"O, Tom!" cried Gertrude, "that can't be! Even Darwin doesn't claim that for man in the nineteenth century!"
"My dear young friend," answered Tom, "these tails were not carried monkey-fashion, but were insignia of office, the man having three tails holding the highest rank. They are of horse-hair, placed on a long staff with a gilt ball on top, and are always carried before the Pasha on his military expeditions. Always ask for information," said he, bowing to the circle, "and I shall be happy to impart such as is suitable to juvenile minds!"
"Very condescending!" "Deeply interesting!" "Just from college, isn't he?" were some of the remarks of the girls.
"The Grand Vizier presented me," continued Tom. "We had a good deal of pleasant conversation together, the Sultan and I; and I tried to convince him that the republican form of government was the best. Strange to say, my eloquence failed in effect. But he was very friendly, and asked me to stay to tea, and he'd introduce me to his little family—"
"Tom! Tom!" cried several voices, "Do keep probability in view."
"I declined, of course, even at the risk of hurting his feelings. I don't want to see women with thick veils on; some may think it romantic—I know Alice does, for it is so mysterious—but I think it looks as if they were marked with small-pox! Just then, the muezzin sounded for prayers from the nearest minaret, and the Sultan instantly fell prostrate on his rich Turkish rug, and began his devotions. He was just saying, 'Do come, Tom, for'—but he stopped in the midst, and I'll never know what strong inducement he was going to offer; perhaps he wanted me to be Grand Vizier. I slipped out while he was at his prayers."
"O Tom, Tom!" cried John. "I didn't think you could draw so long a bow!"
"It is quite understood that we are indulging in fiction," replied he. "You know that falsehood consists in the intent to deceive. No one will be taken in by my yarns, dear Coz!"
"Nor mine, either," said Cornelia. "For I was in Paris before the French Revolution, at the same time as our philosopher, Benjamin Franklin. I was present at court on a grand occasion. The king, Louis Sixteenth, a handsome and amiable monarch, and the beautiful and graceful queen, Marie Antoinette, were there of course; the young Dauphin was, I hope, sound asleep. The ladies of the court were brilliant, and everything as gay as gay could be. But to my surprise, our plain, simple republican Dr. Franklin was the central object, the 'cynosure of all beholders.' The king was quite secondary. Philosophy was then quite the rage, and republican simplicity—in the abstract—was adored by these potentates. One of the grand, gay ladies crowned Franklin with a wreath of flowers! And he was wonderfully pleased with all the attention he received, I assure you. It was a different scene from any in the Philadelphia of those days—with our staid citizens, and sweet, gentle, modest Quaker ladies in their plain dress!"
"And now," said Amy, "aren't you all tired of potentates? I am. This is our last evening, and I want dear Uncle to tell us a story—something from his own life, if he will—to finish up our pleasures."