You may perhaps realize, what I cannot altogether explain, the
reason why I feel almost a stranger though at home."
* * * * *
(To DR. R. R.)
"January 10, 19--.
"Could not get away, you conscientious old Medicus, because of the
strange accidents and holiday doings of the Whirlpool Colony at
the Bluffs!
"Well, well! I read your last with infinite amusement. You are in a fair
way to have enlightenment borne in upon you without leaving your surgery,
or at least travelling farther than your substantial gig will take you.
"Meanwhile I have had what should be a crushing blow to my vanity, and in
analyzing it I've made an important discovery. One night last week I was
sitting quietly in the card room at the Dibdin Club, awaiting my whist
mates (for here at least one may be reasonably sure of finding a group
with bibliographic interests in common, and the pleasures of a
non-commercial game of cards), when I heard a voice, one of a group
outside, belonging to a wholesome, smooth-faced young fellow, with good
tastes and instincts, say:--
"'I don't know what happened to the old boy when he took that unheard-of
vacation of his last fall, or where he went, but one thing's very sure,
since his return Cortright's grown _pudgy_ and he's waked bang up. Wonder
if he's finished that Colonial History, that's to be his monument, he's
been working on all his life, or if he's fallen in love?'
"'If he'd fall in love, he might stand more chance of finishing his
history,' replied a graybeard friend in deep didactic tones; 'he has
material in plenty, but no vital stimulus for focussing his work.
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