The Best Short Stories of 1915 Part 33

THE WHALE AND THE GRa.s.sHOPPER[14]

BY SEUMAs...o...b..IEN

From _The Ill.u.s.trated Sunday Magazine_

[14] Copyright, 1915, by The Ill.u.s.trated Sunday Magazine. Copyright, 1916, by Seumas...o...b..ien.

When Standish McNeill started talking to his friend Felix O'Dowd as they walked at a leisurely pace towards the town of Castlegregory on a June morning, what he said was: "The world is a wonderful place when you come to think about it, an' Ireland is a wonderful place an' so is America, an' though there are lots of places like each other there's no place like Ballysantamalo. When there's not suns.h.i.+ne there, there's moons.h.i.+ne an' the handsomest women in the world live there, an' nowhere else except in Ireland or the churchyards could you find such decent people."

"Decency," said Felix, "when you're poor is extravagance, and bad example when you're rich."

"And why?" said Standish.

"Well," said Felix, "because the poor imitate the rich an' the rich give to the poor an' when the poor give to each other they have nothing of their own."

"That's communism you're talking," said Standish. "an' that always comes from education an' enlightenment. Sure if the poor weren't dacent they'd be rich an' if the rich were dacent they'd be poor an' if everyone had a conscience they'd be less millionaires."

"'Tis a poor bird that can't pick for himself."

"But suppose a bird had a broken wing an' couldn't fly to where the pickings were?" said Felix.

"Well, then bring the pickings to him. That would be charity."

"But charity is decency and wisdom is holding your tongue when you don't know what you're talking about."

"If the people of Ballysantamalo are so decent, how is it that there are so many bachelors there? Do you think it right to have all the young women worrying their heads off reading trashy novels an' doin' all sorts of silly things like fixin' their hair in a way that was never intended by nature an' doin' so for years an' years an' havin' nothin' in the end but the trouble of it all."

"Well, 'tis hard blamin' the young men because every young lady you meet looks better to you than the last until you meet the next an' so you go on to another until you're so old that no one would marry you at all unless you had lots of money, a bad liver, an' a shaky heart."

"An old man without any sense, lots of money, a bad liver, an' a shaky heart can always get a young lady to marry him," said Felix, "though rheumatics, gout, an' a wooden leg are just as good in such a case."

"Every bit," said Standish, "but there's nothin' like a weak const.i.tution, a cold climate, an' a tendency to pneumonia."

"Old men are quare," said Felix.

"They are," said Standish, "an' if they were all only half as wise as they think they are then they'd be only young fools in the world. I don't wonder a bit at the suffragettes. An' a time will come when we won't know men from women unless some one tells us so."

"Wisha, 'tis my belief that there will be a great reaction some day, because women will never be able to stand the strain of doin' what they please without encountering opposition. When a man falls in love he falls into trouble likewise, an' when a woman isn't in trouble you may be sure that there's something wrong with her."

"Well," said Standish, "I think we will leave the women where the devil left St. Peter--"

"Where was that?" asked Felix.

"Alone," answered Standish.

"That would be all very fine if they stayed there," said Felix.

"Now," said Standish, "as I was talking of me travels in foreign parts, I want to tell you about the morning I walked along the beach at Ballysantamalo, an' a warm morning it was too. So I ses to meself, 'Standish McNeill,' ses I, 'what kind of a fool of a man are you? Why don't you take a swim for yourself?' So I did take a swim, an' I swam to the rocks where the seals goes to get their photograph's taken an'

while I was havin' a rest for meself I noticed a gra.s.shopper sittin' a short distance away an' 'pon me word, but he was the most sorrowful lookin' gra.s.shopper I ever saw before or since. Then all of a sudden a monster whale comes up from the sea and lies down beside him an' ses: 'Well,' ses he, 'is that you? Who'd ever think of finding you here.

Why, there's nothing strange under the sun but the ways of woman.'

"''Tis me that's here, then,' said the gra.s.shopper. 'Me grandmother died last night an' she wasn't insured either.'

"'The practice of negligence is the curse of mankind and the root of sorrow,' ses the whale. 'I suppose the poor old soul had her fill of days, an' sure we all must die, an' 'tis cheaper to be dead than alive at any time. A man never knows that he's dead when he's dead an' he never knows he's alive until he's married.'

"'You're a great one to expatiate on things you know nothing about, like the barbers and the cobblers,' said the gra.s.shopper. 'I only want to know if you're coming to the funeral to-morrow?'

"'I'm sorry I can't,' ses the whale. 'Me grandfather is getting married, for the tenth time, an' as I was in China on the last few occasions I must pay me respects by being present at to-morrow's festivities,' ses he.

"'I'm sorry you can't come,' ses the gra.s.shopper, 'because you are heartily welcome an' you'd add prestige to the ceremony besides.'

"'I know that,' ses the whale, 'but America doesn't care much about ceremony.'

"'Who told you that?' ses the gra.s.shopper.

"'Haven't I me eyesight, an' don't I read the newspapers,' ses the whale.

"'You mustn't read the society columns, then,' ses the gra.s.shopper.

"'Wisha, for the love of St. Crispin,' ses the whale 'have they society columns in the American newspapers?'

"'Indeed they have,' ses the gra.s.shopper, 'and they oftentimes devote a few columns to other matters when the dressmakers don't be busy.'

"'America is a strange country surely, a wonderful country, not to say a word about the length and breadth of it. I swam around it twice last week without stoppin,' to try an' reduce me weight, an' would you believe me that I was tired after the journey, but the change of air only added to me proportions.'

"'That's too bad,' said the gra.s.shopper.

"'Are you an American?' said the whale.

"'Of course I am,' ses the gra.s.shopper. 'You don't think 'tis the way I'd be born at sea an' no nationality at all like yourself. I'm proud of me country.'

"'And why, might I ask?'

"'Well don't we produce distinguished Irishmen? Don't we make Americans of the Europeans and Europeans of the Americans? Think of all the connoisseurs who wouldn't buy a work of art in their own country when they could go to Europe and pay ten times its value for the pot-boilers that does be turned out in the studios of Paris and London.'

"'There's nothin' like home industry,' ses the whale, 'in a foreign country, I mean.'

"'After all, who knows anything about a work of art but the artist? and very little he knows about it, either. A work of art is like a flower, it grows, it happens. That's all. An' unless you charge the devil's own price for it, people will think you are cheating them.'

"'Wisha, I suppose the best anyone can do is to take all you can get an'

if you want to be a philanthropist, give away what you don't want,' ses the gra.s.shopper.

"'All worth missing I catches,' ses the whale, 'an' all worth catchin'

I misses, like the fisherwoman who missed the fish and caught a crab.