The Idiot | Page 9

Mr. Brief?"
"It is certainly a fatal criticism of a boarding-house," observed Mr.
Brief, with a twinkle in his eye, "but Mrs. Pedagog could hardly secure
damages on that score."
"I don't know about that," returned the Idiot. "As I understand it, it is an
old maxim of the law that the greater the truth the greater the libel. Mrs.
Pedagog ought to receive a million----By-the-way, what have we this
morning?"
"We have steak and fried potatoes, sir," replied Mrs. Pedagog, frigidly.
"And I desire to add, that one who criticises the table as much as you
do would do well to get his meals outside."
"That, Mrs. Pedagog, is not the point. The difficulty I find here lies in
getting my meals inside," said the Idiot.
"Mary, you may bring in the mush," observed Mrs. Pedagog, pursing
her lips, as she always did when she wished to show that she was
offended.
"Yes, Mary," put in the School-Master; "let us have the mush as
quickly as possible--and may it not be quite such mushy mush as the
remarks we have just been favored with by our talented friend the
Idiot."
"You overwhelm me with your compliments, Mr. Pedagog," replied the
Idiot, cheerfully. "A flatterer like you should live in a flat."

"Has your friend completed his article on old jokes yet?" queried the
Bibliomaniac, with a smile and some apparent irrelevance.
[Illustration: "HAS YOUR FRIEND COMPLETED HIS ARTICLE
ON OLD JOKES?"]
"Yes and no," said the Idiot. "He has completed his labors on it by
giving it up. He is a very thorough sort of a fellow, and he intended to
make the article comprehensive, but he found he couldn't, because,
judging from comments of men like you, for instance, he was forced to
conclude that there never was a new joke. But, as I was saying the other
morning----"
"Do you really remember what you say?" sneered Mr. Pedagog. "You
must have a great memory for trifles."
"Sir, I shall never forget you," said the Idiot. "But to revert to what I
was saying the other morning, I'd like to begin life all over again, so
that I could prepare myself for the profession of architecture. It's the
greatest profession in the world, and one which is surest to bring
immortality to its successful follower. A man may write a splendid
book, and become a great man for a while and within certain limits, but
the chances are that some other man will come along later and supplant
him. Then the book's sale will die out after a time, and with this will
come a diminution of its author's reputation, in extent anyway. An actor
or a great preacher becomes only a name after his death, but the
architect who builds a cathedral or a fine public building really erects a
monument to his own memory."
"He does if he can build it so that it will stay up," said the Bibliomaniac.
"I think you, however, are better off as you are. If you had a more
extended reputation or a lasting name you would probably be locked up
in some retreat; or if you were not, posterity would want to know why."
"I am locked up in a retreat of Nature's making," said the Idiot, with a
sigh. "Nature has set around me certain limitations which, while they
are not material, might as well be so as far as my ability to soar above
them is concerned--and it's well she has. If it were otherwise, my life

would not be safe or bearable in this company. As it is, I am happy and
not at all afraid of the effects your jealousy of me might entail if I were
any better than the rest of you."
"I like that," said Mr. Pedagog.
"I thought you would," said the Idiot. "That's why I said it. I aim to
please, and for once seem to have hit the bull's-eye. Mary, kindly break
open this biscuit for me."
"Have you ideas on the subject of architecture that you so desire to
become an architect?" queried Mr. Whitechoker, who was always full
of sympathy for aspiring natures.
"A few," said the Idiot.
Mr. Pedagog laughed outright.
"Let's test his ideas," he said, in an amused way. "Take a cathedral, for
instance. Suppose, Mr. Idiot, a man should come to you and say: 'Idiot,
we have a fund of $800,000 in our hands, actual cash. We think of
building a cathedral, and we think of employing you to draw up our
plans. Give us some idea of what we should do.' Do you mean to tell
me that you could say anything reasonable or intelligent to that man?"
"Well, that depends upon what you call reasonable and intelligent. I
have never been able to