imes
adds that 'it will neither make nor break nor set a man up in business.'
He is a flagrant optimist in small money matters, ever looking on the
bright side."

"Inside?" suggested my listener, with some impatience. I had regretted
my beginning and had meant to shirk a finish if she would let me; but it
seemed I must go on.

"Well, inside there's a hand-organ going all the time, you know--"

"The wild man?" she insisted, like a child looking ahead for the real
meat of the story one is telling it.

"I'm getting to him as fast as I consistently can. The wild man sits
tamely in a cheap chair on a platform, with a row of his photographs
spread charmingly at his feet. Of course you are certain at once that he
is no longer wild. You know that a wild man whose spirit had not been
utterly broken would never sit there and listen to that hand-organ eight
hours every day except Sunday. The fluent and polished gentleman in
charge--who has a dyed mustache--assures us that we have nothing to fear
from this 'once ferocious monster of the tropic jungle, with his bestial
craving for human flesh,' but that seems a mere matter of form, with the
hand-organ going in our ears--"

"Really," Miss Lansdale began--or tried to.

"One moment, please! The scholarly person goes on to relate the
circumstances of the wild person's capture--substantially as depicted
upon the canvas outside--and winds up with: 'After being brought to this
country in chains he was reclaimed from his savage estate, was given a
good English education, and can now converse intelligently upon all the
leading topics of the day. Step up, ladies and gentlemen' he concludes,
with a rather pointed delicacy, 'and you will find him ready and willing
to answer all proper questions.'"

Miss Lansdale dropped her oars into the water, dully, I thought. I
released the willow that had moored us, but I persisted.

"And he always _does_ answer all proper questions, just as the gentleman
said he would. Doubtless an improper question would be to ask him if he
weren't born tame on our own soil, of reputable New England parents; but
I don't know. I have always conducted myself in his presence as a
gentleman must, with the result that he has never failed to be chatty.
He is a trifle condescending, to be sure; he does not forget the
difference in our stations, but he does not permit himself to study me
with eyes of blank indifference, nor is he reticent to the verge of
hostility. Of c