Again, Dangerous Visions Part 64

Which brings me to "Getting Along."

A very special piece of work, even in a book devoted to the extra-special.

It is a story, certainly, and brilliant parody, of course-of which, more in a moment-but it is something else. It operates on a level of social intercourse once peopled by the likes of Alexander Woollcott, Bernard Shaw, Periander, James Abbott McNeill Whistler and Dorothy Parker, not to mention H. L. Mencken. It pokes gentle but (again) piercing piercing fun at a philosophical position so humorless that its proponents conceive of the very act of laughter anathema. It is James Blish doing what he does better than anyone else in our midst-letting the hot air out of gasbags-and having just a grand time doing it. fun at a philosophical position so humorless that its proponents conceive of the very act of laughter anathema. It is James Blish doing what he does better than anyone else in our midst-letting the hot air out of gasbags-and having just a grand time doing it.

And, if an editor may be pardoned the liberty, since it is painfully apparent to one who has encountered the unlettered youth of our nation in several hundred colleges these last five years and found the names Herman Melville and Gustave Flaubert unknown to an alarming number of those who consider themselves hip because they know the names of every instrumentalist in Blood, Sweat & Tears or Three Dog Night-the parodies may be a trifle obscure, so I would like to identify the authors being lampooned.

It should be understood that this suggests no contempt on the editor's part for the reader's intelligence, but merely one further attempt to make this volume as complete and uplifting an experience as, say, an Evening with Bobby Sherman.

However, to insure no one will take offense at the act of kindness, I suggest you read "Getting Along" first, try to identify for yourself the authors being parodied, and just skip everything that comes between the s.p.a.ce below (including the upside-down part) and the next big s.p.a.ce in the copy. Everything in-between those s.p.a.ces identifies the authors parodied in the nine letters. After you've read the story you can come back and see how many you were able to recognize. It'll be more fun that way.

Okay, start skipping now.

The parodies run like so...

The combination in the fifth letter is due to the fact that the two men wrote almost identical stories-"Two Bottles of Relish" and "A Touch of Nutmeg Makes It"-although for the parody Blish drew pretty generally on all the stories in Collier's Fancies and Goodnights Fancies and Goodnights and, of course, Dunsany's famous Jorkens stories. Similarly, the Doyle section is a mixture of Sherlock Holmes and and, of course, Dunsany's famous Jorkens stories. Similarly, the Doyle section is a mixture of Sherlock Holmes and The Land of Mist The Land of Mist. I'm not sure it's necessary, but there may be readers who have forgotten that John Cleland wrote f.a.n.n.y Hill f.a.n.n.y Hill and that "Victor Appleton" is the name signed to the Tom Swift books. Anyhow, in letters 6, 8 and 9 it seems clear that the author had no specific works in mind. and that "Victor Appleton" is the name signed to the Tom Swift books. Anyhow, in letters 6, 8 and 9 it seems clear that the author had no specific works in mind.

And perhaps it might be suggested that Jim show letter number 5 to Lady Dunsany, who should find it amusing.

Now that you've skipped over the information pertaining to the parodies, and have reserved the joy of figuring them out for yourselves before coming back to test your erudition, it is time to catalogue the Blish books to date, and to offer Jim and his lovely wife, Judith Ann Lawrence, with whom he wrote this delight, a chance to state their vital specifics.

In science fiction, these are the Blish t.i.tles:

The Warriors of Day The Duplicated Man (with Robert W. Lowndes) (with Robert W. Lowndes) Jack of Eagles The Cities in Flight Series: 1. They Shall Have Stars They Shall Have Stars 2. A Life for the Stars A Life for the Stars 3. Earthman, Come Home Earthman, Come Home 4. The Triumph of Time The Triumph of Time The Seedling Stars The Frozen Year Vor Galactic Cl.u.s.ter A Case of Conscience And All the Stars a Stage t.i.tan's Daughter The Night Shapes So Close to Home The Star Dwellers Mission to the Heart Stars Welcome to Mars!

Best SF Stories of James Blish A Torrent of Faces (with Norman L. Knight) (with Norman L. Knight) Star Trek 1/2/3/4 1/2/3/4 Spock Must Die!

Anywhen .

Fantasy t.i.tles are Black Easter Black Easter and and The Day after Judgment The Day after Judgment; an historical novel, Dr. Mirabilis Dr. Mirabilis; a teenage novel, The Vanished Jet The Vanished Jet; brilliant criticism in The Issue at Hand The Issue at Hand and and More Issues at Hand More Issues at Hand; as editor, Thirteen O'Clock Thirteen O'Clock (early stories of C. M. Kornbluth), (early stories of C. M. Kornbluth), New Dreams This Morning, The Nebula Award Stories New Dreams This Morning, The Nebula Award Stories, Fifth Volume and Kalki Kalki, the James Branch Cabell Society Journal.

In preparation at this writing: Beep, King Log, Histories of Witchcraft Beep, King Log, Histories of Witchcraft and and Demonology & Magic Demonology & Magic (two volumes), and (two volumes), and The Sense of Music The Sense of Music.

Of Judy A. L. Blish, much can be said. Not the least of which is that she sub-auth.o.r.ed this story/parody/happening with her husband Jim. It can also be said of her that she is a talented artist and draftsman; that she designed the covetously handsome Nebula awards of the Science Fiction Writers of America, a three-dimensional rendering of any sf writer's dream of what a neat award should look like; that she writes well; that she is a woman of uncommon good sense and almost unbelievable empathy; that she will be p.i.s.sed-off I haven't given her as much s.p.a.ce as Jim. But she knows me. And like an angel, forgives me more than she should.

They both live in England, at the moment, and here is what they write of themselves, sort of in the spirit of just, er, getting along...

"JB born 1921 in Orange, N. J.; educated Rutgers (B. Sc. 1942) and Columbia; U. S. Army 194244; trade newspaper editor 194552, public relations counsel (both agency and corporate) 195269; now full time free lance author. M. 1945 Virginia Kidd, two children; rem. 1964 Judith Ann Lawrence. 27 books in print, one in press, three in process; represented in 64 anthologies not counting A,DV; translated into 18 languages. One of the three founders of the Milford Science Fiction Writers Conference; vice president of SFWA, two years; winner of Hugo award for best novel of 1958, A Case of Conscience A Case of Conscience; guest of honor, Pittcon (1960) and Lunacon (1967) and princ.i.p.al speaker at Phillycon (1968). Have also written Westerns, detectives, sport stories, popular science articles, poetry, plays, literary criticism, music criticism, TV scripts and feature films."

"O G.o.d Jim says I have to do this too. Won't give birthdate to anybody. BFA Columbia 1957. Taught school, ran elevators, secretaried & all that. Now freelance ill.u.s.trator-19 books, many magazine spots, mostly sf. Married to all the above. Like it. Isn't that enough? Refuse to satisfy any more prurient curiosity.

"This was not a cold story collected out of the air. It was collected out of a hot British summer night at about 4 a.m., and climbed out of a nice warm bed and wrote its idea down, on a still warm electric typer."

GETTING ALONG.

James Blish (with Judith Ann Lawrence) [For a year before going to England my wife and I lived in an elaborately decorated Brooklyn brownstone which we suspected of having been a fin du siecle bordello. In the master bedroom was a combination wallsafe which n.o.body, including the landlady, knew how to open. Curiosity and avarice finally got the better of us and we hired a professional cracksman to do the job.

[Inside we found no jewels, deeds to eighty-four square feet of Wall Street, or gold eagles, but only a packet of yellowed, flaking-edged letters in a feminine hand. We do not know how much credence to place in the story they tell, but we are certain we have never before seen one quite like it.-J. B.]

LETTER THE FIRST.

Dear Madam, In view of your many past kindnesses to me in a time of tribulation more than ordinary even for my misfortunate self, I respond, albeit not without reluctance to intrude further upon your ready sympathies, to your request for further particulars of my handkerchiefly history.

Know then, dear Madam, that I first saw the light of day in Winnetka, Illinois in the year of Our Lord 18-. I was four years old at the time of which I speak, my dear mama having been cruelly cast into debtors' prison four years, eight months and two weeks earlier. We crept out of the gate in the chill dawn that day and the turnkey bade us all a fond farewell. He kissed my dear mama and the three younger children decorously, and pressed half a dollar into my dear mama's hand.

Now, Madam, my dear mama had been trained in a famous School of Needlework in a small Thamesside town, where she helped to make part of the trousseau for Queen Victoria's eldest daughter; hut in the far West of that day, inhabited as it was preponderantly by buffalo, Red Indians and boisterous bullfighters and roadrunners, there was but little call for services so gentle, and her health had been much weakened by long privation and insomnia. Hence it fell out that, after a lingering struggle with the pthisis, she was called to her long reward when I was but ten ae; ae; leaving me, as I need hardly add, even less prepared than she for the nurturing and education of my brother and sisters, in view of the sheltered nature of my earliest years. leaving me, as I need hardly add, even less prepared than she for the nurturing and education of my brother and sisters, in view of the sheltered nature of my earliest years.

Happily I was mature for my age and soon came under the protection of a landed gentleman, wealthy in the corn and kine of the country. Though he was rude and choleric in many of his ways, I shall never forget his generosity. He was not, of course, prepared to adopt a veritable family of small children for the sake of a congenial companion, but instead arranged for their acceptance into a sort of asylum where, I was a.s.sured, they would be well cared for, and trained to do useful work.

Though I was sorry to be deprived of the sight of their dear faces, my indebtedness to my patron was such that I could not but acquiesce; for, Madam, you will readily appreciate that at that time I was wholly ignorant of the social arts attendant upon ministering to a protector, not to speak of those refinements which were eventually to make me worthy in some small measure, dear Madam, of your elegant Eastern establishment: and it can well be imagined with what a combination of eagerness, shyness, timidity and apprehension I was entered upon these new duties; but I found my master tolerant and even, perhaps, oddly pleased at my inexperience.

I was later to learn that such tolerance is far from uncommon among men of the world, but this in no way diminishes my grat.i.tude; moreover, I found those offices which I was called upon to exercise so congenial that I was soon seeking out pretexts to re-discharge affairs which had been thoroughly discharged but little earlier, and although my protector at first was amused by my enthusiasm, he at length found it necessary to rebuke me, howsoever gently, for such excess of zeal.

Thus I seemed to have found my haven, but alas, in due course this gentleman was afflicted with financial reverses, quite beyond my poor comprehension, having to do with a mysterious operation called selling crops short (for his, indeed, seemed to my naive eye to be quite long enough for any purpose). In this extremity he soon found his holdings much reduced, and as if to compensate for having brought me into deprivation (for which, however, sad experience had now taught me the saving grace of drawing upon my own inner resources), he further neglected his business enterprises in favor of my company. In our joint interest I made bold to protest that indeed he did not need to concern himself so strenuously in my behalf, and to lend conviction to my protestation, made shew of my ability to pursue the pleasures of solitude if needs be; but this had no effect but to spur him into redoubling his exertions; and in the aftermath of a particularly strenuous such confrontation, during which both sides became indecorously inflamed, my dear master incontinently died.

He had, I found, provided for me in his will, but of course everything that he had had to give me had since been spent. Thus it was that I found myself-though not, praise Fortune, my little former charges-once more cast forth upon the unfeeling bosom of the world.

At this desperate juncture, a higher power than ours reminded me that, although my dear departed mama had no relatives alive elsewhere but in, Buckinghams.h.i.+re and London, the turnkey of whom I spoke above had local brothers and sisters, of whom he had spoken often. It therefore occurred to me that although he was not my father, some one of these relatives might be moved to take pity upon me who was sister to their nieces and nephew.

Deeming this venture, though mischancy, less unpromising than any other prospect before me, I sold the only jewel my late protector had left me in order to purchase a coach ticket to Niles, Michigan, where dwelt, by latest report, the turnkey's eldest sister; and how I fared there you shall hear in my next epistle, dear Madam, if I have not already too grievously abused your patience. In the meantime, I remain, believe me, Faithfully yours, &c., [signature illegible]

[In the letters that follow, I have deleted the salutations and complimentary closes, which are all alike.-J.B.]

LETTER THE SECOND.

There were several others in the diligence, all peasants, who were bound for the same destination as I, and for the first part of our journey we all chatted pleasantly. When, however, I artlessly inquired whether anyone could direct me to the home of Mrs. Vrolok (this being my aunt-in-lieu's name, though I had been given to understand that her husband was dead), they all became reticent and pretended not to understand my vestigial English accent, though they had understood it well enough before. When I pressed for details, they all made a peculiar sign, clenching their fists and thrusting their middle fingers into the air, and simply refusing to speak any further. I found this somewhat disquietening.

But apparently the coach driver had somehow been appraised of my destination, for in the middle of the night the vehicle stopped with a lurch and a clatter of harness, and springing down from his box, he jerked open the door and silently motioned me out. When I complied-he had already thrown my poor traps to the ground-and asked where I was to go now, he as silently pointed up a hill, and then sprang back to his position with a single bound from the whiffletree.

While I still hesitated, one of my erstwhile travelling companions, a man older than the rest, leaned out of a window, and putting one finger to his lips, reached down and pressed some small, hard, dry object into my hand. Then a whip cracked and the coach was off, at a reckless speed. Bewildered, I looked down at the object the elderly gentleman had given me. In my palm was a bulb of garlic.

As the daughter of an English gentlewoman I had of course never even considered allowing such a vegetable into my kitchen, but now I was sufficiently uneasy to drop it in my reticule while I took stock of my surroundings. I was quite alone in the bright moonlight, though in the distance I could hear the uncanny crying of a loon. Behind me, across the road which the diligence had just quitted so hastily, was the deep gorge through which flowed the St. Joseph River; farther upstream was a sound of turbulence, as though of waters falling over a weir, but here they flowed with an oily silence. Ahead was the hill the driver had pointed out, a surprisingly long and steep one; the countryside through which we had pa.s.sed to come here was mostly level, though it had become increasingly forested.

At the summit of this hill, the silhouetted chimneys, gables and cupolas of a large house jaggedly broke the sky. Though I had written to Mrs. Vrolok through General Delivery, I seemed not to be expected, for no ray of light shone from this edifice.

But when I wearily climbed the creaking porch steps and knocked at the old door, the latter opened at once with a protest of hinges. Standing in the entrance, bearing a hurricane lamp, was a square-jawed woman with fiery eyes, iron-gray hair and what seemed to be a faint moustache. Though she was wearing a housecoat which enveloped her completely, she somehow gave me the impression of great physical strength.

"I am Felicity Coupling," I said hesitantly.

"Ah, yes, my dear," she said. "Enter and be welcome, of your own free will."

When I hesitated, she uttered this odd greeting twice more, and at last I stepped over the threshold. Taking my bags-she was indeed strong-she led me to a large sitting room, where despite the lateness of the hour a handsome supper was laid out, and a fire was burning brightly. Candles too were lit, although I had been prevented from seeing the light from outside by drawn drapes of heavy chintz. Over the fireplace was painted the: motto, "Frae ghoulies an' ghiesties an' lang-legged beasties and things that: gae b.u.mp i' the night, Good Laird deliver us," and the quaintness of this; inscription and the cheerfulness of the scene helped considerably to revive my failing spirits.

Bidding me seat myself, Mrs. Vrolok asked after her brother, though not, I thought, with much appearance of real interest or affection, and inquired if my journey had been comfortable. On hearing that it had gone as well as anyone could expect-for I deemed it impolitic to describe the mysterious behavior of my companions upon the mention of her name-she pressed me to tell what had impelled me to make the trip, and gradually drew out of me my entire life's story (though again, modesty prevented me from describing the full extent of the tenderness which had been shown me by my lamented protector).

During my recital, she insisted upon serving me the supper with her own hands, and when I protested, said with flas.h.i.+ng eyes: "But I must insist. You are my dear relative and guest, and in any event I no longer keep servants of nights. Our family is a proud one, but fallen upon evil times. My father was an Amba.s.sador, his father before him a state Senator, and his father before him the Captain of a clipper s.h.i.+p-by day you will see that this house, fallen into disrepair and far from the sea though it is, has a widow's walk," and here she revealed brilliantly white teeth in a sudden grim smile, although I was at a loss to fathom the nature of the jest.

The fire had now almost burnt down, and involuntarily I s.h.i.+vered. Instantly she said, "But you are chilled and tired. I have been thoughtless. Come, I will show you to your room, and see to it that you are warm and comfortable."

I was by now more than willing. So fulsome indeed was her hospitality that in order to be quite certain that I was warm enough, she joined me in the s.p.a.cious four-poster bed, where for the first time in my life I experienced those attentions which a woman of ardent nature can bestow only upon another woman. I found these more than pleasant, though I believe Mrs. Vrolok was somehow disappointed with me, for she soon said in a m.u.f.fled voice, "You were not quite candid with me, my dear, about your protector." But such was my exhaustion, compounded of repeated emotions, that I was half-guiltily pleased when she arose silently and departed, just as a c.o.c.k crowed in the back yard.

I arose very late, to find a luncheon laid out for me in my room. After freshening myself and partaking of this, I went in search of my hostess, but the house was silent and empty. Just after sundown, however, she returned, bringing with her a blonde peasant girl of what seemed to be just my own age, although she was insufficiently clean to make this judgment easy, and never spoke; she seemed either sullen or terrified, and perhaps both. Both my aunt and I attempted to draw her out over dinner, but without success; and in due course my aunt showed the girl to her own room drawing her by the wrist in a grip whose strength I now knew well indeed. I was not sorry to have the evening to myself, for I had many matters of moment to mull over, and indeed sleepiness overcame me before I had more than begun to put my experiences in order.

By morning I felt quite refreshed, and somewhat inclined to smile at my earlier forebodings; surely my aunt, peculiar though she was in some ways, had shown me nothing but kindness; and which of us is not without his harmless crotchets? But this mood was dispersed by the sight of the peasant girl, who hurried past me down the stairs as I was finis.h.i.+ng my breakfast. In contrast to her appearance of the previous day, she was not only clean but as wan as fine linen, and looked not only exhausted but somehow drained. I do not believe she had seen me at first-for I was still sitting at my repast in my room-for when I called to her through the door she started like a wild thing and fled the house entirely.

Once more I was all in a state of amazing wonder, and sought Mrs. Vrolok-somehow I was unable any longer to think of her as my aunt-in hope of rea.s.surance. But as before, she had vanished, and I began to suspect that there was no other living being in this house but myself. Yet how then were these elaborate meals prepared? The thought reminded me that I had yet to observe Mrs. Vrolok eat or drink anything, despite her iron strength. What manner of being was this? The question emboldened me even to invade the kitchen, which I found sunny, neat and well-stocked, but again quite uninhabited.

I was about to quit it when I noticed, almost obscured behind two barrels, a low door which proved to lead into an unheated woodshed, the walls of which were lined with shelves of preserves in Mason jars thickly coated with dust. At the very back of this rather narrow enclosure was a completely incongruous object: A teakwood case much like a hope chest, but longer and narrower. When I approached this more closely, I saw to my astonishment that several holes had been bored in its lid, a circ.u.mstance which to a woman could not but seem to defeat the whole purpose of such a chest.

It was not locked, and not without an awareness of my violation of hospitality in such an action, I raised the lid, and there-of my horror I may not and cannot speak-lay the creature I had in my awful ignorance claimed as a kinswoman! She rested upon a bed of fresh mothb.a.l.l.s, and appeared asleep-except that her eyes were open, though without their wonted fire. She looked younger, for her iron-gray hair had changed to glossy black, and even her moustache had darkened; her jaw had softened; her lips, normally so thin, were full and red; and around them, and upon that chin, were smears of scarcely darkened blood!

All too well I knew the source of that repast...and why the gentleman in the coach had given me the bulb of garlic. Casting it in among the mothb.a.l.l.s-little though I dare to think it will discommode that devil's daughter!-I fled that cursed house upon the instant.

LETTER THE THIRD.

To anyone who would ask me how I, still a very young girl, could then consider seeking out another of my stepfather's relations-not only possibly to endure, but even to dilate upon, another such hideous experience-I can only reply that I have always been of a sanguine temperament, and readily responsive to the beauties of nature, which refresh me, to speak in Sanchean phrase, as if from a fountain of forgetfulness and joy. Of such beauties I saw a plethora in the course of my flight from that house of tragedy, for I was on my way to the famous University of Gh-in the fortunate country of Ohio, where the turnkey's eldest brother, Prof. Turnkistan, had won at a very early age a chair in the science of natural philosophy.

Yet I was but ill-prepared for what I was to find, for on applying to the first learned man of the university as to where I might find him whom I sought, I was greeted with a darkened countenance. Upon my showing myself taken aback at this discourtesy, the professor-for such he was-apologized, and hastened to explain that until recently Prof. Turnkistan had been adjudged the most promising of all those who labored in that center of learning in natural philosophy, having indeed nearly perfected, even before earning his degree, an engine which would reproduce upon paper the perfect image of a person or object, including the illusion of living motion. I could not repress an exclamation of wonder at this remarkable achievement, whereupon my informant, who had been in fact the earliest mentor of him whom I sought, informed me that Prof. Turnkistan had since abandoned his studies in this field and had withdrawn himself from the society of his fellows, and now, a recluse, labored in the utmost secrecy upon some work the nature of which was unknown to all, save that it required the constant consultation of the volumes in the university's library of Cornelius Agrippa, Albertus Magnus, Paracelsus, and other works of even more unsavory fame.

I nevertheless persisted in my desire to see this most unusual man, forbearing in common prudence to add that I must needs cast myself directly upon his mercy; and was directed to an ill-favored lodging-house near the river which bounded the city of Gh-. Inquiring here, I was shortly greeted by a pale, sickly creature whom I could hardly credit to be the eminent scholar whose story I had heard. Was it upon this this most miserable of mortals that my fate must henceforth depend? For melancholy and despairing he seemed in the extreme, languis.h.i.+ng as though his cup of life had been poisoned forever by his unhallowed arts. most miserable of mortals that my fate must henceforth depend? For melancholy and despairing he seemed in the extreme, languis.h.i.+ng as though his cup of life had been poisoned forever by his unhallowed arts.

And yet, when I had identified myself, his ravaged countenance was lightened by a momentary beam of benevolence and sweetness, like that of a child. "Oh! but you have arrived in the nick of time!" exclaimed he. "For I am on the brink of completion of the work of a lifetime, and there is none that I can trust to understand or help me at my moment of greatest need!"

He led me up many dark flights of stairs to his quarters, which were in a garret in the utmost squalor and disarray. Books and chemical instruments lay scattered about, and in the center of the narrow cell was a long table upon which-Great G.o.d!-there lay what I took to be the partially dismembered corpse of a beautiful woman, some of whose parts rested on a smaller table nearby in apparent carelessness.

My horror at this charnel scene was such that I did not at first perceive the presence of another person, who stood motionless in the darkest part of the garret. He was a veritable giant, fit to have worn that monstrous helmet which dashed out the life of the young heir in the opening pages of The Castle of Otranto The Castle of Otranto. Fully eight feet tall he was, with long, gleaming black hair, white teeth, and magnificent musculature; but his watery eyes were a dull yellow, his lips straight and black, his complexion shriveled, so that the effect was one of mingled beauty and monstrosity.

Noticing the direction of my startled gaze, Prof. Turnkistan continued feverishly, "This is Doll, an homunculus of my own creation, of whom I would once have said that he merits every shudder of your delicate frame-and yes! of all of humanity's, for he has been guilty of fiendish murders. Yet the guilt for these inheres ultimately in me, for though I made him gentle by nature, I turned from him in loathing, and the hands of all men were turned against him, leaving him no emotion but that of horrid vengeance. All this I could have prevented had I acceded to his wish, which was to make him a mate like unto himself, with whom he could retreat to South America among the apes and others who would not think them unusual. Once I so promised him, but-wretch that I am!-I broke that promise.1 But now I have repented, and you see before you his almost finished bride."

"Was it, then, but pity for his deformities that moved you?" inquired; I. "Or fear of further depredations on his part?"

"Neither were capable of moving me," said the Professor, "until my discovery of the active principle of the kinematographotype, by which it is possible to capture images in a semblance of living motion. It was then revealed to me, as if by a guardian angel, that it was for this this that I had created life: to study the natural affections, attractions and interactions between the s.e.xes without impinging upon the privacy or the sensibilities of my G.o.d-created fellow-creatures. I resumed the great work forthwith, but there are still several steps to be taken, in which only you-only you, my dear cousin!-can be of a.s.sistance!" that I had created life: to study the natural affections, attractions and interactions between the s.e.xes without impinging upon the privacy or the sensibilities of my G.o.d-created fellow-creatures. I resumed the great work forthwith, but there are still several steps to be taken, in which only you-only you, my dear cousin!-can be of a.s.sistance!"

His fervor was contagious, and I at once inquired how I, a mere unlettered girl, might contribute anything to so deep an enterprise.

"My studies," explained he, "have left me little time for the normal pursuits of youth, and indeed I fear that despite my sufferings I am somewhat unworldly. Hence, although as you may see I have made my female Doll of an appropriate stature, I lack experience to tell me whether her more intimate arrangements-which await her, over there-will suffice to keep my monster happy among the cyanocephali and mamaluchi of South America. Were the outcome to be otherwise, the consequences for all mankind would be hideous, to say nothing of the loss of opportunity to make-shall I vulgarly call them 'moving pictures'?-of congresses so pregnant with possibilities for the understanding of our own pa.s.sional natures. Should you therefore be willing to determine whether or not these organs, as G.o.d more usually fas.h.i.+ons them, are suitable to the purpose, we shall be sensibly advanced along our way."

So structured is the mind that the different accidents of life are not so mutable as the feelings of human nature; and although I had been well treated for a brief interval by my aunt, whose crimes I now saw in a less lurid light, my natural frailty had again begun to yearn toward that rock and refuge which man must ever represent to the female species. Moreover, it was clear that the illness and torments of Prof. Tumkistan had unfitted him, poor wretch, for such a role. It is true that the monster Doll was hideous, and yet I have already noted that in him also were some elements of beauty, and for a woman the slightest sight of what is beautiful in nature, or the study of what is excellent and sublime in the productions of man, can always interest her heart, and communicate elasticity to her spirits. Besides, it was exceedingly dark in the garret.

I therefore delighted my uncle by agreeing to his proposal: and this experiment being concluded to the satisfaction of all concerned, the Professor next turned to the main enterprise. On a dreary night in November, the pale student of unhallowed arts collected about him the instruments of life, and knelt beside the hideous phantasm of a woman stretched out at his feet, that he might infuse a spark of being into his unnatural progeny. The rain beat dismally against the panes, and the candle was already guttered before the a.s.sembled corpse stirred convulsively with an uneasy, half-vital motion. Then the yellow eyes opened, and the living woman arose, and saw Doll!

Oh! how deeply affecting was that union of these two Promethean beings, who had been so uniquely "made for each other!" How exhibitory of the amiableness of domestic affection, and the excellence of universal virtue! Nor is its potential power to move suffering humanity to new understanding of itself confined to the productions of my feeble pen, for Prof. Turnkistan captured virtually its every moment upon the magical paper of his marvelous engine; and some few of these kinematographotypes, along with many others that were recorded in succeeding weeks, survived the later catastrophe and may be viewed at the library of the University of Gh-to this day by qualified scholars and physicians.

Little thought we then of catastrophe, for we were heedless of the possible effect of any human endeavor to mock the stupendous mechanism of the Creator of the world. Indeed, so salubrious was Prof. Turnkistan's success to his own health and spirits that he was shortly enabled to essay with his new creation the same experiment that Doll and I had performed, while I operated the recording engine; and subsequently was able to confirm my finding that her interior design, whatever the repellancies of her outward appearance, was flawless. Thus again was affirmed that saying of the divine Shakespeare that all is not gold that glitters, and that a leaden exterior may conceal the greatest treasures.

Of the cra.s.ser treasures of this world, however, we were in short supply, for the experiments were costly, and you may well conceive that two such huge beings as the Dolls required extraordinary amounts of sustenance, especially while demonstrating for the enrichment of natural and moral philosophy their abilities and capacities. Prof. Turnkistan therefore proposed that we should offer for sale some copies of his less bizarre recordings; and the actual performance of this task fell upon me, since he felt that my youth, s.e.x and natural demureness of manner would be less likely; to excite suspicion among baser minds.

Some of these recordings, however, came to the attention of the police, who were alike as incapable of appreciating their wonder as of comprehending their maker's disinterestedness; and since I myself am utterly incapable of dissembling, their place of origin was soon also ferreted out. I believe (although I shall never know) that Prof. Turnkistan, seeing these officials approaching in a menacing manner, may have attempted to put to the torch the more difficult to explain of these doc.u.ments; for one afternoon, as I was returning through the snow with the proceeds of my latest expedition, I beheld with horror that the entire lodging-house was aflame, with such fervor that it could not fail to be the funeral pyre of my uncle, his miraculous Dolls, his marvelous engine, and my hopes of a happy home. Its fury gave the very police officers pause. With sad solemnity I watched until the light of that conflagration had faded away, and its ashes had been swept by the wind far over the plains of Ohio and on toward the awful grandeur of the Alleghenies. May they rest in peace!

LETTER THE FOURTH.

It was at the beginning of the year that, my coffers somewhat relined by the proceeds of the Affair of the Moving Picture, I was able to quit my practices in Gh-and join forces with Mr. and Mrs. Pullover in Orange Park, Pa. Mrs. Pullover, a good, earnest soul of the sort upon which the best societies are based everywhere in the Colonies, was my second oldest aunt, and her husband a similar sort but a man of markedly less practicality. I was readily accepted into their lodgings, not only because of my rather remote ties of blood, but because the modest sum I had brought with me was most welcome to them and their cause.

I record these personal particulars not, of course, because they are of any interest in themselves, but because they form an interesting contrast to what may be the least interesting case in my files, as well as being essential to the reader's understanding of it. Indeed, Buddworth Maracot, to whom I served as friend and amanuensis during this period, raised his eyebrows scornfully over his bagpipe at the very notion of my taking notes on it.

"My dear Coupling," he said, "I am sure that with so little of substance upon which to expatiate, you will succeed only in sensationalizing my methods even further beyond recognition."

But I digress. First I must further note that Mr. and Mrs. Pullover were at this time the prime movers of an organization called the First Church of the Unreal Absence, which was a gathering-place for spiritualists from all over the Colonies. These people maintained that the dead are not extinguished forever, but instead simply wander, discorporate, in some misty other land from which they may graduate only as they attain to superior understanding of their condition. In the meantime, they may be spoken to by means of seances conducted by psychic mediums, of which latter group my aunt was considered preeminent.

"The First Church," my aunt was fond of saying, "is a great leveler of cla.s.ses. Here the charwoman with psychic force is the superior of the millionaire who lacks it."

I was prepared to grant this sentiment some n.o.bility, but when I reported it to Buddworth Maracot, he said drily: "How many millionaires have you seen there lately?"

Nevertheless, Maracot's position was somewhat compromised by the fact that his daughter Deepily was a member of the First Church. I am unable to account for my friend's having had a daughter at all, for I never had any success in interesting him in the opposite s.e.x-"To me, Coupling," he said often, "the BVM will always be the only only woman"-but what is important here is that Deepily had challenged him to attend a seance at the First Church and bring to bear the fullest powers of his formidable scepticism to expose it, if he could. woman"-but what is important here is that Deepily had challenged him to attend a seance at the First Church and bring to bear the fullest powers of his formidable scepticism to expose it, if he could.