.

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ War record; you had just come back from your brilliant Indian campaign in the Far West, and had been rewarded with a brigadier-generalship in the regular army, and everybody was talking about you and praising you. If you had met me, you wouldn’t be able to remember it now — unless some unusual circumstance of the meeting had burnt it into your memory. It is forty years ago, and people don’t remember nobodies over a stretch of time like that.”

      I didn’t wish to continue the conversation along that line, so I changed the subject. I could have proven to him, without any trouble, that we did meet in Washington in 1867, but I thought it might embarrass one or the other of us, so I didn’t do it. I remember the incident very well. This was the way of it:

      I had just come back from the Quaker City Excursion, and had made a contract with Bliss of Hartford to write “The Innocents Abroad.” I was out of money, and I went down to Washington to see if I could earn enough there to keep me in bread and butter while I should write the book. I came across William Clinton, brother of the astronomer, and together we invented a scheme for our mutual sustenance; we became the fathers and originators of what is a common feature in the newspaper world now — the syndicate. We became the old original first Newspaper Syndicate on the planet; it was on a small scale, but that is usual with untried new enterprises. We had twelve journals on our list; they were all weeklies, all obscure and poor, and all scattered far away among the back settlements. It was a proud thing for those little newspapers to have a Washington correspondence, and a fortunate thing for us that they felt in that way about it. Each of the twelve took two letters a week from us, at a dollar per letter; each of us wrote one letter per week and sent off six duplicates of it to these benefactors, thus acquiring twenty-four dollars a week to live on — which was all we needed, in our cheap and humble quarters.

      Clinton was one of the dearest and loveliest human beings I have ever known, and we led a charmed existence together, in a contentment which knew no bounds. Clinton was refined by nature and breeding; he was a gentleman by nature and breeding; he was highly educated; he was of a beautiful spirit; he was pure in heart and speech. He was a Scotchman, and a Presbyterian; a Presbyterian of the old and genuine school, being honest and sincere in his religion, and loving it, and finding serenity and peace in it. He hadn’t a vice — unless a large and grateful sympathy with Scotch whiskey may be called by that name. I didn’t regard it as a vice, because he was a Scotchman, and Scotch whiskey to a Scotchman is as innocent as milk is to the rest of the human race. In Clinton’s case it was a virtue, and not an economical one. Twenty-four dollars a week would really have been riches to us if we hadn’t had to support that jug; because of the jug we were always sailing pretty close to the wind, and any tardiness in the arrival of any part of our income was sure to cause us some inconvenience.

      I remember a time when a shortage occurred; we had to have three dollars, and we had to have it before the close of the day. I don’t know now how we happened to want all that money at one time; I only know we had to have it. Clinton told me to go out and find it — and he said he would also go out and see what he could do. He didn’t seem to have any doubt that we would succeed, but I knew that that was his religion working in him; I hadn’t the same confidence; I hadn’t any idea where to turn to raise all that bullion, and I said so. I think he was ashamed of me, privately, because of my weak faith. He told me to give myself no uneasiness, no concern; and said in a simple, confident, and unquestioning way, “the Lord will provide.” I saw that he fully believed the Lord would provide, but it seemed to me that if he had had my experience —

      But never mind that; before he was done with me his strong faith had had its influence, and I went forth from the place almost convinced that the Lord really would provide.

      I wandered around the streets for an hour, trying to think up some way to get that money, but nothing suggested itself. At last I lounged into the big lobby of the Ebbitt House, which was then a new hotel, and sat down. Presently a dog came loafing along. He paused, glanced up at me and said, with his eyes, “Are you friendly?” I answered, with my eyes, that I was. He gave his tail a grateful little wag and came forward and rested his jaw on my knee and lifted his brown eyes to my face in a winningly affectionate way. He was a lovely creature — as beautiful as a girl, and he was made all of silk and velvet. I stroked his smooth brown head and fondled his drooping ears, and we were a pair of lovers right away. Pretty soon Brigadier-General Miles, the hero of the land, came strolling by in his blue and gold splendors, with everybody’s admiring gaze upon him. He saw the dog and stopped, and there was a light in his eye which showed that he had a warm place in his heart for dogs like this gracious creature; then he came forward and patted the dog and said,

      “He is very fine — he is a wonder; would you sell him?”

      I was greatly moved; it seemed a marvellous thing to me, the way Clinton’s prediction had come true. I said,

      “Yes.”

      The General said,

      “What do you ask for him?”

      “Three dollars.”

      The General was manifestly surprised. He said,

      “Three dollars? Only three dollars? Why, that dog is a most uncommon dog; he can’t possibly be worth leas than fifty. If he were mine, I wouldn’t take a hundred for him. I’m afraid you are not aware of his value. Reconsider your price if you like, I don’t wish to wrong you.”

      But if he had known me he would have known that I was no more capable of wronging him than he was of wronging me. I responded with the same quiet decision as before,

      “No — three dollars. That is his price.”

      “Very well, since you insist upon it,” said the General, and he gave me three dollars and led the dog away, and disappeared upstairs.

      In about ten minutes a gentlefaced middle-aged gentleman came along, and began to look around here and there and under tables and everywhere, and I said to him,

      “Is it a dog you are looking for?”

      His face was sad, before, and troubled; but it lit up gladly now, and he answered,

      “Yes — have you seen him?”

      “Yes,” I said, “he was here a minute ago, and I saw him follow a gentleman away. I think I could find him for you if you would like me to try.”

      I have seldom seen a person look so grateful — and there was gratitude in his voice, too, when he conceded that he would like me to try. I said I would do it with great pleasure, but that as it might take a little time I hoped he would not mind paying me something for my trouble. He said he would do it most gladly — repeating that phrase “most gladly” — and asked me how much. I said —

      “Three dollars.”

      He looked surprised, and said,

      “Dear me, it is nothing! I will pay you ten, quite willingly.”

      But I said,

      “No, three is the price” — and I started for the stairs without waiting for any further argument, for Clinton had said that that was the amount that the Lord would provide, and it seemed to me that it would be sacrilegious to take a penny more than was promised.

      I got the number of the General’s room from the office-clerk, as I passed by his wicket, and when I reached the room I found the General there caressing his dog, and quite happy. I said,

      “I am sorry, but I have to take the dog СКАЧАТЬ