and, observing that the oscillations were of equal duration, he inferred
that this principle might be utilized in the exact measurement of time.
From this little accident, years after, came the clock, one of the most
useful of man's dumb friends. And yet there are people who will read
this little incident and still hesitate about going to church.
[Illustration: _It was at this time that he noticed the swinging of a
lamp in a church, and observing that the oscillations were of equal
duration_ (Page 202)]
Galileo also invented the thermometer, the microscope and the
proportional compass. He seemed to invent things not for the money to be
obtained in that way, but solely for the joy of being first on the
ground. He was a man of infinite genius and perseverance. He was also
very fair in his treatment of other inventors. Though he did not
personally invent the rotary motion of the earth, he heartily indorsed
it and said it was a good thing. He also came out in a card in which he
said that he believed it to be a good thing, and that he hoped some day
to see it applied to the other planets.
He was also the inventor of a telescope that had a magnifying power of
thirty times. He presented this to the Venetian senate, and it was used
in making appropriations for river and harbor improvements.
By telescopic investigation Galileo discovered the presence of microbes
in the moon, but was unable to do anything for it. I have spoken of Mr.
Galileo, informally calling him by his first name, all the way through
this article, for I feel so thoroughly acquainted with him, though there
was such a striking difference in our ages, that I think I am justified
in using his given name while talking of him.
Galileo also sat up nights and visited with Venus through a long
telescope which he had made himself from an old bamboo fishing-rod.
But astronomy is a very enervating branch of science. Galileo frequently
came down to breakfast with red, heavy eyes, eyes that were swollen full
of unshed tears. Still he persevered. Day after day he worked and
toiled. Year after year he went on with his task till he had worked out
in his own mind the satellites of Jupiter and placed a small tin tag on
each one, so that he would know it readily when he saw it again. Then he
began to look up Saturn's rings and investigate the freckles on the sun.
He did not stop at trifles, but went bravely on till everybody came for
miles to look at him and get him to write something funny in their
autograph albums. It was not an unusual thing for Galileo to get up in
the morning, after a wearisome night with a fretful, new-born star, to
find his front yard full of albums. Some of them were little red albums
with floral decorations on them, while others were the large plush and
alligator albums of the affluent. Some were new and had the price-mark
still on them, while others were old, foundered albums, with a droop in
the back and little flecks of egg and gravy on the title-page. All came
with a request for Galileo "to write a little, witty, characteristic
sentiment in them."
Galileo was the author of the hydrostatic paradox and other sketches. He
was a great reader and a fluent penman. One time he was absent from
home, lecturing in Venice for the benefit of the United Aggregation of
Mutual Admirers, and did not return for two weeks, so that when he got
back he found the front room full of autograph albums. It is said that
he then demonstrated his great fluency and readiness as a thinker and
writer. He waded through the entire lot in two days with only two men
from West Pisa to assist him. Galileo came out of it fresh and youthful,
and all of the following night he was closeted with another inventor, a
wicker-covered microscope, and a bologna sausage. The investigations
were carried on for two weeks, after which Galileo went out to the
inebriate asylum and discovered some new styles of reptiles.
Galileo was the author of a little work called "I Discarsi e
Dimas-Trazioni Matematiche Intorus a Due Muove Scienze." It was a neat
little book, of about the medium height, and sold well on the trains,
for the Pisan newsboys on the cars were very affable, as they are now,
and when they came and leaned an armful of these books on a passenger's
leg and poured into his ear a long tale about the wonderful beauty of
the work, and then pulled in the name of the book from the rear of the
last car, where it had been hanging on behind, the passenger would most
always buy it and enough of the name to wrap it up in.
He also discovered the isochronism of the pendulum. He saw that the
pendulum at certain seasons of the year looked yellow under the eyes,
and that it drooped and did not enter into its work with the old zest.
He began to study the case with the aid of his new bamboo telescope and
a wicker-covered microscope. As a result, in ten days he had the
pendulum on its feet again.
Galileo was inclined to be liberal in his religious views, more
especially in the matter of the Scriptures, claiming that there were
passages in the Bible which did not literally mean what the translator
said they did. This was where Galileo missed it. So long as he
discovered stars and isochronisms and such things as that, he succeeded,
but when he began to fool with other people's religious beliefs he got
into trouble. He was forced to fly from Pisa, we are told by the
historian, and we are assured at the same time that Galileo, who had
always been far, far ahead of all competitors in other things, was
equally successful as a fleer.
Galileo received but sixty scudi per year as his salary while at Pisa,
and a part of that he took in town orders, worth only sixty cents on the
scudi.
HOW TO PICK OUT A BIRTHPLACE
XXII
Every American youth has been told repeatedly by his parents and his
teachers that he must be a good boy and an exemplary young man in order
to become the president of the United States. There is nothing new in
this statement, and I do not print it because I regard it in the light
of a "scoop." But I desire to go a trifle further, and call the
attention of the American youth to the fact that he must begin at a much
earlier date to prepare himself for the presidency than has been
generally taught. He must not only acquire all the knowledge within
reach, and guard his moral character night and day through life, or at
least up to the time of his election, but he must be a self-made man,
and he should also use the utmost care and discretion in the selection
of his birthplace.
A boy may thoughtlessly select the wrong state, or even a foreign
country, as the site for his birthplace, and then the most exemplary
life will not avail him. But hardest of all, perhaps, for one who
aspires to the highest office within the gift of the people, is the
selection of a house in which to be born. For this reason I have
selected a few specimen birthplaces for the guidance of those who may be
ignorant of the points which should be possessed by a birthplace.
Take, for instance, the residence of Andrew Jackson. No one has ever
retained a stronger hold upon the tendrils of the Democratic heart than
Andrew Jackson. His name appears more frequently to-day in papers for
which he never subscribed than that of any other president who has
passed away.
Andrew Jackson was a poor boy, whose father was a farm laborer and died
before Andrew's birth, thus leaving the boy perfectly free to choose the
site of his birthplace.
[Illustration]
He did not care much about books, but felt confident at the start that
he had chosen a good place to be born at, and therefore could not be
defeated in his race for the presidency. Here in this house A. Jackson
first saw the light, and here his excellency sent up his first
Democratic whoop. Here, on the back stoop, was where he was sent
sorrowing at night to wash his chapped feet with soft soap before his
mother would allow him to go to bed. Here Andrew turned the grindstone
in the shed, while a large, heavy neighbor got on and rode for an hour
or two. Here the future president sprouted potatoes in the dark and
noisome cellar, while other boys, who cared nothing for the presidency,
drowned out woodchucks and sucked eggs in open defiance of the pulpit
and press of the country.
[Illustration: _Here Andrew turned the grindstone in the shed, while a
large, heavy neighbor got on and rode for an hour or two_ (Page 210)]
And yet, what a quiet, peaceful, unostentatious home, with its little
windows opening out upon the snow in winter and upon bare ground in
summer. How peaceful it looks! Who would believe that up in the dark
corner of the gable end it harbors a large iron-gray hornets' nest with
brocaded hornets in it? And still it is so quiet that, on hot summer
afternoons, while the bees are buzzing around the petunias and the
regular breathing of the sandy-colored shoat in the back lot shows that
all nature is hushed and drugged into a deep and oppressive repose, the
old hen, lulled into a sense of false security, walks into the "setting
room," eats the seeds out of several everlasting flowers, samples a few
varnished acorns on an ornamental photograph frame in the corner, and
then goes out to the kitchen, where she steps into the dough that is set
behind the stove to raise.
Here in this quiet home, far from the enervating pousse cafe and carte
blanche, where he had pork rind tied on the outside of his neck for sore
throat, and where pepper, New Orleans molasses and vinegar, together
with other groceries calculated to discourage illness, were put inside,
he laid the foundation of his future greatness.
Later on, the fever of ambition came upon him, and he taught school
where the big girls snickered at him and the big boys went so far away
at noon that they couldn't hear the bell and were glad of it, and came
back an hour late with water in both ears and crawfish in their pockets.
After that he learned to be a saddler, fought in the Revolutionary War,
afterward writing it up for the papers in a graphic way, showing how it
happened that most everybody was killed but himself.
Here the reader is given an excellent view of the birthplace of
President Lincoln.
[Illustration]
The artist has very wisely left out of the picture several people who
sought to hand themselves down to posterity by being photographed in
various careless attitudes in the foreground.
In this house Mr. Lincoln determined to establish for himself a
birthplace and to remain for eight years afterwards. In fancy, the
reader can see little Abraham running about the humble cot, preceded by
his pale, straw-colored Kentucky dog, or perhaps standing in "the
branch," with the soothing mud squirting gently up between his dimpled
toes.
Here a great heart first learned to beat in unison with all humanity.
Late one night, after the janitor had retired, he pulled the
latch-string of this humble place and asked if the proprietor objected
to children. Learning that he did not, the little emancipator deposited
on the desk a small parcel consisting of several rectangular cotton
garments done up in a shawl-strap, and asked for a room with a bath.
[Illustration]
Our next illustration shows the birthplace of President Garfield. He was
born plainly at Orange, Cuyahoga county, Ohio. Here he spent his
childhood in preparing for the presidency, lying on his stomach for
hours by the light of a pine-knot, studying all about the tariff, and
ascertaining how many would remain if William had seven apples and gave
three to Henry and two to Jane. He soon afterward went to work on a
canal as boatswain of a mule. It was here he learned that profanity
could be carried to excess. He very early found that by coupling the
mule to the boat by the use of a cistern pole, instead of coming into
direct contact with the accursed yet buoyant end of the animal, he could
bring with him a better record to the class-meeting than otherwise. He
then taught school, and was beloved by all as a tutor. Many of his
pupils grew up to be ornaments to society, and said they had never seen
tuting that could equal that of their old tutor.
Mr. Garfield availed himself of the above birthplace on the 19th of
November, A. D. 1831. He then utilized it as a residence.
Here we are given a fine view of the birthplace of President Cleveland.
It is a plain structure, containing windows through which those who are
inside may look out, while those who are on the outside may readily look
in.
[Illustration]
Under this roof the idea first came to Mr. Cleveland that some day he
might fill the presidential chair to overflowing. If the reader will go
around to the door of the shed on the other side of the house, he will
see little Grover just coming out and wiping his mouth with the back of
his hand.
On the door of the barn can be seen the following legend, scratched on
its surface with a nail:
"I druther be born lucky than blong to a nold Ristocratic fambly.
S. G. C."
[Illustration]
Here we have an excellent view of Mr. Harrison's birthplace from the
main road. It hardly seems possible that a man who now lives in a large
house, with a spare room to it, gas in all parts of it, and wool carpets
on the floor, should have once lived in such a plain structure as this.
It shows that America is the place for the poor boy. Here he can rise to
a great height by his own powers. Little did Bennie think at one time
that people would some day come from all quarters of the United States
to see him and take him kindly by the hand and say that they were well
acquainted with his folks when they were poor.
These various birthplaces prove to us what style is best calculated for
a presidential candidate. They demonstrate that poverty is no drawback,
and that frequently it is a good stimulant for the right kind of a boy.
I once knew a poor boy whose clothes did not fit him very well when he
was little, and now that he is grown up it is the same way.
That poor boy was myself. But I can not close this research without
saying that the boys alone can not claim the glory in America. The girls
are entitled to recognition.
[Illustration]
Permit me, therefore, to present the birthplace of Belva A. Lockwood. I
do not speak of it because I desire to treat the matter lightly, but to
call attention to little Belva's sagacity in selecting the same style of
birthplace as that chosen by other presidential candidates. She very
truly said in the course of a conversation with the writer: "My theory
as to the selection of a birthplace is, first be sure you are right and
then go ahead."
We should learn from all the above that a humble origin does not prevent
a successful career. Had Abraham Lincoln been wealthy, he would have
been taught, perhaps, a style of elocution and gesture that would have
taken first rate at a parlor entertainment, and yet he might never have
made his Gettysburg speech. While he was president he never looked at
his own hard hands and knotted knuckles that he was not reminded of his
toiling neighbors, whose honest sweat and loyal blood had made this
mighty republic a source of glory and not of shame forever.
So, in the future, whether it be a Grover, a Benjamin, or a Belva, may
the President of the United States be ever ready to remove the cotton
from his ears at the first cry of the oppressed and deserving poor.
ON BROADWAY
XXIII
Once when in New York I observed a middle-aged man remove his coat at
the corner of Fulton street and Broadway and wipe the shoulders thereof
with a large red handkerchief of the Thurman brand. There was a dash of
mud in his whiskers and a crick in his back. He had just sought to cross
Broadway, and the disappointed ambulance had gone up street to answer
another call. He was a plain man with a limited vocabulary, but he spoke
feelingly. I asked him if I could be of any service to him, and he said
No, not especially, unless I would be kind enough to go up under the
back of his vest and see if I could find the end of his suspender. I did
that and then held his coat for him while he got in it again. He
afterward walked down the east side of Broadway with me.
[Illustration: _A man that crosses Broadway for a year can be mayor of
Boston, but my idee is that he's a heap more likely to be mayor of New
Jerusalem_ (Page 220)]
"That's twice I've tried to git acrost to take the Cortlandt street
ferry boat sence one o'clock, and hed to give it up both times," he
said, after he had secured his breath.
"So you don't live in town?"
"No, sir, I don't, and there won't be anybody else livin' in town,
either, if they let them crazy teamsters run things. Look at my coat!
I've wiped the noses of seventy-nine single horses and eleven double
teams sence one o'clock, and my vitals is all a perfect jell. I bet if I
was hauled up right now to be postmortumed the rear breadths of my liver
would be a sight to behold."
"Why didn't you get a policeman to escort you across?"
"Why, condemb it, I did futher up the street, and when I left him the
policeman reckoned his collar-bone was broke. It's a blamed outrage, I
think. They say that a man that crosses Broadway for a year can be mayor
of Boston, but my idee is that he's a heap more likely to be mayor of
the New Jerusalem."
"Where do you live, anyway?"
"Well, I live near Pittsburg, P. A., where business is active enough to
suit 'most anybody, 'specially when a man tries to blow out a
natural-gast well, but we make our teamsters subservient to the
Constitution of the United States. We don't allow this Juggernaut
business the way you fellers do. There a man would drive clear round the
block ruther than to kill a child, say nuthin of a grown person. Here
the hubs and fellers of these big drays and trucks are mussed up all the
time with the fragments of your best people. Look at me. What
encouragement is there for a man to come here and trade? Folks that live
here tell me that they do most of their business by telephone in the
daytime, and then do their runnin' around at night, but I've got apast
that. Time was when I could run around nights and then mow all day, but
I can't do it now. People that leads a suddentary life, I s'pose,
demands excitement, and at night they will have their fun; but take a
man like me--he wants to transact his business in the daytime by word o'
mouth, and then go to bed. He don't want to go home at 3 o'clock with a
plug hat full of digestive organs that he never can possibly put back
just where they was before.
"No, I don't want to run down a big city like New York and nuther do I
want to be run down myself. They tell me I can go up town on this side
and take the boat so as to get to Jersey City that way, and I'm going to
do it ruther than to go home with a neck yoke run through me. Folks say
that Jurden is a hard road to travel, but I'm positive that a man would
get jerked up and fined for driving as fast there as they do on
Broadway; and then another thing, I s'pose there's a good deal less
traffic over the road."
He then went down Wall street to the Hanover Square station and I saw
him no more.
MY TRIP TO DIXIE
XXIV
I once took quite a long railway trip into the South in search of my
health. I called my physicians together, and they decided by a rising
vote that I ought to go to a warmer clime, or I should enjoy very poor
health all winter. So I decided to go in search of my health, if I died
on the trail.
I bought tickets at Cincinnati of a pale, sallow liar, who is just
beginning to work his way up to the forty-ninth degree in the Order of
Ananias. He will surely be heard from again some day, as he has the
elements that go to make up a successful prevaricator.
He said that I could go through from Cincinnati to Asheville, North
Carolina, with only one easy change of cars, and in about twenty-three
hours. It took me twice that time, and I had to change cars three times
in the dead of night.
The southern railroad is not in a flourishing condition. It ought to go
somewhere for its health. Anyway, it ought to go somewhere, which at
present it does not. According to the old Latin proverb, I presume we
should say nothing but good of the dead, but I am here to say that the
railroad that knocked my spine loose last week, and compelled me to
carry lunch baskets and large Norman two-year-old gripsacks through the
gloaming, till my arms hung down to the ground, does not deserve to be
treated well, even after death.
I do not feel any antipathy toward the South, for I did not take any
part in the war, remaining in Canada during the whole time, and so I can
not now be accused of offensive partisanship. I have always avoided
anything that would look like a settled conviction in any of these
matters, retaining always a fair, unpartisan and neutral idiocy in
relation to all national affairs, so that I might be regarded as a good
civil service reformer, and perhaps at some time hold an office.
To further illustrate how fair-minded I am in these matters, I may say I
have patiently read all the war articles written by both sides, and I
have not tried to dodge the foot-notes or the marginal references, or
the war maps or the memoranda. I have read all these things until I
can't tell who was victorious, and if that is not a fair and impartial
way to look at the war, I don't know how to proceed in order to
eradicate my prejudices.
But a railroad is not a political or sectional matter, and it ought not
to be a local matter unless the train stays at one end of the line all
the time. This road, however, is the one that discharged its engineer
some years ago, and when he took his time-check he said he would now go
to work for a sure-enough road with real iron rails to it, instead of
two streaks of rust on a right of way.
All night long, except when we were changing cars, we rattled along over
wobbling trestles and third mortgages. The cars were graded from
third-class down. The road itself was not graded at all.
They have the same old air in these coaches that they started out with.
Different people, with various styles of breath, have used this air and
then returned it. They are using the same air that they did before the
war. It is not, strictly speaking, a national air. It is more of a
languid air, with dark circles around its eyes.
At one place where I had an engagement to change cars, we had a wait of
four hours, and I reclined on a hair-cloth lounge at the hotel, with the
intention of sleeping a part of the time.
Dear, patient reader, did you every try to ride a refractory hair-cloth
lounge all night, bare back? Did you ever get aboard a short,
old-fashioned, black, hair-cloth lounge, with a disposition to buck?
I was told that this was a kind, family lounge that would not shy or
make trouble anywhere, but I had only just closed my dark-red and
mournful eyes in sleep when this lounge gently humped itself, and shed
me as it would its smooth, dark hair in the spring, tra la.
The floor caught me in its great strong arms and I vaulted back upon the
polished bosom of the hair-cloth lounge. It was made for a man about
fifty-three inches in length, and so I had to sleep with my feet in my
pistol pockets and my nose in my bosom up to the second joint.
I got so that I could rise off the floor and climb on the lounge without
waking up. It grew to be second nature to me. I did it just as a man who
is hungry in his sleep bites off large fragments of the air and eats it
involuntarily and smacks his lips and snorts. So I arose and deposited
myself again and again on that old swayback but frolicsome wreck without
waking. But I couldn't get aboard softly enough to avoid waking the
lounge. It would yawn and rumble inside and rise and fall like the deep
rolling sea, till at last I gave up trying to sleep on it any more, and
curled up on the floor.
[Illustration: _I bought tickets at Cincinnati of a pale, sallow liar,
who is just beginning to work his way up to the forty-ninth degree in
the Order of Ananias_ (Page 222)]
The hair-cloth lounge, in various conditions of decrepitude, maybe found
all through this region. Its true inwardness is composed of spiral
springs which have gnawed through the cloth in many instances. These
springs have lost none of their old elasticity of spirits, and cordially
corkscrew themselves into the affections of the man who sits down on
them. If anything could make me thoroughly attached to the South it
would be one of these spiral springs bored into my person about a foot.
But that is the only way to remain on a hair-cloth chair or sofa. No man
ever successfully sat on one of them for any length of time unless he
had a strong pair of pantaloons and a spiral spring twisted into him for
some distance.