The Cream of the Jest James Branch Cabell (recommended ebook reader TXT) đ
- Author: James Branch Cabell
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âAfter all, money is not everything. The richest people are not always the happiest, in spite of their luxury.â
âYou gentlemen can take it from me,â asserted the aeronaut, âthat many poor people get a lot of pleasure out of life.â
âNow, really though, that reminds meâ âchildren are very close observers, and, as you may have noticed, they ask the most remarkable questions. My little boy asked me, only last Tuesday, why poor people are always so polite and kindâ ââ
âWell, little pitchers have big earsâ ââ
âWhat you might call a chip of the old block, eh?â âso that mighty little misses him?â
âI may be prejudiced, but I thought it pretty good, coming from a kid of sixâ ââ
âAnd it is perfectly true, gentlemenâ âthe poor are kind to each other. Now, I believe just being kind makes you happierâ ââ
âAnd I often think that is a better sort of religion than just dressing up in your best clothes and going to church regularly on Sundaysâ ââ
âThat is a very true thought,â another chimed in.
âAnd expressed, upon my word, with admirable clarityâ ââ
âOh, whatever pretended pessimists in search of notoriety may say, most people are naturally kind, at heartâ ââ
âI would put it that Christianity, in spite of the carping sneers of science so-called, has led us once for all to recognize the vast brotherhood of manâ ââ
âSo that, really, the world gets better every dayâ ââ
âWe have quite abolished war, for instanceâ ââ
âMy dear sir, were there nothing else, and even putting aside the outraged sentiments of civilized humanity, another great or prolonged war between any two of the leading nations is unthinkableâ ââ
âFor the simple reason, gentlemen, that we have perfected our fighting machines to such an extent that the destruction involved would be too frightfulâ ââ
âThen, too, we are improving the automobile to such an extentâ ââ
âOh, in the end it will inevitably supplant the horseâ ââ
âIt seems almost impossible to realize how we ever got along without the automobileâ ââ
âDo you know, I would not be surprised if some day horses were exhibited in museumsâ ââ
âAs rare and nearly extinct animals? Come, now, that is pretty goodâ ââ
âAnd electricity is, as one might say, just in its infancyâ ââ
âThe telephone, for instanceâ âour ancestors would not have believed in the possibilities of such a thingâ ââ
âAnd, by George, they talk of giving an entire play with those moving-picture machinesâ âacting the whole thing out, you know.â
âOh, yes, we live in the biggest, brainiest age the world has ever knownâ ââ
âAnd America is going to be the greatest nation in it, before very long, commercially and in every wayâ ââ âŠâ
So the talk flowed on, with Felix Kennaston contributing very little thereto. Indeed, Felix Kennaston, the dreamer, was rather ill-at-ease among these men of action, and listened to their observations with perturbed attention. He sat among the great ones of earthâ ânot all of them the very greatest, of course, but each a person of quite respectable importance. It was the sort of gathering that in boyhoodâ âand in later life also, for that matterâ âhe had foreplanned to thrill and dazzle, as he perfectly recollected. But now, with the opportunity, he somehow could not think of anything quite suitable to sayâ âof anything which would at once do him justice and be admiringly received.
Therefore he attempted to even matters by assuring himself that the talk of these efficient people was lacking in brilliance and real depth, and expressed sentiments which, microscopically viewed, did not appear to be astoundingly original. If these had been less remarkable persons he would have thought their conversation almost platitudinous. And not one of these much-talked-about men, whatever else he might have done, could have written Men Who Loved Alison! Kennaston cherished that reflection as he sedately partook of a dish he recollected to have seen described, on menu cards, as âHungarian goulashâ and sipped sherry of no very extraordinary flavor.â ââ âŠ
He was to remember how plain the fare was, and more than once, was to refer to this mealâ âquite casuallyâ âbeginning âThat reminds me of what Such-an-one said once, when I was lunching with him,â or perhaps, âThe last time I lunched with So-and-so, I rememberâ ââ With such gambits he was able, later on, to introduce to us of Lichfield several anecdotes which, if rather pointless, were at least garnished with widely-known names.
There was a Cabinet meeting that afternoon, and luncheon ended, the personage wasted scant time in dismissing his guests.
âIt has been a very great pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kennaston,â quoth the personage, wringing Kennastonâs hand.
Kennaston suitably gave him to understand that they shared ecstasy in common.
âThose portions of your book relating to the sigil of Scoteia struck me as being too explicit,â the personage continued, bluffly, but in lowered tones. The two stood now, beneath a great stuffed elkâs head, a little apart from the others. âDo you think it was quite wise? I seem to recall a phraseâ âabout birdsâ ââ
But Kennastonâs thoughts were vaguely dental. And there is no denying Kennaston was astounded. Nor was he less puzzled when, as if in answer to Kennastonâs bewildered look, the personage produced from his waistcoat pocket a small square mirror, which he half-exhibited, but retained secretively in the palm of his hand. âYes, the hurt may well be twofoldâ âI am presupposing that, as a country-gentleman, you have raised white pigeons, Mr. Kennaston?â he said, meaningly.
âWhy, no, they keep up such a maddening cooing and purring on warm days, and drum so on tin roofsââ âKennaston stammeredâ ââthat I long ago lost patience with the birds of Venus, whatever the tincture of their plumage. There used to be any number of them on our place, thoughâ ââ
âAh, well,â the personage said, with a wise nod, and a bright gleam of teeth, âyou exercise the privilege common to all of usâ âand my intended analogy falls through. In any event, it has been a great pleasure to meet you. Come and see me again, Mr. Kennastonâ âand meanwhile, think over what I have said.â
And that was all. Kennaston returned to Alcluid in a whirl of formless speculations. The mirror and the insane query as to white
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