Reverses are like children's diseases. If they visit us late in life they go hard with us, and if too early, they may visit us again.
The failure of my first lecture in Yonkers left me bankrupt. And when I arrived in Tarrytown, ten miles up the Hudson, I shut myself in my room and spent a whole hour wondering how I got there. Not willing to begin a "three-ball" business at the very commencement of my journey, I resolved to pay all bills before leaving Yonkers. I was called at dawn the day after my lecture, and started out to sell enough photographs to put myself and donkey out of danger of pawn.
By 1 o'clock I had visited every shop and store in town, and was talking hoarsely to a corner grocer who, seated on a cake of limburger cheese, grinned in satisfaction at his fortified position and swore like a sailor, or should I say, a skipper. A discount in the price of my pictures did not disturb his equilibrium.
"I want not the picture at any price," said he.
"I lack 15 cents of the amount of my hotel bill," I urged, eloquently.
His answer was weak, but the cheese helped him out.
I had left but a single charge, and I fired it. Said I: "Isn't it worth 15 cents to know a d____ fool when you see one?"
"I don't know but it is," said Mr. Sweitzer Edam, "and if you will write that on the picture, I'll buy it."
He bought it. Then, after calling on Mayor Peene, who received me cordially, swapped autographs and asked to see the "other donkey," I made my escape.
My ride to Tarrytown was a walk. Mack won't budge unless somebody leads him, and no three small boys were at hand this time to do that service. Several ladies in fashionable turnouts put on the brakes and stopped to converse with Pod, purchase his photographs and side-splitting books, and hear his exciting adventures traveling by jackass a mile in thirty minutes.
Some pulled hair out of Mack for keepsakes, and one woman of evident good sense claimed she wished the hair to have woven into a ring for her husband. On questioning her as to the propriety of such a gift, she replied that Cholly made an ass of himself every day of the week and twice on Sundays and holidays, and she knew of nothing so appropriate to remind him of his folly. I said I should like to grasp her husband's hand, and then politely waved an adieu.
At this Autumn season denuded nature affords little pleasure for the eye. The Palisades had vanished with the Western sun, but the bending hills and vales, the winding river, dazzling in its reflected sunset tints, the princely villas and speeding trains, kept up a round of gayety and motion which even surpassed my donkey's curves. For who will dispute the beauty of curves?
All Tarrytown turned out for Pod. It was an event for the Perry House. That evening I was invited to McCarthy's Show, and paid 35 cents admission. I was told next day that from time immemorial travelers had tarried in this town and rested from their weary journeys. Hence its name. But I expressed grief in disregarding such an ancient and sensible custom, and set out Thursday at noon for Sing Sing, seven miles away. My steed seemed to be gradually realizing that an endless journey had been mapped out for him, and kept me watching him constantly. Several times he dove through a gap in a fence or hedge, and nearly scraped off saddle bags and luggage.
Suddenly an idea struck me. Bending a birch twig and fastening it to his headstall, I tied a penny to a string and hung it a few inches ahead of his nose.
"Now," I thought, "I have it. He'll surely follow the cent."
But I had not gone far before I observed my patent to be a failure. I concluded the trouble lay with the mint. A farmhouse loomed up before us, and I stopped for apples. And after feeding Mack a couple, I hung one in the place of the cent and laughed at my triumph. That donkey chased the apple at such a rapid pace that we reached town in three hours, having traveled the remarkable rate of two and one-third miles per hour.
Here I received my first ovation. Sing Sing Steamer Company invited me to their elegant dinner. After a heated debate at their business meeting, the president introduced me, and I made a short address about my travels. Then we adjourned to the spread, exchanged stories and hair-breadth escapes, and marched in lockstep, Sing Sing fashion, singing, "We're Jolly Good Fellows." As they were strangers to me, it was but natural they should give me proof of their claims of friendship. The secretary, to my surprise, purchased a picture of the "two donkeys" for the company's club room, with a sealed envelope. I don't believe in buying a pig in a poke, but it's the exception that proves the rule, and the pig this time was fat. I was several dollars richer. Next morning I purchased a revolver at a bargain. My stubborn donkey necessitated my traveling after dark, and I feared lest I should be "held up" for the 99 cents I started with. It was a relief to feel well armed.
Having been invited to visit the State Prison, I set out to find it, and a policeman, a very proper person, by the way, showed me the famous hostelry. Maccaroni would not accompany me further than the gate. He thought he saw a drove of zebras, and falling back in a sitting posture, threw back his ears and brayed hideously.
Upon my entering the office of the prison the secretary leaped from his chair and seized me by the hand. Said he:
"Mr. Pod, you are my prisoner for an hour. I will introduce you to the warden.
"Mr. Sage, allow me to present Mr. Pod, the famous donkey traveler, who is eating his way to the Pacific."
Show him the way to the dining room," said the warden, "and give him a plate of soup."
Then squeezing my dainty fingers, he handed me over to the chief keeper.
"Mr. Warden," said I, hesitating, "will you allow me to sit in the electric chair?"
"Yes," he replied, gravely, "although I consider you already are having capital punishment for betting." And turning to the keeper, he added: "Give him 50,000 volts. Anything less will not affect a man of his nerve."
This popular hotel can accommodate more selected guests than any other of its class in the world, and its dining hall can seat and feed more banqueters than Delmonico's.
I was next shown the Roman Catholic chapel.
"Have you anything to say?" asked my keeper.
"Yes," I replied, "What beautiful paintings on the walls! Genuine Murillos and Michael Angelos."
"Those are water colors," said he, with pride. "They were all executed by prisoners. Do you recognize that one?"
"Benjamin returning from the pit," said I, pedantically.
"No. It's the Prodigal Son returning to his father's house," he corrected.
"Over there is the companion piece." "Oh!" I exclaimed. "I know this one. I recognize David at once." "You seem to be slightly rusty on Biblical history," observed my keeper. "That's the Prodigal Son watching the flocks of swine."
In time we visited the Protestant Chapel, where the prisoners attend day school afternoons, and the clothing and shoe shops. I tried to purchase a pair of boots, but could not. The State has a corner on the output. This will soon cease, however, as the Legislature has condemned labor in the State's prisons and sanctioned idleness. Why this gifted body of statesmen passed such an idiotic act, nobody knows, not even the Legislature. The State will be deprived of a large revenue, so will the prisoners. The zebras, as Mack calls them, receive 3-1/2 to 4 cents a day, and when finally let loose have sometimes $80 to take them through the woods.
"Those fellows," I remarked in the shoe shops, "will go to heaven yet. I can tell by their soles."
"Perhaps," said the keeper, "they generally repent at the last."
In the dormitory was a little letter box.
"That," said my keeper, "is for the deposit of grievances." I tool out my pen and wrote my grievance and deposited it.
Cell No. 6 was the domicile of a life prisoner. I went in while he was out and stole a glance at the meager ornaments on the wall, one of which I discovered was not stationary, although the prisoner's head was shaven close.
The dispensary and the library are interesting departments. Both contain volumes, one of seasoned water, the other of books. As an act of Christian charity I could do no less than donate a copy of my book, "Frozen Humor" for the prisoners to take with them to the next world. The librarian remarked that it was the most humane gift ever made to the institution.
With faltering step I finally entered the terrible room, containing the electrocution chair. A colored prisoner was to follow me next day. Little he knew he was to sit in the same chair in which Pythagoras Pod rested the previous day. Everything was in readiness. The battery had been tested, and, I was told, detested, too. In less than thirty seconds from the time an ordinary prisoner enters the door he enters another. Pod being a man of nerve, walked out the one he entered. Between the doors flows a dark river, blacker than the Hudson looked when I arrived in Yonkers with my jackass. I would give a great deal to have that battery hitched to Maccaroni. As it would be violating the prison regulations for me to reveal the secret sensations of electrocution, I cannot describe them. My time was up.
The warden congratulated me, said I had earned my freedom, and presented me with a gift -- a plaster-of-paris ornament made by a prisoner who had never seen Paris in his life; also a package of prison-made tobacco, which I might chew or eschew, as I liked. It was a great day for Pod. Mack and I escaped from Sing Sing at 2 o'clock in the afternoon. Crowds assembled in the streets and highways to see us pass, but observing we were well armed did not molest us.
We reached Croton, six miles beyond, about dusk. As we approached the bridge crossing Croton River I saw a duck and thought I would test my marksmanship. My drowsy steed had gone fully a rod on the bridge before I banged at the innocent helldiver. The shot resulted in a compound disaster. Mack, frightened by the pistol report, dashed through the iron framework, tail over ears, into the river, scraping me out of the saddle and dropping me, fortunately, on the bridge. I managed, however, to get the duck. The jackass got the ducking. I think the water frightened him more than the shot did. It was a wonder to me he didn't drown; and, according to his braying, he was of the same opinion. We reached Peekskill long after dark. All day the weather had been threatening, and I tramped the last three miles in the rain. My jackass was so wet already that he didn't mind it; but I did. I donned my mackintosh, and slung my overcoat over my saddle, and walked ahead with reins in hand, as usual, urging my stubborn steed onward. Suddenly he started, and I turned in time to discover in the darkness two men, one of them suspiciously near Mack. I called to them to walk ahead as they frightened my donkey.
"That's not my business," said the tramp. "I'll walk where I please."
"You won't this time," I said, and I pulled my revolver out and marched the ruffians into town. They probably wanted nothing more than my overcoat, but unfortunately for them, I wanted the same thing. Through the generosity of the American House, Sing Sing, I had no hotel bill, and possibly the tramps thought I had no use for money. At any rate, I was glad to reach Peekskill. It was Friday night. I engaged a hall and lectured Saturday evening. Alas! My second reverse. But I pulled through, enjoyed a Sunday's rest, and called on the president of the town. A very genial man I found him to be, for he subscribed to my book of travels. Monday morning I was severely startled to hear that Maccaroni was ill. Quickly summoning a doctor, a dentist and a veterinary surgeon, for a consultation, I breathlessly awaited their verdict.
"Your jackass," said the vet, "has a complication of several diseases, among them influenza, bots and hives."
"He has the measles," said the doctor.
"He is teething," added the dentist.
"If so," said I, "it must be his second childhood." And with a troubled brow, and an empty stomach, I went into breakfast and left the doctors to fight it out among themselves.