  "The Funny Philosophers have caused the exodus of the Seven Sweethearts," said the Professor, as the three friends sat in Toney's room in the hotel the morning subsequent to the departure of Pate and Wiggins. "Our sect must flourish," said Toney. "And Pate's big bald head will not be seen bobbing about in Bella Vista," said Tom. "Mr. Seddon, you should not speak irreverently of bald heads," said the Professor. "Remember the forty irreverent young lads and the she-bears, and learn that bald-headed people are under the especial protection of Providence. I am partially bald myself, and am under the impression that this calamity came upon me in consequence of my having once deprived an unfortunate individual of his hair." "Did what?" exclaimed Toney. "On one occasion I helped to scalp a man," said the Professor, gravely and mournfully. "Helped to scalp a man!" exclaimed Seddon. "I am sorry to say that I did, Mr. Seddon," said the Professor. "How was it?" asked Toney. "It is a strange story," said the Professor. "Let us have it," said Seddon. "Some years ago," said the Professor, "I was on a steamboat going down one of the large rivers in the South-west. The boat stopped at a landing and a big fellow came on board. He was a rough, unpolished individual, with long hair reaching down to his shoulders. He appeared to be in a bad humor with himself and with all mankind; being one of those peculiar specimens of humanity who believe that the whole duty of man is to "The glutton!" said Toney. "Did he eat all the pies?" asked Tom. "No, Mr. Seddon, he did not," said the Professor. "Having collected all the pies before him, he sternly glanced at the two rows of indignant faces along the table. He saw anger in every eye; a frown upon every brow; but not a word had been spoken. There was a dead silence, when the bully brought down his fist on the table with tremendous force, and fiercely shouted, 'I say that any man who don't like good apple-pie is a d—d rascal!' This was more than human nature could endure. In an instant every man was on his feet. The table was overturned, and hams, and turkeys, and roast-pigs rolled on the floor. There was a general fight. Pistols exploded, bowie-knives were brandished, and fists flourished!" "All endeavoring to get at the daring monopolizer of the apple-pies, I suppose?" said Tom. "By no means, Mr. Seddon," said the Professor. "There was promiscuous fighting. Many who had no opportunity of dealing a blow at the bully, fought and pommeled one another. I retreated to a corner." "But what became of the bully?" asked Toney. "I was about to tell you. As I stood on the defensive, warding off the blows which were occasionally aimed at me, I saw a huge head coming towards me like a battering-ram, the body to which it belonged being propelled by kicks in the rear. The head was about to come in contact with this portion of my anatomy—what do you "The bread-basket," said Toney. "No, that is not it," said the Professor. "The abdomen," said Tom. "That's the scientific term," said the Professor. "In order to protect my abdomen from injury, I involuntarily reached out and convulsively grasped the head by its long hair. As I did so, a bowie-knife descended and shaved off the scalp, leaving it, with its long locks, in my grasp." "What did you do with your trophy?" asked Toney. "I rushed from the saloon, yelling like an Indian, with the scalp in my hand. It belonged to the bully. He soon came upon deck howling for his hair." "Did you restore it to the owner?" asked Tom. "No," said the Professor. "To the victor belong the spoils. I escaped into the cook's galley, and carefully wrapped the scalp in some loose sheets of the Terrific Register, and put it in my pocket, and afterwards transferred it to my trunk. It is now in the possession of the learned Professor Boneskull, who has been informed by his oracle that it was one of the trophies found by the Kentuckians in the possession of the celebrated Tecumseh when he was slain in battle." "But the bully?" said Toney. "I am interested in his fate." "He was like Samson. The loss of his hair seemed to deprive him of strength and courage. His belligerency departed from him. He became quiet and orderly, and during the rest of the passage never meddled with the apple-pies, but behaved with perfect decorum. He was soon afterwards seen on the anxious bench at a camp-meeting, and he is now a bald-headed Methodist preacher, remarkable for his piety and mild and dovelike disposition." "The loss of his locks seems to have been of essential service to him," said Seddon. "I wish, however, that I had given him back his hair," said the Professor. "I suffered severely in consequence of depriving him of it." "In what way?" inquired Tom. "It was retribution, I suppose," said the Professor. "As soon as I had pocketed the fellow's hair I began to lose my own. It fell out by handfuls, and in a few months I had a bald patch on the top of my head of ample area. It made me melancholy and poetical." "I must confess that I cannot perceive any necessary connection between a bald head and poetry," said Toney. "Why, Toney, my dear fellow," said the Professor, "you must know that when a man gets a bald pate he naturally begins to think of domestic bliss and connubial felicity, which are poetical subjects. If he meditates long on these subjects, versification will be the inevitable result. It was so in my case. As I titillated the top of my bald head with my forefinger, I plainly perceived that the time had come for me to marry. So, like a bird on Saint Valentine's day, I began to look around for a mate." "You were like Dobbs, seeking for an angel and seven sweet little cherubs," said Tom. "No, Mr. Seddon, I was seeking for a dovelike little woman, and I thought I had found one. In my imagination Dora was like a gentle white dove. I cooed around her, and courted for weeks, and wrote some verses in her album. I remember them well." "I would like to hear them," said Toney. "They can be produced from the archives of my memory," said the Professor; and he recited the following verses: When morn had sown her orient gems among the golden flowers That blushed upon their purple stalks in fairy-haunted bowers, Among the glowing throng around, a tender bud I spied, That meekly held its humble place the verdant walk beside. No gaudy beauties decked its crest with variegated dyes, Like blinding splendors blazing o'er the summer's evening skies; With simple moss encircled round, it hung its head to earth, And yet in Flora's language it denotes superior worth. And—what from poet's eye is hid, by others though unseen?— It was the favorite palace of the lovely Fairy Queen; Adown its tender petals oft her tiny chariot rolled, And she within its fragrant folds her Elfin court did hold. 'Twas then I thought of one who blooms 'mid beauty's living flowers, Like this sweet bud among its mates within the garden's bowers, With unassuming, modest grace—her charms she never knew— Superior worth her brightest charm. And, lady, is it you? "I read these verses to Dora, and then I asked her the question propounded in the last line." "What did she say?" inquired Tom. "She said no!" "Perhaps she was offended by the comparison to so humble a flower," said Seddon. "It may have been so," said the Professor. "I then asked her a question in relation to the annexation of our destinies." "What did she say?" asked Toney. "She said no! I then asked her again in more unequivocal terms. I told her that I was seeking for domestic bliss and connubial felicity, and earnestly inquired if she would not assist me in the search." "What was her reply?" asked Tom. "She said no! And this time the dovelike Dora laughed in my face." "After having answered no three times?" said Tom. "Three negatives do not make an affirmative, Mr. Seddon, especially when the final negation to your very serious and sentimental proposal is accompanied by laughter. I was mortified and angry, and so I hurried home——" "To do like Perch—procure a pint of laudanum?" inquired Toney. "Not at all," said the Professor. "Upon arriving at my homestead I ate a very hearty dinner; for I was hungry and had a wolfish appetite; after which I immediately went into the arms of Morpheus. I did not wake until next morning, when, as I stood before a mirror making my toilet, I perceived that the bald patch on my head was considerably enlarged. A fit of melancholy and poetry came upon me, and resulted in the production of some verses, which, with your permission, I will repeat." "Do so," said Toney. "By all means!" said Seddon. "It is a simple little ballad," said the Professor, "in which I endeavored to mingle as much pathos as did Goldsmith in his Hermit. Its recitation has often drawn tears from very obdurate individuals, and, gentlemen, I now notify you to produce your pocket-handkerchiefs." The Professor then recited the following stanzas: The gentle spring is breathing Its fragrance all around, Rich with the scent of flow'rets That blossom o'er the ground; As if the glorious rainbow, When thunders rolled on high, Had parted into fragments And fallen from the sky, And scattered o'er the meadows, And through the orchards green, Its variegated colors To beautify the scene; The while, on golden winglets, The humming-bird so gay, Moves with a fairy motion, And rifles sweets away: So rich his purple plumage, So beautiful his crest, 'Tis to the eye of fancy As if some amethyst, Carved into a bright jewel All gloriously to deck, With its surpassing splendors, Some lovely lady's neck, Hath felt the life-blood flowing From a mysterious spring, And fled a gaudy truant Upon a golden wing, Filled with a fairy spirit To sport upon the air, With never-tiring pinions Among the flow'rets fair. Adown the sloping mountain, Where wave the ceders green, And ever-verdant laurel In blooming clusters seen, Leaps the wild, flashing streamlet With a loud shout of mirth, As though some mine of silver, Deep buried in the earth, By hidden fires were melted Within its gloomy caves, And from its dark cell bursting, With its translucent waves, Now sparkles in the sunbeam, Now hid by ivy's shade, Till o'er a steep ledge pouring, It forms a wild cascade, Where, dashed into bright fragments, It glitters in the beam, And with its brilliant colors Unto the eye doth seem, That showers of liquid rubies, And molten gems of gold, With sapphire and with amber, In mingling waves are rolled O'er these high rocks in torrents Unto the vale below, Then gain a course of smoothness, And gently on do flow 'Mid banks of blooming roses And snow-white lilies fair, Where butterflies are floating Upon the balmy air, With many-colored winglets, O'er fragrant violets blue, And gayly sip their nectar Mixed with the honey'd dew; To gaze upon their beauties 'Twould seem as if some fay, When roving through some garden Upon a sunny day, Had waved his wand of magic O'er rose and tulip bright, That filled with life had started Upon a joyous flight, And down the grassy meadows, And 'mid the blooming trees, To visit now their kindred, Are floating on the breeze: While from the woodland's thickets At intervals are heard The soft, melodious music Of the sweet mocking-bird; Which from those green recesses Echoes the merry notes, The little feathered songsters Pour from their warbling throats. Thus nature ever smiling, Each living creature gay Seems filled with sunny gladness Throughout the cloudless day; While I, a lonely bachelor, Do bear a bleeding heart, Just like a wounded wild goat When stricken by a dart. I've seen each tie dissolving Of love and friendship sweet, Like lumps of sugar-candy When held unto the heat: My friends they all proved traitors,— I'm told it's always so,— Fidelity's a stranger In this rude world below. They smoked my best havanas And drank my best champagne, And borrowed many a dollar They ne'er returned again: But soon as fortune left me, They all deserted too— They made me half a Timon— The sycophantic crew! I turned from man to woman— Sweet woman to admire! But from the pan 'twas leaping Into the blazing fire! I met a lovely maiden, Who looked so very kind, I thought she was an angel, But I was very blind! Like a deceitful siren, She led me far astray; I wandered in love's mazes Until I lost my way; But when I knelt to worship, Why, then she laughed outright— I told her I was dying, And Dora said I might. At that I grew quite angry, And feeling partly cured, Went home and ate my dinner, And then was quite restored: I ate six apple-dumplings, Then laid me down to sleep, Nor woke until next morning, Then from my couch did creep, And gazing in the mirror, The sight my soul appall'd, For I beheld with horror That I was growing bald: Since then I've known no pleasure! Man's treachery I could bear, And the deceits of woman, But not the loss of hair! "Goldsmith never wrote anything like that," said Seddon. "Nor Tennyson, neither," said Toney. "Tennyson be hanged!" exclaimed Tom. "I'll match Tickle against him any day." "The composition of this poem fully developed my poetical genius," said the Professor. "I discovered that I could be a bard; and so I composed a whole book of poems." "What did you do with it?" asked Toney. "I published it," said the Professor. "Did you never hear of it?" "I must candidly admit that I never did," said Toney. "The critics cut and slashed away at my little book for about a month; and then they let it alone. It was not until several years after its publication that I heard a word in its praise; and that was under peculiar circumstances. I was looking over a lot of second-hand books on a stall at the corner of a street, when I discovered my own poems. I asked the price. The man said it was a work of rare genius and very scarce, but that as a favor I could have it for a dollar. This sounded like posthumous praise, and was very flattering. So I bought the book, and you can read it at your leisure." "Now we are on literary subjects," said Seddon, "I must remind Toney of his promise to read his biography of Pate." "Of whom?" asked the Professor. "Of M. T. Pate, the illustrious founder of the Mystic Order of Seven Sweethearts," said Seddon. "Toney has written his biography." "Only one chapter," said Toney. "I can clearly foresee that Pate is destined to become a very distinguished "Read it," said Tom. "Read it! read it!" exclaimed the Professor. |
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