall back into the little room over the kitchen downstairs everywhere and returned in consternation there's not a single mirror left in the house she moaned ralph heartlessly grinned he could appreciate that this was a characteristic woman trick and wondered admiringly whether evelyn or her mother had thought of it however this was a time for action i'll get you some water to bathe your eyes he offered and ran into the little room over the kitchen to get a pitcher a cracked shaving mug was the only one of the only one of the little room over the kitchen to get a pitcher a cracked shaving mug was the only vessel that had been left, but he hurried down into the yard with it. This was no time for fastidiousness. He had barely creaked the pump handle when Mr. Van Camp hurried up from the barn. "'I beg your pardon, sir,' said Mr. Van Camp, but this water belongs to us. My daughter

bought it, all that is in the ground, above the ground, or that may fall from the sky upon these premises. 9. The mutual siege lasted until after seven o'clock, but it was rather one-sided. The band-camps could drink all the water they liked. It made them no hungrier. If the Ellsworth ate anything, however, they grew thirstier, and, moreover, water was necessary if anything worth while was to be cooked.

They knew all this, and resisted until Mrs. Ellsworth was tempted to and fell. She ate a sandwich and choked. It was heart-breaking, but Ralph had to be sent down with a plate of sandwiches and an offer to trade them for water. Halfway between the pump in the house, he met Evelyn coming with a small pail of the precious fluid. They both stopped stock still, then, seeing that it was too late to retreat, both laughed and advanced. "'Who wins now?' bantered Ralph. as they made the exchange. It looks to me like a misdeal, she gaily replied, and was moving away when he called her back.

You don't happen to know the gatelies of New York, do you? He was quite anxious to know. I am truly sorry, but I am acquainted with so few people in New York. We are from Chicago, you know. Oh, said he blankly and took the water up to the Ellsworth Suite. Mrs. Ellsworth cheered up considerably when she heard that Ralph had been met halfway, but her eyes snapped when he confessed that it was Miss Van Camp who had met him. I hope you are not going to carry on a flirtation with that overdressed creature, she blazed.

Why, mother! exclaimed Ralph, shocked beyond measure. What right have you to accuse either this young lady or myself of flirting? Flirting! Mrs. Ellsworth suddenly attacked the fire with quite unnecessary energy. Ten. Down at the barn, the wide threshing floor had been covered with gay rag rugs and strewn with tables, couches, and chairs in picturesque profusion. Roomy box-stalls had been carpeted deep with clean straw,

curtained off with gaudy bed-quilts, and converted into cozy, sleeping apartments. The mo and the stalls had been screened off with lace curtains and blazing counterpains, and the whole effect was one of oriental luxury and splendor. Alas, it was only an effect. The red-hot parlor stove smoked abominably. The pipe carried other smoke out through the hay-mo window, only to let it blow back again. Chill cross-drafts whistled in from cracks too numerous to be stopped up, and the miserable van camps could only cough and shiver, and envy the Tuts and the driver, non-combatants, who had been fed two hours before. Up in the second-floor suite there was a roaring fire in the big fireplace, but there was

a chill in the room that no mere fire could drive away, the chill of absolute emptiness. A man can outlive hardships that would kill a woman, but a woman. can endure discomforts that would drive a man crazy. Mr. Ellsworth went out to hunt up Uncle Billy with an especial solace in mind. The landlord was not in the house, but the yellow gleam of a lantern revealed his presence in the woodshed, and Mr. Ellsworth stepped in upon him, just as he was pouring something yellow and clear into a tumbler from a big jug that he had just taken from under the flooring. How much do you want for that jug and its contents? he asked, with a sigh of gratitude,

that this supply had been overlooked. Before Mr. Tut could answer, Mr. Van Camp hurried in at the door, "'Wait a moment,' he cried. I want to bid on that. This here jug ain't for sale at no price,' Uncle Billy emphatically announced, nipping all negotiations right in the bug. It's too pesky hard to sneak this here liquor in past march, but I reckon it's my treat, gents. E can have all you want." One minute later, Mr. Van Camp and Mr. Ellsworth were seated, one on a saw-book and the other on a nail-keg, comfortably eyeing each other across the workbench, and each was holding up a tumbler one-third filled with the golden yellow liquid.

Your health, sir, courteously proposed, Mr. Ellsworth, and to you, sir, gravely. gravely replied mr van camp eleven ralph and evelyn happened to meet at the pump quite accidentally after the former had made half a dozen five minute apart trips for a drink it was miss van camp this time who had been studying on the mutual acquaintance problem you don't happen to know the tyler's of parkersburg do you she asked the tyler's i should say i'd do was the unexpected and enthusiastic reply. Why, we are on our way now to Miss Georgiana Tyler's wedding to my friend Jimmy Carston. I'm to be best man." How delightful! she exclaimed. We are on the way there, too.

Georgiana was my dearest Chalmet school, and I am to be her best girl. Let's go around on the porch and sit down, said Ralph. twelve mr van camp back in the woodshed looked about him with an eye of content rather cosy for a woodshed he observed i wonder if we couldn't scare up a little session of dollar limit both uncle billy and mr ellsworth were willing death and poker level all americans a fourth hand was needed however the stage driver was in bed and asleep and mr ellsworth volunteered to find the eggsworth's worth while extra player. I'll get Ralph, he said. He plays a fairly stiff game. He finally found his son on the porch, apparently alone, and stated his errand. Thank you, but I don't believe I care to play this evening, was the astounding reply, and Mr. Ellsworth looked closer. He made out then a dim figure on the other side of Ralph.

Oh, of course not, he blundered, and went back to the woodshed. three-handed poker is a miserable game and it seldom lasts long it did not in this case after uncle billy had won the only jackpot deserving of the name he was allowed to go blissfully to sleep with his hand on the handle of the big jug after poker there is only one other always available amusement for men and that is business the two travellers were quite well acquainted when ralph put his head in at the door. Thought I'd find you here, he explained. It just occurred to me to wonder whether you gentlemen had discovered as yet that we are all to be houseguests at the Carston-Tyler wedding. Why, no, exclaimed his father, in pleased surprise.

It is a most agreeable coincidence. Mr. Van Camp, allow me to introduce my son, Ralph. Mr. Van Camp and myself, Ralph, have found out that we shall be considerably thrown together in a business way from now on. He has just purchased control of the metropolitan and western string of interurbans. Delighted, I'm sure, murmured Ralph, shaking hands, and then he slipped out as quickly as possible. Someone seemed to be waiting for him. Perhaps another twenty minutes had passed, when one of the men had an illuminating idea

that resulted, later on, in pleasant relations for all. all of them. It was about time, for Mrs. Ellsworth, up in the bare suite, and Mrs. Van Camp, down in the drafty barn, both wrapped up to the chin, and both still chilly, had about reached the limit of patience and endurance. Why can't we make things a little more comfortable for all concerned, suggested Mr. Van Camp? Suppose, as a starter, that we have Mrs. VanCamp give a shiver party down in the barn. Good idea, agreed Mr. Ellsworth. A little diplomacy will do it.

Each one of us will have to tell his wife that the other fellow made the first abject overtures. Mr. Van Camp grinned understandingly and agreed to the infamous ruse. By the way, continued Mr. Ellsworth with a still happier thought, you must allow Mrs. Ellsworth to furnish the dinner for Mrs. Van Camp's shiver party. Dinner, gasped Mr. Van Camp, by all means. Both men felt an anxious yawning in the region of the appetite, and a yearning moisture

wetted their tongues. They looked at the slumbering Uncle Billy, and decided to see Mrs. Tut themselves about a good hot dinner for six. La me! exclaimed Aunt Mark. when they appeared at the kitchen door i swan i thought you folks had never come to your senses here i've had a big pot of stewed chicken ready on the stove for two mortal hours i can give you that and smashed taters and chicken gravy and dried corn and hot corn-pone and currant gel and strawberry preserves and my own cannon peaches and pumpkin-pie and coffee will that do you would it do would it do as aunt margaret talked the kitchen door swung wide and the two men were stricken speechless with astonishment there across from each other at the kitchen table sat the utterly selfish and traitorous younger members of the rival houses of elsworth and van camp deep in the joys of chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy and hot corn-pone and all the other fixings laughing and chatting gaily like chums of years standing they had seemingly just come to an agreement about something or other for evelyn waving the shorter end of a broken wishbone was vivaciously saying to ralph a bargain's a bargain and i always stick to one i make

End of Story 15. Story 16 of The Best American Humorous Short Stories by Alexander Jessup Editor. This Liberbox recording is in the public domain. Story 16 A Call, 1906, by Grace McGowan Cook. From Harper's Magazine, August 1906, copyright 1906, by Harper and Brothers, republished by the author's permission. A boy, in an unnaturally clean, country laundered collar, walked down a long white road. He scuffed the dust up wantonly, for he wished to veil the all-too-brillient polish of his cow-hide

shoes. Also the memory of the whiteness and slipperiness of his collar oppressed him. He was fain to look like one accustomed to social diversions, a man hurried from hall to hall of pleasure without time between to change collar or polish boot. He stooped and rubbed a crumb of earth on his over-fresh neck-linen. This did not long sustain his drooping spirit. He was mentally adrift upon the hints and helps to young men in business and social relations, which had suggested to him his present enterprise, when the appearance of a second youth,

taller and broader than himself with a shock of light curling hair and a crop of freckles that advertised a rich soil threw him a life-line he put his thumbs to his lips and whistled in a peculiarly ear-splitting way the two boys had sat on the same bench at sunday-school not three hours before yet what a change had come over the world for one of them since then hello where you goin ab asked the newcomer gruffly colin replied the boy in the caller laconically but with carefully averted gaze on the girls inquired the other awestruck in mount pisca you saw the girl's home from night church socials or parties you could hang over the gate and you might walk with the girl in the cemetery of a sunday afternoon but to ring a front door-bell and ask for miss hart's desire one must have been in long trousers at least three years and the two boys confronted in the dusty road had worn these dignifying garments barely six months girls said abner loftily i don't know about girls i'm just going to call on one girl champy claiborne he marched on as though the conversation was at an end but ross hung upon his flank. Ross and Champy were neighbors, comrades in all sorts of mischief. He was in doubt whether to halt Abner and pummel him or propose to enlist under his banner.

Do you reckon you could, he debated, trotting along by the irresponsive Jilton boy? Run home to your mother, growled the originator of the plan, savagely. You ain't old enough to call on girls. Anybody can see that, but I am, and I'm going to to call on Champy Claiborne. Again the name acted as a spur on Ross. With your collar and boots all dirty, he jeered, they won't know your calling. The boy in the road stopped short in his dusty tracks. He was an intense creature, and he whitened at the tragic insinuation, longing for the wholesome stay and companionship of freckle-faced Ross. I put the dirt on a purpose so's to look kind of careless,' he half whispered in an agony of doubt.

Suppose I'd better go into your house and try to wash it off? Reckon your mother would let me? I've got two clean callers, announced the other boy proudly generous. I'll lend you one. You can put it on while I'm getting ready. I'll tell mother that we're just stepping out to do a little calling on the girls. Here was an ally worthy of the cause. Abner welcomed him, in spite of his.

of certain jealous twinges. He reflected with satisfaction that there were two Claiborne girls, and though Alicia was so stiff and prim that no boy would ever think of calling on her, there was still the hope that she might draw Ross's fire and leave him, Abner, to make the numerous remarks he had stored up in his mind from hints and helps to young men in social and business relations, to Champy alone. Mrs. Pryor received them with the easy-going kindness of the mother of one son. She followed them into the dining-room to kiss and feed him with an absent, Howdy, Abner?

How's your mother? Abner, big with the importance of their mutual intention, inclined his head stiffly and looked toward Ross for explanation. He trembled a little, but it was with delight, as he anticipated. the effect of the speech Ross had outlined, but it did not come. "'I'm not hungry, mother,' was the revised edition, which the freckle-faced boy offered to the maternal ear. "'I—we are going over to Mr. Claiborne's on an errand for Abner's father.'

The black-eyed boy looked reproach as they clattered up the stairs to Ross's room, where the clean collar was produced and a small son. stock of ties. You'd wear a necktie, wouldn't you? Ross asked, spreading them upon the bureau top. Yes, but make it fall carelessly over your shirt-front, advised the student of hints and helps. Your collar is miles too big for me. Say, I've got a wad of white chewing-gum.

Would you flat it out and stick it over the collar-button? Maybe that would fill up some. You kick my foot if you see me turn to my head so's to knock it off. better button up your vest cautioned ross laboring with the careless fall of his tie uh ah i want that easy air which presupposes familiarity with society that's what it says in my book objected sure ross returned to his more familiar jeering attitude loosen up all your clothes then why don't you untie your shoes flop a sock down over one of em that looks easy all right abner buttoned his vest it gives a man lots of confidence to know he's good-looking he remarked taking all the room in front of the mirror ross at the washstand soaking his hair to get the curl out of it grumbled some unintelligible response the two boys went down the stairs with tremulous hearts why you've put on another clean shirt rossie mrs pryor called from her chair mother's eyes can see so far well don't get into any dirty play and soil it the boys walked in silence but it was a pregnant silence

for as the roof of the Claiborne house began to peer above the crest of the hill, Ross plumped down on a stone and announced, I ain't going. Come on, urged the black-eyed boy, it'll be fun, and everybody will respect us more. Champy won't throw rocks at us in recess time, after we've called on her. She couldn't. Called, grunted Ross. I couldn't make a call any more than a cow.

What'd I say? What'd I do? I can behave all right when you just go to people's houses, but a call." Abner hesitated, should he give away his brilliant inside information drawn from the Hints and Helps book, and be rivaled in the glory of his manners and bearing? Why should he not pass on alone, perfectly composed, and reap the field of glory unsupported? His knees gave way, and he sat down without intending it. "'Don't you tell anybody, and I'll put you on to exactly what grown-up gentlemen say and do when they go calling on the girls,' he began.

"'Fire away,' retorted Ross gloomily. "'Nobody will find out from me. Dead men tell no tales. If I'm fool enough to go, I don't expect to come out of it alive.' Abner rose, white and shaking, and thrusting three fingers into the buttoning of his vest, extended the other hand like an orator, proceeding to instruct the freckled, perspiring disciple at his feet. Hang your hat on the rack, or give it to a servant. Ross nodded intelligently. He could do that. Let your legs be gracefully disposed, one hand on the knee, the other.

Abner came to an unhappy pause. I forget what a fellow does with the other hand. Might stick it in your pocket, loudly, or expectorate on the carpet. Indulge in little frivolity. Let a rich stream of conversation flow. Ross mentally dug within himself for sources of rich streams of conversation. He found a dry soil. What you're going to talk about?

He demanded fretfully. i don't go a step farther till i know what i'm going to say when i get there abner began to repeat paragraphs from hints and helps it is best to remark he opened in an unnatural voice how well you are looking although fulsome compliments should be avoided when seated ask the young lady who her favourite composer is what's a composer inquired ross with visions of soothing syrup in his mind. A man that makes up music. Don't but in that way. You put me all out. Composer is name yours. Ask her what piece of music she likes best. Name yours. If the lady is musical, here ask her to play or sing. This chanted recitation seemed to have a hypnotic effect on the freckled boy. His big pupils contracted each time Abner came to the repeated, name yours.

I'm tired already, he grumbled, but some spell made him rise and fare farther. When they had entered the Claiborne gate, they leaned toward each other like young saplings weakened at the root, and locking branches to keep what shallow foothold on earth remained. You're going in first, asserted Ross, but without conviction, it was his custom to tear up to this house a dozen times a week on his father's old horse or afoot. He was wont to yell for Champy as he approached and quarreled joyously with her while he performed such errand as he had come upon, but he was gagged and hamstrung now by the hypnotism of Abner's scheme.

Walk quietly up the steps, ring the bell, and lay your cod on the servant, Quoted Abner, who had never heard of a server. Lay your card on the servant, echoed Ross. Katie a dodge. There's a porch to cross after you go up the steps. Does it say anything about that? It says that the card should be placed on the servant. Abner reiterated doggedly.

If Katie dodges, it ain't any business a mine. There are no porches in my book. Just walk across it like anybody. We'll ask for Miss Champy Claiborne. We haven't got any cards, discovered Ross with hope. I have, announced Abner pompously. I had some struck off in Chicago. I ordered them by mail.

They got my name, Pillow, but there's a scalloped gilt board around it. You can write your name on my card. Got a pencil? He produced the bit of cardboard. Ross fished up a chewed stump of lead pencil, took it in cold, stiff fingers, and disfigured the square with eccentric scribblings. "'They'll know who it's meant for,' he said apologetically, "'because I'm here. What's likely to happen

after we get rid of the card?' "'I told you about hanging your hat on the rack and disposing your legs.' "'I remember now,' sighed Ross, "'they had been going slower and slower. the angle of inclination toward each other became more and more pronounced we must stand by each other whispered abner i will if i can stand at all murmured the other boy huskily oh lord they had rounded the big clump of evergreens and found aunt missouri claybourne placidly rocking on the front porch directed to mount steps and ring bell to lay cards upon the servant how should one deal with a rosy-faced plump lady of uncertain years in a rocking-chair what should a caller lay upon her a lion in the way could not have been more terrifying even retreat was cut off aunt missouri had seen them howdy boys how are you she said rocking peacefully the two stood before her like detected criminals then to ross's dismay abner sank down on the lowest step of the porch the westering sun full in his hopeless eyes he sat on his cap it was characteristic that the freckled boy remained standing

he would walk up those steps according to plan an agreement if at all he accepted no compromise folding his straw hat into a battered cone he watched anxiously for the delivery of the card he was not sure what aunt missouri's attitude might be if it were laid on her he bent down to his companion go ahead he whispered lay the card abner raised appealing eyes in a minute give me a time he pleaded marse ross maz ross head em off sounded a yell and babe the houseboy came round the porch in pursuit of two half-grown chickens help him rossie prompted aunt missouri sharply you boys can stay to supper and have some of the chicken if you help catch em had ross taken time to think he might have reflected that gentlemen making formal calls seldom join in a chase after the main dish of the family supper but the needs of babe were instant the lad flung himself sideways caught one chicken in his hat while babe fell upon the other in the manner of a football player ross handed the pullet to the houseboy fearing that he had done something very much out of character then pulled the reluctant negro toward the steps babes a servant he whispered to abner who had sat rigid through the entire performance i helped him with the chickens and he's got to stand gentle while you lay the card on confronted by the act itself abner was suddenly aware that he knew not how to begin He took refuge in dissimulation.

Hush, he whispered back. Don't you see Mr. Claiborne's come out? He's going to read something to us. Ross plumped down beside him. Never mind the card. Tell him, he urged. Tell him yourself. No, let's cut and run.

I think the worst of it's over. When Champy sees us, she'll... Mention of Champy stiffened Ross's spine. If it had been glorious to call upon, on her how very terrible she would make it should they attempt calling fail and the failure come to her knowledge some things were easier to endure than others he resolved to stay till the call was made for half an hour the boy sat with drooping heads and the old gentleman read aloud presumably to aunt missouri and themselves finally their restless eyes discerned the two claiborne girl walking serene in Sunday trim under the trees at the edge of the lawn. Arms entwined they were whispering together and giggling a little.

A caller, Ross, dared not use his voice to shout, nor his legs, to run toward them. Why don't you go and talk to the girls, Rossie? Aunt Missouri asked in the kindness of her heart. Don't be noisy. It's Sunday, you know, and don't get to play in anything that'll dirty up your good clothes. ross pressed his lips hard together his heart swelled with the rage of the misunderstood had the card been in his possession he would at that instant have laid it on aunt missouri without a qualm what is it demanded the old gentleman a bit testily the girls want to hear you read father said aunt missouri shrewdly and she got up and trotted on short fat ankles to the girls in the arbor the three returned together alicia casting curious glances at the uncomfortable youths champy threatening to burst into giggles with every breath

abner sat hard on his cap and blushed silently ross twisted his hat into a three-cornered wreck the two girls settled themselves noisily on the upper step the old man read on and on the sun sank lower The hills were red in the west, as though a brush-fire flamed behind their crests. Abner stole a furtive glance at his companion in misery, and the doler of Ross's countenance somewhat assuaged his anguish. The freckle-faced boy was thinking of the village over the hill, a certain pleasant white house set back in a green yard, past whose gate the two-plank sidewalk ran. He knew lamps were beginning to wink in the windows of the neighbors about, as though the houses said,

Our boys are all at home, but Ross Pryor's out trying to call on the girls, and can't get anybody to understand it. Oh, that he were walking down those two planks, drawing a stick across the pickets, lifting high, happy feet which could turn in at that gate. He wouldn't care what the lamps said then. He wouldn't even mind if the whole Claiborne family died laughing at him, if only some power would raise him up from this paralyzing spot and put him behind the safe barriers of his own home the old man's voice lapsed into silence the light was becoming too dim for his reading aunt missouri turned and called over her shoulder into the shadows of the big hall you babe go put two extra plates on the supper-table the boys grew red from the tips of their ears and as far as any one could say that you babe go put two extra plates on the supper-table the boys grew red from the tips of their ears and as far as any one could say to the little

sea under their wilting collars. Abner felt the lump of gum come loose and slipped down a cold spine. Had their intentions but been known, this inferential invitation would have been most welcome. It was but to rise up and thunder out, We came to call on the young ladies! They did not rise. They did not thunder out anything. Babe brought a lamp and set it inside the window,

and Mr. Claiborne resumed his reading. Champy giggled and said that Alicia made her. Alicia drew her skirts about her, sniffed, and looked virtuous, and said she didn't see anything funny to laugh at. The supper bell rang, the family, evidently taking it for granted that the boys would follow, went in. Alone for the first time Abner gave up. This ain't any use, he complained.

We ain't calling on anybody. why didn't you lay on the card demanded ross fiercely why didn't you say we've just dropped in to call on miss champy it's a pleasant evening we feel we must be going like you said you would then we could have lifted our hats and got away decently abner showed no resentment oh if it's so easy why didn't you do it yourself he groaned somebody's coming ross muttered hoarsely say it now say it quick the somebody proved to be aunt missouri who advanced only as far as the end of the hall and shouted cheerfully the idea of a growing boy not coming to meals when the bell rings i thought you two would be in there ahead of us come on and clinging to their head-coverings as though these contained some charm whereby the owners might be rescued the unhappy callers were herded into the dining-room there were many things on the table that boys like both were becoming fairly cheerful when aunt missouri checked the biscuit plate with i treat my neighbor's children just like i'd want children of my own treated if your mother's let you eat all you want say so and i don't care but if either of them is a little bit particular why i'd stop at six still reeling from this blow the boys finally rose from the table and passed out with the family their hats clutched to their bosoms and clinging together for mutual aid and comfort during the usual sunday evening singing champy laughed till aunt missouri threatened to send her to bed abner's card slipped from his hand and dropped face up on the floor

he fell upon it and tore it into infinitesimal pieces that must have been a love-letter said aunt missouri in a pause of the music you boys are getting most old enough to think about beginning to call on the girls her eyes twinkled ross growled like a stoned cur abner took a sudden dive into hints and helps and came up with you flatter us miss claybourne whereat ross snickered out like a human boy they all stared at him it sounds so funny to call aunt miss claiborne the lad of the freckles explained funny aunt miss miss claybourne said funny aunt miss missouri reddened i didn't see any particular joke in my having my made name. Abner, who instantly guessed at what was in Ross's mind, turned white at the thought of what they had escaped. Suppose he had laid on the card and asked for Miss Claiborne. What's the matter, Champy? inquired Ross in a fairly natural tone. The air he had drawn into his lungs when he laughed at Abner seemed to relieve him from the numbing gentility which had bound his powers since he joined Abner's ranks.

"'Nothing! I laughed because you laughed,' said the girl. The singing went forward fitfully. Servants traipsed through the darkened yard, going home for Sunday night. Aunt Missouri went out and held some low-toned parley with them. Champy yawned with insulting enthusiasm. Presently both girls quietly disappeared. Aunt Missouri never returned to the parlor, evidently thinking that the girls would attend to the final amenities with their callers they were left alone with old mr claybourne they sat as though bound in their chairs while the old man read in silence for a while

finally he closed his book glanced about him and observed absently so you boys were to spend the night then as he looked at their startled faces i'm right am i not you are to spend the night oh Oh, for courage to say, Thank you, no, we'll be going now. We just came over to call on Miss Champy. But thought of how this would sound in face of the facts, the painful realization that they dared not say it because they had not said it, locked their lips. Their feet were led, their tongues stiff and too large for their mouths. Like creatures in a nightmare they moved stiffly. One might have said, creakingly, up the stairs, and received each a bedroom candle. Good night, children, said the absent-minded old man. The two gurgled out some sounds which were intended for words, and dodged behind the bedroom door. They put us to bed, Abner's black eyes flashed fire.

His nervous hands clutched at the collar Ross had lent him. That's what I get for coming here with you, Ross Pryor. and tears of humiliation stood in his eyes. In his turn, Ross showed no resentment. What I'm worried about is my mother, he confessed. She's so sharp about finding out things. She wouldn't tease me. She'd just be sorry for me.

But she'll think I went home with you. I'd like to see my mother make a fuss about my calling on the girls, growled Abner, glad to let his rage take a safe direction. calling on the girls have we called on any girls demanded clear-headed honest ross not exactly yet admitted abner reluctantly come on let's go to bed mr claiborne asked us and he's the head of this household it isn't anybody's business what we came for i'll slip off my shoes and lie down till babe ties up the dog in the morning said ross then we can get away before any of the family is up. Oh, youth, youth, youth, with its rash promises. Worn out with misery, the boys slept heavily. The first sound that either heard in the morning was Babe hammering upon their bedroom door. They crouched guiltily and looked into each other's eyes.

Let's pretend we ain't here and he'll go away, breathed Abner. But Babe was made of sterner stuff. He rattled the knob. He turned it. He put in a black face with a grin which divided it from ear to ear. "'Cady say I must call them fool boys to breakfast,' he announced. "'I never named you all dat. Katie, she said dat.' "'Breakfast?' echoed Ross in a daze.

"'Yes, sir, breakfast!' Reasserted Babe, coming entirely into the room and looking curiously about him. "'Ain't you all done been to bed at all?' wrapping his arms round his shoulders and shaking with silent ecstasies of murk the boys threw themselves upon him and ejected him "'Sent up a servant to call us to breakfast,' snarled Abner. "'If they'd only sent their old servant to the door in the first place, all this wouldn't have happened. I'm just that way when I get thrown off the track.

You know how it was when I tried to repeat those things to you. I had to go clear back to the beginning when I got interrupted. "'Does that mean that you're still hanging around here to begin over and make a call?' asked Ross darkly. I won't go down to breakfast if you are. Abner brightened a little as he saw Ross becoming wordy in his rage. I dare you to walk downstairs and say, We just dropped in to call on Miss Champy, he said.

I, oh, I, darn it all. There goes the second bell. We may as well trot down. Don't leave me, Ross, pleaded the Jilton boy. I can't stay here, and I can't go down. The tone was hysterical. The boy, with freckles, took his companion by the arm, without another word, and marched him down the stairs.

We may get a chance yet to call on Champy all by herself out on the porch, or in the arbor before she goes to school, he suggested, by way of putting some spine into the black-eyed boy. An emphatic bell rang when they were halfway down the stairs. Clutching their hats, they slunk into the dining-room. even mr claiborne seemed to notice something unusual in their bearings as they settled into the chairs assigned to them and asked them kindly if they had slept well it was plain that aunt missouri had been posting him as to her understanding of the intentions of these young men the state of affairs gave an electric hilarity to the atmosphere babe travelled from the sideboard to the table trembling like chocolate pudding katie insisted on bringing in the cakes herself and grinned as she whisked her starched blue skirts in and out of the dining-room a dimple even showed itself at the corners of pretty alicia's prim little mouth

champy giggled till ross heard katie whisper now you got one dim snickering spelt again you gwine bust yo dress buttons off in the back if you don't mind as the spirits of those about them mounted the hearts of the two youths sank if it was like this among the clayburns what would it be like at school and in the world at large when their failure to connect in tension with result became village talk ross bit fiercely upon an unoffending batter-cake and resolved to make a call single-handed before he left the house they went out of the dining-room their hats as ever pressed to their breasts with no volition of their own their uncertain young legs carried them to the porch the claiborne family and household followed like small boys after a circus procession when the two turned at bay yet with nothing between them and liberty but a hypnotism of their own suggestion they saw the black faces of the servants peering over the family's shoulders ross was the boy to have drawn courage from the desperation of their case and made some decent if not glorious ending but at the psychological moment there came around the corner of the house that most contemptible figure known to the southern plantation, a shirt-boy, a creature who may be described, for the benefit of those not informed, as a piccaninny, clad only in a long-course cotton shirt.

While all eyes were fastened upon him, this inglorious ambassador bolted forth his message. "'Yo ma say,' his eyes were fixed upon Abner, "'if you don't come home, she gwank come after you, and cut you into—' inch pieces wi a rae hide when she get ye dat just what miss hortens say as though such a book as hints and helps had never existed abner shot for the gate he was but a hobbledy hoy fascinated with the idea of playing gentlemen but in ross there were the makings of a man for a few half-hearted paces under the first impulse of horror he followed his deserting chief the laughter of the family, the unrestrainable guffaws of the negroes sounding in the rear. But when Champy's high offensive giggle, topping all the others, insulted his ears, he stopped dead, wheeled, and ran to the porch faster than he had fled from it.

White as paper, shaking with inexpressible rage, he caught and kissed the tittering girl violently, noisily, before them all. The Negroes fled. They dared not trust their feelings. Even Alicia sniggered unobtrusively. Grandfather Claiborne chuckled, and Aunt Missouri frankly collapsed into her rocking-chair, bubbling with mirth, crying out,

Good for you, Ross! Seems you didn't know how to call on the girls after all. But Ross, paying no attention, walked swiftly toward the gate. He had served his novitiate. He would never be afraid again. With cheerful alacrity, he dodged the stones flung after him with friendly erratic aim by the girl upon whom, yesterday afternoon, he had come to make a social call.

End of Story 16. Story 17 of The Best American Humorous Short Stories by Alexander Jessop, Editor. box recording is in the public domain. Story 17. How the Widow Won the Deacon, 1911, by William James Lampton. From Harper's Bazaar, April, 1911, copyright 1911 by Harper and Brothers, republished by permission. Of course, the widow Stimson never tried to win Deacon Hawkins, nor any other man for that matter. A widow doesn't have to try to win a man. She wins without trying. Still, the widow

Stimson sometimes wondered why the deacon was so blind as not to see how her fine farm adjoining his equally fine place on the outskirts of the town might not be brought under one management with mutual benefit to both parties at interest. Which one that management might become was a matter of future detail. The widow knew how to run a farm successfully, and a large farm is not much more difficult to run than one of half the size. She had also had one husband, and knew something more than running a farm successfully. Of all of which the deacon was perfectly well aware, and still he had not been moved by the merging spirit of the age to propose consolidation.

This interesting situation was up for discussion at the Wednesday afternoon meeting of the Sister Sowing Society. For my part, Sister Susan Spicer, wife of the Methodist minister, remarked as she took another tuck in a fourteen-year-old girl's skirt for a ten-year-old, for my part I can't see why Deacon Hawkins and Kate Stimston don't see the error of their way. and depart from them. I rather guess she has, smiled Sister Poteet, the grocer's better have,

who had taken an afternoon off from the store in order to be present. Or is willing to, added Sister Maria Cartridge, a spinster, still possessing faith, hope, and charity, notwithstanding she had been on the waiting list a long time. Really now, exclaimed Little Sister Green, the doctor's wife,

Do you think it is the deacon who needs urging? It looks that way to me, Sister Poteet did not hesitate to affirm. Well, I heard Sister Clark say that she had heard him call her Kitty one night when they were eating ice cream at the Mite Society. Sister Candish, the druggist's wife, added to the fund of reliable information on hand. Kitty indeed, protested Sister Spicer, the idea of anybody calling Kate Stimson Kitty. The deacon will talk that way to most any woman,

but if she let him say it to her more than once, she must be getting mighty anxious, I think. Oh, Sister Candish hastened to explain, Sister Clark didn't say she had heard him say it twice. Well, I don't think she heard him say it once, Sister Spicer asserted with confidence. I don't know about that. That, Sister Potete argued, from all I can see and hear, I think Kate Stimson wouldn't object

to most anything the deacon would say to her, knowing, as she does, that he ain't going to say anything he shouldn't say. And isn't saying what he should, added Sister Green with a sly snicker, which went around the room softly. But as I was saying, Sister Spicer began, when Sister Poteet, whose rocker near the window, commanded a view of the front gate interrupted with a warning sh sh why shouldn't i say what i wanted to when sister spicer began there she comes now explained sister poteet and as i live the deacon drove her here in his sleigh and he's waiting while she comes in i wonder what next and sister poteet in conjunction with the entire society gasped and held their eager breaths awaiting the entrance of the subject of conversation sister spicer went to the front door to let her in and she was greeted with the greatest cordiality by everybody

we were just talking about you and wondering why you were so late coming cried sister potete now take off your things and make up for lost time there's a pair of pants over there to be cut down to fit that poor little snithers boy The excitement and curiosity of the society were almost more than could be born, but never a sister let on that she knew the deacon was at the gate waiting. Indeed, as far as the widow could discover, there was not the slightest indication that anybody had ever heard there was such a person as the deacon in existence. Oh, she chirruped in the liveliest of humors, you will have to excuse me for to-day, deacon hawkins overtook me on the way here and here said i had simply got to go sleigh-riding with him he's waiting out at the gate now is that so exclaimed the society unanimously and rushed to the window to see if it were really true well did you ever commented sister potete generally hardly ever laughed the widow good-naturedly and i don't want to lose the chance you know you know Deacon Hawkins isn't asking somebody every day to go slaying with him. I told him I'd go if he would bring me around here to let you know what had become of me,

and so he did. Now, good-bye, and I'll be sure to be present at the next meeting. I have to hurry, because he'll get fidgety. The widow ran away like a lively schoolgirl. All the sisters watched her get into the sleigh with the deacon, and resumed the previous discussion with GERALD. greatly increased interest. But little wrecked the widow and less wrecked the deacon. He had bought a new horse, and he wanted the widow's opinion of it, for the widow's Stimson was a competent

judge of fine horse-flesh. If Deacon Hawkins had one insatiable ambition, it was to own a horse which could fling its heels in the face of the best that Squire Hopkins drove. In his early manhood, the deacon was no deacon by a great deal. But as the years gathered in behind him, he put off most of the frivolities of youth, and held now only to the one of driving a fast horse. No other man in the county drove anything faster except Squire Hopkins, and him the deacon had not been able to throw the dust over. The deacon could get good ones, but somehow never could he find one that the squire didn't get a better. The squire had also, in the early days, beaten the deacon in the race for a certain pretty girl he dreamed about. But the girl and the squire had lived happily

ever after, and the deacon, being a philosopher, might have forgotten the squire's superiority had it been manifested in this one regard only. But in horses, too, that gravelled the deacon. how much did you give for him was the widow's first query after they had reached a stretch of road that was good going and the deacon had let him out for a length or two well what do you suppose you're a judge more than i would give i'll bet a cookie not if you was as anxious as i am to show hopkins that he can't drive buy everything on the pike i thought you loved a good horse because he was a good horse said the widow rather disapprovingly. I do, but I could love him a good deal harder if he would stay in front of Hopkins Best. Does he know you've got this one?

Yes, and he's been blowing round town that he is waiting to pick me up on the road some day and make my five hundred dollars look like a pewter quarter. So you gave five hundred dollars for him, did you? Laugh the widow. Is it too much? "'M—' "'Hesitated the widow,

"'glancing along the graceful lines "'of the powerful trotter. "'I suppose not if you can beat the squire. "'Right you are,' crowed the deacon, "'and I'll show him a thing or two "'in getting over the ground,' he added, "'with swelling pride. "'Well, I hope he won't be out looking for you today,

"'with me in your sleigh,' "'said the widow, almost apprehensively, "'because you know, Deacon, I have always wanted you to beat Squire Hopkins. The deacon looked at her sharply. There was a softness in her tones that appealed to him, even if she had not expressed such agreeable sentiments. Just what the deacon might have said or done after the impulse had been set going must remain unknown, for at the crucial moment a sound of militant bells, bells of defiance jangled up behind them, disturbing their personal absorption, and they looked around simultaneously.

Behind the bells was the squire in his sleigh, drawn by his fastest stepper, and he was alone, as the deacon was not. The widow weighed one hundred and sixty pounds, net, which is weighing a horse in a race rather more than the law allows. But the deacon never thought of that, Forgetting everything except his cherished ambition, he braced himself for the contest, took a twist hold on the lines, sent a sharp, quick call to his horse, and let him out for all that was in him. The squire followed suit, and the deacon. The road was wide, and the snow was worn down smooth. The track couldn't have been in better condition.

The Hopkins colors were not five rods behind the Hawkins' colors, as they got away. For half a mile it was nip and tuck, the deacon encouraging his horse, and the widow encouraging the deacon, and then the squire began creeping up. The deacon's horse was a good one, but he was not accustomed to hauling freight in a race. A half-mile of it was as much as he could stand, and he weakened under the strain. Not handicapped, the squire's horse forged ahead, and as his nose pushed up to the dash-y-yed, board of the deacon's sleigh, that good man groaned in agonized disappointment and bitterness of spirit. The widow was mad all over that Squire Hopkins should take such a mean advantage of his rival.

Why didn't he wait till another time when the deacon was alone, as he was? If she had her way, she would never speak to Squire Hopkins again, nor to his wife, either. But her resentment was not helping the deacon's horse. to win. Slowly the squire pulled closer to the front. The deacon's horse, realizing what it meant to his master and to him, spurted bravely, but struggle as gamely as he might, the odds were too many for him, and he dropped to the rear. The squire shouted in triumph as he drew past the deacon, and the dejected Hawkins shriveled into a heap on the seat, with only his hands sufficiently alive to hold the lines. He had been beaten again, humiliated before a woman, and that too,

with the best horse that he could hope to put against the ever-conquering squire. Here sank his fondest hopes. Here ended his ambition. From this on he would drive a mule or an automobile. The fruit of his desire had turned to ashes in his mouth. But no! What of the widow? she realized if the deacon did not that she not the squire's horse had beaten the deacons and she was ready to make what atonement she could as the squire passed ahead of the deacon she was stirred by a noble resolve a deep bed of drifted snow lay close by the side of the road not far in front it was soft and safe and she smiled as she looked at it as though waiting for her without a hint of her purpose or a sign to disturb the deacon in his final throes she rose as the sleigh ran near its edge and with a spring which had many a time sent her lightly from the ground to the bare back of a horse in the meadow she cleared the robes and lit plump in the drift the deacon's horse knew before the deacon did that something had happened in his favor and was quick to respond

With his first jump of relief, the deacon suddenly revived, his hopes came fast again, his blood retingled, he gathered himself, and, cracking his lines, he shot forward, and three minutes later he had passed the squire as though he were hitched to the fence. For a quarter of a mile the squire made heroic efforts to recover his vanished prestige, but effort was useless, and finally concluding that he was practised. left standing, he veered off from the main road down a farm lane to find some spot in which to hide the humiliation of his defeat. The deacon, still going at a clipping gate, had one eye over his shoulder as wary drivers always have on such occasions, and when he saw the squire was off the

track, he slowed down and jogged along with the apparent intention of continuing indefinitely. Presently, An idea struck him, and he looked around for the widow. She was not where he had seen her last. Where was she? In the enthusiasm of victory he had forgotten her. He was so dejected at the moment she had leaped that he did not realize what she had done, and two minutes later he was so elated that shame on him he did not care. With her all was lost.

Without her, all was won. and the deacon's greatest ambition was to win. But now, with victory perched on his horse-collar, success his at last, he thought of the widow, and he did care. He cared so much that he almost threw his horse off his feet by the abrupt turn he gave him, and back down the pike he flew as if a legion of squires were after him.

He did not know what injury she might have sustained, she might have been seriously hurt, if not actually killed, and why, simply to make it possible for him to win. The deacon shivered as he thought of it, and urged his horse to greater speed. The squire, down the lane, saw him whizzing along and accepted it profanely as an exhibition for his especial benefit. The deacon now had forgotten the squire, as he had only so shortly before, forgotten. forgotten the widow. Two hundred yards from the drift into which she had jumped, there was a turn

in the road, where some trees shut off the sight, and the deacon's anxiety increased momentarily until he reached this point. From here he could see ahead, and down there in the middle of the road stood the widow, waving her shawl as a banner of triumph, though she could only guess at results. The deacon came on with a rush, and pulled up alongside a friend of her. her in a condition of nervousness he didn't think possible to him. "'Hurray! Hurray!' shouted the widow, tossing her shawl into the air. "'You beat him! I know you did! Didn't you? I saw you pulling ahead at the turn, yonder. Where is he and his old plug?'

"'Oh, bother take him and his horse and the race and everything. "'Are you hurt?' gasped the deacon, jumping out, but mindful to keep the lines in his hand. "'Are you hurt?' he repeated anxiously, though she looked anything but a hurt woman. "'If I am,' she chirped cheerily, "'I'm not hurt half as bad as I would have been if the squire had beat you, deacon. Now don't you worry about me. Let's hurry back to town, so the squire won't get another chance, with no place for me to jump.' "'And the deacon?' "'Well, well—' With the lines in the crook of his elbow, the deacon held out his arm, and he held out his arm,

to the widow and the sisters at the next meeting of the sewing society were unanimously of the opinion that any woman who would risk her life like that for a husband was mighty anxious end of story seventeen Story 18 of The Best American Humorous Short Stories by Alexander Jessop Editor. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Story 18, Gideon, 1914, by Wells Hastings. From the Century Magazine, April 1914, copyright 1914 by the Century Company, republished by the author's permission. And the next fog dat houndpup seen, he pass him by why. The house, which had hung upon every word, roared with laughter, and shook with a storming

volley of applause. Gideon bowed to right and to left, low, grinning, assured comedy obeisances. But as the laughter and applause grew, he shook his head and signaled quietly for the drop. He had answered many encores, and he was an instinctive artist. It was part of the fuel of his vanity that his audience had never yet had enough of him. Dramatic judgment, as well as dramatic sense of delivery, was native to him, qualities which the shrewd Felix Stook, his manager and exultant discoverer, recognized and wisely trusted in.

Offstage, Gideon was watched over like a child, and a delicate investment, but once behind the footlights he was allowed to go his own triumphant gate. It was small wonder that Stuk deemed himself one of the cleverest managers in the business, that his narrow, blue-shaven face was continually chiseled in smiles of complacent self-congratulation. He was rapidly becoming rich, and there were bright prospects of even greater triumphs, with proportionately greater reward. He had made Gideon a national character, a headliner, a star of the first magnitude in the firmament of the vaudeville theatre, and all in six short months.

Or at any rate, he had helped to make him all this. He had booked him well, and given him his opportunity. To be sure, Gideon had done the rest. Stuck was as ready as anyone to do credit to Gideon's Gideon's ability. Still, after all, he, Stook, was the discoverer, the theatrical Columbus, who had had the courage and the vision. A now-hallowed attack of tonsillitis had driven him to Florida, where presently Gideon had been employed to beguile his convalescence and guide him over the intricate shallows of that long lagoon known as the Indian River in search of various fish. On days when fish had been reluctant, Gideon had been lured into conversation, and gradually into narrative and the relation of what had appeared to Gideon as humorous and entertaining.

And finally, Felix, the vague idea growing big within him, had one day persuaded his boatman to dance upon the boards of a long pier where they had made fast for lunch. There, with all the sudden glory of crystallization, the vague idea took definite form and became the great inspiration of Stook's career. Gideon had grown to be to vaudeville much what Uncle Remus is to literature. There was virtue in his very simplicity. His artistry itself was native and natural. He loved a good story, and he told it from his own sense of the gleeful,

morsel upon his tongue as no training could have made him. He always enjoyed his story and himself in the telling. Tales never lost their savor, no matter how often repeated. Age was powerless to dim the humor of the thing, and as he had shouted and gurgled and laughed over the fun of things when all alone, or holding forth among the men and women and little children of his color, so he shouted and gurgled and broke from some of his own. sonorous chuckles to musical falsetto mirth when he fronted the sweeping tears of faces across the intoxicating glare of the footlights. He had that rare power of transmitting something of his

own enjoyments. When Gideon was on the stage, Stook used to enjoy peeping out at the intent smiling faces of the audience where men and women and children, hardened theater-goers and folk fresh from the country, sat with moving lips, and faces lit with an eager interest and sympathy for the black man strutting in loose-footed vivacity before them. He's simply unique, he boasted to wondering local managers, unique, and it took me to find him. There he was a little black gold-mine, and all of them passed him by until I came. Some I what?

I guess you'll admit you have to hand it some to your Uncle Felix. If that Coon's health holds out, we'll have all the money there is in the midst. That was Felix's real anxiety, if his health holds out. Gideon's health was watched over as if he had been an ailing prince. His bubbling vivacity was the foundation upon which his charm and his success were built. Stuck became a sort of vicarious neurotic. eternally searching for symptoms in his protege. Gideon's tongue, Gideon's liver, Gideon's heart,

were matters to him of an unfailing and anxious interest. And of late, of course it might be imagination, Gideon had shown a little physical falling off. He ate a bit less, he had begun to move in a restless way, and, worst of all, he laughed less frequently. as a matter of fact there was ground for stook's apprehension it was not all a matter of managerial imagination gideon was less himself physically there was nothing the matter with him he could have passed his rigid insurance scrutiny as easily as he had done months before when his life and health had been insured for a sum that made good copy for his press agent he was sound in every organ but there was something lacking in general tone gideon felt it himself and was certain that a misery that embracing indisposition of his race was creeping upon him

he had been fed well too well he was growing rich too rich he had all the praise all the flattery that his enormous appetite for approval desired and too much of it White men sought him out and made much of him. White women talked to him about his career, and wherever he went, women of color, black girls, brown girls, yellow girls, wrote him of their admiration, whispered when he would listen, of their passion and hero-worship. City niggers bowed down before him. The high gallery was always packed with them. scented notes scrawled upon barbaric, high-toned stationary poured in upon him.

Even a few white women, to his horror and embarrassment, had written him of love, letters which he straightway destroyed. His sense of his position was strong in him. He was proud of it. There might be folks out of their heads, but he had the sense to remember. For months he had lived in a heaven of gratitude. vanity, but at last his appetite had begun to falter. He was sated.

His soul longed to wipe a spiritual mouth on the back of a spiritual hand and have done. His face, now that the curtain was down and he was leaving the stage, was doleful, almost sullen. Stook met him anxiously in the wings and walked with him to his dressing-room. He felt suddenly very well. weary of Stook. Nothing the matter, Gideon, is there, not feeling sick or anything? No, Mr. Stook, no, sir, just don't feel extirpurt, that's all.

But what is it? Anything bothering you? Gideon sat gloomily before his mirror. Mr. Stook, he said at last, I've been steadying it over, and I about come to the delusion that I needs a good poke-champ. seems foolish i know but it do seem as if a good poke-chop fried just right would help considerable to disumpate this misery feeling that's crawling and creeping round my spirit stook laughed pork chopin is that the best you can think of i know what you mean though i've thought for some time that you were getting a little over-trained what you need is um let me see yes a nice bottle of wine that's the ticket it will ease things up and won't do you any harm i'll go with you ever had any champagne gideon gideon struggled for politeness yes sir i's had a

champagne, and it's a nice kind of liquor, shown up. But, Mr. Stook, sir, I don't want any of them hot-toned drinks to-night, and if you don't mind, I'd rather amble off loan, or maybe eat that pork chop with some other colored man, if an I can find one that ain't one of them no-count Carolina niggers. Do you suppose you could let me have a little money tonight, Mr. Stook? Stook thought rapidly. Gideon had certainly worked hard, and he was not dissipated. If he wanted to roam the town by himself, there was no harm in it. The sullenness still showed in the black face.

Heaven knew what he might do if he suddenly began to balk. Stook thought it wise to consent gracefully. Good, he said. Fly to it. How much do you want? A hundred? How much is coming to me? About a thousand, Gideon.

Well, I'd muddy like five hundred of it, if that's agreeable to you. Felix whistled. Five hundred? Pork chops must be coming high. You don't want to carry all that money around, do you? Gideon did not answer. He looked very gloomy. Stook hastened to cheer him.

Of course you can have anything you want. Wait a minute, and I will get it for you. I'll bet that Coon's going to buy himself. a ring or something, he reflected as he went in search of the local manager and Gideon's money. But Stuc was wrong. Gideon had no intention of buying himself a ring, for the matter of that he had several that were amply satisfactory. They had size and sparkle and luster, all the diamond brilliance that rings need to have, and for none of them had he paid much over five dollars. He was amply supplied with jewelry in which he felt perfect satisfaction. His present want was positive,

if nebulous. He desired a fortune in his pocket, bulky, tangible evidence of his miraculous success. Ever since Stook had found him, life had had an unreal quality for him. His Monte Cristo wealth was too much like a fabulous dream-found treasure, money that could not be spent without danger of awakening, and he had dropped into the habit of storing it about him, so that in any pocket into which he plunged his hand he might find a role of crisp evidence of reality. He liked his bills to be of all denominations, and some so large as exquisitely to stagger imagination, others charming by their number and crispness, the dignified orange paper of a

man of assured position and wealth-crackling greenbacks, the design of which tinged the whole with actuality. He was specially partial to engravings of President Lincoln, the particular savior and patron of his race. This $500 he was adding to an unreckoned sum of about two thousand, merely as extra fortification against a growing sense of gloom. He wished to brace his flagging spirits with the gay wine of possession, and he was glad, when the money came, that it was in an elastic-bound roll, so bulky that it was pleasantly uncomfortable in his pocket as he left his manager. As he turned into the brilliantly lighted street from the somber alleyway of the stage entrance,

he paused for a moment to glance at his own name in three-foot letters of red before the doors of the theater. He could read, and the large block type always pleased him. This week, Gideon! That was all. None of the fulsome praise, the superlative necessary definition given to lesser performers. He had been, he remembered, Gideon, America's foremost native comedian, a title that was at once boast and challenge. That necessity was not. now passed, for he was a national character. Any explanatory qualification would have been an insult to the public intelligence. To the world he was just Gideon. That was enough. It gave him pleasure, as he sauntered along, to see the announcement repeated on window cards and boardings.

Presently he came to a window before which he paused in delighted wonder. It was not a large window, to the casual eye of the passerby, there was little to draw attention. By day it lighted the fractional floor space of a little stationer, who supplemented a slim business by a sub-agency for railroad and steamship lines. But tonight this window seemed the framework of a marvel of coincidence. On the broad dusty sill inside were propped two cards. The one on the left was his own red-lettered announcement for the week. The one on the right, oh, world of wonders, was a photogravure of that exact stretch of the inner coast of Florida which Gideon knew best, which was home. There it was the Indian River, rippling idly in full sunlight, palmettos leaning over the water,

Pomeadow standing as irregular sentries along the low, reef-like island, which stretched away out of the picture. There was the gigantic, lonely pine he knew well, and, yes, he could just make it out. There was his own ramshackle little pier, which stretched in undulating fashion like a long-legged, wading caterpillar from the abrupt shoreline of eroded coquina into deep water. He thought at first, that this picture of his home was some new and delicate device put forth by his press agent his name on one side of a window his birthplace upon the other what could be more tastefully appropriate therefore as he spelled out the reading matter beneath the photogravure he was sharply disappointed it read spend this winter in balmy florida come to the land of perpetual sunshine golf tennis driving shooting boating fishing all of the best there was more but he had no heart for it he was disappointed and puzzled this picture had after all nothing to do with him it was a chance and yet what a strange chance it troubled and upset him his black round-featured face took on deep wrinkles of perplexity

the misery which had hung darkly on his horizon for weeks engulfed him without warning but in the very bitterness of his melancholy he knew at last his disease it was not champagne or recreation that he needed not even a poke-chop although his desire for it had been a symptom a groping for a too homeopathic remedy he was homesick easy childish tears came into his eyes and ran over his shining cheeks he shivered forlornly with a sudden sense of cold and absently clutched at the lapels of his gorgeous fur-lined ulster then in abrupt reaction he laughed aloud so that the shrill musical falsetto startled the passer-by and in another moment a little semicircle of the curious watched spellbound as a a black man, exquisitely apparelled, danced in wild, loose grace before the dull background of a somewhat grimy and apparently vacant window. A newsboy recognized him. He heard his name being passed from mouth to mouth, and came partly to his senses.

He stopped dancing and grinned at them. "'Say, you are Gideon, ain't you?' his discoverer demanded, with a sort of reverend. reverent audacity. Yaza, said Gideon, that's me, you'll show got it right. He broke into a joyous peal of laughter, the laughter that had made him famous and bowed deeply before him.

Gideon, positively his last performance. Turning, he dashed for a passing trolley, and, still laughing, swung aboard. He was naturally honest. In a land of easy morality, his friends had accounted him something of a paragon. Nor had Stook ever had anything but praise for him. But now he crushed aside the ethics of his intent

without a single troubled thought. Running away has always been inherent in the Negro. He gave one regretful thought to the gorgeous wardrobe he was leaving behind him, but he dared not return for it. Stook might have taken it into his head to go back to their rooms. he must content himself with the reflection that he was at that moment wearing his best the trolley seemed too slow for him

and as always happened nowadays he was recognized he heard his name whispered and was aware of the admiring glances of the curious even popularity had its drawbacks he got down in front of a big hotel and chose a taxi-cab from the waiting rank exhorting the job driver to make his best speed to the station. Leaning back in the soft depths of the cab, he savored his independence, cheered already by the swaying, lurching speed. At the station he tipped the driver in lordly fashion, very much pleased with himself and anxious to give pleasure. Only the sternest prudence and an unconquerable awe of uniform had kept him from tossing bills to the various traffic policemen who had seemed to smile upon his hurry.

No through-train left for hours, but after the first disappointment of momentary check, he decided that he was more pleased than otherwise. It would save embarrassment. He was going south, where his color would be more considered than his reputation, and on the little local he chose there was a Jim Crow car, one, that is, specially set aside for those of his race. That it proved crowded and full of smoke did not trouble him at all, nor did the admiring pleasantries which the splendor of his apparel immediately called forth. No one knew him. Indeed, he was naturally enough mistaken for a prosperous gambler, a not unflattering supposition. In the yard, after the train pulled out, he saw his private car

under a glaring arc light, and grinned to see it left behind. He spent the night pleasantly in a noisy game of high-lowjack, and the next morning slept more soundly than he had slept for weeks, hunched upon a wooden bench in the box-like station of a North Carolina junction. The express would have brought him to Jacksonville in 24 hours. The journey, as he took it, boarding any local that happened to be going south, and leaving it for meals, or sometimes for sleep, or often as the whim possessed him, filled five happy days. There he took a night train, and dozed from Jacksonville until a little north of New Smyrna. He awoke to find it broad daylight, and the car half empty. The train was on a sighting, with news of a freight wreck ahead.

Gideon stretched himself and looked out of the window, and emotion seized him. For all his journey, the South had seemed to welcome him, but here at last was the country he knew. He went out upon the platform and threw back his head, sniffing the soft breeze, heavy with the mysterious thrill of unplowed acres, the wondrous existence of primordial jungle, where life has rioted unceasingly above unceasing decay. It was dry with the fine dust of waste spaces and wet with the warm mists of slumbering swamps. It seemed to Gideon to tremble with the songs of birds, the dry murmur of palm leaves and the almost inaudible whisper of the gray moss that festooned the live oats. "'Hm!' he murmured apostrophizing it.

"'Yos the right kind of breeze, yo is. You's all healthy!' Still sniffing, he climbed down to the dusty road-bed. The negroes who had ridden with him were sprawled about him on the ground. One of them lay sleeping, face up, in the sunlight. the train had evidently been there for some time and there were no signs of an immediate departure he bought some oranges of a little bow-legged black boy and sat down on a log to eat them and to give up his mind to enjoyment the sun was hot upon him and his thoughts were vague and drowsy he was glad that he was alive glad to be back once more among familiar scenes down the length of the train he saw white passengers from the pullman's restlessly pacing up and down getting into their cars and out of them consulting watches attaching themselves with gesticulatory expostulation to various officials

but their impatience found no echo in his thought what was the hurry there was plenty of time it was sufficient to have come to his own land the actual walls of home-the could wait. The delay was pleasant, with its opportunity for drowsy sunning, its relief from the grimy monotony of travel. He glanced at the orange-colored Jim Crow with distaste, and inspiration, dawning slowly upon him, swept all other thought before it in its great and growing glory. A brakeman passed, and Gideon leaped to his feet and pursued him. how long y'all reckon this train goin to be about an hour the question had been a mere matter of form gideon had made up his mind and if he had been told that they started in five minutes he would not have changed it he climbed back into the car for his coat and his hat and then almost furtively stole down the steps again and slipped quietly into the palmetto scrub most made the mistake o my life he chuckled sticking to that old train for ever tisn't the right way at all for gideon to come home

the river was not far away he could catch the dancing blue of it from time to time in ragged vista and for this beacon he steered directly his coat was heavy on his arm his thin patent leather ties pinched and burned and demanded detours around swampy places but he was happy as he went along his plan perfected itself he would get into loose shoes again old ones if money could buy them and old clothes too the bullbriar snatching at his tailored splendor suggested that he laughed when the florida partridge a small quail whirred up from under his feet he paused to exchange affectionate mockery with red squirrels and once even when he was brought up suddenly to a familiar and ominous dry reverberation the small, crisp sound of the rolling drums of death. He did not look about him for some instrument of destruction, as at any other time he would have done, but instead peered cautiously over the log before him,

and spoke intolerant admonition. Now, Mr. Rattlesnake, you just mind your own business. Nobody's going to step on you, nor go trifling round you in no way whatsoever. ever you just lay there in the sun and get fat says you please don't you turn your weakened lil eyes on gideon he's just gone long home and ain't lookin for no mus he came presently to the water and as luck would have it to a little group of negro cabins where he was able to buy old clothes and after much dickering a long and somewhat leaky rowboat rigged out with a tattered leg of mutton sail This he provisioned with a jug of water, a starch-box full of white cornmeal, and a wide strip of lean razor-back bacon. As he pushed out from shore and set his sail to the small breeze that blew down from the

north, an absolute contentment possessed him. The idle waters of the lagoon, lying without tide or current in eternal indolence, rippled and sparkled in breeze and sunlight with a merry surface activity, and seemed to lap the leaky little boat more swiftly on its way. Mosquito Inlet opened broadly before him, and, skirting the end of Merritt's Island, he came at last into that longest lagoon with which he was most familiar the Indian River. Here the wind died down to a mere breath, which barely kept his boat in motion. he made no attempt to row.

As long as he moved at all, he was satisfied. He was living the fulfillment of his dreams in exile, lounging in the stern, in the ancient clothes he had purchased, his feet stretched comfortably before him in their broken shoes, one foot upon a thwart, the other hanging overside, so laxly that occasional ripples lapped the run-over heel. From time to time he scanned shore and river for familiar points of interest, some remembered snag that showed the tip of one gnarled branch, or he marked a newly fallen palmetto already

rotting in the water, which must be added to that map of vast detail that he carried in his head. But for the most part his broad black face was turned up to the blue brilliance above him in unblinking contemplation. His keen eyes, brilliant, despite their sun-muddied whites, reveled in the heights above him, swinging from horizon to horizon in the wake of an orderly file of little blue-bill ducks, winging their way across the river, or brightening with interest at the rarer sight of a pair of mallards or redheads, lifting with the soaring circles of the great bald-headed eagle, or following the scattered,

squadron of heron, white heron, blue heron, young and old, trailing, sunlit, brilliant patches, clear even against the bright white and blue of the sky above them. Often he laughed aloud, sending a great shout of mirth across the water in fresh relish of those comedies best known and best enjoyed. It was as excruciatingly funny as it had ever been when his boat nosed its way into a great flock of ducks, idling upon the water, to see the mad paddling haste of those nearest him the reproachful turn of their heads, or, if he came too near, their spattering run out of water, feet and wings pumping together as they rose from the surface, looking

for all the world like fat little women scurrying with clutched skirts across city streets. The Pelicans, too, delighted him as they perched with pedantic solemnity upon wharf-piles, or sailed in hunched and huddled gravity twenty feet above the river's surface in swift, dignified flight, which always ended suddenly in an abrupt up-ended plunge that threw dignity to the winds in its greedy haste and dropped them crashing into the water. When darkness came suddenly at last, he made in toward shore, mooring to the warm-fretted end of a fallen and forgotten landing. A straggling orange grove was there, broken lines of vanquished cultivation, struggling little trees, suave and choked in the festooning gray moss, still showing here and there the valiant

golden gleam of fruit. Gideon had seen many such places, had seen settlers. come and clear themselves a space in the jungle, plant their groves, and live for a while in lazy independence, and then for some reason or other they would go, and before they had scarcely turned their backs the jungle had crept in again, patiently restoring its ancient sovereignty. The place was eerie with the ghost of dead effort, but it pleased him. He made a fire and cooked supper,

eating enormously and with relish. His conscience did not trouble him at all. Stook and his own career seemed already distant. They took small place in his thoughts and served merely as a background for his present absolute content. He picked some oranges and ate them in meditative enjoyment. For a while he nodded, half asleep, beside his fire,

watching the darkened river, where the mullet, shimmering with phosphorescence, still leaped starkly above the surface, and fell in spattering brilliance. Midnight found him sprawled asleep beside his fire. Once he awoke, the moon had risen, and a little breeze waved the hanging moss, and whispered in the glossy foliage of orange and palmetto with a sound like falling rain. Gideon sat up and peered around him, rolling his eyes hither and thither at the menacing leap and dance of the jet shadows. His heart was beating thickly, his muscles twitched, and the awful terrors of night pulsed and shuddered over him. Nameless spectres peered at him from every shadow, ingenerate familiars of his wild forgotten blood.

He groaned aloud in a delicious terror, and pricked. presently still twitching and shivering fell asleep again it was as if something magical had happened his fear remembered the fear of centuries and yet with the warm daylight was absolutely forgotten he got up a little after sunrise and went down to the river to bathe diving deep with a joyful sense of freeing himself from the last alien dust of travel once ashore again however he began to prepare his breakfast with some haste for the first time in his journey he was feeling a sense of loneliness and a longing for his kind he was still happy but his laughter began to seem strange to him in the solitude he tried the defiant experiment of laughing for the effect of it an experiment which brought him to his feet in startled terror for his laughter was echoed as he stood peering about him the sound came again not laughter this time but a suppressed giggle it was human beyond a doubt gideon's face shone with relief and sympathetic amusement he listened for a moment and then strode surely forward toward a clump of low palms there he paused every sense alert his ear caught a soft rustle a little gasp of fear the sound of a foot moved cautiously missy he said tentatively i reckon y'all come jest about in time for breakfast you'd better have some if you ain't too wot to sit down with a black man

the leaves parted and a smiling face as black as gideon's own regarded him in shy amusement who is you man i'm mote be king o congo he laughed but i ain't you see before your eyes Gideon, at your esteemed service. He bowed elaborately in the mock humility of assured importance, watching her face in pleasant anticipation. But neither awe nor rapture dawned there. She repeated the name, inclining her head coquettishly, but it evidently meant nothing to her. She was merely trying it sound.

Gideon, Gideon! I don't call to my mind. any such name as that y'all's from up north likely he was beyond the reaches of fame no said gideon hardly knowing whether he was glad or sorry no i live south o'her ha what all's your name the girl giggled deliciously man she said i sure got the most ridiculous dustustace name you ever did here they call me vashty yo bacon bun She stepped out and ran past him to snatch his skillet deftly from the fire. Vastie! A strange and delightful name! Gideon followed her slowly. Her romantic coming and her romantic name pleased him,

and too he thought her beautiful. She was scarcely more than a girl, slim and strong and almost of his own height. She was barefooted, but her blue-checked gingham was clean and belted smartly about a small waist. He remembered only one woman who ran as lithly as she did, one of the numerous diving beauties of the vaudeville stage. She cooked their breakfast, but he served her with an elaborate gallantry, putting forward all his new and foreign graces, garnishing his speech with imposing polysyllibles, casting about their picnic breakfast,

a radiant aura of grandeur borrowed from the recent days of his fame, and he saw that he pleased her, and with her open admiration assayed still greater flights of polished manner. He made vague plans for delaying his journey as they sat smoking in pleasant conversational ease, and when an interruption came, it vexed him. "'Vastie! Vashti! A woman's voice sounded thin and far away.

Vashti! You hear me, child? Vashti rose to her feet with a sigh. That's Mama, she said regretfully. What do y'all care? asked Gideon. Letty yell a while. The girl shook her head. Ma's a mighty powerful omen,

and she done got a club about the size of my wrist. She moved off a step or two and glanced back at him. Gideon leaped to his feet. When y'all coming back, yo, y'all ain't going without—' He held out his arms to her, but she only giggled and began to walk slowly away. With a bound he was after her, one hand catching her lightly by the shoulder. He felt suddenly that he must not lose sight of her. Let me go.

Tell me loose, yo! The girl was still laughing, but evidently troubled. She wrenched herself away with an effort only to be caught again a moment later. She screamed and struck at him as he kissed her, for now she was really in terror. The blow caught Gideon squarely in the mouth, and with such force that he staggered back, astonished, while the girl took wildly to her heels. He stood for a moment, irresolute, for something was happening to him. For months he had evaded me.

needed love with a gentle embarrassment. Now, with the savage crash of that blow, he knew unreasoningly that he had found his woman. He leaped after her again, running as he had not run in years, in savage determined pursuit, tearing through briar and scrub, tripping, falling, rising, never losing sight of the blue-clad figure before him, until at last she tripped and fell, and he stood. panting above her. He took a great breath or so, and leaned over and picked her up in his arms, where she screamed and struck and scratched at him.

He laughed, for he felt no longer sensible to pain, and still chuckling, picked his way carefully back to the shore, wading deep into the water to unmoor his boat. Then with a swift movement he dropped the girl into the bow, pushed free, and clambered actively aboard. The light early morning breeze had freshen, and he made out well toward the middle of the river, never even glancing round at the sound of the hallooing he now heard from shore. His exertions had quickened his breathing, but he felt strong and joyful. Vashti lay a huddle of blue in the bough, crouched in fear and desolation, shaken and torn with sobbing, but he made no effort to comfort her. He was untroubled by any sense of wrong. He was simply and unreasoningly satisfied

with what he had done. Despite all his gentle, easy-going, laughter-loving existence, he found nothing incongruous or unnatural in this sudden act of violence. He was aglow with happiness. He was taking home a wife. The blind tumult of capture had passed, a great tenderness, possessed him. The leaky little boat was plunging and dancing in swift ecstasy of movement. All about them the little waves ran glittering in the sunlight, plashing and slapping against the boat's low side, tossing tiny crests to the following wind, showing rifts of white here and there, blowing handfuls of foam and spray.

Gideon went softly about the business of shortening his small sail and came to quietly back to his steering seat again. Soon he would have to be making for what Lee the western shore offered, but he was holding to the middle of the river as long as he could, because with every mile the shores were growing more familiar, calling to him to make what speed he could. Vashdy's sobbing had grown small and ceased, he was wondering if she had fallen asleep. Presently, however, he saw her face raised, a face still shining with tears. She saw that he was watching her and crouched low again. A dash of spray spattered over her, and she looked up frightened, glancing fearfully overside. Then once more her eyes came back to him, and this time she got up, still small and

crouching and made her way slowly and painfully down the length of the boat, until at last Gideon moved aside for her, and she sank in the bottom beside him, hiding her eyes in her gingham sleeve. Gideon stretched out a broad hand and touched her head lightly, and with a tiny gasp her fingers stole up to his. "'Honey?' said Gideon. "'Honey, you ain't mad, is you?' She shook her head.

not looking at him. You ain't grieve him for your ma? Again, she shook her head. Because, said Gideon, smiling down at her, I ain't got no big club like she has. A soft and smothered giggle answered him, and this time Vashti looked up and laid her head against him

with a small sigh of contentment. Gideon felt very tender, very important, at peace with himself and all the world. He rounded a jutting point and stretched out a black hand pointing. End of Story 18. End of the Best American Humorous Short Stories by Alexander Jessop, editor.