The Idiot | Page 2

the mere fact that a canal-boat can be
moved about the country, and is in no sense a fixture anywhere, shows
that as a dwelling-place it is superior to a house. Take this house, for
instance. This neighborhood used to be the best in town. It is still far
from being the worst neighborhood in town, but it is, as it has been for
several years, deteriorating. The establishment of a Turkish bath on one
corner and a grocery-store on the other has taken away much of that air
of refinement which characterized it when the block was devoted to
residential purposes entirely. Now just suppose for a moment that this
street were a canal, and that this house were a canal-boat. The canal
could run down as much as it pleased, the neighborhood could
deteriorate eternally, but it could not affect the value of this house as
the home of refined people as long as it was possible to hitch up a team
of horses to the front stoop and tow it into a better locality. I'd like to
wager every man at this table that Mrs. Pedagog wouldn't take five
minutes to make up her mind to tow this house up to a spot near
Central Park, if it were a canal-boat and the streets were water instead
of a mixture of water, sand, and Belgian blocks."
"No takers," said the Bibliomaniac.
"Tutt-tutt-tutt," ejaculated Mr. Pedagog.

[Illustration: "THE NUISANCE OF HAVING TO PAY"]
"You seem to lose sight of another fact," said the Idiot, warming up to
his subject. "If man had had the sense in the beginning to adopt the
canal-boat system of life, and we were used to that sort of thing, it
would not be so hard upon us in summer-time, when we have to live in
hotels in order that we and our families may reap the benefits of a
period of country life. We could simply drive off to that section of the
country where we desired to be. Hotels would not be needed if a man
could take his house along with him into the fields, and one phase of
life which has more bad than good in it would be entirely obliterated.
There is nothing more disturbing to the serenity of a domestic man's
mind than the artificial manner of living that prevails in most summer
hotels. The nuisance of having to pay bills every Monday morning
under the penalty of losing one's luggage would be obviated, and all the
comforts of home would be directly within reach. The trouble incident
upon getting the trunks packed and the children ready for a long day's
journey by rail, and the fatigue arising from such a journey, would be
reduced to a minimum. The troubles attendant upon going into a far
country, and leaving one's house in the sole charge of a lot of servants
for a month or two every year, would be done away with entirely; and
if at any time it became necessary to discharge one of these servants,
she could be put off the boat in an instant, and then the boat could be
pushed out into the middle of the canal, so that the discharged domestic
could not possibly get aboard again and take her revenge by smashing
your crockery and fixtures. That is one of the worst features of living in
a stationary house. You are entirely at the mercy of vindictive servants.
They know precisely where you live, and you cannot escape them.
They can come back when there is no man around, and raise several
varieties of Ned with your wife and children. With a movable house,
such as the canal-boat would be, you could always go off and leave
your family in perfect safety."
[Illustration: "SHE COULD NOT POSSIBLY GET ABOARD
AGAIN"]
"How about safety in a storm?" asked the Bibliomaniac.

"Safety in a storm?" echoed the Idiot. "That seems an absurd sort of a
question to one who knows anything about canal-boats. I, for one,
never heard of a canal-boat being seriously damaged in a storm as long
as it was anchored in the canal proper. It certainly isn't any more
dangerous to be in a canal-boat in a storm than it is to be in a house that
offers resistance to the winds, and is shaken from roof to cellar at every
blast. More houses have been blown from their foundations than
canal-boats sunk, provided ordinary care has been taken to protect
them."
"And you think the canal-boat would be healthy?" asked the Doctor.
"How about dampness and all that?"
"That is a professional question," returned the Idiot, "which I think you
could answer better than I. I don't see why a canal-boat shouldn't be
healthy, however. The dampness would not amount to very