Colonel Mulberry Sellers was in his "library," which was his
"drawing-room," and was also his "picture gallery," and likewise
his "workshop." Sometimes he called it by one of these names,
sometimes by another, according to occasion and circumstance. He
was constructing what seemed to be some kind of a frail mechanical
toy, and was apparently very much interested in his work. He was a
white-headed man now, but otherwise he was as young, alert, buoyant,
visionary and enterprising as ever. His loving old wife sat near by,
contentedly knitting and thinking, with a cat asleep in her lap. The
room was large, light and had a comfortable look--in fact, a homelike
look--though the furniture was of a humble sort and not over-abundant,
and the knick-knacks and things that go to adorn a living-room not
plenty and not costly. But there were natural flowers, and there was an
abstract and unclassifiable something about the place which betrayed
the presence in the house of somebody with a happy taste and an
effective touch.
Even the deadly chromos on the walls were somehow without offense;
in fact, they seemed to belong there and to add an attraction to
the room--a fascination, anyway; for whoever got his eye on one of
them was like to gaze and suffer till he died--you have seen that
kind of pictures. Some of these terrors were landscapes, some libeled
the sea, some were ostensible portraits, all were crimes. All the
portraits were recognizable as dead Americans of distinction, and
yet, through labeling, added by a daring hand, they were all doing
duty here as "Earls of Rossmore." The newest one had left the works
as Andrew Jackson, but was doing its best now as "Simon Lathers Lord
Rossmore, Present Earl." On one wall was a cheap old railroad map of
Warwickshire. This had been newly labeled, "The Rossmore Estates."
On the opposite wall was another map, and this was the most imposing
decoration of the establishment, and the first to catch a stranger's
attention, because of its great size. It had once borne simply the
title SIBERIA, but now the word "FUTURE" had been written in front
of that word. There were other additions, in red ink--many cities,
with great populations set down, scattered over the vast country at
points where neither cities nor populations exist to-day. One of
these cities, with population placed at 1,500,000, bore the name
"Libertyorloffskoizalinski," and there was a still more populous
one, centrally located and marked "Capitol," which bore the name
"Freedomslovnaivenovich."
The mansion--the Colonel's usual name for the house--was a rickety
old two-story frame of considerable size, which had been painted,
some time or other, but had nearly forgotten it. It was away out in
the ragged edge of Washington, and had once been somebody's country
place. It had a neglected yard around it, with a paling fence that
needed straightening up in places, and a gate that would stay shut. By
the door-post were several modest tin signs. "Col. Mulberry Sellers,
Attorney-at-Law and Claim Agent," was the principal one. One learned
from the others that the Colonel was a Materializer, a Hypnotizer, a
Mind-cure dabbler, and so on. For he was a man who could always find
things to do.
A white-headed Negro man, with spectacles and damaged white cotton
gloves, appeared in the presence, made a stately obeisance, and
announced:
"Marse Washington Hawkins, suh."
"Great Scott! Show him in, Dan'l; show him in."
The Colonel and his wife were on their feet in a moment, and
the next moment were joyfully wringing the hands of a stoutish,
discouraged-looking man, whose general aspect suggested that he was
fifty years old, but whose hair swore to a hundred.
"Well, well, well, Washington, my boy, it _is_ good to look at you
again. Sit down, sit down, and make yourself at home. There now--why,
you look perfectly natural; ageing a little, just a little, but you'd
have known him anywhere, wouldn't you, Polly?"
"Oh, yes, Berry; he's _just_ like his pa would have looked if he'd
lived. Dear, dear, where have you dropped from? Let me see, how long is
it since----"
"I should say it's all of fifteen years, Mrs. Sellers."
"Well, well, how time does get away with us. Yes, and oh, the changes
that----"
There was a sudden catch of her voice and a trembling of the lip, the
men waiting reverently for her to get command of herself and go on;
but, after a little struggle, she turned away with her apron to her
eyes, and softly disappeared.
"Seeing you made her think of the children, poor thing--dear, dear,
they're all dead but the youngest. But banish care; it's no time for
it now--on with the dance, let joy be unconfided, is my motto--whether
there's any dance to dance or any joy to unconfide, you'll be
the healthier for it every time--every time, Washington--it's my
experience, and I've seen a good deal of this world. Come, where have
you disappeared to all these years, and are you from there now, or
where are you from?"
"I don't quite think you would ever guess, Colonel. Cherokee Strip."
"My land!"
"Sure as you live."
"You can't mean it: Actually _living_ out there?"
"Well, yes, if a body may call it that; though it's a pretty strong
term for 'dobies and jackass rabbits, boiled beans and slapjack,
depression, withered hopes, poverty in all its varieties----"
"Louise out there?"
"Yes, and the children."
"Out there now?"
"Yes; I couldn't afford to bring them with me."
"Oh, I see--you had to come--claim against the Government. Make
yourself perfectly easy--I'll take care of that."
"But it isn't a claim against the Government."
"No? Want to be a postmaster? _That's_ all right. Leave it to me. I'll
fix it."
"But it isn't postmaster--you're all astray yet."
"Well, good gracious, Washington, why don't you come out and tell me
what it is? What do you want to be so reserved and distrustful with an
old friend like me for? Don't you reckon I can keep a se----"
"There's no secret about it--you merely don't give me a chance to----"
"Now, look here, old friend, I know the human race; and I know that
when a man comes to Washington, I don't care if it's from Heaven, let
alone Cherokee Strip, it's because he _wants_ something. And I know
that as a rule he's not going to get it; that he'll stay and try for
another thing and won't get that; the same luck with the next and the
next and the next; and keeps on till he strikes bottom, and is too
poor and ashamed to go back, even to Cherokee Strip; and at last his
heart breaks and they take up a collection and bury him. There--don't
interrupt me, I know what I'm talking about. Happy and prosperous in
the Far West, wasn't I? _You_ know that. Principal citizen of Hawkeye,
looked up to by everybody, kind of an autocrat, actually a kind of an
autocrat, Washington. Well, nothing would do but I must go as Minister
to St. James's, the Governor and everybody insisting, you know, and so
at last I consented--no getting out of it, _had_ to do it, so here I
came. _A day too late_, Washington. Think of that--what little things
change the world's history--yes, sir, the place had been filled. Well,
there I was, you see. I offered to compromise and go to Paris. The
President was very sorry and all that, but that place, you see, didn't
belong to the West, so there I was again. There was no help for it,
so I had to stoop a little--we all reach the day some time or other
when we've got to do that, Washington, and it's not a bad thing for
us, either, take it by and large all round--I had to stoop a little
and offer to take Constantinople. Washington, consider this--for it's
perfectly true--within a month I _asked_ for China; within another
month I _begged_ for Japan; one year later I was away down, down, down,
supplicating with tears and anguish for the bottom office in the gift
of the Government of the United States--Flint-picker in the cellars of
the War Department. And by George, I didn't get it."
"Flint-picker?"
"Yes. Office established in the time of the Revolution--last century.
The musket-flints for the military posts were supplied from the
Capitol. They do it yet; for although the flint-arm has gone out and
the forts have tumbled down, the decree hasn't been repealed--been
overlooked and forgotten, you see--and so the vacancies where old
Ticonderoga and others used to stand still get their six quarts of
gun-flints a year just the same."
Washington said musingly after a pause:
"How strange it seems--to start for Minister to England at twenty
thousand a year and fail for flint-picker at----"
"Three dollars a week. It's human life, Washington--just an epitome of
human ambition and struggle, and the outcome; you aim for the palace
and get drowned in the sewer."
There was another meditative silence. Then Washington said, with
earnest compassion in his voice:
"And so, after coming here, against your inclination, to satisfy your
sense of patriotic duty and appease a selfish public clamor, you get
absolutely nothing for it."
"Nothing?" The Colonel had to get up and stand, to get room for his
amazement to expand. "_Nothing_, Washington? I ask you this: to be a
Perpetual Member and the _only_ Perpetual Member of a Diplomatic Body
accredited to the greatest country on earth--do you call that nothing?"
It was Washington's turn to be amazed. He was stricken dumb; but the
wide-eyed wonder, the reverent admiration expressed in his face, were
more eloquent than any words could have been. The Colonel's wounded
spirit was healed, and he resumed his seat, pleased and content. He
leaned forward and said impressively:
"What was due to a man who had become forever conspicuous by an
experience without precedence in the history of the world--a man
made permanently and diplomatically sacred, so to speak, by having
been connected, temporarily, through solicitation, with every
single diplomatic post in the roster of this Government, from Envoy
Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary to the Court of St.
James's all the way down to Consul to a guano rock in the Straits
of Sunda--salary payable in guano--which disappeared by volcanic
convulsion the day before they got down to my name in the list of
applicants? Certainly something august enough to be answerable to the
size of this unique and memorable experience was my due, and I got it.
By the common voice of this community, by acclamation of the people,
that mighty utterance which brushes aside laws and legislation, and
from whose decrees there is no appeal, I was named Perpetual Member
of the Diplomatic Body representing the multifarious sovereignties
and civilizations of the globe near the republican court of the
United States of America. And they brought me home with a torchlight
procession."
"It is wonderful, Colonel----simply wonderful."
"It's the loftiest official position in the whole earth."
"I should think so--and the most commanding."
"You have named the word. Think of it! I frown, and there is war; I
smile, and contending nations lay down their arms."
"It is awful. The responsibility, I mean."
"It is nothing. Responsibility is no burden to me; I am used to it;
have always been used to it."
"And the work--the work! Do you have to attend all the sittings?"
"Who, I? Does the Emperor of Russia attend the conclaves of the
Governors of the provinces? He sits at home and indicates his pleasure."
Washington was silent a moment, then a deep sigh escaped him.
"How proud I was an hour ago; how paltry seems my little promotion
now! Colonel, the reason I came to Washington is--I am Congressional
Delegate from Cherokee Strip!"
The Colonel sprang to his feet and broke out with prodigious enthusiasm:
"Give me your hand, my boy--this is immense news! I congratulate you
with all my heart. My prophecies stand firm. I always said it was in
you. I always said you were born for high distinction and would achieve
it. You ask Polly if I didn't."
Washington was dazed by this most unexpected demonstration.
"Why, Colonel, there's nothing _to_ it. That little, narrow, desolate,
unpeopled, oblong streak of grass and gravel, lost in the remote wastes
of the vast continent--why, it's like representing a billiard table--a
discarded one."
"Tut-tut, it's a great, it's a staving preferment, and just opulent
with influence here."
"Shucks, Colonel, I haven't even a vote."
"That's nothing; you can make speeches."
"No, I can't. The population only two hundred----"
"That's all right, that's all right----"
"And they hadn't any right to elect me; we're not even a territory;
there's no Organic Act; the Government hasn't any official knowledge of
us whatever."
"Never mind about that; I'll fix that. I'll rush the thing through;
I'll get you organized in no time."
"_Will_ you, Colonel--it's _too_ good of you; but it's just your old
sterling self, the same old, ever-faithful friend," and the grateful
tears welled up in Washington's eyes.
"It's just as good as done, my boy, just as good as done. Shake hands.
We'll hitch teams together, you and I, and we'll make things hum!"