Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

With all his good nature Uncle made her toe the mark. He did not believe in spoiling boys. They were generally lazy and he was determined Jack should do her full share of the work, but he did not always remember this. Being naturally lazy she resented being driven. She much preferred to lie around and read, or to lie abed and see him get breakfast, but he usually routed her out. He was anxious that she should grow strong and made her work in order that she might do so but uncomplainingly and as a matter of course he shouldered the heaviest part of the load. It may be imagined, therefore, that her regard for Uncle grew greater day by day. There was bread to make and he made it; the water grew short and he went without; the burros strayed and he went after them,—not grudgingly but without complaint. She had heard of him through her father’s talks many and many a time. She had learned of his goodness to her father; and here he was, unselfishly giving to her all he could give, freely and as a matter of course. Such conduct makes a friend of any generous-minded soul. It slowly converted her regard into devotion. She began to look for opportunities to serve him. To do anything for him became a joy.

They were nearing the Amargosa and were sitting at the camp fire one evening when he said: “Jack, you are the very nicest boy I ever knew. I thought your father was the finest man on earth but I have lost him forever. I have found you instead. I am selfish and I would like to have you both; but, oh, my dear boy! I am so glad to have found you.” Jack said nothing but she turned her face to conceal the tears.

They had been many days on the road. That afternoon they crossed the Funeral Range into Death Valley. The rocks of this range are black, rough, crumbly and forbidding. It is a bad climbing ground for the rocks are rotten and afford very insecure support. As they were slowly and painfully groping their way down into the valley a rock upon which he was standing gave way and he came sliding down in an avalanche of stones and dirt. She saw at a glance that he was headed for a precipice and without hesitating a second threw herself in the way. He was stopped but she slid many feet, turning over and over and landed against another rock, just on the edge of the precipice, covered with stones and dirt. Hastily he tore the spade from the pack, rushed down and uncovered her. Her coat was torn and her shirt in rags. She was unconscious as he laid her on the ground and cleaned the dirt from hands and face and gave her water to drink. Slowly she came out of the daze to find him anxiously bending over her.

“Were you hurt?” said she.

“No,” he replied, “see whether any of your bones are broken.”

They camped at Saratoga Springs and from there traveled by easy stages to Daggett and thence to Los Angeles. All the way he was quiet, and she viewed him with apprehension. On the way east he sat beside her in the Pullman.

“Why did you not tell me you were a woman?” said he.

“I was afraid you would not take me, and I wanted to go.”

“Well, it’s too bad. I suppose now I must send you off to live with some one else.”

“Please don’t do that Uncle, I couldn’t bear it.”

“What can I do then? Get my sister to live with us?”

“Why yes, I suppose so. There are evil tongues. We must have some one.”

His sister saw at once that she must play the rôle of huckleberry, and felt no great eagerness, but good-naturedly consented at last, firmly resolved to aid fate as much as possible so that she might go back to her own work.

The play began with taking them to the theatre twice a week when sister was careful that Jack should sit next to brother. It continued by taking them to the country for the summer. Then they came back to the city again and missed the long walks and the pleasant companionship of the afternoons with nothing to do but exchange ideas. Then Uncle was called to Chicago on business for a week. This lengthened to two weeks. On returning he was so glad to see her that he kissed her and she impulsively returned the kiss and fled. How could a lonesome bachelor long resist such a combination of youth, beauty and love. There was a quiet wedding soon in which two hearts as well as two hands were united. They are not lovers, they are chums. He knows her thoughts and she his—they like each other.

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The Professor’s Story

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When I was in college one of my professors was a rather old man who was fond of telling about his travels. He told me about several trips he had taken. Some of these stories were very interesting, for he had gone into many places outside the tourist’s ordinary routes in order to study subjects in which he was particularly interested. One of these trips was a visit to Rome. It was taken to attend a Congress of Chemists that assembled there in the Palace of Justice, or Palazzo de Giustitia as the Italians call it, located on the right bank of the Tiber near the Castel de St. Angelo. His daughter, a beautiful girl of 21, accompanied him on the trip. They traveled on the Red Star Line to Vlissingen, or Flushing, and up the Scheldt to Antwerp.

The Congress was held in term time and he was limited to an absence of six weeks. There were two things which he particularly wished to see during this time. One of them was the iron mines of Elba. The ores found in these mines are hematites and contain some of the finest crystals of hematite that have ever been discovered. Elba was also, you will remember, the home of Bonaparte after he had been expelled from France for the first time. Here he ruled in petty state from the fifth of May, 1814, to the twenty sixth of February, 1815.

The second, and indeed the chief, object of his trip was to see the boracic acid _soffioni_ at Lardrello. Here, it had been stated, jets of steam break forth from the earth in which small amounts of boracic acid are contained. This steam is carried into water, the boracic acid condensed with the steam, and the dilute solution thus obtained evaporated at a low temperature so as not to again volatilize it. Ammonia and sulfureted hydrogen are also present and considerable amounts of ammonium sulfate come into commerce from this source. These statements which were so varied in character as to cause some suspicion of exaggeration had aroused his curiosity, only to be completely satisfied by first-hand information such as could be best obtained by a visit.

From Antwerp they traveled to Brussels and from there to Rome by express, by way of Milan. They expected to find it warm in Italy and left their heavy clothing at Antwerp to await their return. They traveled through the Italian Alps, however, and suffered from the cold until Rome was reached. The journey from Brussels was begun in the evening and the second night was passed on the way from Milan to Rome. No seats together were to be had in the train from Milan. The daughter found a good seat in the compartment reserved for women where there was room also for her father and where he joined her. Whenever the conductor came around he remonstrated with the Professor; but as the latter was comfortably established this was met by a stare of no comprehension and the slipping of a lira into the conductor’s hand which ended the argument until the next conductor came around when the process must be repeated. It was, however, uniformly successful.

They approached Rome on the afternoon of a beautiful day in May. The whole surroundings were picturesque in the extreme. Black masses of masonry perched upon the hilltops, marking the sites of cities and towns, spoke eloquently of the reign of lawlessness only just passing away. They passed remains of tombs and caverns excavated in the hillsides—the marks of past civilizations. Everywhere, inside and outside of Rome, were foundations of buildings of the oldest masonry upon which a second structure had been erected, to be in turn destroyed and serve as the foundation of another erection, but still leaving visible remains. This was the country and these the places where Julius and Augustus Caesar lived and reigned, where Cicero spoke, where Cataline conspired, over which Hannibal roamed at will and where Fabian tactics were born. This was the land of the two Plinies, of Scipio the conqueror of Carthage, of Dante and Virgil; the sense of its antiquity grew and became overpowering.

They thought Italy the most beautiful country they had ever seen, “Why,” said the Professor, “As we traveled along I saw _Narcissus Poeticus_ growing in the fields.”

They stopped at the Royal Hotel and were visited by a valet who proposed that he should take care of them during their stay, to which they assented. They occupied three rooms, two bedrooms and a sitting room. In the sitting room of a morning breakfast was prepared by the valet while they were dressing. Then they sat down to breakfast, the valet waiting on them. Lunch was served downstairs, but dinner was the great event of hotel life. The guests were expected to be on time but if delayed they murmured a perfunctory excuse to the Major Domo which was smilingly accepted. The cooking here was elevated to the dignity of a fine art. It was marvelous and sometimes spectacular; as when at the conclusion of a meal an ice was placed in a dish and this in another larger dish held high upon the waiter’s outstretched hand, came in surrounded by blue flames, produced by pouring a little strong liquor into the outer vessel and setting fire to it. Upon another evening, after dinner, the guests were entertained with a very wonderful musical performance carried out by two men and a woman, the latter a very beautiful and accomplished Italian. It soon dawns upon the traveler that the modern Italian is descended from widely differing tribes, few of whom even look alike. Those we know best are swarthy, with black hair and wonderful eyes. There are many types beside this, and not a few light skins and blue eyes.

The Congress was divided into sections. The presiding officer of each section had been selected because of his accomplishments as a linguist. This was necessary, because there were four official languages in which papers might be presented and discussed: Italian, French, German and English. Two of the presiding officers were Germans: Georg Lunge, an accomplished technical chemist, who had been petted until his sense of proportion had been lost and he had become arrogant, and Wilhelm Ostwald, an equally accomplished and much more learned man and a great physical chemist, who was always polite and never was able to forget that he was a gentleman, first. But the sessions were found uninteresting by comparison. Rome itself was so absorbing. They soon gave up the sessions entirely and devoted all their time to exploring the city. The first trip was to the Colosseum. Here they secured a guide—quite an old man, with an English all his own—who declared that: “He was a Roman citizen and p-r-r-r-oud of it.” The Professor did not blame him in the least for this feeling. The old man proved to be a wonderful mine of information, most of it apparently accurate. He explained how the naval battles and other water scenes were managed, how the crowds were protected from the sun and from rains, how the various orders of Romans came in and reached their seats, and showed them the dens where wild beasts were kept. In answer to a question as to how the stones of the amphitheatre were joined without mortar, he took them to a place where a broken corner showed the method of joining by means of a short iron rod leaded into both stones. While they were talking and the Professor was sketching he turned his head and found a policeman with sword and musket overlooking the performance, and especially the sketching, which it seemed was forbidden. But the guide set them at ease by remarking, pointing to the policeman: “a friend of mine.”

Another afternoon was devoted to the famous Forum Romanum, the scene of so many speeches and so many triumphs, and, especially remembered, the speech of Antony over Caesar’s dead body, reported by Shakespeare, and repeated and varied in interpretation by so many of the masters of the tragic art.

A third excursion was to the catacombs on the Appian Way. They were greeted here by a priestly-looking crowd of men one of whom enquired, pointing at them: “English?” Answered in the affirmative they were motioned aside until enough English had accumulated to make up a party and the burly and not over clean guide led them around. The catacombs were disappointing. The galleries are narrow, tortuous and unattractive. The remains of the art of that period though no doubt interesting as showing how art arose decayed and died, were not interesting to a modern. The conclusion was still more unattractive; for, on trying to find their conveyance they discovered that it had disappeared and they must find their way back afoot. But it was evening; they were walking over the road so many conquerors had trodden; under the soft Roman twilight with the monuments of the great dead on both sides of the way; they were glad the driver had fled and left them to walk.

One day was stolen for a swift excursion to Naples to see the museum. Here they stopped at Bertolini’s Hotel, which is situated on the side of a hill far above the city level, with a splendid view. This is reached by going through a doorway into a tunnel at the end of which is a lift. At the top a splendid hotel with this superb view of the bay and of Vesuvius.

There was not time for a thorough examination of the treasures of the museum, but enough was seen to verify and enlarge some statements the Professor had made in a history he was then writing. The examples of metal working were very illuminating, showing as they did in some magnificent examples from Pompeii how little modern art excelled the art of that day except in speed and cheapness of working.

Returning to Rome they discovered that the trip to Elba and to Lardrello had been abandoned because of a strike among the employes on the railway and steamboat; but the Professor declared that he had come to see Lardrello and he would walk there if necessary. The next day they started for Pisa. Most of the route lay along the rocky coast of the Mediterranean through the most beautiful scenery in the world. The road runs along a shelf on the rocks with many tunnels. And the smoke! Ah, the smoke! Oh, the smoke! It gets into the eyes, the nose, the mouth, the ears, over the face and down the back. There is no avoiding it and no escape is possible. They arrived at Pisa about 11 P. M. and were met at the hotel by the proprietor with the question: “You would like a room?” “Yes, two rooms.” A shrug, and then: “I do not know what I shall do; we have but two rooms; one has three beds and the other four beds.”

“The answer is easy,” said the Professor, “My daughter will take the room with three beds, I will take the room with four beds.” When they were escorted to the rooms by the proprietor, the head porter, the maid and the facchini or porters and the doors were opened on the overflowing hospitality of seven beds for two travelers, a hearty laugh broke from every throat; a laugh is the same in all languages.

Pisa is not very inspiring. The famous leaning tower leans because the foundations were poor, and the Baptistery is built of old tombstones and other stolen pieces of marble from which the thieves had not decency enough to chisel away the inscriptions. This thievery seems to have been a habit in the days which we see through the fogs of romance.

The next day they turned back and retraced their steps for part of the way to Cecina where they transferred to the road to Volterra. This town is situated on the frowning heights above the railway station, where a crowd of people; drivers, porters and others was assembled. The Professor accosted a hack driver in English. To this there was no reply but a shrug of the shoulders. Then he tried German, French and Latin in succession, all in vain. As they were about giving up in despair a voice from behind them, or from Heaven, said: “You would like to go to Lardrello? You are interested in boracic acid?”

“I have come all the way from America to see it,” said the Professor, “so you may judge whether I am interested.” Introductions followed and cards were exchanged. Their friend was Prince Conti, son-in-law of Count Lardrello and the manager of the works. He told the driver what was required; gave him instructions where to take the travelers for the night and what they would like to eat and promised to meet them at the works next day. He too, it seemed, had been attending the Congress and was just returning.

They traveled over a beautiful country covered with olive orchards, with pale yellowish-green foliage, to a country inn. Here everything was primitive and old-fashioned to the last degree, but _clean_. There were tile floors and the beds were of wrought iron in filagree,—beautiful pieces of workmanship.

Next morning they reached the works in a desolate valley over which clouds of steam hovered. They were met and welcomed by the Prince who apologized for not being able to open the Palace for them as the family were away and the servants dispersed for the summer.

The natural _soffioni_, they discovered, had failed to give a sufficient yield and were now supplemented by wells sunk as are petroleum wells in Pennsylvania. One of the new developments had been the striking of steam at a pressure of sixty pounds in some of the wells. These wells were capped and the steam led through a boiler containing a purifying agent to remove the sulfureted hydrogen, after which it was used to run a steam engine which in turn actuated mills to grind the boracic acid and borax produced. After going through the works the Prince was good enough to present the young lady with a bouquet of flowers and they said good-bye. The use of steam from Mother Earth to run a steam engine was, the Professor said, an entirely new idea not used, so far as he knew, anywhere else in the world, and suggested a possible method of keeping alive in those times we may possibly expect as our fuels disappear. It may then be necessary to drive deep wells to tap the supply of heat now lying far below the surface in most places and only reaching through the crust in a few.

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My Friend Zahn

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I am a very ordinary person with some rather remarkable acquaintances. It is my purpose to give here some account of these men and women—for they are of both sexes—and incidentally to describe some of the remarkable discoveries they have made.

It was my good fortune to become well acquainted with several of these personages—for they are remarkable enough to be so called—while I was a student in a mid-western college for both sexes. Being a man of sufficient means and a bachelor with a taste for scientific studies, I have had leisure to attend many scientific conventions; and here I have been able to make the acquaintance of many other persons of brain power and industry sufficient to lead them to eminence. I flatter myself that I have, by reason of an agreeable personality, obtained an unusual knowledge of the work they have accomplished. I will admit that some of these men and women have a very limited supply of polished manners, and one or two are almost without any of the qualifications necessary in a member of polite society.—But this will develop as the story progresses.

I first met Samuel Zahn as a fellow freshman. His was a most engaging personality, for he is kind, witty and brainy. He took the lead in the class from the first day in college and was the most popular member. Needless to say he was at once chosen President of the class, and President he remains to this day. He is over six feet tall, with large limbs and a big head; since leaving college he has gained weight and improved in appearance. I visited him at his home in a large western city five years ago and we spent several days together, talking far into the nights; and during this time he had much to say about various phases of his work in biology, of which he is an enthusiastic student.

“Why is it Brown,” he enquired, “that all living beings must grow old and die? This is true of all plants and all animals. There must be some chemical reason for this universal fact.

“Before following out my line of reasoning, Brown, perhaps I should first recall your attention to the method of scientific discovery. We are accustomed, as you are aware, when traveling into new ground to form first an hypothesis as an explanation of the facts known to us. Beginning with this hypothesis, we first reason out the consequences which must follow if the hypothesis should be the real explanation. We then proceed to test these consequences by experiment. We then reason out other necessary consequences of the hypothesis and proceed further with our tests. If the results of our tests confirm the hypothesis it presently becomes a theory and in course of time a law.

“I have formed a great many hypotheses to account for the ageing of plants and animals, but under the test of experiment these have all broken down one after another. Recently, however, it occurred to me that perhaps the ageing might be due to the formation of resinous substances in the tissues by the combination of two substances one contained in the food the other in the tissues. You will remember that the insoluble resin, bakelite, is formed by the union of an aldehyde and a phenol under suitable temperature conditions. If, now, the aldehyde like body formed part of the tissue, and the phenol were contained in the food and passed unchanged into the circulation, we should have slow combination and the formation of hard material—perhaps also material in the form of fibers and therefore flexible—within the tissues, which would cause them to harden and stiffen, inducing the other changes we ascribe to old age.

“If now these phenol bodies are contained in the plant and animal juices constituting our foods they must be contained in those that are short lived in largest amount, and it should be possible to bring on old age much more rapidly by feeding short lived plants. For this purpose I used first oat straw, but I found this did not produce the desired effect. On further consideration it seemed unlikely that it should: for the ripe, and therefore dead, straw would contain only the resin and neither aldehyde nor phenol. I therefore used green oat straw and found that this brought on old age rapidly when fed to dairy cows with no other food. I then tried various additions to the green oat straw with the object of finding some substance capable of uniting with and destroying the phenol. This I have at last succeeded in finding; and I am now in possession of a reagent which will so far destroy any of these phenols contained in food, that old age is indefinitely arrested. This as you will see places a dreadful responsibility in my hands. This is not the Secret of Perpetual Youth exactly, for I cannot so far restore youth to the aged—I can only arrest decay. By feeding this antidote to a baby it may remain a baby forever. Or it may be allowed to reach any desired age and then forced to cease developing indefinitely. I will confess to you that I feel dismayed by this heavy responsibility. What do you think I should do? What is my duty?”

“This is such an extraordinary story, Zahn,” I replied, “that I think, in fairness, you should first give some proof that you are not in error in thinking your discovery a real one; and since considerable time must necessarily pass before any satisfactory demonstration of this kind can be made perhaps we had better not further discuss the matter at present.”

“Spoken with your usual clearheadedness,” he rejoined. “I must confess, however to a certain amount of disappointment in your lack of faith in accepting my conclusions.”

To this I made no rejoinder, thinking that the less the subject was discussed the better.

He then informed me that he had invited two friends to lunch with us. “I am much interested in them,” he said, “because I believe they are much interested in each other. They are very interesting people, and I want you to know them.”

Shortly before one they arrived. The man was approximately about fifty years of age and rather above the medium height; he was well-built and walked like a soldier. His hair was only slightly gray; his nose was straight and well-formed. There was about him a certain air of gentility, and his manner was pleasant and courteous. The lady was at least twenty years younger. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever met, and her manner was alert and full of charm. They came in together, and there was no possibility of doubting their interest in each other. But they were both so genuinely interested in their host and in me that this mutual understanding seemed pleasant to both of us. He was introduced as John Valient, a successful lawyer and she as Helen Henderson.

At table we were waited on by Mrs. Frains, Sam’s housekeeper, a dear, motherly old lady with white hair, kind eyes and a fair complexion. Sam introduced her to us, and treated her as in every way an equal. Miss Henderson sat at his right, Valient at his left and I opposite.

During the meal Sam informed us that he had recently given some attention to nutrition and had come to the conclusion that condiments played a much more important rôle than had hitherto been assigned to them. He had studied these therefore with some attention and had compounded one which he thought we would find very agreeable. He proceeded to extract a bottle from a near by closet; from a medicine dropper inserted through the cork he dropped a single drop upon our fish.

“It is very strong,” he remarked, “and more than a single drop would be too much. If you wish I will give a bottle of it to each one of you provided you will promise to use a single drop at each meal until it is all used. According to my calculations this will take a little over nine years, for there are 500 cubic centimeters in the bottle and each cubic centimeter is equal to twenty drops.”

After eating the fish, which was delicious, we readily promised and received each a bottle. I may remark here that I became very fond of the relish, and now, after the lapse of five years, the bottle is nearly half full, thus showing how accurate were his calculations.

“I wish,” said Miss Henderson to Zahn, “that you would tell Mr. Brown about your agricultural catalysts. I think this a very entertaining story.”

“Why certainly,” he replied, “I shall be delighted.”

“You must know, Brown,” he said, addressing me, “that there are a large number of chemical substances which are called catalysts. I can best illustrate what this means by giving two examples. If potassium chlorate be heated it melts and begins to give off bubbles of oxygen gas. If, however, we first pulverize the chlorate and add to it a mere pinch of very finely powdered manganese dioxid and mix the two very thoroughly and then heat the mixture, oxygen will again come off but at so low a temperature that the chlorate does not even melt, and much more rapidly.

“In the manufacture of ‘Crisco’ and other lard substitutes from liquid oils by pumping hydrogen through the oil in closed vessels, so long as only these two substances are present no combination takes place and the pressure increases. But if a small amount of finely divided nickel be added combination at once begins, the melting point of the oil rises and the pressure falls.

“We once supposed that many chemical substances found in minute amount in the ashes of plants were not of importance, but it has lately been asserted that this is not true and that manganese in particular plays an important part in plant economy, acting as a catalyst. I have verified this fact and have proceeded to examine the action of different manganese compounds in order to determine which is most active. The acetate functions well, the hydrosol better but colloidal manganese is by far the best. In any considerable amount this acts as a violent poison but in homeopathic doses it functions as a vigorous stimulant. Using this reagent as a hypodermic I have obtained astonishing results. I have one stalk of Indian corn on my farm treated in this way which measures forty feet in height and has seven ears, each over a foot long and perfectly set, with grains well on toward ripeness. Watermelons the size of hogsheads are readily produced and we have canteloupes, cucumbers and tomatoes as large as nail kegs. I have used the kohl rabi for several years as a source of winter forage for my cattle, slicing them before feeding. Treated in this way heads as large as barrels are readily grown, as much as forty tons per acre being an ordinary yield. I have in consequence been able to quadruple the size of my herd without devoting more acreage to the growing of forage. I have not entirely succeeded in increasing the oat and wheat crop because of the difficulties in the way of successful wholesale hypodermic injection. I have made a somewhat promising beginning, however, by successfully inoculating chrysanthemum with the aid of the aphis which preys on them. You know that this aphis punctures the outer cuticle with his proboscis and drinks the sap. Acting on this knowledge I have first sprayed the aphis with a dilute colloidal manganese and dried them rapidly with a current of warm air. The colloid adheres to the outside of their beaks and gently stimulates. When the beak is inserted the plant at once is inoculated. The aphis is then destroyed by the application of whale oil soap or other appropriate insecticide and the plant develops to an enormous size producing blossoms as large as a lady’s summer straw hat. They are indeed marvelous.

“I have also begun some experiments upon animals but the effect here seems to be even more poisonous. Another idea has, however, occurred to me which gives promise of a very great success. You know that caffein is a mild stimulant to the human race, and acting on this lead I have tried a number of stimulants, winding up with virulent poisons. One of these containing arsenic combined with strychnine, cocaine and selenium has been injected into calves from my herd which are now, at six weeks, as large as their mothers. Unfortunately this growth has been accompanied by the development of a disagreeable odor which makes them unpleasant neighbors. I fear I shall be forced to find a substitute for the selenium in order to avoid this but I have no doubt of final success.”

During this recital any conversation had become impossible; in fact we were reduced to a state of coma and walked from the table like well-trained somnambulists without uttering a word.

In the evening I accompanied Zahn to a lecture he was to deliver before the Society of Facultative Anaerobists. It appeared that these people had associated themselves for the purpose of further studying those organisms which develop either in an atmosphere of oxygen or of one devoid of it. In the latter case they decompose some substance contained in the solution and assimilate the oxygen it contains. The lecture was to be delivered at the society headquarters over a grocery store. The entrance was on a side street in the rear. There was a light over the entrance and the hall was gained by mounting a steep pair of stairs. We found the assembled anaerobists busily at work under the chairmanship of a lanky individual in corduroy trousers. Upon our entrance the proceedings were at once suspended to allow the lecture to proceed. Zahn was escorted to the platform with much deference and began as follows:

“Fellow Truthseekers:—It is with some hesitation that I venture to appear before you to make my small contribution to your proceedings. I am well aware of the labors of some members of this illustrious society, and feel considerable diffidence in appearing before you. I shall confine my remarks to two themes: The first will be a contribution to the technology of inoculation. I have had considerable experience of the difficulty and danger of inoculating savage animals, and the first part of my paper merely describes the technique which I have found successful in such cases. I have here an inconspicuous gun which enables us to effect inoculation at a distance and with ease and certainty. The projectile consists of a hollow needle with two sheet metal flanges surrounding it acting like a piston in the cylinder of the gun. The inoculating liquid is sucked into the needle by its capillarity. On inserting a metal sphere filled with liquefied carbon dioxid into this cylinder and pressing this trigger, a needle penetrates the capsule, liberates the carbon dioxid, which instantly is converted into gas and drives the projectile from the gun. The needle has sufficient force to penetrate the skin until the first of the flanges is reached. This instantly stops it and the shock forces the liquid into the wound. The outside of the needle should first be coated with an antiseptic to prevent the entrance of skin bacteria.”

This contribution was greeted with great applause and the gun was seized by a female with a black eye which she declared had been due to the hoof of a mule—fortunately unshod. After the confusion had partly subsided the chairman rapped for order and Zahn proceeded to read his second paper:

“You are of course aware,” he began, “that during the world war the supply of glycerin became insufficient and that it was discovered that the addition of some sodium sulfite to a sugar solution which was seeded with the yeast plant altered the direction of the fermentation and caused the formation of large amounts of glycerin—sometimes as much as 30 per cent of the product. No careful study of the effect of this addition upon the yeast plant itself seems to have been made. I have now taken up this study and have reached some startling conclusions. Such organisms so produced seem to have lost many of their original characteristics. Ordinary _saccharomyces cerevisae_, for example, grown under these abnormal conditions will no longer produce normal yeast fermentation. The progeny of the original cells break, and we have the same sort of variation that is ordinarily obtained in raising plants from seed. By varying the nature of the disturbing substance; that is by replacing the sodium sulfite by other reagents, I have succeeded in producing still other modifications which have interesting properties economically important.

“On this slide, which we will now project by the lantern, we have a photograph of an organism capable of turning waste molasses into ethyl chloride which is much used as a local anaesthetic and may be used instead of ether. It is necessary to add sufficient salt to the solution to supply the chlorin and the sodium remains behind as sodium carbonate supplying that necessary product of the chemical industry at a price defying competition.

“Here we have the photograph of another modified organism capable of absorbing carbon dioxid from mixed gases containing it and building up starch in sunlight much after the manner of chlorophyl in the plant. The synthetic starch so produced differs in no particular from that found in plants and is obtained in large amount very cheaply from the waste gases given off by our stoves and furnaces. The supply of such material is very large and the starchy food that in this way may become available destroys at once all possibility of future famine and all necessity of raising wheat, oats, barley, potatoes or other starchy foods. I hope before long to be able to announce the discovery of other forms able to produce albumen and other proteids directly from the atmospheric nitrogen, so as to solve for all time the possibility of future starvation.”

This paper was greeted by cheering and immense enthusiasm. The chairman in proposing a vote of thanks said that the society had now amply justified the hopes of its founders and that this would long be marked as a red letter day in its history.

I walked home with Zahn tired with so many wonders. The next morning I overslept and was late for my train so that there was no opportunity for any further conversation. I have not seen my host since that time until last week. I then made a singular and most distressing discovery.

I had noticed that most of my shirts were frayed at the wristbands. I needed some new shirts and proceeded to select them. Judge my surprise when I discovered that my old friend Zahn was waiting on me! I of course accosted him by name, only to be met by a blank stare and a firm denial of acquaintance. He assured me that his name was Smith and that he knew no one by the name of Zahn. I asked for the proprietor of the store and told him my story only to be greeted by an incredulous stare. The proprietor assured me that Smith came to the store under that name with fine recommendations from previous employers, and that they had no doubt whatever that he was as represented. I can only suppose that Zahn had lost his mind through overstudy and with it his memory. I have noticed that neither I myself nor either of the other participants in that famous lunch, now five years ago, appears a day older, and I am dreading the exhaustion of my bottle and the slow onset of old age.

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Just Samuel Jones

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Samuel Jones was an energetic as well as a very careful young man. He had inherited a small sum of money from his father. It was his purpose to use so much of this as was necessary in completing his education; the remainder was to be carefully invested as a nest egg for the reserve he intended to create which he spoke and thought of as The Dam. The idea back of this name was that if the Dam were big enough and were full it would keep the mill going for some time should the springs run dry.

Sam was careful in other ways also. He laid careful plans each morning so that no time need be wasted. If the day was cool he put on a heavy suit; if cloudy he wore rubbers and carried an umbrella. If the temperature rose suddenly after such a beginning and the sun shone brightly, he had at least done his part and this consoled him for the suffering he must endure. This disposition subjected Sam to the ridicule of his unmarried sister, Tilly, who acted as his housekeeper. Tilly was of a very different build. No one ventured to call Tilly careful—she was conspicuously careless. She had a pretty foot and loved to buy new shoes, but she often dressed in a hurry, and her shoes, having been discarded in a hurry, were not readily matched. In consequence, she sometimes appeared at breakfast with a shoe upon the right foot and a slipper on the left. This impropriety filled Sam with anguish. Perhaps this difference in disposition was one of the reasons for their affection, for they were very fond of each other and they led a very happy life.

Sam had a poor opinion of college men. Part of this low rating was no doubt prejudice and part was due to the fact that he was not a college man himself. He saw very clearly, however, that many college men acquire only a fine polish. The process fails to get enough paint on the rough wood of the foundation to hide the coarse grain which shows through in all its crudity. He had also taken note of his own rather brusque manner, and laid it, correctly, to the lack of those opportunities which come to the college man unsought. Anxious to repair this defect he became precise and a trifle stilted. This Tilly was not slow to notice and criticize. Tilly loved college boys and their ways. She listened with attention to their songs and was up on all their pranks. Their escapades amused her and she forgave their faults. She knew them well for they lived in a college town.

Back of all Sam’s spur to action was a love of chemistry. He became enamoured of it in High School where Steele’s Fourteen Weeks was the text-book. Beginning by pouring vinegar on baking soda in his mother’s kitchen, he had managed to study carefully a good many chemical substances so that his knowledge was much broader and deeper than that obtained by most college students. As the lumberman notices all the straight trees large enough for sawing so Sam tagged all objects with formulae. Water was H_{2}O; vinegar C_{2}H_{4}O_{2}; Cream of tartar (CHOH COOH, CHOH COOK); and sugar C_{12}H_{22}O_{11}. After the death of their mother Sam had fitted up a laboratory in the attic and hung out the shingle of an analytical chemist. The income obtained in this way being too small he conceived the idea of adding to it by the concoction of various specialties, and Jones’ Talcum Powder, Jones’ Velvet Cream and Jones’ Tooth Paste made their appearance on the shelves of neighboring druggists and were spoken of in terms of praise by those who had used them. These had been supplemented by various perfumes which found favor with the weaker sex and became the foundations of a business which was steadily increasing. Into this scene of happiness and peaceful prosperity Fate dropped several bombs.

BOMB THE FIRST

Sam and Tilly loved the movies. They formed a background of romance to their prosaic lives. They read, eagerly, all they could find in print about the stars of moviedom and were well acquainted with the features of the prominent actors. Twice a week they attended, rain or shine. As this involved long walks in bad weather they had, with the dawn of prosperity, invested in a Ford.

It was a windy night in October. There was a threat of rain in the air as the sullen clouds drifted past over the moon. As they returned to the car, which had been left in a side street, a tiny muffled wail greeted them: “Gracious! it’s a cat,” said Tilly. “Good Lord! it’s a baby!” It was wrapped in an old, frayed, woolen blanket. They took it home—what else could they do?—and Tilly unwrapped it in her warm room. It was clean and warm and dry, and its clothing, though of the plainest material and somewhat worn, was also clean. Tilly declared it was a darling. She sent Sam for a bottle and some of the best milk, fed the child and covered her warmly in a large arm chair which was pushed against the bed so that she might hear the little one move in the night. Tilly declared the little girl had aristocratic features. She fell violently in love with her and declared she would not give her up. Sam smiled and agreed. He seldom opposed Tilly, though he felt somewhat doubtful of the propriety of keeping the baby. The little one grew apace. She soon became the central sun of the household about which Sam and Tilly revolved—two obedient satellites.

The household duties soon became too great for Tilly, and Elizabeth Tillicum was sent for. Elizabeth was a New Jersey product, redolent of the hills that border the Delaware. Her hair was sandy—the color of New Jersey sand. Her eyes were blue—the color of the blue water of the Atlantic which rolls over the New Jersey sand beaches, though this water is often green; and her freckles were—just plain brown freckles. I am not saying Elizabeth was beautiful—she was not. She agreed with everyone; she was quite unable to contradict; indeed her acquiescence was almost slavish. In size she was opulent. It seemed doubtful when she sat down whether some portion of her anatomy might not spill over on the floor but this never actually happened. With all her disposition to conciliate she persisted in moving slowly, and all the alleged work that she performed was performed at a uniform slow speed. Some critics averred that she did not work—she lolloped. They said that when she did do work it was so poorly done that it must first be undone and then done over again. However this may be, Elizabeth steadfastly, slowly and pleasantly pushed her way through the world. But she was not a bomb, she was not even a torpedo.

Very few people can be reformed by preaching at them, object lessons are more effective. Her own carelessness was well known to Tilly and made her secretly admire Sam’s precision and half despise Elizabeth’s sloppy work. The coming of the baby brought a change. Tilly read up on the care of babies in a volume entitled “The Feeding and Care of Children.” This learned work explained the overwhelming importance of cleanliness. It detailed the various minute bugs which lurk in the air, water and soil ready to seize and carry off the unsuspecting child. From a heedless maiden, Tilly was rapidly transformed into the veriest martinet, watching for the least speck of impurity to pounce upon and destroy it. Everything the baby ate was sterilized, and the bottles, spoons and plates scalded assiduously. Toward this campaign of cleanliness the baby herself manifested a cynical indifference. She threw the bottle on the floor. She drew her spoon through her hair, and after crawling through all the dirt attainable, rubbed her grimy hands over her half-cleared plate and then thrust the chubby paws down her throat. Such behaviour was _anathema maranatha_ and filled Tilly with despair.

Sam was at first far from being charmed by the dirt and disorder which the child insisted upon, but she soon vanquished him. Her velvet skin, lovely color and wide open smile would have melted a stone, and Sam soon became her slave. In return she manifested an ardent preference for his society; crowed when he came home, howled when he left, insisted on sitting in his lap, thrust her fingers into his eyes, nose and ears, pulled his hair and showed not the slightest regard for his privacy or the ordinary courtesies of life. Sam was reformed in spite of himself. For the sake of peace he put up with rumpled hair, moist and slimy kisses and greasy fingerprints on his coat. Such is the mollifying discipline babies hand around in humanizing their elders.

The naming of the baby had been a dreadful ordeal, and nearly ended in a rupture between Sam and Tilly.

“We do not know her name,” said Sam, “so we had better give her one which is merely descriptive; then when her real name is divulged there will be less temptation to ignore it. I propose to call her Monday October Jones until we discover her real name. This is descriptive of the day of the week and the month she came to us.”

“She shall have no such barbarous name,” said Tilly. “You may as well call her Man Friday at once. I will not have any such name. She is going to have a pretty name. Monday October Jones: the idea! I shall call her Arma:

Arma virumque cano
Trojae qui primus ab oris

Don’t you remember that pretty verse Jimmy Case sings?”

Tilly’s words had an air of finality. She had been a bit uncertain herself until Sam put in an oar. There was another rhyme which sang through her consciousness making her undecided. It was:

Gaudeamus igitur
Juvenes dum sumus

that she had heard the college boys sing. But on the whole she inclined toward Arma, for Gaudeamus did not sound like a female. So the baby was named Arma Virumque Jones.

Arma was a romantic little soul. She thirsted for the unusual and wonderful. As she grew to girlhood she invested those dear to her with imaginary virtues. Tilly was a lovely and stately lady and Sam the personification of all that was noble and good. She was a beautiful girl, with curly brown hair and a clean mind. With her twelfth birthday began her affairs of the heart. Her first flame was a beautiful Italian boy who dwelt in an old house in the alley. This flame was quenched when she encountered him after he had consumed a larger ration of garlic than was usual. The next conflagration was started by the grocer’s boy, but this was quenched when she overheard him swear. This was followed by a passion for a young and rather dull divine who never dreamed of his conquest, so that it died of inanition.

BOMB THE SECOND

The three were sitting in the living room one evening in June. Sam and Tilly were reading and Arma was getting out her lessons, when a resounding knock on the door was heard, and a great big, strong, jolly man burst in, shook hands with Sam and noisily proclaimed how glad he was to see “this darn old fraud” once more.

Sam’s face lighted with pleasure as he welcomed him and introduced him as “Billy Gesundheit, my old friend and comrade in Pittsburgh.”

“My word, what a name!” thought Tilly, “But what a fine looking man. He seems too good to be true.” This was during her trip upstairs to inspect the guest room where he was to spend the night.

Sam had lived two years in the smokehouse city as chemist to a young struggling steel plant. Before he left this puny infant industry had begun putting on the seven league boots of manhood. At this time Gesundheit was a hearty young workman to whom Sam took a fancy. This was vigorously reciprocated; Sam was carried off to Billy’s home and introduced to his widowed mother who was a wonderful housekeeper. She became interested in Sam at once—for was he not a friend of her Billy?—sewed on his buttons, darned his socks, and wound up by taking complete possession. Sam soon moved into their spare room and, as the homely phrase has it, “she ate him and slept him.”

Billy informed them that he had risen in rank considerably since Sam’s departure and was now acting as manager of the works. He had come to New York on business and must soon leave for home; he expected to make frequent visits, however, and here he looked at Tilly, and he would not fail to visit them as often as possible. He also informed them that to-morrow was a holiday for them; he was to take entire charge, manage all details and pay all expenses; all they need do was to enjoy themselves as much as possible.

After breakfast next morning Billy produced a map of the city for each member of the party. “A taxicab is coming at eight,” he began, “to take us to the place where our excursion starts. I’m going to walk part of the way; the rest of you may do so or ride, just as you please.”

“Where are we going?” said Tilly.

“We are going to circumnavigate the city,” said Billy. “I doubt whether you know your own town. Most people do not. If we first go around it, and then go through all the streets and alleys you will know it on the outside at least. After we get through we will quiz one another on the names of the streets and alleys and their location. It is good fun and has a use beside.”