Now if this is not a simple way of building a drama, we are no judge.
Our adjoining illustration represents the interview between General Hab-grabemall and the lady. The General acquires a gigantic appearance by tying a folded shawl or small pillow on each shoulder before he puts on his cloak; his face is made up chiefly of curled hair and diachylon. Reginald Spooneigh has long flaxen hair, made out of some rope unravelled for the purpose, and sewed on to a tightly-fitting cap, moustache and beard to match, and turn-down collar. The rest of his attire may be in any style most convenient.
Mr. Tinkletop is remarkable for a red nose, turned up, and one tooth missing (both according to our prescription given in a previous chapter). His vest and cravat are of bright colors, and his coat also, if possible.
PRIVATE THEATRICALS.—See page [80].
CHAPTER VII.
Mankind in general, and we modern Americans in particular, are perpetually striving to come a "gouge game" over nature. We feel that this expression is very slangy and low-lived, but as none other seems so precisely to convey our idea, we must for once borrow a phrase from the ring and the race-course. So we repeat that we are, most of us, perpetually striving to "gouge" nature; but nature is too smart for us, and will not allow herself to be fooled by any clumsy device it is in our power to invent. Nature starts us in the business of life with a certain amount of capital in mental, physical, and nervous power; and just so much capacity for enjoyment; and we, instead of investing this in the best manner to produce the largest legitimate amount of interest, are perpetually engaged in trying some "dodge" whereby we may spend the capital and still draw the interest. A young man starts in business with the resolution that he will make a fortune in such and such a number of years, and then he will retire while he is still young, and lead the most glorious life mortal ever knew. And so he pitches in, buys, sells, wheedles, bullies, tricks, cheats, works night and day, without any let-up at all. There will be plenty of time, he thinks, for recreation when he has made his fortune. Then he will go to Europe, build himself a house on the Hudson, buy the fastest pair of horses, cultivate society, purchase pictures, and be supremely happy. The years trot on, but the hopeful man finds it is slower work making a pile than he thought; or perhaps he raises his figure, so he sets to work with renewed vigor. His nerves are allowed no rest to recover their tone; his stomach is allowed no leisure to perform its work; his body gets no healthful exercise; and his soul no ray of light from the beautiful and lovable. "There will be time for all these things by and by, when he has made that two hundred thousand dollars." At last the sum is made, though our hopeful man is a few years older than he intended he should be on retiring. Still the money is made, and he is going to enjoy it. He builds himself a fine house in the country, with "lots of style into it," and plants around it a number of small trees, which will be of decent size about twenty years after he is buried. But that is of no consequence—there is beautiful scenery all around. But what is this the rich man discovers? Why, that the trees and hills and streams are not the same that they were when he was young. He finds, too, that pictures "don't amount to much." He is rather nervous about driving fast horses; and as to society, he has got quite out of the way of that whilst making his fortune. He finds that collecting round one congenial and agreeable people is a work of time and care, besides which, there is no society in the country any way. Then his wife hates the country. So our rich man sells his house in the country, returns to the city, and enters into some new business operations just to pass the time away; having made the melancholy discovery that whilst engaged in acquiring means, he has lost the capacity for enjoyment. The fact is, nature will not stand much nonsense. If you think you are going to work her without mercy or consideration the best part of your life, and then expect that she will gaily bear you on her back, sporting through valleys of delight, you are very much mistaken.
Another man thinks he will get the maximum enjoyment out of life by aid of wine, and so he mortgages his whole capacity of enjoyment for a few years' excessive excitement, and is amazingly surprised when he finds himself a bankrupt. Nature will not cash his draft at any price. He is not aware that every thrill of pleasure derived from excessive stimulating has to be paid for with usury. Others again fancy they will get ahead of nature by forcing the minds of their children as they would cucumbers; but after an incalculable amount of trouble, expense, and cruelty, the child comes of age a bankrupt, mentally and physically. The soil has run out; it can produce no more—and what wonder! It was never allowed to lie fallow; it was never renewed; and now it is fit for little or nothing.