Little Journeys to the Homes of the Great, Volume 7: Little Journeys to the Homes of Eminent OratorsHubbard, Elbert
History
Little Journeys to the Homes of the Great, Volume 7: Little Journeys to the Homes of Eminent Orators
Hubbard, Elbert
Orators
In amazement the girl gasped, "What?" And then Bob went over it
backward: "Buckwheat cakes, codfish balls, breakfast bacon, beefsteak,
mutton-chops, and ham and eggs."
This memory test raised a laugh that sent a shout of mirth all through
the room, in which even the girl joined.
"Haven't you anything else, my dear?" asked the great man in a sort of
disappointed way.
"I think we have tripe and pig's feet," said the girl.
"Bring a bushel," said Bob; "and say, tell the cook I'd like a dish of
peacock-tongues on the side." The infinite good nature of it all caused
another laugh from everybody.
The girl brought everything Bob ordered except the peacock-tongues, and
this order supplied the lecturer and his party of four. The waitress
found a dollar-bill under Bob's plate, and the cook who stood in the
kitchen-door and waved a big spoon, and called, "Good-by, Bob!" got
another dollar for himself.
Ingersoll carried mirth, and joy, and good-cheer, and radiated a feeling
of plenitude wherever he went. He was a royal liver and a royal spender.
"If I had but a dollar," he used to say, "I'd spend it as though it
were a dry leaf, and I were the owner of an unbounded forest." He
maintained a pension-list of thirty persons or more for a decade, spent
upwards of forty thousand dollars a year, and while the fortune he left
for his wife and children was not large, as men count things on 'Change,
yet it is ample for their ease and comfort. His family always called him
"Robert" with an almost idolatrous flavor of tender love in the word.
But to the world who hated him and the world who loved him, he was just
plain "Bob." To trainmen, hackdrivers, and the great singers, poets and
players, he was "Bob." "Dignity is the mask behind which we hide our
ignorance." When half a world calls a man by a nickname, it is a patent
to nobility--small men are never so honored.
"Good-by, Bob," called the white-aproned cook as he stood in the
kitchen-door and waved his big spoon.
"Good-by, Brother, and mind you get those peacock-tongues by the time I
get back," answered Bob.
As to Ingersoll's mental evolution we can not do better than to let him
tell the story himself:
Like the most of us, I was raised among people who knew--who were
certain. They did not reason or investigate. They had no doubts.
They knew they had the truth. In their creed there was no guess--no
perhaps. They had a revelation from God. They knew the beginning of
things. They knew that God commenced to create one Monday morning
and worked until Saturday night, four thousand and four years
before Christ. They knew that in the eternity--back of that
morning, He had done nothing. They knew that it took Him six days
to make the earth--all plants, all animals, all life, and all the
globes that wheel in space. They knew exactly what He did each day
and when He rested. They knew the origin, the cause, of evil, of
all crime, of all disease and death.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account