I walked home with Zahn tired with so many wonders. The next morning I overslept and was late for my train so that there was no opportunity for any further conversation. I have not seen my host since that time until last week. I then made a singular and most distressing discovery.
I had noticed that most of my shirts were frayed at the wristbands. I needed some new shirts and proceeded to select them. Judge my surprise when I discovered that my old friend Zahn was waiting on me! I of course accosted him by name, only to be met by a blank stare and a firm denial of acquaintance. He assured me that his name was Smith and that he knew no one by the name of Zahn. I asked for the proprietor of the store and told him my story only to be greeted by an incredulous stare. The proprietor assured me that Smith came to the store under that name with fine recommendations from previous employers, and that they had no doubt whatever that he was as represented. I can only suppose that Zahn had lost his mind through overstudy and with it his memory. I have noticed that neither I myself nor either of the other participants in that famous lunch, now five years ago, appears a day older, and I am dreading the exhaustion of my bottle and the slow onset of old age.
Just Samuel Jones
Samuel Jones was an energetic as well as a very careful young man. He had inherited a small sum of money from his father. It was his purpose to use so much of this as was necessary in completing his education; the remainder was to be carefully invested as a nest egg for the reserve he intended to create which he spoke and thought of as The Dam. The idea back of this name was that if the Dam were big enough and were full it would keep the mill going for some time should the springs run dry.
Sam was careful in other ways also. He laid careful plans each morning so that no time need be wasted. If the day was cool he put on a heavy suit; if cloudy he wore rubbers and carried an umbrella. If the temperature rose suddenly after such a beginning and the sun shone brightly, he had at least done his part and this consoled him for the suffering he must endure. This disposition subjected Sam to the ridicule of his unmarried sister, Tilly, who acted as his housekeeper. Tilly was of a very different build. No one ventured to call Tilly careful—she was conspicuously careless. She had a pretty foot and loved to buy new shoes, but she often dressed in a hurry, and her shoes, having been discarded in a hurry, were not readily matched. In consequence, she sometimes appeared at breakfast with a shoe upon the right foot and a slipper on the left. This impropriety filled Sam with anguish. Perhaps this difference in disposition was one of the reasons for their affection, for they were very fond of each other and they led a very happy life.
Sam had a poor opinion of college men. Part of this low rating was no doubt prejudice and part was due to the fact that he was not a college man himself. He saw very clearly, however, that many college men acquire only a fine polish. The process fails to get enough paint on the rough wood of the foundation to hide the coarse grain which shows through in all its crudity. He had also taken note of his own rather brusque manner, and laid it, correctly, to the lack of those opportunities which come to the college man unsought. Anxious to repair this defect he became precise and a trifle stilted. This Tilly was not slow to notice and criticize. Tilly loved college boys and their ways. She listened with attention to their songs and was up on all their pranks. Their escapades amused her and she forgave their faults. She knew them well for they lived in a college town.
Back of all Sam’s spur to action was a love of chemistry. He became enamoured of it in High School where Steele’s Fourteen Weeks was the text-book. Beginning by pouring vinegar on baking soda in his mother’s kitchen, he had managed to study carefully a good many chemical substances so that his knowledge was much broader and deeper than that obtained by most college students. As the lumberman notices all the straight trees large enough for sawing so Sam tagged all objects with formulae. Water was H2O; vinegar C2H4O2; Cream of tartar (CHOH COOH, CHOH COOK); and sugar C12H22O11. After the death of their mother Sam had fitted up a laboratory in the attic and hung out the shingle of an analytical chemist. The income obtained in this way being too small he conceived the idea of adding to it by the concoction of various specialties, and Jones’ Talcum Powder, Jones’ Velvet Cream and Jones’ Tooth Paste made their appearance on the shelves of neighboring druggists and were spoken of in terms of praise by those who had used them. These had been supplemented by various perfumes which found favor with the weaker sex and became the foundations of a business which was steadily increasing. Into this scene of happiness and peaceful prosperity Fate dropped several bombs.