Part 26

I have adored Marjorie for six-and-thirty years; I have adored her in detail, I have adored the whole of her; but above all other details--just a little above all other details--I have adored her because she detested that odious and confusing and unvanquishable and unlearnable and shameless invention, the multiplication table:

“I am now going to tell you the horible and wretched plaege [plague] that my multiplication gives me you can’t conceive it the most Devilish thing is 8 times 8 & 7 times 7 it is what nature itself cant endure.”

I stand reverently uncovered in the presence of that holy verdict.

Here is that person again whom I so dislike--and for no reason at all except that my Marjorie doesn’t like her:

“Miss Potune is very fat she pretends to be very learned she says she saw a stone that dropt from the skies, but she is a good christian.”

Of course, stones have fallen from the skies, but I don’t believe this “horid fat Simpliton” had ever seen one that had done it; but even if she had, it was none of her business, and she could have been better employed than in going around exaggerating it and carrying on about it and trying to make trouble with a little child that had never done _her_ any harm.

“... The Birds do chirp the Lambs do leap and Nature is clothed with the garments of green yellow, and white, purple, and red.

“... There is a book that is called the Newgate Calender that contains all the Murders: all the Murders did I say, nay all Thefts & Forgeries that ever were committed & fills me with horror & consternation.”

Marjorie is a diligent little student, and her education is always storming along and making great time and lots of noise:

“Isabella this morning taught me some French words one of which is bon suar the interpretation is good morning.”

It slanders Isabella, but the slander is not intentional. The main thing to notice is that big word, “interpretation.” Not many children of Marjorie’s age can handle a five syllable team in that easy and confident way. It is observable that she frequently employs words of an imposingly formidable size, and is manifestly quite familiar with them and not at all afraid of them.

“Isa is teaching me to make Simecolings nots of interrigations periods & commas &c. As this is Sunday I will meditate uppon senciable & Religious subjects first I should be very thankful I am not a beggar as many are.”

That was the “first.” She didn’t get to her second subject, but got side-tracked by a saner interest, and used her time to better purpose.

“It is melancholy to think, that I have so many talents, & many there are that have not had the attention paid to them that I have, & yet they contrive to be better then me.

“... Isabella is far too indulgent to me & even the Miss Crafords say that they wonder at her patience with me & it is indeed true for my temper is a bad one.”

The daring child wrote a (synopsized) history of Mary Queen of Scots and of five of the royal Jameses in rhyme--but never mind, we have no room to discuss it here. Nothing was entirely beyond her literary jurisdiction; if it had occurred to her that the laws of Rome needed codifying she would have taken a chance at it.

Here is a sad note:

“My religion is greatly falling off because I dont pray with so much attention when I am saying my prayers and my character is lost a-mong the Breahead people I hope I will be religious again but as for regaining my character I despare of it.”

When religion and character go, they leave a large vacuum. But there are ways to fill it:

“I’ve forgot to say, but I’ve four lovers, the other one is Harry Watson, a very delightful boy.... James Keith hardly ever Spoke to me, he said Girl! make less noise.... Craky hall ... I walked to that delightfull place with a delightful young man beloved by all his friends and espacialy by me his loveress but I must not talk any longer about him for Isa said it is not proper for to speak of gentalman but I will never forget him....

“The Scythians tribe live very coarsely for a Gluton Introduced to Arsaces the Captain of the Army, 1 man who Dressed hair & another man who was a good cook but Arsaces said that he would keep 1 for brushing his horses tail and the other to fead his pigs....

“On Saturday I expected no less than three well-made bucks, the names of whom is here advertised. Mr. Geo. Crakey [Cragie], and Wm. Keith and Jn Keith--the first is the funniest of every one of them. Mr. Crakey and I walked to Craky-hall [Craigiehall] hand and hand in Innocence and matitation sweet thinking on the kind love which flows in our tender hearted mind which is overflowing with majestic pleasure no one was ever so polite to me in the hole state of my existence. Mr. Craky you must know is a great Buck and pretty good-looking.”

For a purpose, I wish the reader to take careful note of these statistics:

“I am going to tell you of a melancholy story. A young turkie of 2 or 3 months old, would you believe it, the father broke its leg, & he killed another! I think he ought to be transported or hanged.”

Marjorie wrote some verses about this tragedy--I think. I cannot be quite certain it is this one, for in the verses there are three deaths, whereas these statistics do not furnish so many. Also in the statistics the father of the deceased is indifferent about the loss he has sustained, whereas in the verses he is not. Also in the third verse, the _mother_, too, exhibits feeling, whereas in the two closing verses of the poem she--at least it seems to be she--is indifferent. At least it looks like indifference to me, and I believe it _is_ indifference:

“Three turkeys fair their last have breathed, And now this world forever leaved; Their father, and their mother too, They sighed and weep as well as you; Indeed, the rats their bones have cranched. Into eternity theire launched. A direful death indeed they had, As wad put any parent mad; But she was more than usual calm, She did not give a single dam.”

The naughty little scamp! I mean, for not leaving out the _l_ in the word “Calm,” so as to perfect the rhyme. It seems a pity to damage with a lame rhyme a couplet that is otherwise without a blemish.

Marjorie wrote four journals. She began the first one in January, 1809, when she was just six years old, and finished it five months later, in June.

She began the second in the following month, and finished it six months afterward (January, 1810), when she was just seven.

She began the third one in April, 1810, and finished it in the autumn.

She wrote the fourth in the winter of 1810-11, and the last entry in it bears date July 19, 1811, and she died exactly five months later, December 19th, aged eight years and eleven months. It contains her rhymed Scottish histories.

Let me quote from Dr. John Brown:

“The day before her death, Sunday, she sat up in bed, worn and thin, her eye gleaming as with the light of a coming world, and with a tremulous, old voice repeated a long poem by Burns--heavy with the shadow of death, and lit with the fantasy of the judgment seat--the publican’s prayer in paraphrase, beginning:

“‘Why am I loth to leave this earthly scene? Have I so found it full of pleasing charms? Some drops of joy, with draughts of ill between, Some gleams of sunshine ’mid renewing storms.’

“It is more affecting than we care to say to read her mother’s and Isabella Keith’s letters written immediately after her death. Old and withered, tattered and pale, they are now; but when you read them, how quick, how throbbing with life and love! how rich in that language of affection which only women, and Shakespeare, and Luther can use--that power of detaining the soul over the beloved object and its loss.”

Fifty years after Marjorie’s death her sister, writing to Dr. Brown, said:

“My mother was struck by the patient quietness manifested by Marjorie during this illness, unlike her ardent, impulsive nature; but love and poetic feeling were unquenched. When Dr. Johnstone rewarded her submissiveness with a sixpence, the request speedily followed that she might get out ere New Year’s Day came. When asked why she was so desirous of getting out, she immediately rejoined: ‘Oh, I am so anxious to buy something with my sixpence for my dear Isa Keith.’ Again, when lying very still, her mother asked her if there was anything she wished: ‘Oh yes, if you would just leave the room door open a wee bit, and play the _Land o’ the Leal_, and I will lie and _think_ and enjoy myself’ (this is just as stated to me by her mother and mine). Well, the happy day came, alike to parents and child, when Marjorie was allowed to come forth from the nursery to the parlor. It was Sabbath evening, and after tea. My father, who idolized this child, and never afterward in my hearing mentioned her name, took her in his arms; and while walking her up and down the room she said: ‘Father, I will repeat something to you; what would you like?’ He said, ‘Just choose for yourself, Maidie.’ She hesitated for a moment between the paraphrase, ‘Few are thy days and full of woe,’ and the lines of Burns already quoted, but decided on the latter; a remarkable choice for a child. The repeating of these lines seemed to stir up the depths of feeling in her soul. She asked to be allowed to write a poem. There was a doubt whether it would be right to allow her, in case of hurting her eyes. She pleaded earnestly, ‘Just this once’; the point was yielded, her slate was given her, and with great rapidity she wrote an address of fourteen lines ‘To my loved cousin on the author’s recovery.’”

The cousin was Isa Keith.

“She went to bed apparently well, awoke in the middle of the night with the old cry of woe to a mother’s heart, ‘My head, my head!’ Three days of the dire malady, ‘water in the head,’ followed, and the end came.”

Footnote 17:

_Marjorie Fleming._ By L. MacBean. G. P. Putnam’s Sons, publishers, London and New York.

Permission to use the extracts quoted from Marjorie’s Journal in this article has been granted me by the publishers.

Footnote 18:

It is a whole century since the dimly conscious little prophet said it, but the pathos of it is still there.

ADAM’S SOLILOQUY

(The spirit of Adam is supposed to be visiting New York City inspecting the dinosaur at the Museum of Natural History)

(1905)

I

It is strange ... very strange. _I_ do not remember this creature. (_After gazing long and admiringly._) Well, it is wonderful! The mere _skeleton_ fifty-seven feet long and sixteen feet high! Thus far, it seems, they’ve found only this sample--without doubt a merely medium-sized one; a person could not step out here into the Park and happen by luck upon the largest horse in America; no, he would happen upon one that would look small alongside of the biggest Normandy. It is quite likely that the biggest dinosaur was ninety feet long and twenty feet high. It would be five times as long as an elephant; an elephant would be to it what a calf is to an elephant. The bulk of the creature! The weight of him! As long as the longest whale, and twice the substance in him! And all good wholesome pork, most likely; meat enough to last a village a year.... Think of a hundred of them in line, draped in shining cloth of gold!--a majestic thing for a coronation procession. But expensive, for he would eat much; only kings and millionaires could afford him.

I have no recollection of him; neither Eve nor I had heard of him until yesterday. We spoke to Noah about him; he colored and changed the subject. Being brought back to it--and pressed a little--he confessed that in the matter of stocking the Ark the stipulations had not been carried out with absolute strictness--that is, in minor details, unessentials. There were some irregularities. He said the boys were to blame for this--the boys mainly, his own fatherly indulgence partly. They were in the giddy heyday of their youth at the time, the happy springtime of life; their hundred years sat upon them lightly, and--well, he had once been a boy himself, and he had not the heart to be too exacting with them. And so--well, they did things they shouldn’t have done, and he--to be candid, he winked. But on the whole they did pretty faithful work, considering their age. They collected and stowed a good share of the really useful animals; and also, when Noah was not watching, a multitude of useless ones, such as flies, mosquitoes, snakes, and so on, but they did certainly leave ashore a good many creatures which might possibly have had value some time or other, in the course of time. Mainly these were vast saurians a hundred feet long, and monstrous mammals, such as the megatherium and that sort, and there was really some excuse for leaving them behind, for two reasons: (1) it was manifest that some time or other they would be needed as fossils for museums and (2) there had been a miscalculation, the Ark was smaller than it should have been, and so there wasn’t room for those creatures. There was actually fossil material enough all by itself to freight twenty-five Arks like that one. As for the dinosaur----But Noah’s conscience was easy; it was not named in his cargo list and he and the boys were not aware that there was such a creature. He said he could not blame himself for not knowing about the dinosaur, because it was an American animal, and America had not then been discovered.

Noah went on to say, “I did reproach the boys for not making the most of the room we had, by discarding trashy animals and substituting beasts like the mastodon, which could be useful to man in doing heavy work such as the elephant performs, but they said those great creatures would have increased our labors beyond our strength, in the matter of feeding and watering them, we being short-handed. There was something in that. We had no pump; there was but one window; we had to let down a bucket from that, and haul it up a good fifty feet, which was very tiresome; then we had to carry the water downstairs--fifty feet again, in cases where it was for the elephants and their kind, for we kept them in the hold to serve for ballast. As it was, we lost many animals--choice animals that would have been valuable in menageries--different breeds of lions, tigers, hyenas, wolves, and so on; for they wouldn’t drink the water after the salt sea water got mixed with the fresh. But we never lost a locust, nor a grasshopper, nor a weevil, nor a rat, nor a cholera germ, nor any of that sort of beings. On the whole, I think we did very well, everything considered. We were shepherds and farmers; we had never been to sea before; we were ignorant of naval matters, and I know this for certain, that there is more difference between agriculture and navigation than a person would think. It is my opinion that the two trades do not belong together. Shem thinks the same; so does Japheth. As for what Ham thinks, it is not important. Ham is biased. You find me a Presbyterian that isn’t, if you think you can.”

He said it aggressively; it had in it the spirit of a challenge. I avoided argument by changing the subject. With Noah, arguing is a passion, a disease, and it is growing upon him; has been growing upon him for thirty thousand years, and more. It makes him unpopular, unpleasant; many of his oldest friends dread to meet him. Even strangers soon get to avoiding him, although at first they are glad to meet him and gaze at him, on account of his celebrated adventure. For a time they are proud of his notice, because he is so distinguished; but he argues them to rags, and before long they begin to wish, like the rest, that something had happened to the Ark.

II

(_On the bench in the Park, midafternoon, dreamily noting the drift, of the human species back and forth._) To think--this multitude is but a wee little fraction of the earth’s population! And all blood kin to me, every one! Eve ought to have come with me; this would excite her affectionate heart. She was never able to keep her composure when she came upon a relative; she would try to kiss every one of these people, black and white and all. (_A baby wagon passes._) How little change one can notice--none at all, in fact. I remember the first child well----Let me see ... it is three hundred thousand years ago come Tuesday. This one is just like it. So between the first one and the last one there is really nothing to choose. The same insufficiency of hair, the same absence of teeth, the same feebleness of body and apparent vacancy of mind, the same general unattractiveness all around. Yet Eve worshiped that early one, and it was pretty to see her with it. This latest one’s mother worships _it_; it shows in her eyes--it is the very look that used to shine in Eve’s. To think that so subtle and intangible a thing as a _look_ could flit and flash from face to face down a procession three hundred thousand years long and remain the same, without shade of change! Yet here it is, lighting this young creature’s face just as it lighted Eve’s in the long ago--the newest thing I have seen in the earth, and the oldest. Of course, the dinosaur----But that is in another class.

She drew the baby wagon to the bench and sat down and began to shove it softly back and forth with one hand while she held up a newspaper with the other and absorbed herself in its contents. Presently, “My!” she exclaimed; which startled me, and I ventured to ask her, modestly and respectfully, what was the matter. She courteously passed the paper to me and said--pointing with her finger:

“There--it reads like fact, but I don’t know.”

It was very embarrassing. I tried to look at my ease, and nonchalantly turned the paper this and that and the other way, but her eye was upon me and I felt that I was not succeeding. Pretty soon she asked, hesitatingly:

“Can’t--can’t--you--read?”

I had to confess that I couldn’t. It filled her with wonder. But it had one pleasant effect--it interested her in me, and I was thankful, for I was getting lonesome for some one to talk to and listen to. The young fellow who was showing me around--on his own motion, I did not invite him--had missed his appointment at the Museum, and I was feeling disappointed, for he was good company. When I told the young woman I could not read, she asked me another embarrassing question:

“Where are you from?”

I skirmished--to gain time and position. I said:

“Make a guess. See how near you can come.”

She brightened, and exclaimed:

“I shall dearly like it, sir, if you don’t mind. If I guess right will you tell me?”

“Yes.”

“Honor bright?”

“Honor bright? What is that?”

She laughed delightedly and said:

“That’s a good start! I was _sure_ that that phrase would catch you. I know one thing, now, all right. I know----”

“What do you know?”

“That you are not an American. And you aren’t, _are_ you?”

“No. You are right. I’m not--honor bright, as you say.”

She looked immensely pleased with herself, and said:

“I reckon I’m not always smart, but _that_ was smart, anyway. But not so _very_, after all, because I already knew--believed I knew--that you were a foreigner, by another sign.”

“What was that?”

“Your accent.”

She was an accurate observer; I do speak English with a heavenly accent, and she had detected the foreign twang in it. She ran charmingly on, most naïvely and engagingly pleased with her triumph:

“The minute you said, ‘See ’ow near you can come to it,’ I said to myself, ‘Two to one he is a foreigner, and ten to one he’s English.’ Now that _is_ your nationality, _isn’t_ it?”

I was sorry to spoil her victory, but I had to do it: “Ah--you’ll have to guess again.”

“What--you are not an Englishman?”

“No--honor bright.”

She looked me searchingly over, evidently communing with herself--adding up my points, then she said:

“Well, you don’t _look_ like an Englishman, and that is true.” After a little she added, “The fact is, you don’t look like _any_ foreigner--not quite like ... like _anybody_ I’ve seen before. I will guess some more.”

She guessed every country whose name she could think of and grew gradually discouraged. Finally she said:

“You must be the Man Without a Country--the one the story tells about. You don’t seem to have any nationality at all. How did you come to come to America? Have you any kinfolks here?”

“Yes--several.”

“Oh, then you came to see _them_.”

“Partly--yes.”

She sat awhile, thinking, then:

“Well, I’m not going to give up quite yet. Where do you live when you are at home--in a city, or in the country?”

“Which do you think?”

“Well, I don’t quite know. You _do_ look a little countrified, if you don’t mind my saying it; but you look a little citified, too--not much, but a little, although you can’t read, which is very curious, and you are not used to newspapers. Now _my_ guess is that you live mainly in the country when you are at home, and not very much in the city. Is that right?”

“Yes, quite right.”

“Oh, good! Now I’ll take a fresh start.”

Then she wore herself to the bone, naming cities. No success. Next she wanted me to help her a little with some “pointers,” as she phrased it. Was my city large? Yes. Was it very large? Yes. Did they have mobiles there? No. Electric light? No. Railroads, hospitals, colleges, cops? No.

“Why, then, it’s not civilized! Where _can_ that place be? Be good and tell me just one peculiarity of it--then maybe I can guess.”

“Well, then, just one; it has gates of pearl.”

“Oh, go along! That’s the New Jerusalem. It isn’t fair to joke. Never mind. I’ll guess it yet--it will come into my head pretty soon, just when I’m not expecting it. Oh, I’ve got an idea! Please talk a little in your own language--that’ll be a good pointer.” I accommodated her with a sentence or two. She shook her head despondently.

“No,” she said, “it doesn’t sound human. I mean, it doesn’t sound like any of these other foreigners. It’s pretty enough--it’s quite pretty, I think--but I’m sure I’ve not heard it before. Maybe if you were to pronounce your name---- What _is_ your name, if you’ll be so good?”

“Adam.”

“Adam?”

“Yes.”

“But Adam _what_?”

“That is all--just Adam.”

“Nothing at all but just that? Why, how curious! There’s plenty of Adams; how can they tell you from the rest?”

“Oh, that is no trouble. I’m the only one there is, there where I’m from.”

“Upon my word! Well, it beats the band! It reminds a person of the old original. That was his name, too, and he hadn’t any but that--just like you.” Then, archly, “You’ve heard of him, I suppose?”

“Oh yes! Do you know him? Have you ever seen him?”

“_Seen_ him? Seen _Adam_? Thanks to goodness, no! It would scare me into fits.”

“I don’t see why.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“_Why_ don’t you see why?”

“Because there is no sense in a person being scared of his kin.”

“_Kin?_”

“Yes. Isn’t he a distant relative of yours?”

She thought it was prodigiously funny, and said it was perfectly true, but _she_ never would have been bright enough to think of it. I found it a new and most pleasant sensation to have my wit admired, and was about to try to do some more when that young fellow came. He planted himself on the other side of the young woman and began a vapid remark about the weather, but she gave him a look that withered him and got stiffly up and wheeled the baby away.

BIBLE TEACHING AND RELIGIOUS PRACTICE

Religion had its share in the changes of civilization and national character, of course. What share? The lion’s. In the history of the human race this has always been the case, will always be the case, to the end of time, no doubt; or at least until man by the slow processes of evolution shall develop into something really fine and high--some billions of years hence, say.