The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley, vol 10 | Page 4

curious fact that, at the very limit of all allowable supposition,
his age could not possibly have exceeded twenty-five.
What it was in the man that struck me as eccentric at that time I have
never been wholly able to define, but I recall accurately the most trivial
occurrences of our meeting and the very subject-matter of our
conversation. I even remember the very words in which he declined a
drink from my traveling-flask--for "It's a raw day," I said, by way of
gratuitous excuse for offering it. "Yes," he said, smilingly motioning
the temptation aside; "it is a raw day; but you're rather young in years
to be doctoring the weather--at least you'd better change the
treatment--they'll all be raw days for you after a while!" I confess that I
even felt an inward pity for the man as I laughingly drained his health
and returned the flask to my valise. But when I asked him, ten minutes
later, the nature of the business in which he was engaged, and he
handed me, in response and without comment, the card of a wholesale
liquor house, with his own name in crimson letters struck diagonally
across the surface, I winked naively to myself and thought "Ah-ha!"
And as if reading my very musings, he said: "Why, certainly, I carry a
full line of samples; but, my dear young friend, don't imagine for a
minute that I refuse your brand on that account. You can rest assured
that I have nothing better in my cases. Whisky is whisky wherever it is
found, and there is no 'best' whisky--not in all the world!"
Truly, I thought, this is an odd source for the emanation of temperance
sentiments--then said aloud: "And yet you engage in a business you
dislike! Traffic in an article that you yourself condemn! Do I
understand you?"
"Might there not be such a thing," he said quietly, "as inheriting a
business--the same as inheriting an appetite? However, one advances
by gradations: I shall SELL no more. This is my last trip on the road in
that capacity: I am coming in now to take charge of the firm's books.
Would be glad to have you call on me any time you're in the city.
Good-by." And, as he swung off the slowly moving train, now entering

the city, and I stood watching him from the open door of the caboose as
he rapidly walked down a suburban street, I was positive his gait was
anything but steady--that the step--the figure--the whole air of the man
was that of one then laboring under the effects of partial intoxication.
I have always liked peculiar people; no matter where I met them, no
matter who they were; if once impressed with an eccentricity of
character which I have reason to believe purely unaffected, I never
quite forget the person, name or place of our first meeting, or where the
interesting party may be found again. And so it was in the customary
order of things that, during hasty visits to the city, I often called on the
eccentric Mr. Clark, and, as he had promised on our first acquaintance,
he seemed always glad to see and welcome me in his new office. The
more I knew of him the more I liked him, but I think I never fully
understood him. No one seemed to know him quite so well as that.
Once I had a little private talk regarding him with the senior partner of
the firm for which he worked. Mr. Clark, just prior to my call, had gone
to lunch-- would be back in half an hour. Would I wait there in the
office until his return? Certainly. And the chatty senior entertained
me:--Queer fellow--Mr. Clark!--as his father was before him. Used to
be a member of the firm--his father; in fact, founded the
business--made a fortune at it--failed, for an unfortunate reason, and
went "up the flume." Paid every dollar that he owed, however,
sacrificing the very home that sheltered his wife and children-- but
never rallied. He had quite a family, then? Oh, yes; had a family--not a
large one, but a bright one--only they all seemed more or less
unfortunate. The father was unfortunate--very; and died so, leaving his
wife and two boys--the older son much like the father--splendid
business capacities, but lacked will--couldn't resist some things --even
weaker than the father in that regard, and died at half his age.
But the younger brother--our Mr. Clark-- remained, and he was
sterling--"straight goods" in all respects. Lived with his mother--was
her sole support. A proud woman, Mrs. Clark-- a proud woman, with a
broken spirit--withdrawn entirely from the world, and had been so for
years and years. The Clarks, as had been mentioned, were all
peculiar--even the