"Others might call him an original genius."
"Yes, being original in his folly. Genius? His genius is a cracked pate, and, as this age goes, not much originality about that."
"May he not be knave, fool, and genius altogether?"
"I beg pardon," here said a third person with a gossiping expression who had been listening, "but you are somewhat puzzled by this man, and well you may be."
"Do you know anything about him?" asked the hooked-nosed gentleman.
"No, but I suspect him for something."
"Suspicion. We want knowledge."
"Well, suspect first and know next. True knowledge comes but by suspicion or revelation. That"s my maxim."
"And yet," said the auburn-haired gentleman, "since a wise man will keep even some certainties to himself, much more some suspicions, at least he will at all events so do till they ripen into knowledge."
"Do you hear that about the wise man?" said the hook-nosed gentleman, turning upon the new comer. "Now what is it you suspect of this fellow?"
"I shrewdly suspect him," was the eager response, "for one of those Jesuit emissaries prowling all over our country. The better to accomplish their secret designs, they a.s.sume, at times, I am told, the most singular masques; sometimes, in appearance, the absurdest."
This, though indeed for some reason causing a droll smile upon the face of the hook-nosed gentleman, added a third angle to the discussion, which now became a sort of triangular duel, and ended, at last, with but a triangular result.
CHAPTER XIX.
A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE.
"Mexico? Molino del Rey? Resaca de la Palma?"
"Resaca de la _Tomba_!"
Leaving his reputation to take care of itself, since, as is not seldom the case, he knew nothing of its being in debate, the herb-doctor, wandering towards the forward part of the boat, had there espied a singular character in a grimy old regimental coat, a countenance at once grim and wizened, interwoven paralyzed legs, stiff as icicles, suspended between rude crutches, while the whole rigid body, like a ship"s long barometer on gimbals, swung to and fro, mechanically faithful to the motion of the boat. Looking downward while he swung, the cripple seemed in a brown study.
As moved by the sight, and conjecturing that here was some battered hero from the Mexican battle-fields, the herb-doctor had sympathetically accosted him as above, and received the above rather dubious reply. As, with a half moody, half surly sort of air that reply was given, the cripple, by a voluntary jerk, nervously increased his swing (his custom when seized by emotion), so that one would have thought some squall had suddenly rolled the boat and with it the barometer.
"Tombs? my friend," exclaimed the herb-doctor in mild surprise. "You have not descended to the dead, have you? I had imagined you a scarred campaigner, one of the n.o.ble children of war, for your dear country a glorious sufferer. But you are Lazarus, it seems."
"Yes, he who had sores."
"Ah, the _other_ Lazarus. But I never knew that either of them was in the army," glancing at the dilapidated regimentals.
"That will do now. Jokes enough."
"Friend," said the other reproachfully, "you think amiss. On principle, I greet unfortunates with some pleasant remark, the better to call off their thoughts from their troubles. The physician who is at once wise and humane seldom unreservedly sympathizes with his patient. But come, I am a herb-doctor, and also a natural bone-setter. I may be sanguine, but I think I can do something for you. You look up now. Give me your story.
Ere I undertake a cure, I require a full account of the case."
"You can"t help me," returned the cripple gruffly. "Go away."
"You seem sadly dest.i.tute of----"
"No I ain"t dest.i.tute; to-day, at least, I can pay my way."
"The Natural Bone-setter is happy, indeed, to hear that. But you were premature. I was deploring your dest.i.tution, not of cash, but of confidence. You think the Natural Bone-setter can"t help you. Well, suppose he can"t, have you any objection to telling him your story? You, my friend, have, in a signal way, experienced adversity. Tell me, then, for my private good, how, without aid from the n.o.ble cripple, Epictetus, you have arrived at his heroic sang-froid in misfortune."
At these words the cripple fixed upon the speaker the hard ironic eye of one toughened and defiant in misery, and, in the end, grinned upon him with his unshaven face like an ogre.
"Come, come, be sociable--be human, my friend. Don"t make that face; it distresses me."
"I suppose," with a sneer, "you are the man I"ve long heard of--The Happy Man."
"Happy? my friend. Yes, at least I ought to be. My conscience is peaceful. I have confidence in everybody. I have confidence that, in my humble profession, I do some little good to the world. Yes, I think that, without presumption, I may venture to a.s.sent to the proposition that I am the Happy Man--the Happy Bone-setter."
"Then, you shall hear my story. Many a month I have longed to get hold of the Happy Man, drill him, drop the powder, and leave him to explode at his leisure.".
"What a demoniac unfortunate" exclaimed the herb-doctor retreating.
"Regular infernal machine!"
"Look ye," cried the other, stumping after him, and with his h.o.r.n.y hand catching him by a horn b.u.t.ton, "my name is Thomas Fry. Until my----"
--"Any relation of Mrs. Fry?" interrupted the other. "I still correspond with that excellent lady on the subject of prisons. Tell me, are you anyway connected with _my_ Mrs. Fry?"
"Blister Mrs. Fry! What do them sentimental souls know of prisons or any other black fact? I"ll tell ye a story of prisons. Ha, ha!"
The herb-doctor shrank, and with reason, the laugh being strangely startling.
"Positively, my friend," said he, "you must stop that; I can"t stand that; no more of that. I hope I have the milk of kindness, but your thunder will soon turn it."
"Hold, I haven"t come to the milk-turning part yet. My name is Thomas Fry. Until my twenty-third year I went by the nickname of Happy Tom--happy--ha, ha! They called me Happy Tom, d"ye see? because I was so good-natured and laughing all the time, just as I am now--ha, ha!"
Upon this the herb-doctor would, perhaps, have run, but once more the hyaena clawed him. Presently, sobering down, he continued:
"Well, I was born in New York, and there I lived a steady, hard-working man, a cooper by trade. One evening I went to a political meeting in the Park--for you must know, I was in those days a great patriot. As bad luck would have it, there was trouble near, between a gentleman who had been drinking wine, and a pavior who was sober. The pavior chewed tobacco, and the gentleman said it was beastly in him, and pushed him, wanting to have his place. The pavior chewed on and pushed back. Well, the gentleman carried a sword-cane, and presently the pavior was down--skewered."
"How was that?"
"Why you see the pavior undertook something above his strength."
"The other must have been a Samson then. "Strong as a pavior," is a proverb."
"So it is, and the gentleman was in body a rather weakly man, but, for all that, I say again, the pavior undertook something above his strength."
"What are you talking about? He tried to maintain his rights, didn"t he?"
"Yes; but, for all that, I say again, he undertook something above his strength."