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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
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<section id="chapter-1" epub:type="chapter">
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<h2 epub:type="title">
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">I</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">“Fox-in-the-Morning”</span>
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">I</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">“Fox-in-the-Morning”</span>
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</h2>
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<p>Coralio reclined, in the midday heat, like some vacuous beauty lounging in a guarded harem. The town lay at the sea’s edge on a strip of alluvial coast. It was set like a little pearl in an emerald band. Behind it, and seeming almost to topple, imminent, above it, rose the sea-following range of the Cordilleras. In front the sea was spread, a smiling jailer, but even more incorruptible than the frowning mountains. The waves swished along the smooth beach; the parrots screamed in the orange and ceiba-trees; the palms waved their limber fronds foolishly like an awkward chorus at the prima donna’s cue to enter.</p>
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<p>Suddenly the town was full of excitement. A native boy dashed down a grass-grown street, shrieking: “<i xml:lang="es">Busca el Señor Goodwin. Ha venido un telégrafo por el!</i>”</p>
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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
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<section id="chapter-10" epub:type="chapter">
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<h2 epub:type="title">
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">X</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">The Shamrock and the Palm</span>
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">X</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">The Shamrock and the Palm</span>
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</h2>
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<p>One night when there was no breeze, and Coralio seemed closer than ever to the gratings of Avernus, five men were grouped about the door of the photograph establishment of Keogh and Clancy. Thus, in all the scorched and exotic places of the earth, Caucasians meet when the day’s work is done to preserve the fullness of their heritage by the aspersion of alien things.</p>
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<p>Johnny Atwood lay stretched upon the grass in the undress uniform of a Carib, and prated feebly of cool water to be had in the cucumber-wood pumps of Dalesburg. <abbr>Dr.</abbr> Gregg, through the prestige of his whiskers and as a bribe against the relation of his imminent professional tales, was conceded the hammock that was swung between the door jamb and a calabash-tree. Keogh had moved out upon the grass a little table that held the instrument for burnishing completed photographs. He was the only busy one of the group. Industriously from between the cylinders of the burnisher rolled the finished depictments of Coralio’s citizens. Blanchard, the French mining engineer, in his cool linen viewed the smoke of his cigarette through his calm glasses, impervious to the heat. Clancy sat on the steps, smoking his short pipe. His mood was the gossip’s; the others were reduced, by the humidity, to the state of disability desirable in an audience.</p>
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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
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<section id="chapter-11" epub:type="chapter">
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<h2 epub:type="title">
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">XI</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">The Remnants of the Code</span>
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">XI</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">The Remnants of the Code</span>
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</h2>
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<p>Breakfast in Coralio was at eleven. Therefore the people did not go to market early. The little wooden market-house stood on a patch of short-trimmed grass, under the vivid green foliage of a breadfruit tree.</p>
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<p>Thither one morning the venders leisurely convened, bringing their wares with them. A porch or platform six feet wide encircled the building, shaded from the mid-morning sun by the projecting, grass-thatched roof. Upon this platform the venders were wont to display their goods—newly-killed beef, fish, crabs, fruit of the country, cassava, eggs, dulces and high, tottering stacks of native tortillas as large around as the sombrero of a Spanish grandee.</p>
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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
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<section id="chapter-12" epub:type="chapter">
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<h2 epub:type="title">
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">XII</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">Shoes</span>
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">XII</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">Shoes</span>
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</h2>
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<p>John De Graffenreid Atwood ate of the lotus, root, stem, and flower. The tropics gobbled him up. He plunged enthusiastically into his work, which was to try to forget Rosine.</p>
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<p>Now, they who dine on the lotus rarely consume it plain. There is a sauce <i xml:lang="es">au diable</i> that goes with it; and the distillers are the chefs who prepare it. And on Johnny’s menu card it read “brandy.” With a bottle between them, he and Billy Keogh would sit on the porch of the little consulate at night and roar out great, indecorous songs, until the natives, slipping hastily past, would shrug a shoulder and mutter things to themselves about the “<i xml:lang="es">Americanos diablos</i>.”</p>
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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
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<section id="chapter-13" epub:type="chapter">
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<h2 epub:type="title">
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">XIII</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">Ships</span>
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">XIII</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">Ships</span>
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</h2>
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<p>Within a week a suitable building had been secured in the Calle Grande, and <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Hemstetter’s stock of shoes arranged upon their shelves. The rent of the store was moderate; and the stock made a fine showing of neat white boxes, attractively displayed.</p>
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<p>Johnny’s friends stood by him loyally. On the first day Keogh strolled into the store in a casual kind of way about once every hour, and bought shoes. After he had purchased a pair each of extension soles, congress gaiters, button kids, low-quartered calfs, dancing pumps, rubber boots, tans of various hues, tennis shoes and flowered slippers, he sought out Johnny to be prompted as to names of other kinds that he might inquire for. The other English-speaking residents also played their parts nobly by buying often and liberally. Keogh was grand marshal, and made them distribute their patronage, thus keeping up a fair run of custom for several days.</p>
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<p>“I told you they’d whoop things up when they got started,” said the consul.</p>
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<p>“I think I shall order a dozen more cases of goods, to keep the stock up,” said <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Hemstetter, beaming through his spectacles.</p>
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<p>“I wouldn’t send in any orders yet,” advised Johnny. “Wait till you see how the trade holds up.”</p>
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<p>Each night Johnny and Keogh sowed the crop that grew dollars by day. At the end of ten days two-thirds of the stock of shoes had been sold; and the stock of cockleburrs was exhausted. Johnny cabled to Pink Dawson for another 500 pounds, paying twenty cents per pound as before. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Hemstetter carefully made up an order for $1500 worth of shoes from Northern firms. Johnny hung about the store until this order was ready for the mail, and succeeded in destroying it before it reached the postoffice.</p>
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<p>Each night Johnny and Keogh sowed the crop that grew dollars by day. At the end of ten days two-thirds of the stock of shoes had been sold; and the stock of cockleburrs was exhausted. Johnny cabled to Pink Dawson for another 500 pounds, paying twenty cents per pound as before. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Hemstetter carefully made up an order for $1,500 worth of shoes from Northern firms. Johnny hung about the store until this order was ready for the mail, and succeeded in destroying it before it reached the postoffice.</p>
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<p>That night he took Rosine under the mango tree by Goodwin’s porch, and confessed everything. She looked him in the eye, and said: “You are a very wicked man. Father and I will go back home. You say it was a joke? I think it is a very serious matter.”</p>
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<p>But at the end of half an hour’s argument the conversation had been turned upon a different subject. The two were considering the respective merits of pale blue and pink wall paper with which the old colonial mansion of the Atwoods in Dalesburg was to be decorated after the wedding.</p>
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<p>On the next morning Johnny confessed to <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Hemstetter. The shoe merchant put on his spectacles, and said through them: “You strike me as being a most extraordinary young scamp. If I had not managed this enterprise with good business judgment my entire stock of goods might have been a complete loss. Now, how do you propose to dispose of the rest of it?”</p>
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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
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<section id="chapter-14" epub:type="chapter">
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<h2 epub:type="title">
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">XIV</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">Masters of Arts</span>
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">XIV</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">Masters of Arts</span>
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</h2>
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<p>A two-inch stub of a blue pencil was the wand with which Keogh performed the preliminary acts of his magic. So, with this he covered paper with diagrams and figures while he waited for the United States of America to send down to Coralio a successor to Atwood, resigned.</p>
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<p>The new scheme that his mind had conceived, his stout heart endorsed, and his blue pencil corroborated, was laid around the characteristics and human frailties of the new president of Anchuria. These characteristics, and the situation out of which Keogh hoped to wrest a golden tribute, deserve chronicling contributive to the clear order of events.</p>
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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
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<section id="chapter-15" epub:type="chapter">
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<h2 epub:type="title">
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">XV</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">Dicky</span>
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">XV</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">Dicky</span>
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</h2>
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<p>There is little consecutiveness along the Spanish Main. Things happen there intermittently. Even Time seems to hang his scythe daily on the branch of an orange tree while he takes a siesta and a cigarette.</p>
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<p>After the ineffectual revolt against the administration of President Losada, the country settled again into quiet toleration of the abuses with which he had been charged. In Coralio old political enemies went arm-in-arm, lightly eschewing for the time all differences of opinion.</p>
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<p>When the captain had departed Dicky called the sergeant of the jail squad and asked:</p>
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<p>“Am I <i xml:lang="es">preso</i> by the military or by the civil authority?”</p>
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<p>“Surely there is no martial law in effect now, señor.”</p>
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<p>“<i xml:lang="es">Bueno</i>. Now go or send to the alcalde, the <i xml:lang="es">Jues de la Paz</i> and the <i xml:lang="es">Jefe de los Policios</i>. Tell them I am prepared at once to satisfy the demands of justice.” A folded bill of the “long green” slid into the sergeant’s hand.</p>
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<p>“<i xml:lang="es">Bueno.</i> Now go or send to the alcalde, the <i xml:lang="es">Jues de la Paz</i> and the <i xml:lang="es">Jefe de los Policios</i>. Tell them I am prepared at once to satisfy the demands of justice.” A folded bill of the “long green” slid into the sergeant’s hand.</p>
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<p>Then Dicky’s smile came back again, for he knew that the hours of his captivity were numbered; and he hummed, in time with the sentry’s tread:</p>
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<blockquote epub:type="z3998:verse">
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<p>
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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
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<section id="chapter-16" epub:type="chapter">
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<h2 epub:type="title">
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">XVI</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">Rouge Et Noir</span>
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">XVI</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">Rouge Et Noir</span>
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</h2>
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<p>It has been indicated that disaffection followed the elevation of Losada to the presidency. This feeling continued to grow. Throughout the entire republic there seemed to be a spirit of silent, sullen discontent. Even the old Liberal party to which Goodwin, Zavalla and other patriots had lent their aid was disappointed. Losada had failed to become a popular idol. Fresh taxes, fresh import duties and, more than all, his tolerance of the outrageous oppression of citizens by the military had rendered him the most obnoxious president since the despicable Alforan. The majority of his own cabinet were out of sympathy with him. The army, which he had courted by giving it license to tyrannize, had been his main, and thus far adequate support.</p>
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<p>But the most impolitic of the administration’s moves had been when it antagonized the Vesuvius Fruit Company, an organization plying twelve steamers and with a cash capital somewhat larger than Anchuria’s surplus and debt combined.</p>
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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
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<section id="chapter-17" epub:type="chapter">
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<h2 epub:type="title">
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">XVII</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">Two Recalls</span>
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">XVII</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">Two Recalls</span>
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</h2>
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<p>There remains three duties to be performed before the curtain falls upon the patched comedy. Two have been promised: the third is no less obligatory.</p>
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<p>It was set forth in the programme of this tropic vaudeville that it would be made known why Shorty O’Day, of the Columbia Detective Agency, lost his position. Also that Smith should come again to tell us what mystery he followed that night on the shores of Anchuria when he strewed so many cigar stumps around the coconut palm during his lonely night vigil on the beach. These things were promised; but a bigger thing yet remains to be accomplished—the clearing up of a seeming wrong that has been done according to the array of chronicled facts (truthfully set forth) that have been presented. And one voice, speaking, shall do these three things.</p>
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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
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<section id="chapter-18" epub:type="chapter">
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<h2 epub:type="title">
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">XVIII</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">The Vitagraphoscope</span>
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">XVIII</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">The Vitagraphoscope</span>
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</h2>
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<p>Vaudeville is intrinsically episodic and discontinuous. Its audiences do not demand dénoûements. Sufficient unto each “turn” is the evil thereof. No one cares how many romances the singing comédienne may have had if she can capably sustain the limelight and a high note or two. The audiences reck not if the performing dogs get to the pound the moment they have jumped through their last hoop. They do not desire bulletins about the possible injuries received by the comic bicyclist who retires headfirst from the stage in a crash of (property) chinaware. Neither do they consider that their seat coupons entitle them to be instructed whether or no there is a sentiment between the lady solo banjoist and the Irish monologist.</p>
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<p>Therefore let us have no lifting of the curtain upon a tableau of the united lovers, backgrounded by defeated villainy and derogated by the comic, osculating maid and butler, thrown in as a sop to the Cerberi of the fifty-cent seats.</p>
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<p>But our programme ends with a brief “turn” or two; and then to the exits. Whoever sits the show out may find, if he will, the slender thread that binds together, though ever so slightly, the story that, perhaps, only the Walrus will understand.</p>
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<p><i>Extracts from a letter from the first vice-president of the Republic Insurance Company, of New York City, to Frank Goodwin, of Coralio, Republic of Anchuria.</i></p>
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<blockquote epub:type="z3998:letter">
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<p><span epub:type="salutation">My Dear <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Goodwin</span>:—Your communication per <abbr>Messrs.</abbr> Howland and Fourchet, of New Orleans, has reached us. Also their draft on N. Y. for $100,000, the amount abstracted from the funds of this company by the late J. Churchill Wahrfield, its former president. … The officers and directors unite in requesting me to express to you their sincere esteem and thanks for your prompt and much appreciated return of the entire missing sum within two weeks from the time of its disappearance. … Can assure you that the matter will not be allowed to receive the least publicity. … Regret exceedingly the distressing death of <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Wahrfield by his own hand, but … Congratulations on your marriage to Miss Wahrfield … many charms, winning manners, noble and womanly nature and envied position in the best metropolitan society …</p>
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<p><span epub:type="salutation">My Dear <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Goodwin</span>:—Your communication per <abbr>Messrs.</abbr> Howland and Fourchet, of New Orleans, has reached us. Also their draft on N. Y. for $100,000, the amount abstracted from the funds of this company by the late J. Churchill Wahrfield, its former president. … The officers and directors unite in requesting me to express to you their sincere esteem and thanks for your prompt and much appreciated return of the entire missing sum within two weeks from the time of its disappearance. … Can assure you that the matter will not be allowed to receive the least publicity. … Regret exceedingly the distressing death of <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Wahrfield by his own hand, but … Congratulations on your marriage to Miss Wahrfield … many charms, winning manners, noble and womanly nature and envied position in the best metropolitan society …</p>
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<footer>
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<p epub:type="valediction">Cordially yours,</p>
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<p epub:type="z3998:sender">Lucius E. Applegate</p>
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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
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<section id="chapter-2" epub:type="chapter">
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<h2 epub:type="title">
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">II</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">The Lotus and the Bottle</span>
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">II</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">The Lotus and the Bottle</span>
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</h2>
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<p>Willard Geddie, consul for the United States in Coralio, was working leisurely on his yearly report. Goodwin, who had strolled in as he did daily for a smoke on the much coveted porch, had found him so absorbed in his work that he departed after roundly abusing the consul for his lack of hospitality.</p>
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<p>“I shall complain to the civil service department,” said Goodwin;—“or is it a department?—perhaps it’s only a theory. One gets neither civility nor service from you. You won’t talk; and you won’t set out anything to drink. What kind of a way is that of representing your government?”</p>
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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
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<section id="chapter-3" epub:type="chapter">
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<h2 epub:type="title">
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">III</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">Smith</span>
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">III</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">Smith</span>
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</h2>
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<p>Goodwin and the ardent patriot, Zavalla, took all the precautions that their foresight could contrive to prevent the escape of President Miraflores and his companion. They sent trusted messengers up the coast to Solitas and Alazan to warn the local leaders of the flight, and to instruct them to patrol the water line and arrest the fugitives at all hazards should they reveal themselves in that territory. After this was done there remained only to cover the district about Coralio and await the coming of the quarry. The nets were well spread. The roads were so few, the opportunities for embarkation so limited, and the two or three probable points of exit so well guarded that it would be strange indeed if there should slip through the meshes so much of the country’s dignity, romance, and collateral. The president would, without doubt, move as secretly as possible, and endeavour to board a vessel by stealth from some secluded point along the shore.</p>
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<p>On the fourth day after the receipt of Englehart’s telegram the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.ship">Karlsefin</i>, a Norwegian steamer chartered by the New Orleans fruit trade, anchored off Coralio with three hoarse toots of her siren. The <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.ship">Karlsefin</i> was not one of the line operated by the Vesuvius Fruit Company. She was something of a dilettante, doing odd jobs for a company that was scarcely important enough to figure as a rival to the Vesuvius. The movements of the <i epub:type="se:name.vessel.ship">Karlsefin</i> were dependent upon the state of the market. Sometimes she would ply steadily between the Spanish Main and New Orleans in the regular transport of fruit; next she would be making erratic trips to Mobile or Charleston, or even as far north as New York, according to the distribution of the fruit supply.</p>
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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
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<section id="chapter-4" epub:type="chapter">
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<h2 epub:type="title">
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">IV</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">Caught</span>
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">IV</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">Caught</span>
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</h2>
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<p>The plans for the detention of the flying President Miraflores and his companion at the coast line seemed hardly likely to fail. <abbr>Dr.</abbr> Zavalla himself had gone to the port of Alazan to establish a guard at that point. At Solitas the Liberal patriot Varras could be depended upon to keep close watch. Goodwin held himself responsible for the district about Coralio.</p>
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<p>The news of the president’s flight had been disclosed to no one in the coast towns save trusted members of the ambitious political party that was desirous of succeeding to power. The telegraph wire running from San Mateo to the coast had been cut far up on the mountain trail by an emissary of Zavalla’s. Long before this could be repaired and word received along it from the capital the fugitives would have reached the coast and the question of escape or capture been solved.</p>
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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
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<section id="chapter-5" epub:type="chapter">
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<h2 epub:type="title">
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">V</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">Cupid’s Exile Number Two</span>
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">V</span>
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<span epub:type="subtitle">Cupid’s Exile Number Two</span>
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</h2>
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<p>The United States of America, after looking over its stock of consular timber, selected <abbr>Mr.</abbr> John De Graffenreid Atwood, of Dalesburg, Alabama, for a successor to Willard Geddie, resigned.</p>
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<p>Without prejudice to <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Atwood, it will have to be acknowledged that, in this instance, it was the man who sought the office. As with the self-banished Geddie, it was nothing less than the artful smiles of lovely woman that had driven Johnny Atwood to the desperate expedient of accepting office under a despised Federal Government so that he might go far, far away and never see again the false, fair face that had wrecked his young life. The consulship at Coralio seemed to offer a retreat sufficiently removed and romantic enough to inject the necessary drama into the pastoral scenes of Dalesburg life.</p>
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<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
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<section id="chapter-6" epub:type="chapter">
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<h2 epub:type="title">
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<span epub:type="z3998:roman">VI</span>
|
||||
<span epub:type="subtitle">The Phonograph and the Graft</span>
|
||||
<span epub:type="z3998:roman">VI</span>
|
||||
<span epub:type="subtitle">The Phonograph and the Graft</span>
|
||||
</h2>
|
||||
<p>“What was this graft?” asked Johnny, with the impatience of the great public to whom tales are told.</p>
|
||||
<p>“ ’Tis contrary to art and philosophy to give you the information,” said Keogh, calmly. “The art of narrative consists in concealing from your audience everything it wants to know until after you expose your favourite opinions on topics foreign to the subject. A good story is like a bitter pill with the sugar coating inside of it. I will begin, if you please, with a horoscope located in the Cherokee Nation; and end with a moral tune on the phonograph.</p>
|
||||
|
||||
@ -8,8 +8,8 @@
|
||||
<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||||
<section id="chapter-7" epub:type="chapter">
|
||||
<h2 epub:type="title">
|
||||
<span epub:type="z3998:roman">VII</span>
|
||||
<span epub:type="subtitle">Money Maze</span>
|
||||
<span epub:type="z3998:roman">VII</span>
|
||||
<span epub:type="subtitle">Money Maze</span>
|
||||
</h2>
|
||||
<p>The new administration of Anchuria entered upon its duties and privileges with enthusiasm. Its first act was to send an agent to Coralio with imperative orders to recover, if possible, the sum of money ravished from the treasury by the ill-fated Miraflores.</p>
|
||||
<p>Colonel Emilio Falcon, the private secretary of Losada, the new president, was despatched from the capital upon this important mission.</p>
|
||||
|
||||
@ -8,8 +8,8 @@
|
||||
<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||||
<section id="chapter-8" epub:type="chapter">
|
||||
<h2 epub:type="title">
|
||||
<span epub:type="z3998:roman">VIII</span>
|
||||
<span epub:type="subtitle">The Admiral</span>
|
||||
<span epub:type="z3998:roman">VIII</span>
|
||||
<span epub:type="subtitle">The Admiral</span>
|
||||
</h2>
|
||||
<p>Spilled milk draws few tears from an Anchurian administration. Many are its lacteal sources; and the clocks’ hands point forever to milking time. Even the rich cream skimmed from the treasury by the bewitched Miraflores did not cause the newly-installed patriots to waste time in unprofitable regrets. The government philosophically set about supplying the deficiency by increasing the import duties and by “suggesting” to wealthy private citizens that contributions according to their means would be considered patriotic and in order. Prosperity was expected to attend the reign of Losada, the new president. The ousted officeholders and military favourites organized a new “Liberal” party, and began to lay their plans for a re-succession. Thus the game of Anchurian politics began, like a Chinese comedy, to unwind slowly its serial length. Here and there Mirth peeps for an instant from the wings and illumines the florid lines.</p>
|
||||
<p>A dozen quarts of champagne in conjunction with an informal sitting of the president and his cabinet led to the establishment of the navy and the appointment of Felipe Carrera as its admiral.</p>
|
||||
|
||||
@ -8,8 +8,8 @@
|
||||
<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||||
<section id="chapter-9" epub:type="chapter">
|
||||
<h2 epub:type="title">
|
||||
<span epub:type="z3998:roman">IX</span>
|
||||
<span epub:type="subtitle">The Flag Paramount</span>
|
||||
<span epub:type="z3998:roman">IX</span>
|
||||
<span epub:type="subtitle">The Flag Paramount</span>
|
||||
</h2>
|
||||
<p>At the head of the insurgent party appeared that Hector and learned Theban of the southern republics, Don Sabas Placido. A traveller, a soldier, a poet, a scientist, a statesman and a connoisseur—the wonder was that he could content himself with the petty, remote life of his native country.</p>
|
||||
<p>“It is a whim of Placido’s,” said a friend who knew him well, “to take up political intrigue. It is not otherwise than as if he had come upon a new tempo in music, a new bacillus in the air, a new scent, or rhyme, or explosive. He will squeeze this revolution dry of sensations, and a week afterward will forget it, skimming the seas of the world in his brigantine to add to his already world-famous collections. Collections of what? <i xml:lang="es">Por Dios!</i> of everything from postage stamps to prehistoric stone idols.”</p>
|
||||
|
||||
@ -7,7 +7,7 @@
|
||||
</head>
|
||||
<body epub:type="bodymatter z3998:fiction">
|
||||
<section id="preface" epub:type="preface">
|
||||
<h2>The Proem</h2>
|
||||
<h2 epub:type="title">The Proem</h2>
|
||||
<h3>
|
||||
<b>by the carpenter</b>
|
||||
</h3>
|
||||
|
||||
Loading…
Reference in New Issue
Block a user