JOHN HENEY ON GREAT MEN
Uncle Peter is one of the gamest little chunks of humanity thatever looked the world in the eye, but when he heard the edict putforth by Doctor Osler the old man went overboard with a splash.
He was under water a long time.
He thought the Bogey Man had him for sure.
Uncle Peter felt that it would no longer be possible for him topass a drug store without some young fellow rushing out with ahandkerchief full of chloroform and yelling, "Here, you oldchestnut! here's where you get it in the nose!"
In the dark watches of the night Uncle Peter used to wake upcovered with cold perspiration, because he had dreamed that DocOsler was pounding him on the bald spot with a baseball bat afterhaving poured hair dye all over his breakfast food.
At last Uncle Peter got so nervous I advised him to write to theDoctor.
"Ask him if he won't commute your sentence because you live in thecountry and are a commuter," I suggested.
The doctor replied to Uncle Peter at once and I will try totranslate his letter from Johns Hopkins into pure English, as nearas I can remember:
JOHNS HOPKINS, To-day.
Dear Uncle Peter:--When I cut loose with the observation that menwere all in at 40 and _rauss mittim_ at 60 I kept severalexceptions up my sleeve.
The exceptions include you, Uncle Peter, and myself also.
It could not apply in your case, Uncle Peter, because I have knownyou since we lived together in Baltimore many moons ago, and Irealize that the years have only improved you, Uncle Peter, andthat to-day you are a bigger shine than you ever were.
One point about my observation which seems to have escaped the eyesof the general public, but which you suggest so delicately in yourletter, Uncle Peter, will be found in the beautiful words of thepoet who says:
Some advertisement now and then Is needed by the greatest men!
Don't mention it, Uncle Peter, for what I tell you is confidential,but do you know that my little bunch of remarks, which cost menothing anyway because I was invited to the banquet, have given memore widespread advertisement than Andy Carnegie can get foreighteen public libraries?
You know, Uncle Peter, there is nothing in the world so easy tomake stand up on its hind legs as the general public if you just goafter it right.
But the trick is, Uncle Peter, to know what to say and when to sayit.
Look at my case and then tell me if it wasn't up to me to emit arave.
There I was, just about to leave my native land to go to Oxford andbecome the squeegee professor in the Knowledge Factory and be allswallowed up in the London fog, but nobody seemed to miss me beforeI went away.
I began to feel lost, lonely and forgotten like a vice-president ofthe United States.
Then came the banquet, Uncle Peter, and like a flash the inspirationcame to me and I arose in my seat and said, "Ladies and gentlemen,after a man reaches the age of 40 he is a seldom-happener, and afterhe gets to the age of 60 he is a dead rabbit and it's the woods forhis."
What was the result, Uncle Peter?
Every man in the world felt that I was his personal insult.
Every man _over_ 40 listened to what I said and began to yell forthe police; and every man _under_ 40 realized that he would be_over_ 40 some day, so he began to look for a rock to throw at me.
I had them, going and coming.
Then the newspapers heard about it and where formerly in theircolumns was nothing but dull and harmless war news my picturebegan, to blossom forth like the flowers that bloom in the spring,tra la!
Pretty soon, Uncle Peter, every man, woman and child in the worldbegan to know me and I couldn't walk out in the public streetswithout being snap-shotted or bowed to, or barked at, according tothe age of those present.
Of course, we all know, Uncle Peter, that my theory has wormholesall over it, but didn't I make good?
We do not need a book or history to tell us that Julius Caesar wasover forty before he ever saw the base of Pompey's statue; thatBrutus and Cassius were over forty before they saw a chance tocarve their initials on Caesar's wishbone; that Cleopatra was overforty before she saw snakes; that Carrie Nation was over fortybefore she could hatchet a barroom and put the boots to the rumdemon; that Mrs. Chadwick was over forty before she opened a bankaccount; that Jonah was over forty before he saw a whale; thatPresident Roosevelt was over forty before he saw a self-foldinglion; that Kuropatkin was over forty before he learned to make fiveretreats grow where only one retreat grew before; that GeorgeWashington was over forty before he was struck with the idea ofmaking Valley Forge a winter resort; and so forth, and so forth,world without end.
But these suggestions only prove the rule, Uncle Peter, and therule is this:
Some advertisement now and then Is relished by the greatest men!
Don't worry, Uncle Peter, because you are getting to be a has-was.
You may do something in your old age which will make people thinkless of you than they do now--you never can tell.
With these few words I will leave you, Uncle Peter; wishing you asmuch age in the future as you have had in the past.
Yours with love, WILLIAM OSLER.
After getting this letter Uncle Peter began to breathe easier andtwo days later he was quite able to resist the desire to crawlunder the bed every time a bottle of soothing syrup arrived fromthe drug store.
Uncle Peter got very gay the day after Admiral Togo won the battleof the Sea of Japan.
Fifteen minutes after the last Russian battleship had been slappedon the cross-trees Uncle Peter had a letter written to Togo.
I am going to show you a copy of it, if I get pinched in the act:
NEW YORK, This Morning. To Admiral William Duffy Togo, the Japanese crackerjack.
Dear Togie:--Please forgive me for writing you these few lines, butI have been through several wars myself and I have witnessed howeasy it is for a hero to take the wrong road and walk unexpectedlyinto the cold storage department of the public's estimation. Thatis the reason I wish to give you a few points on the etiquette ofbeing a hero, which I have studied from observation in this country.
Brave Togie:--When you get home in Tokio or Yokohama, orCommunipaw, or wherever it is, keep the face closed, moreespecially in the region of the mouth, because the moment a herobegins to speak somebody will misconstrue what he says and get himtalking politics when he only meant to say, "Drink hearty!"
Clever Togie:--Don't ever talk with an ambitious reporter unlessyou have a baseball mask over the face and a mosquito netting overthe vocabulary; because if you only say to him, "How's the health?"you will find in the morning paper a column interview, in which youhave decided to run for Mikado on the Democratic ticket.
Good Togie:--When you arrive at the depot in your home town youwill find lined up in front of the baggage-room about sixty-sevenyoung ladies, all with their lips puckered up in the mostkissifactory manner--but don't do it, Togie.
Friend Togie:---Resist the awful temptation to go down the line andplant burning kisses on the front teeth of these beautiful maidens,because after planting these kisses the harvest will be the longgrass of oblivion, and you will find yourself rushing madly throughthe comic papers trying to bite all the fair ladies therein.
Fine Togie:--When you meet this awful situation, as meet it youwill, sneer gently at the puckered lips and repeat over and overthat old proverb, _Osculation is the thief of reputation_.
Then with a haughty glance at the lady kissing bugs jump quicklyinto your ginrickeyshaw and gallop swiftly home to the loving armsof your wife.
If the kissing buggettas should follow you to the sacred precinctsof the home circle send your mother-in-law out with the broomstick,and may a kind Heaven help those who cannot run fast enough.
Beloved Togie:--Now listen with all your ears. This advise I giveyou from the heart. _Don't let any committee present you with ahouse_.
Handsome Togie:--Avoid this house proposition as you would acreditor.
Remember, Togie, that the public likes to honor a hero by givinghim something expensive, and then dishonor him afterwards bywatching what he does with it.
Noble Togie:--There are only two ways a hero can remain a hero inthis strange world of ours. One way is to die just after he hasheroed, and the other way is to get in a glass case and staythere--but he must buy the glass case himself.
Unbeatable Togie:--When the public gets a jag of joy from theintoxication of your success they will surely rush up to you withthe plans and specifications of a fine bungalow with hot and coldgas and running servants, but when they do so just place the lefthand in the apex of the waistcoat and say to them with a coldglitter in the lamps, "I thank you, public, for this display ofgenerosity, but I would prefer that you keep the bungalow and Iwill keep my own little flat on 109th Street, because I know thejanitor there and he never steals the milk."
Nice Togie:--Republics and any old kind of publics are alwaysgrateful while the jag of joy lasts. They are dead anxious to givea hero more than is coming to him, but after the jag of joy wearsoff then comes the bitter morning after, when they wake up with thehead full of third-rail microbes and the tongue like a bridge withthe draw open, and they keep saying to themselves, "Why did I givethat hero such a nice house, because, to save my soul, I can'tremember just what kind of heroing he did to deserve it."
My dear Togie:--Avoid the kissing buggettas and don't pay anyattention to the house committee and possibly you will be able tokeep on your heroesque way to the bitter end.
I have never been a hero myself, Togie, with the exception of oneafternoon when I sunk an armored cruiser cook in our kitchen aftershe had swallowed a bottle of vodka and was bombarding the gasstove with our best set of china dishes, but I love all the heroes,and if any little advise of mine could help a hero to keep busy atthe job of heroing I would be pleased and tickled internally.
Yours with love, UNCLE PETER.
Togo hasn't replied as yet, but Uncle Peter expects a postal cardor a hand-painted fan in every mail.
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