CHAPTER II.
A FRIEND IN NEED.
On a bright, warm morning, a week later, Leon had already arisen,though it was barely past five o'clock, and having wandered off into asecluded spot in the woods, lay on the ground, his head pillowedagainst a tree trunk. Margaret Grath had been laid away beneath thesod, and the old home was no longer homelike to him, since her twosisters had moved in, to take possession until "the auction" which wasto occur on this day.
He had never liked these women, and they had lavished no affectionupon him. Consequently he was uneasy in their presence, and so avoidedthem. They had plainly told him that he was no kith nor kin of theirs,and that though he might abide on the farm till the auction, afterthat event he would be obliged to shift for himself. They alsovolunteered the advice that he should leave the town, and added thatif he did so it would be a good riddance. To all of these kindspeeches Leon had listened in silence, determined that he would earnhis living without further dependence upon this family, upon whom henow thought that he had already intruded too long, though unknowingly.
Now, as he lay among the fresh mosses, and inhaled the sweet scents ofsurrounding blossoms which lifted their drooping heads, and unfoldedtheir petals to the kisses of the newly risen sun, he was musing uponthe necessities of his situation, while in a measure taking a lastfarewell of haunts which he had learned to love.
Presently, a sound of rustling twigs arrested his attention, and hesaw a tiny chipmunk looking at him. He smiled, and pursing up his lipsemitted a sound which was neither whistle, nor warble, but acombination of both. The little creature flirted his head to one side,as though listening. Leon repeated the call a little louder, and witha sudden dash the chipmunk swiftly sped towards him, as suddenlystopping about ten yards away. Here he sat up on his haunches, and,with his forefeet, apparently caressed his head. Now Leon changed hismethod, and sounded a prolonged and musical trill, like the purling ofa brook. The chipmunk came nearer and nearer, his timidity graduallypassing away. And now, in the distance, another rush through theshrubbery was heard, and another chipmunk swiftly came out into theopen, presently joining his mate, and approaching nearer and nearer toLeon, in short runs. At length they were quite close to him, and hetook some peanuts from his pocket. One at a time he threw thistempting food to the little animals, who quickly nibbled off the outershell and abstracted the kernels, sitting up, their tails gracefullycurled over their backs. As Leon continued his chirping to his wildpets, two searching eyes were gazing with intense interest upon thescene. And the man who owned those eyes thought thus of what he saw:
"He has inherited the power. It is untrained at present, but it willbe easily developed."
A few moments later, Leon waved his hand and the chipmunks scurriedoff, leaving the youth once more to his meditations. But soon again hewas interrupted. This time the noise of the approaching creature wasreadily discernible even while he was yet afar off, and in a fewmoments there came bounding through the brush a magnificent collie,sable and white, and beautifully marked. This was Lossy, or, rather,"The Marquis of Lossy," to give him his full title. Lossy was truly aperfect collie, with long pointed nose, eyes set high in the forehead,and beaming with human intelligence and a dog's love, which, we allknow, transcends the human passion which goes by the same name; hisears were small and, at rest, carried so close to the head that,buried in the long fur they were scarcely discernible, yet, theypricked sharply forward when a sound attracted, giving the face thatrakish look so peculiar to the species; and besides a grand coat oflong, fine hair, and a heavy undercoat for warmth, he had a gloriousbushy tail, carried at just the curve that lent a pleasing symmetry tothe whole form. In short, Lossy was a collie that would prove aprize-winner in any company.
But what was better than mere physical beauty, he was an exception inintelligence, even for a collie, and lavished a wealth of love uponhis young master. On this morning, Leon had purposely stolen awaywithout the dog, for the pleasure of what now occurred. Lossy, finallyawakening from his morning nap, and missing his master, had startedafter him taking almost the same course pursued by Leon. And now,after his long run, he bounded forward, landing upon Leon's breastwith force enough to roll him over, and then, whining with joy at thereunion, the dog kissed his master's face and hands again and again.
This display of affection delighted Leon, and he returned it withunusual demonstrativeness. Rising from the ground, he snapped hisfingers, and at the sound Lossy bounded into the air, to be caught inthe arms of his master, hugged close to his bosom, and then dropped tothe ground. This trick was repeated again and again, the dogresponding with increasing impatience for the signal. Sometimes it wasvaried. Leon turning his back, and bending his body at a slight angle,would give the signal, whereupon Lossy would spring with agility uponhis back and climb forward, until, by holding the shoulders with hisforepaws, he could reach his head around, seeking to kiss Leon's face.Here the fun was, for as the dog's head protruded over one shoulder,Leon turned his face away, whereupon Lossy would quickly essay toreach his goal over the other. In the midst of this sort of play, Leonwas surprised to hear his dog growl. Then Lossy leaped to the ground,his hair rose almost straight along his spine, his ears prickedforward, and again he growled ominously. Before Leon could stepforward to investigate, the man who had been silently observing thewhole scene stepped out, and Leon recognized Dr. Medjora.
While the two men gaze silently upon each other, I may take theopportunity to say a few words about Dr. Medjora.
Immediately after his trial he left New York for a brief period, verymuch against the wishes of Madam Corona. She pleaded with him for animmediate marriage, but he firmly adhered to his own plans. Thewedding occurred, however, a year later, and he resumed the practiceof his profession in the Metropolis. Nineteen years later, at the timewhen Margaret Grath died, he was counted one of the most eminentpractitioners in the country. He had steadfastly declined to adoptsurgery, that most fascinating field wherein great reputations arefrequently acquired through a single audacious operation, happilycarried to a successful termination; but instead, he remained theplain medical man, paying special attention to zymotic diseases.Within this sphere he slowly but no less surely acquired fame, as fromtime to time the dying were plucked almost from the arms of death, andrestored to health and usefulness.
Attracting the admiration and esteem of his patients in a mostremarkable degree, he nevertheless aroused in them a certain feelingof almost superstitious awe. People did not say aloud that Dr. Medjorawas a partner of the Evil One, but many whispers, not easilytraceable, finally resulted in his being commonly known as the "WizardDoctor" or simply the "Wizard."
On this morning, having come into the vicinity during the week forsome trout fishing, and then having learned of the auction sale aboutto take place, he had determined to be present. He was early on hisway to the farm, when, crossing the strip of wood, he had firstobserved Leon with the chipmunks. Now having shown himself he spoke:
"You are Leon Grath, I believe?" said he.
"If you do, your belief is ill founded," replied Leon, speaking withno ill temper, but rather with a touch of sadness.
"Surely you are Leon----"
"I am Leon, but not Grath. You are Dr. Medjora?"
"Ah! Then you remember me?"
"Certainly! I remember all men, friend or foe. You have been more theformer than the latter. Therefore the remembrance is quite distinct."
Hearing the sound of his master's voice, untinged by anger, the collieevidently decided that the newcomer was no enemy, and strolling off ashort distance, turned thrice, and lay down, resting his nose betweenhis two forepaws, and eying the twain, awaited developments.
"I am glad that you have pleasant recollections of our briefacquaintance. But now, will you explain what you mean by saying thatyou are not Leon Grath. I thought that Grath was your name?"
"So did I, Doctor, but I have learned that I was mistaken. I was withMargaret Grath when she died, and she told me----" He paused.<
br />
"She told you what?" asked Dr. Medjora, with apparent eagerness.
"That Grath is not my name."
"What then is it? Did she tell you that?"
"No! I am Leon, the nameless!"
There was a touch of bitterness in Leon's voice, and, as he felt aslight difficulty in enunciation caused by rising emotions, he turnedaway his head and gazed into the deepest part of the wood, closing hisjaws tight together, and straining every muscle of his body to hightension, in his endeavor to regain full control of himself. Dr.Medjora observed the inward struggle for mastery of self, and admiredthe youth for his strength of character. Without, however, betrayingthat he had noticed anything, he said quietly:
"What will you do about it?"
"I will make a name for myself," was the reply given, with sharpdecisiveness of tones, and a smile played around the corners of Leon'smouth, as though the open assertion of his purpose was a victory halfwon.
Oh, the springtime of our youth! The young man climbs to the top ofthe first hill, and, gazing off into his future, sees so many roadsleading to fortune, that he hesitates only about the choice, notdeeming failure possible by any path. But, presently, when his chosenway winds up the mountain-side, growing narrower and more difficultwith every setting sun, at length he realizes the difference betweenexpectation and fulfilment. But Leon was now on the top of his firsthill, and climbing mountains seemed so brave a task that he was eagerto begin. Therefore, he spoke boldly. Almost at once he met his firstcheck.
"You will make a name for yourself!" repeated Dr. Medjora. "How? Haveyou decided?"
Leon felt at once confronted with the task which he had set himself.Now, the truth was that he had decided upon his way in life; or,rather, I should say he had chosen, and, having made his choice, heconsidered that he had decided the matter permanently. Yet, the firstman who questioned him, caused him to doubt the wisdom of his choice,to hesitate about speaking of it, and to feel diffident, so that hedid not answer promptly. Dr. Medjora watched him closely, and spokeagain.
"Ah, I see; you think of becoming an author."
"How did you know that?" asked Leon, quickly, very much perplexed tofind his secret guessed.
"Then it is a fact? You would not ask me how I know it, were it nottrue. I will answer your question, though it is of slight consequence.You are evidently a young man of strong will-power, and yet you becameawkwardly diffident when I asked you what path in life you had electedto follow. I have observed that diffidence is closely allied to aspecies of shame, and that both are invariable symptoms of buddingauthorship. To one of your temperament, I should say that thesefeelings would come only from two causes, secret authorship and love.The latter being out of consideration, the former became aself-evident fact."
"Dr. Medjora, you seem to be a logician, and I should think that youmight be a successful author yourself."
"I might be, but I am not. I could be, only I do not choose to be. Butwe are speaking of yourself. If you wish to be a writer, I presumethat you have written something. Does it satisfy you; that is to say,do you consider that it is as excellent as it need be?"
"I have done a little writing. While thinking, this week, about myfuture, somehow there came to me a longing to write. I did so, and Ihave been over my little sketch so many times, that I cannot seewherein it is faulty. Therefore, I must admit, however conceited itmay sound, that I am satisfied with it."
"That is a very bad sign. When a man is satisfied with his own work hehas already reached the end of his abilities. It is only continualdissatisfaction with our efforts, that ever makes us ambitious toattain better things. You have said that, in your opinion, I could bea successful writer. Then let me read and judge what you have written.You have it with you, I suppose?"
Leon was much embarrassed. He wished that he could say no, but thecomposition was in his pocket. So he drew it out and handed it to Dr.Medjora, without saying a word. The Doctor glanced at it a moment andthen said encouragingly:
"There is a quality in this, as excellent as it is rare. Brevity."
"Ah, Doctor!" said Leon, eagerly. "That is what I have aimed at. Ihave but a single idea to expound, and I have endeavored to clothe itin as few words as possible. Or, rather, I should say, I have tried tomake every word count. Please read it with that view uppermost."
The Doctor nodded assent, and then read the little story, which was asfollows:
IMMORTALITY.
I am dead!
Have you ever experienced the odd sensation of being present at your own funeral, as I am now?
Impossible! For you are alive!
But I? I am dead!
There lies my body, prone and stiff, uncoffined, whilst the grave-digger, by the light of the young moon, turns the sod which is to hide me away forever.
Or so he thinks.
Why should he, a Christian minister, stoop to dig a grave?
Why? Because minister though he be, he is, or was my master; and my murderer.
Murderer did I say? Was it murder to kill a dog?
For only a dog I was; or may I say, I am?
I stupidly tore up one of his sermons, in sport. For this bad, or good deed, my master, in anger, kicked me. He kicked me, and I died.
Was that murder? Or is the word applicable only to Man, who is immortal?
But stay! What is the test of immortality?
The ego says, "I am I," and earns eternity.
Then am I not immortal, since though dead, I may speak the charmed words?
No! For Christianity preaches annihilation to beast, and immortality for Man only. Man, the only animal that murders. Shall I be proof that Christianity contains a flaw?
Yet view it as you may, here I am, dead, yet not annihilated.
I say here I am, yet where am I?
How is it that I, stupid mongrel that I was, though true and loving friend, as all dogs are; how is it that I, who but slowly caught my master's meaning from his words, now understand his thoughts although he does not speak?
At last I comprehend. I know now where I am. I am within his mind. His eagerness to bury my poor carcass is but born of the desire to drive me thence.
But is not mind an attribute of the human soul, and conscience too? And are not both immortal?
Thus then the problem of my future do I solve. Let this good Christian man hide under ground my carcass; evidence of his foul crime. And being buried, let it rot. What care I though it should be annihilated?
I am here, within this man's immortal mind, and here I shall abide forever more, and prick his conscience for my pastime.
Thus do I win immortality, and cheat the Christian's creed.
Having read to the end, Dr. Medjora nodded approvingly to Leon andsaid:
"For a first composition, you may well rest satisfied with this. It isvery subtile. Indeed I am surprised at the originality and thoughtwhich you have displayed here. I should like to discuss with you someof the points. May I?"
"With pleasure," Leon replied with ardor, delighted to find his littlestory so well received.
"The first thought that occurs to me is, that there is a certainamount of inspiration about your essay. I say essay because it is thatrather than a story. From this, I deduce a fact discouraging to yourambition, for inspirations are rare, and it is probable that were youto succeed in selling this to some magazine, you would find itdifficult to produce anything else as good."
"Why, Doctor," said Leon, anxious to prove his ability, "I wrote thatin a few minutes."
"By which statement you mean that with time for thought, you might dobetter. But your argument is in favor of my theory. The more rapidlyyou wrote this, the more difficult will it be for you to writeanother. Let me tell you what I read between the lines here. MissGrath having died, you were left alone in the world. Her two amiablesis
ters coming to the farm, probably made your loneliness intensified,and whilst depressed by your mood, your dog showed you some affection,which reaching you when your heart was full, caused it to spill over,and this was the result. Am I wrong?"
"No! You have guessed the circumstances almost exactly. As you say, Iwas feeling lonely and depressed. I came here for solitude, which issomething different from loneliness, and which is as soothing asloneliness is depressing. I was sitting under that tree, thinkingbitter things of the world in general, and of the people about me moreespecially, when without my having heard him approach, my dog, Lossy,dear old brute, pushed his head over my shoulders, placed his pawsaround my neck, and kissed me. It affected me deeply. It was as thoughI had received a message from Providence, telling me not to despair.Then like a flash it came to me, that if love is an attribute of thesoul, and a dog's love is the most unselfish of all, it must followlogically that a dog has a soul."
"Your deduction is correct, if there be any such thing as soul. But,for the moment, I will not take that up. You have told enough to showthat I am right as to the origin of your tale. It is also evident thatyou cannot hope to be under such emotional excitement at all times,when you might be called upon to write; to write or go without a meal.However, I have faith in you, and do not doubt that we shall find away for you to earn as many meals as you shall need."
"Do you mean that you will assist me?"
"I will assist you, if I am correct in my present opinion of you.Young men who need and expect assistance, are rarely worthy of help.But I wish to talk about your essay. I like the line 'Was it murder tokill a dog?' and the one which follows, 'For only a dog I was; or mayI say, I am?' Of course the word murder, strictly applied, means thekilling of a man by his fellow. I think I comprehend what you meanhere, but I would like you to explain it to me."
"Doctor, you compliment me by taking this so seriously. There is adeeper meaning in the words than might be detected by a superficialreader. As you say, the word murder applies only to the killing of aman, by a man. Or I might change the wording and say, the killing of ahuman being. Here, human implies the possession of those higherattributes, the aggregate of which is the soul, which by man isarrogantly claimed to exist exclusively in man. And it is the violentseparation of this soul from its earthly body, which makes it theheinous crime, murder; while the beast, not possessing a soul, may bekilled without scruple, and without crime. Hence I say, 'Was it murderto kill a dog?' and at once, in so few words, I raise the question asto whether the dog has not a soul."
"I follow you. Your explanation is only what I expected. I said that Iliked the next line: 'For only a dog I was; or may I say, I am?' Thistime I will show you that I comprehend you. The question here impliesmuch. If the dog is annihilated at death, then this dog ceased toexist when his master slew him. But he is speaking; he realizes thathe continues to exist. Therefore, he says most pertinently, 'or may Isay, I am?' The question carries its own affirmative, for what is not,cannot question its own existence. The subtilty here is very nice. Youconvince your reader by presenting what seems to be a self-evidentproposition, and if he admits this, he must accord immortality to thedog, for he that after death may say 'I am' is immortal. But the flaw,which you have so well hidden, lies in the fact that you have startedwith the assumption of that which you have essayed to prove. You makethe dead dog speak, which would be an impossibility had he beenannihilated."
"I am delighted, Doctor, at the way in which you criticise me. But Iam contending that the dog is immortal, hence my assumption at thevery start, that though dead, he may record his sensations. I do notreally mean to discuss the point, nor to prove it. I merely meandogmatically to assume it. I picture a dog, who in life believed thatdeath would be his total extinction, but who, when suddenly deprivedof life, finds that he is still in existence, and endeavors to analyzehis condition. If you will overlook the seeming egotism of pointingout what I think the most subtile idea, I would call your attention tothe line where, concluding that he is immortal, he says 'Here I am,'and instantly asks 'Where am I?'"
"Yes. I had already admired that and what follows; but I will ask youto expound it yourself."
"You are very kind," said Leon, pleased, and eager to talk upon hissubject. "He asks where he is, and after a moment decides that he isin his master's mind. Then he argues truly that, as mind is but apart, or attribute of the soul, if the soul be immortal, the mind andall that it contains must live on, also. Therefore, being in the man'smind, he needs only to stay there, to escape annihilation. Then headds, that he will prick the man's conscience forever. Here issomething more than a mere dogmatism. None will deny that the wantonkilling of a dog can never be forgotten, and if the dog remains inone's mind, is not that a sort of immortality?"
"Sophistry, my boy, sophistry; but clever. The idea is original, andwell conceived for the purpose of your narrative. But, like manydeductions assumed to be logical, it is illogical, because yourpremises are wrong. It is not the dog, nor his spirit, that abides inthe mind and assails the conscience. What the man tries in vain toforget is the thought of killing the beast, and thought, of course, isimmutable; but it does not at all follow that the thing of which wethink is imperishable."
"I see your meaning, Doctor, and of course you are right. But do youside with the Christian, and claim that the dog is annihilated, whileman is immortal?"
"A discussion upon religious topics is seldom profitable. In reply toyour question, I think that you will be satisfied if I admit that thedog is as surely immortal as man. No more so, and no less. TheChristian hypothesis, in this respect, is a unique curiosity to athinking man, at best. We are asked to believe that man is firstnon-existent; then in a moment he begins to exist, or is born; then hedies, but, nevertheless, continues to exist endlessly. Now it is anevident fact that birth and death are analogous occurrences, andrelated only to existence on this planet. The body of a man is born,and it dies. It begins, and it ends. As to immortality, if you contendthat something abided in that body which continues to exist afterdeath, then it is necessary to admit that it had an existence previousto its entrance into the body, at birth. Nothing can continue to existin all future time, which began at any fixed moment; it must havebeing, whether we look forward or backward. Form is perishable. It hada beginning, birth; and it will have an end, death! But theintelligence which inhabits all form will live forever, because it hasforever lived. So I repeat, the dog is as immortal as the man."
There followed a silence after this speech, the two men gazing uponone another intently, without speaking. Leon was deeply affected. Hefelt almost as though listening to himself, and there is no humanbeing who does not find himself entertaining. Leon had grown upwithout human companionship, for, in his environment, there was no oneof temperament congenial to his. But he had not lacked for company. Hefound that within the covers of those books which he had begged,borrowed, or bought with hard-earned, and more hardly-saved, pennies.Miss Grath had never encouraged him to waste his time "reading thosewicked science books," when he should have been studying hisTestament. But he had sat alone in his garret room, on many a night,reading by a candle, for he dared not use the oil, which was measuredout to last a given time. Thus he had become infatuated with works ofdivers kinds: Mythology, Sociology, Theology, Physiology, Psychology,and other kindred but difficult subjects. Difficult indeed to thestudent who is his own teacher. He had come to read his books,imagining that he listened to the authors talking, and, notinfrequently, carried away by his interest in his subject, he hadcaught himself addressing questions aloud to the writer, whom hisfancy pictured as present. Now, for the first time, he had heard a man"talk like a book." When he recovered from his pleasurable surprise,he said with emotion and ardor:
"Doctor, if I could be where I might hear you talk, or have you toteach me, I would be the happiest boy in the world."
"Are you in earnest, Leon, or are you merely carried away by anemotion, aroused by something which I have said?"
"I am in ea
rnest, but----" here his voice dropped and his tone becamealmost sad, "of course I have no right to ask such a favor. Pardon mypresumption."
"Leon, if you mean what you have said; if you will be happy with me;if you will accept me as your teacher, and endeavor to learn what Ican teach you, your wish shall be gratified."
"What do you mean?" cried Leon, renewed hope stirring within hisbreast.
"You know me as a doctor, by which you understand that I physic peoplewhen they are sick. But the true meaning of doctor, is teacher. I amwilling to be that to you, and I know much that I can teach; very muchmore than other men. I will take you as my student, if you will come."
"You are very kind, Dr. Medjora, and I could wish for no greaterhappiness than the chance to learn. Knowledge to me is God, the Godwhom I worship. But I could never repay you for the time and troublethat it will entail."
"Indeed you can. Knowledge is power, but the knowledge of one man hasits limitation, for the man will die. I have two things that I mustleave at death, money and knowledge. The former I may bequeath to whomI please, and he will get it, unless others squabble over my willuntil the lawyers spend the estate. With my knowledge it is different.I must impart it to my successor during my life, or it will perishwith me. I have labored long and hard, and I have accumulatedknowledge of the rarest and most unusual kind. Knowledge which makesme count myself the wisest physician in the world to-day. Knowledgewhich I can transfer to you, if you will accept it as a sacred trust,and use the power which it will confer upon you for the benefit ofyour fellows. Have you the courage and the energy to accept my offer?If so, do not hesitate, for I have been seeking for the proper manduring several years. If you be he, I ask no other reward for what mytask will be, than to see you worthy. Will you accept?"
"I will!"
Leon placed his hand in that of Doctor Medjora, and thus made acompact with one, to whom were attributed powers as potent as Satan's.Side by side, and deeply absorbed in earnest conversation, theystarted to walk to the farm, to be present at the sale. Lossy,although for the moment forgotten by his master, was on the alert andjumped up to follow, as soon as they started away. For the dog is afaithful friend, and the collie perhaps the most faithful of all dogs,if indeed there be any choice in that respect between purest bred andmongrel.
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