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Updated: June 15, 2025
Whitechoker, somewhat surprised to hear the Idiot speak as he did, having sometimes ventured to doubt if that flippant-minded young man ever reflected on the serious side of life "I am also sure that it is most gratifying to hear that you have done some thinking on the subject." "I am glad you are gratified, Mr.
Whitechoker, as was his wont on the first day of the week, appeared at the breakfast table severe as to his mien. "Working on Sunday weighs on his mind," the Idiot said to the Bibliomaniac, "but I don't see why it should. The luxury of rest that he allows himself the other six days of the week is surely an atonement for the hours of labor he puts in on Sunday."
Whitechoker," replied the Idiot, "but I am far from taking undue credit to myself because I reflect upon the future and its possibilities. I do not see how any man can fail to be interested in the subject, particularly when he considers the great strides science has made in the last twenty years." "I fail to see," said the School-Master, "what the strides of science have to do with it."
Can you still claim that science and the future have nothing to do with each other?" "You are talking of matters purely temporal," said Mr. Whitechoker. "I have reference to our spiritual future." "And the two," observed the Idiot, "are so closely allied that we cannot separate them. The proverb about looking after the pennies and letting the pounds take care of themselves applies here.
If we had one of those fellows in our midst, it would not be very long before we became part of the drama ourselves. Mrs. Pedagog would find herself embarrassed once an hour, instead of, as at present, once a century. Mr. Whitechoker would hear of himself as having appeared by proxy in a roaring farce before our comedian had been with us two months.
Pedagog, or your equivalents in the animal kingdom, the idea isn't worth the fabulous sum you offer." "You have quite aroused my interest," said Mr. Whitechoker. "Do you propose to start a new paper?" "You are a good guesser," replied the Idiot. "That is a part of the scheme but it isn't the idea. I propose to start a new paper in accordance with the plan which the idea contains."
Which remark made the Idiot blush a little, but he soon recovered his composure and made a firm friend of the Poet. The first fruits of the partnership have not yet appeared, however. As for Messrs. Whitechoker and Pedagog, when they learned how they had been deceived, they were so indignant that they did not speak to the Idiot for a week. It was Sunday morning, and Mr.
"In what particular line of business is your scheme?" asked Mr. Whitechoker. He had often felt that he would like to die in comfort, and to own a little house, even if it had a large mortgage on it. "Journalism," said the Idiot. "There is a pile of money to be made out of journalism, particularly if you happen to strike a new idea. Ideas count."
"He is full of pretence and hollowness, but he is sometimes almost brilliant." "What you say is very true," said Mr. Whitechoker. "I think he has just escaped being a smart man. I wish we could take him in hand, Mr. Pedagog, and make him more of a fellow than he is." Later in the day the Poet met the Idiot on the stairs.
"Well, I can't see why it should make any difference whether the man is a tragedian, or a comedian, or a familiar figure to railroad men," said Mr. Whitechoker, firmly. "In any event, he would be an extremely objec " "It makes a great deal of difference," said the Idiot.
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