Captain Jinks, Hero - Ernest Howard Crosby (e reading malayalam books .txt) 📗

the women of the Cubapines and Porsslania. It was only the women of the East that he could not find heart to salute in the same way. Here was a hero indeed, who insulted one-half of his own nation! It might have been expected that the Western press would have come to Sam’s support, but they did not. They accused him of gross deception in not announcing that he had been from the first engaged to be married. Their young women had been fraudulently induced to kiss lips which had already been monopolized, but which they had been led to believe to be as free as the air of heaven. Black indeed must be the soul of a man who could stoop to such deception! As the days went on the public became more excited and the attacks more ferocious. It was rumored that his fiancée had married him against his will, that she was a virago and a termagant. Would the country be contented to see the Executive Mansion ruled by petticoats, and by those of a hussy at that? What sort of a hero was the man who could be ordered about by a woman and could not call his soul his own? Then they began to overhaul his record. Was he really the hero of San Diego? Was it not the mistakes of Gomaldo which caused his defeat? Was it not true that the boasted subjugation of the Moritos was brought about by the superstitious fear of the savages inspired by the figures tattooed on the captain’s body? And the capture of Gomaldo, was it anything but a green-goods game on a large scale? What, too, was the burning of the great White Temple but an act of vandalism? And as for the friendship and praise of the Emperor, who was the Emperor, anyway, but an effete product of an exhausted civilization? Then had not Captain Jinks opposed the promotion of men from the ranks? What sort of a democrat was this? Sam felt these thrusts keenly. He had had no idea of the fickleness of the people, and it was hard to believe that in a single day they had ceased to adore him and begun to revile him; and yet such was the case. Marian was also overcome with mortification, and she heaped reproaches upon him for their forlorn condition. Cleary proved himself to be a stanch friend.

“It’s too bad, old man,” he said. “It’ll blow over, but you’ll have to withdraw a while for repairs. The bottom has dropped out of your boom, and of course you can’t be a candidate for President. Let’s go quietly home. I’ll go along with you. The Lyre has had to drop you for the time. Scribblers’ has sent back the first article I wrote for you, and they say your name has lost its commercial value. I’ve seen Jonas. He’s here to make sure of a friendly candidate, and he says you’re out of the question. He’s doing well, I tell you. I asked him how it paid to run a war for half a million a day and get a trade in return of a few millions a year? ‘It’s the people pay for the war and we get the trade,’ said he. He’d like to have you President to help them along, but he says it won’t be possible. It’s a shame. You’d have run so well, if⁠—Your platform of ‘Old Gory, the Army and Navy,’ would have swept everything before it. But never mind. We’ll try it again some day. I suppose your luck couldn’t hold out forever.”

“Thanks, my dear Cleary,” said Sam, grasping his hand. “You’ve been a true friend. I don’t think it makes much difference. I am a sick man, and I must go home as soon as I can.”

XVI The End

Sam was indeed a sick man, and the journey to the East proved to be a severe strain upon him. Cleary saw that it would be unwise to let him travel alone with his wife, and accordingly he accompanied him to Slowburgh, which was on the way to Homeville. They arrived in the afternoon, and Sam could hardly walk to the carriage which awaited him. He was put to bed as soon as he reached his uncle’s house, and on the advice of his uncle’s doctor they sent at once to the county town for a trained nurse to take charge of him, for it was out of the question for him to travel farther. There was no train which Cleary could conveniently take that evening to the metropolis, and he accepted the urgent invitation of Congressman Jinks to spend the night. It so happened that it was a gala day for Slowburgh. Four of her soldier sons had returned a few days before from Porsslania and the Cubapines, and this day had been set aside for a great celebration and a mass-meeting at the Methodist church to welcome them. The procession was to take place early in the evening, and after supper Cleary went out alone to watch the proceedings, leaving his friend to the care of his relatives. He took his place on the curbstone of the principal street and was soon conversing with his neighbors on each side, one of whom was our old friend, Mr. Reddy, and the other the young insurance agent whose acquaintance Sam had made at the hotel.

“It’s going to be a great show,” said the former. “I wish I was spry enough to parade too. It’s going to be splendid, but it won’t come up to the time we had when I came back from the war. They’ve kept them four boys drunk three days for nothing, but we was drunk a month.”

“They’ve sobered them down for this evening, I believe,” said the young man.

“They’ve done their best,” said Reddy, “and I think they’ll go through with it all right. It’s a great time for