GREAT MEDICINE-MEN.

Dominion, Volume 4, Issue 1081, 21 March 1911, Page 6

GREAT MEDICINE-MEN.

TESTIMONIALS. WHEN HIS BONES FLOATED LOOSE. (By J.Q.X.) Dear. Friend,—Rarely has. purchased article so far out-valued its price as your letter the twopence I had to pay for its 1 delivery. ( It is pleasant to learn that, while I was ( writing about "J.J.," as he figures in 1 "Spanish Gold," you, miles and miles c away, were reading about him in an- ' other book which has not yet. crossed my ' path. "Indeed," you say, "we conclude ' that our vast amusement over in. 'The Major's Niece' probably helped you to decide on your subject." "Without prejudice" (handiest of legal term's!), I like to think it did. In the offers of Yankee "scientists" to cure all - my possible ills of mind, body, and estate , by "absent treatment," I scent quackery. Indeed, it is rank and smells to heaven, j But I join you in entertaining as a wel- , come visitor, the idea that you on your; i bush farm and I in the city may, without ' knowing it, and perhaps without definite- ' ly thinking of each other at the time, J havo some profitable transactions in that j best of commerce which is of the mind. ] You will say I am writing too like a ] book, and I suppose I must admit that the manuscript of the foregoing sentences (which you 'will not see) shows many more traces of "touching up" than ever , darkened the normal, obscurity of my j epistolary ealigraphy. But why do I risk i your displeasure by answering your pri- ' vato letter in public print? Firstly, be- ■ cause I want to answer it promptly, and , also to write something for The Dojiin- , iox; and have little enough time on hand for either. 'Secondly, . because certain essentially public matters having (as the readers of this paper know) been kept , strictly private, I am thrown into the mood for contradiction and rebellion, and so I take a bit of something private and thrust it into publicity. This is, perhaps, mere contrariness. Or wo may say it is just a small safety valve of my ownunimportant, but I hope harmless. Perhaps it could bo described as a mild form of swearing. I am glad you were "healthily shaken up" by .Birmingham's "The Major's Niece." "JL'was my own experience, as you know, with "Spanish. Gold," and 1 have since had to settle a dispute betweeu two of my friends here as to which is entitled to the next loan of that volume. He who followed me in the perusal complained happily of sore ribs. I am, perhaps, even gladder that "J.J." was discussed seriously in your house. "We finished the book only on Saturday," you tell me, "and had several talks on Sunday, as to whether sflch amusing, irresponsible nonsense was worthy a place in 'Cornhill,' where we met 'J.J.' (and Birmingham) for the first time." And from your next sentence I gather that "the Puritan strain'' found expression . in the family debates,' and that the • question whether "Cornhill" bad too freelv squandered space was joined with the more intimate query whether certain people on an up-country farm did not unduly squander time when they "forgot the-world in his dreamlike whirligig of. talk." I wish there were more, homes in which such .problems,, were discussed. . You know which side I should have taken if I had been of your circle. And so, 1 need not just now air my opinions on laughter, its causes and effects. But I should like to offer . a few items of personal testimony. Once on a time—it was more than two years ago—l had been doing what, for me, was strenuous brainwork, for several days with very little intermission. I was so interested in the work, or so anxious about' it, that I could not sleep Well. I fancy that, although the news in your letter .is of ploughing the home paddock and dipping your flock, you know from experience the state --of .mfnd and body that comes of prolonged high-j'iressuro activity of the brain, and nervous system with partial insomnia. Well, I was in that state at 2 o'clock one morning when the closest companion of my aforesaid labours told me a funny story. I am not goiiig to repeat it here. ' That wouldn't be fair to. parties concerned.. Besides, among the many people to whom I have told it since not one hns laughed anything like, as much as .1 did that night. 'The . story was. .new and true, and it' concerned our work. 'I leaned against a fence in Molesworth Street, and chortled, burbled, chuckled, shook, perspired, wept, and roared until I felt my bones floating loose within my body and knew that I should shortly fall in pieces By way of marginal note: I'know'you like me" to be careful iii statement's as to fact, so I will admit that some of those expressions are not literally accurate, but I cannot just now find any that would give you a more correct notion of the event.' A\ r ere l a Southey. I would make a poem something like his "Falls of Lodoro" about that laugh. I walked home a new man. Tho neriod of bad nights, worried looks, and loss of weight had suddenly ended. Having experienced during the last day or two a mild form of the same complaint which my.friend had so completely cured with his anecdotal treatment (as I have just told you), I bethought me of similar remedies.' The 0. A. Birmingham books were fresh in mind, and your letter mode them fresher. What more natural than to snlly forth in search of "The Simpkiiis Plot" or "The Major's Niece." Delayed by sundry causes, I reached the shops too late, but instead of a "J.J." book, I managed to get "The I'lum Street Brethren." I had heard one of tho sketches in this book read aloud amid peals of laughter (myself a hearty contributor) some eighteen months ago. But. when I re-read the same chapter last night, I could only just smile. It was in. the small hours of this morning that I turned, almost as a forlorn hope, to the late Francis Thompson's volume, "New Poems," which, as you know, is not at all amusing. Just before that I had been trying to put myself to sleep by silently reciting Gray's Elegy (often a successful scheme), but one of the early stanzas impudently twisted itself into a parodv with unmistakable reference to the very 'thing I had most upon my mind. So I lit the lamp and read, for tho first time, and theli for the second and third times, "The Mistress of Vision." I have not any words to describe that, poem. Tho word "magic" might help, if it. were a rarer and more beautiful word, and especially if it had not been used so often to describe so many things which aro not' to be named with this. The poem was what 1 needed. Before I turned to sleep I noticed that Thompson had placed this sentence from the Book of Wisdom at the beginning of his volume: "Wisdom is easily seen by them that love her, and is found by tiiem that seek her." It seemed to -imply that in my prescribing of mental medicines for myself, J had rather played the fool. I did not argue tho question. You and I might say more to each other under this head, but our Muse of Correspondence is naturally a little shy on her first appearance in a print dress. I am going to end this loiter with a story which Emerson tells in his essay on "Resources": "M. Tissenet had learned among tho Indians to understand their language, and coming among a wild party of Illinois, he overhead them say that they would scalp him. Ho said to tlicm, 'Will you scalp, me? Here is my scalp,' and confounded them by lifting a little periwig ho wore. He then explained to them that he was a great medicineman, and that they did wrong in wishing to harm him who carried them all in his heart. So ho opened his shirt and showed to each of them in turn the reflection of his own eyeball in a small pocket mirror which ho had hung next to his shin. He assured them that, if they should provoke him. he would burn up" their rivers and their forests; and, taking from, his portmanteau a small , phial of white brandy, he poured it into i a cup, and, lighting a straw at the fire i in the wigwam, he kindled tho brandy ; (which they believed to be water), anil ; burned'it up before their eyes. Then, taking up a chili of dry pine, he drew i a burning-glass from his pocket and set ■ the chip oil fire." ! The makers of great poems and great jokes are fhe medicine-men whose feats . command the savage awe of your friend, • . wx