“I was always a good mimic,” he replied, “and I found my talents lay
in that direction. I created a new business, that of story-teller,
imitator of celebrated people, and of sleight-of-hand performer, all
without the aid of costumes, depending solely on my facial expression
to give point to the humor. Nature had certainly tried to make amends
for her frowns by giving me facial power,—the power to smile away dull
care. There is a niche in life for everyone, a place where one belongs.
Society is like a pack of cards. Some members of it are kings and
others are knaves, while I,—I discovered that I was the little joker.”
Mr. Wilder is a bubbling fountain of wit, whose whimsicalities are
no less entertaining to himself than to his hearers. As he quaintly
expresses it, they are “ripples from the ocean of my moods which have
touched the shore of my life.” His disposition is so cheery that
children and dogs come to him instantly. Eugene Field has the same
trait.