“When Bruin appeared I was frightened and fell in a faint. From this I was awakened by a rough tongue licking my cheek and a bearish voice whispering in my ear. It said: ‘You were to kill me were you not, and to take off my hide and sell it? And you were to collect the money offered as rewards, and having thus acquired much money you agreed, did you not, to pay the account of the landlord and stay with him until your money was exhausted?’
“I was badly frightened and, thinking my time had come and resolving to endanger my hope of salvation by no more lies, I nodded my head in assent. The bear then said:
“‘Very well, you are properly punished. As for the rascal in the tree the inn keeper has made no agreement with him such as that he will make with you; and when you have escaped his wrath I advise him to clap him in jail. In the meantime I will advise you both never in future to sell the hide of a bear before you have killed it, nor would I collect rewards for its death before the death takes place.’ As for the Judge, he is a rascal anyhow and at all times, and is well able to take care of himself.” With this the vagabond darted from the room and ran up the street pursued by all three who had forgotten their promises in their resentment. He however made good his escape.
A Visit from the Wileys
Many years ago, shortly after I began teaching at Lafayette College, I determined to join The American Association for the Advancement of Science. This long-winded name was given by themselves to a collection of bookworms who every year assembled in some good-sized city, after having collected some thousands of dollars for expenses of the local merchants, and held as many as a dozen pow wows in as many different rooms. In one of these rooms a learned discussion on one or more mathematical questions was kept up during most of the hours of daylight; in a second, subjects in physics were undergoing examination; a third room was occupied by the chemists, a fourth by the biologists; everywhere there was a sprinkling of “nuts” who were in danger of breaking out and must be sat upon in order not to discredit the serious minded.
The discussions sometimes dropped into a burst of self-admiration by some savant devoted to the holy cause of science who was keeping the lamp of knowledge burning in poverty and distress. These wails were occasionally broken in upon by another wholesome-minded soul, like the great Cope, who boldly declared that he was not suffering but having a good time and could be happy in no other way.
In the evenings some of us put on our best clothes and attended a garden party given by a local magnate where we met the money bags of the neighborhood and for an hour breathed the unaccustomed air of luxury; or we attended an evening lecture given by some member of the attending band of scientists in compliment to the hosts; a chosen few assembled at a room where good beer was to be had, in ordinary dress, drank a little beer and listened to stories and discussions straight from the shoulder and worth while.
It was in these evening discussions and in daylight visits to points of geological or other interest that we became acquainted and learned to enjoy the great week of the year. It was here that I first met Le Conte, Cope, Major Powell, the one-armed explorer of the Colorado canyon, Brashear, who made his first lenses from tumbler bottoms and Wiley, the jolly farmer giant, facile princeps among men.