BY THrE SAME AUTHOR.
OUT OF THE HURLY-BURLY;
OR,
LIFE IN AN ODD CORNER.
Large 12mo. 400 pages, and nearly 400 original engravings
by FROST, SIHEPPARD, etc. Cloth. Extra,
black enamnel, ornate, price $2.50.
A marked success in this country, and its sales in Europe copunt
by tens of thousands of copies.
"' Remarkable for its delicate shades of humor, fine touches of
feeling, close and minute observations and good common sense.""The book is a gem, and its author a wit of the first water."" Everywhere original, fresh, ingenious, delightful."-" The engrav
ings are the very essence of comic art."




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4 INOVEL IVITHOUT 4A PLOT
BY
M AX.ADELER
AITHOR OF " OUT OF THE HURLY-BURLY," ETC., RTC.
ILLUSTRATED BY ARTHUR B. FROST
PHILADELPHIA
J. M. STODDART & Co.
CHICAGO AND CINCINNATI:
A. G. NETTLETON  & CO




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 187h. Or
2HARLES HEBER CLARK,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
WEsTcoT   &  THOMSo(W                        SEIRMAW & Co.,
Stereotypetr and.Electrotypcers, Phikada.         hinters, Phila.




PREFACE.
IF every book that contains nothing but nonsense
confessed that fact in its preface, the world
would have been saved a vast amount of dreary
reading. Most of such volumes, however, are believed by their authors to be full of wisdom of the
solidest kind; and confession, therefore, being impossible, the reader may learn the truth only
through much tribulation.  The writer of this
book freely admits, at the outset, that it contains
only the lightest humor, and that its single purpose is to afford amusement. At the same time,
he claims for it that it is wiser and far more useful than many more solemn books that have been
published, with the intent to regenerate mankind,
by authors who would regard such a volume as
this with feelings of scorn.
This is simply an effort to tell stories of a humorous character; and although the attempt may
not be so successful as it has been in the hands of
others, from Boccaccio downward, it has at least one




6                 PREA CE.
quality that some greater achievements do not possess: it is absolutely pure in thought, word and
suggestion. If it is filled with nonsense, that nonsense at any rate is innocent. It is modest, cleanly
and without malice or irreverence. A worthier and
nobler work might have been written; a purer work
could not have been.
What its other merits are he who reads it will
discern. To apologize for it in any manner would
be to admit that it has grave deficiencies, and such
an admission the author would not make even if
his conscience impelled him to do so. The book
is offered to the reader with the conviction that if the
man who laughs. is the happiest man, it may contribute something to the sum of human felicity.
The story of the French horn, related in the
twentieth chapter, will recall to the reader of the
"Sparrowgrass Papers" an incident related in that
most charming book of humor. Perhaps it ought
to be said that the former narrative was at least suggested by the latter.
The artist who has illustrated the book, Mr.
Arthur B. Frost, deserves to have it said of him
that he has done his work skilfully, tastefully and
with nice appreciation of the humor of the various
situations.




CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE
THE ADVANTAGES OF ELBOW-ROOM.................................  13
CHAPTER II.
THE TERRIBLE MISHAP TO MR. FOGG'S BABY.................... 21
CHAPTER III.
INTERNAL NAVIGATION.-AN UNFORTUNATE INVENTOR........ 33
CHAPTER IV.
THE FACTS IN REFERENCE TO MR. BUTTERWICK'S HORSE... 45
CHAPTER V.
SOME EDUCATIONAL FACTS............................................. 62
CHAPTER VI.
THE EDITOR OF "THE PATRIOT "..................................  78
CHAPTER VII.
How MR. BUTTERWICK PURSUED HORTICULTURE............. 94
7




8                        CONTENTS,
CHAPTER VIII
PAGI
THE MEETING, AND ITS MISSIONARY WORK....................... 105
CHAPTER IX.
J UDGE TWIDDLER'S COW................................................   115
CHAPTER X.
OUR CIVIL SERVICE................1......................................  25
CHAPTER XI.
FUNEREAL AND CONJUGAL.............................................. 138
CHAPTER XII.
A NEW  MRS. TOODLES.-POTTS' ADVENTURES................... 152
CHAPTER XIII.
THE RACES. AND SOME OTHER THINGS............................. 167
CHAPTER XIV.
RESPECTING CERTAIN SAVAGES.................................    Io80
CHAPTER XV.
LOVE, SUFFERING AND SUICIDE....................................... I92
CHAPTER XVI.
MR. FOGG AS SPORTSMAN AND SPOUSE.............................. 205
CHAPTER XVII.
How WE CONDUCT A POLITICAL CAMPAIGN....................... 217




CONTENTS.                         9
CHAPTER XVIII.
PAGE
THE MATUTINAL ROOSTER........................................... 225
CHAPTER XIX.
AN UNRULY METER.-SCENES IN A SANCTUM..................... 236
CHAPTER XX.
HIGH   ART.............................       248
CHAPTER XXI.
CERTAIN DENTAL EXPERIENCES.-AN UNFORTUNATE OFFICIAL. 258
CHAPTER XXII.
JUSTICE, AND A LITTLE INJUSTICE....................................  271
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE TRAMIP WITH GENIUS AND WITHOUT IT..................... 279
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE DOG OF MR. BUTTERWICK'S, AND OTHER DOGS..........  292
CHAPTER XXV.
A PERSECUTED JOURNALIST............................................. 303
CH APTER XXVI.
THE ACHIEVEMENTS OF DR. PERKINS........................... 321
CHAPTER XXVII.
GENERAL TRUMPS )F THE MILITIA................................. 328




I  CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
PAGH
THE MISDIRECTED ENERGIES OF MR. BRADLEY................. 340
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE TRIALS OF MR. KEYSER, GRANGER............................ 351
CHAPTER XXX.
MR. BANGER'S AUNT...................................................... 364
CHAPTER XXXI.
VARIOUS THINGS.........................................    373




ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGR
ELBOW-ROOM............................  -.. F.ronispiece.
MR. FOGG AS A  MESMERIST..............................................   22
A   NOVEL  MOUSETRAP...................................................    31
A PERPLEXED MULE.................................. 34
THE  SECRETARY  IS ALARMED.....................4.................   41
MR. BUTTERWICK'S HORSE LIES DOWN.............................. 59
THE  BATTLE OF CANN&A.   (Full page.)..............................   67
MR. BARNES  PROPOSES...................................................   76
THE  CARBOLIC  DOOR-MAT......................................                              86
THE  GARDENER  RETREATS...........................................   96
TREADING  WATER........................................................    103
THE HEATHEN CLOTHE THEMSELVES.............................                                   113
THE JUDGE'S  COW......................................................... 121
A  TOMBSTONE  CONTRACT...............................................    44
MR. POTTS' MOUSE..................................................   57
SHOOTING  A  BURGLAR.....................................................   63
A  FLAT-IRON  WEDDING................................................... I66
AN  EXCITED  OLD  LADY..................................................  171
THE  CAT  SUCCUMBS........................................................ 76
HOW THE PIG WAS KILLED..................................   I78
MR. SPOONER  IS ALARMED.................................. i8i
THE LITTLE  BABY-BEAR............................................. x88
THE  GOLDFISH  TRICK.   (Full page.).................................  I97
11I




1 2                               AILL USTRA T ONS.
PAGE
A   CURTAILMENT............................................................. 203
AN INDIGNANT GUNNER................................. 206
CONFESSING  THEIR  FAULTS..............................................  208
FORCED  TO  DO  DUTY......................................................  223
THE EARLY COCK...................................                 228
TILE AFFAIR AT THE POULTRY-SHOW...O...........................  232
THE  SHERIFF IS MAD...................................................  239
MR. SMITH'S  GRIEF........................................................ 241
A  SCARED   FAMLY........................................................  253
DR. SLUGG'S  INVENTION.................................................  259
JOE  MIDDLES................................................................  269
A COURT SCENE..  274
A   DOG  FOR  SALE...........................................................  289
SMITH'S  BOY  RETREATS..................................................  293
BANG!!!   (Full page.)............................................... 311
THE  WANDERING  JEW.................................................... 315
SIMPSON'S CASE..., 322
THE  GENERAL  IN  A  RAGE......................................    330
"TAKE  HER, YOUNG  MAN!"...........................................  337
BRADLEY'S CRADLE..........................              346
THE  NEW   MOTOR..........................................................                       349
A  QUEER  PLANT.......................................................  357
Too  MUCH  OF A  BORE.   (Full page.)................................ 36I
BALLAST....................................................................  369
MAJOR SLOTT'S TIGER....................................                                           374
FACING  THE  TIGER.....................................................  375




ELBOW- ROOM.
CHAPTER I.
PROLOGUE.
THiE AD'ANTA GES OF ELBO W-R OM.
HE professors of sociology, in exploring
the mysteries of the science of human
living, have not agreed that elbow-room
is one of the great needs of modern civilized society, but this may be because they have
not yet reached the bottom of things and discovered the truth. In crowded communities men have
chances of development in certain directions, but in
others their growth is surely checked. A man who
lives in a large city is apt to experience a sharpening
of his wits, for attrition of minds as well as of
pebbles produces polish and brilliancy; but perhaps
this very process prevents the free unfolding of
parts of his character. If his individuality is not
partially lost amid the crowd, it is likely that, first,
his imitative faculty will induce him to shape himself in accordance with another than his own pattern,
13




14              ELBOW-ROOM.
and that, second, the dread of the conspicuousness
which is the certain result of eccentricity will persuade him to avoid any tendency he may have to
become strongly unlike his neighbors.
The house that he lives in is tightly squeezed in a
row of dwellings builded upon a precisely similar
plan, so that the influence brought to bear upon him
by the home resembles to some extent that which
operates upon his fellows. There is a pressure upon
both sides of him in the house; and when he plunges
into business, there is a far greater pressure there, in
the shape of sharp competition, which brings him
into constant collision with other men, and mayhap
drives him or compels him to drive his weaker rival
to the wall.
The city-man is likely to cover himself with a
mantle of reserve and dissimulation. If he has a
longing to wander in untrodden and devious paths, he
is disposed resolutely to suppress his desire and to
go in the beaten track. If Smith, in a savage state,
would certainly conduct himself in a wholly original
manner, in a social condition he yields to an inevitable apprehension that Jones will think queer of his
behavior, and he shapes his actions in accordance
with the plan that Jones, with strong impulses to
unusual and individual conduct, has adopted because
he is afraid he will be thought singular by Smith.
And in the mean time, Robinson, burning with a desire to go wantonly in a direction wholly diverse
from that of his associates, realizes that to set at




PROLOGUE.                 1 5
defiance the theories of which Smith and Jones are
apparently the earnest advocates would be to expose
himself to harsh criticism, sacrifices himself to his
terror of their opinion and yields to the force of
their example.
In smaller and less densely-populated communities
the weight of public opinion is not largely decreased,
but the pressure is not so great. There is more
elbow-room. A man who knows everybody about
him gauges with a reasonable degree of accuracy the
characters of those who are to judge him, and is able
to form a pretty fair estimate of the value of their
opinions. When men can do this, they are apt to feel
a greater degree of freedom in following their natural impulses. If men could sound the depths of all
knowledge and read with ease the secrets of the
universe, they might lose much of their reverence.
When they know the exact worth of the judgment
of their fellow-men, they begin to regard it with
comparative indifference. And so, if a dweller in a
small village desires to leave the beaten track, he can
summon courage to do so with greater readiness than
the man of the town. If he has occasionally that
proneness to make a fool of himself which seizes
every man now and then, he may indulge in the perilous luxury without great carefulness of the consequences. Smith's ordinary conduct is the admiration
of Jones as a regular thing; but when Smith switches
off into some eccentricity for which Jones has no
inclination, it is only a matter of course that Jones




16               ELBO W-ROOM.
should indulge in his own little oddities without
caring whether Smith smiles upon him or not.
It is, therefore, in such communities that search
can most profitably be made for raw human nature
that has had room to grow upon every side with
little check or hindrance. The man who chooses to
seek may find original characters, queer combinations
of events, surprising revelations of individual and
family experiences and an unlimited fund of amusement, especially if he is disposed, perhaps even while
he submits to an overpowering conviction that all
life is tragic, to summon into prominence those
humorous phases of social existence which, as in
the best of artificial tragedies, are permitted to appear in real life as the foil of that which is truly
sorrowful. To depict events that are simply amusing may not be the highest and best function of a
writer; but if he has a strong impulse to undertake
such a task in the intervals of more serious work, it
may be that he performs a duty which is more obvious because the common inclination of those who
tell the story of human life is to present that which
is sad and terrible, and to lead-the reader, whose soul
has bitterness enough of its own, into contemplation
of the true or fictitious anguish of others.
At any rate, an attempt to show men and their actions in a purely humorous aspect is justified by the
facts of human life; and if fiction is, for the most
part, tragedy, there is reason why much of the remainder should be devoted to fun. To laugh is to




PtROLOGUE.                17
perform as divine a function as to weep. Man, who
was made only a little lower than the angels, is the
only animal to whom laughter is permitted. He is the
sole earthly heir of immortality, and he laughs.
More than this, the process is healthful to both mind
and body, for it is the man who laughs with reason
and judgment who is the kindly, pure, cheerful and
happy man.
It is in a village wherein there is elbow-room for
the physical and intellectual man that the characters
in this book may be supposed to be, to do and to suffer.
It would be unfair to say that the reader can visit
the spot and -meet face to face all these people who
appear in the incidents herein recorded, and it would
be equally improper to assert that there is naught
written of them but veritable history. But it might
perhaps be urged that the individuals exist in less
decided and grotesque forms, and that the words
and deeds attributed to them are less than wholly
improbable. And if any one shall consider it worth
while to inquire further concerning the matter, let
him discover where may be found a community
which exists in such a locality as this that I will now
describe.
A hamlet set upon a hillside. The top a breezy
elevation crowned with foliage and commanding a
view of matchless beauty. To the west, beneath, a
sea of verdure rolling away in mighty billows, which
here bear upon their crests a tiny wood, a diminutive
dwelling, a flock of sheep or a drove of cattle, and
2




18               ELBOW-ROOM.
there sweep apparently almost over a shadowy town
which nestles between two of the emerald waves.
Far, far beyond the steeples which rise dimly from
the distant town a range of hills; beyond it still, a
faint film of blue, the indistinct and misty semblance
of towering mountains.
To the north a lovely plain that rises a few miles
away into a long low ridge which forms the sharp
and clear horizon. To the south and east a narrow
valley that is little more than a deep ravine, the sides
of the precipitous hills covered with forest to the
brink of the stream, which twists and turns at sharp
angles like a wounded snake, shining as burnished
silver when one catches glimpses of it through the
trees, and playing an important part in a landscape
which at brief distance seems as wild and as unconscious of the presence of man as if it were a part of
the wilderness of Oregon rather than the adjunct of
a busy town which feels continually the stir and impulse of the huge city only a dozen miles away.
He who descends from the top of the village hill
will pass pretty mansions set apart from their neighbors in leafy and flowery solitudes wherein the most
unsocial hermit might find elbow-room enough; he
will see little cottages which stand nearer to the
roadside, as if they shunned isolation and wished
to share in the life that often fills the highway in
front of them. Farther down the houses become
more companionable; they cling together in groups
with the barest possibility of retaining their indi



PROLOGUE.                  19
viduality, until at last the thoroughfare becomes a
street wherein small shops do their traffic in quite a
spirited sort of a way.
Clear down at the foot of the hill, by the brink of
the sweet and placid river, there are iron mills and
factories and furnaces, whose chimneys in the daytime pour out huge columns of black smoke, and
from which long tongues of crimson and bluish flame
leap forth at night against the pitchy darkness of the
sky. Here, as one whirls by in the train after nightfall, he may catch hurried glimpses of swarthy men,
stripped to the waist, stirring the molten iron with
their long levers or standing amid showers of sparks
as the brilliant metal slips to and fro among the
rollers that mould it into the forms of commerce.
If upon a summer evening one shall rest amid the
sweet air and the rustling trwees upon the hill-top, he
may hear coming up from this dusky, grimy blackness of the mills and the railway the soughing of
the blowers of the blast-furnaces, the sharp crack of
the exploding gases in the-white-hot iron, the shriek
of the locomotive whistle and all night long the roar
and rattle of the passing trains, but so mellowed by
the distance that the harsh sounds seem almost musical-almost as pleasant and as easily endured as
the voices of nature. And in the early morning a
look from the chamber window perhaps may show
a locomotive whirling down the valley around the
sharp curves with its white streamer flung out upon
the green hillside, and seeming like a snowy ribbon




20               ELBOW-ROOM.
cut from the huge mass of vapor which lies low upon
the surface of the stream.
The name of this town among the hills is-well,
it has a very charming Indian name, to reveal which
might be to point with too much distinctness to the
worthy people who in some sort figure in the following pages. It shall be called Millburg in those pages,
and its inhabitants shall tell their stories and play
their parts under the cover of that unsuggestive
title; so that the curious reader of little faith shall
have difficulty if he resolves to discover the whereabouts of the village and to inquire respecting the
author's claim to credibility as a historian.




CHAPTER  II.
TIIHE TERRIBLE MISHAP TO MIR. FOGG'S BABY.
R. and Mrs. Fogg have a young baby
which was exceedingly restless and troublesome at night while it was cutting its
teeth. Mr. Fogg, devoted and faithful
father that he is, used to take a good deal more than
his share of the nursing of the infant, and often, when
he would turn out of bed for the fifteenth or sixteenth time and with fluttering garments and unshod
feet carry the baby to and fro, soothing it with a little song, he would think how true it is, as Napoleon
once said, that " the only real courage is two-o'clockin-the-morning courage." Mr. Fogg thought he had
a reasonable amount of genuine bravery, and justly,
for he performed the functions of a nurse with unsurpassed patience and good humor.
One night, however, the baby was unusually wakeful and tempestuous, and after struggling with it for
several hours he called Mrs. Fogg and suggested
that it would be well to give the child some paregoric to relieve it from the intense pain from which
it was evidently suffering. The medicine stood upon
the bureau, but Mrs. Fogg had to go down stairs to
21




22              ELBOW-ROOM.
the dining-room to get some sugar; and while she
was fumbling about in the entry in the dark it occurred to Mr. Fogg that he had heard of persons
being relieved from pain by applications9of mesmer
being relieved from pain by applications of mesmerism. He had no notion that he could exercise such
power; but while musing upon the subject he rubbed
the baby's eyebrows carelessly with his fingers and
made several passes with his hands upon its fore



TERRIBLE MISHAP TO MR. FOGG'S BABY. 23
head.  As Mrs. Fogg began to feel her way up
stairs, he was surprised and pleased to find that the
baby hid become quiet and had dropped off into
sweet and peaceful slumber.  Mrs. Fogg put the
sugar away as her husband placed the child in its
crib and covered it up carefully, and then they went
to bed.
They were not disturbed again that night, and in
the morning the baby was still fast asleep.  Mrs.
Fogg said she guessed the poor little darling must
have gotten a tooth through, which made it feel
easier. Mr. Fogg said, " Maybe it has."
But he had a faint though very dark suspicion
that something was wrong.
After breakfast he went up to the bed-room to
see if the baby was awake. It still remained asleep;
and Mr. Fogg, when he had leaned over and listened
to its breathing, shook it roughly three or four times
and cleared his throat in a somewhat boisterous
manner. But it did not wake, and Mr. Fogg went
down stairs with a horrible dread upon him, and
assuming his hat prepared to go to the office. Mrs.
Fogg called to him,
"Don't slam the front door and wake the baby!"
And then Mr. Fogg did slam it with extraordinary violence; after which he walked up the street
with gloom in his soul and a wretched feeling of apprehension that the baby would never waken.
"What on earth would we do if it should stay
asleep for years?  S'pose'n it should sleep right




24              ELBOW-ROOM.
straight ahead for half a century, and grow to be an
old man without knowing its pa and ma, and without ever learning anything or seeing anything!"
The thought maddened him. He remembered
Rip Van Winkle; he recalled the Seven Sleepers
of Ephesus; he thought of the afflicted woman
whom he saw once at a menagerie in a trance, in
which she had been for twenty years continuously,
excepting when she awoke for a few moments at
long intervals to ask for something to eat. Perhaps
when he and Mrs. Fogg were dead the baby might
be rented to a menagerie, and be carried around the
country as a spectacle. The idea haunted him. It
made him miserable.  He tried for two or three
hours to fix his mind upon his office-duties, but it
was impossible. He determined to go back to the
house to ascertain if the baby had returned to consciousness. When he got there, Mrs. Fogg was
beginning to feel very uneasy. She said,
" Isn't it strange, Wilberforce, that the baby stays
asleep?  He is not awake yet.  I suppose it is nervous exhaustion, poor darling! but I am a little
worried about it."
Mr. Fogg felt awfully. He went up and jagged
a pin into the baby's leg quietly, so that his wife
could not see him. Still it lay there wrapped in
slumber; and after repeating the experiment he
abandoned himself to despair and went back to his
office, uncertain whether to fly or to go home and
confess the terrible truth to Mrs. Fogg.




TERRIBLE MISHAP TO MR. FOGG'S BAB Y. 25
In a couple of hours that lovely woman came in
to see him. She was scared and breathless:
" Mr. Fogg, the baby is actually asleep yet, and I
can't rouse him. I've shaken him, called to him and
done everything, and he don't stir. What can be the
matter with him? I'm afraid something dreadful
has happened to him."
" Maybe he is sleeping up a lot ahead, so's to stay
awake at night some more," said Mr. Fogg, with a
feeble smile at his attempt at a joke.
"Wilberforce, you ought to be ashamed of yourself to trifle with such a matter! S'pose the baby
should die while it is in that condition? I believe it
is going to die, and I want you to go straight for the
doctor."
Mr. Fogg started at once, and in half an hour he
reached the house in company with Dr. Gill. - The
doctor examined the child carefully and said that it
was a very queer case, but that, in his opinion, he
must be under the influence of opium.
"Did you give him any while I was asleep last
night, Mr. Fogg?" asked Mrs. Fogg, suspiciously
and tearfully.
"Upon my word and honor I didn't," said Mr.
Fogg, with the cold perspiration standing upon his
forehead.
"Are you sure you didn't give him anything?" demanded the mother, suddenly remembering that the
baby became quiet while she was down stairs upon
the preceding night.




26             ELBOW-ROOM.
"Maria, do you think I would deceive you?"
asked Mr. Fogg, in agony. "I'll take my solemn
oath that I did not give it a drop of medicine of any
kind."
"It is very remarkable-very," said the doctor.
"I don't know that I ever encountered precisely
such a case before. I think I will call in Dr. Brown
and consult with him about it."
Then Mrs. Fogg began to sob; and while she
fondled the baby, Mr. Fogg, feeling like a murderer,
followed the doctor  down stairs.  When they
reached the hall, Mr. Fogg drew the doctor aside
and said, in a confidential whisper:
"Doctor, I am going to tell you something, but
I want you to promise solemnly that you will keep
it a secret."
"Very well; what is it?"
"You won't tell Mrs. Fogg?"
~ No."
"Well, doctor, I-I-I —know  what is the matter
with that baby."
"You do! you know! Well, why didn't youWhat is the matter with it?"
"The fact is, I mesmerized it last night."
"You did! Mesmerized it! And why don't you
rouse it up again?"
"I don't know how; that's the mischief of it. I
did it accidentally, you know. I was sort of fingering around the child's forehead, and all of a sudden
it stopped crying and dropped off. Can't you find




TERRJBLE MISHAP TO MR. FOGG'S BABY. 27
me a professional mesmerizer to come and undo the
baby?"
"I don't believe I can. The only one I know of
lives in San Francisco, and he couldn't get here in
less than -a week even if we should telegraph for
him."
"By that time," shrieked Mr. Fogg, "the baby'll
be dead and Maria will be insane! What, under
Heaven, are we going to do about it?"
" Let's hunt up Brown; maybe he knows."
So they went around to Dr. Brown's office and
revealed the secret to him. Brown seemed to think
that he might perhaps do something to rob the situation of its horrors, and he accompanied Mr. -Fogg
and Dr. Gill to the house. When they entered, Mrs.
Fogg was rapidly becoming hysterical. Dr. Brown
placed the baby on the bed; he slapped its little
hands and rubbed its forehead and dashed cold
water in its face. In a few moments the baby opened its eyes, then it suddenly sat up and began to
cry. Mr. Fogg used to hate that noise, but now it
seemed to him sweeter than music. Mrs. Fogg was
wild with joy. She took the baby in her arms and
kissed and hugged it, and then she said,
"What do you think was the matter with him,
doctor?"
"Why, your husband says he mesmerized the
child," replied the doctor, incautiously letting the
secret drop.
Then Mrs. Fogg looked at the culprit as if she




28              ELBOW-ROOM.
wished to assassinate him; but she merely ejaculated,
"Monster!" and flew from the room; and Mr. Fogg,
as he went down with the physicians, put on an
injured look and said,
"If that baby wants to holloa now, I'm going to
let him holloa, if he holloas the top of his head off."
It was this offence, according to popular rumor,
that brought things to a crisis in Mr. Fogg's family
and induced Mrs. Fogg to seek to remove the heavy
burden of woe imposed upon her by her husband.
Only a few days later Mr. and Mrs. Fogg knocked
at the door of Colonel Coffin's law office, and then
filed in, Mrs. Fogg in advance. Mr. Fogg, the reader
may care to know, was a subdued, weak-eyed and
timid person. He had the air of a victim of perpetual tyranny-of a man who had been ruthlessly and
remorselessly sat upon until his spirit was wholly
gone. And Mrs. Fogg looked as if she might have
been his despot. She opened the conversation by
addressing the lawyer:
"Colonel, I have called to engage you as my
counsel in a divorce suit against Mr. Fogg. I have
resolved to separate from him-to sunder our ties
and henceforth to live apart."
" Indeed!" replied the colonel; " I'm sorry to hear
that. What's the matter? Has he been beating and
ill-treating you?"
" Beating!" exclaimed Mrs. Fogg, disdainfully; "I
should think not! I should like him to try it.'




THE FOGG DIVORCE CASE.          29
"Maria, let me-" interposed Mr. Fogg, mildly.
"Now, Wilberforce," she exclaimed, interrupting
him, "you remain quiet; I will explain this matter
to Colonel Coffin. You see, colonel, Mr. Fogg is
eccentric beyond endurance. He goes on continually
in a manner that will certainly drive me to distraction.
I can stand it no longer. We must be cut asunder.
For years, colonel, Wilberforce has been attempting
to learn to play upon the flute. He has no more
idea of music than a crow, but he will try to learn.
He has been practicing upon the flute since I862,
and he has learned but a portion of but one tune-'Nelly Bly.' He can play but four notes,'Nelly
Bly shuts-' and there he stops. He has practiced
these four notes for fourteen years. He plays them
upon the porch in the evening; he blows them out
from the garret; he stands out in the yard and puffs
them; he has frequently risen in the night and seized
his flute and played'Nel-ly Bly shuts' for hours,
until I had to scream to relieve my feelings."
"Now, Maria," said Mr. Fogg, "you know that I
can play as far as'shuts her eye' —six notes in all. I
learned them in the early part of June."
"Very well, now; it's of no consequence. Don't
interrupt me. This is bad enough. I submitted to
it because I loved him. But on Tuesday, while I
was watching him through the crack of the parlor
door, I saw him wink twice at my chambermaid; I
saw him distinctly."
"Maria," shrieked Fogg, "this is scandalous.




30              ELB 0 W-ROOM.
You know very well that I am suffering from a nervous affection of the eye-lids.'.'
"Wilberforce, hush! In addition to this wickedness, colonel, Mr. Fogg is becoming so absentminded that he torments my life; he makes me utterly wretched. Four times now has he brought
his umbrella to bed with him and scratched me by
joggling it around with the sharp points of the ribs
toward me. What on earth he means I cannot imagine. He said he thought somehow it was the
baby, but that is so preposterous that I can hardly
believe him."
" Why can't you?  Don't you remember perfectly
well that I emptied a bottle of milk into the umbrella twice? Would I have done that if I hadn't
thought it was the baby?"
" There, now, Wilberforce! that's enough from you.
Do let me have a chance to talk! And, colonel,
the real baby he treats in the most malignant manner. A few days ago he mesmerized it secretly, and
scared me so that I am ill from the effects of it yet.
I thought the dear child would sleep for ever. And
in addition to this, I came in on Thursday and found
thathe had laid the large family Bible on the darling's stomach. It was at the last gasp. I thought it
would never recover."
"Maria, didn't I tell you I gave it to the child to
play with to keep him quiet?"
" Mr. Fogg, will you please let me get a word in
edgeways? Our older children, too, he is simply




THE FOGG DIVORCE CASE.          31
ruining. He teaches them the most pernicious and
hurtful doctrines.  He told Johnny the other day
that Madagascar was an island in the Peruvian Ocean
off the coast of Illinois, and that a walrus was a kind
of a race horse used by the Caribbees. And our
oldest girl told me that he instructed her that Polycarp fought the battle of Waterloo for the purpose
of defeating the Saracens."
"Not the Saracens, Maria; Lucy  misunderstood-"
" Wilberforce, I wish you would hush! His general treatment of me'
was scandalous.  He
was constantly taking
my teeth for the purpose of knocking;
around the spigot in
the bath-tub at night
when the baby wanted
a drink, and only last -  - -
week he took both
sets after I had gone
to bed, propped them apart, baited them with cheese,
and caught two horrid mice before morning. I was
so hurt by-his behavior that I drank some laudanum
for the purpose of committing suicide, and then Mr.
Fogg borrowed a pump in at Knott's drug store and
pumped me out twice in such a rude manner that I
have felt hollow ever since."
"I did it from kindness, Maria."




32             ELBOW-ROOM.
"Don't talk of kindness to me, Wilberforce, after
your conduct. And, colonel, one night last week,
after I had retired, Mr. Fogg sat down in the room
below and determined to see if it were true that a
candle could be shot through a board from a gun.
He dropped a lighted candle in his gun, and of
course it exploded. It came up through the floor
and made a large spot of grease upon the ceiling of
my room, nearly scaring me to death and filling my
legs full of bird-shot."
" Maria, I asked you to believe that I forgot about
the candle being lighted. I did it in a fit of absentmindedness."
"Do go into the other room, Wilberforce, or else
hold your tongue. So, colonel, I want to get a divorce. Existence is unendurable to me. The lives
of my children are in danger. I cannot remain in
such slavery any longer. Can you release me,?"
Colonel Coffin said he would think it over and
give her an answer in a week. His idea was to give
her time to think better of it. So then she told
Wilberforce to put on his hat; and when he had
done so, he followed her meekly out, and they went
home. It is believed in the neighborhood that she
has concluded to stick to him for a while longer.



CHAPTER  III.
INTERNAL NA VIGA TION. AN UNFOR TUNA TE
INYVENTOR.
HE village not only has a railroad running by it, but it has a canal upon which
a large amount of traffic is done. There
has been a good deal of agitation lately
concerning the possibility of improving locomotion
upon the canal, and the company offered a reward
for the best device that could be suggested in that
direction. A committee was appointed to examine
and report upon the merits of the various plans subnmitted. While the subject was under discussion one
boat-owner, Captain Binns, made an experiment upon
his own account.
He had a pair of particularly stubborn mules to
haul his boat, and it occurred to him that he might
devise some scientific method of inducing the said
mules to move whenever they were inclined to be
baulky. Both mules had phlegmatic temperaments;
and when they made up their minds to stop, they
would do so and refuse to go, no matter with
what vigot the boy applied the whip. Captain Binns
therefore bought a tow-line made of three strands




34              ELB O W-R OOM.
of galvanized wire; and placing iron collars upon the
necks of the mules, he fastened the wire to them, and
then he got a very strong galvanic battery and put
it in the cabin of the boat, attaching it to the other
end of the line, forming a circuit.
The first time the mules stopped to reflect, the
captain sent a strong current through the wire. The
leading mule gave a little start of astonishment, and
then it looked around at the boy upon the tow-path
with a mournful smile that seemed to say, "Sonny, I
would like to know how you worked that?" But
the mules. stood still. Then the captain turned a
stronger current on, and the mule shied a little and
looked hard at the boy, who was sitting by whittling a stick. The captain sent another shock through




INTERNAL NA VIGA TION.         35
the line, and then the mule, convinced that that boy
was somehow responsible for the mysterious occurrence, reached over, seized the boy's jacket with his
teeth, shook him up and passed him to the hind mule,
which kicked him carefully over the bank into the
river.
The mules were about to turn the matter over in
their minds when Captain Binns sent the full force
of the current through the wire and kept it going
steadily.  Thereupon the animals became panicstricken.  They began to rear and plunge; they
turned around and dashed down the tow-path toward
the boat. Then the line became taut; it jerked the
boat around suddenly with such force that the stern
of it broke through a weak place in the bank, and
before the captain could turn off his battery the
mules had dashed around the other side of the tollcollector's cabin, and then, making a lurch to the
left, they fell over the bank themselves, the line
scraping the cabin, the collector, three children and
a colored-man over with them. By the time the line
was cut and the sufferers rescued the mules were
drowned and all the water in the canal had gone
out through the break. It cost Captain Binns three
hundred dollars for damages; and when he had
settled the account, he concluded to wait for the report of that committee before making any new experiments.
The report of the committee upon improved locomotion was submitted to the company during the




36              ELBOW-ROOM.
following summer. It was a long and exceedingly
entertaining document, and the following extracts
from it may possess some interest:
THE REPORT.
"In reference to the plan offered by Henry Bushelson, which proposes to run the boats by means of
his patent propeller, we may remark that the steamengine with which the propeller is moved would sink
the boat; and even if it would not, the propellerblades, being longer than the depth of the canal,
would dig about five hundred cubic feet of mud out
of the bottom at each revolution. As a mud-dredge
Bushelson's patent might be a success, but as a motive-power it is a failure; and his suggestion that the
tow-path might be cut into lengths and laid side by
side and sold for a farm, therefore, is not wholly
practicable.
"The idea of William Bradley is that holes might
be cut in the bottom of the boat, and through these
the legs of the mule could be inserted, so that it
could walk along the bottom, while its body is safe
and dry inside. This notion is the offspring of a
fruitful and ingenious intellect; and if the water could
be kept from coming through the holes, it might be
considered valuable but for one thing-somebody
would have to invent a new kind of mule with legs
about seven feet long. Mr. Bradley's mind has not
yet devised any method of procuring such a mule,
and unless he can induce the ordinary kind to walk




INTERNAL NA VIGA TION.          37
upon stilts, we fear that the obstacles to success in
this direction may be regarded as insurmountable.
"Mr. Peterman Bostwick urges that important
results might be secured by making the canal an
inclined plane, so that when a boat is placed upon it
the boat will simply slide down hill by the power of
the attraction of gravitation. This seems to us a
beautiful method of adapting to the wants of man
one of the most remarkable of the laws of Nature,
and we should be inclined to give Mr. Bostwick the
first prize but for the fact that we have discovered,
upon investigation, that the water in the canal also
would slide down hill, and that it would require about
fifteen rivers the size of the Mississippi to keep up
the supply. Mr. Bostwick does not mention where
we are to get those rivers. He does, however, say
that if it shall be deemed inadvisable to slope the
canal, the boats themselves might be made in the
shape of inclined planes, so that they would run
down hill upon a level canal. There is something
so deep, so amazing, in this proposition that yout
committee needs more time to consider it and brood
over it.
"Mr. W. P. Robbins proposes to draw off the
water from the canal, lay rails on the bottom, and
then put the boats on wheels and run them with a
locomotive. Your committee has been very much
struck with this proposition, but has concluded, upon
reflection, that it is rather too revolutionary.  If
canal navigation should be begun in this manner,




38              ELBOW-ROOM.
probably we should soon have the railroad companies
running their trains on water by means of sails, and
stage lines traveling in the air with balloons. Such
things would unsettle the foundations of society and
induce anarchy and chaos. A canal that'has no
water is a licentious and incendiary canal; and it is
equally improper and equally repugnant to all conservative persons when, as Mr. Robbins suggests,
the boats are floated in tanks and the tanks are run
on rails.
"Your committee has given~ much thought and
patient examination to the plan of Mr. Thompson
McGlue. He suggests that the mules shall be clad
in submarine armor and made to walk under water
along the bottom of the canal, being fed with air
through a pump. As we have never seen a mule in
action while decorated with submarine armor, we are
unable to say with positiveness what his conduct
would be under such circumstances. But the objections to the plan are of a formidable character. The
mule would, of course, be wholly excluded from
every opportunity to view the scenery upon the route,
and we fear that this would have a tendency to discourage him. Being under water, too, he might be
tempted to stop frequently for the purpose of nibbling at the catfish encountered by him, and this
would distract his attention from his work. Somebody would have to dive whenever he got his hind
leg over.the tow-line; and when the water was muddy,
he might lose his way and either pull the boat in the




INTERNAL NA VIGA TION.         39
wrong direction or be continually butting against the
bank.
" Of the various other plans submitted, your committee have to say that A. R. Mackey's proposition
to run the boat by sails, and to fill the sails with wind
by means of a steam blower on the vessel; James
Thompson's plan of giving the captain and crew
small scows to put on their feet, so that they could
stand overboard and push behind; William Black's
theory that motion could be obtained by employing
trained sturgeon to haul the boat; and Martin Stotesbury's plea that propulsion could be given by placing
a cannon upon the poop-deck and firing it over the
stern, so that the recoil would shove the boat along,are wonderful evidences of what the human mind
can do when it exerts itself, but they are not as useful as they are marvelous."
The prize has not yet been awarded. It is thought
that the canal company will have to make it larger
before they secure exactly what they want.
There is nothing in common between canals and
sausages, but the mention of Mr. William Bradley's
name in the above report recalls another report in
which it figured. Bradley is an inventor who has a
very prolific mind, which, however, rarely produces
anything that anybody wants. One of Mr. Bradley's
inventions during the war was entitled by him
"'The Patent Imperishable Army Sausage."  His
idea was to simplify the movements of troops by




40              ELBO W-ROOM.
doing away with heavy provision-trains and to furnish soldiers with nutritious food in a condensed form.
The sausage was made on strictly scientific principles.
It contained peas and beef, and salt and pepper, and
starch and gum-arabic, and it was stuffed in the skins
by a machine which exhausted the air, so that it
would be air-tight. Bradley said that his sausage
would keep in any climate. You might lay it on
the equator and let the tropical sun scorch it, and it
would remain as sweet and fresh as ever; and Bradley said that there was more flesh-and-muscle-producing material in a cubic inch of the sausage than
in an entire dinner of roast turkey and other such
foolery.
So when Bradley had made up a lot of the Imperishable, he stored the bulk of them in the garret;
and putting a sample of them in his pocket, he went
down to Washington to see the Secretary of War,
to get him to introduce them to the army.
He walked into the secretary's office and pulled
out a sausage, and holding it toward him was about
to explain it to him, when the secretary suddenly
dodged behind the table. The movement struck
Bradley as being queer, and he walked around after
the secretary, still holding out a sample of the Imperishable. Then the secretary made a bolt for the
door and went out, and presently in came a couple
of clerks with shot-guns. They aimed at Bradley,
and told him to drop his weapon or they would fire.
He deposited the sausage on the table and asked




BRADLE Y'S SAUSAGE.           4I
them what was the matter, and then the secretary
came in and said he mistook the sausage for a revolver. When Bradley explained his mission, the
secretary told him that nothing could be done without the action of Congress, and he recommended
the inventor to go up to the Capitol and push his
sausage through there.
So Bradley was on hand next day before the session opened, and he laid a sausage on the desk of
each member. When the House assembled, there




42              ELBO W-ROOM.
was a large diversity of opinion respecting the meaning of the extraordinary display. Some were inclined to regard the article as an infernal machine
introduced by some modern Guy Fawkes, while
others leaned to the view that it was a new kind of
banana developed by the Agricultural Department.
After a while Bradley turned up and explained, and
he spent the winter there trying to force his sausage
on his beloved country. At the very end of the session a bill was smuggled through, ordering the commissary department of the army to appoint a commission to investigate Bradley's sausage, and to
report to the Secretary of War.
When the commission was organized, it came on
with Bradley to his home on his farm to examine
his method. As the party approached the house a
terrific smell greeted them, and upon entering the
front door it became nearly unendurable. Mrs. Bradley said she thought there must be something dead
under the washboard. But upon going into the
garret the origin of the smell became obvious.
About half a ton of the Patent Imperishable Sausage lay on the floor in a condition of fearful decay.
Then the commissioners put their fingers to their
noses and adjourned, and the chairman went to the
hotel to write out his report. It was about as
follows:
"After a careful examination of the Bradley Patent Imperishable Army Sausage, we find that it is
eminently suitable for certair well-defined purposes,




BRADLE Y'S SA USA GE.          43
If it should be introduced to warfare as a missile, we
could calculate with precision that its projection
from a gun into a besieged town would instantly
induce the garrison to evacuate the place and quit;
but the barbarity which would be involved in subjecting even an enemy to direct contact with the
Bradley Sausage is so frightful that we shrink from
recommending its use, excepting in extreme cases.
The odor disseminated by the stink-pot used in war
by the Chinese is fragrant and balmy compared with
the perfume which belongs to this article. It might
also be used profitably as a manure for poor land,
and in a very cold climate, where it is absolutely
certain to be frozen, it could be made serviceable as
a tent-pin.
"But as an article of food it is open to several
objections. Bradley's method of mixing is so defective that he has one sausage filled with peas, another with gum-arabic, another with pepper and
another with beef. The beef sausages will certainly
kill any man who eats a mouthful, unless they are
constantly kept on ice from the hour they are made,
and the gum-arabic sausages are not sufficiently
nutritious to enable an army to conduct an arduous
campaign. We are therefore disposed to recommend that the sausage shall not be accepted by the
department, and that Bradley's friends put him in an
asylum where his mind can be cared for."
When Bradley heard about the report, he was indignant; and after reflecting that republics are al



44              ELBO W-ROOM.
ways ungrateful, he sent a box of the sausages to
Bismarck, in order to ascertain if they could not be
introduced to the German army. Three months
later he was shot at one night by a mysterious person, and the belief prevails in this neighborhood
that it was an assassin sent over to this country by
Bismarck for the single purpose of butchering the
inventor of the Imperishable Army Sausage. Since
then Bradley has abandoned the project, and he is
now engaged in perfecting a washing-machine which
has reached such a stage that on the first trial it tore
four shirts and a bolster-slip to rags.




CHAPTER IV.
THE FACTS IN REEERENCE TO MR. BUTTER WVICK'S
HORSE.
R. BUTTERWICK is not a good judge
of horses, but a brief while ago he
thought he would like to own a good
horse, and so he went to a sale at a farm
over in Tulpehocken township, and for some reason
that has not yet been revealed he bid upon the forlornest wreck of a horse that ever retained vitality.
It was knocked down to him before he had a chance
to think, and he led it home with something like a
feeling of dismay. The purchase in a day or two
got to be the joke of the whole village, and people
poked fun at Butterwick in the most merciless manner. But he was inclined to take a philosophical
view of the matter, and to present it in rather a novel
and interesting light. When I spoke to him of the
unkind things that were said about the horse, he
said,
" Oh, I know that they say he has the heaves; but
one of the things I bought him for was because he
breathes so loud.  That is a sign that he has a
plenty of wind. You take any ordinary horse, and
45




46              ELBOW-ROOM.
you can't hear him draw a breath; his lungs are frail
and he daren't inflate'em. But my horse fills his
up and blows'em out again vigorously, so people
can hear for themselves how he enjoys the fresh air.
Now, I'll let you into a secret, only mind you don't
go to whispering it about: When you want to buy
a horse, go and stand off a quarter of a mile and see
if you can hear him kinder sighing. If you can,
why go for that horse; he's worth his weight in
gold. That's strictly between you and me, now
mind!
"And you know that old idiot, Potts, was trying
to joke me because the horse was sprung in the
knees, as if that was not the very thing that made
me resolve to have that horse if I ran him up to five
hundred dollars! You are a young man with no experience in the world, and I'll tell you why I like such
legs: They give the horse more leverage. Do you
see? When a horse's leg is straight, the more he
bears on it, the more likely he is to fracture the bone.
But you curve that leg a little to the front, and the
upper bone bears obliquely on the lower bone, the
pressure is distributed and the horse has plenty of
purchase. It is the well-known principle of the arch,
you know. If it's good in building a house, why isn't
it good in getting up a horse? Sprung in the knees!
Why, good gracious, man! a horse that is not sprung
is not any horse at all; he is only fit for soap-fat and
glue. Now, that's as true as my name's Butterwick.




MR. BUTTER WICK'S HORSE.         47
"And as for his tail, that they talk so much about!
Who'n the thunder wanted a long tail on the horse?
I knew well enough it was short and had only six
or seven hairs on it. But the Romans and Egyptians made their horses bob-tailed, and why?  Maybe you ain't up in ancient history? Why, those old
Romans knew that a horse with a fifteen-inch tail
had more meat on him than a horse with a four-inch
tail, and consequently required more nourishment.
They knew that more muscular force is expended in
brandishing a long tail than a short one, and muscular force is made by food, so they chopped off their
horses' tails to make'em eat less. They had level
heads in those times.  They were up in scientific
knowledge. But what do these idiots around this
town know about such things? Let'em laugh. I
can stand a tail that saves me a couple of bushels
of oats a year. I'll bet you anything that there's
millions and millions of dollars wasted-just thrown
away-in this country every year furnishing nutriment
to tails that are of no earthly use to the horses after
they're nourished. You can depend on that. I've
examined the government statistics, and they're
enough to make a man cry to see how wasteful the
American people are.
"And when you talk about his ribs showing so
plainly through his sides, you prove that you have
a very singular want of taste. Which is handsomer,
a flat wall or a wall with a surface varied with col.
umns and pilasters? Well, then, when you take a




48       -      EL BO W-ROOM.
hoise, no man who loves art wants to see him
smooth and even from stem to stern. What you
want is a varied surface-a little bit of hill and a
little bit of. valley; and you get it in a horse like
mine. Most horses are monotonous. They tire on
you  But swell out the ribs, and there you have a
horse that always pleases the eye and appeals to the
finei sensibilities of the mind. Besides, you are
always perfectly certain that he has his full number,of ribs, and that the man you buy him of is not
keeping back a single, solitary bone. Your horse is
all there, and you go to bed at night comfortable
because you know it. That's the way I look at it;
and without caring to have it mentioned around, I
don't mind telling you that I know a man who came
all the way from Georgia to buy my horse simply
because he heard that his ribs stuck out. I got my
bid in ahead of him, and he went home the worst
disgusted man you ever saw.
"And about his having glanders and botts and
blind staggers and a raw shoulder, I can tell you
that those things never attack any but a thoroughbred horse; and for my part, I made up my mind
years ago, when I was a child, that if any man ever
offered me a horse that hadn't blind staggers I
wouldn't take him as a gift. Now, that's as true as
you're alive. Professor Owen says that so far from
regarding glanders as a disease he considers it the
crowning glory of a good horse, and he wants the
English government to pass a law inoculating every




MR. BUTTER WICK'S HORSE.         49
horse on the island with it. You write to him and
ask him if that ain't so."
And so Butterwick put his phenomenal horse in
his stable, hired an Irishman to take care of it, and
possessed his soul in peace. However, before he
fairly had a chance to enjoy his purchase, he was
summoned to St. Louis to look after some business
matters, and he was detained there for about six
weeks. During his absence Mrs. Butterwick assumed
the responsibility for the management of the horse;
and as she knew as much about taking care of horses
as she did about conducting the processes of the
sidereal system, the result was that Mr. Butterwick's
horse was the unconscious parent of infinite disaster.
When Butterwick returned and had kissed his wife
and talked over his journey, the following conversation ensued. Mrs. Butterwick said,
"You know our horse, dearest?"
" Yes, sweet; how is he getting along?"
"Not so very well; he has cost a great deal of
money since you've been away."
" Indeed?"
"Yes; besides his regular feed and Patrick's
wages as hostler, I have on hand unpaid bills to the
amount of two thousand dollars on his account."
"Two thousand! Why, Emma, you amaze me!
What on earth does it mean?"
"I'll tell you the whole story, love. Just after you
left he took a severe cold, and he coughed incessantly.
You could hear him cough for miles. All the neigh4




50              EZELBOW-ROOM.
bors complained of it, and Mr. Potts, next door, was
so mad that he shot at the horse four times. Patrick
said it was whooping-cough."
" Whooping-cough, darling! Impossible! A horse
never has whooping-cough."
"Well, Patrick said so. And as I always give
paregoric to the children when they cough, I concluded that it would be good for the horse, so I
bought a bucketful and gave it to him with sugar."
"A bucketful of paregoric, my love!   It was
enough to kill him."
" Patrick said that was a regular dose for a horse
of sedentary habits; and it didn't kill him: it put
him to sleep. You will be surprised, dear, to learn
that the horse slept straight ahead for four weeks.
Never woke up once. I was frightened about it, but
Patrick told me that it was a sign of a good horse.
He said that Dexter often slept six months on a
stretch, and that once they took Goldsmith Maid to
a race while she was sound asleep and she trotted a
mile in 2: I 5, I think he said, without getting awake."
" Patrick said that, did he?"
"Yes; that was at the end of the second week.
But as the horse didn't rouse up, Patrick said it
couldn't be the paregoric that kept him asleep so
long; and he came to me and asked me not to mention it, but he had suspicions that Mr. Fogg had
mesmerized him."
"I never heard of a horse being mesmerized,
dearest."




MR. BUTTER WICK'S HORSE.         51
"Neither did I, but Patrick said it was a ommon
thing with the better class of horses. And when he
kept on sleeping, dear, I got frightened, and Patrick
consulted the horse-doctor, who came over with a
galvanic battery, which he said would wake the
horse. They fixed the wires to his leg and turned
on the current. It did rouse him. He got up and
kicked fourteen boards out of the side of the stable
and then jumped the fence into Mr. Potts' yard,
where he trod on a litter of young pigs, kicked two
cows to death and bit the tops off of eight apple
trees. Patrick said he tried to swallow Mrs. Potts')
baby, but I didn't see him do that. Patrick may
have exaggerated. I don't know. It seems hardly
likely, does it, that the horse would actually try to
eat a child?"
"The man that sold him to me didn't mention
that he was fond of babies."
" But he got over the attack. The only effect was
that the paregoric or the electricity, or something,
turned his hair all the wrong way, and he looks the
queerest you ever saw.  Oh yes; it did seem to
affect his appetite, too. He appeared to be always
hungry. He ate up the hay-rack and two sets of
harness. And one night he broke out and nibbled
off all the door-knobs on the back of the house."
"Door-knobs, Emma? Has he shown a fondness
for door-knobs?"
" Yes; and he ate Louisa's hymn-book, too. She
left it lying on the table on the porch. Patrick said




52              ELBOW-ROOM.
he knew a man in Ireland whose horse would starve
to death unless they fed him on Bibles. If he couldn't
get Bibles, he'd take Testaments; but unless he got
Scriptures of some kind, he was utterly intractable."
"I would like to have had a look at that horse,
sweet."
"So we got the horse-doctor again, and he said
that what the poor animal wanted was a hypodermic
injection of morphia to calm his nerves. He told
Patrick to get a machine for placing the morphia under the horse's skin. But Patrick said that he could
do it without the machine. So one day he got the
morphia, and began to bore a hole in the horse with
a gimlet."
"A gimlet, Emma?"
"An ordinary gimlet. But it seemed unpleasant
to the horse, and so he kicked Patrick through the
partition, breaking three of his ribs. Then I got the
doctor to perform the operation properly, and the
horse after that appeared right well, excepting that
Patrick said that he had suddenly acquired an extraordinary propensity for standing on his head."
" He is the first horse that ever wanted to do that,
love."
"Patrick said not. He told me about a man he
worked for in Oshkosh who had a team of mules
which always stood on their heads when they were
not at work. He said all the mules in Oshkosh did.
So Patrick tied a heavy stone to our horse's tail to
balance him and keep him straight. And this worked




MR. BUTTER WICX'S HORSE.                         53
to a charm until I took the horse to church one Sunday, when, while a crowd stood round him looking
at him, he swung his tail around and brained six boys
vith the stone."
"Brained them, love?"
"Well, I didn't see them myself, but Patrick told
me, when I came out of church, that they were as
good as dead. And he said he remembered that
that Oshkosh man used to coax his mules to stand
on their legs by letting them hear music. It soothed
them, he said. And so Patrick got a friend to come
around and sit in the stall and calm our horse by
playing on the accordion."
" Did it make him calmer?"
" It seemed to at first; but one day Patrick undertook to bleed him for the blind staggers, and he must
have cut the horse in the wrong place, for the poor
brute fell over on the accordion person and died,
nearly killing the musician."
" The horse is dead, then?   Where is the bill?"
" I'll read it to you:
THE BILL.
Horse-doctor's fees.................................................  $125 50
Paregoric for cough............................................   80 oo
Galvanic battery......................................................    IO 00
Repairing stable.....................................................   12 25
Potts' cow, pigs, apple trees and baby..........................   251 00
Damage to door-knobs, etc.......................................  I75 00
Louisa's hymn-book......................................25..........  25
Gimlet and  injections...............................................  15   00
Repairing Patrick's ribs...........................................  145 00




54                ELBO W-R~OOM.
Music on accordion.............................................    21 00
Damages to player..................................................  184 oo
Burying six boys...............................................    995  00
$2,014 00
"That is all, love, is it?"
"Yes."
Then Mr. Butterwick folded the bill up and went
out into the back yard to think. Subsequently, he
told me that he had concluded to repudiate the unpaid portions of the bill, and then to try to purchase
a better horse. He said he had heard that Mr. Key-'ser, a farmer over in Lower Merion, had a horse that
he wanted to sell, and he asked me to go over there
with him to see about it. I agreed to do so.
When we reached the place, Mr. Keyser asked us
into the parlor, and while we were sitting there we
heard Mrs. Keyser in the dining-room, adjoining,
busy.preparing supper. Keyser would not sell his
horse, but he was quite sociable, and after some
conversation, h'e said, -
"Gentlemen, in I847 I owned a hoss that never
seen his equal in this State. And that hoss once did
the most extr'ordinary thing that was ever done by
an animal. One day I had him out, down yer by
the creek-"
Here Mrs. Keyser opened the door and exclaimed,
shrilly,
"Keyser, if you want any supper, you'd better get
me some kin'lin-wood pretty quick."
Then Keyser turned to us and said,




MR. BUTTER WICK'S HORSE.          55
"Excuse me for a few moments, gentlemen, if you
please."
A moment later we heard him splitting wood in
the cellar beneath, and indulging in some very hard
language with his soft pedal down, Mrs. Keyser
being the object of his objurgations. After a while
he came into the parlor again, took his seat, wiped
the moisture from his brow, put his handkerchief in
his hat, his hat on the floor, and resumed:
"As I was sayin', gentlemen, one day I had that
hoss down yer by the creek; it was in'47 or'48, I
most forget which. But, howsomedever, I took him
down yer by the creek, and I was jest about to-"
Mrs. Keyser (opening the door suddenly). "'  ou,
Keyser! there's not a drop of water in the kitchen,
and unless some's drawed there'll be no supper in
this house this night, now mind me!"
Keyser (with a look of pain upon his face). "Well,
well! this is too bad! too bad! Gentlemen, just
wait half a minute. I'll be right back. The old
woman's rarin''round, and she won't wait."
Then we heard Keyser at work at the well-bucket;
and looking out the back window, we saw him bringing in a pail of water. On his way he encountered
a dog, and in order to give his pent-up feelings adequate expression, he kicked the animal clear over
the fence.  Presently he came into the parlor,
mopped his forehead, and began again.
Keyser. "As I was sayin', that hoss was perfeckly
astonishin'. On the day of which I was speakin', I




56              ELBO W-RO OM.
was ridin' him down yer by the creek, clost by the
corn-field, and I was jest about to wade him in, when,
all of a suddent-like, he-"
Mrs. Keyser (at the door, and with her voice pitched
at a high key). "ARE YOU goin' to fetch that ham
from the smoke-house, or ARE YOU goin' to set there
jabberin' and go without your supper?  If that
ham isn't here in short order, I'll know the reason
why. You hear me?"
Keyser (his face red and his manner excited). "GraSHUS! If this isn't-  Well, well! this just lays over
all the — Pshaw! Mr. Butterwick, if you'll hold on
for a second, I'll be with you agin. I'll be right
back."
Then we heard Keyser slam open the smokehouse door, and presently he emerged with a ham,
which he carried in one hand, while with the other
he made a fist, which he shook threateningly at the
kitchen door, as if to menace Mrs. Keyser, who
couldn't see hiin.
Again he entered the parlor, smelling of smoke
and ham, and, crossing his legs, he continued.
Keyser. " Excuse these little interruptions; the old
woman's kinder sing'ler, and you've got to humor
her to live in peace with her. Well, sir, as I said, I
rode that extr'ordinary hoss down yer by the creek
on that day to which I am referrin', and after passin'
the cornfield I was goin' to wade him into the creek;
just then, all of a suddent, what should that hoss dc
but-"




MR. BUTTER WICK'S HORSE.         57
Mrs. Keyser (at the door again). "Keyser, you
lazy vagabone! Why don't you'tend to milkin'
them cows? Not one mossel of supper do you put
in your mouth this night unless you do the milkin'
right off. You sha'n't touch a crust, or my name's
not Emeline Keyser!"
Then Keyser leaped to his feet in a perfect frenzy
of rage and hurled the chair at Mrs. Keyser; whereupon she seized the poker and came toward him
with savage earnestness. Then we adjourned to the
front yard suddenly; and as Butterwick and I got
into the carriage to go home, Keyser, with a humble expression in his eyes, said:
" Gentlemen, I'll tell you that hoss story another
time, when the old woman's calmer. Good-day."
I am going to ask him to'w'rite it out. I am anxious to know what that horse did down at the creek.
Butterwick subsequently bought another horse
from a friend of his in the city, but the animal developed eccentricities of such a remarkable character
that he became unpopular. Butterwick, in explaining the subject to me, said,
" I was surprised to find, when I drove him out for
the first time, that he had an irresistible propensity to
back. He seemed to be impressed with a conviction
that nature had put his hind legs in front, and that
he could see with his tail; and whenever I attempted
to start him, he always proceeded backward until I
whipped him savagely, and then he would go in a
proper manner, but suddenly, and with the air of a




58              ELBOW-ROOM.
horse who had a conviction that there was a lunatic
in the carriage who didn't know what he was about.
One day, while we were coming down the street,
this theory became so strong that he suddenly
stopped and backed the carriage through the plateglass window of Mackey's drug-store. After that I
always hitched him up with his head toward the carriage, and then he seemed to feel better contented,
only sometimes he became too sociable, and used to
put his head over the dasher and try to chew my
legs or to eat the lap-cover.
"Besides, the peculiar arrangement of the animal
excited unpleasant remark when I drove out; and
when I wanted to stop and would hitch him by the
tail to a post, he had. a very disagreeable way of
reaching out with his hind legs and sweeping the
sidewalk whenever he saw anybody that he felt as if
he would like to kick.
" He was not much of a saddle-horse; not that he
would attempt to throw his rider, but whenever a
saddle was put on him it made his back itch, and he
would always insist upon rubbing it against the first
tree or fence or corner of a house that he came to;
and if he could bark the rider's leg, he seemed to
be better contented. The last time I rode him was
upon the day of Mr. Johnson's wedding. I had on
my best suit, and on the way to the festival there
was a creek to be forded. When the horse got into
the middle of it, he took a drink, and then looked
around at the scenery. Then he took another drink,




MR. B UTTER WIC' S HORSE.         9
and gazed again at the prospect. Then he suddenly felt tired and lay down in the water. By the
time he was sufficiently rested I was ready to go
home.
"The next day he was taken sick. Patrick said it
was the epizooty, and he mixed him up some turpentine in a bucket of warm feed. That night the
horse had spasms, and kicked four of the best boards
out of the side of the stable. Jones said that horse
hadn't the epizooty, but the botts, and that the turpentine ought to have been rubbed on the outside




ELB O WROO.
of him instead of going into his stomach. So we
rubbed him with turpentine, and next morning he
hadn't a hair on his body.
"Colonel Coffin told me that if I wanted to know
what really ailed that horse he would tell me. It
was glanders, and if he wasn't bled he would die.
So the colonel bled him for me. We took away a
tubful, and the horse thinned down so that his
ribs made him look as if he had swallowed a flourbarrel.
"Then I sent for the horse-doctor, and he said there
~was nothing the matter with the horse but heaves,
and he left some medicine'to''patch up his wind.'
The result was that the horse coughed for two days
as if he had gone into galloping consumption, and
between two of the coughs he kicked the hired man
through the partition and bit our black-and-tan terrier in half.
" I thought perhaps a little exercise might improve
his health, so I drove him out one day, and he proceeded in such a peculiar manner that I was afraid
he might suddenly come apart and fall to pieces.
When we reached the top of White House hill,
which is very steep by the side of the road, he
stopped, gave a sort of shudder, coughed a couple
of times, kicked a fly off his side with his hind leg,
and then lay down and calmly rolled over the bank.
I got out of the carriage before he fell, and I watched
him pitch clear down to the valley beneath, with the
vehicle dragging after him. When we got to him




MR. BUTTER WICK'S HORSE. 6!
he was dead, and the man at the farm-house close by
said he had the blind staggers.
"I sold him for eight dollars to a man who wanted
to make him up into knife-handles and suspenderbuttons; and since then we have walked. I hardly
think I shall buy another horse. My luck doesn't
seem good enough when I make ventures of that
kind."




CHAPTER V.
SOME EDUCA TiONAL FA CTS.
HE public-school system of the village was
reorganized during a recent summer; and
in consequence of a considerable enlargement of the single school-building and
the great increase of the number of scholars, it was
determined to engage an additional woman-teacher
in the girls' department. Accordingly, the board of
directors advertised for a suitable person, instructing
applicants to call upon Judge Twiddler, the chairman. A day or two later, Mrs. Twiddler advertised
in a city paper for a cook, and upon the same afternoon an Irish girl came to the house to obtain the
place in the kitchen. The judge was sitting upon
the front porch at the time reading a newspaper; and
when the girl entered the gate of the yard, he mistook her for a school-mistress, and he said to her,
"Did you come about that place?"
"Yes, sor," she answered.
"Oh, very well, then; take a seat and I'll run over
a few things in order to ascertain what your qualifications are. Bound Africa."
E2




SOME EDUCATIONAL FAC7'S.         63
"If you please, sor, I don't know what you mean."
"I say, bound Africa."
"Bou-bou- Begorra, I don't know what ye're
referrin' to."
" Very strange," said the judge. " Can you tell me
if'amphibious' is an adverb or a preposition? What
is an adverb?"
"Indade, and ye bother me intirely. I never had
anything to do wid such things at my last place."
"Then it must have been a curious sort of an institution," said the judge. "Probably you can tell
me how to conjugate the verb'to be,' and just mention, also, what you know about Herodotus."
"Ah, yer Honor's jokin' wid me. Be done wid
yer fun, now."
"Did you ever hear of Herodotus?"
"Never once in the whole coorse of my life. Do
you make it with eggs?"
"This is the most extraordinary woman I evei
encountered," murmured the judge.  "How  she
ever associated Herodotus with the idea of eggs is
simply incomprehensible. Well, can you name the
hemisphere in which China and Japan are situated?"
" Don't bother me wid yer fun, now. I can wash
the china and the pans as well as anybody, and that's
enough, now, isn't it?"
"Dumb! awful dumb! Don't know the country
from the crockery. I'll try her once more. Name
the limits of the Tropic of Capricorn, and tell me
where Asia Minor is located."




64              ELBOW-ROOM.
"I have a brother that's one, sor; that's all I
know about it."
" One? One what?"
"Didn't ye ask me afther the miners, sor? My
brother Teddy works wid'em."
"And this," said the judge, " is the kind of person
to whom we are asked to entrust the education of
youth. Woman, what do you know?  What kind
of a school have you been teaching?"
" None, sor. What should I teach school for?"
" Totally without experience, as I supposed," said
the judge.
" Mrs. Ferguson had a governess teach the children when I was cookin' for her."
"Cooking! Ain't you a school-teacher?  What
do you mean by proposing to stop cooking in order
to teach school? Why, it's preposterous."
" Begorra, I came here to get the cook's place, sor,
and that's all of it."
"Oh, by George! I see now. You ain't a candidate for the grammar school, after all. You want
to see Mrs. Twiddler. Maria, come down here a
minute.  There's a thick-headed immigrant here
wants to cook for you."
And the judge picked up his paper and resumed
the editorial on "The Impending Crisis."
They obtained a good teacher, however, and the
course of affairs in the girls' department was smooth
enough; but just after the opening of the fall session there was some trouble in the boys' department.




SOME EDUCA TIONAL FACTS.         65
Mr. Barnes, the master, read in the Educational
Monthly that boys could be taught history better
than in any other way by letting each boy in the
class represent some historical character, and relate
the acts of that character as if he had done them
himself. This struck Barnes as a mighty good idea,
and he resolved to put it in practice. The school
had then progressed so far in its study of the history
of Rome as the Punic wars, and Mr. Barnes immediately divided -the boys into two parties, one Romans and the other Carthaginians, and certain of the
boys were named after the leaders upon both sides.
All the boys thought it was a fine thing, and Barnes
noticed that they were so anxious to get to the history lesson that they could hardly say their other
lessons properly.
When the time came, Barnes ranged the Romans
upon one side of the room and the Carthaginians on
the other. The recitation was very spirited, each
party telling about its deeds with extraordinary unction. After a while Barnes asked a Roman to describe the battle of Cannae. Whereupon the Romans
hurled their copies of Wayland's Moral Science at
the enemy. Then the Carthaginians made a battering-ram out of a bench and jammed it among the
Romans, who retaliated with a volley of books, slates
and chewed paper-balls. Barnes concluded that the
battle of Cannae had been sufficiently illustrated, and
he tried to stop it; but the warriors considered it too
good a thing to let drop, and accordingly the Car5S




66              ELBOW-ROOM.
thaginians dashed over to the Romans with another
battering-ram and thumped a couple of them savagely.
Then the Romans turned in, and the fight became
general. A Carthaginian would grasp a Roman by
the hair and hustle him around over the desk in a
manner that was simply frightful, and a Roman would
give a fiendish whoop and knock a Carthaginian over
the head with Greenleaf's Arithmetic. Hannibal got
the head of Scipio Africanus under his arm, and
Scipio, in his efforts to break away, stumbled, and
the two generals fell and had a rough-and-tumble
fight under the blackboard. Caius Gracchus prodded Hamilcar with a ruler, and the latter in his
struggles to get loose fell against the stove and
knocked down about thirty feet of stove-pipe.
Thereupon the Romans made a grand rally, and in
five minutes they chased the entire Carthaginian
army out of the school-room, and Barnes along with
it; and then they locked the door and began to hunt
up the apples and lunch in the desks of the enemy.
After consuming the supplies they went to the
windows and made disagreeable remarks to the Carthaginians, who were standing in the yard, and dared
old Barnes to bring the foe once more into battle
array. Then Barnes went for a policeman; and when
he knocked at the door, it was opened, and all the
Romans were found busy studying their lessons.
When Barnes -came in with the defeated troops he
went for Scipio Africanus; and pulling him out of his




THE BATTLE OF CANNzE.








SOME EDUCATIONAL FACTS.          69
seat by the ear, he thrashed that great military genius
with a rattan until Scipio began to cry, whereupon
Barnes dropped him and began to paddle Caius
Gracchus. Then things settled down in the old way,
and next morning Barnes announced that history in
the future would be studied as it always had been;
and he wrote a note to the Educational Mont/ly to
say that in his opinion the man who suggested the
new system ought to be led out and shot. The boys
do not now take as much interest in Roman history
as they did on that day.
The young tragedian who represented Scipio Africanus is named Smith. His family came to the
village to live only a few weeks before the school
opened. Scipio is a very enterprising and ingenious
lad. Colonel Coffin's boy leaned over the fence one
day and gave to me his impressions of Scipio, a lad
about fourteen years old:
"Yes, me and him are right well acquainted now;
he knows more'n I do, and he's had more experience. Bill says his father used to be a robber
(Smith, by the way, is a deacon in the Presbyterian
church, and a very excellent lawyer), and that he
has ten million dollars in gold buried in his cellar,
along with a whole lot of human bones —people he's
killed. And he says his father is a conjurer, and
that he makes all the earthquakes that happen anywheres in the world. The old man'll come home at
night, after there's been an earthquake, all covered




70              ELB O tV-R O OM.
with perspiration and so tired he kin hardly stand.
Bill says it's such hard work.
"And Bill tole me that once when a man came
around there trying to sell lightning-rods his father
got mad and et him —et him right up; and he takes
bites out of everybody he comes acrost.
"That's what Bill tells me.  That's all I know
about it. And he tole me that once he used to have
a dog-one of these little kind of dogs-and he was
flying his kite, and just for fun he tied the kite-string
onto his dog's tail. And then the wind struck her
and his dog went a-scuddin' down the street'with his
hind legs in the air for about a mile, when the kite
all of a sudden begun to go up, and in about a
minute the dog was fifteen miles high and commanding a view of California and Egypt, I think
Bill said. He came down, anyhow, I know, in Brazil,
and Bill said he swum home all the way in the Atlantic Ocean; and when he landed, his legs were allnibbled off by sharks.
" I wish father'd buy me a dog, so's I could send
him up that way. But I never have any luck. Bill
said that where they used to live he went out on the
roof one day to fly his kite, and he sat on top of the
chimbly to give her plenty of room, and while he
was sitting there thinking about nothing, the old
man put a keg of powder down below in the fireplace to clean the soot out of the chimbly. And
when he touched her off, Bill was blowed over agin
the Baptist church steeple, and he landed on the




SOME EDUCA TIOVNAL FACTS.       7 
weather-cock with his pants torn, and they couldn't
git him down for three days, so he hung there, going
round and round with the wind, and he lived by eating the crows that came and sat on him, because
they thought he was made of sheet-iron and put up
there on purpose.
"He's had more fun than enough. He was telling me the other day about a sausage-stuffer his
brother invented.  It was a kinder machine that
worked with a treadle; and Bill said the way they
did in the fall was to fix it on the hog's back, and
connect the treadle with a string, and then the hog'd
work the treadle and keep on running it up and
down until the machine cut the hog all up fine and
shoved the meat into the skins. Bill said his brother
called it' Every Hog His Own Stuffer,' and it worked
splendid. But I do' know.'Pears to me'sif there
couldn't be no machine like that. But anyway, Bill
said so.
"And he told me about an uncle of his out in
Australia who was et by a big oyster once; and when
he got inside, he stayed there until he'd et the oyster.
Then he split the shell open and took half a one
for a boat, and he sailed along until he met a seaserpent, and he killed it and drawed off its skin, and
when he got home he sold it to an engine company
for a hose, for forty thousand dollars, to put out fires
with. Bill said that was actually so, because he
could show me a man who used to belong to the
engine company. I wish father'd let me go out to




72              ELBO W-ROOM.
find a sea-serpent like that; but he don't let me have
a chance to distinguish myself.
" Bill was saying only yesterday that the Indians
caught him once and drove eleven railroad spikes
through his stomach and cut off his scalp, and it
never hurt him a bit. He said he got away by the
daughter of the chief sneaking him out of the wigwam and lending him a horse. Bill says she was
in love with him; and when I asked him to let me
see the holes where they drove in the spikes, he
said he daresn't take off his clothes or he'd bleed
to death. He said his own father didn't know it,
because Bill was afraid it might worry the old
man.
"And Bill tole me they wasn't going to get him
to go to Sunday-school. He says his father has a
brass idol that he keeps in the garret, and Bill says
he's made up his mind to be a pagan, and to begin
to go naked, and carry a tomahawk and a bow and
arrow, as soon as the warm weather comes. And to
prove it to me, he says his father has this town all
underlaid with nitro-glycerine, and as soon as he
gets ready he's going to blow the old thing out, and
bust her up, let her rip, and demolish her. He said
so down at the dam, and tole me not to tell anybody,
but I thought they'd be no harm in mentioning it to
you.
"And now I believe I must be going. I hear
Bill a-whistling. Maybe he's got something else to
tell me."




SOME EDUCA TIO4NAL FACTS.        73
The Smith boy will be profitable to the youth of
the community.
Barnes, the pedagogue, is a worthy man who has
seen trouble. Precisely what was the nature of the
afflictions which had filled his face with furrows and
given him the air of one who has been overburdened
with sorrows was not revealed until Mr. Keyser told
the story one evening at the grocery-store. Whether
his narrative is strictly true or not is uncertain.
There is a bare possibility that Mr. Keyser may
have exaggerated grossly a very simple fact.
"Nobody ever knew how it got in there," said
Mr. Keyser, clasping his hands over his knee and
spitting into the stove.  "Some thought Barnes
must've swallowed a tadpole while drinking out of a
spring and it subsequently grew inside him, while
others -allowed that maybe he'd accidentally eaten
frogs' eggs some time and they'd hatched out. But
anyway, he had that frog down there inside of him
settled and permanent and perfectly satisfied with
being in out of the rain. It used to worry Barnes
more'n a little, and he tried various things to git rid
of it. The doctors they give him sickening stuff,
and over and over agin emptied him; and then
they'd hold him by the heels and shake him over a
basin, and they'd bait a hook with a fly and fish
down his throat hour after hour, but that frog was
too intelligent. He never even gave them a nibble;
and when they'd try to fetch him with an emetic,




74              ELBO W-ROOM.
he'd dig his claws into Barnes's membranes and
hold on until the storm was over.
"Not that Barnes minded the frog merely being
in there if he'd only a kept quiet. But he was too
vociferous that's what Barnes said to me. A taciturn frog he wouldn't have cared about so much.
But how would you like to have one down inside of
you there a-whooping every now and then in the
most ridiculous manner?  Maybe, for instance;
Barnes'd be out taking tea with a friend, and just
when everybody else was quiet it'd suddenly occur
to his frog to tune- up, and the next minute you'd
hear something go'Blo-o-o-ood-a-noun! Blo-oooo-ood-a-noun!' two or three times, apparently under
the table. Then the folks would ask if there was an
aquarium in the house or if the man had a frogpond in the cellar, and Barnes'd get as red as fire
and jump up and go home.
" And often when he'd be setting in church, perhaps in the most solemn part of the sermon, he'd
feel something give two or three quick kinder jerks
under his vest, and presently that reptile would bawl
right out in the meeting'Bloo-oo-oo-ood-a-noun!
Bloo-oo-oo-ood-a-nou-ou-oun-!' and keep it up until
the sexton would come along and run out two or
three boys for profaning the sanctuary. And at last
he'd fix -it on poor old Barnes, and then tell him that
if he wanted to practice ventriloquism he'd better
wait till after church. And then the frog'd give six
or seven more hollers, so that the minister would




SO$ME EDUCAiTIONAL FACTS.         75
stop and look at Barnes, and Barnes'd get up and
skip down the aisle and go home furious about it.
" It had a deep voice for an ordinary frog-betwixt
a French horn and a bark-mill. And Mrs. Barnes
told me herself that often, when John'd get comfortably fixed in bed and just dropping off into a nap,
the frog'd think it was a convenient time for some
music; and after hopping about a bit, it'd all at once
grind out three or four awful' Bloo-oo-ood-a-nouns'
and wake Mrs. Barnes and the baby, and start things
up generally all around the house. And-would you
believe it?-if that frog felt, maybe, a little frisky, or
p'raps had some tune running through its head, it'd
keep on that way for hours. It worried Barnes like
thunder.
"I dunno whether it was that that killed his wife
or not; but anyhow, when she died, Barnes wanted to
marry agin, and he went for a while to see Miss
Flickers, who lives out yer on the river road, you
know. He courted her pretty steady for a while, and
we all thought there was goin' to be a consolidation.
But she was telling my wife that one evening Barnes
had just taken hold of her hand and told her he
loved her, when all of a sudden something said,'Bloo-oo-oo-ood-a-nou-ou-oun!'
"'What on earth's that?' asked Miss Flickers,
looking sorter scared.
"'I dunno,' said Barnes;'it sounds like somebody
making a noise in the cellar.' Lied, of course, for
he knew mighty well what it was.




76               ELBOW-ROOM.
"' Maybe it wasn't anything, after all,' says Barnes,
when just then the frog, he feels like running up the
scales again, and he yells out,'Bloo-oo-ood-a-nouou-ou-oun!'
"'Upon my word,' says Miss Flickers,' I believe
you've got a frog in your pocket, Mr. Barnes; now,
haven't you?'
" Then he gets down on his knees and owns up to
the truth, and swears he'll do his best to git rid of




SOME ED UCATIONAL FACTS.         77
the frog, and all the time he is talking the frog is
singing exercises and scales and oratorios inside of
him, and worse than ever, too, because Barnes drank
a good deal of ice-water that day, and it made the
frog hoarse-ketched cold, you know.
"But Miss Flickers, she refused him. Said she
might've loved him, only she couldn't marry any
man that had continual music in his interior.
"So Barnes, he was the most disgusted man you
ever saw. Perfectly sick about it. And one day he
was lying on the bed gaping, and that frog unexpectedly made up its mind to come up to ask Barnes to
eat more carefully, maybe, and it jumped out on the
counterpane. After looking about a bit it came up
and tried three or four times to hop back, but he
kept his mouth shut, and killed the frog with the
back of a hair-brush. Ever since then he runs his
drinking-water through a strainer, and he hates
frogs worse than you and me hate pison. Now,
that's the honest truth about Barnes; you ask him
if it ain't."
Then Keyser bought some tobacco and went
home.




CHAPTER VI.
THE EDITOR OF THE PATRIO T.
HE editor of the village paper, The Patriot
E and Advertiser, is Major Slott; and a very
clever journalist he is. Even his bitterest
adversary, the editor of The Evening Mail,
in the town above us on the river, admits that. In
the last political campaign, indeed, The Mail undertook to tell how it was that the major acquired
such a taste for journalism.  The story was that
shortly after he was born the doctor ordered that the
baby should be fed upon goat's milk. This was procured from a goat that was owned by an Irish woman
who lived in the rear of the office of The Weekly
Startler and fed her goat chiefly upon the exchanges
which came to that journal. The consequence, according to The Mail, was that young Slott was fed
entirely upon milk formed from digested newspapers;
and he throve on it, although when the Irish woman
mixed the Democratic journals carelessly with the
Whig papers they disagreed after they were eaten,
and the milk gave the baby colic. Old Slott intended the boy to be a minister; but as soon as he was
old enough to take notice he cried for every news78




THE EDITOR OF THE PA TRIO T.       79
paper that he happened to see, and no sooner did he
learn how to write than he began to slash off editorials upon "The Need of Reform," etc. He ran
away from school four times to enter a newspaper
office, and finally, when the paternal Slott put him in
the House of Refuge, he started a weekly in there,
and called it the House of Refuige Record; and one
day he slid over the wall and went down to the Era
office, where he changed his name to Blott, and began his career on that paper with an article on " Our
Reformatory Institutions for the Young." Then old
Slott surrendered to what seemed to be a combination of manifest destiny and goat's milk, and permitted him to pursue his profession. The major, The
Mail alleges, has the instinct so strong that if he
should fall into the crater of Vesuvius his first
thought on striking bottom would be to write to
somebody to ask for a free pass to come out with.
"But," continued The Mail, "you would hardly believe this story if you ever read The Patriot. WVe
often suspect, when we are looking over that sheet,
that the nurse used to mix the goat's milk with an
unfair proportion of water."
The major has a weekly edition in which he publishes serial stories of a stirring character, and he is
always looking out for good ones. Recently a tale
was submitted by a certain Mr. Stack, a young man
who had high ambition without much experience as
a writer of fiction. After waiting a long while and
hearing nothing about the story, Mr. Stack concluded




80o             ELBOW-ROOM.
to call upon the major in order to ascertain why that
narrative had not attracted attention. When Stack
mentioned his errand, the major reached for the manuscript; and looking very solemn, he said,
"Mr. Stack, I don't think I can accept this story.
In some respects it is really wonderful; but I am
afraid that if I published it, it would attract almost too
much attention. People would get too wild over it.
We have to be careful. For instance, here in the
first chapter you mention the death of Mrs. McGinnis, the hero's mother. She dies; you inter Mrs.
McGinnis in the cemetery; you give an affecting
scene at the funeral; you run up a monument over
her and plant honeysuckle upon her grave. You
create in the reader's mind a strong impression that
Mrs. McGinnis is thoroughly dead. And yet, over
here in the twenty-second chapter, you make a man
named Thompson fall in love with her, and she is
married to him, and she goes skipping around
through the rest of the story as lively as a grasshopper, and you all the time alluding to Thompson
as her second husband. You see that kind of thing
won't do.  It excites remark.  Readers complain
about it."
"You don't say I did that? Well, now, do you
know I was thinking all the time that it was Mr.
McGinnis that I buried in the first chapter? I must
have got them mixed up somehow."
"And then," continued the major, "when you
introduce the hero, you mention that he has but one




THE EDITOR OF THE PATRIOT.        81
arm, having lost the other in battle. But in chapter
twelve you run him through a saw-mill by an accident, and you mention that he lost an arm there, too.
And yet in the nineteenth chapter you say,'Adolph
rushed up to Mary, threw his arms about her, and
clasped her to his bosom;' and then you go on to
relate how he sat down at the piano in the soft
moonlight and played one of Beethoven's sonatas'with sweet poetic fervor.' Now, the thing, you
see, don't dovetail. Adolph couldn't possibly throw
his arms around Mary if one was buried in the field
of battle and the other was minced up in a saw-mill,
and he couldn't clasp her to his bosom unless he
threw a lasso with his teeth and hauled her in by
swallowing the slack of the rope. As for the pianowell, you know as well as I do that an armless man
can't play a Beethoven sonata unless he knows how
to perform on the instrument with his nose, and in
that case you insult the popular intelligence when
you talk about'sweet poetic fervor.'  I have my
fingers on the public pulse, and I know they won't
stand it."
"Well, well," said Stack, "I don't know how I
ever came to-"
"Let me direct your attention to another incendiary matter," interrupted the major.  "In the first
love-scene between Adolph and-and-let me seewhat's her name?-Mary-you say that'her liquid
blue eye rested softly upon him as he poured forth
the story of his love, and its azure was dimmed by
6




82              ELBO W-ROOM. 
a flood of happy tears.' Well, sir, about twenty
pages farther on, where the villain insults her, you
observe that her black eyes flashed lightning at him
and seemed to scorch him where he stood. Now,
let me direct attention to the fact that if the girl's
eyes were blue they couldn't be black; and if you
mean to convey the impression that she had one
blue eye and one black eye, and that she only looked
softly at Adolph out of the off eye, while the near
eye roamed around, not doing anything in particular,
why, she is too phenomenal for a novel, and only
suitable for a place in the menagerie by the side of
the curiosities. And then you say that although
her eye was liquid yet it scorched the villain. People won't put up with that kind of thing. It makes
them delirious and murderous."
"Too bad!" said Stack. "I forgot what I'd said
about her eyes when I wrote that scene with the
villain."
"And here, in the twentieth chapter, you say that
Magruder was stabbed with a bowie-knife in the
hands of the Spaniard, and in the next chapter
you give an account of the post-mortem examination,
and make the doctors hunt for the bullet and find it
embedded in his liver. Even patient readers can't
remain calm under such circumstances. They lose
control of themselves."
" It's unfortunate," said Stack.
"Now, the way you manage the Browns in the
story is also exasperating. First you represent Mrs.




THE EDITOR OF THE PA TRIO T.       83
Brown as taking her twins around to church to be
christened. In the middle of the book you make
Mrs. Brown lament that she never had any children,
and you wind up the story by bringing in Mrs.
Brown with her grandson in her arms just after having caused Mr. Brown to state to the clergyman that
the only child he ever had died in his fourth year.
Just think of the effect of such a thing on the public
mind! Why, this story would fill all the insane asylums in the country."
"Those Browns don't seem to be very definite,
somehow," said Stack, thoughtfully.
"Worst of all," said major, " in chapter thirty-one
you make the lovers resolve upon suicide, and you
put them in a boat and drift them over Niagara Falls.
Twelve chapters farther on you suddenly introduce
them walking in the twilight in a leafy lane, and
although afterward she goes into a nunnery and takes
the black veil because he has been killed by pirates
in the Spanish West Indies, in the next chapter to
the last you have a scene where she goes to a surprise-party at the Presbyterian minister's and finds
him there making arrangements for the wedding as
if nothing had ever happened; and then, after you
disclose the fact that she was a boy in disguise, and
not a woman at all, you marry them to each other,
and represent the boy heroine as giving her blessing
to her daughter. Oh, it's awful-awful! It won't
do. It really won't. You'd better go into some
other kind of business, Mr. Stack."




84              ELBOW-ROOM.
Then Stack took his manuscript and went home
to fix it up so as to make the story run together
better. The Patriot will not publish it even if Stack
reconstructs it.
Major Slott, like most other editors, is continually
persecuted by bores, but recently he was the victim
of a peculiarly dastardly attack from a person of
this class. While he was sitting in the office of the
Patriot, writing an editorial about "Our Grinding
Monopolies," he suddenly became conscious of the
presence of a fearful smell. He stopped, snuffed the
air two or three times, and at last lighted a cigar to
fumigate the room. Then he heard footsteps upon
the stairs, and as they drew nearer the smell grew
stronger. When it had reached a degree of intensity that caused the major to fear that it might
break some of the furniture, there was a knock at
the door. Then a man entered with a bundle under
his arm, and as he did so the major thought that he
had never smelt such a fiendish smell in the whole
course of his life. He held his nose; and when the
man saw the gesture, he said,
"I thought so; the usual effect. You hold it
tight while I explain."
"What hab you god id that buddle?" asked the
major.
"That, sir," said the man, "is Barker's Carbolic
Disinfecting Door-mat. I am Barker, and this is
the mat. I invented it, and it's a big thing."




THiE EDITOR OF THE PATRIO T.       85
"Is id thad thad smells so thudderig bad?" asked
the major, with his nostrils tightly shut.
"Yes, sir; smells very strong, but it's a healthy
smell. It's invigorating. It braces the system. I'll
tell you-"
" Gid oud with the blabed thig!" exclaimed the
major.
" I must tell you all about it first. I called to explain it to you. You see I've been investigating the
causes of epidemic diseases. Some scientists think
they are spread by molecules in the air; others attribute them to gases generated in the sewers;
others hold that they are conveyed by contagion;
but I-"
"Aid you goig to tague thad idferdal thig away
frob here?" asked the major.
"But I have discovered that these diseases are
spread by the agency of door-mats. Do you understand? Door-mats! And I'll explain to you how
it's done. Here's a man who's been in a house
where there's disease. He gets it on his boots.
The leather is porous, and it becomes saturated.
He goes to another house and wipes his boots on
the mat. Now, every man who uses that mat must
get some of the stuff on his boots, and he spreads it
over every other door-mat that he wipes them on.
Now, don't he?"
"Why dode you tague thad sbell frob udder by
dose?"
"Well, then, my idea is to construct a door-mat




86               ELBO W-ROOM.
that will disinfect those boots. I do it by saturating
the mat with carbolic acid and drying it gradually.
I have one here prepared by my process. Shall I
unroll it?"
"If you do, I'll blow your braids out!" shouted
the major.
" Oh, very well, then. Now, the objection to this
beautiful invention is that it possesses a very strong
and positive odor."
"I'll bed it does," said the major.
"And as this is offensive to many persons, I give
2 "I I      i   ia            i
to each purchaser a'nose-guard,' which is to be
worn upon the nose while in a house where the carbolic mat is placed. This nose-guard is filled with




THE EDITOR OF THE PA TRIO T.       87
a substance which completely neutralizes the smell,
and it has only one disadvantage. Now, what is
that?"
"Are you goig to quid and led me breathe, or are
you goig to stay here all day log?"
"Have patience, now; I'm coming to the point.
I say, what is that?  It is that the neutralizing substance in the nose-guard evaporates too quickly.
And how do I remedy that? I give to every man
who buys a mat and a nose-guard two bottles of'neutralizer.' What it is composed of is a secret.
But the bottles are to be carried in the pocket, so as
to be ready for every emergency. The disadvantage
of this plan consists of the fact that the neutralizer
is highly explosive, and if a man should happen to
sit down on a bottle of it in his coat-tail pocket suddenly it might hist him through the roof. But see
how beautiful my scheme is."
"Oh, thudder add lightnig! aid you ever goig to
quid?"
" See how complete it is! By paying twenty dollars additional, every man who takes a mat has his
life protected in the Hopelessly Mutual Accident Insurance Company, so that it really makes no great
difference whether he is busted through the shingles
or not. Now, does it?"
"Oh, dode ask me. I dode care a ced about id,
adyway."
"Well, then, what I want you to do is to give me
a first-rate notice in your paper, describing the in



88              ELBOW-ROOM.
vention, giving the public some general notion of its
merits and recommending its adoption into general
use. You give me a half-column puff, and I'll make
the thing square by leaving you one of the mats, with
a couple of bottles of the neutralizer and a noseguard. I'll leave them now."
" Whad d'you say?"
"I say I'll just leave you a mat and the other
fixings for you to look over at your leisure."
"You biserable scoundrel, if you lay wod ob those
blasted thigs dowd here, I'll burder you od the spod!
I wod stad such foolishness."
"Won't you notice it, either?"
" Certaidly nod. I woulded do id for ten thousad
dollars a lide."
"Well, then, let it alone; and I hope one of those
epidemic diseases will get you and lay you up for
life."
As Mr. Barker withdrew, Major Slott threw up
the windows, and after catching his breath, he called
down stairs to a reporter,
" Perkins, follow that man and hear what he's got
to say, and then blast him in a column of the awfulest vituperation you know how to write."
Perkins obeyed orders, and now Barker has a libel
suit pending against The Patriot, while the carbolic
mat has not yet been introduced to this market.
Mr. Barker was not a more agreeable visitor than
the book-canvasser who, upon the same day, circu



TIHE NATIONAL PORTRAIT GALLERY.  89
lated about the village. He came into my office with
a portfolio under his arm. Placing it upon the table,
removing a ruined hat, and wiping his nose upon a
ragged handkerchief that had been so long out of
wash that it was positively gloomy, he said,
" Mister, I'm canvassing for the National Portrait
Gallery; splendid work; comes in numbers, fifty
cents apiece.  Contains pictures of all the -great
American heroes from the earliest times to the present day. Everybody's subscribing for it, and I want
to see if I can't take your name.
"Now, just cast your eyes over that," he said,
opening his book and pointing to an engraving,
"That's-lemme see-yes, that's Columbus. Perhaps you've heard sumfin about him? The publisher was telling me to-day, before I started out,
that he discovered-  No; was it Columbus that disOh yes! Columbus, he discovered America. Was
the first man here. He came over in a ship, the
publisher said, and it took fire, and he stayed on deck
because his father told him to, if I remember right;
and when the old thing busted to pieces, he was
killed. Handsome picture, ain't it? Taken from a
photograph; all of'em are; done specially for this
work. His clothes are kinder odd, but they say
that's the way they dressed in those days.
" Look here at this one. Now, isn't that splendid?
William Penn; one of the early settlers.  I was
reading the other day about him; when he first arrived, he got a lot of Indians up a tree, and when




9o               ELBO W-ROOM.
they'd shook some apples down, he set one on top
of his son's head and shot an arrow plumb through
it, and never fazed him. They say it struck them
Indians cold, he was such a terrific shooter. Fine
countenance, hasn't he?  Face shaved clean; he
didn't wear a mustache, I believe, but he seems
to've let himself out on hair. Now, my view is that
every man ought to have a picture of that patriarch,
so's to see how the first settlers looked and what
kind of weskits they used to wear. See his legs,
too! Trousers a little short, maybe, as if he was
going to wade in a creek; but he's all there. Got
some kind of a paper in his hand, I see. Subscription list, I reckon.
" Now, how does that strike you? There's something nice. That, I think, is-is-that is-a-a —
yes, to be sure, Washington. You recollect him, of
course. Some people call him'Father of his Country,' George Washington. Had no middle name, I
believe. He lived about two hundred years ago,
and he was a fighter. I heard the publisher telling
a man about him crossing the Delaware River up yer
at Trenton, and seems to me, if I recollect right, I've
read about it myself. He was courting some girl
on the Jersey side, and he used to swim over at
nights to see her, when the old man was asleep.
The girl's family were down on him, I reckon. He
looks like the man to do that, now, don't he? He's
got it in his eye. If it'd been me, I'd a gone over
on the bridge, but he probably wanted to show off




THE NATIONAL POR TRAIT GALLERY.  91
before her; some men are so reckless. Now, if
you'll go in on this thing, I'll get the publisher to
write out some more stories about him, and bring'em around to you, so's you can study up on him.
I know he did ever so many other things, but I've
forgot'em; my memory's so thundering poor.
"Less see; who have we next? Ah, Franklin!
Benjamin Franklin. He was one of the old original
pioneers, I think. I disremember exactly what he
is celebrated for, but I believe it was flying a-oh,
yes! flying a kite, that's it. The publisher mentioned it. He was out one day flying a kite, you
know, like boys do nowadays, and while she was
flickering up in the sky, and he was giving her more
string, an apple fell off a tree and hit him on the
head, and then he discovered the attraction of gravitation, I think they call it. Smart, wasn't it? Now,
if you or me'd a been hit, it'd just a made us mad, like
as not, and set us a-cussing. But men are so different. One man's meat's another man's pison. See
what a double chin he's got. No beard on him,
either, though a goatee would have been becoming
to such a round face. He hasn't got on a sword,
and I reckon he was no soldier; fit some when he
was a boy, maybe, or went out with the home-guard,
but not a regular warrior. I ain't one myself, and I
think all the better of him for it.
"Ah, here we are! Look at that! Smith and
Pocahontas! John Smith. Isn't that just gorgeous?
See how she kneels over him and sticks out het




92              ELBOW-ROOM.
hands while he lays on the ground and that big
fellow with a club tries to hammer him up. Talk
about woman's love! There it is. Modocs, I believe. Anyway, some Indians out West there somewheres; and the publisher tells me that Shacknasty,
or whatever his name is, there, was going to bang old
Smith over the head with that log of wood, and this
girl here, she was sweet on Smith, it appears, and she
broke loose and jumped forward, and says to the
man with the stick,'Why don't you let John alone?
Me and him are going to marry; and if you kill him,
I'll never speak to you again as long as I live,' or
words like them; and so the man, he give it up, and
both of them hunted up a preacher and were married, and lived happily ever afterward. Beautiful
story, ain't it? A good wife she made him, too, I
bet, if she was a little copper-colored. And don't
she look just lovely in that picture? But Smith
appears kinder sick. Evidently thinks his goose is
cooked; and I don't wonder, with that Modoc swooping down on him with such a discouraging club.
"And now we come to-to-ah-to PutnamGeneral Putnam. He fought in the war, too; and
one day a lot of'em caught him when he was off his
guard, and they tied him flat on his back on a horse,
and then licked the horse like the very mischief.
And what does that horse do out go pitching down
about four hundred stone steps in front of the house,
with General Putnam laying there nearly skeered to
death. Leastways, the publisher said somehow that




THE EDITOR OF THE PATRIOT.        93
way, and I oncet read about it myself. But he came
out safe, and I reckon sold the horse and made a
pretty good thing of it. What surprises me is he
didn't break his neck; but maybe it was a mule, and
they're pretty sure-footed, you know. Surprising
what some of these men have gone through, ain't it?
"Turn over a couple of leaves. That's General
Jackson. My father shook hands with him once.
He was a fighter, I know. He fit down in New Orleans. Broke up the rebel legislature, and then,
when the Ku-Klukes got after him, he fought'em
behind cotton breastworks and licked'em till they
couldn't stand. They say he was terrific when he
got real mad. Hit straight from the shoulder, and
fetched his man every time. Andrew his first name
was; and look how his hair stands up! And then
here's John Adams and Daniel Boone and two or
three pirates, and a whole lot more pictures, so you
see it's cheap as dirt. Lemme have your name,
won't you?"
"I believe not to-day."
"What! won't go in on William Penn and Washington and Smith, and the other heroes?"
" No."
"Well, well! Hang me if I'd a-wasted so much
information on you if I'd a knowed you wouldn't
subscribe. If every man was like you, it'd break up
the business."
Then he wiped his nose and left. I hope he is
doing better with the work than he did with me.




CHAPTER VII.
HO W MR. BUTTER WICK PURSUED HORTICULTURE.
OON after he moved out from the city to
live in the village Mr. Butterwick determined to secure the services of a good
gardener who could be depended upon to
produce from the acre surrounding the house the
largest possible crop of fruit, vegetables and flowers.
A man named Brown was recommended as an expert, and Mr. Butterwick engaged him. As Mr.
Butterwick has no acquaintance with the horticultural art, he instructed Brown to use his own judgment in fixing up the place, and Brown said he
would.
On the morning of the first day, while Mr. Butterwick was sitting on the front porch, he saw Brown
going out of the gate with a gun upon his shoulder,
and Mr. Butterwick conceived the idea that the horticultural expert intended to begin his career in his
new place by taking a holiday.
In about an hour, however, Brown came sauntering up the street dragging a deceased dog by the
tail. Mr. Butterwick asked him if he had accident94




MR. BUTTER WIC'S GARDENER.        95
ally shot his dog while aiming at a rabbit. But
Brown simply smiled significantly and passed silently
in through the gate.
Then he buried the dog beneath the grape-arbor;
and when the funeral was over, Brown loaded up his
gun, rubbed his muddy boots upon the grass,
brought his weapon to "right shoulder shift" and
sallied out again.
Mr. Butterwick asked him if he was going down
to the woods after squirrels; but he put his thumb
knowingly to his nose, winked at Mr. Butterwick and
went mutely down the road. After a while he
loomed up again upon the horizon, and this time
Mr. Butterwick noticed that he was hauling after
him a setter pup and a yellow dog, both dead, and
yoked together with one of Brown's suspenders.
Mr. Butterwick failed to comprehend the situation
exactly, but he ventured the remark that Brown
must be a very poor shot to hit his own dogs every
time instead of the game. Brown, however, was
not open to criticism. He walked calmly down
the yard, and after entombing the dogs by the grapearbor, he put four fingers of buckshot in his gun,
rearranged his Suspenders, shouldered arms and
struck out for the front gate with a countenance as
impassive as that of a graven image.
Mr. Butterwick inquired if there was a targetshooting match over at the "King of Prussia;" but
Brown didn't appear to hear him, and passed serenely down the street. At half-past eleven Brown came




96              ELBOW-ROOM.
within hail again, and
1111 I     presently he marched
7              i//LI:1', "3.}~> up the yard with three
departed cats and a blue
poodle.
ASI Mr. Butterw i ck
/'  i    thought it was extraor~// -   t      > -- 5'~'~. dinary, and he asked
></ k X-r  Brown if he was engaged in gunning for
domestic animals in orAp-i;,'r  der to settle a bet. But
Brown only coughed a,8,   couple of times, closed
-- -    one eye sagaciously and._ —-_>__    yQ-. ~ began to dig a fresh
grave under the arbor.
When the last sad rites
i V) t       were over, he charged
____       _. — V      his gun as usual, rubbed
i-.....>-~  his nose thoughtfully
with his sleeve, took a'~ —-~-~,     drink at the pump and
wandered away.
He had been gone
--— ~                about fifteen minutes,
Z    z-~i~ —~  when Mr. Butterwick
-        A -  heard  two  shots  in
quick succession.  A
minute  later he saw




MR. BUTTER WICK'S GARDENER.       97
Brown coming up the road with a considerable
amount of velocity, pursued by Mr. Potts and a
three-legged dog. Brown kept ahead; and when
he had shot through the gate, he dashed into the
house and bolted the door.  Then Potts arrived
with his dog, which stood by, looking as if it were
very anxious to lunch upon somebody, while Potts
explained to Butterwick that Brown had shot a leg
off of his dog, and that he, Potts, intended to have
satisfaction for the injury, if he had, to go to law
about it.
~ When Mr. Butterwick had pacified Potts and sent
him away, Mr. Butterwick sought an interview with
Brown:
" Brown, you have been behaving in a most preposterous manner ever since you came here. I employed you as a gardener, not as a gunner. You
have nearly killed a valuable animal belonging to
Mr. Potts; and I'll thank you to tell me what you
mean, and right off, too."
Brown winked again, cleared his throat, pulled up
his shirt-collar and said,
" I was goin' to quit soon as I ketched Potts's dog.
He'd a bin splendid to bury out yer with the others.
Lemme tell you how it is: The best thing to make
grape-vines grow is dogs; bury'em right down
among the roots. Some people prefer grandmothers
and their other relations. But gimme dogs and cats.
Soon as I seen them vines of yourn I said to myself,
Them vines wants a few dogs, and I concluded to put
7




98              ELBOW-ROOM.
in the first day rakin' in all I could find. I'm goin
out again to-morrow, down the other road."
But he didn't. Mr. Butterwick discharged him
that night. He was too enthusiastic for a gardener,
and Mr. Butterwick thought that life might open out
to him a brighter and more beautiful vista in some
other capacity.
Subsequently, Mr. Butterwick concluded to attend
to his garden himself, and early in the spring he received from the Congressman of our district a choice
lot of assorted seeds brought from California by the
Agricultural Department. There were more than he
wanted, so he gave a quantity of sugar-beet and
onion seeds to Mr. Potts, and some turnip and radish
seeds to Colonel Coffin; then he planted the remainder, consisting of turnip, cabbage, celery and beet
seeds, in his own garden.
When the plants began to come up, he thought
they looked kind of queer, but he waited until they
grew larger, and then, as he felt certain something
was wrong, he sent for a professional gardener to
make an examination.
"Mr. Hoops," he said, " cast your eye over those
turnips and tell me what you think is the matter
with them."
"Turnip!" exclaimed Hoops. "Turnip! Why,
bless your soul, man! that's not turnip.  That's
nothin' but pokeberry. You've got enough pokeberry in that bed to last a million years."
"Well, Mr. Hoops, come over here to this bed.




GO VERNMENT SEEDS.             99
Now, how does that celery strike you? The munificent Federal government is spreading that celery all
over this land of the free. Great, isn't it?"
"Well, well!" said Hoops; " and they shoved that
off on you for celery, did they? Too bad! It's
nothin' on earth but pokeberry. This is the California kind-the deadliest pokeberry that was ever
invented."
"Are you sure you're not mistaken, Mr. Hoops?
But you haven't seen my beets there in the adjoining bed. The seeds of those beets were sent from
Honolulu by our consul there. He reports that
the variety attains gigantic size."
" Really, now," said Hoops, " I don't want to hurt
your feelings, but to be fair and square with you, as
between man and man, those are not beets, you
know. They are the Mexican pokeberry. I pledge
you my word it's the awfulest variety of that plant
that grows. It'll stay in this yer garden for ever.
You'll never get rid of it."
"This seems a little hard, Mr. Hoops. But I'd
like you to inspect my cabbages. They're all right,
I know. The commissioner of agriculture got the
seed from Borneo. They are the curly variety, I
think. You boil them with pork, and they cut down
beautifully for slaw. Look at these plants, will you?
Ain't they splendid?"
"Mr. Butterwick," said Hoops, "I've got some
bad news to break to you, but I hope you'll stand it
like a man. These afflictions cornm to all of us in




100             ELBOW-ROOM.
this life, sir. They are meant for our good. But
really, sir, those are not Borneo cabbages. Cabbages! Why, thunder and lightnin'! They are
merely a mixture of California and Mexican pokeberry with the ordinary kind, and a little Osage
orange sprinkled through. It's awful, sir! Why,
you've got about two acres of pokeberry and not a
blessed bit of cabbage or turnips among them."
"Mr. Hoops, this is terrible news; and do you
know I gave a lot of those seeds to Potts and Coffin?"
" I know you did; and I seen Colonel Coffin this
mornin' with a shot-gun goin' round askin' people
if they knew where he could find you."
"Find me! What do you mean?"
"Well, you see, sir, that there onion seed that you
gave him was really the seed of the silver maple
tree, and it's growed up so thick all over his garden
that a cat can't crawl through it. There's about
forty million shoots and suckers in that garden, and
they'll have to be cut out with a handsaw. It'll take
about a year to do it."
"You appall me, Hoops!"
"And that's not the worst of it. The roots are
so matted and interlocked jes beneath the surface
that you can't make any impression on'em with a
pickaxe. That garden of Coffin's is ruined-entirely
ruined, sir. You might blast those roots with gunpowder and it would make no difference. And the
suckers will grow faster than they're cut down. I It-'1
have to sell the property, sir."




A POPULAR LAW N-MOWER.          I1 I
"And the commissioner of agriculture said that
was onion seed. Why didn't Coffin hunt him with a
shot-gun?"
" Yes, sir; and Mr: Potts's got pokeberry and silver
maple growin' all over his place, too, and he's as mad
as-   Well, you just ought to hear him  snortin'
around town. He'll kill somebody, I'm afeard."
Mr. Butterwick settled the difficulty with Coffin
and Potts somehow, but he made up his mind to
vote for another man for Congress at the next
election.
Mr. Butterwick was the first man to introduce that
ingenious and useful implement the lawn-mower into
our section of the country. As his mower was the
only one in the village, it was at once in great
demand. Everybody wanted to borrow it for a few
days, and Butterwick lent it with such generosity
that it was out most of the time, and a good many
people had to wait for it. At last there was quite a
rivalry who should have it next, and the folks used
to put in their claims with the owner whenever they
had an opportunity.
One day Mr. Smith's wife died, and Mr. Butterwick attended the funeral. Smith was nearly wild
with grief. As the remains were put into their last
resting-place he cried as if his heart would break,
and his friends began to get uneasy about his nervous
system.  Presently he took his handkerchief from
his eyes for a moment to rub his nose, and as he did
so he saw Butterwick looking at him. A thought




102             ELB O W-R O.
seemed to strike Smith. He dashed away a couple
of tears; and stepping over a heap of loose earth as
they began to shovel it in, he grasped Butterwick
by the hand. Butterwick gave him a sympathetic
squeeze, and said,
"Sorry for you, Smith; I am indeed! A noble
woman and a good wife. But bear up under it,
bear up! Our loss, you know, is her gain."
"Ah! she was indeed a woman in a thousand,"
responded Smith; "and now to think that she has
gone-gone, left us for ever! But these afflictions
must not make us forget the duty we owe to the
living. She has passed away from toil and suffering,
but we still have much to do; and, Butterwick, I want
to borrow your lawn-mower. If you can fix it for
Tuesday, I think maybe the worst of my anguish
will be over."
" You may have it, of course."
"Thank you; oh, thank you! Our friends are a
great comfort to us in the hour of bereavement;"
and then Smith gave his arm to his mother-in-law,
put his handkerchief to his eyes and joined the procession of mourners.
Upon the following Sunday, Rev. Dr. Dox preached
a splendid sermon over in the Free church, and just
as he reached "secondly" he paused, looked around
upon the congregation for a minute, and then he
beckoned Deacon Moody to come up to the pulpit.
He whispered something in Moody's ear, and Moody
seemed surprised. The congregation was wild with




A POPULAR LAWN-.MOWER.          I03
curiosity to know what was the matter. Then the
deacon, blushing scarlet and seeming annoyed,
walked down the aisle and whispered in Butterwick's
ear. Butterwick nodded, and whispered to his wife,
who was perishing to know what it was. She leaned
over and communicated it to Mrs. Bunnel, in the pew
in front; and when the Bunnels all had it, they sent
it on to the people next to them, and so before the
doctor reached "thirdly" the whole congregation
knew that he wanted to borrow Butterwick's lawnmower on Monday morning early.
A day or two later, while Butterwick was crossing
the creek upon a train of cars, the train ran off the
track and rolled his car into the water. Butterwick
got out, however, into
the stream, and.as he
emerged, spluttering
and   blowing,  he.
struck against a stranger who was treading- _
water. The stranger apologized, and said that Butterwick might not recognize him in his dilapidated
condition as Martin Thompson, but while they were
together, he would like to put in a word for that
lawn-mower when the parson was done with it.
At last Butterwick grew tired of lending, and refused all applicants. Then the people began to steal
it, and six respectable citizens only escaped going to
jail because Butterwick had consideration for their
families. Finally he chained it to the pump, and then




104            ELBO W-ROOM.
they sawed off the pump and operated the mower
with the log as a roller. Butterwick at last put it on
top of his house, and that night fourteen ladders
were seen against the wall. They did say that Ramsey, the lawyer, made one effort with a hot-air balloon, and failed only because he fell out and hurt his
leg; but this was never traced to any reliable source.
The following week a man arrived and opened an
agency for the sale of the mnowers in the village, and
gradually the excitement abated. Butterwick, however, has cut his grass with a sickle ever since.




CHAPTER VIII.
THE MEETING AND ITS MISSIONARY WORK.
HE Methodist church in thie village is
doing now, as it has always done, a good
and noble work for Christianity and the
cause of public morals; but it has not
escaped the trials which are permitted sometimes to
afflict the Church militant. Years ago, when the
congregation was first organized, it erected a small
but very pretty frame meeting-house. In the course
of time the people became dissatisfied with the location of the house of worship; and as they had a good
offer for the site, they sold it and bought a better one
in another quarter. Then they put rollers under the
building, and as soon as it was off the ground the
purchaser of the lot began to build a dwelling-house
on the site. It was slow work pushing the church
along the street, and before they got far somebody
discovered that the title of the new site was not good,
and so the bargain was annulled. The next day the
brethren went plunging around town trying to buy
another site, but nobody had one to sell; and on the
following morning the supervisors got an order from
105




io6             ELBO W-ROOM.
the court requiring that meeting-house to be removed
from the public street within twenty-four hours.
The brethren were nearly wild about it, and they
begged old Brindley to let them run the concern in
on his vacant lot temporarily until they could look
around. But Brindley belonged to another denomination, and he said he felt that it would be wrong
for him to do anything to help a church that believed
false doctrines. Then they ran the meeting-house
out on the turnpike beyond the town, whereupon
the turnpike company notified them that its charges
would be eight dollars a day for toll. So they hauled
it back again; and while going down the hill it broke
loose, plunged through the fence of Dr. Mackey's
garden and brought up on top of his asparagus-bed.
He is an Episcopalian, and he sued the meeting for
damages; and the sheriff levied upon the meetinghouse. The brethren paid the bill and dragged the
building out again.
They wanted to put it in the court-house yard, but
Judge Twiddler, who is a Presbyterian, said that after
examining the statutes carefully he could find no law
allowing a Methodist meeting-house to be located in
that place. In despair, the brethren ran the building
down to the river-shore and fitted it on a huge raft
of logs, concluding to tie it to the wharf until they
could buy a lot. But as the owner of the wharf
handed them on the third day a bill of twenty-five
dollars for wharfage, they took the building out and
anchored it in the stream. That night a tug-boat,




MR. POTTS' HAT.             I07
coming up the river in the dark, ran halfway through
the Sunday-school room, and a Dutch brig, coming
into collision with it, was drawn out with the pulpit
and three of the front pews dangling from the bowsprit. The owners of both vessels sued for damages,
and the United States authorities talked of confiscating the meeting-house as an obstruction to navigation. But a few days afterward the ice-gorge sent a
flood down the river and broke the building loose
from its anchor. It was subsequently washed ashore
on Keyser's farm; and he said he was willing to let
it stay there at four dollars a day rent until he was
ready to plough for corn. As the cost of removing
it would have been very great, the trustees ultimately
sold it to Keyser for a barn, and then, securing a
good lot, they built a handsome edifice of stone.
On the first Sunday that the congregation worshiped in the new church Mr. Potts attended; and
in accordance with his custom, he placed his silk
high hat just outside of the pew in the aisle. In a
few moments Mrs. Jones entered, and as she proceeded up the aisle her abounding skirts caught Mr.
Potts' hat and rolled it nearly to the pulpit.  Mr.
Potts pursued his hat with feelings of indignation;
and when Mrs. Jones took her seat, he walked back,
brushing the hat with his sleeve. A few moments
later Mrs. Hopkins came into church; and as Mr.
Potts had again placed his hat in the aisle, Mrs.
Hopkins' skirts struck it and swept it along about
twenty feet, and left it lying on the carpet in a de



Io8             ELBO W-ROOM.
moralized condition. Mr. Potts was singing a hymn
at the time, and he didn't miss it. But a moment
later, when he looked over the end of the pew to
see if it was safe, he was furious to perceive that it
was gone. He skirmished up the aisle after it again,
red in the face, and uttering sentences which were
very much out of place in the sanctuary. However,
he put the hat down again and determined to keep
his eye on it, but just as he turned his head away for
a moment Mrs. Smiley came in, and Potts looked
around only in time to watch the hat being gathered
in under Mrs. Smiley's skirts and carried away by
them. He started in pursuit, and just as he did so
the hat must have rolled against Mrs. Smiley's ankles,
for she gave a jump and screamed right out in
church. When her husband asked her what was the
matter, she said there must be a dog under her dress,
and she gave her skirts a twist. Out rolled Mr.
Potts' hat, and Mr. Smiley, being very near-sighted,
thought it was a dog, and immediately kicked it so
savagely that it flew up into the gallery and lodged
on top of the organ. Mr. Potts, perfectly frantic with
rage, forgot where he was; and holding his clinched
fist under Smiley's nose, he shrieked, "I've half a
mind to brain you, you scoundrel!" Then he flung
down his hymn-book and rushed from the church.
He went home bareheaded, and the sexton brought
his humiliating hat around after dinner. After that
Mr. Potts expressed a purpose to go habitually to
Quaker meeting, where he could say his prayers with




MRS. WHISTLER'S CASE.          Iog
his hat on his head, and where the skirts of female
worshippers are smaller.
Upon a subsequent occasion Mrs. Whistler had
even a greater occasion for dissatisfaction with the
sanctuary.
The facts in Mrs. Whistler's case were these:
Mrs. Whistler has singular absence of mind, and on
the last Sunday she attended church Dr. Dox began
to read from the Scriptures the account of the Deluge. Mrs. Whistler was deeply attentive; and when
the doctor came to the story of how it rained for so
many days and nights, she was so much absorbed in
the narrative and so strongly impressed with it that
she involuntarily put up her umbrella and held it
over her head as she sat in the pew. It appears that
Mrs. Moody, who sits in the next pew in front, frequently brings her lap-dog to church with her; and
when Mrs. Whistler raised her umbrella suddenly,
the action affected the sensibilities of Mrs. Moody's
dog in such a manner that he began to bark furiously.
Of course the sexton came in for the purpose of
removing the animal, but it dodged into a vacant
pew upon the other side of the aisle and defied him,
barking vociferously all the time. Then the sexton
became warm and indignant, and he flung a cane
at the dog, whereupon the dog flew out and bit
his leg.  The excitement in the church by this
time, of course, was simply dreadful. Not only was




IIO             ELBOW-ROOM.
the story of the Deluge interrupted, but the unregenerate Sunday-school scholars in the gallery actually hissed the dog at the sexton, and seemed to
enjoy the contest exceedingly.
Then Elder McGinn came after the dog with his
cane, and as he pursued the animal it dashed toward
the pulpit and ran up the steps in such a fierce manner that the doctor quickly mounted a chair and
remarked, with anger flashing through his spectacles,
that if this disgraceful scene did not soon come to an
end he should dismiss the congregation. Then the
elder crept softly up the stairs, and after a short
struggle he succeeded in grasping the dog by one
of its hind legs. Then he walked down the aisle
with it, the dog meantime yelling with supernatural
energy and the Sunday-school boys making facetious
remarks.
Mrs. Whistler turned around, with other members
of the congregation, to watch the retreating elder,
and as she did so she permitted her unconscious
umbrella to droop so that the end of one of the ribs
caught Mrs. Moody's bonnet. A moment later,
when she was straightening up the umbrella, the
bonnet was wrenched off, and hung dangling from
the umbrella. Mrs. Moody had become exceedingly
warm, at any rate, over the onslaught made upon
her dog, but when Mrs. Whistler removed her bonnet, she fairly boiled over; and turning around, white
with rage, she screamed,
"What'd you grab that bonnet for, you wretch!




TIHE DORCAS SOCIETY.           I I
Haven't you made enough fuss in this church today, skeering a poor innocent dog, without snatching off such bonnets as the like of you can't afford
to wear, no matter how mean you live at home, you
red-headed lunatic, you! You let my bonnet alone,
or I'll hit you with this parasol, if it is in meeting,
now mind me!"
Then Mrs. Whistler, for the first time, seemed to
realize that her umbrella made her conspicuous; so
she furled it and concluded to escape from an embarrassing position by going home. As she stepped into the aisle her enemy gave her a parting
salute:
"Sneaking off before the collection, too! You'd
better spend less for breastpins and give more to the
poor heathen if you don't want to ketch it hereafter!"
Then she began to fan herself furiously, and as
Mrs. Whistler emerged from the front door and
things became calmer the doctor resumed the story
of the Flood. But Mrs. Whistler has given up her
pew and gone over to the Presbyterians, and there
are rumors that Mrs. Moody is going to secede also
because Elder McGinn insists that she shall leave
her dog at home.
The Dorcas and missionary societies of the church
are particularly active, but they were somewhat discouraged a year or two ago by certain unforeseen
occurrences.  The ladies of the Dorcas Society




112             ELBOW-ROOM.
made up a large quantity of shirts, trousers and
socks, and boxed them up and sent them to a missionary station on the west coast of Africa. A man
named Ridley went out with the boxes and stayed
in Africa for several months. When he returned, the
Dorcas Society, of course, was anxious to hear how
its donation was received, and Ridley one evening
met the members and told them about it in a little
speech. He said,
"Well, you know, we got the clothes out there all
right, and after a while we distributed them among
some of the natives in the neighborhood.  We
thought maybe it would attract them to the mission, but it didn't; and after some time had elapsed
and not a native came to church with the clothes on,
I went out on an exploring expedition to find out
about it. It seems that on the first day after the
goods were distributed one of the chiefs attempted
to dress himself in a shirt. He didn't exactly understand it, and he pushed his legs through the
arms and gathered the tail up around his waist. He
couldn't' make it stay up, however, and they say he
went around inquiring in his native tongue what
kind of an idiot it was that constructed a garment
that wouldn't hang on, and swearing some of the
most awful heathen oaths. At last he let it drag,
and that night he got his legs tangled in it somehow
and fell over a precipice and was killed.
"Another chief who got one on properly went
paddling around in the dark, and the people, imagin



BE HA VIOUR 0 F THE HEATEN.        I I3
ing that he was a ghost, sacrificed four babies to keep
off the evil spirit.
"And then, you know, those trousers you sent
out? Well, they fitted one pair on an idol, and then
they stuffed most of the rest with leaves and set them
up as kind of new-fangled idols and began to worship them. They say that the services were very
impressive. Some of the women split a few pairs in
half, and after sewing up the legs used them to carry
yams in; and I saw one chief with a corduroy leg on
his head as a kind of helmet.
"I think, though, the socks were most popular.
All the fighting-men went for them the first thing.
They filled them with sand and used them as boomerangs and war-clubs. I learned that they were so
8




114            ELBO W-ROOM.
much pleased with the efficiency of those socks that
they made a raid on a neighboring tribe on purpose
to try them; and they say they knocked about
eighty women and children on the head before they
came home. They asked me if I wouldn't speak to
you and get you to send out a few barrels more, and to
make them a little stronger, so's they'd last longer;
and I said I would.
"This society's doing a power of good to those
heathen, and I've no doubt if you keep right along
with the work you will inaugurate a general war all
over the continent of Africa and give everybody an
idol of his own. All they want is enough socks and
trouser.. I'll take them when I go out again."
Then the Dorcas passed a resolution declaring that
it would, perhaps, be better to let the heathen go
naked and give the clothes to the poor at home.
Maybe that is the better way.




CHAPTER IX.
j7UDGE TWIDDLER'S COW.
OR several months previous to last summer Judge Twiddler's family obtained
milk from Mr. Biles, the most prominent
milk-dealer in the village. The prevailing impression among the Twiddlers was that Mr.
Biles supplied an exceedingly thin and watery fluid;
and one day when the judge stepped over to pay
his quarterly bill he determined to make complaint. He found Mr. Biles in the yard mending
the valve of his pump; and when the judge made a
jocular remark to the effect that the dairy must be
in a bad way when the pump was out of order, Mr.
Biles, rising with his hammer in his hand, said,
" Oh, I ain't going to deny that we water the milk.
I don't mind the joking about it. But all I say is
that when people say we do it from mercenary motives they slander the profession. No, sir; when I
put water in the milk, I do it out of kindness for the
people who drink it. I do it because I'm philanthropic-because I'm sensitive and can't bear to se4
folks suffer. Now, s'pos'n a cow is bilious or some115




I 6             ELBOW-ROOM.
thing, and it makes her milk unwholesome. I give
it a dash or two of water, and up it comes to the
usual level. Water's the only thing that'll do it.
Or s'pos'n that cow eats a pison vine in the woods;
am I going to let my innocent customers be killed
by it for the sake of saving a little labor at the
pump? No, sir; I slush in a few quarts of water,
neutralize the pison, and there she is as right as a
trivet.
" But you take the best milk that ever was, and it
ain't fit for the human stomach as it comes from the
cow.. It has too much caseine in it. Prof. Huxley says that millions of poor ignorant men and women are murdered every year by loading down weak
stomachs with caseine. It sucks up the gastric juice,
he says, and gets daubed all around over the membranes until the pores are choked, and then the
first thing you know the man suddenly curls all up
and dies. He says that out yer in Asia, where the
milkmen are not as conscientious as we are, there
are whole cemeteries chock full of people that have
died of caseine, and that before long all that country
will be one vast burying-ground if they don't ameliorate the milk. When I think of the responsibility
resting on me, is it singular- that I look at this old
pump and wonder that people don't come and silver
plate it and put my statue on it?  I tell you, sir,
that that humble pump with the cast-iron handle is
the only thing that stands betwixt you and sudden
Jeath.




YUDGE TWIDDLER'S COW.           117
"And besides that, you know how kinder flat raw
tnilk tastes-kinder insipid and mean. Now, Prof.
Huxley, he says that there is only one thing that
will vivify milk and make it luxurious to the palate,
and that is water. Give it a few jerks under the
pump, and out it comes sparkling and delicious; like
nectar. I dunno how it is, but Prof. Huxley says
that it undergoes some kinder chemical change that
nothing else'll bring about but a flavoring of fine
old pump-water. You know the doctors all watet
the milk for babies. They know mighty well if they
didn't those young ones'd shrink all up and sorter
fade away. Nature is the best judge. What makes
cows drink so much water?  Instinct, sir-instinct.
Something whispers to'em that if they don't sluice
in a little water that caseine'd make'em giddy and
eat'em up. Now, what's the odds whether I put in
the water or the cow does? She's only a poor brute
beast, and might often drink too little; but when I
go at it, I bring the mighty human intellect to bear
on the subject; I am guided by reason, and I can
water that milk so's it'll have the greatest possible
effect.
"Now, there's chalk. I know some people have
an idea that it's wrong to fix up your milk with
chalk. But that's only mere blind bigotry. What
-is chalk? A substance provided by beneficent nature for healing the ills of the human body. A cow
don't eat chalk because it's not needed by her.
Poor uneducated animal! she can't grasp these higher




I I8           RELBOW-ROOM.
problems, and she goes on nibbling sour-grass and
other things, and filling her milk,with acid, which
destroys human membranes and  induces colic.
Then science comes to the rescue. Professor Huxley tells us that chalk cures acidity. Consequently,
I get some chalk, stir it in my cans and save the
membranes of my customers without charging them
a cent for it-actually give it away; and yet they
talk about us milkmen'sif we were buccaneers and
enemies of the race.
"But I don't care. My conscience is clear.  I
know mighty well that I have a high and holy mission to perform, and I'm going to perform it if they
burn me at the stake. What do I care how much
this pump costs me if it spreads blessings through
the community? What difference does it make to a
man of honor like me if chalk is six cents a pound
so long as I know that without it there wouldn't be
a membrane in this community? Now, look at the
thing in the right light, and you'll believe me that
before another century rolls around a grateful universe will worship the memory of the first Mnilkman
who ever had a pump and who doctored his milk
with chalk. It will, unless justice is never to have
her own."
Then Mr. Biles rigged the sucker in the pump,
toned up a few cans of milk, corrected the acidity,
and went into the house to receipt -the judge's
bill.
Mr. Biles' theory interested the judge, but the




YUDGE TWIDDLER'S COW.          I I9
argument did not convince him. And so the judge
resolved to buy a cow and obtain pure milk, without
regard for the alleged views of Professor Huxley.
A,.cordingly, he purchased a cow of a man named
Smith, who lives over at the Rising Sun. She was
warranted to be fresh and a first-rate milker. When
Judge Twiddler got her home, he asked his hired
man, Mooney, if he knew how to milk a cow, and
Mooney said of course he did. The animal, therefore, was consigned to Mooney's care. On the next
day, however, Mooney came into the house to see
the judge, and he said,
"Judge, that man cheated you in that cow. Why,
she's the awfullest old beast that ever stood on four
legs Dry as punk; hasn't got a drop of milk in
her. That's a positive fact.  I've been trying to
milk her for three or four hours, and can't get a drop.
Might as well attempt to milk a clothes-horse.
Regular fraud!"
"This is very extraordinary," exclaimed the
judge.
" Yes, sir; and she's wicked. I never saw such a
disposition in a covy. Why, while I was working
with her she kicked like a flint-lock musket; butted
and rared around. I'd rather fool with a tiger than
with a cow like that."
So the judge drove over to the Rising Sun to see
Smith about it; and when he complained that Smith
had sold him a worthless and vicious beast, and a
dry cow at that, Smith said there must be some mis



I 20            ELBO W-ROOM.
take about it. He agreed to go back with the judge
and investigate the matter. VWhen they reached the
judge's stable, Mooney was not about, but Smith
descended from the wagon, approached the cow,
and, to the astonishment of the judge, milked her
without the slightest difficulty, the cow meantime
remaining perfectly quiet, and even breaking out now
and then into what the judge thought looked like
smiles of satisfaction. And then the judge went out
to hunt up his hired man. He said to him,
" Mooney, what did you mean by telling me that
our cow was dry and ugly? You said you couldn't
milk her, but Mr. Smith does so without any difficulty, and the cow remains perfectly passive."
"I'd like to see him do it," said Mooney, incredulously.
Then Smith sat down and proceeded to perform
the operation again. When he began, Mooney exclaimed,
"Why, my gracious! that isn't the way you milk
a cow, is it?"
"Of course it is," replied Smith.  "How else
would you do it?"
"Well, well! and that's the way you milk, is it?
I see now I didn't go about it exactly right. Why,
you know, I never had much experience at the business; I was brought up in town, and, be George,
when I tackled her, I threw her over on her back
and tried to milk her with a clothes-pin.  I see
uow I was wrong. We live and learn, don't we?"




7UDGE TWIDDLER'S COW.           121
~.~~ii~l~~,"'/tJ / L
So Smith went
home, and the cow
_____g  ~     remained, and the
g~~~ ~             ~     ~judge's man waxes stronger in experience with the mysteries of existence daily.
But the cow was not a perfect animal, after all.
Among other things, Smith assured the judge that
she had a splendid appetite. He said that she was
the easiest cow with her feed that he ever saw; she




122             ELBO W-ROOM.
would eat almost anything, and she was generally
hungry.
At the end of the first week after she came, Mrs.
Twiddler concluded to churn. The hired man spent
the whole day at the crank, and about sunset the butter came. They got it out, and found that there was
almost half a pound. Then Mrs. Twiddler began to
see how economical it was to make her own butter.
A half pound at the store cost thirty cents. The
wages of that man for one day were one dollar, and
so the butter was costing about three dollars a pound,
without counting the keep of the cow.  When they
tried the butter, it was so poor that they couldn't eat
it, and they gave it to the man to grease the wheelbarrow with.  It seemed somewhat luxurious and
princely to maintain a cow for the purpose of supplying grease at three dollars a pound for the wheelbarrow, but it was hard to see precisely where the
profits came in. After about a fortnight the cow
seemed so unhappy in the stable that the judge
turned her out in the yard.
The first night she was loose she upset the grape-arbor with her horns and ate four young peach trees
and a dwarf pear tree down to the roots. The next
day they gave her as much hay as she would eat,
and it seemed likely that her appetite was appeased.
But an hour or two afterward she swallowed six croquet-balls that were lying upon the grass, and ate
half a table-cloth and a pair of drawers from the
clothes-line. That evening her milk seemed thin,




YUDGE TWIDDLER'S COW.           123
and the judge attributed it to the indigestibility of
the table-cloth.
During the night she must have got to walking
in her sleep, for she climbed over the fence; and when
she was discovered, she was swallowing one of Mrs.
Twiddler's hoopskirts. That evening she ran dry
and didn't give any milk at all. The judge thought
the exercise she had taken must have been too
severe, and probably the hoopskirt was not sufficiently nutritious. It was comforting, however, to
reflect that she was less expensive, from the latter
point of view, when she was dry than when she was
fresh. Next morning she ate the spout off the
watering-pot, and then put her head in the kitchen
window and devoured two dinner-plates and the
cream-jug. Then she went out and lay down on the
strawberry-bed to think. While there something
about Judge Twiddler's boy seemed to exasperate
her; and when he came over into the yard after his
ball, she inserted her horns into his trowsers and
flung him across the fence. Then she went to the
stable and ate a litter of pups and three feet of the
trace-chain.
The judge felt certain that her former owner didn't
deceive him when he said her appetite was good.
She had hunger enough for a drove of cattle and a
couple of flocks of sheep. That day the judge went
after the butcher to get him to buy her. When he
returned with him, she had just eaten the monkeywrench and the screw-driver, and she was trying to




124            EL'BO W-ROOM.
put away a fence-paling. The butcher said she was
a fair-enough sort of cow, but she was too thin. He
said he would buy her if the judge would feed her
up and fatten her; and the judge said he would try.
He gave her that night food enough for four cows,
and she consumed it as if she had been upon half
rations for a month. When she finished, she got up,
reached for the hired man's straw hat, ate it, and then,
bolting out into the garden, she put away the honeysuckle vine and a coil of India-rubber hose. The
man said that if it was his cow he would kill her;
and the judge told him that he had perhaps better
just knock her on the head in the morning.
During the night she had another attack of somnambulism, and while wandering about she ate the
door-mat from the front porch, bit off all the fancywork on top of the cast-iron gate, swallowed six
loose bricks that were piled up against the house,
and then had a fit among the rose bushes. When
the judge came down in the morning, she seemed to
be breathing her last, but she had strength enough
left to seize a newspaper that the judge held in his
hand; and when that was down, she gave three or
four kicks and rolled over and expired. It cost the
judge three dollars to have the carcase removed.
Since then he has bought his butter and milk and
given up all kinds of live-stock.




CHAPT ER X.
OUR CIVIL SER VICE.
OME of the public officers of Millburg are
interesting in their way. The civil service system of the village is based upon
the principle that if there is any particular
function that a given man is wholly unfitted to perform he should be chosen to perform it. The result
is that the business of our very small government
goes plunging along in the most surprising manner,
with a promise that it will end some day in chaos
and revolution-of course upon a diminutive scale.
A representative man is Mr. Bones, the solitary
night-watchman of the town. One of the duties of
Mr. Bones is to light the street-lamps. It is an operation which does not require any very extraordinary effort of the intellect; but during a part of the
summer the mind of Mr. Bones did not seem to be
equal to the strain placed upon it by this duty. It
was observed that whenever there were bright moonlight nights Mr. Bones would have all the lamps
burning from early in the evening until dawn, while
upon the nights when there was no moon he would
not light them at all, and the streets would be as
125




I 26            ELB O W-ROOM. 0.
dark as tar. At last people began to complain about
it, and one day one of the supervisors called to see
Mr. Bones about it. He remarked to him,
" Mr. Bones, people are finding fault because you
light up on moonlight nights and don't light the
lamps when it is dark. I'd like you to manage the
thing a little better."
" It struck me as being singular, too, but I can't
help it. I've got instructions to follow the almanac,
and I'm going to follow it."
"Did the almanac say there'd be no moon last
night?"
"Yes, it did."
"Well, the moon was shining, though, and at its
full."
" I know," said Mr. Bones, "and that's what gits
me. How in the thunder the moon kin shine when
the almanac says it won't beats me out. Perhaps
there's something the matter with the moon; got
shoved off her course may be."
"I guess not."
"Well, it's changed off somehow, and I've got to
have something regular to go by. I'm going by
what the almanac says; and if the moon's going to
shuffle around kinder loose and not foller the almanac, that's its lookout.  If the almanac says no
moon, then I'm bound to light the lamps if there's
millions of moons shining in the sky. Them's my
orders, and I'll mind'em."
" How d'you know the almanac is not wrong?"




OUR CIVIL SERVICE.          127
"Because I know it ain't. It was always right
before."
" Let's look at it."
"There it is. Look there, now. Don't it say full
moon on the 20oth? and this yer's only the 9th, and
yet it's full moon now."
"That's so; and- Er-er- Less- see Er-erMr. Bones, do you know what year this almanac is
for?"
" Why, I876, of course."
"No, it isn't; it's for I866. It's ten years old."
"Oh no! I866! Well, now, it is.  I declare!
I866! Why, merciful Moses! I got the wrong
one off the shelf, and I've been depending on it for
three months! No wonder the Idmps was wrong.
Well, that beats everything."
Then Mr. Bones tore up the almanac and got one
for 1876, and ever since that time the lamp-lighting
department has given tolerable satisfaction.
But it is as a night-watchman that Mr. Bones
shines with surpassing splendor.  When he first
entered the service, he was very anxious to make a
good impression on Colonel Coffin, the burgess and
head of the village government; and the first night
upon which he went on duty Colonel Coffin was
awakened about half-past twelve by a furious ring
at his door-bell. He looked out of the window and
perceived the watchman, who said,
"She's all right. Nobody's broke in. I've got
my eye on things. You kin depend on me."




1128            ELB O W-ROOM..
The colonel thought he was one of the most faiths
ful watchmen he ever saw, and he returned serenely
to bed. On the following night, just after twelve,
there was another energetic ring at the bell; and when
the burgess raised the window, the watchman said,
"Your girls ain't left the window-shutters open
and the house is not afire. All right as a trivet while
I'm around, you bet!"
"Louisa," said the colonel to his wife as he returned to his couch, "that is a splendid watchman,
but I think he's just the least bit too enthusiastic."
A couple of nights later, when the door-bell rang
at half-past one, the colonel felt somewhat angry, and
he determined to stay in bed; but the person on the
step below at la~t began to kick against the front
door, when the colonel threw up the window and exclaimed,
"What do you want?"
It was the watchman, and he said,
"You know old Mrs. Biles up the street yer?
Well, I've just rung Biles up, and he says her rheumatism ain't no better.  Thought you might want
to know, so I called. I felt kinder lonesome out
here, too."
As Colonel Coffin slammed the sash down he felt
mad and murderous. The next night, however, that
faithful guardian applied the toe of his boot to the
front door with such energy that the colonel leaped
from bed, and protruding his head from the window
said,




0 UR CIVIL SER VICE.        129'I wish to gracious you'd stop kicking up this
kind of fuss around here every night! What do
you mean, anyhow?"
"Why, I only stopped to tell you that Butterwick
has two setter pups, and that I'd get you one if you
wanted it. Nothing mean about that, is there?"
The colonel uttered an ejaculatory criticism upon
Butterwick and the pups as he closed the window,
and a moment later he heard the watchman call up
Smith, who lives next door, and remark to him,
"They tell me it's a splendid season for bananas,
Mr. Smith."
When Coffin heard Smith hurling objurgations
about bananas and watchmen out upon the midnight
air, he knew it was immoral, but he felt his heart
warm toward Smith. The next time the watchman
tried to get the colonel out by ringing and kicking
the colonel refused to respond, and finally the watchman banged five barrels of his revolver. Then Coffin
came to the window in a rage.
"You eternal idiot," he said, " if you don't stop
this racket at night, I'll have you put under bonds
to keep the peace."
"Oh, all right," replied the watchman. "I had
something important to tell you; but if you don't
want to hear it, very well; I kin keep it to myself."
" Well, what is it? Out with it!"
"Why, I heard to-day that the kangaroo down at
the Park in the city can't.use one of its hind legs.
Rough on the Centennial, ain't it?"
9




130             ELBOW-ROOM.
Then, as the colonel withdrew in a condition of aw.
ful rage, the watchman sauntered up the street to break
the news to the rest of the folks. On the next night
a gang of burglars broke into Coffin's house and ransacked it from  top to bottom.  Toward morning
Coffin heard them; and hastily dressing himself and
seizing his revolver, he proceeded down stairs. The
burglars heard him coming and fled. Then the
colonel sprang his rattle and summoned the neighbors. When they arrived, the colonel, in the course
of conversation, made some remarks about the perfect uselessness of night-watchmen. Thereupon Mr.
Potts said,
"I saw that fellow Bones only an hour ago two
squares above here, at McGinnis's, routing McGinnis
out to tell him that old cheese makes the best bait
for catfish."
Mr. Bones was reprimanded, but he remained upon
what is facetiously known as " the force." The borough cannot afford to dispense with the services of
such an original genius as he.
Our sheriff is a man of rather higher intelligence,
but he also has a singular capacity for perpetrating
dreadful blunders. Over in the town of Nockamixon one of the cJurches last year called a clergyman named Rev. Joseph Striker.  In the same
place, by a most unfortunate coincidence, resides
also a prize-fighter named Joseph Striker, and rumors were afloat a few weeks ago that the latter
Joseph was about to engage in a contest with a Jer



OUR CIVIL SER VCE.            131
sey pugilist for the championship. Our sheriff considered it his duty to warn Joseph against the proposed infraction of the laws, and so he determined
to call upon the professor of the art of self-defence.
Unhappily, in inquiring the way to the pugilist's
house, somebody misunderstood the sheriff, and sent
him to the residence of the Rev. Joseph Striker, of
whom he had never heard. When Mr. Striker entered the room in answer to the summons, the sheriff
said to him familiarly,
"Hello, Joe! How are you?"
Mr. Striker was amazed at this address, but he
politely said,
" Good-morning."
" Joe," said the sheriff, throwing his leg lazily over
the arm of the chair, " I came round here to see you
about that mill with Harry Dingus that they're all
talking about. I want you to understand that it
can't come off anywheres around here. You know
well enough it's against the law, and I ain't a-going
to have it."
"Mill! Mill, sir? What on earth do you mean?"
asked Mr. Striker, in astonishment.  "I do not own
any mill, sir. Against the law! I do not understand you, sir."
"Now, see here, Joe," said the sheriff, biting off a
piece of tobacco and looking very wise, "that won't
go down with me. It's pretty thin, you know. I
know well enough that you've put up a thousand
dollars on that little affair, and that you've got the




I 32            ELBOW-ROOM.
whole thing fixed, with Bill Martin for referee. I
know you're going down to Pea Patch Island to have
it out, and I'm not going to allow it. I'll arrest you
as sure as a gun if you try it on, now mind me!"
"Really, sir," said Mr. Striker, "there must be
some mistake about-"
"Oh no, there isn't; your name's Joe Striker, isn't
it?" asked the sheriff.
"My name is Joseph Striker, certainly."
" I knew it," said the sheriff, spitting on the carpet; " and you see I've got this thing dead to rights.
It sha'n't come off; and I'm doing you a favor in
blocking the game, because Harry'd curl you all up
any way if I let you meet him. I know he's the best
man, and you'd just lose your money and get all
bunged up besides; so you take my advice now, and
quit. You'll be sorry if you don't."
" I do not know what you are referring to," said
Mr. Striker. "Your remarks are incomprehensible
to me, but your tone is very offensive; and if you
have any business with me, I'd thank you to state it
at once."
"Joe," said the sheriff, looking at him with a benign smile, "you play it pretty well. Anybody'd
think you were innocent as a lamb. But it won't
work, Joseph-it won't work, I tell you. I've got
a duty to perform, and I'm going to do it; and I
pledge you my word, if you and Dingus don't knock
off now, I'll arrest you and send you up for ten years
as sure as death. I'm in earnest about it."




O UR CIVIL SER VICE.         133
"What do you mean, sir?" asked Mr. Striker,
fiercely.
"Oh, don't you go to putting on any airs about it.
Don't you try any strutting before me," said the
sheriff; "or I'll put you under bail this very afternoon. Let's see: how long were you in jail the last
time? Two years, wasn't it? Well, you go fighting
with Dingus and you'll get ten years sure."
" You are certainly crazy!" exclaimed Mr. Striker.
"I don't see what you want to stay at that business for, anyhow," said the sheriff. "Here you are,
in a snug home, where you might live in peace and
keep respectable. But no, you must associate with
low characters, and go to stripping yourself naked and
jumping into a ring to get your nose blooded and
your head swelled and your body hammered to a
jelly; and all for what? Why, for a championship!
It's ridiculous. What good'll it do you if you're
champion?  Why don't you try to be honest and
decent, and let prize-fighting alone?"
"This is the most extraordinary conversation I
ever listened to," said Mr. Striker. "You evidently
take nme for a-"
" I take you for Joe Striker; and if you keep on,
I11 take you to jail," said the sheriff; with emphasis.
"Now, you tell me who's got those stakes and who's
your trainer, and I'll put an end to the whole thing."
" You seem to imagine that I am a pugilist," said
Mr. Striker. "Let me inform you, sir, that I am a
clergyman."




1 34            ELBOW-ROOM.
"Joe," said the sheriff, shaking his head, " it's too
bad for you to lie that way-too bad, indeed."
" But I am a clergyman, sir-pastor of the church
of St. Sepulchre. Look! here is a letter in my
pocket addressed to me."
"You don't really mean to say that you're a
preacher named Joseph Striker?" exclaimed the
sheriff, looking scared.
"Certainly I am. Come up stairs and I'll show
you a barrelful of my sermons."
"Well, if this don't beat Nebuchadnezzar!" said
the sheriff. "This is awful! Why, I mistook you
for Joe Striker, the prize-fighter! I don't know how
I ever-   A preacher! What an ass I've made of
myself! I don't know how to apologize; but if you
want to kick me down the front steps, just kick
away; I'll bear it like an angel."
Then the sheriff withdrew  unkicked, and Mr.
Striker went up stairs to finish his Sunday sermon.
The sheriff talked of resigning, but he continues to
hold on.
Mr. Slingsby, our assessor and tax-collector, holds
on too. He is another model member of our civil
service. The principal characteristic of Mr. Slingsby
is enthusiasm. He has an idea that whenever a man
gets anything new it ought to be taxed, and he is
always on hand to perform the service. I had about
fifteen feet added to one of my chimneys last spring;
and when it was done, Slingsby called and assessed




OUR CIVIL SER VICE.          I3$
it, under the head of "improved real estate," at
eighty dollars, and collected two per cent. on it. A
few days later, while I was standing by the fence,
Slingsby came up and said,
"Beautiful dog you have there."
"Yes; it's a setter."
"Indeed!  A setter, hey? The tax on setters is
two dollars. I'll collect it now, while I have it on
my mind."
I settled the obligation, and the next day Slingsby
came around again. He opened the conversation
with the remark,
"Billy Jones told me down at the grocery-store
that your terrier had had pups."
" Yes."
"A large litter?"
" Four."
" Indeed!  Less see: tax is two dollars; four
times two is eight-yes, eight dollars tax, please.
And hurry up, too, if you can, for they have a new
batch of kittens over at Baldwin's, and I want to
ketch old Baldwin before he goes out. By the way,
when did you put that weathercock on your stable?"
"Yesterday."
"You don't say!  Well, hold on, then.  Four
times two is eight, and four-on the weathercock,
you know-is twelve. Twelve dollars is the exact
amount."
"What do you mean by four dollars tax on a
weathercock? I never heard of such a thing."




136             ELBOW ROOJM.
" Didn't, hey? Why, she comes in under the head
of'scientific apparatus.' She's put up there to tell
which way the wind blows, ain't she?  Well, that's
scientific intelligence, and the apparatus is liable to
tax."
"Mr. Slingsby, that is the most absurd thing I
ever heard of. You might just as well talk of taxing Butterwick's twins."
"Butter-   You don't mean to say Butterwick
has twins? Why, certainly they're taxable. They
come in under the head of'poll-tax.' Three dollars
apiece. I'll go right down there. Glad you mentioned it." Then I paid him, and he left with Butterwick's twins on his memorandum-book.
A day or two afterward Mr. Slingsby called to see
me, and he said,
"I've got a case that bothers me like thunder. You
know  Hough the tobacconist?  Well, he's just
bought a new wooden Indian to stand in front of his
store. Now, I have a strong feeling that I ought to
tax that figure, but I don't know where to place it.
Would it come in as'statuary'?  Somehow that
don't seem exactly the thing. I was going to assess
it under the head of'idols,' but the idiots who got
up this law haven't got a word in in reference to
idols. Think of that, will you?  Why, we might
have paganism raging all over this country, and we
couldn't get a cent out of them. I'd a put that
Indian under'graven images,' only they ain't mentioned, either. I s'pose I could tax the bundle of




OUR CIVIL SER VICE.         I37
wooden cigars in his fist as'tobacco,' but that eaves
out the rest of the figure; and he's not liable to polltax because he can't even vote.. Now, how would it
strike you if I levied on him as an'immigrant'?
He was made somewheres else than here, and he
came here from there, consequently he's an immigrant. That's my view. What do you think of it?"
I advised him to try it upon that plan, and the
next morning Mr. Slingsby and Mr. Hough had a
fight on the pavement in front of the Indian because
Mr. Slingsby tried to seize the immigrant for unpaid
taxes. Slingsby was taken home and put to bed, and
the business of collecting taxes was temporarily
suspended. But Slingsby will be around again soon
with some new and ingenious ideas that he has
thought of during his illness.




CHAPTER XI.
FUNEREAL AND CON7UGA4L.
RS. BANGER has buried four husbands,
and her experience of domestic life in
their company was so satisfactory that
she recently married a fifth, Mr. Banger.
The name of her fourth was McFadden. The name
of her first and third was Smyth, while that of her
second, oddly enough, was Smith. Soon after her
return from her last wedding-tour she was visited by
Mr. Toombs, the undertaker, who called ostensibly to
correct an error in his last bill. When Mrs. Banger
entered the parlor, Mr. Toombs greeted her cordially
and said,
"Ah  Mrs. Smy-Banger, I mean; I hope I see
you well? Did you have a pleasant trip? Nice
weather while you were away; a little backward,
maybe, but still comfortable, and likely to make
things grow. Cemetery looks beautiful now. I was
out there to-day to a burying. Grass is coming up
charming on your lot, and I noticed a blackberry
bush growing out of Mr. Smyth's grave. He was
138




FUNEREAL AND CON7UGAL.          139
fond of'em, I reckon. There they were lying,
Smith and Smyth, and McFadden and the other
Smyth, all four of them.  No woman could have
done fairer with those men than you did, ma'am;
those mah6gany coffins with silver-plated handles
were good enough for the patriarchs and prophets,
and the President of the United States himself
daren't ask anything better than a hearse with real
ostrich feathers and horses that are black as ink all
over.'" I know when we laid Mr. McFadden out I said
to Tim Lafferty, my foreman, that the affection you
showed in having that man buried in style almost
made me cry; but I never fully realized what woman's love really is till you made me line Mr.
Smith's coffin with white satin and let in a French
plate-glass skylight over the countenance. That
worked on my feelings so that I pretty near forgot
to distribute the gloves to the mourners. And Mr.
Smith was worthy of it; he deserved it all. He was
a man all over, no difference how you looked at
him; stoutish, maybe, and took a casket that was
thick through, but he was all there, and I know
when you lost him it worried you like anything.
" Now, it's none of my business, Mrs. Banger; but
casting my eye over those graves to-day, it struck
me that I might fix'em up a little, so's they'd be
more comfortable like. I think McFadden wants a
few sods over the feet, and Smith's headstone has
worked a little out of plumb. He's settled some,




140             ELBOW-ROOM.
I s'pose. I think I'd straighten it up and put a gaspipe railing around Mr. Smyth. And while you're
about it, Mrs. Banger, hadn't you better buy about
ten feet beyond Mr. Smith, so's there won't be any
scrouging when you bury the next one? I like
elbow-room in a cemetery lot, and I pledge you my
word it'll be a tight squeeze to get another one in
there and leave room for you besides. It can't be
done so's to look anyways right, and I know you
don't want to take all four of'em out and make'em
move up, so's to let the rest of you in. Of course
it'd cut yo'u up, and it'd cost like everything, too.
"When a person's dead and buried, it's the fair
thing to let him alone, and not to go hustling him
around. That's my view, any way; and I say that if
I was you, sooner than put Mr. Smith on top of McFadden and Smyth on top of Smith, I'd buy in the
whole reservation and lay'em forty feet apart.
"And how is Mr. Banger? Seem in pretty good
health? Do you think we are to have him with us
long? I hope so; but there's consumption in his
family, I believe. Life is mighty uncertain. We
don't know what minute we may be called. I'm a
forehanded kind of man, and while his wedding-suit
was being made I just stepped into the tailor's and
ran it over with a tape-measure, so's to get some idea
of his size. You'd hardly believe it, but I've got a
black walnut casket at the shop that'll fit him as
exact as if it had been built for him. It was the
luckiest thing. An odd size, too, and wider than we




F'UNEREAL AND CONJUGAL.           41.
generally make them. I laid it away up stairs for
him, to be prepared in case of accident. You've
been so clever with me that I feel'sif I ought to try
my best to accommodate you; and I know how
women hate to bother about such things when their
grief is tearing up their feelings and they are fretting
about getting their mourning -clothes in time for the
funeral.
"And that's partly what I called to see you about,
Mrs. McFa-Banger, I mean. I've got a note to
pay in the morning, and the man's pushing me very
hard; but I'm cleaned right out. Haven't got a
cent. Now, it occurred to me that maybe you'd
advance me the money on Mr. Banger's funeral if
I'd offer you liberal terms. How does fifteen per
cent. strike you? and if he lives for six or seven
years, I'll make it twenty. Mind you, I offer the
casket and the best trimmings, eight carriages, the
finest hearse in the county, and ice enough for three
days in the swelteringest weather in August. And
I don't mind-well-yes, I'll even agree to throw in
a plain tombstone. If you can do that to accommodate a friend, why, I'11-  No? Don't want to speculate on it? Oh, very well; I'm sorry, because I
know you'd been satisfied with the way I'd have arranged things. But no matter; I s'pose I can go
round and borrow elsewhere. Good-morning; drop
in some time, and I'll show you that casket."
As Toombs was going out he met Mr. Banger at
the door. When he was gone, Banger said,




142             ELBOW-ROOM.
" My dear, who is that very odd-looking man?"
And Mrs. Banger hesitated a moment, turned very
red, and answered,
"That is-that man is-a-a-he is, I believe-a
-a-a-a some kind of a-an undertaker.'"
Then Banger looked gloomy and went up stairs
to ponder. But Mrs. Banger felt that she had a duty
to perform in taking care that the lot in the cemetery
should not fall into such disorder as Mr. Toombs
had indicated, and she resolved to call upon Mr.
Mix, at his monumental marble-works, to get him
to attend to the matter for her. Mr. Mix did not
know her, and his ignorance of her past history
turned out to be unfortunate. The following conversation occurred between them:
Mrs. Banger. "Mr. Mix, I am anxious to have
my cemetery lot fixed up-to put in new tombstones
and reset the railing; and I called to see if I could
make some satisfactory arrangement with you."
Mix. " Certainly, madam. Tell me precisely what
it is you want done."
Mrs. B. " Well, I'd like to have a new tombstone
put over the grave of John-my husband, you
know-and to have a nice inscription cut in it,
Here lies John Smyth,' etc., etc. You know what
I mean; the usual way, of course, and maybe some
kind of a design on the stone like a broken rosebud
or something."
Mix. "I understand."
Mrs. B. "Well, then, what'll you charge me for




FUNEREAL AND CON7UGAL.          143
getting up a headstone just like that, out of pretty
good white marble, and with a little picture of a
torch upside down or a weeping angel on it, and
the name of Thomas Smith cut on it?"
zix. " John Smyth, you mean."
Mrs. B.' No, I mean Thomas."
Mix. " But you said John before."
Mrs. B. " I know, but that was my first husband,
and Thomas was my second, and I want a new headstone for each of them. Now, it seems to me, Mr.
Mix, that where a person is buying more than one,
that way, you ought to make some reduction in the
price-throw something off. Though, of course, I
want a pretty good article at all the graves. Not
anything gorgeous, but neat and tasteful and calculated to please the eye. Mr. Smyth was not a man
who was fond of show. Give him a thing comfortable, and he was satisfied. Now, which do you think
is the prettiest, to have the name in raised letters in
a straight line over the top of the stone, or just to
cut the words'Alexander P. Smyth' in a kind of a
semicircle in sunken letters?"
Mix. "Did I understand you to say Alexander
P.? Were you referring to John or Thomas?"
MVrs. B. "Of course not.  Aleck was my third.
I'm not going to neglect his grave while I'm fixing
up the rest. I wish to make a complete job of it,
Mr. Mix, while I am about it, and I'm willing for
you to undertake it if you are reasonable in your
charges.  Now, what'll you ask me for the lot,




144            ELBOW-ROOM.
the kind I've described, plain but substantial, and
sunk about two feet I should think, at the head of
each grave? What'll you charge me for them-for
the whole four?"
Mix. "Well, I'll put you in those three headstones —"
M    V
Mrs. B. "Four headstones, Mr. Mix, not three."
Mix. "Four, was it?  No; there was John and
Thomas and Alexander P. That's all you said, I
think. Only three."




FUNEREAL AND CONJUGAL.          I45
Mrs. B. "Why, I want one for Adolph too, as
a matter of course, the same as the others.  I
thought you knew I wanted one for Adolph, one
made just like John's, only with the name different.
Adolph was my fourth husband. He died about
three years after I buried Philip, and I'm wearing
mourning for him now. Now, please give me your
prices for the whole of them.".
Mix. " Well, madam, I want to be as reasonable as
I can, and I tell you what I'll do. You give me all
your work in the future, and I'll put you in those
five headstones at hardly anything above cost;
say"-'
Mrs. B. "Four headstones, not five."
Mix. "I think you mentioned five."
Mrs. B. " No; only four."
Mix. "Less see: there was John, and Thomas
and Aleck, and Adolph and Philip."
Mrs. B.. "Yes, but Aleck and Philip were the
same one. His middle name was Philip, and I always called him by it."
Mix. "Mrs. Banger, I'll be much obliged to you
if you'll tell me precisely how many husbands you
have planted up in that cemetery lot. This thing's
getting a little mixed."
Mrs. B. "What do you mean, sir, by saying planted?  I never'planted' anybody. It's disgraceful to
use such language."
Mix. "It's a technical term, madam.  We always use it, and I don't see as it's going to hurt any
10




I46             ELBOW-RO OM.
old row of fellows named Smyth. Planted is good
enough for other men, and it's good enough for
them."
Mrs. B. " Old row of- What d'you mean, you
impudent vagabond? I wouldn't let you put a
headstone on one of my graves if you'd do it for
nothing."
Then Mrs. Banger flounced out of the shop, and
Mix called after her as she went through the door,
"Lemme know when you go for another man,
and I'll throw him in a tombstone for a weddingpresent. He'll want it soon."
Mrs. Banger subsequently procured the services
of a person in the city, and she regards Mr. Mix with
something like detestation.
But Mrs. Banger herself is not universally beloved. Colonel Coffin knows of one woman who
despises her methods and desires her complete repression. A short time after the election of the
colonel to the Legislature a lady called to see him
at his law-office. When she had closed the door, she
sat down and said,
"Colonel, my name is Mooney. I am unmarried
-a single woman. I called to see you in reference
to pushing a bill through the Legislature for the
benefit of maiden ladies such as myself. Let me
direct your attention to some extraordinary facts.
Statistics tell us that in the entire population of the
world there are one-fourth more women than men.
In this country the proportion of women to men is




FUNEREAL AND CON7UGAL.          I47
slightly larger. In this State there are two and oneeighth women to every man. Now, this outrageous
condition of affairs-"
"Excuse me for a moment, madam," said the colonel. " Really, the Legislature can do nothing to improve the matter. It cannot regulate the proportion
of the sexes by law."
"I know it," replied Miss Mooney. "That is not
what I am coming at. I say that this condition of affairs is grossly unjust. If I had had the management
of it, and had been compelled to arrange that there
should be more women than men, I certainly should
not have had any fractions. There are not only two
women for every man, but an eighth of a woman besides, so that ever so many of us women would each
belong to eight different men if a fair distribution
were made. How do I know, for instance, that an
eighth of me does not belong to you? Why, I don't
know it; and I say it's awful."
"If such is the case, madam," said the colonel, "I
surrender all my rights without waiting for a legislative enactment."
"Excuse me," replied Miss Mooney, "but you do
not catch the drift of my remarks. Of course, while
the laws against bigamy are in existence, some of
those women can never be married, although for my
part, when a man has two wives and an eighth of
another wife, I call it polygamy. Well, now, the
point I want to make is this: When more than half
of us can't marry, it's only right that the other half




148            ELBO W-ROOM.
should have a fair chance.  There are not men
enough to go round, any how, and for gracious' sake
let's make them go as far as they honestly will.
Well, then, how'll we do it?  How'll we make an
equitable distribution of those men?"
"Hanged if I know, madam. The Legislature
daren't meddle with them."
"I'll tell you how to do it. Listen to me. Shut
down on the widows. You hear me! Suppress the
widows. Make it death for any widow to marry
again. That's my remedy; and there'll never be any
justice till it's the law. Just look at it! When a
woman has been married once, she's had more than
her share of the male population; she's had her own
share and the share of another woman and an eighth.
Is it right, is it honorable, for that woman to go
and marry another man, and take the share of two
more women and an eighth? I say, is it just the
thing?"
" Well, on the surface it does look a little crooked."
"Crooked is not the word. Colonel Coffin, I
know these widows. I have had my eye on them.
They've got a way of bursting into a man's feelings
and walking off with his affections that fills a modest
woman like me with gall and bitterness. You know
Mrs. Banger? No? Well, now, look at her, f'r
instance. First she married Mr. Smyth, although
what on earth he ever saw to admire -about her I
cannot imagine. That was her allowance. Having
obtained Smyth, oughtn't she to have stood back




FUNEREAL AND CON7UGAL.          149
and given some other woman a chance-now, oughtn't
she?"
" Really, madam, I am hardly able to express an
opinion."
" But no. After a while Smyth succumbed. He
died. She entombed him, crying, mind you, all the
time, as if, having lost Smyth, she wanted to die and
join Smyth in the grave and in Paradise. But no
sooner was he well settled than she began to flirt
with Mr. Smith, and what does he do but yield to
her blandishments and marry her? Took her, and
seemed to glory in it.
"Now, you'd've thought that she'd've been satisfied with that, when she'd got the share of four
women and a quarter.  But pretty soon, as luck
would have it, Smith, died and she hustled hiim into
the grave. And in less than a year afterward I was
amazed to hear that she was going to marry another
Smyth. I was never more astonished in my life.
Positively'going to annex a third man, when the
supply was too short anyway. Did you ever hear
of such impudence? Did you, now?"
" I'll think it over and see if I can remember."
" Well, then, I thought for certain now that woman
would knock off and give the rest of us some kind
of a chance; and when Smyth was killed by cholera
and interred, it never entered my head that that
widow'd go after another man. But, bless your soul!
she'd hardly got into second mourning before she
began to pursue Mr. McFadden, and got him. Now,




1 50            ELBO W-ROO M.
look at it. One woman, no better'n I am, has had
the property of eight women and a half, and here I
am single and getting on in life, with the chances
growing absurdly small. No civilized country ought
to tolerate such a thing. It's worse than piracy.
You may scuttle a ship or blow her up or run her
against the rocks, and no great harm is done, because
timber's plenty and you can build another one. But
when one woman scuttles three men and then ties to
a fourth, what are you going to do about it? You
can't go out into the woods and chop down trees
and saw them up and tack them together and build
a man. Now, can you?"
"That seems to be the common impression, anyway."
"Just so. And I want you to pass a bill through
that Legislature to make it a felony for a widow to
marry again. I've drawn up a draft of a bill and I'll
leave it with you. I've made it retroactive, so that
it'll bring that woman Banger up with a short turn
and send her after Smith and the others. I don't
care to marry, myself, but I want justice. Are you
married?"
"Madam, leave the bill with me and I will
examine it."
"I say are you married?"
"I-I-married did you say?  Oh yes.  I've
been married for ten years."
"Very well, then; good-morning;" and Miss
Mooney withdrew.




FUNEREAL AND CON7UGAL.            1 5 
"Thunder!" exclaimed the colonel as he shut the
door. "If I'd've been single, I believe she'd've proposed on the spot."
It is not considered likely that the Mooney antiwidow bill will be pushed very hard in the Legislature next session.




CHAPTER XII.
A IVEW MRS. TOODLES.-POTTS' AD VENTURES.
NE evening I met Mr. Potts out upon the
turnpike, taking a walk; and I joined him.
As we proceeded he became rather confidential.  The subject of the mania for
collecting bric-a-brac came up; and after an expression of opinion from me respecting the matter, Mr.
Potts told the story of his wife's fondness for that
kind of thing. He said,
" My wife is the most infatuated bric-a-brac hunter
I ever heard of. She's an uncommonly fine woman
about most things; loves her children; makes splendid pies; don't fool with any of those fan-dangling
ways women have of fixing their hair; and she's an
angel for temper. But she beats Mrs. Toodles for
going to auctions. She's filled my house with the
wildest mess of bric-a-brac and such stuff you ever
came across outside of a museum of natural curiosities. She's spent more money for wrecks that
wouldn't be allowed in the cellar of a poor-house
than'd keep a family in comfort for years.
"You know Scudmore, who sold out the other
152




A NE W MRS. TOODLES.          153
day? She was there, bidding away like a millionaire. Came home with a wagon-load of things —
four albata tea-pots without lids or handles; two
posts of a bedstead and three slats; a couple of
churns and fourteen second-hand sun-bonnets, and
more mournful refuse like that.  Said she didn't
intend to buy, but she bid on them to run them up
to help Mrs. Scudmore, and the auctioneer knocked
them down quicker'n a wink. Said it was'Lot 47,'
and she had to take it all. And she said maybe
she could make up the sun-bonnets into bibs for
the baby and use the tea-pots for preserves. She
thought she might make a pretty fair bedstead out
of the posts by propping the other ends on a chair;
and she said it was a lucky thing she was so forehanded about those churns, because she might have
a cow kniocked down to her, and then she would be
all ready for butter-making. More'n likely she'll
buy some old steer and bring him home while she's
rummaging around for bric-a-brac.
"When the Paxtons had their sale in January she
was around there, of course, and came home after
dinner with the usual dismembered furniture; and
when I said to her,'Emma, why under Heaven did
you buy in the mud-dredge and the sausage-stuffer?'
she said she thought the sausage-stuffer would do
for a cannon for the boys on the Fourth of July, and
there was no telling if Charley wouldn't want to be
a civil engineer when he grew up, and perhaps he'd
get a contract for deepening the channel of the river;




154             ELBO w-ROOM.
and then he'd rise up and bless the foresight of the
mother who'd bought a mud-dredge for two dollars
and saved it up for him.
"I sold that scoop on Wednesday for old iron for
fifteen cents; and I'll bang the head off of Charley
if he ever goes to dredging mud or playing cannon
with the sausage-stuffer.  I won't have my boys
carrying on in that way.
"Over there at Robinson's sale I believe she'd've
bid on the whole concern if I hadn't come in while
she was going it. As it was, she bought an aneroid
barometer, three dozen iron skewers, a sacking-bottom and four volumes of Eliza Cook's poems. Said
she thought those volumes were some kind of cookery-books, or she wouldn't have bid on them, and
the barometer would be valuable to tell us which was
north. North, mind you! She thought it indicated
the points of the compass. And yet they want to
let women vote! I threw in those skewers along
with the mud-dredge, and she's used the'sackingbottom twice to patch Charley's pants; and that's all
the good we ever got out of that auction.
" But she don't care for utility; it's simply a mania
for buying things. We haven't a stove in the house,
and yet what does she do at Murphy's sale but bid
on sixty-two feet and three elbows of rusty stovepipe and cart it home with four debilitated gingham
umbrellas. Said the umbrellas were a bargain because, by putting in new covers and handles and a
rib here and there, they would do for birthday pres



A NEW MRS. 7'OODLES.           155
ents for her aunts. And the stovepipe could be sent
out to the farm to be put around the peach trees to
keep the cows off. How in thunder she was ever
going to get a stovepipe around a peach tree never
crossed her mind. She is just as impractical as a
baby.
"When Bailey had the auction at his insurance
office, there she was, and, sure enough, that afternoon she landed in our side yard with Bailey's pollparrot and a circular saw. It amused me. She
wanfed to use that saw as a dinner-gong, but it was
cracked, and so she has turned it into a griddle for
muffins. Bailey had taught the parrot to swear so
that I was afraid it'd demoralize Charley, and I don't
mind telling you in confidence that I killed it by
putting bug-poison in a water-cracker.
"Now, I see there's an auction advertised for Friday at Peters'; and Peters has a pyramid of old
tomato cans and bric-a-brac of that sort piled up in
his back yard. Now, you see if that woman don't
bid on those cans until she runs them up to a dollar
apiece, and then come lugging them around to our
house with some extraordinary idea about loading
them up with gunpowder and selling them to the
government during the next war for bombshells. If
she does, that winds the thing up. I'm a good-natured man, but no woman shall bring home three
hundred tomato cans to my house and retain a claim
upon my affections. I'll resign first."
My feeling was that he was a little mixed in his




I56             ELBOW-ROOM.
notions about bric-a-brac, but that he really had a
grievance.
Potts told me, also, that he came home very late
one night recently, and when he went up stairs his
wife and children were in bed asleep. He undressed
as softly as he could, and then, as he felt thirsty,'he
thought he would get a drink of water. Fortunately,
he saw a gobletful standing on the washstand, placed
there for him, evidently, by Mrs. Potts. He seized
it and drank the liquid in two or three huge gulps,
but just as he was draining the goblet he gagged,
dropped the glass to the floor, where it was shivered
to atoms, while he ejected something from his mouth.
He was certain that a live animal of some kind had
been in the water, and that he had nearly swallowed
it. This theory was confirmed when he saw the
object which he spat out go bounding over the floor.
He pursued it, kicking a couple of chairs over while
doing so, and at last he put his foot on it and held
it. Of course Mrs. Potts was wide awake by this
time and scared nearly to death, and the baby was
screaming at the top of its lungs. Mrs. Potts got
out of bed and turned up the gas, and said,
"Mr. Potts, what in the name of common sense is
the matter?"
"It's a mouse!" shouted Potts, in an excited
manner. "It's a mouse in the goblet. I nearly
swallowed it, but I spat it out, and now I've got my
toot on it. Get a stick and kill it, quick!"




POTTS' AD VENTURES.            157
1 1!!)!I-                        i  i
\   (
Mrs. Potts was at first disposed to jump on a chair
and scream, for, like all women, she feared a mouse
very much more than she did a tiger. But at Potts'
solicitation she got the broom and prepared to demolish the mouse when Potts lifted his foot. He
drew back, and she aimed a fearful blow at the object and missed it. Then, as it did not move, she
took a good look at it. Then she threw down the
broom, and after casting a look of scorn at Potts,
she said,
"Come to bed, you old fool! that's not a mouse."




158             ELBO W-ROOM.
" \hat d'you mean?"
"Why, you simpleton, that's the baby's Indiarubber bottle-top that I put in the goblet to keep it
sweet. You ought to be ashamed of yourself carrying on in this manner at one o'clock in the
morning."
Then Potts turned in. After this he will drink at
the pump.
In the course of the conversation I remarked that
I had seen some men fixing Potts' roof recently; and
when I asked Potts if anything was the matter, he
said,
" My roof was shingled originally; but as it leaked,
I had the shingles removed and a gravel-and-felt
roof put on. The first night after it was finished
there was a very high wind, which blew the gravel
off with such force that it broke thirty-four panes of
glass in Butterwick's house, next door. The wind
also tore up the felt and blew it over the edge, so
that it hung down over the front of the house like a
curtain. Of course it made the rooms pitch-dark,
and I did not get up until one o'clock in the afternoon, but lay there wondering how it was the night
seemed so long.
" Then I had a tin roof put on, and it did well
enough for a while. But whenever there was a
heavy rain or the wind was high, it used to rattle all
night with a noise like the battle of Gettysburg. At
last it began to leak, and a tinner sent a man around




POTTS' AD VENTURES.           I 59
to find the hole. He spent a week on that roof, and
he spread half a ton of solder over it, but still it
leaked. And finally, when the snow came, the water
trickled down the wall and ran into an eight-hundreddollar piano, which will be closed out at a low figure
to anybody who wants mahogany kindling-wood.
When the tin was removed and the new slate roof
was put on, the slates used to get loose and slide
down on the head of the hired girl while she was
hanging up the clothes. And when the man came
to replace the slates, he plunged off the roof and
broke four ribs and his leg, whereupon he sued me
for damages. And while the case was pending in
court a snow-storm came. The snow blew in under
the slates, and my oldest boy spent the day with
some of his friends snow-balling and sledding in the
garret. Then the snow on the garret floor melted
and wet the wall-paper down stairs, so that the house
became frightfully damp, and we had to move over
to the hotel for a fortnight.
"Then I tried the'Patent Incombustible' roofing,
because the man said it would not only keep out the
rain, but it was perfectly fireproof. A week after it
was on, Butterwick's stable caught fire and flung up
a great many sparks. All the houses in the neighborhood, however, escaped-all except mine. My
roof was in flames before the stable was done burning; and when the firemen had put it out, they got
to fighting on my front stairs, with the result that
the banister was broken to splinters, a two-inch stream




i6             ELBOW-ROOM.
was played into the parlor for fifteen minutes, and
Chief Engineer Johnson bled all over our best carpet.
"I have the'Impervious Cement Roof' on now,
and it seems to do well enough, excepting that it
isn't impervious. It lets in the water at eight different places; and whenever there is a shower, I have to
rush my family out on the roof to shelter it with
umbrellas. I fully expect it will explode some night,
or do some other deadly and infamous thing. I am
going to put the house up at auction and live in a
circus tent."'I hey had a big excitement over at Potts' the other
day about their cat. They heard the cat howling
and screeching somewhere around the house for two
or three days, but they couldn't find her. Potts used
to get up at night, fairly maddened with the noise,
and heave things out the back window at random,
hoping to hit her and discourage her. But she never
seemed to mind them; and although eventually he
fired off pretty nearly every movable thing in the
house excepting the piano, she continued to shriek
and scream in a manner that was simply appalling.
At last, one day, Potts made a critical examination
of the premises, and, guided by the noise, he finally
located the cat in the tin waterspout which descends
the north wall of the house. He thinks the cat must
have been skylarking on the roof some dark night
and accidentally tumbled into the spout.
Potts tried to shake her down by hammering on




POTTS' ADVE7NTURES.         I61
the spout with a stick; but the more he pounded, the
louder she yelled, and the two noises roused the entire neighborhood and attracted the attention of the
police. Then he procured a clothes-prop; and ascending to the roof, he endeavored to push the animal out.
But the stick was not long enough to reach her. All
it was good for was to make her howl more loudly;
and it did that. At last Potts concluded to take the
spout down and coax the cat out. When he got it
on the ground, he peeped in at the end, and he could
see the animal's eyes shining like balls of fire far
back in the darkness of the hole. After shaking her
up for a while without inducing her to move, he made
up his mind that she must be jammed in the pipe and
unable to budge. He wanted to cut the pipe open,
but Butterwick said it would be a pity to spoil such
a good spout for a mere cat.
So Potts finally determined to blow her out with
powder. He procured a small charge; and pushing
it pretty well in with a stick, he "tamped" the end
of the spout with clay and lighted the slow-match.
Two minutes later there was an explosion, and the
tamping-clay flew out and struck Butterwick with
some violence in the ribs, curling him all up on the
grass by the pump. When he recovered his breath,
he got up and said,
" Hang your infernal cat! It's an outrage for you
to be endangering the lives of people with your diabolical schemes for getting at a beas' that ought
to've been killed long ago."
11




I62             ELBO W-ROOM.
Then Butterwick sullenly got over the fence and
went home, and the cat meanwhile kept up a yowling that made everybody's hair stand on end.
Potts said that he made a mistake in not placing the
butt of the spout against something solid. And so,
after putting in a couple of pounds of powder, he
turned the spout up and rested the end upon the
ground, propping it against the pump. Then he
lighted the slow-match, and the crowd scattered.
There was a loud explosion, a general distribution
of fragments of tin around the yard, and then out
from the upper end of the spout there sailed something black. It ascended; it went higher and higher
and higher, until it was a mere speck; then it came
sailing down, down, down, until it struck the earth.
It was the cat, singed off, burned to a crisp, looking
as if it had been spending the summer in Vesuvius,
but apparently still active and hearty; for as soon as
it alighted it set up a wild, unearthly screech and
darted off for the woodshed, where it continued to
howl until Potts went in and killed it with his shotgun. It cost him forty dollars for a new spout, but
he says he doesn't grudge the money now that he
has stopped that fiendish noise.
Potts' clock got out of order one day last winter and began to strike wrong. That was the cause
of the fearful excitement at his house on a certain
night. They were all in bed sound asleep at midnight, when the clock suddenly struck five. The




POTTS' AD VENTURES.          163
new hired girl, happening to wake just as it began,
heard it, and bounced out of bed under the impression that morning had come. And as it is dark at
5 A. M. just at that season, she did not perceive her
mistake, but went down into the kitchen and began
to get breakfast.
While she was bustling about in a pretty lively
manner, Potts happened to wake, and he heard the
noise. He opened his room door cautiously and
crept softly to the head of the stairs to listen. He
could distinctly hear some one moving about the




164             ELBOW-ROOM.
kitchen and dining-room and apparently packing up
the china. Accordingly, he went back to his room
and woke Mrs. Potts, and gave her orders to spring
the rattle out of the front window the moment she
heard his gun go off. Then Potts seized his fowlingpiece; and going down to the dining-room door,
where he could hear the burglars at work, he cocked
the gun, aimed it, pushed the door open with the
muzzle and fired. Instantly Mrs. Potts sprang the
rattle, and before Potts could pick up the lacerated
hired girl the front door was burst open by two
policemen, who came into the dining-room.
Seeing Potts with a gun, and a bleeding. woman
on the floor, they imagined that murder had been
committed, and one of them trotted Potts off to the
station-house, while the other remained to investigate
things. Just then the clock struck six. An explanation ensued from the girl, who only had a few
bird-shot in her leg, and the policeman left to bring
Potts home.  He arrived at about three in the
morning, just as the clock was striking eight. When
the situation was unfolded to him, his first action was
to jam the butt of his gun through the clock, whereupon it immediately struck two hundred and fortythree, and then Potts pitched it over the fence. He
has a new clock now, and things are working better.
The Pottses celebrated their "iron wedding" one
day last winter, and they invited about one hundred
and twenty guests to the wedding. Of course each




PO TTS' AD VENTURES.          I65
person felt compelled to bring a present of some
kind; and each one did. When Mr. and Mrs. Smith
came, they handed Potts a pair of flatirons. When
Mr. and Mrs. Jones arrived, they also had a pair of
flatirons. All hands laughed at the coincidence.
And there was even greater merriment when the
Browns arrived with two pairs of flatirons. But
when Mr. and Mrs. Robinson came in with another
pair of flatirons, the laughter became perfectly convulsive.
There was, however, something less amusing
about it when the Thompsons arrived with four flatirons wrapped in brown paper. And Potts' face actually looked grave when the thre,e Johnson girls
were ushered into the parlor carrying a flatiron
apiece. Each one of the succeeding sixty guests
brought flatirons, and there was no break in the
continuity until old Mr. Curry arrived from Philadelphia with a cast-iron cow-bell.' Now, Potts has no
earthly use for a cow-bell, and at any other time he
would have treated such a present with scorn. But
now he was actually grateful to Mr. Curry, and he
was about to embrace him, when the Walsinghams
came in with the new kind of double-pointed flatirons with wooden handles. And all the rest of the
guests brought the same articles excepting Mr.
Rugby, and he had with him a patent stand for
holding flatirons. Potts got madder and madder
every minute, and by the time the company had all
arrived he was nearly insane with rage; and he went




I66            ELBO W-R O OM.
up to bed, leaving his wife to entertain the guests.
In the morning they counted up the spoils, and
found that they had two hundred and thirteen flatirons, one stand and a cow-bell. And now the
Pottses have cut the Smiths and Browns and Johnsons and Thompsons and the rest entirely, for they
are convinced that there was a preconcerted design
to play a trick upon them.
The fact, however, is that the hardware store in
the place had an overstock of flatirons and sold
them at an absurdly low figure, and Potts' guests
unanimously went for the cheapest thing they could
find, as people always do on such occasions. Potts
thinks he will not celebrate his " silver wedding."




CHAPTER XIII.
THE RACES, AND SOME OTHER THINGS.
HERE was some horse-racing over at the
"- w Blank course one day last fall, and Butterwick attended to witness it.  On his
way home in the cars in the afternoon he
encountered Rev. Dr. Dox, a clergyman who knows
no more about horse-racing than a Pawnee knows
about psychology. Butterwick, however, took for
granted, in his usual way, that the doctor was familiar with the subject; and taking a seat beside
him, he remarked loudly-for the doctor is deaf"I was out at the Blank course to-day to see
Longfellow."
"Indeed! Was he there?  Where did you say
he was?"
"Why, over here at the course. I saw him and
General Harney, and a lot more of'em. He run
against General Harney, and it created a big excitement, too; but he beat the general badly, and the
way the crowd cheered him was wonderful. They
say that a good deal of money changed hands. The
fact is I had a small bet upon the general myself."
167




i68             ELBOW-ROOM.
"You don't mean to say that Longfellow actually
beat General Harney?"
"Yes, I do! Beat him the worst kind. You'd
hardly've thought it, now, would you? I was never
more surprised in my life. What's queer aboat it
is that he seemed just as fresh afterward as before
he commenced. Didn't faze him a bit. Why, instead of wanting to rest, he was jumping about just
as lively; and when the crowd began to push around
him, he kicked a boy in the back and doubled him
all up-nearly killed him. Oh, he's wicked! I
wouldn't trust him as far as I could see him."
"This is simply astonishing," said the doctor.
"I wouldn't have believed it possible. Are you
sure it was Longfellow, Mr. Butterwick?"
"Why, certainly, of course; I've seen him often
before. And after breathing a while, he and Maggie
Mitchell came out, and as soon as they stepped off
he put on an extra spurt or two and led her by a
neck all around the place, and she came in puffing
and blowing, and nearly exhausted.  I never took
much stock in her, anyway."
"Led her by the neck! -Why, this is the most
scandalous conduct I ever heard of. Mr Butterwick,
you must certainly be joking."
"I pledge you my word it's the solemn truth. I
saw it myself. And after that Judge Bullerton and
General Harney, they took a turn together, and that
was the prettiest contest of the day. First the
judge'd beat the general, and then the general'd put




THE RACES, AND SOME OTHER THINGS. I69
in a big effort and give it to the judge, and the two'd
be about even for a while, and all of a sudden the
general would give a kinder jerk or two and leave
the judge just nowhere, and by the time-the general
passed the third quarter the judge keeled over
against the fence and gave in. They say he broke
his leg, but I don't know if that's so or not. Anyway he was used up. If he'd passed that quarter, he
might have been all right."
" What was the matter with the quarter? Wasn't
it good?"
" Oh yes. But you see the judge must have lost
his wind or something; and I reckon when he tumbled it was something like a faint, you know."
"Served him right for engaging in such a brutal
contest."
"Well, I dunno. Depends on how you look at
such things. And when that was over, Longfellow
entered with Mattie Evelyn. He kept shooting past
her all the time, and this worried her so that she
ran a little to one side, and somehow, I dunno how
it happened, but his leg tripped her, and she rolled
over on the ground, hurt pretty bad, I think, while
Longfellow had his leg cut pretty near to the
bone."
" Did any of the shots strike her?"
" I don't understand you."
"You said he kept shooting past her, and I
thought maybe some of the bullets might have
struck her."




I70             ELB O W-ROOM.
"Why, I meant that he ran past her, of course.
How in the thunder could he shoot bullets at her?"
"I thought maybe he had a gun. But I don't
understand any of it. It is the most astounding
thing I ever heard of, at any rate."
"Now, my dear sir, I want to ask you how Longfellow could manage a gun?"
"Why, as any other man does, of course."
"Man! man! Why, merciful Moses! you didn't
think I was talking about human beings all this time,
did you?  Why, Longfellow  is a horse! They
were racing-running races over at the course this
afternoon; and I was trying to tell you about it."
"You don't say?" remarked the doctor, with a
sigh of relief. "Well, I declare, I thought you were
speaking of the poet, and I hardly knew whether to
believe you or not; it seemed so strange that he
should behave in that manner."
Then Mr. Butterwick went into the smoking-car
to tell the joke to his friends, and the doctor sat reflecting upon the outrageous impudence of the men
who name their horses after respectable people.
While he was thinking about it, another sensational occurrence attracted his attention.
A man sitting in the same car with the doctor had
placed a bottle of tomato catsup neck downward in
the rack above his seat. Presently a friend came in,
and in a few moments the friend, who was cutting
his finger-nails with a knife, introduced the subject
of the races.  The discussion gradually became




THE RACES, AND SOME OTHER THINGS. 171
warm, and as the excitement increased the man
with the knife gesticulated violently with the hand
containing the weapon while he explained his views.
Meantime, the cork jolted out of the bottle overhead,
and the catsup dripped down over the owner's head
and coat and collar without his perceiving the fact.
Soon a nervous old lady on the back seat caught
sight of the red stain, and imagining it was blood,
instantly began to scream  "Murder!" at the top
of her voice. As the passengers, conductor' and
brakemen rushed-up she brandished her umbrella
wildly and exclaimed,
"Arrest that man there! Arrest that willin! I
see him do it. I see him stab that other one with




172             ELBO W-ROOM,.
his knife until the blood spurted out. Oh, you
wretch! Oh, you willinous rascal, to take human
life in that scandalous manner! I see you punch
him with the knife, you butcher, you! and I'll swear
it agin you in court, too, you owdacious rascal!"
They took her into the rear car and soothed her,
while the victim wiped the catsup off his coat. But
that venerable old woman will go down to the silent
grave with the conviction that she witnessed in those
cars one of the most awful and sanguinary encounters that has occurred since the affair between Cain
and Abel.
Dr. Dox recently was called upon to settle a bet
upon a much more serious matter than a horse-race.
During a religious controversy between Peter Lamb
and some of his friends one of the latter asserted
that Peter didn't know who was the mother-in-law
of Moses, and that he couldn't ascertain.  Peter
offered to bet that he could find out, and the wager
was accepted. After searching in vain through the
Scriptures, Mr. Lamb concluded to go around and
interview Deacon Jones about it.  The deacon is
head-man in the gas-office, and in the office there
are half a dozen small windows, behind which sit
clerks to receive money. Applying at one of these,
VIr. Lamb said,
" Is Deacon Jones in?"
" What's your business?"
"Why, I want to find out the name of Moses'-"




THE  RACES, AND SOME OTHER THINGS. 173
"Don't know anything about it. Look in the
directory;" and the clerk slammed the window
shut.
Then Peter went to the next window and said,
" I want to see Mr. Jones a minute."
" What for?"
"I want to see if he knows Moses'-"
"Moses who?"
"Why, Moses, the Bible Moses-if he knows-"
"Patriarchs don't belong in this department. Apply, across the street at the Christian Association
rooms;" and then the clerk closed the window.
At the next window Mr. Lamb said,
"I want to see Deacon Jones a minute in reference to a matter about Moses."
"Want to pay his gas-bill?  What's the last
name?"
"Oh no.  I mean the first Moses, the original
one."
" Anything the matter with his meter?"
"You don't understand me.  I refer to the
Hebrew prophet. I want to see-"
"Well, you can't see him here. This is the gasoffice. Try next door."
At the adjoining window Mr. Lamb said,
" Look here! I want to see Deacon Jones a minute
about the prophet Moses, and I wish you'd tell him
SO."
" No, I won't," replied the clerk. "He's too busy
to be bothered with-anything of that kind."




174              ELBOW-ROOM.
"But I must see him," said Peter; "I insist on
seeing him. The fact of the matter is, I've got a bet
about Moses' —"
"Don't make any difference what you've got; you
can't see him."
" But I will. I want you to go and tell him I'm
here, and that I wish for some information respecting Moses. I'll have you discharged if you don't
go.'
"Don't care if you want to see him about all the
children of Israel, and the Pharaohs and Nebuchadnezzars.  I tell you you can't.  That settles it.
Turn off your gas and quit."
Then Peter resolved to give up the deacon and
try Rev. Dr. Dox. When he called at the parsonage, the doctor came down into the parlor. Because
of the doctor's deafness there was a little misunderstanding when Peter said,
" I called, doctor, to ascertain if you could tell me
who was the mother-in-law of Moses."
" Well, really," said the doctor, "there isn't much
preference. Some like one kind of roses and some
like another. A very good variety of the pink rose
is the Duke of Cambridge; grows large, bears early
and has very fine perfume. The Hercules is also
excellent, but you must manure it well and water
it often."
" I didn't ask about roses, but Moses. You make a
mistake," shouted Peter.
"Oh, of course I by all means. Train them up to




THE RACES, AND SOME OTHER THINGS. 175
a stake if you want to. The wind don't blow them
about so and they send out more shoots."
"You misunderstand me," yelled Mr. Lamb. "I
asked about Moses, not roses. I want to know who
was the mother-in-law of Moses."
"Oh yes; certainly. Excuse me; I thought you
were inquiring about roses. The law of Moses was
the foundation of the religion of the Jews. You can
find it in full in the Pentateuch. It is admirablevery admirable-for the purpose for which it was ordained. We, of course, have outlived that dispensation, but it still contains many things that are useful to us, as, for instance, the-"
" Was Moses married?" shrieked Mr. Lamb.
" Married?  Oh, yes; the name of his father-inlaw, you know, was Jethro, and —"
"Who was his wife?"
" Why, she was the daughter of Jethro, of course.
I said Jethro was his father-in-law."
"No; Jethro's wife, I mean. I want to know to
settle a bet."
" No, that wasn't her name.'Bet' is a corruption
of Elizabeth, and that name, I believe, is not found
in the Old Testament. I don't remember what the
name of Moses' wife was."
"I want to know what was the name of the mother-in-law of Moses, to settle a bet."
"Young man," said the old doctor, sternly, "you
are trifling with a serious subject. What do you
mean by wanting Moses to settle a bet?"




176             ELBO W-ROOM.
Then Mr. Lamb rolled up a sheet of music that
lay on the piano; and putting it to the doctor's ear,
he shouted,
"I made-a-bet-that-I-could-find-out —
what —the  name  of Moses'- mother-in-lawwas. Can-you-tell-me?"
" The Bible don't say," responded the doctor; " and
unless you can get a spiritualist to put you in communication with Moses, I guess you will lose."
Then Peter went around and handed over the
stakes. Hereafter he will gamble on other than
biblical games.
Mr. Lamb has an inquiring mind. He is always
investigating something. He read somewhere the
other day that two drops of the essential oil of tobacco placed upon the tongue of a cat would kill
the animal instantly. He did not believe it, and he
concluded to try the experiment to see if it was so.
Old Squills, the druggist, has a cat weighing about
fifteen pounds, and Mr. Lamb, taking the animal
into the back room, shut the door, opened the cat's
mouth, and applied the
poison. One moment
later a wild, unearthly
"M-e-e-e-e- ow- ow- ow!
was emitted by the cat,
and, to Mr. Lamb's in_ —         tense alarm, the animal
began swishing around




ZTHE RACES, AND SOME OTHER THINGS. I77
the room with hair on end and tail in convulsive excitement, screeching like a fog-whistle. Mr. Lamb is
not certain, but he considers it a fair estimate to say
that the cat made the entire circuit of the room,
over chairs and under tables, seventy-four times
every minute, and he is willing to swear to seventy
times, without counting the occasional diversions
made by the brute for the purpose of snatching at
Mr. Lamb's pantaloons and hair. Just as Mr. Lamb
had about made up his mind that'the cat would conclude the gymnastic exercises by eating him, the
animal dashed through the glass sash of the door
into the shop, whisked two jars of licorice root and
tooth-brushes off the counter, tore out the ipecacbottle and four jugs of hair-dye, smashed a bottle of
"Balm of Peru," alighted on the bonnet of a woman
who was drinking soda-water, and after a few convulsions rolled over into a soap-box and died.
Mr. Lamb is now satisfied that a cat actually can
be killed in the manner aforementioned, but he
would be better satisfied if old Squills didn't insist
upon collecting from him the price of those drugs
and the glass sash.
Last summer Peter's brother spent a few weeks
with him. He owned a "pistol cane," which he carried about with him loaded; but when he went away,
he accidentally left it behind, and without explaining
to Peter that it was different from ordinary canes.
So, one afternoon a few days later, Peter went out
12




178             ELBOW-ROOM.
to Keyser's farm  to                 ( i
look at some stock, _I _
and he picked up the       -1xj           )
cane to take along with -         f __,
him. When he got to  -                  _,_-,
Keyser's,  the  latter    "
went to the barnyar    d 4,:;
to show him an extra- 
ordinary kind of a new,,.
pig that he had devel-   ----
oped by cross-breeding..
"Now that pig," said
Keyser, "just lays over
all the other pigs on the Atlantic Slope. Take him
any way you please, he's the most gorgeous pig anywheres around. Fat! Why, he's all fat! There's
no lean in him. He ain't anything but a solid mass
of lard.  Put that pig near a fire, and in twenty




THE RACES, AND SOME OTHER 7THINGS. I79
minutes his naked skeleton'd be standing there in a
puddle of grease. That's a positive fact. Now, you
just feel his shoulder."
Then Peter lifted up his cane and gave the pig a
poke. He poked it two or three times, and he had
just remarked, "That certainly is a splendid pig,"
when he gave it another poke, and then somehow
the pistol in the cane went off and the pig rolled
over and expired.
"What in the mischief d'you do that for?" exclaimed Keyser, amazed and indignant.
"Do it for?  I didn't do it! This cane must've
been made out of an old gun-barrel with the load
left in. I never had the least idea, I pledge you
my word, that there was anything the matter with
it."
"That's pretty thin," said Keyser; "you had a
grudge agin that pig because you couldn't scare up
a pig like him, and you killed him on purpose."
"That's perfectly ridiculous."
"Oh, maybe it is. You'll just fork over two hundred dollars for that piece of pork, if you please."
"I'll see you in Egypt first."
Peter whipped; but if Keyser did give in first,
Peter went home with a bleeding nose, and the next
day he was arrested for killing the pig. The case is
coming up soon, and Peter's brother is on, ready to
testify about that cane. Peter himself walks now
with a hickory stick.




CHAPTER XIV.
RESPECTING CER TAIN SA VA GES.
HEN young Mr. Spooner, Judge Twiddler's nephew, left college, he made up his
mind to enter the ministry and become a
missionary. One day he met Captain
Hubbs; and when he mentioned that he thought of
going out as a missionary, Captain Hubbs asked
him, "Where are you going?"
S. " To the Navigator Islands. I sail in October."
Carpt. (shaking his head mournfully). " Pore young
man! Pore young man! It is too bad —too bad indeed! Going to the Navigator Islands! Not married yet, I reckon? No? Ah! so much the better.
No wife and children to make widows and orphans of.
But it's sad, anyway. A promising young fellow
like you! My heart bleeds for you."
S. "What d'you mean?"
Capt. "Oh, nothing.  I don't want to frighten
you. I know you're doing it from a sense of duty.
But I've been there to the Navigator Islands, and
I'm acquainted with the people's little ways, and Iwell, I —I-the fact is, you see, that-well, sooner'n
disguise the truth, I don't mind telling you straight




RESPECTING CERTAIN SA VAGES.    I8S
out that the last day I was there the folks et one of
my legs-sawed it off an' et it. Now you can see.how things are yourself. Those Navigators gobbled
that leg right up. It was a leg a good deal like
yours, only heavier, I reckon."
S. " You astonish me!"
Capt. " Oh, that's nothing. They did that just for
a little bit of fun. The chief told me the day before
that they never et anything but/human beings. He
said his family consumed about three a day all the
year round, counting holidays and Sundays. He
was a light eater himself, he said, on account of gitting dyspepsia from a tough Australian that he et in
I847, but the girls and the old woman, so he said,
were very hearty eaters, and it kept him busy prowling around after human beings to satisfy'em. The
old woman, he said, rather preferred to eat babies,
on account of her teeth being poor, but the girls
could eat the grizzliest sailor that ever went aboard
ship."
S. "This is frightful."
Capt. "And the chief said sometimes the supply was scarce, but
lately they had begun to depend
more on imported goods than on
the home products.  And they
were better, anyhow, for all the
folks preferred white meat.  He
said-the missionary societies were
shipping them  some nice lots of provender, and




182             ELB O W-OOAM.
the tears came in his eyes when he said how good
they were to the poor friendless savage away on a
distant island. He said he liked a missionary not
too old or too young. But let's see; what's your
age, did you say?"
S. " I am twenty-eight."
Capt. "I think he mentioned twenty-seven; but
howsomedever, he liked'em old enough to be solid
and young enough to be tender. And he said he
liked missionaries because they never used rum or
tobacco and always kept their flavor. I know I seen
one young fellow who came out there from Boston.
He got up a camp-meeting in the woods; and while
he was giving out the hymn, one of the congregation
banged him on the head with a club, and in less than
no time he was sizzling over a fire right in front of
the pulpit. They lit the fire with his hymn-book
and kept her going with his sermons. He was a
man just about your build-a little leaner'n you,
maybe. And they like a man to be stoutish. He
eats more tender."
S. "I had no idea that such awful practices existed."
Capt. "I haven't told you half, for I don't want to
discourage you. I know you mean well, and maybe
they'll let you alone. But I remember, when I told
the chief that there was a whole lot of you chaps
studying to be missionaries, he laughed and rubbed
his hands, and ordered the old woman to plant more
horseradish and onions the following year. Ile was




RESPECTING CERTAIN SA VAGES.    183
a forehanded kind of a man for a mere pagan. He
said that if they would only give his tribe time, if
they would send him along the supplies regular, so's
not to glut the market, they could put away the entire clergy of the United States and half the deacons
without an effort. He was nibbling at a missionarybone when he, spoke, and the old woman was making a new club out of another one. They are an
economical people. They utilize everything."
S. "This is the most painful intelligence that I
ever received. If I felt certain about it, I would
remain at home."
Capt. "Don't let me induce you to throw the
thing up. I wouldn't a told you, anyway, only you
kind of drew the information out of me. And as
long as I've gone this far, I might as well tell you'that I got a letter the other day from a man who'd
just come from there, and he said the crops were
short, eatable people were scarce, and not one of
them savages had had a square meal for months.
When he left, they were sitting on the rocks, hungry as thunder, waiting for a missionary-society
ship to' arrive. And now I must be going. Goodbye. I know I'll never see you again. Take a last
look at me. Good-morning."
Then the captain hobbled off.
Mr. Spooner has concluded to stay at home and
teach school.
Another rather more enthusiastic friend of the




I 84            ELBOW-ROOM.
savage is Mr. Dodge. He came into the office of
the Patriot one day and sought a desk where a reporter was writing. Seating himself and tilting the
chair until it was nicely balanced upon two legs, he
smiled a serene and philanthropic smile, and said,
"You see, I'm the friend of the poor Indian; he
regards me as his Great White Brother, and I reciprocate his confidence and affection by doing what
I can to alleviate his sufferings in his present unfortunate situation. Young man, you do not know the
anguish that fills the soul of the red man as civilization makes successive inroads upon his rights. It is
too sacred for exhibition. He represses his emotion
sternly, and we philanthropists only detect it by observing that he betrays an increased longing for firewater and an aggravated indisposition to wash himself. Now, what do you suppose is the last sorrow
that has come to blast the happiness of this persecuted being? What do you think it is?"
" I don't know, and I don't care."
" I will tell you. It is the increasing tendency of
the white man to baldness. As civilization pushes
upward, the hair of the pale face recedes. Eventually, I suppose, about every other white man will be
bald. I notice that even you are gradually being
reduced to a mere fringe around the base of your
skull. Now, imagine how an Indian feels when he
considers this tendency. Is it any wonder that the
future seems dark and gloomy and hairless to him?
The scalping operation to him is a sacred rite. It is




RESPECTING CERTAIN SAVAGES.    185
interwoven with his most cherished traditions. When
he surrenders it, he dies with a broken heart. What
then, is to be done?"
"Oh, do hush up and quit."
"There is but one thing to be done to meet this
grave emergency. We cannot justly permit that
grand aboriginal man who once held sway over this
mighty continent to be filled with desolation and
misery by the inaccessibility of the scalps of his fellow-creatures. My idea, therefore, is to bring those
scalps within his reach, even when they are baldest
and shiniest. But how?"
"That'll do now. Don't want to hear any more."
"Here my ingenuity comes into play. I have invented a simple little machine which I call'The
Patent Adjustable Atmospheric Scalp-lifter.' Here
it is. The device consists of a disk of thin leather
about six inches in diameter. In the centre is a hole
through which runs a string. When the Indian desires to deal with a man with a bald head, he proceeds as follows - observe the simplicity of the
operation: He wets the leather, stamps it carefully
down upon the surface of the scalp, slides his knife
around over the ears, gives the string a jerk, and off
comes the scalp as nicely as if it had been Absalom's.
In fact, you will see at once that it is an ingenious
application of the'sucker' used by boys to raise
bricks and stones. I know what you are going to
say-that a white man who is.to be manipulated by
an Indian needs succor worse than the red man. It




i 86            ELBOW-ROOM.
is an old joke, and a good one; but my desire is to
bring joy to the wigwam of the Kickapoo and to
make the heart of the Arapahoe glad."
" Oh, do dry up and go down stairs."
"You catch the idea, of course; but perhaps
you'd like to see the apparatus in operation. Wait
a moment; I'll show you how splendidly it works."
Then, as the reporter resolutely continued at his
task with his nose almost against the desk, the
friend of the disconsolate red man suddenly produced a moist sucker and clapped it firmly upon the
bald place on the reporter's head, and then, before
the indignant victim could offer resistance, the Great
White Brother, with the string in his hand, careered
around the office a couple of times, drawing the
helpless journalist after him.- As he withdrew the
machine he smiled and said,
"Elegant, isn't it?  Could pull a horse-car with
it. I wish you'd come to Washington with me and
lend me your head, so's I can show the Secretary of
the Interior how the thing works. You have the
best scalp for a good hold of any I've tried yet."
But the reporter was at the speaking-tube calling
for a boy to go for a policeman, and he didn't seem
to hear the suggestion. And so Mr. Dodge folded
up the machine, placed it in his carpet-bag, and went
out smiling as though he had been received with
enthusiasm and been promised a gratuitous advertisement. He passed the policeman on the stairs,
and then sailed serenely out of reach, perhaps to seek




RESPECTING CERTAIN SA V,4GES.    I87
for another and more sympathetic bald man upon
whom to illustrate the value of his invention.
Reference to the Indians reminds me of the very
ungenerous treatment that Mr. Bartholomew, one
of our citizens, received at the hands of certain red
men with whom he trafficked in the West.
A year or two ago Mr. Bartholomew was out in
Colorado for a few months, and just before he started
for the journey home he wrote to his wife concerning the probable time of his arrival. As a-postscript
to the letter he added the following message to his
son, a boy about eight years old:
" Tell Charley I am going to bring with me a dear
little baby-bear that I bought from an Indian."
Of course that information pleased Charley, and
he directed most of his thoughts and his conversation to the subject of the bear during the next two
weeks, wishing anxiously for his father to come with
the little pet. On the night which been fixed by
Bartholomew for his arrival he did not come, and
the family were very much disappointed. Charley
particularly was dreadfully sorry, because he couldn't
get the bear. On the next evening, while Mrs.
Bartholomew and the children were sitting in the
front room with the door open into the hall, they
heard somebody running through the front yard.
Then the front door was suddenly burst open, and a
man dashed into the hall and up stairs at a frightful
speed. Mrs. Bartholomew was iust about to go up




I88             ELBOW-ROOM.
after him to ascertain who it was, when a large dark
animal of some kind darted in through the door and
with an awful growl went bowling up stairs after the
INN, ~c~, ii
man. It suddenly flashed upon the mind of Mrs.
Bartholomew that the man was her husband, and
that that was the little baby-bear.  Just then the
voice of Bartholomew was heard calling from the
top landing:




RESPECTING CERTAIN SA VA4GES.   I89
"Ellen, for gracious sake get out of the house as
quick as you can, and shut all the doors and windowshutters."
Then Mrs. Bartholomew sent the boys into Partridge's, next door, and she closed the shutters, locked
all the doors and went into the yard to await further
developments.  When she got outside, she saw
Bartholomew on the roof kneeling on the trap-door,
which he kept down only by the most tremendous
exertions. Then he screamed for somebody to come
up and help him, and Mr. Partridge got a ladder and
a hatchet and some nails, and ascended.  Then
they nailed down the trap-door, and Bartholomew
and Partridge came down the ladder together. After
he had greeted his family, Mrs. Bartholomew asked
him what was the matter, and he said,
"Why, you know that'little baby-bear I said I'd
bring Charley? Well, I had him in a box until I
got off the train up here at the dep6t, and then I
thought I'd take him out and lead him around home
by the chain. But the first thing he did was to fly
at my leg; and when I jumped back, I ran, and he
after me.  He would've eaten me up in about a
minute. That infernal Indian must have fooled me.
He said it was a cub only two months old and it
had no teeth. I believe it's a full-grown bear."
It then became a very interesting question how
they should get the bear out of the house. Bartholomew thought they had better try to shoot him,
and he asked a lot of the neighbors to come around




Ig90o          ELBO WV-ROOM.
to help with their shot-guns. When they would
hear the bear scratching at one of the windows, they
would pour in a volley at him, but after riddling every
shutter on the first floor they could still hear the
bear tearing around in there and growling. So Bartholomew and the others got into the cellar, and as
the bear crossed the floor they would fire up through
it at about the spot where they thought he was. But
the bombardment only seemed to exasperate the
animal, and after each shot they could hear him
smashing something.
Then Partridge said maybe a couple of good dogs
might whip him; and he borrowed a bulldog and a
setter from Scott and pushed them through the front
door. They listened, and for half an hour they could
hear a most terrific contest raging; and Scott said
he'd bet a million dollars that bull-dog would eat up
any two bears in the Rocky Mountains. Then everything became still, and a few moments later they
could hear the bear eating something and cracking
bones with his teeth; and Bartholomew said that the
Indian out in Colorado told him that the bear was
particularly fond of dog-meat, and could relish a dog
almost any time.
At last Bartholomew thought he would try strategy. He procured a huge iron hook with'a sharp
point to it, tied it to a rope and put three or four
pounds of fresh beef on the hook. Then he went
up the ladder, opened the trap-door in the roof and
dropped in the bait. In a few moments he got a




RESPECTING CERTAIN SAVA GES.   191
bite, and all hands manned the rope and pulled, when
out came Scott's bull-dog, which had been hiding in
the garret. Bartholomew was disgusted; but he put
orn fresh bait and threw in again, and in about an
hour the bear took hold, and they hauled him out
and knocked him on the head.
Then they entered the house. In the hall the carpet was covered with particles of dead setter, and
in the parlor the carpet and the windows had been
shot to pieces, while the furniture was full of bulletholes. The bear had smashed the mirror, torn up
six or seven chairs, knocked over the lamp and demolished all the crockery in the pantry. Bartholomew gritted his teeth as he surveyed the ruin, and
Mrs. Bartholomew said she wished to patience he
had stayed in Colorado. However, they fixed things
up as well as they could, and then Mrs. Bartholomew
sent into Partridge's for Charley and the youngest
girl. When Charley came, he rushed up to Bartholomew and said,
"Oh, pa! where's my little baby-bear?"
Then Bartholomew gazed at him severely for a
moment, looked around to see if Mrs. Bartholomew
had left the room, and then gave Charley the most
terrific spanking that he ever received.
The Bartholomew children have no pets at present
but a Poland rooster which has moulted his tail.




CHAPTER XV.
LO VE, SUFFERING ANrD SUICIDE.
ETER LAMB, a young man who is employed in one of the village stores, some
time ago conceived a very strong passion
for a neighbor of his, Miss Julia Brown,
the doctor's daughter. But the Fates seemed to be
against the successful prosecution of his suit, for he
managed to plunge into a series of catastrophes in
the presence of the young lady, and to make himself
so absurd that even his affection seemed ridiculous.
One summer evening, when he was just beginning
to make advances, Miss Brown came over to see
Peter's sister, and the two girls sat out upon the
front porch together in the darkness, talking. Peter
plays a little upon the bugle, and it occurred to him
that it would be a good thing to exhibit his skill to
Julia. So he went into the dark parlor and felt over
the top of the piano for the horn. It happened that
his aunt from Penn's Grove had been there that day
and had left her brass ear-trumpet lying on the piano,
and Peter got hold of this without perceiving the
mistake, as the two were of similar shape. He took
it in his hand and went out on the porch where Miss
192




LO VE, SUFFERING AND SUICIDE.    193
Brown was sitting. He asked Miss Brown if she
was fond of music on the horn; and when she said
she adored it, he asked her how she would like himto play " Ever of Thee;" and she said that was the
only tune she cared anything for.
So Peter put the small end of the trumpet to his
lips and blew. He blew and blew. Then he blew
some more, and then he drew a fresh breath and
blew again. The only sound that came was a hollow moan, which sounded so queerly in the darkness
that Miss Brown asked him if he was not well. And
when he said he was, she said that he went exactly
like a second cousin of hers that had the asthma.
Then Peter remarked that somehow the horn was
out of order for " Ever of Thee;" but if Miss Brown
would like to hear "Sweetly I dreamed, Love," he
would try to play it, and Miss Brown said that the
fondest recollections clustered about the melody.
So Peter put the trumpet to his lips again and
strained his lungs severely in an effort to make
some music. It wouldn't come, but he made a very
singular noise, which induced Miss Brown to ask if
the horse in the stable back of the house had heaves.
Then Peter said he thought somebody must have
plugged the bugle up with something, and he asked
his sister to light the gas in the entry while he
cleaned it out. When she did so, the ear-trumpet became painfully conspicuous, and both the girls
laughed. When Miss Brown laughed, Peter looked
up at her with pain in his face, put on his hat and
13




194             ELB0 W-R OOM.
went out into the street, where he could express his
feelings in violent terms.
A few nights later the Browns had a tea-party, to
which Mr. Lamb was invited. He went, determined
to do his full share. of entertaining the company.
While supper was in progress, Mr. Lamb said in a
loud voice,
"By the way, did you read that mighty good
thing in the Patriot the other day about the woman
over in Bridgeport? It was one of the most amusing things that ever came under my observation.
The woman's name, you see, was Emma. Well,
there were two young fellows paying attention to
her, and after she'd accepted one of them the other
also proposed to her and as she felt certain that the
first one wasn't in earnest, she accepted the second
one too. So a few days later both of'em called at
the same time, both claimed her hand, and both insisted on marrying her at once. Then, of course,
she found herself face to face with a mighty unpleasant-unpleasant-  Er-er-er-  Less see; what's
the word I want? Unpleasant- Er-er- Blamed
if I haven't forgotten that word."
"Predicament," suggested Mr. Potts.
"No, that's not it. What's the name of that thing
with two horns?  Unpleasant-   Er-er-  Hang
it! it's gone clear out of my mind."
"A cow," hinted Miss Mooney.
"No, not a cow."
"Maybe it's a buffalo," remarked Dr. Dox.




LO VE, SUFFERI NG AND SUICIDE.    195
"No, no kind of an animal. Something else with
two horns. Mighty queer I can't recall it."
" Perhaps it's a brass band," observed Butterwick.
" Or a man who's had a couple of drinks," suggested Dr. Brown.
"Of course not."
"You don't mean a fire company?" asked Mrs.
Banger.
"N  no. That's the confounded queerest thing
I ever heard of, that I can't remember that word,"
said Mr. Lamb, getting warm and beginning to feel
miserable.
"Well, give us the rest of the story without it,"
said Potts.
"That's the mischief of it," said Mr. Lamb. "The
whole joke turns on that infernal word."
"Two horns did you say?" asked  Dr. Dox.
" Maybe it is a catfish."
" Or a snail," remarked Judge Twiddler.
"N —no; none of those."
" Is it an elephant or a walrus?" asked Mrs. Dox.
"I guess I'll have to give it up," said Mr. Lamb,
wiping the perspiration from his brow.
"Well, that's the sickest old. story I ever encountered," remarked Butterwick to Potts. Then
everybody smiled, and Mr. Lamb, looking furtively
at Julia, appeared to feel as. if he would welcome
death on the. spot.
The mystery is yet unsolved; but it is believed
that Peter was trying to build up the woman's name,




1 96)           ELBOW-ROOM.
Emma, into a pun upon the word " dilemma."  The
secret, however, is buried in his bosom.
Peter professes to be an expert in legerdemain, and
he came to Brown's prepared to perform some of his
best feats. When the company assembled in the
drawing-room after tea, he determined to redeem
the fearful blunder that he had made in the diningroom.
Several of the magicians who perform in public do
what they call "the gold-fish trick." The juggler
stands upon the stage, throws a handkerchief over
his extended arm and produces in succession three
or four shallow glass dishes filled to the brim with
water in which live gold-fish are swimming. Of
course the dishes are concealed somehow upon the
person of the performer.
Peter had discovered how the trick was done, and
he resolved to do it now. So the folks all gathered in
one end of the parlor, and in a few moments Lamb
entered the door at the other end. He said,
" Ladies and gentlemen, you will perceive that I
have nothing about me except my ordinary clothing;
and yet I shall produce presently two dishes filled
with water and living fish. Please watch me narrowly."
Then Peter flung the handkerchief over his hand
and arm, and we could see that he was working away
vigorously at something beneath it. He continued
for some moments, and still the gold-fish did not appear. Then he began to grow very red in the face,




j I i'I   /I'I
~~~~~~~~
I  I
THE GOLDFISH TRICK.








LOVE, SUFFERING AND SUICIDE.    I99
and we saw that something was the matter. Then
the perspiration began to stand on Peter's forehead,
and Mrs. Brown asked him if anything serious was
the matter. Then the company smiled, and the magician grew redder; but he kept on fumbling beneath
that handkerchief, and apparently trying to reach
around under his coat-tails. Then we heard something snap, and the next moment a quart of water
ran down the wizard's left leg and spread out over
the carpet. By this time he looked as if joy had
forsaken him for ever. But still he continued to feel
around under the handkerchief. At last another snap
was heard, and another quart-of water plunged down
his right leg and formed a pool about his shoe. Then
the necromancer hurriedly said that the experiment
had failed somehow, and he darted into the diningroom. We followed him, and found him sitting on
the sofa trying to remove his pantaloons. He exclaimed,
"Oh, gracious! Come here quick, and pull these
off! They're soaking wet, and I've got fifteen live
gold-fish inside my trousers flipping around, and
rasping the skin with their fins enough to set a man
crazy. Ouch!  Hurry that shoe off, and catch that
fish there at my left knee, or I'll have to howl right
out."
Then we undressed him and picked the fish out
of his clothes, and we discovered that he had had two
dishes full of water and covered with India-rubber
tops strapped inside his trousers behind.  In his




200             ELBO W-ROOM.
struggle to get at them he had torn the covers to
rags. We fixed him up in a pair of Dr. Brown's trousers, which were six inches too short for him, and
then he climbed over the back fence and went home.
Such misfortunes would have discouraged most
men utterly, but Peter was desperately in love; and
a week or two later, without stopping to estimate his
chances, he proposed to his fair enchantress. She
refused him promptly, of course. He seemed almost
wild over his defeat, and his friends feared that some
evil consequences would ensue. Their apprehensionis were realized. Peter called upon young Potts
and asked him if he had a revolver, and Potts said
he had. Peter asked Potts to lend it to him, and
Potts did so. Then Peter informed Potts that he
had made up his mind to commit suicide. He said
that since Miss Brown had dealt so unkindly with
him he felt that life was an insupportable burden,
and he could find relief only in the tomb. He intended to go down by the river-shore and there
blow out his brains, and so end all this suffering and
grief and bid farewell to a world that had grown
dark tG him. -He said that he mentioned the fact to
Potts in confidence because he wanted him to perform some little offices for him when he was gone.
He entrusted to Potts a sonnet entitled "A Last
Farewell," and addressed to Julia Brown. This he
asked should be delivered to Miss Brown as soon as
his corpse was discovered. He said it might excite
a pang in her bosom and induce her to cherish his




LOVE, SUFFERING AND SUICIDE.    201
memory. Then he gave Potts his watch as a keepsake, and handed him forty dollars, with which he
desired Mr. Potts to purchase a tombstone. He said
he would prefer a plain one with his simple name
cut upon it, and he wanted the funeral to be as unostentatious as possible.
Potts promised to fulfill these commissions, and
he suggested that he would lend Mr. Lamb a bowieknife, with which he could slash himself up if the
pistol failed.
But the suicide said that he would make sure
work with the revolver, although he was much
obliged for the offer all the same. He said he would
like Potts to go around in the morning and break
the news as gently as possible to his unhappy
mother, and to tell her that his last thought was of
her. But he particularly requested that she would
not put on mourning for her erring son.
Then he said that the awful act would be performed on the beach, just below the gas-works, and
he wished Potts to come out with some kind of a
vehicle to bring the remains home. If Julia came
to the funeral, she was to have a seat in the carriage
next to the hearse; and if she wanted his heart, it
was to be given to her in alcohol. It beat only for
her. Potts was to tell his employers at the store
that he parted with them with regret, but doubtless
they would find some other person more worthy of
their confidence and esteem. He said he didn't care
where he was buried, but let it be in some lonely




202             ELBOWV-ROOM.
place far from the turmoil and trouble of the worldsome place where the grass grows green and where
the birds come to carol in the early spring-time.
Mr. Potts asked him if he preferred a deep or a
shallow grave; but Mr. Lamb said it made very
little difference-when the spirit was gone, the mere
earthly clay was of little account. He owed seventy
cents for billiards down at the saloon, and Potts was
to pay that out of the money in his hands, and to
request the clergyman not to preach a sermon at the
cemetery. Then he shook hands with Potts and
went away to his awful doom.
The next morning Mr. Potts wrote to Julia, stopped in to tell them at the store, and nearly killed
Mrs. Lamb with the intelligence. Then he borrowed
Bradley's wagon; and taking with him the coroner,
he drove out to the beach, just below the gas-works,
to fetch home the mutilated corpse. When they
reached the spot, the body was not there, and Potts
said he was very much afraid it had been washed
away by the flood tide. So they drove up to Keyser's house, about half a mile from the shore, to ask
if any of the folks there had heard the fatal pistolshot or seen the body.
On going around to the wood-pile they saw Keyser
holding a terrier dog backed close up against a log.
The dog's tail was lying across the log, and another
man had the axe uplifted. A second later the axe
descended and cut the tail off close to the dog, and
while Keyser restrained the frantic animal, the other




LOVE, SUFFERING AND SUICIDE.    203
man touched the bleeding stump with caustic. As
they let the dog go Potts was amazed to see that the
chopper was the wretched suicide. He was
<-~    amazed, but before he could ask any questions Peter stepped up to him and said,
E m,,    "Hush-sh-sh!  Don't say any-, —______   ~   thing  about that matter.  I
thought better of it.  The
pistol looked so blamed dan~ gerous when I cocked it that I
changed my mind and came over here to Keyser's
to stay all night.  I'm going to live just to spite
that Brown. girl."




204             ELBOW-ROOM.
Then the coroner said that he didn't consider he
had been treated like a gentleman, and he had half
a notion to give Mr. Lamb a pounding. But they
all drove home in the wagon, and just as Mrs. Lamb
got done hugging Peter a letter was handed him
containing the sonnet he had sent Julia.  She returned it with the remark that it was the most dreadful nonsense she ever read, and that she knew he
hadn't courage enough to kill himself. Then Peter
went back to the store, and was surprised to find
that his employers had so little emotion as to dock
him for half a day's absence. What he wants now
is to ascertain if he cannot compel Potts to give up
that watch. Potts says he has too much respect for
the memory of his unfortunate friend to part with it,
but he is really sorry now that he ordered that tombstone. On the first of May, Peter's bleeding heart
had been so far stanched as to enable him to begin
skirmishing around the affections of a girl named
Smith; and if she refuses him, he thinks that tonlbstone may yet come into play. But we all have our
doubts about it.




CHAPTER XVI.
MR. FOGG AS A SPORTSAIIAV AND A SPOUSE.
AME was so plenty about our neighborhood last fall that Mr. Fogg determined
to become a sportsman. He bought a
double-barrel gun, and after trying it a
few times by firing it at a mark, he loaded it and
placed it behind the hall door until he should want
it. A few days later he made up his mind to go out
and shoot a rabbit or two, so he shouldered his gun
and strode off toward the open country. A mile or
two from the town he saw a rabbit; and taking aim,
he pulled the trigger. The gun failed to go off.
Then he pulled the other trigger, and again the cap
snapped. Mr. Fogg used a strong expression of
disgust, and then, taking a pin, he picked the nipples
of the gun, primed them with a little powder and
made a fresh start. Presently he saw another rabbit.
He took good aim, but both caps snapped. The
rabbit did not see Mr. Fogg, so he put on more caps,
and they snapped too.
Then Mr. Fogg cleaned out the nipples again,
primed them and leveled the gun at a fence. The
caps snapped again. Then Mr. Fogg became furi2n4




206             ELBO W-ROOM.
ous, and in his rage he expended forty-two caps try.
ing to make the gun go off. When the forty-second
cap missed also, Mr. Fogg thought, perhaps, there
might be something the matter with the inside of
the gun, and so he sounded the barrels with his
ramrod. To his utter dismay, he discovered that
both barrels were empty.  Mrs. Fogg, who is
nervous about firearms, had drawn the loads without
telling Fogg. The language used by Mr. Fogg
when he made. this discovery was extremely disgraceful, and he felt sorry for it a moment afterward. As he grew cooler he loaded both barrels




MR. FOGG AS SPORTSMAN AND SPOUSE. 207
and started afresh for the rabbits. He saw one in a
few moments and was about to fire, when he noticed
that there were no caps on the gun. He felt for one,
and, to his dismay, found that he had snapped the
last one off. Then he ground his teeth and walked
home. On his way he saw a greater number of
rabbits than he ever saw before or is likely to see
again, and as he looked at them and thought of Mrs.
Fogg he felt mad and murderous. He went gunning eight or ten times afterward that autumn,
always with a full supply of ammunition, but he
never once saw a rabbit or any other kind of game
within gun-shot.
But he forgave Mrs. Fogg, and for a while their
domestic peace was unruffled. One evening, however, while they were sitting together, they got to
talking about their married life and their past troubles
until both of them grew quite sympathetic. At last
Mrs. Fogg suggested that it might help to kindle
afresh the fire of love in their hearts if they would
freely confess their faults to each other and promise
to amend them. Mr. Fogg said it struck him as
being a good idea. For his part, he was willing to
make a clean breast of it, but he suggested that perhaps his wife had better begin. She thought for a
moment, and this conversation ensued:
"Well, then," said Mrs. Fogg, "I am willing to
acknowledge that I am the worst-tempered woman
in the world."
Mr. Fogg (turning and looking at her). "Maria,




208              ELBO W-R OO
that's about the only time you ever told the square.
toed truth in your life."
Mrs. Fogg (indignantly). "Mr. Fogg, that's perfectly outrageous. You ought to be ashamed of
yourself."
E "Well, you know it's so. You have got the
worst temper of any woman I ever saw-the very
worst; now haven't you?"'
Mrs. F. "No, I haven't, either. I'm just as goodtempered,ns you are."
F. "That's not so. You're as cross as a bear




MR. FOGG AS SPORTSMAN AND SPOUSE. 209
If you were married to a graven image, you'd quarrel with it."
Mrs. F. "That's an outrageous falsehood! There
isn't any woman about this neighborhood that puts
up with as much as I do without getting angry.
You're a perfect brute."
F. " It's you that is the brute."
Mrs. F. " No, it isn't."
F. " Yes, it is. You're as snappish as a mad dog.
It's few men that could live with you."
Mrs. F. "If you say that again, I'll scratch your
eyes out."
F. "I dare you to lay your hands on me, you
vixen."
Mrs. F. "You do, eh? Well, take that! and
that" (cuffing him on the head).
F. "You let go of my hair, or I'll murder you."
Mrs. F. "I will; and I'll leave this house this
very night; I won't, live any longer with such a
monster."
F. " Well, quit; get out. The sooner, the better.
Good riddance to bad rubbish; and take your clothes
with you."
Mrs. F. "I'm sorry I ever married you. You
ain't fit to be yoked with any-decent woman, you
wretch you!"
F. " Well, you ain't half as sorry as I am. Goodbye. Don't come back soon."
Then Mrs. Fogg put on her bonnet and went
around to her mother's, but she came back in the
14




210             ELBO W-ROOM.
morning. Mr. Fogg hasn't yet confessed what his
principal failing is.
Mr. Fogg's life has been very troublous. He told
me that he had a fit of sleeplessness one night lately,
and after vainly trying to lose himself in slumber he
happened to remember that he once read in an almanac that a man could put himself to sleep by
imagining that he saw a lot of sheep jumping over
a fence, and by counting them as they jumped. He
determined to try the experiment; and closing his
eyes, he fancied the sheep jumping and began to
count. He had reached his one hundred and fortieth sheep, and was beginning to doze off, when
Mrs. Fogg suddenly said,
" Wilberforce!"
" Oh, what?"
" I believe that yellow hen of ours wants to set."
" Oh, don't bother me with such nonsense as that
now! Do keep quiet and go to sleep."
Then Mr. Fogg started his sheep again and commenced to count. He got up to one hundred and
twenty, and was feeling as if he would drop off at
any moment,'when, just as his one hundred and
twenty-first sheep was about to take that fence, the
baby began to cry.
"Hang that child!" he shouted at Mrs. Fogg.
"Why don't you tend to it and put it to sleep?
Hush, you little imp, or I'll spank you!"
When Mrs. Fogg had quieted it, Mr. Fogg,




MR. FOGG AS SPORTSMAN AND SPOUSE. 211
although a little nervous and excited, concluded to
try it again. Turning on the imaginary mutton, he
began. Only sixty-four sheep had slid over the
fence, when Fogg's aunt knocked at the door and
asked if he was awake. When she learned that he
was, she said she believed he had forgotten to close
the back shutters, and she thought she heard burglars in the yard.
Then Mr. Fogg arose in wrath and went down to
see about it. He ascertained that the shutters were
closed, as usual, and as he returned to bed he resolved that his aunt should leave the house for good
in the morning, or he would. However, he thought
he might as well give the almanac-plan another trial;
and setting the sheep in motion, he began to count.
This time he reached two hundred and forty, and
would probably have got to sleep before the three
hundredth sheep jumped, had not Mix's new dog, in
the next yard, suddenly become home-sick and begun to express his feelings in a series of prolonged
and exasperating howls.
Mr. Fogg was indignant. Neglecting the sheep,
he leaped from bed and began to bombard Mix's
new dog with boots, soap-cups and every loose object he could lay his hands on. He hit the animal
at last with a plaster bust of Daniel Webster, and
induced the dog to retreat to the stable and think
about home in silence.
It seemed almost ridiculous to resume those sheep
again, but he determined to give the almanac-man




212             ELBOW-ROOM.
one more chance, and soon as they began to jump
the fence he began to count, and after seeing the
eighty-second sheep safely over he was gliding
gently in the land of dreams, when Mrs. Fogg rolled
out of bed and fell on the floor with such violence
that she waked the baby and started it crying,
while Mr. Fogg's aunt came down stairs four steps
at a time to ask if they felt that earthquake.
The situation was too awful for words. Mr. Fogg
regarded it for a minute with speechless indignation,
and then, seizing a pillow, he went over to the sofa
in the back sitting-room and lay down.
He fell asleep in ten minutes without the assistance of the almanac, but he dreamed all night that
he was being butted around the equator by a Cotswold ram, and he woke in the morning with a terrific headache and a conviction that sheep are good
enough for wool and chops, but not worth anything
as a narcotic.
Mr. Fogg has a strong tendency to exaggeration
in conversation, and he gave a striking illustration
of this in a story that he related one day when I
called at his house. Fogg was telling me about an
incident that occurred in a. neighboring town a few
days before, and this is theway he related it:
"You see old Bradley over here is perfectly crazy
on the subject of gases and the atmosphere and such
things-absolutely wild; and one day he was disputing with Green about how high up in the air life




MR. FOGG AS SPORTSMAN AND SPOUSE. 213
could be sustained, and Bradley said an animal could
live about forty million miles above the earth if —"
"Not forty millions, my dear," interposed Mrs.
Fogg; "only forty miles, he said."
"Forty, was it? Thank you. Well, sir, old Green,
you know, said that was ridiculous; and he said he'd
bet Bradley a couple of hundred thousand dollars that
life couldn't be sustained half that way up, and so-"
"Wilberforce, you are wrong; he only offered to
bet fifty dollars," said Mrs. Fogg.
"Well, anyhow, Bradley took him up quicker'n a
wink, and they agreed to send up a cat in a balloon
to decide the bet. So what does Bradley do but buy
a balloon about twice as big as our barn and  begin'
to-"
"It was only about ten feet in diameter, Mr. Adeler; Wilberforce forgets."
"-Begin to inflate her. When she was filled, it
took eighty men to hold her; and-"
"Eighty men, Mr. Fogg!" said Mrs. F. "Why,
you know Mr. Bradley held the balloon himself."
"He did, did he? Oh, very well; what's the odds?
And when everything was ready, they brought out
Bradley's tomcat and put it in the basket and tied it
in, so it couldn't jump, you know. There were about
one hundred thousand people looking on; and when
they let go, you never heard such-"
"There was not one more than two hundred people there," said Mrs. Fogg; "I counted them my.
self."




214             ELBOW-ROOM.
"Oh, don't bother me! —I say, you never heard
such a yell as the balloon went scooting up into the
sky, pretty near out of sight. Bradley said she went
up about one thousand miles, and-now, don't interrupt me, Maria; I know -what the man said-and that
cat, mind you, howling like a hundred fog-horns, so's
you could a heard her from here to Peru. Well, sir,
when she was up so's she looked as small as Ia pinhead something or other burst.  I dunno know
how it was, but pretty soon down came that balloon,
a-hurtling toward the earth at the rate of fifty miles, a
minute, and old-"
"Mr. Fogg, you know that the balloon came down
as gently as-"
"Oh, do hush up! Women don't know anything
about such things.-And old Bradley, he had a kind
of registering thermometer fixed in the basket along
with that cat-some sort of a patent machine; cost
thousands of dollars-and he was expecting to examine it; and Green had an idea he'd lift out a dead
cat and take in the stakes.  When all of a sudden,
as she came pelting down, a tornado struck hernow, Maria, what in the thunder are you staring at
me in that way for? It was a tornado-a regular
cyclone-and it struck her and jammed her against
the lightning-rod on the Baptist church-steeple; and
there she stuck-stuck on that spire about eight
hundred feet up in the air, and looked as if she had
come there to stay."
" You may get just as mad as you like," said Mrs.




MR. FOGG AS SPORTSMAN AND SPOUSE. 215
Fogg, "but I am positively certain that steeple's not
an inch over ninety-five feet."
"Maria, I wish to gracious you'd go up stairs and
look after the children. —-ell, about half a minute
after she struck out stepped that tomcat onto the
weathercock. It made Green sick. And just then
the hurricane reached the weathercock, and it began to revolve six hundred or seven hundred times
a minute, the cat howling until you couldn't hear
yourself speak.-Now, Maria, you've had your put;
you keep quiet.-That cat stayed on the weathercock
about two months-"
"Mr. Fogg, that's an awful story; it only happened last Tuesday."
" Never mind her," said Mr. Fogg, confidentially."And on Sunday the way that cat carried on and
yowled, with its tail pointing due east, was so awful
that they couldn't have church. And Sunday afternoon the preacher told Bradley if he didn't get that
cat down he'd sue him for one million dollars damages. So Bradley got a gun and shot at the cat
fourteen hundred times. —Now you didn't count'em,
Maria, and I did.-And he banged the top of the steeple all to splinters, and at last fetched down the cat,
shot to rags; and in her stomach he found his thermometer. She'd ate it on her way up, and it stood
at eleven hundred degrees, so old-"
"No thermometer ever stood at such a figure as
that," exclaimed Mrs. Fogg.
"Oh, well," shouted Mr. Fogg, indignantly," if you




2 I 6          ELBO W-ROOM.
think you can tell the story better than I can, why
don't you tell it? You're enough to worry the life
out of a man."
Then Fogg slammed the door and went out, and
I left. I don't know whether Bradley got the stakes
or not.




CHAPTER XVII.
HOW WE CONDUCT A POLITICAL CAMPAIGN.
HE people of Millburg feel a very intense
interest in politics, and during a campaign
there is always a good deal of excitement.
The bitterest struggle that the town has
had for a long while, was that,,which preceded the
election of a couple of years ago, when I was not a
resident of the place. One incident particularly attracted a good deal of attention. Mr. Potts related
the facts to me in the following language:.,"You know we nominated Bill Slocum for burgess. He was the most popular man in the place;
everybody liked him. And a few days after the convention adjourned Bill was standing talking to Joe
Snowden about the election, and Bill happened to
remark,'I've got to win..' Mrs. Martin was going
by at the time; and as Bill was speaking very rapidly,
he pronounced it'like this:'I've got t'win;'. and Mrs.
Martin thought he was telling Snowden that he'd got
twins. And Mrs. Martin, just like all women about
such matters, at once went through the village
spreading the report that Mrs. Slocum had twins.
"So, of course, there was a fuss right off; and the
217




218             ELBOW-ROOf.
boys said that as Bill was a candidate, and a mighty
good fellow anyhow you took him, it'd be nothing
more than fair to congratulate him on his good luck
by getting up some kind of a public demonstration
from his fellow-citizens. Well, sir, you never saw
such enthusiasm. The way that idea took was wonderful, and all hands agreed that we ought to have a
parade. So they ran up the flags on the hotels and
the town-hall, and on the two schooners down at the
wharf, and Judge Twiddler adjourned the court over
till the next day, and the supervisors gave the public
schools a holiday and got up a turkey dinner for the
convicts in the jail.
"And some of the folks drummed up the brass
band, and it led off, with Major Slott following, carrying an American flag hung with roses. Then carme
the clergy in carriages, followed by the Masons and
Odd Fellows and Knights of Pythias. And the
Young Men's Christian Association turned out with
the Sons of Temperance, about forty strong, in full
regalia. And General Trumps pranced along on a
white horse ahead of the Millburg Guards. After
them came the judges on foot, followed by the City
Council and the employes of the gas-works, and
the members of the Bible Society and Patriotic Sons
of America. Then came citizens walking two and
two, afoot, while a big crowd of men and boys
brought up the rear.
"The band, mind you, all this time playing the
most gorgeous music-' Star-Spangled Banner,''Life




A POLITICAL CAMPAIGN.          2 I9
on the Ocean Wave,''Beautiful Dreamer,''Home
Again,' and all those things, with cymbals and Jenkins' colored man- spreading himself on the big
drum. And Bill never knew anything about it. It
was a perfect surprise to him. -And when the procession stopped in front of his house, they gave him
three cheers, and he came rushing out on the porch
to see what all the noise was about. As soon as he
appeared the band struck up'See, the Conquering
Hero Comes,' and Major Slott lowered the flag, and
General Trumps waved his hat, and the guard fired
a salute, and everybody cheered.
"Bill bowed and made a little speech, and said
how honored he was by such a demonstration, and
he said he felt certain of victory, and when he was
in office he would do his best to serve his fellowcitizens faithfully. Bill thought it was a political
serenade; and when he got through, General Trumps
cried,
"'Bring out the twins.'
"Bill looked puzzled for a minute, and then he
says,
"'I don't think I understand you. What d'you
say?'
"'Bring out the twins,' said Judge Twiddler.'Less look at'em.'
"' Twins!' says Bill.'Twins! Why, what d'ye
mean, judge?'
"'Why, the twins. Rush'em out. Hold'em in
the window, so's we can see'em,' said Major Slott.




220             ELBOW-ROOM.
"'Gentlemen,' said Bill,'there must be some little,
some slight mistake respecting the-that is, you must
have been misinformed about the-the-er-erWhy, there are no twins about this house.'
"Then they thought he was joking, and the band
broke in with'Listen to the Mocking-bird,' and
Bill came down to find out the drift of Judge Twiddler's remarks. And when he really convinced them
that there wasn't a twin anywhere about the place,
you never saw a worse disgusted crowd in your life.
Mad as fury. They said they had no idea Bill
Slocum would descend to such trickery as that.
" So they broke up. The judge went back to the
court-room so Indignant he sentenced a prsoner for
twenty years, when the law only allowed him to give
ten. The supervisors, they took their spite out by
docking the school-teachers half a day and cutting
off the cranberry sauce from the turkey dinner at
the jail. General Trumps got drunk as an owl. The
City Councils held an adjourned meeting and raised
the water rent on Slocum, and Jenkins' nigger burst
in the head of the big drum with a brick. Mad's no
word for it. They were wild with rage.
"And that killed Bill. They beat him by two
hundred majority at the election, just on account of
old Mrs. Martin misunderstanding him. Rough,
wasn't it? But it don't seem to me like the fair
thing on Bill."
Mr. Slocum was defeated, despite the fact that he
wished to succeed. Mr. Walsh, it appears, was disap



A POLITICAL CAMPAIGN.          22I
pointed, in the same contest, in a wholly different
manner.  Mr. Walsh was the predecessor of our
present coroner, Mr. Maginn. How Mr. Walsh was
elected he informed me in these words:
"You know," said Mr. Walsh, "that I didn't want
that position. When they talked of nominating me,
I told them, says I,'It's no use; you needn't elect
me; I'm not going to serve. D'you s'pose I'm going to give up a respectable business to become a
kind of State undertaker? I'm opposed to this postmorten foolery, any way. When a man's blown up
with gunpowder, it don't interest me to know what
killed him; so you needn't make me coroner, for I
won't serve.'
"Well, do you believe that they persisted in nominating me on the Republican ticket-actually put me
up as a candidate? So I published a letter declining
the nomination; but they absolutely had the impudence to keep me on the ticket and to hold mass-meetings, at which they made speeches in my favor. I was
pretty mad about it, because it showed such a disregard
of my feelings; and so I chummed in with the Democrats, and for about two months I went around to
the Democratic mass-meetings and spoke against
myself and in favor of the opposition candidate. I
thought I had them for sure, because I knew more
about my own failings than those other fellows did,
and I enlarged upon them until I made myself outWell, I heaped up the iniquity until I used to go
home feeling that I was a good deal wickeder sinner




222             ELBOW-ROOM.
than I ever thought I was before. It did me good,
too: I reformed. I've been a better man ever since.
"Now, you'd a thought people would a considered
me pretty fair authority about my own unfitness for
the office, but hang me if the citizens of this county
positively didn't go to the polls and elect me by
about eight hundred majority. I was the woist disappointed of any man you ever saw. I had repeaters
around at the polls,- too, voting for the Democratic
candidate, and I paid four of the judges to falsify the
returns, so as to elect him. But it was no use; the
majority was too big. And on election night the
Republican executive committee came round to
serenade me, and as soon as the band struck up I
opened on them with a shot-gun and wounded the
bass drummer in the leg. But they kept on playing;
and after a while, when they stopped, they poked
some congratulatory resolutions under the front
door, and gave me three cheers and went home. I
was never so annoyed in my life.
"Then they sent me round my certificate of election, but I refused to receive it; and those fellows
seized me and held me while Harry Hammer pushed
the certificate into my coat-pocket, and then they all
quit. The next day a man was run over on the railroad, and they wanted me to tend to him. But I was
angry, and I wouldn't. So what does the sheriff do
but come here with a gang of police and carry me
out there by force? And he hunted up a jury, which
brought in a verdict. Then they wanted me to take




A POLITICAL CAMPAIGN.         223
the fees, but I wouldn't touch them. I said I wasn't
going to give my sanction to the proceedings. But
of course it was no use. I thought I was living in
a free country, but I wasn't. The sheriff drew the
money and got a mandamus from the court, and he
came here one day while I was at dinner. When I
said I wouldn't touch a dollar of it, he drew a pistol
and said if I didn't take the money he'd blow my




224             ELBO W-ROOM.
brains out. So what was a man to do? I resigned
fifteen times, but somehow those resignations were
suppressed. I never heard from them. Well, sir,
at last I yielded, and for three years I kept skirmishing around, perfectly disgusted, meditating over folks
that had died suddenly.
"And do you know that on toward the end of my
term they had the face to try to nominate me again?
It's a positive fact. Those politicians wanted me to
run again; said I was the most popular coroner the
county ever had; said that everybody liked my way
of handling a dead person, it was so full of feeling
and sympathy, and a lot more like that. But what
did I do? I wasn't going to run any such risk again.
So I went up to the city, and the day before the convention met I sent word down that I was dead. Circulated a report that I'd been killed by falling off a
ferry-boat. Then they hung the convention-hall in
black and passed resolutions of respect, and then
they nominated Barney Maginn.
"On the day after election I turned up, and you
never saw men look so miserable, so cut to the
heart, as those politicians. They said it was an infamous shame to deceive them in that way, and they
declared that they'd run me for sheriff at the next
election to make up for it. If they do, I'm going to
move for good. I'm going to sail for Colorado, or
some other decent place where they'll let a man
alone. I'll die in my tracks before I'll ever take another office in this county. I will, now mind me!"




CHAPTER XVIII.
THE MA TUTIiVNAL ROOSTER.
ORATIO remarks to Hamlet, "The morning cock crew loud;" and I have no doubt
he did; he always does, especially if he
is confined during the performance of his
vocal exercises to a narrow city yard surrounded by
brick walls which act as sounding-boards to carry
the vibrations to the ears of a sleeper who is already
restless with the summer heat and with the buzzing
of early and pertinacious flies. To such a man,
aroused and indignant, there comes a profound conviction that the urban rooster is far more vociferous
than his rural brethren; that he can sing louder, hold
on longer and begin again more quickly than the
bucolic cock who has communed only with nature
and known no envious longings to outshriek the
morning milkman or the purveyor of catfish. And
he who is thus afflicted perhaps may be justified if
he regards " the cock, that trumpet of the morn," as
an insufferable nuisance, whose only excuse for existence is that he is pleasant to the eye and the palate
when, bursting with stuffing, he lies, brown and crisp,
among the gravy, ready for the carving-knife.
15                                225




226              ELBO W-ROOM.
But the man who is fortunate enough to dwell in
the country during the ardent summer days takes a
different and more kindly view of chanticleer. If he
is waked early in the morning by the clarion voice
of some neighboring cock, he will not repine, provided he went to bed at a reasonably early hour, for
he will hear some music that is not wholly to be despised. The rooster in the neighboring barn-yard
gives out the theme. His voice is a deep, but broken,
bass. It is suggestive of his having roosted during
the night in a draft, which has inflamed his vocal
chords so that his tones have lost their sweetness.
It is as if a coffee-mill had essayed to crow. The
theme is taken up by a thin-voiced rooster a quarter
of a mile away, and scarcely has he reached the concluding note before a baritone cock, a little more
remote, repeats the cadence, only to have his song
broken in upon by a nearer bird who understands
exactly the part he is to play in the fugue. And so
it passes on from the one to the other, growing
fainter and fainter in the distance as Shanghai sings
to Bantam and Chittagong to Brahmapootra, until, at
last, there is silence; and then, "O hark! O hear!
How thin and clear!" far, far away some rooster
sends out a delicate falsetto note that might have
come from a microscopic cock who is practicing
ventriloquism in the cellar. Instantly the catarrhal
chicken in the next yard begins the refrain again
with his hoarse voice; and then again and again the
fugue goes round, never tiring the listener, but al



THE MA TUTINAL ROOSTER.         227
ways growing more musical, until the sun is fairly
up, the hens awake and the scratching of the day is
ready to begin.
The note of the cock has been misrepresented.
Shakespeare, following usage, perhaps, has given it
as "cock-a-doodle-doo," and that is the accepted
interpretation of it. But this does not convey the
proper impression. We should say that if human
syllables can tell the story they would assume some
such form as:
Ooauk-u-ak-auk-au-auz-au-auk!
It is a song that ought to be studied and glorified
in print. Think what a history it has! That identical combination of sounds which wakes and maddens the sleeping citizen of to-day was heard by
Noah and his family with precisely the same cadence and accent in the ark. It was that very crow
that Peter heard when he had denied his Master. It
is a crow that has come down to us from Eden almost without a moment's intermission. It is a crow
which has passed round the world century after century, and now passes, as the herald of the coming
of the sun. It may yet be made the theme of a
majestic musical composition, now that Wagner has
come to teach men how to build a lyric drama upon
a phrase. Perhaps the coming American national
song may have this familiar crow for its inspiration
and its burden. We might do worse, perhaps, than
to take the rooster for our national bird, even if we
reject his song as the basis of our national anthem.




228             ELBOW-ROOM.
We took our eagle from Rome, as France did hers;
would it not have been wiser if we had taken the
cock instead, as France did after the Revolution?
The Romans and Greeks regarded the cock as a
sacred bird. The principal thing that the average
school-boy remembers about Socrates is that he
killed himself immediately after ordering that a cock
should be sacrificed to /Esculapius; and some have
held that the reason of his suicide
was the vociferousness of the cock,
which he wanted to kill in revenge
f[,lal~l llfor the misery it had caused him
while he was trying-to sleep or to
think.
The cock is a braver bird than
the eagle. He has ever been a
bold and ready warrior, and has
worn a warrior's spurs from the
beginning. He has one high soldierly quality: he knows when he
is whipped; for who has not seen
-=w'-  him, when defeated in a gallant
contest, sneak away to a distant'
corner to stand, with ruffled feathers, upon a single
leg, the very picture of humiliation and despair?
And he is vigilant, for has he not for ages revolved
upon church-steeples as the emblem of watchfulness?
He has the homelier virtues. He is a kind father
and a fond as well as a multitudinous husband. He
knows how to protect his family from errant and dis.




THE MATUTIVAL ROOSTER.            229
reputable roosters, and he is always willing to stand
aside with unsatisfied appetite and permit them to
devour a dainty he has found. He is useful and
admirable in his relation to this world, and he is not
without value to the next, for popular belief has
credited him with the office of warning revisiting
spirits to retire from the earth; and when he crows
all through the night, the Katie Kings and other
ghostly persons who come from space to rap upon
tables and evoke discordant twangs from guitars are
deaf to the seductive entreaties of the mediums.
When
"This bird of dawning singeth all night long,... then they say no spirit dares stir abroad."
Perhaps the true method of expelling Satan from
the land and of reforming the corruption which
afflicts the country is to place the cock upon our
standards and to offer him inducements to crow perpetually. There should be something to that effect
in the political platforms. A goose saved Rome;
why should not a rooster rescue America? Let the
patriot who curses the noisy bird which crows him
from his drowsy couch at an unseemly hour think
of these things and allay his wrath with reflections
upon the well-deserved glories of the matutinal
rooster.
I have one neighbor who does not regard the
crowing cock with proper enthusiasm-who is indeed
inclined to look upon it with disgust; but as he has
been a victim of the bird's vociferousness, perhaps his




230             ELB O W-R  OO,.
sentiments of dislike for the proud bird may be
excused.
The agricultural society of our county held a
poultry show last fall, and Mr. Butterwick, who is a
member of the society, was invited to deliver the
address at the commencement-of-the fair. Mr. Butterwick prepared what he considered a very learned
paper upon the culture of domestic fowls; and when
the time arrived, he was on the platform ready to
enlighten the audience. The birds were arranged
around the hall in cages; and when the exhibition
had been formally opened by the chairman, the orator
came forward with his manuscript in his hand. Just
as he began to read it a black Poland rooster close
to the stage uttered a loud and defiant crow. There
were about two hundred roosters in the hall, and
every one of them instantly began to crow in the
most vehement manner, and the noise excited the
hens so much that they all cackled as loudly they
could.
Of course the speaker's voice could not be heard,
and he came to a dead halt, while the audience
laughed. After waiting for ten minutes silence was
again obtained, and Butterwick began a second time.
As soon as he had uttered the words " Ladies and
gentlemen," the Poland rooster, which seemed to
have a grudge against the speaker, emitted another
preposterous crow, and all the other fowls in the
room joined in the deafening chorus. The audience
roared, and Butterwick grew red in the face with




THE MA TUTINAL ROOSTER.         231
passion. But when the noise subsided, he went at
it again, and got as far as "Ladies and gentlemen,
the domestic barn-yard fowl affords a subject of the
highest interest to the-" when the Poland rooster
became engaged in a contest with an overgrown
Shanghai chicken, and this set the hens of the
combatants to cackling, and in a moment the entire
collection was in another uproar.  This was too
much.  Mr. Butterwick was beside himself with
rage. He flung down his manuscript, rushed to the
cage, and shaking his fist at the Poland chicken exclaimed,
"You diabolical fiend, I've half a mind to murder
you!"
Then he kicked the cage to pieces with his foot,
and seizing the rooster twisted its neck and flung it
on the floor. Then he fled from the hall, followed
by peals of laughter from the audience and more
terrific clatter from the fowls. The exhibition was
opened without further ceremony, and the dissertation on the domestic barn-yard fowl was ordered
to be printed in the annual report of the proceedings
of the society..
One day while I was talking with Mr. Keyser
upon the subject of the cock he pointed to a chicken
that was'roosting upon an adjoining fence, and told
me a story about the fowl that I must refuse to
believe.
"Perhaps you never noticed that rooster," said
Keyser -"very likely you wouldn't have observed




232             ELBOW-ROOM.
him; but I don't care in what light youI look at him,
the more you study him, the more talented he appears. You talk about your American iggles and
birds of freedom, but that insignificant-looking
chicken yonder can give any of them twenty points
and pocket them at the first shot. That rooster has
traits of character that'd adorn almost any walk of
life.
"Most chickens are kinder stupid; but what I




THE MATUTINAL ROOSTER.          233
like about him is that he is sympathetic, he has feeling. I know last fall that my Shanghai hen was
taken sick while she was trying to hatch out some
eggs, and that rooster was so compassionate that he
used to go in and set on that nest for hours, trying
to help her out, so that she could go off recreating
after exercise. And when she died, he turned right
in and took charge of things —seemed to feel that
he ought to be a father to those unborn little orphans; and he straddled around over those eggs for
ever so long.  He never got much satisfaction out
of it, though. Most of them were duck eggs, and it
seemed to kinder cut him up when he looked at
those birds after they hatched out.  He took it to
heart, and appeared to feel low-spirited and afflicted.
He would go off and stand by himself-stand on one
leg in a corner of the fence and let his mind brood
over his troubles until you'd pity him. It disgustd
him to think how the job turned out.
" Now, you wouldn't think such a chicken as that
would have much courage, but he'd just as leave
fight a wagon-load of tigers as not. He got a notion
in his head that that rooster over there on the Baptist church-steeple was alive, and he couldn't bear to
think that it was up there sailing around and putting
on airs over him, and a good many times I've seen
him try to fly up at it, so's to arrange a fight. When
he found he couldn't make it, he'd crow at the Baptist rooster and dare it to come down, and at last,
when all his efforts were useless, would you believe




234             ELBOW-ROOM.
that rooster one day attacked the sexton as th3
weathercock's next friend, and drove his spurs so
far into the sexton's shanks that he walked on
crutches for more'n a week? I never saw a mere
chicken have such fine instincts and such pluck.
"He is a splendid fighter, anyway, just as he
stands. Why, he had a little fuss with Murphy's
Poland rooster here some time back, and instead of
going at him and taking the chances of getting
whipped, that chicken actually put himself into
training, ate nothing but corn, took regular exercise,
went to roost early, took a cold bath every morning
and got a pullet to rub him down with a corn-cob.
It was wonderful; and in a week or so he was all
bone and muscle, and he flickered over the fence
after Murphy's rooster and sent him whizzing into
the next world on the fourth round.
"I never knew such a rooster. Now, do you know
I believe that chicken actually takes an interest in
politics? Oh, you may laugh, but last fall during
the campaign he was so excited about something
that he couldn't eat, and the night they had the Republican mass-meeting here he roosted on the chandelier in the hall, and every time General Trumps
made a good point that chicken would cackle and
flap his wings, as much as to say,'Them's my sentiments!' And on the day of the parade he turned
out and followed the last wagon, keeping step with
the music and never dropping out of line but once,
when he stopped to fight a Democratic rooster be



TWE MAT'UTINAL ROOSTER.        235
longing to old Byerly, who was on the Democratic
ticket. And in the morning, after the Republicans
won, he just got on the fence out here and crowed
so vociferously you could've heard him across the
river, particularly when I ran up the American flag
and read the latest returns.
"Yes, sir. Now, I know you'll think it's ridiculous when I tell you, but it's an actual fact, that that
very day my daughter was playing the'Star-spangled Banner' on the piano, and that rooster, when
he heard it, came scudding into the parlor, and after
flipping up on the piano he struck out and crowed
that tune just as natural as if he was an educated
musician. Positive truth; and he beat time with his
tail.  He don't crow like any other rooster. Every
morning he works off selections from Beethoven and
Mozart and those people, and on Sundays he frequently lets himself out on hymn-tunes. I've known
him to set on that fence for more'n an hour at a time
practicing the scales, and he nearly kicked another
rooster to death one day because that rooster crowed
flat. I saw him do it myself. And now I really
must be going. Good-morning."
I think I shall send out and kill that rooster at the
first opportunity. I want Keyser to have one thing
less to fib about. He has too much variety at
present.




CHAPTER XIX.
AN ULVRUL Y ME TER.-SCENES IN A SANCTUM.
URING one of the cold spells of last winter the gas-meter in my cellar was frozen.
I attempted to thaw it out by pouring hot
water over it, but after spending an hour
upon the effort I emerged from the contest with the
meter with my feet and trousers wet, my hair full of
dust and cobwebs and my temper at fever heat.
After studying how I should get rid of the ice in
the meter, I concluded to use force for the purpose,
and so, seizing a hot poker, I jammed it through a
vent-hole and stirred it around inside of the meter
with a considerable amount of vigor. I felt the ice
give way, and I heard the wheels buzz around with
rather more vehemence than usual. Then I went up
stairs.
I noticed for three or four days that the internal
machinery of the meter seemed to be rattling around
in a remarkable manner; it could be heard all over
the house. But I was pleased to find that it was
working again in spite of the cold weather, and I
retained my serenity.
2.36




AN UNRULY METER.              237
About two weeks afterward my gaw bill came. It
accused me of burning during the quarter about one
million five hundred thousand feet of gas, and it
called on me to settle to the extent of nearly three
hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I put on my hat
and went down to the gas-office. I addressed one
of the clerks:
" HIow much gas did you make at the Blank works
last quarter?"
"I dunno; about a million feet, I reckon."
" Well, you have charged me in my bill for burning half a million more than you made; I want you
to correct it."
" Less see the bill. Hm-m-m! this is all right.
It's taken off of the meter. That's what the meter
says."
"S'pose'n it does; I couldn't have burned more'n
you made."
" Can't' help that; the meter can't lie."
" Well, but how d'you account for the difference?"
"Dunno;'tain't our business to go nosing and
poking around after scientific truth. We depend on
the meter. If that says you burned six million feet,
why, you must have burned it, even if we never made
a foot of gas out at the works."
"To tell you the honest truth," said I, "the meter
was frozen, and I stirred it up with a poker and set it
whizzing around."
" Price just the same," said the clerk. "We charge
for pokers just as we do for gas."




238             ELBOW-ROOM.
"You are not actually going to have the audacity
to ask me to pay three hundred and fifty thousand
dollars on account of that poker?"
" If it was seven hundred thousand dollars, I'd take
it with a calmness that would surprise you. Pay up,
or we'll turn off your gas."
"Turn it off and be hanged," I exclaimed as I
emerged from the office, tearing the bill to fragments.
Then I went home; and grasping that too lavish
poker, I approached the meter. It had registered
another million feet since the bill was made out; it
was running up a score of a hundred feet a minute;
in a month I would have owed the gas company
more than the United States Government owes its
creditors. So I beat the meter into a shapeless mass,
tossed it into the street and turned off the gas inside
the cellar.
Then I went down to the Patriot office to persuade
Major Slott to denounce the fraud practiced by the
company. While I was in the editorial room.two or
three visitors came in. The first one behaved in a
violent and somewhat mysterious manner.  He
saluted the major by throwing a chair at him. Then
he seized the editor by the hair, bumped his head
against the table three or four times and kicked.him.
When this exhilarating exercise was over, the visitor
shook his fist very close to the major's nose and
said, "You idiot and outcast, if you don't put that
notice in to-morrow, I'll come round here and murder you! Do you hear me?" Then he cuffed the




SCENES IN A SANCTUM.            239!ill!I 1111{I  il            {1!!lU~111!l[
major's ears a couple of times, kicked him some
more, emptied the ink-stand over his head, poured
the sand from the sand-box in the same place,
knocked over the table and went out. During all
this time the major sat still with a sickly kind of a
smile upon his face and never uttered a word.
When the man left, the major picked up the table,
wiped the ink and sand from his face, and turning to
me said,
"     Harry will have his little fun, you see."
" He is a somewhat exuberant humorist," I replied.
"What was the object of the joke?"




240            EELBO W-R O OM.
"Well, he's going to sell his furniture at auction,
and I promised to notice the fact in to-day's Patriot,
but I forgot it, and he called to remind me of it."
"Do all of your friends refresh your memory in
that vivid manner? If I'd been in your place, I'd
have knocked him down."
" No, you wouldn't," said Slott-" no, you wouldn't.
Harry is the sheriff, and he controls two thousand
dollars' worth of official advertising. I'd sooner he'd
kick me from here to Borneo and back again than to
take that advertising away from the Patriot. What
are a few bumps and a sore shin or two compared
with all that fatness? No, sir; he can have all the
fun he wants out of me."
The next visitor was less demonstrative. He was
tall and slender and clad in the habiliments of woe.
He entered the office and took a chair. Removing
his hat, he wiped the moisture from his eyes, rubbed
his nose thoughtfully for a moment, put his handkerchief in his hat, his hat upon the floor, and said,
"You didn't know Mrs. Smith?"
"I hadn't that pleasure. Who was she?"
"She was my wife. She's been sick some time.
But day before yesterday she was took worse, and
she kep' on sinking until evening, when she gave a
kinder sudden jump a couple of times, and then her
spirit flickered. Dead, you know. Passed away
into another world."
" I'm very sorry."
"So am  I. And I called around to see if I




SCENES IZ  A SANCTUM.          24I
couldn't get some of you literary people to get out
some kind of a poem describing her peculiarities, so
that I can advertise her in the paper."
"I dunno; maybe we might."
"Oh, you didn't know her, you say? Well, she
I__L.          t1! i    //,S Il 
was a sing'lar kinder woman. Had strong characteristics. Her nose was the crookedest in the Stateall bent around sideways. Old Captain Binder used
to say that it looked like the jibsail of an oyster16




242             ELBO W-ROOM.
sloop on the windward tack. Only his fun, you
know. But Helen never minded it. She said herself that it aimed so much around the corner that
whenever she sneezed she blew down her back hair.
There were rich depths of humor in that woman.
Now, I don't mind if you work into the poem some
picturesque allusion to the condition of her nose, so
her friends will recognize her. And you might also
spend a verse or two on her defective eye."
" What was the matter with her eye?"
"Gone, sir-gone!  Knocked out with a chip
while she was splitting kin'ling-wood when she
was a child. She fixed it up somehow with a glass
one, and it gave her the oddest expression you ever
saw. The false one would stand perfectly still while
the other one was rolling around, so that'bout half
the time you couldn't tell whether she was studying
astronomy or watching the hired girl pare potatoes.
And she lay there at night with the indisposed eye
wide open glaring at me, while the other was tight
shut, so that sometimes I'd get the horrors and
kick her and shake her to make her get up and fix
it. Once I got some mucilage and glued the lid
down myself, but she didn't like it when she woke
in the morning. Had to soak her eye in warm
water, you know, to get it open.
" Now, I reckon you could run in some language
about her eccentricities of vision, couldn't you?
Don't care what it is, so that I have the main facts."
"Was she peculiar in other respects?'




SCEVNES IN A SANCTUM.         243
"Well, yes. One leg was gone —run over by a
wagon when she was little. But she wore a patent
leg that did her pretty well. Bothered her sometimes, but most generally gave her a good deal of
comfort. She was, fond of machinery. She was
very grateful for her privileges. Although sometimes it worried her, too.  The springs'd work
wrong now and then, and maybe in church her leg'd
give a spurt and begin to kick and hammer away at
the board in front of the pew until it sounded like a
boiler-factory. Then I'd carry her out, and most
likely it'd kick at me all the way down the aisle and
end up by dancing her around the vestibule, until the
sexton would rebuke her for waltzing in church.
Seems to me there's material for poetry in that, isn't
there? She was a self-willed woman. Often, when
she wanted to go to a sewing-bee or to gad about
somewhere, maybe, I'd stuff that leg up the chimney
or hide it in the wood-pile. And when I wouldn't tell
her where it was, do you know what she'd do?"
"' What?"
"Why, she'd lash an umbrella to her, stump and
drift off down the street'sif that umbrella was born
there.  You couldn't get ahead of her.  She was
ingenious.
"So I thought I'd mention a few facts to you, and
you can just throw them together and make them
rhyme, and I'll call'round and pay you for them.
What day?  Tuesday?  Very well; I'll run in on
Tuesday and see how you've fixed her up."




244             ELBO W-ROOM.
Then Mr. Smith smoothed up his hat with his
handkerchief, wiped the accumulated sorrow from his
eyes, placed his hat upon his head, and sailed
serenely out and down the stairs toward his desolated hearthstone.
The last caller was an artist. He took a chair
and said,
"My name is Brewer; I am the painter of the
allegorical picture of'The Triumph of Truth' on
exhibition down at Yelverton's. I called, major, to
make some complaint about the criticism of the
work which appeared in your paper. Your critic
seems to have misunderstood somewhat the drift
of the picture. For instance, he says-   Let me
quote the paragraph:
"'In the background to the left stands St. Augustine with one foot on a wooden Indian which is lying
upon the ground. Why the artist decorated St.
Augustine with a high hat and put his trousers
inside his boots, and why he filled the saint's belt
with navy revolvers and tomahawks, has not been
revealed. It strikes us as being ridiculous to the
very last degree.'
"Now, this seems to me to be a little too harsh.
That figure does not represent St. Augustine. It is
meant for an allegorical picture of Brute Force, and
it has its foot upon Intellect-Intellect, mind you!
and not a cigar-store Indian. It is a likeness of
Captain Kidd, and I set it back to represent the fact
that Brute Force belonged to the Dark Ages. How




SCENAES IN A SANCTUM.          245
on earth that man of yours ever got an idea that it
was St. Augustine beats me."
"It is singular," said the major.
"And now let me direct your attention to another
paragraph. He says,
"' We were astonished to notice that while Noah's
ark goes sailing in the remote distance, there is
close to it a cotton-factory, the chimney of which is
pouring out white smoke that covers the whole of
the sky in the picture, while the ark seems to be
trying to sail down that chimney. Now, they didn't
have cotton-factories in those days; the thing don't
hang. The artist must have been drunk.'
"Now, this insinuation pains me. How would
you like it if you painted a picture of the tower of
Babel, and somebody should come along and insist
that it was the chimney of a cotton-factory, and that
the clouds with which the sky is covered were smoke?
Cotton-factory! Your man certainly cannot be familiar with the Scriptures; and when he talks about
the ark sailing down that chimney, he forgets that
the reason why it is standing on one end is that the
water is so rough as to make it pitch. You know
the Bible says that arks did pitch'without and
within.' Now, don't it?"
"I think maybe it does," said the major.
" But that's not the worst. I can stand that; but
what do you think of a man that goes to criticising
a work of art, and says-   Nox just listen to this:
"'On the right is a boy who has his clothes off




246             ELBOW-ROOM.
and has apparently been in swimming, and has been
rescued by a big yellow dog just as he was about to
drown. What this has to do with the Triumph of
Truth we don't know, but we do know that the dog
is twice as large as the boy, and that he has the
boy's head in his mouth, while the boy's hands are
tied behind his back. Now, for a boy to go in
swimming with his hands tied, and for a dog to
swallow his head so as to drag him out, appears to
us the awfulest foolishness on earth.'
"You will probably be surprised to learn that
your critic is here referring to a very beautiful study
of a Christian martyr who has been thrown among
the wild beasts of the arena, and who is engaged in
being eaten by a lion. The animal is not a yellow
dog; that human being has not been in swimming;
and the reason that he is smaller than the lion is
that I had to make him so in order to get his head
into the lion's mouth. Would you have me represent the lion as large as an elephant? Would you
have me paste a label on the Christian martyr to inform the public that'This is not a boy who has been
treading water with his hands tied'? Now, look at
the matter calmly. Is the Patriot encouraging art
when it goes on in this manner? -Blame me if I
think it is."
" It certainly doesn't seem so."
"Well, then, what do you say to this? What do
you think of a critic who remarks,
"' But the most extraordinary thing in the picture




SCENES IN A SANCTUM.           247
is the group in the foreground. An old lady with
an iron coal-scuttle on her head is handing some
black pills to a ballet-dancer dressed in pink tights,
while another woman in a badly-fitting chemise
stands by them brushing off the flies with the branch
of a tree, with a canary-bird resting upon her shoulder and trying to sing at some small boys who are
seen in the other corner of the field. What this
means we haven't the remotest idea; but we do know
that the ballet-dancers' legs have the knee-pans at
the back of the joint, and that the canary-bird looks
more as if he wanted to eat the coal-scuttle than as
if he desired to sing.'
"This is too bad. Do you know what that beautiful group really represents? That old lady, as
your idiot calls her, is Minerva, the goddess of War,
handing cannon balls to the goddess of Love
as a token there shall be no more war. And the
figure in what he considers the chemise is the genius
of Liberty holding out an olive branch with one
hand, while upon her shoulder rests an American
eagle screaming defiance at the enemies of his country, who are seen fleeing in the distance. Canary
bird! small boys! ballet-girl!  The man is crazy,
sir; stark, staring mad. And now I want you to
write up an explanation for me. This kind of thing
exposes me to derision. I can't stand it, and, by
George! I won't! I'll sue you for libel."
Then the major promised to make amends, and
Mr. Brewer withdrew in a calmer mood.




CHAPTER XX.
HIGH ART.' N itinerant theatrical company gave two
or three performances in Millburg last
winter, and in a very creditable fashion,
too. One of the plays produced was
Shakespere's " King John," with the " eminent tragedian Mr. Hammer'" in the character of the Kinzg.
It is likely that but for an unfortunate misunderstanding the entertainment would have been wholly
delightful. There is a good deal of flourishing of
trumpets in the drama, and the manager, not having
a trumpeter of his own, engaged a German musician named Schenck to supply the music. Schenck
doesn't understand the English language very well,
and the manager put him behind the scenes on the
left of the stage, while the manager stood in the
wing at the right of the stage. Then Schenck was
instructed to toot his trumpet when the manager
signaled with his hand. Everything went along
smoothly enough until King 97ohn (Mr. Hammer)
came to the passage, "Ah, me! this tyrant fever
burns me up!" Just as King.7ohn was about to
utter this the manager brushed a fly off of his nose;
248




HIGH ART.                  249
and Schenck, mistaking the movement for the appointed signal, blew out a frightful blare upon his
bugle. The King was furious and the manager
made wild gestures for Schenck to stop, but that
estimable German musician imagined that the manager wanted him to play louder, and every time a
fresh motion was made Schenck emitted a more terrific blast. The result was something like the following:
King 7ohn. " Ah, me! this tyrant-"
Schenck (with his cheeks distended and his eyes
beaming through his spectacles). "Ta-tarty; ta-tatarty, rat-tat tarty-tarty-tarty, ta-ta-ta, tanarty-arty,
te-tarty."
King C7ohn. " Fever burns-"
Scienck. " Rat-tat-tarty, poopen-arty, oopen-arty,
ta-tarty-arty-oopen-arty; ta-ta; ta-ta-ta-tarty poopenarty, poopen a-a-a-arty-arty."
King 7yohin. " Ah, me! this-"
Schenck (ejecting a hurricane from  his lungs).
"Hoopen-oopen-oopen-arty, ta-tarty; tat-tat-ta-tartyti-ta-tarty; poopen-ta-poopen-ta-poopen-ta-a-a-a-tarty-whoop ta-ta."
King _7ohn (quickly). "Tyrant fever burns me up."
Schenck (with perspiration standing out on his
forehead). "To-ta ta-ta.  Ta-ta ta-ta tatten-attenatten arty te-tarty poopen oopen-oo-oo-oo-oo-oopen
te-tarty ta-ta-ar-ar-ar-te tarty-to-ta-a-a-a-a-A-A-A /"
King r7ohn (to the audience). "Ladies and gentlemen-"




250             MLB o W-ROOH.
Sc/henck. "Ta-ta, ta-ta, ta-ta, poopen-oopen, pooj en.
oopen, te-ta, tarty oo-hoo oo-hoo-te tarty arty, appenarty."
Kling afokhn. "There is a German idiot behind the
scenes here who isSchenck. " Whoopen-arty te-tarty-arty-arty-ta-taa-a-a tat-tarty."
King- yokn. "Blowing infamously upon a horn,
and -"
Schzenck. " Poopen-arty."
Aing'Yohn. "If you will excuse me-"
Scizenck. " Pen-arty-arty."'
KCing.7ohz. "I will go behind the scenes and
check him in his wild career."
Schenck. " Poopen-arty ta-tarty-arty poopen-a-a-aarty tat-tat-ta-tarty."
Then King 7o/zn disappeared and a scuffle was
heard, with some violent expressions in the German
language. Ten minutes later a gentleman from the
Fatherland might have been seen standing on the
pavement in front of the theatre with a bugle under
his arm and a handkerchief to his bleeding nose,
wondering what on earth was the matter. In the
mean time the KIing had returned to the stage, and
the performance concluded without any music. After this the manager will employ home talent when
he wants airs on the bugle.
I have been studying the horn to some extent my.
self. Nothing is more delightful than to have sweet




HIGCH ART.               251
music at home in the evenings. It lightens the bur.
dens of care, it soothes the ruffled feelings, it exercises a refining influence upon the children, it calms
the passions and elevates the soul. A few months
ago I thought that it might please my family if I
learned to play upon the French horn. It is a beautiful
instrument, and after hearing a man perform on it at
a concert I resolved to have one. I bought a splendid one in the city, and concluded not to mention
the fact to any one until I had learned to play a tune.
Then I thought I would serenade Mrs. A. some
evening and surprise her.  Accordingly, I determined to practice in the garret. When I first tried
the horn I expected to blow only a few gentle notes
until I learned how to handle it; but when I put the
mouth-piece to my lips, no sound was evoked. Then
I blew harder. Still the horn remained silent. Then
I drew a full breath and sent a whirlwind tearing
through the horn; but no music came. I blew at it
for half an hour, and then I ran a wire through the
instrument to ascertain if anything blocked it up. It
was clear. Then I blew softly and fiercely, quickly
and slowly. I opened all the stops. I puffed and
strained and worked until I feared an attack of apoplexy. Then I gave it up and went down stairs; and
Mrs. A. asked me what made me look so red in the
face. For four days I labored with that horn, and
got my lips so puckered up and swollen that I went
about looking as if I was perpetually trying to whistle. Finally, I took the instrument back to the store




252             ELBO w-ROOM.
and told the man that the horn was defective.
What I wanted was a horn with insides to it; this
one had no more music to it than a terra-cotta drainpipe. The man took it in his hand, put it to his lips
and played "Sweet Spirit, Hear my Prayer," as easily
as if he were singing. He said that what I needed
was to fix my mouth properly, and he showed me
how.
After working for three more afternoons in the
garret the horn at last made a sound. But it was
not a cheering noise; it reminded me forcibly of the
groans uttered by Butterwick's horse when it was
dying last November. The harder I blew, the more
mournful became the noise, and that was the only
note I could get. When I went down to supper,
Mrs. A. asked me if I heard that awful groaning.
She said she guessed it came from Twiddler's cow,
for she heard Mrs. Twiddler say yesterday that the
cow was sick.
For four weeks I could get nothing out of that
horn but blood-curdling groans; and, meantime, the
people over the way moved to another house because
our neighborhood was haunted, and three of our
hired girls resigned successively for the same reason.
Finally, a man whom I consulted told me that
"No One to Love" was an easy tune for beginners;
and I made an effort to learn it.
After three weeks of arduous practice, during
which Mrs. A. several times suggested that it was
brutal that Twiddler didn't kill that suffering cow




HZIGI  ART.                253
and put it out of its misery, I conquered the first
three notes; but there I stuck.  I could play "No
One to —" and that was all. I performed " No One
to-" over eight thousand times; and as it seemed
/!iIl[  l!')i i'   fi    J   Jk 
~                    II          _     1,
unlikely that I would ever learn the whole tune, I
determined to try the effect of part of it on Mrs. A.
About -ten o'clock one night I crept out to the front
of the house and struck up. First, " No One to-"
of the house and struck up. First,  No One to —"




254            ELBO W-ROOM.
about fifteen or twenty times, then a few of those
groans, then more of the tune, and so forth. Then
Butterwick set his dog on me, and I suddenly went
into the house.  Mrs. A. had the children in the
back room, and she was standing behind the door
with my revolver in her hand. When I entered, she
exclaimed,
"Oh, I'm so glad you've come home! Somebody's
been murdering a man in our yard. He uttered the
most awful shrieks and cries I ever heard. I was
dreadfully afraid the murderers would come into the
house. It's perfectly fearful, isn't it?"
Then I took the revolver away from her-it was
not loaded, and she had no idea that it would have
to be cocked-and went to bed without mentioning
the horn. I thought perhaps it would be better not
to. I sold it the next day; and now if I want music
I shall buy a good hand-organ. I know I can play
on that.
As music and sculpture are the first of the arts, I
may properly refer in this chapter to some facts relative to the condition of the latter in the community
in which I live. Some time ago there was an auction out at the place of Mr. Jackson, and a very
handsome marble statue of William Penn was
knocked down to Mr. Whitaker.  He had the
statue carted over to the marble-yard, where he
sought an interview with Mr. Mix, the owner. He
told Mix that he wanted that statue " fixed up some



[IGH AR7T.              255
how so that'twould represent one of the heathen
gods." He had an idea that Mix might chip the
clothes off of Penn and put a lyre in his hand, "so
that he might pass muster as Apollo or Hercules."
But Mix said he thought the difficulty would be
in wrestling with William's hat. It was a marble
hat, with a rim almost big enough for a race-course;
and Mix said that although he didn't profess to
know much about heathen mythology as a general
thing, still it struck him that Hercules in a broadbrimmed hat would attract attention by his singularity, and might be open to criticism.
Mr. Whitaker said that what he really wanted
with that-statue, when he bought it, was to turn it
into Venus, and he thought perhaps the hat might
be chiseled up into some kind of a halo around her
head.
But Mix said that he didn't exactly see how he
could do that when the rim was so curly at the
sides. A halo that was curly was just no halo at all.
But, anyway, how was he going to manage about
Penn's waistcoat? It reached almost to his knees,
and to attempt to get out a bare-legged Venus with
a halo on her head and four cubic feet of waistcoat
around her middle would ruin his business.  It
would make the whole human race smile.
Then Whitaker said Neptune was a god he always
liked, and perhaps Mix could fix the tails of Penn's
coat somehow so that it would look as if the figure
was riding on a dolphin; then the hat might be




256            ELBO W-ROOM.
made to represent seaweed, and a fish-spear could
be put in the statue's hand.
Mix, however, urged that a white marble hat ot
those dimensions, when cut into seaweed, would be
more apt to look as if Neptune was coming home
with a load of hay upon his head; and he said that
although art had made gigantic strides during the
past century, and evidently had a brilliant future
before it, it had not yet discovered a method by
which a swallow-tail coat with flaps to the pockets
could be turned into anything that would look like a
dolphin.
Then Mr. Whitaker wanted to know if Pan wasn't
the god that had horns and split hoofs, with a shaggy
look to his legs; for if he was, he would be willing
to have the statue made into Pan, if it could be done
without too much expense.
And Mr. Mix said that while nothing would
please him more than to produce such a figure of
Pan, and while William Penn's square-toed shoes,
probably, might be made into cloven hoofs without
a very strenuous effort, still he hardly felt as if he
could fix up those knee-breeches to resemble shaggy
legs; and as for trying to turn that hat into a pair
of horns, Mr. Whitaker might as well talk of emptying the Atlantic Ocean through a stomach-pump.
Thereupon, Mr. Whitaker remarked that he had
concluded, on the whole, that it would be better to
split the patriarch up the middle and take the two
halves to make a couple of little Cupids, which he




HIGH ARt.               257
could hang in his parlor with a string, so that they
would appear to be sporting in air. Perhaps the
flap of that hat might be sliced up into wings and
glued on the shoulders of the Cupids.
But Mr. Mix said that while nobody would put
himself out more to oblige a friend than he would,
still he must say, if his honest opinion was asked,
that to attempt to make a Cupid out of one leg and
half the body of William Penn would be childish,
because, if they used the half one way, there would
be a very small Cupid with one very long leg; and
if they used it the other way, he would have to cut
Cupid's head out of the calf of William's leg, and
there wasn't room enough, let alone the fact that the
knee-joint would give the god of Love the appearance of having a broken back. And as for wings,
if the man had been born who could chisel wings
out of the flap of a hat, all he wanted was to meet
that man, so that he could gaze on him and study
him. Finally Whitaker suggested that Mix should
make the statue into an angel and sell it for an ornament to a tombstone.
But Mix said that if he should insult the dead by
putting up in the cemetery an angel with a stubby
nose and a double-chin, that would let him out as a
manufacturer of sepulchres.
And so Wrhitaker sold him the statue for ten dollars, and Mix sawed it up into slabs for marble-top
tables. High art doesn't seem to flourish to any
large extent in this place.
1z




CHAPTER XXI.
CERTAIN DENTAL EXPERIENCES.-AN UNFORTU.
V-A TE OFFCIA L.
R. POTTS has suffered a good deal from
the toothache, and one day he went around
to the office of Dr. Slugg, the dentist, to
have the offending tooth pulled.  The
doctor has a very large practice; and in order to
economize his strength, he invented a machine for
pulling teeth. He constructed a series of cranks
and levers fixed to a movable stand and operating
a pair of forceps by means of a leather belt, which
was connected with the shafting of a machine-shop
in the street back of the house. The doctor experimented with it several times on nails firmly
inserted in a board, and it worked splendidly. The
first patient he tried it on was- Mr. Potts. When
the forceps had been clasped upon Potts' tooth,
Dr. Slugg geared the machine and opened the valve.
It was never known with any degree of exactness
whether the doctor pulled the valve too far open
or whether the engine was working at that moment under extraordinary pressure.  But in the
twinkling of an eye Mr. Potts was twisted out of the
258




CERTAIN DENTAL EXPERIENCES.    259
chair and the movable stand began to execute the
most surprising manceuvres around the room.  It
would jerk Mr. Potts high into the air and souse
him down in an appalling manner, with one leg
among Slugg's gouges and other instruments of torIjiiiT                     W I
as   it wudsiiwi    t atli ne
through the oil portrait of Slugg's father over the
mantelpiece. After bumping him against Slugg's
ancestor it would swirl Potts around among the




260             ELBOW-ROOtM.
crockery on the wash-stand and dance him up and
down in an exciting manner over the stove, until
finally the molar " gave," and as Potts landed with
his foot through the pier-glass and his elbow on a
pink poodle worked in a green rug, the machine
dashed violently against Dr. Slugg and tried to seize
his leg with the forceps. When they carried Potts
home, he discovered that Slugg had pulled the wrong
tooth; and Dr. Slugg never sent to collect his bill.
He canceled his contract with the man who owned
the planing-mill, and began to pull teeth in the old
way, by hand. I have an impression that Slugg's
patent can be bought at a sacrifice.
Mr. Potts, a day or two later, resolved to take the
aching tooth out himself. He had heard that a tooth
could be removed suddenly and without much pain
by tying a string around it, fixing the string to a
bullet and firing the bullet from a gun.  So lie got
some string and fastened it to the tooth and to a
ball, rammed the latter into his gun, and aimed the
gun out of the window. Then he began to feel nervous about it, and he cocked and uncocked the gun
about twenty times, as his mind changed in regard
to the operation. The last time the gun was cocked
he resolved not to take the tooth out in that way,
and he began to let the hammer down preparatory
to cutting the string. Just then the hammer slipped,
and the next minute Mr. Potts' tooth was flying
through the air at the rate of fifty miles a minute,
and he was rolling over on the floor howling and




CERTAIN DENTAL EXPERIENCES.   261
spitting blood. After Mrs. Potts had picked him up
and given him water with which to wash out his
mouth he went down to the front window. While
he was sitting there thinking that maybe it was all
for the best, he saw some men coming by carrying a
body on a shutter. He asked what was the matter,
and they told him that Bill Dingus had been murdered by somebody.
Mr. Potts thought he' would put on his hat and go
down to the coroner's office and see what the tragedy
was. When he got there, Mr. Dingus had revived
somewhat, and he told his story to the coroner. He
was trimming a tree in Butterwick's garden, when he
suddenly heard the explosion of a gun, and the next
minute a bullet struck him in the thigh and he fell
to the ground. He said he couldn't imagine who
did it. Then the doctor examined the wound and
found a string hanging from it, and a large bullet
suspended upon the string. When he pulled the
string it would: not move any, and he said it must
be tied.to some other missile still in. the flesh. He
said it was the most extraordinary case on record. The medical books reported nothing of the
kind.
Then the doctor gave Mr. Dingus chloroform and
proceeded to cut into him with a knife to: find the
other end of the string, and while he was at work
Mr. Potts began to feel sick at his stomach and to
experience a desire to go home.  At last the doctor
cut deep enough; and giving the string a jerk, out




262             ELBOW-ROOM.
came a molar tooth that looked as iA it might have
been aching. Then the doctor said the case was
more extraordinary than he had thought it was. He
said that tooth couldn't have been fired from a gun,
because it would have been broken to pieces; it
couldn't have been swallowed by Dingus and then
broken through and buried itself in his thigh, for then
how could the string and ball be accounted for?
"The occurrence is totally unaccountable upon
any reasonable theory," said the doctor, "and I do
not know what to believe, unless we are to conceive
that the tooth and the ball were really meteoric
stones that have assumed these remarkable shapes
and been shot down upon the earth with such force
as to penetrate Mr. Dingus' leg, and this is so very
improbable that we can hardly accept it unless it is
impossible to find any other. Hallo! What's the
matter with you, Potts? Your mouth and shirt are
all stained with blood!"
" Oh, nothing," said Potts, forgetting himself. "I
just lost a tooth, and —"
" You lost a- Who pulled it?" asked the doctor.
"Gentlemen," said Potts, "the fact is I shot it
out with my gun."
Then they put Potts under bail for attempted assassination, and Dingus said that as soon as he got
well he would bang Mr. Potts with a club. When
the crowd had gone, the coroner said to Potts,
"You're a mean sort of a man, now, ain't you?"
"Well, Mr. Maginn," replied Potts, "I really




AN UNFORTUNA TE OFFICIAL.        263
didn't know Mr. Dingus was there; and the gun went
off accidentally, any way."
"Oh, it isn't that," said the coroner - "it isn't
that. I don't mind your shooting him, but why in
the thunder didn't you kill him while you were at it,
and give me a chance? You want to see me starve,
don't you? I wish you'd a buried the tooth in his
lung and the ball in his liver, and then I'd a had my
regular fees. But as it is, I have all the bother and
get nothing. I'd starve to death if all men were
like you."
And Potts went away with a dim impression that
he had injured Maginn rather more than Mr. Dingus.
Coroner Maginn's condition, however, is one of
chronic discontent. Upon the occasion of a recent
encounter with him I said to him,
"Business seems to be dull to-day, Mr. Maginn."
" Dull! Well, that's just no name for it. This' is
the deadest town I ever- Well, exceptin' Jim Busby's tumblin' off the market-house last month, there
hasn't been a decent accident in this place since last
summer. How'm I goin' to live, I want to know?
In other countries people keep things movin'.
There are murders and coal-oil explosions and roofs
fallin' in-'most always somethin' lively to afford a
coroner a chance. But here! Why, I don't get'nough fees in a year to keep a poll-parrot in water.
crackers. I don't-now, that's the honest truth."
"That does seem discouraging."




264             ELBOW-ROOM.
"And then the worst of it is a man's friends won't
stand by him. There's Doolan, the coroner in the
next county. He fbund a drowned man up in the
river just beyond the county line. I ought to have
had the first shy at the body by rights, for I know
well enough he fell in from this county and then
skeeted up with the tide. But no; Doolan would
hold the inquest; and do you believe that man actually wouldn't float the remains down the river so's I
could sit on'em after he'd got through? Actually
took'em out and buried'em, although I offered to
go halves with him on my fees if he would pass the
body down this way. That's a positive fact. He refused. Now, what do you think of a man like that?
He hasn't got enough soul in him to be worth preachin' to. That's my opinion."
" It wasn't generous."
"'No sir. Why, there's Stanton come home from
Peru. with six mummies that he dug out of some
sepulchre in that country. They look exackly like
dried beef. Now, my view is that I ought to sit on
those things. They're human beings; nobody'round
here knows what they died of. The law has a right
to know. Stanton hasn't got a doctor's certificate
about'em, and I'm sworn to look after all dead people that can't account: for bein' dead, or that are suspicioned of dyin' by foul play. I could have made
fifty dollars out of those deceased Peruvians, and I
ought to've done it. But no! Just as I was about
to begin, the supervisors, they shut down on it; they




AN UNFORTUNA TE OFFICIAL.        265
said the county didn't care nothin' about people
that had been dead for six hundred years, and they
wouldn't pay me a cent. Just as if six thousand
years was anything in the eye of the law, when
maybe a man's been stabbed, or something, and
when I'm under oath to tend to him! But it's just
my luck.  Everything appears to be agin me,'specially if there's money in it."
"You do seem rather unfortunate."
"Now, there's some countries where they frequently have earthquakes which rattle down the
houses and mash people, and volcanoes which
burst out and set hundreds of'em afire, and hurricanes which blow'em into Hereafter. A coroner
can have some comfort in such a place as that. He
can live honest and respectable. Just think of settin'
on four or five hundred bodies killed with an earthquake! It makes my mouth water. But nothin' of
that sort ever happens in this jackass kind of a land.
Things go along just'sif they were asleep. We've
got six saw-mills'round this town, but nobody ever
gets tangled in the machinery and sawed in half.
We've got a gunpowder-factory out beyond the
turnpike, but will that ever go up?  It wouldn't
if you was to toss a, red-hot stove in among the
powder-leastways, not while I'm coroner. There's
a river down there, but nobody ever drowns in it
where I can have a hitch at him; and if there's a
freshet, everybody at once gets out of reach. If
there's a fire, all the inmates get away safe, and no




266              ELBO W-ROOM.
fireman ever falls off a ladder or stands where a
wall might flatten him out. No, sir; I don't have a
fair show. There was that riot out at the foundry.
In any other place three or four men would have
been killed, and there'd a been fatness for the coroner; but of course, bein' in my county, nothin'
occurred exceptin' Sam Dixon got kicked in the ribs
and had part of his ear bitten off. A man can't
make an honest livin' under sech circumstances as
them; he can't, really."
" It does appear difficult."
" I did think maybe I might get the supervisors to
let me go out to the cemetery and set on the folks
that are buried there, so's I could overhaul'em and
kinder revise the verdicts that've been rendered on'em. I'd a done it for half price; but those fellows
have got such queer ideas of economy that they
wouldn't listen to it; said the town couldn't go to
any fresh expense while it was buildin' water-works.
And I wanted to put the new school-house out yer
by the railroad or down by the river, so's some of
the children'd now and then get run over or fall in;
but the parents were'posed to it for selfish reasons,
and so I got shoved out of that chance. Yes, sir,
it's rough on me; and I tell you that if there are not
more sudden deaths in this county the law's got to
give me a salary, or I'm goin' to perish by starvation.
Not that I'd mind that much for myself, but it cuts
me up to think that as soon as I stepped out the next
coronp.r'd begin right off to earn a livin' out of me."




AN UN1VOR TUNA TE OFFICIAL.     267
Then I said " Good-morning" and left, while Mr.
Maginn selected a fresh stick to whittle. Mr. Maginn, however, had one good chance recently to collect fees.
The country around the town of Millburg is of
limestone formation. The town stands, as has already been mentioned, on a high hill, at the foot of
which there is a wonderful spring, and the belief has
always been that the hill is full of great caves and
fissures, through which the water makes its way to
feed the spring. A year or two ago they organized
a cemetery company at Millburg, and they located
the graveyard upon the hill a short distance back of
the town. After they had deposited several bodies
in the ground, one day somebody discovered a coffin
floating in the river. It was hauled out, and it turned
out to be the remains of Mr. Piggott, who was buried
in the cemetery the day before. The coroner held
an inquest, and they reinterred the corpse.
On the following morning, however, Mr. Piggott
was discovered bumping up against the wharf at the
gas-works in the river. People began to be scared,
and there was some talk to the effect that he had
been murdered and couldn't rest quietly in his grave.
But the coroner was not scared. He empaneled a
jury, held another inquest, collected his fees and
buried the body. Two days afterward some boys,
while in swimming, found a burial-casket floating
under the bushes down by the saw-mill. They
called for help, and upon examining the interior of




268             ELB O W-ROOM.
the casket they discovered the irrepressible Mr. Piggott again. This was too much. Even the ministers
began to believe in ghosts, and hardly a man in
town dared to go out of the house that night.alone.
But the coroner controlled his emotions sufficiently
to sit on the body, make the usual charges and bury
Mr. Piggott in a fresh place in his lot.
The next morning, while Peter Lamb was drinking out of the big spring, he saw something push
slowly out of the mud at the bottom of the pool.
He turned as white as a sheet as he watched' it; and
in a few minutes he saw that it was a coffin. It
floated out, down the creek into the river, and then
Peter ran to tell the coroner. That official had a
jury waiting, and he proceeded to the coffin. It was
old Mr. Piggott, as usual; and they went through
the customary routine with him, and were about to
bury him, when his family came forward and said
they would prefer to inter him in another place, being
convinced now there must be a subterranean channel
leading from the cemetery to the spring. The coroner couldn't object; but after the Piggotts were gone
he said to the jury that people who would take the
bread out of the mouth of a poor man in that way
would be certain to come to want themselves some
day. He said he could easily have paid off the mortgage on his house and let his little girl take lessons
on the melodeon besides, if they'd just allowed Piggott to wobble around the way he wanted to.
There was no more trouble up at the cemetery




AN UNFOR'UNATE OFFICIAL.        269,after that until they buried old Joe Middles, who
used to have the fish-house over the river at Deacon's. They entombed the old man on Thursday
night. On Friday morning one of the Keysers was
walking down on the river-bank, and he saw a man
who looked very much like Mr. Middles sitting up
-   - -_,/
in a canoe out in the stream fishing. He watched the
man as he caught two or three fish, and was just
about to conclude that it was some unknown brother
of Mr. Middles, when the fisherman looked up and
said,




270             ELBOW-R OOM.
"Hello, Harry."
"Who are you?" asked Keyser.
"Who am I? Why, Joe Middies, of course.
Who'd you think I was?" remarked the fisherman.
"You ain't Joe Middles, for he's dead. I went to
his funeral yesterday."
" Funeral!" exclaimed the fisherman as he stepped
ashore. "Well, now, by George! maybe that explains the thing. I've been bothering myself the
worst kind to understand something. You know
that I remember being at home in bed, and then I
went to sleep somehow; and when I woke up, it was
dark as pitch. I gave a kick to stretch myself, and
knocked the lid off of this thing here-a canoe I
thought it was; and then I set up and found myself
out here in the river. I took the lid to split into
paddles, and I saw on it a plate with the words'Joseph Middles, aged sixty-four;' and I couldn't imagine how in thunder that ever got on that lid.
Howsomdever, I pulled over to the shanty and got
some lines and bait and floated out again, thinking
while I was here I might as well get a mess of fish
before I got home. And so it's a coffin, after all,
and they buried me yesterday. Well, that beats the
very old Harry, now, don't it? I'm going to row
right over to the house. How it'll skeer the old
woman to see me coming in safe and sound!"
Then the resurrected Mr. Middles paddled off.
The cemetery company failed the following month,
from inability to sell thelots.




CHAPTER XXII.
7USTICE, AND A LITTLE IN7USTICE.'HE administration of justice in this county
is chiefly in the hands of Judge Twiddler;
and while his methods generally are excellent, he sometimes makes unpleasant mistakes. Mr. Mix was the victim of one such blunder
upon a recent occasion. Mr. Mix is bald; and in order
to induce his hair to grow again, he is using a very
excellent article of "hair vigor" upon his scalp.
Some time ago he was summoned as a juryman upon
a case in the court, and upon the day of the trial,
just before the hour at which the court met, he remembered that he had not applied the vigor to his
head that morning. He had only a few minutes to
spare, but he flew up stairs and into the dark closet
where he kept the bottle; and pouring some fluid
upon a sponge, he rubbed his head energetically.
By some mishap M'r. Mix got hold of the wrong
bottle, and the substance with which he inundated
his scalp was not vigor, but the black varnish with
which Mrs. Mix decorated her shoes.  However,
Mix didn't perceive the mistake, but darted down
stairs, put on his hat and walked off to the- court.
271




272             ELBOW-ROOM.
room. It was a very cold morning, and by the time
Mix reached his destination the varnish was as stiff
as a stone. He felt a little uncomfortable about the
head, and he endeavored to remove his hat to discover the cause of the difficulty, but to his dismay
it was immovable. It was glued fast to the skin, and
his efforts to take it off gave him frightful pain.
Just then he heard his name called by the crier,
and he had to go into court to answer. He was wild
with apprehension of coming trouble; but he took
his seat in the jury-box and determined to explain
the situation to the court at the earliest possible
moment. As he sat there with a guilty feeling in
his soul it seemed to him that his hat kept getting
bigger and bigger, until it appeared to him to be
as large as a shot-tower. Then he was conscious
that the lawyers were staring at him.  Then the
clerk looked hard at him and screamed, " Hats off
in court!" and Mix grew crimson. "Hats off!"
yelled the clerk again, and Mix was about to reply
when the judge came in, and as his eye rested on
Mix he said,
"Persons in the court-room must remove their
hats."
"May it please Your Honor, I kept my hat on because —"
"Well, sir, you must take it off now."
"But I say I keep it on because I —"
"We don't want any arguments upon the subject,
sir. Take your hat off instantly!" said the judge.




7USTICE, AND A LITTLE IN7USTICE.  273
"But you don't let me —"
"Remove that hat this moment, sir! Are you
going to bandy words with me, sir? Uncover your
head at once!"
"Judge, if you will only give me a chance to-"
" This is intolerable! Do you mean to insult the
court, sir? Do you mean to profane this sacred temple of justice with untimely levity? Take your hat
off, sir, or I will fine you for contempt. Do you
hear me?"
"Well, it's very hard that I can't say a word by
way of ex-"
" This is too much," said the judge, warmly-" this
is just a little too much. Perhaps you'd like to come
up on the bench here and run the court and sentence a few convicts? Mr. Clerk, fine that man fifty
dollars. Now, sir, remove your hat."
"Judge, this is rough on me. I-"
"Won't do it yet?" said the judge, furiously.
"Why, you impudent scoundrel, I've a notion toMr. Clerk, fine him one hundred dollars more, and,
Mr. Jones, you go and take that hat off by force,"
Then the tipstaff approached Mix, who was by
this time half crazy with wrath, and hit the hat with
his stick. It did not move. Then he struck it again
and caved in the crown, but it still remained on Mix's
head. Then he picked up a volume of Brown On
Evidence, and mashed the crown in flat. Then Mix
sprang at him; and shaking his fist under the nose
of Jones, he shrieked,
18




274             ELB O W-RO O.
"You miserable scullion, I've half a notion to
kill you!  If that jackass on the bench had any
sense, he could see that the hat is glued fast. I
can't take it off if I wanted to, and I wouldn't take
it off now if I could."
Then the judge removed the fines and excused
him, and Mix went home. He slept in his hat for a
week; and even when it came off, the top of his head
looked as black as if mortification had set in.




7USTICE, AND A LITTLE IN7USTICE.  275
But if the judge is too particular, our sheriff is
hardly careful enough. The manner in which he
permits our jail to be conducted always seemed to
me interesting and original.
One day I wanted to hire a man to wheel half a
dozen loads of rubbish out of my garden, and after
looking around a while I found a seedy chap sitting
on the end of a wharf fishing. When I asked him
if he would attend to the job, he replied thus:
" I really can't.. I'm sorry; but the fact is I'm in
jail for six months for larceny-sentenced last December. I don't mind it much, only they don't act
honest with me up at the jail. The first week I was
there Mrs. Murphy-she's the keeper's wife-wanted
to clean up, and so she turned me out, and I had
to hang round homeless for more'n a week. Then,
just as I was getting settled agin comfortably, the
provisions ran short, and Murphy tried to borrow
money of me to feed the convicts; and as I had
none to lend, out I had to go agin. In about two
weeks I started in fresh and got everything snug
and cheerful, when Murphy's aunt stepped out.
Then what does that ass do but put me out agin and
lock up the jail and put crape on the door, while he
went off to the funeral.
"So, of course, I had to browse around, huntin'
up meals where I could get them, sometimes nibblin'
somethin' at the tavern and other times takin' tea
with a friend. Well, sir, hardly was that old woman
buried, and me once more in the cell with the home



276             ELBOW-ROOL1.
like feelin' beginnin' to creep over me, but Murphy,
he says he and his wife's got to go up to the city to
get a hired girl; and when I refused to quit, Murphy
grabbed me by the collar and pushed me into the
street, and said he'd sick his dog on me if I came
around there makin' a fuss.
"I hung about a few days; and when I went to the
jail, the boy said Murphy hadn't got back and I'd
have to call agin. Next time I applied the boy hollered from the window that he was'engaged' and
couldn't see me. Murphy was still rummagin' fot
that hired girl. I went there eight times, and there
was always some jackass of an excuse for crowdin'
me out, and I don't know if I'll ever get in agin.
Night afore last I busted a.window with a brick and
tried to crawl in through the hole, but the boy fired
a gun at me, and said if I'd just wait till Mr. Murphy
came back he'd have me arrested for burglary.
"Now, I think I've been treated mighty bad. I've
got a right in that jail, and it's pretty mean in a man
like Murphy to shove me off in weather like this;
and I'm bound to live six months in the prison some
time or other, whether he likes it or not. I don't
mind puttin' myself to some trouble to oblige a
friend, but I hate like thunder to be imposed on.
"'Pears to me it's no way to run a penal institution
any way. There's Botts; he's in jail for perjury for
nine years, and Murphy's actually turned that convict
out so often and made him run'round after his meals
that Botts has lost heart, and has gone to canvassin'




yUSTICE, AND A LITTLE IN7USTICE.  277
for a life insurance company-gone to perambulatin'
all over the country tryin' to do a little somethin' tc
keep clothes on his back, when he ought to be layin'
serenely in that jail. But I ain't goin' to do that
If the law keeps me in custody, it's got to support
me; and that's what Simpson says, too. Ketch him
workin' for his livin'. He's in for four years for assault and battery; and when they turn him out of
the jail, he puts up at a hotel and has the bills sent
in to Murphy.
" Murphy don't have consideration for the prisoners,
any way. You know he raises fowls in the jail-yard;
and just after Christmas he had a big lot of turkeys
left on his hands, and do you believe that man actually kept feedin' us on those turkeys for more than
a month? Positively refused to allow us anything
else until they was gone. I had half a notion to quit
for good. I was disgusted. And Simpson said if
that is the way they were goin' to treat convicts,
why, civilization is a failure.'All through Lent, too,
wouldn't allow us an oyster; kept stuffin' us with
beef and such trash, although Botts said he'd never
been used to such wickedness, for his parents were
very particular.  Wouldn't even give us fish-balls
twice a week. But what does Murphy care?  He's
perfectly enthusiastic when he can tread on a man's
feelin's and stamp all the moral sensibility out of
him.
"And Mrs. Murphy, she's not much better. All the
warm days she's home she hustles that baby of hers




278             EL BO W-ROOM.
onto me, Makes me take the little sucklin' out in
his carriage for an airin', and then gets mad if he
falls out while I'm conversin' for a few minutes with
a friend. I'd a slid him into the river long ago,
only I know well enough they'd sentence me for
life, and then I'd maybe have to stand Murphy's
persecution for about fbrty years; and that'd kill me.
It would indeed. He's so inconsiderate.
"He used to give me the key of the jail to keep
while he'd go over to Barnes' to fight roosters or to
play poker, and one day I lost it. He raised an awful fuss, and even Botts was down on me because
they couldn't keep the boys out, and they used to
come in and tickle Botts with straws while he was
sleepin' in his cell. I believe they expect Murphy
back day after to-morrow, but I know mighty well
I'm not goin' to have much satisfaction when he does
come. He'll find sonie excuse for shufflin' me out'bout as soon as I get stowed away in my old quarters. If he does, I've got a notion to lock him out
some night and run the jail myself for a while, so's
I kin have some peace. There's such a thing as
carryin' abuses a little too far. Excuse me for a
minute. I think I have a bite."
Then I left to hunt for another man. I feel that
the Society for the Alleviation of the Sufferings of
Prisoners has a great work to perform in our town.




CHAPTER XXIII.
THE TRAMP WITH GENIUS AND WITHOUT IT.
HE tramp is as familiar a figure in the village and the surrounding country as he is
in other populous rural neighborhoods.
The ruffian tramp, of course, is the most
constant of the class, but now and then appears one
of the fraternity who displays something like genius
in his attempts to impose himself upon people as a
being of a higher order than an idle, worthless vagabond. A fellow of this description came into the
editorial room of the Patriot one day while I was
sitting there, and announced in a loud voice that he
was a professor of pisciculture and an aspirant for a
position upon the State Fish Commission. As the
statement did not attract the attention of anybody, he
seated himself in a chair, placed his feet upon the
table, and aiming with surprising accuracy at a
spittoon, said his name was Powell. Still nobody
paid any attention to him, but the fact did not seem
to depress his spirits, for he talked straight ahead
fluently and with some vehemence:
"What are they doing for the fishery interest, any
way, these commissioners?  What do they know
2-79




280             ELBO W-ROOM.
about fishing?  More'n likely when they go out
they hold the hook in their hands and let the pole
float in the water. Why, one of'em was talking
with me the other day, and says he,'Powell, I
want the Legislature to make an appropriation for
the cultivation of canned lobsters in the Susquehanna.''How are you going to do it?' says I.'Why,' says he,'my plan is to cross the original
lobster with some good variety of tin can, breed'em in and in, and then feed the animal on solder
and green labels.'
"Perfect ass, of course; but I let him run along,
and pretty soon he says,'I've just bought half a
barrel of salt mackerel, which I'm going to put in
the Schuylkill. My idea,' says he,'is to breed a
mackerel that'll be all ready soaked when you catch
him. The ocean mackerel always tastes too much
of the salt. What the people want is a fish that is
fresher.' And so, you know, that immortal idiot is
actually going to dump those mackerel overboard
in the hope that they'll swim about and make themselves at home. Well, if the governor will appoint
such chuckle-head commissioners, what else can you
expect?
"However, I said nothing. I wasn't going to set
him up in business with my brains and experience,
and so, directly, he says to me,'Powell, I'm now
engaged in transplanting some desiccated codfish
into the Schuylkill; but it scatters too much when it
gets into the water. Now, how would it do to breed




7'RAMPS.                 281
the ordinary codfish with a sausage-chopper or a
mince-meat machine? Do you think a desiccated
codfish would rise to a fly, or wouldn't you have to
fish for him with a colander?' And so he kept reeling out a jackassery like that until directly he said,'I'll tell you, professor, what this country needs is a
fresh-water oyster. Now, it has occurred to me that
maybe the best variety to plant would be the ordinary fried oyster. It seems to be popular, and it
has the advantage of growing without a shell. One
of the other commissioners,' so this terrific blockhead said,'insisted on trying the experiment with
the oyster that produces tripe, so's to enable the
people to catch tripe and oysters when they go afishing. But for my part,' says he,'I want either the
fried oyster or the kind that grow in pie crust, like
they have'em at the restaurants.'  Actually said
that.
"Well, he driveled along for a while, talking the
awfulest bosh; and pretty soon he asked me if I
was fond of mock-turtle soup. Said that the commission had discovered the feasibility of adding the
mock-turtle to the food-animals of our rivers. He
allowed that he had understood that. they could be
cultivated best.by spawning calves' heads on forcemeat balls, and that they were in season for the table
during the same months of the year that gravy is.
And he said that a strenuous effort ought to be
made to have our rivers swarming with this delicious
fish.




282             ELBOW-ROOM.
"And then he talked a whole lot of delirious slush
of that kind, and about improving the tadpole crop,
and so on, -until I-   Wh-wh-what d'you say?
Want me to take my legs off that table and quit?
You don't want to hear any more news about the
fisheries?  Oh, all right; there's plenty of other
papers that'll be glad to get the intelligence. Next
time you want my views about pisciculture you'll
have to send for me."
Then the professor aimed again at the spittoon,
missed it, rubbed the ragged crown of his forlorn
hat with his shining elbow, buttoned up his coat over
a shirt-bosom which last saw the washerwoman during the presidency of General Harrison, and sauntered out and down stairs. The impression that he
~left was that he would be more available to the Fish
Commission as, bait than in any other capacity.
Upon another occasion a more forlorn and dismal
vagabond, a cripple, too, sauntered into Brown's grocery-store, where a crowd was sitting around the
stove discussing politics. Taking position upon a
nail-keg, he remarked,
"Mr. Brown, you don't want to buy a first-rate
\wooden leg, do you? I've got one that I've been
wearing for two or three years, and I want to sell it.
I'm hard up for money; and although, I'm attached
to that leg, I'm willing to part with it so's I kin get
the necessaries of life. Legs are all well enough;
they are handy to have around the house, and all
that; but a man must attend to his stomach if he




TRAMPS.                 283
has to walk about on the small of his back. Now,
I'm going to make you an offer. That leg is Fairchild's patent; steel springs, India-rubber joints, elastic toes and everything, and it's in better order now
than it was when I bought it. It'o be a comfort to
any man. It's the most luxurious leg I ever came
across. If bliss ever'kin be reached by a man this
side of the tomb, it belongs to the person that gets
that leg on and feels the consciousness creeping over
his soul that it is his. Consequently, I say that when
I offer it.to you I'm doing a personal favor; and I
think I see you jump at the chance and want to
clinch the bargain before I mention you'll hardly
believe it, I know-that I'll actually knock that leg
down to you at four hundred dollars. Four hundred, did I say?  I meant six hundred; but let it
stand. I never back out when I make an offer; but
it's just throwing that leg away-it is, indeed."
" But I don't want an artificial leg," said Brown.
"The beautiful thing about the limb," said the
stranger, pulling up his trousers and displaying the
article, "is that it is reliable. You kin depend on it.
It's always there.  Some legs that I've seen were
treacherous  most always some of the springs
bursting out, or the joints working backward, or the
toes turning down and ketching in things. Regular
frauds. But it's almost pathetic the way this leg
goes on year in and year out like an old faithful
friend, never knowing an ache or a pain, no rheumatism, nor any such foolishness as that, but always




284             ELBO W-ROOM.
good-natured and ready to go out of its way to
oblige you. A man feels like a man when he gets
such a thing under him. Talk about your kings and
emperors and millionaires, and all that sort of nonsense! Which of'em's got a leg like that?  Which
of'em kin unscrew his knee-pan and look at the
gum thingamajigs in his calf?  Which of'em kin
leave his leg down stairs in the entry on the hat-rack
and go to bed with only one cold foot? Why, it's
enough to make one of them monarchs sick to think
of such a convenience. But they can't help it. There's
only one man kin buy that leg, and that's you. I
want you to have it so bad that I'll deed it to you
-for fifty dollars down. Awful, isn't it?  Just throwing it away; but take it, take it, if it does make my
heart bleed to see it go out of the family."
" Really, I have no use for such a thing," said Mr.
Brown.
"You can't think," urged the stranger, "what a
benediction a leg like that is in a family. When you
don't want to walk with it, it comes into play for the
children to ride horsey on; or you kin take it off
and stir the fire with it in a way that would depress
the spirits of a man with a real leg. It makes the
most efficient potato-masher you ever saw. Work it
from the second joint and let the knee swing loose; you
kin tack carpets perfectly splendid with the heel; and
when a cat sees it coming at him from the winder,
he just adjourns sine die and goes down off the fence
screaming. Now, you're probably afeard of dogs.




TRAMPS.                 285
When you see one approaching, you always change
your base. I don't blame you; I used to be that
way before I lost my home-made leg. But you fix
yourself with this artificial extremity, and then what
do you care for dogs? If a million of'em come at
you, what's the odds?  You merely stand still and
smile, and throw out your spare leg, and let'em
chaw, let'em fool with that as much as they're a
mind to, and howl and carry on, for you don't care.
An' that's the reason why I say that when I reflect
on how imposing you'd be as the owner of such a
leg I feel like saying that if you insist on offering
only a dollar and a half for it, why, take it; it's yours.
I'm not the kinder man to stand on trifles.'I'll take
it off and wrap it up in paper for you; shall I?"
"I'm sorry," said Brown, "but the fact is I have
no use for it. I've got two good legs already. If I
ever lose one, why, maybe' then I'll-"
" I don't think you exactly catch my idea on the
subject," said the stranger. "Now, any man kin
have a meat-and-muscle leg; they're as common as
dirt. It's disgusting how monotonous people are
about such things. But I take you for a man who
wants to be original. You have style about you.
You go it alone, as it were. Now, if I had your
peculiarities, do you know what I'd do? I'd get a
leg snatched off some way, so's I could walk around
on this one. Or if you hate to go to the expense
of amputation, why not get your pantaloons altered
and' mount this beautiful work of art just as you stand?




286             E.LBOW-ROOM.
A centipede, a mere ridicklous insect, has half a
bushel of legs, and why can't a man, the grandest
creature on earth, own three? You go around this
community on three legs, and your fortune's made.
People will go wild over you as the three-legged
grocer; the nation will glory in you; Europe will
hear of you; you will be heard of from pole to pole.
It'll build up your business. People'll flock from
everywheres to see you, and you'll make your sugar
and cheese and things fairly hum. Look at it as an
advertisement!  Look at it any way you please,
and there's money in it-there's glory, there's immortality. I think I see you now moving around
over this floor with your old legs working as usual,
and this one going clickety-click along with'em,
making music for you all the time and attracting attention in a way to fill a man's heart with rapture.
Now, look at it that way; and if it strikes you, I
tell you what I'll do: I'll actually swap that imperishable leg off to you for two pounds of watercrackers and a tin cup full of Jamaica rum. Is it
a go?"
Then Brown weighed out the crackers, gave him
an awful drink of rum, and told him if he would take
them as a present and quit he would confer a favor.
And he did.: After emptying the crackers in his
pockets and smacking his lips over the rum, he went
to the door, and as he opened it he said,
" Good-bye. But if you ever really do want a leg,
Old Reliable is ready for you; it's yours. I consider




TRAMPS.                287
that you've got a mortgage on it, and you kin foreclose at any time. I dedicate this leg to you.: My
will shall mention it; and if you don't need it when
I die, I'm going to have it putin the savings' bank to
draw interest until you check it out. I'll bid you
good- evening."
The tramp: that has a dog to sell is a little more
common than such children of genius as the professor and the owner of the patent leg. But I had with
one of them a queer experience which may be worth
relating.
One day recently a rough-looking'vagabond
called at my house, accompanied by a forlorn
mongrel dog. I came out upon the porch to see
him, and he said,
"I say, pardner, I understood that you wanted to
buy a watch-dog, and I brought one around for you.
You never seen such a dog for watching as this one.
You tell that dog to watch a thing, and bet your life
he'll sit down and watch it until he goes stone blind.
Now, I'll tell you what I'll let you have- "
I cut his remarks short at this point with the information that I didn't want a dog, and that if I had
wanted a dog nothing on earth could induce me to
accept that particular dog. So he left and went
down the street. He must have made a mistake
and come in again through the back gate, thinking
it was another place, for in a few minutes the cook
said there was a man in the kitchen who wanted' to
see me; and when I went down, there was the same




288             ELBOW-ROOM.
man with the same dog. He didn't recognize me,
and as soon as I entered he remarked,
"I say, old pard, somebody was saying that you
wanted to buy a watch-dog. Now, here's a watchdog that'd rather watch than eat any time. Give
that dog something to fasten his eye on-don't care
what it is: anything from a plug hat to a skatingrink-and there his eye stays like it was chained with
a trace-chain. Now, I'll tell you what I'll do with-"
I suddenly informed him in a peremptory tone
that nothing would induce me to purchase a dog at
that moment, and then I pushed him out and shut
the door. When he was gone, I went across the
street to see Butterwick about top-dressing my grassplot. He was out, and I sat down on the porch
chair to wait for him. A second later the proprietor of the dog came shuffling through the gate with
the dog at his heels. When he reached the porch,
he said, not recognizing me,
"I say, pardner, the man across the street there
told me you wanted a good watch-dog, and I came
right over with this splendid animal. Look at him!
Never saw such an eye as that in a dog, now, did
you?  Well, now, when this dog fixes that eye on
anything, it remains. There it stays. Earthquakes,
or fires, or torchlight processions, or bones, or nothing, can induce him to move. Therefore, what I
say is that I offer you that dog for-"
Then I got up in silence and walked deliberately
out into the street, and left the man standing there.




TRAMPS.                 289
/
As I reached the sidewalk I saw Butterwick going
into Col. Coffin's office. I went over after him,
while the man with the dog went in the opposite
direction. Butterwick was in the back office; and as
19




290             ELB O W-R OOM.
the front room was empty, I sat down in a chair until
he got through with Coffin and came out. In a few
minutes there was a rap at the door. I said,
"Come in!"
The door slowly opened, and a dog crept in.
Then the man appeared. He didn't seem to know
me. He said,
"I say, old pardy-I dunno your right name-I'm
trying to sell a watch-dog; that one there; and I
thought maybe you might be hungry to get a valuable animal who can watch the head off of any other
dog in this yer county, so I concluded to call and
throw him away for the ridic'lous sum of-"
" I wouldn't have him at any price."
" What! don't want him? Don't want a dog with
an eye like a two-inch auger, that'll sit and watch a
thing for forty years if you'll tell him to?  Don't
want a dog like that?"
"Certainly I don't."
"Well, this is singular. There don't appear to be
a demand for watch-dogs in this place, now, does
there? You're the fourth man I've tackled about
him. You really don't want him?"
" Of course not."
" Don't want any kind of a dog-not even a litter
of good pups or a poodle?"
" No, sir."
"Well, maybe you could lend me five dollars on
that dog. I'll pay you back to-morrow"
" Can't do it'




TRAMPS.                291
"Will you take him as a gift, and give me a chaw
of terbacker?"
"I don't chew."
"Very strange," he muttered, thoughtfully. "There's
no encouragement for a man in this world. Sure
you won't take him?"
"Yes, certain."
"Then, you miserable whelp, git out of here, or
I'll kick the breath out of you. Come, now, git!"
And he gave the dog a kick that sent him into the
middle of the street, and then withdrew himself.
The trade in dogs certainly is not active in Millburg.




CHAPTER XXIV.
THE DOG OF MR. BUTTER WICK'S, AND OTHER
DOGS.
NE day I met Mr. Butterwick in the street
leading his dog with a chain. He said that
it was a very valuable dog and he was
anxious to get it safely home, but he had
to catch a train, and I would confer a personal favor
upon him if I would take the dog to my house and
keep it until he returned from the city. The undertaking was not a pleasant one, but I disliked to disoblige Butterwick, and so I consented. Butterwick
gave me his end of the chain and left in a hurried
manner. I got the dog home with the greatest difficulty, and turned it into the cellar. About an hour
later I received a telegram from Butterwick saying
that he had been compelled to go down to the lower
part of Jersey, and that he wouldn't be home for a
week or two. That was on the I2th of June, and
after that time only two persons entered the cellar.
The hired girl went down once after the cold beef,
and came up disheveled and bleeding, with a number
of appalling dog-bites in her legs, and I descended
immediately afterward for the purpose of pacifying'
292




BUTTER WICK'S DOG.            293
the infuriated animal.  He did not feel disposed
to become calm, however, and I deem it probable
that if I had not
"< " -'-" _Ssuddenly clamber-.>.%"%,~.~..'c-~~~ -,~  ed into the coalbin, where I re___~-9,.:'-"  mained until he
fell asleep  in a. distant  corner'_ _   ~about four hours
itll..          later, I should certainly have been
"'~, -0   torn  to  pieces.
__ __  tWe- thought we....._             would have to try
to get along with.-,.___j -J~,A  _____
_   s    A- --           --
out using the cellar until Butterwick could come up
and take away his dog. But Butterwick wrote to




294             ELBO W-ROO0
say that he couldn't come, and the dog, after eating
everything in the cellar and barking all through
every night, finally bolted up stairs into the kitchen
on the 2.d of July, and established himself in the
back yard. After that we used the front door exclusively while we were waiting for Butterwick to
come up. The dog had fits regularly, and he always
got on the geranium-bed when he felt them coming
on; and consequently, we did not enjoy our' flowers
as much as we hoped to. The cherries were ripe
during the reign of Butterwick's dog, but they rotted on the trees, all but a few, which were picked by
Smith's boy, who subsequently went over the fence
in a sensational manner without stopping to ascertain what Butterwick's dog was going to do with the
mouthful of drawers and corduroy trousers that he
had removed from Smith's boy's leg. As Butterwick did not come up, the dog enjoyed himself
roaming about the yard a while; but one day, finding
the back window in the parlor open, he jumped in
and assumed control of that apartment and the hall.
I tried to dislodge him with a clothes-prop, but I
only succeeded in knocking two costly vases off of
the mantel-piece, and the dog became so excited and
threatening that I shut the door hurriedly and went
up stairs four steps at a time.
There was nothing to interest him especially in
the parlor, and I cannot imagine why he wanted to
stay there.- But he did; and as Butterwick didn't
come up, we couldn't dislodge him. On Thursday




B UTTER WICK'S D O G.         295
he smashed the mirror during an attempt to get up a
fight with another dog that he thought he saw in there,
and he clawed the sofa to rags. On Saturday he had
a fit in the hall, and spoiled about eight square yards
of Brussels carpet utterly. When he recovered, he
went back into the parlor. At last I borrowed Coffin's dog and sent him in to fight Butterwick's dog
out. It was an exhilarating contest. They fought
on the chairs and sofas; they upset a table and
smashed all the: ornaments on it; they scattered
blood and hair in blotches all over the carpet; they
got entangled in one of the lace curtains and dragged
it and the frame down with a crash; they scratched
and bit and tore and frothed and yelled; and at last
Coffin's dog gave in, put his tail between his legs
and retreated, while Butterwick's dog got on a sixtydollar Turkish rug, so that he could bleed comfortably.
It didn't seem to occur to him to go home, and
still Butterwick didn't come up. The next day I
loaded a shot-gun and determind to kill him at any
sacrifice. I aimed carefully at him, but at the critical
moment he dodged, and two handfuls of bird-shot
went into the piano and tore it up badly. Then I
tossed some poisoned meat' at him, but he ate all
around the poison, and seemed to feel better after the
meal than he had done for years. Finally, Butterwick came home, and he called to get his dog. He
entered the parlor bravely and attempted to seize the
animal, when it bit him. I was never so glad in my




296             ELBOW-ROOAM.
life. Then Butterwick got mad; and seizing the dog
by the tail, he smashed him through my French
glass window into the street. Then I was not so
very glad. Then the dog went mad and a policeman
killed him. The next time I am asked to take a
strange dog home I will kill him to begin with.
When I explained to Colonel Coffin the unpleasant
nature of my experience with Mr. Butterwick's dog,
the colonel said that he had had a good deal to do
lately, in a legal way, with dogs; and he gave me
the facts respecting two interesting cases. The first
was Tompkins' case.
A man called at the colonel's law-office one day
and said,
" Colonel, my name is Tompkins. I called to see
you about a dog difficulty that bewilders me, and I
thought maybe you might throw some light on itmight give me the law points, so's I'd know whether
it was worth while suing or not.
" Well, colonel, you see me and Potts went into
partnership on a dog; we bought him. He was a
setter; and me and Potts went shares on him, so's to
take him out a-hunting. It was never exactly settled
which half of him I owned and which half belonged
to Potts; but I formed an idea in my own mind that
the hind end was Tompkins' and the front end Potts'.
Consequence was that when the dog barked I always
said,'There goes Potts half exercising himself;' and
when the dog's tail wagged, I always considered that
my end was being agitated. And, of course, when




MR. TOMPKINVS' CASE.         297
one of my hind legs scratched one of Potts' ears or
one of his shoulders, I was perfectly satisfied-first,
because that sort of thing was good for the whole
dog; and, second, because the thing would get about
even when Potts' head would reach around and bite
a flea off my hind legs or snap at a fly.
"Well, things went along smooth enough for a
while, until one day that dog began to get into the
habit of running around after his tail. IHe was the
foolishest dog about that I ever saw. Used to chase
his tail round and round until he'd get so giddy he
couldn't bark. And you know I was scared lest it
might hurt the dog's health; and as Potts didn't seem
to be willing to keep his end from circulating in pursuit of my end, I made up my mind to chop the dog's
tail off, so's to make him reform and behave. So last
Saturday I caused the dog to back up agin a log, and
then I suddenly dropped the axe on his tail pretty
close up, and the next minute he was running around
that yard howling like a boat-load of wild-cats. Just
then Potts came up, and he let on to be mad because
I'd cut off that tail. One word brought on another;
and pretty soon Potts set that dog on me-my own
half too, mind you-and the dog bit me in the leg.
See that! look at that leg! About half a pound
gone; et up by that dog.
"Now, what I want to see you about is this: Can't
I recover damages for assault and battery from Potts?
What I chopped off belonged to me, recollect. I
owned an undivided half of that setter pup, from the




298             ELBOW-ROOM.
tip of his tail clear up to his third rib, and I had a
right to cut away as much of it as I'd a mind to;
while Potts, being sole owner of the dog's head, is
responsible when he bites anybody, or when he barks
at nights."
"I don't know," replied the colonel, musingly.
"There haven't been any decisions on cases exactly
like this. But what does Mr. Potts say upon the
subject?"
"Why, Potts' view is that I divided the dog the
wrong way. When he wants to map out his half
he draws a line from the middle of the nose right
along the Spine and clear to the end of the tail.
That gives me one hind leg and one fore leg and
makes him joint proprietor in the tail. And he says
that if I wanted to cut off my half of the tail I might
have done it, and he wouldn't've cared, but what
made him mad was that I wasted his property without consulting him. But that theory seems to me a
little- strained; and if it's legal, why, I'm going to
close out my half of the dog at a sacrifice sooner
than hold any interest in him on those principles.
Now, what do you think about it?"
"Well," said the colonel, " I can hardly decide so
important a question off-hand; but at the first glance
my opinion is that you own the whole dog, and that
Potts also owns the whole dog. So when he bites
you, a suit won't lie against Potts, and the only thing
you can do to obtain justice is to make the dog bite
Potts also. As for the tail, when it is separated from




MR. TOMPKINS' CASE.            20A
the dog it is no longer the dog's tail, and it is not
worth fighting about."
"Can't sue Potts, you say?"
"I think not."
"Can't get damages for the piece that's been bit
out of me?"
" I hardly think you can."
"Well, well, and yet they talk about American
civilization, and temples of justice, and such things!
All right. Let it go. I can stand it; but don't
anybody ever undertake to tell me that the law
protects human beings in their rights.  Goodmorning."
" Wait a moment, Mr. Tompkins; you've forgotten my fee."
"F-f-f-fee! Why, you  don't charge anything
when I don't sue, do you?"
"Certainly, for my advice. My fee is ten dollars."
"Ten dollars! Ten dollars! Why, colonel, that's
just what I paid for my half of that dog. I haven't
got fifty cents to my name. But I'll tell you what
I'll do: I'll make over all my rights in that setter
pup to you, and you kin go round and fight it out
with Potts. If that dog bites me again, I'll sue you
and Potts as sure as my name's Tompkins."
The other case was of a somewhat more serious
character. Upon a subsequent occasion a man hobbled into the office upon crutches. Proceeding to a
chair and making a cushion of some newspapers, he




300            ELBO W-R OOM.
sat down very gingerly, placed a bandaged leg upon
another chair, and said,
"Col. Coffin, my name is Briggs. I want to get
your opinion about a little point of law. Now,
colonel, s'posin' you lived up the'pike here a half a
mile, next door to a man named Johnson. And
s'posin' you and Johnson was to get into an argument about the human intellect, and you was to say
to Johnson that a splendid illustration of the superiority of the human intellect was to be found in the
power of the human eye to restrain the ferocity of a
wild animal. And s'posin' Johnson was to remark
that that was all bosh, because nobody could hold a
wild animal with the human eye, and you should
declare that you could hold the savagest beast that
was ever born if you could once fix your gaze on
him.
" Well, then, s'posin' Johnson was to say he'd bet
a hundred dollars he could bring a tame animal that
you couldn't hold with your eye, and you was to
take him up on it, and Johnson was to ask you to
come down to his place to settle the bet. You'd go,
we'll say, and Johnson'd wander round to the back
of the house and pretty soon come front again with
a dog bigger'n any four decent dogs ought to be.
And then s'posin' Johnson'd let go of that dog and
set him on you, and he'd come at you like a sixteeninch shell out of a howitzer, and you'd get scary
about it and try to hold the dog with your eye, and
couldn't. And s'posin' you'd suddenly conclude




S'POSIN',              301
that maybe your kind of an eye wasn't calculated to
hold that kind of a dog, and you'd conclude to run
for a plum tree in order to have a chance to collect
your thoughts, and to try to reflect what sort of an
eye would be best calculated to mollify that sort of
a dog. You ketch my idea, of course?
" Very well, then; s'posin you'd take your eye off
of that dog, Johnson, mind you, all the time hissing him on and laughing, and you'd turn and rush
for the tree, and begin to swarm up as fast as you
could. Well, sir, s'posin' just as you got three feet
from the ground Johnson's dog would grab you by
the leg and hold on like a vise, shaking you until
you nearly lost your hold. And s'posin' Johnson
was to stand there and holloa,'Fix your eye on him,
Briggs! Why don't you manifest the power of the
human intellect?' and so on, howling out ironical
remarks like those; and s'posin' he kept that dog on
that leg until he made you swear to pay the bet, and
then at last had to pry the dog off with a hot poker,
bringing away at the same time some of your flesh
in the dog's mouth, so that you had to be carried
home on a stretcher, and to hire several doctors to
keep you from dying with lockjaw.
"S'posin' this, what I want to know is, couldn't
you sue Johnson for damages and make him pay
heavily for what that dog did? That's what I want
to get at."
The colonel thought for a minute and then said,
"Well, Mr. Briggs, I don't think I could. If I




302              ELB O W-R OOM.
agreed to let Johnson set the dog at me, I should be
a party to the transaction and I could not recover."
" Do you mean to say that the law won't make
that infernal scoundrel Johnson suffer for letting his
dog eat me up?"
"I think not, if you state the case properly."
"It won't, hey?" exclaimed Mr. Briggs, hysterically. "Oh, very well, very well! I s'pose if that
dog had chewed me all up and spit me out it'd've
been all the same to this constitutional republic.
But hang me if I don't have satisfaction. I'll kill
Johnson, poison his dog, and emigrate to some
country where the rights of citizens are protected.
If I don't, you may bust me open!"
Then Mr. Briggs got on his crutches and hobbled
out. He is still a citizen, and will vote at the next
election.




CHAPTER XXV.
A PERSECUTED 70URNALIST.
HAT the editor of every daily paper is
persecuted by poetasters is an unquestionable fact; and it is probable that some of
L —=-' the worst of the sufferers would be justified in taking extreme measures to protect themselves
from such outrages. But that Major Slott of The
Patriot ever proposed to murder a poet in self-defence I doubt. The editor of a rival sheet in our
county declares, however, that the major actually
thirsts for blood; and in proof of the assertion he
has printed the following narrative, which, he says,
he obtained from Mr. Grady, the policeman:
"One day recently the major sent for a policeman; and when Mr. Grady, of the force, arrived, the
major shut the door of his sanctum and asked him
to take a seat.
"'Mr. Grady,' he said,'your profession necessarily brings you into contact with the criminal classes
and familiarizes you with them. This is why I have
sent for you. My business is of a confidential nature, and I trust to your honor to regard it as a
sacred trust confided in you. Mr. Grady, I wish to
3n3




304             ELBO W-ROOM.
ascertain if among your acquaintances of the criminal sort you know of any one who is a professional
assassin-who rents himself out to any one who
wants to destroy a fellow-creature? Do you know
of such a person?'
"'I dunno as I do,' said Mr. Grady, thoughtfully
rubbing his chin.'There's not much demand for
murderers now.'
"'Well,' said the editor,'I wish you'd look around
and see if you can light on such a man, and get him
to do a little job for me. I want a butcher who will
slay a person whom I will designate. I don't care
how he does it. He may stab him, or drown him,
or bang him with a shot-gun. It makes no difference
to me; I will pay him all the same. Now, will you
get me such a man?'
"'I s'pose I might. I'll look round, any way.'
"' Between you and me,' said the editor,'the chap
I'm going to assassinate is a poet-a fellow named
Markley. He has been sending poetry to this paper
every day for eight months. I never printed a line,
but he keeps stuffing it in as if he thought I was depositing it in the bank and drawing interest on it. Well,
sir, it's got to be so bad that it annoys me terribly.
It keeps me awake at night. I'm losing flesh. That
man and his poetry haunt me. I'm getting gloomy
and morose. Life is beginning to pall upon me. I
seem to be under the influence of a perpetual nightmare. I can't stand it much longer, Mr. Grady; my
reason will totter upon its throne. Here, only this




A PERSECUTED yOURNALIST.              305
morning, he sent me a poem entitled "Lines to
Hannah." Are you fond of poetry, Grady?'
"'Oh, I dunno; I don't care so very much about
it.'
"'Well, I'll read you one verse of the " Lines to
Hannah."  He says-to Hannah, mind you" The little birds sing sweetly
In the weeping willows green,
The village girls dress neatlyOh, tell me, do I dream?"
Now, you see, Grady, that is what is unseating my
mind. A man can't stand more than a certain amount
of that kind of thing. What do the public care
whether he is dreaming or whether he is drunk?
What does Hannah care?  Why, they don't care a
cent. Now, do they?'
"' Not a red cent.'
"'Of course not. And yet Markley sends me another poem, entitled "Despondency," in which he
exclaims,
"Oh, bury me deep in the ocean blue,
Where the roaring billows laugh;
Oh, cast me away on the weltering sea,
Where the dolphins will bite me in half."
Now, Mr. Grady, if you can find a competent assassin, I wouldn't make it a point with him to oblige
Mr. Markley. I don't care particularly to have the
poet buried in the weltering sea. If he can't find a
roaring billow, I'll be perfectly satisfied to have him
20




306               ELBOW-ROOM.
chucked into a creek. And I dare say that it'll make
no material difference whether the dolphins gobble
him or the catfish and eels nibble him up. It's all
the same in the long run.  Mention this to your
murderer when you speak to him, will you? Now,
I'll show you why this thing takes all the heart out
of me. In his poem entitled " Longings" he uses
this language:
" Oh, sing to me, darling, a sweet song to-night,
While I bask in the smile of thine eyes,
While I kiss those dear lips in the dark silent room,
And whisper my saddening good-byes."
Now, you see how it is yourself, Grady, don't you?
How  is she going to sing to him  while he kisses
those lips, and how is he going to whisper goodbye?  Isn't that awful slush?  Now, isn't it?  And
then, if the room is dark, what I want to know is
how he's going to tell whether her eyes are smiling
or not? Mr. Grady, either the man is insane or I
am; and if your butcher is going to stab Markley,
you'll oblige me by telling him  that I want him to
jab him deep, and maybe fill him up with poison or
something to make it absolutely certain.
"'I know that when he sent me that poem  about
"The Unknown " I parsed it, and examined it with a
microscope, and sent it around to a chemist's to be
analyzed, but hang me if I know yet what he's driv.
ing at when he says,
" The uffish spectral gleaming of that wild resounding clang
Came hooting o'er the margin of the dusky nmoors that hang




A PERSECUTE!D — OURNAL!IST.         307
Like palls of inky darkness where the hoarse, weird raven calls,
And the bhang-drunk Hindoo staggers on and on until he falls."
Isn't that- Well, now, isn't that just the most fearful
mess of stuff that was ever ground out of a lunatie
asylum?'
"' It's the awfullest I ever saw.'
"'Well, then, I get eighteen of them a week, and
they madden me. They keep my brain in a frenzied
whirl. Grady, this man must die. Self-preservation
is the first law of nature. I have a wife and children; I conduct a great paper; I educate the public
mind. My life is valuable to my country. Destroy
this poet, and future generations will praise your
name. He must be wiped out, exterminated, obliterated from the face of the earth. Kill him dead
and bury him deep, and fix him in so's he will stay
down, and bring in the bill for the tombstone. I
leave the case to you. You need not tell me you
have done this job. When the poems cease to come
to me, I will know that he is dead. That will settle
it. Good-morning.'"
It is believed that the poet must have been
warned by Grady, for the supplies suddenly ceased;
and Markley is saving up his effusions for some
other victim.
But the major has other persecutors. One of
them  came into the editorial-room  of the Patriot
during one of those very hot days in June. Major
Slott was perspiring in an effort to hammer out aD




1Q8             ELBOW-RO00.
article on "The Necessity for Speedy Resumption."
The visitor seized a chair and nudged up close to the
major. Then he said,
" My name is Partridge. I called to show you a
iittle invention of mine."
" HUven't got time to look at it. I'm busy."
"I see you are. Won't keep you more'n a minute" (removing his hat). " Look at that hat and
tell me how it strikes you."
" Oh, don't bother me! I'm not interested in hats
just now."
" I know you ain't, and that's not a hat. That's
Partridge's Patent Atmospheric Refresher.  Looks
exactly like a high hat, don't it? Now, what's the
thing you want most this kind of weather?"
"The thing I want most is to have you skip out
of here."
"What everybody wants is to keep cool, of course.
Now, how are you going to do it? Why, if you
know when you are well off, you will do it with this
hat. But how? I will explain. If you compress
air until it attains a considerable pressure, and then
suddenly release it, the rapid expansion causes the
air to absorb heat and to produce quite a marked
degree of cold. You know this, of course?"
"I wish you'd compress your air, and then expand
it in the ears of somebody besides me."
" Now, in my invention I have utilized this beautiful law of nature in a manner that is certain to confer an inestimable blessing upon the human race.




A PERSECUTED JOURNALIST.          3O9
This hat is really made of light boiler iron covered
with silk. The compressed air is contained in it.
At the present moment it is subjected to a pressure
of eighty-seven pounds to the square inch. If that
hat should explode while I am sitting here, it would
blow the roof off of this building."
"So it killed you I wouldn't care."
"Well, sir, the way I work this wonderful appliance is this:  The air-pump is concealed in the
small of my back, under my coat. A pipe connects
it with the receiver in my hat, and there is a kind of
crank running down my right trouser leg and fastened to my boot, so that the mere act of walking
pumps the air into the receiver. But how do I
effect the cooling process?  Listen: Another pipe
comes from the receiver and empties into a kind of
a sheet-iron undershirt, perforated with holes, which
I wear beneath my outside shirt —"
" If you'd wear something over that shirt, so as to
hide the dirt, you'd be more agreeable."
"Now, s'posin' it's a warm day. I'm going along
the street with the air-crank in operation.  The
receiver is full. I want to cool off. I pull the string
which runs down my left sleeve; the air rushes from
the receiver, suddenly expands about my body, and
makes me feel so cold that I wish I had brought my
overcoat with me."
" I wish to gracious you'd go home and get it now."
" You see, then, that this invention is of the utmost
value and importance, and my idea in calling upon




310             ELBOW-ROOM.
you was to give you a chance to mention and describe it in your paper, so that the public might
know about it. You are the only editor I have revealed the secret to.  I thought I'd give you the
first chance to become a benefactor of your race."
" I'm the kind of benefactor that charges one dollar a line for such philanthropy."
"To assure yourself that the machine is perfect
you must try it for yourself. Just stand up and take
your coat off. Then I'll put the hat on your head,
screw the pump into the small of your back and
fix the other machinery down your legs."
"I'll see you hanged first."
"Well, then, I'll put it on myself and illustrate
the theory for you. You see the rod here in my
trousers? This is the air-pump here, just above my
suspender buttons. The hat now contains about six
atmospheres. Now:I am ready to move. See?
You observe how it works?  The only noise you
hear is a slight click of the valve in the pump. A
couple more turns, and you put your hand on my
shirt-collar and feel how near zero it is. I will get
the pressure up to one hundred pounds before I-"
BANG!!!
As soon as the major began to realize the situation he crawled out from beneath his overturned
desk, wiped the contents of the inkstand from his
face and hair with the copy of that unfinished article
upon "The Necessity for Speedy Resumption," and
looked about him. Mr. Partridge was lying in the




An         d          WK'~~,,,_ aIl;  I 11ii' iJbT~'0 I~  l,  I~








A PERSECUTED 7yOURNALIST.         313
corner with a splintered table over his legs, his head
in a spittoon, and fragments of ruined machinery
bursting out through enormous rents in his trousers
and his coat. His cast-iron undershirt protruded in
jagged points from a dozen orifices in his waistcoat.
As the major took him by the leg to haul him out
of the debris Partridge opened his eyes wearily and
said,
"Awful clap, wasn't it?  You ought to've had
lightning-rods on this building.  Struck by lightning, wasn't I?"
" You intolerable ass!" exclaimed the major as the
clerks and reporters came rushing in and began to
place Partridge on his legs; " it wasn't lightning. It
was that infernal machine that you wanted me to put
on my head. If it had driven you under ground
about forty feet, I'd have been glad, even if it had
also demolished the building."
"What! the receiver exploded, did it? Too bad,
ain't it? Blamed if I didn't think she was strong
enough to bear twice that pressure. I must have
made a mistake in my calculations, however," said
Partridge, pinning up his clothes and holding his
handkerchief to his bloody nose; " I'll have another
one made, and come around to show you the invention to better advantage."
"If you do, I'll brain you with an inkstand," said
the major.
Then Partridge limped out, and the major, abandoning the subject of resumption, began a fresh edi



3 14            ELBO W-ROOM.
torial upon "The Extraordinary Prevalence of Idiots
at the Present Time."
The Patriot has shown a remarkable amount of
enterprise lately in obtaining,'or professing to obtain, an interview with the Wandering Jew. The
reader can form his own estimate- of the value of
the report, which appeared in the Patriot in the following fashion:
Reports were floating about the city yesterday to
the effect that the Wandering Jew had been seen
over in New Jersey.  A reporter was sent over at
once to hunt him up, and to interview him if he should
be found. After a somewhat protracted search the
reporter discovered a promising-looking person sitting on the top rail of a fence just outside of Camden
engaged in eating some crackers and cheese. The
reporter approached him and addressed him at a
venture:
" Beautiful day, Cantaphilus!"
This familiarity seemed necessary; because if the
Wandering Jew has any family name, the fact has
not been revealed to the public.
"' Bless my soul, young man, how on earth did you
know me?" exclaimed the Jew.
" Oh, I don't know; something about your appearance told me who it was. I'm mighty glad to see
you, any way. When did you arrive?"
" I came on here yesterday. Been down in Terra
del Fuego, where I heard about the Centennial, and




A PERSECUTED.OURNA.LIST.        31 5
I thought I'd run up and have a look at it. Be a
good thing, I reckon. Time flies, though, don't it?
Seems to me only yesterday that a man over here in
Siberia told me that you people were fighting your
Revolutionary war."
He sat upon the fence as he talked; his feet, cased:c:~           1.
in gum shoes, rested on the third rail from the bottom; his umbrella was under his arm; his face was
deeply wrinkled, and his long white beard bobbed
up and down as he ate his lunch voraciously, diving
into his carpet-bag every now and then for more,




316             ELBO W-ROOM.
The reporter remarked that he feared that such a
liberal diet of cheese would disagree with the eater,
but the old man said,
"Why, my goodness, sonny, I've been hunting all
over the earth for seventeen centuries for something
to disagree with me. That's what I yearn for. If
I could only get dyspepsia once, I might hope to
wear myself out. But it's no use. I could lunch
on a pound of nails and feel as comfortable as a baby
after a bottle of milk. That's one of my peculiarities. You know nothing ever hurts me. Why,
I've been thrown out of volcanoes —lemme see: well,
dozens of times- and never been singed a bit.'Most
always, in real cold weather, I step over to Italy and
roost around inside of Vesuvius; and then, maybe,
there's an eruption, and I'm heaved out a couple of
hundred miles or so, but always safe and sound.
What I don't know about volcanic eruptions, my
child, isn't worth knowing. I went sailing around
through the air when Pompeii was destroyed. Yes,
sir, I was there; saw the whole thing. Why, I could
tell you the most wonderful stories. You wouldn't
believe."
" How do you travel generally?"
"Oh, different ways. I have gone around some
in sleeping-cars, and had my baggage checked
through; but generally I prefer to walk. I'm never
in a hurry, and I like to take my own route. I'm a
mighty good walker. I did think of getting up some
kind of a pedestrian match with some of your chami




A PERSECUTED, 7OURNALZST.       317
pion walkers, but it's no use; it'd only create an
excitement."'
" How do people treat you usually?"
"Well, I can't complain. Snap me up for a tramp
sometimes, or make disagreeable remarks about me.
But generally I get along well enough. The undertakers are hardest on me. They say I exercise a
depressing influence on their business by setting a
bad example to other people; and one of'em, over
in Constantinople, he said a man who'd defrauded
about fifty-four generations of undertakers ought to
be ashamed to show his face in civilized society.
But bless you, sonny, I don't mind them. Business,
you know, is business. It's perfectly natural for them
to feel that way about it; now, isn't it?"
" Will you have a cigar, after eating?"
"No; none for me. Raleigh wanted me to learn
to smoke when he was in Virginia, but I didn't care
for it. You remember him, of course? Oh no; I
forgot how young you are. Pleasant man, but a
little too chimerical.  I liked Columbus better.
Nero was a man who'd've suited you newspaper
people.'Most always a murder every day. And
then that fire in Rome when he fiddled; made a
splendid report for the papers, wouldn't it? Poor
sort of a man, though. The only time I ever saw
him was when he was drowning his mother. Dropped
the old lady over and let her drift off as if he didn't
care a cent."
"Talking of newspapers, how would you like to




3I8             ELBOW-ROOM.
make an engagement as the traveling correspondent
of the Patriot?"
"Well, I dunno. I wouldn't mind sending you a
letter now and then, but I don't care to make any
regular engagement. You see I haven't written a
great deal for about eighteen hundred years, and a
man kind of gets out of practice in that time. I
write such an awful poor hand, too. No; I guess I
won't contribute regularly. I have thought sometimes maybe I might do a little work as a bookagent, so's to pick up a few stray dollars. But I
never had a fair chance offered to me, and I didn't
care enough about it to hunt it up; and so nothing
ever came of it. I could make a good book fairly
hum around this globe, though, don't you think?"
"Were you ever married?  Did you ever have a
wife?"
"See here, my son, I never did you any harm,
and what's the use of your bringing up such disagreeable reminiscences? The old lady died in Egypt in
73. They made her up into a mummy, and I reckon
they put a pyramid on her to hold her down. That's
enough; that satisfies me."
"Is your memory generally good?"
"Well, about fair; that's all. I know I used to
get Petrarch mixed up in my mind with St. Peter,
and I've several times alluded to Plutarch as the god
of the infernal regions. I'm often hazy about people.
The queerest thing! You know that once, in conversation with Benjamin Franklin, I confounded Mark




A PERSECUTED yOURNALIST.          319
Antony with Saint Anthony, and actually alluded to
the saint's oration over the dead body of Caesar.
Positive fact. I'll tell you how I often keep the run
of things: I say of a certain event,'That happened
during the century that I was bilious,' or,' It occurred in the century when I had rheumatism.' That's
the way I fix the time. I did commence to keep a
diary back in I34, but I ran up a stack of manuscript
three or four hundred feet high, and then I gave it
up. Couldn't lug it round with me, you know."
"I suppose you have known a great many celebrated people?"
" Plenty of'em-plenty of'em, sir. By the way,
did anybody ever tell you that you looked like Mohammed? Well, sir, you do. Astonishing likeness!
Now, there was an old scalawag for you. A perfect
fraud! I lent that man a pai-r of boots in 598, and
he never returned them; said I'd get my reward
hereafter.  I've regretted those boots for nearly
thirteen hundred years."
"Did it ever occur to you to lecture?"
"Oh yes; I've turned it over in my mind. But I
guess I won't. You see, my son, I'm so crammed
full of information that if I began a discourse I could
hardly stop under a couple of years; and that's too
long for a lecture, you know. Then they might
encore it; and so I hardly think I'd better go in.
No, I'll just trudge along in the old fashion."
" Have you any views about the questions of the
day? Are you in favor of soft money or hard?"




320             ELBOW-ROOM.
"Young man, the advice to you of a man who has
studied the world for nearly two thousand years is
to take any kind you can get. That's solid wisdom."
Then, as the old man babbled on, he descended
from the fence, shouldered his umbrella, and together
the two started for the ferry. He said he wanted to
buy a new suit of clothes. That he had on he had
bought in I807 in Germany, and -it was beginning to
get threadbare. So the reporter led him over the
river, put him in a horse-car, asked him to send his
address to the office, and the aged pilgrim nudged
up into a corner seat, put his valise on the floor and
sailed serenely out of sight amid the reverberation
of the oaths hurled by the driver at an Irish draynlan who occupied the track in front of the car.




CHAPTER XXVI.
L.F. i CHIE VEMENTS OF DR. PERKINS.
T1' knight be hardly fair to say that Doctor
P'eikins, a former resident of the village,
was a quack; he may be described in
mildei phrase as an irregular practitioner.
He belonged to noile of the accepted schools, but
treated his patients in accordance with certain
theories of his own. The doctor had a habit of
relating remarkable stories of his own achievements,
and the most wonderful of these wa's his account of
an attempt that he once made to cure a man named
Simpson of consumption by the process of transfusion of blood. The doctor, according to his own
story, determined to inject healthy blood into Simpson's veins.
As no human being was willing to shed his blood
for Simpson, the doctor bled Simpson's goat; and
opening a vein in Simpson's arm, he injected about
two quarts of the blood into the patient's system.
Simpson immediately began to revive, but, singular
to relate, no sooner had his strength returned than
he jumped out of bed; and twitching his head about
after the fashion of a goat, he made a savage attempt
21                                321




322            ELBOW-ROOM.
to butt the doctor. That medical gentleman, after
having Simpson's head plunged against his stomach
three or four times, took refuge in the closet; whereupon Simpson banged his head against the panel of
the door a couple of times, and would probably have
broken it to splinters had not his mother-in-law entered at that moment and diverted his attention. One
well-directed blow from Simpson floored her, and
then, while she screamed for help, Simpson frolicked
around over the floor, making assiduous efforts to




THE ACH~IEVEMENTS OF DR. PERKINS. 323
nibble the green flowers in the ingrain carpet. When
they called the hired man in and tied him down on
the bed, an effort was made to interview him, but the
only answer he could give to such questions as how
he felt and when he wanted his medicine was a
" ba-a" precisely like that of a goat, and then he would
strain himself in an effort to butt a hole in the headboard. The condition of the patient was so alarming, and Mrs. Simpson was so indignant, that Dr.
Perkins determined to undo the evil if possible. So
he first bled Simpson freely, and then, by heavily
bribing Simpson's Irishman, he procured fresh blood
from him, and injected Simpson the second time.
Simpson recovered, but he shocked his old Republican
friends by displaying an irresistible tendency to vote
the Democratic ticket, and made his mother-in-law
mad by speaking with a strong brogue. He gradually gave up butting, and never indulged in it in a
serious manner but once, and that was on a certain
Sunday, when, one of the remaining corpuscles of
goat's blood getting into his brain just as he was
going into church, he butted the sexton halfway up
the aisle, and only recovered himself sufficiently to
apologize just as the enraged official was about to
floor him with a hymn-book.
But the doctor did not succeed with private practice in Millburg, and so one day he made up his mind
to try to get out of poverty by inventing a patent
medicine. After some reflection he concluded that
the two most frequent and most unpopular forms of




324             ELB O W-ROOM.
infirmity were baldness of head and torpidity of the
liver, and he selected compounds recommended by
the pharmacopceia as the remedies which he would
sell to the public. One he called "Perkins' Hair
Vigor," and the other "Perkins' Liver Regulator."
Procuring a large number of fancy bottles and gaudy
labels, he bottled the medicines and advertised them
extensively, with certificates of imaginary cures,
which were written out for him by a friend whose
liver was active and whose hair was abundant.
It is not at all unlikely that Perkins would have
achieved success with his enterprise but for one unfortunate circumstance: he was totally unfamiliar
with the preparations, excepting in so far as the
pharmacopceia instructed him; and as ill-luck would
have it, in putting them up he got the labels of the
liver regulator on the hair vigor bottles, and the
labels of the latter on the bottles containing the
former. Of course the results were appalling; and
as Doctor Perkins had requested the afflicted to inform him of the benefits derived from applying the
remedies, he had not sold more than a few hundred
bottles before he began to hear from the purchasers.
One day, as he was coming out of his office, he
observed a man sitting on the fire-plug with a shotgun in his hand and thunder upon his brow. The
man was bare-headed, and his scalp was covered
with a shiny substance of some kind. When he
saw Perkins, he emptied one load of bird-shot into
the inventor's legs, and he was about to give him




THE A CHIE EMENTS OF DR. PERKINS. 325
the contents of the other barrel, when Perkins hobbled into the office and shut the door. The man
pursued him and tried to break in the door with the
butt of the gun. He failed, and Perkins asked him
what he meant by such murderous conduct.
"You come out here, and I'll show you what I
mean, you scoundrel!" said the man. "You steF
out here for a minute, and I'll blow the head off of
you for selling me hair vigor that has gummed my
head up so that I can't wear a hat and can't sleep
without sticking to the pillow-case.  Turned my
scalp all green and pink, too. You put your head
out of that door, and I'll give you more vigor than
you want, you idiot! I expect that stuff'll soak in
and kill me."
Then the man took his seat again on the fire-plug,
and after reloading the barrel of his gun put on a
fresh cap and waited. Perkins remained inside and
sent a boy out the back way for the mail. The first
letter he opened was from a woman, who wrote:
" My husband took one dose of your liver regulator and immediately went into spasms. He has
had fits every hour for four days. As soon as he
dies I am coming on to kill the fiend who poisoned
him."
A clergyman in Delaware wrote to ask what were
the ingredients of the liver regulator. He feared
something was wrong, because his aunt had taken
the medicine only twice, when she began to roll over
on the floor and howl in the most alarming manner,




326             ELBOW-ROOM.
and she had been in a comatose condition for fifteen
hours.
A man named Johnson dropped a line to say that
after applying the hair vigor to his scalp he had
leaned his head against the back of a chair, and it
had now been in that position two days. He feared
he would never be released unless he cut up the
chair and wore the piece permanently on his head.
He was coming to see Perkins in reference to the
matter when he got loose, and he was going to bring
his dog with him.
A Mr. Wilson said that his boy had put some of
the vigor on his face in order to induce the growth
of a moustache, and that at the present moment the
boy's upper lip was glued fast to the tip of his nose
and his countenance looked as if it had been coated
with green varnish.
There were about forty other letters, giving the
details of sundry other cases of awful suffering and
breathing threatenings and slaughter against Mr.
Perkins. Just as Mr. Perkins was finishing these
epistles a friend of his came rushing in through the
back door breathless, and exclaimed,
"By George, Aleck, you better get over the fence
and leave town as quick as you can. There's thunder to pay about those patent medicines of yours.
Old Mrs. Gridley's just gone up on that liver regulator, after being in convulsions for a week. Thompson's hired girl is lying at the last gasp, four of
the Browns have got the awfulest-looking heads




THIE ACHIE VEMENTS OF DR. PE.RKINS. 327
you ever saw from the hair vigor, and about a dozen
other people are up at the sheriff's office taking out
warrants for your arrest. The people are talking of
mobbing you, and the crowd out here on the pavement are cheering a green-headed man with a gun
who says he's going to bang the head off of you.
Now, you take my advice and skip. It'll be sudden
death to stay here. Leave! that's your only chance."
Then Doctor Perkins got over the fence and ran
for the early train, and an hour later the mob gutted
his office and smashed the entire stock of remedies.
Perkins is in Canada now, working in a saw-mill.
He is convinced that there is no money for him in
the business of relieving human suffering.




CHAPTER XXVII.
GERNERAL TRUMPS OF THE MILITIA.
HE principal warrior in our community is
General Trumps, the commander of the
militia of the district. The general has
seen service in the South and West, and is
a pretty good soldier. In these happy days of peace,
however, he does not often have an opportunity to
display his fighting qualities, but sometimes even
now, when he is provoked to wrath, he becomes
bloodthirsty and ferocious. Last summer the general went to Cape May. Previous to his arrival two
young men, whom I will call Brown and Jones,
occupied adjoining rooms at a certain hotel. One
day Brown fixed a string to the covers on Jones' bed
and ran the cord through the door into his own room.
His purpose was to pull the covers off as soon as
Jones got comfortably fixed for the night. But that
afternoon General Trumps came down; and as the
hotel was crowded, the landlord put Jones in the
room with Brown and gave Jones' apartment to the
general. Brown forgot about the string, and he and
Jones went to bed. About midnight Jones' dog,
while prowling around the room, got the string
328




GENERAL TRUMPS OF THE MILITIA.  329
tangled about his leg, and in struggling to reach the
window he slowly dragged the bed-clothes off of
the soldier, next door. That gentleman awoke, and
after scolding his wife for removing. the blankets
went to sleep again. Presently Jones' dog saw a rat
and darted after it.  Off came the covers again.
Then the rrtan of war was angry. He roused his wife
and scolded her vigorously. She protested her innocence, and while she was speaking Jones' dog heard
another dog outside, and hurried to the window to
bark. The covers were again removed. Then the
general fumbled about until he found the cord.
Then he loaded up his revolver, drew his sword
and dared Jones and Brown to open their door and
come out into the entry. They peeped at him over
the transom, observed his warlike preparations,
glanced at the string and the dog, packed their carpet-bags, slid down the water-spout outside, and went
home in the five-o'clock train. The manner in which
that battle-scarred veteran roared around the hotel
during the day was said to have been frightful; and
when rumors came that Brown and Jones had gone
to another place in the neighborhood, he spent the
day hunting for them with a purpose to commit
violence. He gradually became calmer, and as his
anger subsided the humorous aspect of the matter
appeared, and he felt rather glad that he had not
encountered the two young men.
Several years ago the general was out upon the
plains fighting the Indians. One of the men who




330             ELBOW-ROOM.
accompanied his command was a Major Bing. It
happened that the major was captured by the savages,
and it devolved upon the general to bear the melancholy tidings to Mrs. Bing. It appears that while the
general was on his way home Mrs. Bing moved into
another house; and when the general'returned with
the sad intelligence, he did not know of the fact, but
went to the old house, which was now occupied by
Mrs. Wood. He told the servant-girl to tell her
mistress to come into the parlor, and then he took a
seat on the sofa and thought how he could break the
news of the major's death to her so as not to give




GENERAL TRUMPS OF THE MILITIA.  331
her too violent a shock. When Mrs. Wood entered,
the general greeted her mournfully; and when they
had taken seats, the following conversation ensued:
" Madam, I have been the major's friend ever since
our childhood. I played with him when we were
boys together. I grew up to manhood with him; I
watched with pride his noble and successful career;
I rejoiced when he married the lovely woman before
me; and I went to the West with him. Need I tell
you that I loved him? I loved him only less than
you did."
"I don't understand you, sir," said Mrs. Wood.
"Whom are you referring to?"
"Why, to the major. I say that your love for
him alone was greater than mine; and I am —"
" Your remarks are a mystery to me. I have no
attachment of that kind."
"Call it what you will, madam. I know how
strong the tie was between you-how deep the devotion which kept two loving souls in perfect unison.
And knowing this, of course I feel deeply that to
wound either heart by telling of misfortune to the
other is a task from which a man like me might very
properly shrink. But I have a duty to perform-a
solemn duty. What would you say, my dear madam,
if I should tell you that the major had lost a leg?
What would you say to that?"
" I don't know. If I knew a major who had lost
a leg, I should probably advise him to buy a wooden
one."




332             ELB O W-R OOM.
"Light-hearted as ever," said the general. "Just
as he told me you were. Poor woman! you will
need your buoyant spirits yet. But, dear madam,
suppose the major had lost not only one leg, but
two; both gone; no legs at all; not a pin to stand
on; now, how would that strike you?"
" Really, sir, this is getting to be absurd. I don't
care whether your major has as many legs as a centipede or none at all. If you have any business with
me, please transact it as quickly as possible."
"Madam, this is too serious a subject for jest.
The major has lost not only his legs, but his arms.
He is absolutely without limbs of any kind at this
moment. That's as true as I'm sitting here. Now,
don't scream, please."
"I haven't the slightest idea of screaming."
"Well, you take it mighty cool, I must say. But
that's not the worst of it. All his ribs are gone, his
nose has departed, and he only has one eye and a
part of one shoulder-blade. I pledge you my word
that's the truth. I hardly think he will recover."
"I shouldn't think he would, in that condition;
but, upon my life, I cannot see that the fact interests
me at all."
"Not interest you! Well, that is amazing! Not
int —   Why, my goodness, woman, that's not half
of it.  The major's scalp's all gone; he hasn't
enough fuzz on his head to make a camel's-hair
pencil; he has a stake through his body, and he's
been burnt until he is all doubled up in a hard knot;




GENERAL TR UMPS OF THE MILITIA.  333
and, in my private opinion, it's mighty unlikely he'll
ever be untied and straightened out again. If that
doesn't fetch you, you must have a heart of stone."
"I don't care anything about it, sir. It's none of
my business."
"Well, then, as long as you're so indifferent, let
me tell you, plump and plain, that the major's dead as
Julius Caesar! The Indians killed him, burnt him and
minced him up! Now, that's the solemn truth, and
his last words to me were,'Break the news gently
to Maria.' You see the man loved you. He cared
more for you than you seemed to do for him. He
would have welcomed death if he had known you
had ceased to love him."
"What did you say his last words were?"
" Why, just before his soul took its eternal flight
he whispered something in my ear. Then I made a
sudden dash and escaped from the savages, to-bring
his message back to you.  That message was:'Break the news gently to Maria.' That's what the
major said with his dying lips."
"Well, then, why don't you break the news to
Maria?"
"Madam, such levity is untimely. I have broken
it-broken it gently. You have heard it all."
" Do you suppose I am Major Bing's wife?"
" Certainly."
"Well, she moved around into Market street last
December. Maybe you'd better hunt her up."
The general looked at Mrs. Wood solemnly for a




334            ELBO W-ROOM.
minute, and then he said he would. Then he bade
Mrs. Wood good-morning, bowed himself out and
walked around to look for the widow. When the real
widow heard the news, she was deeply'affected, and
she sobbed in a most distressing manner. Subsequently she went into mourning. The life insurance
company paid her the money due upon the major's
policy. The major's lodge passed resolutions of
regret, his family divided up his property, and the
community settled down comfortably in the conviction that the major was finally and hopelessly
dead.
About a year afterward, however, Major Bing suddenly arrived in town without announcing his coming. He had been held as a prisoner by the Indians,
and had escaped. As he stepped from the cars a
policeman looked at him a minute, then seized him
by the collar and hurried him around to the coroner's
office. Before he could recover from his amazement
the coroner empaneled a jury, put the action of the
insurance company in evidence and promptly got
from the jury a verdict that "the said Bing came to
his death at the hands of the Indians."
Then the major went to his house and found his
widow sitting on the front porch talking to Myers,
the man to whom she was engaged to be married.
As he entered the gate his widow gave one little
start of surprise, and then, regaining her composure,
she said to Myers,
"Isn't this a new kind of an idea-dead people




GENERAL TRUMPS OF THE MILITIA.  335
coming around when common decency requires them
to keep quiet?"
"It's altogether wrong," said Myers. "If I was
dead, I'd lie still and quit wandering about over the
face of the earth."
"Maria, don't you know me?" asked the major,
indignantly.
"I used to know you when you were alive; but
now that you're gone, I don't expect to recognize
you until we meet in a better world."
"But, Maria, I am not dead. You certainly see
that I am alive."
"Not dead! Didn't you send word to me that
you were? Am I to refuse to believe my own husband? The life insurance company says you are deceased; the lodge says so; the coroner officially
asserts the fact. What am I to do? The evidence
is all one way."
"But you shall accept me as alive!" shouted the
major, in a rage.
" Mr. Myers," said the widow, calmly, "hadn't we
better send for the undertaker to come and bury
these remains?"
" Look here!" said Myers. "I'm the last man to
do a dead friend an injury, but I ain't going to have
any departed spirit coming in here and giving this
lady hysterics. You pack up and go back, and stay
there, or I'll have you hustled into a tomb quicker'n
lightning.  Hurry up now; don't stop to think
about it!"




336             EIBOW-ROOM.
"This beats the very old Harry!" said the major,
in astonishment.
"No answering back, now," said Myers. "When
I want communications from the other world, I'll
hunt up a spiritualist medium and get my information out of knocks on a table. All you've got to do
is to creep off into the tomb somewhere and behave."
" You're perfectly certain I'm dead, are you?" said
the major, getting calmer.
"Why, of course."
" Can a dead man violate the laws?"
" Certainly not."
"Well, then, I'm going to hammer you with this
club, and I reckon you'll find me the most energetic
corpse in the county."
They say that the fight was terrific. First the
major was on top, then Myers; and as they rolled
over and over in the porch the widow sat by and
surveyed the scene. Finally, Myers explained that
upon the whole he believed he had enough; and
when the major had given him a few supplementary
thumps, he got up, and gazing at the prostrate
Myers and at the widow, he said,
"Take her; take her, young man. You're welcome to her. I wouldn't have her if she was the
only woman in the temperate zone. But let me tell
you, before you get her, that when you are married
to her you'll wish something'd happen to send you
down to the bottom of the ocean and anchor you
there."




CENERAL TRUMPS OF THE MILITIA.  337
I
VI-& -- -----------
Then the major slammed the gate and left; and
he started life afresh in New York. Myers has written to him since to say that the only grudge that he
has against him is that he didn't kill him in that fight
in the porch, for the widow has made death seem
blissful to him; and the major's answer was that the
reason why he spared his life was that he wanted to
make his revenge fiendish.
Of course I do not vouch for this part of the story
22




338             ELBOW-ROOM.
which tells of the major's return. General Trumps
is responsible for that; and I know that sometimes,
when his imagination is unduly warmed, he is prone to
exaggeration. The general's own domestic matters
are in the most charming condition. According to his
own story, he never had any unpleasant feeling in his
family but once. Several years ago he was in Williamsport attending to his business. While there he
had a strong premonition that something was the matter at home; so, in order to satisfy himself, he determined to run down to Philadelphia in the next train.
In the mean time, his mother-in-law sent him a despatch to this effect: " Another daughter has just arrived. Hannah is poorly; come home at once." The
lines were down, however, and the despatch was held
over; and meanwhile the general reached home, and
found his wife doing pretty well and the nurse walking around with an infant a day old.  After staying
twenty-four hours, and finding that everybody was
tolerably comfortable, he returned to Williamsport
without anything having been said about the despatch, his mother-in-law supposing of course that
he had received it. The day after his arrival the
lines were fixed, and that night he received a despatch from the telegraph office dated that very day,
and conveying the following intelligence:
"Another daughter has just arrived. Hannah is
poorly; come home at once."
The general was amazed and bewildered.  tie
couldn't understand it. He walked the floor of his




GENERAL TRUMPS OF THE MILITIA.  339
room all night trying to get the hang of the thing;
and the more he considered the subject, the more he
became alarmed at the extraordinary occurrence. He
took the early train for the city, and during the
journey was in a condition of frantic bewilderment.
When he arrived, he jumped in a cab, drove furiously
to the house, and scared his mother-in-law into convulsions by rushing in in a frenzy and demanding
what on earth had happened. He was greatly relieved to find that there was but one infant in the
nursery, and to learn how the mistake occurred.
But he felt as if he would like to see the telegraph
operator who changed the date of that despatch.
He wanted to remonstrate with him.




CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE MISDIRECTED ENERGIES OF MR. BRADLE 1.
R. BRADLEY, our inventor, has had some
experiences in addition to those already
recorded which may perhaps be entertaining to the reader. One of the peculiarities of Bradley's contrivances is that when they
are designed to do a specified work, that is conspicuously the work they cannot possibly be induced
to do. There, for instance, was Bradley's famous
steam-pump.
Some years ago Bradley invented a steam-pump
for use on shipboard. He claimed for it that it
would pump about three times as many gallons in a
minute as any other pump, and he got some of his
political friends in -Congress to use their influence
with the Navy Department to have it tried on one of
the navy vessels. Finally he succeeded in having it
introduced upon a small steamer, which we W'ill
call the Water Witch; and when everything was
ready, the ship started upon a trial trip. Soon after
she got to sea, Bradley, who was aboard, said he
would like to try the pump upon the bilge-water to
see how she worked..340




BRADLE Y'S PUMP.            341
The captain ordered the engineer to turn it on,
and the machine operated apparently in the most
beautiful manner. In about an hour one of the
officers reported that the water was gaining rapidly
in the hold, and the captain sent some men down to
discover where the leak was. They came back and
reported that they couldn't find the hole, but that
the water was pouring in somewhere in frightful
quantities.
Then some of the officers went down and spent
half an hour in water up to their waists feeling
around after that awful hole, but they couldn't ascertain where it was. The only thing that they were
certain of was that the water was steadily gaining on
them, and the ship was certain to sink unless something was done. All this time Mr. Bradley's pump
was working away, and the captain continually enjoined the engineer to give it greater speed.
Then the captain himself went down and made an
examination; and although he failed to find the leak,
he was alarmed to discover a quantity of codfish and
porpoises swimming about in the hold, because he
knew that the hole in the hull must be very large
indeed to admit the fish. And still the water rose
steadily all the time, although Bradley's pump was
jerking away at it in a terrific manner and all the
other pumps were running at full speed.
At last the captain made up his mind that he
should have to desert the ship, as she was certain to
sink; and so the boats were made ready and packed




342             ELBO W-ROOM.
with provisions and water and a few little comforts
and by this time the water in the bilge was nearly
up to the furnace fires.
Just then Bradley's pump suddenly stopped; and
then the captain turned pale as death and demanded
to know who stopped that pump, while Bradley
buckled a life-preserver around him, corked up a
note to his wife in a bottle, and said that now that
the pump had ceased he would give that steamer
just four minutes to reach bottom.
While he was speaking the engineer came up and
said,
"Mr. Bradley, what did you say was the capacity
of your pump?"
" Six hundred gallons a minute."
" Six hundred. Well, Mr. Bradley, how many gallons do you estimate that there are in the Atlantic
Ocean?"
"Blessed if I know. How in the mischief can I
tell that?"
" Oh, it don't make any particular difference, only
I thought you might have some kind of an indistinct
idea how long it would take you to run the ocean
through your pump."
" I dunno, I'm sure," said Bradley.
"Well, I merely wanted to say that, whatever
your calculations respecting the number of gallons
in the Atlantic, it is perfectly useless for you to try
to load up that ocean in this vessel. She won't hold
more'n half of it."




BRADLE Y'S PUMP.            343
" What do you mean, sir?" demanded Bradley.
" Why, I mean that that diabolical pump of yours,
instead of taking out the bilge, has been spurting
water into this vessel for the past four hours, and
that if you have a theory that you can strike dry land
by that process it is ingenious, but it won't work, for
it's going to sink this ship."
Then the captain swore till the air was blue.
Then he put Bradley in irons, and ripped out his
pump, and unpacked the boats, and pumped out the
water, and picked up the codfish and porpoises, and
set sail for home for the purpose of making a report
on the subject of the new invention. The Bradley
Improved Marine Steam-pump went right out of use
at the end of the voyage.
Another invention of Bradley's was a scientific
system of foretelling the weather. He had a lot of
barometers, hygrometers and such things in his
house, and he claimed that by reading these intelligently and watching the clouds, in accordance with
his theory, a man could prophesy what kind of
weather there would be three days ahead. They
were getting up a Sunday-school picnic in town in
May; and as Bradley ascertained that there would
be no rain on a certain Thursday, they selected that
day for the purpose. The sky looked gloomy when
they started; but as Bradley declared that it absolutely couldn't rain on Thursday, everybody felt that
it was safe to go. About two hours after the party
reached the grounds, however, a shower came up, and




344             ELBOW-R O O.
it rained so hard that it ruined all the provisions, wet
everybody to the skin and washed the cake into
dough. On the following Monday the agricultural
exhibition was to be held; but as Mr. Bradley foresaw
that there would be a terrible north-east storm on
that day, he suggested to the president of the society
that it had better be postponed. So they put it off;
and that was the only clear Monday we had during
May. About the first of June, Mr. Bradley announced that there would not be any rain until the
I5th; and consequently we had showers every day
right along up to that time, with the exception of the
ioth when there was a slight spit of snow.  So
on the I 5th, Bradley foresaw that the rest of the
month would be wet; and by an odd coincidence a
drought set in and it only rained once during the two
weeks, and that was the day on which Bradley informed the base-ball club that it could play a match,
because it would be clear.
On toward the first of July he began to have some
doubts if his improved weather-system was correct;
he was convinced that it must work by contraries. So
when Professor Jones asked him if it would be safe
to attempt to have a display of fireworks on the
night of the 5th, Bradley brought the improved system into play, and discovered that it promised rainy
weather on that night. So then he was certain it
would be clear; and he told Professor Jones to go
ahead.
On the night of the 5th, just as the professor got




BRADLE Y'S CRADLE.           345
his Catherine-wheels and sky-rockets all in position,
it began to rain; and that was the most awful storm
we had that year: it raised the river nearly three
feet. As soon as it began Bradley got the axe and
went up stairs and smashed his hydrometers, hygrometers, barometers and thermometers. Then he
cut down the pole that upheld the weathercock and
burned the manuscript of the book which he was
writing in explanation of his system. He leans on
"Old Probs" now when he wants to ascertain the
probable state of the weather.
When his first baby was born, Bradley invented
a self-rocking cradle for it. He constructed the motive-power of the machine from some old clockwork
which was operated by a huge steel ribbon spring
strong enough to move a horse-car and long enough
to run for a week without rewinding. When the
cradle was completed, he put the baby in it upon a
pillow and started the machinery. It worked beautifully, and after watching it for a while Bradley went
to bed in a peaceful and happy frame of mind. Toward midnight he heard something go r-r-r-rip!
Buzz-z-z-z! Crash! Bang! Then a pin or something
of the kind in the clockwork gave way, and before
Bradley could get out of bed the cradle containing
the baby was making ninety revolutions a minute,
and hopping around the room and slamming up
against the furniture in a manner that was simply
awful to look at.




346              ELBOW g'-ROOM.
How to get the child out was now the only con.
sideration which presented itself to the mind of the
inventor. A happy thought struck him. He took
a slat out of the bedstead and held it under the cradle. On the next down-stroke it stopped with a
I              I    III
jerk, and the baby was thrown, like a stone out of a
catapult, against the washstand, fortunately with the
pillow to break its fall. But the machine kept whizzing round and round the room as soon as the slat
was withdrawn, and Bradley, in an ecstasy of rage,
flung it out the back window into the yard. It con



BRADLE Y'S PERA-MBULA TOR.       347
tinued to make such a clatter there that he had to
go down and pile up barrels and slop-buckets and
bricks and clothes-props and part of the grape-arbor
on it, so that all it cotld do was to lie there all night
buzzing with a kind of smothered hum and keeping
the next-door neighbors awake, so that they pelted
it with bootjacks, under the impression that it was
cats.
Mrs. Bradley expressed such decided views respecting cradles of that pattern that Mr. Bradley
turned his attention to other matters than those of
a domestic character. He resolved to revolutionize
navigation. It occurred to him that some kind of an
apparatus might be devised by which a man could
walk upon the surface of the water, and he went to
work at it. The result was that in a few weeks he
produced and patented Bradley's Water Perambulator. It consisted of a couple of shallow scows, each
about four feet long. These were to be fastened to
the feet; and Bradley informed his friends that with
a little practice a man could glide over the bosom of
a river with the ease and velocity with which a good
skater skims over the ice.
It looked like a splendid thing. Bradley said that
it would certainly produce a revolution in navigation,
and make men wholly independent of steamers and
other vessels when they desired to travel upon water
with rapidity. Bradley intimated that the day would
c.ome when a man would mount a water perambulator and go drifting off to India, sliding over the




348             ELBOW-ROOM.
bounding billows of the dark blue sea as serenely as
if he were walking along a turnpike.
And one day Bradley asked a select party to come
down to the river to see him make a trial-trip. At
the appointed time he appeared with something that
looked like a small frigate under each arm; and when
he had fastened them securely upon his feet, he prepared to lower himself over the edge of the wharf.
He asked the spectators to designate a point upon
the thither shore at which they wished him to land.
It was immaterial to him, he said, whether he went
one mile or ten, up stream or down, because he
should glide around upon the surface of the stream
with the ease and grace of a swallow. Then they
fixed a point for him; and when he had dropped into
the water, he steadied himself for a moment by holding to the pier while he fastened his eye upon his
destination and prepared to start.
At last he said the experiment would begin; and
he struck out with his left foot. As he did so the
front end of that particular scow scuttled under
water, and as he tried to save himself by bringing
forward his right foot, that section of Bradley's
Water Perambulator also dipped under, and Bradley fell.
A moment later he was hanging head downward
in the river, with nothing visible to the anxious
spectators but the bottoms of two four-foot frigates.
The perambulator simply kept the body of Bradley
under the water. Then a man went out in a skiff




THE PERAMBULA TOR.           349
L  i
and pulled the inventor in with a boat-hook. When
he came ashore, they unbuckled his scows, took off
his clothing and rolled him upon an oil-barrel. In
half an hour he revived, and with a deep groan he
said,
"Where am I?"
His friends explained his situation to him, and
then he asked,
"What drowned me?"




350             ELBOW-ROOM.
They told him sadly that he was injured during
an attempt to revolutionize navigation and to prepare the way for a walk to India.
" How did I try to do it?" he inquired.
They wept as they reminded him that he had
started to skim over the river like a swallow, with a
scow upon each foot, and then he faintly said,
" Where in thunder are those machines?"
His friends produced, the new motor with which
Bradley intended to break up the steamship lines;
and when he had looked at them for a moment, he
fell back and whispered,
" It's no use. I can't do'em justice. Eight men
couldn't cuss'em to satisfy me. But split'em up!
Have'em mashed into kin'lin-wood before I get
well, or the sight of'em'll set me crazy."
Then he was carried home, and after being in bed
about a fortnight he came out with a pallid cheek,
a sorrowful heart and ideas for six or seven new
machines.




CHAPTER XXIX.
THE TRIALS OF MR. KE YSER, GRANGER.
R. KEYSER mentioned recently that he
had employed a new hired girl, and that
soon after her arrival Mrs. Keyser, before
starting to spend the day with a friend,
instructed the girl to whitewash the kitchen during
her absence. Upon returning, Mrs. Keyser found
the job completed in a very satisfactory manner.
On Wednesday, Mrs. Keyser always churns, and
on the following Wednesday, when she was ready,
she went out; and finding that Mr. Keyser had already put the milk into the churn, she began to
turn, the handle. This was at eight o'clock in the
morning, and she turned until ten without any signs
of butter appearing. Then she called in the hired
man, and he turned until dinner-time, when he
knocked off with some very offensive language.
addressed to the butter, which had not yet come.
After dinner the hired girl took hold of the crank
and turned it energetically until two o'clock, when
she -let go with a remark which conveyed the impression that she believed the churn to be haunted.
Then Mr. Keyser came out and'said he wanted to
351




352             EL BO W-R OOM.
know what was the matter with that churn. It was
a good enough churn if people only knew enough to
use it. Mr. Keyser then worked the crank until halfpast three, when, as the butter had not come, he surrendered it again to the hired man because he had
an engagement in the village. The man ground the
machine to an accompaniment of frightful imprecations. Then the Keyser children each took a turn for
half an hour, then Mrs. Keyser tried her hand; and
when she was exhausted, she again enlisted the hired
girl, who said her prayers while she turned. But
the butter didn't come.
When Keyser came home and found the churn
still in action, he felt angry; and seizing the handle,
he said he'd make the butter come if he stirred up an
earthquake in doing it. Mr. Keyser effected about
two hundred revolutions of the crank a minuteenough to have made any ordinary butter come from
the ends of the earth; and when the perspiration began to stream from him, and still the butter didn't
come, he uttered one wild yell of rage and disappointment and kicked the churn over the fence. When
Mrs. Keyser went to pick it up, she put her nose
down close to the buttermilk and took a sniff. Then
she understood how it was. The girl had mixed the
whitewash in the churn and left it there. A good,
honest and intelligent servant who knows how to
churn could have found a situation at Keyser's the
next day. There was a vacancy.
Mr. Keyser during the summer made a very nar.




THE TRIALS OF MR. KE YSER, GRANGER. 353
row escape from a melancholy ending. He dreamed
one night that he would die on the 14th of September. So strongly was he assured of the fact that the
vision would prove true that he began at once to
make preparations for his departure.  He got measured for a burial-suit, he drew up his will, he picked
out a nice lot in the cemetery and had it fenced in,
he joined the church and selected six of the deacons as his pall-bearers; he also requested the choir
to sing at the funeral, and he got them to run over
a favorite hymn of his to see how it would sound.
Then he got Toombs, the undertaker, to knock together a burial-casket with silver-plated handles, and
cushions inside, and he instructed the., undertaker to
use his best hearse, and to buy sixty pairs of black
gloves, to be distributed among the mourners. He
had some trouble deciding upon a tombstone.  The
man at the marble-yard, however, at last sold him a
beautiful one with an angel weeping over a kind
of a flower-pot, with the legend, "Not lost, but
gone before."
Then he got the village newspaper to put a good
obituary notice of him in type, and he told his wife
that he would be gratified if she would come out in
the spring and plant violets upon his grave. He
said it was hard to leave her and the children, but
she must try and bear up under it. These afflictions
are for our good, and when he was an angel he would
come and watch over her and keep his. eye on her.
He said she might marry again if she wanted to; for
23




354             ELBOW-ROOM.
although the mere thought of it nearly broke his
heart, he wished her, above all, to be happy, and to
have some one to love her and protect her from- the
storms of the rude world. Then he and Mrs. Keyser and the children cried, and Keyser, as a closing
word of counsel, advised her not to plough for corn
earlier than the middle of March.
On the night of the 13th of September there was
a flood in the creek, and Keyser got up at four
o'clock in the morning of the 14th and worked until night, trying to save his buildings and his woodpile. He was so busy that he forgot all -about its
being the day of his death; and as he was very tired,
he went to bed early and slept soundly all night.
About six o'clock on the morning of the I5th
there was a ring at the door-bell. Keyser jumped
out of bed, threw up the front window and exclaimed,
"Who's there?"
"It's me-Toombs," said the undertaker.
" What do you want at this time of the morning?"
demanded Keyser.
"Want?" said Toombs, not recognizing Keyser.
"Why, I've brought around the ice to pack Keyser
in, so's he'll keep until the funeral. The corpse'd
spoil this kind of weather if we didn't."
Then Keyser remembered, and it made him feel
angry when he thought how the day had passed and
left him still alive, and how he had made a fool of
himself. So he said,




THE TRIALS OF MR. IE YSER, GRANGER 355
"Well, you can just skeet around home agin
with that ice; the corpse is not yet dead. You're a
little too anxious, it strikes me. You're not goin' to
inter me yet, if you have got everything ready. So
you can haul off and unload."
About half-past ten that morning the deacons
came around, with crape on their hats and gloom in
their faces, to carry the body to the grave; and while
they were on the front steps the marble-yard man
drove up with the flower-pot tombstone and a shovel,
and stepped in to ask the widow how deep she
wanted the grave dug. Just then the choir arrived
with the minister, and the company was assembled
in the parlor, when Keyser came in from the stable,
where he had been dosing a horse with patent medicine and warm "mash" for the glanders. He was
surprised, but he proceeded to explain that there
had been a little mistake, somehow. He was also
pained to find that everybody seemed to be a good
deal disappointed, particularly the tombstone-man,
who went away mad, declaring that such an old fraud
ought to be buried, anyhow, dead or alive. Just as
the deacons left in a huff the tailor's boy arrived with
th.i burial-suit, and before Keyser could kick him
off the steps the paper-carrier flung into the door the
Patriot, in which that obituary notice occupied a
prominent place.
Anybody who wants a good reliable tombstone
that has a flower-pot and an angel on it, with an
affecting inscription, can buy one of that kind, at a




356             ELBOW-ROOM.
sacrifice for cash, from Keyser. He thinks the bad
dream must have been caused by eating too much at
supper.
After he felt assured that he should have to remain
a little longer in this troublous world, Mr. Keyser
determined to effect some improvements of his farm
that he had thought of. He greatly needed a constant supply of water, and he resolved to bore an
artesian well in the barn-yard. The boring was done
with a two-inch auger fixed in the end of an iron
rod, which was twisted around by a wheel worked
by two men. One day, after they had gone down a
good many feet, they tried to pull the rod out, but it
would not come. They were afraid to use much
force lest the auger should come off and stay in the
hole, and so, as the boring went along well enough,
they concluded to keep on turning, and to trust to the
force of the water, when they struck it, to drive the
loose dirt up from the hole. When they had gone
down about three hundred and fifty feet, they began
to think it queer that there were no signs of water,
but they bored a hundred feet farther; and one day,
just as they were beginning on another hundred,
something odd happened.
On the day in question Keyser's boy came running into the house and told him to come into the
garden quick, for there was some kind of an extraordinary animal with a sharp nose burrowing out of the
ground. Keyser concluded that it must be either a
potato-bug or a grasshopper that had been hatched




THE TRIALS OF MR. KEYSER, GRANGER. 357
KTi\
in tsrnho ots'
in the spring, and he took out a bottle of poison to
drop on it when it came up. When Keyser reached
the spot, a couple of hundred yards from where they
were boring the well, there certainly was some kind
of a creature slowly pushing its way up -through the
sod. Its nose seemed to resemble a sharp point like
steel. Keyser dropped. some -poison on it; but it
didn't appear to mind the' stuff, but kept slowly
creeping up from the ground. Then Keyser felt it,.
and was astonished to find that it felt exactly like the
end of a fork-prong. He sent the boy over to call




358             ELBOW-ROOM.
Perkins and the rest of the neighbors. Pretty soon
a large crowd collected, and by this time the animal
had emerged to the extent of a couple of inches.
Everybody was amazed to see that it looked exactly like the end of a large auger; and two or three
timid men were so scared at the idea of such a thing
actually growing out of the earth that they suddenly
got over the fence and left. Perkins couldn't account
for it; but he suggested that maybe somebody might
have planted a gimlet there, and it had taken root
and blossomed out into an auger; but he admitted
that he had never heard of such a thing before.
The excitement increased so that the men who
were boring the artesian well knocked off and came
over to see the phenomenon. It was noticed that as
soon as they stopped work the auger ceased to grow;
and when they arrived, they looked at it for a minute,
and one of them said,
" Bill, do you recognize that auger?"
"I think I do," said Bill.
"Well, Bill, you go and unhitch that wheel from
the other end of the rod."
Bill did so; and then the other man asked the
crowd to take hold of the auger and pull. They
did; and out came four hundred and fifty feet of iron
rod. The auger had slid off to the side, turned upward and come to the surface in Keyser's garden.
Then the artesian well was abandoned, and Keyser
bought a steam-pump and began to get water from
the river.




THE TRIALS OF MR. KEYSER, GRANGER. 359
Another remarkable boring experience that occurred in our neighborhood deserves to be related
here. When Butterwick bought his present place,
the former owner offered, as one of the inducements
to purchase, the fact that there was a superb sugarmaple tree in the garden. It was a noble tree, and
Butterwick made up his mind that he would tap it
some day and manufacture some sugar. However,
he never did so until last year. Then he concluded
to draw the sap and to have "a sugar-boiling."
Mr. Butterwick's wife's uncle was staying with
him, and after inviting some friends to come and
eat the sugar they got to work, They took a huge
wash-kettle down into the yard and piled some wood
beneath it, and then they brought out a couple of
buckets to catch the sap, and the auger with which
to bore a hole in the tree.
Butterwick's wife's uncle said that the bucket
ought to be set about three feet from the tree, as
the sap would spurt right out with a good deal of
force, and it would be a pity to waste any of it.
Then he lighted the fire, while Butterwick bored
the hole about four inches deep. When he took the
auger out, the sap did not follow, but Butterwick's
wife's uncle said what it wanted was a little time, and
so, while the folks waited, he put a fresh armful of
wood on the fire. They waited half an hour; and as
the sap didn't come, Butterwick concluded that the
hole was not deep enough, so he began boring again,
but he bored too far, for the auger went clear




360             ELBOW-ROOM.
through the tree and penetrated the back of his
wife's uncle, who was leaning up against the trunk
trying to light his pipe. He jumped nearly forty
feet, and they had to mend him up with court-plaster.
Then he said he thought the reason the sap didn't
come was that there ought to be a kind of spigot in
the hole, so as to let it run off easily. They got the
wooden spigot from the vinegar-barrel in the cellar
and inserted it.  Then, as the sap did not come,
Butterwick's wife's uncle said he thought the spigot
must be jammed in so tight that it choked the flow;
and while Butterwick tried to push it out, his wife's
uncle fed the fire with some kindling-wood. As the
spigot could not be budged with a hammer, Butterwick concluded to bore it out with the auger; and
meanwhile his wife's uncle stirred the fire.  Then,
the auger broke off short in the hole, and Butterwick
had to go half a mile to the hardware-store to get
another one.
Then Butterwick' bored a fresh hole; and althotgh
the sap would not come, the company did; and they
examined with much interest the kettle, which was
now red-hot, and which Butterwick's wife's uncle was
trying to lift off the fire with the hay-fork. As the
sap still refused to come, Butterwick went over for
Keyser to ask him how to make the exasperating'
tree disgorge. When he arrived, he looked at the
hole,'then at the spigot, then at the kettle and then
at the tree.  Then, turning to Butterwick with a
mournful face, he said,




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YHE TRIALS OF MR. KEYSER, GRANGER. 363
"Butterwick, you have had a good deal of trouble
in your life, an' it's done you good; it's made a man
of you. This world is full of sorrow, but we must
bear it without grumbling. You know that, of course.
Consequently, now that I've some bad news to break
to you, I feel'sif the shock won't knock you endways, but'll be received with patient resignation. I
say I hope you won't break down an' give away to
your feelin's when I tell you that there tree is no
sugar-maple at all. Grashus! why, that's a black
hickory. It is, indeed; and you might as well bore
for maple-sugar in the side of a telegraph-pole."
Then the company went home, and Butterwick's
wife's uncle said he had an engagement with a man
in Hatboro' which he must keep right off. Butterwick took the kettle up to the house; but as it was
burned out, he sold it next day for fifteen cents for
old iron and bought a new one for twelve dollars.
He thinks now maybe it's better to buy your maple
sugar.




CHAPTER XXX.
MR. BANGER'S A UNT.
HERE are two families of Bangers in our
neighborhood, the heads of which have
the same name- Henry Banger.  The
Henry who married the widow, heretofore mentioned, is a lawyer in the village, while the
other, having no relationship to the former, is a " professor," and he lives on the opposite side of the river,
in a hamlet that has grown up there. One day Henry
Banger, the lawyer, received a telegram saying that
his aunt had-died suddenly in Elmira, New York,
and that the body would be sent on at once by express. Mr. Banger made preparations for the funeral, and upon the day that the remains were due he
went down to the express office to receive them.
They did not come, however; and when the agent
telegraphed to ask about them, he ascertained that
Mr. Banger's aunt had been carried through to Baltimore by mistake. Orders were- sent at once to
reship the body with all possible speed; and accordingly, it was placed upon the cars of the Northern Central Railroad. As the train was proceeding
north a collision occurred. The train was wrecked,
364




MR. BANGER'S AUNT.          365
ard Mr. Banger's aunt was tossed, rudely out upon
the roadside.
The people who were attending to things supposed
that she was one of the victims of the accident, and
so the coroner held an inquest; and as nobody knew
who she was, she was sent back to Baltimore and
interred by the authorities. As she did not reach
Mr. Banger, he induced the express company to hunt
her up; and when her resting-place was discovered,
they took her up, placed her in a casket and shipped
her again.
During that trip some thieves got into the express
car and threw out the iron money-chest and Mr.
Banger's aunt, supposing that the casket contained
treasure. On the following morning a farmer discovered Mr. Banger's aunt in the casket leaning up
against a tree in the woods. He sent for the coroner; and when another inquest had been held, they
were about to bury the remains, and would have
done so had not a telegram come from the express
company instructing the authorities to ship Mr.
Banger's aunt back to Baltimore.
Mr. Banger, meantime, endured the most agonizing suspense, and began to talk about suing the
express company for damages. At last, hcwever,
he received information that the departed one had
been sent on upon the Philadelphia, Wilmington and
Baltimore Railroad. So she had. But as the train
was crossing Gunpowder River the express car gave
a lurch, and the next moment Mr. Banger's aunt




366             ELBOW-ROOM.
shot through the door into the water. She sailed
around in the bay for several days, apparently uncertain whether to seek the ocean and move straight
across for Europe, or to go up into the interior. She
chose the latter course, and a week afterward she
drifted ashore in the Lower Susquehanna.
As soon as she was discovered the coroner held
an inquest, and then put her on the cars again. This
time she came directly to Millburg, and Mr. Banger
was at the depot waiting for her with the funeral.
By some mistake, however, she was carried past and
put out at the next town above, and the agent said
that the best thing he could do would be to have
her brought down in the morning. In the morning
she came, and Mr. Banger was there with the friends
of the family to receive her.
When they reached the cemetery, Rev. Dr. Dox
delivered a most affecting discourse; and when all
was over, and Mr. and Mrs. Banger had wiped away
their tears, they went slowly home, sorrowful, of
course, but somewhat glad that the long suspense
was ended.
As Mr. Banger entered his sitting-room he saw a
lady reposing in front of the fire, with her back
toward him, toasting her toes. Before he had time
to speak she looked around, and he was amazed to
perceive that it was his dead-and-buried aunt. He
was a little frightened at first, but in a moment he
summoned up courage enough to ask,
" Why, how did you get here?"




MR. BANGER'S AUNT.           367
" I came on the train, of course."
"Yes, I know; but how did you get out of the
cemetery?"
"Cemetery? What cemetery? I haven't been
in any cemetery!"
" Not been in the cemetery! Why, either I buried
you an hour ago, or I am the worst mistaken man on
earth."
" Mr. Banger, what do you mean? This is a curious sort of a jest."
Then Banger explained the situation to her; and
as she solemnly protested that she had not been in
Elmira, Banger was about to conclude that he had
been the victim of a joke, when it suddenly occurred
to him that maybe it was the aunt of Professor
Banger. He sent out to investigate the matter, and
found that the conjecture was correct. And when
Professor Banger heard about it, he became very
angry, and he entered suit against the lawyer Banger
for embezzling his aunt. Then Lawyer Banger sued
the professor for the express charges and the funeral
expenses, and for a time it looked as if that eccentric and roving old' lady would be the cause of infinite trouble; but the difficulty was finally compromised by the lawyer Banger accepting half the
amount of his expenses.
Professor Banger was originally a telegraph-operator, but some years ago he saved up a small sum
of money, with which he constructed a balloomn




368             ELBOW-ROOM.
Then he tacked " professor" to his name, and began
to devote himself to science and the show business.
His account of one of his recent excursions is not
only entertaining, but it proves that he is an ardent
student of natural phenomena. He said to me,
"We went up at Easton, Pennsylvania; Conly,
Jones and myself, and it was the finest trip I ever
took. Perfectly splendid! We got the balloon full
about twelve o'clock, and the crowd held her down
until we were ready. Then I gave the word and
they let go, and we went a-humming into the air.
One man got caught in a twist of the rope as she
gave her first spurt upward, and it slammed him up
against a fence as if he'd been shot out of a gun.
Smashed in three or four of his ribs, I believe, and
cracked his leg.
"But we went up beautifully about fifteen hundred feet, and while we were looking at the charming scenery we ran into a cloud, and I told Conly
to throw out some ballast. He heaved over a couple of sand-bags, and one of them accidentally fell
on Major Wiggins' hired girl, who was hanging
clothes in the garden, and the other went into his
chimney and'choked it up. He was mad as fury
about it when we came down. No enthusiasm for
science. Some men don't care a cent whether the
world progresses or not.
"Well, sir, we shot up about a thousand feet more,
and then Jones dropped the lunch-basket overboard
by accident, and we went up nearly four miles




BALL ONING.               369
Conly got blue in the face, Jones fainted, and I
came near going under myself. A minute more
we'd all've been dead men; but I gave the valve a
jerk, and we came down like a rocket-stick. When
the boys came to, Jones said he wanted to get out;
and as we were only a little distance from the ground,
I threw out the grapnel.
"That minute a breeze struck her, and she went
along at about ninety miles an hour over some man's
24




370             ELBO W-ROOM.
garden, and the grapnel caught his grape-arbor
snatched it up, and pretty soon got it tangled with
the weathercock on the Presbyterian church-steeple.
I cut the rope and left it there, and I understand
that the deacons sued the owner because he wouldn't
take it down. Raised an awful fuss and sent the
sheriff after me.  Trying to make scientific investigation seem like a crime, and I working all the
time like a horse to unfold the phenomena of nature!
If they had loved knowledge, they wouldn't've cared
if I'd've ripped off their old steeple and dropped it
down like an extinguisher on top of some factory
chimney.
"So, when we left the grape-arbor, we went up
again, and Jones got sicker and said he must get out.
So I rigged up another grapnel and threw it over.
We were just passing a farm near the river; and as
the wind was high, the grapnel tore through two
fences and pulled the roof off of a smoke-house,
and then, as nothing would hold her, we swooped
into the woods, when we ran against a tree. The
branches skinned Conly's face and nearly put out
my right eye, and knocked four teeth out of Jones'
mouth. It was the most exciting and interesting
voyage I ever made in my life; and I was just beginning to get some satisfaction from it-just getting
warmed up and preparing to take some meteorological observations-when Jones became so very
anxious to quit that I didn't like to refuse, although
it went fearfully against the grain for the reason that




BALL OONING.              37 I
I hated to give up and abandon my scientific investigations.
"So I threw out my coat and boots, and made the
other fellows do the same, and we rose above the
trees and sailed along splendidly until we struck the
river. Then she suddenly dodged down, and the
edge of the car caught in the water; so the wind
took her, and we went scudding along like lightning,
nearly drowned. Conly was washed overboard, and
that lightened her, so she went up again. I was for
staying up, but Jones said he'd die if he didn't get
out soon; and besides, he thought we ought to look
after Conly. But I said Conly was probably drowned,
anyhow, so it was hardly worth while to sacrifice
our experiments on that account; and I told Jones
that a man of his intelligence ought to be willing to
endure something for the sake of scientific truth.
And Jones said,'Hang scientific truth!'-actually
made that remark; and he said that if I didn't let
him out he'd jump out. He was sick, you know.
The man was not himself, or he would never have
talked in that way about a voyage that was so full
of interest and so likely to reveal important secrets
of nature.
"But to oblige him I at last got her down on the
other side of the river, and a farmer ran out and
seized the rope. While we were talking to him I
was just telling him that, as the gas was running out
of the neck of the balloon, maybe he'd better put
out his cigar, when all of a sudden there was a ter



372            ELBO W-ROOM.
rific bang. The gas exploded and wrapped us in a
sheet of flame, and the next minute some of the
neighbors picked up me and Jones. Jones was
roasted nearly to a crisp. Exciting, wasn't it?"And they took him over to the farmhouse,
where we found that they had fished out Conly and
were bringing him to. When he revived, they sent
the invalid corps back to town in a wagon, Jones
groaning all the way and I arguing with him to show
that science requires her votaries to give up a little
of their personal comfort for the benefit it does the
human race, and Conly saying he wished he was
well enough to go out and bang the inventor of balloons with a gun.
"As soon as we got back to Easton a constable
arrested me for chucking that ignorant opponent of
scientific inquiry up against the fence and wrecking
him. When I was let off on bail, I began to build a
new balloon. She's nearly done now, and I'm going
to make an ascension early next month in search of
the ozone belt. Won't you go up with me? The
day is going to come when everybody will travel
that way. It's the most exhilarating motion in the
world. Come on up and help me make scientific
observations on the ozone belt."
But the invitation was declined. The Patriot, however, will have a good obituary notice of the professor
all ready, in type.




CHAPTER XXXI.
VA RIO US THINGS.
T is a notorious fact that itinerant circus
companies pay very poorly, and that the
man who does not get his money from
them in advance is not very likely to get
it at all. Major Slott of The Patriot has suffered a
good deal from these concerns; and when " The Great
European Circus and Metropolitan Caravan" tried to
slip off the other day without settling its advertising
bill, he called upon the sheriff and got him to attach
the Bengal tiger for the debt. The tiger was brought
in its cage and placed in the composing-room, where
it consumed fifteen dollars' worth of meat in two
days-the major's bill was only twelve dollars-and
scratched one trouser leg off of the reporter, who was
standing in front of the cage stirring up the animal with
a broom. On the third day the bottom fell out of the
cage; and as the tiger seemed to want to roam around
and inquire into things, the whole force of compositors all at once felt as if they ought to go suddenly
down stairs and give the animal a chance. With
that mysterious instinct which distinguishes dumb
animals, and which goes far to prove that they have
373




374             ELBO tV-ROOM.' 1'11, I!  1
souls, the tiger went at once for the door of the
major's sanctum, and it broke in just as Slott was
in the middle of a tearing editorial upon "' Our Tendencies toward CQesarism." The major, however, did
not hesitate to knock off. He stopped at once, and
emerged with a fine, airy grace through the window,
bringing the sash with him; and then he climbed up
the water-spout to the roof, where he sat until a hookand-ladder company came and took him off. Trhe
Patriot did not issue for a week; for although the
major bombarded the tiger with shot-guns pointed
through the windows, and although the fire-engine




VARIOUS THINGS.            375
squirted hot water at him, the brute got along very
comfortably until Saturday night, when he tried to
swallow a composing-stick and choked to death.
When they entered the room, they found that the
animal had upset all the type and had soaked himself in ink and then rolled over nearly every square
inch of the floor, while the major's leader on " Cesarism " was saturated with water and perforated with
shot-holes. After this circus advertisements in The
Patriot will be paid for in advance.
In one of the issues of his paper, just after the
trouble with the tiger, the major offered some reflections upon the general subject of "Tigers," in
which he gave evidence that he had recovered his
good-humor to some extent. He said,
"We have read with
very deep interest a de-,    i X    1
scription  of how Van    \ -  /'
Amburgh used to obtain'
control over tigers  and      J          _ -
other wild beasts. All he
did was to mesmerize them
two or three times, and they soon recognized his
power and obeyed him. The thing seems simple
and easy enough, now that we understand it, and we
have a mysterious impression that we could walk
out into a jungle and subdue the first tiger we met
by making a few passes at him with our hands. But
we are not anxious to do this-for one reason, because the Indian jungles are so far away, and for




376             ELBOW-ROOM.
another, because we do not want to hurt an innocent
tiger. If we have to meddle with such animals, we
always prefer to operate with those that are stuffed.
Show us a tiger with sawdust bowels, and we will
stand in front of him and make mesmeric motions
for a week without the quiver of a nerve. Not that
we are timid when the tiger is alive, but simply because a fur-store is more convenient than a jungle,
and there is less danger of wetting our feet. If we
happened to be in India and we wanted a tiger, we
should unhesitatingly go out and stand boldly in
front of the very first one we saw-tied to a tree —
and we should bring him home instantly if we could
find a man willing to lead him with a string. But
this kind of courage is born in some men. It cannot be acquired; and timid persons who intend to
practice Van Amburgh's method will find it more
judicious to begin the mesmerizing operation by
soothing the animal with a howitzer."
The lightning-rod man haunts our county as he
does the rest of the civilized portion of the country;
and although occasionally he secures a victim, sometimes it happens that he gets worsted in his attempts
to beguile his fellow-men. Such was his fate upon a
recent occasion in our village.
The other day a lightning-rod man drove up in
front of a handsome edifice standing in the midst of
trees and shrubs in Millburg, and spoke to Mr.
Potts, who was sitting on the steps in front. He




VARIOUS 7YIINGS.             377
accosted Potts as the owner of the residence, and
said,
"I see you have no lightning-rods on this house."
"No," said Potts.
"Are you going to put any on?"
" Well, I hadn't thought of it," replied Potts.
"You ought to. A tall building like this is very
much exposed. I'd like to run you up one of my
rods; twisted steel, glass fenders, nickel-plated tipseverything complete. May I put one up to show
you? I'll do the job cheap."
"Certainly you may, if you want to. I haven't
the slightest objection," said Potts.
During the next half hour the man had his ladders up and his assistants at work, and at the end of
that time the job was done. He called Potts out
into the yard to admire it. He said to Potts,
"Now, that is all well enough; but if it was my
house, I'd have another rod put on the other side.
There's nothing like being protected thoroughly."
" That's true," said Potts; "it would be better."
" I'll put up another, shall I?" asked the man.
"Why, of course, if you think it's best," said
Potts.
Accordingly, the man went to work again, and
soon had the rod in its place.
" That's a first-rate job," he said to Potts as they
both stood eyeing it. "I like such a man as you
are. Big-hearted, liberal, not afraid to put a dollar
down for a good thing. There's some pleasure in




378             ELBO W-ROOM.
dealin' xwith you. I like you so much that I'd put a
couple more rods on that house, one on the north
end and one on the south, for almost nothin'."
"It would make things safer, I suppose," said
Potts.
"Certainly it would. I'd better do it, hadn't I,
hey?"
" Just as you think proper," said Potts.
So the man ran up two more rods, and then he
came down and said to Potts, "There! that's done.
Now let's settle up."
" Do what?"
"Why, the job's finished, and now I'll take my
money."
"' You don't expect me to pay you, I hope?"
" Of course I do. Didn't you tell me to put those
rods on your house?"
" My house 1" shouted Potts. "Thunder and lightning! I never ordered you to put those rods up.
It would have been ridiculous. Why, man, this is
the court-house, and I'm here waiting forthe court
to assemble. I'm on the jury. You seemed to be
anxious to rush out your rods; and as it was none
of my business, I let you go on. Pay for it! Come,
now, that's pretty good."
The people who were present say that the manner in which that lightning-rod man tore around and
swore was fearful. But when he got his rods off of
the court-house, he left permanently. He don't fancy
the place.




VARC US THZINGS.           379
Keyser had lightning-rods placed upon his barn
three or four years ago; but during last summer the
building was struck by lightning and burned. When
he got the new barn done, a man came around with
a red wagon and wanted to sell him a set of Bolt &
Burnam's patent lightning-rods.
"I believe not," said Keyser; "I had rods on the
barn at the time of the-"
"I know," exclaimed the agent -"I know you
had; and very likely that's the reason you were
struck.  Nothin's more likely to attract lightnin'
than worthless rods."
" How do you know they were worthless?"
"Why, I was drivin' by yer in the spring, and I
seen them rods, and I says to myself,' That barn'll be
struck some time, but there's no use in tryin' to convince Mr. Keyser;' so I didn't call. I knowed it,
because they had iron tips. A rod with iron tips is
no better'n a clothes-prop to ward off lightnin'."
"The man who sold them to me said they had
platinum tips," remarked Keyser.
"Ah! this is a wicked world, Mr. Keyser. You
can't be too cautious. Some of these yer agents lie
like a gas-meter. It's awful, sir. They are wholly
untrustworthy. Them rods was the most ridicklus
sham  I ever see-a regular gouge.  They wa'n't
worth the labor it took to put'em up. They wa'n't,
now. That's the honest truth."
"What kind do you offer?"
"Well, sir, I've got the only genuine lightnin'-rod




380              ELBOW-ROOM.
that's made. It's constructed on scientific principles.
Professor Henry says it's sure to run off the electric
fluid every time-twisted charcoal iron, glass insulators, eight points on each rod, warranted solid platinum. We give a written guarantee with each rod.
Never had a house struck since we began to offer
this rod to the public. Positive fact. The lightnin'll
play all around a house with one of'em and never
touch it. A thunder-storm that'd tear the bowels
out of the American continent would leave your
house as safe' as a polar bear in the middle of an
iceberg. Shall I run you one up?"
" I don't know," said Keyser, musingly.
"I'll put you up one cheap, and then you'll have
somethin' reliable-somethin' there's no discount
on."
" You say the old rod was a fraud?"
" The deadliest fraud you ever heard of. It hadn't
an ounce of platinum within a mile of it. The man
that sold it ought to be prosecuted, and the fellow that
put it up without insulators should be shot. It's too
bad the farmers should be gouged in this sort of
way."
"And Bolt & Burnam's rod is not a fraud?"
"A fraud? Why, really, my dear sir, just cast
your eye over Professor Henry's letter and these certificates, and remember that we give a written guarantee-a positive protection, of course."
" Just cast your eye over that," said Keyser, handing him a piece of paper.




VARIOUS THINGS.            38!
"Well, upon my word!  This is indeed somewhat-that is to say it is, as it were-it looks-it
looks a little like one of our own certificates."
"Just so," said Keyser. "That old rod was one
of Bolt & Burnam's. You sold it to my son-in-law;
you gave this certificate; you swore the points were
platinum, and your man put it up."
"Then I suppose we can't trade?"
"Well, I should think not," said Keyser. Whereupon the man mounted the red wagon and moved on.
When Benjamin P. Gunn, the life insurance agent,
called upon Mr. Butterwick, the following conversation ensued:
Gzunn. "Mr. Butterwick, you have no insurance
on your life, I believe? I dropped in to see if I
can't get you to go into our company. We offer
unparalleled inducements, and-"
Butterwick. " I don't want to insure."
Gunn. "The cost is just nothing worth speaking
of; a mere trifle. And then we pay enormous dividends, so that you have so much security at such a
little outlay that you can be perfectly comfortable
and happy."
BRutteiwick. "But I don't want to be comfortable
and happy. I'm trying to be miserable."
Gunn. "Now, look at this thing in a practical
light. You've got to die some time or other. That
is a dreadful certainty to which we must all look forward. It is fearful enough in any event, but how




382             ELBOW-ROOM.
much more so when a man knows that he leaves
nothing behind him! We all shrink from death, we
all hate to think of it; the contemplation of it fills
us with awful dread; but reflect, what must be the
feelings of the man who enters the dark valley with
the assurance that in a pecuniary sense his life has
been an utter failure?  Think how —"
Butterwick. " Don't scare Ine a bit. I want to die;
been wanting to die for years. Rather die than live
any time."
Guznn. "I say, think how wretched will be the
condition of those dear ones whom you leave behind
you! Will not the tears of your heartbroken widow
be made more bitter by the poverty in which she is
suddenly plunged, and by the reflection that she is
left to the charity of a cold and heartless world.
Will not-"
Butterwick. " I wouldn't leave her a cent if I had
millions. It'll do the old woman good to skirmish
around for her living. Then she'll appreciate me."
Gunn. "Your poor little children, too. Fatherless, orphaned, they will have no one to fill their
famished mouths with bread, no one to protect them
from harm. You die uninsured, and they enter a life of
suffering from the keen pangs of poverty. You insure in our company, and they begin life with enough
to feed and clothe them, and to raise them above the
reach of want."
Butterwick. "I don't want to raise them  above
the reach of want. I want them to want. Best




VARIOUS THINGS.            383
thing they can do is to tucker down to work as I
did."
Gunn. "Oh, Mr. Butterwick, try to take a higher
view of the matter. When you are an angel and
you come back to revisit the scenes of earth, will it
not fill you with sadness to see your dear ones exposed to the storm and the blast, to hunger and
cold?"
ButteUrwick. " I'm not going to be an angel; and if
I was, I wouldn't come back."
Gunn. "You are a poor man now. How do you
know that your family will have enough when you
are gone to pay your funeral expenses, to bury you
decently?"
Butterwick. " I don't want to be buried."
Gunn. "Perhaps Mrs. Butterwick will be so
indignant at your neglect that she will not mourn
for you, that she will not shed a tear over your
bier."
Butterwick. "I don't want a bier, and I'd rather
she wouldn't cry any."
Gunn. "Well, then, s'posin' you go in on the endowment plan and take a policy for five thousand
dollars, to be paid you when you reach the age of
fifty?"
Butterwick. "I don't want five thousand dollars
when I'm fifty. I wouldn't take it if you were to
fling it at me and pay me to take it."
Gunn. "I'm  afraid, then, I'll have to say goodmorning."




384             ELBOW-ROOM.
Butterwick. "I don't want you to say good-morning; you can go without saying it."
Gunn. " I'll quit."
Butterwick. "Aha! now you've hit it! I do want
you to quit, and as suddenly as you can."
Then Mr. Gunn left. He thinks he will hardly
insure Butterwick.