still, for I had lost some little rest and my mental vision seemed
clouded. The note was more connected, now, but did not meet the
emergency it was expected to meet. It was too discursive. It appeared
to read as follows, though I was not certain of some of the words:
“Polygamy dissembles majesty; extracts redeem polarity; causes
hitherto exist. Ovations pursue wisdom, or warts inherit and
condemn. Boston, botany, cakes, folony undertakes, but who shall
allay? We fear not. Yrxwly,
HEVACE EVEELOJ.’
“But there did not seem to be a word about turnips. There seemed to be
no suggestion as to how they might be made to grow like vines. There was
not even a reference to the Beazeleys. I slept upon the matter; I ate no
supper, neither any breakfast next morning. So I resumed my work with a
brain refreshed, and was very hopeful. Now the letter took a different
aspect-all save the signature, which latter I judged to be only a
harmless affectation of Hebrew. The epistle was necessarily from Mr.
Greeley, for it bore the printed heading of The Tribune, and I had
written to no one else there. The letter, I say, had taken a different
aspect, but still its language was eccentric and avoided the issue. It
now appeared to say:
“Bolivia extemporizes mackerel; borax esteems polygamy; sausages
wither in the east. Creation perdu, is done; for woes inherent one
can damn. Buttons, buttons, corks, geology underrates but we shall
allay. My beer’s out. Yrxwly,
HEVACE EVEELOJ.’
“I was evidently overworked. My comprehension was impaired. Therefore I
gave two days to recreation, and then returned to my task greatly
refreshed. The letter now took this form:
“Poultices do sometimes choke swine; tulips reduce posterity; causes
leather to resist. Our notions empower wisdom, her let’s afford
while we can. Butter but any cakes, fill any undertaker, we’ll wean
him from his filly. We feel hot.
Yrxwly, HEVACE EVEELOJ.’
“I was still not satisfied. These generalities did not meet the
question. They were crisp, and vigorous, and delivered with a confidence
that almost compelled conviction; but at such a time as this, with a
human life at stake, they seemed inappropriate, worldly, and in bad
taste. At any other time I would have been not only glad, but proud, to
receive from a man like Mr. Greeley a letter of this kind, and would have
studied it earnestly and tried to improve myself all I could; but now,
with that poor boy in his far home languishing for relief, I had no heart
for learning.
“Three days passed by, and I read the note again. Again its tenor had
changed. It now appeared to say:
“Potations do sometimes wake wines; turnips restrain passion; causes
necessary to state. Infest the poor widow; her lord’s effects will
be void. But dirt, bathing, etc., etc., followed unfairly, will
worm him from his folly–so swear not.
Yrxwly, HEVACE EVEELOJ.’
“This was more like it. But I was unable to proceed. I was too much
worn. The word ‘turnips’ brought temporary joy and encouragement, but my
strength was so much impaired, and the delay might be so perilous for the
boy, that I relinquished the idea of pursuing the translation further,
and resolved to do what I ought to have done at first. I sat down and
wrote Mr. Greeley as follows:
“DEAR SIR: I fear I do not entirely comprehend your kind note. It
cannot be possible, Sir, that ‘turnips restrain passion’–at least
the study or contemplation of turnips cannot–for it is this very
employment that has scorched our poor friend’s mind and sapped his
bodily strength.–But if they do restrain it, will you bear with us
a little further and explain how they should be prepared? I observe
that you say ’causes necessary to state,’ but you have omitted to
state them.
“Under a misapprehension, you seem to attribute to me interested
motives in this matter–to call it by no harsher term. But I assure
you, dear sir, that if I seem to be ‘infesting the widow,’ it is all
seeming, and void of reality. It is from no seeking of mine that I
am in this position. She asked me, herself, to write you. I never