by Mark Twain
III.
The town-hall had never looked finer. The platform at the end of it wasbacked by a showy draping of flags; at intervals along the walls werefestoons of flags; the gallery fronts were clothed in flags; thesupporting columns were swathed in flags; all this was to impress thestranger, for he would be there in considerable force, and in a largedegree he would be connected with the press. The house was full. The412 fixed seats were occupied; also the 68 extra chairs which had beenpacked into the aisles; the steps of the platform were occupied; somedistinguished strangers were given seats on the platform; at thehorseshoe of tables which fenced the front and sides of the platform sata strong force of special correspondents who had come from everywhere. Itwas the best-dressed house the town had ever produced. There were sometolerably expensive toilets there, and in several cases the ladies whowore them had the look of being unfamiliar with that kind of clothes. Atleast the town thought they had that look, but the notion could havearisen from the town's knowledge of the fact that these ladies had neverinhabited such clothes before.
The gold-sack stood on a little table at the front of the platform whereall the house could see it. The bulk of the house gazed at it with aburning interest, a mouth-watering interest, a wistful and patheticinterest; a minority of nineteen couples gazed at it tenderly, lovingly,proprietarily, and the male half of this minority kept saying over tothemselves the moving little impromptu speeches of thankfulness for theaudience's applause and congratulations which they were presently goingto get up and deliver. Every now and then one of these got a piece ofpaper out of his vest pocket and privately glanced at it to refresh hismemory.
Of course there was a buzz of conversation going on--there always is; butat last, when the Rev. Mr. Burgess rose and laid his hand on the sack, hecould hear his microbes gnaw, the place was so still. He related thecurious history of the sack, then went on to speak in warm terms ofHadleyburg's old and well-earned reputation for spotless honesty, and ofthe town's just pride in this reputation. He said that this reputationwas a treasure of priceless value; that under Providence its value hadnow become inestimably enhanced, for the recent episode had spread thisfame far and wide, and thus had focussed the eyes of the American worldupon this village, and made its name for all time, as he hoped andbelieved, a synonym for commercial incorruptibility. [Applause.] "Andwho is to be the guardian of this noble fame--the community as a whole?No! The responsibility is individual, not communal. From this day fortheach and every one of you is in his own person its special guardian, andindividually responsible that no harm shall come to it. Do you--doeseach of you--accept this great trust? [Tumultuous assent.] Then all iswell. Transmit it to your children and to your children's children. To-day your purity is beyond reproach--see to it that it shall remain so. To-day there is not a person in your community who could be beguiled totouch a penny not his own--see to it that you abide in this grace. ["Wewill! we will!"] This is not the place to make comparisons betweenourselves and other communities--some of them ungracious towards us; theyhave their ways, we have ours; let us be content. [Applause.] I amdone. Under my hand, my friends, rests a stranger's eloquent recognitionof what we are; through him the world will always henceforth know what weare. We do not know who he is, but in your name I utter your gratitude,and ask you to raise your voices in indorsement."
The house rose in a body and made the walls quake with the thunders ofits thankfulness for the space of a long minute. Then it sat down, andMr. Burgess took an envelope out of his pocket. The house held itsbreath while he slit the envelope open and took from it a slip of paper.He read its contents--slowly and impressively--the audience listeningwith tranced attention to this magic document, each of whose words stoodfor an ingot of gold:
"'The remark which I made to the distressed stranger was this: "You arevery far from being a bad man; go, and reform."'" Then he continued:--"Weshall know in a moment now whether the remark here quoted correspondswith the one concealed in the sack; and if that shall prove to be so--andit undoubtedly will--this sack of gold belongs to a fellow-citizen whowill henceforth stand before the nation as the symbol of the specialvirtue which has made our town famous throughout the land--Mr. Billson!"
The house had gotten itself all ready to burst into the proper tornado ofapplause; but instead of doing it, it seemed stricken with a paralysis;there was a deep hush for a moment or two, then a wave of whisperedmurmurs swept the place--of about this tenor: "_Billson_! oh, come, thisis _too_ thin! Twenty dollars to a stranger--or _anybody_--_Billson_!Tell it to the marines!" And now at this point the house caught itsbreath all of a sudden in a new access of astonishment, for it discoveredthat whereas in one part of the hall Deacon Billson was standing up withhis head weekly bowed, in another part of it Lawyer Wilson was doing thesame. There was a wondering silence now for a while. Everybody waspuzzled, and nineteen couples were surprised and indignant.
Billson and Wilson turned and stared at each other. Billson asked,bitingly:
"Why do _you_ rise, Mr. Wilson?"
"Because I have a right to. Perhaps you will be good enough to explainto the house why _you_ rise."
"With great pleasure. Because I wrote that paper."
"It is an impudent falsity! I wrote it myself."
It was Burgess's turn to be paralysed. He stood looking vacantly atfirst one of the men and then the other, and did not seem to know what todo. The house was stupefied. Lawyer Wilson spoke up now, and said:
"I ask the Chair to read the name signed to that paper."
That brought the Chair to itself, and it read out the name:
"John Wharton _Billson_."
"There!" shouted Billson, "what have you got to say for yourself now? Andwhat kind of apology are you going to make to me and to this insultedhouse for the imposture which you have attempted to play here?"
"No apologies are due, sir; and as for the rest of it, I publicly chargeyou with pilfering my note from Mr. Burgess and substituting a copy of itsigned with your own name. There is no other way by which you could havegotten hold of the test-remark; I alone, of living men, possessed thesecret of its wording."
There was likely to be a scandalous state of things if this went on;everybody noticed with distress that the shorthand scribes werescribbling like mad; many people were crying "Chair, chair! Order!order!" Burgess rapped with his gavel, and said:
"Let us not forget the proprieties due. There has evidently been amistake somewhere, but surely that is all. If Mr. Wilson gave me anenvelope--and I remember now that he did--I still have it."
He took one out of his pocket, opened it, glanced at it, looked surprisedand worried, and stood silent a few moments. Then he waved his hand in awandering and mechanical way, and made an effort or two to say something,then gave it up, despondently. Several voices cried out:
"Read it! read it! What is it?"
So he began, in a dazed and sleep-walker fashion:
"'The remark which I made to the unhappy stranger was this: "You are farfrom being a bad man. [The house gazed at him marvelling.] Go, andreform."' [Murmurs: "Amazing! what can this mean?"] This one," said theChair, "is signed Thurlow G. Wilson."
"There!" cried Wilson, "I reckon that settles it! I knew perfectly wellmy note was purloined."
"Purloined!" retorted Billson. "I'll let you know that neither you norany man of your kidney must venture to--"
The Chair: "Order, gentlemen, order! Take your seats, both of you,please."
They obeyed, shaking their heads and grumbling angrily. The house wasprofoundly puzzled; it did not know what to do with this curiousemergency. Presently Thompson got up. Thompson was the hatter. Hewould have liked to be a Nineteener; but such was not for him; his stockof hats was not considerable enough for the position. He said:
"Mr. Chairman, if I may be permitted to make a suggestion, can both ofthese gentlemen be right? I put it to you, sir, can both have happenedto say the very same words to the stranger? It seems
to me--"
The tanner got up and interrupted him. The tanner was a disgruntled man;he believed himself entitled to be a Nineteener, but he couldn't getrecognition. It made him a little unpleasant in his ways and speech.Said he:
"Sho, _that's_ not the point! _That_ could happen--twice in a hundredyears--but not the other thing. _Neither_ of them gave the twentydollars!" [A ripple of applause.]
Billson. "I did!"
Wilson. "I did!"
Then each accused the other of pilfering.
The Chair. "Order! Sit down, if you please--both of you. Neither ofthe notes has been out of my possession at any moment."
A Voice. "Good--that settles _that_!"
The Tanner. "Mr. Chairman, one
