 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Frenzied Fiction by Stephen Leacock. Part 1. My Revelations as a Spy In many people the very name spy excites a shutter of apprehension. We spies in fact get quite used to being shuttered at. None of us spies mind it at all. Whenever I enter a hotel and register myself as a spy I am quite accustomed to see a thrill of fear run round the clerks or clerk behind the desk. A spy's or we spy's for we call ourselves both are thus erased apart. None know us, all fear us. Where do we live? Nowhere. Where are we? Everywhere. Frequently we don't know ourselves where we are. The secret orders that we receive come from so high up that it is often forbidden to us even to ask where we are. A friend of mine, or at least a fellow spy, a spy's have no friends. One of the most brilliant men in the Hungarian Secret Service once spent a month in New York under the impression that he was in Winnipeg. If this happened to the most brilliant, think of the others. All I say fear us because they know and have reason to know our power. Hence in spite of the prejudice against us we are able to move everywhere, to lodge in the best hotels and enter any society that we wish to penetrate. Let me relate an incident to illustrate this. A month ago I entered one of the largest of the New York hotels which I will merely call the Bee Hotel without naming it. To do so might blast it. We spies in fact never name a hotel. At the most we indicate it by a number known only to ourselves, such as one, two, or three. On my presenting myself at the desk the clerk informed me that he had no room vacant. I knew this, of course, to be a mere subterfuge. Whether or not he suspected that I was a spy I cannot say. I was muffled up to avoid recognition in a long overcoat with a collar turned up and reaching well above my ears, while the black beard and the mustache that I had slipped on in entering the hotel concealed my face. Let me speak a moment to the manager, I said. When he came I beckoned him aside and taking his ear in my hand I breathed two words into it. Good heavens! he gasped, while his face turned as pale as ashes. Is it enough? I asked. Can I have a room, or must I breathe again? No, no! said the manager, still trembling. Then turning to the clerk. Give this gentleman a room, he said, and give him a bath. What these two words are that will get a room in New York at once I must not divulge. Even now when the veil of secrecy is being lifted the international interests involved are too complicated to permit it. Suffice it to say that if these two had failed I know a couple of others still better. I narrate this incident otherwise trivial as indicating the astounding ramifications and the ubiquity of the international spy system. A similar illustration occurs to me as I write. I was walking the other day with another man on upper B way between the T building and the W garden. Do you see that man over there I said pointing from the side of the street on which we were walking on the sidewalk to the other side opposite to the side that we were on. The man with the straw hat he asked. Yes, what of him? Oh, nothing I answered except that he's a spy. Great heavens exclaimed my acquaintance leaning up against the lamp post for support. A spy? How do you know that? What does it mean? I gave a quiet laugh. We spies learn to laugh very quietly. Ha! I said that is my secret, my friend. Verbom sapientius. Che sarah sarah. Yodel doodle doo. My acquaintance fell in a dead faint upon the street. I watched them take him away in an ambulance. Will the reader be surprised to learn that among the white-coated attendants who removed him, I recognized no less a person than the famous Russian spy, Pulis Pansoff. What he was doing there I could not tell. No doubt his orders came from so high up that he himself did not know. I had seen him only twice before, once when we were both disguised as Zulus at Bulueo, and once in the interior of China at the time when Pulis Pansoff made his secret entry into Tibet concealed in a tea-case. He was inside the tea-case when I saw him, so at least I was informed by the Coolies who carried it. Yet I recognized him instantly. Neither he nor I, however, gave any sign of recognition other than an imperceptible movement of the outer eyelid. We spies learned to move the outer lid of the eyes so imperceptibly that it cannot be seen. Yet after meeting Pulis Pansoff in this way I was not surprised to read in the evening papers a few hours afterward that the uncle of the young king of Siam had been assassinated. The connection between these two events I am unfortunately not at liberty to explain. The consequences to the Vatican would be too serious. I doubt if it could remain topside up. These, however, are but passing incidents in a life filled with danger and excitement. They would have remained unrecorded and unrevealed, like the rest of my revelations. Were it not that certain recent events have to some extent removed the seal of secrecy from my lips? The death of a certain royal sovereign makes it possible for me to divulge things hitherto undevulgable. Even now I can only tell apart, a small part, of the terrific things that I know. When more sovereigns die I can divulge more. I hope to keep on divulging at intervals for years. But I am compelled to be cautious. My relations with the Wilhelmstrasse, with Downing Street and the Kedurse, are so intimate, and my footing with the Yildiz Kiosk and the Waldorf Astoria and Child's Restaurants are so delicate that a single faux pas might prove to be a false step. It is now seventeen years since I entered the secret service of the G-Empire. During this time my activities have taken me into every quarter of the globe, at times even into every eighth or sixteenth of it. It was I who first brought back word to the Imperial Chancellor of the existence of an entente between England and France. Is there an entente? he asked me, trembling with excitement on my arrival at the Wilhelmstrasse. Your Excellency, I said, there is. He groaned, can you stop it? he asked. Don't ask me, I said sadly. Where must we strike, commanded the Chancellor? Fetch me a map, I said. They did so. I placed my finger on the map. Quick! Quick, said the Chancellor, look where his finger is. They lifted it up. Morocco, they cried. I had meant it for Abyssinia, but it was too late to change. That night the warship Panthers sailed under sealed orders. The rest is history, or at least history and geography. In the same way it was I who brought word to the Wilhelmstrasse of the rapprochement between England and Russia in Persia. What did you find? asked the Chancellor, as I laid aside the Russian disguise in which I had traveled. A rapprochement, I said. He groaned. They seemed to get all the best words, he said. I shall always feel, to my regret, that I am personally responsible for the outbreak of the present war. It may have had ulterior causes, but there is no doubt that it was precipitated by the fact that for the first time in seventeen years I took a six weeks vacation in June and July of 1914. The consequences of this careless step I ought to have foreseen, yet I took such precautions as I could. Do you think, I asked, that you can preserve the status quo for six weeks, merely six weeks, if I stop spying and take a rest? We'll try, they answered. Remember, I said as I packed my things, keep the Dardanelles closed, have the sand-jack of Novi Bazar properly patrolled, and let the de Brugge remain under a modus favendi till I come back. Two months later, while sitting, sipping my coffee at a Kerhof in the Schwartzwald, I read in the newspapers that a German army had invaded France and was fighting the French and that the English expeditionary force had crossed the Channel. This, I said to myself, means war. As usual, I was right. It is needless for me to recount here the life of busy activity that falls to a spy in wartime. It was necessary for me to be here, there, and everywhere, visiting all the best hotels, watering places, summer resorts, theaters, and places of amusement. It was necessary moreover to act with the utmost caution and to assume an air of careless indolence in order to lull suspicion asleep. With this end in view, I made a practice of never rising till ten in the morning. I breakfasted with great leisure and contented myself with passing the morning in a quiet stroll, taking care, however, to keep my ears open. After lunch I generally feigned a light sleep, keeping my ears shut. A table to hote dinner, followed by a visit to the theater, brought the strenuous day to a close. Few spies, I venture to say, worked harder than I did. It was during the third year of the war that I received a peremptory summons from the head of the Imperial Secret Service at Berlin, Baron Fischfongestern. I want to see you, it read. Nothing more. In the life of a spy one learns to think quickly and to think as to act. I gathered, as soon as I received the dispatch, that for some reason or other Fischfongestern was anxious to see me, having, as I instantly inferred, something to say to me. This conjecture proved correct. The Baron rose at my entrance with military correctness and shook hands. Are you willing, he inquired, to undertake a mission to America? I am, I answered. Very good. How soon can you start? As soon as I have paid the few bills that I owe in Berlin, I replied. We can hardly wait for that, said my chief, and in case it might excite comment. You must start tonight. Very good, I said. Such said the Baron of the Kaiser's orders. Here is an American passport and a photograph that will answer the purpose. The likeness is not great, but it is sufficient. But I objected, abashed for a moment, this photograph is of a man with whiskers, and I am, unfortunately, clean-shaven. The orders are imperative, said Gestern, with official hauteur. You must start tonight. You can grow whiskers this afternoon. Very good, I replied. And now to the business of your mission, continued the Baron. The United States, as you have perhaps heard, is making war against Germany. I have heard so, I replied. Yes, continued Gestern. The fact has leaked out. How? We do not know. And is being widely reported. His Imperial Majesty has decided to stop the war with the United States. I bowed. He intends to send over a secret treaty of the same nature as the one recently made with his recent highness, the recent Tsar of Russia. Under this treaty, Germany proposes to give to the United States the whole of Equatorial Africa, and in return the United States is to give to Germany the whole of China. There are other provisions, but I need not trouble you with them. Your mission relates not to the actual treaty, but to the preparation of the ground. I bowed again. You are aware, I presume, continued the Baron, that in all high international dealings, at least in Europe, the ground has to be prepared. A hundred threads must be unraveled. This, the Imperial Government itself, cannot stoop to do. The work must be done by agents like yourself. You understand all this already, no doubt. I indicated my assent. These, then, are your instructions, said the Baron, speaking slowly and distinctly as if to impress his words upon my memory. On your arrival in the United States you will follow the accredited methods that are known to be used by all the best spies of the highest diplomacy. You have no doubt read some of the books, almost manuals of instruction, that they have written. I have read many of them, I said. Very well. You will enter, that is to say, enter and move everywhere in the best society. Mark specially pleased that you must not only enter it, but you must move. You must, if I may put it so, get a move on. I bowed. You must mix freely with the members of the cabinet. You must dine with them. This is a most necessary matter and one to be kept well in mind. Dine with them often in such a way that you may make yourself familiar to them. Will you do this? I will, I said. Very good. Remember also that in order to mask your purpose you must constantly be seen with the most fashionable and most beautiful women of the American capital. Can you do this? Can I, I said. You must, if need be, and the Baron gave a most significant look which was not lost upon me, carry on an intrigue with one or better with several of them. Are you ready for it? More than ready, I said. Very good, but this is only a part. You are expected also to familiarize yourself with the leaders of the great financial interests. You are to put yourself on such a footing with them as to borrow large sums of money from them. Do you object to this? No, I said frankly, I do not. Good. You mingle freely in ambassadorial and foreign circles. It would be well for you to dine at least once a week with the British ambassador. And now one final word. Here Gestern spoke with singular impressiveness. As to the President of the United States, yes, I said. You must mix with him on a footing of the most open-handed friendliness. Be at the White House continually. Make yourself in the fullest sense of the words the friend and advisor of the President. All this, I think, is clear. In fact, it is only what is done, as you know, by all the masters of international diplomacy. Precisely, I said. Very good. And then continued the Baron, as soon as you find yourself sufficiently on rapport with everybody, or I should say he added in correction, for the Baron shares fully in the present German horror of imported French words, when you find yourself sufficiently in and get nup-ter-ver-wantshaft with everybody, you may then proceed to advance your peace terms. And now, my dear fellow, said the Baron, with a touch of genuine cordiality, one word more. Are you in need of money? Yes, I said. I thought so, but you will find that you need it less and less as you go on. Meantime, goodbye, and best wishes for your mission. Such was, such is, in fact, the mission with which I am accredited. I regard it as by far the most important mission with which I have been accredited by the Willemstrasse. Yet I am compelled to admit that up to the present it has proved unsuccessful. My attempts to carry it out have been baffled. There is something perhaps in the atmosphere of this republic which obstructs the working of high diplomacy. For over five months now I have been waiting and willing to dine with the American Cabinet. They have not invited me. For four weeks I sat each night waiting in the J Hotel in Washington with my suit on, ready to be asked. They did not come near me. Nor have I yet received an invitation from the British Embassy inviting me to an informal lunch or to midnight supper with the Ambassador. Everybody who knows anything of the inside working of the international spy system will realize that without these invitations one can do nothing. Nor has the President of the United States given any sign. I have sent word to him in Cypher that I am ready to dine with him on any day that may be convenient to both of us. He has made no move in the matter. Under these circumstances an intrigue with any of the leaders of fashionable society has proved impossible. My attempts to approach them have been misunderstood. In fact have led to my being invited to leave the J Hotel. The fact that I was compelled to leave it owing to reasons that I cannot reveal without paying my account has occasioned unnecessary and dangerous comment. I connected in fact with a singular attitude adopted by the B Hotel on my arrival in New York to which I have already referred. I have therefore been compelled to fall back on revelations and disclosures. Here again I find the American atmosphere singularly uncongenial. I have offered to reveal to the Secretary of State the entire family history of Ferdinand of Bulgaria for $50. He says it is not worth it. I have offered to the British Embassy the inside story of the abdication of Constantine for $5. They say they know it and knew it before it happened. I have offered for little more than a nominal sum to blacken the character of every reigning family in Germany. I am told that it is not necessary. Meantime as it is impossible to return to Central Europe I expect to open either a fruit store or a peanut stand very shortly in this great metropolis. I imagine that many of my former colleagues will soon be doing the same. End of Part 1 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Frenzied Fiction by Stephen Leacock. Part 2 Father Nickerbocker, a fantasy. It happened quite recently I think it must have been on April the 2nd of 1917 that I was making the long pilgrimage on a day train from the remote place where I dwell to the city of New York. And as we drew near the city and day darkened in to-night I had fallen to reading from a quaint old copy of Washington Irving's immortal sketches of Father Nickerbocker and of the little town where once he dwelt. I had picked up the book I Know Not Where very old it apparently was and made in England. For there was pasted across the fly leaf of it an extract from some ancient magazine or journal of a century ago giving what was evidently a description of the New York of that day. From reading the book I turned my head still filled with the vision of Father Nickerbocker and Sleepy Hollow in Tarrytown to examine the extract. I read it in a sort of half-dose for the dark had fallen outside and the drowsy throbbing of the running train attuned one's mind to dreaming of the past. The town of New York, so ran the extract pasted in the little book, is pleasantly situated at the lower extremity of the island of Manhattan. Its recent progress has been so amazing that it is now reputed on good authority to harbor at least 20,000 souls. Viewed from the sea it presents even at the distance of half a mile a striking appearance owing to the number and beauty of its church spires which rise high above the roofs and foliage and give to the place its characteristically religious aspect. The extreme end of the island is heavily fortified with cannon commanding a range of a quarter of a mile and forbidding all access to the harbor. Behind this battery a neat green suorde affords a pleasant promenade where the citizens are accustomed to walk with their wives every morning after church. How I should like to have seen it, I murmured to myself as I laid the book aside for a moment, the battery, the harbor, and the citizens walking with their wives, their own wives, on the green suorde. Then I read on, from the town itself a wide thoroughfare the Albany Post Road runs meandering northward through the fields. It is known for some distance under the name of the broadway and is so wide that four moving vehicles are said to be able to pass abreast. The broadway, especially in the springtime when it is redolent with the scent of clover and apple blossoms is a favorite evening promenade for the citizens with their wives after church. Here they may be seen any evening strolling toward the high ground overlooking the Hudson. Their wives on one arm spyglass under the other in order to view what they can see. Down the broadway may be seen moving also droves of young lambs with their shepherds proceeding to the market, while here and there a goat stands quietly munching beside the road and gazing at the passers-by. It seems, I muttered to myself as I read, in some ways but little changed after all. The town, so the extract continued, is not without its amusements. A commodious theater presents with great success every Saturday night the plays of Shakespeare, alternating with sacred concerts. The New Yorker indeed is celebrated throughout the provinces for his love of amusement in late hours. The theaters did not come out until long after nine o'clock. While for the gayer habitues, two excellent restaurants serve fish, macaroni, prunes, and other delicacies long past ten at night. The dress of the New Yorker is correspondingly gay. In the other provinces the men wear nothing but plain suits of a rusty black, whereas in New York there are frequently seen suits of brown, snuff color, and even of pepper and salt. The costumes of the New York women are equally daring and differ notably from the quiet dress of New England. In fine it is commonly said in the provinces that a New Yorker can be recognized anywhere with his wife by their modest costumes, their easy manners, and their willingness to spend money, two, three, and even five cents being paid for the smallest service. Dear me, I thought, as I paused a moment in my reading, so they had begun it even then. The whole spirit of the plays, the account continued, has recently been admirably embodied in literary form by an American writer, Mr. Washington Irving, not to be confounded with George Washington. His creation of Father Nickerbocker is so lifelike that it may be said to embody the very spirit of New York. The accompanying woodcut, which was drawn on wood, especially for this periodical, recalls at once the delightful figure of Father Nickerbocker. The New Yorkers of today are accustomed, indeed, to laugh at Mr. Irving's fancy and to say that Nickerbocker belongs to a day long since past. Yet those who know tell us that the image of the amiable old gentleman, kindly but irascible, generous and yet frugal, loving his town and seeing little beyond it, may be held once and for all to typify the spirit of the place without reference to any particular time or generation. Father Nickerbocker, I murmured as I felt myself dozing off to sleep, rocked by the motion of the car. Father Nickerbocker, how strange if he could be here again and see the great city as we know it now. How different from his day how I should love to go round New York and show it to him as it is. So I mused and dozed till the very rumble of the wheel seemed to piece together in little snatches. Father Nickerbocker, Father Nickerbocker, the battery, the battery, citizens walking with their wives, with their wives, their own wives. Until presently I imagine I must have fallen asleep all together, and knew no more till my journey was over, and I found myself among the roaring bustle of the concourse of the Grand Central. And there, lo and behold, waiting to meet me was Father Nickerbocker himself. I know not how it happened by what queer freak of hallucination or by what actual miracle. Let those explain it who deal in such things. But there he stood before me with an outstretched hand and a smile of greeting. Father Nickerbocker himself, the embodied spirit of New York. How strange, I said, I was just reading about you in a book on the train, and imagining how much I should like actually to meet you and to show you round New York. The old man laughed in a jaunty way. Show me round, he said, why, my dear boy, I live here. I know you did long ago, I said. I do still, said Father Nickerbocker. I've never left the place. I'll leave you around. But wait a bit, don't carry that handbag. I'll get a boy to call a porter to fetch a man to take it. Oh, I can carry it, I said. It's a mere nothing. My dear fellow, said Father Nickerbocker, a little testily, I thought. I'm as democratic and as plain and simple as any man in this city. But when it comes to carrying a handbag in full sight of all this crowd, why, as I said to Peter Stoivison, about here a misty look seemed to come over the old gentleman's face. About two hundred years ago, I'll be hanged if I will. It can't be done, it's not up to date. While he was saying this, Father Nickerbocker had beckoned to a group of porters. Take this gentleman's handbag, he said, and you carry his newspapers, and you take his umbrella. Here's a quarter for you and a quarter for you and a quarter for you. One of you go in front and lead the way to a taxi. Don't you know the way yourself, a half whisper? Of course I do, but I generally like to walk with a boy in front of me. We all do. Only the cheap people nowadays find their own way. Father Nickerbocker had taken my arm and was walking along in a queer excited fashion, senile and yet with a sort of forced youthfulness in his gait and manner. Now, then, he said, get into this taxi. Can't we walk? I asked. Impossible, said the old gentleman. It's five blocks to where we are going. As we took our seats, I looked again at my companion, this time more closely. Father Nickerbocker, he certainly was, yet somehow strangely transformed from my pictured fancy of the sleepy hollow days. His antique coat with its wide skirt had, it seemed, assumed a modest cut as if in imitation of the bell-shaped spring overcoat of the young man about town. His three-cornered hat was set at a rakish angle till it looked almost like an up-to-date fedora. The great stick that he used to carry had somehow changed itself into the curved walking stick of a Broadway lounger. The solid old shoes with their wide buckles were gone. In their place he wore narrow slippers of patent leather, of which he seemed inordinately proud, for he had stuck his feet up ostentatiously on the seat opposite. His eyes followed my glance toward his shoes. For the foxtrot, he said, the old ones were no good. Have a cigarette? These are Armenian, or would you prefer a Honolulan or a Nigerian? Now he resumed when we had lighted our cigarettes. What would you like to do first? Dance the tango, hear some Hawaiian music, drink cocktails or what? Why, what I should like most of all, Father Nickerbocker, but he interrupted me. There's a devilish fine woman. The tall blonde one. Give me blondes every time. Here he smacked his lips. By God, sir, the women in this town seem to get finer every century. What were you saying? Why, Father Nickerbocker, I began, but he interrupted me again. My dear fellow, he said, may I ask you not to call me Father Nickerbocker? But I thought you were so old, I said humbly. Old? Me old? Oh, I don't know. Well, I dashed it. There are plenty of men dancing the tango here every night. Pray call me, if you don't mind, just Nickerbocker, or simply Nicky. Most of the other boys call me Nicky. Now, what's it to be? Most of all, I said, I should like to go to some quiet place and have a talk about the old days. Right, he said. We're going to just the place now. Nice quiet dinner, good quiet orchestra, Hawaiian, but quiet and lots of women. Here he smacked his lips again and kissed me with his elbow. Lots of women, bunches of them. Do you like women? Why, Mr. Nickerbocker, I said, hesitatingly, I suppose I... The old man sniggered as he poked me again in the ribs. You bet you do, you dog, he chuckled. We all do. For me, I confess it, sir, I can't sit down to dinner without plenty of women, stacks of them all round me. Meantime, the taxi had stopped. Wait, said Father Nickerbocker, his hand upon my arm as he looked out of the window. I'll see somebody in a minute who'll let us out for fifty cents. None of us here ever gets in or out of anything by ourselves, it's bad form. Ah, here he is. A moment later we had passed through the portals of a great restaurant and found ourselves surrounded with all the color and tumult of a New York dinner a la mode. A burst of wild music pounded by a group of yellow men in Hawaiian costume filled the room, helping to drown or perhaps only serving to accentuate the babble of talk and the clatter of dishes that arose on every side. Men in evening dress and women in all the colors of the rainbow, decolleted to a degree, were seated at little tables, blowing blue smoke into the air and drinking green and yellow drinks from glasses with thin stems. The cabaret performers shouted and leaped on a little stage at the side of the room, unheeded by the crowd. Ha, ha, said Knickerbocker as we drew in our chairs to a table. Some place, eh? There's a peach, look at her. Or do you like better that lazy looking brunette next to her? Mr. Knickerbocker was staring about the room, gazing at the women with open of frunctury and a senile leer upon his face. I felt ashamed of him, yet oddly enough no one about us seemed in the least disturbed. Now what cocktail will you have, said my companion? There's a new one this week, the Phantan. Fifty cents each. Will you have that? Right. Two Phantans. Now, to eat, what would you like? May I have a slice of cold beef and a pint of ale? Beef, said Knickerbocker contemptuously. My dear fellow you can't have that. Beef is only fifty cents. Do take something reasonable. Try lobster new burger. No, here's a more expensive thing. Filet bourbon a la something. I don't know what it is, but by Gads are at three dollars a portion anyway. All right, I said you order the dinner. Mr. Knickerbocker proceeded to do so. The head waiter obsequiously at his side and his long finger indicating on the menu everything that seemed most expensive and that carried the most incomprehensible name. When he had finished he turned to me again. Now, he said, let's talk. Tell me, I said, about the old days and the old times on Broadway. Ah yes, he answered the old days. You mean ten years ago before the Winter Garden was opened? We've been going ahead, sir, going ahead. Why ten years ago there was practically nothing, sir, above Times Square and look at it now. I began to realize that Father Knickerbocker, old as he was, had forgotten all the earlier times with which I associated his memory. There was nothing left but the cabarets and the gardens, the palm rooms and the ukuleles of today. Behind that his mind refused to travel. Don't you remember, I asked, the apple orchards and the quiet groves of trees that used to line Broadway long ago? Groves, he said, I'll show you a grove, a coconut grove. Here he winked over his wine glass in a senile fashion that has apple trees beaten from here to Honolulu. Thus he babbled on. All through our meal his talk continued of cabarets and dances or foxtrots and midnight suppers of blondes and brunettes, peaches and dreams and all the while his eye roved incessantly among the tables resting on the women with a bold stare. At times he would indicate and point out for me some of what he called representative people present. Notice that man at the second table he would whisper across to me. He's worth all the way to ten millions, made it in government contracts. They tried to send him to the penitentiary last fall but they can't get him. He's too smart for them. I'll introduce you to him presently. See the man with him? That's his lawyer. Biggest crook in America, they say. We'll meet him after dinner. Then he would suddenly break off and claim, e-gad, sir, there's a fine bunch of them, as another bevy of girls came trooping out upon the stage. I wonder, I murmured, if there's nothing left of him but this. Has all the fine old spirit gone? Is it all drowned out in wine and suffocated in the foul atmosphere of luxury? Then suddenly I looked up at my companion and I saw to my surprise that his whole face and manner had altered. His hand was clenched tight on the table, his eyes looked before him, through and beyond the riotous crowd all about him, into vacancy, into the far past, back into memories that I thought had forgotten. His face had altered, the senile, leering look was gone and in its place the firm-set face of the knickerbocker of a century ago. He was speaking in a strange voice, deep and strong. Listen, he said, listen, do you hear it far out at sea? Ships guns. Listen, they're calling for help. Ships guns, far out at sea. He had clasped me by the arm. Quick to the battery, they'll need every man tonight, though. Then he sank back into his chair. His look changed again. The vision died out of his eyes. What was I saying? He asked. Ah, yes, this old brandy, a very special brand. They keep it for me here, a dollar a glass. They know me here, he added in a voluptuous way. All the waiters know me. The head waiter always knows me the minute I come into the room, keeps the chair for me. Now try this brandy and then presently we'll move on and see what's doing at some of the shows. But somehow in spite of himself my companion seemed to be unable to bring himself fully back into the consciousness of the scene before him. The faraway look still lingered in his eyes. Presently he turned and spoke to me alone. Was I talking to myself a moment ago? He asked. Yes, I feared I was. Do you know, I don't mind telling it to you. Lately I've had a strange queer feeling that comes over me at times as if something were happening. Something I don't know what. I suppose he continued with a false attempt at resuming his fatuous manner. I'm going the pace a little too hard, eh? Makes one fanciful. But the fact is at times he spoke gravely again. I feel as if there was something happening. Something coming. Knickerbocker, I said earnestly. Father Knickerbocker, don't you know that something is happening? That this very evening as we are sitting here in all this riot, the president of the United States is to come before Congress on the most solemn mission that ever, but my speech fell unheeded. Knickerbocker had picked up his glass again and was leering over it at a bevy of girls dancing upon the stage. Look at that girl. He interrupted quickly, the one dancing at the end. What do you think of her, eh? Some peach. Knickerbocker broke off suddenly, for at this moment our ears caught the sound of a noise, a distant tumult as it were, far down the street and growing nearer. The old man had drawn himself erected his seat, his hand to his ear listening as he caught the sound. Out on the broad way, he said, calling it by its ancient name as if a flood of memories were upon him. Do you hear it? Listen. Listen, what is it? I've heard that sound before. I've heard every sound on the broad way these two centuries back. What is it? I seem to know it. The sound and tumult as of running feet and of many voices crying came louder from the street. The people at the tables had turned in their seats to listen. The music of the orchestra had stopped. Soldiers had thrown back the heavy curtains from the windows and the people were crowding to them to look out into the street. Knickerbocker had risen in his place. His eyes looked toward the windows but his gaze was fixed on vacancy as with one who sees a vision passing. I know the sound, he cried. I see it all again. Look, can't you see them? It's Massachusetts soldiers marching south to the war. Can't you hear the beating of the drums and the shrill calling the regiments from the north. The first to come. I saw them pass here where we are sitting sixty years ago. Knickerbocker paused a moment. His hand still extended in the air and then with the great light upon his face he cried. I know it now. I know what it meant. The feeling that has haunted me. The sounds I kept hearing. The guns of the ships at sea and the voices calling in distress. I know now. It means, sir. It means. But as he spoke a great cry came up from the street and burst in at the doors and windows echoing in a single word. War! War! The message of the president is for war. War! cried Father Knickerbocker rising to his full height stern and majestic and shouting in a stentorian tone that echoed through the great room. War! War! To your places every one of you be done with your idle luxury out with the glare of your lights. You painted women and worthless men to your places every man of you to the battery, man the guns. Stand to it every one of you for the defense of America for our New York, New York. Then with the sound New York, New York still echoing in my ears I woke up. The vision of my dream was gone. I was still on the seat of the car where I had dozed to sleep the book upon my knee. The train had arrived at the depot of the car. New York! New York! All about me was the stern hub above the great depot. But loud over all it was heard the call of the news boys crying. War! War! The president's message is for war. Late extra. War! War! And I knew that a great nation had cast aside the bonds of sloth and luxury and was gritting itself to join in the fight for the free democracy of all mankind. End of Part 2 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Frenzied Fiction by Stephen Leacock Part 3 The Prophet in Our Mids The eminent authority looked around if the little group of us seated about him at the club. He was telling us or beginning to tell us about the outcome of the war. It was a thing we wanted to know. We were listening attentively. We felt that we were getting something. I doubt very much, he said, whether Downing Street realizes the enormous power which Decatur Say has over the yield is kiosk. So do I, I said. What is it? But he hardly noticed the interruption. I remember, he went on, that from the point of view of the yield is the Willemstrasse is just the thing of yesterday. Quite so, I said. Of course, he added, the ball-plats is quite different. Altogether different, I admitted. And mind you, he said, the ball-plats itself can be largely moved from the quirinnel through the Vatican. Well, of course it can. I agreed with as much relief in my tone as I could put into it. After all, what simpler way of moving the ball-plats than that. The eminent authority took another sip at his tea and looked round at us through his spectacles. It was I who was taking on myself to do most of the answering because it was I who had brought him there and invited the other men to meet him. He's coming round at five, I had said. Do come and have a cup of tea and meet him. He knows more about the European situation than any other man living. Naturally, they came gladly. They wanted to know, as everybody wants to know how the war will end. They were just ordinary, plain men like myself. I could see that they were a little mystified, perhaps disappointed. They would have liked, just as I would, to ask a few plain questions such as can the Italians knock the stuff out of the Austrians? Are the Romanians getting licked or not? How many submarines has Germany got anyway? Such questions, in fact, as we are accustomed to put up to one another every day at lunch and to answer out of the morning paper. As it was, we didn't seem to be getting anywhere. No one spoke. The silence began to be even a little uncomfortable. It was broken by my friend Rappley who is in wholesale hardware and who has all the intellectual bravery that goes with it. He asked the authority straight out the question that we all wanted to put. Just what do you mean by the ball-plats? What is the ball-plats? The authority smiled an engaging smile. Precisely, he said, I see you drift exactly. You say what is the ball-plats? I reply quite frankly that it is almost impossible to answer. Probably one could best define it as the driving power behind the off-skleet. I see, said Rappley. Though the plain fact is that ever since the Herzegovinean embargo, the ball-plats is little more than a counter-poise to the Wilhelmstrasse. Ah, said Rappley. Indeed, as everybody knows, the whole relationship of the ball-plats with the Nevsky Prospect has emanated from the Wilhelmstrasse. This was a thing which personally I had not known, but I said nothing. Neither did the other men. They continued smoking, looking as innocent as they could. Don't misunderstand me, said the authority. When I speak of the Nevsky Prospect I am not referring in any way to the Sarskoe Silo. No, no, we all agreed. No doubt there were, as we see it plainly now, undercurrents in all directions from the Sarskoe Silo. We all seemed to suggest by our attitude that these undercurrents were sucking at our very feet. But the Sarskoe Silo, said the authority, is now definitely eliminated. We were glad of that. We shifted our feet back into attitudes of ease. I felt that it was time to ask a leading question. Do you think, I said, war? You mean Germany in what sense? Are you thinking of present them? Are you referring to junk Christmas? No, I said quite truthfully, neither of them. Ah, said the authority, I see, you mean Germany as a souverant tante embodied in a Reichsland. That's it, I said. Then it's rather hard, said the eminent authority to answer your question in plain terms. But I'll try. One thing, of course, is absolutely certain. Middle Europa goes overboard. It does, eh? Oh yes, absolutely. This is the end of Middle Europa. I mean to say, here we've had Middle Europa, that is the Middle Europa idea as a sort of phantasmus in front of Teutonism ever since Conagrats. The authority looked all round us in that searching way he had. We all tried to look like men seeing a phantasmus and disgusted at it. So you see, he went on, Middle Europa is done with. I suppose it is, I said. I didn't know just whether to speak with regret or not. I heard rapidly, murmur, I guess so. And there is not a doubt, continued the authority, that when Middle Europa goes, goes with it. Oh, sure to, we all murmured. Well, then there you are. What is the result for Germany while things as plain as a pike staff? In fact, you're driven to it by the sheer logic of the situation. There is only one outcome. The authority was speaking very deliberately. He even paused at this point and lighted a cigarette while we all listened breathlessly. We felt that we had got the thing to a focus at last. Only one outcome. A Statenbund. Great heavens, I said, not a Statenbund. Undoubtedly, said the authority, puffing quietly at his cigarette, as if personally he wouldn't lift a finger to stop the Statenbund if he could. That's the end of it, a Statenbund. In other words, we are back where we were before the Vienna Congress. At this he chuckled heartily to himself so the rest of us laughed too. The thing was too absurd. But the authority, who was a man of nice distinctions and genuine and anxious to instruct us, was evidently afraid that he had overstated things a little. Mind you, he said, there'll be something left. Certainly, there's all the rain and either the oskeleach or something very like it. All of the men gave a sort of sigh of relief. It was certainly something to have at least a sort of resemblance or appearance of the oskeleach among us. We felt that we were getting on. One could see that a number of the men were on the brink of asking questions. What about Romania, asked Nels? He is a banker and interested in government bonds. Is this the end of it? No, said the authority. It's not the end of Romania. But it is the end of Romanian irredentismus. That settled Nels. What about the Turks, asked rapidly? The Turks are rather, I suppose it would be more proper to say the osmanly, as that is no doubt what you mean, rapidly nodded. Well, speaking personally, I should say that there's no difficulty in a permanent settlement in that quarter. If I were drawing up the terms of a treaty of peace meant to be really lasting, I should lay down three absolute bases. The rest need not matter. The authority paused a moment and then proceeded to count off the three conditions of peace on his fingers. These would be first, the evacuation of the Sandjack, second, an international guarantee for the capitulations, and third, for internal matters, an arrangement along the lines of the original firmen of Mithat Pasha. A murmur of complete satisfaction went round the group. I don't say, continued the eminent authority, that there wouldn't be other minor matters but there would be a mere detail. You asked me, for instance, for a malice, or at least a shindarmory in the Albanian hinterland. Very good, I granted you at once. You retain if you like. You abolish the Cypriotic Suzerainty of the Porte. All right, these are matters of indifference. We all assumed a look of utter indifference. But what about the Dardanelles? Would you have them fixed so that ships could go through or not? Asked Grapley. He is a plain man, not easily put down and liking a plain answer. He got it. The Dardanelles said the authority could easily be denationalized under a quadrilateral guarantee to be made a parismateria of the Pactum Federis. That ought to hold him, I murmured. The authority felt now that he had pretty well settled the map of Europe. He rose hands with us all around very cordially. We did not try to detain him. We felt that time like his was too valuable to be wasted on things like us. Well, I tell you, said Grapley as we settled back into our chairs when the great authority had gone. My own opinion, boys, is that the United States and England can trim Germany and Austria any day in the week and twice on Sunday, after which somebody else said, how many of these submarines Germany has anyway. And then we drifted back into the humbler kind of war talk that we had been carrying on for three years. But later, as we walked home together, Grapley said to me, that fellow threw a lot of light on things in Europe, didn't he? And I answered, yes. What liars we all are. End of part 3. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Frenzied Fiction by Stephen Leacock. Part 4. Personal Adventures in the Spirit World I do not write what follows with the expectation of convincing or converting anybody. We spiritualists or spiritists we call ourselves both or either. Never ask anybody to believe us. If they do, well and good. If not, all right. Our attitude simply is that facts are facts. There they are. Believe them or not as you like. As I said the other night in conversation with Aristotle and John Bunyan and George Washington and a few others, why should anybody believe us? Aristotle, I recollect, said that all he wished was that everybody should know how happy he was. And Washington said that for his part, if people only knew how bright and beautiful it all was where he was, they would willingly indeed gladly pay the mere dollar itself only a nominal fee that it cost to talk to him. Bunyan, I remember added that he himself was quite happy. But as I say I never ask anybody to believe me. The more so as I was once an absolute skeptic myself. As I see it now, I was prejudiced. The mere fact that spiritual seances and the services of a medium involved the payment of money condemned the whole thing in my eyes. I did not realize as I do now that these mediae, like anybody else, have got to live. Otherwise they would die and become spirits. Nor would I now place these disclosures before the public eyes were it not that I think in the present crisis they will prove of value to the allied cause. But let me begin at the beginning. My own conversion to spiritualism came about like that of so many others through the more or less casual remark of a friend. Noticing me one day gloomy and depressed this friend remarked to me have you any belief in spiritualism? Had it come from anyone else I should have turned the question aside with a sneer, but it so happens that I owe a great deal of gratitude to this particular friend. It was he who at a time when I was so afflicted with rheumatism that I could scarcely leap five feet into the air without pain said to me one day quite casually have you ever tried pyrol for your rheumatism? One month later I could leap ten feet in the air, had I been able to without the slightest malaise. The same man I may add hearing me one day exclaiming to myself oh if there were anything that would remove the stains from my clothes said to me very simply and quietly have you ever washed them in luxo? It was he too who noticing a haggard look on my face after breakfast one morning inquired immediately what I had been eating for breakfast after which with a simplicity and directness which I shall never forget he said why not eat humble nor can I ever forget my feeling on another occasion when hearing me exclaim aloud oh if there were only something invented for removing the proteins and amygdaloids from a carbonized diet and leaving only the pure nitrogenous life-giving elements seized my hand in his and said in a voice thrilled with emotion there is it has the reader will understand therefore that a question or query from such a friend was not to be put lightly aside when he asked if I believed in spiritualism I answered with perfect courtesy to be quite frank I do not there was silence between us for a time and then my friend said have you ever given it a trial I paused a moment as the idea was a novel one no I answered to be quite candid I have not neither of us spoke for perhaps 20 minutes after this when my friend said have you anything against it I thought a while and then I said yes I have my friend remained silent for perhaps half an hour then he asked what I meditated for some time and I said this it seems to me that the whole thing is done for money how utterly unnatural it is to call up the dead one's great grandfather let us say and pay money I was talking to him precisely said my friend without a moment's pause I thought so now suppose I could bring you into contact with the spirit world through a medium or through different mediae without there being any question of money other than a merely nominal fee the money being as it were left out of count and regarded as only so to speak nominal something given merely pro forma and add interim under these will you try the experiment I rose and took my friend's hand my dear fellow I said I not only will but I shall from this conversation dated my connection with spiritualism which has since opened for me a new world it would be out of place for me to indicate the particular address of the particular methods employed by the agency to which my friend introduced me I am anxious to avoid anything approaching a commercial tinge in what I write more over their advertisement can be seen along with many others all I am sure just as honorable and just as trustworthy in the columns of any daily newspaper as everybody knows many methods are employed the tapping of a table the movement of a Ouija board or the voice of a trance medium are only a few among the many devices by which the spirits now enter into communication with us but in my own case the method used was not only simplicity itself but was so framed as to carry with it the proof of its own genuineness one had merely to speak into the receiver of a telephone and the voice of the spirit was heard through the transmitter as in an ordinary telephone conversation it was only natural after the scoffing remark that I had made that I should begin with my great grandfather nor can I ever forget the peculiar thrill that went through me when I was informed by the head of the agency that a tracer was being sent out for great grandfather to call him to the phone great grandfather let me do him this justice was prompt he was there in three minutes whatever his line of business was in the spirit world and I was never able to learn it he must have left it immediately and hurried to the telephone never later dissatisfaction I may have had with great grandfather let me state it fairly and honestly he is at least a punctual man every time I called he came right away without delay let those who are inclined to caval at the methods of the spiritualist reflect how impossible it would be to secure such punctuality on anything but a basis of absolute honesty in my first conversation with great grandfather I found myself so absurdly nervous the thought of the vast gulf of space and time across which we were speaking that I perhaps framed my questions somewhat too crudely how are you great grandfather I asked his voice came back to me as distinctly as if he were in the next room I am happy very happy please tell everybody that I am happy great grandfather I said I will I'll see that everybody knows it where are you great grandfather here he answered beyond beyond what here on the other side side of which I asked of the great vastness he answered the other end of the illimitable oh I see I said that's where you are we were silent for some time it is amazing how difficult it is to find things to talk about with one's great grandfather for the life of me I could think of nothing better than what sort of weather have you been having there is no weather here said great grandfather it's all bright and beautiful all the time you mean bright sunshine I said there is no sun here said great grandfather then how do you mean I began but at this moment the head of the agency tapped me on the shoulder to remind me that the two minutes conversation for which I had deposited as an nominal fee five dollars had expired the agency was courteous enough to inform me that for five dollars more great grandfather would talk another two minutes but I thought it preferable to stop for the moment now I did not wish to say a word against my own great grandfather yet in the conversations which followed on successive days I found him how shall I put it unsatisfactory he had been when on this side to use the term we spiritualists prefer a singularly able man an English judge so at least I have always been given to understand but somehow great grandfather's brain on the other side seemed to have got badly damaged my own theory is that living always in the bright sunshine he had got sunstroke but I may wrong him perhaps it was locomotor a taxi that he had that he was very very happy where he was is beyond all doubt he said so at every conversation but I have noticed that feeble minded people are often happy he said too that he was glad to be where he was and on the whole I felt glad that he was too once or twice I thought that possibly great grandfather felt so happy because he had been drinking voice even across the great Gulf seemed somehow to suggest it but on being questioned he told me that where he was there was no drink and no thirst because it was also bright and beautiful I asked him if he meant that it was bone dry like Kansas or whether the rich could still get it but he didn't answer or intercourse ended in a quarrel no doubt it was my fault but it did seem to me that great grandfather who had been one of the greatest English lawyers of his day might have handed out an opinion the matter came up thus I had had an argument it was in the middle of last winter with some men at my club about the legal interpretation of the Adamson law the dispute grew bitter I'm right I said and I'll prove it if you give me time to consult the authorities consult your great grandfather sneered one of the men alright I said I will I walked straight across the room to the telephone and called up the agency give me my great grandfather I said I want him right away he was there good punctual old soul I'll say that for him he was there great grandfather I said I'm in a discussion here about the constitutionality of the Adamson law involving the power of Congress now you remember the constitution when they made it is the law alright there was silence how does it stand great grandfather I said will it hold water then he spoke over here he said there are no laws no members of Congress and no Adamson's it's all bright and beautiful and great grandfather I said as I hung up the receiver and discussed what? I never spoke to him again yet I feel sorry for him feeble old soul flitting about in the illimitable and always so punctual to hurry to the telephone so happy so feeble witted and courteous a better man perhaps take it all in all than he was in life lonely to it may be out there in the vastness yet I never called him up again he is happy let him stay indeed my acquaintance with the spirit world might have ended at that point but for the good office is once more of my friend you find your great grandfather a little slow a little dull he said well then if you want brains power energy why not call up some of the spirits of the great men some of the leading men for instance of your great grandfather's time you've said it I exclaimed I'll call up Napoleon Bonaparte to the agency is it possible I asked for me to call up the emperor Napoleon and talk to him possible certainly it appeared that nothing was easier in the case of Napoleon Bonaparte the nominal fee had to be ten dollars in place of five but it seemed to me that if great grandfather cost five Napoleon Bonaparte at ten was cheapness itself will it take long to get him I asked anxiously we'll send out a tracer for him right away they said like great grandfather Napoleon was punctual that I will say for him if in any way I think less of Napoleon Bonaparte now than I did let me at least admit that a more punctual obliging willing man I never talked with he came in two minutes he's on the line now they said I took up the receiver trembling hello I called I said you say the emperor Napoleon a key jai long air the parade how's that said Napoleon you demand see just sweet then communication on other the emperor Napoleon oh said Napoleon that's all right speak English what I said in surprise you know English I always thought you couldn't speak a word of it he was silent for a minute then he said I picked it up over here it's all right go right ahead well I continued I've always admired you so much your wonderful brain and genius that I felt I wanted to speak to you and ask you how you are happy said Napoleon very happy that's good I said that's fine and how is it out there all bright and beautiful a very beautiful said the emperor and just where are you I continued somewhere out in the unspeakable I suppose a yes he answered out here beyond that's good I said pretty happy a very happy said Napoleon tell everybody how happy I am I know I answered I'll tell them all but just now I have a particular thing to ask we've got a big war on pretty well the whole world in it and I thought perhaps a few pointers from a man like you but at this point the attendant touched me on the shoulder your time is up he said I was about to offer to pay it once for two minutes more when a better idea struck me talk with Napoleon I do better than that I'd call a whole war council of great spirits lay the war crisis before them and get the biggest brains that the world ever produced to work on how to win the war who should I have let me see Napoleon himself of course I bring him back and for the sea business the submarine problem I'd have Nelson George Washington naturally for the American end for politics say good old Ben Franklin the wisest old head that ever walked on American legs witty too yes Franklin certainly if only for his wit to keep the council from getting gloomy Lincoln honest old Abe him certainly I must have those and perhaps a few others I reckon that a consultation at ten dollars a piece with spirits of that class was cheap to the verge of the ludicrous their advice ought to be worth millions yes billions to the cause the agency got them for me without trouble there is no doubt they are a punctual crowd over there beyond in the unthinkable I gathered them all in and talked to them all and several the payment a merely nominal matter being made pro forma in advance I have in front of me in my rough notes the result of their advice when properly drafted it will be I feel sure one of the most important state documents produced in the war in the personal sense I have to admit it I found them just a trifle disappointing Franklin poor fellow has apparently lost his wit the spirit of Lincoln seemed to me to have none of that homely wisdom that he used to have and it appears that we were quite mistaken in thinking disraelia brilliant man it is clear to me now that he was dull just about as dull as great grandfather I should say Washington too is not at all the kind of man we thought him still these are only personal impressions they detract nothing from the extraordinary value of the advice given which seems to me to settle once and forever any lingering doubt about the value of communications with the other side my draft of their advice runs in part as follows the spirit of Nelson on being questioned on the submarine problem holds that if all the men on the submarines were where he is everything would be bright and happy this seems to me an invaluable hint there is nothing needed now except to put them there the advice of the spirit of Napoleon about the campaign on land seemed to me if possible a lower value than that of Nelson on the campaign at sea it is hardly conceivable that Napoleon has forgotten where the Marne is but it may have changed since his day at any rate he says that if ever the Russians cross the Marne all is over coming from such a master strategist is ought to be attended to Franklin on being asked whether the United States had done right in going into the war said yes asked whether the country could with honor have stayed out he said no there is guidance here for thinking men of all ranks Lincoln is very happy where he is so too I was amazed to find is just Rayleigh in fact it was most gratifying to learn that all of the great spirits consulted are very happy and want everybody to know how happy they are where they are I may say it is all bright and beautiful fear of trespassing on their time prevented me from questioning each of them up to the full limit of the period contracted for I understand that I have still to my credit at the agency five minutes talk with Napoleon available at any time and similarly five minutes each with Franklin and Washington to say nothing of ten minutes fired time with great grandfather all of these opportunities I am willing to dispose of at a reduced rate to anyone still skeptical of the reality of the spirit world end of part four this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org frenzied fiction by Stephen Leacock part five the sorrows of a summer guest let me admit as I start to write that the whole thing is my own fault I should never have come I knew better I have known better for years I have known that it is sheer madness to go and pay visits in other people's houses yet in a moment of insanity I have let myself in for it and here I am there is no hope no outlet now till the first of September when my visit is to terminate either that or death I do not greatly care which I write this where no human eye can see me down by the pond they call it the lake at the foot of Beverly Jones' estate it is six o'clock in the morning no one is up for a brief hour or so there is peace but presently Miss Larkspur the jolly English girl who arrived last week will throw open her casement window and call across the lawn hello everybody what a ripping morning and young Poppleson will call back in a Swiss yodel from somewhere in the shrubbery and Beverly Jones will appear on the piazza with big towels round his neck and shout who's coming for an early dip and so the day's fun and jollity heaven help me we'll begin again presently they will all come trooping into breakfast in colored blazers and fancy blouses laughing and grabbing at the food with mimic rudeness and bursts of hilarity and to think that I might have been breakfasting at my club with the morning paper propped against the coffee pot in a silent room in the quiet of the city I repeat that it is my own fault that I am here for many years it had been a principle of my life and nobody I had long since learned that visiting only brings misery if I got a card or telegram that said won't you run up to the Adirondacks and spend the weekend with us I sent back word no not unless the Adirondacks can run faster than I can our words to that effect if the owner of a country house wrote to me our man will meet you with a trap any afternoon that you care to name and spirit at least no he won't not unless he has a bear trap or one of those traps in which they catch wild antelope if any fashionable lady friend wrote to me in the peculiar jargon that they use can you give us from July the 12th at half after three till the 14th at four I replied madam take the whole month take a year but leave me in peace such at least was the spirit of my answers to invitations in practice I used to find it sufficient to send a telegram that read crushed with work impossible to get away and then stroll back into the reading room of the club and fall asleep again but my coming here was my own fault it resulted from one of those unhappy moments of expansiveness such as a cure I imagined to everybody it's when one appears to be something quite different from what one really is when one feels oneself a thorough good fellow sociable, merry, appreciative and finds the people around one the same such moods are known to all of us some people say that it is the super self asserting itself others say it is from drinking but let it pass that at any rate was the kind of mood that I was in when I met Beverly Jones it made me here it was in the afternoon at the club as I recall it we were drinking cocktails and I was thinking what a bright genial fellow Beverly Jones was and how completely I had mistaken him for myself I admit it I am a brighter better man after drinking two cocktails than at any other time quicker, kindlier more genial and higher morally telling stories in that inimitable way that one has after two cocktails in reality I only know four stories and a fifth that I don't quite remember but in moments of expansiveness they feel like a fund or flow it was under such circumstances that I sat with Beverly Jones and it was in shaking hands at leaving that he said I do wish old chap that you could run up to our summer place and give us the whole of August and I answered as I shook him warmly by the hand my dear fellow I'd simply love to buy, get, and it's a go he said you must come up for August and wake us all up wake them up ye gods me wake them up one hour later I was repenting of my folly and wishing when I thought of the two cocktails that their prohibition wave could be hurried up and it was to leave us all high and dry bone dry silent and unsociable then I clung to the hope that Beverly Jones would forget but no in due time his wife wrote to me they were looking forward so much she said to my visit they felt she repeated her husband's ominous phrase that I should wake them all up what sort of alarm clock did they take me for anyway ah well they know better now it was only yesterday afternoon that Beverly Jones found me standing here in the gloom of some cedar trees beside the edge of the pond and took me back so quietly to the house that I realized he thought I meant to drown myself so I did I could have stood it better my coming here I mean if they hadn't come down to the station in a body to meet me and one of those long vehicles was seats down the sides looking men in colored blazers and girls with no hats all making a hullabaloo of welcome we are quite a small party Mrs. Beverly Jones had written small, great heavens what would they call a large one and even those at the station turned out to be only half of them there were just as many more all lined up on the piazza of the house as we drove up all waving a full welcome with tennis rackets and golf clubs a very small party indeed why after six days there are still some of the idiots whose names I haven't got straight that fool with a fluffy mustache which is he and that jackass that made the salad at the picnic yesterday is he the brother of the woman with the guitar or who but what I mean is there is something in that sort of noisy welcome that puts me to the bad at the start it always does and with a set of catch words and jokes all their own always throws me into a fit of sadness deeper than words I had thought when Mrs. Beverly Jones set a small party she really meant small I had had a mental picture of a few sad people greeting me very quietly and gently and of myself quiet too but cheerful somehow lifting them up with no great effort by my mere presence somehow from the very first I could feel that Beverly Jones was disappointed in me he said nothing but I knew it on that first afternoon between my arrival and dinner he took me about his place to show it to me I wish that at some proper time I had learned just what it is that you say when a man shows you about his place I never knew before how deficient I am in it I am all right to be shown an iron and steel plant or a soda water factory or anything really wonderful but being shown a house and grounds and trees things that I have seen all my life leaves me absolutely silent these big gates said Beverly Jones will only put up this year oh I said that was all why shouldn't they put them up this year I didn't care if they put them up this year or a thousand years ago we had quite a struggle he continued he finally decided on sandstone you did eh I said there seemed nothing more to say I didn't know what sort of struggle he meant or who fought who and personally sandstone or soapstone or any other stone is all the same to me this lawn said Beverly Jones we laid down the first year we were here I answered nothing he looked me right in the face as he said it and I looked straight back at him but I saw no reason to challenge his statement the geraniums along the border he went on are rather an experiment they're Dutch I looked fixedly at the geraniums but never said a word they were Dutch alright why not they were an experiment very good let them be so I know nothing in particular to say about a Dutch experiment I could feel that Beverly Jones grew depressed as he showed me round I was sorry for him but unable to help I realized that there were certain sections of my education that had been neglected how to be shown things and make appropriate comments seems to be an art in itself I don't possess it it is not likely now as I look at this pond that I ever shall yet how simple a thing it seems when done by others I saw the difference at once the very next day the second day of my visit when Beverly Jones took round young Poppleton the man that I mentioned above who will presently give a swiss yodel from a clump of laurel bushes to indicate that the day's fun has begun Poppleton I had known before slightly I used to see him at the club in club surroundings he always struck me as an ineffable young ass loud and talkative perpetually breaking the silence rules yet I have to admit that in his summer flannels and with a straw head on he can do things that I can't these big gates began Beverly Jones as he showed Poppleton round the place with me trailing beside them we only put up this year Poppleton who has a summer place of his own looked at the gates very critically now do you know what I'd have done with those gates if they were mine he said, no, said Beverly Jones I'd have set them two feet wider apart they're too narrow old chap too narrow Poppleton shook his head sadly at the gates we had quite a struggle said Beverly Jones before we finally decided on sandstone I realized that he had one of the same line of talk that he always used I resented it no wonder it was easy for him great mistake, said Poppleton too soft, look at this here he picked up a big stone and began pounding at the gate post see how easily it chips smashes right off look at that, the whole corner knocks right off see? Beverly Jones entered no protest I began to see that there is a sort of understanding a kind of free masonry among men who have summer places one shows his things the other runs them down smashes them this makes the whole thing easy at once Beverly Jones showed his lawn your turf is all wrong old boy said Poppleton, look it has no body to it see I can kick holes in it with my heel look at that, and that if I had on stronger boots I could kick this lawn all to pieces these geraniums along the border, said Beverly Jones I rather an experiment they're Dutch fellow, said Poppleton, you've got them set in wrongly, they ought to slope from the sun, you know, never to it wait a bit here he picked up a spade that was lying where a gardener had been working I'll throw a few out notice how easily they come up that fellow broke they're apt to, there I won't bother to reset them, but tell your man to slope them over from the sun, that's the idea Beverly Jones showed his new boat house next Poppleton knocked a hole in the side with a hammer to show that the lumber was toothed in if that were my boat house, he said I'd rip the outside clean off it and use shingle and stucco it was I noticed Poppleton's plan, first to imagine Beverly Jones's things his own and then to smash them and then give them back smashed to Beverly Jones this seemed to please them both apparently it is a well understood method of entertaining the guests and being entertained Beverly Jones and Poppleton after an hour or so of it were delighted with one another yet somehow when I tried it myself it failed to work do you know what I would do with that cedar summer house if it was mine I asked my host the next day no, he said I'd knock the thing down and burn it I answered but I think I must have said it too fiercely Beverly Jones looked hurt and said nothing not that these people are not doing all they can for me I know that, I admit it if I should meet my end here and if to put the thing straight out my lifeless body is found floating on the surface of this pond I should like there to be documentary evidence of that much they are trying their best this is Liberty Hall Mrs. Beverly Jones said to me on the first day of my visit we want you to feel prepared to do absolutely as you like absolutely as I like how little they know me I should like to have answered madam I have now reached a time of life when human society at breakfast is impossible to me when any conversation prior to 11 a.m. must be considered out of the question when I prefer to eat my meals in quiet or with such mild hilarity as can be got from a comic paper I can no longer wear nanking pants in colored blazer without a sense of personal indignity when I can no longer leap and play in the water like a young fish when I do not yodel cannot sing and to my regret dance even worse than I did when young and when the mood of mirth and hilarity comes to me only as a rare visitant shall we say at a burlesque performance and never as a daily part of my existence Madam I am unfit to be a summer guest if this is Liberty Hall indeed let me oh let me go such as the speech that I would make if it were possible as it is I can only rehearse it to myself indeed the more I analyze it the more impossible it seems for a man of my temperament at any rate to be a summer guest these people and I imagine all other summer people seem to be trying to live in a perpetual joke everything all day has to be taken in a mood of uproarious fun however I can speak of it all now in quiet retrospect and without bitterness it will soon be over now indeed the reason why I have come down at this early hour to this quiet water is that things have reached a crisis the situation has become extreme and I must end it it happened last night Beverly Jones took me aside while the others were dancing the foxtrot to the Victrola on the Piazza we're planning to have some rather good fun tomorrow night he said something that will be a good deal more in your line than a lot of it I'm afraid has been up here in fact my wife says that this will be the very thing for you oh I said we're going to get all the people from the other houses over and the girls this term Beverly Jones uses to mean his wife and her friends we're going to get up a sort of entertainment with charades and things all impromptu more or less of course oh I said I saw already what was coming and they want you to act as a sort of master of ceremonies to make up the gags and introduce the different stunts and all that I was telling the girls about that afternoon at the club when you were simply killing us all with those funny stories of yours wild over it wild I repeated yes quite wild over it they say it will be the hit of the summer Beverly Jones shook hands with great warmth as we parted for the night I knew that he was thinking that my character was about to be triumphantly vindicated and that he was glad for my sake last night I did not sleep I remained awake all night thinking of the entertainment in my whole life I have done nothing in public except once when I presented a walking stick to the vice president of our club on the occasion of his taking a trip to Europe even for that I used to rehearse to myself far into the night sentences that began this walking stick gentlemen means far more than a mere walking stick and now they expect me to come out as a merry master of ceremonies before an assembled out of summer guests but never mind it is nearly over now I have come down to this quiet water in the early morning to throw myself in they will find me floating here among the lilies some few will understand I can see it written as it will be in the newspapers what makes the sad fatality doubly poignant is that the unhappy victim had just entered upon a holiday visit that was to prolong throughout the whole month needless to say he was regarded as the life and soul of the pleasant party of holiday makers that had gathered at the delightful country home of Mr. and Mrs. Beverly Jones indeed on the very day of the tragedy he was to have taken a leading part in staging a merry performance of charades and parlor entertainments a thing for which his genial talents and overflowing high spirits rendered him specially fit when they read that those who know me best will understand how and why I died he had still over three weeks to stay there they will say he was to act as the stage manager of charades they will shake their heads they will understand but what is this I raised my eyes from the paper and I see Beverly Jones hurriedly approaching from the house he is hastily dressed with flannel trousers and a dressing gown his face looks grave something has happened thank God something has happened some accident, some tragedy something to prevent the charades I write these few lines on a fast train that is carrying me back to New York a cool comfortable train with a deserted club car where I can sit in a leather armchair with my feet up on another smoking silent and at peace villages, farms and summer places are flying by let them fly I too am flying back to the rest and quiet of the city old man Beverly Jones said as he laid his hand on mine very kindly he is a decent fellow after all as Jones they are calling you by long distance from New York what is it I asked I tried to gasp it is bad news old chap fire in your office last evening I am afraid a lot of your private papers were burned Robinson, that is your senior clerk seems to have been on the spot trying to save things he is badly singed about the face and hands I am afraid you must go at once yes, yes I said at once I know, I told the man to get the trap we are ready right away it is just time to catch the 710 come along right I said I kept my face as well as I could trying to hide my exaltation the office burnt fine, Robinson singed glorious, I hurriedly packed my things and whispered to Beverly Jones farewell messages for the sleeping household I never felt so jolly and facetious in my life I could feel the Beverly Jones was admiring the spirit the plot with which I took my misfortune later on he would tell them all about it the trap ready hurrah goodbye old man hurrah all right I'll telegraph right you are goodbye hip hip hurrah here we are, train right on time just these two bags porter and there's a dollar for you what merry merry fellows these darky porters are anyway and so here I am in the train safe bound for home in the summer quiet of my club well done for Robinson I was afraid that it had missed fire or that my message to him had gone wrong it was on the second day of my visit that I sent word to him to invent an accident something, anything to call me back I thought the message had failed I had lost hope but it is all right now though he certainly pitched the note pretty high of course I can't let the Beverly Joneses know that it was a put up job I must set fire to the office as soon as I get back but it's worth it and I'll have to sing Robinson about the face and hands but it's worth that too end of part 5 this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org frenzied fiction by Stephen Leacock part 6 to nature and back again it was probably owing to the fact that my place of lodgement in New York overlooked the waving trees of Central Park that I was consumed all the summer through with a great longing for the woods to me as a lover of nature the waving of a tree conveys thoughts which are never conveyed to me except by seeing a tree wave this longing grew upon me I became restless with it in the daytime I dreamed over my work at night my sleep was broken and restless at times I would even wander forth at night into the park and there deep in the night shadow of the trees imagined myself alone in the recesses of the dark woods remote from the toil and fret of our distracted civilization this increasing feeling culminated in the resolve which becomes the subject of this narrative the thought came to me suddenly one night I woke from my sleep with a plan fully matured in my mind it was this I would for one month cast off all the travail and cares of civilized life and become again the wild man of the woods that nature made me my plan was to go to the edge of the great woods somewhere in New England divest myself of my clothes except only my union suit crawl into the woods stay there a month and then crawl out again to a trained woodsman and crawler like myself the thing was simplicity itself for food I knew that I could rely on berries, roots shoots, mosses, mushrooms fungi, bunjai the whole of nature's ample storehouse for my drink the running brook in the quiet pool and for my companions the twittering chipmunk the chickadee the chak-taw the chuchu the chow-chow and the 101 inhabitants of the forgotten glade in the tangled thicket fortunately for me my resolve came to me upon the last day in August the month of September was my vacation my time was my own I was free to go on my rising in the morning my preparations were soon made or rather there were practically no preparations to make I had but to supply myself with a camera my one necessity in the woods and to say goodbye to my friends even this last ordeal I wished to make as brief as possible I had no wish to arouse their anxiety over the dangerous perhaps foolhardy project that I had in mind wished as far as possible to say goodbye in such a way as to allay the very natural fears which my undertaking would excite in the minds of my friends from myself although trained in the craft of the woods I could not conceal the danger that I incurred yet the danger was almost forgotten in the extraordinary and novel interest that attached to the experiment would it prove possible for a man unaided to utilize arts and industries to maintain himself naked except for his union suit in the heart of the woods could he do it or could he not and if he couldn't what then but this last thought I put from me time alone could answer the question as in duty bound I went first to the place of business where I am employed to shake hands and say goodbye to my employer I am going I said to spend a month naked alone in the woods he looked up from his desk with genial kindness that's right he said get a good rest my plan is I added to live on berries and funguses fine he answered well have a good time old man goodbye then I dropped in casually upon one of my friends well I said I'm off to New England to spend a month naked Nantucket he said a new port no I answered speaking as lightly as I could I'm going into the woods and stay there naked for a month oh yes he said I see well goodbye old chap see you when you get back after that I called upon two or three other men to say a brief word of farewell I could not help feeling slightly netled I must confess at the very casual way in which they seemed to take my announcement oh yes they said naked in the woods they well ta ta till you get back here was a man about to risk his life for there was no denying the fact in a great sociological experiment yet they received the announcement with absolute unconcerned it offered one more assurance had I needed it of the degenerate state of the civilization upon which I was turning my back on my way after the train I happened to run into a newspaper reporter with whom I have some acquaintance I'm just off I said to New England to spend a month naked at least naked all but my union suit in the woods no doubt you'll like a few details about it for your paper thanks old man he said we've pretty well given up running that nature stuff we couldn't do anything with it unless of course anything happens to you then we'd be glad to give you some space several of my friends had at least the decency to see me off on the train one and one alone accompanied me on the long night ride to New England in order that he might bring back my clothes my watch and other possessions from the point where I should enter the woods together with such few messages of farewell as I might scribble at the last moment it was early morning when we arrived at the wayside station where we were to a light we walked to the edge of the woods arrived at this point we halted I took off my clothes with the exception of my union suit then taking a pot of brown stain from my valise I proceeded to dye my face and hands and my union suit itself a deep butternut brown what's that for? asked my friend for protection I answered don't you know that all animals are protected by the peculiar markings that render them invisible the caterpillar looks like the leaf it eats from the scales of the fish counterfeit the glistening water of the brook the bear and the possum are colored like the tree trunks on which they climb there I added as I concluded my task I am now invisible gee said my friend I handed him back the valise and the empty paint pot dropped to my hands and knees my camera slung about my neck and proceeded to crawl into the bush my friend stood watching me why don't you stand up and walk I heard him call I turned half round and growled at him then I plunged deeper into the bush growling as I went after ten minutes active crawling I found myself in the heart of the forest it reached all about me on every side for hundreds of miles all around me was the unbroken stillness of the woods not a sound reached my ears save the twittering of a squirrel or squirrel in the branches high above my head or the far distant call of a loon hovering over some woodland lake I judged that I had reached a spot suitable for my habitation my first care was to make a fire difficult though it might appear to the degenerate dweller of the city to do this to the trained woodsmen such as I had now become it is nothing I selected a dry stick rubbed it vigorously against my hind leg and in a few moments it broke into a generous blaze half an hour later I was sitting beside a glowing fire of twigs discussing with great gusto an appetizing mess of boiled grass and fungi cooked in a hollow stone I ate my fill not pausing till I was full careless as the natural man ever is of the morrow then stretched out upon the pine needles at the foot of a great tree I lay in drowsy contentment listening to the song of the birds the hum of the myriad insects and the strident note of the squirrel high above me at times I would give utterance to the soft answering call known to every woodsman that is part of the freemasonry of animal speech as I lay thus I would not have exchanged places with the pale dweller in the city for all the wealth in the world here I lay remote from the world happy full of grass listening to the crooning of the birds but the mood of inaction and reflection cannot last even with the lover of nature it was time to be up and doing much lay before me to be done before the setting of the sun should bring with it as I fully expected it would darkness before night fell I must build a house make myself a suit of clothes lay in a store of nuts and in short prepare myself for the oncoming of winter which in the bush may come on at any time in the summer I rose briskly from the ground to my hands and knees and set myself to the building of my house the method that I intended to follow here was merely that which nature has long since taught to the beaver and which moreover is known and practiced by the gauchos of the pompous by the gaugos of Rhodesia and by many other tribes I had but to select a suitable growth of trees and gnaw them down with my teeth taking care so to gnaw them that each should fall into the place appointed for it in the building the sides once erected in this fashion another row of trees properly situated is gnawed down to fall crosswise as the roof I set myself briskly to work and in half an hour had already the satisfaction of seeing my habitation rising in shape I was still gnawing with unabated energy when I was interrupted by a low growling in the underbrush with animal caution I shrank behind a tree growling in return I could see something moving in the bushes evidently an animal of large size from its snarl I judged it to be a bear I could hear it moving nearer to me it was about to attack me a savage joy thrilled through me at the thought while my union suit bristled with rage from head to foot as I emitted growl after growl of defiance I bared my teeth to the gums snarling and lashed my flank with my hind foot eagerly I watched for the onrush of the bear in savage combat who strikes first wins it was my idea as soon as the bear should appear to bite off its front legs one after the other this initial advantage once gained I had no doubt of ultimate victory the brush is parted I caught a glimpse of a long brown body and a hairy head then the creature reared up resting itself against a log full in front of me great heavens it was not a bear at all it was a man he was dressed as I was in a union suit his face and hands, like mine were stained to butternut brown his hair was long and matted and two weeks stubble of beard was on his face for a minute we both glared at one another still growling then the man rose up to a standing position with a muttered exclamation of disgust I cut it out he said let's talk English he walked over towards me and sat down upon a log in an attitude that seemed to convey disgust as the expression of his features then he looked round about him what are you doing he said building a house I answered I know he said with a nod what are you here for why I explained my plan is this I want to see whether a man can come out here in the woods naked with no aid but that of his own hands and his own ingenuity and yes yes I know interrupted this consulate man earned himself a livelihood in the wilderness live as the caveman lived carefree and far from the curse of civilization that's it that was my idea I said my enthusiasm rekindling as I spoke that's what I'm doing my food is to be the rude grass and the roots that nature furnishes for her children and for my drink yes yes he interrupted again with impatience for your drink the running rill for your bed the sweet couch of hemlock and for your canopy the open sky lit with the soft stars and the deep purple vault of the dewy night I know great heavens man I exclaimed that's my idea exactly in fact those are my very phrases how could you have guessed it he made a gesture with his hand to indicate weariness and disillusionment Shaw he said I know it because I've been doing it in a fortnight now on this open air life in the woods game well I'm sick of it this last lets me out what last I asked why meeting you do you realize that you are the 19th man that I've met in the last three days running about naked in the woods they're all doing it the woods are full of them you don't say so I guess fact wherever you go in the bush there's some blasted old experiment why when you get a little further in you'll see signs up naked men not allowed in this bush and naked men keep off and gentlemen who are naked will kindly keep to the high road and a lot of things like that you must have come in at a wrong place or you'd have noticed the little shanties that they have now at the edge of the new england bush with signs up union suits bought and sold cameras to rent highest price for cast off clothing and all that sort of thing no I said I saw nothing well you look when you go back as for me I'm done with it the things worked out I'm going back to the city to see whether I can't right there in the heart of the city earn myself a livelihood with my unaided hands and brains that's the real problem no more bumming on the animals for me this bush business is too easy well goodbye I'm off but stop a minute I said how is it that if what you say is true I haven't seen or heard anybody in the bush and I've been here since the middle of the morning nonsense the man answered they were probably all around you but you didn't recognize them no no it's not possible I lay here dreaming beneath a tree and there wasn't a sound except the twittering of a squirrel and far away the cry of a lake loon nothing else exactly the twittering of a squirrel that was some fella up the tree twittering to beat the band to let on that he was a squirrel and no doubt some other fella calling out like a loon over near the lake I suppose you gave them the answering cry I did I said I gave that low guttural note which precisely which is the universal greeting in the free masonry of animal speech I see you've got it all down pat oh goodbye again I'm off oh don't bother to growl please I'm sick of that line of stuff goodbye I said he slid through the bushes and disappeared I sat where I was musing my work interrupted a mood of bitter disillusionment heavy upon me so I sat it may have been for hours in the far distance I could hear the faint cry of a bittern in some lonely marsh now who the deuce making that noise I muttered some silly fool I suppose trying to think he's a waterfowl cut it out long I lay my dream of the woods shattered wondering what to do then suddenly there came to my ear the loud sound of voices human voices strident and eager with nothing of the animal growl in them he's in there I seen him I heard someone call rapidly I dived sideways into the underbrush my animal instinct strong upon me again growling as I went instinctively I knew that it was I that they were after all the animal joy of being hunted came over me my union suit stood up on end with mingled fear and rage as fast as I could I retreated into the wood yet somehow as I moved the wood instead of growing denser seemed to thin out I crouched low still growling and endeavoring to bury myself in the thicket I was filled with a wild sense of exhilaration such as any lover of the wildlife would feel at the knowledge that he is being chased that someone is after him that someone is perhaps just a few feet behind him waiting to stick a pitchfork into him as he runs there is no ecstasy like this then I realized that my pursuers had closed in on me I was surrounded on all sides the woods had somehow grown thin they were like the mere shrubbery of a park it might be of central park itself I could hear among the deeper tones of men the shrill voices of boys there he is one cried going through them bushes look at him humping himself what is it what's the sport another called some crazy guy loose in the park in his underclothes and the cops after him then they closed in on me I recognized the blue suits of the police force and their short clubs in a few minutes I was dragged out of the shrubbery and stood in the open park in my pajamas wide awake shivering in the chilly air of early morning fortunately for me it was decided at the police court that sleepwalking is not an offense against the law I was dismissed with a caution my vacation is still before me and I still propose to spend it naked but I shall do so at Atlantic City District of Part 6