“Summer Substitute –
Part Five”
I hope you enjoyed our
“Summer Substitute” series. I don’t know
about you but I think Clemens fellow could be going places.
Starting Monday: Business as usual.
Okay, who said, “Aw”?
And now, our final
installment. And you better like it just
the right amount. Remember, I’m here on
a regular basis.
And he’s dead.
GENERAL MILES AND THE DOG
(starting part way
through)
One must keep up one’s character. Earn a character first if you can, and if you
can’t, then assume one. From the code of
morals I have been following and revising and revising for seventy-two years I
remember one detail. All my life I have
been honest – comparatively honest. I
could never use money I had not made honestly.
I could only lend it.
Last spring I met General Miles again, and he commented on
the fact that we had known each other thirty years. He said it was strange that we had not met
years before, when we had both been in Washington. At that point I changed the subject, and I
changed it with art. But the facts are
these:
I was then under contract for my Innocents Abroad, but did not have a cent to live on while I wrote
it. So I went to Washington to do a
little journalism. There I met an
equally poor friend, William Davidson, who had not a single vice, unless you
call it a vice in a Scot to love Scotch.
Together we devised the first and original newspaper syndicate, selling
two letters a week to twelve newspapers and getting $1 a letter. That $24 a week would have been enough for us
– if we had not had to support the jug.
But there was a day when we felt that we must have $3 right
away – $3 at once. That was how I met
the General. It doesn’t matter now what
we wanted so much money at one time for, but that Scot and I did occasionally
want it. The Scot sent me out one day to
get it. He had a great belief in
Providence, that Scottish friend of mine.
He said: “The Lord will provide.”
I had given up trying to find the money lying about, and was
in a hotel lobby in despair, when I saw a beautiful unfriended dog. The dog saw me, too, and at once we became
acquainted. Then General Miles came in,
admired the dog, and asked me to price it.
I priced it at $3.
He offered me an opportunity to reconsider the value of the
beautiful animal, but I refused to take more than Providence knew I
needed. The General carried the dog to
his room.
Then came in a sweet little middle-aged man, who at once
began looking around the lobby.
“Did you lose a dog?” I asked. He said he had.
“I think I could find it,” I volunteered, “for a small sum.”
“How much?” he asked.
And I told him $3. He urged me to
accept more, but I did not wish to outdo Providence. Then I went to the General’s room and asked
for the dog back. He was very angry, and
wanted to know why I had sold him a dog that did not belong to me.
“That’s a singular question to ask me, sir,” I replied. “Didn’t you ask me to sell him? You started it.” And he let me have him. I gave him back his $3 and returned the dog
collect, to its owner. That second $3
dollars I carried home to the Scot, and we enjoyed it, but the first $3, the
money I got from the General, I would have had to lend.
The General seemed not to remember my part in that adventure,
and I never had the heart to tell him about it.
Okay, that’s it. The guy writes great stories. I heard he also writes books. You might want to check them out. They could be good too.
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