FROM ITS DEPTHS I EXTRACTED THE PARTING GIFTS BESTOWED UPON ME BY MY GREAT-AUNT PAULINAFROM ITS DEPTHS I EXTRACTED THE PARTING GIFTS BESTOWED UPON ME BY MY GREAT-AUNT PAULINA
Accordingly I nodded, saying: "Oui, oui; je comprends." And at that, seemingly satisfied, the worthy fellow withdrew, all smiles. Shortly thereafter we drifted off to sleep and I knew no more until I was roused by the brilliant rays of the Augustsun shining in my face and rose to a sitting attitude, to find that the third man had already departed, leaving to Zeno the Great and myself the complete occupancy of the billiard table.
As I straightened to my full stature, with my limbs aching and my whole corporeal frame much stiffened by enforced contact during a period of hours with the comparatively unyielding surface of the billiard table, I made another discovery, highly disconcerting in its nature. Ere retiring to rest I had placed my shoes side by side beneath the table. It was now evident that while I slept some person or persons unknown to me had removed them. I hypothesised this deduction from the fact that they were quite utterly gone. A thorough scrutiny of my surroundings, which I conducted with the aid of my late sleeping companion, merely served to confirm this belief, the search being bootless. I have no intention of making a pun here. Puns are to me vulgar, and hence odious. I mean bootless in the proper sense of the word.
Balancing myself on the marge or vergeof the billiard table—for the tiled surface of the floor had imparted a sense of chill to my half-soled feet and already I was beginning to repress incipient sneezes—I called aloud, and yet again I called. There was no response. A sense of the undignifiedness of my attitude came to me. I opened my remaining portmanteau, which had served me as a pillow—and such a pillow! From its depths I extracted the parting gifts bestowed upon me by my Great-Aunt Paulina and adjusted them to my chilled extremities. Ah, little had she recked, as her deft fingers wove the several skeins of wool into the finished fabric, that under such circumstances as these, in such a place as this, and almost within sound of war's dread alarums, I should now wear them!
I was reminded that I craved food and I mentioned the thought to Mr. Finnigan—or, as I shall call him, Zeno the Great. It appeared that he, too, was experiencing a similar natural longing, for his manner instantly became exuberantly cordial. For all his massiveness of contour and boisterous manner of speech, I felt that this new-madefriend of mine had a warm heart. He dealt me an unnecessarily violent but affectionate blow between the shoulders, and as I reeled from the shock, gasping for breath, he cried out in his uncouth but kindly way:
"Little one, that's a swell idea—let's you and me go to it!" Note—Byit, he undoubtedly meant breakfast.
With these words he lifted his luggage consisting of a large black box securely bound with straps and padlocked as to the hasp, telling me at the same time that he doubted whether any human being in the world save himself could stir it from the floor; for, as he vouchsafed, it contained not only his costume but also a set of juggling devices of solid iron, weighing in the aggregate an incredible number of pounds. I have forgotten the exact figures, but my recollection is that he said upward of a thousand pounds net. As he shouldered this mighty burden he remarked to me over his shoulder:
"I guess I'm bad—eh?"
However, as I have just explained and now reiterate, I am convinced he was notbad at all, but good at bottom; so I contented myself by saying:
"No, no; quite the contrary, I am sure."
As we emerged from the billiard room into the small entrance hall or lobby that adjoined it, I was struck with the air of silence which prevailed. The proprietor was not visible; no other person was visible. Once more I called out, saying: "Hello, my good man! Where are you?" or words to that effect; but only echo answered. I fared to the dining room, but not a living soul was in sight there. Beset by a sudden dread suspicion I hastily ascended the stairs to the upper floor and sped through an empty corridor to the two rooms wherein my eight wards had been lodged. The doors of both chambers stood open; but the interiors, though showing signs of recent occupancy, were deserted. I even explored the closets—no one there, either! Conjecture was succeeded by alarm and alarm by outright distress.
Where had they gone? Where had everybody gone? Unbidden and unanswered, these questions leaped to my bewilderedbrain, firing it with horrible forebodings.
Sounds of loud and excited outcry came reverberatively to me from below. With all possible speed I retraced my steps to the entrance hall. There I beheld the proprietor in close physical contact with Zeno the Great, striving with all his powers to restrain the infuriated latter from committing a bodily assault on the frightened porter, who apparently had just entered by the street door and was cowering in a corner in an attitude of supplication, loudly appealing for mercy, while the landlord in broken English was all the time pleading with the giant to remain tranquil.
Into the midst of the struggle I interposed myself, and when a measure of calm had been re-established I learned the lamentable and stunning truth. Stupefied, dazed and, for the nonce, speechless, I stared from one to the other, unwilling to credit my own sense of hearing.
At seven of the clock a special train had steamed away for Calais, bearing the refugees. The proprietor and his minion had but just returned from the station, whencethe train had departed a short half hour before. Aboard it were the Americans who had been stranded in Abbevilliers on the evening previous. My eight young lady seniors were aboard it, doubtlessly assuming, in the haste and confusion of the start, that I had found lodgment in some other compartment than the one occupied by them.
All the recent guests of this hotel were aboard it—with two exceptions. One was Zeno the Great; the other the author of this distressing narrative.
With one voice we demanded to know why we, too, had not been advised in advance. The proprietor excitedly declared that he had sent the porter to make the rounds of the house during the night and that the porter returning to him, reported that, either by word of mouth or by signs, he had duly informed all of the plans afoot for the ensuing morning.
"He tell me zat ze billiard-table gentlemans do not understand ze French," proclaimed the landlord; "and zat zen he make wit' 'is mouth and 'is hands ze representationof zechemin de fer—what you call ze locomoteef; and zen you say to him: 'Yes, yes—all is well; we comprehend fully.'"
With a low, poignant moan I pressed my hands, palms inward, to my throbbing temples and staggered for support against the nearermost wall. I saw it all now. When the porter had emitted those hissing sounds from between his teeth we very naturally interpreted them as an effort on his part to simulate the sound produced by steaming-hot breakfast coffee. When, in a circular fashion, he rotated his hand we thought he meant scrambled eggs. Between wonder at the incredible stupidity of the porter and horror at the situation of my eight unprotected and defenceless young lady seniors, now separated from me by intervening and rapidly increasing miles, I was rent by conflicting emotions until reason tottered on her throne.
Anon I recovered myself, and the intellectual activity habitual to the trained mind succeeded the coma of shock. I asked this: "When will there be another train for the coast?" With many shrugs the landlordanswered that conditions were unsettled—as we knew; schedules were disarranged. There might be a train to-night, to-morrow, or the day after—who could say? Meantime he felt that it was his duty to warn us to prepare for a visit by a joint representation of the civic and military authorities. Rumours of the presence of spies in the employ of the Germans filled the town. It was believed that one miscreant was even then in the place seeking an opportunity to destroy the public buildings and the railroad terminal with bombs or other devilish machines. Excitement was intense. Aliens were to be put under surveillance and domiciliary search had been ordered. It was even possible that all strangers might be arrested on suspicion and detained for further investigation.
Arrested! Detained! His words sent a cold chill into the very marrow of my being. Innocent of all evil intent though I was, I now recalled that on the day before, while in mixed company, I had spoken openly—perhaps bitterly—of the temperamental shortcomings of the French. What if mylanguage should be distorted, my motives misconstrued? In the present roused and frenzied state of a proverbially excitable race the most frightful mistakes were possible.
There was but one thing to do: I must wire our Secretary of State, apprising him of the exact situation in Abbevilliers with particular reference to my own plight, and strongly urging on him the advisability of instantly ordering a fleet of American battleships to the coast of France, there to make a demonstration in force. With me, to think has ever been to act. I begged the landlord for pen and ink and cable blanks and, sitting down at a convenient table, I began. However, I cannot ask that Mr. Bryan be called to account for his failure to respond to this particular recommendation from me, inasmuch as the cablegram was never despatched; in fact, it was never completed, owing to a succession of circumstances I shall next describe.
Because of an agitation that I ascribe to the intense earnestness now dominating me I encountered some slight difficulty in framingthe message in intelligible language and a legible chirography. I had torn up the first half-completed draft and was engaged on the opening paragraph of the second when the clamour of a fresh altercation fell on my ear, causing me to glance up from my task. The porter, it appeared, had laid hands on Zeno the Great's black box, possibly with a view to shifting it from where it lay on the floor directly in the doorway; whereupon its owner became seized with a veritable berserk rage. Uttering loud cries and denunciations he fell on the porter and wrested the box from his grasp; following which the porter fled into the street, being immediately lost from view in the distance.
Turning to me, Zeno the Great was in the midst of saying that, though bereft of his scrapbook of clippings and his set of photographs, he hoped to be eternally consigned to perdition—his meaning if not his exact phraseology—if anybody got away with the even more precious belongings yet remaining to him, when nearing sounds of hurrying feet and many shrill voices from without caused him to break off.
In apprehension, more or less successfully concealed from casual scrutiny, I rose to my feet. At the same instant the porter precipitately re-entered, closely followed by six gendarmes, eight foot soldiers, a personage in a high hat, whom I afterward ascertained to be the mayor, and a mixed assemblage of citizens of both sexes and all ages, amounting in the aggregate to a multitude of not inconsiderable proportions. Agitating his arms with inconceivable activity and crying out words of unknown purport at the top of his lungs, the porter pointed accusingly at Zeno, at the locked box, at me!
For the moment I was left unmolested. With loud and infuriated cries the gendarmes threw themselves on the black box. The foot soldiers hurled themselves on Zeno the Great, precipitating him to the floor, and quite covering him up beneath a quivering and straining mass of human forms. The mayor tripped over a stool and fell prone. The populace gave vent to shrill outcries. In short and in fine, I may affirm,without fear of successful contradiction, that chaos reigned supreme.
One felt that the time had come to assert one's sovereign position as an American citizen and, if need be, as a member of a family able to trace its genealogy in an unbroken line to the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers at or near Plymouth Rock, Massachusetts. I drew forth from my pocket the small translating manual, previously described as containing English and French sentences of similar purport arranged in parallel columns, and, holding it in one hand, I endeavoured to advance to the centre of the turmoil, with my free arm meantime uplifted in a gesture calling for silence and attention; but a variety of causes coincidentally transpired to impede seriously my efforts to be heard.
To begin with, the uproar was positively deafening in volume, and my voice is one which in moments of declamation is inclined to verge on the tenor. In addition to this, the complete freedom of my movements was considerably impaired by a burly whiskered creature, in a long blouse such asis worn in these parts by butchers and other tradespeople, who, coming on me from behind, fixed a firm grasp in the back of my garments at the same instant when one of his fellows possessed himself of my umbrella and my small portmanteau.
Finally, I could not locate in the book the exact phrases I meant to utter. Beneath my eyes, as the printed leaves fluttered back and forth, there flashed paragraphs dealing with food, with prices of various articles, with the state of the weather, with cab fares, with conjectures touching on the whereabouts of imaginary relatives, with questions and answers in regard to the arrival and departure of trains, but nothing at all concerning unfounded suspicions directed against private individuals; nothing at all concerning the inherent rights of strangers travelling abroad; nothing at all concerning the procedure presumed to obtain among civilised peoples as to the inviolate sacredness of one's personal property from sumptuary and violent search at the hands of unauthorised persons—in short, nothing at all that would have theslightest bearing on, or be of the slightest value in explaining, the present acute situation. Given a modicum of leisure for painstaking search among the pages and a lessening of tensity in the state of the popular excitement, I should undoubtedly have succeeded in finding that which I sought; but such was destined not to be.
Of a sudden a chorus of exultant shrieks, louder than any of the cries that until then had arisen, caused all and sundry to face a spot near the door. The gendarmes had forced open the black box so highly prized by Zeno the Great and now bared its contents to the common gaze.
Mister President, think of the result on the minds of the mob already inflamed by stories of spies and infernal devices. The box contained six cannon balls and a German captain's uniform!
Ah, sir, how many times since then, dreaming in my peaceful bed of the things that immediately ensued, have I wakened to find my extremities icy cold and my body bathed in an icy moisture! Yet, in my waking hours, whene'er I seek mentally to reconstructthose hideous scenes I marvel that I should preserve so confused, so inchoate a recollection of it all, though from the picture certain episodes stand out in all their original and terrifying vividness.
Again do I hear the maledictions of the frenzied populace; again do I behold their menacing faces, their threatening gestures. Again, with pitying and sympathetic eyes, do I see myself hurried through the streets, a breathless prisoner, hatless, coatless—for my coat came away in the hands of the whiskered wretch in the blouse—deprived through forcible confiscation of my translating manual, by means of which I might yet have made all clear to my accusers, and still wearing on my sorely trampled feet the parting gift of Great-Aunt Paulina. Again am I carried for arraignment before a mixed tribunal in a crowded room of some large building devoted in ordinary times, I presume, to civic purposes.
The trial scene—how clearly do I envisage that! Come with me, Your Excellency, and look on it: Zeno the Great is there, writhing impotently in the grasp of hiscaptors and, at such intervals as his voice can be heard, hoarsely importuning me to make all clear. The gendarmes are there. The troopers are there in full panoply of lethal equipment and carnage-dealing implements of war. The mayor is there, as before, but has lost his high hat. Hundreds of the vociferating citizens are there. And finally I—Roscoe T. Fibble—am there also, still preserving, I may fondly trust, such dignity, such poise, such an air of conscious rectitude as is possible, considering gyves on one's wrists, no covering for one's head, and a pair of embroidered bedroom slippers on one's feet.
The porter, with circumstantial particularity, re-enacts his attempt to remove the damning black box and his encounter with my hapless companion. The mayor publicly embraces him. The chief of the gendarmes proves by actual demonstration that the German captain's uniform is a perfect fit for Zeno the Great. The mayor kisses him on both cheeks. The commanding officer of the military squad makes the discovery that the six cannon balls are but thin hollowmetal shells containing cavities or recesses, into which presumably fulminating explosives might be introduced. The mayor kisses him on both cheeks and on the forehead.
It is one's own turn; at the prospect one involuntarily shudders! One's self is hedged about by impassioned inquisitionists. On every side one is confronted by waving beards, condemning eyes, denouncing faces, clenched hands and pointing fingers. From full twenty throats at once one is beset by shrill interrogations; but, owing to the universal rapidity of utterance and the shrillness of enunciation, one is quite unable, in the present state of one's mind, to distinguish a single intelligible syllable.
Lacking my translating manual to aid me in framing suitable responses, I had resort to an expedient which at the moment seemed little short of an inspiration, but which I have since ascertained to have been technically an error, inasmuch as thereby I was put in the attitude of pleading guilty to being a spy in the employ of the enemy, of being an accomplice of Zeno the Great innefarious plots against the lives and property of the French people, and of having conspired with him to wreck all public and many private edifices in the town by means of deadly agencies.
The mistake I made, Mr. President, was this: To all questions of whatsoever nature, I answered by saying, "Oui, oui."
Almost instantaneously—so it seemed—I found myself transported to a place of durance vile, deep down in the intricate confines of the noisome cellars beneath the building where the inquisition had taken place. There in lonely solitude did I languish; and at intervals I heard through the thick walls, from the adjoining keep, the dismal, despairing accents of my ill-starred fellow countryman bewailingly uplifted. True, he had wilfully deceived me. Most certainly he told me those cannon balls were solid iron.
Yet this was neither the time nor the place for vain recriminations; for, indeed, all seemed lost. Doom impended—earthly destruction; mundane annihilation! One pictured a gallows tree; and, turning fromthat image, one pictured a firing squad at sunrise. I was only deterred from committing to writing my expiring message to Mr. Bryan and the world at large by two insurmountable considerations: One was that I had no writing materials of whatsoever nature, and the other was that my mental perturbation precluded all possibility of inducing a consecutive and lucid train of thought.
Constantly there recurred to me the words of a popular yet melancholy ballad I had once heard reproduced on a talking machine which dealt with the tragic and untimely fate of a noble youth who, through misapprehension and no discernible fault of his own, perished at the hands of a drum-head court-martial in time of hostilities, the refrain being: "The pardon came too late!"
Nevermore should I see my peaceful study at Fernbridge Seminary for Young Ladies, with its cozy armchair, its comforting stool, or rest, for the slippered feet, its neatly arranged tea table! Nevermore should I spend the tranquil evening hourswith Wordsworth and with Tennyson! Nevermore should my eyes rest on my portfolio of pressed autumn leaves, my carefully preserved wild flowers, my complete collection of the flora of Western New Jersey!
In such despairing contemplations very many hours passed—or at least, so I believed at the time. Eventually footsteps sounded without in the paved corridor; the lock of my cell turned; the hinges grated; metal clanged. Had another day dawned? Had the executioners come to lead me forth? Nay; not so! The sickly light that streamed into my dungeon cell was not the beaming of another sunrise but the suffused radiance of the present afternoon; in fact, the hour was approximately one o'clock P. M., as I learned later.
Enframed in the door opening stood the form of my gaoler, and beside him was one of the cousins of my charge, Miss Canbee. It was the tall brunette cousin—not the slight blonde one. I was saved! I was saved!
He—the cousin in question—had been oneof the officers in charge of the train which bore my charges away that morning. Meeting him on board soon after discovering that I was not included among the passengers, Miss Canbee begged him to hasten back to Abbevilliers to make search for me. He had consented; he had returned posthaste. He knew me for what I was, not for what, to the misguided perceptions of these excited citizens, I seemed, in sooth, to be.
And in this same connection I wish to add that I have ever refused to credit the malicious rumours originating among some of Miss Canbee's seminary mates, and coming to my ears after my safe arrival at Fernbridge, to the effect that this young gentleman was not Miss Canbee's cousin and nowise related to her; for, as I clearly pointed out to Miss Waddleton on the occasion when she recounted the story to me, if he were not her cousin, how could she have known him when they met in Paris and why should he have been willing to act on her intercessions? He was her cousin—I reaffirm it!
He had come. He was now here. I repeatthe former declaratory exclamation—I was saved!
Mister President, the story is done. You now know all—or nearly all. With a line I dispose of the release from custody of the writer and of Zeno the Great, following suitable explanations carried on with the aid of Miss Canbee's cousin. With another line—to wit, this one—I pass over my affecting reunion that night at Calais with my eight young-lady charges; as also the details of our return to England's friendly shores, of our meeting with Miss Primleigh, of our immediate departure by steamer for our own dear land, and finally of our reception at Fernbridge, in which I was unable to participate in person by reason of the shattered state of my nerves.
And now, sir, having placed before you the facts, with all the determination of which I am capable I reiterate my earlier expressed demand for condign official retribution on the heads of the persons culpably blamable for my harrowing misadventures, whoever and wherever those persons may be. If you feel moved, also, totake up the matter with Mr. Bryan personally, you have my permission to do so.
Before concluding, I might add that a day or two since, as I casually perused the editorial columns of a daily journal published at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, I chanced on a delineation of Mr. Bryan, depicting him in sweeping white robes, with a broad smile on his face, and holding in one outstretched hand a brimming cup, flagon or beaker, labelled as containing a purely nonalcoholic beverage; while on his shoulder nestled a dove, signifying Peace. I have taken the liberty of forwarding a copy of this communication to the artist responsible for that pictured tribute, in order that he, too, may know our former Secretary of State in his true light, and in the hope that he—the artist—shall in future cease to employ his talents in extolling one who so signally failed to give heed to one's appeals in the most critical period of one's existence.
I remain, sir,Your most obedient servant,Roscoe T. Fibble, D.D.
P. S.: Since penning the above, my attention has been directed to the fact that the picture in the aforesaid Philadelphia paper was intended for a caricature—or, as the cant phrase goes, a cartoon—its intent being to cast gentle ridicule on the policies of the man Bryan. I have, therefore, addressed a supplementary line to the artist, complimenting and commending him in the highest terms.Fibble.
APRIL THE THIRD.—Good morning, Friend Quarto! The foregoing line, which I have but this moment inscribed in a fair hand upon the first ruled page immediately succeeding the flyleaf of this neat russet-clad volume, marks the beginning of a new and—what I trust me shall prove—a congenial enterprise. This, therefore, is in the nature of a dedication, none the less significant because privately conducted. I am to-day inaugurating a diary or, as some would say, a journal of my daily life.
For long I have contemplated such an undertaking, but in the press of other matters delayed making a start, as so often one will. Procrastination—ah, what a graceless rogue are you! But upon the eve ofyesterday, shortly before evensong, as I was passing adown the main street of this quaint and quiet village of Lover's Leap, situate in the western part of the state of New Jersey, I chanced to pause before the shop of the Messrs. Bumpass Brothers, a merchandising establishment for the purveying of stationery, sweetmeats, souvenirs and such like commodities and much in favour among the student body of our beloved Fernbridge Seminary for Young Ladies. In the show window, displayed in company with other articles of varied character and description, I beheld this book, which seemed so exactly suited and devised to my purposes. Without delay, therefore, I entered in and from Mr. Selim Bumpass, the younger member of this firm of tradeworthy tradesmen, I procured it at a cost of ninety cents, and here and now I devote you, little bookling, to your future usages.
I count this an auspicious occasion, ushering, as it does, into the placid currents of my existence what at once shall be a new pleasure and a new duty. Nightly when the toils of the hour are done and darknesshas drawn her curtains about the world I, seated in the cloistered seclusion of my rooms, shall enter herein a more or less complete summary of the principal events of the day that is done.
When this volume is quite filled up I shall purchase yet another, and thus it shall be in the years to come that in leisure moments I may take down from my shelves one of my accumulated store of diaries and, opening it at random, refresh the wearied faculties with memories of bygone events, past trials, half-forgotten triumphs, et cetera, et cetera. In fancy I behold myself, with the light of retrospection beaming in my eye, glancing up from the written leaf and to myself murmuring: "Fibble, upon such a date in the long ago you did thus and so, you visited this or that spot of interest, you had profitable converse with such and such a person." How inspiring the prospect; how profitable may be the outcome of the labour required!
With this brief foreword I now put you aside, little diary, meaning to seek your company again ere the hour of retiring hasarrived. So be of good cheer and grow not impatient through the long hours, for anon I shall return.
Ten-forty-five P. M. of even date; to wit, April the third.—True to my promise, here I am, pen in hand and finger at brow. It augurs well that I should have launched this undertaking upon this particular day. For scarce had I left my study this morning when an occurrence came to pass which I deem to have been of more than passing interest and proper, therefore, to be set forth in some amplitude of detail. At faculty meeting, following chapel, our principal and president, Miss Waddleton, announced to us that a new member had been added to our little band. Continuing in this strain, she explained that a young person, until now a stranger to us all, had been engaged for the position of athletic instructor made vacant by the recent and regrettable resignation of Miss Eleanor Scuppers. With these words she presented Miss Scuppers' successor in the person of a Miss Hildegarde Hamm. Mutual introductions followed.
During the ceremonial I had abundantopportunity to observe this Miss Hamm with a polite but searching scrutiny. I cannot deny that she is rather of a personable aspect, but, in all charity and forbearance of final judgment, I foresee she may prove a discordant factor, a disturbing element in our little circle. I go further than that. If I may permit myself to indulge in language verging almost upon the indelicate, when employed with reference to the other or gentler sex, she has about her a certain air of hoydenish and robustious buoyancy which, I fear me, will but ill conform to the traditions of dear Fernbridge and the soothed and refining spirit ever maintained by the instructor body of our beloved seminary.
Subconsciously I felt wincingly the grasp of her hand as I exchanged with her the customary salutations the while I murmured a few words of perfunctory welcome. Her clasp was almost masculine in its firmness and pressure—much more vehement than the one which I myself exert upon occasions of greeting. But since I, as occupant of the chair of astronomy and ancient and modern history, shall probably be thrown in directcontact with our new coworker but little, I anticipate no personal embarrassments, albeit I shall endeavour to hold her at a distance, ever and always maintaining between us a barrier of courteous aloofness. It is the effect upon our institution as a whole that I regard with forebodings.
In a brief period of speech with MissPrimleigh, our mathematics teacher, which ensued in a corridor subsequent to Miss Hamm's induction into the faculty, I gathered that Miss Primleigh, who is of a most discerning turn of mind, shared with me these apprehensions. Also I gleaned from Miss Primleigh certain salient facts concerning our youthful confrère. It would seem Miss Hamm is a person of independent means. Being quite completely orphaned as a direct consequence of the death of both of her immediate parents, she resides in the household of her uncle, a Mr. Hector Hamm, who recently moved into the community from the state of Maryland. Likewise being addicted to physical exertions in their more ardent form, she has associated herself with us rather for the opportunityof exercising her tastes in this direction than for the sake of any financial honorarium or, as some would put it, remuneration of salary. At least such was Miss Primleigh's information, she volunteering the added statement that in her opinion Miss Hamm was a forward piece. From the inflection of Miss Primleigh's voice at this juncture, coupled with her manner, I am constrained to believe this term of designation is not to be taken as implying a compliment, but, on the contrary, the approximate reverse.
Good night, diary. I shall now retire.
April the Seventh.—A certain salubriousness was to-day manifest in the air, indicative of the passing of winter and the on-coming of spring. After some cogitation of the subject, I decided this morning upon arising to doff my heavier undervestments—that is, union suitings—for garments of less irksome weight and texture. This I did.
I recall nothing else of importance transpiring upon this date which is worthy ofbeing recorded, except that, in the course of a short walk this afternoon, I came upon a half unfolded specimen ofViola cucullata—or, to use the vulgar appellation, common blue violet—pushing its way through the leafy mould and mildew of the winter's accumulation. I made this discovery in a spinney, or copse, near a small tarn some half mile to the eastward of Fernbridge's precincts. I am aware that the resident populace hereabout customarily refer to this spot as the wet woods back of Whitney's Bog, but I infinitely prefer the English phraseology as more euphonious and at the same time more poetic. With all due gentleness I uprootedViola cucullatafrom its place in the boscage and, after it has been suitably pressed, I mean to add it to my collection of the fauna indigenous to the soil of Western New Jersey, not because of its rarity, for it is, poor thing, but a common enough growth, but because of its having been the first tender harbinger of the budding year which has come directly to my attention. I shall botanize extensively this year. For with me to botanize is one of thedearest of pursuits, amounting to a veritable passion.
April the Eighth.—Blank; no entries.
April the Ninth.—Also blank.
April the Tenth.—It is illness and not a disinclination to pursue my self-appointed task of preserving this repository of my thoughts and deeds which for the past two days has kept me from you, friend diary. As a consequence of venturing abroad upon the seventh instant without my heavy undergarments and likewise without galoshes, having been deceived into committing these indiscretions by a false and treacherous mildness of atmospheric conditions leading to the assumption that the vernal season had come or was impending—a circumstance already described some paragraphs back—I found myself upon the morn following to be the victim of a severe cold, complicated with quinsy or sore throat. I have ever since been confined to my room, if not to my couch, in an acutely indisposedstate, endeavouring to rid myself of these impairments by recourse to a great variety of panaceas applied both internally and otherwise. Not until the present moment have I felt qualified, either mentally or bodily, to address myself to the labour of literary composition. Indeed, what with trying this vaunted cure or that—now a gargle, now a foot bath in water heated well nigh to boiling, now a hot lemonade, and again a bolus, a lotion or a liniment—I have had no time for writing, even if so inclined.
I am struck by the interesting fact that when one is ill of a cold practically every one with whom one comes in contact has a favourite suggestion for relieving one of one's symptoms. Scarce a member of the faculty these two days but has prescribed this or that thing, each in turn extolling the virtues of her own remedy and at the same time vigorously decrying the merits of all others whatsoever. To avoid showing favouritism and to guard against giving offence in any quarter, for such is my nature, I have faithfully endeavoured to accept the advice and obey the injunction of each andevery well wisher, with one exception. I shall refer to that exception in another moment.
To-night I am greatly improved, although weakened. In fact, I should almost entirely be my former self were it not for a blistered condition of the throat, a pronounced tenderness of the feet, and an inflamed area of the cutaneous covering of the bosom—the first due, I think, to swallowing an overhot lemonade, the second to the constancy with which I resorted to foot bathing, while the third indubitably may be ascribed to the after effects of an oil of great potency and pronounced odour which Miss Waddleton with her own hands bestowed upon me and with which I anointed that particular portion of my anatomy at half-hourly intervals.
To-night these quarters are quite oppressively redolent of the commingled scents of drugs, unguents and ointments. But in view of the sharpness of the evening I shall for the time forbear to air my chambers. Nor, as I do now most solemnly pledge myself, shall I again venture forth unless suitablyfortified and safeguarded against the uncertainties of our northern climate, until the springtime is well advanced and a reasonable continuation of balmy conditions is assured.
The exception to which I referred in a preceding paragraph was none other than Miss Hamm, the newest member of our faculty. Actuated, I hope, by kindly motives, she called this afternoon, finding me in dressing gown and slippers, prone upon the couch in my study, at my side a table laden with bottles and in my hand an atomiser, with which at every convenient pause in the conversation I assiduously sprayed the more remote recesses of the throat and the nose. Upon entering she was good enough to enquire regarding my progress toward recovery and I, replying, launched upon a somewhat lengthy description of the nature of the malady, meaning in time to come to an enumeration of the various succeeding stages of convalescence. In the midst of this she cut me short with the brusque and abrupt remark that if I threw all the medicines out of the window and puton my things and went for a long walk I should feel a lot better in less than no time at all—such substantially being her language as I recall it.
Between inhalations of the fluid contents of the atomiser I replied, stating in effect that the fact of my having taken a walk was responsible in no small measure for my present depleted state. Naturally I made no mention of a certain contributory factor—namely, the unwise and hasty step taken by me with regard to undergarments. I went on to say that in no event, even though so inclined—a thing in itself inconceivable—would I harbour the impulse to cast from my casements the accumulation of vials, pill boxes, et cetera, with which I had been provided by my friends, since inevitably the result would be to litter the lawn without, thereby detracting from the kempt and seemly aspect of our beloved institution, of which we who have learned to venerate and cherish Fernbridge Seminary are justly so proud. Upon this point I spoke with especial firmness. Perhaps it was the manner of my administering this gentle but deservedrebuke—or possibly the words in which I couched my chidings—at any rate she endeavoured to conceal the discomfiture she must have felt beneath an outburst of laughter ere she withdrew, leaving me to welcome solitude and my throat douche.
How different was the attitude of Miss Primleigh when she came to offer her ministrations—all sympathy, all understanding, all solicitude! It is to Miss Primleigh that I stand at this hour indebted for the loan of the atomiser. She assures me that she has ever found it most efficacious, and I, too, have found it so, although I admit the use of it tends to produce a tickling sensation to membranes already made sensitive by other applications.
April the Eleventh.—Am entirely restored to normal well being except for a stoppage of the upper nasal region which at times proves annoying—I might even say vexatious. The inflammation of the throat having subsided, I derived much comfort this afternoon from imbibing tea; being thefirst time, in the scope of half a week, when tea has had its proper zest and flavour.
April the Twelfth.—Returned to classroom duties, taking up, in the history course, the life and works of Marcus Aurelius, a character for whom I have ever entertained the liveliest sentiments of regard and respect, for did he not, in an age of licentiousness and loose living, deport himself with such rectitude as to entitle him to the encomiums and the plaudits of all right-thinking persons forever thereafter?
Otherwise, nothing noteworthy upon this day and date.
April the Thirteenth.—I went abroad to-day for the first time since my recent indisposition, taking the precaution first to well muffle myself as to throat, wrists and pedal extremities. For my associate in the pleasures of pedestrianism I had Miss Primleigh, from whose company I have ever derived a certain calm and philosophic enjoyment. In a way, one might say Miss Primleigh is almost purely intellect. Thequalities of her mind shine forth, as it were, through her earthly tenement; rendering her in truth a most admirable companion.
In the progress of our peregrinations over hill and vale, I gathered several desirable specimens for my botanical collection. Miss Primleigh, whose turn of thought even in her lighter moments is essentially mathematical, as befitting one of her chosen calling in life, spent some time pleasantly, and I dare say profitably, in calculating by mental arithmetic the number of cubic yards of earth in the hillock known as Potts' Ridge. A delightful and congenial outing was jointly shared.
Sauntering slowly along, we had wended our meandering course homeward, or perhaps I should say schoolward, and had reached a small byway, known locally as Locust Lane, when there came to our ears a sound of joyous voices and a clattering of nimble hoofs mingling together. Almost instantly a merry cavalcade swept into view round a turn in the path. It was composed of a number, perhaps six in all, of our young lady students, taking a lesson in horsebackriding under the tutelage of Miss Hamm, the young person previously mentioned in these chronicles. She—I speak now with reference to Miss Hamm—led the procession, mounted upon a mettlesome steed and attired in a costume including a short coat, boots, and bifurcated garments of a close-fitting nature. Her hair, beneath a stiff hat such as I myself customarily wear, was braided in heavy coils. As might be expected, she rode, as the saying goes, astride, evincing great adeptness for this form of exercise, which has been described to me as being healthful in the extreme, although I should denominate it as bordering upon the dangerous, unless the equine one chose for one's use was more docile than so frequently appears to be the case.
As the party dashed by us with appropriate salutations, to which I replied in kind, I was suddenly impressed by a grace of movement—or shall I call it a jaunty abandon?—in Miss Hamm's bearing, aspect and general demeanour. To the casual eye the effect of this was far from being displeasing. I was about to venture as much toMiss Primleigh and had, in fact, cleared my throat as a preliminary to making the statement, when she broke in, speaking in a tone of severity. I quote her:
"You needn't say it, Doctor Fibble—I know exactly how you feel, before you speak a word. And I agree with you perfectly in all that you think. Didn't I tell you that creature was a forward piece? Did you see how the little minx was dressed? Did you see how she carried herself? If we both live to be a thousand years old you'll never catch me wearing such clothes!"
I nodded in a noncommittal fashion, not caring at the moment to take issue with Miss Primleigh. Arguments I detest. If she chose to misinterpret my sentiments, so be it then. I shall, however, add here that while my own opinion of the matter was not absolutely in accord with the burden of Miss Primleigh's criticisms, there was one point brought out by her in her remarks upon which I could not conscientiously take issue with her. To paraphrase her own words, I believe I should not care ever to catchMiss Primleigh costumed as Miss Hamm was. In confidence I may confide to my diary that I do not believe the former would appear to the best advantage in such habiliments as I have briefly touched upon, she being of a somewhat angular physical conformation, although not until now do I recall having been cognisant of this fact.
To-night, sitting here, the picture of Miss Hamm upon horseback persists in the retina of my brain as a far from unseemly vision. One is moved to wonder that a circumstance so trivial should linger in one's mind. How truly has it been said that the vagaries of the human imagination are past divining.
April the Seventeenth.—Shortly after three P. M. of this day, following the dismissal of my class in astronomy, I accidentally stepped into the gymnasium hall. I cannot account for so doing, unless it be upon the ground that my thoughts still dwelt upon those heavenly bodies with whose wonders I had for hours been concerned to the exclusion of all other considerations of whatsoever nature. In this stateof absent-mindedness I discovered myself standing outside the door of the large room devoted to the physical exercises. My hand, obeying a mechanical impulse, turned the knob; pausing upon the threshold I beheld the spectacle of Miss Hamm, directing a group of our juniors in dumb-bell manipulation, all present—instructor and students alike—being costumed in the prescribed uniform of loose blouses and those garments technically known, I believe, as bloomers.
The sight of so many young persons, their faces intent, their minds engrossed with each succeeding evolution of gesticulation, their bodies swaying in unison, was an agreeable one. Entirely in a subconscious way I observed that Miss Hamm's hair was not plaited up and confined to the head with ribands, pins or other appliances in vogue among her sex, but depended in loose and luxuriant masses about her face; I remarked its colour—a chestnut brown—and a tendency upon its part to form into ringlets when unconfined, the resultant effect being somewhat attractive. At the moment of myentrance her side face was presented to me; a piquant and comely profile I should term it, without professing in the least to have judgment in such matters.
Presently discovering that an intruder had appeared upon the scene, she paused in her work of directing her class and, turning toward me, inquired whether there was anything I desired. Having no excuse to account for my presence, I stated that I had mistaken the door and, briefly begging her pardon for having interrupted her, I withdrew. Later I found myself striving with a vague and unaccountable desire to return and witness more of the dumb-bell evolutions.
April the Eighteenth.—A strange lassitude besets me. I first discerned it this forenoon soon after the burden of the school day was taken up. A marked disinclination for the prescribed routine of classroom and study hall appears to be one of its most pronounced manifestations. I am strangely distraught; preoccupied with truant andwandering thoughts having no bearing upon the task in hand.
Seeking to throw off these distractions, I quite casually dropped into the gymnasium. It was empty. Upon finding it so, a small sense of disappointment beset me. I then went for a walk, trusting to the soft and gentle influences of out-of-doors to dispel the meaningless vapourings which beset my consciousness. My wandering feet automatically carried me to Locust Lane, where for some time I lingered in idleness.
The class in horseback riding did not pass, as once before. Presumably our young equestriennes, if abroad, had taken some other direction. In pensive thought not untinctured with a fleeting depression, I returned at dusk, hoping with books to cure myself of the bewilderments of this day.
An hour agone I took up a volume of Tasso. Than Tasso in the original Latin, I know of no writer whose works are better fitted for perusal during an hour of relaxation. But Tasso was dull to-night. The printed page was before my eyes, but my thoughts sped off in tangents to dwell uponthe birds, the trees, the flowers. The thought of flowers suggested my botanical collection and to it I turned. But it, too, had lost its zest.
It must be that this mental preoccupation has a physical side. Beyond peradventure the lassitude of spring is upon me. I shall take a tonic compounded according to a formula popular for many generations in my family and much favoured by my sole surviving relative, Great-Aunt Paulina, now residing at an advanced age, but with faculties unimpaired, in the city of Hartford, Connecticut. Haply I have a bottle of this sovereign concoction by me, Great-Aunt Paulina having sent it by parcel post no longer ago than last week. I shall take it as designated by her in the letter accompanying the timely gift—a large dessert-spoonful three times daily before meals.
April the Twenty-first.—Have been taking my tonic regularly but apparently without deriving beneficial results. Its especial purpose is for the thinning of the blood. Assuredly though, if my blood hasbeen appreciably thinned my mental attitude remains unchanged. Perversely I continue to be the subject of contradictory and conflicting moods impossible to understand and difficult to describe. Certainly I have never been in this state before. Query: Can it be I am upon the verge of a serious disorder? Temporary exaltation succeeds melancholy, and vice versa. On two separate occasions to-day I was aware of this phenomenon—a passing sense of exuberance and cheerfulness, shortly afterward followed by a morbid and gloom-tinged longing for I know not what.
This serves to remind me that twice to-day I had conversations of brief duration with Miss Hamm. The first meeting was by chance, we merely exchanging commonplaces touching upon our respective fields of activity here at Fernbridge; but the second eventuated through deliberate intent on my part. With premeditation I put myself in her path. My motive for so doing was, I trust, based upon unselfishness entirely. I had formed an early and perhaps a hasty estimate of this young woman's nature.I wished either to convince myself absolutely upon these points or to disabuse my mind of all prejudice.
I am glad I took this step. For I am constrained now to admit that my first impression of Miss Hamm's personality may have done her an injustice. With what care should one guard oneself against o'erready appraisals of the characters of one's fellow beings!
It is not to be gainsaid that Miss Hamm lends to our institution a picturesqueness of outward aspect as well as a light-heartedness and a buoyancy of viewpoint which heretofore has been quite utterly lacking among our instructor corps. Despite a pronounced tendency betrayed by her to give to serious subjects a perplexingly light and roguish twist, an inclination, as it were, to make chaff, to banter, to indulge in idle whimsicalities, I think I discern in her indubitable qualities of mind which, properly guided and directed by some older person having her best interests at heart, may be productive in time of development and expansion into higher realms of thought.
I feel within me a desire to assist in the blossoming forth of what I plainly discover to be this young person's real self. I shall not count as wasted the hours I may devote to this altruistic and disinterested endeavour. My payment shall be the consciousness of a duty well performed—that and nothing more. Indeed, at this moment, as I indite this pledge, speculation as to its outcome engenders in me an uplifting of the spirit which bodes well for the future fruitage of my ambition.
In such mood was I when, shortly having quitted the company of Miss Hamm, I met Miss Primleigh. She suggested another excursion into the wildwood. Upon plea of a slight indisposition, but without explaining its symptoms, I excused myself and continued upon my way. I felt that I should prefer for the nonce to be alone. I shall ever value my friendship with Miss Primleigh as a great privilege, for in truth she is one of deep culture and profound mental attainments, but during the last few days I have several times detected myself in the act of wishing that she were not quiteso statistical in her point of view and that her thoughts upon occasion might take a lighter trend than she evinces. I have even found myself desiring that to the eye she might present a plumper aspect, so to speak. For, in all charity, it is not to be denied that Miss Primleigh is what the world is pleased to call angular—painfully angular, I am afraid. Only to-day I noticed that her feet were large, or at least the shoes she wore lent a suggestion as of largeness. One owes it to oneself to make the best of one's personal appearance; this reflection came to me as I was turning away from Miss Primleigh. Possibly it is because she has failed to do so that I have found her company, in a measure, palling upon me here of late. Or can it be that spiritually I am outgrowing Miss Primleigh? I know not. I do but state the actual fact. Yet always I shall esteem her most highly.
To-night a sense of loneliness, a desire for the companionship of my kind, assails me. I can only opine that my blood is not thinning with the desired celerity. Beginning to-morrow I shall take a large tablespoonfulof the tonic before meals instead of a dessert-spoonful.
A telephone was to-day installed in my study. Heretofore Fernbridge has been connected with the outer world only by a single telephone placed in the reception hall of our main building, but now, by Miss Waddleton's direction, each member of the faculty will hereafter enjoy the use of a separate instrument. Thus, without the surrender of any of its traditions, does Fernbridge keep abreast of the movements of this workaday world.
I think of nothing else of moment. I seek repose.
April the Twenty-second.—A most annoying incident has marred the day. As I think back upon it, adding deduction to deduction, superimposing surmise upon suspicion and suspicion in turn upon premise and fact, I am forced, against my very will, to conclude that, forgetting the dignity due one in my position, some person or persons to me unknown made a partially successful attempt to enact a practical joke of the mostunpardonable character, having for a chosen victim none other than myself. I say partially successful, because at the moment when the plot approached its climax a subtle inner sense warned me to have a care and I refused to proceed farther, thus robbing the perpetrator or perpetrators of the anticipated laugh at my expense.
I shall set down the history of the entire affair. On yesterday, as I have stated, a telephone was duly installed within the precincts of my study. This forenoon I chanced to mention the matter to Miss Hamm whom, by a coincidence, I encountered as she was entering the seminary grounds. Indeed as I recall, I spoke upon the topic to a number of persons, including fellow instructors and students, remarking upon the added opportunities thus afforded for broadened intercourse through the medium of a device which has grown well-nigh indispensable to the conduct of our daily affairs. Some one—Miss Hamm as I remember, although it may have been another—was moved in this connection to ask me whether the inspection department ofthe local exchange had made the customary tests of the instrument in my study, to which I replied in the negative.
But at five of the clock or thereabout, as I sat here enjoying the refreshing solace of tea and basking in the mild spring air wafted to me through my opened windows, the telephone bell rang. Arising promptly, I went to where the instrument is affixed to the wall and responded to the call in the conventional manner by placing the receiver to my ear, applying my lips to the transmitter and uttering the word "Halloa!" twice, or possibly thrice repeated. Over the wire then a female voice spoke, enquiring if this were Doctor Fibble? Upon my stating that such was the case, the voice said:
"Doctor, this is the inspection department. We wish to test your telephone. Will you be so kind as to help us?"
To which I responded:
"Willingly, if it lies within my power to render such assistance."
"Thank you," said the other. "Are you ready to begin?"
"Quite ready," I said.
"Very well then," bade the voice. "Kindly stand back two feet from the mouthpiece and say coo-coo three times, with a rising inflection on the final coo."
The request appeared reasonable; accordingly I complied.
"Splendid," praised the unknown when I had concluded. "Now put your mouth close up to the transmitter and do the same thing all over again, but slightly louder."
No sooner requested than done.
"Now stand two feet to the left of the phone and repeat."
I repeated.
"Now two feet to the right, please."
Once more I obeyed.
Then came this message:
"Doctor, have you a chair handy?"
I said a chair was at the moment within arm's reach of me.
"Excellent," said this person who professed to be in charge of the test. "Please draw the chair close up to the wall, climb upon it and, standing on tiptoe, say coo-coo clearly and distinctly and keep on saying it until I call out 'Enough.'"