matter with them you turn of the color of bronze。 After all； I
didn't mean to say I believed it was Morbus Addisonii； I only thought
of that when I saw the discoloration。
So he gave me a recipe； which I took care to put where it could do no
hurt to anybody； and I paid him his fee （which he took with the air
of a man in the receipt of a great income） and said Good…morning。
What in the name of a thousand diablos is the reason these
confounded doctors will mention their guesses about 〃a case；〃 as they
call it； and all its conceivable possibilities； out loud before their
patients？ I don't suppose there is anything in all this nonsense
about 〃Addison's Disease；〃 but I wish he hadn't spoken of that very
interesting ailment； and I should feel a little easier if that
discoloration would leave my forehead。 I will ask the Landlady about
it；these old women often know more than the young doctors just come
home with long names for everything they don't know how to cure。 But
the name of this complaint sets me thinking。 Bronzed skin！ What an
odd idea！ Wonder if it spreads all over one。 That would be
picturesque and pleasant； now； wouldn't it？ To be made a living
statue of；nothing to do but strike an attitude。 Arm upsolike
the one in the Garden。 John of Bologna's Mercurythus on one foot。
Needy knife…grinder in the Tribune at Florence。 No； not 〃needy；〃
come to think of it。 Marcus Aurelius on horseback。 Query。 Are
horses subject to the Morbus Addisonii？ Advertise for a bronzed
living horseLyceum invitations and engagementsbronze versus
brass。…What 's the use in being frightened？ Bet it was a bump。
Pretty certain I bumped my forehead against something。 Never heard
of a bronzed man before。 Have seen white men； black men； red men；
yellow men； two or three blue men； stained with doctor's stuff； some
green ones； from the country； but never a bronzed man。 Poh； poh！
Sure it was a bump。 Ask Landlady to look at it。
Landlady did look at it。 Said it was a bump； and no mistake。
Recommended a piece of brown paper dipped in vinegar。 Made the house
smell as if it were in quarantine for the plague from Smyrna； but
discoloration soon disappeared；so I did not become a bronzed man
after all；hope I never shall while I am alive。 Should n't mind
being done in bronze after I was dead。 On second thoughts not so
clear about it； remembering how some of them look that we have got
stuck up in public； think I had rather go down to posterity in an
Ethiopian Minstrel portrait； like our friend's the other day。
You were kind enough to say； I remarked to the Master； that you
read my poems and liked them。 Perhaps you would be good enough to
tell me what it is you like about them？
The Master harpooned a breakfast…roll and held it up before me。Will
you tell me；he said；why you like that breakfast…roll？I suppose
he thought that would stop my mouth in two senses。 But he was
mistaken。
To be sure I will；said I。…First； I like its mechanical
consistency； brittle externally；that is for the teeth； which want
resistance to be overcome； soft； spongy； well tempered and flavored
internally； that is for the organ of taste； wholesome； nutritious；
that is for the internal surfaces and the system generally。
Good；said the Master； and laughed a hearty terrestrial laugh。
I hope he will carry that faculty of an honest laugh with him
wherever he goes；why shouldn't he？ The 〃order of things；〃 as he
calls it； from which hilarity was excluded； would be crippled and
one…sided enough。 I don't believe the human gamut will be cheated of
a single note after men have done breathing this fatal atmospheric
mixture and die into the ether of immortality！
I did n't say all that； if I had said it； it would have brought a
pellet from the popgun； I feel quite certain。
The Master went on after he had had out his laugh。 There is one
thing I am His Imperial Majesty about； and that is my likes and
dislikes。 What if I do like your verses；you can't help yourself。
I don't doubt somebody or other hates 'em and hates you and
everything you do； or ever did； or ever can do。 He is all right；
there is nothing you or I like that somebody does n't hate。 Was
there ever anything wholesome that was not poison to somebody？ If
you hate honey or cheese； or the products of the dairy；I know a
family a good many of whose members can't touch milk； butter； cheese；
and the like； why； say so； but don't find fault with the bees and the
cows。 Some are afraid of roses； and I have known those who thought a
pond…lily a disagreeable neighbor。 That Boy will give you the
metaphysics of likes and dislikes。 Look here；you young philosopher
over there；do you like candy？
That Boy。…You bet！ Give me a stick and see if I don't。
And can you tell me why you like candy？
That Boy。Because I do。
There； now； that is the whole matter in a nutshell。 Why do your
teeth like crackling crust； and your organs of taste like spongy
crumb； and your digestive contrivances take kindly to bread rather
than toadstools
That Boy （thinking he was still being catechised）。Because they do。
Whereupon the Landlady said； Sh！ and the Young Girl laughed； and the
Lady smiled； and Dr。 Ben Franklin kicked him； moderately； under the
table； and the Astronomer looked up at the ceiling to see what had
happened； and the Member of the Haouse cried； Order！ Order！ and the
Salesman said； Shut up； cash…boy！ and the rest of the boarders kept
on feeding； except the Master； who looked very hard but half
approvingly at the small intruder； who had come about as nearly right
as most professors would have done。
You poets；the Master said after this excitement had calmed down；
you poets have one thing about you that is odd。 You talk about
everything as if you knew more about it than the people whose
business it is to know all about it。 I suppose you do a little of
what we teachers used to call 〃cramming〃 now and then？
If you like your breakfast you must n't ask the cook too many
questions；I answered。
Oh； come now； don't be afraid of letting out your secrets。 I have
a notion I can tell a poet that gets himself up just as I can tell a
make…believe old man on the stage by the line where the gray skullcap
joins the smooth forehead of the young fellow of seventy。 You'll
confess to a rhyming dictionary anyhow； won't you？
I would as lief use that as any other dictionary； but I don't want
it。 When a word comes up fit to end a line with I can feel all the
rhymes in the language that are fit to go with it without naming
them。 I have tried them all so many times； I know all the polygamous
words and all the monogamous ones； and all the unmarrying ones；the
whole lot that have no mates；as soon as I hear their names called。
Sometimes I run over a string of rhymes； but generally speaking it is
strange what a short list it is of those that are good for anything。
That is the pitiful side of all rhymed verse。 Take two such words as
home and world。 What can you do with chrome or loam or gnome or
tome？ You have dome； foam； and roam； and not much more to use in
your pome； as some of our fellow…countrymen call it。 As for world；
you know that in all human probability somebody or something will be
hurled into it or out of it； its clouds may be furled or its grass
impearled； possibly something may be whirled； or curled； or have
swirled； one of Leigh Hunt's words； which with lush； one of Keats's；
is an important part of the stock in trade of some dealers in rhyme。
And how much do you versifiers know of all those arts and sciences
you refer to as if you were as familiar with them as a cobbler is
with his wax and lapstone？
Enough not to make too many mistakes。 The best way is to ask some
expert before one risks himself very far in illustrations from a
branch he does not know much about。 Suppose； for instance； I wanted
to use the double star to illustrate anything； say the relation of
two human souls to each other； what would Ido？ Why； I would ask
our young friend there to let me look at one of those loving
celestial pairs through his telescope； and I don't doubt he'd let me
do so； and tell me their names and all I wanted to know about them。
I should be most happy to show any of the double stars or whatever
else there might be to see in the heavens to any of our friends at
this table；the young man said； so cordially and kindly that it was
a real invitation。
Show us the man in the moon；said That Boy。…I should so like to
see a double star！said Scheherezade； with a very pretty air of
smiling modesty。
Will you go； if we make up a party？I asked the Master。
A cold in the head lasts me from three to five days；answered the
Master。 I am not so very fond of being out in the dew like
Nebuchadnezzar： that will do for you young folks。
I suppose I must be one of the young folks； not so young as our
Scheherezade； nor so old as the Capitalist；young enough at any rate
to want to be of the party。 So we agreed that on some fair night
when the Astronomer should tell us that there was to be a fine show
in the skies； we would make up a party and go to the Observatory。 I
asked the Scarabee whether he would not like to make one