Moriah's Mourning and Other Half-Hour Sketches Part 9

"For aught I know, yes, under my armpits. However, I sha'n't object, just so the dogmas don't crowd out my morals. My moral rect.i.tude is the one inheritance I proudly retain. I've never sold myself--to anybody."

"Nor your vote?"

"Nor my vote. True, I have accepted trifling gratuities on election occasions; but they never affected my vote. I should have voted the same way, notwithstanding."

"Well, sir, I am always persuaded to accept a bonus on such occasions for _abstaining_. I have been under pay from both parties, each suspecting me of standing with the opposition. Needless to say, I have religiously kept my contract. I never vote. It involves too much duplicity for a man of my profession."

"Not necessarily. I resided comfortably for quite a period in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the dwelling of a certain political leader in this metropolis, once. He wished to have me register for his butler, but I stickled for private secretary, and private secretary I was written, sir, though I discovered later that the rogue had registered me as secretary to his coachman. However, the latter was the better man of the two--dropped his h's so fast that his master seemed to feel constrained to send everything to H---- for repairs."

"What else could you expect for a man of _aspirations_?"

"By thunder, Humphrey, that's not bad. But do you see, by yon clock, that the dinner-hour approacheth?"

The Colonel took from his waistcoat-pocket two bits of paper.

"Somehow, I miss Irving to-day. There's nothing Irving enjoyed so much as a free dinner-ticket. I see the X. Y. Z.'s are to entertain us at 1 P.M., and the K. R. G.'s at 4."

Sir Humphrey produced two similar checks.

"Well, sir, were Irving here to-day I'd willingly present him with this Presbyterian chip. There are some things to which I remain sensitive, and I look this ticket in the face with misgivings. It means being elbowed by a lot of English-slaying mendicants in a motto-bedecked saloon, where every bite at the Presbyterian fowl seems a confession of faith that that particular gobbler, or hen, as the case may be, was fore-ordained, before the beginning of time, to be chewed by yourself--or eschewed, should you decline it. Somehow theology takes the zest out of the cranberries for me. However, _de gustibus_--"

"Well, sir, I am a philosopher, and so was Irving. Poor Irving! He was never quite square. It was he, you know, who perpetrated that famous roach fraud that went the rounds of the press. I've seen him do it. He would enter a restaurant, order a dinner, and, just before finis.h.i.+ng, discover a huge roach, a Croton bug, floating in his plate. Of course the insects were his own contribution, but the fellow had a knack of introducing them. He could slip a specimen into his omelette souffle, for instance, dexterously slicing it in half with his knife, with a pressure that left nothing to be desired. The interloper, compactly imbedded, immediately imparted such an atmosphere to his vicinity that even the cook would have sworn he was baked in. I blush to say I was Irving's guest on one such occasion."

"And Sir Roach paid for both dinners?"

"Bless you, yes. Sir Roach, F.R.S. (fried, roasted, or stewed). Indeed, his hospitality did not end here. We were pressed to call again, and begged not to mention the incident. Of course, this was in our more prosperous days, before either of us had taken on the stamp of our exclusiveness. Even Irving would hesitate to try it now, I fancy."

"Poor Irving! A good fellow, but morally insane. In Baton Rouge now, I believe?"

"Yes. He changed overcoats with a gentleman.

"I wonder how the cooking is in that State inst.i.tution, Humphrey? Irving is such an epicure--"

"Oh, he's faring well enough, doubtless. Trust those Louisianians for cookery. When Irving is in New Orleans there are special houses where he drops in on Fridays, just for _court-bouillon_. I've known him to weed a bed of geraniums rather than miss it."

"Such are the vicissitudes of pedestrianism. Well, _tempus fugit_; let us be going. We have just an hour to reach our dining-hall. Here come the crowd from church. The Christmas service is very beautiful. Do you recall it, Humphrey?"

"Only in spots--like the varioloid."

They were quite in the crowd now, and so ceased speaking, and presently the Colonel was considerably in advance of his companion. So it happened that he did not see Humphrey stop a moment, put his foot on a bit of green paper, drop his handkerchief, and in recovering it gather the crumpled bill into it.

Thus it came about that when Sir Humphrey overtook his friend, and, tapping him upon the shoulder, invited him to follow him into a famous saloon, the Colonel raised his eyes in mild surprise.

Sir Humphrey paid for the drinks with a ten-dollar note, and then the two proceeded to the side door of a well-known restaurant.

"Private dining-room, please," he said, and he dropped a quarter into the hands of the servant at the door as he led the way.

It was two hours later when, having cast up his account from the bill of fare, Sir Humphrey, calling for cigars, said: "Help yourself, Colonel.

If my arithmetic is correct, we shall enjoy our smoke, have a half dollar for the waiter, and enter the Square with a whole cigar apiece in our breast pockets--at peace with the world, the flesh, and his Satanic majesty. Allow me to give you a light."

He handed the Colonel one of the free dinner-tickets of the X. Y. Z.

Society.

"The Presbyterian blue-light I reserve for my own use. Witness it burn.

"Well, Colonel, I hope you have enjoyed your dinner?"

"Thoroughly, sir, thoroughly. This is one of the many occasions in my life, Humphrey, when I rejoice in my early good breeding. Were it not for that, I should feel constrained to inquire whom you throttled and robbed in crossing Fifth Avenue, two hours ago, during the forty seconds when my back was turned."

"And my pious rearing would compel me to answer, 'No one.'

"The wherewithal to procure this Christmas dinner dropped straight from heaven, Colonel. I saw it fall, and gratefully seized it, just in the middle of the crossing."

"Thanks. I have taken the liberty of helping myself to the rest of the matches, Humphrey."

"Quite thoughtful of you. We'll use one apiece for the other cigars. Do you know I really enjoyed the first half of that smoke. It was quite like renewing one's youth."

And so, in easy converse, they strolled slowly down Fifth Avenue.

As Sir Humphrey hesitated in his walk, evidently suffering discomfort from his right boot, he presently remarked:

"I say, Colonel, I think I'll call around tomorrow at a few of my friends' houses, and see if some benevolent housewife won't let me have a shoe for this right foot."

"Or why not try your cigar on the ebony janitor of the apartment-house across the way. He has access to the trash-boxes, and could no doubt secure you a shoe--maybe a pair."

"Thanks, Colonel, for the suggestion, but there are a few things I never do. I never fly in the face of Providence. I shall smoke that cigar intact."

And they walked on.

THE REV. JORDAN WHITE'S THREE GLANCES

The Reverend Jordan White, of Cold Spring Baptist Church, was so utterly dest.i.tute of color in his midnight blackness of hue as to be considered the most thoroughly "colored" person on Claybank plantation, Arkansas.

That so black a man should have borne the name of White was one of the few of such familiar misfits to which the world never becomes insensible from familiarity. From the time when Jordan, a half-naked urchin of six, tremblingly p.r.o.nounced his name before the princ.i.p.al's desk in the summer free Claybank school to the memorable occasion of his registration as an Afro-American voter, the announcement had never failed to evoke a smile, accompanied many times by good-humored pleasantry.

"Well, sir," so he had often laughed, "I reck'n dey must o' gimme de name o' White fur a joke. But de Jordan--I don' know, less'n dey named me Jordan 'caze ev'ybody was afeerd ter cross me."

From which it seems that the surname was not an inheritance.

In his clerical suit of black, with standing collar and s.h.i.+rt-front matched in fairness only by his marvellously white teeth and eyeb.a.l.l.s, Jordan was a most interesting study in black and white.

There were no intermediate shades about him. Even his lips were black, or of so dark a purple as to fail to maintain an outline of color. They looked black, too.