One thing I cannot get out of _my_ head: have you noticed anything wrong at the Club? Two or three evenings, as we have gone in to dinner, have you noticed anything wrong? Those two charlatans put their heads together last night: their two heads put together do not make one complete head--that may be the trouble; beware of less than one good full-weight head. Something is wrong and I believe they are the dark forces: have you observed anything? BEVERLEY. BEN DOOLITTLE TO BEVERLEY SANDS _January 11._ DEAR BEVERLEY: The letters are filed away with their predecessors. If I am any judge of human nature, you will receive others from this daughter of the South in the same strain. If her great father (local meaning, old dad) is really dead, he probably sawed his head off against a tight clothes-line in the back-yard some dark night, while on his way to their gooseberry bushes to see if they had any sense. More likely he hurled himself headlong into eternity to get rid of her--rolled down the steps with sheer delight and reached for pneumonia with a glad hand to escape his own offspring and her endless society. The most terrifying thing to me about this new Clara is her Great Desert dryness; no drop of humour ever bedewed her mind. I believe those eminent gentlemen who call themselves biologists have recently discovered that the human system, if deprived of water, will convert part of its dry food into water. I wish these gentlemen would study the contrariwise case of Clara: she would convert a drink of water into a mouthful of sawdust. Humour has long been codified by me as one of nature's most solemn gifts. I divide all witnesses into two classes: those who, while giving testimony or being examined or cross-examined, cause laughter in the courtroom at others. The second class turn all laughter against themselves. That is why the gift of humour is so grave--it keeps us from making ourselves ridiculous. A Frenchman (still my French) has recently pointed out that the reason we laugh is to drive things out of the world, to jolly them out of existence and have a good time as we do it. Therefore not to be laughed at is to survive. Beware of this new Clara! War breeds two kinds of people: heroes and shams--the heroic and the mock heroic. You and I know the Civil War bred two kinds of burlesque Southerner: the post-bellum Colonel and the spurious proud daughter of the Southland. Proud, sensitive Southern people do not go around proclaiming that they are proud and sensitive. And that word--Southland! Hang the word and shoot the man who made it. There are no proud daughters of the Westland or of the Northland. Beware of this new Clara! This breath of the Desert! Yes, I have noticed something wrong in the Club. I have hesitated about speaking to you of it. I do not know what it means, but my suspicions lie where yours lie--with those two wallpaper doctors. BEN. RUFUS KENT TO BEVERLEY SANDS