Europe and elsewhere

It is strange ... very strange. I do not remember this creature. (After gazing long and admiringly.) Well, it is wonderful! The mere skeleton fifty-seven feet long and sixteen feet high! Thus far, it seems, they’ve found only this sample--without doubt a merely medium-sized one; a person could not step out here into the Park and happen by luck upon the largest horse in America; no, he would happen upon one that would look small alongside of the biggest Normandy. It is quite likely that the biggest dinosaur was ninety feet long and twenty feet high. It would be five times as long as an elephant; an elephant would be to it what a calf is to an elephant. The bulk of the creature! The weight of him! As long as the longest whale, and twice the substance in him! And all good wholesome pork, most likely; meat enough to last a village a year.... Think of a hundred of them in line, draped in shining cloth of gold!--a majestic thing for a coronation procession. But expensive, for he would eat much; only kings and millionaires could afford him.

I have no recollection of him; neither Eve nor I had heard of him until yesterday. We spoke to Noah about him; he colored and changed the subject. Being brought back to it--and pressed a little--he confessed that in the matter of stocking the Ark the stipulations had not been carried out with absolute strictness--that is, in minor details, unessentials. There were some irregularities. He said the boys were to blame for this--the boys mainly, his own fatherly indulgence partly. They were in the giddy heyday of their youth at the time, the happy springtime of life; their hundred years sat upon them lightly, and--well, he had once been a boy himself, and he had not the heart to be too exacting with them. And so--well, they did things they shouldn’t have done, and he--to be candid, he winked. But on the whole they did pretty faithful work, considering their age. They collected and stowed a good share of the really useful animals; and also, when Noah was not watching, a multitude of useless ones, such as flies, mosquitoes, snakes, and so on, but they did certainly leave ashore a good many creatures which might possibly have had value some time or other, in the course of time. Mainly these were vast saurians a hundred feet long, and monstrous mammals, such as the megatherium and that sort, and there was really some excuse for leaving them behind, for two reasons: (1) it was manifest that some time or other they would be needed as fossils for museums and (2) there had been a miscalculation, the Ark was smaller than it should have been, and so there wasn’t room for those creatures. There was actually fossil material enough all by itself to freight twenty-five Arks like that one. As for the dinosaur----But Noah’s conscience was easy; it was not named in his cargo list and he and the boys were not aware that there was such a creature. He said he could not blame himself for not knowing about the dinosaur, because it was an American animal, and America had not then been discovered.

Noah went on to say, “I did reproach the boys for not making the most of the room we had, by discarding trashy animals and substituting beasts like the mastodon, which could be useful to man in doing heavy work such as the elephant performs, but they said those great creatures would have increased our labors beyond our strength, in the matter of feeding and watering them, we being short-handed. There was something in that. We had no pump; there was but one window; we had to let down a bucket from that, and haul it up a good fifty feet, which was very tiresome; then we had to carry the water downstairs--fifty feet again, in cases where it was for the elephants and their kind, for we kept them in the hold to serve for ballast. As it was, we lost many animals--choice animals that would have been valuable in menageries--different breeds of lions, tigers, hyenas, wolves, and so on; for they wouldn’t drink the water after the salt sea water got mixed with the fresh. But we never lost a locust, nor a grasshopper, nor a weevil, nor a rat, nor a cholera germ, nor any of that sort of beings. On the whole, I think we did very well, everything considered. We were shepherds and farmers; we had never been to sea before; we were ignorant of naval matters, and I know this for certain, that there is more difference between agriculture and navigation than a person would think. It is my opinion that the two trades do not belong together. Shem thinks the same; so does Japheth. As for what Ham thinks, it is not important. Ham is biased. You find me a Presbyterian that isn’t, if you think you can.”

He said it aggressively; it had in it the spirit of a challenge. I avoided argument by changing the subject. With Noah, arguing is a passion, a disease, and it is growing upon him; has been growing upon him for thirty thousand years, and more. It makes him unpopular, unpleasant; many of his oldest friends dread to meet him. Even strangers soon get to avoiding him, although at first they are glad to meet him and gaze at him, on account of his celebrated adventure. For a time they are proud of his notice, because he is so distinguished; but he argues them to rags, and before long they begin to wish, like the rest, that something had happened to the Ark.

(On the bench in the Park, midafternoon, dreamily noting the drift, of the human species back and forth.) To think--this multitude is but a wee little fraction of the earth’s population! And all blood kin to me, every one! Eve ought to have come with me; this would excite her affectionate heart. She was never able to keep her composure when she came upon a relative; she would try to kiss every one of these people, black and white and all. (A baby wagon passes.) How little change one can notice--none at all, in fact. I remember the first child well----Let me see ... it is three hundred thousand years ago come Tuesday. This one is just like it. So between the first one and the last one there is really nothing to choose. The same insufficiency of hair, the same absence of teeth, the same feebleness of body and apparent vacancy of mind, the same general unattractiveness all around. Yet Eve worshiped that early one, and it was pretty to see her with it. This latest one’s mother worships it; it shows in her eyes--it is the very look that used to shine in Eve’s. To think that so subtle and intangible a thing as a look could flit and flash from face to face down a procession three hundred thousand years long and remain the same, without shade of change! Yet here it is, lighting this young creature’s face just as it lighted Eve’s in the long ago--the newest thing I have seen in the earth, and the oldest. Of course, the dinosaur----But that is in another class.

She drew the baby wagon to the bench and sat down and began to shove it softly back and forth with one hand while she held up a newspaper with the other and absorbed herself in its contents. Presently, “My!” she exclaimed; which startled me, and I ventured to ask her, modestly and respectfully, what was the matter. She courteously passed the paper to me and said--pointing with her finger:

“There--it reads like fact, but I don’t know.”

It was very embarrassing. I tried to look at my ease, and nonchalantly turned the paper this and that and the other way, but her eye was upon me and I felt that I was not succeeding. Pretty soon she asked, hesitatingly:

“Can’t--can’t--you--read?”

I had to confess that I couldn’t. It filled her with wonder. But it had one pleasant effect--it interested her in me, and I was thankful, for I was getting lonesome for some one to talk to and listen to. The young fellow who was showing me around--on his own motion, I did not invite him--had missed his appointment at the Museum, and I was feeling disappointed, for he was good company. When I told the young woman I could not read, she asked me another embarrassing question:

“Where are you from?”

I skirmished--to gain time and position. I said:

“Make a guess. See how near you can come.”

She brightened, and exclaimed:

“I shall dearly like it, sir, if you don’t mind. If I guess right will you tell me?”

“Yes.”

“Honor bright?”

“Honor bright? What is that?”

She laughed delightedly and said:

“That’s a good start! I was sure that that phrase would catch you. I know one thing, now, all right. I know----”

“What do you know?”

“That you are not an American. And you aren’t, are you?”

“No. You are right. I’m not--honor bright, as you say.”

She looked immensely pleased with herself, and said:

“I reckon I’m not always smart, but that was smart, anyway. But not so very, after all, because I already knew--believed I knew--that you were a foreigner, by another sign.”

“What was that?”

“Your accent.”

She was an accurate observer; I do speak English with a heavenly accent, and she had detected the foreign twang in it. She ran charmingly on, most naïvely and engagingly pleased with her triumph:

“The minute you said, ‘See ’ow near you can come to it,’ I said to myself, ‘Two to one he is a foreigner, and ten to one he’s English.’ Now that is your nationality, isn’t it?”

I was sorry to spoil her victory, but I had to do it: “Ah--you’ll have to guess again.”

“What--you are not an Englishman?”

“No--honor bright.”

She looked me searchingly over, evidently communing with herself--adding up my points, then she said:

“Well, you don’t look like an Englishman, and that is true.” After a little she added, “The fact is, you don’t look like any foreigner--not quite like ... like anybody I’ve seen before. I will guess some more.”

She guessed every country whose name she could think of and grew gradually discouraged. Finally she said:

“You must be the Man Without a Country--the one the story tells about. You don’t seem to have any nationality at all. How did you come to come to America? Have you any kinfolks here?”

“Yes--several.”

“Oh, then you came to see them.”

“Partly--yes.”

She sat awhile, thinking, then:

“Well, I’m not going to give up quite yet. Where do you live when you are at home--in a city, or in the country?”

“Which do you think?”

“Well, I don’t quite know. You do look a little countrified, if you don’t mind my saying it; but you look a little citified, too--not much, but a little, although you can’t read, which is very curious, and you are not used to newspapers. Now my guess is that you live mainly in the country when you are at home, and not very much in the city. Is that right?”

“Yes, quite right.”

“Oh, good! Now I’ll take a fresh start.”

Then she wore herself to the bone, naming cities. No success. Next she wanted me to help her a little with some “pointers,” as she phrased it. Was my city large? Yes. Was it very large? Yes. Did they have mobiles there? No. Electric light? No. Railroads, hospitals, colleges, cops? No.

“Why, then, it’s not civilized! Where can that place be? Be good and tell me just one peculiarity of it--then maybe I can guess.”

“Well, then, just one; it has gates of pearl.”

“Oh, go along! That’s the New Jerusalem. It isn’t fair to joke. Never mind. I’ll guess it yet--it will come into my head pretty soon, just when I’m not expecting it. Oh, I’ve got an idea! Please talk a little in your own language--that’ll be a good pointer.” I accommodated her with a sentence or two. She shook her head despondently.

“No,” she said, “it doesn’t sound human. I mean, it doesn’t sound like any of these other foreigners. It’s pretty enough--it’s quite pretty, I think--but I’m sure I’ve not heard it before. Maybe if you were to pronounce your name----  What is your name, if you’ll be so good?”

“Adam.”

“Adam?”

“Yes.”

“But Adam what?”

“That is all--just Adam.”

“Nothing at all but just that? Why, how curious! There’s plenty of Adams; how can they tell you from the rest?”

“Oh, that is no trouble. I’m the only one there is, there where I’m from.”

“Upon my word! Well, it beats the band! It reminds a person of the old original. That was his name, too, and he hadn’t any but that--just like you.” Then, archly, “You’ve heard of him, I suppose?”

“Oh yes! Do you know him? Have you ever seen him?”

“Seen him? Seen Adam? Thanks to goodness, no! It would scare me into fits.”

“I don’t see why.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“Why don’t you see why?”

“Because there is no sense in a person being scared of his kin.”

“Kin?”

“Yes. Isn’t he a distant relative of yours?”

She thought it was prodigiously funny, and said it was perfectly true, but she never would have been bright enough to think of it. I found it a new and most pleasant sensation to have my wit admired, and was about to try to do some more when that young fellow came. He planted himself on the other side of the young woman and began a vapid remark about the weather, but she gave him a look that withered him and got stiffly up and wheeled the baby away.