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We conversed as before, going through English, French, Russian, Mongol, and Chinese, and after dinner smoked our pipes and cigars. The sargoochay had a pipe with a slender bowl that could be taken out for reloading, like the shell of a Remington rifle. A single whiff served to exhaust it, and the smoke passing through water became purified.
But Remington writes in bitterness. His pen is steeped in the gall of Swift. He feels rancour against Altiora, against the Cramptons, against all the "Pinky-Dinkies" who prescribe morals for a genius erratic in his desires. The successive mental stages by which Remington emerges had been set forth before in other books. They are here brought together and surveyed in a comprehensive whole.
Remington, when they were all finally seated in the Boy Scout room; "but Miss Phillips tells me the requirement has been lowered by National Headquarters to sixteen. I shall, therefore, pass all of the girls who can receive at the latter rate, but shall later test to see whether anyone can make the higher record."
A maid showed me in without ceremony, and as I entered the sitting-room a lady, who was sitting before a Remington typewriter, sprang up with a pleasant smile of welcome. Her face fell, however, when she saw that I was a stranger, and she sat down again and asked me the object of my visit. The first impression left by Mrs. Lyons was one of extreme beauty.
"Remington," he said, "have you forgotten the immense things our movement means?" I thought. "Perhaps I am rhetorical," I said. "But the things we might achieve! If you'd only stay now even now! Oh! you'd suffer a little socially, but what of that? You'd be able to go on perhaps all the better for hostility of the kind you'd get. You know, Remington you KNOW."
More than that exposed him to suspicion, and hindered his usefulness in Coös County. Somehow, we got talking of Mr. Remington, which we might well do, seeing him there before us, sleeping like a baby. "That he could always do, like Napoleon," said Mr. Lewis, "and so can accomplish much without fatigue." "Is he married?" said I. "Yes. His wife is in delicate health."
Blodgett to place it there, for Matty was fond of flowers;" but he did not dream how closely was that rosebud connected with a grave made many years before. Thoughts of Maude Glendower and mementos of Harry Remington meeting together at Matty's coffin! Alas, that such should be our life!
They had gone out from England to make their fortunes on the fields, but had come a cropper like himself, and were discussing what they'd do next. The fair-haired one, Remington, was all for getting back to England while they had any money left, but Turold was dead against it. There were plenty of diamonds to be found, and he was going to have some of them.
They were Shans of kindly feature, small and nimble fellows, in neat uniforms green jackets edged with black and braided with yellow, yellow sashes, and loose dark-blue knickerbockers the uniform of the Sawbwa of Ganai. They were armed with Remington rifles, carried their cartridges in bandoliers, and seemed to be of excellent fighting material. All their accoutrements were in good order.
Among his many songs a few should be noted: the "Song of a Summer Night" is brilliant and poetic, and "Alone" is marked by some beautiful contramelodic effects; his "Indian Serenade" is a gracious work. J. Remington Fairlamb has been a prolific composer. He was born at Philadelphia, and at fourteen was a church organist.
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