With the lighting of the pipes the next night Miller said:
"All your royal people so far, though not perfect men, have had
redeeming traits. I once knew one who had not a single characteristic,
except, perhaps, some pluck. My man was simply a royal liar. In Western
parlance, 'he was a boss.' His name was Colonel Jensen.
"Now, in my judgment, lying is the very grossest of human evils. A
common liar is a perpetual proof of the truth of the doctrine of
original sin. By that vice more friendships are broken and more real
misery is perpetrated and perpetuated in the world than comes through
any other channel.
"But as genius excites admiration even when exerted for sinister
purposes, so when the art of lying is reduced to an absolute science
there is something almost fine about it.
"My liar, when I first knew him, seemed to be between fifty and sixty
years of age; but no one ever knew what his real age was.
"But he was quite an old man, for his hair was perfectly white, and
that, with a singularly striking face and fine faculty of expressing his
ideas, gave him an appearance at once venerable and engaging. It was
hard to look into his almost classical face and to think that if he had
told the truth within twenty years, it must have been an accident; but
such was the fact, nevertheless.
"He was indeed a colossal prevaricator. He was at home, too, on every
theme, and there was the charm of freshness to every new falsehood, for
he spoke as one who was on the spot--an actor. If it was an event that
he was describing, he was a participant; if a landscape or a structure,
it was from actual observation; if it chanced to be a scientific theme,
he invariably reported the words of some great scientist 'just as they
fell from his lips.'
"He knew and had dined with all the great men of his generation--that
is, he said so. He always spoke with particularly affectionate
remembrance of Henry Clay and Daniel Webster, always referring to them
as 'Hank' and 'Dan,' so intimate had he been with them.
"My introduction to him was on a stormy winter night, in the early years
of the Washoe excitement. A few of us were conversing in a hotel. One
gentleman was describing something that he had witnessed in his boyhood,
in Columbus, Ohio.
"As he finished his story, a venerable gentleman, who was a stranger in
Washoe, and who had, for several minutes, been slowly pacing up and down
the room, suddenly stopped and inquired of the gentleman who had been
talking if he was from Columbus? When answered in the affirmative, the
stranger extended his hand, dropped into a convenient seat as he spoke,
and expressed his pleasure at meeting a gentleman from Columbus, at the
same time introducing himself as Colonel Jensen and remarking that one
of the happiest recollections of his life was of a day in Columbus, on
which day all his prospects in life were changed and wonderfully
brightened.
"With such an exordium, the rest could do no less than to press the old
gentleman to favor the company with a rehearsal of what had transpired.
"The story was as follows:
"I had just returned with the remnant of my regiment from Mexico, and
had received the unanimous thanks of the Legislature of Ohio for--so the
resolution was worded--"the magnificent ability and steadfast and
desperate courage displayed by Colonel Jensen for twelve consecutive
hours on the field of Buena Vista." I was young at the time and had not
got over caring for such things. The day after this resolution of thanks
was passed the Governor of the State ordered a grand review, at the
capital, of the militia of the State in honor of the soldiers who had
survived the war. As a mark of especial honor I was appointed
Adjutant-General on the Governor's staff. My place at the review was
beside the Governor--who was, of course, Commander-in-Chief--except when
my particular regiment was passing.
"'There are a few things which I have never outgrown a weakness for. One
is a real Kentucky blood horse. I had sent to Kentucky and paid four
thousand dollars for a son of old Gray Eagle. I bought him cheap, too,
because of his color. He was a dappled gray. The Boston stock of horses
was just then becoming the rage, and gray was beginning to be an off
color for thoroughbreds. My horse was a real beauty. He had been trained
on the track, and from a dead stand would spring twenty-two feet the
first bound. But he was thoroughly broken and tractable, though he had
more style than a peacock, and when prancing and careering, though not
pulling five pounds on the bit, he looked as though in a moment he would
imitate Elijah's chariot and take to the clouds.
"'As the hour for the review approached I mounted my horse and took my
position, as assigned, beside the Governor.
"'I was quietly conversing with him and with our Brigadier-General, when
a runaway team, attached to an open carriage in which were two ladies,
dashed past us.
"'What followed was instinct. I gave Gray Eagle both rein and spur. In a
few seconds he was beside the running horses. I sprang from his back
upon the back of the near carriage horse, gathered the inside reins of
the team, drew the heads of the two horses together and brought them to
a standstill only a few feet from the bluffs, which any one from that
city will remember, and over which the team would have dashed in a
moment more.
"'People gathered around instantly, took the horses in hand and helped
the ladies from the vehicle. Being relieved, I caught and remounted my
horse, took my place and the review proceeded.
"'After the review, I received a note from the Governor asking me to
dine with him that evening.
"'I accepted, supposing the invitation was due to my Mexican record.
Judge my surprise, then, when going to the Governor's mansion, I was
shown into the parlor, and, on being presented to the Governor's wife
and her beautiful unmarried sister, in a moment found myself being
overwhelmed by the grateful thanks of the two ladies, learning for the
first time, from their lips, that they were the ladies I had rescued.
"'Of course, after that, I was a frequent visitor at the house, and in a
few months the young lady became my wife.'
"His story was told with an air of such modest candor and at the same
time with such dramatic effect, that what might have seem improbable or
singular about it, had it been differently related, was not thought of
at the time. The old man was a real hero for a brief moment at least.
"When, later, we knew the Colonel had never been in the Mexican war or
any other war; that he had never been married; that if he had ever
witnessed a military review it was from a perch on a fence or tree; that
he had never possessed four thousand or four hundred dollars with which
to buy a horse, and that his oldest acquaintances did not believe that
he had ever been on a horse's back, still, while the admiration for the
man was somewhat chilled, there was no difference of opinion as to the
main fact, which was that as a gigantic and dramatic liar, on merit, he
was entitled to the post of honor on a day when the Ananiases of all the
world were passing in review.
"Old and middle-aged men in the West will remember the delightful
letters, which Lieut. B., under the _nom de plume_ of 'Ching Foo,' used
to write to the Sacramento _Union_. Once in the presence of Colonel
Jensen these letters were referred to as masterpieces. The Colonel
smiled significantly and said:
"'They were delicious letters, truly. Take him all in all, Ching Foo was
the most intelligent Chinaman I ever saw. He cooked for me three years
in California. I taught him reading and writing. I reckon he would have
been with me still, but the early floods in '54 washed out my bed-rock
flume in American River and I had to break up my establishment. I had a
ton of gold in sight in the river bed, but next morning the works were
all gone and with them $125,000 which I had used in turning the river.'
"One day an Ohio man and a Tennessee man engaged in a warm dispute over
the relative excellencies of the respective State houses in Ohio and
Tennessee. Finally they appealed to Colonel Jensen for an opinion. The
Colonel, with his sovereign air, said to the Ohio man:
"'You are wrong, Tom. I had just completed the State house at Columbus,
when I was sent for to go and make the plans and superintend the
construction of the State house at Nashville. It would have been strange
if I had not made a great many improvements over the Ohio structure, in
preparing plans for the one to be erected in Tennessee.'
"The Colonel was a bungling carpenter by trade, and never built anything
more complicated or imposing than a miner's cabin.
"One more anecdote and I will positively stop. Two neighbors had a law
suit in Washoe City. One was an honest man, the other a scoundrel. As is
the rule in Nevada, both the plaintiff and defendant testified. The
defendant denied point blank the testimony of the plaintiff. It was
plain that one or the other had committed terrible perjury. Some other
witnesses were called, the case was closed and the jury retired to
consider upon a verdict. But how to decide was the question. Which was
the honest man and which the scoundrel?
"At last one juror hit upon a happy thought. He said:
"Gentlemen, did you notice closely the last witness for the defendant?
His hair was white as snow, his body bent, his steps were feeble and
tottering. That man has already one foot in the grave; he will not
survive another month. Surely a man in his condition would tell the
truth.' The argument seemed logical and the reasoning sound. The verdict
was unanimous for the defendant.
"No case ever showed clearer the 'infallibility' of a jury. The witness
was Colonel Jensen. The defendant was the perjurer, and all the Colonel
knew of the case was what the defendant had, that morning, out behind a
hay corral, drilled him to know and to swear to, for a five-dollar
piece.
"The Colonel has gone now to join his ancestors on the other side. In
the old orthodox days there would not have been the slightest doubt as
to who his original ancestor was, or of the temperature of his present
quarters, but who knows?
"I only know that, while upon the earth, he was one of the few men whom
I have known that I believed was a native genius; a very Shakespeare (or
Bacon) in language; a Michael Angelo in coloring; a colossal,
all-embracing, magnificent, measureless liar."
"He was a good one, sure," said Carlin.
"He was a bad one, sure," remarked Ashley.
Then Brewster, taking up the theme, said: "He had a chronic disease,
that was all. He was as much of an inebriate in his way as ever was
drunkard a slave to alcohol. He had great vanity and self-esteem and a
flowery imagination. These were chastened or disciplined by no moral
attributes. He could no more help being what he was than can the raven
avoid being black."
"There was bad stock in the mon," said Corrigan. "He should have been
strangled in his cradle; for sich a mon is forever making bitterness in
a neighborhood, and is not fit to live."
"Boys," asked the Colonel, "do you believe that lying is ever
justifiable?"
Brewster, Harding and Ashley simultaneously answered "No."
"It depends," said Carlin.
"Hardly iver," said Corrigan.
Miller thought it might be necessary.
"For one's self, no; for another, perhaps yes," said the Professor.
"That is just the point," remarked the Colonel. "Let me tell you about a
case which transpired right here in this city. There were two men whose
first names were the same, while their surnames were similar. Their
given names were Frank and their surnames were, we will say, Cady and
Carey, respectively. Cady was a young married man. He had a beautiful
wife, a lovely little girl three years of age and a baby boy a year old
at the time I am speaking of. Carey was five or six years younger and
single. They were great friends, notwithstanding that Cady was pretty
fast while Carey was as pure-hearted a young man as ever came here.
More, he was devotedly attached to a young lady who was a close friend
of the wife of Cady. The young couple were expecting to be married in a
few weeks at the time the incident happened which I am going to relate.
"Cady was wealthy, while Carey was poor and a clerk in a mercantile
establishment. One day Cady said to his friend: 'Carey, I bought some
Con. Virginia stock to-day at $55. I have set aside eighty shares for
you. Some people think it is going to advance before long. If it does
and there is anything made on the eighty shares it shall be yours.'
Sixty days later the stock struck $463, when it was sold and the bank
notified Carey that there was a deposit of $32,000 to his credit. When
this stroke of good fortune came the youth hastened to tell the good
news to the girl of his heart, and before they separated their troth was
plighted and the marriage day fixed.
"During this delicious period, one morning Carey stepped into the outer
office of Cady and was horrified to hear from behind the glass screen
which separated the inner office from the main office the wife of Cady
upbrading her husband in a most violent manner. Her back was to the
front of the building. She was holding a letter in her hand, and as
Carey entered the building she began and read the letter through, and
wound up by crying: 'Who is this Marie who is writing to you and
directing the letters simply to Frank, Postoffice box 409? You are
keeping a private box, are you? But you are too careless by half; you
left this letter in your overcoat pocket, and when I went to sew a
button on the coat this morning it fell out, so I could not help but see
it.'
"Just then Cady looked up and saw Carey through the glass petition. The
latter with a swift motion touched a finger to his lips and shook his
head, which in perfect pantomime said: 'Don't give yourself away,' then
in a flash slipped noiselessly from the building.
"Once outside, he hastily, on a leaf of his memorandum book, wrote to
the postmaster that if he called with a lady and asked what his
postoffice box was to answer 409; to at once take out anything that
might be in the box, and if he had time to seal and stamp an envelope,
direct it to him and put it in 409, and he added: 'Don't delay a
moment.'
"Calling a bootblack who was standing near, he gave him the note and a
silver dollar, bade him run with the letter to the postoffice and to be
sure to deliver the note only to some of the responsible men there, to
the postmaster himself if possible.
"Then, with a good deal of noise, he rushed into his friend's place of
business again.
"As he entered he heard his friend's wife, through her sobs, saying:
'Oh, Frank! I should have thought that respect for our children would
have prevented this, even if you have no more love for me.'
"Carey dashed through the sash door, seemed taken all aback at seeing
Cady's wife in the office. In great apparent confusion he advanced and
said: 'Excuse me, Cady, but I am in a little trouble this morning. I was
expecting a letter last night directed simply to my first name and my
postoffice box. It has not come, and as you and myself have the same
first name, I did not know but the mistake might have been made at the
postoffice.' He was apparently greatly agitated and unstrung and seemed
particularly anxious about the letter.
"Cady replied: 'With my mail last night a letter came directed as you
say. I opened and glanced over it, thought it was some joke, put it in
my pocket and thought no more about it until my wife brought it in this
morning. Somehow she does not seem satisfied at my explanation.'
"At this the lady sprang up, and, confronting the young man, said:
'Frank Carey, what is the number of your box in the postoffice?'
"With steady eyes and voice he answered; '409.' The woman was dumfounded
for a moment, but she quickly rallied.
"'Come with me,' she said. The young man obeyed. She took her way
directly to the postoffice. Arriving, she tapped at the delivery window
and asked if she could see the postmaster in person. The boy delivered
the message and in a moment the door opened and the pair were ushered
into the private office of the postmaster. Hardly were they seated when
the lady said abruptly: 'We have come, Judge, on a serious business.
Will you be kind enough to tell me the number of this gentleman's
postoffice box?'
"The postmaster looked inquiringly at Carey, who nodded assent. Then in
response to the lady, he replied: 'I do not exactly remember. I will
have to look at the books.'
"He passed into the main office, but returned in a moment with a petty
ledger containing an alphabetical index. He opened at the 'C's' and
read: 'Frank Carey, box 409; paid for one quarter from Jan----'
Continuing, he said: 'I remember now, Frank, you hired the box about the
time you realized on Con. Virginia, and the quarter has about a month
more to run.'
"This he said with an imperturbable, and incorruptible face, and with an
air of mingled candor and business which it was charming to behold.
"The lady was nearly paralyzed, but she made one more effort.
"'There can be no possible mistake in what you have told me, Judge?' she
asked.
"'I think not the least in the world,' was the reply, and, rising, he
continued: 'Please step this way.' He led the way to the boxes, and
there over 409 was the name of Frank Carey. More, there was a sprinkle
of dust over it, showing that it had been there for some time.
"'By the way,' said the postmaster, you have a letter, Frank. It must be
a drop letter, as no mail has been received this morning.' He took the
letter from the box in a manner so awkward that the lady could not help
seeing that it had evidently been directed in a disguised female hand,
and that the superscription was simply 'Frank, P. O. Box 409.'
"Arrived again in the private office, the lady said to the young man, in
a latitude 78-degree north tone, 'I see, sir, you have a very extensive,
and I have no doubt, very _select_ correspondence.'
"At the same time she caught up her skirts--the ladies wore long skirts
that year--and, with a 'I thank you, Judge; good morning,' started
toward the door. As she passed Carey she drew close to the wall, as
though for her robes to touch the hem of his garments would be
contamination, and passed haughtily into the street.
"When she had disappeared Carey sank into a chair and drew a long breath
of relief, while the grave face of the ancient 'Nasby' unlimbered and
warmed into a smile which shone like virtue's own reward.
"'Lord! Lord!' he said, 'but it was a close shave. I had just got things
fixed when you came. And was not she mad though? She looked like the
prospectus of a cyclone. But tell me, Carey, am I not rather an
impressive liar, when, in the best interests of domestic peace, my duty
leads me into that channel?'
"Frank answered, 'As Mark Twain told those wild friends of his who
perpetrated the bogus robbery upon him, "You did a marvelous sight too
well for a mere amateur." But now, Judge, mum is the word about this
business.'
"'Mum is the word,' was the reply.
"That evening Carey called at the home of his betrothed. A servant
showed him into the parlor, but for the first time the young lady did
not put in an appearance. In her stead her mother came. The elder lady,
without sitting, in a severe tone said: 'Mr. Carey, my daughter has
heard something to-day from Mrs. Cady. Until you explain that matter to
my satisfaction my daughter will beg to decline to see you.'
"Carey replied: 'Since your daughter has heard of the matter, it does
concern _her_, and I shall very gladly explain to her; but I cannot to
any one else, not even to you.'
"'You could easily impose upon a silly girl who is in love, but I am no
silly girl, and am not in love, especially not with _you_, and you will
have to explain to _me_,' said the lady.
"'My dear madam,' said Carey, mildly, 'in one sense there is nothing in
all that gossip. In another sense so much is involved that I would not
under the rack whisper a word of it to any soul on earth save she who
has promised to give her happiness into my keeping. When your daughter
becomes my wife your authority as mother in our home shall never be
questioned by me. Until then my business is not with you.'
"'It is not worth while to prolong this discussion,' said the old lady,
excitedly. 'If you have nothing more to say, I will bid you good
evening.'
"'Good evening, madam,' said Carey, and went out into the night.
"A year later the young lady married the wildest rake on the Comstock,
but Carey never married, and died last year.
"When Cady saw how things were going, he went to Carey and said: 'Carey,
let me go and explain to those ladies. It kills me to see you as your
are.'
"'It will never do,' was the reply. 'They would not keep the secret,
especially the elder one never would. It would kill her not to get even
with your wife. It worried me a little at first, for I feared that ----
might grieve some and be disappointed; but she is all right. I watched
her covertly at the play last night. She will forget me in a month. She
will be married within the year. We will take no chance of having your
home made unhappy. Dear friend, it is all just as I would have it.'"
"It was too bad," said Harding.
"That Carey was a right noble fellow," was Wright's comment.
Miller thought if he had been right game he would have seen that girl,
old woman or no old woman.
"He was punished for his falsehood. He had to atone for his own and his
friend's sins," was Brewster's conclusion.
"O, murther! I think he had a happy deliverance from the whole family
intoirely," said Corrigan.
Carlin, addressing Brewster, said: "You say he was punished for the sins
of himself and his friend; how do you dispose of the wickedness of the
postmaster?"
"Possibly," was the response, "he is wicked by habit, and it may be he
is being reserved for some particular judgment."
"All that I see remarkable about Carey's case," said Ashley, "is that he
made the money in the first place. Had that stock been carried for me,
the mine would have been flooded the next week and my work would have
been mortgaged for a year to come to make good the loss."
"It was a hard case, no doubt," said Strong, "but I think with Corrigan,
that the punishment was not without its compensations."
"He had his mirage and it was worse than wild Injuns, was it not,
Wright?" asked Corrigan.
"Or worse, Barney," said Wright, "than a blacksmith, a foine mon and a
mon of property."
"O, murther, Wright," said Corrigan; "stop that. There go the whistles.
Let us say good night."