So I am getting accustomed to being regarded as one dead. But there is one consoling thing in this unfortunately fortunate situation. Gladys seems confoundedly satisfied. When I see her happy I feel that I should not growl because I have had to give up comfort and pleasure for her sake. She says she was thoroughly tired of being the late Mrs. Underbunk, and having people, who did not know, condole with her as though she were a widow; as long as she can have two comfortable houses, her carriage, plenty of clothes, and a husband who does not drink too much, she thinks she should consider herself a lucky woman. I suppose I should consider myself a lucky man, if all my old friends did not treat me as though I were a bore.
For instance, we dined at the Garishes last night, a formal affair of twenty-four covers, and instead of my taking in Evelyn, as of old, she had Cecil Hash on one side, and on the other, Winthrop Jumpkin, 7th, whom I made.Gladys was at the other end with a jolly crowd—Gastly, Garish, and the Countess of Less, who was Evangeline Very, and has just returned alone to this country from England for a prolonged stay. As for me, I took in old Mrs. Handy, somebody's poor relative, and had on my left Timpey Duff's deaf-and-dumb sister—I think she was deaf and dumb, for she only spoke once all evening. It was positively the only night in my life that I have eaten anything at a formal dinner, and the single time I attracted the slightest attention was when I almost choked to death on a lot of terrapin bone that got crosswise in my throat. Afterward, in the smoking-room, Garish, Gastly, Hash, and Jumpkin, the only interesting men there, got off in a corner and talked nothing but stocks. Since my last flyer, that has been a delicate subject with me, and I sought peace basking in the benign smile of old Bishop Bumble, who, over his cognac, discoursed, at great length, on his new scheme for a church race-track. He argued that as long as people had to have racing, it would bebest to place the control of the sport in proper hands. The present odds were manifestly unfair, he declared, and with upright bookies in the ring, the public could have an honest run for its money, which would make the track immensely popular and insure its success as a business proposition. He would allow only ten-per-cent. dividends on the stock of the operating company, and all over that would be set aside as a fund with which to start new church tracks in different parts of the country. An interesting idea, indeed. There were one or two points about which I wanted to take issue with the distinguished divine, but Garish began to lead the way to the drawing-room.
So I was mighty glad, after I had stood around for ten minutes, looking at the women, to feel Gladys tugging at my sleeve; to be able to tell our hostess what a charming evening I had had; to be able to go home.
As Shakespeare or Milton, or whoever it was, said, "There is no place like home."
From this period of his life on, Mr. Mudison seems to devote much less of his time than formerly to writing down his experiences, impressions, and thoughts. His diary, if such it could be called, becomes more fragmentary than ever. Particularly is he silent regarding the summer at Wheatley Hills. There is one mention of his having purchased an incubator, and a few thoughts on the annual nuisance of moving from town to country. When he picks up his life-narrative again, he is back on Lexington Avenue, and beyond a hint that he is looking forward to breeding Irish terriers next year, there is no clew to the events of his rural life.
latest papers are rather disjointed. Mr. Mudison seems to have settled down to the placid existence of a well-to-do married man with no vocation. He has ceased either to act or to think. We do learn in one place, however, that Julius Hogginson Fairfield wed an actress, settled in Sioux City, and is writing two historical novels, yearly. We read in another place that Winthrop Jumpkin, 7th,has married the youngest Twitter girl, and become president of one of the Twitter railroads. There is a touch of romance in the disappearance of Cecil Hash, who in an evil moment fell in love with a poor beauty, married, and moved to Morristown, so is known no more in the world. Again, there is pathos in this note, almost lost in a page of argument with Gladys on the foreign-mission question: "I see by the morning paper that Horatio Gastly led the cotillon at Mrs. Twitter's small dance last night—a spirited cotillon—dancing with the beautiful Miss Constance Twitter." It calls to mind the poor rector, but our momentary sympathy for him disappears when we learn later that he has gone to a broader field, and is comfortably settled in the Garish chair of moral philosophy at Hale University. With these facts we have taken the grain from a considerable mass of chaff, so it is hardly worth while to continue working over Mr. Mudison's papers unless some upheaval occurs to shake him out of the groove down which he seems to be comfortably slidingto actual as well as social oblivion. Some day we shall see the flag of the Cholmondeley Club flying at half-mast; some day we shall miss the familiar figure, the dingy old man with a rusty silk hat, asleep in his window, the third window from the corner. Then perhaps we shall agree with him that, after all, it is just as well to be smart as it is to be famous.
By Nelson Lloyd
By Nelson Lloyd
THE SOLDIER OF THE VALLEYILLUSTRATED BY A.B. FROST12mo, $1.50"A story full of artistic quality, a story of genuine feeling and quiet humor, pervaded by that repose which is so painfully lacking in current fiction, and written in a style the ease and charm of which tempts one, when he has finished the tale, to-read it for sheer pleasure in its form."—Hamilton W. Mabie."A wholly delightful book that leaves one full of pleasant thoughts and that everyone must feel the better for having read. The characters are full of genuine charm and humor. A book not only to read, but to keep."—London Literary World."It would be difficult to find anywhere in recent fiction a novel that is so vivid and graphic a picture of life. It is vital and vigorous, a human picture, where men and women of flesh and blood and not manikins move and have their being."—Brooklyn Eagle.
THE SOLDIER OF THE VALLEY
ILLUSTRATED BY A.B. FROST
12mo, $1.50
"A story full of artistic quality, a story of genuine feeling and quiet humor, pervaded by that repose which is so painfully lacking in current fiction, and written in a style the ease and charm of which tempts one, when he has finished the tale, to-read it for sheer pleasure in its form."—Hamilton W. Mabie.
"A wholly delightful book that leaves one full of pleasant thoughts and that everyone must feel the better for having read. The characters are full of genuine charm and humor. A book not only to read, but to keep."—London Literary World.
"It would be difficult to find anywhere in recent fiction a novel that is so vivid and graphic a picture of life. It is vital and vigorous, a human picture, where men and women of flesh and blood and not manikins move and have their being."—Brooklyn Eagle.
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, New York
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, New York
By Nelson Lloyd
By Nelson Lloyd
THE SOLDIER OF THE VALLEY12mo, $1.50"Abounding in humor and pathos."—Pittsburg Chronicle."It is safe to say that 'The Soldier of the Valley' will find a host of admirers. Some will like it as a story. The more critical will be glad to make the acquaintance in its pages of a lot of very live people with very marked characteristics."—New York Evening Sun."A story charming in its quaint and simple representation of life in a village community shut away from the outer world among the mountains, is this by Nelson Lloyd."—Toledo (Ohio) Blade."A story of unusual power and charm."—New York Times Review."Rarely is there such a combination of humor, pathos, and deep feeling offered in a modern tale as that with which the soldier's love story is told. It is a book destined to a host of peculiarly strong friends."—New Orleans Picayune.
THE SOLDIER OF THE VALLEY
12mo, $1.50
"Abounding in humor and pathos."—Pittsburg Chronicle.
"It is safe to say that 'The Soldier of the Valley' will find a host of admirers. Some will like it as a story. The more critical will be glad to make the acquaintance in its pages of a lot of very live people with very marked characteristics."—New York Evening Sun.
"A story charming in its quaint and simple representation of life in a village community shut away from the outer world among the mountains, is this by Nelson Lloyd."—Toledo (Ohio) Blade.
"A story of unusual power and charm."—New York Times Review.
"Rarely is there such a combination of humor, pathos, and deep feeling offered in a modern tale as that with which the soldier's love story is told. It is a book destined to a host of peculiarly strong friends."—New Orleans Picayune.
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, New York
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, New York