IX

Six months ago an astonishing piece of news was revealed to me.

Astonishing at least to me, though Josephine says that I need not have

been astonished had I kept my eyes open, inasmuch as the affair was

going on under my very nose, and everybody in town except myself knew

how it was likely to end. I refer to my daughter Josie's engagement.

Yesterday I gave her away--a euphemistic way of stating that she was

torn from my arms--to a young man of whom I know next to nothing,

though I hear on all sides that he is a very nice fellow, which might

mean that he is utterly without principle and an easy-going, idle,

selfish hound. In appearance he does not seem to me to differ from

nine-tenths of the young men who in the course of the last five years

have said, "How d'y do?" or "Good-by" to me (rarely more or less) when

they have run across me in my own drawing-room. My wife declares that

he has a spiritual face, and that he reminds her of me at the same age,

which I regard as an ingenious attempt to prepossess me in his favor.

She has informed me also that Josie is over head and ears in love with

him and he with Josie, a predicament on his part which I am not

surprised at; and I suppose that I am bound to admit that my daughter

is justified in her infatuation for him, if he resembles me at thirty.

Plainly, I have become an old cynic by reason of the loss of my dear

Josie. I realize that I have been like a bear with a sore head ever

since the ceremony. As for Josephine, she has been mooning about the

house all day in a state of chronic tearfulness. The responsibility of

the bride's appearance and the wedding collation kept her nerved until

everything was over. Last evening she collapsed and fell asleep in my

arms, sobbing like a child.

His name is James Perkins. I have been doing my best for several

months to call him "Jim," as everybody else does, instead of "James,"

or "Perkins," and yesterday I succeeded twice in doing so. I had had

three glasses of champagne. He is an architect, and I understand from

Josie that he has already made his mark in the erection of a church,

two school-houses, and a town-hall in the suburbs, which I have

promised her to go and see. It seems that a week before he had the

impertinence to offer himself to her he received word that his plans

for a vast railroad station in one of the large Western cities had been

accepted. But for this untoward circumstance, my dear Josie would

still be the light of my house, and I should not be gnawing at my

mustache in the throes of misanthropy.

Jim is slight and not very tall, and he does not look especially

strong. They tell me that he has worked very hard, and that he has won

his way purely by his own energy and talent. He does not smoke, which

rather prejudiced me against him, in spite of the fact that I believe

we should all be the healthier if we did not use tobacco. This, as

Josephine would say, only shows what an inconsistent creature I am.

And I a philosopher, too! But I said at the outset that I was not a

real philosopher. Josie met James--I beg his pardon, Jim--at her

coming-out party, and it seems that he fell in love with her at first

sight. If, now, somebody had fallen in love at first sight with my

sister-in-law, Julia, how much more satisfactory it would have been all

round. But that is the way of the world; Julia was overlooked and my

girl taken, to my miserable discomfiture. Jim was one of the youths

without fathers and mothers whom you see at every large entertainment.

That is to say, my wife had never heard of his father and mother at the

time she invited him, though they prove to have been very respectable

people. Indeed, we were all of us struck by the dignified appearance

which his family as a whole presented at the wedding. Alas! I realize

already that when I have got used to the idea that anybody is to have

her, I shall be thoroughly happy in the thought that I have given her

away to such a decent fellow, a man with self-respect and principles, a

man of industry and capacity, and one, too, who is ready to drink his

glass of champagne like the rest of the world--although he does not

smoke. I have let my grudge have free scope, and all I have been able

to rake up against him is that he shakes his head when I offer him a

pipe or a cigar. In my secret soul I am egregiously proud of him

already, and but for my wounded sensibilities I could dance with joy

over the reflection that he is likely to make her perfectly happy. And

yet all this talk of marrying and giving in marriage has broken my

spirit.

"Since it had to be someone," I said by way of consolation to Josephine

when we awoke this morning, "it's extremely fortunate that she did not

fall in love with a dashing soldier, who would carry her off to a

barracks on the frontier of a Sioux reservation, or a swashing sailor,

who would leave her at home while he went on long cruises, or a

splendid-looking creature, with a sonorous voice, who would drink

himself into his grave or else make her miserable by devoting himself

to another woman. Some of the nicest fellows I ever knew have made

their wives thoroughly wretched. When you think that there really

isn't anything very wonderful to look at about--er--Jim, that is,

anything to appeal especially to the romantic side of a girl, I think

it's very greatly to Josie's credit that she should have chosen him.

Many girls might have overlooked his solid attractions and gone in for

a Jim dandy of a chap who wasn't worth his salt."

My wife looked a little blank over this philosophic statement, then she

glanced up at me with a roguish smile and said: "You seem to forget,

dear, that I accepted you."

"True enough," I answered, merrily. "I dare say I wasn't a trifle less

commonplace-looking than son-in-law. Besides we both have spiritual

faces."

"You should give me and Josie credit for being able to see below the

surface," said my darling, fondly. "A soldier or a sailor, or a

splendid-looking creature such as you describe, is delightful at a

party; but gold buttons, or even a very handsome mustache, don't go far

nowadays toward blinding a sensible girl to the fact that she will have

to pass all her days with the man she chooses. You know, dear, that

you and I have never believed that marriage is a lottery. We were sure

of each other beforehand. So are Josie and Jim."

"Thank God that it is so; and may he, darling, grant them such

happiness as he has given us."

"Amen! And, Fred, he--James" (Josephine prefers to call him James; she

thinks Jim undignified) "is not really homely. He isn't an Adonis, of

course, and doesn't impress one especially at first glance, but anyone

who looks at him twice can see that he is very intelligent, and that he

has the appearance of a gentleman."

"Right you are, my dear. Perhaps I was unconsciously comparing him

with the young man whom I met strolling with your other daughter not

many days ago."

"With Winona? When?" she asked with a start.

"About dusk."

"No, no, on what day?"

"Let me see. It must have been a week ago yesterday."

"Who was he? Why didn't you tell me before?"

"He was tall, handsome, and impressive-looking," I replied, with quiet

deliberation.

"What _do_ you mean, Fred? How slow you are. Do go on."

"As to telling you before, I thought it best to wait until you had one

of your girls off your mind. As to being slow, I have told you all

there is to tell already. I met Winona about dusk a week ago yesterday

in the company of a tall, handsome, impressive-looking young man whom I

had never seen in my life. I don't know where they were going or where

they came from or what it meant. I hope to see him again so as to say

to him, 'Young man, beware; I have lost one daughter, and I am in no

mood to be trifled with.' I dare say," I continued, nonchalantly,

"that if you were to keep your eyes open you would be able to see what

is evidently going on under your very nose, my dear."

Josephine did not heed this taunt; she was thinking hard.

"I wonder who it could have been," she murmured, presently. "I have

noticed lately that Winona has acted as though she had something on her

mind; but I had assumed it might be because her patients were falling

off, owing to the death of that woman with consumption who could not be

persuaded that she had nothing the matter with her. It would be a

great relief to my mind to see the dear girl happily married. What did

he look like, Fred? Are you certain you have never seen him before?

just think: you're sure it wasn't Mr. Dyer or Mr. Benson? One might

call either of them tall, handsome, and impressive-looking."

"I have told you everything I know, Josephine," I retorted, fiercely.

"I don't know the man from Adam. I should think," I added, with a

sepulchral outburst, "that after what happened yesterday, Josephine,

you wouldn't be in so much haste to many the only girl we have left."

"Excuse me, Fred," she said, gently. "It was cruel of me to suggest

such a thing so soon. And yet I suppose we must be prepared for

something of the kind sooner or later. You know you have constantly

expressed the hope that neither of them would hang fire like dear

Julia."

"Oh, I know it. I'm a selfish brute, Josephine," I answered, beginning

to hone my razor with the desperate air of one who would fain cut his

own throat as the simplest solution of the problem of living.

And only six months ago the horizon of my domestic happiness looked so

clear and comforting. Not even a cloud of the traditional smallness of

a man's hand marred its serenity. Little Fred was pegging away at

Leggatt & Paine's with commendable steadiness all day, and, though he

was apt to dance all night by way of making up for it, I was comforted

in my solicitude regarding his health by the recollection that I used

to do the same when I was his age, my spiritual countenance to the

contrary notwithstanding. Besides, Leggatt has always a good word to

say for him, and evidently still keeps an eye on him, notwithstanding

that Fred has ceased to kick foot-ball and limps no longer. To be

sure, I have been beguiled once or twice by the dear boy's assurance

that I would make my fortune, if I would follow his advice, into buying

investment securities the market price of which at present is far less

than I paid for them. However, the financial misinformation imparted

by one's own flesh and blood is more easily forgiven than that which

emanates from one's regular broker. Besides, there is the chance that

the stocks will come up again some day or other. Fred says they are

sure to. Everything considered he was, and indeed he still is, doing

remarkably well, and he is such an honest-looking, manly fellow that

Josephine says she wonders all the girls do not fall in love with him.

His present safety seems to lie in the fact that he is in love with all

the girls and not with any particular one, a condition of affairs which

I trust will last until he is properly able to support a wife. I

remember that before I fell in love with Josephine--well, no matter. I

have almost forgotten their names and should have to ask my darling to

tell me who they were, and all about it. I have never really loved

anybody but her. God bless her.

Then there was David--again I must admit there still _is_ David--whose

rapid success in his adopted profession and whose general steadiness of

character have been a source of perpetual gladness to us. He still

causes his mother some concern by his utter disinclination for the

society of young women, but I know of no other fault with which to

reproach him. His bacillic pets no longer have a domicile under the

paternal roof. He has a laboratory of his own downtown where,

doubtless, they thrive and multiply. But his special interest at

present is electricity. This has already brought him reputation and

money by virtue of an appliance in the storage battery line, the

details of which I do not precisely understand. Although Little Fred

shook his head gravely at the mention of the word "patent," I was

imprudent enough to follow my scientific son's lead to the tune of

several thousand dollars, the happy consequence of which seemed to be

that Josephine and I would be able to have our jaunt to Japan whenever

the spirit moved us. That was before I counted the cost of marrying a

daughter.

Thirdly, there was that daughter, a dear, sweet girl, who seemed to me

perfectly content in her enjoyment of the social pleasures in which she

was so well adapted to shine. I regarded her as still a mere child,

and though youths came and went, never for one moment did I suspect

that she was meditating the blow which she has since inflicted upon me,

until Josephine told me one evening, with a mysterious, agitated air,

that Mr. James Perkins wished to see me in the library. He saw me, and

all the consolation I derived from our interview was the impression

that he considered that he was acting generously in asking my consent

to the match, and that custom would have justified him in letting me

hear the news of my daughter's engagement elsewhere and in seeing me

further, as the phrase is, before he saw me at all. Remembering as I

did that I regarded the views of Josephine's father concerning our

little matter twenty-five years ago as a matter of mere detail, only

think how far I fell short of the temper of a real philosopher in

allowing myself to become violently angry, and to pace the library

until one o'clock in the morning after my would-be son-in-law had left

it! An especially futile proceeding, as Josephine subsequently

remarked, inasmuch as, by my own admission, I had behaved like a

veritable lamb in his presence and had told him blandly that if he and

my daughter were agreed upon the subject I had not a word to say

against it.

This was the first break in our peaceful, happy domestic circle. Do

you know what the period of an idolized daughter's engagement seems to

the disdained and discarded husband and father? He is too shy and

dignified to peep at the billing and cooing through the crack of the

drawing-room door like the younger members of the family; consequently,

the six months which intervene between the making of the match and its

consummation, impress him as a Sahara of tedious confabulation between

the pair of turtle doves as to whether they have too many salt-cellars

for their marital needs, and whether the exchange of a third set of

oyster-forks without the knowledge of the donor would be a violation of

the highest code of ethics. Presents, presents, nothing but presents,

of every kind and degree, from the solid silver tea-set of exquisitely

fluted pattern to the excruciatingly ugly bit of _bric-a-brac_ which

has captivated the undiscerning eye of some dear friend. After every

ring at the door-bell appears the maid with a fresh parcel wrapped in

snow-white paper fastened with a dainty ribbon, and on each occasion my

dear Josie's eyes sparkle more excitedly as she clutches it and frees

it from its caparisons. And ever and anon I am struck by the fact that

she is growing thin and pale. I mention it to Josephine, but she tells

me that girls always get peaked before their weddings, and that she

herself was thin as a rail at the time she married me. I get no

sympathy anywhere. My sole connection with the matter is that I am to

give the bride away.

I did so yesterday in the presence of our entire social acquaintance

and their dressmakers, most of whom I subsequently entertained at a

mid-day collation, where I shook hands with a vast array of young

people whom I did not know, and tried to keep up my spirits by asking

my old friends to take wine with me. It was after the third glass that

the spirit moved me to address my new son-in-law as "Jim." An hour

later I saw the young rascal carry off my Josie in a carriage with an

air as though he owned her, and I could have strangled him. At the

same moment I was unpleasantly conscious that a quantity of rice hurled

by an enthusiastic miss of nineteen was going down my back. I made a

mad rush forward like a bull; I don't know exactly what I had in mind

to do, but I was bunted aside by a youth who, I am sure, could never

have had a father and mother. He held an old shoe in his hand, which

he proceeded to cast with such unerring aim that it landed on the top

of the bridal coach, to the infinite delight of everybody except

myself. I could see no especial humor in it, but Josephine tells me

that we underwent precisely the same experience at our own wedding and

thought it amusing. I perceive that it makes considerable difference

in this world whose ox is gored, or, to put it more accurately, whether

one is carrying off some other man's daughter or is being robbed of his

own.

And now to crown all, I am haunted by the vision of Winona and that

tall, handsome, impressive-looking young man in whose company I met her

the other day about dusk. In saying to Josephine that I had told her

all, I did not speak the truth in a certain sense. I did tell her all

I knew, but I did not confide to her all that I suspected. I did not

reveal to her that at the moment my eye fell upon them my only

remaining daughter was gazing up into the face of her male companion

with that peculiar look of absorbed attention which has so often

wrought the ruin of Platonic friendship. It entered like iron into my

parental soul, already quivering with its recent wound, and I murmured

to myself, "Oh, my prophetic soul, my second son-in-law!"

Winona too! Two years have passed since I granted her permission to

practise Christian Science, and from that time to this she has gone

regularly every day to her office to minister to the patients who have

applied to her for treatment. I am unable to state whether these have

been many or few; to be frank, I have been amazed that she has had any

at all. But I am sure that she has had some, and that she claims to

have cured several sufferers from chronic disorders whom the regular

practitioners had declared incurable. Or, more accurately, I should

say that she has demonstrated that there was nothing the matter with

them save a superabundance of error in their souls. I have learned,

too, that she has experienced some dismal failures, notably in the case

of the woman with consumption, referred to by Josephine, who, as Winona

explained to us, would have got well had she only been able to realize

that she was getting better. There was also a patient suffering from

mental derangement who grew crazier and crazier, until she was finally

carried off by her friends, whereas, as Winona sweetly explained to us,

if they had only allowed her to remain a little longer she would have

been completely cured, because in Christian Science, as in nature,

darkness is apt to be most signal just before the dawn. This diagnosis

of the case struck me as highly reasonable. Indeed, I have constantly

said to myself that, provided the dear child managed to escape

indictment, I had every reason to be contented that she was living up

to her lights to the top of her bent. So altogether you can see that

my home was a happy one, and that I desired no change.

My two sons-in-law! I see them in my mind's eye walking on either side

of me, the one short and slim with a spiritual countenance; the other

tall, handsome, and impressive-looking. Their main object in life

seems to be to help me on with my overcoat, and to guide my senile

steps over street-crossings, though Dr. Meredith tells me that I am

good for twenty years yet, and that I haven't an unsound organ in my

body. They disagree with me in politics so politely that I am fool

enough to open my best wine when they come to dinner. They dog my

footsteps; they silently pass judgment upon me, and I shall never be

able to shake them off until I am dead. Why did they come to worry us?

We were so happy before we knew of their existence. Out upon them both!

Alas, poor philosopher! Shall I begrudge to my darlings the happiness

that I have known in the too swiftly fleeting years of our married

life? Love has come to claim my flesh and blood even as it claimed me

and Josephine a quarter of a century ago never to loose us from his

silken chains. Love the immortal, the transfigurer of souls, the

unsealer of eyes which in vain have sought the light which streams from

eternity, thou hast come to work anew the old, old story, even though

thy coming rends my heart-strings. Down, selfish, stubborn fumes of

senile cynicism! I bow to the law of life. Come to my embrace, O

sons-in-law; I love you, I bid you welcome to my hearth, even though

you regard me as one for whom the grave is yawning! Listen how bravely

I call Jim--Jim--Jim, a thousand times Jim. And you, the other one,

whose name I do not know, but whose fell purpose I have detected, when

your name is divulged to me I will call that too.

X

Said Josephine to me some three months ago: "Fred, we shall have been

married twenty-five years on the twenty-first of next November. We

ought to celebrate it in some way."

"How better than by having a silver wedding?"

"Because so many people would feel obliged to give us silver," she

replied. "I am perfectly willing, Fred, that people, should send me

flowers when I'm dead, but I will not have them send silver to my

silver wedding."

"The simplest way then would be to tell them not to. Put in the corner

of the invitation the letters A. S. W. B. S. B. 'All silver will be

sent back.'"

"This is a serious subject, Fred. I should like very much to have our

best friends with us on the anniversary, if I could feel sure that they

wouldn't regard it as a tax. We all give willingly when people are

married, but it does seem rather a grind, as the children used to say,

to have to go out and buy something else a quarter of a century later,

when you know that the senile old couple will be able to use whatever

you get only a few years at the farthest, and that then it will be

snapped up or melted up by their children or grandchildren. Mind you,

dear, I should often be glad to give silver myself, if I could afford

it; but I am looking at the matter from the point of view of the world

at large. Do you know," she added, "that isn't at all a bad idea of

yours. We could put on the cards 'No silver,' just as they put 'No

flowers.' It was quite a brilliant suggestion, Fred."

"There are always fools, though, who will disregard such a notice just

from sheer contrariness."

"Oh, if we once gave them warning, and they chose to send

notwithstanding, it would be their own fault," exclaimed Josephine,

buoyantly. "I should hope there would be a few such people, for I

should be very glad to have more silver. It's not that I object to the

silver, but because I wish to give a loophole of escape to the people

who wouldn't send it unless they felt obliged to. I should expect

surely to receive quite a lot in one way or another. And it would be

convenient, love, for Winona did not get any too much when she was

married. Everything ran to furniture and books, and out of the little

silver she received their were seven large salad forks, all of which

had her initials on them, so that she couldn't change them."

There are people who refrain from having their wills drawn on the score

that they would be likely to die if they did. While I have no sympathy

with this superstition, I must confess that a formal celebration of the

twenty-fifth anniversary of your wedding-day has always seemed to me to

savor of willingness to have your account with life audited, with a

view to being able to sink quietly and becomingly into your grave

whenever you were called. In view of the fact that, though each of us

has trifling ailments, neither of us is seriously disabled, it seemed a

little soon to be taking account of stock and talking of putting up the

shutters forever. Yet time's figures are not to be gainsaid, and

especially in the Land of Liberty people are not allowed to forget that

they are growing old even if they have no tall sons and daughters to

attest the fact. What boots it to protest that we feel as young as we

ever did? We might be allowed to say so unchallenged, provided we did

not try to act on the assumption, but the youths without parents and

the newly created species would soon bring us to our senses if we were

to assert ourselves in society so as to cause them the slightest

inconvenience. The middle-aged are allowed to drive and go to the

theatre, and are tolerated at weddings on the ground that they may have

given a wedding present, and at garden parties where there is no lack

of space, but their room is considered better than their company

everywhere else, in spite of the pretty speeches one sometimes hears as

to the charm of entertainments where all ages are gathered together,

and the glory of growing old gracefully as they do in England. I am

not complaining, for between you and me we wouldn't be hired to go to

one-tenth of the places to which we ought to be invited, so far as our

physical state is concerned; but it would be soothing to be asked

occasionally and not to be treated as though we were moribund, and

bidden only to Class Day spreads and to church weddings without a card

for the reception. Once in a while lately Josephine and I have taken

it into our heads to put in an appearance at the Assemblies, where,

though we had been respectfully and cordially received, it has been

evident to us that we were regarded as social Rip Van Winkles, and that

at least half the company were inquiring who in thunder we were, and

the remainder, who did know us, were wondering why in time we came.

A remark of Josephine's served to crystallize these reflections. "Do

you know, Fred, that I think on the whole we shall have a happier day

if we pass it quietly together, and simply have the children to dine.

So many of the people of whom we were fond at the time we were married

have passed away, that I am sure we should be appalled by the thinness

of the ranks when we began to reckon who are left. Besides, I don't

think that a notice not to bring silver would really protect the poor

wretches who didn't wish to bring any. It would seem too evidently to

mean that they needn't bring any unless they chose to, but that it

would be acceptable all the same, which would worry dreadfully those

who like to do whatever others do. Don't you think so? You see

everybody understands that nobody really objects to receiving silver.

Besides, it would involve no end of fuss, and we should be so occupied

with the arrangements that we should forget to pay any attention to

each other, so that it would be a dreary day to look back upon."

"Indeed, Josephine, I agree with you entirely," said I. "Unless such

affairs go off just right they are stiff and ghastly. People who are

bent on paying us a compliment will have an opportunity to come to our

funerals before very long."

"Not together, though. Oh, Fred, wouldn't it be the crowning thing of

all, after so much happiness, if we _could_ die at the same time and

never know what it was to miss each other!"

Although we are jointly and severally aware that the years have been

slipping away, and that our turns to bid farewell to this dear earth

may come any day now despite the fact that we feel young as ever, we

choose still to regard death as a shy visitor which is likely to prefer

others to us. I say to myself that people rarely die of rheumatism,

which is Josephine's only cross, and though pneumonia is a fell

destroyer, I know that Josephine is firmly convinced that the colds to

which I am subject never attack my lungs. Some day one of us will wake

up and miss the other, unless my darling's prayer that we be taken away

together be granted; but until we do, are we not happier for cherishing

the delusion that we are to be overlooked indefinitely?

Was it a delusion, too, which made my darling, as I helped her into our

top-buggy on the morning of our twenty-fifth anniversary, seem to me no

less beautiful than on the day when we plighted our troth at the altar?

Did she not wear the same sweet, trusting smile, the same noble look in

her dear eyes? I told her so, and she informed me that I was demented,

but I know she knew that I thought she had not changed, which I am sure

was enough for her even if Providence has dimmed my eyes. Yet I

maintain that I am right. She is a little stouter, of course; I can

see a wrinkle and a crow's foot here and there; and her hair is

grizzled. But to all intents and purposes she does not look a day

older.

It was a glorious morning; one of those mild, mellow days of the late

autumn, when unscientific people wag their heads and proclaim that the

climate is changing. There was scarcely a breath of wind, and the

landscape toward which our steady nag trotted sturdily wore a faint

atmosphere of saffron haze, as though the sunlight had been steeped in

the lees of the yellow foliage. And the day we were married there was

a driving snowstorm! Josephine had predicted so confidently that

history would repeat itself on our anniversary, that I think she was

rather disappointed when she awoke to find the sun shining and all the

elements at rest.

Our Pegasus scarcely needed the guidance of the reins. He knew where

we were going, and sped along with our comfortable if old-fashioned

top-buggy at a stylish yet self-respecting gait in keeping with the

dignity of the occasion. Our first destination was the attractive home

of our daughter Winona, who lives eight miles out of town, on a hundred

lordly acres. She has an adoring husband--the tall, handsome,

impressive-looking youth of my prophetic soul--and an adored infant six

months old. Her husband is a scion of one of the oldest and wealthiest

families in the city, and he has already made his mark in the political

field. He has been a Congressman, and his admirers are talking of

giving him the next party nomination--not my party (so you see that my

partiality does not proceed from political affiliation)--for Governor.

He is altogether a delightful young man; and as for the baby--.

Josephine broke in upon my rhapsodies over my grandson to say again,

for about the fiftieth time during the last year:

"To think, Fred, that though you saw him face to face, you never

realized that your magnificent unknown was merely Harold Bruce, whom

you had seen and shaken hands with under our roof time and time again.

I laugh whenever I think of it. You gave me a fright that day, when

you told me that you had run across Winona in the company of a

mysterious stranger, which I haven't fully recovered from yet, in spite

of the fact that everything has turned out so well. I dreamed that

night that she had married a professional gambler, who cut her throat

in the course of the first six months because the dear child refused to

aid and abet his nefarious schemes."

I replied, meekly, for the fiftieth time, something as to the agonies I

had undergone for several years in trying to distinguish one young man

from another when they had presented themselves at my house in

stereotyped evening dress and done me the honor of squeezing my hand so

hard that it was evidently in mistake for the hand of one of my girls.

But though my plea has a sardonic look, the words were spoken on this

day of days--even as Josephine's were spoken--with an air of gentle,

joyous reminiscence, as though, which was indeed the case, we found

delight in reviewing again and again the details of the great happiness

which has been granted to us in the marriage of our beautiful daughter

to one worthy of her.

We drove up the long avenue of tall, stately pines, and found her

sitting with her husband and their little hostage to fortune enjoying

the glorious mellow sunshine. The tiny monarch sat in his wagon

playing with a handful of autumn leaves which his father, with proud

paternal indifference to the immaculate surface of the silken carriage

blanket, had bestowed upon him. I now became the rival--the successful

rival--of the rustling autumn leaves. At my instigation his mother

freed him from his equipage and a little anxiously yet resolutely laid

him in my arms. I dandled him, I chirruped to him, I hummed to him, I

encouraged him to gnaw my watch and to claw my mustache, and presently

I began to toss him up in my hands and let him down again.

"Be careful, Fred," said Josephine, warningly; and I saw a shadow of

solicitude cross my daughter's face, though she was plainly doing her

best to seem unconcerned.

"Pooh," I answered. "I tossed up all my own babies in this way year in

and year out, and not one of them ever got a scratch. I'm not going to

begin by letting my precious grandson fall. Am I, little lamb?"

Thereupon, by way of showing what an adept I was in the art of baby

tossing, I shot him upward with self-confident impetus. To be sure, my

hands never really left him; they followed him as he ascended and as he

came down. Still, pride, the traditional precursor of falls, stood me

in bad stead, as it has stood others before me. Just as my precious

grandson was descending for the third time, one of my wrists seemed to

turn or give way, destroying thereby the admirable balance maintained

by my hands, and, quick as thought, Master Baby slipped from my grasp

and tumbled to the ground.

A horrible wail of mingled pain and fright, which wrung my

heart-strings, welled from the lips of the little lamb, as mother,

father, and grandmother rushed to raise him, knocking their own heads

together in the process. Harold, white as a sheet and with a

son-in-law's curse, as I imagined, trembling on his lips, succeeded in

picking him up. I could discern that my grandson's bald little head

was dabbled with blood. His mother evidently perceived the same, for

she cried, with the maternal fierceness akin to that which we are

taught to associate with a tigress protecting its young:

"Harold, give baby to me, and run for the doctor."

Why is it that at the most solemn and serious junctures of life

thoughts wholly irrelevant to the occasion will arise without our

bidding and thrust themselves into disconcerting prominence? I was not

positive that I had not maimed my grandson for life, though I agree

that his stentorian yell had relieved my solicitude a trifle.

Certainly, it was a moment of cruel torture, which should have

precluded every other consideration from my brain than concern for the

hapless infant and harsh self-reproach. And yet, as Winona finished

speaking, I made the imp of a reflection that she was sending for a

doctor in spite of Christian Science, and that the scales of

hallucination had fallen from her eyes at the wail of her own flesh and

blood. I was even tempted for an instant to hazard the suggestion

that, as there is no such thing as matter, there could be nothing the

matter with baby, but I bit my tongue in the throes of my disgust at my

involuntary levity.

Harold had sped down the avenue like an arrow, but scarcely had he

disappeared before the gory streak which dabbled my poor little

victim's brow, and which had seemed to my heated imagination almost an

arterial outburst, yielded to the whisk of a pocket-handkerchief.

Although he still yelled as if his heart would break, I was beginning

to reflect that, barring the very slight scratch on his forehead, he

was more frightened than hurt, when Josephine suggested, like a true

grandmother, the possibility of internal injuries.

My heart began to throb violently once more, and my mouth to taste dry,

but Winona came to my rescue.

"Mother," she exclaimed, in a tone of stern impressiveness, "it is of

the utmost importance for baby's sake that you shouldn't think anything

of the kind, for by thinking that he has any internal injuries you

might, or I might, or father might cause the darling to think the same.

We ought all to think that he has nothing the matter with him, and then

he will soon cease to cry. Come, let us all think of other things and

take our minds off baby. Don't even look at him."

We hastened to do as we were bid. I began to whistle cheerily, and

turning my back on my precious grandson, called Josephine's attention

to the beauties of the landscape in a series of philosophic utterances.

As for Winona herself, she was Spartan enough to restore the little lad

to his baby-carriage, and to busy herself in reflecting whether the

spot of blood on her robin's-egg blue morning wrapper would wash out.

Within three minutes more Master Baby had ceased to sob, and was

playing contentedly again with the rustling autumn leaves, when the

regular practitioner who, it seemed, lived close by, arrived with

Harold at full trot. Winona rose to receive him with a sweet smile,

and said, with her old serenity: "Baby is quite well, Doctor. We all

applied Christian Science principles to his condition, and he finds

that he was in error to suppose that he was really hurt. Thank you so

much for coming."

I was really too much overwhelmed by this speech to think of

criticising, but Josephine evidently suspected me of something of the

kind, for she pinched unmistakably my arm. As for the poor doctor, he

was smiling in a sickly sort of fashion when my son-in-law, who I am

glad to see is something of a philosopher himself, broke in with--

"Since there are no bones broken, the least thing you can do for us,

Doctor, is to stay to luncheon. I have opened a bottle of Clos Vougeot

in honor of the twenty-fifth anniversary of the wedding of my wife's

father and mother."

"Yes, do stay, Doctor," said Winona. "And I am very anxious that you

should come and vaccinate baby next week."

The doctor stayed and drank our health in a bottle of excellent wine,

and not a word was said about science of any kind by anyone. As we

drove home I remarked to Josephine that I had made two discoveries:

first, that I had lost my grip a little, especially in the matter of

babies, and secondly, that Christian Science was evidently a convenient

doctrine which could be put on or off like a glove as the occasion

demanded. Replying thereto my wife said: "Fred, I consider that you

had a marvellous escape with that baby, and that Winona bore it

splendidly. As for her silly nonsense, she is evidently in the

moulting state, and I prophesy that by the time baby has the measles we

shall hear no more of it. Harold seems to understand perfectly how to

handle her."

That evening we had our four children and our two sons-in-law to dine

with us. It was a state occasion. Josephine was in black velvet, and

wore the modest diamond star which I presented to her just before we

sat down to table. The girls looked superbly in their best plumage,

and it seemed to me, as I glanced to right and left from my patriarchal

position, that I had every reason to be proud of the four young men who

will control the destinies of the family when I am under the sod.

Proud not only of my two dear sons, but of my two dear sons-in-law,

who, though one is slight and short, and the other impressive-looking

and tall, and though both hold absurd political notions with which I

have not the slightest sympathy, have so completely won my heart by

their devotion to their wives and generally exemplary behavior, that I

cannot choose between them. I was in a jovial mood that evening, I can

tell you, and there was nothing excellent and rare in my limited but

not wholly featureless cellar which my four brave boys did not have an

opportunity to sample in honor of Josephine's and my twenty-fifth

anniversary.

Just after the cigars were finished there was a ring at the front

door-bell, and Sam Bangs came into the dining-room, rather to my

astonishment, for I knew that he had not been invited. "How d'y do,

Cousin Josephine; how d'y do, Cousin Fred. Many happy returns of the

day."

I observed that Sam spoke with a sort of mysterious blitheness, as

though he was under the influence of a joke, and I noticed that he

whispered something to my daughter Josie in answer to an inquiring

glance from her. Just then there was another ring at the door-bell,

and presently through the half-open dining-room doors I caught sight of

a host of people gayly trooping into the front hall.

"The Philistines are upon thee, Samson," exclaimed Sam Bangs, as I

started to rise in my astonishment. "Cousin Fred and Cousin Josephine,

a select party of your friends have taken the liberty of celebrating

your silver wedding, and are on the way to the drawing-room, where you

are requested to join them."

I was too dazed to speak; indeed, I was conscious of a lump in my

throat quite inconsistent with a philosophic temperament. Glancing at

my darling, I perceived that she was agitated, and straightway the

nightmare, which was at odds with her joy, as to how she was to provide

a suitable supper for these delightful visitors, took possession also

of my brain.

"Sam," she gasped, "how many are there?"

"All the world and his mother, including the youths without parents,"

answered her provoking relative with a beaming smile.

But Josie, who it seems was in the secret with Sam, and had managed

with him the whole affair, put her arms around her mother's neck and

whispered, "Don't believe him. Only people who really care for you are

coming. The supper is all provided for, mamma. I entered into a

conspiracy with your cook, and you needn't give a thought to anything."

We didn't; and we gave ourselves up to the occasion with a right good

will. As our daughter had said, only dear friends whose

congratulations were precious to us had been invited, and they, to the

number of about fifty, filled out our drawing-room wellnigh to

overflowing. Most of them had brought silver--shall I say alas! or

happily? Generally some pretty trifle which vouched for the sentiment

and taste of the gift horse without seeming to tax the poor animal's

resources. For instance, Mrs. Guy Sloane brought a silver butterfly

intended for a pen-wiper, and my old friend Sam Bolles a silver

paper-knife. Polly Flinders (I never remember her married name), who

has babies of her own, gave Josephine a silver whistle, ostensibly

intended for my grandson, and Gillespie Gore handed me, with his best

bow, an antique silver decanter label marked "Madeira." To be sure,

Mrs. Willoughby Walton did bring a splendid Indian silver necklace of

exquisite workmanship, which she hung about Josephine's neck with a

grand air, informing her that it had once belonged to a princess. As

Josephine said to me later, Mrs. Willoughby can afford to be munificent

if she chooses, and the necklace will just suit Winona's style of

beauty.

Supper was served at half-past ten, and no one would have guessed that

my darling had not ordered it. Our healths were drunk, and the healths

of our children and grandchild, and I was badgered finally into rising

and making a few scattering remarks by way of grateful acknowledgment.

An effort of this kind would be trying to the sensibilities of even a

real philosopher, and I will confess that, what with stammering and

repeating myself, I was uncertain for some moments whether I should be

able to make myself intelligible. At last, however, a sudden

reflection coming straight from my heart drew me from the slough of

renewing thanks and unsealed my lips.

"If," I said, "kind friends, you behold me in my fifty-fifth year a

contented man, tolerably well preserved, and with the lustre of true

happiness shining from my eyes; if you see around me brave sons and

fair daughters, with whose promise of usefulness as men and women you

are not ill-pleased; if, indeed, there is any good or any virtue in me

or mine, know as the source, the fountain-head, the inspiration of it

all, the sweetest woman in the whole wide world, there she stands, my

wife Josephine."

As I sat down amid a tumult of approbation, my darling's confused but

happy smile shone like a beam from heaven athwart my misty gaze. I see

it still as I sit here to-night, with her hand in mine in our silent

but joyous home. The mystery of mysteries, life! Why were we born?

We do not know. What is to become of us when we go hence? We have no

knowledge, but we live in hope. I live in hope. When the last trump

sounds, and the graves give up their dead; when the myriads of souls

are brought face to face with God to learn the solution of all

mysteries, I shall seek only for Josephine. That I may behold her then

is all that I ask of eternity. If I do not see her sweet face, it will

be not because I am perfect, but because I have sinned too much.