The young lady.  It is lucky for the world that so many are willing to be absurd.

Herbert.  Well, I think that, in the main, the reformers manage to look out for themselves tolerably well.  I knew once a lean and faithful agent of a great philanthropic scheme, who contrived to collect every year for the cause just enough to support him at a good hotel comfortably.

The mistress.  That’s identifying one’s self with the cause.

Mandeville.  You remember the great free-soil convention at Buffalo, in 1848, when Van Buren was nominated.  All the world of hope and discontent went there, with its projects of reform.  There seemed to be no doubt, among hundreds that attended it, that if they could get a resolution passed that bread should be buttered on both sides, it would be so buttered.  The platform provided for every want and every woe.

The fire-tender.  I remember.  If you could get the millennium by political action, we should have had it then.

Mandeville.  We went there on the Erie Canal, the exciting and fashionable mode of travel in those days.  I was a boy when we began the voyage.  The boat was full of conventionists; all the talk was of what must be done there.  I got the impression that as that boat-load went so would go the convention; and I was not alone in that feeling.  I can never be grateful enough for one little scrubby fanatic who was on board, who spent most of his time in drafting resolutions and reading them privately to the passengers.  He was a very enthusiastic, nervous, and somewhat dirty little man, who wore a woolen muffler about his throat, although it was summer; he had nearly lost his voice, and could only speak in a hoarse, disagreeable whisper, and he always carried a teacup about, containing some sticky compound which he stirred frequently with a spoon, and took, whenever he talked, in order to improve his voice.  If he was separated from his cup for ten minutes, his whisper became inaudible.  I greatly delighted in him, for I never saw any one who had so much enjoyment of his own importance.  He was fond of telling what he would do if the convention rejected such and such resolutions.  He’d make it hot for them.  I did n’t know but he’d make them take his mixture.  The convention had got to take a stand on tobacco, for one thing.  He’d heard Gid-dings took snuff; he’d see.  When we at length reached Buffalo he took his teacup and carpet-bag of resolutions and went ashore in a great hurry.  I saw him once again in a cheap restaurant, whispering a resolution to another delegate, but he did n’t appear in the con-vention.  I have often wondered what became of him.

Our next door.  Probably he’s consul somewhere.  They mostly are.