rison was laughing at a story which the young man had just
finished.
"But," he ended, gravely, "I have practically decided to renounce
fiction as a means of livelihood and confine myself to simple,
uninteresting statistics and facts."
"I am very glad to hear you say that," I exclaimed, warmly. He bowed,
looked at Miss Barrison, and asked her when he might begin his story.
"Whenever you are ready," replied Miss Barrison, smiling in a manner
which I had not observed since the disappearance of Professor Farrago.
I'll admit that the young fellow was superficially attractive.
"Well, then," he began, modestly, "having no technical ability
concerning the affair in question, and having no knowledge of either
comparative anatomy or zoology, I am perhaps unfitted to tell this
story. But the story is true; the episode occurred under my own
eyes--within a few hours' sail of the Battery. And as I was one of the
first persons to verify what has long been a theory among scientists,
and, moreover, as the result of Professor Holroyd's discovery is to
be placed on exhibition in Madison Square Garden on the 20th of next
month, I have decided to tell you, as simply as I am able, exactly
what occurred.
"I first told the story on April 1, 1903, to the editors of the _North
American Review_, _The Popular Science Monthly_, the _Scientific
American_, _Nature_, _Outing_, and the _Fossiliferous Magazine_. All
these gentlemen rejected it; some curtly informing me that fiction had
no place in their columns. When I attempted to explain that it was not
fiction, the editors of these periodicals either maintained a
contemptuous silence, or bluntly notified me that my literary services
and opinions were not desired. But finally, when several publishers
offered to take the story as fiction, I cut short all negotiations and
decided to publish it myself. Where I am known at all, it is my
misfortune to be known as a writer of fiction. This makes it
impossible for me to receive a hearing from a scientific audience. I
regret it bitterly, because now, when it is too late, I am prepared to
prove certain scientific matters of interest, and to produce the
proofs. In this case, however, I am fortunate, for nobody can dispute
the existence of a thing when the bodily proof is exhibited as
evidence.
"This is the story; and if I tell it as I write fiction, it is because
I do not know how to tell it otherwise.
"I was walking along the beach below Pine I
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