“What do I mean!” exclaimed Ephraim, in a passion; “I mean that you are a pack of idiots for pretending to believe that there is no such thing as a telegraph, and no such thing as a telegraph cable to Europe.”
The crowd sent up a shout of derisive laughter and rushed at him as if to hustle him and use him roughly. The gentleman to whom he had spoken seized him by the arm and hurried him away. When they had turned the corner, the man stopped and said to Ephraim,—
“You appear to be a sane man, although you speak so strangely. Let me warn you to be more careful in the future. If you should be taken up as a madman and consigned to a madhouse, you would endure terrible suffering, and find it very difficult to secure release.”
“I am perfectly sane,” said Ephraim, “and I cannot comprehend why you think what I have said strange. I wanted my letters, and I wished in their absence to correspond by telegraph, because I am expecting a cargo of wheat to-day, which I am to ship to Liverpool by steamer.”
“By steamer! There you go again. Nobody can know what you mean by ‘steamer.’”
“Steamer! Steamship! A ship that crosses the ocean by steam, without sails. You know what that is, certainly?”
“I have heard some talk about a rattle-trap invention which used steam to make a little boat paddle about on the river here; but as for crossing the ocean—well, my dear sir, that is a little too ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous! Why—”
“Pardon me,” said the man, “I see you are incorrigible; I must bid you good morning;” and he bowed politely and walked quickly away.
“Well, well!” said Ephraim, standing still and looking after him helplessly. “It’s queer, very queer. I don’t begin to understand it at all, I am half inclined to believe that the world has conspired to make game of me, or else that my poor wits really are astray. I don’t feel as certain of them as a clear-headed man should.”