Literary Lapses Page 8

  After Smith had been this woman's slave for some time,baby fingers stole across his life, then another set ofthem, and then more and more till the house was full ofthem. The woman's mother began to steal across his lifetoo, and every time she came Smith had hydrophobiafrightfully. Strangely enough there was no little prattlerthat was taken from his life and became a saddened,hallowed memory to him. Oh, no! The little Smiths werenot that kind of prattler. The whole nine grew up intotall, lank boys with massive mouths and great sweepingears like their father's, and no talent for anything.

  The life of Smith never seemed to bring him to any ofthose great turning-points that occurred in the lives ofthe great. True, the passing years brought some changeof fortune. He was moved up in his dry-goods establishmentfrom the ribbon counter to the collar counter, from thecollar counter to the gents' panting counter, and fromthe gents' panting to the gents' fancy shirting. Then,as he grew aged and inefficient, they moved him downagain from the gents' fancy shirting to the gents' panting,and so on to the ribbon counter. And when he grew quiteold they dismissed him and got a boy with a four-inchmouth and sandy-coloured hair, who did all Smith coulddo for half the money. That was John Smith's mercantilecareer: it won't stand comparison with Mr. Gladstone's,but it's not unlike your own.

  Smith lived for five years after this. His sons kept him.They didn't want to, but they had to. In his old age thebrightness of his mind and his fund of anecdote were notthe delight of all who dropped in to see him. He toldseven stories and he knew six jokes. The stories werelong things all about himself, and the jokes were abouta commercial traveller and a Methodist minister. Butnobody dropped in to see him, anyway, so it didn't matter.

  At sixty-five Smith was taken ill, and, receiving propertreatment, he died. There was a tombstone put up overhim, with a hand pointing north-north-east.

  But I doubt if he ever got there. He was too like us.

  On Collecting Things

  Like most other men I have from time to time been strickenwith a desire to make collections of things.

  It began with postage stamps. I had a letter from a friendof mine who had gone out to South Africa. The letter hada three-cornered stamp on it, and I thought as soon asI looked at it, "That's the thing! Stamp collecting! I'lldevote my life to it."

  I bought an album with accommodation for the stamps ofall nations, and began collecting right off. For threedays the collection made wonderful progress. It contained:

  One Cape of Good Hope stamp.

  One one-cent stamp, United States of America.

  One two-cent stamp, United States of America.

  One five-cent stamp, United States of America.

  One ten-cent stamp, United States of America.

  After that the collection came to a dead stop. For awhile I used to talk about it rather airily and say Ihad one or two rather valuable South African stamps. ButI presently grew tired even of lying about it.

  Collecting coins is a thing that I attempt at intervals.Every time I am given an old half-penny or a Mexicanquarter, I get an idea that if a fellow made a point ofholding on to rarities of that sort, he'd soon have quitea valuable collection. The first time that I tried it Iwas full of enthusiasm, and before long my collectionnumbered quite a few articles of vertu. The items wereas follows:

  No. 1. Ancient Roman coin. Time of Caligula. This one ofcourse was the gem of the whole lot; it was given me bya friend, and that was what started me collecting.

  No. 2. Small copper coin. Value one cent. United Statesof America. Apparently modern.

  No. 3. Small nickel coin. Circular. United States ofAmerica. Value five cents.

  No. 4. Small silver coin. Value ten cents. United Statesof America.

  No. 5. Silver coin. Circular. Value twenty-five cents.United States of America. Very beautiful.

  No. 6. Large silver coin. Circular. Inscription, "OneDollar." United States of America. Very valuable.

  No. 7. Ancient British copper coin. Probably time ofCaractacus. Very dim. Inscription, "Victoria Dei gratiaregina." Very valuable.

  No. 8. Silver coin. Evidently French. Inscription, "FunfMark. Kaiser Wilhelm."

  No. 9. Circular silver coin. Very much defaced. Part ofinscription, "E Pluribus Unum." Probably a Russian rouble,but quite as likely to be a Japanese yen or a Shanghairooster.

  That's as far as that collection got. It lasted throughmost of the winter and I was getting quite proud of it,but I took the coins down town one evening to show to afriend and we spent No. 3, No. 4, No. 5, No. 6, and No.7 in buying a little dinner for two. After dinner I boughta yen's worth of cigars and traded the relic of Caligulafor as many hot Scotches as they cared to advance on it.After that I felt reckless and put No. 2 and No. 8 intoa Children's Hospital poor box.

  I tried fossils next. I got two in ten years. Then Iquit.

  A friend of mine once showed me a very fine collectionof ancient and curious weapons, and for a time I was fullof that idea. I gathered several interesting specimens,such as:

  No. 1. Old flint-lock musket, used by my grandfather.(He used it on the farm for years as a crowbar.)

  No. 2. Old raw-hide strap, used by my father.

  No. 3. Ancient Indian arrowhead, found by myself the veryday after I began collecting. It resembles a three-corneredstone.

  No. 4. Ancient Indian bow, found by myself behind asawmill on the second day of collecting. It resembles astraight stick of elm or oak. It is interesting to thinkthat this very weapon may have figured in some fiercescene of savage warfare.

  No. 5. Cannibal poniard or straight-handled dagger ofthe South Sea Islands. It will give the reader almost athrill of horror to learn that this atrocious weapon,which I bought myself on the third day of collecting,was actually exposed in a second-hand store as a familycarving-knife. In gazing at it one cannot refrain fromconjuring up the awful scenes it must have witnessed.

  I kept this collection for quite a long while until, ina moment of infatuation, I presented it to a young ladyas a betrothal present. The gift proved too ostentatiousand our relations subsequently ceased to be cordial.

  On the whole I am inclined to recommend the beginner toconfine himself to collecting coins. At present I ammyself making a collection of American bills (time ofTaft preferred), a pursuit I find most absorbing.

  Society Chat-Chat

  AS IT SHOULD BE WRITTEN

  I notice that it is customary for the daily papers topublish a column or so of society gossip. They generallyhead it "Chit-Chat," or "On Dit," or "Le Boudoir," orsomething of the sort, and they keep it pretty full ofFrench terms to give it the proper sort of swing. Thesecolumns may be very interesting in their way, but italways seems to me that they don't get hold of quite theright things to tell us about. They are very fond, forinstance, of giving an account of the delightful danceat Mrs. De Smythe's--at which Mrs. De Smythe lookedcharming in a gown of old tulle with a stomacher ofpassementerie--or of the dinner-party at Mr. AlonzoRobinson's residence, or the smart pink tea given by MissCarlotta Jones. No, that's all right, but it's not thekind of thing we want to get at; those are not the eventswhich happen in our neighbours' houses that we reallywant to hear about. It is the quiet little family scenes,the little traits of home-life that--well, for example,take the case of that delightful party at the De Smythes.I am certain that all those who were present would muchprefer a little paragraph like the following, which wouldgive them some idea of the home-life of the De Smytheson the morning after the party.

  DEJEUNER DE LUXE AT THE DE SMYTHE RESIDENCE

  On Wednesday morning last at 7.15 a.m. a charming littlebreakfast was served at the home of Mr. De Smythe. Thedejeuner was given in honour of Mr. De Smythe and histwo sons, Master Adolphus and Master Blinks De Smythe,who were about to leave for their daily travail at theirwholesale Bureau de Flour et de Feed. All the gentlemenwere very quietly dressed in their habits de work. MissMelinda De Smythe poured out tea, the domestique havingrefuse to get up so early after the partie of the nightbefore. The menu was very hands
ome, consisting of eggsand bacon, demi-froid, and ice-cream. The conversationwas sustained and lively. Mr. De Smythe sustained it andmade it lively for his daughter and his garcons. In thecourse of the talk Mr. De Smythe stated that the nexttime he allowed the young people to turn his maisontopsy-turvy he would see them in enfer. He wished to knowif they were aware that some ass of the evening beforehad broken a pane of coloured glass in the hall thatwould cost him four dollars. Did they think he was madeof argent. If so, they never made a bigger mistake intheir vie. The meal closed with general expressions ofgood-feeling. A little bird has whispered to us thatthere will be no more parties at the De Smythes' pourlong-temps.

  Here is another little paragraph that would be of generalinterest in society.

  DINER DE FAMEEL AT THE BOARDING-HOUSE DE MCFIGGIN

  Yesterday evening at half after six a pleasant littlediner was given by Madame McFiggin of Rock Street, toher boarders. The salle a manger was very prettilydecorated with texts, and the furniture upholstered withcheveux de horse, Louis Quinze. The boarders were allvery quietly dressed: Mrs. McFiggin was daintily attiredin some old clinging stuff with a corsage de Whaleboneunderneath. The ample board groaned under the bill offare. The boarders groaned also. Their groaning was verynoticeable. The piece de resistance was a hunko de boeufboile, flanked with some old clinging stuff. The entreeswere pate de pumpkin, followed by fromage McFiggin, servedunder glass. Towards the end of the first course, speechesbecame the order of the day. Mrs. McFiggin was the firstspeaker. In commencing, she expressed her surprise thatso few of the gentlemen seemed to care for the hunko deboeuf; her own mind, she said, had hesitated betweenhunko de boeuf boile and a pair of roast chickens(sensation). She had finally decided in favour of thehunko de boeuf (no sensation). She referred at some lengthto the late Mr. McFiggin, who had always shown a markedpreference for hunko de boeuf. Several other speakersfollowed. All spoke forcibly and to the point. The lastto speak was the Reverend Mr. Whiner. The reverendgentleman, in rising, said that he confided himself andhis fellow-boarders to the special interference ofprovidence. For what they had eaten, he said, he hopedthat Providence would make them truly thankful. At theclose of the Repas several of the boarders expressedtheir intention of going down the street to a restourongto get quelque chose a manger.

  Here is another example. How interesting it would be toget a detailed account of that little affair at theRobinsons', of which the neighbours only heard indirectly!Thus:

  DELIGHTFUL EVENING AT THE RESIDENCE OF MR. ALONZO ROBINSON

  Yesterday the family of Mr. Alonzo Robinson spent a verylively evening at their home on ---th Avenue. The occasionwas the seventeenth birthday of Master Alonzo Robinson,junior. It was the original intention of Master AlonzoRobinson to celebrate the day at home and invite a fewof les garcons. Mr. Robinson, senior, however, havingdeclared that he would be damne first, Master Alonzospent the evening in visiting the salons of the town,which he painted rouge. Mr. Robinson, senior, spent theevening at home in quiet expectation of his son's return.He was very becomingly dressed in a pantalon quatre vingttreize, and had his whippe de chien laid across his knee.Madame Robinson and the Mademoiselles Robinson wore black.The guest of the evening arrived at a late hour. He worehis habits de spri, and had about six pouces of eau devie in him. He was evidently full up to his cou. For sometime after his arrival a very lively time was spent. Mr.Robinson having at length broken the whippe de chien,the family parted for the night with expressions ofcordial goodwill.

  Insurance up to Date

  A man called on me the other day with the idea of insuringmy life. Now, I detest life-insurance agents; they alwaysargue that I shall some day die, which is not so. I havebeen insured a great many times, for about a month at atime, but have had no luck with it at all.

  So I made up my mind that I would outwit this man at hisown game. I let him talk straight ahead and encouragedhim all I could, until he finally left me with a sheetof questions which I was to answer as an applicant. Nowthis was what I was waiting for; I had decided that, ifthat company wanted information about me, they shouldhave it, and have the very best quality I could supply.So I spread the sheet of questions before me, and drewup a set of answers for them, which, I hoped, would settlefor ever all doubts as to my eligibility for insurance.

  Question.--What is your age?Answer.--I can't think.

  Q.--What is your chest measurement?A.--Nineteen inches.

  Q.--What is your chest expansion?A.--Half an inch.

  Q.--What is your height?A.--Six feet five, if erect, but less when I walk on all fours.

  Q.--Is your grandfather dead?A.--Practically.

  Q.--Cause of death, if dead?A.--Dipsomania, if dead.

  Q.--Is your father dead?A.--To the world.

  Q.--Cause of death?A.--Hydrophobia.

  Q.--Place of father's residence?A.--Kentucky.

  Q.--What illness have you had?A.--As a child, consumption, leprosy, and water on the knee. As a man, whooping-cough, stomach-ache, and water on the brain.

  Q.--Have you any brothers?A.--Thirteen; all nearly dead.

  Q.--Are you aware of any habits or tendencies which might be expected to shorten your life?A.--I am aware. I drink, I smoke, I take morphine and vaseline. I swallow grape seeds and I hate exercise.

  I thought when I had come to the end of that list thatI had made a dead sure thing of it, and I posted thepaper with a cheque for three months' payment, feelingpretty confident of having the cheque sent back to me.I was a good deal surprised a few days later to receivethe following letter from the company:

  "DEAR SIR,--We beg to acknowledge your letter of applicationand cheque for fifteen dollars. After a careful comparisonof your case with the average modern standard, we arepleased to accept you as a first-class risk."

  Borrowing a Match

  You might think that borrowing a match upon the streetis a simple thing. But any man who has ever tried it willassure you that it is not, and will be prepared to swearto the truth of my experience of the other evening.

  I was standing on the corner of the street with a cigarthat I wanted to light. I had no match. I waited till adecent, ordinary-looking man came along. Then I said:

  "Excuse me, sir, but could you oblige me with the loanof a match?"

  "A match?" he said, "why certainly." Then he unbuttonedhis overcoat and put his hand in the pocket of hiswaistcoat. "I know I have one," he went on, "and I'dalmost swear it's in the bottom pocket--or, hold on,though, I guess it may be in the top--just wait till Iput these parcels down on the sidewalk."

  "Oh, don't trouble," I said, "it's really of noconsequence."

  "Oh, it's no trouble, I'll have it in a minute; I knowthere must be one in here somewhere"--he was digginghis fingers into his pockets as he spoke--"but you seethis isn't the waistcoat I generally..."

  I saw that the man was getting excited about it. "Well,never mind," I protested; "if that isn't the waistcoatthat you generally--why, it doesn't matter."

  "Hold on, now, hold on!" the man said, "I've got one ofthe cursed things in here somewhere. I guess it must bein with my watch. No, it's not there either. Wait tillI try my coat. If that confounded tailor only knew enoughto make a pocket so that a man could get at it!"

  He was getting pretty well worked up now. He had throwndown his walking-stick and was plunging at his pocketswith his teeth set. "It's that cursed young boy of mine,"he hissed; "this comes of his fooling in my pockets. ByGad! perhaps I won't warm him up when I get home. Say,I'll bet that it's in my hip-pocket. You just hold upthe tail of my overcoat a second till I..."

  "No, no," I protested again, "please don't take all thistrouble, it really doesn't matter. I'm sure you needn'ttake off your overcoat, and oh, pray don't throw awayyour letters and things in the snow like that, and tearout your pockets by the roots! Please, please don'ttrample over your overcoat and put your feet through theparcels. I do hate to hear you swearing at your littleboy, with that peculiar whine in your voice. Don't--pleasedon't tear your
clothes so savagely."

  Suddenly the man gave a grunt of exultation, and drewhis hand up from inside the lining of his coat.

  "I've got it," he cried. "Here you are!" Then he broughtit out under the light.

  It was a toothpick.

  Yielding to the impulse of the moment I pushed him underthe wheels of a trolley-car, and ran.

  A Lesson in Fiction

  Suppose that in the opening pages of the modern melodramaticnovel you find some such situation as the following, inwhich is depicted the terrific combat between Gaspard deVaux, the boy lieutenant, and Hairy Hank, the chief ofthe Italian banditti:

  "The inequality of the contest was apparent. With amingled yell of rage and contempt, his sword brandishedabove his head and his dirk between his teeth, the enormousbandit rushed upon his intrepid opponent. De Vaux seemedscarce more than a stripling, but he stood his groundand faced his hitherto invincible assailant. 'Mong Dieu,'cried De Smythe, 'he is lost!'"

  Question. On which of the parties to the above contestdo you honestly feel inclined to put your money?

  Answer. On De Vaux. He'll win. Hairy Hank will force himdown to one knee and with a brutal cry of "Har! har!"will be about to dirk him, when De Vaux will make a suddenlunge (one he had learnt at home out of a book of lunges)and--