It's Done Every Day in St. Joe"It's Done Every Day in St. Joe"Clayton led the officer behind the machine. Alfred overheard him offer the cop two dollars and to set them up to turn the pair loose. "It's done every day in St. Joe," Clayton confided. The officer shook his head and remarked:"I'll have tu take yez down. Get in!" and he pointed with his club to the open door of the machine. "Climb in! I'll let yez talk to the sargent." The Mayor of St. Joe and the meek minstrel re-embarked. The officer sat up beside the chauffer, Clayton slinging it into him every foot of the way to the station.There was a crowd outside the door. "Phwat are they pinched fur?" inquired a ward politician who had a pull, andconsequently got a reply from the cops. "Exceedin' the spheed law in the park," replied the officer. "They're from out of town, are they?" "Yis," answered the cop. "The big one claims he's the Mayor of St. Joseph's Academy, er some other place. The other one has thryed to hide hisself in his overcoat."They were in front of the Sergeant's desk. Alfred whispered to Clayton: "Give a fictitious name." Clayton was arguing the case with the Sergeant. "My name's Clayton. This is Mr. Field, Al. G. Field, of minstrel fame. He lives in Columbus, Ohio, right near you. He is the Potentate of Aladdin Temple, Columbus."It Will Cost Us Fifty Dollars and Costs"It Will Cost Us Fifty Dollars and Costs""Hold on, Pet, hold on," pleaded Alfred, "I—I—""Never mind, Alfred, never mind. Now, I'm the Mayor of a city. I know just how to handle these matters.""Well, don't give them my name and pedigree. Handle it without that," requested Alfred."Put them both together in cell twenty-three and send for the Bertillon officers. I think you'll find their mugs in the Hall of Fame." Clayton advised Alfred the Hall of Fame had reference to the Rogue's Gallery.Clayton clamored for an opportunity to telephone the Chief of Police, the Director of Public Safety, or some other high mogul. "If I was in St. Joe, I'd be out of here in two minutes," he excitedly declared."Of course you would," assented Alfred, "but you're not in St. Joe. You're in jail in Pittsburgh, a shake-down town, and it will cost us fifty and costs, you see if it don't.""Not on your life it won't. Let me get this fellow on the phone. What's his name? I met him last night. I'll tell him something," said Clayton."Do you know him?" meekly inquired Alfred."Know him? Hell? Why, I'm well acquainted with him. I had fifty drinks with him last night.""Well, telephone him quick," urged Alfred."Hello, hello! This is Clayton, Clayton, C-l-a-y-t-o-n, Clayton. I met you last night. (Ha-ha-ha). How do you feel? (Oh, all right). Where am I at? No, no! Pet Clayton, Mayor of St. Joe, Imperial Potentate of the—hello—gurgle—gurgle," and Pet hung up the phone. "Well, don't that beat the bugs! Now this fellow knows me but he says he must see me. He only met me last night, he isn't familiar with my voice. I told him who I was but he said I might be all right, but he would come out and investigate.""It seems to me Bill Brown would come back looking for us. You're the guest of honor."This reminder riled Clayton up. "I'll attend to Mr. Brown's case. I put him where he is. I'll show him something next session of the Imperial Council."Just then the jailer thrust a thin loaf of bread part ways between the bars. Alfred and Pet gazed at the bread as it stuck there. In a moment the man sat a thin can of water beside the bread. Clayton endeavored to bribe him to go to a restaurant and bring some real refreshments."Phwat wud yez like to eat?""Oh, Old Crow or Joe Finch's 'Golden Wedding.'""Oh, yez'll git none of those things out here. They wudn't know how to cook them if they had 'em. Yez'd better have some corned beef and cabbage. No, this is Friday, yez can't get that. Salt mackerel is the bhest I can do for yez the day."Clayton pinched off a crust, with the remark: "I'll eat your bread but damned if I drink your water."Clayton swore he could buy the police, the police station, the police department or anything else in Pittsburgh, but he wouldn't be shook down. He had endeavored to bribe everyone he came in contact with, but all refused to accept, even the policeman. Pet confidentially informed Alfred, as they sat in the dark, dismal cell, that he knew there wasn't a straight man in Pittsburgh; that being Mayor of St. Joe he had got next to all the grafting cities in the country. "I will admit to you, and you are the first man I ever breathed it to, there is a little, very little, grafting going on in St. Joe." Pet had Pittsburgh people sized up right, but he applied St. Joe prices and they were rejected.The old janitor seemed to be taken up greatly with the two prisoners. "Yez belongs to some kind of a sacret society, don't yez?" he inquired.Clayton straightened up to his full height. "Yes, we belong to the Ancient Arabic Order Nobles of the Mystic Shrine of North America." Pet rolled off the lengthy title so rapidly the old fellow was astounded. Resting his hands on the cell bars, he gazed admiringly at Clayton fully a half minute, ere he asked: "Are yez Pope of it?" Later it developed the janitor was a captain of police, also a Shriner. He played his part well.When Bill Brown and McCandless arrived they almost came to blows. Bill swore they were disgraced. Bill endeavored to borrow the fifty dollar fine from both Clayton and Alfred. Failing, he borrowed, or pretended to borrow the amount from McCandless. Clayton and Alfred were liberated, loaded into an auto, the chauffer ordered to drive slowly to the Work House. When Clayton and Alfred stepped on to the veranda, the doors were flung open. On each side of the long tables there was a row of red fezzes. Under each a Shriner. There was a welcome, and such a welcome as could only be extended by those who at one time or another have been the victims of Bill Brown's practical jokes.To those who are not intimate with Bill Brown, his sense of humor may appear forced. But his pranks are only the over-flowing exuberance of a great, big, fun-loving man—a big body—but scarcely big enough to contain a heart so filled with love for his fellow man. Alvah P. Clayton thanked the committee, thanked Bill Brown, thanked the police for their kindly consideration in placing him in jail. He stated that visiting the city in his official capacity, he had concluded the duties that called him to Pittsburgh, that he carried on his person money and valuables representing thousands of dollars. He was compelled to remain in the city all day and he felt much safer in jail than loose on the streets of Pittsburgh.We love men like Bill Brown and Pet Clayton because they are lovable men. Happy is the man who has that in his soul that acts upon the dejected mortal as April showers upon violet roots.Bill Brown has a motto worked on brass, with steel fish-hooks. It hangs over the mantelpiece in his home, and reads:"I am an old man; my troubles are many, but most of them never happened."Alfred has added to this motto: "They mostly happened to others."Uncle Madison never could understand why Alfred was indifferent as to his arrest. He never could appreciate the sense of humor that influenced Alfred to go to jail for a joke.Uncle Madison, while on a visit to Alfred, read in the Columbus papers of the different classes of people composing its citizenship. "You have the upper class, the middle class, the lower class." When Uncle Madison was asked if the people of Virginia were not designated by classes, he replied: "No sir! No sir! We only have one class of people in Virginia—the high class. All the others are Republicans."Uncle Madison declares this is the age of shriek and frenzy, the over-zealous, ambitious politician who gets his ideas from history, going back a little further than most people read, puts them forward as his own."The majority of folks, in this the best of countries, believe that the founders of it, knew just about what they were doing when they made out the plans and specifications. If you will read the writings of Jefferson, you will find them as applicable to present conditions as they were the day they were written."Alfred I hope you won't be bamboozled by the ravings of demagogues, who constantly preach about the wrongs of the people. You'll find the wrongs that influence them are their own imaginary wrongs. The founders of this country provided for the righting of all wrongs. We can right any wrong at the ballot box. We do not require any new-fangled, or rather old-fangled, ideas warmed over. The man who advocates the so-called Referendum, the Initiative, and particularly, the Recall, is a traitor to the true principles of government as established by our forefathers. We have lived and thrived for more than a hundred years under the best form of government ever devised. If we want to preserve it, if we desire to perpetuate our institutions, the demagogue, the mountebanking politician must be squelched. They ruined every republic of the ancient world and if we don't throttle them they'll ruin ours."The self-seeking demagogue starts out with the captivating doctrine, the rule of the people, but his end will be thedangerous despotism of one man rule—the rule of himself. Could you or any reasoning man who has followed the demagogues of this country, for a moment doubt that any one of them, on the slightest pretext or opportunity would make a despot that would shade those of the old world?"The initiative, the referendum and the recall lend themselves to the demagogues' schemes, and they call it progressiveness. Nothing in government could be more reactionary. It was tried in Greece and it failed. It was tried in ancient Rome and it failed. The political party that's 'agin' the recall, the referendum and the initiative, will win and it deserves to win."Socialism, in theory, is a most beautiful dream, an illusion. Socialism, as it is practiced by the discontented and turbulent, is about as near anarchy as we can get. See what they have done wherever they have obtained a foothold. It's un-American; it's unpatriotic; it is against all that a patriotic American citizen holds most sacred. Despite the demagogues who have brought about these conditions, those who love this country, respect its laws and appreciate the advantages it offers to every man willing to work, will triumph. The evolution will never come to revolution."The Romans, two thousand years ago, experienced the same troubles we are having. There is a fable comparing the corporeal body to the body politic. Once upon a time the feet became discontented and struck. They refused to be walked upon longer. The legs noted the dissatisfaction of the feet. Although they never had cause for complaint before, they said: 'Well, we will quit also. We will refuse to carry the body around longer.' The stomach said: 'Well, I can't digest food if you refuse to work, so I'll just quit also; besides, I've been working all these years for that aristocrat, the brain. I am down under the table doing the work while the brain is enjoying the wit and gaiety. I want to be up where he is. The brain has been the master long enough.'The brain became stubborn: 'All well and good for you. If that is the manner in which you look upon your duties; if you feel that you have been imposed upon, go your way. I refuse to think for you further.'"The feet stubbed their toes; their course was irregular; they stepped on broken glass; they swelled up as large as watermelons. The legs, illy nourished, not clothed, became weak and rheumatic, gave way altogether. The stomach, not receiving food, began to ache and cramp. The brain was suffering from the ills that had befallen the stomach, the limbs and the feet. The misery became general. The entire body was suffering, and its sufferings had weakened it greatly."After a while they all concluded their only hope to live happily was that one should depend upon the other. It was decided the brain should run things; but the ills brought upon the body had caused so much suffering that it required a length of time until all recovered the condition they were in before the strike—as we will call it. All agreed the brain should have all the powers as before but must consider the other parts of the body as of greater importance than heretofore. This the brain had learned, and further that they were all necessary parts of one great body. And thus they all concluded to go to work together. After the brain put food into the stomach, clothes on the legs, healed the wounds of the feet, it found its sufferings had ceased. The brain learned it must take good care of all parts of the body or it would suffer. Neither one could long exist without the aid of the other."God needs all kinds of people in this world. Some represent the brain, others the stomach, more the feet and legs. As Abraham Lincoln said: 'God must love the common people: He made so many of them.'"Along comes the demagogue. In his zeal to gratify vainglorious ambitions, he endeavors to convince the common people that confusion and agitation will right their wrongs."They quote from Abraham Lincoln. Let me ask you to compare their speeches and appeals with those of Abraham Lincoln. Do you remember any speech of these modern demagogues in which they have told the common people that they were living in the best country in the world? That they, the common people, had it in their power to relieve themselves of their few wrongs? Do you ever remember one of them telling the dear common people that good government was essential to prosperity? That it was a higher honor to be governed in a republic like ours, than to live in any other country?"Every human being begins life under control and there is not one in a thousand that ever should live, only under control. Three-fourths of the people in this world never knew they were counted until they get into a mob."The demagogues array their hearers against wealth. They leave the impression that all who are so fortunate as to possess a little more of this world's goods than the poorest, are dishonest; that it is dishonorable to be of the moneyed class. They never tell the people it is but natural and necessary that some should be richer than others. These conditions have always prevailed and could only be changed by a gross violation of rights, held inviolate since the beginning of civilization. Since the world began, industry and frugality have been rewarded by wealth."These demagogues never tell the people that the opportunities are ever open that have made others rich. They never tell the boys growing up that ten or twenty years hence, they the boys of today, will be the business men, the moneyed class of this country."To be prosperous is not to be superior. Wealth should form no barrier between men. The only distinction that should be recognized is as between integrity and corruption."The present day fads are only the revival of the brain throbs of demagogues gone before. Read Jewett's translation of politics. Aristotle, who dealt wisely with many momentous questions, designated the initiative, referendum and recall, as the fifth form of democracy, in which not the law but the multitude, have the superior power and supersede the law by their decrees. Homer says that 'it is not good to have a rule of many.'"As I said before, there will be no revolution. The patriotic people of this country will attend to this. But we will be compelled to do a little deporting and perhaps a little disciplining. The American people will attend to this sooner or later. The red flag has no place in this country. Curb the trusts, curtail combinations in restraint of trade, let all men get an even start in the race and the deserving will win. I am not a rich man; I'm a poor man. I've worked all my life. I am happy and contented. Insofar as riches are concerned, I would like to possess them, but damned if I want them if I've got to rob others who have labored more diligently and with more intelligence than I have.""Now, Uncle Madison, what's your cure for the political and social upheavals?""Patriotism, loyalty to our country, to our flag, to our institutions, to the principles that have made us what we are.""Uncle Madison, you were a Confederate soldier.""Yes, and I'm proud of it. I fought for what I believed to be right. We of the south lived under conditions that had grown upon us, been forced upon us; I refer to slavery. I'm not defending slavery, I'm glad it's done, but we had lived under a government that guaranteed to protect our rights and property. No matter if slavery was wrong—was it right for one-half of the people of a country to insist the other half impoverish themselves—give up all their possessions?"Slavery was handed down to us and—well, there's nothing in threshing this matter over; slavery was the cause of the war, the negro was the issue. If the negro had been a commercial product in the north there would have been no war. The south lost because it was ordained they should lose. That does not lessen my pride in the fact that I fought for the cause I thought was right; we were right in the fact that we fought for the property this government promised to protect us in, and that's just what the north would have done if conditions had been reversed.""Uncle Madison, do you believe in the majority rule?""The majority, if you mean the greater number of people, never did rule and never will. It's the few that does the thinking, does the ruling. Why, my boy, there are times in our lives when God and one are a majority."CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENMornin' little dreamerWith sunshine in your eyes,The stars were talking to youEre they left the brightening skies."The Care of Children, by Dr. Holt," is the title of the book by which the baby is being reared. On the care of feeding bottles it recommends: "When the baby is done it must be unscrewed and put in a cool place under a tap. If the baby does not thrive, it must be boiled."An Evening at Maple VillaAn Evening at Maple VillaHattie remarked afterwards she "never reckoned the poor, measley little thing would stay with us."It waslittle,it waspuny, but it brought a happiness into the household never before experienced—brought a happiness into the lives of Uncle Al and Aunt Tillie—that only those who love children and have never been blessed with them can appreciate.Alfred with his usual assurance undertook to instruct the family, including the doctor and the nurse as to how the baby should be handled—yes, that's the term he used, "handled." Aunt Tillie reminded him the baby was not a colt. He was advised that the old fashioned way of nursing babies was obsolete. He was not permitted to up-de-doo baby, that is, throw him up and catch him coming down, notwithstanding he asserted this was the only way to prevent a baby from becoming liver-grown; nor would Miss Liston or Pearl the mother, permit Alfred to kiss the baby on the mouth. Miss Liston asserted that kissing was most dangerous in spreading microbes and germs; therefore, the baby must not be kissed on the mouth."All right, little baby," Alfred would say, "I can kiss his little tootsie ootsies.""Please don't kiss his foot," appealingly pleaded Pearl. "Please don't kiss his foot, he might put it in his mouth.""I kissed you on the mouth a thousand times when you was a baby, and I'm living yet," snapped Alfred.FieldFieldBaby cried at night. Alfred declared it was unnecessary to lose sleep on account of a baby crying. All required was a cradle. Every person that expected to rear a baby should have a cradle.Alfred visited every furniture store in the city. Not one had a cradle. Few understood what they were. One young clerk advised that his grandfather in the country, near Alfred's farm had one and he had heard the grandfather say his father before him had used it.Alfred sent his colored man, Doc Blair, to borrow or buy the cradle.The cradle was borrowed. The man did not care to sell it. He sent the wagon to get the cradle."Hide it in the barn until I return; I want to introduce baby to it. This will prevent his crying at night, that is so wearing on his mother and so irritating to Aunt Tillie, and leg-breaking to his daddy."He explained to Hattie, who knew all about babies. Hattie just smiled: "You just rock him to and fro and he will go to sleep any time. You can't raise a baby without a cradle, it is impossible.""Bring in the cradle," was Alfred's command to Doc Blair."Mister Field, you can't bring that thing in hyar. Some of you all will get your legs cut off. You can't get it through the door nohow. We couldn't get it in the top wagon. We had to take the farm wagon."Hand cradleOn the lawn near the front door reposed an old fashioned cradle for reaping grain, such as farmers used before the horsepower reapers came into use—a hand cradle with rusty scythe and hickory fingers.Alfred called at a cabinet maker's and ordered a cradle made to order. The rockers must be pointed and have plenty of circle so it would not overset easily. The German agreed to have the cradle completed by Saturday.Sunday was selected as the day to introduce baby Field to the soothing influence of a cradle. Alfred advised "All you have to do is sit near it. You can read or sew. Just gently push the cradle with your foot. You can have a rope reaching to your bed. If the baby gets restless at night all you have to do is hold on to the rope."Alfred insisted that Eddie, the father, learn to sing the old nursery song, the inspiration of which was the sugar trough cradle Alfred was rocked in:Rock-a-bye baby on the tree top,When the wind blows the cradle will rock;When the bow bends cradle will fall,Down comes baby, cradle and all.Pearl claims it was the singing of this lullaby or the attempts of Eddie to sing it, that spoiled Field's disposition.The cabinet maker certainly misunderstood Alfred's specifications as to the construction of the cradle. Aunt Tillie declared she would not have it in the house. Pearl named it "Noah's Ark." When baby was laid in the cradle he appeared as but a speck. When Alfred essayed to rock it to show the others how, baby howled with fear. Alfred swore if they had known anything or consulted him they would have ordered the cradle before the baby came, put him into it on arrival, then he would have gotten used to it by this time. "Now you'll have trouble breaking him to the cradle. Every baby should be cradle-broke as soon as they are born." Aunt Tillie again reminded Alfred the baby was not a colt."The cabinet maker was ordered to make a cradle, not a life raft. I didn't order but two rockers. I never ordered it that big. Do you think I'm a fool. I know what a cradle is."Cradle"Well, you don't call that thing a cradle, do you?" inquired Aunt Tillie."Well, it's as near as you will get to one, people don't know nothing about babies or cradles in these days."The cradle, with its three rockers and six sharp points and a big old fashioned rocking chair with four more pointed rockers, made the baby's room a storage place for ancient instruments of torture.The night was a wild one, winds without, colic within. Eddie knew the route to the paregoric.After the first combat with the rocker Eddie swore it would have to go or he would. He felt he had a chance with the rocking chair, but with six points more against him he balked. "Besides nearly breaking my neck, I broke the paregoric bottle and got glass in my feet."The WreckThe WreckDoc and Alfred sorrowfully bore the cradle to the chicken house and it has become a receptacle for old carpets and other rubbish.Aunt Tillie said: "Well, you boasted Field would have something no other baby in this section had and you made good—nothing like that cradle was ever seen in this section. I wonder what you will think of next to squander your money on?"When the cradle is referred to Alfred flares up. "I've had three or four offers for it lately. I expect a man here to look at it tomorrow. Don't you dare to break it up to make chicken coops with. I'll get three times as much as I paid for it just as soon as sensible people who are raising a baby learn I have a cradle. Some smart man will start a cradle factory, and he'll get the money, too."All the common sense suggestions offered by Alfred were rejected. He volunteered to walk the floor with baby while he was cutting teeth."No, sir, no, sir, I will not permit you to walk the floor with him while he is cutting his teeth. You walk the floor with him when he is teething, when he grows up the dentist will have to carry him around the office before working on his teeth.""Don't ride him backwards. He will be bald. Riding backwards is the cause of half the baldness in the world."Nurse had a schedule by which baby's cries were timed. Lung expansion was necessary. Crying was essential to lung expansion, exercising his voice Field made a new schedule. He was on time; in fact, he worked overtime. He cried by sun time, that is, he began by sun time and quit by any time. He cried until George Washington's portrait turned its face to the wall, the dogs howled, and the cream soured.Notwithstanding, the baby of these days is raised after the automatic drop-a-nickle-in-the-slot manner, it is surprising how they thrive. He was a tiny, human toy a little while back; now he is the autocrat of the house, the absolute boss. Riding or driving, walking or autoing—he is first. He sits at the head of the table. If he desires aught, his desires are gratified. It is only those who have crossed the apex and begun the descent on the other side, that can realize how quickly children—the baby of yesterday, becomes the headof the house, ruling all with love. Field will be a year old the first of the month. He will have a birthday party; there will be a cake and one candle. Aunt Tillie will have a birthday party for Uncle Al soon. When she asked his age that she might order the candles to decorate the cake, he answered, "Just make it a birthday party, not a torch light procession like Ollie Evans had on his birthday."The inner man, like the negro, is born white, but is colored by the life he lives; but not one is so black they have not felt humbled and rebuked under the clear and open countenance of a child. Who has not felt his impurities the more that he was in the presence of a sinless child?You have probably seen one whom some low vice has corrupted, one who is the aversion of man and woman, make of himself a plaything for a rollicking crowd of children, enter into their sports in a spirit that made his countenance glow with a delight, as though only goodness had ever been expressed upon it.You have seen another—a genteel person, cold and supercilious—endeavor to make himself agreeable to children, court their favor, win their fancy. You have seen the child draw back and shrink in undisguised aversion. I have always felt there was a curse upon such a person.Better be driven from among men than disliked by children and dogs. One is as instinctive as the other.It is a delicate thing to write of one's self. It grates on one's feelings to write anything derogatory and may be redundant to write praise. I have endeavored to watch myself go by. To those who have followed me thus far, to those who have been my friends, to those who are my friends, to all mankind who despise hypocrisy and love human beings and dogs, I commend myself inA GOOD INDIAN'S PRAYER.O Powersthat be, make me sufficient to my own occasions.Teach me to know and to observe the Rules of the Game.Give to me to mind my own business at all times, and to lose no good opportunity of holding my tongue.Help me not to cry for the moon or over spilled milk.Grant me neither to proffer nor to welcome cheap praise; to distinguish sharply between sentiment and sentimentality, cleaving to the one and despising the other.When it is appointed for me to suffer, let me, so far as may humanly be possible, take example from the dear well-bred beasts, and go quietly, to bear my suffering by myself.Give me to be always a good comrade, and to view the passing show with an eye constantly growing keener, a charity broadening and deepening day by day.Help me to win, if win I may; but—and this, O Powers! especially—if I may not win, make me a good loser.Amen.AL. G. FIELD.Transcriber's NotesWhile unusual spellings have been retained as in the original, unexpected inconsistencies in spellings and punctuation have been standardised.A chapter index has been added to this document to assist the reader.
It's Done Every Day in St. Joe"It's Done Every Day in St. Joe"
"It's Done Every Day in St. Joe"
Clayton led the officer behind the machine. Alfred overheard him offer the cop two dollars and to set them up to turn the pair loose. "It's done every day in St. Joe," Clayton confided. The officer shook his head and remarked:
"I'll have tu take yez down. Get in!" and he pointed with his club to the open door of the machine. "Climb in! I'll let yez talk to the sargent." The Mayor of St. Joe and the meek minstrel re-embarked. The officer sat up beside the chauffer, Clayton slinging it into him every foot of the way to the station.
There was a crowd outside the door. "Phwat are they pinched fur?" inquired a ward politician who had a pull, andconsequently got a reply from the cops. "Exceedin' the spheed law in the park," replied the officer. "They're from out of town, are they?" "Yis," answered the cop. "The big one claims he's the Mayor of St. Joseph's Academy, er some other place. The other one has thryed to hide hisself in his overcoat."
They were in front of the Sergeant's desk. Alfred whispered to Clayton: "Give a fictitious name." Clayton was arguing the case with the Sergeant. "My name's Clayton. This is Mr. Field, Al. G. Field, of minstrel fame. He lives in Columbus, Ohio, right near you. He is the Potentate of Aladdin Temple, Columbus."
It Will Cost Us Fifty Dollars and Costs"It Will Cost Us Fifty Dollars and Costs"
"It Will Cost Us Fifty Dollars and Costs"
"Hold on, Pet, hold on," pleaded Alfred, "I—I—"
"Never mind, Alfred, never mind. Now, I'm the Mayor of a city. I know just how to handle these matters."
"Well, don't give them my name and pedigree. Handle it without that," requested Alfred.
"Put them both together in cell twenty-three and send for the Bertillon officers. I think you'll find their mugs in the Hall of Fame." Clayton advised Alfred the Hall of Fame had reference to the Rogue's Gallery.
Clayton clamored for an opportunity to telephone the Chief of Police, the Director of Public Safety, or some other high mogul. "If I was in St. Joe, I'd be out of here in two minutes," he excitedly declared.
"Of course you would," assented Alfred, "but you're not in St. Joe. You're in jail in Pittsburgh, a shake-down town, and it will cost us fifty and costs, you see if it don't."
"Not on your life it won't. Let me get this fellow on the phone. What's his name? I met him last night. I'll tell him something," said Clayton.
"Do you know him?" meekly inquired Alfred.
"Know him? Hell? Why, I'm well acquainted with him. I had fifty drinks with him last night."
"Well, telephone him quick," urged Alfred.
"Hello, hello! This is Clayton, Clayton, C-l-a-y-t-o-n, Clayton. I met you last night. (Ha-ha-ha). How do you feel? (Oh, all right). Where am I at? No, no! Pet Clayton, Mayor of St. Joe, Imperial Potentate of the—hello—gurgle—gurgle," and Pet hung up the phone. "Well, don't that beat the bugs! Now this fellow knows me but he says he must see me. He only met me last night, he isn't familiar with my voice. I told him who I was but he said I might be all right, but he would come out and investigate."
"It seems to me Bill Brown would come back looking for us. You're the guest of honor."
This reminder riled Clayton up. "I'll attend to Mr. Brown's case. I put him where he is. I'll show him something next session of the Imperial Council."
Just then the jailer thrust a thin loaf of bread part ways between the bars. Alfred and Pet gazed at the bread as it stuck there. In a moment the man sat a thin can of water beside the bread. Clayton endeavored to bribe him to go to a restaurant and bring some real refreshments.
"Phwat wud yez like to eat?"
"Oh, Old Crow or Joe Finch's 'Golden Wedding.'"
"Oh, yez'll git none of those things out here. They wudn't know how to cook them if they had 'em. Yez'd better have some corned beef and cabbage. No, this is Friday, yez can't get that. Salt mackerel is the bhest I can do for yez the day."
Clayton pinched off a crust, with the remark: "I'll eat your bread but damned if I drink your water."
Clayton swore he could buy the police, the police station, the police department or anything else in Pittsburgh, but he wouldn't be shook down. He had endeavored to bribe everyone he came in contact with, but all refused to accept, even the policeman. Pet confidentially informed Alfred, as they sat in the dark, dismal cell, that he knew there wasn't a straight man in Pittsburgh; that being Mayor of St. Joe he had got next to all the grafting cities in the country. "I will admit to you, and you are the first man I ever breathed it to, there is a little, very little, grafting going on in St. Joe." Pet had Pittsburgh people sized up right, but he applied St. Joe prices and they were rejected.
The old janitor seemed to be taken up greatly with the two prisoners. "Yez belongs to some kind of a sacret society, don't yez?" he inquired.
Clayton straightened up to his full height. "Yes, we belong to the Ancient Arabic Order Nobles of the Mystic Shrine of North America." Pet rolled off the lengthy title so rapidly the old fellow was astounded. Resting his hands on the cell bars, he gazed admiringly at Clayton fully a half minute, ere he asked: "Are yez Pope of it?" Later it developed the janitor was a captain of police, also a Shriner. He played his part well.
When Bill Brown and McCandless arrived they almost came to blows. Bill swore they were disgraced. Bill endeavored to borrow the fifty dollar fine from both Clayton and Alfred. Failing, he borrowed, or pretended to borrow the amount from McCandless. Clayton and Alfred were liberated, loaded into an auto, the chauffer ordered to drive slowly to the Work House. When Clayton and Alfred stepped on to the veranda, the doors were flung open. On each side of the long tables there was a row of red fezzes. Under each a Shriner. There was a welcome, and such a welcome as could only be extended by those who at one time or another have been the victims of Bill Brown's practical jokes.
To those who are not intimate with Bill Brown, his sense of humor may appear forced. But his pranks are only the over-flowing exuberance of a great, big, fun-loving man—a big body—but scarcely big enough to contain a heart so filled with love for his fellow man. Alvah P. Clayton thanked the committee, thanked Bill Brown, thanked the police for their kindly consideration in placing him in jail. He stated that visiting the city in his official capacity, he had concluded the duties that called him to Pittsburgh, that he carried on his person money and valuables representing thousands of dollars. He was compelled to remain in the city all day and he felt much safer in jail than loose on the streets of Pittsburgh.
We love men like Bill Brown and Pet Clayton because they are lovable men. Happy is the man who has that in his soul that acts upon the dejected mortal as April showers upon violet roots.
Bill Brown has a motto worked on brass, with steel fish-hooks. It hangs over the mantelpiece in his home, and reads:
"I am an old man; my troubles are many, but most of them never happened."
Alfred has added to this motto: "They mostly happened to others."
Uncle Madison never could understand why Alfred was indifferent as to his arrest. He never could appreciate the sense of humor that influenced Alfred to go to jail for a joke.
Uncle Madison, while on a visit to Alfred, read in the Columbus papers of the different classes of people composing its citizenship. "You have the upper class, the middle class, the lower class." When Uncle Madison was asked if the people of Virginia were not designated by classes, he replied: "No sir! No sir! We only have one class of people in Virginia—the high class. All the others are Republicans."
Uncle Madison declares this is the age of shriek and frenzy, the over-zealous, ambitious politician who gets his ideas from history, going back a little further than most people read, puts them forward as his own.
"The majority of folks, in this the best of countries, believe that the founders of it, knew just about what they were doing when they made out the plans and specifications. If you will read the writings of Jefferson, you will find them as applicable to present conditions as they were the day they were written.
"Alfred I hope you won't be bamboozled by the ravings of demagogues, who constantly preach about the wrongs of the people. You'll find the wrongs that influence them are their own imaginary wrongs. The founders of this country provided for the righting of all wrongs. We can right any wrong at the ballot box. We do not require any new-fangled, or rather old-fangled, ideas warmed over. The man who advocates the so-called Referendum, the Initiative, and particularly, the Recall, is a traitor to the true principles of government as established by our forefathers. We have lived and thrived for more than a hundred years under the best form of government ever devised. If we want to preserve it, if we desire to perpetuate our institutions, the demagogue, the mountebanking politician must be squelched. They ruined every republic of the ancient world and if we don't throttle them they'll ruin ours.
"The self-seeking demagogue starts out with the captivating doctrine, the rule of the people, but his end will be thedangerous despotism of one man rule—the rule of himself. Could you or any reasoning man who has followed the demagogues of this country, for a moment doubt that any one of them, on the slightest pretext or opportunity would make a despot that would shade those of the old world?
"The initiative, the referendum and the recall lend themselves to the demagogues' schemes, and they call it progressiveness. Nothing in government could be more reactionary. It was tried in Greece and it failed. It was tried in ancient Rome and it failed. The political party that's 'agin' the recall, the referendum and the initiative, will win and it deserves to win.
"Socialism, in theory, is a most beautiful dream, an illusion. Socialism, as it is practiced by the discontented and turbulent, is about as near anarchy as we can get. See what they have done wherever they have obtained a foothold. It's un-American; it's unpatriotic; it is against all that a patriotic American citizen holds most sacred. Despite the demagogues who have brought about these conditions, those who love this country, respect its laws and appreciate the advantages it offers to every man willing to work, will triumph. The evolution will never come to revolution.
"The Romans, two thousand years ago, experienced the same troubles we are having. There is a fable comparing the corporeal body to the body politic. Once upon a time the feet became discontented and struck. They refused to be walked upon longer. The legs noted the dissatisfaction of the feet. Although they never had cause for complaint before, they said: 'Well, we will quit also. We will refuse to carry the body around longer.' The stomach said: 'Well, I can't digest food if you refuse to work, so I'll just quit also; besides, I've been working all these years for that aristocrat, the brain. I am down under the table doing the work while the brain is enjoying the wit and gaiety. I want to be up where he is. The brain has been the master long enough.'The brain became stubborn: 'All well and good for you. If that is the manner in which you look upon your duties; if you feel that you have been imposed upon, go your way. I refuse to think for you further.'
"The feet stubbed their toes; their course was irregular; they stepped on broken glass; they swelled up as large as watermelons. The legs, illy nourished, not clothed, became weak and rheumatic, gave way altogether. The stomach, not receiving food, began to ache and cramp. The brain was suffering from the ills that had befallen the stomach, the limbs and the feet. The misery became general. The entire body was suffering, and its sufferings had weakened it greatly.
"After a while they all concluded their only hope to live happily was that one should depend upon the other. It was decided the brain should run things; but the ills brought upon the body had caused so much suffering that it required a length of time until all recovered the condition they were in before the strike—as we will call it. All agreed the brain should have all the powers as before but must consider the other parts of the body as of greater importance than heretofore. This the brain had learned, and further that they were all necessary parts of one great body. And thus they all concluded to go to work together. After the brain put food into the stomach, clothes on the legs, healed the wounds of the feet, it found its sufferings had ceased. The brain learned it must take good care of all parts of the body or it would suffer. Neither one could long exist without the aid of the other.
"God needs all kinds of people in this world. Some represent the brain, others the stomach, more the feet and legs. As Abraham Lincoln said: 'God must love the common people: He made so many of them.'
"Along comes the demagogue. In his zeal to gratify vainglorious ambitions, he endeavors to convince the common people that confusion and agitation will right their wrongs.
"They quote from Abraham Lincoln. Let me ask you to compare their speeches and appeals with those of Abraham Lincoln. Do you remember any speech of these modern demagogues in which they have told the common people that they were living in the best country in the world? That they, the common people, had it in their power to relieve themselves of their few wrongs? Do you ever remember one of them telling the dear common people that good government was essential to prosperity? That it was a higher honor to be governed in a republic like ours, than to live in any other country?
"Every human being begins life under control and there is not one in a thousand that ever should live, only under control. Three-fourths of the people in this world never knew they were counted until they get into a mob.
"The demagogues array their hearers against wealth. They leave the impression that all who are so fortunate as to possess a little more of this world's goods than the poorest, are dishonest; that it is dishonorable to be of the moneyed class. They never tell the people it is but natural and necessary that some should be richer than others. These conditions have always prevailed and could only be changed by a gross violation of rights, held inviolate since the beginning of civilization. Since the world began, industry and frugality have been rewarded by wealth.
"These demagogues never tell the people that the opportunities are ever open that have made others rich. They never tell the boys growing up that ten or twenty years hence, they the boys of today, will be the business men, the moneyed class of this country.
"To be prosperous is not to be superior. Wealth should form no barrier between men. The only distinction that should be recognized is as between integrity and corruption.
"The present day fads are only the revival of the brain throbs of demagogues gone before. Read Jewett's translation of politics. Aristotle, who dealt wisely with many momentous questions, designated the initiative, referendum and recall, as the fifth form of democracy, in which not the law but the multitude, have the superior power and supersede the law by their decrees. Homer says that 'it is not good to have a rule of many.'
"As I said before, there will be no revolution. The patriotic people of this country will attend to this. But we will be compelled to do a little deporting and perhaps a little disciplining. The American people will attend to this sooner or later. The red flag has no place in this country. Curb the trusts, curtail combinations in restraint of trade, let all men get an even start in the race and the deserving will win. I am not a rich man; I'm a poor man. I've worked all my life. I am happy and contented. Insofar as riches are concerned, I would like to possess them, but damned if I want them if I've got to rob others who have labored more diligently and with more intelligence than I have."
"Now, Uncle Madison, what's your cure for the political and social upheavals?"
"Patriotism, loyalty to our country, to our flag, to our institutions, to the principles that have made us what we are."
"Uncle Madison, you were a Confederate soldier."
"Yes, and I'm proud of it. I fought for what I believed to be right. We of the south lived under conditions that had grown upon us, been forced upon us; I refer to slavery. I'm not defending slavery, I'm glad it's done, but we had lived under a government that guaranteed to protect our rights and property. No matter if slavery was wrong—was it right for one-half of the people of a country to insist the other half impoverish themselves—give up all their possessions?
"Slavery was handed down to us and—well, there's nothing in threshing this matter over; slavery was the cause of the war, the negro was the issue. If the negro had been a commercial product in the north there would have been no war. The south lost because it was ordained they should lose. That does not lessen my pride in the fact that I fought for the cause I thought was right; we were right in the fact that we fought for the property this government promised to protect us in, and that's just what the north would have done if conditions had been reversed."
"Uncle Madison, do you believe in the majority rule?"
"The majority, if you mean the greater number of people, never did rule and never will. It's the few that does the thinking, does the ruling. Why, my boy, there are times in our lives when God and one are a majority."
Mornin' little dreamerWith sunshine in your eyes,The stars were talking to youEre they left the brightening skies.
Mornin' little dreamerWith sunshine in your eyes,The stars were talking to youEre they left the brightening skies.
"The Care of Children, by Dr. Holt," is the title of the book by which the baby is being reared. On the care of feeding bottles it recommends: "When the baby is done it must be unscrewed and put in a cool place under a tap. If the baby does not thrive, it must be boiled."
An Evening at Maple VillaAn Evening at Maple Villa
An Evening at Maple Villa
Hattie remarked afterwards she "never reckoned the poor, measley little thing would stay with us."It waslittle,it waspuny, but it brought a happiness into the household never before experienced—brought a happiness into the lives of Uncle Al and Aunt Tillie—that only those who love children and have never been blessed with them can appreciate.
Alfred with his usual assurance undertook to instruct the family, including the doctor and the nurse as to how the baby should be handled—yes, that's the term he used, "handled." Aunt Tillie reminded him the baby was not a colt. He was advised that the old fashioned way of nursing babies was obsolete. He was not permitted to up-de-doo baby, that is, throw him up and catch him coming down, notwithstanding he asserted this was the only way to prevent a baby from becoming liver-grown; nor would Miss Liston or Pearl the mother, permit Alfred to kiss the baby on the mouth. Miss Liston asserted that kissing was most dangerous in spreading microbes and germs; therefore, the baby must not be kissed on the mouth.
"All right, little baby," Alfred would say, "I can kiss his little tootsie ootsies."
"Please don't kiss his foot," appealingly pleaded Pearl. "Please don't kiss his foot, he might put it in his mouth."
"I kissed you on the mouth a thousand times when you was a baby, and I'm living yet," snapped Alfred.
FieldField
Field
Baby cried at night. Alfred declared it was unnecessary to lose sleep on account of a baby crying. All required was a cradle. Every person that expected to rear a baby should have a cradle.
Alfred visited every furniture store in the city. Not one had a cradle. Few understood what they were. One young clerk advised that his grandfather in the country, near Alfred's farm had one and he had heard the grandfather say his father before him had used it.
Alfred sent his colored man, Doc Blair, to borrow or buy the cradle.
The cradle was borrowed. The man did not care to sell it. He sent the wagon to get the cradle.
"Hide it in the barn until I return; I want to introduce baby to it. This will prevent his crying at night, that is so wearing on his mother and so irritating to Aunt Tillie, and leg-breaking to his daddy."
He explained to Hattie, who knew all about babies. Hattie just smiled: "You just rock him to and fro and he will go to sleep any time. You can't raise a baby without a cradle, it is impossible."
"Bring in the cradle," was Alfred's command to Doc Blair.
"Mister Field, you can't bring that thing in hyar. Some of you all will get your legs cut off. You can't get it through the door nohow. We couldn't get it in the top wagon. We had to take the farm wagon."
Hand cradle
On the lawn near the front door reposed an old fashioned cradle for reaping grain, such as farmers used before the horsepower reapers came into use—a hand cradle with rusty scythe and hickory fingers.
Alfred called at a cabinet maker's and ordered a cradle made to order. The rockers must be pointed and have plenty of circle so it would not overset easily. The German agreed to have the cradle completed by Saturday.
Sunday was selected as the day to introduce baby Field to the soothing influence of a cradle. Alfred advised "All you have to do is sit near it. You can read or sew. Just gently push the cradle with your foot. You can have a rope reaching to your bed. If the baby gets restless at night all you have to do is hold on to the rope."
Alfred insisted that Eddie, the father, learn to sing the old nursery song, the inspiration of which was the sugar trough cradle Alfred was rocked in:
Rock-a-bye baby on the tree top,When the wind blows the cradle will rock;When the bow bends cradle will fall,Down comes baby, cradle and all.
Rock-a-bye baby on the tree top,When the wind blows the cradle will rock;When the bow bends cradle will fall,Down comes baby, cradle and all.
Pearl claims it was the singing of this lullaby or the attempts of Eddie to sing it, that spoiled Field's disposition.
The cabinet maker certainly misunderstood Alfred's specifications as to the construction of the cradle. Aunt Tillie declared she would not have it in the house. Pearl named it "Noah's Ark." When baby was laid in the cradle he appeared as but a speck. When Alfred essayed to rock it to show the others how, baby howled with fear. Alfred swore if they had known anything or consulted him they would have ordered the cradle before the baby came, put him into it on arrival, then he would have gotten used to it by this time. "Now you'll have trouble breaking him to the cradle. Every baby should be cradle-broke as soon as they are born." Aunt Tillie again reminded Alfred the baby was not a colt.
"The cabinet maker was ordered to make a cradle, not a life raft. I didn't order but two rockers. I never ordered it that big. Do you think I'm a fool. I know what a cradle is."
Cradle
"Well, you don't call that thing a cradle, do you?" inquired Aunt Tillie.
"Well, it's as near as you will get to one, people don't know nothing about babies or cradles in these days."
The cradle, with its three rockers and six sharp points and a big old fashioned rocking chair with four more pointed rockers, made the baby's room a storage place for ancient instruments of torture.
The night was a wild one, winds without, colic within. Eddie knew the route to the paregoric.
After the first combat with the rocker Eddie swore it would have to go or he would. He felt he had a chance with the rocking chair, but with six points more against him he balked. "Besides nearly breaking my neck, I broke the paregoric bottle and got glass in my feet."
The WreckThe Wreck
The Wreck
Doc and Alfred sorrowfully bore the cradle to the chicken house and it has become a receptacle for old carpets and other rubbish.
Aunt Tillie said: "Well, you boasted Field would have something no other baby in this section had and you made good—nothing like that cradle was ever seen in this section. I wonder what you will think of next to squander your money on?"
When the cradle is referred to Alfred flares up. "I've had three or four offers for it lately. I expect a man here to look at it tomorrow. Don't you dare to break it up to make chicken coops with. I'll get three times as much as I paid for it just as soon as sensible people who are raising a baby learn I have a cradle. Some smart man will start a cradle factory, and he'll get the money, too."
All the common sense suggestions offered by Alfred were rejected. He volunteered to walk the floor with baby while he was cutting teeth.
"No, sir, no, sir, I will not permit you to walk the floor with him while he is cutting his teeth. You walk the floor with him when he is teething, when he grows up the dentist will have to carry him around the office before working on his teeth."
"Don't ride him backwards. He will be bald. Riding backwards is the cause of half the baldness in the world."
Nurse had a schedule by which baby's cries were timed. Lung expansion was necessary. Crying was essential to lung expansion, exercising his voice Field made a new schedule. He was on time; in fact, he worked overtime. He cried by sun time, that is, he began by sun time and quit by any time. He cried until George Washington's portrait turned its face to the wall, the dogs howled, and the cream soured.
Notwithstanding, the baby of these days is raised after the automatic drop-a-nickle-in-the-slot manner, it is surprising how they thrive. He was a tiny, human toy a little while back; now he is the autocrat of the house, the absolute boss. Riding or driving, walking or autoing—he is first. He sits at the head of the table. If he desires aught, his desires are gratified. It is only those who have crossed the apex and begun the descent on the other side, that can realize how quickly children—the baby of yesterday, becomes the headof the house, ruling all with love. Field will be a year old the first of the month. He will have a birthday party; there will be a cake and one candle. Aunt Tillie will have a birthday party for Uncle Al soon. When she asked his age that she might order the candles to decorate the cake, he answered, "Just make it a birthday party, not a torch light procession like Ollie Evans had on his birthday."
The inner man, like the negro, is born white, but is colored by the life he lives; but not one is so black they have not felt humbled and rebuked under the clear and open countenance of a child. Who has not felt his impurities the more that he was in the presence of a sinless child?
You have probably seen one whom some low vice has corrupted, one who is the aversion of man and woman, make of himself a plaything for a rollicking crowd of children, enter into their sports in a spirit that made his countenance glow with a delight, as though only goodness had ever been expressed upon it.
You have seen another—a genteel person, cold and supercilious—endeavor to make himself agreeable to children, court their favor, win their fancy. You have seen the child draw back and shrink in undisguised aversion. I have always felt there was a curse upon such a person.
Better be driven from among men than disliked by children and dogs. One is as instinctive as the other.
It is a delicate thing to write of one's self. It grates on one's feelings to write anything derogatory and may be redundant to write praise. I have endeavored to watch myself go by. To those who have followed me thus far, to those who have been my friends, to those who are my friends, to all mankind who despise hypocrisy and love human beings and dogs, I commend myself in
O Powersthat be, make me sufficient to my own occasions.Teach me to know and to observe the Rules of the Game.Give to me to mind my own business at all times, and to lose no good opportunity of holding my tongue.Help me not to cry for the moon or over spilled milk.Grant me neither to proffer nor to welcome cheap praise; to distinguish sharply between sentiment and sentimentality, cleaving to the one and despising the other.When it is appointed for me to suffer, let me, so far as may humanly be possible, take example from the dear well-bred beasts, and go quietly, to bear my suffering by myself.Give me to be always a good comrade, and to view the passing show with an eye constantly growing keener, a charity broadening and deepening day by day.Help me to win, if win I may; but—and this, O Powers! especially—if I may not win, make me a good loser.Amen.AL. G. FIELD.
O Powersthat be, make me sufficient to my own occasions.
Teach me to know and to observe the Rules of the Game.
Give to me to mind my own business at all times, and to lose no good opportunity of holding my tongue.
Help me not to cry for the moon or over spilled milk.
Grant me neither to proffer nor to welcome cheap praise; to distinguish sharply between sentiment and sentimentality, cleaving to the one and despising the other.
When it is appointed for me to suffer, let me, so far as may humanly be possible, take example from the dear well-bred beasts, and go quietly, to bear my suffering by myself.
Give me to be always a good comrade, and to view the passing show with an eye constantly growing keener, a charity broadening and deepening day by day.
Help me to win, if win I may; but—and this, O Powers! especially—if I may not win, make me a good loser.Amen.
AL. G. FIELD.
Transcriber's NotesWhile unusual spellings have been retained as in the original, unexpected inconsistencies in spellings and punctuation have been standardised.A chapter index has been added to this document to assist the reader.
While unusual spellings have been retained as in the original, unexpected inconsistencies in spellings and punctuation have been standardised.
A chapter index has been added to this document to assist the reader.