"Our streets appear to be as far from perfect as ever," said the
Bibliomaniac with a sigh, as he looked out through the window at the
great pools of water that gathered in the basins made by the sinking of
the Belgian blocks. "We'd better go back to the cowpaths of our
fathers."
"There is a great deal in what you say," observed the School-master.
"The cowpath has all the solidity of mother earth, and none of the
distracting noises we get from the pavements that obtain to-day. It is
porous and absorbs the moisture. The Belgian pavement is leaky, and lets
it run into our cellars. We might do far worse than to go back--"
"Excuse me for having an opinion," said the Idiot, "but the man of
enterprise can't afford to indulge in the luxury of the somnolent
cowpath. It is too quiet. It conduces to sleep, which is a luxury
business men cannot afford to indulge in too freely. Man must be up and
doing. The prosperity of a great city is to my mind directly due to its
noise and clatter, which effectually put a stop to napping, and keep men
at all times wide awake."
"This is a Welsh-rabbit idea, I fancy," said the School-master, quietly.
He had overheard the Idiot's confidences, as revealed to the genial
Imbiber, regarding the sources of some of his ideas.
"Not at all," returned the Idiot. "These ideas are beef--not
Welsh-rabbit. They are the result of much thought. If you will put your
mind on the subject, you will see for yourself that there is more in my
theory than there is in yours. The prosperity of a locality is the
greater as the noise in its vicinity increases. It is in the quiet
neighborhood that man stagnates. Where do we find great business houses?
Where do we find great fortunes made? Where do we find the busy bees who
make the honey that enables posterity to get into Society and do
nothing? Do we pick up our millions on the cowpath? I guess not. Do we
erect our most princely business houses along the roads laid out by our
bovine sister? I think not. Does the man who goes from the towpath to
the White House take the short cut? I fancy not. He goes over the block
pavement. He seeks the home of the noisy, clattering street before he
lands in the shoes of Washington. The man who sticks to the cowpath may
be able to drink milk, but he never wears diamonds."
"All that you say is very true, but it is not based on any fundamental
principle. It is so because it happens to be so," returned the
School-master. "If it were man's habit to have the streets laid out on
the old cowpath principle in his cities he would be quite as energetic,
quite as prosperous, as he is now."
"No fundamental principle involved? There is the fundamental principle
of all business success involved," said the Idiot, warming up to his
subject. "What is the basic quality in the good business man? Alertness.
What is 'alertness?' Wide-awakeishness. In this town it is impossible
for a man to sleep after a stated hour, and for no other reason than
that the clatter of the pavements prevents him. As a promoter of
alertness, where is your cowpath? The cowpaths of the Catskills, and we
all know the mountains are riddled by 'em, didn't keep Rip Van Winkle
awake, and I'll wager Mr. Whitechoker here a year's board that there
isn't a man in his congregation who can sleep a half-hour--much less
twenty years--with Broadway within hearing distance.
"I tell you, Mr. Pedagog," he continued, "it is the man from the cowpath
who gets buncoed. It's the man from the cowpath who can't make a living
even out of what he calls his 'New York Store.' It is the man from the
cowpath who rejoices because he can sell ten dollars' worth of
sheep's-wool for five dollars, and is happy when he goes to meeting
dressed up in a four-dollar suit of clothes that has cost him twenty."
"Your theory, my young friend," observed the School-master, "is as
fragile as this cup"--tapping his coffee-cup. "The countryman of whom
you speak is up and doing long before you or I or your successful
merchant, who has waxed great on noise as you put it, is awake. If the
early bird catches the worm, what becomes of your theory?"
"The early bird does get the bait," replied the Idiot. "But he does not
catch the fish, and I'll offer the board another wager that the Belgian
block merchant is wider awake at 8 A.M., when he first opens his eyes,
than his suburban brother who gets up at five is all day. It's the
extent to which the eyes are opened that counts, and as for your
statement that the fact that prosperity and noisy streets go hand in
hand is true only because it happens to be so, that is an argument which
may be applied to any truth in existence. I am because I happen to be,
not because I am. You are what you are because you are, because if you
were not, you would not be what you are."
"Your logic is delightful," said the School-master, scornfully.
"I strive to please," replied the Idiot. "But I do agree with the
Bibliomaniac that our streets are far from perfection," he added. "In my
opinion they should be laid in strata. On the ground-floor should be the
sewers and telegraph pipes; above this should be the water-mains, then
a layer for trucks, then a broad stratum for carriages, above which
should be a promenade for pedestrians. The promenade for pedestrians
should be divided into four sections--one for persons of leisure, one
for those in a hurry, one for peddlers, and one for beggars."
"Highly original," said the Bibliomaniac.
"And so cheap," added the School-master.
"In no part of the world," said the Idiot, in response to the last
comment, "do we get something for nothing. Of course this scheme would
be costly, but it would increase prosperity--"
"Ha! ha!" laughed the School-master, satirically.
"Laugh away, but you cannot gainsay my point. Our prosperity would
increase, for we should not be always excavating to get at our pipes;
our surface cars with a clear track would gain for us rapid transit, our
truck-drivers would not be subjected to the temptations of stopping by
the way-side to overturn a coupé, or to run down a pedestrian; our fine
equipages would in consequence need fewer repairs; and as for the
pedestrians, the beggars, if relegated to themselves, would be forced
out of business as would also the street-peddlers. The men in a hurry
would not be delayed by loungers, beggars, and peddlers, and the
loungers would derive inestimable benefit from the arrangement in the
saving of wear and tear on their clothes and minds by contact with the
busy world."
"It would be delightful," acceded the School-master, "particularly on
Sundays, when they were all loungers."
"Yes," replied the Idiot. "It would be delightful then, especially in
summer, when covered with an awning to shield promenaders from the sun."
Mr. Pedagog sighed, and the Bibliomaniac, wearily declining a second cup
of coffee, left the table with the Doctor, earnestly discussing with
that worthy gentleman the causes of weakmindedness.