Literary Lapses Page 7

  1. Sleeping in a Pullman car presents some difficultiesto the novice. Care should be taken to allay all senseof danger. The frequent whistling of the engine duringthe night is apt to be a source of alarm. Find out,therefore, before travelling, the meaning of the variouswhistles. One means "station," two, "railroad crossing,"and so on. Five whistles, short and rapid, mean suddendanger. When you hear whistles in the night, sit upsmartly in your bunk and count them. Should they reachfive, draw on your trousers over your pyjamas and leavethe train instantly. As a further precaution againstaccident, sleep with the feet towards the engine if youprefer to have the feet crushed, or with the head towardsthe engine, if you think it best to have the head crushed.In making this decision try to be as unselfish as possible.If indifferent, sleep crosswise with the head hangingover into the aisle.

  2. I have devoted some thought to the proper method ofchanging trains. The system which I have observed to bethe most popular with travellers of my own class, issomething as follows: Suppose that you have been told onleaving New York that you are to change at Kansas City.The evening before approaching Kansas City, stop theconductor in the aisle of the car (you can do this bestby putting out your foot and tripping him), and saypolitely, "Do I change at Kansas City?" He says "Yes."Very good. Don't believe him. On going into the dining-carfor supper, take a negro aside and put it to him as apersonal matter between a white man and a black, whetherhe thinks you ought to change at Kansas City. Don't besatisfied with this. In the course of the evening passthrough the entire train from time to time, and say topeople casually, "Oh, can you tell me if I change atKansas City?" Ask the conductor about it a few more timesin the evening: a repetition of the question will ensurepleasant relations with him. Before falling asleep watchfor his passage and ask him through the curtains of yourberth, "Oh, by the way, did you say I changed at KansasCity?" If he refuses to stop, hook him by the neck withyour walking-stick, and draw him gently to your bedside.In the morning when the train stops and a man calls,"Kansas City! All change!" approach the conductor againand say, "Is this Kansas City?" Don't be discouraged athis answer. Pick yourself up and go to the other end ofthe car and say to the brakesman, "Do you know, sir, ifthis is Kansas City?" Don't be too easily convinced.Remember that both brakesman and conductor may be incollusion to deceive you. Look around, therefore, forthe name of the station on the signboard. Having foundit, alight and ask the first man you see if this is KansasCity. He will answer, "Why, where in blank are your blankeyes? Can't you see it there, plain as blank?" When youhear language of this sort, ask no more. You are now inKansas and this is Kansas City.

  3. I have observed that it is now the practice of theconductors to stick bits of paper in the hats of thepassengers. They do this, I believe, to mark which onesthey like best. The device is pretty, and adds much tothe scenic appearance of the car. But I notice with painthat the system is fraught with much trouble for theconductors. The task of crushing two or three passengerstogether, in order to reach over them and stick a ticketinto the chinks of a silk skull cap is embarrassing fora conductor of refined feelings. It would be simpler ifthe conductor should carry a small hammer and a packetof shingle nails and nail the paid-up passenger to theback of the seat. Or better still, let the conductorcarry a small pot of paint and a brush, and mark thepassengers in such a way that he cannot easily mistakethem. In the case of bald-headed passengers, the hatsmight be politely removed and red crosses painted on thecraniums. This will indicate that they are bald. Throughpassengers might be distinguished by a complete coat ofpaint. In the hands of a man of taste, much might beeffected by a little grouping of painted passengers andthe leisure time of the conductor agreeably occupied.

  4. I have observed in travelling in the West that theirregularity of railroad accidents is a fruitful causeof complaint. The frequent disappointment of the holdersof accident policy tickets on western roads is leadingto widespread protest. Certainly the conditions of travelin the West are altering rapidly and accidents can nolonger be relied upon. This is deeply to be regretted,in so much as, apart from accidents, the tickets may besaid to be practically valueless.

  A Manual of Education

  The few selections below are offered as a specimen pageof a little book which I have in course of preparation.

  Every man has somewhere in the back of his head the wreckof a thing which he calls his education. My book isintended to embody in concise form these remnants ofearly instruction.

  Educations are divided into splendid educations, thoroughclassical educations, and average educations. All veryold men have splendid educations; all men who apparentlyknow nothing else have thorough classical educations;nobody has an average education.

  An education, when it is all written out on foolscap,covers nearly ten sheets. It takes about six years ofsevere college training to acquire it. Even then a manoften finds that he somehow hasn't got his education justwhere he can put his thumb on it. When my little book ofeight or ten pages has appeared, everybody may carry hiseducation in his hip pocket.

  Those who have not had the advantage of an early trainingwill be enabled, by a few hours of conscientiousapplication, to put themselves on an equal footing withthe most scholarly.

  The selections are chosen entirely at random.

  I.--REMAINS OF ASTRONOMY

  Astronomy teaches the correct use of the sun and theplanets. These may be put on a frame of little sticksand turned round. This causes the tides. Those at theends of the sticks are enormously far away. From time totime a diligent searching of the sticks reveals newplanets. The orbit of a planet is the distance the stickgoes round in going round. Astronomy is intenselyinteresting; it should be done at night, in a high towerin Spitzbergen. This is to avoid the astronomy beinginterrupted. A really good astronomer can tell when acomet is coming too near him by the warning buzz of therevolving sticks.

  II.--REMAINS OF HISTORY

  Aztecs: A fabulous race, half man, half horse, halfmound-builder. They flourished at about the same time asthe early Calithumpians. They have left some awfullystupendous monuments of themselves somewhere.

  Life of Caesar: A famous Roman general, the last who everlanded in Britain without being stopped at the customhouse. On returning to his Sabine farm (to fetch something),he was stabbed by Brutus, and died with the words "Veni,vidi, tekel, upharsim" in his throat. The jury returneda verdict of strangulation.

  Life of Voltaire: A Frenchman; very bitter.

  Life of Schopenhauer: A German; very deep; but it wasnot really noticeable when he sat down.

  Life of Dante: An Italian; the first to introduce thebanana and the class of street organ known as "Dante'sInferno."

  Peter the Great,Alfred the Great,Frederick the Great,John the Great,Tom the Great,Jim the Great,Jo the Great, etc., etc.

  It is impossible for a busy man to keep these apart. Theysought a living as kings and apostles and pugilists andso on.

  III.--REMAINS OF BOTANY.

  Botany is the art of plants. Plants are divided intotrees, flowers, and vegetables. The true botanist knowsa tree as soon as he sees it. He learns to distinguishit from a vegetable by merely putting his ear to it.

  IV.--REMAINS OF NATURAL SCIENCE.

  Natural Science treats of motion and force. Many of itsteachings remain as part of an educated man's permanentequipment in life. Such are:

  (a) The harder you shove a bicycle the faster it willgo. This is because of natural science.

  (b) If you fall from a high tower, you fall quicker andquicker and quicker; a judicious selection of a towerwill ensure any rate of speed.

  (c) If you put your thumb in between two cogs it will goon and on, until the wheels are arrested, by yoursuspenders. This is machinery.

  (d) Electricity is of two kinds, positive and negative.The difference is, I presume, that one kind comes a littlemore expensive, but is more durable; the other is acheaper thing, but the moths get into it.

  Hoodoo McFiggin's Christmas

  This Santa Claus business is played
out. It's a sneaking,underhand method, and the sooner it's exposed the better.

  For a parent to get up under cover of the darkness ofnight and palm off a ten-cent necktie on a boy who hadbeen expecting a ten-dollar watch, and then say that anangel sent it to him, is low, undeniably low.

  I had a good opportunity of observing how the thing workedthis Christmas, in the case of young Hoodoo McFiggin,the son and heir of the McFiggins, at whose house I board.

  Hoodoo McFiggin is a good boy--a religious boy. He hadbeen given to understand that Santa Claus would bringnothing to his father and mother because grown-up peopledon't get presents from the angels. So he saved up allhis pocket-money and bought a box of cigars for his fatherand a seventy-five-cent diamond brooch for his mother.His own fortunes he left in the hands of the angels. Buthe prayed. He prayed every night for weeks that SantaClaus would bring him a pair of skates and a puppy-dogand an air-gun and a bicycle and a Noah's ark and a sleighand a drum--altogether about a hundred and fifty dollars'worth of stuff.

  I went into Hoodoo's room quite early Christmas morning.I had an idea that the scene would be interesting. I wokehim up and he sat up in bed, his eyes glistening withradiant expectation, and began hauling things out of hisstocking.

  The first parcel was bulky; it was done up quite looselyand had an odd look generally.

  "Ha! ha!" Hoodoo cried gleefully, as he began undoingit. "I'll bet it's the puppy-dog, all wrapped up inpaper!"

  And was it the puppy-dog? No, by no means. It was a pairof nice, strong, number-four boots, laces and all,labelled, "Hoodoo, from Santa Claus," and underneathSanta Claus had written, "95 net."

  The boy's jaw fell with delight. "It's boots," he said,and plunged in his hand again.

  He began hauling away at another parcel with renewed hopeon his face.

  This time the thing seemed like a little round box. Hoodootore the paper off it with a feverish hand. He shook it;something rattled inside.

  "It's a watch and chain! It's a watch and chain!" heshouted. Then he pulled the lid off.

  And was it a watch and chain? No. It was a box of nice,brand-new celluloid collars, a dozen of them all alikeand all his own size.

  The boy was so pleased that you could see his face crackup with pleasure.

  He waited a few minutes until his intense joy subsided.Then he tried again.

  This time the packet was long and hard. It resisted thetouch and had a sort of funnel shape.

  "It's a toy pistol!" said the boy, trembling withexcitement. "Gee! I hope there are lots of caps with it!I'll fire some off now and wake up father."

  No, my poor child, you will not wake your father withthat. It is a useful thing, but it needs not caps and itfires no bullets, and you cannot wake a sleeping man witha tooth-brush. Yes, it was a tooth-brush--a regularbeauty, pure bone all through, and ticketed with a littlepaper, "Hoodoo, from Santa Claus."

  Again the expression of intense joy passed over the boy'sface, and the tears of gratitude started from his eyes.He wiped them away with his tooth-brush and passed on.

  The next packet was much larger and evidently containedsomething soft and bulky. It had been too long to go intothe stocking and was tied outside.

  "I wonder what this is," Hoodoo mused, half afraid toopen it. Then his heart gave a great leap, and he forgotall his other presents in the anticipation of this one."It's the drum!" he gasped. "It's the drum, all wrappedup!"

  Drum nothing! It was pants--a pair of the nicest littleshort pants--yellowish-brown short pants--with dear littlestripes of colour running across both ways, and hereagain Santa Claus had written, "Hoodoo, from Santa Claus,one fort net."

  But there was something wrapped up in it. Oh, yes! Therewas a pair of braces wrapped up in it, braces with alittle steel sliding thing so that you could slide yourpants up to your neck, if you wanted to.

  The boy gave a dry sob of satisfaction. Then he took outhis last present. "It's a book," he said, as he unwrappedit. "I wonder if it is fairy stories or adventures. Oh,I hope it's adventures! I'll read it all morning."

  No, Hoodoo, it was not precisely adventures. It was asmall family Bible. Hoodoo had now seen all his presents,and he arose and dressed. But he still had the fun ofplaying with his toys. That is always the chief delightof Christmas morning.

  First he played with his tooth-brush. He got a whole lotof water and brushed all his teeth with it. This washuge.

  Then he played with his collars. He had no end of funwith them, taking them all out one by one and swearingat them, and then putting them back and swearing at thewhole lot together.

  The next toy was his pants. He had immense fun there,putting them on and taking them off again, and then tryingto guess which side was which by merely looking at them.

  After that he took his book and read some adventurescalled "Genesis" till breakfast-time.

  Then he went downstairs and kissed his father and mother.His father was smoking a cigar, and his mother had hernew brooch on. Hoodoo's face was thoughtful, and a lightseemed to have broken in upon his mind. Indeed, I thinkit altogether likely that next Christmas he will hang onto his own money and take chances on what the angelsbring.

  The Life of John Smith

  The lives of great men occupy a large section of ourliterature. The great man is certainly a wonderful thing.He walks across his century and leaves the marks of hisfeet all over it, ripping out the dates on his goloshesas he passes. It is impossible to get up a revolution ora new religion, or a national awakening of any sort,without his turning up, putting himself at the head ofit and collaring all the gate-receipts for himself. Evenafter his death he leaves a long trail of second-raterelations spattered over the front seats of fifty yearsof history.

  Now the lives of great men are doubtless infinitelyinteresting. But at times I must confess to a sense ofreaction and an idea that the ordinary common man isentitled to have his biography written too. It is toillustrate this view that I write the life of John Smith,a man neither good nor great, but just the usual, everydayhomo like you and me and the rest of us.

  From his earliest childhood John Smith was marked outfrom his comrades by nothing. The marvellous precocityof the boy did not astonish his preceptors. Books werenot a passion for him from his youth, neither did anyold man put his hand on Smith's head and say, mark hiswords, this boy would some day become a man. Nor yet wasit his father's wont to gaze on him with a feelingamounting almost to awe. By no means! All his father didwas to wonder whether Smith was a darn fool because hecouldn't help it, or because he thought it smart. Inother words, he was just like you and me and the rest ofus.

  In those athletic sports which were the ornament of theyouth of his day, Smith did not, as great men do, excelhis fellows. He couldn't ride worth a darn. He couldn'tskate worth a darn. He couldn't swim worth a darn. Hecouldn't shoot worth a darn. He couldn't do anythingworth a darn. He was just like us.

  Nor did the bold cast of the boy's mind offset his physicaldefects, as it invariably does in the biographies. Onthe contrary. He was afraid of his father. He was afraidof his school-teacher. He was afraid of dogs. He wasafraid of guns. He was afraid of lightning. He was afraidof hell. He was afraid of girls.

  In the boy's choice of a profession there was not seenthat keen longing for a life-work that we find in thecelebrities. He didn't want to be a lawyer, because youhave to know law. He didn't want to be a doctor, becauseyou have to know medicine. He didn't want to be abusiness-man, because you have to know business; and hedidn't want to be a school-teacher, because he had seentoo many of them. As far as he had any choice, it laybetween being Robinson Crusoe and being the Prince ofWales. His father refused him both and put him into adry goods establishment.

  Such was the childhood of Smith. At its close there wasnothing in his outward appearance to mark the man ofgenius. The casual observer could have seen no geniusconcealed behind the wide face, the massive mouth, thelong slanting forehead, and the tall ear that swept upto the close-cropped head. Certainly he couldn't. Therewasn't
any concealed there.

  It was shortly after his start in business life thatSmith was stricken with the first of those distressingattacks, to which he afterwards became subject. It seizedhim late one night as he was returning home from adelightful evening of song and praise with a few oldschool chums. Its symptoms were a peculiar heaving ofthe sidewalk, a dancing of the street lights, and a craftyshifting to and fro of the houses, requiring a very nicediscrimination in selecting his own. There was a strongdesire not to drink water throughout the entire attack,which showed that the thing was evidently a form ofhydrophobia. From this time on, these painful attacksbecame chronic with Smith. They were liable to come onat any time, but especially on Saturday nights, on thefirst of the month, and on Thanksgiving Day. He alwayshad a very severe attack of hydrophobia on Christmas Eve,and after elections it was fearful.

  There was one incident in Smith's career which he did,perhaps, share with regret. He had scarcely reachedmanhood when he met the most beautiful girl in the world.She was different from all other women. She had a deepernature than other people. Smith realized it at once. Shecould feel and understand things that ordinary peoplecouldn't. She could understand him. She had a great senseof humour and an exquisite appreciation of a joke. Hetold her the six that he knew one night and she thoughtthem great. Her mere presence made Smith feel as if hehad swallowed a sunset: the first time that his fingerbrushed against hers, he felt a thrill all through him.He presently found that if he took a firm hold of herhand with his, he could get a fine thrill, and if he satbeside her on a sofa, with his head against her ear andhis arm about once and a half round her, he could getwhat you might call a first-class, A-1 thrill. Smithbecame filled with the idea that he would like to haveher always near him. He suggested an arrangement to her,by which she should come and live in the same house withhim and take personal charge of his clothes and his meals.She was to receive in return her board and washing, aboutseventy-five cents a week in ready money, and Smith wasto be her slave.