CHAPTER XXII.
AN ARRIVAL--A PRESENT FROM A CONGRESSMAN--MEDITATIONS UPON HIS PURPOSE--THE PATENT OFFICE REPORT OF THE FUTURE--A PLAN FOR REVOLUTIONIZING PUBLIC DOCUMENTS AND OPENING A NEW DEPARTMENT OF LITERATURE--OUR TRIP TO SALEM--A TRAGICAL INCIDENT--THE LAST OF LIEUTENANT SMILEY.
A very mysterious package came to me through the post-office yesterday.I brought it home unopened, and, as is usual in such cases, we began tospeculate upon the nature of the contents before we broke the seals.Everybody has a disposition to dally for a while with a letter or apackage from an unknown source. Mrs. Adeler felt the parcel carefully,and said she was sure it was something from her aunt--something for thebaby, probably. Bob imagined that it was an infernal machine forwardedby the revengeful Stonebury, and he insisted that I should put it tosoak in a bucket of water for a few hours before removing the wrapper.The children were hopeful that some benign fairy had adopted this methodof supplying the Adeler family with supernatural confectionery; and formy part, I had no doubt that some one of my friends among the publishershad sent me half a dozen of the latest books.
We opened the bundle gradually. When the outside casing was torn away,another envelope remained, and as this was slowly removed the excitementand curiosity reached an almost painful degree of intensity. At last allthe papers were taken off, and I lifted from among them a large blackvolume. It was only a patent-office report sent to me by thatincorruptible statesman and devoted patriot, the Congressman from ourState.
I have endeavored to conjecture why he should have selected me as theobject of such a demonstration. Certainly he did not expect me to readthe report. He knows that I, as a man of at least ordinary intelligence,would endure torture first. I cannot think that he hoped to purchase myvote by such a cheap expedient. Congressmen do, I believe, still cherishthe theory that the present of a patent-office report to a constituentsecures for the donor the fealty of the recipient; but it is a delusion.Such a gift fills the soul of an unoffending man with gloomy andmurderous thoughts. Every one feels at times as if he would like tobutcher some of his fellow-men; and my appetite for slaughter onlybecomes keen when I meet a Congressman who has sent me a patent-officereport. Neither can I accept the suggestion that my representative wasdeceived by the supposition that I would be grateful for such anintimation that an eminent man, even amid the oppressive cares of State,has not forgotten so humble a worm as I. He knows me well; and althoughI am aware that there is in Washington a prevalent theory that a wildthrill of exultation agitates the heart of a constituent when hereceives a public document or a flatulent oration from a lawmaker, myCongressman is better informed. He would not insult me in such a manner.I can only account for his conduct upon the theory that he misdirectedthe volume, which he intended for some one else, or upon the suppositionthat he has heard me speak of the necessity for the occasionalbombardment of Cooley's dog at night, and he conceived that he would behelping a good cause by supplying me with a new and formidable missile.I have never attacked a dog with a patent-office report, but I canimagine that the animal might readily be slain with such a weapon. Aprojectile should have ponderosity; and a patent-office report has moreof that quality to the cubic inch than any other object with which I amfamiliar. Still, I do not care to tax the treasury of the United Statesfor material with which to assail Cooley's dog. I would rather endurethe nocturnal ululations, and have the money applied to the liquidationof the national debt.
It is, however, apparent that Congressmen will never surrender thepatent-office report; and if this is admitted, it seems to me that theman who succeeds in infusing into those volumes such an amount ofinterest that people will be induced to read them will have a right tobe regarded as a great public benefactor. I suppose no human being everdid read one of them. It is tolerably certain that any man who woulddeliberately undertake to peruse one from beginning to end would beregarded as a person who ought not to be at large. His friends would bejustified in placing him in an asylum. I think I can suggest a method bywhich a reform can be effected. It is to take the material that comes tohand each year and to work it up into a continuous story, which may befilled in with tragedy and sentiment and humor.
For instance, if a man came prowling around the patent-office with animprovement in hayrakes, I should name that man Alphonso and start himoff in the story as the abandoned villain; Alphonso lying in wait, as itwere, behind a dark corner, for the purpose of scooping his rival withthat improved hay-rake. And then the hero would be a man, suppose wesay, who desired an extension of a patent on accordeons. I should callsuch a person Lucullus, and plant him, with a working model of theaccordeon, under the window of the boarding-house where the heroine,Amelia, who would be a woman who had applied for a patent on a new kindof red flannel frills, lay sleeping under the soothing influence of thetunes squeezed from the accordeon of Lucullus.
In the midst of the serenade, let us suppose, in comes a man who hasjust got out some extraordinary kind of a fowling-piece about which hewants to interview the head of the department. I should make this beingAmelia's father and call him Smith, because that name is full of poetryand sweetness and wild, unearthly music. Then, while Lucullus wasmashing out delicious strains, I might make Alphonso rush on Smith withhis hay-rake, thinking he was Lucullus, and in the fight which wouldperhaps ensue Smith might blow out Alphonso's brains somehow on the spotby a single discharge, we might assume, of Smith's extraordinaryfowling-piece, while Lucullus could be arrested upon the suit of thecomposer who had a copyright on the tune with which he solaced Amelia.
If any ingenious undertaker should haunt the patent-office at thiscrisis of the story with a species of metallic coffin, I might layAlphonso away comfortably in one of them and have a funeral, or I mightadd a thrill of interest to the narrative by resuscitating him withvegetable pills, in case any benefactor of the race should call tosecure his rights as the sole manufacturer of such articles. In the meantime, Lucullus, languishing in jail, could very readily burst hisfetters and regain his liberty, provided some man of inventive talentcalled on the commissioner to take out searches, say, on some kind of arevertible crowbar.
Then the interest of the story would be sustained, and a few moremachines of various kinds could be worked in, if, for instance, I shouldcause this escaped convict of mine to ascertain that the musicalcomposer had won the heart of Amelia, in the absence of her lover, byoffering to bring her flannel frills into market, and to allow her aroyalty, we will assume, of ten cents a frill. When Lucullus hears ofthis, I should induce him to try to obtain the influence of Amelia'sparents in his behalf by propitiating old Mr. Smith with the latestvariety of bunion plaster for which a patent was wanted, while Mrs.Smith could be appeased either with a gingham umbrella with animprovement of six or seven extra ribs, or else a lot of galvanized gumrings, if any inventor brought such things around, for hergrandchildren.
Then, for the sake of breaking the monotony of these intrigues, we couldhave a little more of the revivified Alphonso. I could very readily fillthe heart of that reanimated corpse with baffled rage, and cause him tosell to old Smith one of McBride's improved hydraulic rams. Smith couldbe depicted as an infatuated being who placed that ram down in themeadow and caused it to force water up to his house. And Alphonso, ofcourse, with malignant hatred in his soul, would meddle with themachine, and fumble around until he spoiled it, so that Smith could notstop it, and it would continue to pump until the Smiths had a cascadeflowing from their attic window. Mrs. Smith, in her despair, mightimpale herself on a variety of reversible toasting-fork, and diemingling the inventor's name with maledictions and groans, while Smith,in the anguish of his soul, could live in the barn, from whence he coulduse an ingenious kind of breech-loading gun--patent applied for--toperforate artists who came around to sketch the falls.
In the mean time, Lucullus might come to the rescue with a suction pumpand save the Smith mansion, only to find that Amelia had flown with thecomposer, and had gone to sea in a ship with a patent copper bottom, anda
kind of a binnacle for which an extension had been granted by Congresson the 26th of February. It would then be well, perhaps, to have thatcopper-bottomed ship attacked by pirates, and after a bloodyhand-to-hand contest, in which the composer could sink the pirate craftwith the model of a gunpowder pile-driver which he has in the cabin, theenraged corsairs should swarm upon the deck of the other ship for thepurpose of putting the whole party to the sword. And, of course, at thispainful crisis it would be singularly happy to cause it to turn out thatthe chief pirate is our old friend Alphonso, who had sold out hisinterest in his hay-rake, discontinued his speculations in hydraulicrams and become a rover upon the seas.
The composer, it would seem, would then be in a particularly tightplace; and if the commissioner of patents had any romance in his soul,he would permit me to cause that pirate to toss the musician overboard.Amelia would then tear herself from the pirate's loathsome embrace andplunge in after him. The two would float ashore on a liferaft, if anyapplications of that kind happened to be presented to the department.When they got to land, Amelia would shiver with cold until her jawsrattled, and the painful truth would be disclosed to her lover that shewore teeth which were attached to one of the gutta-percha plates aboutwhich there was a controversy in the courts.
Then, if we seemed to be approaching the end of the report, I think Iwould cause the composer to shriek "False! false!" or to use someexciting language of that kind, and to tear out his hair and wring hisnose and fly off with a broken heart and a blasted life to join thepirates and to play melancholy airs in a minor key, expressive ofdelusive dreams, for ever and for ever, upon some kind of adouble-barreled flute with a copyright on it.
Thus even the prosaic material of which the patent-office reports areconstructed could be made to yield entertainment and instruction, andafford a basis of succulent and suggestive fact for a superstructure ofpathetic and blood-curdling fiction. The advantages of adopting such amethod in constructing these documents would be especially marked in thecase of Congressmen. The member who now sends a patent-office report toone of his constituents is regarded by that man as a kind of moral ruinwho ought to be put in some place where it would be impossible for himto destroy the happiness and poison the peace of unoffending families.But when a competent novelist prepares those reports, when he throwsover them the glamour of his fancy, when he adorns them with hisgraceful rhetoric, and gives a certain intense human interest to all thehay-rakes and gum rings and suction pumps which now fill the leadenpages, these reports will be sought after; their tone will be changed;children will cry for them; Sunday-schools will offer them as rewards,and the intelligent American voter whose mind craves healthy literaturewill elect to Congress the man who will promise to send him the greatestnumber of copies.
* * * * *
Here is the story of a tragical event of which I was a witness, andwhich has created a profound impression upon the people of thiscommunity.
An aunt of Bessie Magruder's lives at Salem; and as she had never seenBob, she invited him and his betrothed to visit her one day last week,coupling the invitation with a request that we and the elder Magruderswould come at the same time and take dinner with her. When the boat fromup the river arrived at New Castle, the entire party of us went aboard.As the steamer shot across the water to Delaware City, Bob and Bessiewandered away by themselves, while the rest of us passed the timepleasantly in conversation. At Delaware City we came out of the cabin towatch the people as they passed over the gangway. To our surprise andvexation, Lieutenant Smiley appeared among them. As he pressed forwardin the throng some one jostled him roughly, when he uttered a fierceoath and aimed a blow at the offender. It missed the mark, and heplunged forward heavily. He would have fallen had not one of the boat'screw caught him in his arms. We saw then that he was intoxicated.
I watched Bob as he looked at the wretched man. His face flushed withindignation as he recalled the injury done to him by Smiley, and helooked as if he would have found intense satisfaction in an attempt togive the lieutenant a thrashing on the spot. But he did not contemplatesuch a performance, and Bessie clung tightly to his arm, half afraidthat he might have a sudden and irresistible impulse to revenge, andhalf afraid lest Smiley might make some shocking demonstration againstthe party in that public place. As he staggered past us he recognizedus; and, brutalized as he was with liquor, he seemed to feel the shameof his condition and the infamy of his past conduct. He went away to theother side of the boat and concealed himself from view.
When the vessel left the wharf and proceeded down the bay, past thefort, we walked about the lower deck, looking at the scenery and at theshipping which thronged the water. No one of us perceived Smiley or knewthat he was near us. We had, indeed, suffered ourselves to forget thescene we had just witnessed, and we were speaking of other matters. As Istood by the railing with my wife and the Magruders, Bob and Bessie cameout from the cabin, and Bob had just spoken one word, when a man camewith a hurried and uneven step to the gangway. It was Smiley. He hadbeen sitting in the corner behind one of the beams of the boat, with hishat pulled over his eyes. The rail at the gangway swings aside to admitof passage to and from the wharf. Now it opened out upon the water.Smiley paused for one moment, with his fingers clenched upon it; then heflung it wide open, and leaped forward into the sea.
A cry of horror came from the lips of those who saw him make the plunge,and instantly the steamer resounded with screams for help. Before any ofus could recover from the paralysis of terror occasioned by the act,Smiley rose to the surface far away from the boat, and with a shriek soawful, so full of agony and despair, that it chilled the blood of thosewho heard it, he threw up his arms and sank. In a second Bob tossed offhis coat, and before I could restrain him he leaped into the water. Herose instantly, and struck out boldly in the direction in which Smileyhad been seen.
Bessie almost fainted in her father's arms, and Mrs. Adeler was whitewith fear. The next moment the steamer stopped, and an attempt was madeto lower the boat. The operation required time; and meanwhile, Bob, whois a good swimmer, gallantly cleft his way through the waves. I thinkSmiley never rose again. For as I entered the lifeboat I could seeBob turning about and endeavoring to swim toward the steamer. He was along way from us, for the vessel had gone far before her headway couldbe overcome. Our boatmen pulled with desperate energy lest the bravefellow should be unable to sustain himself; and as I stood in the sternand watched him with eager eyes, I could see that he gave signs of beingin distress. It was heavy work in the water, with his clothing on, andthe sea was rough. We were within a hundred yards of him when he sank,and I felt my heart grow sick as I saw him dragged beneath the waves.
But as we reached the spot one of the men, who was leaning over theside, uttered an exclamation; and extending his arms, he pulled thelad's head and shoulders above the surface. A moment later he was in theboat, but insensible. As we turned about to seek the steamer, we rubbedhis hands and his temples and strove to bring him back to life, and weseemed to have partial success.
But when we reached the vessel and placed him upon the cushions in thecabin, we committed him to better hands than ours. Mrs. Magruder'smedical skill then was of the highest service. She cared for the poorlad with a motherly tenderness which was as admirable as her art. In abrief while he revived; and though suffering greatly, he seemed sure oflife. It would have made him blush, even in his weakness, to have heardthe praises heaped upon him for his splendid courage; we rejoiced atthem, but we rejoiced more to think how he had avenged himself upon hisenemy by an act of sublime self-sacrifice.
And so, as he came back to consciousness, we neared our journey's end;and while we carried Bob from the boat to the carriage and placed himamong his loving friends, we shuddered to think how the wretched man whohad wrought so much evil was even now sweeping past us in the embrace ofthat swift current to burial beneath the rolling billows of the sea.
Out of the Hurly-Burly; Or, Life in an Odd Corner Page 25
