The Normal Record. October 1898

              THE NORMAL RECORD.
dulged in a joke, or a story, or, perhaps, a
labored epigram. Puns were, however,
avoided, and on the whole his conversation
was in studied taste, though, at times, and I
must confess, unavoidably a trifle wearisome.
At length after a sharp discussion apropos
of some foreign opinions about the best future
course for our country there came to our
conversation a somewhat singular lull. The
party seemed to be gathering its mental
breath. But this process came to a conclusion in my friend on the right somewhat
before it had run its course elsewhere. He
raised his head, and also, in a slight degree,
his voice, and spoke oracularly.
"lam in general an enemy of giving advice. This step seems to me a drastic process: a last resort like capital operations in
surgery. If by any chance I am asked to
counsel with some one about measures affecting his future, I feel much as a conscientious
surgeon does when he takes in hand the
weapon by which he will in all probability
effect an assassination. For observe, I am
asked to substitute in place of the character,
the motives, the personality of this individual
my own character, motives and personality.
Is it likely that he will bring to pass this
vital change in himself without severe and
perhaps destructive throes ? And suppose
that he does succeed in accomplishing the
transformation, what has become of him ?
He is annihilated, and in place of him there
is a shadow of somebody else. Hence, I am
an accessory to spiritual suicide if not in all
essential respects a downright murderer."
"But worse than all this, I am a particularly unfortunate type of the destroyer of
souls. For near me, perpetually, like a
second self, is this modified personality at
whose phoenix-birth I officiated. I am like
Dr. Jekyll, save that my Mr. Hyde is not
merely my partial and perhaps degenerate
self, but also a wretched coffin for a vanished
individual, once self-reliant and entire. Thus
am I tortured by Satanic responsibility."
The speaker here paused in order to allow
the perspiration, incident upon his effort to
subside, and also that he might receive and
enjoy the indirectly offered congratulations
of his auditors. But at the further and opposite end of the table there sat an individual, who, being a journalist, was possessed
in a high degree of two characteristic qualities—inquisitiveness and a rage for criticism.
He had pricked up his ears, and at the first
pause was prepared to set going the machinery of his speech.
" But suppose the person whom you advise
in consequence of what you say to him is
lucky ? What then ? For my part I am
willing to have my soul killed, now and then,
provided I might get a few thousand at each
execution."
The literateur looked about quickly. On
his face there was a look, that to one who
was unable to assure himself by his ears that
there was no sound, would have unmistakably
signified a snort. But the countenance
quickly resumed its serenity, and the gentleman replied:
"There may be a multitude of answers to
your objection. First, and perhaps most
notable, is the one that arises when we reflect that no man is so well off but that he
may be more prosperous. Grant him health,
wealth and friends, and he is sorry that he
is not President, and if outwardly he is
grateful to you through whose advice he has
gained what he has, you cannot rid yourself
of a feeling that he blames you for what he
hai not. I believe that he does so rightly,
for you have taken the helm away from him
aud he can but drift  as you have directed."
The speaker evidently intended to continue,
and the pause that he now made was, therefore, merely for paragraphic effect. But if
he was desirious of going right on, his device,
though artistically well conceived, was from
the point of view of strategy a failure. For
instantly our host broke forth with a personal application.
" My dear fellow, you are mistaken as to
the facts. I have no desire to be President.
I am quite prosperous enough as it is."
"That is because you have been advised to
make something of yourself," said his wife,
before any of us had time to think.
I knew very well that the literateur was a
favorite of hers. But while the rest of the
company was struggling to get its bearings
our protagonist hastened to interrupt the
domestic interchange of courtesies.
"I call your attention, however, to the
fact that in by far the greater number of
cases the advice that   we  give, even when it