A fine, clear day, unusually warm for the season, was the important
fifth of November. Devoting the early hours to tedious travelling by the
railroad, we drove up to the Prowley homestead soon after eleven
o'clock. The Colonel and his sister received us with the old enthusiasm
of hospitality,--Miss Prowley carrying Kate up-stairs for some fresh
mystery of toilet, while her brother walked me up and down the piazza in
a maze of inquiries and information.
I was glad to find that he cordially approved my resolution not to
announce in advance the subject or manner of my evening performance.
Professor Owlsdarck had said nothing of the particular theme of
discourse selected for the trustees; and, indeed, it had often been the
custom for the Foxden Lyceum to make no other announcement than the name
of the lecturer. I was greatly relieved by this assurance, and was about
to express as much, when my companion left me to greet a tall,
ungainly-looking gentleman who came round the east corner of the house.
This stranger was about forty years old, wore light-blue spectacles, and
had a near-sighted, study-worn look about him that speedily suggested
the essayist of cenotaphs. There was a gloomy rustiness in his
countenance, a stiff protrusion of the head, and an apparent dryness
about the joints, that made me feel, that, if he could be taken to
pieces and thoroughly oiled, he would be much better for it.
"Let me have the pleasure of making two valued and dear friends of mine
acquainted with each other!" exclaimed Colonel Prowley. "Professor
Owlsdarck, permit me to"----and with flourishes of extravagant
compliment the introduction was accomplished.
"Brother, brother, Captain Strype wants to see you a moment; he has gone
into the back-parlor," called the voice of Miss Prowley from a window
above.
Our host seemed a little annoyed; muttered something about the necessity
of conciliating opposition editors; excused himself with elaborate
apologies; and hurried into the house, leaving his two guests to ripen
in acquaintance as they best might.
"Fine day, Sir," I remarked, after a deferential pause, to allow my
companion to open the conversation, had he been so disposed.
"Fine for funerals," was the dismal response of Professor Owlsdarck.
"On the contrary," said I, "it seems to me one of those days when we are
least able to realize our mortality."
"Then you think superficially," rejoined the Professor. "A warm day at
this time of year induces people to leave off their flannels; and that,
in our climate, is as good as a death-warrant."
"I confess, I never looked at it in that light."
"No, because you look at picturesqueness, while I look at statistics.
Are you interested in mummies?"