HE CATCHES A TROUT AND PRESENTS IT TO A LADY.
"Some achieve greatness; some have greatness thrust upon them." I
think I have achieved greatness. Of one thing I am convinced: that it
is only necessary to do some one thing _well_--as well or better than
any one else--in order to acquire distinction. The thing I do really
well--better than any living human being--is to blunder. I defy
competition. There are champion tight-rope dancers, billiard players,
opera singers, swindlers, base-ballists, candidates for the
Presidency. I am the champion blunderer. You remember the man who
asked of another, "Who is that coarse, homely creature across the
room?" and received for answer, "That creature is my wife!" Well, I
_ought_ to have been that man, although in that case I did not happen
to be. My compliments always turn out to be left-handed ones; all my
remarks, all my efforts to please are but so many never-ending
_faux-pas_.
As a general seeks to retrieve one defeat by some act of unparalleled
bravery, so had I sought to wipe out from the memory of the lovely
pair whom I escorted, my shameful failure to hang myself, by gallantly
pitching over the fence the fellow who had made himself too familiar
with the fairer of the two; and, as a _matter of course_, he turned
out to be her favorite brother.
He was a good-natured fellow, after all--a perfect gentleman; and when
I stammered out my excuses, saying that I had mistaken him for a
tramp, he laughed and shook hands with me, explaining that he was in
his fishing costume, and saying very handsomely that were his dear
sister ever in such danger of being insulted, he hoped some person as
plucky as I would be on hand to defend her. This was applying cold
cream to my smarting self-love. But it did not prevent me from
observing the sly glances exchanged between the girls, nor prevent my
hearing the little bursts of suppressed giggling which they pretended
were caused by the funny motions of the hay-cutter in a neighboring
field. So, as their brother could show them the way to Widow Cooper's,
I said good-morning rather abruptly. He called me back, however, and
asked if I would not like to join him on a fishing tramp in the
morning. I said "I would, and I knew all the best places."
Then we shook hands again, while the young ladies smiled like angels;
but I had not more than turned a bend in the road, which hid me from
view, than I heard such shrieks and screams of laughter as turned my
two ears into boiled lobsters for the remainder of the day.
But, spite of my burning ears, I could not get mad at those girls.
They had a right to laugh at me, for I had, as usual, made myself
ridiculous. I was head over ears in love with Blue-Eyes. The feeling I
had once cherished toward Belle Marigold, compared with my sudden
adoration of this glorious stranger, was as bean-soup to the condensed
extract of beef, as water to wine, as milk to cream, as mush to
mince-pie.
I do not think I slept a wink that night. My room was suffocating, and
I took a pillow, and crawled out on the roof of the kitchen, just
under my window, and stretched myself out on the shingles, and winked
back at the stars which winked at me, and thought of the bright,
flashing eyes of the bewitching unknown. I resolved to seek her
acquaintance, through her brother, and never, never to blunder again,
but to be calm and cool like other young men--calm, cool, and
persistent. It might have been four o'clock in the morning that I came
to this determination, and so soothing was it, that I was able to take
a brief nap after it.
I was awakened by young Knickerbocker, the lady's brother, tickling
the soles of my feet with a rake, and I started up with such violence
from a sound sleep, that I slipped on the inclined plane, rolled down
to the edge, and went over into a hogshead of rain-water just
underneath.
"A capital way to take your morning bath," smiled Knickerbocker.
"Come, Mr. Flutter, get out of that, and find your rod and line, and
come along. I have a good breakfast in this basket, which we will eat
in some dewy nook of the woods, while we are waiting for a nibble. The
early bird catches the worm, you know."
"I'll be with you in a moment," I answered with a blank grin,
determined to be cool and composed, though my sudden plunge had
somewhat dazed me; and scrambling out of the primitive cistern, I
regained the roof by means of a ladder standing against a cherry-tree
not far away.
Consoling myself with the idea that this early adventure was an
_accident_ and not a _blunder_, I hastily dressed, and rejoined my new
friend, with rod and line, and a box of flies.
We had a delightful morning. Knickerbocker was affable. Alone in the
solitudes of nature with one of my own sex, I was tolerably at home,
and flattered myself that I appeared to considerable advantage,
especially as I really was a skillful angler, and landed two trout to
my friend's landing one. By ten o'clock we each had a lovely string of
the speckled beauties, and decided to go home for the day, returning
on the morrow.
The path we took out of the woods came into the highway just in front
of the Widow Cooper's. I knew it, but I felt quite cool, and
determined to make some excuse to catch another glimpse of my
companion's sister. I had one splendid fish among my treasures,
weighing over two pounds, while none of his weighed over a pound. I
would present that trout to Flora Knickerbocker! I would ask her to
have the cook prepare it for her special delectation.
We emerged upon the lawn and sauntered up to the front of the house,
where some half-dozen ladies were sitting on the long porch, doing
worsted-work and reading novels. I saw my charmer among them, and, as
she looked up from the book she was reading, and shot at me a
mischievous glance from those thrilling eyes, I felt my coolness
melting at the most alarming rate.
How I envied the easy, careless grace with which my friend sauntered
up to the group! Why should I not be as graceful, as easy? I would
make a desperate effort to "assume a virtue if I had it not." I, too,
sauntered elegantly, lifted my hat killingly, and approached my
charmer just as if I didn't realize that I was turning all the colors
of the chameleon.
"Miss Knickerbocker," I began, "will you deign to accept the champion
trout of the season?"
The string of glistening fish hung from the fine patent rod which I
carried over my shoulder. I never could undo the tangle of how it all
came about; but, in my embarrassment, I must have handled things not
quite so gracefully as I intended--the line had become unwound, and
the hook dangling at the end of it as I attempted to lower the rod
caught in my coat collar behind, and the more I tugged the more it
would not come out. I flushed and jerked, and tried to see the back of
my head, while the ladies smiled encouragingly, rendering me more and
more desperate, until I gave a fearful twitch, and the barb came
flying out and across the porch, striking a prim maiden lady on the
head.
More and more confused, I gave a sudden pull to relieve the lady, and
succeeded in getting a very queer bite indeed. At first I thought, in
my horror, that I had drawn the whole top of the unfortunate
spinster's head off; but a second frightened look showed me that it
was only her scalpette, or false front, or whatever the dear creatures
call a half-wig, all frizzes and crimps. Almost faint with dismay at
the glare of anger in the lady's eyes, and the view of the bald white
spot on top of her head, I hurriedly drew the thing toward me to
remove it from the hook, when a confounded little Spitz, seeing the
spot, and thinking, doubtless, I was playing with him, made a dash at
the wig, and in less time than it takes to tell it, that thing of
beauty was a wreck forever. Its unfortunate owner, with a look which
nearly annihilated me, fled up-stairs to her apartment.
Nor was my discomfiture then ended. That Spitz--that precious
Spitz--belonged to Blue-Eyes; I tried to coax him to relinquish his
game; he would not be persuaded, and, in the ardor of his pursuit, he
swallowed the cruel hook. I had wanted to present her with a trout,
and had only succeeded in hooking her favorite pet--"her darling, her
dear, dear little Spitzy-witzy," as she called him, in tones of
mingled endearment and anguish, as she flew to rescue him from his
cruel fate.
"Oh, what can I do?" she sobbed, looking up at her brother.
"Cut him open and remove the hook," he answered gravely; "there is no
other possible way of relieving the poor fellow."
"I wish _I_ had swallowed it," I murmured, bitterly, throwing my fish
into the grass of the lawn, and pulling at my mustache desperately in
my despair of ever doing as other people do.
"I really wish you had," snapped Blue-Eyes, satirically, and with that
I walked off and left them to take Spitz from around that fish-hook
the best way they could.
I don't imagine I left many female friends on that porch, nor did I
see any of the Widow Cooper's boarders again for a week, when we were
brought together, under rather peculiar circumstances at a circus.