ging about seeing the balloon, and him having to listen
to it and keep quiet. So he wanted me and Jim to go
too, and we went.
It was a noble big balloon, and had wings and fans
and all sorts of things, and wasn’t like any balloon you
see in pictures. It was away out toward the edge of
town, in a vacant lot, corner of Twelfth street; and
there was a big crowd around it, making fun of it, and
making fun of the man, — a lean pale feller with that
soft kind of moonlight in his eyes, you know, — and
they kept saying it wouldn’t go. It made him hot to
hear them, and he would turn on them and shake his
fist and say they was animals and blind, but some day
they would find they had stood face to face with one
of the men that lifts up nations and makes civilizations,
and was too dull to know it; and right here on this
spot their own children and grandchildren would build
a monument to him that would outlast a thousand
years, but his name would outlast the monument.
And then the crowd would burst out in a laugh again,
and yell at him, and ask him what was his name before
he was married, and what he would take to not do it,
and what was his sister’s cat’s grandmother’s name,
and all the things that a crowd says when they’ve got
hold of a feller that they see they can plague. Well,
some things they said WAS funny, — yes, and mighty
witty too, I ain’t denying that, — but all the same it
warn’t fair nor brave, all them people pitching on one,
and they so glib and sharp, and him without any gift
of talk to answer back with. But, good land! what
did he want to sass back for? You see, it couldn’t do
him no good, and it was just nuts for them. They
HAD him, you know. But that was his way. I reckon
he couldn’t help it; he was made so, I judge. He
was a good enough sort of cretur, and hadn’t no harm
in him, and was just a genius, as the papers said, which
wasn’t his fault. We can’t all be sound: we’ve got to
be the way we’re made. As near as I can make out,
geniuses think they know it all, and so they won’t take
people’s advice, but always go their own way, which
makes everybody forsake them and despise them, and
that is perfectly natural. If they was humbler, and
listened and tried to learn, it would be better for them.
The part the professor was in was like a boat, and
was big and roomy, and had water-tight lockers around
the inside to keep all sorts of things in, and a body
could sit on them, and make beds on them, too. We
went aboard, and there was twenty people there, snoop-
ing around and examining, and old Nat Parsons was
there, too. The professor kept fussing around getting
ready, and the people went ashore, drifting out one at
a time, and old Nat he was the last. Of course it
wouldn’t do to let him go out behind US. We mustn’t
budge till he was gone, so we could be last ourselves.
But he was gone now, so it was time for us to follow.
I heard a big shout, and turned around — the city was
dropping from under us like a shot! It made me sick
all through, I was so scared. Jim turned gray and
couldn’t say a word, and Tom didn’t say nothing, but
looked excited. The city went on dropping down,
and down, and down; but we didn’t seem to be doing
nothing but just hang in the air and stand still. The
houses got smaller and smaller, and the city pulled
itself together, closer and closer, and the men and
wagons got to looking like ants and bugs crawling
around, and the streets like threads and cracks; and
then it all kind of melted together, and there wasn’t
any city any more it was only a big scar on the earth,