The other boarder was a rather frail man with an easy cough and a confidential manner, lie wrote the 'Obituaries of Distinguished Persons'for one of the daily papers. Somebody had told him once, his head resembled that of Washington. He had never forgotten it, as I have reason to remember. His mind lived ever among the dead. His tongue was pickled in maxims; his heart sunk in the brine of recollection; his humour not less unconscous and familiar than that of an epitaph; his name was Lemuel Franidin Force. To the public of his native city he had introduced Webster one fourth ofJuly - a perennial topic of his lighter moments.
I fell an easy victim to the obituary editor that first evening in the chalet. We had risen from the table and he came and held me a moment by the coat lapel. He released my collar, when he felt sure of me, and began tapping my chest with his forefinger to drive home his point I stood for quite an hour out of sheer politeness. By that time he had me forced to the wall - a God's mercy, for there I got some sense of relief in the legs. His gestures, in imitation of the great Webster, put my head in some peril. Meanwhile he continued drumming upon my chest. I looked longingly at the empty chairs. I tried to cut him off with applause that should be condusive and satisfying, but with no success. It had only a stimulating effect. I felt somehow like a cheap hired man badly overworked. I had lost all connection. I looked, and smiled, and nodded, and exclaimed, and heard nothing. I began to plan a method of escape. McClingan - the great and good Waxy McClingan - came out of his room presently and saw myplight.
'What is this?'he asked, interrupting, 'a serial stawry?
Getting no answer he called my name, and when Force had paused he came near.
'In the sixth chapter and fifth verse of Proverbs,'said he, 'it is written:
"Deliver thyself as a roe from the hand of the hunter and as a bird from the hand of the fowler." Deliver thyself, Brower.
I did so, ducking under Force's arm and hastening to my chamber.
'Ye have a brawling, busy tongue, man,'I heard McClingan saying.
'By the Lord! ye should know a dull tongue is sharper than a serpent's tooth.
'You are a meddlesome fellow,'said Force.
'If I were you,'said McClingan, 'I would go and get for myself the long ear of an ass and empty my memory into it every day. Try it, man. Give it your confidence exclusively. Believe me, my dear Force, you would win golden opinions.
'It would be better than addressing an ear of wax,'said Force, hurriedly withdrawing to his own room.
This answer made McClingan angry.
'Better an ear of wax than a brain of putty,'he called after him.
'Blessed is he that hath no ears when a fool's tongue is busy,'and then strode up and down the floor, muttering ominously.
I came out of my room shortly, and then he motioned me aside.
'Pull your own trigger first, man,'he said to me in a low tone.
'When ye see he's going to shoot pull your own trigger first. Go right up if him and tap him on the chest quiddy and say, "My dear Force, I have a glawrious stawry to tell you," and keep tapping him- his own trick, you know, and he can't complain. Now he has a weak chest, and when he begins to cough - man, you are saved.
Our host, Opper, entered presently, and in removing the tabledoth inadvertently came between us. McClingan resented it promptly.
'Mr Opper,'said he, leering at the poor German, 'as a matter of personal obligement, will you cease to interrupt us?
'All right! all right! gentlemens,'he replied, and then, fearingthat he had not quite squared himself, turned back, at the kitchen door, and added, 'Oxcuse me.
McClingan looked at him with that leering superior smile of his, and gave him just the slightest possible nod of his head.
McClingan came into my room with me awhile then. He had been everywhere, it seemed to me, and knew everybody worth knowing.
I was much interested in his anecdotes of the great men of the time. Unlike the obituary editor his ear was quite as ready as his tongue, though I said little save now and then to answer a question that showed a kindly interest in me.
I went with him to his room at last. where he besought me to join him in drinking 'confusion to the enemies of peace and order . On my refusing, he drank the toast alone and shortly proposed 'death to slavery . This was followed in quick succession by 'death to the arch traitor, Buchanan; 'peace to the soul of John Brown; 'success to Honest Abe'and then came a hearty 'here's to the protuberant abdomen of the Mayor .
I left him at midnight standing in the middle of his room and singing 'The Land o'the Leal'in a low tone savoured with vast dignity.
