The Mystery of Metropolisville | Page 4

Albert Charlton shouted and laughed; he stood up beside Jim, and cried
out that it was a paradise.
"Mebbe 'tis," sneered Jim, "Anyway, it's got more'n one devil into it.
_Gil_--lang!"
And under the inspiration of the scenery, Albert, with the
impulsiveness of a young man, unfolded to Whisky Jim all the beauties
of his own theories: how a man should live naturally and let other
creatures live; how much better a man was without flesh-eating; how
wrong it was to speculate, and that a speculator gave nothing in return;
and that it was not best to wear flannels, seeing one should harden his
body to endure cold and all that; and how a man should let his beard

grow, not use tobacco nor coffee nor whisky, should get up at four
o'clock in the morning and go to bed early.
"Looky here, mister!" said the Superior Being, after a while. "I
wouldn't naow, ef I was you!"
"Wouldn't what?"
"Wouldn't fetch no sich notions into this ked'ntry. Can't afford tew.
'Taint no land of idees. It's the ked'ntry of corner lots. Idees is in the
way--don't pay no interest. Haint had time to build a 'sylum fer people
with idees yet, in this territory. Ef you must have 'em, why let me
_rec_-ommend Bost'n. Drove hack there wunst, myself." Then after a
pause he proceeded with the deliberation of a judge: "It's the best
village I ever lay eyes on fer idees, is Bost'n. Thicker'n hops! Grow
single and in bunches. Have s'cieties there fer idees. Used to make
money outen the fellows with idees, cartin 'em round to anniversaries
and sich. Ef you only wear a nice slick plug-hat there, you kin believe
anything you choose or not, and be a gentleman all the same. The more
you believe or don't believe in Bost'n, the more gentleman you be. The
don't-believers is just as good as the believers. Idees inside the head,
and plug-hats outside. But idees out here! I tell you, here it's nothin' but
per-cent." The Superior Being puckered his lips and whistled. "Git up,
will you! G'lang! Better try Bost'n."
Perhaps Albert Charlton, the student passenger, was a little offended
with the liberty the driver had taken in rebuking his theories. He was
full of "idees," and his fundamental idea was of course his belief in the
equality and universal brotherhood of men. In theory he recognized no
social distinctions. But the most democratic of democrats in theory is
just a little bit of an aristocrat in feeling--he doesn't like to be patted on
the back by the hostler; much less does he like to be reprimanded by a
stage-driver. And Charlton was all the more sensitive from a certain
vague consciousness that he himself had let down the bars of his
dignity by unfolding his theories so gushingly to Whisky Jim. What did
Jim know--what could a man who said "idees" know--about the great
world-reforming thoughts that engaged his attention? But when dignity
is once fallen, all the king's oxen and all the king's men can't stand it on

its legs again. In such a strait, one must flee from him who saw the fall.
Albert Charlton therefore determined that he would change to the
inside of the coach when an opportunity should offer, and leave the
Superior Being to sit "wrapped in the solitude of his own originality."

CHAPTER II.
THE SOD TAVERN.
Here and there Charlton noticed the little claim-shanties, built in every
sort of fashion, mere excuses for pre-emption. Some were even
constructed of brush. What was lacking in the house was amply atoned
for by the perjury of the claimant who, in pre-empting, would swear to
any necessary number of good qualities in his habitation. On a little
knoll ahead of the stage he saw what seemed to be a heap of earth.
There must have been some inspiration in this mound, for, as soon as it
came in sight, Whisky Jim began to chirrup and swear at his horses,
and to crack his long whip threateningly until he had sent them off up
the hill at a splendid pace. Just by this mound of earth he reined up with
an air that said the forenoon route was finished. For this was nothing
less than the "Sod Tavern," a house built of cakes of the tenacious
prairiesod. No other material was used except the popple-poles, which
served for supports to the sod-roof. The tavern was not over ten feet
high at the apex of the roof; it had been built for two or three years, and
the grass was now growing on top. A red-shirted publican sallied out of
this artificial grotto, and invited the ladies and gentlemen to dinner.
It appeared, from a beautifully-engraved map hanging on the walls of