按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
burn this letter right upthere 's a dear good girl。〃
It is to be hoped that no reader will doubt the genuineness of this
letter。 There are not quite so many 〃awfuls〃 and 〃awfullys〃 as one
expects to find in young ladies' letters； but there are two 〃weirds；〃
which may be considered a fair allowance。 How it happened that
〃jolly〃 did not show itself can hardly be accounted for； no doubt it
turns up two or three times at least in the postscript。
Here is an extract from another letter。 This was from one of the
students of Stoughton University to a friend whose name as it was
written on the envelope was Mr。 Frank Mayfield。 The old postmaster
who found fault with Miss 〃Lulu's〃 designation would probably have
quarrelled with this address； if it had come under his eye。 〃Frank〃
is a very pretty； pleasant…sounding name； and it is not strange that
many persons use it in common conversation all their days when
speaking of a friend。 Were they really christened by that name； any
of these numerous Franks？ Perhaps they were； and if so there is
nothing to be said。 But if not； was the baptismal name Francis or
Franklin？ The mind is apt to fasten in a very perverse and
unpleasant way upon this question； which too often there is no
possible way of settling。 One might hope； if he outlived the bearer
of the appellation； to get at the fact； but since even gravestones
have learned to use the names belonging to childhood and infancy in
their solemn record； the generation which docks its Christian names
in such an un…Christian way will bequeath whole churchyards full of
riddles to posterity。 How it will puzzle and distress the historians
and antiquarians of a coming generation to settle what was the real
name of Dan and Bert and Billy； which last is legible on a white
marble slab； raised in memory of a grown person； in a certain burial…
ground in a town in Essex County； Massachusetts！
But in the mean time we are forgetting the letter directed to Mr。
Frank Mayfield。
〃DEAR FRANK；Hooray！ Hurrah！ Rah！
〃I have made the acquaintance of 'The Mysterious Stranger'！ It
happened by a queer sort of accident； which came pretty near
relieving you of the duty of replying to this letter。 I was out in
my little boat； which carries a sail too big for her； as I know and
ought to have remembered。 One of those fitful flaws of wind to which
the lake is so liable struck the sail suddenly； and over went my
boat。 My feet got tangled in the sheet somehow； and I could not get
free。 I had hard work to keep my head above water； and I struggled
desperately to escape from my toils； for if the boat were to go down
I should be dragged down with her。 I thought of a good many things
in the course of some four or five minutes； I can tell you； and I got
a lesson about time better than anything Kant and all the rest of
them have to say of it。 After I had been there about an ordinary
lifetime； I saw a white canoe making toward me； and I knew that our
shy young gentleman was coming to help me； and that we should become
acquainted without an introduction。 So it was； sure enough。 He saw
what the trouble was； managed to disentangle my feet without drowning
me in the process or upsetting his little flimsy craft； and； as I was
somewhat tired with my struggle； took me in tow and carried me to the
landing where he kept his canoe。 I can't say that there is anything
odd about his manners or his way of talk。 I judge him to be a native
of one of our Northern States；perhaps a New Englander。 He has
lived abroad during some parts of his life。 He is not an artist； as
it was at one time thought he might be。 He is a good…looking fellow；
well developed； manly in appearance； with nothing to excite special
remark unless it be a certain look of anxiety or apprehension which
comes over him from time to time。 You remember our old friend Squire
B。； whose companion was killed by lightning when he was standing
close to him。 You know the look he had whenever anything like a
thundercloud came up in the sky。 Well； I should say there was a look
like that came over this Maurice Kirkwood's face every now and then。
I noticed that he looked round once or twice as if to see whether
some object or other was in sight。 There was a little rustling in
the grass as if of footsteps； and this look came over his features。
A rabbit ran by us； and I watched to see if he showed any sign of
that antipathy we have heard so much of； but he seemed to be pleased
watching the creature。
〃If you ask me what my opinion is about this Maurice Kirkwood； I
think he is eccentric in his habit of life； but not what they call a
'crank' exactly。 He talked well enough about such matters as we
spoke of；the lake； the scenery in general； the climate。 I asked
him to come over and take a look at the college。 He did n't promise；
but I should not be surprised if I should get him over there some
day。 I asked him why he did n't go to the Pansophian meetings。 He
did n't give any reason； but he shook his head in a very peculiar
way； as much as to say that it was impossible。
〃On the whole； I think it is nothing more than the same feeling of
dread of human society； or dislike for it； which under the name of
religion used to drive men into caves and deserts。 What a pity that
Protestantism does not make special provision for all the freaks of
individual character！ If we had a little more faith and a few more
caverns； or convenient places for making them； we should have hermits
in these holes as thick as woodchucks or prairie dogs。 I should like
to know if you never had the feeling；
'Oh； that the desert were my dwelling…place！'
I know what your answer will be； of course。 You will say；
'Certainly；
'With one fair spirit for my minister；〃'
but I mean alone；all alone。 Don't you ever feel as if you should
like to have been a pillar…saint in the days when faith was as strong
as lye （spelt with a y）； instead of being as weak as dish…water？
（Jerry is looking over my shoulder； and says this pun is too bad to
send； and a disgrace to the Universitybut never mind。） I often feel
as if I should like to roost on a pillar a hundred feet high；yes；
and have it soaped from top to bottom。 Wouldn't it be fun to look
down at the bores and the duns？ Let us get up a pillar…roosters'
association。 （Jerrystill looking over says there is an absurd
contradiction in the idea。）
〃What a matter…of…fact idiot Jerry is！
〃How do you like looking over； Mr。 Inspector general？〃
The reader will not get much information out of this lively young
fellow's letter； but he may get a little。 It is something to know
that the mysterious resident of Arrowhead Village did not look nor
talk like a crazy person； that he was of agreeable aspect and
address； helpful when occasion offered； and had nothing about him； so
far as yet appeared； to prevent his being an acceptable member of
society。
Of course the people in the village could never be contented without
learning everything there was to be learned about their visitor。 All
the city papers were examined for advertisements。 If a cashier had
absconded； if a broker had disappeared； if a railroad president was
missing； some of the old stories would wake up and get a fresh
currency； until some new circumstance gave rise to a new hypothesis。
Unconscious of all these inquiries and fictions； Maurice Kirkwood
lived on in his inoffensive and unexplained solitude； and seemed
likely to remain an unsolved enigma。 The 〃Sachem〃 of the boating
girls became the 〃Sphinx 〃 of the village ramblers； and it was agreed
on all hands that Egypt did not hold any hieroglyphics harder to make
out than the meaning of this young man's odd way of living。
V
THE ENIGMA STUDIED。
It was a curious； if it was not a suspicious； circumstance that a
young man； seemingly in good health； of comely aspect； looking as if
made for companionship； should keep himself apart from all the world
around him in a place where there was a general feeling of good
neighborhood and a pleasant social atmosphere。 The Public Library
was a central point which brought people together。 The Pansophian
Society did a great deal to make them acquainted with each other for
many of the meetings were open to outside visitors； and the subjects
discussed in the meetings furnished the material for conversation in
their intervals。 A card of invitation had been sent by the Secretary
to Maurice； in answer to which Paolo carried back a polite note of
regret。 The paper had a narrow rim of black； implying apparently
some loss of relative or friend； but not any very recent and crushing
bereavement。 This refusal to come to the meetings of the society was
only what was expected。 It was proper to ask him； but his declining
the invitation showed that he did not wish for attentions or
courtesies。 There was not