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.

The fire-tender.  After all, it’s the easiest thing in the world to sit and sneer at eccentricities.  But what a dead and uninteresting world it would be if we were all proper, and kept within the lines!  Affairs would soon be reduced to mere machinery.  There are moments, even days, when all interests and movements appear to be settled upon some universal plan of equilibrium; but just then some restless and absurd person is inspired to throw the machine out of gear.  These individual eccentricities seem to be the special providences in the general human scheme.

Herbert.  They make it very hard work for the rest of us, who are disposed to go along peaceably and smoothly.

Mandeville.  And stagnate.  I ’m not sure but the natural condition of this planet is war, and that when it is finally towed to its anchorage—­if the universe has any harbor for worlds out of commission—­it will look like the Fighting Temeraire in Turner’s picture.

Herbert.  There is another thing I should like to understand:  the tendency of people who take up one reform, perhaps a personal regeneration in regard to some bad habit, to run into a dozen other isms, and get all at sea in several vague and pernicious theories and practices.

Mandeville.  Herbert seems to think there is safety in a man’s being anchored, even if it is to a bad habit.

Herbert.  Thank you.  But what is it in human nature that is apt to carry a man who may take a step in personal reform into so many extremes?

Our next door.  Probably it’s human nature.