by Owen Wister
Twenty Minutes for Refreshments
Upon turning over again my diary of that excursion to the Pacific, Ifind that I set out from Atlantic waters on the 30th day of a backwardand forlorn April, which had come and done nothing towards making itsshare of spring, but had gone, missing its chance, leaving the trees asbare as it had received them from the winds of March. It was not bleakweather alone, but care, that I sought to escape by a change of sky;and I hoped for some fellow-traveller who might begin to interest mythoughts at once. No such person met me in the several Pullmans whichI inhabited from that afternoon until the forenoon of the followingFriday. Through that long distance, though I had slanted southwestwardacross a multitude of States and vegetations, and the Mississippi layeleven hundred miles to my rear, the single event is my purchasingsome cat's-eyes of the news-agent at Sierra Blanca. Save this, my diarycontains only neat additions of daily expenses, and moral reflectionsof a delicate and restrained melancholy. They were Pecos cat's-eyes, hetold me, obtained in the rocky canyons of that stream, and destined tobe worth little until fashion turned from foreign jewels to become awareof these fine native stones. And I, glad to possess the jewels of mycountry, chose two bracelets and a necklace of them, paying but twentydollars for fifteen or sixteen cat's-eyes, and resolved to give thema setting worthy of their beauty. The diary continues with moralreflections upon the servility of our taste before anything European,and the handwriting is clear and deliberate. It abruptly becomeshurried, and at length well-nigh illegible. It is best, I think,that you should have this portion as it comes, unpolished, unamended,unarranged--hot, so to speak, from my immediate pencil, instead of coldfrom my subsequent pen. I shall disguise certain names, but that is all.
Friday forenoon, May 5.--I don't have to gaze at my cat's-eyes to killtime any more. I'm not the only passenger any more. There's a lady.She got in at El Paso. She has taken the drawing-room, but sits outsidereading newspaper cuttings and writing letters. She is sixty, I shouldsay, and has a cap and one gray curl. This comes down over her left earas far as a purple ribbon which suspends a medallion at her throat. Shecame in wearing a sage-green duster of pongee silk, pretty nice, onlythe buttons are as big as those largest mint-drops. "You porter," shesaid, "brush this." He put down her many things and received it. Herdress was sage green, and pretty nice too. "You porter," said she, "openevery window. Why, they are, I declare! What's the thermometer in thiscar?" "Ninety-five, ma'am. Folks mostly travelling--" "That will do,porter. Now you go make me a pitcher of lemonade right quick." She wentinto the state-room and shut the door. When she came out she was dressedin what appeared to be chintz bedroom curtains. They hang and flowloosely about her, and are covered with a pattern of pink peonies. Shehas slippers--Turkish--that stare up in the air, pretty handsome andcomfortable. But I never before saw any one travel with fly-paper. Itmust be hard to pack. But it's quite an idea in this train. Fully adozen flies have stuck to it already; and she reads her clippings,and writes away, and sips another glass of lemonade, all with the mostextreme appearance of leisure, not to say sloth. I can't imagine how shemanages to produce this atmosphere of indolence when in reality she issteadily occupied. Possibly the way she sits. But I think it's partlythe bedroom curtains.
These notes were interrupted by the entrance of the new conductor."If you folks have chartered a private car, just say so," he shoutedinstantly at the sight of us. He stood still at the extreme end andremoved his hat, which was acknowledged by the lady. "Travel is surelyvery light, Gadsden," she assented, and went on with her writing. Buthe remained standing still, and shouting like an orator: "Sprinkle thefloor of this car, Julius, and let the pore passengers get a breath ofcool. My lands!" He fanned himself sweepingly with his hat. He seemedbut little larger than a red squirrel, and precisely that color. Sorrelhair, sorrel eyebrows, sorrel freckles, light sorrel mustache, thinaggressive nose, receding chin, and black, attentive, prominent eyes.He approached, and I gave him my ticket, which is as long as a neck-tie,and has my height, the color of my eyes and hair, and my generaldescription, punched in the margin. "Why, you ain't middle-aged!"he shouted, and a singular croak sounded behind me. But the lady waswriting. "I have been growing younger since I bought that ticket," Iexplained. "That's it, that's it," he sang; "a man's always as old as hefeels, and a woman--is ever young," he finished. "I see you are true tothe old teachings and the old-time chivalry, Gadsden," said the lady,continuously busy. "Yes, ma'am. Jacob served seven years for Leah andseven more for Rachel." "Such men are raised today in every worthyLouisiana home, Gadsden, be it ever so humble." "Yes, ma'am. Give afresh sprinkle to the floor, Julius, soon as it goes to get dry. Excuseme, but do you shave yourself, sir?" I told him that I did, but withoutexcusing him. "You will see that I have a reason for asking," heconsequently pursued, and took out of his coat-tails a round tin boxhandsomely labelled "Nat. Fly Paper Co.," so that I supposed it wasthus, of course, that the lady came by her fly-paper. But this was purecoincidence, and the conductor explained: "That company's me and a manat Shreveport, but he dissatisfies me right frequently. You know whatheaven a good razor is for a man, and what you feel about a bad one.Vaseline and ground shells," he said, opening the box, "and I'm notsaying anything except it will last your lifetime and never hardens. Rubthe size of a pea on the fine side of your strop, spread it to an inchwith your thumb. May I beg a favor on so short a meeting? Join me inthe gentlemen's lavatory with your razorstrop in five minutes. I haveto attend to a corpse in the baggage-car, and will return at once.""Anybody's corpse I know, Gadsden?" said the lady. "No, ma'am. Just acorpse."
When I joined him, for I was now willing to do anything, he wasapologetic again. "'Tis a short acquaintance," he said, "but may I alsobeg your razor? Quick as I get out of the National Fly I am going toregister my new label. First there will be Uncle Sam embracing theworld, signifying this mixture is universal, then my name, then theword Stropine, which is a novelty and carries copyright, and I shallwin comfort and doubtless luxury. The post barber at Fort Bayard took adozen off me at sight to retail to the niggers of the Twenty-fourth, andas he did not happen to have the requisite cash on his person I chargedhim two roosters and fifty cents, and both of us done well. He's aftermore Stropine, and I got Pullman prices for my roosters, the buffet-carbeing out of chicken a la Marengo. There is your razor, sir, and Iappreciate your courtesy." It was beautifully sharpened, and I boughta box of the Stropine and asked him who the lady was. "Mrs. PorcherBrewton!" he exclaimed. "Have you never met her socially? Why she--whyshe is the most intellectual lady in Bee Bayou." "Indeed!" I said. "Whyshe visits New Orleans, and Charleston, and all the principal centres ofrefinement, and is welcomed in Washington. She converses freely with ourstatesmen and is considered a queen of learning. Why she writes po'try,sir, and is strong-minded. But a man wouldn't want to pick her up for afool, all the samey." "I shouldn't; I don't," said I. "Don't you do it,sir. She's run her plantation all alone since the Colonel was killed insixty-two. She taught me Sunday-school when I was a lad, and she used tocatch me at her pecan-trees 'most every time in Bee Bayou."
He went forward, and I went back with the Stropine in my pocket. Thelady was sipping the last of the lemonade and looking haughtily over thetop of her glass into (I suppose) the world of her thoughts. Her eyesmet mine, however. "Has Gadsden--yes, I perceive he has been tellingabout me," she said, in her languid, formidable voice. She set her glassdown and reclined among the folds of the bedroom curtains, consideringme. "Gadsden has always been lavish," she mused, caressingly. "He seemsdestined to succeed in life," I hazarded. "ah n--a!" she sighed, withdecision. "He will fail." As she said no more and as I began to resentthe manner in which she surveyed me, I remarked, "You seem rather sureof his failure." "I am old enough to be his mother, and yours," saidMrs. Porcher Brewton among her curtains. "He is a noble-hearted fellow,and would have been a high-souled Southern gentleman if born tothat station. But what should a conductor earning $103.50 a month bedispersing his attention on silly patents for? Many's the ti
me I'vetold him what I think; but Gadsden will always be flighty." No furtherobservations occurring to me, I took up my necklace and bracelets fromthe seat and put them in my pocket. "Will you permit a meddlesome oldwoman to inquire what made you buy those cat's-eyes?" said Mrs. Brewton."Why--" I dubiously began. "Never mind," she cried, archly. "If you werethinking of some one in your Northern home, they will be prized becausethe thought, at any rate, was beautiful and genuine. 'Where'er I roam,whatever realms to see, my heart, untravelled, fondly turns to thee.'Now don't you be embarrassed by an old woman!" I desired to inform herthat I disliked her, but one can never do those things; and, anxiousto learn what was the matter with the cat's-eyes, I spoke amiably andpolitely to her. "Twenty dollars!" she murmured. "And he told you theycame from the Pecos!" She gave that single melodious croak I had heardonce before. Then she sat up with her back as straight as if she wastwenty. "My dear young fellow, never do you buy trash in these trains.Here you are with your coat full of--what's Gadsden's absurd razorconcoctions--strut--strop--bother! And Chinese paste buttons. Lastsummer, on the Northern Pacific, the man offered your cat's-eyes to meas native gems found exclusively in Dakota. But I just sat and mentionedto him that I was on my way home from a holiday in China, and he wentright out of the car. The last day I was in Canton I bought a box ofthose cat's-eyes at eight cents a dozen." After this we spoke a littleon other subjects, and now she's busy writing again. She's on businessin California, but will read a paper at Los Angeles at the annualmeeting of the Golden Daughters of the West. The meal station is coming,but we have agreed to--
Later, Friday afternoon.--I have been interrupted again. Gadsdenentered, removed his hat, and shouted: "Sharon. Twenty minutes fordinner." I was calling the porter to order a buffet lunch in the carwhen there tramped in upon us three large men of such appearance thata flash of thankfulness went through me at having so little ready-moneyand only a silver watch. Mrs. Brewton looked at them and said, "Well,gentlemen?" and they took off their embroidered Mexican hats. "We've gota baby show here," said one of them, slowly, looking at me, "and we'dbe kind of obliged if you'd hold the box." "There's lunch put up ina basket for you to take along," said the next, "and a bottle ofwine--champagne. So losing your dinner won't lose you nothing." "We'relooking for somebody raised East and without local prejudice," said thethird. "So we come to the Pullman." I now saw that so far from purposingto rob us they were in a great and honest distress of mind. "But I amno judge of a baby," said I; "not being mar--" "You don't have to be,"broke in the first, more slowly and earnestly. "It's a fair and secretballot we're striving for. The votes is wrote out and ready, and allwe're shy of is a stranger without family ties or business interests tohold the box and do the counting." His deep tones ceased, and he wipedheavy drops from his forehead with his shirt sleeve. "We'd be kind ofawful obliged to you," he urged. "The town would be liable to make ittwo bottles," said the second. The third brought his fist down on theback of a seat and said, "I'll make it that now." "But, gentlemen," saidI, "five, six, and seven years ago I was not a stranger in Sharon. If myfriend Dean Drake was still here--" "But he ain't. Now you might as wellhelp folks, and eat later. This town will trust you. And if you quitus--" Once more he wiped the heavy drops away, while in a voice full ofappeal his friend finished his thought: "If we lose you, we'll likelyhave to wait till this train comes in to-morrow for a man satisfactoryto this town. And the show is costing us a heap." A light hand tappedmy arm, and here was Mrs. Brewton saying: "For shame! Show yourenterprise." "I'll hold this yere train," shouted Gadsden, "ifnecessary." Mrs. Brewton rose alertly, and they all hurried me out. "Myslippers will stay right on when I'm down the steps," said Mrs. Brewton,and Gadsden helped her descend into the blazing dust and sun of Sharon."Gracious!" said she, "what a place! But I make it a point to seeeverything as I go." Nothing had changed. There, as of old, lay theflat litter of the town--sheds, stores, and dwellings, a shapelesscongregation in the desert, gaping wide everywhere to the glassy,quivering immensity; and there, above the roofs, turned the slattedwind-wheels. But close to the tracks, opposite the hotel, was anedifice, a sort of tent of bunting, from which brass music issued,while about a hundred pink and blue sun-bonnets moved and mixed nearthe entrance. Little black Mexicans, like charred toys, lounged and laystaring among the ungraded dunes of sand. "Gracious!" said Mrs. Brewtonagain. Her eye lost nothing; and as she made for the tent the chintzpeonies flowed around her, and her step was surprisingly light. Wepassed through the sunbonnets and entered where the music played. "Theprecious blessed darlings!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands. "Thiswill do for the Golden Daughters," she rapidly added; "yes, this willdistinctly do." And she hastened away from me into the throng.
I had no time to look at much this first general minute. I could seethere were booths, each containing a separate baby. I passed a wholesection of naked babies, and one baby farther along had on golden wingsand a crown, and was bawling frightfully. Their names were over thebooths, and I noticed Lucille, Erskine Wales, Banquo Lick Nolin, Cuba,Manilla, Ellabelle, Bosco Grady, James J. Corbett Nash, and Aqua Marine.There was a great sign at the end, painted "Mrs. Eden's Manna in theWilderness," and another sign, labelled "Shot-gun Smith's twins." In themidst of these first few impressions I found myself seated behind a baretable raised three feet or so, with two boxes on it, and a quantityof blank paper and pencils, while one of the men was explaining methe rules and facts. I can't remember them all now, because I couldn'tunderstand them all then, and Mrs. Brewton was distant among thesun-bonnets, talking to a gathering crowd and feeling in the mouths ofbabies that were being snatched out of the booths and brought to her.The man was instructing me steadily all the while, and it occurred to meto nod silently and coldly now and then, as if I was doing this sort ofthing every day. But I insisted that some one should help me count, andthey gave me Gadsden.
Now these facts I do remember very clearly, and shall never forget them.The babies came from two towns--Sharon, and Rincon its neighbor. Alone,neither had enough for a good show, though in both it was every family'spride to have a baby every year. The babies were in three classes: Sixmonths and under, one prize offered; eighteen months, two prizes; threeyears, two prizes. A three-fourths vote of all cast was necessary toa choice. No one entitled to vote unless of immediate family of acompeting baby. No one entitled to cast more than one vote. There wererules of entry and fees, but I forget them, except that no one couldhave two exhibits in the same class. When I read this I asked, how abouttwins? "Well, we didn't kind of foresee that," muttered my instructor,painfully; "what would be your idea?" "Look here, you sir," interposedMrs. Brewton, "he came in to count votes." I was very glad to have herback. "That's right, ma'am," admitted the man; "he needn't to say athing. We've only got one twins entered," he pursued, "which we're gladof. Shot-gun--", "Where is this Mr. Smith?" interrupted Mrs. Brewton."Uptown, drinking, ma'am." "And who may Mr. Smith be?" "Most popularcitizen of Rincon, ma'am. We had to accept his twins because--well,he come down here himself, and most of Rincon come with him, and as weaimed to have everything pass off pleasant-like--" "I quite comprehend,"said Mrs. Brewton. "And I should consider twins within the rule; or anynumber born at one time. But little Aqua Marine is the finest singlechild in that six months class. I told her mother she ought to take thatsplurgy ring off the poor little thing's thumb. It's most unsafe. ButI should vote for that child myself." "Thank you for your valuableendorsement," said a spruce, slim young man. "But the public is notallowed to vote here," he added. He was standing on the floor andresting his elbows on the table. Mrs. Brewton stared down at him. "Areyou the father of the child?" she inquired. "Oh no! I am the agent. I--""Aqua Marine's agent?" said Mrs. Brewton, sharply. "Ha, ha!" went theyoung man. "Ha, ha! Well, that's good too. She's part of our exhibit.I'm in charge of the manna-feds, don't you know?" "I don't know," saidMrs. Brewton. "Why, Mrs. Eden's Manna in the Wilderness! Nourishes,strengthens, and makes no unhealthy fat. Take a circular, and welcome.I'm travelling for the manna. I organized this show. I'
ve conductedtwenty-eight similar shows in two years. We hold them in every Stateand Territory. Second of last March I gave Denver--you heard of it,probably?" "I did not," said Mrs. Brewton. "Well! Ha, ha! I thoughtevery person up to date had heard of Denver's Olympic Offspring Olio.""Is it up to date to loll your elbows on the table when you're speakingto a lady?" inquired Mrs. Brewton. He jumped, and then grew scarletwith rage. "I didn't expect to learn manners in New Mexico," said he."I doubt if you will," said Mrs. Brewton, and turned her back on him. Hewas white now; but better instincts, or else business, prevailed in hisinjured bosom. "Well," said he, "I had no bad intentions. I was goingto say you'd have seen ten thousand people and five hundred babies atDenver. And our manna-feds won out to beat the band. Three first medals,and all exclusively manna-fed. We took the costume prize also. Of coursehere in Sharon I've simplified. No special medal for weight, beauty,costume, or decorated perambulator. Well, I must go back to our exhibit.Glad to have you give us a call up there and see the medals we'reoffering, and our fifteen manna-feds, and take a package away with you."He was gone.
The voters had been now voting in my two boxes for some time, and Ifound myself hoping the manna would not win, whoever did; but it seemedthis agent was a very capable person. To begin with, every familyentering a baby drew a package of the manna free, and one packagecontained a diamond ring. Then, he had managed to have the finest babiesof all classes in his own exhibit. This was incontestable, Mrs. Brewtonadmitted, after returning from a general inspection; and it seemed to usextraordinary. "That's easy, ma'am," said Gadsden; "he came around herea month ago. Don't you see?" I did not see, but Mrs. Brewton saw atonce. He had made a quiet selection of babies beforehand, and thenintroduced the manna into those homes. And everybody in the room wasremarking that his show was very superior, taken as a whole they alladded, "taken as a whole"; I heard them as they came up to vote forthe 3-year and the 18-month classes. The 6-month was to wait tilllast, because the third box had been accidentally smashed by Mr. Smith.Gadsden caught several trying to vote twice. "No, you don't!" he wouldshout. "I know faces. I'm not a conductor for nothing." And the victimwould fall back amid jeers from the sun-bonnets. Once the passengerssent over to know when the train was going. "Tell them to step over hereand they'll not feel so lonesome!" shouted Gadsden; and I think a goodmany came. The band was playing "White Wings," with quite a numbersinging it, when Gadsden noticed the voting had ceased, and announcedthis ballot closed. The music paused for him, and we could suddenly hearhow many babies were in distress; but for a moment only; as we beganour counting, "White Wings" resumed, and the sun-bonnets outsang theirprogeny. There was something quite singular in the way they had voted.Here are some of the 3-year-old tickets: "First choice, Ulysses GrantBlum; 2d choice, Lewis Hendricks." "First choice, James Redfield; 2d,Lewis Hendricks." "First, Elk Chester; 2d, Lewis Hendricks." "Canit be?" said the excited Gadsden. "Finish these quick. I'll open the18-monthers." But he swung round to me at once. "See there!" he cried."Read that! and that!" He plunged among more, and I read: "First choice,Lawrence Nepton Ford, Jr.; 2d, Iona Judd." "First choice, Mary LouiseKenton; 2d, Iona Judd." "Hurry up!" said Gadsden; "that's it!" And as wecounted, Mrs. Brewton looked over my shoulder and uttered her melodiouscroak, for which I saw no reason. "That young whipper-snapper will gofar," she observed; nor did I understand this. But when they stopped theband for me to announce the returns, one fact did dawn on me evenwhile I was reading: "Three-year-olds: Whole number of votes cast, 300;necessary to a choice, 225. Second prize, Lewis Hendricks, receiving300. First prize, largest number of votes cast, 11, for Salvisa vanMeter. No award. Eighteen-month class: Whole number of votes cast, 300;necessary to a choice, 225. Second prize, Iona Judd, receiving 300.Lillian Brown gets 15 for 1st prize. None awarded." There was a veryfeeble applause, and then silence for a second, and then the sun-bonnetsrushed together, rushed away to others, rushed back; and talk swept likehail through the place. Yes, that is what they had done. They had allvoted for Lewis Hendricks and Iona Judd for second prize, and everyfamily had voted the first prize to its own baby. The Browns and vanMeters happened to be the largest families present. "He'll go far! he'llgo far!" repeated Mrs. Brewton. Sport glittered in her eye. She gatheredher curtains, and was among the sun-bonnets in a moment. Then it fullydawned on me. The agent for Mrs. Eden's Manna in the Wilderness wasindeed a shrewd strategist, and knew his people to the roots of thegrass. They had never seen a baby-show. They were innocent. He cameamong them. He gave away packages of manna and a diamond ring. Heoffered the prizes. But he proposed to win some. Therefore he made thatrule about only the immediate families voting. He foresaw what theywould do; and now they had done it. Whatever happened, two prizes wentto his manna-feds. "They don't see through it in the least, which isjust as well," said Mrs. Brewton, returning. "And it's little matterthat only second prizes go to the best babies. But what's to be donenow?" I had no idea; but it was not necessary that I should.
"You folks of Rincon and Sharon," spoke a deep voice. It was the firstman in the Pullman, and drops were rolling from his forehead, and hiseyes were the eyes of a beleaguered ox. "You fathers and mothers," hesaid, and took another breath. They grew quiet. "I'm a father myself,as is well known." They applauded this. "Salvisa is mine, and she gotmy vote. The father that will not support his own child is not--doesnot--is worse than if they were orphans." He breathed again, while theyloudly applauded. "But, folks, I've got to get home to Rincon. I'vegot to. And I'll give up Salvisa if I'm met fair." "Yes, yes, you'llbe met," said voices of men. "Well, here's my proposition: Mrs. Eden'smanna has took two, and I'm satisfied it should. We voted, and will stayvoted." "Yes, yes!" "Well, now, here's Sharon and Rincon, two of thefinest towns in this section, and I say Sharon and Rincon has equalrights to get something out of this, and drop private feelings, andeverybody back their town. And I say let this lady and gentleman, whowill act elegant and on the square, take a view and nominate the finestRincon 3-year-old and the finest Sharon 18-month they can cut out of theherd. And I say let's vote unanimous on their pick, and let each townhold a first prize and go home in friendship, feeling it has beentreated right."
Universal cheers endorsed him, and he got down panting. The band played"Union Forever," and I accompanied Mrs. Brewton to the booths. "You'llremember!" shouted the orator urgently after us; "one apiece." Wenodded. "Don't get mixed," he appealingly insisted. We shook our heads,and out of the booths rushed two women, and simultaneously dashed theirinfants in our faces. "You'll never pass Cuba by!" entreated one. "Thisis Bosco Grady," said the other. Cuba wore an immense garment made ofthe American flag, but her mother whirled her out of it in a second."See them dimples; see them knees!" she said. "See them feet! Only feelof her toes!" "Look at his arms!" screamed the mother of Bosco. "Doubledhis weight in four months." "Did he indeed, ma'am?" said Cuba's mother;"well, he hadn't much to double." "Didn't he, then? Didn't he indeed?""No at you; he didn't indeed and indeed! I guess Cuba is known toSharon. I guess Sharon'll not let Cuba be slighted." "Well, and I guessRincon'll see that Bosco Grady gets his rights." "Ladies," said Mrs.Brewton, towering but poetical with her curl, "I am a mother myself, andraised five noble boys and two sweet peerless girls." This stopped themimmediately; they stared at her and her chintz peonies as she put thecurl gently away from her medallion and proceeded: "But never did Ithink of myself in those dark weary days of the long ago. I thought ofmy country and the Lost Cause." They stared at her, fascinated. "Yes,m'm," whispered they, quite humbly. "Now," said Mrs. Brewton, "what ismore sacred than an American mother's love? Therefore let her not shameit with anger and strife. All little boys and girls are precious gems tome and to you. What is a cold, lifeless medal compared to one of them?Though I would that all could get the prize! But they can't, you know.""No, m'm." Many mothers, with their children in their arms, were nowdumbly watching Mrs. Brewton, who held them with a honeyed, convincingsmile. "If I choose only one in this beautiful and encouraging harvest,it is because I have no other choice. Thank you so
much for lettingme see that little hero and that lovely angel," she added, with a yetsweeter glance to the mothers of Bosco and Cuba. "And I wish them allluck when their turn comes. I've no say about the 6-month class, youknow. And now a little room, please."
The mothers fell back. But my head swam slightly. The 6-month class, tobe sure! The orator had forgotten all about it. In the general joy overhis wise and fair proposition, nobody had thought of it. But they wouldpretty soon. Cuba and Bosco were likely to remind them. Then we shouldstill be face to face with a state of things that--I cast a glancebehind at those two mothers of Sharon and Rincon following us, and Iasked Mrs. Brewton to look at them. "Don't think about it now," saidshe, "it will only mix you. I always like to take a thing when it comes,and not before." We now reached the 18-month class. They were thenaked ones. The 6-month had stayed nicely in people's arms; these werecrawling hastily everywhere, like crabs upset in the market, andthey screamed fiercely when taken upon the lap. The mother of ThomasJefferson Brayin Lucas showed us a framed letter from the statesman forwhom her child was called. The letter reeked with gratitude, andsaid that offspring was man's proudest privilege; that a souvenirsixteen-to-one spoon would have been cheerfully sent, but 428 babies hadbeen named after Mr. Brayin since January. It congratulated the swellingarmy of the People's Cause. But there was nothing eminent about littleThomas except the letter; and we selected Reese Moran, a vigorous Sharonbaby, who, when they attempted to set him down and pacify him, stiffenedhis legs, dashed his candy to the floor, and burst into lamentation. Wewere soon on our way to the 3-year class, for Mrs. Brewton was rapidand thorough. As we went by the Manna Exhibit, the agent among hispackages and babies invited us in. He was loudly declaring that he wouldvote for Bosco if he could. But when he examined Cuba, he became surethat Denver had nothing finer than that. Mrs. Brewton took no notice ofhim, but bade me admire Aqua Marine as far surpassing any other 6-monthchild. I proclaimed her splendid (she was a wide-eyed, contented thing,with a head shaped like a croquet mallet), and the agent smiled modestlyand told the mothers that as for his babies two prizes was luck enoughfor them; they didn't want the earth. "If that thing happened to bebrass," said Mrs. Brewton, bending over the ring that Aqua was stillsucking; and again remonstrating with the mother for this imprudence,she passed on. The three-year-olds were, many of them, in costume, withextraordinary arrangements of hair; and here was the child with goldwings and a crown I had seen on arriving. Her name was Verbena M., andshe personated Faith. She had colored slippers, and was drinkingtea from her mother's cup. Another child, named Broderick McGowan,represented Columbus, and joyfully shouted "Ki-yi!" every half-minute.One child was attired as a prominent admiral; another as a prominentgeneral; and one stood in a boat and was Washington. As Mrs. Brewtonexamined them and dealt with the mothers, the names struck meafresh--not so much the boys; Ulysses Grant and James J. Corbettexplained themselves; but I read the names of five adjacent girls--Lula,Ocilla, Nila, Cusseta, and Maylene. And I asked Mrs. Brewton how theygot them. "From romances," she told me, "in papers that we of the upperclasses never see." In choosing Horace Boyd, of Rincon, for his hair,his full set of front teeth well cared for, and his general beauty, Ithink both of us were also influenced by his good sensible name, and hisgood clean sensible clothes. With both our selections, once they weresettled, were Sharon and Rincon satisfied. We were turning back to thetable to announce our choice when a sudden clamor arose behind us,and we saw confusion in the Manna Department. Women were running andshrieking, and I hastened after Mrs. Brewton to see what was the matter.Aqua Marine had swallowed the ring on her thumb. "It was gold! it waspure gold!" wailed the mother, clutching Mrs. Brewton. "It cost a wholedollar in El Paso." "She must have white of egg instantly," said Mrs.Brewton, handing me her purse. "Run to the hotel--" "Save your money,"said the agent, springing forward with some eggs in a bowl. "Lord! youdon't catch us without all the appliances handy. We'd run behind thetrade in no time. There, now, there," he added, comfortingly to themother. "Will you make her swallow it? Better let me--better let me--Andhere's the emetic. Lord! why, we had three swallowed rings at the DenverOlio, and I got 'em all safe back within ten minutes after time ofswallowing." "You go away," said Mrs. Brewton to me, "and tell them ournominations." The mothers sympathetically surrounded poor little Aqua,saying to each other: "She's a beautiful child!" "Sure indeed she is!""But the manna-feds has had their turn." "Sure indeed they've beenrecognized," and so forth, while I was glad to retire to the votingtable. The music paused for me, and as the crowd cheered my smallspeech, some one said, "And now what are you going to do about me?" Itwas Bosco Grady back again, and close behind him Cuba. They had escapedfrom Mrs. Brewton's eye and had got me alone. But I pretended in thenoise and cheering not to see these mothers. I noticed a woman hurryingout of the tent, and hoped Aqua was not in further trouble--she wasstill surrounded, I could see. Then the orator made some silence,thanked us in the names of Sharon and Rincon, and proposed ourcandidates be voted on by acclamation. This was done. Rincon voted forSharon and Reese Moran in a solid roar, and Sharon voted for Rincon andHorace Boyd in a roar equally solid. So now each had a prize, and thewhole place was applauding happily, and the band was beginning again,when the mothers with Cuba and Bosco jumped up beside me on theplatform, and the sight of them produced immediate silence.
"There's a good many here has a right to feel satisfied," said Mrs.Grady, looking about, "and they're welcome to their feelings. But ifthis meeting thinks it is through with its business, I can tell it thatit ain't--not if it acts honorable, it ain't. Does those that have hadtheir chance and those that can take home their prizes expect us 6-monthmothers come here for nothing? Do they expect I brought my Bosco fromRincon to be insulted, and him the pride of the town?" "Cuba is knownto Sharon," spoke the other lady. "I'll say no more." "Jumping Jeans!"murmured the orator to himself. "I can't hold this train much longer,"said Gadsden; "she's due at Lordsburg now." "You'll have made it up byTucson, Gadsden," spoke Mrs. Brewton, quietly, across the whole assemblyfrom the Manna Department. "As for towns," continued Mrs. Grady, "thatthink anything of a baby that's only got three teeth--" "Ha! Ha!"laughed Cuba's mother, shrilly. "Teeth! Well, we're not proud of baldbabies in Sharon." Bosco was certainly bald. All the men were lookingwretched, and all the women were growing more and more like eagles.Moreover, they were separating into two bands and taking their husbandswith them--Sharon and Rincon drawing to opposite parts of the tent--andwhat was coming I cannot say; for we all had to think of something else.A third woman, bringing a man, mounted the platform. It was she Ihad seen hurry out. "My name's Shot-gun Smith," said the man, verycarefully, "and I'm told you've reached my case." He was extremelygood-looking, with a blue eye and a blond mustache, not above thirty,and was trying hard to be sober, holding himself with dignity. "Are youthe judge?" said he to me. "Hell--" I began. "N-not guilty, your honor,"said he. At this his wife looked anxious. "S-self-defence," he slowlycontinued; "told you once already." "Why, Rolfe!" exclaimed his wife,touching his elbow. "Don't you cry, little woman," said he; "this'llcome out all right. Where 're the witnesses?" "Why, Rolfe! Rolfe!" Sheshook him as you shake a sleepy child. "Now see here," said he, andwagged a finger at her affectionately, "you promised me you'd not cryif I let you come." "Rolfe, dear, it's not that to-day; it's the twins.""It's your twins, Shot-gun, this time," said many men's voices. "Weacquitted you all right last month." "Justifiable homicide," saidGadsden. "Don't you remember?" "Twins?" said Shotgun, drowsily. "Oh yes,mine. Why--" He opened on us his blue eyes that looked about as innocentas Aqua Marine's, and he grew more awake. Then he blushed deeply, faceand forehead. "I was not coming to this kind of thing," he explained."But she wanted the twins to get something." He put his hand on hershoulder and straightened himself. "I done a heap of prospecting beforeI struck this claim," said he, patting her shoulder. "We got marriedlast March a year. It's our first--first--first"--he turned to me with aconfiding smile--"it's our first dividend, judge." "Rolfe! I never! Youcome right down." "A
nd now let's go get a prize," he declared, with hisconfiding pleasantness. "I remember now! I remember! They claimed twinswas barred. And I kicked down the bars. Take me to those twins. They'renot named yet, judge. After they get the prize we'll name them finenames, as good as any they got anywhere--Europe, Asia, Africa--anywhere.My gracious! I wish they was boys. Come on, judge! You and me'll go give'em a prize, and then we'll drink to 'em." He hugged me suddenly andaffectionately, and we half fell down the steps. But Gadsden as suddenlycaught him and righted him, and we proceeded to the twins. Mrs. Smithlooked at me helplessly, saying: "I'm that sorry, sir! I had no ideahe was going to be that gamesome." "Not at all," I said; "not at all!"Under many circumstances I should have delighted in Shot-gun's society.He seemed so utterly sure that, now he had explained himself, everybodywould rejoice to give the remaining-medal to his little girls. ButBosco and Cuba had not been idle. Shotgun did not notice the spread ofwhispers, nor feel the divided and jealous currents in the air as hesat, and, in expanding good-will, talked himself almost sober. To enticehim out there was no way. Several of his friends had tried it. Butbeneath his innocence there seemed to lurk something wary, and I grewapprehensive about holding the box this last time. But Gadsden relievedme as our count began. "Shot-gun is a splendid man," said he, "and hehas trailed more train-robbers than any deputy in New Mexico. But he hasseen too many friends to-day, and is not quite himself. So when he felldown that time I just took this off him." He opened the drawer, andthere lay a six-shooter. "It was touch and go," said Gadsden; "but he'sthinking that hard about his twins that he's not missed it yet. 'Twouldhave been the act of an enemy to leave that on him to-day.--Well, d'yousay!" he broke off. "Well, well, well!" It was the tickets we took outof the box that set him exclaiming. I began to read them, and saw thatthe agent was no mere politician, but a statesman. His Aqua Marine had asolid vote. I remembered his extreme praise of both Bosco and Cuba. Thishad set Rincon and Sharon bitterly against each other. I remembered hismodesty about Aqua Marine. Of course. Each town, unable to bear theidea of the other's beating it, had voted for the manna-fed, who had 299votes. Shot-gun and his wife had voted for their twins. I looked towardsthe Manna Department, and could see that Aqua Marine was placid oncemore, and Mrs. Brewton was dancing the ring before her eyes. I hope Iannounced the returns in a firm voice. "What!" said Shot-gun Smith; andat that sound Mrs. Brewton stopped dancing the ring. He strode to ourtable. "There's the winner," said Gadsden, quickly pointing to theManna Exhibit. "What!" shouted Smith again; "and they quit me for thathammer-headed son-of-a-gun?" He whirled around. The men stood ready, andthe women fled shrieking and cowering to their infants in the booths."Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" cried Gadsden, "don't hurt him! Look here!" Andfrom the drawer he displayed Shot-gun's weapon. They understood in asecond, and calmly watched the enraged and disappointed Shot-gun. But hewas a man. He saw how he had frightened the women, and he stood in themiddle of the floor with eyes that did not at all resemble Aqua Marine'sat present. "I'm all right now, boys," he said. "I hope I've harmed noone. Ladies, will you try and forget about me making such a break? Itgot ahead of me, I guess; for I had promised the little woman--" Hestopped himself; and then his eye fell upon the Manna Department. "Iguess I don't like one thing much now. I'm not after prizes. I'd notaccept one from a gold-bug-combine-trust that comes sneaking aroundstuffing wholesale concoctions into our children's systems. My twins arenot manna-fed. My twins are raised as nature intended. Perhaps if theywere swelled out with trash that acts like baking-powder, they wouldhave a medal too--for I notice he has made you vote his way pretty oftenthis afternoon." I saw the agent at the end of the room look very queer."That's so!" said several. "I think I'll clear out his boxes," saidShot-gun, with rising joy. "I feel like I've got to do something beforeI go home. Come on, judge!" He swooped towards the manna with a yell,and the men swooped with him, and Gadsden and I were swooped with them.Again the women shrieked. But Mrs. Brewton stood out before the boxeswith her curl and her chintz.
"Mr. Smith," said she, "you are not going to do anything like that. Youare going to behave yourself like the gentleman you are, and not likethe wild beast that's inside you." Never in his life before, probably,had Shot-gun been addressed in such a manner, and he too becamehypnotized, fixing his blue eyes upon the strange lady. "I do notbelieve in patent foods for children," said Mrs. Brewton. "We agreeon that, Mr. Smith, and I am a grandmother, and I attend to what mygrandchildren eat. But this highly adroit young man has done you noharm. If he has the prizes, whose doing is that, please? And who paidfor them? Will you tell me, please? Ah, you are all silent!" And shecroaked melodiously. "Now let him and his manna go along. But I haveenjoyed meeting you all, and I shall not forget you soon. And, Mr.Smith, I want you to remember me. Will you, please?" She walked to Mrs.Smith and the twins, and Shot-gun followed her, entirely hypnotized. Shebeckoned to me. "Your judge and I," she said, "consider not only yourbeautiful twins worthy of a prize, but also the mother and fatherthat can so proudly claim them." She put her hand in my pocket. "Thesecat's-eyes," she said, "you will wear, and think of me and the judgewho presents them." She placed a bracelet on each twin, and the necklaceupon Mrs. Smith's neck. "Give him Gadsden's stuff," she whispered to me."Do you shave yourself, sir?" said I, taking out the Stropine. "Vaselineand ground shells, and will last your life. Rub the size of a pea onyour strop and spread it to an inch." I placed the box in Shot-gun'smotionless hand. "And now, Gadsden, we'll take the train," said Mrs.Brewton. "Here's your lunch! Here's your wine!" said the orator, forcinga basket upon me. "I don't know what we'd have done without you and yourmother." A flash of indignation crossed Mrs. Brewton's face, but changedto a smile. "You've forgot to name my girls!" exclaimed Shot-gun,suddenly finding his voice. "Suppose you try that," said Mrs. Brewton tome, a trifle viciously. "Thank you," I said to Smith. "Thank you.I--" "Something handsome," he urged. "How would Cynthia do for one?" Isuggested. "Shucks, no! I've known two Cynthias. You don't want that?"he asked Mrs. Smith; and she did not at all. "Something extra, somethingfine, something not stale," said he. I looked about the room. There wasno time for thought, but my eye fell once more upon Cuba. This remindedme of Spain, and the Spanish; and my brain leaped. "I have them!"I cried. "'Armada' and 'Loyola.'" "That's what they're named!" saidShot-gun; "write it for us." And I did. Once more the band played, andwe left them, all calling, "Good-bye, ma'am. Good-bye, judge," happyas possible. The train was soon going sixty miles an hour through thedesert. We had passed Lordsburg, San Simon, and were nearly at Bensonbefore Mrs. Brewton and Gadsden (whom she made sit down with us) and Ifinished the lunch and champagne. "I wonder how long he'll remember me?"mused Mrs. Brewton at Tucson, where we were on time. "That woman is notworth one of his boots."
Saturday afternoon, May 6.--Near Los Angeles. I have been writing allday, to be sure and get everything in, and now Sharon is twenty-fourhours ago, and here there are roses, gardens, and many nice houses atthe way-stations. Oh, George Washington, father of your country, what abrindled litter have you sired!
But here the moral reflections begin again, and I copy no more diary.Mrs. Brewton liked my names for the twins. "They'll pronounce itLoyo'la," she said, "and that sounds right lovely." Later she sent meher paper for the Golden Daughters. It is full of poetry and sentimentand all the things I have missed. She wrote that if she had been surethe agent had helped Aqua Marine to swallow the ring, she would have letthem smash his boxes. And I think she was a little in love with Shot-gunSmith. But what a pity we shall soon have no more Mrs. Brewtons! Thecauses that produced her--slavery, isolation, literary tendencies,adversity, game blood--that combination is broken forever. I shall speakto Mr. Howells about her. She ought to be recorded.
